Chapter Nineteen

Vincent responded instantly to the new threat. He swept Claire off her feet and leapt to the catwalk that Leon had been shooting from. Two Tyrants leapt onto the railing after them. The combined weight made the rail groan. Vincent, ever calm, kicked a hole in the wall. A wash of brilliant sunlight penetrated the suddenly smelly room. Vincent leapt out, somehow bouncing onto the roof.

Then he set Claire down. "You should be safe here," he said.

Claire pulled him toward her. "Clearly you've never fought a Tyrant before." In time with her words, one of the Tyrants sliced a hole through the roof and climbed up. (Claire figured that maybe it was standing on the other's head, but discarded the thought when the second one climbed over the side of the roof.)

"Great," Vincent muttered. He shot the Tyrant between the eyes, but it kept coming.

"Aim for its heart," Claire ordered, matching actions with words. Several bullets from the Griffin slammed into the vicinity of the shoulder mass, but the Tyrant moved too fast for her to get more than a couple solid hits. It was rushing forward with all the force of a train, claws dragging, ripping up the titles of the roof.

The roof was actually a slanted, almost ancient university style. It was made of blue, stone shingles with a gentle slope. And here and there, towers extended with steeples. Claire readied herself to dodge, but before the perfect moment came, Vincent was pulling her away.

"Not yet," she yelped. The Tyrant turned with him, and Claire felt the skin on her arm start to tingle. It was a clean cut - fast. And for a second the wound didn't know it was suppose to bleed. Then her arm gave a spasm, and blood gushed from three neat slices.

Claire switched her gun, eyes showing too much white, breath in sudden quick gasps. She peeled away from Vincent, but the Tyrant kept after him. Switching her gun, to her left arm, she started firing, but her aim was junk. Her vision was swimming.

She heard the roar of another Tyrant behind her. Her Tyrant. The one under orders to bring her to Wesker. She waited for it, watched it barreling toward her. At the last second, point blank range, she fired a single shot into its pulsing heart. At the same time, she dodged left . . .

And into the hole the first one had ripped through the roof.

She fell, holstering her gun, clutching her bleeding arm, and screaming. She landed on the unstable catwalk. Her breath escaped in a sharp whoosh. And for a second she lay still, hyperventilating. Then the light was blocked as the Tyrant jumped through the hole.

Claire squeaked and rolled out of the way. This time her fall was much softer. She landed on the sofa, and had a quick second to survey the scene. The party had scattered for the most part. There was no sign of Leon or Rufus . . . Cloud was locked in combat with both Wesker and a Tyrant – it looked like they had somehow destroyed a wall, and they were in the adjacent room. And she didn't see her new brothers anywhere. Then she looked up and saw the Tyrant, leaping toward her, claws extended.

She rolled off the couch, planning her attack. She was going to land crouched, sprint to Cloud, shooting his unsuspecting Tyrant as she went. If she could kill his, then he'd have a better shot against Wesker and she would –

But her plans were for nothing because apparently one of the Tyrants had made a hole on the floor by the couch too. So instead of her brilliant plan, she fell another story.

"Dammit!" she screamed, hitting her injured arm on the way through the hole. She landed in a laboratory of some sort. And spotted Rufus, panting hard, a Tyrant looming over him, claws poised for the final strike. She pulled the Griffin and opened fire, sending salvo after salvo into the creature's back. That would never kill it, but she had a job to protect her boss. Tseng's orders. She ran forward, shooting and the Tyrant turned to see what new irritant was coming its way. "Aim for its heart on its shoulder!" Claire shrieked. Then saw too many claws coming straight at her. She tried to slow her charge, twist out of the way, but instead she tripped over scattered equipment. Her ankle gave a see-you-later pulse of pain, and she went down. But not fast enough. Claws clipped her shoulder, making a new pain burn. She cried out.

And then the Tyrant in front of her was on fire. It wheeled back to Rufus, but the President had moved.

He grabbed Claire, hauling her to her feet and Casting Cure on her. The green light made her feel a tad bit better. Actually, it made her feel good enough to switch the Griffin back to her primary hand. She fired at the burning Tyrant, nailing a couple good shots through its heart. It roared, death breath making her want to vomit. She reminded herself that there were better things to do.

Together with Rufus, they fled the lab. In the hall, a slew of normal soldiers took up a firing position.

Claire ran straight toward them, and Rufus followed. They blasted past the troops before they could get off a single shot. Then the Tyrants came, and Claire heard the soldiers screaming – opening fire. She slowed, turned, went back. Rufus didn't notice at first and when he did, he whipped around and followed.

She was screaming at the troops to aim for the heart, but none of them listened. So Claire positioned herself and started firing, landing critical shot after critical shot on one of the Tyrants. It finally fell, tripping the other. And neither moved.

"Thanks," one of the surviving soldiers said. He handed her an X-potion for her efforts and fled through a side door.

"What the fuck is this?" Claire muttered, getting ready to toss it aside.

Rufus caught her hand. "It's a potion, obviously." He tossed it over her head, watching with surprise the surprise on her face as the bone-deep gashed on her arm turned into skin deep slashes and the puncture through her shoulder turned into nothing more than a narrow puncture with the blood clotting rather than gushing.

"You didn't know what a potion was?" he asked.

"I didn't realize what it did," she said. "I thought it was like Advil . . ."

"Advil?"

They tripped Tyrant roared, ending the conversation. Claire watched it get to its feet. She took careful aim. "Burn it when I start shooting, Sir," she said. Her finger tightened around the trigger. And the gun gave a quiet click, indicating it was empty.