The jet was up ahead. Marigold had raised her hood back over her head as the left the control tower, moving as low as she could without sacrificing speed. Alfred followed, unslinging a sniper rifle from his shoulder into a ready position.
The Tyrant at the far end of the airfield wouldn't be coming in this direction without real incitement. There were units scattered all around the outside of the airfield, a loose net meant to halt escape. Alfred had glared in that direction but said nothing off Marigold's questioning look.
Moving from cargo crate to cargo crate for cover, they advanced quietly toward the jet. As the target drew closer, Alfred chanced a whispered question. "There's only four or five of them there, but there are dozens of them across the island. How are you planning to hold them all back?"
Marigold glanced back at him. "I only really need one to seed the panic. The others are force multipliers to spread it. It's what he did at Arklay - at least, that's what they'll think."
Alfred's brow creased at the reference. Marigold shook her head. "Later. There'll be time when-"
A bolt of pain shot through her, accompanied by a rolling wave of anger. Marigold made a sound between a yelp and a growl before she reigned it in, falling down to one knee in response. Wesker had woken again, and was pushing back against her hold, trying to work himself free of the trap. She'd spent so much time entangled with him that keeping him locked in place like this kept her connected to the pain.
Stay DOWN, she snarled in her head. Alfred had knelt down next to her, tapping her shoulder. "They're coming," he said, voice taking on a hint of anxiety. She could hear him readying his rifle, the sound of the soldiers' boots as they ran to the sound she had just made.
Five against one would be a problem if she let herself get pulled down like this. Sensing her struggling, Wesker pushed harder. We both know you don't have the nerve to follow through.
Marigold stilled. You don't know me at all if you thought that was a smart thing to say, she sneered, shoving him back as hard as she could. She began to rise to her feet again, motioning Alfred to stay back.
Maybe she didn't normally have the nerve to attack first. Not on her own. But she could ride the fury rolling through the connection and let it do its work.
Davies had joined up with Segers and a few of the other first-wave survivors, guarding the jet belonging personally to Alfred Ashford. The other entrances to the airfield were covered, but Ashford was a crafty sonnovabitch, and might have a way to slip past.
The commander, Wesker, hadn't responded to Seger's confirmation that they had taken their places for the final assault. After ten minutes, it was clear that something had gone off. Either something was keeping the commander busy…or something had taken him down.
A few of the men had begun to get nervous - HCF was made up of a collection of mercenary units, and they were still working towards cohesion out in the field. The inside information the commander came with had bolstered morale during the mission, as had that save earlier from the Tyrant. Segers had come forward on the radio to order a hold to proceed forward with the assault, while holding the exit points until they got an update. If they didn't hear anything in the next fifteen minutes, they'd send a unit to the last recorded location on his GPS he'd gone to.
The location of the signal hadn't been updated from the location of an old training yard next to the training grounds for some time. Davies could see Segers growing grimmer by the minute when it came to the commander's fate. That weird group of crows flocking towards that same spot had stopped right before Wesker had stopped reporting back. Davies didn't consider himself to be a superstitious man, but there was something about the flock that had put his hackles up. It had been something out of a Hitchcock movie, and they'd not been able to do a real thing about it without wasting a lot of ammo.
Segers' nerves were clearly not doing any better. "Did anyone see where the girl took off to? Maybe something went off with the trump card."
Davies shook his head, pitching his voice low. "That was pEpsilon gas in the canisters she was breathin', and some real BOW shit she pulled off with the Tyrant. Not sure there was much left in that little head to go off. You saw her - real out of it unless something big came by. It was like that back at camp, too. I guessed she was meant to be more of a lure than a hammer."
Segers shook his head. "I see what's you're sayin', but it doesn't sit right. Seemed pretty sharp when she told me to get everyone out of the way. That's…" Segers hesitated, then pushed on. "That was the sorta face you expect to see at your window inna ghost story, scratching to be let in." He grimaced. "This fucking place is getting into my head. I can't wait to just bag the fucker and get out."
Davies chuckled and shrugged. "I'd drink to that." The sound of gunfire was dying down. "But the situation's calming down. As soon as the field clears a little, someone'll check it out."
Nearby, where a pile of tall cargo crates had been stacked, something made a sharp sound of pain. Five heads shot up at once, already on high alert.
It didn't sound like a zombie, nor one of the bigger monsters. This sounded human. Like someone had stepped on a nail, and was trying not to yell out.
No one said anything, but they all snapped to readiness and began to move forward.
A tall, hooded willowy figure in HCF fatigues stepped out from behind the crates. Davies pulled up short. The figure was wearing a familiar bandolier. Had the girl carried out her mission, whatever that was? "Speak of the devil," he said, and Segers turned back to look at him sharply, skidding to a halt.
The other three men kept moving forward toward the figure - the girl who had diverted a fucking Tyrant away with barely any apparent effort at all. Segers froze ahead of him, watching the girl walk forward. A second figure wearing a black rain poncho with the hood up, stepped out, bringing a rifle to bear.
"Fuck", Segers hissed. "Fall back!" The girl had a knife in each hand. The two soldiers at the front of the pack stopped running, but they were already too close- a knife buried itself in the forehead of one, and the girl leapt forward to slash the arm of the other, spinning him around as his automatic weapon sprayed bullets before his hand stopped spasming. The soldier's scream was cut short as he was violently thrown into the third, knocking the two of them back with far more strength than seemed farther than seemed plausible from that light little frame.
"Thanks for participating in the test," the girl almost chirped at him, sounding more like a perky spokesmodel than the barely-aware creature they had led onto the plane. "The company will be interested in the results." She drew her gun and fired two shots at the pair on the ground, catching the injured one in the shoulder.
Davies went cold. Liquidation. Segers swore. "Fall back, assholes, we're not equipped for this!" The two on the ground scrambled to their feet, barely missing another shot. Segers ducked as the figure behind her began to line up shots.
Davies pulled his knife out and began to stalk forward. "You little whore," he snarled. He'd heard about STARS, that mansion horseshit back before Raccoon City had been blown to hell. Hell, the commander leading this mission had been directly connected to that incident. Was the commander really coming back to that particular playbook?
Davies wouldn't hesitate to cut the throat of someone trying to stab him in the back. He was nearly twice the girl's size. If he could get in close enough, Davies could put this little liquidation bullshit to a nice, messy end. Segers grabbed the soldier struggling to get up on the ground. "Not the time, buddy, get out of here!" Davies waved him off, and Segers, seeing a man locked in on a fight, chose to take the other two and run.
The girl looked at him, face breaking into a slow, grim smile. She held an open hand up, telling the other person to hold their fire. "Looks like you drew the short straw then." There was a weirdly familiar cadence to her voice now.
"We'll see," Davies snarled, and charged.
The girl caught the wrist holding the knife, squeezing hard to the point he thought it might break. The knife fell from his hand as she jabbed him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Strong hands took hold of his vest, and he found his back leg kicked out from upper him as she brute force pushed him down to the concrete.
There was blood on her mouth. Not much, but enough to finally flip that deep part of him that recognized her as a predator, rather than something in the way. If he had realized that a moment earlier - Segers had - he might have got away.
The girl knelt as he fell. Thin steel fingers wrapped around his throat, and as her face drew closer, lips drawing back from blood-smeared teeth, Davies was quite sure he was about to die.
Alfred watched Marigold pull back from the soldier she'd baited into attacking her. She'd asked him not to give himself away. This was obviously part of her plan.
Nonetheless, there was a distinctly T-Virus flavor to what she had just done. He backed up a few steps, lowering his weapon but keeping it ready.
Marigold held the man still, and seemed to be waiting for something. He seemed uninjured, save from a distinctive bite on his lip. He also seemed to have stopped fighting.
Instead, the soldier had started shaking in terror. "Am I infected?"
"Not exactly," Marigold said in a low, flat voice. Her back was to Alfred, but something in her expression terrified the man, who uselessly started trying to struggle. If he got loose-
"Settle down. I'm only going to say this once, and you're going to listen." Marigold said, and the man stilled, and Marigold continued. "They're going to kill everyone left alive here - the next wave, and the rest. Assuming they scrape their commander up in one piece. I've made him very angry."
Alfred drifted to one side to get a better look, and saw an expression of intense concentration on her face, focusing on the man on the ground. "You are going to do everything you can to disrupt them, if you want to live. Do you understand?" She let go of the man's throat, and he scuttled back, making a wounded sound when she casually reached for the knife he had dropped to the ground.
The man blinked at her, confusion clouding his features. His pupils had blown out, Alfred observed. Whatever she had done had put him into a highly suggestible state. He nodded slowly, then seemed to attempt one last push through. "The commander? Back at camp, you weren't-"
"Shut up," Marigold snarled, rising to her feet. She held the knife out to the man, handle first, and her took it, eyes wide and fearful. The soldier clamored to his feet and backed away as if she'd struck him, then turned and fled.
She watched him go, then seemed to snap out of her fugue, turning her head towards Alfed without quite meeting his eyes. "That's what they were so afraid of, I think," she said quietly. "When they figured it out, at Arklay. I left it open as to what disruption means, but that man may as well be a bomb now, and it'll take a while before someone dispels the little story I just told. They probably think he's dead."
Alfred finally spoke. "It would take a while for them to regroup after losing the leader, even if they didn't think they'd been betrayed." Something finally clicked in his head. "Auntie, that man was from Arklay. No one should have survived that hit." He could feel the fury rising. Regenerates like a starfish, she had said of him. If she had been able to do that this entire time and still hadn't been able to get away…."what did they do to you?"
Marigold looked at him. He'd never seen her look so exhausted, but her eyes were still sharp. "Less than I feared, but enough. We have to go, Alfred. There will be time for questions when we're in the air."