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Optio	By : Ripsi Category: +M through R > Resident Evil Views: 8319 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Resident Evil fandom/franchise or any of their characters. I make no money from this fanfiction. It is merely a piece of fiction written by me.

Chapter List
- 1-Annus Novus
- 2-Domus
- 3-Calor
- 4-Posco
- 5-Ludus
- 6-Felix Dies Valentini
- 7-Desiderium
- 8-Dormientes
- 9-Curre
- 10-Gravatus
- 11-Vita
- 12-Vigilo
- 13-Arcanum
- 14-Phasma Phasmatis
- 15-Possessio
- 16-Mutatio
- 17-Anniversarium
- 18-Monstrum
- 19-Lues
- 20-Vita Post Mortem
- 21-Iterum
- 22-Eam
- 23-Fidelitas
- 24-Veritas
- 25-Pacisco
- 26-Mundus Novus
- 27-Febris
- 28-Chemia
- 29-In Aeternum
- 30-Frater
- 31-Historia
- 32-Familia
- 17
- 18
- 19
Optio
Chapter 18: Monstrum
January 5, 2002 Friday 3:42 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire
Location: Sao Paulo, Brazil
Status: Bored
“What’s this for?” I stared at the black, flip-phone confusedly, holding it as if at any moment I expected it to bite.
“A precaution.” His inability to give a straightforward answer did not irk me more than the human ping pong game he was playing right now, darting from one side of the room to the next as he stuffed a brief case. I didn’t know where he was going; all I knew was that the New Year’s festivities proceeded without me as I stared from above at a flurry of pink, blue, and green bobbing up and down. For that I hated him, and I won’t lie, I had been refusing to have sex with him since then. Yes, somehow mortal-me managed to resist… whatever the hell it was that was so irresistible about him.
Playing with the black object I asked, “You sure you trust me with this thing?”
Ever-prepared (especially for my knack to fuck things up), he replied, “It only calls my phone and receives calls from me.”
Before I threw the cell at him in frustration I put two and two together: a cell phone and packing. “Are we in danger?”
“We have never been out of danger for a second Claire.”
Absent-mindedly I breathed, “Right.” Since I’d get no answers from him about what was going on I plopped back on the bed, staring up ceiling while biting my bottom lip. I hadn’t been able to find out much else about whatever was happening in Amparo and Mixcoatl. It was like everything was being silenced which didn’t really surprise me at all. Maybe it was contained, but since I had experience with this type of thing, I knew it wouldn’t stay that way. The sound of Wesker’s footsteps fading made me jolt up. “Hey! When will you be back?” It seemed like a better choice in questioning since, “Where are you going?” would yield nothing but a smirk or a smart-ass answer.
For a moment he stood at the door, staring back at me thoughtfully, and if it weren’t for his shades obstructing my view I probably would have seen the worry that was affecting his body language and mood. “Claire, be careful. And call me if there is anything you need.”
As he shut the door behind him the sappy side of me fought the urge to chase him down and declare that I needed him. I was lonely here and it started to feel like I was in a controlling relationship with the constant moving and tearing me away from my life back home. Oh wait, me being unable to keep my legs closed was the reason for that. Just when I was dedicated to being Illyria, I was given reason to question my decision. I got up and went to look at my touched-up hair and once more marveled at how different I looked, and how torn I was between the new me, and the old.
January 5, 2002 Friday 5:36 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire
Location: Sao Paulo, Brazil
Status: Frustrated
“Mixcoatl. Ye-yes!” This man spoke three languages and not one of them was English, and though I had no right to be upset with him for speaking his native tongue maybe he should have just stopped trying and let me off of the phone. “I NEED A WAY TO MIXCOATL.”
“No way,” he replied quickly, happy that he knew a few words of help.
“Amparo?”
“Roads closed.”
As I rubbed my forehead in exasperation I said, “Gracias,” and hung up. “Por nada,” I grumbled under my breath, eyeing the drinks under the bar. One more call before that, I thought to myself, and in my last effort to find a way into one of the villages on my map I snatched up the receiver. There was no dial tone. “Son of a bitch.” My muttering would not fix the phone though, and I slipped on a pair of flip-flops before heading downstairs to attempt to effectively complain. Something felt off in the hotel, something that was subtle but it was there, and I quickly headed to elevator.
It came up with a ding and I entered with my arms folded, determined to remain pouty until I got to the front desk, which was getting hard to do since my “spidey-senses” kept tingling. In my blurred reflection my expression was one of suspicion rather than irritation, but I worked on setting my lips back into their straight line. My journey was halfway over when I felt the car stop abruptly, and despite it being a dramatic move I grabbed hold of the railing and looked up at the red box numbers. Then I heard the ding arrival, knowing somehow that this stop wasn’t a request by someone wanting to make a cafeteria run. My body tensed, my feet set into the carpet and my teeth ground together.
The doors slid open slowly, and I waited for someone to enter, or attack me. No one was there, but what bothered me the most was that the door didn’t close. With a sense of urgency I thumbed away at the “close doors” button, receiving no result, the doors just remained wide open, and it felt like somewhere someone was hinting that I should exit. My body shook with fear and anxiety as I finally relaxed my muscles, and I instantly regretted it as I realized that maybe keeping the energy contained would have prohibited me from walking on noodle-legs. You know how you can feel when there are other people around even if you can’t see them? Well right now this whole fucking floor was feeling deserted, and never in my entire life had I been in a deserted motel even.
Not a sound reverberated in the halls, not even my movements, although the carpet muted any chance of that happening anyhow. As I turned right to head to the stairwell, I noticed that every room door was cracked, but I couldn’t bring myself to look until I had one last chance before my descent downstairs. Swallowing the lump in my throat I pushed open the door to my left, not a creak made by the well-oiled hinges, and that honestly made the moment even eerier. The whole room was white, pristine, and it looked like no one had even been staying in there.
Turn back.
I pushed that voice to the back of my mind as I stepped into the room, standing still as I listened for any sign of life. My face scrunched up into a frown as I heard a faint scratching noise coming from within the room, but I had no idea where it had originated. As I listened harder a pattern was established, and I traced the sound to the closet set into the wall in front of the bed. It wasn’t easy for me to just walk up and slide back the doors though, not when I had a past that involved things popping out at me. I must have been having an out of body experience because I could see myself slowly progressing toward the doors, my eyes as big as saucers.
As I stupidly croaked out, “Hello?” the doors were in front of me again, and like that idiotic blonde in a horror movie I grabbed hold of one of the door knobs and threw it back. I reflexively clasped my hands to my mouth so hard that I pressed my lip into my right front tooth. Tasting blood was the farthest thing from my mind as I screamed in a pitch I didn’t know my vocal cords would dare to reach. My chest heaved while my legs became jello again, that shaky feeling taking over me again. The scratching had stopped, but only because the body had nothing to rub against now.
The corpse was fresh, so fresh that the only discoloration was from his apparent suffocation and the red ring around his neck from the rope. He was a white male, dressed like a man comfortable in his environment, nowhere near tourist. His simple white, tee looked like he had just put it on, his blue jeans worn and ripped around the knees, and his brown, cowboy boots had seen many rodeo. I could only wonder what drove him to this, and if his suicide was cause for evacuation of this floor. It still would not explain my phone going out though, or the elevator stopping here.
Usually I saw people like him as weak, but for some reason I reached up to his jeans’ pocket to search for identification. Seeing the outline of a wallet I reached for the mouth of the pocket with my index finger hooked, worried about disturbing him even in the smallest way possible. I felt the texture of leather and moved to get my thumb in, almost there…
I raspy sound emitted from above me, causing me to look upward. A single, clouded gray eye stared down at me, and my mouth slightly opened to release a small clicking noise that had originated in my throat. Before the undead had time act I pulled my arm back, only for him to catch hold of it on its way back. As his nails ripped away strips of skin, I cried out, his response a throaty, “Augh!” His legs dangled wildly as he reached at me with both hands, unaware that his noose prevented him from getting to me. As I nursed my wounds I kicked the closet door closed and ran from the room, shutting the door behind me.
I choked out a sob as I rested against the door, hearing the choked moans of the room’s previous occupant. Inhaling a deep breath, I looked at my forearm, seeing the wound bleed out more profusely than it should have, and then I felt a burning sensation that started as nothing before becoming so strong that I threw myself to the fucking carpet. I managed to squelch the scream that rightfully wished to come out, forcing my eyes open to watch my wound mend itself, the burning finally settling into a persistent throbbing feeling. What the hell would this do to me? If he was a zombie then would this change me?
I needed to get in touch with Wesker.
I jumped to my feet only to feel my back automatically arch, my stomach jumped uncomfortably and I retched painfully. I had nothing to throw up. My stomach refused to settle and I knew there was no way I could climb back up to my room. Weakened, I threw myself to the stairwell door, noticing a cart with a covered dish in the corner to the left. I threw the silver top off of the plate saw that it was two tuna sandwiches, but it was better than nothing. As I stuffed a sandwich into my mouth I thought of how ridiculous I must have looked: eating to throw up. And as soon as the first sandwich was down my stomach lurched again, forcing me to puke into the carpet next to me.
I spit a few times to get the slimy feeling and bile out of my mouth, now ready to eat the second sandwich with the hopes of keeping it down to keep the hunger that would soon hit me at bay.
“Thank God,” I gasped, no longer feeling the need to purge, but still feeling the throbbing sensation beneath my skin. Now I could finally get downstairs, though not as quickly as I had intended, but the point is that I made it. I was ready to leave the stairwell and turn the corner into the lobby when I saw everyone near the center, murmuring to one another in confusion. Then a gang of men in black closed in on them, fully automated guns at the ready. The desk clerk that Wesker spoke with the first night was forced to stand in front of the massive crowd, his arms behind his back, possibly held in place by handcuffs.
Whoever these men were, they weren’t playing games, and I knew that their presence here was not coincidental with the hanging zombie upstairs. No this was all connected and they were probably what Wesker was worried about earlier, but of course he couldn’t say anything to me without giving away his knowledge about the incidents in Mixcoatl and Amparo. Just as I decided to slowly head back upstairs, the man behind the desk clerk pulled off his mask, his blond hair sticking straight up.
“You, translate!” he shouted, jabbing the desk clerk in the back with his weapon. “This hotel is now under quarantine!”
The man managed to sputter out his translation, his eyes moving left to right for some sign of hope, and I prayed that he didn’t see me and give away my position behind the plant.
“No one is to leave the hotel until we say so. This is now a military operation.” I noticed that he spoke with an American accent, but how in the hell could the US military declare a quarantine on South American soil? There was no way that the South American government knew anything about this in order for this to have come about. That man that was infected must have come from Amparo, and since the Calvary was called in it was more than likely that he wasn’t the only one infected. As a matter of fact I don’t think anyone knew about the man upstairs other than myself, and I had no way to kill him so what if he got down and surprised someone who entered the room during a sweep.
I knew how out of hand these things could get just by one person being infected, and for a graceless, bumbling corpse they were quite light on their feet. Perhaps I had a duty to get rid of the one that I found, but I had no way to do that, no weapon and I didn’t wish to risk using a knife since just a scratch gave me what was akin to an allergic reaction that still had me tingly. For now adrenaline kept me going, but I could feel that last tuna sandwich being bounced around inside of my stomach.
“We are looking for a man named Albert Wesker.” This regained my attention, and I squinted at a small picture he held up, despite not being able to see it the small spots of yellow and black told me that it was his picture. “We have reason to believe that he is here.”
I wanted to stay and listen more but before I was spotted I decided to head back upstairs, losing my breath a few times before reaching the top floor. I had no choice though since an elevator ride was out of the question. I wanted to take a moment to breathe like an out of shape fat man once I was in the hallway, but I knew that I needed to get to that cell phone and call Wesker. He managed to save me from the military before why wouldn’t he be able to now? Though I felt bad about the people downstairs there was nothing that I could do for them, and I knew their fate: because a few were infected, all of them would be killed. I truly did wish to save them, but I had no help so how could I take on a whole force or gun-toting military dogs?
The thought of leaving them to die was killing me, but I kept on towards my room. The door was cracked, making me wary; too bad I didn’t have a choice but to enter. There wasn’t really anywhere to hide, so when I saw the front room was empty I immediately headed to the bedroom to grab the phone off of the counter. Just as I was about to pick it up I felt hard steel pressed up against the middle of my back, the owner of the gun breathing so raggedly that I knew he was nervous. His incompetence could be used to my advantage, maybe he was such a rookie that I could even get away with knocking him and not going the whole nine yards and killing him.
“Put your hands where I can them.” His command demonstrated more confidence than he actually possessed, but I followed his order nonetheless.
“Okay, let’s just stay calm-”
“Turn around!” he yelled back, apparently taking offense to my obvious attempt at patronizing him. His mask was off, more than likely against advisement by his C.O. , but it just proved how dumb he really was. His hair was brown and cut in the usual required buzz-cut, a style that did not really fit him at all. However now was not the time for me to be assessing his physical characteristics, I needed to knock him out or something. He grabbed at his walkie, clutching it for dear life as he pressed the red button. “Sir I’ve found one of the missing suite occupants. A woman.”
“Name?” the walkie crackled back.
Rather than use his ability to speak he jabbed his pistol into my chest, getting an “oomph” of discomfort from me, and almost my lunch. “Illyria,” I ground out, eying the knife strapped to his side. “Wishkar,” I added when he didn’t say anything.
“Illyria Wishkar is the occupant sir.”
Quickly he received a, “Bring her down if she passes examination Kessler.”
“On it.” He tossed his walkie onto the bed and put his gun away, pulling out a small pen-light before grabbing hold of my jaw. “Hold still.”
Fed up with his fucking faked arrogance I asked, “You lack social skills you know that?”
“Shut the fuck up.” His grip tightened painfully, and I was momentarily blinded as he checked both of my eyes for a sign I never noticed an infected person had. As I tried to force the blue dots to disappear he pulled a thermometer from God knows where –maybe his ass- and stuck it in my ear. It beeped quickly and his eyes widened at the display. Not because he cared but maybe because it was protocol he asked, “Have you had the flu or could you be pregnant?”
“Maybe,” was my smart-ass reply, but he knew that by my answer it was a definite “no.”
“Have you recently been bitten or scratched by anyone during your stay here?”
I had to stop myself from glancing at the three, jagged red lines that discolored my skin on my forearm, and it was even harder to keep myself from trying to hide it. If I was found to be infected he would kill me right away, something I gathered from his last order. “No,” I answered, trying to blink just once, fearing that there was no way Aceso would bring me back from a gunshot to the noggin.
You ever feel like people just know the exact thing you’re trying to hide and where it’s located? Well that’s how I felt right now, and I became hotter than my usual 103 temperature when he grabbed my arm, inspecting the red marks beneath my skin. His hand was moving for his gun, but he stopped when his fingers were just inches from it.
“Wait,” he whispered, “I know you.” My eyes snapped wide open, as did his. “You’re Claire Redfield.” In a moment of poor judgment he turned slightly to reach for his discarded walkie-talkie, putting his knife in reach, and I snatched it from his holster. As he realized his fatal mistake he looked startled, turning and giving me an angle with I could use. With no thought of the future, I swung the knife, the blade slicing across his throat gaining a gasp that could now never become a yell. A few spurts or blood almost landed on me, coming out in burst that matched his heart beat (rapidly) his gloved hands grabbing at his fatal injury.
His hazel eyes never left me as he fell to the floor; his death was quick, making me feel even worse since I managed to completely sever his carotid and jugular arteries. Someone I had become a killer, just because he identified me I slit his throat, ending his life without knowing if he had a family back home. The room was completely silent now with just me, and once I snapped out of my daze I snatched up the cell and hit the dial button. After just one ring he answered.
“Claire?” My voice was caught in my throat as I stared down at the body of a man I only knew as Kessler. I couldn’t dispose of a fucking zombie, but I could without question murder a living person. “Claire?”
“Wesker the military’s here!” I blurted out quickly, and once the word vomit started it just wouldn’t stop. “There was a man here and he ID’d me, he knew I was Claire Redfield so I-I…” As my voice cracked hot tears rolled down my face onto the blood-stained carpet, “I killed him Wesker. I fucking slit his throat and I didn’t have to!” As my knees buckled beneath me I fell right into the crimson splotched carpet, not wanting to move, but to curl up in a ball somewhere and realize that this was just a dream. A sick night terror brought on by being around someone who did this kind of thing all of the time.
In a surprising event he offered words of comfort. “You did what you had to do. And right now Claire you must get out of there.”
“They’re in the lobby how can I get out?”
There was a moment of silence on the other line, but it was not pensive on his part, he could feel my shame, anxiety, fear, and everything else through the phone. “Do you have your debit card?”
“Yes,” I whispered back, staring into the cold, listless stare of my… victim.
“Get your ID.” I’m sure he heard the shuffling as I grabbed it from the nightstand drawer; he had to have since he continued his instructions when the noise ceased. “Now you must trust me and do as I say.” There was a pause, a time I used to nod even though he couldn’t see it. “You must jump Claire.”
I was hesitant to do many things, but I couldn’t argue this fast enough. “I can’t possibly survive that. I don’t even know if my bones will heal from that.” And if they did I’d expect a goddamned hippo for dinner later.
“The ocean is not being monitored and the balcony reaches over the shallow area. You have only once choice and that is jump and swim for the net. A boat is waiting for you.” He had an idea this would happen today and did take me with him?! “If you do not jump Claire there is no way that I will be able to retrieve you again.”
So I’m wanted dead? “Okay,” I conceded, seeing no other way to get out of this. The worst case scenarios were either I earned a belly-flop from hell or they saw me.
“Gustavo will bring you to me. Do not leave the phone behind. I will see you shortly.” Without a goodbye the line went dead, and I wished he would have been kind enough to throw out a, “Good luck” at least. I suppose now he was trying to avoid awkwardness rather than create or ignore it. I stuffed the phone into my pocket, glad that these shorts were tight enough to keep any contents from escaping. I looked to the balcony, and back to Kessler, kneeling down. Gritting my teeth I pulled his glove from his left hand, finding no ring, something that only took away a quarter of my guilt which was half of what I’d feel later.
In a swift movement I snatched his dog tags from around his neck, and I wondered why I so afraid of being gentle with a corpse. “John Kessler,” I said, stuffing them into my pocket.
Behind me the walkie-talkie crackled. “Kessler are you own your way back down?” My signal to take the plunge -pun intended- had come, and I kicked off the flip-flops I had been wearing. I slipped on the running shoes I kept just under the bed, knowing that if I didn’t want to rip off my toe I’d need them. Before I dared to start my running jump I looked over the edge, finding Wesker’s assessment to be true, but I was still afraid. How dumb that I didn’t worry about our bed dropping off into the ocean but I was afraid of a leap that would be successful. As I back away to the far end of the balcony I heard the walkie crackle again, but I looked straight ahead, readying myself against the surface behind me.
My stomach was ahead of me, leaping before I even did, but with a deep breath I kept my eye on the ledge. A voice in my head said, “Go,” and I pushed off, feeling adrenaline rush through me as my brain knew what was next. I felt light as a feather as I swiftly approached the ledge, and with precise timing I jumped up onto the stone. I turned my ankle down, grabbing the ledge with both hands for a split second, and I let go as I propelled myself forward with my right foot. It felt like it was all happening in slow motion as I flew forward, my arms outstretched as I felt the wind carry me for a bit. Once I felt my body going nowhere but down, I bent my torso, my hands above my head while I jack-knifed into the blue water below me. I didn’t look as the water approached me; just shut my eyes as forever finally reached its end.
The cool ocean enveloped my body, and I opened my eyes to see a submerged, foggy view. Instantly I twisted upward, instinctively knowing which way it was, and I swam until emerged, gasping for the breath I forgot to take before diving in. I had gotten turned around in my twisting, and I saw the side of the hotel. My longing stare was brought to an end once I heard a gunshot, followed by screams that were muffled by the walls. Turning, I saw a white dingy just outside the shark net and I only knew where it began because of the orange torpedo floats. If that thing was broken and a fucking shark took me out… Just one more fear to add to the list.
A pudgy man with bronze skin waved at me with both hands, and just so that he would stop I swam over to him, getting to the boat quicker than I anticipated. He let down the boat ladder, pulling me up after just climbing two rungs. In helping me he ended up getting his white tee wet, but he only wrapped a towel around me.
“Welcome aboard,” he said with a nod, his accent not at all thick. “I’m assigned to take you to Wesker.” So he knew his real name.
“Where are we going?” I dared to ask.
Before he went man the boat he replied, “Ubatuba.”
When he was far enough away I muttered, “Never heard of it.” As long as it got me to the only man who could keep me safe, I was all right. I just wish the same could have been said for John Kessler. I couldn’t believe I murdered a man for identifying. Somehow I had become what I feared the most, and now being Illyria was not as fun as I had thought it would be. Under my second alias I killed unnecessarily, so what if he told them he’d seen Claire Redfield if I was leaving anyhow? As the boat started I took a seat on deck, looking back upward from where I had leapt, knowing my latest mistake was just above.
Then I remembered something Chris had said to me long ago, and although I knew that he had heard it elsewhere I could only think of his face as I whispered to the suite above, “He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.” And he was right.
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