Resident Evil:

The Whole Story.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Marcus was enraged, it was the only word for it. Even over the distance that separated them he had felt his children die. He had felt their pain and their fear and then...there had just been nothing. It was like a part of him had been torn away and the pain of it and Marcus knew that the part that had been lost would never be replaced, even as hundreds and hundreds more of his children were born every single moment.

And the monsters that had killed them now had the nerve to breach his most inner sanctum where the heart of his strength lay, the sheer gall of it made him want to kill them all the more. He had been foolish to let them live so long as he had done, when the train had crashed and they had made their way up to the training facility he should have gone and killed them the moment that they arrived.

But a part of him had been curious, to see how far they would get before one of the infected human hosts would devour them or before one of the mutants in the mansion would fall across them. He had never intended for them to get as far as they had done, he had certainly never intended for them to get down into the labs, the thought they could breach his inner sanctum had been unthinkable.

But now they were on their way here.

He had not intended for them to even get into the labs in the first place, if the truth was to be told. He had been up in the mansion himself, wanting to see how well that they would do with his own eyes but his interest had waned somewhat quickly when it had become clear to him that they were likely to cower in the library rather than move onward and further into the mansion and so he had abandoned them and made his way to the elevator.

He assumed that their fear had consumed them and that they would either remain in the library until they starved to death or that sooner or later something would find it's way in there with them and it would make quick and bloody work of the both of them.

Unfortunately for him, it seemed that he had underestimated them somewhat as they had left the library and how found their way to the elevator somehow, he must not have shut the painting that kept the passage hidden properly and the elevator, while he was not by any means a mechanical genius he knew enough to know that it had been malfunctioning, had kept it's door open when it had gone back up to the level it had started from and they had used it to descend into the labs.

He had been concerned, slightly, when he had been made aware of it but he comforted himself with the knowledge that none knew of the entrance to his secret labs other than him, even Wesker and Birkin had not known about it even though that had not done much to save him in the end, and his new sentinels were still patrolling the hallways to guard the nest.

His children had at first only been able to cover a human body and direct it, but that had only been in the early stages of their growth, now his children could gather together and form a roughly humanoid shape without the need of any sort of puppet. The part of him that was still a scientist and not just their father was absolutely fascinated by it and he had found himself wondering if one day that they would be capable of being able to mimic a human.

If they could do so then it was likely that such a development was still a long ways off, if they would ever be able to do so at all. What he did know was that they would serve as excellent guards and soldiers and so he had allowed them to wander the halls of the labs until all was properly prepared, even one of them would be enough to deal with the two unarmed intruders.

Or at least, that was what he had thought. But while his children were strong, the death of so many at once proved that humans could kill them and not just with fire. The tide of flesh and teeth that would rip apart the world, suck the marrow from it's bones and leave all his enemies naught but skeletons in the aftermath was not so certain now.

One of his children crawled up his sleeve, a dozen more followed him up his pants and his chest and slithered across his face into his mouth and down his throat and into his ears and their presences gave Marcus such great comfort, with each moment that passed since he had been returned from the darkness of death he had found it harder and harder to be away from his children.

Sometimes, he could almost swear that they were calling to him even though he knew that it was likely nothing more than a hallucination as his higher brains functions degraded due to the virus, he did not have much time to studied the effects of the new Tyrant strain that he had created by infecting the leeches with the progenitor strain before Spencer had him assassinated.

He had been working with the latest strain in his publicly known labs when they had come for him, he didn't really remember why he had chosen to work there that day instead of in his private ones, he hadn't worked in them for months after all. His memories of everything before those assassins had burst in were more than a little...fuzzy, for lack of a better term for it.

He had wanted to get away from the smell, that had been it. The realization had struck him like a thunderbolt out of the blue and it was so funny to him that he might have laughed were it not for the fact that there was a leech in the middle of his throat. He had found the smell of the bodies from the experiments that he had dumped in the lower levels to unpleasant to work properly.

So, for the first time in what must have been weeks, he had gone to work in his private labs in the main complex that everyone else knew existed but very few had ever been down to them and thus when he had been in his true labs and out of sight all of the workers in the main labs had merely thought that he had locked himself down in the labs that he knew of.

Fate was a fickle bitch, it seemed. The first day that he had actually gone to work in those labs was the day that Spencer's goons had come bursting in with guns blazing. He could still remember the feeling of the bullets blazing through his flesh, one of them had hit his lung and he had drowned in his own blood as Wesker and Birkin had smirked down at him and laughed and laughed.

And the next thing he knew, he woke up in one of the chemical disposal pits in the lab where all of the subject from the general lab experiments were disposed of. He had founded the company right alongside Oswell and Edward and he had been thrown away like he was nothing more than a bit of rubbish then had been stinking up the place.

Once, it had stroked such a rage in him that the flames of it threatened to consume the entire world but now even that seemed to be fading as more and more time passed, Spencer's face was naught to him now but a mere blur, and even Wesker and Birkin's laughing faces were starting to blur as well and he never thought that he would ever forget their faces.

He hated them so much.

But even that was starting to die as well, every moment that passed James Marcus was dying all over again and this time nothing would ever be able to bring him back. He really was nothing more than a memory now, and he was starting to fade.

It had terrified him, when he had started to notice that his memories were fading. But he had very soon become numb to that as well, he had accepted it as a simple fact.

His children would devour everything, even him. Even the rage that he had felt at the the loss of her children was almost gone now, soon all that would be left was the only thing that would always be left.

Hunger.

So let the murderers come.

They were so hungry.

End of Chapter Thirty-Eight


Okay, so this one is a short chapter but it is meant to be as we just take a look inside of Marcus's mental state...or lack of one, as it stands.

I hope everyone enjoyed, please consider leaving a review, a follow and a favorite.

With warmest regards,

DiscordantSymphony