This chapter happens alongside Chapter 17: Part 4-2: The Edge of Nowhere (And a little of Grayson's scene in Chapter 18). Check it out - Don is ' OC, and has been really fun to write for :)
The timer on the side of the prototype hibernaculum - a modified steel contraption meant for BOW transport - went off, and something on the inside of it clicked. The pEpsilon solution Don had made up from Alexia's notes swirled down the drain for filtering and storage. When the box was nearly empty, Don reached up from inside and began to haul himself out.
That shit was colder than a witch's nipple, but he was damned grateful he'd put the time into cracking the equations to get a working version. Nosferatu had wandered into the feeding area a little too early that last time - he'd had to stop to grab fuel for the generator, and got off schedule. There had been easier prey in there, but the thing was territorial. Don had left with a puncture wound the size of a dime in his shoulder, and a heart rate much too high, perfect for distributing the venom through his system.
He'd flushed the wound and done what he could, but he'd seen what that venom had done to the others he'd left for the creature. The archives offered up little recourse for any resources within the facility itself to create a strong enough antivenin. The prototype was likely his best bet.
Now he stepped out of the box with a groan, looking around at the screens while getting his clothes back on. He still felt awful - sleep deprivation with a nice fuck-you side order of numbness and fever sweats.
A light was flashing over the camera view for the hanger - he'd flipped the motion detector on for that as soon as he'd realized he'd missed Alfred's return to the facility. Wiry little jumped-up tyrant that he was, but no one here had ever accused Alfred of backing down from a fight. Mostly because they'd see their skull blown out if it ever got back to the fucker, but still. Frankly, Don was more surprised that he hadn't worked himself into such a frothing rage to have charged the invaders head-on.
The screen for the hanger camera showed a welcome sight- three units in polar gear moving cautiously into the hanger, followed by a tall blonde figure wearing dark shades. His rescue party had finally arrived. Don punched up a command, queuing up the recording equipment. If they came down here, Nosferatu would get riled up. The initial feedings, the 'discovery', as he'd framed it, had piqued Spencer's interests - as much as the interest of an old man currently being crushed under the weight of lawsuits could be diverted, anyhow. It was enough to get a stay of execution, provided that he could get some better data.
Spencer was going to get the best damned show he could get, if a unit or two were coming this way. It would be curated to make it look like USS had taken the maiming. He hadn't mentioned the strange growths around the facility in his previous transmissions, although he had to wonder.
There was a very strong chance that little Alexia had finished baking, or whatever the fuck she'd been doing in that stasis chamber down below. Dealing with Alfred was one thing. The lift at the back of Edward's old lab was still intact, and he doubted Alfred was in much condition to fight if he had to go back to his original backup plan for a ride out of here.
The units moved out into the facility on-screen Their commander - Wesker, Nikolai had told him that his golden parachute had been ex-Umbrella, and he'd place a firm bet that this was the same one - hung back. The man was looking up at the plane which had crashed into the ceiling. He suddenly leapt up. grabbing on to fuselage to haul himself up, the man inspected the victims inside like was nothing before dropping the twenty feet back down, landing on his feet. Don blinked in surprise, then gave a dark chuckle. "Well, well, look who's had work done. Shelf-stable even, good for you, lad."
Movement flashed from a screen focusing on the hallway of an upper research floor. Don glanced at it, frowning. Another figure - likely a tall woman, from the build - with a gaiter mask for the cold was moving quickly through the corridor. It was probably a scout. While it was a little strange that she alone up there, the ants could have easily made short work of a partner, poor bastard. She was standing stock still in a stretch of corridor where the undead had moved out of, looking in the direction of the hanger - getting orders on the radio, Don supposed. Then she began to leg it down the hall, shouldering through zombies like she was about to miss her flight at the airport. The cold must have slowed them down some; they barely even turned to look.
People in groups often ran stupid, crowded in like sheep. One or a pair was when you started to see the wolves appear. Those were the ones more likely to survive, though not by much. He'd keep an eye on the lass, but there were bigger fish to fry. And considering she was heading in the same direction as Alpha Team, (bless his poor, would-be rescuers), she was stepping right into the fire.
Alexia and Grayson had only just arrived back at the mansion, making it as far as the drawing room. It was then that she felt the signals from the hyphae - that fascinating, remote sense like the hair on her arms rising, but so much richer in information - announcing the presence of new people within the facility.
Lots of them. "There are more bloody people in this facility," she informed Grayson, who was in the process of slipping his boots off. He shrugged when he glanced up at her. "Place is turning into Penn Station."
Alexia let herself be drawn into the comforting distraction of their light chatter - good lord, she still couldn't get over how fit he'd become over the years. She wanted the distraction. The size of the new party was small, nothing compared to the force that had arrived only a few hours earlier. Maybe someone had come to collect the two 'kids' Grayson had been minding, and the facility could cease being a refugee daycare for a moment.
The conversation she'd had with Marigold had highlighted something that should have occurred to her without prompting, but well, she had been distracted. If Marigold happened to pick up extra tests in the infirmary, then, well, that would just be serendipitous.
Marigold had tapped a rapid message out on the hyphae - next - to inform her she was heading to another floor. She'd been using the hyphae to check in, and to strategically avoid the infected ants so far.
Marigold had been right about one thing- as far as those infected with the T-Virus could tell, she was barely even there. Moreover, her aunt had gone out of her way to avoid attention by taking out the camera in the lab room she'd be returning to for the cache, and using the infected as an early warning system. Given the number of people arriving right as she left the floor for the BOW wing, that had been the right call, if a touch frustrating.
Alexia idly wondered if that particular property was something transitive-
-somewhere in the facility, someone was thrown violently against the hyphae, breaking through her train of thought.
They were in multiple pieces. The chemical signature of their insides splattering across the covered wall was so visceral that she experienced a brief moment of synesthesia, her vision taking on the faintest red filter. Then it was gone. Something sharp punctured another hypha, almost as if it were using the walls…
Almost as if they were using the walls to move.
Alexia felt the blood drain from her face. "Oh no," she breathed, and stood abruptly to leave the room. Distractions were a luxury right now. She had to check the cameras.
If she was right, someone had freed the creature Alexander had become. And Marigold might be walking right into that bloodbath.
Marigold slumped against the door she had just slammed shut behind her, sliding down to the floor in shock and shaking from the adrenaline. There was, once again, blood on her face.
After a few seconds, she glanced up and flipped the deadlock above the door handle shut. It wasn't much - if it…he…came back, it would buy only seconds. She still felt slightly better.
She wished fervently that she couldn't see quite so well in the dark.
She'd managed to evade the attention of the HCF unit she'd trailed down here. She still wore the same uniform, and it was too dark to see her easily, but they knew eachother, and they could still count. Moreover, they likely had some kind of instructions in case they ran into her. So she hung back, around corners and ducking into alcoves in case anyone was 'checking their six'. Her eyes - that reflective sheen they gave off in low light -would be a dead giveaway down here.
The other concern was the series of blinking red lights she saw from cameras overhead on this floor. After she watched the second one pan to follow the mercenary unit, she put her hood up once again. They didn't rotate back- at least not until she had passed the third one, enough for an observer to realize she was following in their wake. Someone was very interested in the activities of this group in particular. Since they didn't seem to be overly cautious about stepping on the hyphae now carpeting large parts of the walls and floors, it could be Alexia, confirming what she was sensing.
It could be someone else. Her face was still covered for a reason.
The unit had paused briefly to investigate a doorway. Something had beaten its way out, tearing the battered door off entirely. "Sir?" One man spoke up, anxiety threading his voice. "We haven't seen any zombies yet, but…something's been eating this guy."
The captain paused, then: "This is a BOW's work. It's way too early for the cleanup wave to be released. I'm going to call it in."
Had they been listening hard, they might have heard the heavy footfall coming from the T-junction just ahead. Perhaps not. Marigold crouched down to pick up a piece of broken tiling at her feet. She was still lightly armed, but Alexia had been adamant about evading contact. Unavoidable, now.
Maybe these soldiers were a problem, but they didn't have to die. The creature approaching was absolutely ravenous, and familiar in a horrible way. She had eased herself out of the alcove she's sheltered in to peer down the hallway, lobbing the little shard over their heads to break a little further down the corridor. The room she needed was still a little ways ahead - no more than four or five doors, and then she'd be able to break off from this little group.
Meanwhile, the captain had begun to call it in on his radio. "Sir," he said in an urgent voice. "This is Beta Unit—" He went silent when the piece of tile shattered ahead of the group. The footsteps continued, and the group went silent, finally listening. Several of the men took a few steps back, suddenly nervous. All eyes - and automatic firearms - were trained ahead.
Marigold had watched the tall, mottled figure come out of the intersection, and her heart nearly stopped. If she had had any doubt of its identity before, there was none to be had now. The remnants of one of the tweed suits Alexander preferred still hung on the creature, and patches of reddish hair clung stubbornly to the skull and jawline. It was blindfolded, but was still navigating, somehow. Sound and smell, most likely, Marigold thought with dull clarity. Perhaps the vibrations in the floor of these men's boots had drawn it here.
Someone in the group had broke and release a burst of automatic fire at the creature, and Marigold had to fight down a shriek at the sound. In response, the creature howled, revealing a mouth full of jagged, rotting teeth. Razor-sharp appendages erupted from its back in a grotesque parody of spider legs. The captain continued to speak, but his tone had changed. "Sir, the situation has escalated and gone FUBAR," he said, with a sudden, fierce panic. "There's a BOW on the loose. I repeat—fuck!"
Then the dying had started. The next few minutes had been a panicked blur as light exploded from the weapons discharging, almost completely useless. A few started to run back the way they came, throwing her a startled look as they passed. Marigold drew her blade, trying to focus her vision through the bright flashes of light - only to flinch back when a whirlwind of razor-sharp appendages passed her, intent on its next target.
A soldier was caught in its grasp not three feet past her little hiding place, ripped to shreds as she shrank back in shock. As he was dropped unceremoniously in favor of other prey, a tinny voice could be heard through the dead man's fallen headset: "Gamma Unit, this is Albert Wesker."
Another soldier acknowledged and the voice - that voice, the voice of someone she'd attempted to violently dispatch less than a day ago - continued in a dry, clinical voice. "Mission parameters have changed. An unidentified BOW is on the loose. Dr. Ashford is now your priority. Beta is gone."
He'd followed them there. They would soon be out of time. Finally, Marigold's body had unlocked enough to fling herself out into the corridor, running for the lab she needed.
The beast in her brother's bones had continued on with its hunt.
Here, now, in the dark, quiet lab space, she could see the layout of benches, storage cabinets, and a small walk-in storage closet. Large, empty canisters were arrayed along a far wall, looking like smaller versions of the ones she had seen in the basement of Arklay. She shuddered at the similarity, still fighting to catch her breath while her mind reeled wildly for purchase on anything that wasn't related to what…what she had just seen. Her breath hitched when her mind skipped over her brother's name like a broken record.
She stayed that way for several minutes before blinking rapidly, features smoothing over. Swiping furiously at her face, Marigold crawled back to her feet, staggering over to the supports mounted over the sinks. She didn't have time for this.
Be that as it may, she also couldn't head back to the elevator - not right away, not without risking recapture. Wesker would be ready for her this time, and she still had her own mission to complete.
They - Beta Team - had come down here deliberately and wouldn't have chased this far if there had been nothing to chase. The informant, hiding somewhere in the facility must have set out something particularly tantalizing in exchange for rescue. From the transmission, they'd been looking for Alexia - and expecting to find her still sleeping.
Her hand drifted down to her belly, tentative. She should have taken a radio, something to get in touch with the twins more effectively. For now, she'd have to wait. Her…that creature…was still between her and the elevator. And Wesker had called for backup. Whatever was about to happen would happen soon - they'd gotten here so damned fast, after all. No one was wasting time up there.
Once they'd cleared past…Marigold paused, then gave a startled little laugh in spite of herself before forcing the sound back down. If the creature was out, her father's old lab was unsealed. There were items in there that had been on her list. None of them had been critical for treating Alfred, but they'd make the chelators a powerful tool against the other contaminant, currently expelling a musty odour as the black growths throughout the facility released spores into the air.
And if Alfred couldn't fly them out…they needed a backup plan. The shelves in the mansion studies hadn't turned up the old plans, but her father had managed to share a secret or two before that final, horrible accident. Given how fastidiously Alexander had chased their father's vision, she had no doubt those intentions had been translated into real features on this level.
Into escape routes.
For now, though…Marigold strode over to the third cabinet and opened it. She pulled the shelving out, and thumped her fist at the back of the emptied space. A false backing came free, revealing three tightly wrapped one-pound bricks of white powder. The labels on each read: Calendula-B-1982 strain, active ingredient (2). Under them were several laminated cards detailing the careful application and instructions for using this to create an effective chelator. The notes were handwritten, but several labeled 'Executive' in a somewhat less steady hand suggested that he'd rewritten these for use by a layperson with a passing, technical grasp of the basics.
Marigold sighed. Alexander had been so excited that last summer, so very close to cracking the formula to distill the infectious properties of the roses into something big. And now…
Outside, in the corridor, the heavy footsteps had resumed. The creature was passing back to some place deeper within the level. She realized that the sound of screams had stopped several minutes earlier. He's never been in a real fight before, she thought, numb. The footsteps paused outside her door - Marigold went so still she might have been turned to stone - before resuming.
Several more minutes passed - enough time for Marigold to stow away the precious cargo in her small carry pack.
The elevator dinged in the direction she had come. Slow and steady footsteps began to make their way towards her location, of only a single person. She'd had the time to get to know the specific sound of his footsteps, that steady, unrelenting gait. He would be sure to investigate the massacre.
The walk-in storage closet wasn't locked- she'd checked it in her quick assessment of the room. It had been empty. Roomy, even. Silently, she stepped backward towards the door again and shut herself inside, one hand clapped over her mouth to quiet the harsh, panicky sound of her breathing. She shut her eyes, all the while trying to will the hammering of her heart to slow.