Chapter Text
“From Pandora’s Box, where all the ills of humanity swarmed, the Greeks drew out hope after all the others, as the most dreadful of all. I know no more stirring symbol; for, contrary to the general belief, hope equals resignation. And to live is not to resign oneself.”
— Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus
Raccoon City, 2026
The helicopter’s shadow swept across the ruins of Raccoon City below. The ride was mostly pleasantly quiet, until the creep spoke.
“Leon triggered the alarm,” Victor said after spotting the agent through the surveillance feed of the abandoned BSAA camp. “Looks like your campaign to make the DSO stand down really didn’t work, Zeno.”
The remark carried a sharp edge, but Zeno could hear the restraint in it. Victor was holding back because Grace was sitting across from them. If she weren’t here, he would’ve thrown a few more biting remarks his way.
“I’ll leave this matter to you, then.”
It was not Zeno’s job to constantly eliminate DSO and BSAA squads that entered the premises.
Victor faced forward again, his posture stiffening slightly, his head twitching in an unsettling way. Creep.
Across the cabin, Grace sat silently, staring unfocused at the destroyed city, her fingers trembling faintly. Zeno wondered what she was thinking. She reminded him of himself, of the first time he rode a helicopter. He looked down at his hand, flexing his fingers slowly as the memory came to him, an imprint of another touch lingering there. He sneered at the memory.
He wasn’t the naive boy he once was anymore.
Unlike his own immaculate white suit, Grace's clothes were filthy, torn, and blood-stained. Gauze was wrapped tightly across her chest, where Victor had extracted blood from her. He really did make this whole “let’s get her to trust us” mission rather difficult, hadn’t he? He’d almost gotten her killed back at the care center.
He was careless. He never followed Zeno’s plans properly, always straying off on his own, driven by a twisted pleasure in others’ suffering. There had only ever been one person he obeyed willingly, like a perfectly trained mutt, and that was Spencer.
Now, Victor obeyed Zeno—albeit half-heartedly—only because Zeno was his superior in both rank and strength. Zeno could rip the creep’s heart out in a single swift movement if he wished, and he had considered it more than once. The only thing stopping him was the fact that he still needed Victor to acquire Elpis. If he hadn’t been useful, Zeno would have gotten rid of him years ago.
The pilot circled once before lowering them into a wide clearing among the wreckage. Rubble, rusted cars and bent light poles surrounded them. Zeno stepped out first and half-circled toward Grace. Her eyes were ever so slightly wide. He extended a hand toward the open door, holding it steady for her. “Come with me.”
He waited patiently as she hesitated, second-guessing herself, before finally stepping down onto the cracked pavement beside him. He let her walk ahead of him, watching as she scanned her surroundings like a wary cat in unfamiliar territory.
Victor moved to follow her out.
“No,” said Zeno. “You go take care of the DSO.” He glanced toward Grace a few paces ahead, her short, ash-blond hair whipping in the wind. “I want to do this privately.”
“Of course you do,” Victor snorted. “No one understands her situation better than you.”
Zeno ignored him, retrieved his attaché case and snapped it open. Only a couple doses of stabilizer serum remained. Not much time to spare, then.
He shut the case and followed after Grace. Behind them, the helicopter lifted off, its blades slicing through the air as it climbed into the sky. Dust and loose debris swirled around his polished shoes.
Grace moved ahead reluctantly. Zeno watched her gaze drift upward toward the RPD building—or what remained of it.
Something about being close to the end, stepping into a building of the beginning, brought back shadows of dark memories Zeno had successfully suppressed for decades. His features hardened into a faint sneer. He wondered if this police station ever meant anything to…
“What are we doing here?” Grace asked, pausing.
“All in good time,” said Zeno, casting her a sidelong glance as he walked past. “You’ll see.”
Grace’s gaze was distant.
“I'm sure you have questions," he started.
She looked around the dilapidated room. "W-What is this place?"
"The ruins of the Raccoon City Police Department."
"Why did you bring me here?"
He took a breath. "I'll explain everything. You don't have to be afraid," he said very gently. Then he turned on the computer and waited for it to boot up. "You need to understand. This is exactly where you’re meant to be, Grace. Fate brought you here.”
She scratched the back of her neck, gave a dry grin. “I-I wouldn’t say that. I was mostly kidnapped.”
Zeno’s eyes flicked to her bloodied bandages. “It wasn’t meant to happen this way,” he sighed. “Victor Gideon didn’t follow protocol, and trust me, I will personally make sure he’s put behind bars once we’re done with him.”
Grace was quiet, unsure what to say.
“I sent him away for now, so he won’t be a bother to us. Now I need you to focus with me.”
She glanced at him, studying his face for a moment. “A-Are you…” She lifted a hand to her cheek, gesturing at the spreading black blotches on his. “Infected?”
Zeno nodded. “I am. But the it doesn’t affect me the same way.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “There’s a prototype virus, derived from Progenitor, in my system. One that grants me superior abilities. It helps me fight off the t-Virus infection—or Raccoon City Syndrome, as they call it. Only in very rare cases does someone possess the genetic makeup to sustain the prototype virus.”
“Raccoon City Syndrome?” she asked. “S-So you were in Raccoon City during the outbreak?”
He chose not to answer her question. “Spencer, the founder of Umbrella, gave me superior genetic makeup. I’d like to think of it as a gift. He created me to serve a greater purpose.” His gaze settled on her. “As he did you.”
He turned fully toward her, keeping his voice gentle. “There is something different about you and me, something very special.”
He would dare say it was nice to finally meet someone like himself.
“I-I’m not following. Why me?”
“Because Spencer chose hand-picked you. It wasn’t a coincidence that you were assigned to this case. This entire operation was designed to bring you here without raising suspicion.” He tilted his head slightly. “Haven’t you always wondered what your mother kept hidden from you all these years?”
Grace’s expression shifted as she worked through his words. She was an intelligent, observant girl. And that was exactly why Zeno saw no point in lying to her. She would figure it out immediately. His plan was to tell her the whole truth. His truth.
“There is a sentient biological breakthrough, locked behind an encrypted system. And I believe you can help us access it.” His voice lowered, persuasive. “With it, we could make this world better. Have the power to control it.” A faint smile touched his lips. “And you… you could join me. We’d change this world together.”
Grace looked up at him warily, as if he were unhinged.
Zeno suppressed a sigh and turned to the old, rusty desk, booting up the computer. Perhaps he had let it slip—that spark in his eyes, the one that flickered at the thought of freedom and control.
“This isn’t just some power-hungry scheme,” he said flatly. “Spencer wanted was a world where history didn’t repeat itself. War and pestilence wherever you go… Every day, humans come one step closer to self-destruction.”
“But by releasing a weapon, w-wouldn’t that contribute to destruction—”
“I’m not destroying the world, I’m saving it!”
Grace winced.
He exhaled slowly, reining his voice back under control. Zeno’s sunglasses weren’t fully opaque. They never truly hid his eyes, never concealed the sincerity behind them. She ought to see how genuine his words were, because he wasn’t afraid to let people see it. Unlike…
“Spencer created the both of us for a specific purpose."
She looked unconvinced.
If he wanted Grace to believe him, he would need more than words. He would need proof.
When the computer booted up, Zeno began browsing through the folders, pulling up official documents to support his claims. “Covert military units from every country on Earth come to Raccoon City for one purpose.” He tapped a few more keystrokes, pulling up classified reports. “To find Elpis.”
Grace looked at the screen, then back at him. “Wh-What is Elpis?”
“The power to upset the military balance of the world. The last virus created by Spencer. Designed to control human consciousness.”
“Mind control?”
Zeno pressed another key, loading an image of Raccoon City engulfed in flames and billowing smoke, dated 10-01-1998. “They couldn’t let it be stolen, so they launched the missile strike to hide it.”
To go to such lengths to conceal a weapon… Zeno could almost taste the extent of its power, and he was starving for it.
He stared at the picture. His memories of that time had blurred over the years, though they had never truly faded. It was a time his life was not his own. He still saw it, saw him, in his nightmares.
Something tightened in his chest. It didn’t matter, things were different now.
“To hide a virus…” Grace said. “Why do something so extreme?”
“Extreme? Is it?” The corner of his lip twisted. “When the president tried to investigate, they had him assassinated. And you are the key to retrieving Elpis.”
He opened a file containing a series of mugshot-like images of a little girl, dated 10-01-2020. Exactly twenty-two years later. Twenty-two years of trial and error.
Grace gasped, leaning against the desk to get a closer look. “Emily?”
“In a way, but not the girl you met.” He pressed a key, sliding to another nearly identical image; this one dated 2016.
She stared, the screen’s flickering light reflecting across her stunned expression as her breathing grew uneven. Slowly, she reached forward, tapping the arrow key herself, flipping through the images. All the same girl. All different dates. 2013, 2010, 2007, 2005…
“So many attempts,” Zeno said, glancing at the screen as she scrolled. “So many failures.” They’d invested too many years and millions of dollars, all down the drain. “Such a waste,” he grumbled.
A voice echoed in his mind. You are wasted potential.
Zeno turned away. He pulled a cigarette from his coat pocket, flicking open his lighter with his thumb.
“Wh-What do you mean?” Grace’s voice tightened with panic.
He took a drag, exhaling slowly as the nicotine settled into his system, dulling the edge of his anxious thoughts. Though next to Grace’s wide eyes, furrowed brows, and unsteady voice, he appeared unnervingly calm.
He looked at her, the cigarette burning between his gloved fingers. “Copies, crafted to duplicate you. All useless,” he said through his teeth. “All scrapped.”
She turned back to the screen, narrowing her brows as if she couldn’t recognize the girl staring back at her. He remembered a similar feeling. Seeing a childhood photo of himself and grimacing. She scrolled back further, until she reached the earliest entry—1990. Zeno stepped forward and pressed a key. A grainy surveillance clip flickered onto the screen: a little girl sleeping in a narrow orphanage bed. She was dead now. Like all the others deemed worthless. “They each have their own sad story.”
Grace unpaused the video feed and watched as a frightened little girl wandered alone into an ARK office, played a projector recording, and discovered the truth—that she was a clone. Moments later, two men in lab coats stormed in, sedated her brutally, and dragged her back to her cage.
It was nothing Zeno hadn’t seen before. Nothing he hadn’t lived before.
He studied Grace’s expression. Her fingers trembled, disbelief written plainly across her face. Good. She was beginning to understand the weight of it all, and how she could end it, if she helped them acquire Elpis. She had formed a bond with her younger self back at the care center. That would surely drive her to attempt to redeem herself after failing to save young Emily’s life.
“They weren’t able to recreate Spencer’s key,” Zeno said. “But now we have the original. We have you.”
She turned to him, her gray eyes clouded with horror.
He kept his voice soft and measured. “You can unlock Elpis at ARK. That’s where we’ll go.”
Her brows knit together as she leaned against the table for support, as if her thoughts alone were enough to make her dizzy. “So wh-what? I-I…” She inhaled a shaky breath. “I-I was… made?”
Zeno’s lips curled in satisfaction. “Correct.”
Her breathing grew louder. She stepped back from the table, glancing around as if the walls were closing in. “S-So it really was all my fault?”
His smile faded. “What was?”
Grace bent forward, struggling to catch her breath, her stutter worsening. “Th-That Mom was m-murdered, and… Oh God, Emily, sh-she turned into that… that thing.”
Zeno’s jaw tightened. She was losing sight of the bigger picture, and he was losing patience. “What’s done is done,” he said firmly. “You need to focus on the future.”
But she didn’t seem to hear him. “Was she even really my mother?” she gasped, pressing a hand to her chest.
Zeno stepped back into her line of sight, trying to anchor her attention. “It’s time to embrace your destiny.”
She gasped sharply, her body swaying.
Zeno hesitated. He didn’t know how to handle this. He waited for her to steady herself.
“Grace!” A voice cut through the room.
At the doorway stood Leon Kennedy, gun already raised.
Great. Of course Victor had failed his task, as usual.
Zeno felt no surprise at his incompetence, only mild irritation. If anything, perhaps the creep was finally dead, and for once, the DSO agent had done him a favor.
But the last thing he needed right now was a distraction. Fortunately, he had anticipated this and prepared a backup plan.
Grace turned toward Leon, her expression dazed. “Mom…” She reached out weakly, took a single step, and collapsed.
Leon barely spared her a glance before snapping his aim toward Zeno and firing.
Zeno dodged the bullet effortlessly. Leon shot again, and again. Zeno shifted aside lazily, the bullets slamming into the wall behind him.
The confusion on Leon’s face was unmistakable. “What the…?”
“Mr. Kennedy,” Zeno said, not bothering to mask his sneer as he stepped forward. “I had a feeling you’d make an appearance. Sorry, but I don’t have time to spare.”
The ceiling exploded inward. The Tyrant crashed through, sending chunks of rubble skittering across the floor.
Zeno didn’t flinch, unlike Leon, who raised an arm to shield his face as dust filled the air. As it settled, Zeno crouched and lifted Grace’s unconscious body with ease. Her head lolled back limply, her expression strangely peaceful. For a moment, he wished he didn’t have to put her through this.
Leon coughed, regaining his footing as he turned toward the Tyrant. It looked up at him slowly, and Leon seemed to recognize it immediately, a mix of hatred and surprise flashing in his eyes.
“Have fun,” Zeno said coldly. He turned on his heel and carried Grace out, leaving the Tyrant to deal with the DSO mutt. The man was middle-aged and infected, it shouldn’t take long to put him out of commission.