On the runway, Claire and I parted ways, each heading toward our own individual missions, which, I hoped, would weave into something grand.
Clearing the runway of the weakened H.C.F. mercenaries, monsters, and two Tyrants alone would not be easy. If Claire fails to prepare the plane, I'll have to come up with an interesting punishment for her.
— Well then, it's time to weed out the weak, — I whispered, removing my glasses and looking around.
An approximate plan for destroying the opponents was forming in my head. The virus's power is not limitless; I won't be able to maintain the acceleration for long, so I cannot afford to make mistakes. I must concentrate all efforts on a series of powerful blows.
Putting on my glasses, I lightning-fast crossed the distance to the first group of mercenaries and, with a high-speed swing of the katana, mercilessly sliced them into pieces. Without losing speed, I instantly headed toward the next group of enemies. The work was monotonous and tiring, lacking the usual excitement due to the time constraint.
Three seconds after activating the virus's power, I felt a weakness, but it was too early to rest. There are an incredible number of enemies on the runway, like mobs in a game, waiting to be destroyed.
When I approached the Bandersnatch, the weakness resonated with a ringing in my muscles. If I continue like this, I will disable myself before the enemies. No one would like that outcome, so gathering all my strength in my hands, I cut off the opponent's arm and head with two slices. The titanium alloy blade passed through the defective Tyrant like a knife through butter. Through something sticky. The Bandersnatch resembled a monster composed entirely of raw rot.
After five more jumps, I almost lost consciousness.
— Rrrrr! — roared the last Tyrant with an exposed body.
— Wait a minute, — I politely asked, sheathing the katana and taking out a meat ration.
But the Tyrant, unfortunately, moved toward me. I was unlucky to deal with all the enemies, stopping just twenty meters from the most dangerous target.
— Tasty, but sad, — I sighed, hastily eating the meat and regaining my strength.
Having expended energy on the instantaneous destruction of opponents for a safe evacuation, I faced a crisis that was approaching with aggressive intentions. Indeed, a two-meter tall, exposed giant was trying to approach me — the one who was healing with raw meat and restoring virus energy during the fight.
What could go wrong? Rather, what is going right…
Ducking, I dodged a clawed paw aimed at my neck.
Making a dash and a sharp rebound, I struck the creature's temple, forcing it to recoil. Mirroring the opponent's retreat, I managed to reduce the distance even more, returning our relationship to a close-range format. In my weakened state, I didn't want to fight the monster.
The first ration is eaten, now the second.
In fact, I can be considered a lucky guy: I found the limit of my endurance, after which my combat potential drops. It's better to discover a weakness against one naked Tyrant than against a group of armed mercenaries. Perhaps the mercenaries haven't thought of using bullets laced with the virus vaccine — an effective remedy against people like me. But the use of the vaccine in the fight against the infected is probably a matter of time. As long as I am faster than a bullet, everything is fine, but this cannot last forever because of my current endurance. I need to become stronger.
After an exchange of minor blows with the opponent and another rebound, it became clear that it was time to get serious. My gaze, sharp as a blade, was directed at the creature, which was noticeably weaker than Nemesis. It caught me at a bad moment. For that, it was going to die.
Instantly, like a bolt of lightning, I made a super-speed lunge. My katana, glittering and leaving residual images in the air, pierced the Tyrant's left leg in a fraction of a second. It hadn't even had time to realize what happened when it started to fall. But it didn't get the chance. The next swing instantly detached its head from the body, sending it rolling across the runway.
At that moment, the hangar doors opened, and a cargo plane drove out, turning toward me. Using the acceleration again was inefficient, so I increased my speed to the necessary minimum.
As expected, the plane's rear hatch was open, allowing me to jump into the cargo area. From here to the cockpit is a short distance, an arm's length, or a couple of corridors and compartments, depending on how you look at it.
— Excellent work! — I praised Claire, who had the foresight to open the hatch.
— Um, well, yes… — she nodded, pretending not to understand what she was being thanked for.
— You can close the hatch, — I suggested.
— Which hatch?
Something clicked in my head, and I walked over to the dashboard, intuitively correcting the flaws. Well, everyone has those moments; what else to expect from a girl who looks like a college student?
It's better to remain positive. There are enough negative thoughts as it is, including dwelling on the unclosed cargo bays of the plane. I got here by pure chance…
Oh, here is the autopilot program.
If you search among the basic routes, one of them leads to the research base in Antarctica. The flight will take some time, about half a day.
— I have a question, — Claire addressed me, and I nodded in response. — Did my brother say anything about me?
Why be interested in someone else when I am right here? Does she have a brother complex? The Redfield family is suspicious… Wait, if I think about it… Unlike me, Chris was never in a relationship. If I preferred one-time relationships without obligations and contraceptives, which carries the risk of encountering illegitimate offspring, Chris always hid in a corner at parties, away from female attention.
It can't be! Does he really have a little sister complex? My opinion of him has fallen even lower. My best fighter turned out to be one of these… sister lovers, even though he seemed like a normal guy when we worked together.
But if I recall my debaucherous days… The mote in someone else's eye, and in your own — a sawdust production factory. So, I'm hiding not only from Umbrella but also from alimony?! Okay, be that as it may, I need to check my past relationships for any unpleasant surprises. Discovering children — that's something else.
In the meantime, I will maintain the best disguise in the world.
— Didn't I tell you? — I joined the conversation, leaning against the only wall without buttons and switches, and Claire soon joined me.
— Your brother respected your personal space. He only spoke in general terms, but always in a positive context. Many guys from the S.T.A.R.S. team even asked for your phone number; that's how convincingly Chris praised you.
"Ho-ho," I thought viciously. "No one will refute my words, because the dead S.T.A.R.S. operatives will no longer speak."
— Really? Oh… But I think things are not that simple for us, — she lowered herself, hugging her knees to her chest. To be on the same wavelength, I squatted, extending one leg and resting my elbow on the other. — M-hmm, it's complicated…
"It's complicated," flashed through my mind. "That sounds familiar. My suspicions from the misunderstanding have only grown stronger, and the line between joke and reality has become thinner."
— Don't worry, your brother is a wonderful person. Of course, it's strange that you didn't exchange numbers to call each other… Considering Chris was not far from Raccoon City… But perhaps he keeps his distance so as not to put you in danger? A reasonable approach for him, — I suggested. — He doesn't know you well. Even though you attract trouble like a magnet, believe me, you are safe with me.
— Yes, — she sighed. — I can rely on you…
The first step of my absurd plan is complete. All that remains is to maintain the conversation and strengthen the trust. There are no problems with this; I am confident in myself.
Looking into Claire's eyes, I spoke calmly and measuredly, acting as an attentive listener and conversationalist. Asking questions, I kept all the details of the conversation in my memory, gradually finding common topics and points of convergence that were interesting to Claire. Humor and light compliments, without a trace of falsehood, helped me, as Chris was universal — I could speak on his behalf.
Flirting, diluted with simple jokes to lighten the mood, was built on this foundation. A smile, positivity, confidence, interest, and mystery in mundane things combined perfectly to establish contact. Combined with my appearance, I managed to significantly bond with Claire over three hours of conversation.
However, moving straight to intimacy won't be possible due to the lack of a suitable place.
Everything concluded with a relationship level up with Claire, who fell asleep on my shoulder. Perhaps after the operation, we will have a chance to take the relationship to an intimate level. But predicting how things will turn out at the Umbrella base in the Antarctic is difficult.
Alfred may have been a schizoid guy, but his gaze showed concern for his supposedly deceased sister. Definitely, Alexia is alive. Recruiting a scientist is a delicate matter, much more difficult than luring an inexperienced college student into bed.
Strength will be needed; it's time to get some good rest.
Closing my eyes, I slept through most of the flight, hoping that no problems would arise. The corporation's planes are equipped with the best equipment, including autopilot software, so no tricks were expected. This was reassuring, and the sleep was deep and comfortable.
Waking up, I faced an unpleasant situation. Claire, my companion on this journey, was sleeping on my chest, while I lay on my back, leaning against the cold metal. She, a representative of the not-so-useful Redfield family, could not be a pillow, and instead used me in this role. But if you think of her as a warm blanket, her significance undoubtedly increases. Without a doubt, the flight with her was more comfortable.
— Pretending to be asleep is not good, — I whispered, causing Claire to slightly pull away.
— I was ashamed to get up, — she quickly justified herself, getting to her feet.
I believed her, but internally smacked my forehead. It seems someone overdid the heartfelt conversations, not noticing that Claire was "ready" the night before. Curse it.
— Don't worry, I'm always happy to help, — I winked, remembering that I was wearing sunglasses. Nevertheless, I proudly straightened my shoulders and headed to the control cabin with the flight data. There were five minutes left until arrival, which meant it was time to gather our things.
Arriving at the base, we landed not far from the hangar.
— It's cold, — Claire shivered, stepping out of the plane.
I offered her my coat, barely restraining myself from saying that she should wear it with great honor and gratitude. Sometimes the habits of the past and growing arrogance reminded me of themselves.
— Thank you…
— The South Pole, — I shrugged, not feeling the extreme temperatures. — The base was built as a staging post for supplying equipment to Umbrella branches all over the world.
— Equipment?! — Claire asked loudly, trying to drown out the sound of the blizzard.
— Follow me, — I waved my hand, heading toward the main complex and explaining the details along the way. — Not only equipment was transported from a place with no control. Everything looked legal on paper, but in reality, a laboratory for the research of the progenitor was built here in 1969.
— And why research it? — she asked quieter when we entered the frozen room.
No security.
Listening closely, I heard the sound of wandering zombies behind the walls, which indicated the base was infected. Visibility was zero due to the blizzard, and we probably missed a few planes that arrived before us. H.C.F. could have split into two squads: one went to Rockfort, the other here. Or some of the fighters escaped the island, having become infected.
In any case, by the time we arrived, the Antarctic base had, fortunately, fallen.
Less hassle for us.
— Initially, unique flowers were discovered in Africa that grew only there and granted local chiefs strength, speed, and intelligence. In pursuit of eternal life or immortal wealth, the three founders of Umbrella tried to recreate the properties of these flowers. That's how the famous T-virus came about, — I recounted, omitting about eighty percent of the information. — But despite all the scientists' efforts to synthesize it, the results were far from ideal. Striving to hide thousands of test subjects' deaths, Umbrella built laboratories in the most unexpected corners of the world, including this place.
— That's terrible, — Claire grimaced. — The more I learn about these bastards, the more I dislike them. Um, is there a self-destruct system here?
— Yep, there is, — I adjusted my glasses. — Spencer wanted to hide all the secrets, so he installed red buttons everywhere. But getting to one of them won't be easy… The complex is infected with the T-virus.
— How did you know that? — Claire's eyes widened with realization. — Right! No one met us, and there's no security.
— You can hear the zombies growling behind the wall, — I gestured to my ears, hinting at my sharp hearing. — I suggest we split up: you check the left part of the complex, and I'll check the right. As soon as you find the self-destruct system, we'll meet in the central hall.
— Okay, take care of yourself, — the weakest team member wished me luck.
— Don't worry about me, take better care of yourself. But, if anything, I'll come to the rescue, — I stated confidently, demonstrating sincere concern for my comrade.
She bought it and headed to where the red button definitely wasn't.
I went in the direction where there was also nothing explosive. If Alexia Ashford were to be hidden, it would only be in the most inaccessible place — the laboratory on the lower floors. It's best to obtain the results of her Code Veronica project myself, without a witness. Even better, Alexia herself for the sake of great achievements.