The Goliath Protocol:
Chapter Fifty-Three:
The Goliath Protocol
A storm is coming, but I don't mind. People are dying; I close my blinds. All that I know is I'm breathing...now.
The Black Forest, Germany
It was a trap.
You didn't get to be The Executioner without knowing you were talking into a trap. But nothing in Ada's playground had told them what kind of trap. How did you prepare for the unknown?
Because he wasn't a foolish man, Leon coordinated with the B.S.A.A. to hit the castle. He stood across from Chris Redfield on the eve of battle, and they were both aware of where this ended.
There was no more time to mourn what might have been.
They were necessary allies in a moment of change. It was the best they'd get.
The courtyard of the castle was overrun with ganados. It was a battle the moment their combined forces hit the ground. Chris set up a perimeter surrounding the castle to eliminate external threats. They utilized siege warfare when possible to get inside.
The compound Rebecca constructed seemed to be checking the infection in Jill. Scans showed her in remission. There was no way of knowing if it was permanent with the device on her chest, but it seemed to be working.
What had once damned her was saving her. She'd wear it for the rest of her life, but at least she'd have one.
Using Wesker's DNA, they could leash her humanity with steel bands. There had been descent about bringing her. But Leon had overruled them. It was her fight. It was her battle. She had to finish it.
Miracella and H.U.N.K. were the last of Wesker's lieutenants. She deserved to be there to end them. They'd stolen her victory with a couple of RPGs into a volcano once; Leon would make sure she found it here.
How did they know Hunk and Miracella were on-site?
Two dragons guarded the castle-like mythological creatures.
The battle in the sky was brutal. It was technology versus virology or something. It was missiles and roaring and blood.
On the ground, what came for them was wave after wave of nightmares none had ever forgotten. It was lickers and tyrants and undead. It was ganados and plagas and perversion. It was bullets and war and revenge.
In the flash of lightning that heralded the fight of their lives, Leon caught sight of what waited atop the tower. His eyes narrowed. His breath came faster. He was wrong. He was wrong.
Because that was over.
But he was never wrong.
Leon hesitated when Hunk came from the fountain in the pretty courtyard, twirling his blades. He needed to get to that clock tower. If he was right, this wasn't just the fight of their lives - it was the last one.
If he was delayed battling here, it might make all the difference.
He lifted his gun, and behind him, a cool voice commanded, "Go...I got this."
Chris Redfield stepped up beside him. Maybe they weren't friends. Maybe they never had been. But at this moment, they were in this together.
Kevin blew out a hard breath beside him, "...I hate this hero shit. Get moving, boss. We're gonna show this girl how we dance."
Leon backed up two steps and nodded. He warned, "If I don't come back, direct all the aerial fire at the goddamn tower."
He took flight to the tune of bullets and battle. When he hit the castle's foyer, he nearly lost his face to the knife that swished an inch from his left cheek as he rolled free.
Miracella stood on the stairs, face split in a wide grin. "Oh, this is beautiful. Alone? Where is Jill?"
The doors opened behind him, and a voice returned, "I'm here, you bitch. But you knew that."
In a blood-red battlesuit, the formidable former hand of Wesker slid down the stairs. "You came home, Jill. Just in time."
"There's no home for you, Miracella. Just an eternity spent in agony. Spare me the speeches. Finish it."
Leon hesitated again. But Jill's face told him she'd seen it too. She knew. She'd seen what was on that roof.
Jill and Mira flanked him on either side, and Mira told him, "Go...we got this."
There were a thousand things he wanted to say. And there was no time. Not now. Maybe not ever again.
Miracella came for them, and he shot her in the chest. It threw her over the railing and into a heap on the floor. As she staggered back to her feet, Mira added, "Go on, hero. Do what you do. This bitch is toast."
He didn't waste time. He shot off Ada's grapple gun and let it whip him clear of the foyer. He went up, flipped out, and landed at the curve in the stairwell.
Beneath him, Mira laughed, "...what a fucking hero."
Leon kicked open the door to the roof and came face to face with what couldn't exist. What shouldn't exist.
And maybe what had always existed.
Albert Wesker stood in the pouring rain. Not his son. Not his offspring. Him.
He was weaponless. He was wearing a black set of combat fatigues. He looked handsome and horrifying and old. He looked old. How? How had something dead...aged? He wore a holster without a gun. He wore a smile and sunglasses.
He'd been wrong. He'd been so wrong. He wasn't trying to stop Wesker from coming back. He'd never left.
Even that one small victory had been a lie.
Leon lifted his AKMSU on him, and Wesker laughed. He just...laughed. He spread his arms wide and called, "We've never met, I'm afraid. But it seems irrelevant now."
Leon hit the trigger, the lightning crackled, and the hit from the side threw him into a slide across the smooth stone. He rolled to his back, and a boot kicked his weapon clear.
Ada straddled him. She put the knife in her hand at his throat and flashed white teeth.
I want to change the world, but instead, I sleep. I want to believe in more than you and me. But all that I know is I'm breathing.
Nothing ever stayed dead in their world.
She purred happily, "You didn't really think I'd just let you kill me, did you?"
Leon palmed his knife in his hand and mused, "How many clones are there, Ada? Were you ever really you?"
She leaned down until their noses touched. "...were you?"
And just like that, he understood. Had any of them actually survived? Was there any way to know? Had he died in Raccoon City? In Spain? How did you know? And did it really matter?
Behind her, Wesker spoke tonelessly, "Admittedly, experimenting on myself was probably unwise. But my inferior copy was happy to die for the cause, you understand. After all, it kept the world from chasing me. All I had to do was sit back and wait."
Jesus.
What had died in that volcano hadn't been him at all.
What was real? What was an illusion?
The fog crept around his body as he lay with Ada smiling atop him. She watched the horror of it seep into him and cooed, "Yes...you're mine. You were always mine. And me? I was always his."
She thrust the syringe in her hand into the side of his neck and kissed his angry mouth.
The door of the tower burst open. Jill and Mira joined the fray. Mira ran for Wesker and was lifted off her feet. He tilted his head at her like a dog and shrugged. She stabbed him twice in the shoulder, shot him in the chest, and he jerked his arm.
The wet snap of her neck was loud in the rolling thunder.
Jill's blood-curdling roar of rage would haunt him for the rest of his life.
Leon shouted, "No! Run, Jill! You hear me!? RUN!"
Jesus. His voice shook the roof. It sounded so desperate, so terrified. It hit Jill like a shot of adrenaline in the heart. Did he think she'd leave him!? Jill hit the button on her radio at her shoulder and shouted for backup. She shouted for Chris.
As if he'd get there fast enough.
As if it would matter.
She saw the needle in Leon's neck, and she understood. She got it.
She knew.
The Goliath Protocol.
It had never been about her.
She wasn't the weapon.
He was.
She had to get to him to use the blocker in her leg pocket. She had to save him.
When Jill reached them, Ada rolled off him. She laughed. She battled like a beautiful demon. They went for each other with a fine rage that was breathtaking.
Leon scrambled for his gun. He grabbed it and rolled to one knee, and Wesker kicked it from his hands. He backhanded him to send him skidding over the stones again. He rolled, he rose, he gave it everything he had. He went after what should have been dead years ago with every skill he'd ever learned and every ghost he'd ever harbored, surging through his blood like power.
And it wasn't enough.
All he had to do here was get to Jill, just get to her, and he could use the fucking grapple gun to get them to safety. He could bomb this goddamn tower and finish it. Stupid, he thought wildly, to have avoided dropping a bomb like she'd told him in the first place. Stupid. But he'd been so afraid he'd kill all the people in the town surrounding it.
He'd wanted to save lives.
It was going to cost him everything.
Down in the courtyard, the dragons were done for. They hit the ground and shook the tower. Wesker looked amused as he picked Leon up by the throat and dangled him.
To the sound of Jill and Ada fighting for their souls, he studied Leon, where he choked.
"You're really quite perfect. Shall I tell you why you exist?"
When Leon swung his knife, it sank into the other man's chest. Wesker laughed a little. "Go ahead, ruin this shell. I don't need it anymore. Don't you understand yet? The boy...he's not ready. And this...vessel is weakening. I needed another, you understand. The perfect one."
When Leon jerked the knife free and drove it home again, Wesker sighed and concluded, "Let's make this easier, shall we?"
He tossed Leon into the fog. Leon rolled. He scrambled, and Wesker followed him.
"Goliath was never really about Jill, you understand. She was the baseline, of course, to ensure the protocol worked. Your silly little scientist found a way around that, which is exactly why I employed her when she was nothing but a baby. Brilliant, she was always brilliant. But then...you survived. You survived infection; you survived plagas; you survived everything. And you didn't just...survive...you absorbed. The perfect sponge."
A shot went off and tossed Ada into a spin that had her shouting. It saved Jill a slice to the face.
Wesker laughed, "Even now...you don't stop me; you shoot to save another. You waste your one shot on the wrong enemy."
When Leon turned his gun again, Wesker kicked him once more. It sent him to his back on the stone. "About the time you dealt with Tatchi and stood in the cloud of the C-Virus, I had the answer I'd been seeking. You're not just immune; you're nearly perfect. And now you have the power of the U.S. government behind you."
Wesker grabbed and punched him when Leon tried to capture that knife again. It felt like being hit in the face by a...what? By a god.
Dazed, Leon found himself held to Wesker's front with his own knife at his throat as the former Captain turned him to face the battle. Blue and red. Blades and blood.
Wesker put his mouth to Leon's ear and finished, "Until the boy is ready, you'll give me what I want. You see...Ada has been cultivating you quite nicely all these years. She's been injecting you with each compound while you slept, and you? You let her. You lie with her. You sleep while she plots. You drink yourself stupid and court death. And she's been giving it to you all along."
What boy!? Wesker's son?...or Jill's?
And the reason Ada had returned the boy became painfully clear. Raised by the good guys, he'd follow in Leon's footsteps and become a symbol of light and protection among the people. Then, when Leon was finished, he'd pass the torch.
From one evil hand to the next.
Wesker smiled as Jill punched Ada so hard the spy collapsed to her back on the rooftop. "She was always a warrior, Jill. She fights now for something that can't ever save you - love. But what she loves has always been the death of her. She's been my faithful servant for so long. Shall I give her what she seeks? My own shell, you see, is rotting; it's well known, it's no longer safe to walk the world wearing it - I find I need a new one."
His whisper was so quiet in the raging storm, "You'll do...I've let you amass a fortune, collect esteem, and make yourself indispensable to those who value you. I just had to wait until you were ready. A risk, I admit, but if you'd failed...there was always another. And now it seems, the time has come for you to become...a god...but first-"
He tossed Leon away. The former rookie rolled, ready, and Wesker simply said, "Kill her."
Saddler had done it once. He'd stood there with a staff and commanded. The plagas had almost given him the keys to the perfect warrior.
The Goliath Protocol guaranteed it.
His was still there, Leon thought wildly as his body rose; he was still there.
But he was gone.
The lightning flashed. He turned. Ada scurried back, and Jill...Jill turned toward him.
He watched it on her face. He could still see her. He was still there.
The knife in his hand twirled. Jill braced. She gave him a look of such grief, such remorse, such...acceptance. He screamed inside his head. But it didn't matter.
All I can do is keep breathing.
She was good. She was incredible. She hit and spun and bled. She was a goddess of battle. In a fight against something she had no hope of defeating, she was David.
And sometimes...David didn't win.
She fought like she'd done for her future - completely, utterly, desperately.
He loved her - freely, madly, deeply...uselessly. Because he was The Executioner...and he always killed what he loved.
He backhanded her. He kicked her. He tossed her away. He deflected. He parried. He punched. He rolled. He did every trick they'd ever taught him. And he did it better.
He was better.
He'd always been better.
The fog rolled around his ankles; the protocol in his blood gave him monster strength.
Chris and Kevin arrived, but it didn't matter. It was too late. Wesker and Ada took them on. The thunder rolled. The battle below was over. Those that remained were trying to contain the fallout.
When Kevin was down and possibly dead, Wesker kicked Chris so hard the big man collapsed around it and skidded over the wet stone to slide on his side and fall still. There was no great battle between good and evil here. There was no battle at all. It took a moment like this to realize...they'd never had a chance. Not really. Not ever.
After all...you couldn't kill a god.
Wesker mused, "Age wasn't his friend, it seems. Like death...eventually, it gets us all."
It was so anticlimactic. It was surreal.
Leon lifted Jill off her feet. He pinned her to the wall. She was wet with blood. She'd never even cut him. That's how good he was. The best in the field. The best in the business. He'd stood between her and death and sworn to protect her.
He was the thing that would kill her.
Her face was a mask of it. She whispered, "...I forgive you, Leon."
And broke his fucking heart.
Jesus.
Wesker commented casually, "...do it."
Jill stuck the syringe in her fist into his thigh, and Leon stuck the knife in his hand into her sternum. One...and done. She gasped high and loud. Her free hand cupped his face, smearing her blood on him. Her mouth bubbled red and wet. He ground that blade into her, and she whimpered, "...no."
All we can do is keep breathing.
The backdoor blocker pushed through him. His hand on the knife slackened. He roared like it mattered as if it mattered...any of it. She fell forward against him, and he went to his knees in her blood to hold her.
Jill wrapped her hand around his on the hilt of that knife and whispered, "...forgive yourself...Leon..."
Desperate, he tried to throw his hands over that knife in her. Like it would change anything. Like it would stop it. He was The Executioner. He knew how to kill you.
Voice so broke, he begged once, "...please don't...please...Jill? I love you."
She slumped against his shoulder. She breathed, "...I know..."
And she went still. He watched the light leave her eyes.
The hand on her chest, the one clutching her to him, shook. He denied it, "...no...no...no no...Jill!?" He shook her. He clutched her like a doll against him. "...no."
He grabbed for the communicator to call for an airstrike; it was somewhere lost on the rooftop beyond his grip.
Done.
Over.
In the flicker of fire from the battle below, he rocked in the rain with her body in his arms. When Wesker appeared at his shoulder, it didn't even matter. It didn't matter anymore.
"Pick her up," Wesker commanded. He was wasting his time doing it. Leon wasn't his anymore. Not now. Not right now. Not at this moment.
But he did. He picked her up in his arms. She rolled boneless and gone. Gone. She was gone.
And Wesker demanded, "Throw her body over. She fell once. Let her finish it. Get rid of her."
Leon cupped her face in one hand. She stared sightlessly at him, and he could hear her laughing. He could hear her sighing and moaning and feel her clutching hands and her breath on his neck. He could feel her tears and smell the flowers as she danced.
"Boom...heart blow."
She'd been right about that. The moment he'd held her in that bathroom and wept all over him, she'd been in his heart. He couldn't figure out why he'd pushed so hard to stay away when he should have found her sooner.
So he could have loved her longer.
He could feel her breath on his ear as she whispered his name.
She was still here.
He pressed a trembling kiss to her mouth.
He wouldn't let her fall again. It was one promise he could keep.
Bored, Wesker stated, "You're wasting time. Dispose of her."
And Leon simply said, "...no."
He jerked the knife from her body and rolled. He roared like a man with nothing left to lose. The blade sank in; it flourished; it threw blood with a sing of metal and regret. Ada raced into the fray.
He brandished that knife against both of them.
Impressed, Wesker cocked his head. "Battle then? Show me what you can do."
So Ada came at him. Fast. Brilliant. She equaled him in speed. She equaled him in skill.
She thought she was fighting a boy in a dying city. But she was fighting a demon in a dead body. And she'd never understood the difference.
Wesker watched like a playful puppet master, eagerly enjoying the fruit of his careful creations. She missed as she swung, and Leon stuck his knife in her side, ripped it clear, and rolled over her back to kick her to her face on the stone. She rolled, and he kicked her in the face to send her sliding. He pressed a boot on her throat and watched her gurgle and grunt.
And jerked the knife in his hands across her throat while she gasped, and those eyes of hers looked at him with regret.
He didn't care. He was beyond caring. It probably wasn't her anyway. She had a dozen clones by now to send in her stead. She was probably somewhere sitting while the world burned.
He turned back to the man watching him and got a curl of fingers from the bleeding shell that beckoned him.
He could get the grapple gun between them and run. He could fly away, like a wounded hero, and run.
He was done running away.
Sometimes, you had to be ready to die. He was ready.
He ducked. He slid and swirled and grabbed for the gun on the ground as if it mattered. Like it would make a difference.
Wesker kicked it from his hands and slapped him. It was hard. It left his vision red and white for a moment. Leon flopped to his side beside Jill. Her eyes were open, blue, beautiful in the blood that surged around her face. He slid his hand over and gripped hers.
He whispered, "...I'm still here..."
He'd failed her. He'd failed them all. What was real? What was an illusion?
Had he ever really existed?
The fog took her away, obscuring her in shadows, and filling him with cold until he was empty.
Out of the fog, a masked face emerged. Death, after all, came for them all.
"Get them in the tank...now."
And there was no Leon Kennedy anymore.
All we can do is keep breathing...Now.
"It's almost over now."
He faced Jill over the swirling fog. She smiled, and it was soft and sweet and content. He put a hand out to her, and she took his. They both held on.
He glanced at the darkness seeping through the edges of the room of light where they stood. "...I thought there'd be a band maybe...or disjointed heads on clouds."
Jill laughed lightly. "It's Ragnarok."
He met her eyes, and she sighed. "It was the moment that vial broke in that lab in Raccoon City. We've just been...fighting the inevitable, I think."
Leon shook his head. "It's all my fault."
Jill gave him a studying look. "Is it? You fought so hard. We all did. It just...was always going to end this way."
"He'll use the boy when it's time. They gave him back to make sure of it. It's just a game. It was all a game to them. What you became, what I became...cultivated like a virus until we served our purpose."
Jill smiled sadly. "Not all of it. What we felt. What we did. It mattered. Forgive yourself, Leon. It's time to forgive ourselves."
The dark swirled around their feet. He took her arms and turned her toward him. She lifted her face, and he confessed, "I wanted more time."
Jill closed her eyes and whispered, "We did our best with what we had. We just have to hope someone, somewhere...keeps fighting."
He kissed her, and the dark closed around them. They were shrouded in it, swept away by it.
Leon held her...and finally stopped breathing.
The face in the mirror was his, but it wasn't. He studied the little cleft chin. He tilted his head, and the hair shivered happily.
Behind him, Rebecca Chambers remarked, "Leon? It's time."
Leon turned, resplendent in a black suit. He joined her at the graveside. They buried their comrades in arms. They said goodbye. The victory was won, of course, the evil destroyed. Albert Wesker and his minions had died on that rooftop.
It was over.
The price was high. They'd lost so many. But those that remained would fight on. They would never stop.
Across the casket, Leon held the eyes of Chris. They nodded at each other.
Chris draped an arm around his sister, and there was no grief on his face for his fallen comrades. There was nothing. The eyes were empty. They would be. They should be.
After all, Death felt nothing.
The Burtons stood there huddled together. The girl at Barry's side held his eyes. His mouth twitched. Hers answered. She showed him the Franz Kafka's Metamorphosis book clutched to her chest.
A brilliant thing inside a child.
When the gathering of mourners emptied, Leon joined Chris at the graveside of Jill Valentine. They studied her mahogany casket together. A woman they'd both loved, seemingly, in a world where love was crushed beneath a boot like an errant bug.
Leon remarked, "Thank you, Jill...for everything."
She'd been his first real success. His blessed creation. His birthed avenging angel. He'd hoped to turn her back to become his most trusted lieutenant. But Kennedy had outsmarted him with Chambers in those final moments. He'd lost her after grooming her. He'd let her pay the price.
And he'd made Kennedy pay it himself for that betrayal.
It was a fitting end for humanity's greatest weakness - love. Love was nothing. It was a flash in a fire that was too hot to ever stop burning. It was faith in a world without belief. It was nothing.
And he'd enjoyed watching it die thrice on that rooftop. First for Redfield. Then for Valentine. Then for Kennedy, who'd attempted to sneak in at the eleventh hour and claim justice for a woman already forsaken.
Kennedy - who stood at the right hand of the most powerful man in the world.
Logan wept openly for his fallen mother. Claire held him as Leon remarked, "Raise him right. Good luck in Louisiana."
Chris smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Of course...it's good to see you...Leon."
It was Leon's face, but it wasn't his smile. And it wasn't his sunglasses that slid onto his nose.
The boy grieving his mother turned to Leon. He clung to his leg, and Leon studied him with a brow arched as the boy whispered, "...I want her back."
Leon considered him and finally replied, "People die to make way for more. It's the circle of life. It's inevitable."
Logan let go of his leg and looked up at him. His wet face was shrewd and thoughtful as he remarked, "...we fight to keep them alive, right? Like...Wolverine."
Leon shrugged a shoulder. "Animals have no basis in humanity, boy. Humans are selfish and simple at the core of it. They will fight and die - often for nothing worth saving. Wolverines...are tenacious hunters. They are superior because they embrace their death to motivate their success as a species. Humans have no such compunction. Remember that."
The boy kept looking at him until Claire began to lead him away. What was that on his face? Something. Leon narrowed his eyes at it. The boy was shrewd; that much was clear, which was respectable. The caution was inspired but irrelevant. The boy would come around. Chris would ensure that.
At the car side, Logan took Kevin's hand. The big man glanced down at him, and the boy said, "...that's not Leon."
He climbed into the car. Claire glanced at Kevin, who raised his brows in response. He'd awoken on that rooftop to find Chris and Leon there with him. Wesker dead. Wong beside him. They'd ended it. All of it. They'd lost Mira. They'd lost others to the battle below. The loss of Jill was wide and deep. The pain was wide and deep and endless.
But they'd won.
Hadn't they?
Kevin glanced back at the graveside. Leon stood there dry-eyed and strong. That was him. That was what he did. This was just a show of strength for those around them. He was grieving Jill in his own way.
Right?
That's not Leon.
If it wasn't...then who was it?
The boy was hurting. He was sad. He was just projecting. The testing had been clear. Leon was Leon...wasn't he?
Wasn't he?
Leon looped an arm around Rebecca, where she grieved. He pressed a kiss to her temple. Eventually, he'd breed her. Maybe he'd breed Claire too. The redhead looked at this body like it was something she craved. Chris would happily allow him to impregnate her. The bloodline would continue. After all, it never hurt to have more children.
Children, after all, were the future.
The little girl beside Burton waved at him. Leon felt his mouth twitch again but showed her nothing. She'd already given him the keys to his future. Her time was coming.
In the distance, the shadow of red drew his attention.
And Leon Kennedy saluted her with a slight nod of his head.
He was reborn. He was risen. And Ragnarok was coming. The world was his.
He had the D.S.O. in his hands now. He had the B.S.A.A. at his beck and call.
It was time to leave something behind for his legacy.
"The road to death is a long march beset with all evils, and the heart fails little by little at each new terror, the bones rebel at each step, the mind sets up its own bitter resistance, and to what end? The barriers sink one by one, and no covering of the eyes shuts out the landscape of disaster, nor the sight of crimes committed there."
~ Katherine Anne Porter, quote from Pale Horse, Pale Rider
Revelation 6:8
"And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth."
~King James Version (KJV)
Old friends are the last to break away.
~The Saga of Grettir, chapter 82