Chapter 49 – Osmund Saddler
The opponent wasn't faint of heart—even my presence didn't greatly help Krauser overcome the monster inside Osmund Saddler. What was the reason? I stood aside like a true, incorruptible support group, and was the shining star, the sun, staying far away so as not to harm. Hope for all who fight… while I rest.
But due to the darkness engulfing the Spanish lands, the light within me wasn't enough. Alas, from such upheavals of fate, one could sink into the ground from shame; only steadfastness, an unshakeable spirit, and self-confidence left me with the strength to move further away from the epicenter of the battle. There is no reason to interfere if the enemy's strength surpasses that of mere punching bags. Sacrifice is needed, specifically, providing unpleasant opponents to someone else. For example, the brave soldier Jack Krauser, my blade and sword in this contest for the title of second only to Wesker.
Krauser, with his combat knife, was ready for the fight. His gaze was filled not only with hatred toward the sun, but also directed against the enemy.
Saddler, the owner of the Las Plagas parasite, radiated a threatening aura, as did his staff, the symbol of the Los Illuminados cult leader. The staff was useless in combat, but it added style points.
Krauser rushed into the fight, moving with astonishing agility and delivering a series of blows. His opponent used the parasite's abilities, which allowed him to dodge with the swiftness of a cobra. And our opponent was not only good at dodging; he unleashed long tentacles, sharp appendages from beneath his robe, intending to pierce my herald. But the herald did not allow his master to be disgraced, using his own parasite for the transformation of his arm into a stylish-looking blade.
The dangerous and majestic blade superbly sliced the tentacles, mincing them like calamari. He then thrust the point of the blade, an unmatched lunge aimed at piercing his opponent's heart and making him heartless. He did not succeed! Saddler avoided the attack, sending several appendages for a counterattack. But the brave mercenary leaped high, intending to land next to the evil cultist.
Unfortunately, things didn't quite go his way… The cultist's tentacles proved faster, and they also increased in size, taking my ally in their pincer-like grip and beginning to squeeze from both sides.
Krauser made one last attempt to save himself, looking at me with a pleading gaze for help. But I had already approached the chair with the unconscious Ashley, checked the indicators on the device, and confirmed the parasite was extracted. A second sample, as a replacement, was nearby in a special flask. I took it with me just in case—maybe it would be useful for selling to some good villain with certainly correct motives. The very one who would be willing to pay more than anyone else at a clandestine auction. After all, it is a known fact: only decent villains have a lot of money; bad ones have it seized by the tax service.
But I got distracted, turning toward the battle… With horror in my eyes, I saw a terrible sight: my dear partner met a bad fate. He was absorbed, and my heart sank because of it. I never managed to pay him the promised bonus... But since he's gone, I don't have to pay the bonus. Alas, it's a good thing I didn't set him up in this battle in any way, like some second-rate traitor. Just an unfortunate accident! And the elimination of the only witness who knew I was involved in the President's daughter's kidnapping. What a shame, what a shame.
— The traitor is finished, — Saddler roared, turning toward where I had been ten seconds ago. He began to look around in shock, until he found me, calmly walking out the door, and holding Ashley in my arms.
— They won't pay me for your murder, so farewell, old comrade, — I bid him a benevolent goodbye, and began to run away from the dangerous opponent. Well, he killed Krauser, and that guy looked promising. A shame… Just looked it. Krauser should have bought me more time to escape!
— Stop! You damned worm! — strange voices echoed through the gloomy castle, making me wonder about the involvement of ghosts. Ghost hunters are sorely lacking in our dark days, but I can summon another kind of support.
Throwing Ashley over my shoulder, I took out my phone and contacted the Black Watch. After clearing the island, they had relocated to the evacuation point, about one kilometer from the castle. I kindly reminded them that there was apparently an amazing target for wasting ammunition, which was free-rented from the US military. Hunk, my koreš, quickly grasped the amazing prospects of spending other people's money for the benefit of training our glorious squad.
To implement our plans faster, I increased my pace, as the displeased Saddler was catching up. Ashley severely limited my capabilities, not allowing me to run faster than a cheetah. This truth struck me: we were running away from Saddler like ordinary cheetahs, not ones mutated by the T-Virus. Annoying.
Also annoying: the evil cultist turned out to be a persistent little pest. He was smashing through the castle walls in an attempt to shorten the route to the President's daughter. And to me—due to some unclear personal vendetta. To somehow safeguard my cargo and honor from the cult leader's assault, I skillfully maneuvered through the corridors, not even touching the surviving cultists roaming the castle. They are, of course, nice and all, but it is better to jump over them, run across their heads, like Mario, and move into other sections.
— Wesker! You won't leave Spain alive! — Saddler screamed at the top of his lungs when I swiftly reached the central part of the castle. It was notable for an astonishing garden, with not-so-astonishing dogs infected with the parasite.
I don't like Spanish dogs. They are constantly latching onto me, especially the infected ones, which, besides the usual "bite," can tear off an entire leg. This absolutely could not be allowed, so I had to maneuver unpredictably, jump quickly, and even, once, jump onto the castle roof. From there, the connection was best for a second contact with the Black Watch.
I am not a big fan of using external forces, unless it is to anger my enemies, plunging them into a chasm of absolute despair. And what can anger cultists more than a few volleys from an RPG? It's a known fact: this weapon of mass destruction is effective against any infected creatures, and my subordinates had it in abundance. According to my instructions, GENTEK security should soon take up positions near the main gates, and all that would be left for me was to graciously lead a freight train to them. Hunk will organize everything in the best possible way, but he is not my only subordinate.
The second subordinate I contacted was Ada Wong. She was suffering from the parasite, which dissolved in her body along with my virus. It can no longer be extracted, but I must do everything in my power. At least inform the girl about the existence of a device for extracting the contamination, lead Saddler further away, and portray myself as a good guy. The fact that the parasite can no longer be extracted is possibly my fault… But no one knows about it, so everything is within the bounds of propriety. Another act of heroism is recorded in Wesker's public image, and my protégée, Ada Wong, will certainly appreciate my concern for her problem. After all, I did everything I could in her eyes. As any classy guy would do.
— Argh! — A suspicious growl was accompanied by a strike from a treacherous tentacle.
Saddler analyzed my route, shortened his own, and attacked like a rat to intercept. He literally broke through the roof from below, but only learned the bitterness of having his growth severed. I calmly transformed my palm into a dark blade, sliced off the undesirable element of obstruction with it, and continued my escape.
I hope the foolish cultist won't realize he's weaker than me and will continue the pursuit. Otherwise, I won't get to see his sad face at the end. And the end was already near; I only had another minute left of running around the castle.
To buy some time, I decided to contact a good acquaintance.
She, surprisingly, picked up the phone quickly!
— Wesker! It's been so long since you called… I was starting to worry, — my good acquaintance, the head of the TRICELL African branch, greeted me with an overly fanatical tone. Gifted with intellect and incomparable charm, she dedicated herself to genetic engineering and honestly found a job in the multinational conglomerate, better known as the Federation of Pharmaceutical Companies.
And even if the girl was related by blood to the founder of this federation, those are minor nuances. She certainly didn't get there through nepotism. That couldn't be the case. Ha-ha… The main thing is that she achieved everything herself. Except for a couple of trifles… I gave her samples of the T-Virus, G-Virus, and T-Veronica, thanks to which she strengthened her power and influence… made several discoveries in the field of bio-weapon development. Again, pure trifles and a series of accidents. Accidents are especially important. Take the former head of the African branch, for example. He definitely accidentally, and not by contract killing, tragically died, freeing up a spot for my close girlfriend.
— Excella, — I addressed her formally, slightly slowing my pace. — You must accept my liner and begin research on the Las Plagas parasite. You are also appointed responsible for accepting the weapon from Spain from my good acquaintance. The project's security must be top-tier.
— For work… — she whispered with a hint of despair in her voice, so great was Wesker's charm. — I'll do everything. But, when you arrive… Maybe we can talk alone? In a more informal, personal setting.
How dare this woman make suggestive remarks while I'm carrying the unconscious President's daughter, fleeing from the enraged Saddler? I like it! It further insults the already humiliated opponent.
— I still have business in Europe. Osmund Saddler is aware of the "Mold," which means there are other extractors of valuable resources. The race has begun, and I will be the first to seize the mine for their extraction, — I politely dismissed her request.
— But, and after…
— I'll think about it, — I chuckled, making a call again, this time directly to Alexia Ashford.
My favorite blonde picked up the phone and, instead of adoration, vented all the dissatisfaction that had accumulated during our time apart. Related to our work, not me personally, which was absolutely insulting. Thankfully, I found a worthy answer: I announced an extension of my vacation, a personal one this time, and therefore asked her to handle the processing of my political campaign for the post of senator. The appearance of new work on top of the old one infuriated her more than my forced delay in Europe. But what won't you do for subordinates. For example…
— I wish you luck, — I majestically threw out encouraging words.
— You bastard, I'll… — Alexia couldn't finish due to communication issues caused by the device's sudden disconnection. My finger twitched, so the connection was interrupted, one might say, completely accidentally. No time to listen to bad reviews about my persona when the enemy behind me has already turned into a strange hybrid of a giant spider and a man.
I drove the poor guy to reveal all his trump cards, to a monster form, merely by my existence. Or my ability to evade threats. He transformed into a monstrosity to move across the roof with huge legs, catching up to me and Ashley. It's so scary you could cry, whether you run or cry and run.
What I preferred will remain a secret to everyone, because I soon reached my destination. True, it required a careful descent so as not to break the girl's neck in my arms, because those pressure drops are so unpredictable… Just like Saddler, who jumped down with me, angry as hell, not even noticing the ambush.
— You have nowhere to run, — he snarled, finally losing the last vestiges of his humanity.
He was a man, he became a mosquito. I pity him…
To at least help somehow, to show my sincere kindness, I took a deep breath. I filled my lungs to the brim, and then gave the command to my defenders of justice:
— Open fire! — I uttered one of the two universal phrases.
I wanted to simply say "execute," to give more meaning to my words, but my subordinates might take the order literally. Bullets are useless against this behemoth of parasitic flesh. Four volleys from a man-portable anti-tank grenade launcher is a different matter. The poor guy absolutely didn't expect that his spider form, which had grown to gigantic proportions, would only become an easier target for shooting and missile guidance.
All four rockets successfully found their target, but as expected, the matter did not end with a simple explosion and the tearing off of forty percent of the mutated Saddler's flesh. The Black Watch dispersed in all directions, opening a relentless, cleansing fire of the Inquisition against heresy. Perhaps the Heresy of Horus, and perhaps not. Be that as it may, we had a worthy response against the creature.
Irony of fate: poor Saddler survived after being bombarded from all sides. More precisely, a small part of him survived, the remnants of the parasite, sustaining life in the body that had been torn to pieces. Surprisingly, only his head was almost undamaged, so I received the best reward in the world: a hateful gaze, full of such contempt, such frenzy…
This kind of reaction evoked tenderness in me, like from Alexia. It's fun to annoy her too. But she's a girl, and before me lay a piece of a grown man. The attitude must be appropriate, so I dramatically walked towards him, approached the head. And looked arrogantly at the vanquished enemy.
— A trap… Ha… I never doubted it, you traitor and… rot. Rot suits you perfectly, Wesker. You've rotted inside and out, become like… decomposition and… eternal entropy. A piece of… rot.
— Saddler, your eyes have rotted, — I sadly told the monster, who was trembling with indignation or pre-mortem convulsions. — Mine look at the world clearly, and see it in perfection, — I proudly continued, adjusting my sunglasses, worn in the dark night. — I have watched myself in the mirror day after day and can say with certainty who is the fairest of them all. And is there anything beautiful in rot? Nothing.
— Victors are not judged… — he gasped, as red streams flowed from his eyes. — Just as people crying in the rain are not judged… And tears under a bloody gleam. Wesker… I'll see you in hell, and then… I…
The sound of a gunshot interrupted the villain's touching speech. I immediately turned toward Lady Hunk, who was holding a pistol from which clouds of smoke were coming… Who dared to do this to my enemy?! To interrupt his farewell speech?! I will definitely find this scoundrel! Although, I don't really want to suspect the sister of the man walking towards me with a loaded RPG.
— Target eliminated. Further orders? — Hunk asked dryly, clearly expecting a salary increase.
— We're heading to the field camp. And someone grab our moles, Ada Wong and Luis. They are somewhere in the castle, — I sighed, glancing sideways at the still unconscious blonde. Well, time to collect debts for the rescue!
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Chapter 50 – Amber
The world is full of bad news, but not devoid of good news either! Take, for example, the extracted "Amber" and Saddler's corpse, captured by my brave representatives of the Black Watch. Both samples contain the dominant species parasite, which differs from the usual version by a number of unique capabilities.
The dominant Las Plagas cause more powerful mutations, enhancing their hosts and endowing them with the ability to command other species through telepathic waves. Furthermore, parasites of this type do not affect the host's cognitive abilities and do not try to subjugate them to their will. They grant the ability to modify the body in accordance with the owner's desires, their conception of beauty or depravity—whatever one prefers.
True, there is a small problem: the powers provided by the dominant species parasite come at a price. The parasite corrupts the host's mind, amplifying some of their emotions to the point of obsession. Take Saddler, for example—he was already lost in the pursuit of world domination with his foolish plans, since the parasite was his only strength.
But the cultist is vastly different from the magnificence of Wesker, who possesses the Progenitor-T, T-Veronica, G-Virus, and a couple of minor modifications. If all significant elements are combined, the result is T-Wesker—not only does it sound proud, but it also allows one to become stronger. There is no limit to perfection, just as there is no limit to the power that contributes to reaching the peak. Even now, I am halfway up the career ladder to the title of the new deity of this world, who is not afraid of anti-tank guns or other unpleasant things.
— And yet it is a little unnerving to absorb the Amber, inside of which such a gift for bodily development is hidden, — I heavily sighed, turning the dangerous stone in my hands.
A unique item with a natural parasite, not one artificially grown in cultist laboratories. With it, I can take control of all Las Plagas hosts, just as Alexia Ashford commands those infected with T-Veronica. The power is in the parasites, however dangerous and suspicious that may sound, so—here goes nothing.
Releasing tentacles from my hands, repulsive but useful for my plan, I completely enveloped the Amber. Directly proceeding to the absorption and processing of all the parasite's properties and functions, I appropriated its powers and capabilities to ascend to a new level.
The hastily pitched tent was empty now, and I didn't have to worry about the evolution into the almost complete version of the mighty Wesker being interrupted. No one will stop me while surrounded by Black Watch fighters patrolling the evacuation zone. They will repel any threats and troubles, allowing me to become stronger. I will be one step closer to dominating the whole world, if, of course, I don't die in the attempt to merge my virus with the parasite. The latter is not excluded, however sad that may sound.
At the moment, the evolution process was going poorly, as if an angel was comparing something interesting with a demon—not necessarily wings. The equal forces of Las Plagas and T-Wesker engaged in a struggle, like two forest fires boasting smoke plumes. And, damn it, I wish I had started collecting debts from Ashley Graham instead of absorbing the parasite. But alas, she was dragged away by medical personnel—the military doctors of the Black Watch.
The blonde took a long time to regain consciousness, and the reason lay in the incorrect extraction of the implanted Las Plagas. This leads to the conclusion: do not trust crazy cultists to do their job; they can make a mistake, almost leading the President's daughter to certain death. Saddler and his foolish attempts to implant Ashley with a more dangerous parasite almost destroyed my political career as a nice guy!
A trifle! No doubt, but I simply want the title of senator; every self-respecting villain in sunglasses is obliged to obtain it at any cost. In addition, to conquer the world—for full compliance with the competence of a respectable villain and an excellent football player. It would also be great to create nanomachines, but I'm not a techie, I'm a genetic engineer, that's not my competency. I will conquer the world with what I have, after settling all matters with the Cult of Chernobog and Africa. This is the peak of my labors: a resonant chord without an orchestra, but with the title of senator.
It seems the higher my body temperature, the more my evil twin brother dominates within me. I want to conquer the world yesterday. If my calculations are correct, my body temperature has approached boiling water, hellish scalding, molten magma, melting all the cells. It's lousy, to put it mildly, I feel like I've ended up in hell by mistake. After all, how can I end up there with such a good track record?
— Not only the world is burning, but Wesker is too. Annoying, — I commented on my condition, taking off my sunglasses and wiping the sweat from my forehead with my sleeve, like a wet towel.
Some people get power for their good looks and adapt to it instantly; some people strain their rear ends for twenty years in a hellish gym for it; and some people go through a sweltering sauna in a single day—like me. If I had known, I would have taken refreshing drinks with me on the journey.
Horror, even when you haven't made a single mistake, checked everything thoroughly, executing every part of the improvised plan with filigree precision… In the end, regardless of your abilities, you still lose: I forgot to bring a case of cold beer. A ruthless defeat.
Falling into a funk, I closed my eyes and tried to fall asleep, trusting my body to deal with the consequences and the mess inside it. Suffer, my body, while my amazing mind rests! But I couldn't sleep; perhaps the crappiest transformation.
The Progenitor-T calmly penetrated my body; I didn't even feel any pain; I was immediately impaled by the Tyrant in Spencer's basement. The G-Virus was more interesting, but I victoriously dealt with it, no trouble, just minor stuff—like drinking an expired energy drink. T-Veronica became a nightmare back then; I almost died myself, but the deed was done. And today, this is like gathering all previous attempts to become stronger and multiplying them.
The pain was unbearable; it pierced my bones, joints, organs, flesh, and even my skin. The dominant Las Plagas parasite was fiercely retaliating after being completely absorbed, preventing me from falling asleep. Stinging sensations instantly brought me back to consciousness, reminding me who owned the right to salvational sleep here.
I had to "rest," if the hellish swings could even be called rest: from the peak of pain to slight relief, followed by a double strike. My body was breaking, reassembling, and breaking again due to the incorrect cell fusion. And so it went in circles. It's a good thing there were no mirrors here: judging by my mutated hands and a couple of uncontrollable tentacles, my appearance was definitely not suitable for "Playboy" magazine. They would be afraid to add me even to a magazine for fans of strange-Japanese things.
Only in the morning did I pass out for a few minutes, giving me some time for mental recovery. It was difficult to determine the time accurately, as my eyes stopped catching light, and control over my body was at the level of a stillborn. The most I could do was be dead weight for someone else. But after another awakening, the process of fusion with the dominant Las Plagas seemed to have been completed with astonishing success.
It only took five minutes to recover and enjoy the new might. Having gone through the difficult trials of metamorphosis, I gained interesting abilities. My body transformed by the power of thought, becoming pliable, like soft clay, allowing me to sculpt weapons of any shape and size from my flesh. It became more deadly and elegant, stylish, one might say.
But that's not the main thing: now I could separate substantial pieces of biomass from my body, containing microscopic parasites, which gave me the ability to control the flesh remotely. I could even create an exact clone and control it over a short distance. Ha-ha, now no one can deny the existence of my evil twin brother, not even me! But all things in moderation: transforming the clone into biomass, I absorbed it back.
And I tried a new trick—creating mutants from biomass. This was harder, requiring training and practice, but I was one step closer to attracting the attention of hunters of suspicious monsters. Heh-heh, perhaps by adding the last ingredient from Mother Miranda to T-Wesker 2.0, I will be able to complete the process of expanding the boundaries of my capabilities.
All that will be left is to improve the abilities I already have. You should fear not the one who knows a thousand techniques, but the one who wields a pistol. Darn, that's not it. Something about one punch… But a pistol sounds better; I'll advocate for that version if anyone asks.
Now I can attend to changing my body, more precisely, returning to a human form, changing into the non-standard uniform of the Black Watch, and putting on my sunglasses. And to stand out from the rest, I additionally donned a black coat.
Stepping out of the tent, I immediately spoke with a couple of fighters about the weather. It was hard to tell how presentable I looked, but since my subordinates weren't running away in terror, it meant I looked excellent, as always. In good spirits, I headed towards Ada Wong's tent. If our interests align, I will have to finish what we started, that very thing, in the mayor's house.
Ada Wong is my reliable Plan B for a fling, since Plan A, in the person of Ashley Graham, failed. It failed badly: on the way, I met the medics, and they boasted that they miraculously saved the President's daughter, pulling her back from the brink of death. As expected of my subordinates, if I don't think about the consequences of handing Ashley Graham over to the cultists to lure out Saddler and Ramon, Wesker's followers will think about the consequences. More accurately, they will sort out all the troubles.
— Good morning, — I smiled amiably at my favorite spy. She was in her tent, a single one by my order, but I don't plan on doing anything here.
We rested, dealt with the problems, and now it's time to return to the ship. On the way to Africa, the Black Watch should drop me off near the lair of another evil sect, sending me alone to conquer new horizons. I'm a simple guy; I'm always for variety and unusual experiences. So, I didn't like the experience of group clearing of a location during my vacation; it's time to shine solo. And also, the leader of those cultists is much stronger than Saddler, because the Mold is very dangerous; even Umbrella was afraid to research it, which is telling.
And, essentially, that's why I decided to absorb the Amber as soon as possible: my personal strength might not have been enough to fight a real monster who could wipe out my entire Black Watch. Expensive assets! I absolutely cannot allow that. I will act solo. Leveling up alone? Sounds like a plan!
— Not good, — Ada Wong frowned, continuing to work on her tablet, studying some data with a heavy gaze. — I couldn't extract the parasite. But I'm lucky so far; I haven't turned into anything resembling the villagers. At least I'm not craving human flesh.
— Not too good, not too bad, — I shrugged, sitting down next to her. — You did an excellent job with the task, delivering Luis and the Amber. As I promised, the money will be provided upon returning home. And a position in GENTEK, but not as a field spy. How do you feel about becoming my personal, sole secretary?
The girl stiffened her shoulders. Did she figure it out?
— You know I'm a spy, right?
— And you know about the working conditions in my company, — I barely restrained myself from uttering the word "damn it." — However, I make exceptions for friends.
— If I don't like the conditions, I'll run away, — she put forward a merciless ultimatum. — And, you know… Thank you for your concern. I appreciate it.
— Come on, we've known each other for a long time, secretly at first, then personally in Raccoon City. Our paths have crossed many times; we've been through a lot, so no need for thanks, — I switched to suspicious macho mode.
— Well, if words aren't enough for you, then, — Ada Wong smiled flirtatiously. — Shall we continue where we left off?
Our thoughts completely align!
— On the aircraft carrier, — I set the boundaries in our relationship, because doing such things in tents is beneath me. Only in the captain's cabin equipped for it! — The sound of the waves, good wine, and excellent company - what could be better?