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Code: Project AURORA	By : DeadlyFriend Category: +M through R > Resident Evil Views: 2944 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil. I do not own the characters and I do not make any money or profit from this story.

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- 9
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Title: Code: Project AURORA chapter 10
Author: Judyku A03, DeadlyFriend FFnet/Sunnyjude LJ
Summary: Smart viruses are a helluva thing.
Genre: Drama, horror, romance, smut, and humour.
Pairings: Claire/Leon, Chris/Jill, with implications of others.
Rating: NC21. Explicit sex in later chapters. Bad, bad language. Scenes of explicit violence and gore.
Warnings: Character death. Implied alcohol abuse. Implied child abuse. Cannibalism.
Original Characters: Lakshan Bhandari, a 33-year-old genius who works at Johns Hopkins, a biomedical engineer with a background in virology and Infectious Diseases. Creator of the C-Veronica Zero smart virus. Tyrannos, a T-103 Tyrant programmed to be Claire's bodyguard.

Earth's Angel

The second light hit the sky was the second Leon was up and out of the damn cabin, a sharp yank snapped the door firmly shut behind him.
He didn’t wait to hear if they tried to stop him or make him go back, because fuck ‘em. Fuck every last asshole in that fancy ass place. If they wanted to side with Umbrella like that? Then, fine. Side with Bhandari they could, but he sure as shit refused to be a part of it. Not when it would all smash down around their ankles.
Yeah, he could be a sonofabitch at times and he wasn’t all too quick off the mark, either, but people? He knew people and he especially knew people like Lakshan Bhandari. They were a dime a dozen in his line of work.
Yeah, well.
Whatever.

Some people would only learn the hard way and sure it sucked Claire would be one of ‘em, but hey. If she wanted to hang with the guy who filled her full of chemo, then that was her choice.
It hurt to leave her behind, but hell if she didn’t leave him first. So this marked the second time she turned her back on him. A third time if he counted Harvardville, which he couldn’t since she was pretty much at work with TerraSave.

He didn’t know why she took it so personal anyway. Hell, he didn’t know why she’d been so damn cagey or why she was so determined to hedge around questions. And who the fuck ate takeout in a garage for that matter, huh?
It was like Claire didn’t trust him or something and then he stopped, an abrupt laugh of realisation puffed out and clouded around him in a thin mist of incredulity.
No.
Not like.
She didn’t trust him.

Claire didn’t trust him, not completely, and that freaking hurt. What? Did she, like, think he would turn her over to the Feds for doing some frowned upon shit or something? Or maybe she thought he’d look at her in disgust for whatever reason known only to her? Or maybe she just protected that dumbass doctor because of this so-called evidence?
Not that it made any difference either way.

Claire didn’t trust him after everything they’d been through together? Fine. He would go his own way now that he didn’t have to worry about her since she clearly had no need of him now. Not when she had Lakshan.

Leon slipped his phone out of his pocket and grinned at the perfect signal. One of the better perks of being a special agent was his satellite connection gave him full bars wherever he was and any given moment. Which meant one quick Google search and he had the flight list from Denver to Vegas in front of his very eyes.

His thumb was about to hit up on that book now button when his phone vibrated right there in the palm of his hand, the screen displayed unknown number.

A slick grin curled his lips up as he pressed answer and when that oh so familiar, cock lifting voice came through the speaker…

Well.

Vegas, hookers, and booze weren’t the only options for a good time on vacation.

“You’ve reached the Wong arm of the law.” Leon mentally sent a big fuck you to the image of Claire in his head.

Let’s see which dog yelps with this stick, Redfield.

xxxx

Ada tapped her cigarette off the edge of her ashtray as she offhandedly watched Wesker slowly twirl a pen between his fingers.

Bertie Wesker handling pointy things put her on edge, particularly when he appeared to be so enthralled by his potential weapon. Lucky for her, then, that her death would leave without a valuable asset in his quest to be a god. Yet even with that thought in mind, it was nothing short of stupidity to have blind trust in a monster who wore a man’s face.

“You’re in a good mood.” She caught her own reflection in those Ray Ban Chromance sunglasses.

“I am now.” It was only too easy to read the agent’s moods these days.

“Twenty questions, Handsome?” Bare lips curved up and she pressed them together to make just the round amount of stick for sound effects. Let the Agent think she was simply going about a morning routine of lipstick application.

“You n’ I both know there’s only one question. When and where?” When a good boy like Agent Leon Kennedy let slipped even an inch into bad boy sexual aggression? Chances were high he felt deeply insulted, but then she supposed it was just one of his flaws.
The more sexually aggressive he was? The deeper the cut. And with Leon Kennedy? That cut often meant something he didn’t want to acknowledge. So he would give in to his anger and let all that pent up volatility dictate his actions until he was left feeling nothing but guilt and self-loathing.
She wondered what had cut him deep enough to completely knock the boy scout down.

“That depends.” She paused to take a long drag of her smoke and blew it straight in Wesker’s face. “How soon can you reach the Big Apple?”

“A few hours give or take. You?” So, her little informant was with the former S.T.A.R.S team.

“A few hours give or take.” Ada mimicked and tapped her cigarette ash into her tray. “How about it, Handsome? You, me, the Ty Warner Penthouse suite in New York City?”

Leon was a good boy at heart and like all good boys, he had been taught the value of a dollar.

“That shit’s pricey. Fifty thou a night. Living dangerously has benefits, but damn. I still wanna buy a house this century.”

He always knew just what to say to make her heart skip a beat and simultaneously roll her eyes. Unlike her inside man, she had no qualms at all about spending money. Not since freelance theft provided as well as it did.

“Perhaps a dirty motel is more your style, Agent Kennedy.” Ada clipped his surname off. Just to see how far into the trenches he was. “But I would much rather be screwed while I have the pleasure of the city skyline. Consider it my treat. A celebration for my finding my friend’s missing daughter.”
“That musta been some kinda pay to knock out fifty gees’s on a hotel room for a night.”

“What price would you pay to see your little princess home, safe and sound?”

“Point to you. So you don’t just peddle B.O.W making viruses. Good to know.” He was so fucking adorable in his need to believe her innocence that he would load up on any ammo she gave at the very people who sincerely cared about him. The lone wolf who stood between a woman and a cruel world that deemed her guilty without trial.

“This finding missing princesses gig…”

Now that piqued Ada’s interest. Her little mole was more than merely angry. There had to be a heavy undercurrent of true hurt in her little mole if he gave even a passing thought to retirement.

Definitely a thread worthy of being pulled.

Unfortunately for Leon Kennedy, he was far more useful to her as a Special Agent right now. Perhaps the future would change that. When he was a lot more disillusioned than he was at present.

She had to tread carefully here. “Missing princesses aren’t a regular occurrence for private dicks. “

His sigh was her relief. “I don’t think I’d make a good Private Dick.”

Her smile returned and she relaxed just a little as she threw the dog a bone of hope with one hand, and took his toy with the other. “Your dick has found hidden depths in me. I know your friends aren’t fond of me or our…”

“Friends? I got me no friends, lady. Who cares what they think about you.”

Ada locked eyes with the sly fox opposite her as he gave her a silent clap for a job well done. “Not even Claire?”

There was nothing quite like the exploitation of a weakness in somebody. Especially when it reduced perfectly good men into excellent information centres.

“Nope! Especially not Claire. What can I say? She prefers bad boys and I’m just too nice a guy. Can you believe that?” Leon always knew just what to say.

Still, she had to be sure. “Yes. I watch the local news. She’s been found? Is she alright?”

A scoff came through loud and clear. “Claire? She was hungover.”

Old Bertie’s wasn’t immune to the statement it seemed, though he kept his chuckles silent with a single finger pressed to his lips.

Genuine laughter bubbled out of her throat. she would do the same if she woke up a Tyrant after being held captive by a cretin like Aric Matiass. “I can’t say I blame her. Being abducted from your own home is certainly something to drown. Did you find the abductor?”

“It’s complicated.”

So Claire was with Lakshan Bhandari and given the good doctor’s lack of experience in how to hide from the likes of Umbrella, she assumed that both parties were still in Colorado.

“You’re learning, Agent Kennedy.” Ada approved.

Smoke misted over the brochure page that displayed Bhandari’s ski lodge. And Agent Kennedy’s hostile aggression all made sense.

“Thanks, miss. Do I get a gold star?”

Claire Redfield holed up with a fanciable Indian doctor who had been about to revolutionise treatment for Alzheimer’s patients using sound frequencies. Throw in enough alcohol to get the newly minted Tyrant hung over and that cosy ski lodge…

Leon would pop like warm champagne on a winter night.

“I’ll see what I can do. See you tonight, Handsome.”

And with that, Ada clicked the speakerphone off and let herself lounge back in the luxurious chair, her slender legs delicately crossed.

Damn, but she was good at what she did.

Wesker drew his lips back into a snarl of a smile as two dangerous hands gave her a light round of applause. “Very good.”

“Leon Kennedy does have his uses.” A cloud of grey smoke wisped away from her.

Wesker merely smiled. “Quite. Five-hour distances from New York isn’t what I would call direct information.”

“Not if our missing doctor has a property in Aspen.” She pursed her lips for a moment as she considered the Tyrant opposite her. “You met Claire Redfield on Rockfort Island. Tell me, Bertie. What’s your opinion of her?”

“Sizing your competition, darling?” He clearly liked the idea of that, so matter her answer, he would make of it what he would.

“I never underestimate my opponents.”

Leather creaked under the Tyrant’s weight and those deadly fingers replaced the pen with one of her smokes. Fox eyes moved behind those sunglasses and she could feel them roam over her from head to hands.

White teeth gleamed between two pink lips. “Claire Redfield is everything you are not.”

“Cheap.” Ada let the statement of fact roll off her tongue without malice.

His laughter came out with all the smoothness of whisky and depth of a cello. “Your hubris will be your downfall, Mz Wong.”

“You have nothing to add.”

“None that you could apprehend. It takes a man to appreciate a woman such as she.”
Oh, she was well aware he knew the level of her understanding. He respected it to a degree. Yet to hear him smear her with the same tar used to paint the uneducated ruffled her feathers just enough, and he knew it.

“A woman mechanic. One who races on the circuit for a global brand. Yes. I can see how she could tempt certain men.” Only not all men, she thought as Leon’s face drifted through her mind.

It was something that kept her warm on the nights she slept alone. That men, married or otherwise, would see her face on the very wives and girlfriends they vowed to cherish.
Mr Whiskers finally lit his cigarette and sat back in the perfect portrayal of a king without a kingdom. “You are little more than a mutt lucky enough to fall into opportunity brought about by her mother's desperate whoring. Your own ambitions amount to nothing beyond what can be earned through theft and open legs."

Hypocrisy didn’t become him in the slightest. “ You certainly didn’t complain about my lack of pedigree.”

“I needed to know where your limits lay.” Broad shoulders shrugged. “Your willingness to spread the welcome mat was very informative. I wonder what Agent Kennedy would think if he knew we mounted the same bitch in heat.”

His bullet cut her fucking throat wide open.

Ada froze. “You cunt .”

“As are all Gods.” Whiskers gestured aimlessly with a large hand.
She pressed both hands on the table between them and leaned forward just so he didn’t misunderstand a single word of her reply. “Fuck. You.”

The weight of her response hung over them like a heavy cloud thick and black with thunder.

He didn’t do a damn thing for a moment and her furious bravado began to slide down her throat to cut off her airways.

Ada eyed him, all pretences kept up as much as possible, only to jerk back in a flinch when his hand snapped out towards her purse. Eighteen-carat yellow gold stood out in a luxurious contrast against the rich black leather of his gloves and she watched it warily, her gaze followed the graceful motion as he held it up for examination.

“Two-thousand and seven. Eighteen carat yellow gold with one-hundred and ninety-nine white diamonds that equal two point two carats. Sixty-two thousand dollars. Custom shade. Beautiful.” Wesker analysed the tube from every angle and held it this way and that.

She blinked and he was behind her, all that cool black leather covered her throat and human-sized fingers squeezed out inhuman strength around her jaw. Slowly the pressure intensified and his palm forced her chin up to where enamel crunched between her teeth and her cigarette dropped to the floor. Noisy grunts flared her nostrils as she tried to breathe in the air her mouth couldn’t.

She stared up at him, terrified at the serenity that radiated off him in waves. Panic widened her eyes as yellow gold flashed like painted plastic and his solid grip held her down as he slashed jagged butcher lines across her face. Mouth to left ear and over the bridge of her nose, that perfectly waxed point stabbed hard into the soft flesh under her right eye before he zagged it hard to her left temple.
“Disobey me. Fail me. Betray. Me. Again...” A man smiled with all the venom of a fucking viper as chunks of crimson stuck to her eyelashes and gold cut sharp into her head.
"Diamonds and gold mean nothing to a God." Black leather patted her shoulder. "You call her cheap. Think of her as a lowly mechanic. A woman who works with her hands. Even you would trust her without a doubt to fix the brakes on your car. You can't be trusted to fix a cake."
A shove pushed her head forwards and Ada gasped in all the air her lungs could hold while one shaking hand touched her tacky face.
Wesker snagged several tissues to wipe his gloves clean. “I suggest you make yourself presentable for your handsome Agent Kennedy. Make sure he receives the video file of those he left to the wolves."
"And Matiass?" Ada forced her gaze away from the mirror.

"Offer him a seat at your buffet." Humour warmed his face and put a lilt to his voice that grated on her shot nerves. "I'm sure he will appreciate the fine dining."

xxxx

The Princess was an angel.

She had come to him in a dream so long ago, with hair that flowed so beautifully down into a cascade of tempestuous curls and waves. Her smile was so elegant, so gracious, her magnificent wings unfurled as she sang to him in a voice that held the very Heavens in a single note.

The Angel remained at his side and filled his life with guidance from the True Divine and she had not failed him nor lead him from his path of greatness and legend.

Such loyalty must be repaid and he asked of her a simple question.

“My good lady,” asked Aric Matiass. “I am but your humble servant. I must know. How do I repay thee?”

The Angel sang a song of birth and her hands reached out to shroud him in her light.

Aric Matiass knew, then, he would bring the Angel to life. He would give her skin to touch, hair to brush, lungs to breathe, and a voice to sing. He would give her daintiest of feet with which to run and the softest of hands.

Twice now he had been so close to fulfilment and success. Twice he had the very essence of her within his grasp, and twice it had been snatched away from him by children.

The actions of Alexia and her inadequate shadow had been intolerable at best and unspeakable at worst, but this…

This was contemptible.

He had not just supported and encouraged doctor Bhandari, but he had provided that boy with everything. Support, laboratory, and staff had been given from one visionary to another, while guidance, knowledge and wisdom had passed from father to son.

A son with all that was needed to be written into books as a true visionary. One of the greatest of minds in modern day history. A man who would be the subject of many a university lecture. A physician who would inspire many others to walk the path Doctor Bhandari built under the tutelage of the esteemed Aric Matiass.

And like all children, Aric Matiass had expected some form of rebellion and mutiny during the more trying years of boyhood, and so preparations began. Old projects had been gifted to his boy for completion, assignments from his university and residency, case studies were all part and parcel of the plan to keep his son out of trouble.

One of those projects was that of Project Aurora.

Alzheimer's occurred when the formation of beta-amyloid plaques and the amalgamation of tau, a toxic protein, caused disruption in the activity pattern of gamma waves.

The groundbreaking research by Lakshan Bhandari discovered that not only did sound, at forty hertz, reestablish the activity pattern in those gamma waves, but also reduced the beta-amyloid and tau. This helped to restore functionality to neural pathways that would otherwise remain a tangle of dysfunctional knots.

Amplified Ultrasound Resonance and non-Operative Remodulation Audio frequencies.

That was the very thing that would breathe life into Aurora, the time had come to find a woman worthy of such an honour. A task that proved far easier than he had ever dreamed possible.

He saw her on television

A beautiful woman with rich auburn hair that tumbled in wild waves. A magnificent woman who shielded a girl child from the very dregs of Umbrella's self-claimed brilliance.

“Save the children,” her message rang and it was the message of an Angel.

It humbled Aric Matiass to see such boldness and courage, and he watched her. Over and over he watched the footage and the more certain he became that she was The One who would bring Princess Aurora to life.

But how Lakshan fooled them all, how he had swayed and wooed them with all the charm of a silver-tongued serpent.
Tears rolled down his skeletal face of Aric Matiass and he turned to where the Countess had slept, safe and sound. Were it not for his own blessed percipience, the good lady would have wholly aware of the atrocities about to befall her at the hands of the man who saw to her needs.
A doctor who would betray his father and mentor, a physician of excellent breeding and education who would defy the very oath he once took. A man who would succumb to primitive desires and expose himself as a predator, one who would defile those under his care.

All Aric Matiass could hope for now was the Angel Princess to wake within the throat of Miss Redfield and make all these paltry Biological Organic Weapon viruses obsolete and give him control over every single one.
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Code: Project AURORA