Alfred hovered around the top of the stairs, rifle ready, when Marigold appeared from the dark of the basement again and shut the heavy iron gate behind her, sliding the heavy bolt into place. She sagged against it for a moment, seeming to catch her breath. The stock of the massive rifle she carried over her shoulder was bloody.

"Is he dead?" Alfred said after a long moment.

Marigold shook her head. "The recoil threw off my aim a bit, so I hit him in the face with this," She nodded to the rifle. "He regenerates almost as quick as the other one down there. It'll take a while for him to wake up, though."

Alfred frowned. "That's not really a solution."

Marigold shrugged. "It should last us a while. Long enough, I hope. Besides, I can save the remaining rounds in case anything else happens. He's a bloody mess, and that has a scent. When that creature we found down there wakes, it'll be territorial. Hungry. McNally's been up close and personal with the results of that. He won't be willing to come out of the back corridors once it wakes unless it's somehow subdued." She raised her head. "Tell me what goes into the destruct sequence. That man down there said he was keeping Spencer from blowing it up. We spent more time than I'd like dealing with him."

Alfred grimaced. "The board will be called to vote on it, if no one is responding. Spencer can remote detonate it whenever he likes after that."

"He doesn't seem to be in much condition to keep sending data, in any case. Who's on the board these days?"

Alfred thought a moment, and began listing the names of the current members. His aunt made a pleased sound. "I know a few of those. I can work with that. If they can get the vote delayed, then that might be a key factor, and Alexia can run with that groundwork." She winced as she straightened. "We need…a delay. I don't like this. Every time I've interacted with Mold it's been trouble. We need time to get them out."

Alfred glanced down the hallway. "The telephone in the old office has a sat link."

"Down the hall from where the lift is?" Her eyes widened. "I can keep an eye on the gate from there."

With a little convincing and some grousing, Alfred trudged back to the upstairs wing to keep an eye on the unconscious pair. "If you can get a catnap in, do it. If not, see if you can get some supplies together for when they wake. We should get out of her as soon as they're able to move."

The whole situation was frustrating. Had she come back a little sooner, would she have been able to salvage that meeting they'd tried to have with Jill? Hard to say, but with the boy…dead…the question was moot.

In the main office, which had belonged to Edward and had been commandeered by Alfred, there was a desk, with a telephone. Marigold sat herself down behind it with a sigh, letting her head rest in her hands for a moment as she pulled the chair in. She still had a lot of work to do, but at least she wasn't running around for a bit.

The first call would be the hardest one, but it was also the voice she needed to hear most right now. She began to dial the exchange for a phone number in rural England.

After it rang for several long seconds, the line clicked open, and a woman's voice responded, sounding tired and annoyed. "Alan, if I have to hear another line of your-"

"Poppy, it's me," Marigold broke in, voice subdued.

The line went silent for several seconds. Finally, she could hear the other woman swallow hard. "I've been told you've got yourselves into a bit of a pickle."

Marigold laughed a little in spite of herself. "Well, the twins always were high-spirited."

"You're probably the only person who'd put it that way," Poppy said. "Green called me up a little while ago, in a panic. Saying that you fucked over a paramilitary operation to secure Rockfort and apparently Alexia is alive?"

"Those things are both accurate."

Another pause. "What the fuck, Marigold."

"Believe me, our sentiments are aligned," Marigold said drily. It was good, talking to Poppy again. "What did you say to him?"

"I wanted to know why the hell he'd be stupid enough to put you on something like that in the first place when there isn't anything military about you. You would have no interest in seeing them succeed at a thing like that. "

"You know, I bet they're all asking themselves that right now." Marigold smiled a little.

"I'm sure. Well, Gemma took the phone away from him for a bit while he went to go have a laydown. It's probably for the best that he refused to breathe a word of this debacle to me before it was too late to call him a bloody fool."

Marigold snorted. "I imagine he's quite terrified of you. Justifiably so."

"Don't try to butter me up," Poppy groused, then hesitated. "Is she - Alexander's girl, is she really…?"

"Yes. Cranky, but given the circumstance, well." Marigold shifted the phone as she leaned back into the chair. "Did Scott ever tell you about the incident they had that last summer I visited? It's a bit like that now for her as well."

"…Oh dear. Is he - your brother, is he -"

"No." Marigold's voice was sharp, brooking no further inquiry. There was another long pause. "I didn't want to draw attention to you. I know I called, sort of, but, well."

Poppy sounded sympathetic. "You sounded scared. It didn't really sound like you got away clean."

"Well, there's that." Marigold made a face. They were getting to the part she was dreading.

Poppy went on. "I also pried some details out of Alan about why he wasn't doing anything to intervene."

"Alan values his skin. I can't fault him for that. Not really."

"So this one doesn't break, hmm?"

"Poppy!" This was worse than she'd imagined.

"Pretty photo I found on the internet, as well. You always did have a type." Poppy's tone had grown a touch playful.

"Bloody hell, Poppy. Focus." Marigold could feel the blood rushing to her face. The woman had always known that a lot of the rumors surrounding her in the seventies were either fabrications or grossly exaggerated.

She'd also known Marigold back when she'd been young enough that the rumors at the time had been mostly true.

Poppy's tone grew more sober. "Sorry love, couldn't resist." She sounded apologetic, at least. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Marigold made a frustrated sound. "The short version? Biology more or less took over after a few weeks. I thought I had a handle on it - you know - it only sort of worked, anyhow, and all of this is more or less his bloody fault." She passed her hand through her hair, trying to settle it after that last incident in the basement. "I gave in, for a little while. There's no other way to put it." Then she said what she had known the twins wouldn't understand. "It was nice, on it own. Intense, but…I felt like a person, again. Not…" she trailed off. "It doesn't matter. I burned that bridge too thoroughly getting to here."

Then: "I'm probably going to have another issue pop up from that, oh, late next summer if the last few days haven't wrecked things."

Poppy, who had just had her second child when Marigold had left for the last time in late 1981, got it after a moment. "Oh!" Then, more cautiously, "Who knows?"

" So far? Only the twins, and even then, mostly Alexia. I found us all some shelter - evacuation might not be on the table before Spencer blows the place, but Grayson is having some complications. There….are a lot of complications."

"Only the kids." Poppy sounded doubtful.

"Well. Naturally. And now, you. It's not obvious yet." Marigold leaned forward in her chair. "Privacy was a major issue, but I managed. Depending on what happens after, that won't last." She winced a little. "I may have made myself as difficult as possible for anyone following over the last few days."

"Of course you have." Poppy seemed to be rustling in the background. "I got in touch with someone on the board after Alan called. From your list. It's…you were thorough, I'll give you that. They don't trust me, but…this is about the vote, yeah?" Marigold made a noise of assent. "Thought it might be. Like I said, Alan's panicking. They'll be doing that later today. They agreed to delay the vote a bit longer if you confirmed."

"I imagine no one's happy with the current leadership these days."

"You offering to step up?" Poppy's voice grew dour.

In spite of everything, Marigold snickered. "Hn, because I love the spotlight so much. Besides, I'm so deeply out of touch at the moment it's laughable."

"For the best. This group Alan's with…they're not going to let this go. You know they're coming for both you girls."

"I likely don't legally exist anymore, " Marigold allowed. " I've heard the word asset bandied about when they think I'm out of earshot."

"Alan's worried about Alexia. I think they're afraid of her. And they're saying that you're sick. You haven't been sick since you came back from that awful Romania trip."

"He ought to be. Alexia's …stable. I'm more worried about Harman's boy at the moment."

"Marigold?"

"Things happened here. I can't get into it right now. Maybe let Alan twist in the wind about it though." Marigold looked down at her hand, pale and streaked with those dark veins. "I can't disappear on them again. On everyone. I don't really have a plan past getting the kids to safety."

"Pay me back with a proper visit. I will have the details, obviously." The sound of a pen scribbling was audible over the line. "Let me get those names for you, and we'll work it out as we go along." Poppy hesitated. "Marigold, how sick are you? Is it as bad as Romania?"

"It's …worse. The only good thing I can say is that I have more experience dealing with it, but…every incident we run into…I look like he did, when he got sick."

"Good lord." Poppy had seen what had happened to her father.

"It's only been since I got here. It should clear, once we're out but…"

"But you were out in those fields for a long damned time the last round before it did," Poppy finished. She sighed audibly. "I'll get you those numbers. Just…be careful, and come back."

An hour crawled by after Marigold hung up the call with Poppy, and began dialing out to the contacts she'd been given. The final member had sounded terse on the line, like he'd been caught doing something wrong. It was obvious that none of them had begun the day thinking twice about blowing this place to hell.

A strange sound came from the wall, and Marigold paused mid-sentence to listen. Then, to the board member, she said: "Don't waste this opportunity. If anyone breathes a word of this to Spencer, you'll never be rid of him. Don't think I never overheard how badly you all wanted that girl to save you from him before." She hung up before the man on the line could get in a word edgewise.

A bookcase on the wall shifted sideways on tracks- someone had found the hidden lift. Marigold drew a gun from the side holster, training it on the door that was revealing itself. The lift doors swung open to reveal three people; two in paramilitary polar gear and decidedly not HCF. The other was the young woman who'd come from Rockfort, the one she'd glimpsed out in the snow. They startled at the sight of her.

Marigold gave them a grim smile. "I'm quite certain I didn't tell you about this place."

Chris said nothing when Jill stepped out of the elevator, taking the lead, gun out but pointed low and at the ready. After all, Jill was the only one of the three of them who'd actually met this woman in person, even if only in passing. After passing through the slaughterhouse of a lab downstairs, she seemed more primed to do so anyhow. "So you're the ghost Grayson mentioned."

"Not the worst thing I've been called today," the woman behind the desk agreed. After a long moment, she quirked a brow at them. "Am I about to get shot, or are you here for a reason?" In the dim light, the woman - blond, pale, reflective eyes - looked an awful lot like -

"You're not her," Claire broke in. "She showed up in the facility, earlier. You're the one that attacked us outside. The BOW." That last part was directed at Chris.

The woman didn't move. "That implies I was manufactured. I wasn't. Your friends know what happened. Are you referring to when you and that boy were getting ready to slaughter my nephew in the snow?" The woman chuckled softly. "I didn't attack you. That was just a message."

"You shot at us!"

"' Go away' is a message." The woman seemed to relax. "You went away. It sounds like the message was successful for about an entire minute, considering how determined that boy was to have his own blood on their hands rather than getting out." She narrowed her eyes at Claire, then looked at Chris. "Redfield. This is your sister?"

"She called for help," Chris said, wary. Jill had described the meeting with Alexia. This was a change in tone…but also in line with what Rebecca had described. "She hit the Paris facility looking for me and get herself caught." Claire glanced at him now, looking confused.

"The prison. Of course." The woman looked frustrated. To Claire, she asked, "The frame on the fire door still broken? The one in Paris?"

Claire blinked at her. "How…no one there knew that."

The woman - Marigold Ashford - smirked a little. "I broke it back in '68. No one ever fixed it after they sealed up that section." She looked between Chris, then Jill, then put her gun away. "It's nice to still have a bit of anonymity on that front."

Chris glanced to Jill. "Ghost?"

Marigold answered him. "Grayson adopted hard when he was little. He and my niece just found out today I wasn't dead after nearly twenty years." She grimaced. "To be fair, he didn't know about Alexia either. Everyone's wrung out rather badly."

Jill snorted. "Lady, understatement of the century."

Marigold looked level at Jill. "You're here about that boy who came in here guns blazing."

"We're not leaving without him."

"He seemed to strongly disagree with that statement," Marigold said, voice flat. "Why couldn't you have all just left? What did you think would happen?" She sat up a little, and Chris reflexively brought his weapon to bear. She sneered at this. "I am exhausted and have had more than enough of having guns shoved in my face today. Would you kindly point those elsewhere?"

Jill lowered hers and shrugged at him. Chris, somewhat surprised, followed suit. Claire looked between the two of them, and back to Marigold. "Who are -"

"Marigold. I came here with similar aims as your brother. The twins are my niece and nephew. I doubt any of you have the time for exposition." She glanced at the group. "Thank you. How did you know about the lift? You might as well come out of it, by the way."

"McNally had plans on his computer," Chris responded. He and Claire shuffled awkwardly forward. It felt like he was being reprimanded by a middle-school teacher, not facing down a mutant bioterrorist like they'd been primed for. Given the state of their ammunition, it wasn't a terrible development but it had thrown him off.

"Then you also saw what he did to the lab that connects to. And all the people downstairs." Marigold looked nauseated. "He was bragging about it earlier before he started to mutate."

"How -"

"It's been a long day, mostly shite, and I'm having immune responses that are kicking the hell out of me between being hunted and that bastard continuously picking fights." As his eyes adjusted, Chris realized that the woman wasn't just pale - she looked almost like she was in the early stages of a T-virus infection. "Ma'am, have you been bitten?"

Marigold looked vaguely affronted for a second, then covered up a laugh with a cough into her elbow. "I - ha, no. No. Not…No. It's an allergy stacked on an equilibrium problem, and I haven't slept properly in a few days."

"Rebecca wanted us to ask you if Kate was going to have seizures from…that thing you did," Jill picked up the safest thread available after a pause.

Marigold's brow creased in concern. "She shouldn't. I wasn't strong enough to manage then what i can do now." She sounded apologetic. "It's not like we could do clinical trials then, but I documented as much as I could and never saw that happen."

"I'm lost," Claire said, faintly.

"No one blames you for that, dear," Marigold responded, almost fondly. "Long story short, I'm a monster, but I'm not a cunt." She gave them a chilly smile. "You might note that the name Birkin isn't anywhere on the facility. Very nice work there, by the way."

"I met the twins earlier, and there's no safe way to respond to that," Jill replied. "We came to get Steve."

"They're not at their best. Bad faith negotiations and long-term poisoning brings that out in some people." Marigold said, pointedly, looking back at Jill.

Chris shifted, uncomfortable. They were getting off-track. "Wesker's here too. You mentioned him in those notes you put together. Jill ran into him and McNally upstairs, but they seemed too focused on fighting eachother."

"Yes, I noticed, thank you," Marigold's voice grew tense and annoyed. "McNally already came through. He regenerates too fast for me to feel comfortable fighting him in that state, but he's been driven down to the basement."

"You don't sound surprised," Jill observed.

"The needle to the neck not half a day after I talked to your friend Rebecca, and the months of isolation were a bit of a tip-off." She looked uncomfortable, and turned to Jill. "I wasn't in a position to do any more than I did, last time. There would have been repercussions I wasn't ready for. I tried to warn you as best I could."

Something in that statement clicked for Chris. "Jill, it's like what happened with Barry." Barry Burton had been coerced into cooperating with Wesker at the mansion that summer under the threat of losing his wife and daughters, and had taken the weight of their suspicion during the mission.

Jill looked grim. "He's not down here?"

Marigold looked faintly concerned. "I can account for McNally but not him. I think he's up in the facility somewhere. She laughed a little. "I'm reasonably sure he never found out I was on speaking terms with any of you. That's honestly the first genuinely good news I've had for a while." She pushed her chair back and stood, putting her hands at the small of her back and stretching with a wince. "In any case, the last I saw him he was lying in a pool of his blood on Rockfort Island being consumed by birds. I expect he's rather cross with me at the moment. He's probably hoping the lot of us kill eachother off. Which is exactly why you're not getting anywhere near them."

Chris blinked. Well, Barry, if Barry were also the Tyrant.

Jill made a frustrated sound. "We aren't leaving without Steve."

Marigold looked at her, and Chris thought he saw pity flash across those eyes. "That's the real problem. I know where he is, but you'll regret going. There's nothing you can do for him."