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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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“The date is April 19th, 2009, and time is 13:26:47. Both cycles of Paclitaxel and Doxorubicin have ended. Though it is quite a shame to see total hair loss though it’s to be expected from highly aggressive chemotherapy. I’m fully confident hair regrowth will be quick once all transplants have been completed.
Both the patient and donor T-103 Tyrant are being prepped for their respective procedures, the first of which is scheduled for 07:00:00 April 20th, 2009. All stem cells have been programmed to resemble those of the patient in order to prevent rejection. The coded stem cells will also begin immediate repair of any and all damaged tissue so that the virus will be administered to a healthy host. This is doctor Lakshan Bhandari, PhD. The date is April 19th, 2009. The patient is Miss Claire Redfield. ”
Chemotherapy.

Aggressive chemotherapy to completely destroy her immune system in order to make her body accept those cells and be openly responsive. Cells that would fix the damage and injury caused by not just the chemo, but their actions when they invaded her home and took her down. Stem cells that fixed injuries sustained from MotoGP incidents, any fights, internal scars, old broken bones.

Behind every injury and wound was a story to be told. Some stories would cause a person to lose sleep at night and others would make them wince in sympathy. All of them gone. Wiped away as though they never existed and the stories they told went right along with them.
There was something else that stood out. Something far more insidious to her as a human being. Something that made her blood turn to glaciers in her veins.

In all of her dealings with the monsters and the mutants and the Tyrants, she had seen them do many things. Move a crashed helicopter like it was a feather, come out of nowhere to grab her by the neck in a grip that exuded strength without an ounce of effort.

Impossible. Inhuman. Unreal. Awesome. Terrifying. Breathtaking. Unstoppable. Immoveable.
All words that described what Tyrants were capable of and even under the layers of horror, Claire could admit to admiration. That the creaturesamazed her and she couldn’t wrap her head around how they achieved the impossible. Yet for all their impressive and unnatural brute strength, not once had she ever heard a Tyrant speak.

Not a grunt, husk, growl, snarl, whisper, chuff. Anything that meant communication. And when a monster, a Tyrant, couldn’t speak. They couldn’t give consent to anything done to them nor could they go against orders programmed into them.

The donor Tyrant had been subjected to the same violations as she. Sedated, medicated to increase stem cell count in the blood, and then have that blood extracted by some crazed lunatic in a lab.

“The donor Tyrant.” Her voice sounded distant even to herself. “The T-103. What was his name, please?”

There was a pause before the doctor responded. “You don’t have to carry that cross, Miss Redfield. It isn’t yours to bear.”

Claire turned her attention to the man who had done this to her. To that Tyrant. “I asked for his name.”

Lakshan sighed, his gaze shifted to where Tyrannos sat. “The report said Michael Becker. As to how true that is? I couldn’t say. I wasn’t in residence when he was exposed to the T-virus.”

Her gaze landed on the Tyrant, who sat ever silent on a plush sofa in a ski cabin that whispered wealth. He looked as out of place as she felt.

Despite the warmth of the cabin and all of its cosy furnishings, a chill prickled from head to toe and left a trail of goosebumps on her skin.

That was it, wasn’t it?

She was a Tyrant.

No different to the one on the sofa. No different to the one that stalked her right through Raccoon City. No different to Alexia Ashford and Albert fucking Wesker .
Mother’s ruin, dear. I heartily recommend it.
Mother’s ruin? What the hell was that?

Gin. And plenty of it.
“Miss Redfield?”

Claire blinked away the odd voice in her head and looked at the doctor with a realisation. “Tyrannos. He’s my donor, isn’t he? That’s why you called him my Tyrant.”

Lakshan nodded. “Matiass. He wanted the Countess, you, to have every protection. So he ordered Tyrannos to be under the Countess’ command.Your command.”
“Was I programmed? Like the mon…” She cut that word out of her vocabulary right then and there. “Like the Tyrant from Raccoon City?”

“No. Absolutely not.” The doctor said, emphatic. “Most of them, from what I can gather, are given one task. A Tyrant won’t stop until that task is completed one way or another.”

Claire clenched her fists. His reply just confirmed suspicions she’d had for many years. “There was a Tyrant. A 103, like-like Tyrannos, like Michael. Nothing distracted him. Nothing. It didn’t matter where I was. He was always one step behind me. Somebody gave him that task, didn’t they? Somebody ordered that Tyrant to kill me. So somebody, somewhere, knew I was in that city. And unless that Tyrant walked or drove to Raccoon City? That somebody was either close enough to drop him off or they were inside the cop station. Watching my every damn move.”

It was just a little too easy to count the number of survivors she’d met that night. Leon Kennedy, rookie cop. Little Sherry Birkin, daughter of the G-virus creator. Brian Irons, a crooked cop with a penchant for taxidermy. Ada Wong. Marvin Branaugh, Annette and William Birkin didn’t survive. Leon survived. Sherry survived. Ada survived.
She sure as hell hadn’t watched herself. Sherry had remained hidden until they met. So that left Leon Kennedy and Ada Wong.
Her heart turned to glass inside her chest as a tiny seed of doubt planted itself in her mind.

Had she been wrong about Leon all of this time? What if… What if he had been sent there on purpose? Umbrella made zombies a reality, made Tyrants a reality, so a fake cop wouldn’t be much of a strain for them, would it?
Hell, Wesker had been a fake good guy from the get-go. All Umbrella had to do was hand over a good amount of money to some rookie. And a rookie who was late for his first day due to alcohol? Nobody would ask questions.

I didn’t. I didn’t ask him anything. I saw his uniform and went with it. Ada is wherever he goes. She’s saved his ass. He’s saved hers, he lets her go and he knows she’s selling those viruses. What if their meeting was never by chance? God, was I wrong? Have we been wrong this whole time about Leon?
Claire stood, hand over her mouth and bile in her gut as she tried to kill that single seed of doubt.

It was what Umbrella would want. For them all to hold each other in contempt, to think of one another as untrustworthy. To believe another would become a double agent that willingly reported back to the real monsters.

Yet for all of that? It was something she couldn’t quite shake off and it made her ashamed to even doubt Leon, even offhand.
Gin, darling.

“Miss Redfield?”

Lakshan’s cultured voice sliced through her troubled mind and she ran a hand over her face.
“I-I need some air.”

xxxx

The Aspen air was crisp to breathe and it stabbed her lungs with each inhalation. She could taste the snow on the late evening breeze as it drifted down from the mountains and she tilted her head up, eyes closed, and just let herself be.
And Lakshan’s family cabin wasn’t something to be sniffed at. Not that she knew what made for a fancy cabin, but she was pretty damn sure this one hit the mark for many an affluent skier.
A wooden staircase led the way to the door and the walkway to the right went straight to where the hot tub sat in the corner of a porch that extended out over the garage. Lantern lights decorated the outer wood panels and gave off a soft glow that illuminated the trees around the place. A large cathedral window provided a spectacular view for those inside the cabin, while the porch offered up true serenity.
Claire opened her eyes and looked up and up and up, all the way through those paper-white trees and saw stars begin to appear in the indigo sky.

Everything was sharper now, more in focus, and she could see where bits of bark had been stripped from trees, could see the silhouettes of branches and leaves alike. Then there were the smells and sounds.

Being trapped in a car for hours on end had not been shits and giggles. She heard each and every bite he took. How his loafers squeaked against the damn pedal. How he sniffed and coughed and slurped on his stupid ass coffee that wreaked of salted fucking caramel. Even his damn voice started to grate on her last nerve.

After all of that?

Being out here, in this place, had pretty much saved her sanity from a fate worse than death. The worst of it was she had no-one to share it with.

It was probably the loneliest she had ever felt since Leon had pretty much told her to fuck off and find her brother…
Claire clenched her jaw tight as it would go.

No. No. I won’t do it. I won’t doubt him. Not Leon. He’s been in this mess as long as my brother has. As long as me. He wouldn’t. I know he wouldn’t. Besides, it’s Leon. Leon would love this place, I think. He’d like the peace and quiet. It’d be nice. He could break his arm showing off for Sherry and I. I don’t know what’s worse. That she wanted us as her parents or that I allowed myself to dream about it.

She had allowed it, though, hadn’t she? Allowed Sherry’s little girl heart to worm its way under her skin and paint pictures in her head. A home, a family. Christmas dinner with more than just two people who managed to scrape by on junk food and Christmas movies while they played pretend. Maybe even two little lines on a stick.

Gin tends to make one far less dismal.
A quiet click was heard right before boots clunked heavily off the wood, each dull thud echoed out the height and weight of the owner.

Claire felt her lips twitch when Tyrannos stood silently next to her on the extended porch, and she wondered if he could hear what she did. “I’m sorry. For what was done to you. That you had to be my stem cell donor.”
That large head slowly turned down and she found herself pinned into place by the familiar gaze of a Tyrant.

She covered her eyes for a moment or two, then lowered it. Repeated twice more before she gave up and the smile she held back flickered. Perhaps peek-a-boo was a little out of his league.
Before the Tyrant could respond, the doctor tentatively and subtly cleared his throat. “May I join you?”

“It’s your place.” She offered up the best smile she could summon given he was the one who infected her.

Lakshan approached with both hands in his pockets and a thicker stubble on his face. “Nice night, innit?”
Claire arched a brow at the smell of alcohol that came off of him. “That the best you’ve got, doctor?”
“It was either that or a lewd comment about leaving you two alone by the jacuzzi.” A lopsided grin tugged that stubble up. “I played a safety shot. And I may have helped myself to mother’s sherry.”
She snorted. “I thought I could smell booze. This place of yours. How much does it go for? I counted four bathrooms, one king bed, two queens, and four twins.”
“Ah.” He scratched his head awkwardly. “Eighteen hundred dollars or thereabouts. Good value for what’s available here.”

“Eighteen hundred bucks a week?”
His face reddened. “That would be per night.”
“What ?”

“It works out at one-fifty if it’s split between twelve people.”

Claire gave out a low whistle that echoed. “I counted two bedrooms and if you say the capacity is twelve, then…”

Lakshan shrugged. “Thirty-five hundred and fourteen square feet, plus pool table, fully equipped kitchen, ski-in and ski-out, garage, satellite, cable, jacuzzi, fitness room with gym equipment…”

She gave another low whistle, then fell silent as she wondered on how to bring up the elephant in the room. Blunt was always best in her world and so that’s what she went with. “How did you end up…”

“Working for the spawn of Satan?” He turned to lean both forearms on the edge of the porch and locked his fingers together. “I worked at Johns Hopkins. I was developing bio-engineered cells that would stimulate neurological function in patients with Alzheimer’s. I received a phone call to say I was a match and could I get to the Delila Frederic clinic as soon as may be. Once in? There was no getting out. Eighteen months I was in there. I didn’t think I’d ever see the light of day again. Until they brought you in.”
“I’m sorry, doctor.” She said, genuine. It couldn’t have been easy to go from the top of the world to a place that stripped him of everything he held dear.
“Nah. It’s karma, innit? I have to pay for my crimes. This is only part of what’s coming my way.”
Claire studied him and looked for any sign that said he was a liar but found nothing. “You’re clearly a smart guy who could have escaped any time. Why did you wait until I was there?”

“You. Your connections. Staying allowed me to keep the C-Veronica smart virus out of the wrong hands. I befriended him. Matiass, I mean.” Lakshan rubbed his hands against the cold. “My plan was to get you out and hand over all of my evidence that Matiass would be arrested and brought to trial for what he’s done. Matiass. He-he has Kuru, Miss Redfield. I took an oath once to do no harm. That’s all I’ve done there is harm and kill. He will be the last one I kill because I refuse to treat a disease he so richly deserves.”
A frown of confused knitted her brows together and she tilted her head. “Kuru. I’ve heard the word, but…”

“It’s a bacteria that infects the brain when a person practises cannibalism.” He didn’t look at her this time, just stared straight in front of him, his face blank. It was that same haunted look that man had back in the stairwell. “Please don’t ask me more on that tonight, Miss Redfield. Let it kill him. Let it spread through his brain until he dies, slowly.”
“Lakshan…” Claire reached out to clasp his cold hand only to have him wave her off.
His smile didn’t quite reach the mark when finally looked her way. “I find myself a bit worse for wear, Miss Redfield.”

“It’s Claire, doctor. Just Claire. And you’re right. We both need to get some sleep if we expect to make good time tomorrow.”

Lakshan brightened at that. “There’s a bed made up for you. Help yourself to anything that’s in the pantry and cupboards if you get hungry.”

She smiled her gratitude as she watched him walk down the porch and across the walkway to the front door, then she sighed as she looked out into the dark.
There was more than what he said, of that Claire was sure of, but he was right. They had talked plenty for one night and they had a long way to drive tomorrow, so going to bed was a good plan.
“Come on, Tyr.” She tugged on the Tyrant’s black sleeve. “Come with me. Come get some rest.”
xxxx

The sun rose at exactly 0540 on the June 8th 2009, and with it rose Chris Redfield who instantly checked his phone for updates.

Happy was he to find a photograph of his sister’s kidnapper, plus name, social security, job description, age, height, and everything else a brother needed to know. Such as the cabin right under his nose in Aspen.

Lakshan Bhandari, a 32-year-old genius whose work at Johns Hopkins looked set to revolutionise the world of Alzheimer’s and Dementia. His use of re-coded viral bacteria had shown to be successful in trials on the treatment of mice with brain damage.

“Chris?”

Chris handed his phone over to Kennedy without a word and listened as the agent read the description out loud.
“Lakshan Bhandari, PhD. A young man set to change the world. His cutting edge in biomedical engineering combines the incredible use of modern-day smart technology to re-code viruses to help stimulate neurological function in patients with Alzheimer’s and Dementia. His background in virology and infectious diseases make him a prime candidate…”

Leon trailed off, his jaw flexed under pressure while his hand dropped down to the hip that would house his gun.

With such a fine specimen as that behind Claire’s disappearance, who knew what the hell she had been exposed to over these last ten weeks.

One thing Chris did know for sure and that was Bhandari was a dead man, and all that remained unanswered was who made the kill shot.

Leon or himself.
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Code: Project AURORA