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 Twenty: Choices
"This is a disaster, Mr. Chairman!" David Kellog snapped from the screen. "Not only have three people died under your watch, but a war criminal?! On your premises?! Do you have any idea how much trouble the program is in?!"
"Ja, I'm quite aware, David," Konrad growled, gripping the armrests of his wheelchair, feeling a migraine coming on. "More than aware. The police have taken statements from the eyewitnesses involved, and the forensic examiner has removed the bodies from the premises, including that of Ms. Urchin. As for Mr. Coen, he has been apprehended by military police and is being taken to Regarthon Base, where he will be put on trial." He shook his head, "What happened was a terrible tragedy, but steps are being taken to minimize its impact."
"That may be all well and good, Mr. Chairman," Segei spoke up, "but that fact that this "Urchin" woman managed to infiltrate your facility and kill two of your guards suggests a serious breach of security. And that is not even bringing the fact that you featured a war criminal on live television!"
The Baron groaned. "In my defense, Sergei, I hadn't been made aware of that until yesterday. Apparently there had been a whole series of mismanagement fuck-ups and misplaced files by various governmental officials, bodies and departments, and everyone is pointing fingers in every direction, from what I gather. Nothing to do with our company."
He shifted in his seat as he continued, "Furthermore, I am taking steps to nip this problem in the bud. It has been drawn to my attention that an attempt has been made last night at hacking into our computer servers and security system."
Konrad heard the board members murmur amongst themselves.
"Was anything stolen?" David asked.
"Several documents have been recovered," Konrad replied. "Thankfully it's nothing vital, but the person responsible, however, is still at large on the estate. Who they are is still unknown at this time, nor is it certain if they are acting alone or if there are other parties involved. I am currently reviewing every fighter dossier with my staff, for it is my belief that the reason why we have been experiencing these issues with Burnside, Coen and Urchin is because a spy has infiltrated the tournament and has been posing as one of our fighters, using them as distractions."
He heard the murmur grow.
"If what you say is true, Mr. Chairman," David said slowly, "why haven't you notified the police about this?"
"Who says that I haven't?" The Baron let out a breath. "Look, we are trying to keep this quiet as best we can, David. The last thing we need is the public running their mouths against the company. As we speak, my men and I are making preparations. By my estimates, we will be able apprehend them within twenty-four hours, at which point they will be turned over to the authorities."
Konrad watched as David clicked his tongue on the screen. "I see. Is there anything else?"
He cleared his throat. "Ja, actually. There is the matter of the tournament. Due to the tragic circumstances of last night along with the controversy surrounding Coen, it is my firm belief that the show should be cancelled for the time being and restarted at a later time."
"Cancel the show?" A board member repeated incredulously. "Mr. Chairman, I must protest! If we cancel the tournament now, not only will we be in breach of our contractual obligations to our sponsors, but we will be opening ourselves up to litigation!"
"We already are at risk of litigation," Konrad said pointedly. "Do you expect the families of the two security guards to just sit idly by?"
"Correct me if I'm wrong," a second board member, a woman in a dark suit, spoke up, "but don't we have insurance policies for our guards?"
"Ja, but it is conceivable that their families will attempt to bleed us dry for even larger and more outrageous figures," Konrad grumbled. "We will need to consult with our legal team about these matters."
"Agreed," David nodded, "although in relation to the tournament, I don't think cancelling is the best option that I would recommend at this stage. If the incident had occurred before the first few episodes had been released, perhaps we could have postponed the show to a later date, but if we were to cancel now, the company would be at risk of losing a lot more. As it is, Mr. Chairman, our only option is to proceed forward as planned. We have paid a substantial amount in the marketing campaign along with merchandising, and we need to recoup our costs."
A grim silence filled Konrad's office as he stared at the screen.
"So the show must go on then," he spoke, his voice low.
He watched as David nodded. "I'm afraid so, Mr. Chairman. The show must go on."
Dieter waited outside of the Baron's door, casually rolling a coin along his knuckles.
"Dieter, I need to speak with you," he heard the latter call out.
Pocketing the coin, the bodyguard poked his head inside. "You wanted to speak with me, Baron?"
"Ja. Take a seat please."
Complying, Dieter shut the door behind him and sat down in front of Konrad's desk, folding one leg over the other. "Everything okay, Baron? You seem agitated."
Konrad snorted. "'Agitated' is putting it lightly," he drawled.
Folding his arms together, the bodyguard leaned back in his seat. "So what's the word, boss? David and Sergei giving you shit?"
"They are," the Baron nodded. "Thankfully their bark was worse than their bite. At least, for now. But even worse, they have denied my request to have the tournament cancelled. If we're to do so at this late of a stage, we will be at risk of breaching our contractual obligations to our sponsors."
Dieter hummed in acknowledgment. "So the tournament will have to resume then."
"Indeed, unfortunately," Konrad grimly confirmed.
The two of them sat in silence, the office still.
Clicking his tongue, Dieter nonchalantly shrugged. "Well, might as well make the most out of it, Baron."
"And how, pray tell, do you propose I do that?" Konrad retorted. "One contestant farts himself on camera and throws the match before it even begins. Another contestant turns out to be an underage brat. A third contestant turns out to be a war criminal, and a fourth is a homicidal maniac that ended up getting killed. How the fuck am I suppose to salvage this?"
"Simple, Baron - go out with a bang."
Konrad blinked. "I don't understand. What do you mean?"
Dieter drummed his fingers along the armrest of his chair. "You know how there's a ton of demand for human/creature fights? Maybe you should give the audience what they want."
Stiffening in his seat, Konrad remained deathly still, his form rigid.
Finally, he spoke.
"...Please tell me that you're joking."
Dieter frowned. "Baron-"
"Nein, nein, NEIN!" Konrad vehemently shook his head. "I am NOT having this conversation again! I've told you how many times already? I am NOT going to have my fighters fight those freaks!"
"Baron, you have to face reality," Dieter said in an even tone. "Those freaks are costing you house and home. Sooner or later, the board is going to find out about the true extent of what's happening here, and when they do, what will happen? They will shut you down. Or worse. Those things aren't going away anytime soon, Baron. How many times have those creatures managed to escape already? How many deaths have we covered up together? How many times have we tried to dispose of R.I.P.T.O.R. and Spinal? That's not bringing up Hisako. These things have a penchant for breaking out, Baron - you can't keep this up forever. How many millions have you spent in security already? How many millions have you spent in hush money? Top of the line security, and the fuckers still manage to break out? You are already in hot water with the board as it is, pal. Every time these assholes break out, you and Ultratech lose money. And let's face it, you need the funds, Baron, especially if you want to be able to afford Gupte's services and find a cure for your condition, if not Benny's."
Dieter was greeted with an uncomfortable silence from the Baron as he seemed to absorb the bodyguard's words, processing the information.
Swallowing, the latter shifted in his seat. "There's truth in what you say, Dieter," he slowly admitted, "but to-to unleash these creatures on the contestants...it's unthinkable! It's monstrous!"
"Yeah. So?"
"'So'?!" Konrad roared. "Dieter, this is insane! This is an invitation for lawsuits and criminal charges!"
Dieter scoffed. "As if the shit we're dealing with doesn't already? We're in the shit regardless, Baron. What, did you forget about dear old Ben? You don't think neither Ultratech nor the CIA suspect something fishy going on with your tournament? I mean, you're featuring R.I.P.T.O.R. on live television, for crying out loud! The only reason why nobody's made a move against you is because of your connections and the very generous payouts, favors, promotions and taint-tonguing you've been giving! Shit, everyone loves you, Baron! And what did it cost? Sure, a small share here, a small sum there, a Mercedes Benz to shut up the fucktard responsible for getting Glacius involved, some advanced positions and endorsements for scientists, health inspectors, mayoral and district attorney offices, helping one of your political buddies with a hooker problem..."
He didn't miss the Baron's flinches at the various mentions. Softening his eyes, Dieter continued, "Listen, Konrad. How long have we been friends for? Twenty years? You and me, we've been through thick and thin ever since Las Vegas back in '82. Remember those days?"
Dieter watched as Konrad nodded, a chortle rippling through him, causing the bodyguard to join in with a chuckle of his own. "Yeah, boy, you and me used to get in a lot of trouble back then. You always were a shit gambler."
Konrad laughed in spite of himself. "Indeed, unfortunately." Reclining in his chair, he shook his head. "You have always been my closest friend, Dieter. You can be a pain in the ass sometimes, but I have always trusted you. I'm grateful for your sticking by me after all these years." He sighed, "That being said, Dieter, I cannot go through with what you've suggested. The Killer Instinct tournament used to mean something to me. I used to think so fondly back to those days. Now? Now I cannot help but weep over what it has turned into, and the prospect of seeing what the tournament will become fills me with dread. I have compromised so much already."
"Things change, Baron," Dieter replied.
The Baron nodded. "That they do, Dieter," he replied, conceding, his voice sounded deflated, old, and tired. "That they do. Not always for the better, though. I've given...so much already. Hasn't what I've done up to this point been enough?"
"It is what it is," Dieter shrugged. "You're not getting any younger, Baron. How many more thousands, if not millions are you going to put into these creatures? Why suffer the costs to your mind and body when you can just say "screw it" and make these things your bitch? You're the boss, Konrad - you need the money." He leaned forward. "I have some ideas. A ton of ideas, actually, that can help you quadruple what you make already."
"And do these ideas happen to involve utilizing that gambling ring of yours?" Konrad snapped, his tone taking on a harsh edge. "Ja, I know what you have been doing behind my back, Dieter. Agent HUNK informed me of your nocturnal activities, along with your betting pool. How long has this been going on for?"
"A few months." The bodyguard chuckled, holding out his hands as he shrugged. "What can I say, Baron? I saw an opportunity. It gets boring waiting around for the next specimen to burn, so I figured, why not have some fun and make some money out of it?"
"And you never bothered to inform me about it, let alone consult me about the matter," Konrad's voice growled through the scarf.
Dieter shrugged. "I was doing you a favor. You were stressed enough as it is with this Umbrella bullshit, so why pile on the stress? What you don't know won't hurt you."
"Is that how you justify it? How considerate of you to care about my health at this point," the Baron said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Never mind that you are adding to my "stress". How many people are part of this?"
"Not a lot," Dieter answered in a dismissive manner. "Fifteen to twenty, mostly guards with the odd researcher or two, but we're careful. That being said, though, I think there's potential for growth, Baron. In my opinion, I think this could be quite the lucrative enterprise."
"Absolutely not!" The CEO roared, slamming his gloved fist onto his desk. "My tournament is enough of a mockery as it is, and I will NOT tolerate secret gambling rings under my roof!"
Dieter gave an annoyed scowl. "Baron, listen. Before you reject the idea, listen to what I have to say. If we were to expand this operation, it can bring in serious cash. Hell, why not have some of your shareholder buddies in on the action? Think of the opportunities - you are barely scratching the surface in relation to this tournament, Konrad. And that's not even thinking about the money to be made from these creatures."
"Oh for God's sakes, not this again!" Came a groan as the Baron reached up and massaged his own forehead.
"I'm telling you, Baron, these creatures are money-makers! You want to make money so that you can pay for your treatments? Why destroy something that can be profitable? Lockheed Martin has made four hundred and eighty-eight million in revenue from their military contracts, and you hold in the palm of your hands several golden eggs!"
"R.I.P.T.O.R. is more than enough, Dieter. Contrary to what you like to believe, but I do not wish for my legacy to be one of death and nightmares! Now please, drop it."
Diet shrugged. "Alright. I have other ideas if you're interested."
Letting out an audible sigh, as if reluctant to hear them, Konrad spoke, "What else do you have in mind?"
Leaning back in his chair, the bodyguard fished out a cigarette. "I've been thinking, why not set up sponsorship deals for the tournament?"
"We already have those, Dieter-"
"Not those kinds of sponsorship deals, Baron," Dieter waved dismissively, lighting his cigarette up and inhaling. "I'm talking big picture. A different kind of sponsorship, one that involves perhaps getting some of the competition involved with their own creations."
He watched as the Baron tensed. "Other...creations?" he said in a drawn out manner, as if he were uncertain, if not hoping that Dieter didn't mean what was implied.
"Yeah," the bodyguard nodded. "I doubt Umbrella was the only one doing this sort of thing. There are bound to be others, Baron. After all, Umbrella didn't just spring up one day and said 'let's make monsters!' Somebody helped them get there, Baron, and God knows, you and I have both heard the various rumors surrounding Militech and Arasaka. Shit, there are even rumors about Biotechnica manufacturing all sorts of crazy shit, including - get this - werewolves."
Lifting his head, Konrad sat up in his seat. "Biotechnica, you say?"
"Yeah. You should consider reaching out." He watched as the Baron tilted his head to the side, seemingly lost in thought. "The tournament doesn't have to be a wastebin, Konrad - why waste potentially good products when you would be better off testing them?"
Dieter watched as the Baron jerked back his head. "Testing them?!" He repeated, appalled, his tone filled with disgust.
"Sure. And I'm not just talking about the creatures, Baron - your company has no shortage of experimental medical and cybernetic products, so why not put them into good use? I'm sure plenty a fighter would give an arm and a leg to be able to fight, so why deny them? The potential wins will outweigh any lawsuit with the money people would be willing to barter with, and mark my words, Konrad, people will pay."
"Oh, I'm sure that the FDA would have plenty to say! I can't believe what I'm hearing right now, especially from you of all people!" Konrad said in growing horror. "Dieter, are you even listening to yourself?! Do you really expect the world to be so easily fooled?! Do you really think the federal governments of the world won't step in and shut us down?!"
"Why not?" Dieter replied. "It's not like we haven't run damage control before, Baron. And the FDA? PFFFT. The Department of Health and Human Services is a joke, and up 'til now, you've been controlling the narrative. Why should this time be any different?"
"Nein!" Konrad waved, his hand shaking. "I'll admit that I've done things that I'm not proud of, but this? This is evil, Dieter. I. Will. NOT. Allow for this! I have enough on my plate already and I do not want to hear this from you again. You will cancel your betting pool, and you will do exactly what I tell you. Understood?"
For a few seconds, the two of them stared each other down in a tense standoff, neither of them wavering.
Finally, Dieter sat still in his chair, then shrugged. "Very well. If you want to say no to easy money, then who am I to stop you." He then shifted in his seat, resting his chin on his knuckles. "Now then, what do you plan on doing about the woman and the monk? Last I checked, Baron, kidnapping and forcible confinement are felonies."
He sensed the Baron scowling beneath his mask, as if irritated at being reminded. "I know that, Dieter, but these individuals are...unique. I've been reviewing the security footage last night, and this was recorded."
Waving Dieter over, the bodyguard moved to the Baron's side, watching the monitor. On the screen was a large spacious octagonal room with marble floors, the camera positioned at a top corner. In the top center of the frame was a steel door, one that Dieter recognized as being the door to R.I.P.T.O.R.'s cell.
At first, nothing happened.
A few seconds later, the door's center started to glow with a strange light.
Wrinkling his brows, Dieter leaned forward, intently watching the screen carefully.
"The hell?" he murmured. "Is this a glitch?"
"Nein, it's all in camera," Konrad replied. "Keep watching the screen."
Giving a quizzical glance to his employer, Dieter returned his gaze back, watching as the air ionized.
Moments later, something phased through the door, a large panther or tiger that was glowing a bright yellow, so bright that not only did it distort the camera, but it also lit up the room it was in.
"What the hell is that?!" Dieter gaped.
"Keep watching," Konrad pointed. "It gets even more interesting."
Dieter watched as the animal phased through the door, passing through with ease. Once it finished, the creature landed on its haunches, and then started to...change...
The bodyguard was stock-still as the large cat became bipedal, its form becoming more humanoid.
Finally, the glow vanished, leaving the woman standing in the animal's place.
"What the fuck?" he breathed.
"My thoughts exactly," Konrad nodded. "I've been checking this footage repeatedly. I thought it was a joke by some disgruntled employee, but...it's real."
Looking back to the Baron, Dieter raised both eyebrows in surprise.
Scoffing, he shook his head. "Bullshit."
"It's not. I'm telling you, she's...like me."
Dieter sighed. "Baron, what makes you think that she is? How do you know that this isn't a hologram or some cyberware to give the illusion of her transforming?"
"I had her checked, Dieter. She has no cyberware on her person whatsoever. I've been looking through her file, and I've tried verifying the information that she had provided during the interview. As far as I can tell, everything she told us was a lie."
"So who is she then?"
Konrad shrugged. "I don't know. I couldn't find any matches on her fingerprints nor her dental. Clothing is custom, no labels. David had mentioned to me that she looked like a secretary that we have by the name of "Ada Wong", but I have no records of such a person working for us in any of our databases. Aside from "Ada" and "Orchid", I can't find anything, not even on Google. Whoever she is, she's practically a ghost. HUNK reported that she was wearing some type of synthetic skin covering over the palms of her hands containing the fingerprints of a security guard, who was found knocked out in her room. Her fingertips seemed to have been burned with some form of acid, but again, no matches on any of her prints. She also had a heavily encrypted PDA, some lockpicks, a keycard, a used injector containing some form of tranquilizer, and an earpiece on her person as well."
Dieter hummed. "So a spy then."
"Ja, but the question is, whose? I have my suspicions, but I need to confirm them."
An uncomfortable silence filled the office as both men stared at the woman on the screen.
Glancing back to Konrad, Dieter raised a brow. "What about the monk? How does he figure into this?"
Konrad chuckled. "Thought you would never ask."
Gesturing to the screen, the Baron moved the mouse and scrolled through the various security camera footages before stopping on one in particular.
Clicking on the, the pair watched as the Tibetan monk stepped into the room, turning his head to face a group of individuals as they all stood staring at a masked creature.
Getting into a horse stance, the monk brought one arm back, his hand glowing.
Blinking rapidly, Dieter leaned forward, watching on the screen as the man suddenly thrust said-limb out, throwing out what looked like a green fireball that flew nine feet before striking directly into the masked creature, exploding upon impact.
"Jesus Christ," he muttered.
"My thoughts exactly."
Dieter frowned. "Looks like Gupte's messed up. The guy's obviously hiding some cyberware on his person."
"He isn't," Konrad replied. "I've shown both videos to Gupte and have consulted her on their files. According to Jago's medical records, he doesn't have a single piece of cybernetic enhancement on him. Neither does the woman."
Dieter's frown deepened. "So what then? Magic? Is that what you're saying?"
"I don't know anything more than you do, Dieter," Konrad answered. "I'm just as puzzled as you are, if not more so. Two people have entered the tournament, both of whom seem to possess the ability to manifest energy constructs. One is a Tibetan monk from some tiger-based cult, the other is some sort of spy who can turn into what appears to be some sort of big cat, a tiger, made of energy. What are the odds of two people of very different backgrounds and personalities appearing at this very site with such a unique ability?"
"You think there's a connection between them, Baron?"
"I don't think there's a connection between them, I know there is," Konrad said with certainty. "It is far too coincidental that they have both appeared together in this tournament. I'm having Gupte doing some bloodwork on them to see if she can find anything. I don't know what they are, but they're the key, Dieter! They have the key to help me with my condition!"
Dieter stared at the seated figure, uncertain how to respond.
Letting out a breath, he took off his fedora and swept a hand through his neatly slicked back hair.
"Assuming they aren't human, that they're..." He scrunched up his brows, trying to think of a word, "...weretigers or whatever, what makes you think that what they have is anything remotely like your condition? No offence, Baron, but you are no energy being, nor do you shoot fireballs." Upon uttering that, Dieter laughed to himself, "There's an image!" Clearing his throat, he continued. "But even more, there's no guarantee that they will have anything that can revert your condition."
He watched the Baron considered his words, the hooded figure taking it in.
Sighing, the broad shoulders of the latter drooped. "I...I don't know," he admitted. "But...that being said...they are the closest things that I have seen with any connection to what I have. That woman knows something. You saw her, Dieter - not only did she turn into an animal, but she also managed to control it and revert back! I have searched my whole life for something to help me with..." Exasperated, he waved a frustrated hand over his scarved face, "...this! I wasn't able to find anything, and now two people have come into my home, one of whom can change at will? They have the answers that I'm looking for, Dieter, and I will do anything to get them."
Hearing a knock at the door, Dieter watched as Konrad lifted his head. "Come in."
Looking over his shoulder, the former watched as Dr. Gupte appeared, peeking inside, holding a couple of folders. "Good morning, Baron. Am I interrupting?"
"Not at all actually. Please, come in, Herr Doctor," Konrad waved her in.
Stepping inside, Gupte closed the door behind her.
"I gather you have the test results?" Konrad questioned.
Gupte nodded. "I do. I wasn't able to find any detectable genetic anomalies, nor any noticeable anomalies in either participant's physiology. There are no detectable traces of any biological, chemical nor cybernetic enhancements." Hearing a frustrated sigh escape from the Baron's mouth behind him, Dieter watched as Gupte pushed up her glasses, "However, in comparing their DNA, we did find this."
Dieter then watched as she handed the Baron the folders that she held. Opening it up, the latter scrutinized their contents, reading over the information within. He seemed to be midway through when he suddenly paused, drawing the folder closer.
Lifting his head up, he spoke. "...Are you sure about this?"
Gupte nodded. "I've double and triple-checked the results in order to be sure. They are correct."
"Hm." Leaning back into his chair, the Baron scratched his chin. "Interesting. Thank you for the information, Herr Doctor."
Dieter watched as Gupte nodded and turned around, exiting the office. Turning back to face the Baron, Dieter raised a brow. "What's the news?"
Handing the folder for him to inspect, Konrad leaned back in his chair. "It would seem that I was right after all."
The Baron was hiding something.
Claire didn't just merely suspect it - she knew with certainty that he was.
Following her discharge from Doctor Gupte's care, Claire had thought that if she had focused on other things eventually everything would revert back to normal.
She had tried to tell herself that happened to her had been nothing more than a freak accident, a horrible hallucination or nightmare, but...she couldn't.
As much as she tried, she just couldn't accept that.
She remembered being in that room, trapped with that thing.
How it had killed that woman, and very nearly did the same to her.
Every bruise she had on her body was vividly recalled, along with every sight and smell, and because of that, she found herself feeling constantly on edge, regarding everything around her with newfound suspicion and wariness.
Part of Claire wanted to speak up and reach out to someone, anyone!
But who?
Who should she turn to?
For the first time in her life, she felt...trapped.
Once or twice she had attempted to speak with one of the other competitors, but the vast majority of the fighters just blew her off, although one or two horny teenagers were more interested in "getting to know her".
Claire rolled her eyes.
Pigs.
She didn't even try speaking to the film crew either - all of them were too creepy to be dealt with.
Standing amidst the throng of fighters in the cramped arena, Claire waited until the fight was finished.
Once the match was concluded, she and the other fighters exited the arena, the latter dispersing in different directions, leaving Claire alone as she quietly walked down the street by herself with her hands buried in her pockets, her mind filled with doubt and unease.
What should she do?
Part of her wanted to believe that it was all a horrible hallucination, but some part of her refused to buy it.
Even if it wasn't, who should she turn to? How would she even be able to prove anything?
But even more, how will this affect her standing in the tournament?
Stopping at an intersecting path, Claire looked warily in the various directions, her conscience and mind at war with one another.
"You look lost," a familiar voice called.
Perking up, Claire looked to her right, smiling as she spotted Hinmatoom. "Hi Hinmatoom!"
"Hello Claire," the big man greeted. "Everything okay?"
She sighed. "Yeah, just a little tired, I guess." Claire then tucked some bangs behind her ear. "I'm sorry for not visiting you more while we were in recovery."
He raised a placating hand. "No, no, it's fine. Honestly, it's alright. It gave me a lot to think about."
"You as well?"
"Yep."
An awkward silence fell over the pair continued their walk, both trying to come up with something to say.
Finally, Hinmatoom cleared his throat. "So, uh, what've you been up to?"
"Oh, you know, just waiting for my turn in the tournament," Claire replied. "I can't stand the waiting."
The Native American chuckled. "You and me both. A shame about Billy. He seemed like a nice guy."
The girl sighed, lowering her eyes to the ground. "Yeah," she nodded, speaking in a softer voice. "Yeah, he was."
A feeling of melancholy came over as she thought of the former Marine.
If only they had a little more time together...
Feeling the cool breeze, Claire adjusted her vest. "So, uh, I was just about to get a bite to eat. Wanna join? T.J. has been distancing himself lately, and with Jago still recovering, Piers and Billy gone, well...it's kind of lonely without them."
She watched as Hinmatoom thought it over, the latter shrugging.
"Sure. I have no problem with that."
Smiling, Claire nodded. "Okay then. Shall we?"
He then gestured ahead of them. "Lead the way."
Together, the pair continued on.
Taking a bite of her pizza, Claire watched as Hinmatoom cut into his steak with a knife and fork, the two of them sitting at the bar in the recreation area where music from a jukebox blared loudly in the background.
"You're a pretty fancy guy, aren't you?" the former raised a brow.
Hinmatoom scoffed. "No, I'm just a guy who likes a good steak, that's all. I like a good burger or pizza on occasion as much as the next guy, but a steak?" Once he finished cutting, he picked up his fork and took a bite, relishing the taste as he chewed. "Might as well enjoy it while it lasts."
Sitting side-by-side at the bar, the pair ate in silence.
Thankfully the bar was largely devoid of people save for one or two bartenders and/or waiters, but aside from them going about their business, there didn't seem to be anyone else.
Gulping down his food, Hinmatoom regarded the teenager. "You okay, Claire? You seem troubled."
Taking a sip of her coke, Claire swallowed, looking down at the counter.
"I have to admit...I'm kind of at a loss."
"About what?"
Tucking her bangs behind her left ear, Claire gave Hinmatoom an uneasy look. "What...What happened down there?"
She watched as the latter's knife stilled, the big man looking up from his plate. "What do you mean?"
"At the mansion?" Claire sighed, looking down at her own plate. "I'm sorry. It's just...well..."
"Yes?"
Biting her lip, Claire shifted uncomfortably on her stool. "I know the Baron said that we were experiencing hallucinations, but..."
"You find it hard to believe," Hinmatoom completed the thought.
Fidgeting with her pizza, Claire slowly shook her head. "Well...yeah. I mean, it's crazy to even think about. Part of me just wants to let it go and dismiss it as such, but...another part of me just can't shake the feeling that what happened was, well...actually real. That...that both the creature and that room were real."
The big man was silent, saying nothing.
Turning to face him, Claire looked up to her large companion. "What should I do?"
Pausing his cutting, the Native American's brow furrowed, puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"A girl and two guards died here. I mean...shouldn't we-?"
"Do what? Call the police?" He shook his head. "No. Chances are that they're not going to believe a word of what you say. Besides, aren't you here fighting for your brother?"
Blinking, Claire's brows furrowed. "How did you know about that?"
"I had inadvertently overheard your conversation earlier with that guy Billy used to hang around with. Nivans, I believe it was?"
"Ah. So you know my reasons for joining."
The Native American nodded. "I do." He shook his head. "I don't know what it is that you want me to say, Claire. You have a reason for being here, and to be honest, while I disagree with it, I fully understand. Me, I don't give a damn about this tournament."
"So why did you join then?"
"To find my brother," came the reply, his eyes focused on his steak as he ate.
Claire blinked in surprise. "Your brother?" She then glanced around, her eyes squinting as she checked through the crowd of fighters and staff. "That's odd. I don't remember seeing him in the tournament."
"Nor I," Thunder replied. "The last time I spoke to Tipyeléhne- ah, Eagle - was five years ago. We had a bit of a falling out admittedly, but..." His features softened, the big man exhaling, "I've always cared about him. Even though...even though we would get on each other's nerves every now and then, I've always used to check up on him, if only to assure myself that he's alright. I've sent him emails. No response. I've left numerous phone and text messages, but as far as I can tell, he hasn't answered any of them. I've checked his YouTube channel, his Twitter profile, his Facebook and Tumblr pages, but...it's like he's all but disappeared. The last message that he posted was back in 2013, on the day when that earthquake struck Munich."
Claire was thankful that the music was so loud and that the bartender was busy with other customers.
"So...you think something happened to Eagle?" she asked.
"I don't think something has happened to him," Thunder said slowly, "I know something had. Something bad. What I'm trying to figure out is what, and based on what we've been seeing, I think Ultratech is hiding the truth about him."
The pair sat quietly as they ate, carefully watching the staff around them.
Taking a sip of her coke, Claire swallowed. "Have you tried contacting the police?"
"Tried, but they aren't doing shit," Thunder grunted. "I tried getting in touch with Ultratech, but every time I call, I have to wait five hours in order for somebody to respond. I've sent letters, but nobody knows where Tipyeléhne's gone."
Claire pursed her lips, sipping her drink in thought.
"Have you tried talking with Eagle's agent?"
He frowned. "I wasn't able to. He died of a heart attack sometime before the earthquake."
"And you have no other leads?"
The Native American sighed. "None."
Claire then looked up at her companion. "Why haven't you contacted the Baron about this?"
"I've been trying to reach his office, but he's elusive. I have half a mind to confront him right now in all honesty."
"Do you have any thoughts or ideas on what might have happened to your brother?"
Thunder stared at the remaining scrap of steak. "A few," he admitted. Picking up the last piece with his fork, he eyed it. "Prior to coming here, my initial thoughts were that someone within the company had messed up. Perhaps Eagle caught wind of something and Ultratech sent somebody to shut him up. Perhaps some racist fuck within the company decided to give him grief for being a "red skin" and it escalated into something. Perhaps he's paralyzed, maybe even brain-damaged, as a result of the earthquake, and Ultratech in their infinite greed and corporate wisdom thought it better to keep him rather than pay out damages. Now?" Staring at the piece of steak, he took a bite, devouring it whole. "I think Ultratech is either holding him prisoner...or they killed him."
The words sent a chill down Claire's spine, the girl repressing the urge to shiver.
Swallowing the last of her drink, she anxiously shifted in her seat. "W-What makes you so sure that Ultratech has done either? That-That he wasn't killed by the earthquake? Many people were killed in Munich, from what I heard."
Hinmatoom stared at his glass, swirling its contents around. "Because of everything that I've seen of this place. Something is wrong with this tournament, Claire. I had warned Eagle about it back in 2013, when I had went to visit him in Germany to wish him good luck. It was in the air, a feeling like something was about to go wrong. A feeling like death was coming. But here? That aura feels much more palpable now compared to back then."
The girl was silent as she pondered his words.
Looking up at her companion, Claire finished her pizza.
"Listen," she said slowly, "maybe we should check-"
"No," he was quick to shut her down.
"But Thunder-"
"No," he repeated, his eyes bearing deep into hers. "Look, I'm sorry, Claire, but this is something that I must do, and what I must do alone."
Finishing his own drink, he turned to look directly at Claire, regarding her for a moment, his eyes softening at the sight of her concern.
"I don't blame you for feeling conflicted," he spoke. "You are bound by your love for your brother, just as I am bound by mine. I do not fault you for that. Not at all. Like you, I would move heaven and earth for my brother. But...if you follow me...not only you will risk losing your standing, but even worse, you will die here." He exhaled, his broad shoulders sagging. "I'm afraid that you are going to have to make a choice. If you stay here, you will risk whatever fate this horrid place has in store for you. On the other hand, if you leave, you will be unable to pay for your brother's hospital bills. But...it will also mean that you will be able to escape whatever is coming."
"And...And what is coming exactly?" Claire uneasily questioned.
He shook his head. "That, I don't know, but whatever it is, it isn't good, and I dread what comes after. Whatever Ultratech has planned, it spells trouble for all." Thunder thoughtfully contemplated her words, pursing his lips. "Do what you must for your brother, Claire. That is what I intend to do for mine. I'm afraid that is where we must part ways."
As Hinmatoom stood up from his seat, Claire knitted her brows, considering what he said.
Taking a long gulp of her coke, she wiped out mouth with the back of her gloved hand, then followed quickly after him.
"Hey, wait up!" She called.
Stepping outside, Hinmatoom let out a sigh, taking in the cool air.
Finally, a chance to-
He was cut off as he heard the door behind him.
"Hey, wait up!" He heard Claire call, making him wince.
Turning to face her, the Native American gave her an annoyed glance. "Girl, what are you doing? Haven't you heard a word I said?"
"I want to help," Claire replied.
He frowned. "Claire-"
"Come on, Thunder!" Claire insisted. "You said to do what I must for my brother, right? Well, in that case, that's all the more reason for us to work together and see what the Baron is hiding, don't you think? Whatever Ultratech is doing, it doesn't just involve your brother, big guy - there's something going on here, and whatever it is could potentially affect not only my brother, but also my friends, if not Raccoon City as a whole. Wouldn't it be better for someone to have your back in the event something goes wrong? Best case scenario, there's nothing and we overreacted - plain and simple. We might get reprimands, but I'll cover for you and say that it was my fault. Worst case? There are people who are in trouble and who are in need of help. Something is going on with Jago, and my spidey-senses are telling me that there's something more going on than just gas exposure."
For several moments, Thunder stared down at her, giving her a dark look, which Claire returned with a glare of her own, refusing to budge.
Closing his eyes, he sighed. "Alright," he relented. "Just make sure to watch your step."
Claire smiled, nodding. "Okay then." She then placed her hands on her hips. "So, where do you want to start?"
Author Notes: Shout-out to Egyptianmaus for her help - thank you so much! :D
