"Listen… I've got some pretty sensitive information. If you don't mind, we could find a quieter place to talk," I said calmly, without making a single sudden move, while the older Leon kept his weapon trained on me, his fingers tense on the trigger.
His gaze was hard, wary—almost hostile. You could see the internal struggle, torn between instinct and that flood of memories that didn't entirely belong to him.
"I don't trust you," he finally said, his voice tight, almost hoarse. "The memories I received… they show me you're a damn monster. Someone who took control of the entire world." He clenched his jaw, clearly frustrated. "And yet… it's not my world. Because I don't know you."
I let out a quiet sigh, more weary than annoyed. Beside me, my Leon reacted immediately, shoulders tensing, ready to step in, while Grace shrank back a little farther, clearly overwhelmed. She almost tried to blend into the background, her eyes darting nervously from one of us to the other.
"Gérald isn't a monster," my Leon cut in firmly, taking a step forward. "Yeah, he changed a lot of things. Yeah, he modified us. But we chose it. We didn't turn into mindless beasts hungry for blood." He locked eyes with his older counterpart. "You say he controlled the world? That's true. But because of him, there are no more wars. No more diseases. What he did… he saved humanity."
A heavy silence settled.
Then a mocking smirk curled the older Leon's lips.
I immediately placed a hand on my Leon's shoulder and pulled him back slightly.
"You just did the exact opposite of what you wanted," I murmured to him. "Now he's even more convinced I'm another Saddler."
He grimaced, flushing faintly, then stepped back with a breath, aware of his mistake.
I turned my attention back to the older Leon, meeting his gaze without aggression.
"I won't make a move against you. All I'm asking… is that you don't try to shoot me on sight. That's it."
He stayed silent, weighing my words, his eyes tracking every one of my movements. The tension was palpable—almost suffocating.
Then, without warning, his gaze snapped upward over my shoulder.
His weapon shifted.
"Move!"
I reacted instantly, grabbing Grace by the arm and pulling her toward me just as a massive arm burst from the shadows behind her. The grotesque limb brushed the spot where she had stood a second earlier before retracting into the corridor with a wet, unsettling sound.
"Damn… it doesn't give up," my Leon muttered, taking a defensive stance.
The older Leon didn't waste a second. He rushed toward the opening the creature had attacked from, disappearing into the darkness with cold determination. A moment later, several gunshots echoed—sharp, powerful—followed by a low, heavy growl.
Then, suddenly, a mechanism triggered.
A massive wall slid into place with a thunderous crash, completely sealing off the corridor.
I swore under my breath and rushed toward the opening, tearing off a piece of twisted metal from the broken gate we had forced earlier, trying to jam the mechanism. I wedged it into the gap just as the wall finished closing.
The metal screeched.
Held for a fraction of a second.
Then gave way.
The passage sealed completely, leaving only a tiny opening near the top—barely enough to let a draft pass through.
I stood still for a few seconds, staring at the sealed wall, before letting out a tired sigh.
"I can't wait to get my strength back…"
A small sound drew my attention.
I turned my head.
Grace had let out a soft squeak when our eyes met. She immediately stiffened, clearly uncomfortable.
I raised my hands slightly in a calming gesture.
"Relax, kid. I'm not going to hurt you."
She hesitated, then gave a small nod, still tense.
I continued, more serious:
"But with the whole facility locked down… getting you out of here is going to be complicated."
I paused, thinking out loud.
"And if your blood really is the key for those lunatics… or for reaching Elpis… then I can't even risk enhancing you genetically. It could alter the key—and I need to reach that place too."
She exhaled slowly, visibly relieved not to be treated like a test subject.
My gaze then dropped to the floor, where a piece of metal from the gate lay. A long, rigid rod, slightly sharpened by the deformation. Not perfect… but usable.
I picked it up, tested it briefly in my hand, judging its weight and balance.
Then I turned to my Leon.
"What do you think? Will it do… for now?"
I handed him the piece like an improvised spear, waiting for something better.
"It'll do," Leon said, testing the weight of the metal rod, spinning it between his fingers with natural ease. The metal whistled faintly through the air with each movement—proof he had already mastered the balance of this makeshift weapon. "At least until you make a few more friends," he added with a slight smirk, regaining a hint of lightness despite the situation.
I let out an amused breath, then motioned for us to move. We went back down the stairs together, our footsteps echoing in the empty stairwell. The atmosphere had changed.
Behind us, Grace followed a few steps back, clearly hesitant. Her gaze shifted from me to Leon, still affected by what she had heard earlier. She said nothing… but the distrust was there, palpable. She had no reason to trust us. Not yet.
We reached the ground floor and headed toward a door marked "Staff." I pushed it open carefully, ready to react to the slightest suspicious movement.
The room beyond was in stark contrast with the rest of the building.
A small lounge… almost cozy.
An old fabric couch, slightly worn with age, sat in the center of the room, facing a dark wooden coffee table covered in scattered files and papers. Some were open, others crumpled, as if someone had left in a hurry. A hanging lamp cast a soft yellow light, swaying slightly, projecting shifting shadows across the walls.
To the right, a solid wooden fireplace—old but elegant—gave the place a false sense of safety. Above it, a shelf held a few books and forgotten objects, covered in a thin layer of dust. A whiteboard hung on the wall, still bearing half-erased notes—probably staff schedules.
"…Yeah," I muttered, scanning the room. "When a place like this looks this clean… it's never a good sign."
But it wasn't the lounge that truly caught my attention.
It was the second door.
Right in front of us.
It was slightly ajar, and a red light seeped through it—pulsing, almost alive. It bathed the threshold in an unsettling glow, turning the wood into a dark, threatening silhouette. It felt like a silent alarm… or worse, an invitation.
Leon stopped beside me, his gaze fixed on the light."Looks like we found the next part of the program," he said quietly, tightening his grip on his improvised spear.
Behind us, Grace hesitated for a moment before approaching the coffee table. Her fingers trembled slightly as she flipped through an abandoned magazine among the scattered papers. She suddenly froze, her eyes widening as she stared at a specific page.
"That's him…" she whispered, her voice pale as she held out the magazine to us. "That's the man who captured me."
I glanced at the photo. A calm, almost ordinary face—but with that cold, calculating gaze. A name was printed below: Victor Gideon.
"At least now we know what he looks like," I said, closing the magazine slowly.
Leon simply nodded, his expression dark. "I saw him… but only briefly. In the memories. Not enough to recognize him clearly without this."
A silence settled before Grace's voice broke it.
"Can I… wait here?" she asked timidly, almost holding herself back.
I studied her for a second, quickly assessing the situation.
"We check the other room together. If it's clear, you stay here and barricade the door. But keep in mind—you've got nothing to defend yourself with."
She swallowed, then nodded. "Okay…"
Leon moved first, his improvised spear slightly forward. I followed closely, my senses on high alert, while Grace remained behind us, closer to the exit than the danger.
We approached the door where the red light was coming from. Leon grabbed the handle… then pulled it open sharply.
Darkness swallowed us instantly.
Without hesitation, Leon reached for the switch and turned on the light.
The neon flickered, then burst on.
The scene before us was chilling.
A man lay on the floor, sprawled in a pool of dark blood.
But that wasn't the most disturbing part.
In front of us, separated by a thick glass wall, was an observation cell.
Inside, a little girl sat on a metal bed, her bare feet dangling in the air. Her white hair fell in messy strands around her pale face. She wore a simple oversized dress, slightly wrinkled, almost clinical. A single overhead lamp cast a cold, harsh light, emphasizing the sterile and oppressive nature of the raw concrete walls.
She held a small object in her hands… maybe a book or a notebook, which she traced lightly with her fingertips, as if she were "reading" it in another way.
Her eyes… didn't react to the light.
Empty.Still.Blind.
"Oh my God…" Grace whispered, rushing toward the cell door, instantly forgetting all caution. "Can you hear me? Are you okay?"
I let her handle it.
Meanwhile, I moved quietly toward the body on the ground. My gaze settled on his chest. There was still a heartbeat—faint, but present.
Without hesitation, I conjured a modified Plagas embryo in my palm and drove it straight into the gaping wound in his neck.
The body reacted immediately.
"Leon. Help me hold him down."
Without questioning, he dropped his spear and grabbed the man's shoulders just as the body began to convulse violently. His muscles tightened under our hands, his fingers clawing at the floor.
The transformation was fast. The gaping wound in his neck closed before our eyes, the flesh reforming as if pulled inward. His skin hardened slightly, taking on a grayish tone, as though an additional layer had formed over the epidermis.
A simple nod was enough. Through my Plagas Queen's link, information flooded into my mind with surgical precision—without a word exchanged. Name, function, recent memories, physical state, new capabilities… everything aligned instantly.
Jeff Gray. Head of the West Wing, with access to the facility's sensitive areas. Just an employee at first, turned witness… then victim.
The little girl in the cell was named Emily. An experiment. Like the other one… Marie.
I made the connection immediately.
Marie.The creature.The one that had nearly torn Grace apart just minutes earlier.
Jeff had been attacked shortly after. His throat slit cleanly by another survivor turned predator—the facility's head chef, now transformed. But not like the infected I had encountered before. This one had thought. Waited. Attacked… then cut the power before leaving with a piece of Jeff's throat.
I let out a quiet breath, almost amused.I love this memory transfer… it's instant.
My gaze returned to Grace, still pressed against the glass, trying to make contact with Emily.
"Are you alone here? Can you tell me your name?" she asked gently, as if afraid of breaking something fragile.
The little girl slightly raised her head. Her white, clouded eyes turned toward us without truly seeing. Her fingers tightened slightly on the fabric of the bed, as if she sensed our presence in another way.
I made a small gesture with my hand.
Jeff stepped forward."Her name is Emily," he said in a calm voice, almost mechanical, but perfectly controlled. "She is part of Victor Gideon's experiments… meant to clone you, Miss Ashcroft."
Grace flinched violently, stepping back, her eyes darting from Jeff to me."What…?"
I raised a hand slightly in reassurance."No need to worry. He was about to die, so I transformed him." I paused, looking her straight in the eyes. "And for your information… once Victor found you, he decided he no longer needed this facility. He sabotaged it."
A heavy silence fell over the room.
Behind the glass, Emily remained motionless.
"Jeff. Open the cell."
He examined the structure briefly, then shook his head."Impossible to break the door directly. Tempered glass, high resistance. Designed to contain this type of subject."
He then turned slightly… toward the wall."But I can do this."
Without warning, he raised his fist and struck.
The concrete gave way with a sharp crack.A fracture appeared.Then another.
Each blow was precise, controlled—but with abnormal strength. The wall crumbled under his strikes as if it were made of plaster.
Grace stepped back abruptly, shocked by the scene, her hands instinctively rising in front of her."What the—"
I smiled faintly, never taking my eyes off Jeff."I told you I could enhance people."
Beside me, Leon let out a quiet sigh, running a hand over his face.
Grace, however… wasn't looking at the wall anymore.She was looking at Jeff, then at me. And despite the fear still in her eyes, I could see something else there too. Desire.
Jeff didn't waste any time. Under his repeated blows, the wall quickly gave way, concrete shattering into pieces with a dull crash that echoed throughout the room.
Inside the cell, Emily reacted immediately to the noise. She flinched, covered her ears, and curled up slightly on the bed, beginning to hum softly with a trembling voice, as if trying to shield herself from the outside world.
Within seconds, an opening large enough was created. Deprived of its supports, the reinforced glass door tilted heavily to the side with a metallic crash, finally granting access to the cell.
I stepped inside cautiously, my movements slow, my intentions clearly non-threatening. The little girl was still curled up, her fingers pressed against her temples, her murmurs barely audible.
I knelt slightly to bring myself to her level."Hello… my name is Gérald King," I said in a calm voice. "Would you like to get out of here, Emily?"
I gently extended my hand.
A moment passed.
Then two small hands reached out and took mine.
They were cold. Fragile… yet surprisingly firm.
She slowly traced her way up along my arm, her fingers moving with care as if she were "seeing" through touch. When she reached my face, she paused, brushing over my features, taking the time to "read" me.
Then… she smiled.
A real smile.
"You seem like a kind person, Mr. King…"
An almost unreal silence settled in.
I gently ran a hand through her hair, a simple, almost instinctive gesture… but probably something unfamiliar to her for years. Her body relaxed slightly under the contact, as if rediscovering something long forgotten.
That was the exact moment the System reacted.
Detection of a defective but cooperative test subject with the host. Do you wish to correct her mutation to obtain her model?
I didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
The answer was purely mental.
Emily gave a slight jolt, a barely visible tremor running through her body. Nothing violent. Nothing frightening. Just… a correction.
A harmonization.
Her features began to change subtly, as if something within her was realigning. Her eyes, once clouded, gradually regained clarity. The milky whiteness faded, revealing a living, expressive gaze.
Then the rest followed.
Her hair shifted in tone, her features refined, reshaped…
And within seconds, she now looked exactly like a younger version of Grace.
Same eyes.Same facial structure.Same softness… but different.
Because beneath that familiar appearance, I felt something else.
An immense strength, compressed, still uncontrolled… where the original remained simply human.
Emily blinked, as if she were discovering the world for the very first time. Her pupils, now clear and alive, moved slowly and uncertainly, catching light, shapes, faces. She breathed softly, as if even the air had a new texture. Then she tightened her grip on my hand, as if anchoring herself to something real.
And for the first time…
She truly looked at me.
The System activated immediately, projecting the information directly into my mind with its usual cold precision:
Ashcroft Mutation acquired. Enhanced variant of the T-virus combined with a NEST-type parasite. Inferior to the first Nemesis version, but superior to the T-101 Tyrant model.
A slight smile spread across my lips.
"Welcome to the light, Emily."
I had barely finished speaking when she threw herself into my arms, hugging me with disarming spontaneity. Her small body trembled slightly—but not from fear. From emotion. From relief. As if she had finally escaped an endless nightmare.
Behind me, Grace brought a hand to her mouth, her eyes shining, overwhelmed by the scene. Leon, meanwhile, watched in silence for a moment before muttering under his breath:
"Lisa's gonna kick your ass if you keep bringing her little sisters…"
I turned my head slightly, a smirk forming."I heard that, Leon. If you want, I can mention it to Claire… she might like adopting."
He instantly went pale."…I'll pass."
I let out a soft laugh before adjusting Emily in my arms. She was still clinging to me, her fingers gripping my clothes as if she refused to let go. I took a few steps out of the cell, then turned toward Grace.
"Here."
I gently handed the little girl to her.
Emily hesitated for a fraction of a second… then, as if drawn by instinct, nestled against Grace without resistance. The connection between them was obvious. Not just physical.
Something deeper.
Emily buried her face against her, while Grace ran a trembling hand along her back, stroking her slowly—both to reassure her… and to reassure herself.
The contrast was almost unreal.
Just minutes ago, she had been running for her life.
Now… she was holding a younger version of herself in her arms.
I let the moment settle for a second before speaking again, more serious:
"I'm leaving Jeff with you. He'll act as security while we explore the complex. We'll try to find a way out… or at least figure out what's going on here."
Grace nodded without protest, too focused on Emily to argue. Jeff, standing behind her, remained perfectly alert, his gaze already scanning the surroundings with renewed vigilance.
I grabbed the heavy tempered glass door that had fallen to the ground. Even in my current state, the effort drew a slight grimace, but I managed to drag it toward the room's entrance.
"Jeff, block this."
He nodded immediately and pushed a massive cabinet against the opening while I wedged the glass panel in place, creating an improvised but solid barricade.
Before leaving, I extended my hand."Your access card."
Jeff handed it over without hesitation.
Perfect.
I cast one last glance at Grace and Emily. The latter already seemed calmer, soothed by the presence of her "original."
Then I turned to Leon."Come on. We've still got work to do."
He nodded, tightening his grip on his improvised spear.
(Author's note: And that's it for this week. I went through the lore and the wiki for my info, but it's still a fanfic, so it's normal if some details differ.)