"I see. So you still didn't find a cure?" she asked anxiously.
Well now—that really was concern in her voice. Was she actually worried? If so, I was flattered.
"I found a stabilizer, but the changes had already gone too far. So now I'm looking for T-Veronica. That's what brought me here—there's information on this compound that I need. It should be able to humanize me again."
In certain situations, honesty really is the best policy. And if I wanted her support in the future, it was better to show at least part of my hand now. I really was here for those reasons, even if they weren't my only ones. I wanted power, growth, and my own slice of the pie no less than anything else—but Claire didn't need to know that, and suspicions alone don't prove anything.
Besides, answering that way let me sidestep the question of how I'd gotten here. I was looking for information—simple and true.
"Is it really that bad?" she asked again, and there was that concern in her voice once more. Even more pleasant this time. Could it be that in this world I'd finally found someone who could worry about me simply and sincerely—not because their own well-being was tied to mine, like the Four Eyes, Ada, or now the two newcomers?
A little disappointing that the concern was directed toward the image Claire had built of me in her head—but it was still too early for her to meet the real me.
"See for yourself."
I ordered the hood to retract and stepped right up to the bars, making Miss Redfield flinch back.
"Well, you're a sight," Claire said, stifling a scream.
Can't say I blamed her. When something like that suddenly emerges from an unlit corner, and far too fast for any normal person, ending up right against the bars you've just walked up to, even a seasoned soldier might get badly spooked. And Claire, while she'd certainly run into monsters before, was dealing with a somewhat different situation here.
Besides, it's not as though she'd been entirely calm the other times, either. Most importantly, though—she didn't scream! Even answered in a perfectly normal voice, if one that trembled slightly.
"What can I say? It is what it is. At least now I don't need to explain why I want that compound. With a face like mine, I should be starring in horror movies… and I wouldn't even need makeup."
I spread my hands, then walked over to the barred door and simply unlocked it with the key. I could've broken it, sure, but why bother when I already had the keys? Let my future companion wonder whether I'd have had the strength to tear the bars apart or not. No need to show all my cards just yet.
"Look around and take whatever you need. I only just got here, and in my current form I don't have much need for anything."
I tossed that over my shoulder as I moved back toward the entrance and took up position as lookout.
At the same time, I gave the radio a quick beep to signal that everything was going according to plan and the target was on site.
"Just a knife and a couple of documents. Mostly they're about the prisoners kept here. Meaning me," Claire snorted, putting the papers back.
Well, sure. What else would you expect to find in a prison—a blueprint for world domination?
"Then let's go." I shrugged and stepped out of the room, making the door creak again. Bastards. Someone really ought to oil these hinges.
"So, that was you?" Claire asked, glancing at the corpse.
"Yes. He was in the way. Though to be fair, he was already wounded before I got here. I don't know what's going on here, but there's one hell of a commotion outside, so we should hurry before we're discovered—or someone beats us to it."
"We?" the girl glanced at me.
"Safer with two." I shrugged as if to say, you can decide for yourself—I'll be safe either way. Well, yeah. I'd survived a nuclear blast. What exactly was I supposed to be afraid of now?
"Can't argue with that," she said with a faint snort, nodding to some thought of her own. That was about the reaction I'd expected from someone who had survived Raccoon City. She'd quickly weighed the pros and cons.
"And what about hunger and all that?" she asked.
Also a perfectly expected question. I was, after all, a goddamn monster.
"Blood. And not much of it—once every couple of days. But I wouldn't recommend getting injured near me. No, no, I have control over myself," I said, waving my hands at Claire's wary look. "The issue is that after everything I've gone through, I developed a strange quirk. Within a couple dozen meters, I attract blood. And I still haven't figured out how to control that."
I'd just revealed one of my abilities. A pity, of course, to reveal such a card, but it's truly unpredictable—and this way, if Claire gets hurt somewhere, she'll be able to quickly orient herself in case I don't notice her wound.
"All right. Then all I have to do is make sure that doesn't happen, and everything will be fine," the girl said, clearly showing a bit of bravado, trying to reassure either me or herself. Heh. Thanks for understanding. You really are an amazing person, Claire. Same as Leon.
But then that accusatory look appeared on her face a couple of moments later as she examined her dead guard, and I had no idea what it was about.
What was wrong?
I lowered my gaze to the place where Claire's hand rested, after she'd been searching the guard for anything useful—which was entirely fair, since I'd only looked for the keys.
And yes, I was guilty.
In the dead African American's hand was a pistol, its barrel literally crushed flat.
So that was what I'd slammed my head into at full speed.
Didn't do much to me. Pain sensations had returned, yes, but only barely, and my skin had properties comparable to some kinds of armor. But the barrel? The barrel had been compressed like soft metal.
(End of Chapter)
P@treon: /SadRaven
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