Interlude. Somewhere beneath Raccoon City
"Cain! You idiot!" A thunderous voice echoed through the laboratory complex, where Yamata was bent over her case, analyzing blood samples—including the two most recent ones, taken from the Silver Hunter and from her own progenitor.
It took the girl no effort at all to realize that someone had deceived her. The samples left behind after the clash of the two monsters told her everything she needed to know. Now the mercenary-scientist was very furious, her mind rapidly calculating ways to obtain another sample of the G-virus—something that, for both creatures, was akin to a serum against a dreadful disease. After all, what could be more terrifying than death, final and irreversible? Even if it was "only" the death of the mind and consciousness… no—especially if it was such a fate. The death of the self.
***
Easy to say, snack on the survivors—much harder to do. Especially when your hands feel like sacks of shi—well, I meant potatoes. Why? Because they'd been thoroughly smashed: not a single intact bone left, just useless weight dangling from my shoulders. Keeping up in that state with quick, lively targets was impossible. Especially Leon, who vanished between the buildings in the blink of an eye. Claire, on the other hand, decided to do a little shooting.
What can I say—she's no Umbrella elite, but still very good. Six shots, five dead zombies; only once did a corpse fail to go down with the first hit. Either her hand slipped, or the girl was testing whether they could be killed by something other than a headshot. As soon as she disappeared into a shop, the soundscape she'd created drew crowds of ordinary zombies from alleys and nearby streets.
Good enough!
I'm more oozing than moving—there's no better word for it—since I can descend only with the help of my legs, one of which, judging by the poor feedback, had been badly damaged during my previous acrobatics. So from windowsill to windowsill crawled a quietly swearing something, eventually flopping down onto the accordion-like wreck that had once been Leon's police car.
Balancing on one leg, I rip open the hood with the other. Something silvery gleams inside. Just as I thought—beneath the steel shell lies that super-Hunter, even now having gotten away with little more than scratches. No, it didn't survive; the mouthwatering smell of lightly charred meat made that obvious, as did the smoke curling from its mouth and nasal cavity, and its fused eyes. All that's left is to open the canned goods—and enjoy the pre-cooked delicious meat.
Ah, I sincerely hope that whatever changes this half-finished version of the G-virus gave it will pass on to me after I eat this amphibian.
I finish prying apart the front of the car with my feet—all of it, even ripping off the front doors, using them to help yank the roasted carcass out of the hatch, which had melted around the monster's "wasp waist." Finally pulling out my future dinner, I suddenly realize that opening it with my feet won't work.
Sigh. Looks like I'll have to accelerate limb regeneration.
I spot the nearest zombie… a dash to the left, and in a single instant I cover more than five meters, throwing my jaws wide and biting clean through the neck of an innocent zombie. I latch onto the tear and begin drinking—stale, perhaps, but still life-giving fluid. Immediately, there's a crunch in my arms… and in my left leg as well. Yep, that one really had been damaged.
It's astonishing how much faster regeneration kicks in after consuming even this kind of blood. My mind cleared as well. I hadn't even noticed how the thirst had started pressing down on me. Imagine—actually thinking of eating one of those two. Yeah,and then how am I supposed to keep track of events afterward?
For now, I'll have to tail them. I don't see any other way of snagging myself a lifesaving dose of the G-virus. Birkin's daughter has it, though I'm no longer sure about his wife. Another option is to shadow Claire and catch the G parasite—just need to beat Redfield to it. And avoid running into Birkin himself. My chances in a fight against that monster are very low. I'm probably faster than him, but he's nearly invulnerable, while I'm very much killable—and, with some bad luck, even by humans (armed humans, but still).
With those thoughts, I return to the Hunter's corpse… and how am I supposed to bite through this thing?
Got it!
"Patient, open wide!"
And let's begin the dentist's work.
No—dentistry won't cut it. A comparison to Samson tearing open a lion's jaws fits much better.
After forcing the Hunter's maw wider, I finally get to feeding on what truly turns out to be roasted meat. In the end, I devour it in record time—I'm running under acceleration, after all, to finish quickly and not fall too far behind Claire, whose silhouette I can still see with my strange vision, for which even walls pose no obstacle. What would I do without that highlighting?
I rise already full as a boa constrictor, leaving behind only the Hunter's silver shell—it couldn't be bitten through, even from the inside.
(End of Chapter)
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