Hi all! If you've read this far – thank you so much for sticking with me over this past year! It's been so fun to read your comments and all your messages. I really appreciate all your kind words. ?
I'm not usually big on notes or warnings since too many times it comes with spoilers (and assume since this is a RE fic and the source matter is already pretty dark ya'll are just peachy with it) ... just popping in to remind you that all the tags are legit!
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Ethan sensed he was close. The air around him hung heavy and teemed with energy. The crows circled him, some flying ahead, directly towards his destination. It had been an interesting, unexpected morning.
He had been on his way to the factory when the sensation stopped him in his tracks; something was stalking him from the woods. Though he hadn't heard or seen anything strange, he could feel the shape of it, huge and looming.
Ethan had frozen, waiting for it to make a move. Waiting for it to strike out towards his exposed back with those claws and teeth that he didn't need to see to know were sharp and stained with blood. For a reason he couldn't explain, instead of running or turning to search the shadows around him, he had dug his fingers into the soil. And in the following dawn hours, he had learned just what his power could do. He hadn't felt surprised, or shocked or anything except satisfaction as he left the woods to return to the path to the factory which now lay ahead of him. On the horizon he could make out the stacks that churned out smokey pillars, defiling the hazy, white clouds that hung low in the early morning sky.
He had already had a chance to test himself, to flex his power. He thought of Mia, and how he hadn't even gotten a chance to properly grieve for her. What had they done with her body? The thoughts churned, and his rage grew until his chest was full. Mary had given him this gift, and he was more than happy to share it with the bastards that sold out his family.
At least he had her in this nightmare.
The gravel path led to a large open area with the building straight up ahead. Getting into the heavily fortified factory might be more challenging than he thought. Mary had said Heisenberg was strong, ruthless, evil. And something about the challenge set his blood on fire. Something deep inside him, wicked and dark and foreign sang out for it.
But that wasn't what he found when he arrived at the rusted metal door of the shed, sitting open and unassuming. He had walked right in, though to his annoyance to the shrill welcoming of alarms. Thankfully, he found that it was easy to drown them out and instead filled his senses with the energy of the rooms, looking for the flasks.
He descended, not bothering to look at the building maps and while he didn't find them, there was a vibration he followed down, down to where he could sense a living thing. Something that was moving, heading towards him.
Even over the wailing alarm, he could hear the heavy puttering of a motor. In the flashing of the emergency lights, he could sense a great mass surging forward. Not just a man - the slicing of blades. Propellers. He could make out the form now, of this terrifying monster. It was like something jammed a goddamn helicopter propeller into the guy's face. Now, Ethan was surprised.
From the dark, Sturm charged.
Ethan didn't even have time to let out a curse. He flung himself to his back as the monster rampaged towards him, the propellers catching and slamming into the open doorway he had just been standing in. Momentarily stunned, the machine sputtered, and Ethan wasted no time. He let that power simmering under his skin guide him as he launched himself at the beast's chest, letting the propellers sink into his flesh and muscle and bone.
They twisted into each other, and amidst the feeling of his own ripping limps, the crush of bone and metal and stinking, rotting flesh pulsed the undeniable feeling of invincibility, and despite himself, Ethan laughed.
xx
The silence was heavy around them as they walked together. Though his arm circled her, despite the burn in her shoulder she wasn't entirely sure it wasn't her arm steadying him. Finally, he opened his mouth and began the questions she had been anxiously preparing for.
"So, who is he?" His tone wasn't accusatory but clipped as he stared ahead. Not where she thought he would start.
"A friend." Celia spoke, and honestly wasn't sure how much to share about their friendship, or whatever it was they had. "A victim of this village, one of Miranda's experiments."
"Lord Douchebag is a victim? Hard to believe."
Celia stopped. "Chris what is wrong with you? Why are you acting like this? He's trying to help us. And just to be clear, if he wanted to, he could have killed you where you stood out there. Without lifting his hands and with your own knife. That should be proof enough for you."
Her legs felt heavier than they had in days as she increased her pace, a sudden pang of anxiety coursing through her. Though they didn't discuss them, the eyes of the dead followed the pair from the snow-covered bed of the forest. Of animals. Of Lycans. Of villagers in various stages of decomposition and she suddenly felt so appreciative of the cold air snapping around her. It felt good on her injuries, but above all else she appreciated the fact that it dulled the smell.
"I heard about him, you know. There was someone at the castle, and she told me that he was the worst of them all. That he was Miranda's favorite."
"He's not like that, it's not like that. He wants her dead just as much as you, if not more. Trust me." The look on his face told her it wasn't likely.
"And who is this she that told you this?"
"She helped me get out of there, and she didn't have to. And when this is over I'm going to go back and help her. Her name is Daniela."
Her eyes widened as she tried to process what she was hearing. "Jesus, Chris! Alcina's daughter? That mental patient?"
He didn't argue with that. "Yeah, well, I guess we both have been keeping some peculiar company these past few days."
Celia had to agree with that. She thought about him now, how she wished he was by her side as she stepped in Karl's old tracks in the snow, following them to the path that should take them back to the factory. She could see it only a few yards ahead.
After a few minutes of silence she finally lobbed the verbal grenade she was holding on to, aiming for the elephant in the room. "You haven't even asked about Ethan."
His head snapped to her. "What's there to ask? We need to save him, and we need to save Rose. She probably has them at the sanctuary, or maybe at the reservoir. Until she's ready to perform the ceremony and-"
"Chris, no. He's...he's with Miranda. He's working with her."
Chris stopped walking, dragging her to a halt. "Why. How?" His face was hard, and she could see the muscles tensing in his arms.
Celia swallowed as she gave him the news. "Miranda has him working for her. I don't know...I don't know all the details but what I do know is Miranda has him believing that she's on his side and he's killing people here, at least one of the other Lords, and maybe Alcina too, to try to get to the flasks."
"What flasks?"
"Well, Miranda took Rose. And..."
"And what, Celia?"
"It's a long story, but Miranda found a way to separate her body but she's alive somehow. She's going to use her as a host for her dead daughter. In this bag, I have two of the four flasks she was separated into. We need to keep them away from Ethan as long as possible, until we're ready to follow them to the place where Miranda will complete the ceremony and reassemble her. Then, we need to take her out."
He ran his hands through his hair as he struggled to process what she was saying to him.
"Yeah, and I..." Her voice trailed off as she took in the deep footprints she had been following. Karl's and her own...and a third set. Someone else had come this way. Chris looked at her and nodded, as if he understood her thoughts. Swiftly, she hefted her bag to the ground and from it produced a gun, which she handed to Chris. Before zipping it, she let her fingers graze the lids of the twin flasks she held in the bag. Flowers and swords, and a grand horse stared back at her, and she bit back the urge to turn and run and get the things as far away from the factory as possible. She should have left her bag with Karl.
Stupid.
"It could be Ethan, Chris." She wasn't sure what to expect given the information they had on him and what he had done to the others, and in his current condition she didn't know if Chris was ready for a fight.
"Chris, I think we should wait for Karl."
"What? Why?"
"There's something wrong with Ethan."
He shook his head. "There's nothing wrong with him cleaning up this village."
She couldn't believe what she was hearing.
"No...that's not what I meant. But I think you know that." Celia grabbed his arm. "Tell me the truth, did you know about Ethan, about what happened back there? At the Baker house?"
He nodded, but wouldn't look her in the eye. "I know enough."
This wasn't the Chris she knew; he was acting so distant. Angry. So she switched tactics. "You think he's just going to forgive you for what he thinks you did to Mia? And for what happened to Rose? That...that isn't your fault, but you should have told him." Quickly, she corrected herself. "We, we should have told him. Can you blame him if he tries to kill us too?"
Celia couldn't make out his expression. He looked guilty. Could it be he was preparing for the worst? Could he kill Ethan? She didn't dare ask him. "Chris?"
Please talk to me.
"You're right. I need to fix this. We need to find him and get through to him. Are you with me?"
The man speaking those words was the Chris she knew. He held out his hand to her. And she took it.
xx
Through the smoke and reek of burnt oil, something was drawing him through those corridors and chambers and rooms full of rotting bodies and steel. Something that had changed within the factory. Something that wasn't there when he first entered. Somewhere from deep within, something he was looking for.
The halls were so dark, he should not have been able to make his way through them with such ease. But that feeling. The flask was close, and the pulse of energy ten times the strength of the others. He wasn't afraid of what might be hiding down here around every blind corner, he was fairly certain that he had been decapitated and sliced to shreds in the foyer of that castle and yet he still breathed, his head heavy on his shoulders and he wasn't tripping over his own intestines. And then there was that beast he had just ripped apart despite it doing the same to him.
He should not have been able to put his fists through the machinery, to tear it apart with his bare hands while the sparks and electricity pulsed through him. Yet he still stood, and the fires were burning and the smoke was filling his lungs but he was breathing despite it all. No human should be able to do what he had done and lived, and he knew he was no longer human. But that didn't bother him. The only thing that mattered was killing the people responsible. Ripping them apart and...
No.
His thoughts were scattered. It was for Rose, he reminded himself. He would save Rose; he would pull her out of this nightmare, or he would die here. Maybe he would die here anyway.
He reached out again and tried not to let it overwhelm him, that sensation of being everywhere in the building all at once. The long halls, the buckets of blood and intestines. But the sight was finite, it had an end, and it was with those flasks.
xx
A thick smoke filled the corridor. The shrieking of the alarms was almost too much for her to bear yet she led Chris to the security room to find a way to stop the sound and maybe catch a glimpse at the monitors. But the further they went, the heavier the noxious smoke became until they stumbled right into it. The source of the smoke was Sturm. Broken and bleeding. The fire still burned low but hot, effectively cooking that rotting flesh right off his bones.
Chris lifted his arm to his nose. "What the fuck is that."
She had underestimated what Ethan could do. The proof of it was in Sturms' mangled corpse. "It was-" She nearly gagged on the stench. "It was something that lived here. This is bad Chris. We need to get out."
"I can't believe Ethan did this. There's no way..."
A low, dull roar filled the corridor. Not a roar, a scream. In the distance, the lights of the hallway were darkening, being overtaken by something moving towards them, fast.
"Oh my god. The wall, Chris look at the wall!"
A faint glow reflected off the black and white mold creeping towards them from the ceiling and walls. It pulsed and grew and pushed from itself, multiplying, and covering every inch of steel surrounding them and stamping out the light from emergency fixtures.
From beyond it, they heard the deep bellow again, this time clearer. "Chrriis!" The roaring was louder now, closer. Celia couldn't see past the darkness, but she knew he was there. They had to move quickly.
"Chris, run!"
Inky black tendrils like roots sliced towards them, twisting along the floor like vipers.
Chris let off a few rounds fly, the echo in the tight space nearly deafening her and she spun on her heel and took off in the opposite direction. "I don't think bullets will work on him, save them!" She worried about the amount of ammunition she had jammed into the pockets of her vest and had given to him. They had to be conservative. A knife could only take them so far.
They took off, sprinting through the corridors. Past rows of bodies lined up against the walls. Strong bodies.
The soldats!
She could try to wake them up. She could use them. Karl had woken them up with a command, what was it? What did he say?
Eins.
"Eins!" Her shrieks echoed off the walls. Another row, and more commands, but the reactors stayed dark. There was no hiss of steam to signal them pulling from the wall to come to her rescue, no terrifying red glow. "Eins!" She tried again, but only the blare of the alarm and the dull blinking of the emergency lights. Chris was screaming something at her, but her heart was pounding so loud in her ears she couldn't make it out. She could not die here like this.
Just ahead of them, the yellow emergency paint on the ladder beckoned. "Come on!" She grabbed his arm and shoved him into the rungs before hoisting herself up behind him, her shoulder screaming. She stayed close to him, thankful that he was moving as fast as he was.
Once they hit the top Celia doubled over, blood pounding through her body with the adrenaline. She heard Chris curse, and it didn't take her long to see why. He was standing at the ledge of the platform, peering over the railing. There was nowhere left to run. They were on a balcony towering over what appeared to be water. If Ethan followed them, they would be trapped.
She joined him at the edge, to see just how far the drop was.
Chris shook his head. "We won't make it, it's too far down."
Celia's heart thudded in time to the footsteps echoing around them, through the whole factory. "I just need a minute. I need time to think-" But time had run out.
"Coward!" Ethan was here.
Chris lifted his weapon as he stared down Ethan, rising from the opening in the metal grating. The black shimmering mold crept up through the open hatch and fanned out, covering the ceilings and walls and floor beneath their feet. It laced up the thick metal wires that secured the deck to the ceiling.
Celia knew she had to find a way to get through to him, that darkness pouring off him was deadly, poisoning the air. "Ethan! Miranda is using you! Please you have to –"
"STOP!" Ethan bellowed so fiercely she felt his words reverberating in the metal around her. Through the grates of the floor, thick, black tendrils snaked up around them. The smell was unbearable. Celia held back the urge to vomit at the reek of rotting flesh, wet wood and mold that overpowered her senses, so much so that she practically tasted it.
She could feel that hate directed at Chris, who was pulled to his knees by rotting roots.
"Why. Our family trusted you. I fucking trusted you!" The black mass tightened around his arms and slammed him to the ground as Ethan inched closer. Blood poured from his nose as he rose again on his knees. "Tell me you piece of shit! Tell me why you did it!"
Chris was swaying, fighting to stay on his knees as he struggled to get the words out. "Ethan, I swear, I didn't..." His voice trailed off, and his face twisted into resignation. "Ethan, I'm sorry."
Chris hung his head, and Celias gaze whipped between the men. "Chris?" She whispered. It couldn't be true. Why didn't he tell Ethan it wasn't true?
"You moved me right to his fucking backdoor! You coward! You piece of shit! You killed her!"
"Chris, tell him it's not true! Tell him!"
"His?" Chris tilted his head in confusion.
"Chris!" Celia was pleading with him now.
Chris looked back at Ethan. "I didn't know this would happen. It wasn't supposed to be this way."
No. No.
"Why choose Romania? Of all places! Say it, I want to hear you say it."
"I...it wasn't supposed to happen this way."
"Chris! What are you saying?" Celia stepped away from him.
Ethan lifted him and hurled him back toward the metal grating of the platform floor. He hit hard, his body rolling before he pulled himself to his knees again. His chest caved forward and his hands hit the ground, not even bothering to lift them and wipe the blood dripping from his mouth. "It's true. I did. I'd been tracking her for so long and I knew, from the first piece of intel I knew...that she would go after you. I had been watching her, adding false information to your files to see if she would act on it. And she did. And I knew what she would do. Or I thought I did. She was desperate, and so was I, but Ethan I swear it was to help you. And you were never alone. I wanted to control when she would come after you, not if! I was watching, but, I fucked up. I missed something and..." he trailed off, shaking his head.
Celia felt dizzy, sick and nauseous. This, this was the reason he had been so solemn and standoffish. So distracted and guilty. His eyes found hers. "Celia. I'm so sorry. I thought it was the right thing to do."
She believed that he believed that. But she didn't have time to process his reasoning or how she felt about it. Ethan's voice was deep and steady with no hint of forgiveness and he was too far gone to listen. "How much did they pay you, to sell my family and your own soul? How much was it worth, you asshole?" He extended his hand and the mold moved along it, pulsing and throbbing.
"What are you talking about? Paid? I wasn't paid to do this, Ethan!" Chris was shaking his head, trying to make sense of what he was being accused of.
"You liar. You made a deal with those demons! You killed my wife. Sold off my child, my LIFE! And the proof is those flasks you're holding right now! I'll send you to hell then I'll come there myself just to watch you burn!" Celia could no longer make out his face behind the mold that covered it, giving him a terrifying appearance. "And your friends are next."
"No-" Chris was on his feet again.
Ethan wasn't done. "I want to hear you say it before I tear your head off your shoulders." His voice was distorted, his face almost fully covered in dark blood vessels that seeped into his eyes.
"No, Ethan, you have to know, I would never. We didn't kill her. When we came in there, we didn't attack Mia. It was Miranda! Mia was...already gone. Miranda had gotten to her."
"Liar!" Ethan's mold surged, threatening to envelope them.
"No, that's true." Celia's tongue felt thick and heavy as she ground out the words, not sparing Chris a glance. "When he called our team out, Miranda had already taken her, and had taken her place in your house. She had been there at least a week and that night –"
The holes where his eyes should have been focused on her. "I remember you."
Her shame burned through her, replacing the shock and paralyzing fear.
Chris tried again, "Ethan, listen to me, you have to –" he was cut off by a kick from Ethan so hard in the chest she wouldn't have been surprised if he had obliterated every rib. Not giving Chris a second to compose himself, Ethan hurdled himself into him, a blur of black and then they were on the ground. From his mouth, the black mass poured like oil, leaving the spots where it struck Chris vest to melt right down to his flesh. The scream that tore from him hit Celia so hard in her gut she felt sick. Her gun was in her hand and she was stumbling towards the men, unsure of her next move.
His vest was still hissing and crackling as he threw Ethan over his head, over the railing. Ethan grabbed it and poised to hoist himself back over to continue his assault. Celia didn't hesitate. No longer left with a choice, she gripped her gun as tightly as she could, jammed it into Ethan's temple and pulled the trigger. His face didn't so much as flinch as he fell from the rail to the darkness below.
Celia was shaking, the way Ethan had stared at her, the look in his eyes had her barely feeling the bite of the firearm against her gloveless hand.
You're next.
A groan cut into the empty space she had been staring into. She ran to the agent on the ground, taking in his injuries and trying not to recoil at the sight of the raw flesh beneath the holes in his vest that glistened under the lights. "Chris, are you –" Beneath their feet, the floor trembled and she grabbed the railing to steady herself, praying she wouldn't be pitched over the side. The platform shook, swaying and groaning as the metal twisted under the strain of itself.
"What's happening?" She pocketed her gun.
Chris stumbled to his feet. "Something bad." Panic rolled through his eyes, a realization and he anchored himself to the railing and grabbed her bicep so tightly and pulled so aggressively that she feared he might separate her shoulder from the socket. But as the platform separated beneath her she understood and clung to him as the floor fell away.
Not again.
"Celia, listen to me! I have to live with this, with the decisions I made. But I can't lose another person, I can't lose you here. No matter what happens, I want you to fight. You need to get out of this village alive. Get Ethan and Rose out alive."
The platform heaved forward as it broke itself apart, still attached to the ceiling and swinging wildly. They both realized that if they didn't do something they would be liquified as it slammed up against the wall.
"Cross your arms before you hit!" Chris screamed to her, and she understood what he was about to do. She gave him a nod and braced herself as he let go first of her, then of the railing. As weightlessness took over, and time slowed, she thought of the bag on her back and what she had to protect.
They hit the water together, the force felt like she had slammed into concrete. But she had been able to shift the bag to her chest and clutch it so the force didn't break her shoulders at the straps. Under the water, it felt like it had been stuffed with lead. Her legs and arms pumped, but the dark murky water held her in place.
Her lungs were on fire. She was close; she could make out the light on the surface, her fingers grazing only inches from air. Only inches from air and... him. The last of her air bubbled from her lungs as she made out the figure standing above her. Ethan.
The will was there, but her body was shutting down. Was she even still kicking and swimming? Darkness deeper than the black water surrounded her and suddenly the bag was too heavy. The burning was too much, and he was waiting.
She only hoped that Chris would lead Karl back to her to find the flasks. She surrendered to darkness below her and floated away to the dull stifled thudding of machinery sounding through the water.