A Touch of Red
By evolution-500
Genres: Horror/Friendship/Romance
Feedback: Always welcome
WARNING: This story contains violence, coarse language, mature themes and disturbing imagery. Reader discretion is advised.
Disclaimer: KILLER INSTINCT is a property belonging to Rare and Microsoft while RESIDENT EVIL is a property belonging to Capcom. I do not own any of these characters.
Chapter Five: Arrival
For the most part, the flight was uneventful.
A couple people were passing the time conversing with one another, making jokes, playing cards, etc. A few had fallen asleep in their seats while one or two were quietly listening to music playing from their earpieces.
Claire herself, however, felt restless - too anxious to fall asleep, and yet at the same time feeling bored out of her mind. She didn't really want to talk to anyone, and because of that, she found herself focused on nothing other than the mountains outside, staring out to the great expanse of trees, greenery and mist down below.
It was a strangely ethereal vision; for a moment, Claire felt as if she were traversing through some mystical barrier into new uncharted territory, and part of her felt giddy with excitement. For the first time in her life, Claire Redfield, the girl next door, was going on an adventure, and she was excited to know what awaited.
As she stared down to the oceans of green and white, Claire's imagination went wild, a kaleidoscope of various, unthought of possibilities flashing in her mind's eye.
She couldn't help feeling like a little girl going on a big adventure. What treasures lay hidden in wait? What challenges did she need to face, and what monsters must she encounter and conquer?
As the unexpected thought of the latter came to the mind, Claire blinked in surprise, caught off-guard by the thought.
Monsters?
Where had that thought come from?
Claire tiredly shook her head. She was getting too caught up in the enchantment of this whole experience.
And yet...on some level...the feeling remained.
Looking outside, there was something about the mountains themselves that...hinted at something. At what, Claire frankly had no idea, other than the fact the sensation was gnawing at her on a deeply subconscious level. She wouldn't call it "fear" exactly, but she did feel a certain level of unease, although why she felt the way she had Claire herself wasn't at all certain. There was a strange, almost hypnotic and dream-like quality about this mountain and forest, the very air electrical and alive, so charged with potential that for a moment Claire actually felt it on a primal level.
Looking over to Jago as he sat there with his arms folded, Claire couldn't help noticing the monk squirm, his brows knitted tightly together, as if something were deeply troubling him. For a moment, it seemed as if he himself noticed the peculiar atmosphere in this area. Then again, perhaps she was reading too much into it.
"First time flying?" Claire asked, drawing the monk's attention. Jago gave a weak nod, causing her to give a reassuring smile. "I'm sure everything will be okay. If you need anything, just let me know, okay?"
He nodded again gratefully. "Hm."
As she looked back to the window, Claire watched and waited, listening to the propeller's unrelentingly monotonous thump.
Claire didn't know what to expect when she finally arrived at the castle, but she never imagined anything like what she was currently seeing.
"Wow!" She gasped as she took it all in.
It was a vast, grey, gloomy and sprawling collection of buildings, a strange mixture of old Medieval style with the industrial creeping in around the edges and in certain sections. Made of stone and built upon a hillside, the main house itself, located in the center of this mass, was built over a moat with a draw bridge at the entrance, its back facing a huge lake with thick forests and mountains beyond. In the forests and parts of the outside, Claire observed various security guards driving around in all-terrain vehicles that rumbled on the ground and flew through the air while squads of the personnel patrolled by foot, some of them accompanied by one or two of those damn Theseus android units.
Shivering, Claire averted eyes away from them, looking at the various buildings. These all probably had some sort of story back in Germany, and she longed to know more about them.
One house some distance away in particular, however, caught her eye, the architecture itself looking very different from the other buildings; standing ominously amongst them at two stories high like some sort of old headstone was an old mansion of British Palladian style, its grey color palette complimented by its black roof while black and yellow CAUTION tape was wrapped all the way around it.
From the sheer size, it looked massive, possibly over ten thousand square feet with adjoining wings on its sides and lined with columns, with a terrace at the top of the west end that overlooked the front yard. In front of the mansion was a statue of a woman in Grecian robes, while staring out from the main building's façade over the front door was a lancet window with an oculi up top. The place looked dilapidated, with parts worn away and shingles missing in places. And yet, what made it so bizarre was the fact that efforts had clearly been made to integrate it with the more Germanic Medieval features of the other buildings, resulting in it having two contrasting, even downright contradictory styles that seemed to clash against one another.
For a brief moment, Claire couldn't help but be given the crazy impression that the Germanic buildings and settings were trying to swallow the British-styled mansion whole but for whatever reason was unsuccessful, with the the latter standing in defiance to the former, even if it seemed to be falling apart and was losing an unwinnable battle.
'What's the story behind that particular building?' Claire wondered.
As the girl stared out the window of the helicopter, she felt a slight bump, causing her to jerk forward.
"Sorry, folks! Nothing to worry about, just a minor bit of turbulence," the pilot upfront assured with a smile. "Everyone fasten your seatbelts, we're going to be landing soon."
Complying, Claire hastily put hers on and leaned back into her seat, praying to God that nothing happened.
The helicopter thumped as it carefully landed on the loading platform beside the others. Once the propellers slowed down, the side doors opened, allowing everyone to step outside, where a man in a black suit greeted them.
"Welcome to Sabrewulf Castle!" He said loudly over the din, his hair fluttering. "Please follow me inside, everyone!"
As Claire took her first step onto the rooftop, she looked around in excitement, a smile etched on her face as she followed along with the other competitors. After she was patted down by a security officer along with the others, Claire continued her way down into the mansion itself.
Claire gave a small gasp of wonder as she and the others looked around.
"Oh wow!" She said in amazement.
The rooms were all large and spacious, all of them filled with very ornate and expensive-looking furnishings, paintings and sculptures. One hallway had a collection of white marble busts lined up against both sides, each one depicting some long-departed figurehead from the illustrious though enigmatic Sabrewulf family, while in a lot of others were suits of Medieval armor that stood on guard.
Stepping into a massive stone hallway with a hanging chandelier, Claire curiously gave the place a once-over. Lit torches and candles were lined nearby against the columned walls while arched curtained windows spilled their miniscule light into the room through slight cracks.
The room appeared to have been some sort of extravagant ballroom at some point, but it was so dark and...unwelcoming.
Moving her eyes to the other fighters around her, Claire saw some of the anxious looks on their faces as they murmured amongst one another.
"Fucking creepy, don't you think?" She heard a woman whisper.
"Meh, I've been in worse shitholes," T.J. commented.
A door creaked open nearby, causing everyone to cease their murmurs as the Baron was rolled into the room from far end of the left hand side, accompanied by a man in a grey suit and several security personnel in kevlar suits and thick helmets with blue visors drawn down, obscuring their features. Off to the sides, observing the group were four Theseus androids, their skull-like heads watching them with dead expressions.
"Ah! You are all here! Good," Sabrewulf nodded. "There haven't been any problems getting here?"
Before anyone had a chance to speak, a female voice called from a speaker with a flat, neutral tone. "Negative. Aside from minor turbulence, all flights have been successful."
"Who's that?" T.J. said in confusion as everyone glanced curiously around while Sabrewulf shifted in his seat with apparent discomfort.
"Uhh...good. Thank you, A.R.I.A." Clearing his throat, Sabrewulf then clasped his gloved hands together. "And now for introductions. Welcome to my castle. I am Baron Konrad Von Sabrewulf, and it is a pleasure to have you all in my home. The voice you heard from the speaker just now is A.R.I.A-"
"Aria, huh? She sounds hot," T.J. replied. "Is she single?"
Sabrewulf was completely still for a moment, not saying anything. He reached up to his eyes, shaking his head as he started to tremble.
At first, Claire thought that he was upset or having a seizure based on how much his whole person quaked, but then she realized what was happening; he seemed to be trying to refrain from laughing...but was failing miserably.
"She's-She's an AI. The-The 'Advanced Robotics Intelligence Architecture' system that operates here and monitors activity." Upon finishing, he along with several fighters, including Claire herself, suddenly burst into a fit of laughter while T.J. stood awkwardly there with a look of embarrassment.
Taking in a deep breath, the aristocrat raised up his gloved hand. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" He then cleared his throat as the laughter slowly subsided. "My apologies, Mr. Garret, that was rude of me." Turning back to everyone else, he continued, "You have all met my bodyguard Dieter."
Claire looked to the aforementioned man as he tipped his grey fedora in greeting.
"Dieter", if that was his real name, was a tall man of indeterminate age, probably somewhere in his mid to late thirties, possibly forties, with a broad, square jaw and rugged features.
His eyes, Claire noticed, were cold and stormy grey, matching his suit perfectly, while his slicked-back hair was black and oily with gel.
While he was undoubtedly handsome, Claire couldn't help sensing a sly, dangerous quality about him that kind of put her on edge. With his old-fashioned, 1930s-styled double-breasted coat and broad-brimmed hat, he had the look and air of a thug, a gangster that had stepped out of some old noir film.
As if sensing the discomfort of the fighters, Sabrewulf cleared his throat, drawing their attention.
"Since all of you will be participating in the tournament itself, it is important that we cover some of the basic ground rules around here," he began. "One, there will be no fighting outside of the ring itself. Whatever grudges you have against whoever, save it for the actual match. If there is any fighting at all on these premises, you are out. I will not tolerate bully behavior."
Claire heard one or two people scoff in derision, with some rolling their eyes.
"Two, no mobiles or cellphones are allowed. All of you have signed an NDA, and because of that, none of you are allowed to record any footage that is to take place here. If we catch anyone with a camera, you will automatically be disqualified."
He stopped as a hand was raised up. "Ja?"
"How are we going to be able to get in contact with friends and family?" A youngish male asked.
"As I had mentioned before, you will be using the mainline," Sabrewulf answered. "Keep in mind, however, that all calls going in and out will be monitored." He paused as another hand was raised. "Ja?"
"What about email?" A woman asked as she folded her arms.
"You can use one of the computer labs here, but again, you will be monitored."
"What if one of us has a family emergency?" Another man asked.
Sabrewulf shook his head. "I'm afraid there is not much you can do," he said regretfully. "If you need to leave the tournament because of it, you are allowed to withdraw at any time. However, once you withdraw, there is no turning back."
A grave silence filled the room as Claire anxiously shifted. So it really was all or nothing.
Another person raised his hand.
"Ja?"
"What if a match coincides with a religious holiday or event?"
Sabrewulf nodded thoughtfully. "Ja, that is indeed a concern. You don't have to worry, however - accommodations will be made for each of you. We took those aspects in consideration in determining matchups and the schedule itself. If we have missed anything, please bring it to our attention as soon as possible so that we can rectify the error."
He then adjusted his scarf and sunglasses. "Moving on," he continued, "rule number three - weapons are allowed to be used in matches."
People murmured.
"Are you fucking serious?" One of the guys protested. "How is that fair?!"
"Keep in mind, other fighters will be allowed to use weapons as well, or, alternatively, opt to not use them at all during the match."
"Oh great, so the other guy is going to win on the basis of being armed!" One fighter complained.
Sabrewulf folded his arms. "It is not a question of who has the best weapon, Mr. Coen. Killer Instinct has always been about skill and perseverance. Any good fighter knows that. It's the fighter that makes the difference, not the weapon. The latter is merely a tool, an extension of the fighter him or herself." He shifted in his chair. "That said, however, I am not allowing firearms in this tournament. No pistols, guns, bombs or anything else that dangerous is to be used against another fighter on these premises."
"Brass knuckles?" A fighter off to the side smirked.
"Preferably not," Sabrewulf said flatly, drawing a disgruntled grunt.
"What about him?" One of the fighters pointed to T.J. Combo. "He has cybernetic implants."
"He can fight," Sabrewulf nodded. "Exceptions can be made for people with cybernetic augmentation. Whether they are disabled or not, as long as the fighter him or herself has made the implants known in the first place, they may fight."
The man frowned. "But-"
"I said he can fight," he stated firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. The man folded his arms angrily, then looked away. "Now, where were we? Ah, I remember now. Fighters that are armed are to avoid cutting or killing at all costs. Despite the name of the tournament, it is in name only. Fighters are to be given a chance to yield whenever possible. If the fighter him or herself wishes to continue without their weapon, they may do so until they either yield, if a referee feels the need to intervene, when time runs out, or if they are unable to continue. No one is allowed to draw their weapon against another outside of a match, let alone kill them. If anyone so much as raises a stick or threatens someone with said-weapon, not only will you be expelled from the tournament, but you will be handed over the police. Understood?"
The fighters murmured in acknowledgement.
"Good. Now, let's continue." Sabrewulf cleared his throat. "Rule number five - all fighters must hand in their weaponry. We will keep them safe with us at the armory at all times so as to avoid anyone getting hurt as well as to prevent theft. Any and all hidden weaponry is prohibited and will result in immediate dismissal. Also, be aware that whenever you are collecting your weapons, it will always be under the careful supervision of two or more security guards. Every part of these premises is under heavy surveillance - I advise you all to tread carefully and watch your step, or it may end up being your last." He quietly and meaningfully stared at them all, allowing his words to sink in. "Those of you who are armed, please follow these gentlemen down to the storage unit on Floor 2B, where they shall be registered." He indicated a couple of security guards, "You will be supplied with an identification number to collect it for the upcoming match. We will continue once you return."
Claire watched and waited as several fighters followed the pair of armed guards, Jago being among them, much to the young girl's surprise.
A few minutes later, the group returned.
"Now that is out of the way, we'll continue from where we were," Sabrewulf said as he folded his arms together. "Rule number six - no one is allowed to bully, demean or antagonize each other. While I realize that all of you are competing against one another, that doesn't mean that you shouldn't be civil. You are all adults - as long as you are all living on these premises, I will not tolerate any drama. I have a three-strike rule in place - don't push it. Please refrain from any childish behavior. If any of you causes trouble, you are out. Rule number seven, team-ups aren't allowed. I repeat, team-ups are NOT allowed. While you are all certainly allowed - and encouraged - to interact and be friendly with one another, you are not, however, allowed to gang up on other fighters just so that you can get ahead. Everyone should be treated respectfully, no matter who they are, where they're from, what age, sex, religion, or race."
Claire heard someone give a derisive scoff, earning a glare from the Baron. A few minutes later, he continued.
"Rule number eight - drug usage is prohibited. If you have a medical condition and/or are in need of medical attention, you are to notify and consult with Dr. Erin Gupte, one of my personal doctors and leading scientists, as soon as possible." Claire raised up her hand. "Ja, Ms. Redfield?"
"Where will we be sleeping?" she asked.
"Ah! Glad you have asked," Sabrewulf nodded thoughtfully. "We have a pair of guest houses just outside this mansion that have been specially prepared for you all. Each of you will receive a private room. However, I am afraid that, for the sake of security, men and women must be segregated." Claire heard the fighters let out collective disappointed groans. "Don't worry, you can still meet and interact with one another, but please, behave yourselves."
"Yes, Dad," T.J. smirked, earning a few snickers.
Sabrewulf shook his head wearily as he continued, "Moving on, rule number nine - no one is allowed to steal. This goes without saying, but if any of you have been discovered to have committed a crime, not only will you be disqualified, but we will also contact the police."
Claire noticed one of the fighters tense up.
"Rule number ten - you are only allowed access to certain parts of my estate, and at certain times of the day. Which leads me to rule number eleven - none of you are allowed to traverse through the woods, especially at night."
He exhaled. "Look, I realize that all of you may be excited to be here, but I do need to remind you, however, that we are in a forest high up in the mountains - it can be very easy for anyone to get lost. Animals do tend to wander around here occasionally, and if anyone happens to encounter anything, I recommend moving as far away as possible and getting in contact with Security. Do not feed the animals around here, don't try to 'pet', play with or pick up anything with your bare hands, just leave them alone. Aside from the potential diseases they may be carrying, they are wild animals. They will hurt and/or kill you should you provoke them."
Claire raised up a hand.
"Ja?"
Claire swallowed anxiously. "Are-Are animal attacks up here common?"
"Nein, but they do occur from time to time," Sabrewulf answered. "What is important, however, is that nobody does anything stupid to lead to such an eventuality. Please, don't worry. As long as everyone follows the rules, everything should be fine." He then adjusted his hood. "One area in particular that I emphasize avoiding at all costs, though, is the mansion with the caution tape plastered all around it."
"What's wrong with it, exactly?" A woman piped up.
"Aside from being structurally unsafe, the building is also leaking gas."
Claire perked up. "Gas?" she repeated, earning anxious glances from everyone.
"Ja," Sabrewulf nodded. "You may see people with gas masks coming about from time to time at odd hours." He paused, then jerked up in realization as if just remembering. "Oh! But please don't worry - that building is far enough away from where we are to not cause us any problems, so please, there isn't any need to fear. All of the electrical appliances and generators there have been turned off until the matter has been resolved. For your own safety, however, please avoid going over there."
People murmured amongst each other, with one or two giving slight shrugs and conceding nods.
"Now, I have with me several copies for the shooting schedule, along with maps containing lists of places that you are allowed to visit as well as areas that are out of bounds. Areas marked in green mean that they are safe while the ones marked in red mean that they're not. Dieter, pass around the papers, if you please."
Claire watched as the bodyguard nodded, going around to each person with a couple sheets of papers. Once she got hold of hers, Claire glanced down and curiously studied it.
"Does everyone have a copy of the map and schedule?" Sabrewulf asked.
Several people murmured in acknowledgement. Satisfied, the Baron nodded his hooded head.
"Good. Now that has been settled, I will need you all to follow me downstairs for a physical examination, checkup and vaccination."
Claire blinked in confusion, lifting up her eyes from the schedule and map. "Huh? Uh, why do we need to be vaccinated?"
"It's standard procedure here for every fighter entering the tournament," Sabrewulf explained. "It is invasive, admittedly, but we want to take precautions. It's important that we eliminate any germs as well as make certain that every fighter here is healthy enough to participate. After all, the last thing any of us want is for someone to keel over in the middle of a fight or risk passing on infections such as HIV or AIDS."
At the mention of the latter, everyone stiffened in alert.
Claire shifted uncomfortably. "But wouldn't you have already known about it beforehand?"
"Ideally we would. We try to avoid having such a thing happen whenever possible," Sabrewulf replied, "but you have to understand,Ms. Redfield, people will lie, especially where there is a great deal of money on the line."
She shrugged, conceding his point. "Touché."
The Baron then adjusted his cloak, "Now, if you will follow me please, everyone."
Claire didn't know what to expect when she entered the doctor's office in the basement. Sitting behind her desk with her back facing her was an intimidating, stoic, sixty-one-year-old woman with short silver hair, strong prominent features, and a stern mouth.
Dressed in a lab coat, a white buttoned up blazer, blouse and a long black skirt with heels, she exuded confidence and a sense of authority, taking Claire aback despite her much smaller frame and stature.
"Guten Tag," the woman greeted, her voice low and grating like ice as she eyed a collection of papers in hand. "I am Dr. Erin Gupte. Could I have your name please?"
Claire cleared her throat, put off by the cold demeanor of the woman. "Uh, Claire Redfield."
"Hm." The woman, Gupte, then put the papers aside and turned around, looking directly at her with hard cruel eyes, causing the young girl to flinch. Gupte watched her for a moment, then gestured over to an examination table. "I will need you on the table, please."
Claire complied, seating herself down on the table as instructed.
"Now, Ms. Redfield, do you have any allergies that I should be made aware of?"
"No, Doctor."
"Are you on any sort of medication?"
"No."
"Do you possess any cybernetic implants I should be made aware of?"
"No."
"Are you pregnant?"
Claire laughed. "Absolutely not!" She then looked at the older woman curiously. "Do you get many of those around here?"
"Occasionally," Gupte shrugged. "You'd be surprised by some of the fighters that would make their way here. Sometimes we might get the odd teenage runaway who is a couple months pregnant trying to earn quick cash."
"Really?" Claire said interestedly. "Are they allowed to fight?"
Gupte shook her head. "I'm afraid not, unfortunately," she said regretfully. "However, it is probably for the best. The tournament can be pretty brutal at times." She then pushed up her glasses. "I'm going to need to perform a physical examination as well as perform blood work to ensure that you aren't on anything, alright? After that, I'll give you a vaccination. It will be quick and painless."
Claire nodded, her heart racing at the mention of the latter.
'What have I gotten myself into?' she wondered.
Claire sat outside the lab on a bench, pouting as she massaged her arm.
"Is this seat taken?"
Claire looked up to the speaker, taken by surprise upon recognizing T.J. Combo. "Uh, not at all! Go ahead!"
Nodding appreciatively, T.J. sat down beside her, rolling his shoulder.
"Take it you just got your blood sucked by Lady Dracula in there?" he asked, pointing to the office.
She smiled, nodding. "Yeah."
"Ah." T.J. shook his head. "I have no idea why we need to do this."
Claire quirked a brow. "Not a fan of needles?"
"Hell no."
She shrugged. "I'm not crazy about them, either," the girl replied as she rubbed her sore arm, looking curiously at him. "You're T.J. Combo."
T.J. smirked. "Damn straight. And you are?"
She held out her hand in greeting. "I'm Claire Redfield."
Taking hers, they shook.
"Nice to meet ya," he said confidently, grinning from ear to ear. "So, you're a fan?"
"Actually, my brother is. Well, was," Claire replied as she tucked a bang behind one ear, the smile dropping from T.J.'s face. "After my brother found out about your cheating, he was pretty disappointed. You were his favorite."
He winced.
"Um...sorry," Claire apologized as he looked away. The two awkwardly sat there waiting, looking for something to say. "Um...do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"
"Go ahead," T.J. nodded.
She looked at him seriously. "...Why did you do it?"
He remained quiet for a moment.
"I'm not going to judge you or anything - I just want to know. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."
He leaned thoughtfully back in his seat, folding his arms as he looked up to the ceiling. He was quiet for so long that Claire started to feel uncomfortable, wondering if she had crossed a line.
Looking away, she cleared her throat. "Sorry to have asked you such a personal question. I'll just go away-"
"I was desperate," he admitted, causing her to pause and sit back down. "I got sloppy. One moment I had it all, the next I was in the shitter, and I wanted to find an easy way out. So, I thought this...this would help me." He gestured to the surgical scars on his arms. "Ended up back in the shitter anyway."
Claire looked at the scar tissue, wincing slightly. "...Does it hurt at all?"
He shook his head. "Nah. Doesn't bother me one bit. I'm used to pain, girl. Comes with the territory. If ya ain't receivin', ya better start dishin', and I'm pretty damn good at the latter."
Claire nodded. "I saw your fights. You were really good."
He smirked. "I know, right? I was something, wasn't I?"
"You were," she nodded again, smiling. "I think you still are, if that means anything. I mean, you held the title for twenty years - that has to count for something! And that was even before you had those implants!"
He nodded thoughtfully.
"Yeah. Yeah, I still am something," he said as he looked away. "I am T.J. Combo."
He had a look on his face and a tone in his voice that were both hard to identify. To Claire, however, it was the look and sound of a man who seemed...lost. His words had a kind of hollow uncertainty, as if he were uncertain about his own relevancy, like a man questioning whether or not his time had come, if he still got it or if it was time to throw in the towel. Seeing him that way, Claire couldn't help feeling pity for him. To see a great giant reduced down to size, it was a sad sight for anyone to see. She watched him for a long while, then pulled her folded up map out from her pocket along with a pen.
"I don't know how far I'm going to make it in the tournament," she began, "but would it be alright if I have your autograph? It's for my brother, and it would mean a lot to me if you could."
He raised his eyebrows in surprise, then smiled.
"Sure, kid." He then took the pen and map. "Who do I address it to?"
"My brother's name is Chris. He's...he's in the hospital."
She watched as he paused mid-writing. "Ouch. Sorry to hear, kid."
Claire smiled sadly. "Thanks."
"What's wrong with him?" he asked.
"Car accident," Claire replied.
He exhaled softly. "Damn. That's rough." Claire watched and waited as the boxer wrote on the map. Once he finished, he handed it back to her. "There you go."
At that moment, Gupte stepped out from her office.
"Mr. Garret, it's your turn now."
T.J. scowled. "Looks like Lady Dracula wants a taste of my blood now," he grumbled.
"I wish you luck, Mr. Garret," Claire smiled.
He quirked a brow at her.
"Luck?" He smirked. "Lady, I create my own luck. I make the impossible possible, baby. Just watch and let me show you how it's done."
Getting up from the bench, T.J. Combo rose to his full height, his muscles rippling with strength as he stretched and flexed.
"T.J. Combo," he said aloud in a deep and powerful voice, speaking his own name as if it were an empowering mantra.
Claire rolled her eyes. Typical male bullshit.
As he stepped forward, he gave one last look over his shoulder, smiling.
"You're a good kid, Claire. Thanks for that. I wish you luck with the tournament." T.J. gave her an approving nod and a thumbs up, then disappeared into the room, the door closing behind him.
"Surprised to see you getting all chummy with that guy." A feminine voice to her right called out.
Blinking curiously, Claire turned to the speaker, then shrugged.
"Well, I don't have any reason not to be nice to him," she replied. "It's not like he hasn't done anything to upset me."
The woman hummed thoughtfully. Curious, Claire took her appearance in, looking at her from top to bottom.
She was a stunning Asian woman with a black bob cut and a killer hourglass body, with a bust that made the younger girl feel envious of the woman, if not woefully inadequate. Dressed entirely in green with a yellow headband and black fingerless gloves, the woman wore a a short thin green jacket with sleeves so short that it looked more like a shirt, the zipper lowered down to reveal a black t-shirt underneath. Green shorts with a brown belt buckle clung to her shapely hips, while long, knee-length green boots with protective kneepads drew Claire's attention to the woman's long legs.
What really caught Claire by surprise, however, was the fact that she never had noticed her among the various fighters given how beautiful she was, which came as quite a shock to the young girl. After all, the woman herself was wearing an all-green outfit with the words "HOT" scrawled on her side in bright yellow - not exactly subtle stuff by any imagination!
So how was it that she had managed to escape her notice?
"...Is everything alright?" the woman asked.
Blinking, Claire rubbed the back of her head as she sheepishly smiled. "Uh, yeah! Sorry about that, you just...kind of came out of nowhere!"
"Hm."
Claire then held out her hand. "I'm Claire Redfield."
The woman looked down at the offered limb, then looked back to her with a hint of amusement.
"Ha. Cute." Then, she enigmatically sauntered off, leaving Claire alone and confused.
Looking down at her hand, Claire looked back up again, only to find that the woman had disappeared into the crowd of fighters.
What a weird woman.
Claire waited until all of the fighters had finished.
A few of them had fainted from the vaccinations, at which point, Gupte had some doctors attend to them. A couple others had to be forcibly removed by some security guards after the blood tests revealed some negative results.
Finally, just when Claire was starting to feel fed up, Sabrewulf rolled in on his wheelchair.
"Alright, everyone. My apologies for the minor inconvenience to all of you. Now that is out of the way, let me give you all a tour of my home. Follow close, please."
Claire looked around at the various elaborate rooms and furniture, astonished by how expensive everything looked as Sabrewulf and Dieter showed them around the areas they had access to.
In one room was a large gym stacked full of training equipment, the room supervised by a cheerful old Chinese American man named Tyler Zhou, the Baron's private trainer. Inside were boxing bags, treadmills, weights and tons of other stuff, including showers, all of which the fighters themselves had access to at any time, provided that they signed themselves in and out and were under supervision.
In another room was a recreation room that must have been the size of Claire's own house that had a bar, a pool table, a jukebox, even some old arcade machines from the 90s, including the original KI arcade cabinet from '94 in the far right hand corner.
There was a computer lab full of state of the art equipment and monitors, complete with a sign-in desk.
The next area was a massive dining room with a long table and a thunderously loud grandfather clock right beside it in the center, with a fireplace at the very end that bore the Sabrewulf sigil, a pair of crossed sabers with a wolf's head at the center, with the words "Zahn und Klaue" written beneath in fancy font.
Squinting at the words, Claire tilted her head from side to side, then raised up her hand.
"Yes, Ms. Redfield?" Sabrewulf called.
"What do those words mean?" Claire pointed to the words on the sigil.
The Baron gave a low chuckle as he shifted in his wheelchair. "Ah, 'Zahn Und Klaue'. It's the Sabrewulf family motto."
"Which means?"
He exhaled. "'Tooth and Claw', Ms. Redfield. 'Tooth and claw'." Drumming his gloved fingers along the armrests of his wheelchair, he glanced over to the grandfather clock. "I think that might be all for today. I imagine all of you must be feeling exhausted after that long flight, so why don't we show you all to your rooms?"
The group had just stepped into the main hall, where they were greeted by a long hallway with a marble floor with a staircase at the end and chandelier that hung from the ceiling, but it was the being that occupied the landing that drew everyone's attention, causing a woman to scream and Claire's heart to leap.
"Oh my God!" She gasped in elation, her pupils dilating.
A diminutive figure that stood at five-six, Spinal was one of KI's most iconic characters, if not one of its creepiest. Seeing it in the flesh...or rather, in real life, however, he was a visually startling sight to take in.
A human skeleton that was held together by no apparent form of tissue or muscle, the only things it wore were a red bandanna wrapped around its forehead along with Scottish tartan that was held up by a belt around its waist, while a pair of buccaneer boots that looked like they were from the late 1700s adorned its feet.
Wrapped around its ribbed torso were a cluttered series of ropes while what looked like old rotted parts of a ship's mast and steering wheel were impaled straight into its right shoulder, with one part swinging around loosely behind each time it moved. In one right gauntlet-covered arm, held by a bony hand was a large cutlass, while attached to the left arm was a shield.
The shield itself was the most striking feature of all; mounted obscenely on a piece of driftwood was some sort of large skull resembling either an elephant's or a mammoth's.
Brown in color with beady glowing yellow eyes, it was about four feet long and two feet wide with no mouth - at least, as far as Claire could tell. Where the mouth and lips should be located, however, was nothing but a gruesome collection of two foot long octopus tentacles that waved about in the air like a bunch of snakes. Parts of the head were marked by what looked like runes, although of what origin Claire was uncertain, while draped around its face, acting as a makeshift handle for the shield were some ropes.
While the shield was disturbing to look at, the creepiest aspect of Spinal, however, had to be its inhuman glowing red eyes; right where its empty sockets were were nothing but a pair of small little balls of light that reminded Claire of hot coals.
On the TV screen, Spinal was downright creepy, but seeing him standing there on the staircase...Claire actually felt goosebumps just from looking at him.
Seeing the group, the creature remained on the steps, its attention fixed on them.
For a long time, nobody moved. Claire waited anxiously in excitement, the fangirl wanting to know what would happen next.
It was then that she suddenly became aware of the tenseness in Sabrewulf's form as he sat deathly still in his seat, clutching hold of something on his blanketed lap while his bodyguard Dieter looked like he was on edge, the security guards stiffening in alert.
Claire took a step toward the character when Dieter roughly grabbed her by the arm.
"Don't!" He hissed in warning.
The skeleton watched them all for several moments, tilting its bony head from side to side, shifting its jaw with a click and a clack.
Rolling its shoulder along with the ship's wheel in its back, he then let out a low sinister chuckle as he crept back up the stairs. With each step it made, Claire could hear the bones creak, crackle and snap.
As he disappeared from view, Dieter darted up the stairs, letting go of Claire, following after the skeleton along with a couple of security guards.
Just as one of the fighters started to open his mouth, a shrill maniacal laugh filled the air that rose and fell in horrific arcs.
"Yaahahahahahaha!"
And then it was gone, the spell broken.
"...What was that?" Jago asked, his hand clenched on his prayer beads.
Claire looked over at him, then smiled.
"I have to say, Baron, you really know how to put on a show! I didn't realize how much of a prankster you were!" She laughed.
The wheelchair-bound figure was still for a moment, and then he gave a slight laugh, his form untensing a little.
"Ja, you caught me," the Baron shrugged in his seat, adjusting his blanket.
With that admission, other started to join in one by one, including T.J.
"You know," the boxer said thoughtfully, "that really scared me for a moment!"
Sabrewulf scoffed. "Oh come now!"
"I'm serious! The snake/tentacle beard, the walking skeleton thing..." He scrunched up his brows. "How were you able to make it so convincing?"
The Baron shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't divulge that information," he said regretfully. "Trade secret, but let's just say it involves careful puppeteering."
Claire looked around at the ceiling, then at the floors.
She didn't see any signs of strings or cables.
Perhaps it was remote controlled somehow and automated? If so, it could explain why Dieter had to run off.
She smiled as her eyes lit up with realization. "Of course! Your bodyguard had the remote control on him, didn't he? That's why he and the security guys ran after it!"
The Baron's hood tilted down in a nod. "Clever girl."
"I knew it!" Claire fist pumped in excitement before eagerly looking at him with shining enthusiastic eyes. "Would it be alright if I took a photo with Spinal later? Please?"
Others started to join in, their pleading voices merging together.
"Now now, children," Sabrewulf raised his hand. "I'm afraid I can't."
"AWWWW!"
"Please?" Claire begged, placing her hands together as she looked at him with big eyes.
He shook his head. "Again, I'm sorry, but I cannot. You have to understand, we have very sensitive equipment and I don't want anyone getting hurt."
"We'll be careful!" Claire insisted.
Sabrewulf shook his head again. "Nein, and that is final," he said firmly. Before Claire could protest, his bodyguard returned down the stairs. "Ah, Dieter! Perfect timing! Is the puppet safely stored?"
"It is," Dieter replied, smiling. "Exciting stuff, eh? The Baron is a true showman, so how about giving him a round of applause, eh, guys? How about it?"
As he clapped his hands, others joined in, including Claire. The only people that weren't clapping, however, were Jago and a tall Native American who stood staring up at the stairs with dark looks on their faces.
"Danke. Danke," Sabrewulf bowed politely before sitting himself up. "Now that is out of the way, why don't we show you all to your rooms, hm? We have quite the day ahead of us tomorrow, after all, so come along, everyone."
Moving to the front door to the right, the group followed him out. As Claire passed Jago, she noticed his stiff figure.
"Hey, are you okay, Jago?" she asked with concern.
The Tibetan monk said nothing, his eyes fixed on the second floor upstairs, his hand nervously fidgeting with the prayer beads he carried between his fingers.
"Jago?"
Hearing his name, Jago turned to face her, then his posture loosening.
"Ah, sorry," he smiled assuredly beneath his veil.
"Pretty scary, huh?" Claire smiled back. "It's okay. I was a little startled by it, too, but it's alright. It's just fake."
The monk said nothing as he glanced back to where the skeleton disappeared to.
"Hm." Finally, he turned away, leaving her alone as the Native American passed by her.
"This way, miss," one of the security guards gestured.
"Okay," Claire nodded.
Giving one final curious glance over her shoulder, she gave a small smile, part of her trembling in anticipation for the coming days.
And that concludes Chapter Five! Gears are starting to turn ever so slowly. Eagle-eyed fans of both series may be able to spot easter eggs in here related to both series. ;) More exciting things will be coming with all sorts of easter eggs and surprises! Hope you've all been enjoying this.
Take care, everyone! :)
