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She's wrapped in Uncle Albert's black shirt, huddling against the cold. A deep fog, filled with mist, has overtaken Raccoon City and through it, even though she can't see them, she can hear the undead shambling around. They groan and hiss, snarling when they bump into anything, animate or not, before bouncing off into another random direction.
She knows a good portion of the ones around her now are the remains of her former classmates, and she whole-heartedly regrets knowing exactly what's responsible for their deaths. She only hopes their families are dead too, because it would be horrible for them to have to live through watching their kids get put down.
She knows, too, that a lot of the stuff in the labs have either gotten out or been unleashed in her father's deranged psychosis, and her mother wasn't far behind. She's heard the nails of the lickers pass overhead, has heard Nemesis mutter and stalk his way passed her window. She knows the Tyrant has been let loose, because she saw him walk into the police station.
What she doesn't know is whether her parents will come for her. She doesn't know if she wants them to - all the dead are their fault. They did this, and she knows that. She's seen them make these things.
Her last and best hope is Uncle Albert, who'd been deployed to investigate one of Umbrella's scientists, also going off the deep end, apparently.
She hopes he was successful in doing what he had to do, and she hopes he comes back soon. She might not be here if he doesn't.
| | |
The T-Virus left him infinitely stronger than he imagined it would, and he soaks up that power. He uses it to propell himself forward, to break from the forest and spot the rising smoke from Raccoon.
Yesterday, the city would have been lost to him. Tonight, he takes off at the same sprint he used in the forest, and the open road speeds passed. He makes the city's edge in less than an hour, finding the remains of people and the flaming ruins of cars everywhere.
"Damn it, William." He hisses between his teeth, shedding his gear. If it's this bad, Nemesis is definitely around, and he has no desire to be looped into that chase.
In his tack pants, boots and shoulder holsters, he climbs to a roof and begins hopping across the city. He only has one goal in mind, one thing he needs to salvage. Everything else can burn, even if he might not necessarily want them to.
| | |
When something lands on the roof, she does her best to control her breathing and not move. The lickers are fantastic jumpers that prefer to be high. She remembers seeing some hapless scientist walk, unsuspecting, into their containment chamber and get immediately gobbled up.
Boots on the metal stairs leading from the roof only make her more anxious, because they could be anyone. And at least with the dead, she knows who she can trust, what she can do in spite of them.
"Sherry, dearheart?" Comes a voice, soft and low but pervasive.
She creeps out from the classroom's closet, letting it creak enough to draw the speaker's attention. As expected, a tall man opens the classroom door and despite the red eyes, she knows at once who it is.
She bursts from the closet and runs into his arms. He catches her easily, clutching her close.
"I followed the plan exactly how you told me to." She squeezed him hard enough to hurt, but he didn't pull her away or tell her to stop. "I remembered and did it all, just like you said."
"You did. You're a very good girl, and I am proud of you." He reassured, stroking down her back. "Rest easy now, I'm here."
"Mom and Dad . . . ?"
He sighs, pulling back to meet her gaze. "Sherry, you know as well as I do what this situation means."
She dropped her gaze, trying to hide her tears. "Yeah."
"They know where the rendez-vous is. If they aren't responsible, they will be there, or make their way there. But I cannot, in good conscience, give you such false hope."
"I understand." She buries her face in his neck, stifling the sobs, though she can't keep back the tears. He makes no mention of it, merely adjusts her so she sits on his hip more comfortably, then goes back to the roof and leaves the ruins of her school in the fog.
| | |
Uncle Albert is different than he used to be, but the change is slim. He actually seems less stressed, less tense - she doesn't know whether that's a good or a bad thing.
She also can't decide whether she likes the red eyes.
Uncle Albert's eyes used to be the crispest blue, so vibrant and light they almost leapt off his face. When they'd crease at the side when he smiled at her, it was like an LED flared to life behind a jewel, they'd sparkle and dazzle her so. When he'd take off his sunglasses, it was like she could see right into the heart of a polar glacier. However, the red is like lava, or magma. It sloshes around sluggishly, pacing back and forth like a patient jungle cat. They glow in the dark, even passed the darkness of his ever-present sunglasses, so she never loses him. She thinks they represent him better than the blue did, despite the blue being prettier.
She likes not losing him in the dark, though, so the red might edge out as her favourite. Not to mention they're the outside representation that he's like her now - fundamentally altered, different to the core, somewhere between sub- and super-human.
"Dearheart?"
She blinks, and realizes she's been staring at him though the rearview mirror. "Yes?"
"Penny for your thoughts?" He actually tosses her a penny, and she giggles as she catches it.
"I like not being alone."
"You were never alone, my dear."
"No, I mean in being not normal anymore." She fiddles with the coin. "In having a virus."
"You'll never be alone in anything ever again." He promises, and it feels final. She settles back in her seat, finally turning to look at the countryside flashing by.
"Good."
Life with Uncle Albert is very, very different from the one she shared with her mother and father. For one, she sees Uncle Albert a lot more than she ever did her parents, and she gets to follow him around with a keycard of her own. It allows her to get into the places it's safe for her to be in, and wander more or less at her leisure. Very rarely does she stray from Uncle Albert, though, since he's where all the interesting stuff happens. He's also the only white coat that doesn't freak her out. Some of them genuinely look like they want to dissect her. His firm glare, even though his sunglasses, was quick to let them know they'd pay with their lives for so much as an 'ouch' from her.
But they don't stay with the labs long, usually leaving a fiery explosion in their wake. What Uncle Albert is really doing is something akin to exploring a new lease on life.
"I was not raised as you were." He explained to her during one of the many lengthy car rides to other labs. "I was stolen as an infant, and was part of an experimental test group."
"With viruses?"
"At the time, Umbrella was looking into mental and physical conditioning. The children were all given names that started with A, and the name of the lead scientist, Wesker." He corrects, not unkindly. "There were twelve in all, and I was one of the younger subjects. My inherent talent at lying and physical combat rose me above the others, and to my knowledge, only three of us actually survived to adulthood, myself counted among them. All three of us were separated by Umbrella and given different tasks. I heard my brother perished on assignment, but where Alex is, I haven't a blue."
"Oh. That's too bad." She shuffles. "Do you miss them?"
"We helped each other where we could." He says. "But in the end, Umbrella never let us forget that it was a competition for our lives. Someone would eventually die, and it was our personal missions to see to it that it wasn't us."
"That's such a sad way to grow up."
He takes her hand over the console. "And why do you think I wasn't keen on William and Annette's parenting?"
She squeezes his fingers back. "Oh."
"I won't let something so hideous happen to you, my dear." He offers her a rare smile. "You're my daughter now."
She smiles back, despite the mention of her parents, and holds onto his hand tighter.
| | |
She had no idea who Sergei was, or why he was so much higher in Umbrella than Uncle Albert, but he made her infinitely more uncomfortable. Good thing Uncle Albert killed him.
"What are you going to do with the Red Queen?"
Uncle Albert didn't seem to feel the rush of air and heat as the lab blew up. He just pulled her in front of him to shield her from the debris. "I'm going to use her, dear one. Decades of research and experimental data are stored on that one little chip, and now I am the only one who has it."
"Do you have plans for that research?"
"I do." He picks her up, brushing hair out of her eyes. "As much as we are beyond humanity now, money is still necessary for our survival. As unpleasant as it many be, this is the best way forward."
She frowns. "I don't like it."
"I know, sweetheart. But it must be done. I assure you, I have a plan."
"Dad had a plan as well." She points out.
Uncle Albert takes off his sunglasses, meeting her gaze. "Your father and mother were obsessed with a failed product. My only commitment is to you, Sherry."
She averts her eyes. She didn't want to doubt him, or make him think she did, but the thoughts won't leave her alone.
"Do you trust me, Sherry?"
"I do, Uncle Albert."
"Then use that trust. Have some faith in me, hmm?"
She buries her face in his neck. "I do."
"Good girl. Now hold on tightly."
It's not until years later that she realizes exactly what Uncle Albert had planned when he took down Red Queen and exposed Umbrella. It had seemed almost nonsensical at the time, going around and destroying research and staff alike before stealing it all at the very end. She didn't understand why, once they had Red Queen, that Uncle Albert became militant in training her, teaching her various martial arts, improving her endurance and testing the limits of her virus-given prowess, just so they both knew where she could reach.
She gets it now.
She's lurking on the catwalks above the warehouse floor, watching the clone square off with a former S.T.A.R.S. member, Chris Redfield, and a BSAA agent named Sheva Alomar. She's been tasked with keeping an eye on this while Uncle Albert takes care of Ada, since she returned from Spain in such terrible condition. The clone taking Jill Valentine as a toy was unexpected, but it played better into their plans than she had anticipated when it happened. Both of the BSAA agents truly believe that the creature below them is Albert Wesker, and even Excella Gionne has no idea.
Poor fools.
She genuinely wonders, while she's watching them fight, how Chris doesn't know this isn't his Wesker. Uncle Albert has no need of augmenting drugs to control the Tyrant in his bloodstream, just like she doesn't need any help. And even if he did, there was no way he'd actually confront an adversary with such a visible weakness. He'd disappear and work out the problem, then coem back with a vengeance. Does Chris not remember anything about Uncle Albert? He wasn't so different in S.T.A.R.S. than he was in Umbrella.
"Stupid." She mutters, standing and walking away. Wesker will win this fight, but she goes and sets up the props that will ultimately bring him down, like the antidote that will wake Jill up, the rockets that can incinerate Uroboros (another failed product obsession) and the drugs that the clone can overdose on. "They're all stupid."
| | |
She's a fair distance away, but she knows the clone is dead. The BSAA comms come alive with Chris' voice, which means the failed product is gone, the clone is destroyed, Excella is taken care of and the whole world will think that Uncle Albert is dead.
All according to plan.
He picks up after the second ring. "Sherry, what a pleasant surprise. All has gone well, I assume?"
"It has." She replies, watching the feed from a small drone hovering over the volcano. One last rocket and the clone sinks into the lava, finished. "They killed it."
"Excellent." He hums. "You've done very well, Sherry."
"Thank you."
"Return to the safe house. I'll be there in a few hours to come and collect you."
"I'll be waiting. Was there anything you wanted me to salvage?"
"No, thank you. It was all expendable, and I need Tricell obliterated. The BSAA will seize it, and all of its information will be promptly destroyed. One less competitor."
She nods, even though he can't see it. It's a habit she's had since childhood, and she can't seem to shake it. Then she spots the little icon on her laptop that jogs her memory. "Before you go, there was one last thing."
"I'm listening."
"When Excella was working on a stabilizer for the clone, she came across a kid, working with paramilitary and mercenary forces in Edonia, that has the same virus-resistant genome that you do."
Uncle Albert went quiet on the other side of the line. "How old is he?"
"He's turning twenty soon, if the police's records are to be believed."
"Name?"
"Jake Muller."
"Is his listed next of kin Ivara Muller?"
She frowns, pulling the phone away from her ear to look at it suspiciously before pressing it back to her ear. "How did you know that?"
"Gather any information Tricell had on Jake and Ivara, then delete it. I have no interest in the BSAA finding that."
"Okay, sure, can do, but why? What's so important about him?"
"It's quite likely he's my son, dearheart."
She nods again. "Okay. I'll make sure it gets done. I'll see you in a few hours."
"You as well." And he hangs up.
She opens the file on Jake Muller that she took from Excella's laptop and sees the mugshot of a fifteen year old boy with the crispest blue eyes, like looking into the heart of a polar glacier. She thought, when Uncle Albert saved her from the school, that she would never see them again.