August 5th, 1982
"…Perfect. I'll see you then."
A gentle smile crept onto his lips as he lowered the receiver to its base and rose from the comfort of his Victorian armchair. After a hasty stretch, he made his way across the cozy room with a sense of urgency, but came to an abrupt stop the instant his hand reached for the door's handle. Turning, he caught sight of the silver tray on his desk and his expression fell to a deep frown.
"I suppose…I should do that first." He relented with a sigh, putting aside his reluctance to instead return to the desk and take another brief look at the tray.
Now that he could clearly perceive—and smell, the contents, he shook his head with a sickened groan.
A few substantial slabs of discolored meat were carelessly tossed about, leaving little to see of the dish they occupied. A pool of thin, faded blood stretched from beneath the pile and continuously expanded, coming dangerously close to the tray's vaguely elevated rims. What animal the meat had originated from, Marcus couldn't say with any degree of certainty. The pieces had been sitting sloppily wrapped in the confines of the facility's freezer for several months, but despite the layer of frost that initially covered them, they were certainly thawed now. They had softened into a heap of pale pinks intermingled with brown splotches, but appeared to be edible enough…probably.
He was only thankful he was not the one meant to dine on that disgusting banquet, and frankly he had no interest in whether or not the recipients would be too thrilled with it either. Those behemoths were lucky he was even willing to go out of his way to waste food on them, expired or not.
He was positive they would be capable of sustaining themselves without food for quite a while, if not indefinitely. But unfortunately, being the ever-compassionate man that he was, he continued to provide them with food on occasion… Or perhaps it was less a result of his conscience and more because he didn't want to wake up one day to a few broken cages and torn-down doors on account of some very hungry B.O.W.s.
He lifted the sickening platter, careful to grip it with a steady hand so the blood would not spill and again trekked across his dimly-lit office. Reaching the door, he shifted his grasp to his left hand to turn the knob with his right.
Passing through the corridor, he arrived at and climbed the narrow set of stairs that spiraled into the upper floor's lab, but not without stopping midway through upon being struck by a sudden thought. His lips were pursed and his brows furrowed while he looked on with a downward stare.
"The foundation of these stairs… I fear they're beginning to feel even more unstable than usual." These words were spoken with a trace of concern while he applied a faint bit of pressure with his foot. A stifled crackle was heard beneath the step's surface, but he quickly chose to disregard it with a shake of his head.
He proceeded onward, although was unable to keep himself from taking note of each and every troubling creak that followed his movements.
"I only hope they won't end up collapsing any time soon. There's enough work to be done around here for my own purposes. I don't need general maintenance to start putting an even greater delay to my plans…" He mumbled softly upon reaching the top of the stairs.
As his stoic gaze rose, it trailed off until being met by the sight of the large case to his right side, the case which served as the final resting ground for his precious children. It immediately brought a look of bliss to his face, but even that faded as quickly as it emerged, leaving no more than sheer disappointment.
His eyes traveled from the machine to the plate kept firmly in his grasp, then back to the former with a soft sigh.
"I… I still remember their looks of joy once they realized it was time to eat. How each of them would perk up, raising their little bodies and climbing atop each other in anticipation as they awaited the delivery of their prey." His lips were gently parted and his eyes conveyed a deep and impenetrable sadness, sparing no more than a moment to linger on each of his children before woefully wandering to the next. Children who were once so filled with life…and a profound love for the man who would lead to their deaths.
He bit his lip and softly shook his head. "How… How happy they were…"
Leaving his mumbled words to drift through the air, he abruptly tore his eyes from the sight. There were so many words left unsaid, but he was unable to give to them a voice. He could only mutter to himself once more prior to taking his leave.
"…They were always so happy."
Foolish though he felt, what once had been a simple lab room had now become a source of misery for him. He hardly liked to pass through the accursed place anymore. He could never stop his stoic gaze from falling on the corpses of those who only a short time ago had brought him an endless happiness. Only now, what he once thought was endless began to feel far too fleeting.
He knew he made the correct decision then, so he could not say that he regretted it. His choice might have been cruel, but it was the only way to keep them safe. Even if to protect them, he was to sacrifice them…
It was simply his bed to lie in—he made it long ago.
Having departed the room, Marcus wasted no more time in dwelling on the past. He turned and headed straight for the door ahead. He pulled an ornately designed golden key from his pocket, inserted it into the heavy steel, and turned until he heard a click.
This particular key was a new addition to his set, as was the sturdy door it was paired with. Due to this room's intended purpose, he felt it best to not only provide some extra security through the use of a unique key, but also simply to have a stronger, supposedly indestructible door.
While the door itself was nothing interesting or even pleasant to look at, he very much enjoyed the design of the key. Etched into the glistening gold was the depiction of a lion mid-roar, its massive mouth opened wide as it bore its deadly fangs.
The intended imagery was obvious to him, but interestingly enough, it wasn't unthinkable that a simple first glance could lead one to assume it was actually a hideous monster rather than the majestic lion it was meant to be. He found that contradiction to be quite the amusing parallel for what was actually stored within the room, so he was quite pleased with the work that artisan had done for him.
On the subject of hideous monsters, his entry into the room offered him exactly that. Immediately he was greeted by earsplitting shrieks and the rattling of metal—godforsaken sounds which were only responded to with a narrowing of his eyes and a click of his tongue.
He made his way past the variety of broken cages that lined either side of the entrance, some of which laid sloppily stacked atop each other while others had been occupying the shelf in the room's center. Many of them began to rust on top of having dented grilles which had been smashed open from a few of his unruly bioweapons of the past. Primarily the perpetrators had been the Eliminators, who were typically well-behaved but known to become quite fiendish when starved.
It wasn't as if he neglected their meals, but their metabolism became so rapid thanks to the virus that they were always hungry, and many cages met their demise as a result.
The only good that could be taken from the mundanity of his present affairs was that he no longer needed to deal with those types of situations. There were no wrathful monkeys jumping about, nor were there grumbling zombies. There weren't even any obnoxious employees or students running amok. Everything had settled to such a state of peace, that…he sometimes wondered if he missed the rowdy yet fulfilling life he once had. At least, back then…there was meaning to be found in everything, whether good or bad…
He was pulled from his thoughts by the piercingly shrill scraping of claws digging into metal—a habit his wayward residents had recently acquired for whenever they determined he was taking too long to deliver their meal.
Those insufferable oafs were so greedy and entitled that, as composed as Marcus was, he was often driven to the thought of committing an act of violence against them. But thankfully, each time he had been capable of holding himself back. Even angered, he was well aware it wasn't exactly the greatest idea to punch a B.O.W., even if they were behind bars. It just…wasn't bound to end well.
Circling around the shelf he came face-to-face with two Hunters standing in their huge enclosures, which in spite of the tremendous size still hadn't been big enough for the monsters to remain upright without a slight hunch to their backs. That couldn't have been good for their already terrible posture, but seeing as his approach caused them to yank even more savagely at the bars which were meant to keep him safe, Marcus found himself with no real concern for their well-being.
He would have liked to tell them to quiet down, but their incessant screeches and hisses made it impossible to even hear himself think. He could only let out a deep groan, lowering himself enough to set the plate on the floor a few feet from the cells.
The offering was successful in lessening their screams, but their conduct became even more ferocious by the delicious sight of what he considered as garbage. Their massive arms shot out from between the bars as both attempted to claw at the tray to bring it closer, yet their every frantic effort left them only capable of colliding with each other instead.
Taking advantage of the small sense of relief their lowered volume brought him, he was finally willing to speak.
"If you're so hungry, you should think twice before trying to kill me every time I step in the room. I may sustain you for a day, but you certainly won't get this sort of delivery service without me... Unless, perhaps you would rather be in a constant state of starvation?" He tilted his head as a dull smile arose in his expression. "I'd have no qualms with that. We can begin your diet now, if you'd like…"
Their only response was a mutual hiss and an attempt to stretch their arms even farther toward their elusive dinner.
Although he always took some sense of pleasure out of these one-sided conversations with his B.O.W.s, he frankly didn't know why he bothered with these things. It only ever left him with the undeniable feeling of having wasted his time.
After a few seconds of idly watching their pitiful struggle, he finally sighed and gave a light kick to the tray. It was sent toward them, but not without first spilling a puddle of blood on the floor in addition to a close shave with his loafers.
The bioweapons paid it no mind either way, as each kept their focus starkly on stabbing their claws into the large chunks of meat. They operated nearly in unison as they both hastily retracted their arms and brought their prey toward them, making a mess of blood within the cages as they devoured the meat with ease.
He stared for a moment longer, but then returned to the door and departed the room, closing and locking it afterward.
The portions he provided were generous, but certain to be demolished within seconds and would not leave its recipients satisfied to any degree. With an appetite which knew no bounds and an appallingly vicious nature, it was obvious that the less time he spent around those two, the better.
He honestly did not like those bioweapons in the slightest. As much as his own in the past had caused him some levels of grief, it couldn't compare to the utterly infuriating behaviors of those monstrosities.
Even the mere sight of them had been so repulsive that every time he was forced to make contact with them, he found himself regretting that he ever accepted Douglas' offer in the first place. The man might have been persistent about Umbrella's foolish wishes, but rejecting him twenty more times and kicking him out of the facility would have been far easier than the alternative of putting up with these things…
It was hard to believe over three months had already gone by since he first received them. It was the day after their last trial that Douglas and his sole surviving underling came back with the delivery, and he could still recall vividly how the whole situation made for a completely unwanted hassle.
Marcus had no need for the brutes and thus no good location for them. But upon some thought, he concluded that he would only tolerate them being placed in that particular storage room, but the cages they came in were so large that the officers again needed to sedate the monsters, and they even needed to take apart the enclosures to bring those to the room along with the B.O.W.s. Of course, they were ultimately stuck putting the cages back together as well. The overall process took so long that the Hunters were very thoroughly tranquilized—they hadn't woken up for hours. And how blissful those hours had been…
Between those two monsters and the two which were still picking at their teeth with the bones of Douglas' fallen allies back at the facility, Marcus was becoming very exhausted with the entire ordeal.
The only interest he could conjure up over their existence was that he wished to research their abilities of recognition to determine if a satisfactory degree of control over them could be achieved. Given their tremendous strength and violent nature, they could potentially make wonderful guards for his facility, but that was only if they could go a minute without trying to tear him apart. And these days, he was beginning to feel the same desire toward them.
He hoped providing food would cause them to feel a greater fondness for him, but no matter how much he gave, they were never pleased. It only made them want more and they became even more determined to take it for themselves, even if that meant devouring their supplier. This behavior was very irksome and as such, their mealtimes had gradually been lessened.
Early on, he fed them twice a day, which later became once a day, and now it was once every two weeks. Soon enough, he was confident it would be once a month, and perhaps eventually he'd just let them starve for years. If he couldn't get any worthwhile research done on their unique capabilities, he could at least use them to ascertain the survival abilities and lifespans of B.O.W.s as a whole.
He had never let a B.O.W. go without food for long, so what would the results be? So long as they didn't take their anger out on their cells, it couldn't have been a bad idea. And frankly, even if they did perish as a result of malnutrition, he was sick of those ungrateful fiends, anyway. It'd save him from countless migraines, and plenty of money on food, as well.
In fact, his refrigerator was completely empty, now that he thought of it. Maybe he should have taken the risk and eaten that likely expired meat. It had been four days since he last ate, but…no matter, he was sure he'd survive for a few more. He'd just need to remember to get a new shipment in later…
Those monsters truly were eating him out of a house and home. He certainly paid attention to their needs far more attentively than his own. But he supposed that had always been true of his relationships with his bioweapons. Even the ones he had a disdain for, like the Plague Crawlers. There was…a certain undeniable affection he felt for them. He detested them for their overall uselessness, but somehow cared for them all the same.
It might have been because he created them. Perhaps there was some sort of kinship to be found through the association, for even those he hadn't liked were his children just as much as the leeches were. And perhaps every parent did have their favorite, only he was much more willing to admit to his.
He figured it might have been that, or maybe he just enjoyed seeing that they were physical depictions of advancements within his research. They served as a sign he had made some manner of progress, and he could then use their characteristics as guidelines for where his work should be taken to deliver on improvements.
They themselves might have been nothing more than evolutionary dead-ends, but even still, they provided data that was carefully evaluated for the sake of future experiments. Even if…that data ultimately led to a dead-end he could never recover from, no matter how much hope those experiments had once blessed him with.
It didn't matter, not anymore… All that mattered now was that he was stuck with those revolting monsters that occupied far too much of his mind's workings in these dull times. He was forced to lose even his most precious and cherished of children, only to end up babysitting those freaks instead…
This wasn't something he enjoyed pondering, but he wondered where Umbrella's head was at these days. If those things were the future of B.O.W. research, he could admit it was quite the bleak one for humanity's sake. After all, the Arklay lab went quite a few steps farther than he did when it came to his experiments. They made a mixture of both animal and human, all to create a very hideous and even more sadistic killing machine.
He had no doubt human DNA was incorporated in the experimentation process, and certainly some manner of reptile or amphibian also played a part in it. Perhaps both did, for all he knew.
He initially found it tempting to take a sample from one of his subjects and determine the answer for himself, but his declining interest in them made him unwilling to even bother. He would only relent that it was interesting to see the direct result of such a rare yet immoral experiment, but that didn't make them any less repulsive to look at…
Well, at least he wouldn't need to look at them for a while longer. He already fed the other two earlier, so they were all set for some time. Now, he only needed to return to the main building to greet his approaching guest—one whose arrival he had been anticipating for well over a year.
Finally, the time had come…
Finally…he would take matters into his own hands to secure his future.
"I do believe this is all of them…" Marcus muttered to himself as he thumbed through the heavy stack of pages in his grasp. Once he arrived at the last page, his brooding expression made way for an uneasy smile. "It's possible that I might have overdone it with the notes and sketches… I'll be lucky if he can finish looking through these by nightfall."
With a soft shake of his head, he put the thought aside. He proceeded down the stairs and set the pile on the nearby table before striding toward the front entrance. He pulled open the doors and was hit by a blinding ray of sunlight, which led him to involuntarily wince. His eyes were narrowed and he reluctantly took a step farther with his hand raised in a poor attempt to shield his vision from the glaring radiance.
Before his sight could properly adjust to what was in front of him, a loud voice called out with a laugh. "Light's that bad, huh? Should've worn some shades, Bud!"
After the colors began to fade into something bearable, he was met by the familiar enough sight of a helicopter resting toward the bridge's end, but with a very unfamiliar figure hopping out from inside. The man in question first sent a glance over to the distant Marcus and gave a halfhearted salute with a big smile. Afterward he spun around to again look inside the chopper, speaking once more while he reached in and dug around in search of something.
"Sorry for the holdup! I tried to hustle, but you know how air travel gets. These damn things take forever to get anywhere, or maybe I just suck at flying 'em… Ha, might be that, actually!" His husky voice resonated through a deep chuckle and he shook his head. "I usually get one of the other guys to fly for me, but I was told this would be a one-man job. So, more work for me, but a bigger paycheck for me too, so I'll take it!"
Stretching to fumble a bit farther in, he caught something that made a metallic clink. Pulling it toward him, Marcus realized he must have been searching for his toolbelt. The man clipped it around the waist of his tan construction pants and then slammed the door shut, turning around and walking toward Marcus with a wave as his greeting of choice this time.
Able to see the man under the traces of shadow provided by the entrance's archway, he could finally get a better idea of what exactly he was looking at.
His first realization was that he was a very tall fellow who stood above his own height by a few inches, and it was plain to see his build was far brawnier than Marcus' poor old frame, as well. He had a tremendously strong physique with thick arms and legs to match.
Why, Marcus had always considered himself to be relatively well-built in his youth, but this was a level of muscle unlike any he had ever seen. Even in his prime, he really couldn't have compared…
…Before he could allow himself to get too lost in that sad train of thought, he decided it was best if he stopped subconsciously competing with the man and just moved on from the subject altogether.
"Hey there! Carter Anthony of Anthony's Contracting, at your service."
He removed his dark sunglasses and hung them from the neck of his plain tee shirt, concluding his simple introduction with a cheerful grin and a wink from one of his bright sapphire eyes.
The wavy chestnut hair which framed his strong jaw swayed with his every movement, while a few thick locks ended just above the bridge of his broad nose. The rest had been gathered into a ponytail that rested just below his neck. Although he possessed a sort of rugged charm, he seemed to pay a great deal of attention to his appearance. He was cleanly shaven and smelled of a strong, musk cologne.
The man raised both of his muscular arms to tighten his loosened hair tie and then lowered one to extend a large, gloved hand to Marcus.
Marcus cautiously placed his hand toward the offered one, but was taken aback when the man took it and gave a particularly forceful shake. He instinctually withdrew his own and momentarily glared through a sideways gaze. "…It's a pleasure to meet you, Anthony. As I'm sure you already know, I'm—"
The professional speech he prepared beforehand met a quick end as a result of the man raising his hand and wagging a finger in a scolding motion.
"Nuh-uh, no way." He snapped with a stern shaking of his head. His bright smile swiftly fell to a deep frown. "Listen, I know all about how you rich, aristocrat guys just love acting all sophisticated to try and sound more respectful than you actually are, but not today, Bucko. You are calling me by my first name—Carter."
Marcus' eyes widened at the bizarre grievance, though perhaps his astonishment was more so spurred by the crude manner of speech through which it was voiced. He furrowed his brows and glanced away in unease. "Ah…I'm not an aristocrat, actually… Far from it, in fact, but…"
His expression still perplexed, he turned back and released a soft sigh. "I mean… I may not be the most sophisticated sort, but I can assure you I've always referred to those I meet by their surnames. I suppose, given that my field has led me to involve myself with many highly revered scientists over the years, I've simply grown accustomed to that meager showing of respect. I… I've never met anyone else who had an issue with it, so…"
The man's firm disposition departed as quickly as it arrived, already having reverted back to an upbeat one. "Well, I'm no scientist," he began as he once again extended his hand with a wide grin. "I'm Carter."
Marcus stared in disbelief at the hand that yet again hovered near him. Glancing upward at the unflinching expression of the man who he was already starting to feel was outright baffling, a few seconds passed before he grudgingly relented and placed his hand in the strong grip once more.
At the conclusion of another unwelcome vigorous shake, he resolved he would lower himself enough to humor Carter's eccentricity and play along with that repeated introduction. It was obviously foolish, but he figured he should at least try to tolerate these oddities as much as he could. He was going to be stuck dealing with this man for the next foreseeable period of time, so it was crucial that he remained on good behavior. But he could see he was already learning a great deal about his character, and he was certain that trying times laid ahead…
"…As I intended to say earlier, I am Dr. James Marcus…" His tone was low and reserved, a mood that was clearly written upon his face just as well. He afterward let out a quiet breath and waved his hand indifferently. "But I must insist that you refrain from referring to me by my given name. No one has called me that since my parents were alive. The informality is far too strange to me."
Carter's initial reaction to the request appeared to suggest reservations. His arms were crossed while he seemed to be in deep thought. But after a few seconds of this stoic standoff between the two, he gave a big shrug and returned to a smile along with a thumbs up. "Alrighty, you got it, Mark."
"M-Mark?!" The look of indifference he wore firmly had dissipated. He almost frantically shook his head and brought his arms forward, waving them in a lively manner as he hurriedly spoke. "W-well, yes, that may not be my given name, but a nickname is still very informal. Ah…even my friends had never called me anything of the sort, and I knew them for many years…" A flicker of disappointment took over his flustered gaze for a mere second, but he quickly steeled himself as well as he could and turned back to Carter. "I... I won't even ask that you call me Dr. Marcus, but please, just Marcus is fine…"
His arms were folded and his expression blank as he replied. "Mm… Nah. I like Mark better." He then raised an arm and placed a hand on the back of his head, casually strolling past Marcus.
"Anyways… It's hot as hell out here." He stated abruptly, stopping before the door to brush aside his dampened bangs with his free hand. He looked back at Marcus and pointed to the door with his thumb. "You've got air conditioning in this big ol' house, right? Let's head inside and get to talking business."
Marcus watched in disgust how the man pulled open the doors and walked inside with such an air of nonchalance that it looked more as if it were his house instead.
With his eyes wide and a deep frown affixed to his lips, his stunned gaze soon turned severe. "At the moment, I do believe I would rather talk about your blatant disregard for your present employer's wishes. Not to mention a horrible degree of audacity…" He spat sharply.
Upon walking forward in time to see the doors slam themselves shut just as he was about to enter, he clenched his fists with a deep groan. "…Yes, I'm certain that these will be very trying times, indeed." He muttered with a roll of his eyes, folding one arm across his chest while the other pulled open the door.
He entered and folded both arms together this time, walking ahead in pursuit of his far too bold worker.
Carter had been standing at the center of the hall, both of his large hands resting on his waist. His eyes scanned the vastness of the room, opening his mouth to speak once Marcus approached.
"Nice place you got here, Mark. I've worked with plenty of mansions over the years, but this… It's more of a facility, yeah? Don't see too many of those in this line of work, but even from the ones I've had, there sure weren't any that looked as fancy as this one."
Though his mood remained sour, particularly due to the repeat of the nickname, Marcus willed himself to let it go enough to respond. "I suppose Umbrella has always excelled in being unique…to say the absolute least." Unfolding his arms, he gestured around the room and looked toward his associate. "This is one of their facilities, originally intended as a schooling and housing facility for the sake of instructing future employees."
"Umbrella, huh…" He muttered with a look of apprehension. In that moment his gaze fell to the floor where he finally perceived the red and white logo on which he stood. A downward curve played upon his lips, but it was dismissed with a brisk return to neutrality.
"Well, that's an awfully funny way to put it—their facility." He turned to glance at Marcus, a brief tilt to his head as he regarded him skeptically. "I'm guessing if you live here, you must work for them, right? And you are planning all these renovations, so I'd imagine that kind of authority means you must be pretty high up the ladder, too."
Marcus was surprised by the man's observation, having caught onto something that he, himself, had not paid any mind to.
To describe Umbrella as an entirely separate entity from himself was never something so unusual for him. He could hardly remember a time where he actually viewed himself as being a genuine piece of the puzzle that was the company. Never having gone out of his way to speak of himself as if he were part of the whole, it was rather telling of what his standing had always been, long before that truth had been revealed to him in full. If only he had stopped to grasp what was so obvious before it was too late…although now he was only left to wonder when "too late" even was.
He gave a solemn nod in response. "Yes…you could say that. I am, after all, one of Umbrella's founding members. And…the director of this facility, as well."
A frown flashed on Carter's lips for the briefest of moments. "A founder… That's a pretty big deal, but…" He placed a hand on his chin, rubbing it with the tip of his thumb for a few seconds. He afterward settled on a shrug. "Sorry Mark, can't say I ever heard of ya. I mean, I recall hearing there were a few people involved in the company's creation, but your name didn't ring a bell."
Letting his hands fall to his side, one was again returned to his hip while he idly glanced around. "I remember that one guy… Spencer, right? And there was that other noble too, wasn't there? His name… Damn, what was it…?"
"…Edward Ashford." He responded monotonously.
"Oh right, that's the one!" His face had brightened through his response, but seeing how melancholic Marcus' entire demeanor became as a result, his cheer instantly dispersed. He let out an uneasy chuckle and rubbed the back of his head. "Oh, uh…no offense, Mark. I'm just…not all that good with names. I'm sure I heard of you at some point or another, but I meet a lot of guys in this business. A few of 'em just get…lost in transit, ya know?"
"I'm not bothered by it. There would be no reason to care about something as silly as that." His low-spirited tone persisted and he made no change in expression, his response was simply automated as if it were spoken by a machine. The only shift came once he lowered his chin and his eyes fell upon that logo he cursed with all of his being. With eyes that traversed each sliver of red and white, his frown deepened.
It held such a lousy tone of irony… That umbrella once promised shelter from the merciless torrent of the outside world. It was a refuge which would always linger for his own protection. Held up by the caring hand of a cherished friend, a smile which once brimmed with kindness had accompanied it. But just as he sought sanctuary from all the gloom that laid beyond, that same refuge concealed him from the promise of the sun's dazzling rays after the storm.
Entrapped within the bleakness of those surrounding shadows, there could be nothing else for him.
No misery, and no happiness. There was simply…nothing.
It might have come as no surprise that his name and status had been lost to the masses, even to a man that he perceived to be particularly well-connected as a result of a wide-reaching career. It was not Carter's fault that he simply forgot the name, he had never known it in the first place. No one had, because that was Spencer's intent from the get-go.
He knew this to be the case, and yet…the knowledge of how obvious it was did nothing to lessen the sting in knowing what a nameless phantom he had truly become.
Marcus' entire existence… At this point, it had been erased. The man he was before Umbrella had even been conceived was nothing more than a faded memory, a fragment of the past that remained with none but himself.
One day, that name would die with him, held tightly within his frozen clutches. It would be all that remained of him, and yet there wasn't a soul who would ever know it.
"Anyway, so…uh…" The uneasy man glanced back to Marcus briefly, but soon decided he favored a view of the floor over the awkwardness of eye contact. "…Pretty quiet in here. All the guys on summer vacation or somethin'?"
Staring vacantly for a moment, his eyes soon drifted shut, followed by a gentle shake of his head. "…The facility was shut down years ago. It's only me here, now."
"Oh." Briefly his eyes had gone wide, but he forced a hazy grin as he went on. "Well, guess that ain't such a bad thing. Less people to get in the way of my job, at least, but uh…" He rose a brow and looked to Marcus through a side glance. "…Probably gets a little lonely 'round these parts all by yourself, huh? Surprised they didn't send you somewhere else. Wouldn't expect them to hang a company creator out to dry like that."
His eyes had been fixated on the floor, observing nothing in particular while he thought carefully on the words. After the passing of a few seconds which felt too long, he finally parted his lips and folded his arms behind his back. He took one step forward, followed by another.
"…I cannot leave. I…still have work to do."
His words were uttered so quietly that if not for the near-deafening silence the room had possessed, they surely would have been inaudible.
"Ehh…yeah, that makes sense. Man's gotta do what he's gotta do, right?" He murmured with his brow still raised. Soon after he crossed his arms and, noticing the unease that permeated the air, his sight trailed off. Once it landed on the first thing worth the tiniest bit of interest, he willed a grin onto his face and pointed to the subject with his thumb.
"Huh… Well, I guess maybe some of that work you've got is lighting up all those guys?" He let out a strong chuckle and shook his head in amusement as he eyed the burning candelabras which lined the pillars of the room, in addition to the iron torches which raged along either side of the staircase. "Looks like a whole lotta trouble to me, but at least you're getting your exercise. Keeping those old bones in shape, eh?"
Marcus rose a brow, not simply because of the rather trivial new point of interest, but because the change in subject was so abrupt. No doubt it was forced due to the tension, but since the prior topic was not one he wished to dwell on, he was actually thankful for it. It would do him no good to divulge details that Carter didn't need to know, so the man's seemingly laidback nature could be advantageous to their conversations. If nothing was taken too seriously, it should stand to reason that he would not pry too deeply where his eyes did not belong.
Perhaps…there was a chance this short-term partnership could work out favorably, after all.
He looked to the torch nearest to him and observed as the ginger blaze danced fervently within its pit, the slightest crackle resounding with its every move. The faint impression of a gentle smile formed on his lips. "I don't mind it. It gives me some semblance of a routine, and…I find the flicker of the flames to be rather soothing."
His eyes narrowed upon a soft shake of his head. "Bright lights tend to get on my nerves, only serving as a distraction rather than a boon to productivity. I much prefer it to be like this, myself…" He glanced back to Carter with a look of concern. "While you work around the facility, you'll find that many of the rooms are occupied by this sort of lighting. I…hope that will not be an issue."
"Nah, no worries, Boss." He quickly assured with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I've had jobs where I was damn near working in the shadows all day and night. Long as you got your little candles around, that's still an upgrade to me." His grin grew, surely as a result of Marcus' own tense demeanor lightening up.
He then gave a wide shrug. "'Course, I just gotta hope I don't end up knocking one of those bad boys over and setting your house up. I'll try not to, but you know…" He extended one of his exceptionally brawny arms and flexed it, letting out a quick laugh. "These bad boys need room to move. I try to keep 'em in good order, but they just get a life of their own sometimes, knocking over anything and everything if they feel like it. It's a real struggle, I tell ya…"
Marcus' expression went blank. He completely ignored the peculiarity of the troublesome remarks to instead study the overly developed muscle somberly. Seconds later, his eyes trailed down to his own arm that hung sadly by his side. It might have been hidden beneath the soft sleeve of his brown suit, but…he didn't need to see any more to know there was simply no comparison. There never was, and certainly…there never would be.
Having made himself feel bad enough, his eyes abruptly turned cynical and his lips curved to an intense frown. "…I do believe we've wasted enough time here. As you said earlier, let's begin talking business." He swiftly turned and went to the table adjacent to the staircase, carefully lifting the pile of papers and tucking them together.
"Wait, already?" He immediately questioned, taken aback by the unexpected shift in demeanor. "Aww man… We were having such a nice chat, though!" He spoke with a feigned sadness which didn't at all match his wide grin. And, unable to see past Marcus' back to determine what he had been getting into, he walked around his side so he could get a closer look.
Marcus had been looking downward, but instantly shifted his focus upon the man's approach. He thrust the pile of papers toward him and gave a smile which was only half-forced. "These are the plans I mentioned when we spoke on the phone. There's much to look through, and while I'm certain some revisions may need to be taken upon your advice, I do hope they're practical enough to at least come close to working as I intended."
The instant his sight landed on the substantial stack of pages before him, his eyes went wide and his frown deep. "W-what the hell…" He muttered with a clear tone of distress. "Those aren't plans—that's homework!"
Marcus rose a brow and by instinct retracted the pile in his grasp, almost insulted by the remark. He glanced down to the papers for a moment, but then looked back to Carter with a dubious frown. "Well…it is work, but…is that not what I'm paying you to do?"
"Uh, yeah, but…" He placed a hand on the back of his head and let free a halfhearted chuckle. "I was more hoping something along the lines of…you write a fancy quote on a piece of paper, I glue it to the wall, say it's a riddle and call it a day."
"How… What?" This time Marcus was the one to stumble as his expression fell to one of disbelief. "That doesn't make the slightest amount of sense—what sort of jobs do you usually get?" His voice was raised ever so slightly, but he quickly relented, deeply sighing. "I chose to hire you because your reputation appeared to be quite good and your portfolio impressive. But, with that sort of attitude…"
"Aw, don't worry about it. I'm just messin' with ya." He forced a chuckle, adding quietly with a sideways glance, "Heh…sort of." He then reached over and grabbed the pile from him and, upon initially raising a brow over how much heavier they were than anticipated, returned to an objective look and skimmed through some of the early pages.
"Guess I'm just surprised, is all. I've never seen anyone take this kind of work this seriously…" He muttered, taking note of the numerous paragraphs and incredibly detailed sketches that covered each page. Glancing upward, he continued, "You've sure got a crazy drive for this stuff, huh? Looks like you've already put more work into thinking up just one of these mechanisms than any of my previous clients did for their entire mansion, castle…you name it."
"Oh… Do you really think so?" He questioned with a trace of surprise, and perhaps even delight, hidden between the words. "I only did what I thought was customary… When enlisting someone's aid, it is not natural to have a plan for what it is that you desire? I couldn't imagine hiring you and then telling you to just…do whatever you want."
"Hey, sounds like I already like you better than those guys, then." He added with a chuckle upon pointing a finger to the side of his head. "You're saving me the thinking part. Most of 'em just give the basic ideas of what they want done and leave me to come up with the rest. Pain in the ass, but I do get to charge extra for mental labor, so…" He laughed and looked back to the papers to flip through a few of them. "Except you are giving me a whole lotta physical work to do instead, but…eh, I'll take it. That's more up my alley anyway, if you couldn't tell."
He shrugged before going back to turn another page, nodding afterward. "I'll just need to look through these a bit more thoroughly, but as far as I can tell…I like 'em. Sounds like this oughta be fun." He finished merrily, looking back to Marcus with a cheerful grin.
Marcus hadn't been expecting such an immediate and positive assessment, so a genuine, wide smile took over his expression at the conclusion. The instant he realized, however, he suppressed it into a stern countenance and glanced away with his arms tightly crossed. "Well…I'm relieved to hear that, then."
The obvious attempt at hiding his enthusiasm hadn't been lost on Carter, but he opted to not embarrass his new client too much by pointing it out. He instead settled for a simple chuckle and shake of his head. Afterward, he set the bottom ends of the papers on the table as leverage to straighten out the stack.
"So, Mark, I see we've got plenty of options in here. Any preferences for which ones you wanna get started on first?"
A hand was placed beneath his chin upon his brief contemplations, soon making way for a slow headshake. "I suppose…no, not particularly. You would surely know better than I the proper order on how these things ought to be done, so whatever you feel is best. But, well…"
He walked toward Carter and took the pile from him, rather energetically thumbing through the pages until he arrived on one which had a sketch of a vast chessboard and its accompanying pieces. His forced stoicism fell to a gentle smile as he observed his work happily. "If possible…this is one that I'm especially eager to see."
He leaned over to glance at it, and, after a few seconds, nodded. "Yeah, we could probably work that out. Shouldn't be too difficult…" He then crossed his arms and looked back to Marcus. "You've got all the pieces together already, right?"
His eyes shot toward him. Furrowing his brows, a look of skepticism replaced his prior one of delight. "…No, I do not."
This time Carter was the one whose face fell to disbelief. "Wha… How are we supposed to make the damn puzzles, then?!" He waved his arms in exaggeration, then placed them on his hips with a sigh. "You do know I don't actually make the parts, yeah? I can set 'em all up and get the mechanisms going, but can't say I've got much experience with sculpting giant chessboard pieces."
"Of course I know that! I already told you I saw your portfolio and resume. I know well what your capabilities and limitations are." He immediately shot back with a glare and a venomous tone to match. "As much as I would have loved to find an artisan who could have created the pieces prior to your arrival, I've never had work like this done before. What a waste it would be if I had all of the pieces ordered and ready to go, only for you to arrive and tell me that the ideas themselves were too impractical and needed to be scrapped altogether…"
His face remained occupied by his dubious gaze and deep frown for moments longer, but then he finally shrugged and nodded. "Yeah…you've got a point there. Good call." Ignoring the scoff that came from the man across from him, he then reached into his back pocket. "Lucky for you, I've got some guys I know who do great work on things like these. So, long as you didn't have anyone else in mind, we could try giving a few of 'em a call."
Rummaging around for a second, he quickly pulled out a small stack of business cards and presented them to Marcus. "I'm sure we'll need a good number of pieces done for all those different projects, so we ought to get as many in the works as we can. These guys usually work pretty quick too, provided they don't have too much of a queue hanging around. Might take…maybe a month or so, to at least get something we can use."
Marcus accepted the cards, quickly sifting through them and then turning back to Carter. "It's a bit of a delay, but it can't be helped. One more month couldn't possibly hurt too much…at least I hope not." He mumbled with a look of cynicism.
"Don't you worry, Mark. I'll get you that life-sized chessboard you want so badly soon enough." He added with a wink and a grin. "But for now... Good ol' Teach gave a crap ton of homework I gotta get started on, so! Gotta know when to go, am I right?" Immediately after, he snatched the pile of papers back from Marcus and walked around the staircase. Ascending a few steps, he lowered himself enough to take a seat on the mid-platform.
Papers in hand, Carter began to scrutinize them intensely, but this was brought to a rapid conclusion as soon as he noticed Marcus had been looking over and watching doubtfully. Lowering his head with a sigh, he shook it halfheartedly. "I can't concentrate in class if the teacher keeps staring, you know."
"…Right." He spoke with a clear trace of hesitance, but then after sighed and shook his head. "In any case… If you have any questions, feel free to ask me. I'd gladly give my thoughts on anything you find to be of concern—"
It was at that moment that he perceived Carter's expression harden. Finding the comparison actually might have held more truth than he anticipated, his demeanor turned sheepish and he glanced away awkwardly. "Yes, well…just let me know if there are any problems."
"Yeah, yeah, Professor." He responded with a groan and a dismissive wave of his hand.
September 18th, 1982
"Well, since you didn't want to keep me company on the ride to get the pieces, you wanna at least help me set 'em up?" He questioned between slow and unsteady steps, his long arms wrapped tightly around the lower half of a box which possessed both an impressive height and width.
Marcus was seated in the alcove of the room on a cushioned chair, his elbow leaning on the nearby table with his cheek resting in his palm. His look of indifference quickly made way for disbelief at the absurd question. "…Why would I help you do the job I'm paying you to do?"
Momentarily ceasing his movement, he sent a wary glance to the exceptionally comfortable Marcus. "…Because you wanna be nice?"
Waving his free hand without interest, he let out a low breath. "Being nice will not reduce the costs of your services, so I must decline."
Carter groaned at the impolite but predictable refusal and finally finished hauling the box to the center of the room. Although he was cautious in lowering it to the floor, even the meager few inches it was left to drop made for a decent thud.
Marcus initially returned to his look of indifference, but once he eyed the box and observed the heft of its descent, a dull smile rose in his expression. "Mm. That looks rather heavy. I certainly would have been of no assistance in carrying it… I'm quite old, if you recall."
He groaned once again, this time with far more of an exaggeration. This prompted Marcus' lips to curve to a vague smirk as he grabbed his coffee and took a sip. He set the mug back down and rose from his seat to head toward the box, which was only one of the many which messily cluttered the floor. Standing over it, he looked to Carter, who had already taken to opening one of the others.
"Is that the last of them, then?"
"Yessir. We've got all the tiles needed to set up the board itself, the parts for the base, five chess pieces, annnnd a boat load of poison. Talk about a fun time, eh?" He added with a smirk, and having just cut open a box with his pocket knife, he took to removing the abundance of cardboard and plastic wrappings.
What was revealed moments later was a massive replica of a white king chess piece, carefully carved from a radiant, high-grade marble and reaching no higher than the torso of both men.
Marcus' face immediately lit up, at first appearing as if the stars themselves had made residence within those icy orbs of his. Parting his lips to speak, his obvious infatuation with the work of art before him persevered.
"It… It's remarkable! You weren't exaggerating when you said that artisan had a great attention to detail… It's flawless…" He circled the piece, the fingers of both his hands intertwined firmly while his grin only seemed to grow with each angle he scrutinized.
Carter's arms were crossed and, upon watching Marcus continue to make comments under his breath in regard to how immaculate it was, he let out a playful scoff. "Don't get too excited over there, Chief. We still gotta open the rest, and I don't need you having a heart attack for each one. Never mind once we get the puzzle itself set up—pretty sure you'll be on the floor long before that." He added lightheartedly before turning and preparing to cut open another one of the taller boxes.
Marcus perceived the unboxing of yet another piece, this time a pawn comprised of black marble, but he used his every ounce of willpower to resist fixating himself with it for too long.
He straightened his posture and allowed his hands to briefly fall so he could clasp them behind his back instead. He took a few steps toward his desk to the room's rear, where he then extended one arm to reach two long fingers over. He brought a few distant papers toward him, and, scrutinizing the plans detailed within them for a mere few seconds, he lifted his chin and looked to Carter.
"…I'm rather unfamiliar with the manner in which you work, so…how do you suppose you'll go about this?" He narrowed his eyes and looked to the wider yet unopened box across the room. "I assume what makes the most sense would be to first remove parts of the current floorboards to install the poison cannisters beneath, and then place the foundation and chessboard tiles above them?"
"Generally speaking, yeah, that's about right." He affirmed with a nod. "I already got the measurements taken care of, so most of the work will just be carving out the openings for the poison in the board pieces and installing the mechanisms for whenever you wanna shut the poison off. That's the more demanding part since it involves a whole lot of wiring for the switch and all that."
He then placed a thumb on his chin, warily rubbing it for a moment before giving a shrug. "Course, then there's also the matter of affixing the pieces all together, but ehh…that part's cake." He gave a confident salute and then finished removing yet another chess piece from its box.
"I see…" He mumbled with a hand firmly resting on his chin as he carefully considered the explanation. "And you mentioned earlier that the switch could be installed within one of the desk drawers, correct? That would be ideal since I could lock the drawer to keep any would-be intruders from shutting the puzzle off, but…is that really possible? To connect the two seems rather complex. If you need to install the switch elsewhere, then…"
Putting a stop to the concern with a nonchalant wave of his hand, Carter stood and strolled toward a wide box which sat a few feet away. "Listen, you don't gotta worry about a thing, Mark. I know what I'm doing. After all, they don't call me the best in the business for nothing!" He gave a wink before kneeling down and proceeding to cut open yet another box.
Raising a skeptical brow, he leaned against the edge of his desk and crossed his arms. "I've read many of your advertisements and reviews… I can't say I recall any that described you as such."
His cheery expression immediately went blank. "…I think it's time for Grandpa to take a nap while I get started here." He retorted sharply, his lips curling into a dejected frown afterward.
Marcus was initially surprised by the remark, but the feeling quickly faded as his lips were overtaken by a curve of amusement and the escape of a low chuckle.
It was hard to believe, but already a month had gone by since the two were introduced and began their odd partnership. But it was only until today that their work was left at a standstill before it could ever begin, seeing as they needed to wait for the puzzles' sculptures to be completed. But even through the absence of work, they remained in contact as they waited.
In spite of his outrageously laidback demeanor, Marcus did begin to see he made the right choice in enlisting Carter for the job. The man made a show of appearing careless and even lazy at times, but even before he had the ability to begin the tasks, he demonstrated a clear willingness to plan for their future. Most of the two's phone calls were spent on discussing the order he perceived to be best for the work as well as a general outline of what he intended to do to bring Marcus' ideas to reality.
He was so oddly dedicated to the job that, on the day they first met, he spent the entire day and many hours into the night on reading through Marcus' tremendously meticulous plans. Then, by the time they finished their discussions of said plans, it had already been morning of the next day.
Marcus was no stranger to these sorts of all-nighters spent on his research, but he did feel it was a very strange change of pace to stay up so late speaking with another. Even when it came to his long-winded discussions with Spencer in their spirited younger days, the man always made a point to make his departure the moment he let out the softest of yawns, even if Marcus had another good few hours of ranting left in him. And then there was Bailey who tried to rival Marcus' boundless appetite for research, but would, without fail, end up passing out mid-sentence as soon as it was only a short while after his bedtime.
But, standing quite contrary to those two, apparently Carter's work often involved many late nights such as those, so he wasn't bothered by it at all. In fact, after discussing the plans at such lengths, he was still so raring to go that he immediately took to calling up the artisans and getting everything set up, so all that remained was to wait until they were finished.
Perfectly enough, the chessboard pieces happened to be completed first. So, soon enough, their very first project could be brought to reality. Marcus already couldn't wait to see those beautiful devices come to life…
"Alrighty! Here's what I'm thinking…"
He was broken from his brief daydreaming by Carter's far too loud voice. Looking toward him, he could see the man had just finished removing a stack of black and white marble tiles from their box. Next, he stood and walked to the desk, where he knelt down and started spreading the tiles out along a small area of the floor just below the carpet's edge.
Once a decent portion was occupied by a much smaller than intended chessboard, he lifted up the white rook beside him and placed it on a black tile, giving a slight but effective sample view of what would ultimately be on display. He then rested his hands on each side of his waist and turned back to Marcus.
"This is just about what it'll look like… Of course, we'll have the tiles resting on the base to help keep 'em all in line, too. Gotta put that all together, but once it's done, it'll start just about…here," he began as he used his foot to point to the small strip of floor between the tiles and carpet, continuing once he pointed to the entrance with his thumb. "And it'll end a few feet from the door. So, we're looking at a damn big chessboard here."
He crossed his arms and lowered his gaze to let out a chuckle. "Hey, are you sure you're doing all this just to hide some loot? Listen, I won't think less of you for just wanting to play some life-sized chess. We've all got our quirks, although…" He pointed to the still closed box and released another chuckle with a shake of his head. "Gotta say, the poison does make for a dangerous game to lose. Might be fun if you like living on the edge, though!"
Marcus gave a halfhearted roll of his eyes. "I can't say that was ever my intention, and it would be quite difficult if it were. I suppose there's not much point in playing a game of chess with only five pieces…" He gestured around the room, closing his eyes solemnly once they fell on the final piece. "Perhaps it would have been better to incorporate more pieces into the puzzle. With so few options, the solution will surely be too simple…"
He placed one hand on his waist and raised the other to his chin, idly rubbing it for a moment. He followed this with a shake of his head. "Ehh… There's not all that much room for maneuverability in here as it is, so a full board was for sure out of the question. Can't move the pieces if ya can't even move yourself." He added with a casual shrug.
"And…yeah, I guess a few more pieces could have worked alright, but I think it's a pretty secure puzzle even with just these ones." He took a few steps away and observed the floor for a minute. "Move the wrong piece an inch or two and that gas is gonna shoot up like a geyser, probably hit 'em right in the face… Pretty sadistic, old man." He looked back to Marcus, his stoic expression returning to one of amusement. "Now, I'm no chess expert, but I've got a feeling this isn't what it was intended to be used for."
"I suppose not." He relented with a frown, pausing for a moment with pursed lips before finally letting out a soft breath.
"Honestly, I've never been very fond of these types of designs, myself. In regards to puzzles, I much prefer riddles and the overall thought process one must take to find their solution. The punishment one should feel upon their failure is the understanding that they were too foolish to use their brain to solve it properly, rather than a physical penalty being doled out. But this one…well…" Folding his arms across his chest, he circled his desk and his eyes fell on the small chessboard that rested on it. "…It was inspired by an old friend of mine."
On that board had been the black king in one corner, while the white counterpart was standing below its allied rook on the opposite side. Another of the white side's rooks was two spaces from its king, and trapped just below that piece had been a lone black pawn. With that pawn unable to move while its own king was isolated from the rest of the action, although it had been the black side's move, there was nothing its men could do to evade their impending capture by the opposing rooks which were both positioned perfectly.
As he observed the placement of the pieces, he was enveloped in memories of the distant past. A gentle smile graced his lips, which soon parted to speak of his sentimental thoughts.
"The solution itself is based off of the first game of chess that he and I played together. This had been the precise moment where my victory had been assured." He paused, his look of bliss suddenly contorting to arrogance.
"I can still so vividly recall his exact expression once he realized his defeat was at hand... He was quite aggravated." He let out a soft chuckle, his expression easing back into sentimentality once he went on. "It's no wonder even after all of these years, I can still remember how the silly board looked. The sight had been accompanied by the sublime moment of his ridiculous ego finally being brought down much closer to where it rightfully belonged…"
Realizing how captivated he was by the idyllic memories, he was swiftly brought back to reality by a thought which prompted the return of his original point. He cleared his throat and steeled his expression to one of stoicism.
"Yes, well… Anyhow." He began tensely upon noticing Carter's attentive gaze. "That same friend was another admirer of George Trevor's work. Particularly, he enjoyed the more…barbaric, sorts of designs. Anything that involved weaponized furnishings, poisons, and the like were his favorites." He waved an indifferent hand and went onward. "I initially did not intend to have anything of that nature involved in this puzzle's design, but seeing as I was already basing its solution off of that man, I figured I may as well include a bit of his…personality, as well."
He had listened to the explanation carefully, and upon its conclusion, a look of skepticism briefly came over him. Realizing this, he abruptly folded his arms and let his concern fall with a hesitant smile. "Right… That friend of yours sounds like a pretty sadistic one, himself. 'Tween you and me, you might wanna watch your back around that guy." He added with an awkward laugh.
His eyes widened and his jaw hung low for a fleeting moment. These elements of disbelief were quickly suppressed to a stern frown. "…You're not wrong." He hoped to speak the words with a tone of humor to lessen the weight of what was in truth a disheartening reality, but was unsuccessful in ridding them of their melancholic air.
Carter's apparent nonchalance once again returned to a stoic demeanor, so he turned from Marcus and took a few steps forward. Finally opening his mouth once more, this time it was with the intent of changing the subject.
"Anyways, I oughta be getting started on this now, so feel free to have a seat and watch, or go take that nap you most definitely need. Whatever you'd prefer." He concluded with a smirk.
He initially rose a brow, but soon after sighed and let it fall with a quick headshake. "…A nap may be tempting, but it's not as if I'll ever have the opportunity to see a life-sized chessboard being constructed again. My health will have to deal with the sacrifice." He replied cynically prior to beginning his trek back to the room's small alcove, where his comfy seat and undoubtedly cold coffee had been waiting patiently for him.
"Aw great, that means I get to hear you gawking over the pieces the entire time, then." He remarked with an unreasonably exhausted groan. "Just try not to drool over them too much, got it? I do have work to do, and I don't need you hobbling around and getting in my way."
With his eyes narrow, his frown ever so slightly deepened. After a pause, he released a soft sigh. "…I'll try not to."
"Good!" His face turned to a bright grin and he placed his hands on his waist. Then, after a minute of staring at the numerous pieces and multicolored tiles that surrounded him, he turned back to Marcus. "Well, while we're on the subject of having a lot of work to do, uh…" He began uneasily, raising his hand to his chin and glancing away for a moment. "…Suppose now's as good a time as any for us to talk about the living arrangements here."
Making absolutely no change in expression, Marcus replied impassively, "…The what?"
He nervously forced a laugh and raised a large hand to his head and ran it through the thick locks uneasily. "Well, I'm just thinking of the future, here. We've got a whole lot of projects to work on, and you specifically requested that it be a one-man job, so each of 'em is gonna take even longer to get done. So, that being said…it doesn't make much sense for me to just leave and come back every day, right?"
Furrowing his brows, his expression turned severe. "It makes plenty of sense to me."
The response was expected, but regardless, he let out another groan and shrugged. "Listen. I don't normally ask to do this with my clients, and I'm not so happy about it, either. But you live in the middle of nowhere so I've gotta take a helicopter just to get here, and fuel for those damn things doesn't come cheap, you know!"
"Is that not already included in the bill? I'm certain travel expenses were listed on the statement." He retorted sharply and folded his arms together. "If I were to have you board here, then I suppose those particular fees would need to be waived."
"Erm, technically, yeah, but… That fee was just for the initial few trips here, and I've sorta already used up the allocated number on picking up the pieces today, so…"
Realizing that Marcus' expression remained thoroughly unamused, his own demeanor became more animated as he waved his hands with a deep frown. "Come on Mark, this would be doing you a favor! The moment I wake up and get some food in me, I can get started on the work right away! I'll even be less grumpy while working since I won't have to spend six damn hours flying here every day!"
"Frankly, your attitude doesn't matter to me so long as you do your job. That's obviously the only reason I've tolerated you thus far." The man across from him sighed, but before he could resume his pestering, Marcus let out a grievous sigh of his own. Folding his arms more tightly, he paused for another brief moment. But, given Carter's silence and his pleading look which remained undeterred, Marcus forced himself to ignore his hesitancies and instead go onward. "…Fine, you may stay here for as long as you need to complete each project. You can sleep on the couch in the lounge room."
Because Carter's expression somehow became disheartened at the affirmation he so desperately sought, Marcus rose a brow and his own frown grew. "…What exactly is the problem now?"
"Oh, it's just…" He scratched the back of his head and let out a nervous chuckle. "I mean…this is a housing facility. There must be plenty of beds around, but…I get a couch."
"You'll get thrown off the bridge if you keep complaining." The sudden threat was paired with a particularly lethal tone. "I've no desire to see you roaming around this building unless you have the tools in hand to work on whatever the job of the day is. So, you'll sleep in that room and awake to do work, with no exceptions."
"And here I wanted to ask if we could make a blanket fort and have a few pillow fights in between, but aw well. Gramps is just too much of a buzzkill… Guess this is gonna be one hell of a lousy slumber party." He sighed deeply with a low shake of his head.
"…What?" His eyes were wide in disbelief and he blinked multiple times, genuinely baffled by the statement which, in that moment, sounded like the ravings of a madman. After a few seconds of ineffectively attempting to make sense of it, he gave up and tightly clenched his fists together. "…I have no idea of anything you just said, and I frankly have no desire to know. Just…get started on your job." It might have been a demand, but it was clear that it didn't at all have the authoritative tone he had hoped for.
To say Marcus was unsure of how to tolerate this man was, without a doubt, an understatement. Not even a single puzzle had been finished and he already found himself dreading another minute spent on his antics. For all the distress Umbrella had put him through over the years, he was becoming quite certain that it would be child's play in comparison to Carter's insufferable personality…
Even looking past his general dislike of company, Marcus was rather troubled by the thought of letting him stay at the facility. While his overall demeanor appeared to indicate he was not a threat, there were numerous occasions in which Marcus caught the slightest hint of what he felt beneath the surface. A frown which was instantly substituted with an overstated grin, or a vague comment to suggest reservations followed by a far too abrupt change in subject.
He was clever about the way in which he did things, so it was conceivable that one who conversed with him ordinarily would not be likely to catch on. But what seemed imperceptible to most had all the subtlety of a deafening alarm to someone like Marcus, whose analytical skills were second to none. No amount of acting foolishly would deter him from the truth…
He only wondered…for what purpose did this eccentric man choose to hide that truth?
He was curious, and even more, he was concerned. But he opted to put both of these things to the side, for he knew well the dangers of this entire endeavor to begin with. He needed to hire someone who he could use to hide his secrets and to keep safe all that he wished to protect. It was always a given that the person he chose would be at liberty to learn too much. If Carter dug too deeply and wished to expose things that should not be known, well…
At a time, he might have expressed that the man would end up as one of his test subjects. But, thinking of it now…he wondered what the point would be. If his secrets were revealed, Umbrella would never permit law enforcement the opportunity to arrest and interrogate him. They'd merely have him killed ahead of time, perhaps under the pretense of him running willingly into an oncoming train, something of that nature.
It hardly mattered. His death by their hands was bound to come sooner or later. He knew the conclusion that awaited him in the end, just as he knew this man was the key to giving him back the smallest bit of control over his destiny before that fateful day.
If his death was all but guaranteed, the least he could do was this meager act. He would fight, doing all in his limited power to keep Umbrella from obtaining that which would never rightfully belong to them. If this decision ultimately led to an even more untimely end, then so be it, but…
Until then, he would need to place his faith in this bizarre man…
Even if…he really did not want to.
October 2nd, 1982
"It should be somewhere in here. This won't take long."
Marcus announced indifferently as he pulled open the door and stepped aside to hold it for Carter, whose arms were occupied by two small statues he kept tightly to his chest. The man strolled through the door with an initial look of indifference, but the moment his eyes settled on the new surroundings, his face dramatically turned to an intense frown.
"Good God… More statues!"
Surveying the area of the small room, although there was more than enough space to walk, it was indeed cluttered with numerous sculptures that rather sloppily lined the fireplace. The statues of a man and woman to each of its sides made sense to some extent, even if they were so large that the degree to which they stuck out was rather unseemly. However, the remaining busts and statues which were forced into whichever corner or crevice they could fit certainly led one to believe the owner had no idea on how to decorate.
In an abrupt spin, Carter turned to Marcus with his eyes conveying a deep concern. "You're not gonna make me lug those all around the building too, are you?"
Marcus rose a brow at the overstated reaction, only to let out a soft breath afterward with a halfhearted wave of his hand. "No. As I told you, we're here for a particular painting. I'm not interested in utilizing those for any of the puzzles…"
"…Although." He folded one arm across his chest and propped his opposite elbow atop it. He then leaned his hand on his chin while his thoughtful eyes fell on the abundance of poorly placed sculptures. After a moment, he returned his contemplative gaze to Carter.
"As you can surely tell from this cluttered state, I was never able to find the proper locations for these lovely works of art. Therefore, if you'd be interested in aiding with some interior design, perhaps we could clear some rooms out so I can finally put their beauty on display the way in which they were intended." He wore a sincere smile at this, but the face of the man across from him clearly indicated the opposite, which was made even more evident by the vigorous shake of his head that followed.
Marcus sighed but paid it no more mind. He strode to the right side of the room and knelt down beside the numerous paintings that were stacked haphazardly. Some were on canvas and had been standing and leaning against the wall, while others had the luxury of being framed yet laid in a pile upon the floor. Both groups rested beside several very large wooden crates which were filled with even more paintings, ones that hardly ever saw the light of day through these many years of collecting dust.
Despite Marcus attempting to be swift for what should have been a brief endeavor, the very moment he began carefully sifting through the numerous paintings on the floor, he heard a snicker emerge from behind him. Not surprised in the least by the interruption, he ceased his short-lived search and turned toward Carter begrudgingly in anticipation of what was to come. "…What's the problem now?"
With a casual tone, he began, "Oh, y'know… It's just funny, really." He restlessly adjusted and tightened his grip on the two statues in his grasp before resuming. "You've been complaining at me the whole way over here to be careful with these two, but you're not exactly treating those pretty little works of art with the utmost care. Didn't even pack the poor things away, they were just left here to rot… Seems to me like good ol' Mark is playing favorites."
He clicked his tongue and crossed his arms with a sigh. "It's not as if I wanted to leave them like this. They were meant to be placed within these crates, but those are all filled to the brim. I don't have anywhere else to store them, so this is the best I can do..."
"Well." He began with a grin, going on once he had Marcus' full attention. "One answer is that you could have bought less paintings, but it's clearly too late for that one. So, now that they've been sitting there for Lord knows how many years, you could just…you know…toss 'em."
"Out of the question!" He abruptly exclaimed, only to become somewhat embarrassed by his raised tone. He lowered it and settled for a solemn frown. "…There are many remarkable pieces in my collection, including some very rare ones. There's no way I could let such wonderful finds go to waste…"
Noticing Carter's expression turned to doubt, he grumbled and continued on reluctantly. "Granted, I… I suppose they may already be going to waste laying here like this, but…" He paused for a moment, only to purse his lips tightly before going on. "…It doesn't matter. I'm certain you, of all people, aren't that worried about their well-being, anyhow." He retorted, appearing rather defensive as he took a short glance away.
By the time he returned his attention to the man, it was with a glare that appeared far more agitated than before.
"Furthermore, do not attempt to liken such obviously different situations. Although their treatment admittedly may be poor, these paintings are not the ones being used in a puzzle—a scale one, at that." Giving him one last scowl, he raised a hand to point toward the objects in Carter's grasp. "Those two are the exact same weight and therefore serve as a necessary component to the scale-holding statue. But if your carelessness causes even a single chip to tarnish them, it could throw everything off balance..."
Suddenly, he grew troubled by the thought of Carter's willful nonchalance and looked toward him this time with the intent of scrutinizing each of the statues to ascertain if they were still undamaged. But a single glance was all it took for him to become, once again, distracted by the exquisiteness of their craftmanship.
Each was only about a foot tall, but they were carefully carved from heavy stone which gave them a heft that more than made up for their overall lack of size. They were busts which had been shaped after a man and woman. One in black, and the other, white.
The black was made in the likeness of a man with a very tight, muscular physique. He wore no clothes, unless one were to consider the chains which were wrapped firmly around his groin as such. The white had been the woman, sculpted with particularly defined curves that rather perfectly contrasted the thick muscles of her masculine counterpart. And further adding to the striking parallels between these two, just as the man was, she was scarcely clad in clothes. She had nothing more than a long, thin cloth which was loosely draped over her breasts and around her wide hips.
Although they were eye-catching enough as it was, there was something more that truly set these sculptures apart from ordinary busts. To each of their backs was a magnificent pair of wings, beautifully carved and stretching far beyond the simplicity of their human forms. The man had wings which were wide with dangerously sharp edges, while the woman's were softer and rounded wherever they tapered off.
The wings of a demon for the man, and an angel for the woman… It was for this reason that Marcus dubbed the two as the statues of good and evil.
He could admit, Carter's choice of artisans did not disappoint. Work on those two had concluded so quickly that he was rather anxious at the thought of seeing them in person, fearing that the quick timing would be a boon to their overall work productivity but could have come at the cost of the products being visually inadequate.
But just as Carter assured him, his fears were for naught. The statues were absolutely stunning, and the artisan had no issue fulfilling any of his specific requests for the little details, with the feasibility of the weight requirement being at the forefront of his ultimately unnecessary concerns.
By the time they were ready to be picked up, Carter had yet to even complete his work on the chessboard puzzle. That job met its conclusion about a week ago, so now that they had these props ready to go, the next choice of puzzle became quite obvious. So, today was the day they would begin the next project.
It was only unfortunate the lack of break meant Marcus was again stuck dealing with Carter without a minute of reprieve, but he was determined to persevere. Aggravating though he might have been, there was no denying his work on the previous puzzle was anything short of incredible. He did a remarkable job of putting everything together, and each of the mechanisms worked exactly as intended.
He was amazed that even the poison component was able to be set up without a single drawback, and it came as a relief that the installation for the corresponding shut-off switch went just as smoothly. He anticipated he would not make use of that switch too often since, naturally, it made more sense security-wise to keep the poison activated as regularly as he could. But knowing he would be able to turn it off should the need arise was an obvious boon.
Marcus hadn't gone in that office much these days anyway, always having preferred his laboratory one, but he couldn't discount the possibility of him one day needing to visit and then accidentally stumbling into one of the wrong pieces.
Even from the smallest opening poisonous gas would flood into the room, and it would take no longer than a minute for the entire area to be enveloped in a dense fog. This poison was so potent that a single whiff was all it needed to infiltrate one's lungs and to start an immediate decline of their strength. So, even if the person maintained their composure enough to place the chess piece back onto its original spot and effectively plug up the perilous fumes, they would have only minutes to find an antidote to grant them some hope of survival.
There was an infirmary down the hall, so like any highly cautious individual, Marcus made sure to place a few herbal remedies in there that could treat a toxin of even that strength. This was mostly done for his own sake, but he supposed if the intruder was smart enough to find the antidote, it was just as well. Above all, the poison was to be a deterrent to keep one from snooping around his office. Assuming they were able to find the remedy and survive, it would still take a very long time for the poison to clear from the room, even if they had been smart enough to move the piece back into place.
Whatever they hoped to acquire, one thing was clear… They would not find it so simple to have it within their grasp.
But what exactly would one hope to take from his office? Considering his consistent absence from the room, it wasn't as if his research was hidden anywhere within its quarters. Although, his journal was often left in there, and he supposed it could remain as such. It did document some of his breakthroughs and his occasional day-to-day endeavors, but Spencer's men already knew all of the former and most certainly did not care about the latter. This left the significant question of…what else could be so important that it would be hidden in there? And where would he hide it?
That was where the puzzle's true purpose came in. The poisoning aspect was merely that—an aspect. The primary intent instead revolved around his desk.
Carter was not only able to install the poison's shutoff switch within one of the side drawers, just as he suggested, he had been able to modify the entire thing. The top drawer which had once been accessible by key was now sealed shut. Now, the compartment would open from the top of the desk's surface, but only after the puzzle was solved correctly.
The solution was made evident by the chessboard which resided on that same surface. One only needed to follow its image and move the white king below its neighboring rook, therefore moving it to safety and subsequently setting in motion the white side's victory.
Because of this, that king was the only piece that was not hiding poison below it, so any other move would result in a very bad outcome for the intruder. But assuming they did succeed, the board which had been fastened to his desk would move aside and reveal the compartment hidden below.
In that compartment, as of now, was only the aforementioned journal. He didn't truly need to hide it, as he was certain it was useless to the likes of Spencer. But he figured, well… Perhaps if someone other than Umbrella's depraved employees happened to find it, they might search through those pages which voiced so many of his sad and often woe-filled thoughts. Seeing the tragedies that plagued him time and time again, they might end up feeling so sorry for him that they decide to not even bother stealing his other hidden goods…
…He didn't believe it either, but it was a nice thought. It was the only thing keeping him from cursing himself over someone being able to solve what he could see was surely too simple of a puzzle. He knew he should have involved a few more pieces, but…he would simply need to place his faith in the usefulness of the poison mechanic.
So, in looking past his concerns over the solvability of the puzzle, he did intend to hide something along with the diary. He wasn't yet entirely sure, but he was thinking it would be most productive to hide one of the pieces to the other puzzles in there.
His reasoning was based on the fact that one cannot hope to solve that which was lacking every part. The intruder would have no choice but to go through the chessboard puzzle and risk poisoning themselves just to solve a different puzzle, while that puzzle might be hiding yet another piece for something else. When he thought of it, he truly could keep this going. Everything would correspond and come together so perfectly, why… The training facility itself would be one giant puzzle!
Again, he lost himself to thoughts of their future work. This had been a far too frequent occurrence through their current endeavors, but he couldn't help himself. He was just so…excited!
There was so much they could do and so many ways to go about it. He never took part in anything like this before, and although their work was only just beginning, he already found it to be quite exhilarating. In truth, this was the most genuine fun he's had in years, which…might have said more than a few things about his standards for entertainment, but he couldn't complain.
So long as Carter continued to prove himself capable, Marcus knew for certain that soon enough, all of his ideas would come to life in the most splendid of forms…
"Didn't you say the wings on these things are detachable?"
…Doing a wonderful job at disrupting his bliss as usual, the capable but loathsome Carter broke through the silence. Turning to him, Marcus could see the man was again fumbling around with the statues to adjust his grip. He made multiple pained expressions each time he inadvertently jabbed himself before finally groaning and opening his mouth to convey the complaints which were always bound to come.
"I wish you would have let me remove them before making me carry them all around. Or better yet, let me put the damn things down. This guy and his stupid bat wings have been picking a fight with me this whole trip…"
Marcus could have gone without the unneeded grievance, but Carter was correct that the wings could be removed. Or at least, for the most part. One wing could be taken from the man, while both could for the woman. That was another of Marcus' oddly specific requests for the artisan, finding it to be a small detail which would make all the difference in the level of security the puzzle could provide.
His overall intention with these statues was for the purpose of securing the main hall's entrance to the basement, in which that particular path led to the rooms which previously made up the students' dorms.
Never had that route been secured in any manner. It didn't even have a door, as it instead only contained a set of stairs which descended from the midpoint of the main staircase. This hadn't mattered back when the facility was open, but now that those dorm rooms were repurposed for the sake of his prior Hunter experiments, he began to feel it was an apt idea to add some extra protection to the location. The last thing he needed was for someone to walk in and find the literal torture chamber not so cleverly hidden within a room which wasn't even that far from the facility's entrance…
He did end up going back and cleaning up much of the blood that was spilled in that room, and frankly he didn't think anyone would care about the suffering of bio-organic weapons, but… Was that really going to deter someone from the panicked, misguided thoughts that were destined to flood through their mind the moment they laid eyes on a single one of his testing devices? He thought not.
Thus, he would make use of the lovely little statues of good and evil to safeguard that set of rooms. To do so, he would have a door of sorts blocking the opening where the stairs were, and only when those two statues were united and in balance would that door descend into the floor below and reveal the path.
To achieve that sense of balance the statues needed to be whole, which was where the detachability for the wings came in. Whenever it was time to lock down the facility, he would be able to remove the wings from the statues and scatter each of the separated pieces across the building. Needing to find a total of four pieces just to finally place them together and on the scale which resided in the grasp of the statue above, one needed to put much effort in before they could hope to catch a glimpse of that section of the basement.
For puzzles such as these, although it might have been obvious, it was true that Marcus' own maneuverability around the facility would be impaired. There was no button to automatically solve the puzzle for his own usage, particularly since switches like those always ran the risk of being discovered by the wrong person and therefore nullifying the entire point of the puzzle. He would incorporate them in some cases, such as the chessboard's poison shutoff switch, but he intended to keep their overall existence to the bare minimum.
So, he did need to take into account that if he ever needed to access a certain area of the facility, he would need to go hunting down his own puzzle pieces. That might have sounded like a hassle, but he actually didn't mind that aspect as much as one might expect. For as long as his mind was in working order, he was sure to remember the pieces' locations, and the extra bit of exercise certainly wasn't going to hurt him. He did have a habit of hovering around the same rooms all the time, so the movement truthfully might have been a welcome change…
Well, that same habit was also why he knew he could get away with these sorts of puzzles. There were many rooms that he hardly frequented, while those same rooms could be hiding plenty of secrets that were better off put to rest. As such, he could secure them without even needing to worry about getting to the rooms himself, so it actually worked out rather well for the most part.
Returning to the matter at hand—as in, his bothersome worker's incessant grumbles—Marcus shook his head along with the release of an exhausted sigh.
"As I've said, we're only here to grab the one painting and go. So, if you cease your complaining for five minutes, perhaps I'll have the concentration necessary to resume my search." He rolled his eyes, but before he could turn back to the paintings piled up before him, the disruptive man again managed to catch his attention.
The moment he noticed the new manner in which he held the statues, it became clear on why the man had finally stopped accidentally injuring himself with their wings. But Marcus was not able to appreciate the relief from Carter's constant groans as he now had a bigger problem—one that hadn't failed to bring with it a severe frown to further his look of disgust.
"Wha... That's…" He stammered and stumbled, his eyebrows furrowing deeply. "Would you stop holding that so…indecently!" His look of agitation only grew more severe for even needing to point it out to his daft associate.
Upon the conclusion of his sudden demand, Carter indifferently looked downward. It was then that he realized the problem.
Just as they had been throughout this trip, his arms remained tightly wrapped around both statues. But, through his attempts to keep the two distant enough to stop them from clashing into not only each other, but also his ribs, he noticed his hand on the woman's statue did indeed end up being placed rather inappropriately. To be precise, his fingers had been resting just a bit too comfortably on her breasts.
He turned back to Marcus, who was evidently so disgusted by the sight that he had to avert his gaze altogether. Carter let out a husky chuckle.
"Well, ya know. I've been looking for the best way to get comfortable with these for the last fifteen minutes, and looks to me like I've found it!" He laughed again, this time with much more vigor. By the time he reopened his eyes and saw Marcus' expression grew even more frustrated, he decided he might as well have some more fun here.
"But hey, Mark…" He trailed off, a soft shake of his head to complement his overly inquisitive expression. "You were the one who designed these. I don't think it's very fair to blame me for you wanting such a voluptuous lady statue." His look of stoicism fell to a grin which turned devious no sooner it appeared. "…Or maybe you're just jealous because you wanted to be the one to hold her like this?"
"…What? N-no, that's not…" His eyes abruptly widened and a hazy pink lightened his cheeks. He instinctually looked back to the compromising grasp of the statue in question, but he swiftly tore his sight away once again before resuming. "Don't be ridiculous. I… I may have given a general idea of what I hoped they would look like, b-but… Obviously, the final product is still the work of the artisan."
"He…obviously embellished the design… He needed to be certain the weights would correspond, so I… I'm sure the intricacies of the sculpting process required him to add a bit of bulk wherever he saw fit." His voice became softer and more unsure as he folded his arms together tightly. "I…did not intend for her to be so…well-endowed, it's simply how she turned out…"
"Mark." Carter's look of humor briefly dissipated, but after seeing the absolute look of shame Marcus wore when he cracked a glance back at him, that wide smirk of his made an immediate return. "I saw your design plans, and I saw your sketches. They were detailed as hell…and this is a damn near perfect replication." With another laugh, he went on. "I don't think you were being as modest as you thought you were, Gramps!"
Marcus had been completely red-faced at this point and his fists were tightly clenched, nails digging deeper into his palms with every second the husky laughter reverberated through the small room. Once it began to die down to a bearable volume, Marcus finally willed himself to respond.
"…I'd throw you out of here if I didn't need you to finish this job." The words might have been spoken through a shaky tone, but the venom laced between them was quite palpable.
"Aww, there's no need to be like that, Mark." He settled down enough to reply in between a chuckle, but then took on a more reassuring demeanor as he went forward. "I get it, I really do. You're an older guy and all, but even an old man has his needs. I won't judge you for it. In fact…" He briefly paused and his smirk went wide. "It's not too late to commission that artisan for another one of these statues. Yeah, it'd take a little longer to get the project started, but it could be a good thing. Instead of leaving this lovely lady to sit on that scale collecting dust forever, she might do you better somewhere a little more…private, eh?"
From the moment he opened his mouth Marcus knew nothing good was going to come from it, so he had already turned and took to kneeling on the floor to resume his search for the painting. With his back to Carter and his gaze set downward, he made no movement or noise whatsoever. After a mere few seconds which began to feel eerily long, his low voice finally emerged.
"…It's not too late to find a better contractor, either."
"Ouch. That one really stung, you know." He spoke with an overstated sadness before dropping it to instead give a weak shrug. "Oh well. Just lemme know if you change your mind about the statue. I've got you covered, Boss." He added with a wink. Although it had gone unseen by the man before him, that…was probably for the best.
Deciding to save himself from another headache, Marcus made the wise decision to ignore him and went back to shuffling through the pile of paintings.
There were several very stunning works within the collection, and it was frankly disheartening to see them in such a dusty and chaotic state. He would have hoped since he was never able to find a place for them to be on display, perhaps the employees would have, at the very least, gotten another box that they could be stored in. Every time he returned to the facility, he swore nothing ever seemed to be done around there…
He figured the teachers were often been preoccupied with dealing with the low-intelligence rejects Umbrella was always known for, so he understood if they were too tired out from that hassle to go out of their way for anything else. And Assistant Director Davids' had done so much of everything for the building and its inhabitants, Marcus didn't expect nor want him to busy himself with admittedly minor tasks such as these.
But what of the other employees? There were men assigned specifically for the purpose of keeping the building clean and organized, but its state of order had always been no more than decent at best, and that was speaking rather generously.
Savage was only one man, yet he still managed to keep the laboratory in much better condition than that group of fools did for the main building. Of course, the facility was a much larger area to deal with, as well as there being more people roaming around who could potentially ruin the employees' work, but that kind of work was all they were even paid to do. He expected some results, here…
…No matter. As was ever true—or at least, ever true in Marcus' life, the results of the past didn't mean anything for the present. And the more he thought of it, he figured it was better off this way.
He didn't want those morons getting smudges on any of his lovely paintings, anyhow, or bringing them to ruin in some way or another. Knowing them, he didn't doubt that they would…
These grievances were kept to himself, only made evident by the angered expression which made itself at home on his face through his search. But, he kept focused on the goal and carefully combed through the paintings.
Eventually he concluded the pile which laid upon the floor did not prove fruitful, so he stood. Pushing one of the large crates to the side, the immediate view from behind was of another stack of paintings that were propped against the corner wall with a heavy sheet draped over them.
Pulling away the cover and setting it on the nearby cabinet, he returned his gaze to the pile and immediately determined the item he sought was clearly visible from behind a few much smaller paintings. Stepping closer, he reached over and delicately moved those ones aside so he could lift and bring the target toward himself.
This painting was so tall that it stood about two feet above Marcus, and additionally was rather wide and had a decent heft to it. Carrying it was bound to prove awkward, so he was relieved he didn't have too far to go with it.
He slid out from between the vast crates and then, with one free hand and his hip at his disposal, did his best to push the one he previously moved back into place. Now, satisfied with his objective having been accomplished, he turned to the door and took a few steps toward it, but quickly caught in the corner of his eye that Carter was staring at his new find with a look which indicated he had something to say.
Marcus clicked his tongue and ceased his movement, slowly directing his eyes to the man with an unamused glance.
"…Yes, Carter?"
He almost wondered why he asked. He didn't care to hear the answer, and he knew for a fact the chatty man would end up blurting out his thoughts at one point or another, even if left alone. But somehow, the anticipation of his looming words was often more unbearable than the words themselves. It seemed dealing with his endless antics made Marcus unwillingly become accustomed to this act of mercy, saving himself from the postponement of the foolish and inevitable.
"It's just…" He tilted his head for a moment as he contemplated his words, only to look back to Marcus with a soft shake of his head. "I wanted to say you must be a real egomaniac for having that big ol' portrait of yourself, but seeing how it was on the floor and buried behind all those other pictures, uh…I guess it doesn't really apply."
He almost cracked a smile at this, relieved he was at least able to deprive the man of one of his typical jokes made to Marcus' detriment. He momentarily set the picture down for a more thorough inspection of what he, admittedly, hadn't seen in years, nearly having forgotten what it looked like, despite it having been of such a familiar figure. After staring for a brief moment, he out a light scoff.
"I never even wanted the silly thing made. It was Spencer's—" Abruptly he stopped, looking away with a sideways glance and a deepening of his frown before halfheartedly going onward. "It was the founder's idea. He insisted that because I was the school's director, it was vital that I have something to put my status and authority on display to the employees and students."
With a single glance, one could likely come to understand how it might fulfill that intended purpose.
It had been painted several years after Marcus first arrived at the facility, his likeness captured from the chest to just above his head. His name and position in the facility was inscribed on a golden plate at the bottom of the ornately-designed bronze frame.
At that point, his hair had already long since been trimmed from the luscious locks of his youth to the short, combed-back style that Spencer assured him was far more appropriate for a man of his stature, and the deep brown it had once been comprised of turned to a pale silver. Thinking of it now, it did seem as though his hair changed color quite rapidly once he accepted this job…
Even aged, his features were as sharp as ever and were settled into the frown he wore so often, retaining an overall demeanor that appeared to be just as unwelcoming as the portrait's chosen subject. And with the painted visage donning the very same brown suit and orange tie as the man holding it, in spite of the many years which passed since the painting's creation, the differences were few and far between.
Marcus tore his gaze from that absurdly accurate view of himself and waved a hand dismissively. "However, unlike him, I never felt the need to plaster my face along the walls of every building. So, after he had it made and sent it over, I just left it here in storage." He then gave an indifferent half-shrug. "It wasn't necessary for anyone to see it, and I'm certain the employees didn't lament the loss, either."
Surveying the portrait thoughtfully, a moment of silence passed. Afterward, Carter slowly nodded. "With that grumpy mug, can't say I blame 'em."
"My face was the least of their problems!" He retorted in defense, only to glance away quickly in frustration. "They… They never liked me, anyway, so…it doesn't matter." He added with a softened tone before beginning his walk back to the door, pushing it open and awaiting Carter's approach.
Carter followed with his own two statues in tow. As he passed through, he looked back to Marcus. "Why didn't they?"
Seeing he wore an expression that was surprisingly earnest, Marcus was taken by surprise. He didn't think the man would actually inquire further, but since he did, he would have expected a snarky remark to follow, but it never came. He only stood in anticipation of a response.
Marcus looked to him for a moment, but then turned and took a few brisk steps ahead to reach the next door in sight. "It was… I suppose, if I had to wager a guess…" He paused and grabbed the knob.
Seconds passed before he finally pushed it open and vacantly glanced in at the staircase which descended some feet beyond the door. "It was likely because, I…I don't exactly have…the greatest personality. I was never particularly friendly to anyone, and despite being the school's director, I…can't say I ever made a truly decent effort to act the part." Pursing his lips and looking aside, he gave a halfhearted nod. "So, I would assume that…must have been the basis of their disdain."
He realized those things hadn't helped his overall likability, but it was clear to him they were never the root cause of it. Even before he devoted himself to being a complete hermit who dwindled away his time in seclusion within his lab each and every day, the employees had always assumed his research was unethical in some way or another.
To this day, he was unsure of why those rumors had started in the first place. Yes, he might not have been all that approachable even before his immoral experiments began, but it was hardly appropriate to assume someone was murdering people in a lab just because they weren't friendly. There was a large portion of the employees who he didn't think were very polite, either, but he never assumed they were evil… He just thought they were morons, which was frankly a fairer judgement than any of them ever gave to him.
The only theory Marcus ever came up with that he believed to hold some validity was that the employees would see that a coworker had quit or a student once in a great while would drop out, so they decided to just blame the departures on him. He supposed life back at the main building was rather boring, so those sorts of rumors must have added some manner of excitement to the mundane, ever-repeating cycle of each passing school year.
If they wanted excitement created at his expense so badly, he certainly gave them reason for it once he did initiate his human experiments. It was an ironic twist of fate, almost a self-fulfilling prophecy on behalf of his idiotic former employees. He only wondered if whichever ones had started those foolish rumors in the first place had been amongst his victims. Nice though that might have been, it hadn't mattered much. They all must have believed in them by the end, anyway, so surely none had been surprised by their fate…
Regardless of whatever their contempt had been caused by, it was not something he would ever hope to tell Carter in good faith. Even if he emphasized those rumors were nothing more than that, it would undeniably instill the idea that such bold assumptions must have been preceded by some form of logic, while Marcus was confident they never were.
In the meantime, the man unfortunately did feel the need to question it, so his personality was the best excuse Marcus could come up with. If nothing else, it couldn't have been that difficult to believe…
"Yeah… Makes sense to me." He agreed aloofly as he casually walked through the door.
"You didn't have to agree that readily!" Marcus shot back with a glare to match his ice-filled tone.
Even with the threatening gaze directed straight at him, Carter only laughed upon seeing it.
"Aw, don't worry about it, Doc. I mean, as far as cranky old men go, I'd say you're right up there with the best of 'em. That's gotta count for something, right?" He gave a bright grin and a thumbs-up to go with the not-so reassuring praise.
That only served to cause a clear furthering of the man's irritation.
"…No, it does not." He spat with his glare only vaguely residing seconds later. He closed the door behind him and began moving ahead.
He walked a few steps alongside the railing that lined the path. Afterward he turned and stepped up to the elevated floor of the balcony, halting beside the statue which stood in its center.
He glanced upward. A small smile made its way onto his formerly stoic features as he perceived the attractive work of art which now stood a few inches above him. It was a very well-sculpted, lifelike statue of a beautiful woman clad in a loose gown. Her hair was neatly tied up and, held tightly using both hands, was an elegant pair of scales comprised of gold.
That statue had vigilantly overlooked the main hall's balcony for many years, but it was only during this project that the decision was made to hoist it higher through the incorporation of a stone pedestal. This was chiefly done because Carter would be able to run the wiring from within that base through the balcony's floor, where it would then travel to the basement's entrance and power the tracks that would lower Marcus' chosen "door" into the floor below.
Components within the scales and base would correspond to whatever was placed upon each scale, with a very precise weight being the key requirement to have the electric signal sent to the entrance. Of course, the weight needed to be evenly dispersed between both sides, so it was not as simple as placing any two items that appeared to add up to the weight needed. And, having tested it when they first acquired the pieces, they were able to confirm that the statues of good and evil had no issues with meeting the strict conditions of the scales.
Once the wiring beneath was set up, Carter would see to it that the scale-holding statue was properly secured to the pedestal. It certainly would have done no good for it to end up accidentally toppling over and the entire thing being destroyed, leading to a basement that was forever locked with no way to open it again. That step would come toward the end of the process, however, as getting the entrance mechanisms up and running was to come first.
"Man, I'm tired of this jerk… That lady can have 'im." Carter finally broke through the silence and interrupted Marcus' idle observations. He scooted past along the narrow space and placed the statue of evil onto the scale's left side, tilting it heavily in that direction.
Marcus rose a brow over the man's ongoing complaints about that statue in particular, but tried to pay it no mind as he instead waited for him to set the opposite statue down as well. That never happened, so his expression quickly shifted to agitation.
"You may as well put the other one down too, then." He finally retorted with a hint of cynicism in his tone.
Bringing it closer to his chest at the suggestion, he pursed his lips. After a few seconds of silence, he shook his head. "Nah, I don't mind holding this one."
"Put the statue down." He demanded sharply. Carter let out a deep and overstated sigh before finally setting it in place.
With the scales now evenly balanced, Marcus placed his free hand on his hip and looked toward them with a smile. His eyes soon trailed downward to the inscription below.
"When good and evil are brought into balance, a new path will be opened before you..." He read aloud as he scanned the writing upon the small golden plate. Once he looked back to the statues in question, his gentle smile had only grown with a vague nod.
He had known from the moment he began planning out these projects that he wished to have something that could make use of this particular statue and the scales she held, but it did take some contemplation before he finally came up with and decided to utilize this idea.
Carter might have felt the need to poke fun at his design choices, but Marcus found he was quite pleased with them. Seeing how they sat across from the other and functioned as the perfect parallels in all manners, they rather appropriately seemed to depict their intended concepts, overall. Just as good could not exist without evil, man could not exist without woman. The reverse was equally true, and it was only when put together that these things would achieve what constituted society as a whole.
Staring at them now, Marcus was reminded of a memory from the distant past. He lowered his blissful gaze and let out a soft chuckle once the thought met its end.
"My father always did make a point to remind me of the great balance between men and women… I suppose I took that rather literally, and apparently went a step further by adding good and evil in the mix."
These words were spoken more as a wistful reflection to himself, but Carter responded with a chuckle of his own. He folded his arms together and turned toward the man.
"Uh, gotta say, Mark… I'm pretty sure your dad was just telling you to find a chick—not to go and make some fancy philosophical puzzle about it." He remarked with another huff of amusement.
His idyllic look instantly fell to neutrality. Moments later, although he retained his frown, he gave a reluctant nod of affirmation. "…Yes, but that doesn't make the puzzle concept any less noteworthy." He assured firmly and, shifting to place both hands on the heavy painting to his side, he lifted it and proceeded down the few steps of the balcony.
"Some adjustments may need to be made to the doorway, but otherwise, this painting does appear to be an ideal fit. Whatever must be done, I trust it shouldn't pose too much trouble." He spoke idly as he continued on down the next flight of stairs.
"All of your ideas pose too much trouble, Boss." His reply took an indifferent tone, but his face gave way for an accomplished smile once he heard the deep sigh from the man ahead of him.
Once he arrived on the staircase's mid-platform and stood by Marcus' side, he looked toward the tall entrance before them and glanced back at the painting. His contemplative stare continued for a few seconds, but he then took the painting from him and walked to the doorway, holding it in place for a moment before giving a slow nod.
"Huh, you've got a point. It's pretty damn perfect for it. Won't even have to change the frame or anything…" Still holding it to the opening, he looked back to Marcus with a wide grin. "What do ya know? Looks like that grumpy face of yours was always meant to guard the place. Although…" He moved the painting aside and looked to the ground where it was formerly held with his lighthearted look turning to skepticism.
"Your idea was for the painting to descend into the floor once the statues are in place, right? Should be able to make that work, no problem, but…" He sent his doubtful look in a glance back to Marcus. "Now, are ya sure you wanna be burying yourself six feet under? Or, well…" He trailed off, tilting his head to get a better look at the floor and then glancing upward at the painting. "…More like eight feet."
Marcus' arms were crossed while he wore a stern expression. The moment the implication was uttered, his eye vaguely twitched. "…That's fine." He finally muttered after a few highly awkward seconds, only receiving a light chuckle in response.
Carter began working something out in his head while switching his attention between the painting, entrance, and occasionally the balcony above, so Marcus waved a dismissive hand and turned.
"I suppose I'll leave you to it, then." He muttered indifferently and headed down the stairs to the hall's lowest floor. "I'll go make a few calls to see if any of the artisans have made progress yet."
"You got it, Boss." His response came with an automatic thumbs up, but seconds later, he decided to turn toward the departing man. Glancing down at him, his serious look soon fell to doubt. "Just try not to rush the poor guys too much, yeah? This job isn't exactly gonna be done in a day, so we've got plenty of time."
"Yes, yes, whatever you say." He replied without interest.
His determination to inquire about the work was not to be hindered, so he was resolved to make his way to the telephone regardless.
November 29th, 1982
"Alright Grandpa, it's Sunday—time to head on over for church service." He declared with a salute and marched on ahead, pushing open the heavy steel door and proceeding through.
Trailing behind the man's confident strut, he initially rose a brow but soon let it fall as he instead opted to fold his arms together tightly. "…It's Monday." He muttered cynically, closing his eyes for a few seconds and slowly shaking his head. "And frankly, if you do find any pastors or churchgoers in there, we'll have more problems than your misguided perception of time."
"Oh. That so…" He stopped abruptly, placing his free hand on his chin for a moment of deliberation. However, this quickly departed and taking its place was instead a wide shrug. "Well, I guess we would, then. Can't get the congregation together when you're over here trying to lock the place up and keep it all to yourself." He raised the papers in his left hand and firmly pointed to them with the right.
Marcus uncaringly glanced toward the pages and answered with no more than an eyeroll and a dull but rare smile.
It might have shown through Carter's renewed enthusiasm and Marcus' ability to have tolerated him for the past few minutes without being overtaken by an overwhelming desire to toss him into the lake—if not the much more attainable deed of angrily sending him home, but this was the first day that Carter had been back to the facility in some weeks.
After finishing yet another excellent job, this time through securing the basement's entrance, they were left without the materials needed for the projects that loomed ahead. There were a few smaller plans they could have started in the meantime, but it was decided those could wait until Carter's return. That way, they would instead work through both the smaller and more strenuous undertakings all in the same period.
This allowed each of the two to have a much-needed break. Carter, taking a vacation from the physical tolls of his daily labor, and Marcus…from the mental tolls of dealing with the never-ending headaches the man always, without fail, brought with him.
Therefore, Carter returned home for what ultimately ended up being a short while. Just yesterday, they were notified that the pieces for the next puzzle were completed, so he picked them up prior to his arrival today.
Marcus was more than just a tad excited to get to the next project. It was one of his more elaborate puzzles and would serve as a tremendous asset for the facility's security, so he would have loved for them to jump straight into that. But, realizing it would involve an extensive level of construction and the amount of time they were to put into that puzzle alone, they arrived at the mutual decision to knock off a smaller one first.
That led the unlikely duo's mission for today being to secure the church. And, having gone over Marcus' plans previously, Carter was confident this task would be easily achievable.
The idea was to lock the church's door electronically, and that would be made possible through a microchip he'd install cleverly behind the ornate gold embellishments of its design. After that, he'd only need to dig up some of the tiles in the underside of the neighboring bell tower to add a button underneath in addition to its corresponding wiring. Then, he would place four distinctive tiles in each of the corners, with the button being beneath one of them.
When held down, the switch would send the signal to the chip, which would immediately unlock the door to the church. The key here was that the switch needed a constant pressure to be applied so that the door would remain unlocked. Therefore, Carter was not to adhere the tile directly to the ground, instead leaving a bit of room so that the switch was not regularly being forced down.
The puzzle's solution, while admittedly simple, was to make sure a heavy object was positioned atop the correct tile. Someone standing on the tile would be enough to solve this, so if multiple people invaded the facility at once, it wouldn't be too difficult for at least one of them to find their way into the church.
In light of the unfortunate fact that Marcus was so perpetually alone, he would instead opt to find something heavy enough to place there if he, for whatever reason, decided to pay a visit to that solitary house of divinity. There were some large rocks around the side of the building, so one of those would suffice for the task.
However, as easy of a job this would apparently be, it wasn't exactly the most productive one…
He had no idea of what he could possibly hide within the church.
Even more, he was positive he wasn't making the most of this opportunity. Being that it was such a large building, it would have been clever to make an actual puzzle within the structure itself rather than simply locking its door. That thought occurred to him when he first began concocting his puzzle notes, but he later decided against it.
Given his unfamiliarity with the location, he could say with confidence he hardly remembered what the place looked like. He had only been inside maybe…two or so times, through his tenure at the facility, maybe ironic considering the building was right atop the lab he essentially lived in. It seemed offering his prayers was never exactly high on his list of priorities, and considering the many sinful acts he committed beneath that holy place…he wasn't counting on those prayers being answered anytime soon.
Regardless, he didn't feel the need to bother making intricate contraptions for something he rarely even acknowledged, so a locked door was the best it would get. And he supposed its present usage hadn't mattered much, anyway. So long as the building was destined to be secured along with the rest of the facility, he was positive he'd derive some value from it at one point or another. For the time being, they'd simply need to put their efforts into setting it up.
"I went ahead and placed the new tiles over there earlier, so we should already have everything we need here." Marcus stated indifferently as the two strolled across the long concrete path of the bridge.
Carter's sight had been briefly set on the faraway forest across the lake while he shoved the papers he held into the deep pockets of his pants, but he sent a glance to Marcus upon the words' arrival. "That's awfully nice of you, Mark, might be the most you've done to aid the process yet. In fact…" He began with a small smirk, but quickly relented to a big grin. "Hey, if you're in such a good mood today, maybe that means you'll finally be willing to help with the actual setup for the project this time!"
"No, it doesn't." His reply came with no change in tone whatsoever, already so used to the man's oddly lazy attitude that he couldn't even be bothered by the lousy attempt to lessen his workload.
He allowed his gaze to trail off until it landed on the fierce sway of the trees in the distance, momentarily observing what little remained of the bright orange which had vividly made up the faraway forest as of late. Many of the trees now became barren as the passage of time brought them ever closer to colder weather, but the radiance of the sun illuminating what was left behind was still a sight to behold.
These vacant studies of the scenery were brought to an end once the two turned the corner. They both halted when they came face to face with the tall, ivy-covered bell tower.
Carter looked squarely ahead at the tower's lower half. It was a small, box-like area. There wasn't much to the concrete structure apart from its doorless entrance and a window, and the only things inside had been a simple iron bench to the rear along with the box that rested on it.
Eying the bench with a firm gaze, Carter soon after lowered his head and let out a sigh. "…I'm guessin' I gotta be the one to move that, huh?"
"Of course. You can't very well install any mechanisms in there, least of all the tiles, with that in the way." He waved a dismissive hand in its direction before promptly returning it to his side. "I've no use for it, so it can be disposed of."
"Disposed of… How—" He interrupted himself to quickly shoot a perturbed look toward Marcus. "Where the hell am I supposed to take it? Actually, where the hell do you take anything?" With furrowed brows, he folded his arms together tightly. "You must have some trash to get rid of on the regular basis, and I'm sorta doubting you've got too many garbage collectors coming around these parts. Unless…don't tell me you've been forcing those poor guys to come out here via helicopter too?" The suggestion was intended in jest, but, placing his hand on his chin with a contemplative stare, it wasn't long before he began to question its validity.
Marcus initially appeared perplexed, but let the demeanor fade once he realized it was probably a somewhat logical idea given his peculiar living arrangements. He shook his head. "Thankfully, no. I'm not yet that secluded."
"It's not as if I ever have that much garbage, but whatever there is, I always take to the neighboring treatment plant. It's owned by Umbrella and accessible from an elevator in the facility, so that's where the employees used to take everything, as well. Although, from here…" Trailing off, his eyes traveled from the facility at the rear to the path that ran from the side of the church.
"Hm… That particular elevator would take us directly there, so for future projects, it's possible that we might find more convenience from that route. But for now…" Slowly, he nodded. "The route I've always preferred is through the cable car. It can only take us to the factory, but the elevator that leads to the treatment plant isn't far from its platform. That cable car is right below this building, so we can just take the elevator from here and—"
"Wait, wait, wait—hang on a sec there, Doc." Speaking up and raising a commanding finger, Marcus ceased his explanation and looked toward him with a puzzled stare. Carter went onward.
"You said those are Umbrella facilities, yeah? Uh, I'm pretty sure averages Joes like me aren't supposed to just go waltzing in those places, and I'm not exactly trying to get shot on entry, here."
Staggered by the notion, Marcus found it to be a rather bleak expectation of what his much-loved company would ever have their employees do to an innocent civilian. He felt it better if he didn't press the issue and just moved on, but given his suspicions over some of Carter's previous comments, it did make him wonder. How much, exactly, did this man know about Umbrella…?
"I'm sure you aren't allowed there, but… Well, frankly, I don't think they're that fond of me being there, either." He took a firm stance and made an effort to focus on the matter at hand rather than the curiousness of Carter's remark. "Ever since the facility was shut down, the employees over there haven't seemed very receptive to the idea of me continuing to use their services. But it's not as if I'm doing anything the facility's employees hadn't, and I have no other way of getting rid of things. So, I suppose they tolerate it."
He clicked his tongue and glanced away in agitation. "They ought to, anyway. Open facility or not, I remain as a founder of the company that supplies their payrolls. That status has to come with some level of esteem, so if they can find a way to deal with my garbage, they can deal with the bothersome contractor who delivers it just as well."
There were still traces of a hesitant demeanor about him, but Carter did force a husky chuckle upon the man's spirited conclusion. "Could have gone without the insult, but oh well. Good on you, Boss! Really sticking it to the man, huh? You tell 'em." Any lingering reluctance had taken its leave as he gave one of his usual cheery salutes and a wink. "And, well, if you say so, guess I'll just have to take your word for it. So, might as well get that outta here so I can get started."
Immediately he moved to take a step forward, but Marcus had beaten him to it, obstructing enough of the narrow path and staring at him with a worried look.
"Wait, I…" He trailed off and his face fell to unease.
He tried to overlook the earlier comment, in realizing that it truly could have been nothing important. Carter had a clear tendency of exaggerating and embellishing much of what he said in some manner, so maybe that had been another of those instances.
But Marcus didn't need to think too hard to realize this time, that simply couldn't have been the case. He knew it couldn't have been. The man was too smart to have made such a brazen remark purely out of hyperbole—a remark that might have born more truth that one might have ordinarily expected.
Through his time spent at the facility, it was made abundantly clear to each of the duo that Carter nearly drove him to the brink of insanity with his ceaseless banter and excessively flippant personality. But it came to Marcus' attention early on that, while aspects of those traits might have been embedded in truth, they were deliberately exemplified.
He made a point to act as if he were all brawn with no brains, and perhaps that was what Marcus found most grating about him. He was genuinely intelligent and had, on numerous occasions, been capable of conversation on a deeper level. He was even well-versed on many subjects the average citizen would be understandably puzzled by.
So why had he gone so out of his way to appear as though he were a fool? It was something that hadn't made much sense, initially, but Marcus began to speculate on the basis of those behaviors. And with each obscure thought the elusive man let slip, his conclusion was becoming ever clearer.
Before solidifying his findings, he would pry what he could to determine the extent of Carter's knowledge. Prior evidence suggested he was keen to keep these things to himself, for he was always careful to say so little that a truly valid suspicion couldn't be raised. Even still, Marcus wouldn't let that deter him. if he was unable to acquire the entire truth, it was worth delving into whatever he could. If anything were to be gained, then, perhaps he could obtain some knowledge over the masses' perception of Umbrella. Carter must have had some inkling of that. That much was certain.
Staring toward the wide stretch of azure water as he collected his thoughts, he soon parted his lips to give voice to the words which were so carefully prepared.
"…I don't suppose one would ordinarily expect a treatment plant to be so heavily armed that they'd immediately take to murdering an innocent civilian who just so happened to wander in. A warning, certainly, and possibly even a reprimanding. But murder? That seems like a bit of a stretch, to me, unless…" His trailed off words met their conclusion once he returned his stoic gaze to Carter, finishing, "perhaps the problem lies more with Umbrella's ownership?"
Carter initially maintained his look of indifference, but a flicker of concern appeared at the mention of Umbrella. By instinct his stare drifted away, a soft chuckle having escaped him. "Are ya sure about that, Mark? I mean, yeah, might be a little rough to whip out the big guns that fast, but… You know those places take their, uh…treatment processes, awfully seriously. Can't mess around with the water, eh?"
Marcus said nothing, but his rigid expression became more severe. Carter noticed and let out another chuckle, this time with a clear trace of hesitation before awkwardly glancing away. But, seeing Marcus continue to stare silently with those inexplicably piercing eyes of his, it was clear his attempt to distract from the subject had fallen through.
He forewent the look of discomfort, lowering his head and shaking it gently. "Listen, Mark… I don't know what you think you're gonna get out of me here. I…really don't have much to say."
"You always have much to say." The intensity of his glare heightened with the sharp words, but in realizing this, he quickly eased it away.
To be argumentative was nothing unusual for Marcus, and it had often been his go-to even while attempting to obtain information from another. But he held enough awareness to understand his typical hostility was not likely to aid the process here, and in truth, it wasn't fair to behave in such a way. He recognized Carter was not being elusive out of choice. It became increasingly clear that it spawned from necessity.
In an earnest attempt to learn the truth, Marcus opted to take on a more approachable air as he went on.
"Just…tell me your thoughts on Umbrella." He began softly, glancing toward the man with a mild look to his often-chilled eyes. "I'm not asking for much, only that… I'm curious, of Umbrella's present standing in the world." His arms were crossed tightly across his chest while his eyes idly rested on the stone railing to his side. "I've been here for so many years, I hardly know anything of what goes on beyond these walls anymore. But, having dedicated so much of myself to this company, I…only want to know exactly what has become of it."
Carter listened to the hushed words silently. After they reached their conclusion, he finally lowered his gaze for a weak nod, and the hesitance in his expression was left to fade as he took on a resolved air. "Maybe you'll be happy to know that these days, your company is the talk of the town… Or, hell, more like talk of the country. That damn label is plastered everywhere you go. Whether it's their products themselves or just another big business they're sponsoring, to say they make their presence known is one hell of an understatement."
Marcus turned back in time to see the man walking a few steps forward, where he then lowered himself to sit on the higher step of the tower. He shifted to the side to lean his back against the left of the doorway, where he then folded his arms and opened his mouth to speak once more.
"They've got a whole lot of their own facilities out there, and word is, their rapid expansion isn't even close to slowing down. I mean, they make so much damn money, don't see why it would. Especially with how much everybody loves 'em, there's no reason to believe they'd be going anywhere but up from here."
Taking notice of his associate's more comfortable position, Marcus moved back a few steps to rest against the railing. Looking over to him, he tilted his head with a mild look of curiosity. "And yet, the way you speak of Umbrella seems to suggest you feel otherwise… Am I correct to assume you're not all that fond of my company's wonderful products?" There was a clear tone of sarcasm to his voice, which was only complemented by the derisive smile he wore.
"You could say that… That is, you can say it, but I'm not so sure I can." A low chuckle escaped his lips and he shook his head. "Even with all those products and supposed miracle cures they've got out, you'll be hard-pressed to find any negativity surrounding anything they do. No complaints, and hardly even a few bad reviews… Yeah, any company is gonna try their damnedest to hush up those things as much as possible, but to get rid of them altogether? Not possible." His eyes were fixed ahead on nothing in particular while he raised an arm for a half-shrug. "Well…unless you're Umbrella, apparently."
Marcus' look of wry amusement had been replaced by one of concern, and Carter took note of it with a nod prior to continuing.
"Don't get me wrong, I'm no detective or anything. I make a living out of either screwing in lightbulbs for old ladies or building whacky contraptions for guys like you, so I'm not over here digging deep into these things. I wouldn't even want to, really, but…" He tilted his head as he briefly contemplated his next words, only to soon settle for a slight headshake and another shrug.
"It's just weird to me, is all. Umbrella only formed in the late sixties, seemingly coming out of nowhere, and all of a sudden they're everywhere. It's companies like that where I gotta be a little suspicious regardless. Even if others feel it's unfounded, it's…the only way to survive, 'round these parts."
Carter's expression which held a lasting look of indifference briefly fell to hesitance, but he willed it away no sooner had it arrived. After all of this, there was no use in going mute now. He already said plenty, and the attentive look Marcus held suggested he was keen to hear more, for better or worse.
It might have been against his best interests, but at this point, there was no going back.
"…It's because of those concerns that I always felt it better to avoid Umbrella, and any companies like it, as much as I could. And as far as I know, I've never taken any jobs from their employees, or at least none from the company's bigwigs." A subdued touch of amusement took root in his expression once he glanced toward Marcus. He let out a soft chuckle. "Well…until now, that is. Wasn't expecting to end up working for its damn creator, but…oh well."
Raising a hand, he ran it through the locks of hair which were loosely secured in his ponytail. Another light bit of laughter followed the gesture, and he next leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, with his chin propped up by both hands.
"If I'm being honest, Mark… You're a bit of a mystery man, yourself." He mumbled aloofly while glancing upward toward him. "Whenever I get a request for a big job like this one, I always have my team do a little digging into the client's history. Course we can only get whatever's publicly available, but since these types of jobs usually come from bigger names, it's never too hard to find some headlines on 'em, but you? Not a thing."
Noticing the disheartened look on Marcus' face, he removed a hand and waved it nonchalantly. "Aw, don't worry, that's just in relation to Umbrella. They did find a few old articles about you and all your scientific crap." He gave a big smirk and raised a pointer finger. "Apparently, you were damn good at it. Whole lotta achievements of yours back in the day but…" He trailed off briefly to contemplate it, and then gave a crooked nod as he continued.
"…Yeah, those fell off around the late sixties. Guess that coincides with Umbrella's creation, so I'll say that's enough reason for me to believe you're just not some homeless guy who broke into an abandoned building and started pretending you run the joint."
His stoic demeanor lessened the humor of what was intended to be a joke, but the tone in which it was spoken mattered little to Marcus, who had opted to remain silent for much of this discussion. That brief departure from solemnity having been enough to crack his intense focus, he placed a hand on his hip and let out a light scoff before returning his irritated gaze to Carter.
"I'm so relieved to hear you've had such tremendous faith in my credentials for all this time." His sharp words were uttered with an unmistakable degree of annoyance, but even that exterior of frustration was something he couldn't feel with much conviction given the rest of Carter's account. The demeanor quickly took its leave once his mind again traveled to the words which preceded its arrival.
The mildly spirited reaction was enough to bring a hint of a smile back to Carter's expression, but it was fleeting as he continued on soberly. "Kidding aside, I don't doubt that you really are another of Umbrella's founders. Sure, my initial thought was that it was strange you were such a big name in a big company but hardly had a mention of your involvement, but after seeing your situation, guess I ain't too surprised."
He glanced upward and directed his eyes to the facility across the immensity of the lake, waving his arm in sync with his traveling gaze. "You live all the way out here by yourself in the middle of this damn forest, and the nearest town is miles and miles away. You're about as secluded from the public eye as it can get, so it's not too hard to imagine that'd have an effect on how much word even gets out."
He halfheartedly shook his head with a light sigh. "And hell, even if you did live closer to actual civilization, in comparison to your blue blood founder friends, the attention's always gonna fall on them before you. Even being a head honcho, yourself, poor ol' Mark just can't compete, eh…"
"No, that's not… That's not it." His words were hardly above a whisper, mechanically shaking his head from one side to the other. "The only record that could ever come from my involvement would have to be from when Umbrella was first made. If you had known of my association in the first place, surely, you could have looked back to its creation and found some mention of me, no matter how passing. But, after that…"
He slowly raised his arms to wrap them firmly across his chest. "…The only fault is my own. There's no reason my name would reach beyond these walls when my accomplishments have not done so..." His fingers gripped the cloth around his elbows tightly, nails digging deep before finally a soft sigh escaped his lips. "For all the years I've been with Umbrella… For all the years I've been here, I've… I've never been able to deliver to them any results. There's simply…nothing one could possibly say of me…certainly nothing good." His last words were inaudible to all but himself.
It was something he had always known to be true, but he supposed it was only when confronted with the brunt of reality that it hit much harder.
To say he ever truly cared about his own renown would be far too generous a statement, for even when he was a well-respected and accomplished man of his field, he found the publicity only ever proved to be a bother and even overwhelming at times. He always made a point to avoid it as much as he could, but there was no evading that it became a requisite when one's path in life would thrust them into the spotlight with each and every breakthrough they made.
For that, he was willing to accept the public attention as an inconvenient but someway valued component of his career, because it showed that he did have a standing in life. Once, he had power and control over his own fate, but that power hadn't come at the grave cost which was required to obtain it within Umbrella. And even upon paying that toll over and over again, now, he was never granted a thing.
The past was the past, so he could hardly look at the esteem he once had as anything more than a fleeting trifle of simpler times. The moment he joined Umbrella, he was completely cut off from not only the rest of the world, but from the man he used to be. And lacking the power to even take control of his past, that man would one day be erased just as the one of the present had been. It was no different from what he had always known, but…he could appreciate Carter for having confirmed his theory, even if it wasn't an answer he would have hoped for.
The brooding expression which occupied his face through the course of his musings tapered off until it was replaced by a look of neutrality. He lowered his arms and looked back to the stoic Carter, finally giving a voice to that which he had been wondering about for some time.
"…You mentioned that you often avoid companies like Umbrella, and particularly the higher-ups of those places. So, if you had known of my status, then…"
The words were cut short by a low chuckle from the seated man, who looked upward with a soft shake of his head. "…Nah, probably would have still taken this job."
Marcus' face turned to a subtle surprise by the response prior to Carter waving an indifferent hand and continuing on.
"I've built my business around making these crazy security mechanisms to hide who knows what for whoever. It's a niche market as it is, and the only guys with a real interest in that kinda stuff are those powerful big shots that I'd rather avoid. So, at the end of the day, I can avoid 'em all I want, but there's only so much I can do about it." He gave a half-shrug. "So long as there's nothing real strange that comes up in their background checks, I'll usually go with my gut and see where it leads me…and then hope where it leads doesn't end up being an early grave."
Despite the bleak words, a casual smile took form in his expression and he let out another chuckle. "That said, if I realized I was gonna be working for one of Umbrella's creators, uh…" He raised a hand and nervously ran it through his hair while his grin turned sheepish. "…Probably woulda tried a little harder to not constantly piss 'im off."
At that, Marcus actually formed a soft smile. "Now that you've realized your mistake, it's not too late to correct it. Provided a good enough apology, I might actually be willing to excuse your awful conduct over these past few months."
"Nah, I'm good. Thanks anyway, Gramps." He gave a quick wink and a vigorous salute to complement his renewed look of cheer, which only caused Marcus to let out a heavy sigh. Afterword, Carter crossed his arms and idly looked toward the sky before resuming.
"It is true, though, that I ordinarily need to be careful with those types. The guys with all that money and power are the ones who tend to make people disappear with a snap of their fingers, but…" His gaze trailed downward and back to Marcus. His lighthearted expression fell to doubt. "…Doesn't sound like you had all that much power to begin with. Frankly, it looks more like you're the one who disappeared, and my guess is it wasn't exactly by choice."
Marcus' demeanor tensed up at the deduction. His eyes became set in a narrow gaze. He felt Carter had a better grasp on his situation than he previously suspected, although his mind couldn't help wandering to concerns of how aware he truly was. Did he earnestly believe Marcus was so powerless that he couldn't make someone disappear, just as well?
Certainly, he could not do it with the sort of ease Carter was suggesting his other potential clients could. Every life Marcus took was a tremendous risk, and it was one he took alone. If word of his crimes ever got out, Umbrella would have sold him out as a lone madman the first chance they could. He didn't have troves of allies who would jump to his defense and buy his way to a guiltless verdict. In that sense, he had no power, but even a powerless man was capable of committing evil. The trail of blood that followed his every move seemed to agree…
…But there was no use in putting any more thought to it. He was confident Carter wouldn't give him an answer to that one even if he had asked, and he found himself unwilling to learn the answer. The more that was left unsaid, the better… That was true for both of their sakes.
His posture loosened along with the release of a soft breath. He briefly looked toward the grass below, observing its gentle sway from the chilled breeze as he pondered his next words. After a few seconds, he gave a vague nod and returned his attention to Carter.
"…You're not wrong. From the beginning of Umbrella's creation, there was never any power for me to speak of. I never even wanted this job, but I…" He quickly shut his mouth with a shake of his head, not wanting to reveal any more than what was necessary.
"…An opportunity never arose for me to leave, so I just…stayed. I've been here for all of these years. So focused on my work and yet…that work can never do anything to give me the life I hoped to make… Not anymore."
"I… I don't really get it." Carter muttered through the earnest frown which had occupied his face from the time he listened to the words and strongly persisted even now. "I don't know what kinda work you're doing, but I'm sure it must be important to you. But what I don't get is…why do you have to do it here?"
He looked back to Marcus with concern embedded in his deep blue eyes, only to softly shake his head. "The facility itself has been shut down for years, right? Maybe Umbrella's just got that strict of a workload, but I would think they wouldn't mind if you got out for at least a little while… I mean, when was the last time you actually stepped foot in town?"
Marcus was surprised by what appeared to be a genuine worry. He might have anticipated Carter using the opportunity to pry into the subject matter of his work, but it sounded like he truly didn't care about that and was actually concerned instead. It made no sense to him, and his face was overcome by furrowed brows and a perplexed frown. But after a few seconds of this puzzled stare, he left it to fade as he decided to give an answer that was equally as sincere as what was asked of him.
"The facility opened back in 1968, and…although the other employees made use of their vacation time to return home whenever they could, I never bothered. I had so much work to do, I couldn't just leave it. And, I suppose…there was never anything worth returning home to."
He tilted his head to the left, staring toward the distant forest and its tall trees which worked to conceal the faraway town he once called his home. A sad smile overtook his features for a fleeting moment as he reflected on that place which had brought him so many happy times. The times spent with his parents, and those with his friends… Each had brought him an abundance of joy, but he knew there would never come an opportunity to experience such moments with a single one of those he loved ever again, for, one way or another, they were all long gone.
He cleared away all thoughts of them with a shake of his head, fixing his sights forward and back to Carter.
Carter retained his look of unease, but gave a low nod. "Jesus… I can't imagine staying in one place for fourteen years, especially one this secluded, but…well, I guess you technically can. You get all the essential crap delivered to you, anyway, but still…"
Looking to Marcus through a sideways gaze, he briefly remained quiet, only to then let out a sigh. "It'd still be good for you to get out every once in a while. Sure, you can get a nice view here on the lake, and I guess being out here does count for fresh air, too, but it's still so…isolated! It can't beat actually walking around town, hanging out with friends, and just…taking your mind off of work for a while."
His tone was so softspoken, it was odd to believe it came from the same man who made a habit of going around the facility, shouting away with all of his strange, modern jargon which never failed to both baffle and annoy Marcus in equal measures. He still couldn't understand why Carter appeared to care at all, but he supposed even with all the man did to aggravate him, perhaps he was simply…a good person.
A solemn smile again found its way onto his lips as he lowered his head, gently shaking it before returning his attention to Carter. "The time for those things has long since passed for me. At this point, my work is all that I have left, and it has long since been the only thing from which I could derive some sense of joy. But, I suppose…" As he trailed off the look of sincerity he wore had briefly faded, but it returned a moment later through a smile which was filled with an even more earnest delight. "…Thank you, regardless. Your concern is unnecessary, but…appreciated."
He glanced toward him and rose a brow, having been taken by surprise at the unexpected gratitude. Letting the look of disbelief fall to one which was more relaxed, he let out a sad chuckle. "You really don't gotta thank me for it, ya know." He rested his chin in one hand and gave a casual wave of the opposite one. "I just think the whole situation is a damn shame, but I guess by now, you must be used to it. Everyone adapts eventually. It's the only way to deal with the cards you're dealt, I suppose."
"Yes…that does seem to be the case." He agreed with a gentle nod. And, after a few seconds of idle pondering, his warm smile had grown and he parted his lips to continue. "…But I truly am grateful. Not only for your concern, but for the work we've been able to do around here."
He let out a soft chuckle and placed a hand on his hip, shaking his head with a subdued amusement. "I'm sure it sounds silly, but…coming up with all of those puzzle ideas and being able to see them brought to life, it… It's given me something to occupy my time with aside from my work. And, for the first time in so long, I've actually been able to look forward to something. Something…I can even be excited for."
Witnessing that tremendously rare display of happiness, Carter laughed and followed it up with one of his characteristic wide grins. "Hey, if locking a few doors with a bunch of overly elaborate contraptions is what it takes to make ya happy, who am I to refuse? Helping out the elderly like that oughta count for all my charitable acts of the year." He added cheerfully with a wink.
Marcus' smile persisted and was supplemented with a lighthearted roll of his eyes. "Then I suppose that means you've wasted more than enough time. The year is winding down, and I do believe you have a bench to discard for me." He gestured toward the furniture in question, which remained comfortably in the bell tower to Carter's back.
"Wow, back to forcing labor on me that quickly huh? Your good moods sure don't last long." He muttered with a pout and finally rose from the steps. Then, as he began to dust his sides off, his movements came to an abrupt stop. "Wait a minute…" His eyes darted back to Marcus with a look of disbelief. "I was trying to get rid of it a while ago—you're the one who brought all that up in the first place!"
Marcus had already crossed his arms and prepared to turn away, but then glanced back to Carter upon the accusation. His face was fixed in a state of wry amusement and he stretched out his arms to give a shrug. "Ah, you needn't concern yourself over that. Just go grab the bench." He then closed his eyes and shook his head. "It's very chilly out here, and I'll likely catch a cold if you waste any more of my time on your babbling. If that happens, I may as well deduct the health expenses from your payment."
"Wha… You can't just… That's not how it works! And what expenses are you even gonna have from a damn cold, anyway?!" He immediately shot back, which was clearly heard but ignored by the man who continued walking along the trail and soon after turned the corner.
As he disappeared from view, Carter lowered his head with a heavy groan. "Man… I've never met such a jerk in my life. But…" His embellished look of anguish faded, and with it, he gave a playful scoff. "…Don't think I've ever had such an entertaining client, either." With a light chuckle, he shook his head and turned, proceeding into the small tower to grab the object in which his boss was quite adamant on getting rid of.
As Marcus walked alongside the church, he paused after he arrived in front of the elevator. His arms were again crossed, and on his face remained a smile, one which lost much of its smugness to be replaced by a sincere warmth.
He initially had many doubts about enlisting Carter's aid through these endeavors. He feared the man he hoped would help protect his secrets could one day bring about their exposure, but it was a task that needed to be done, so he took the immense risk of placing his trust in him.
So far Marcus felt there was no need for concern, but then, their time together was nowhere near its conclusion. So many projects waited patiently to be started, and so many secrets had yet to be concealed. He could not say what would come of Carter learning those secrets in the process of burying them, and yet…
Until then, he would continue to place his faith in this bizarre man…
And perhaps…he wouldn't mind that so much.