Yeah, I can easily imagine such a surreal picture: a monster being torn apart simply because the six hundred "most necessary personalities" living inside it—programmers, martial artists, scientists, and all sorts of other people—can't agree on where this body should go. And some of them are outright lazy, just to make the picture even prettier.
You could even add another detail to the image. Sure, such a psycho would be dangerous—but imagine that at least a third of the absorbed people were afraid of blood. When you clearly realize that such a fear, multiplied by itself two hundred times, would rise to the level of a phobia of global proportions… well, then the monster wouldn't just become harmless. It would simply die, unable to feed on the very liquid it needs so badly.
That's probably why I don't rush to extremes and start absorbing people useful for my development left and right. Instead, little by little—like with those same cameras—I convert the knowledge I've grabbed into the category of my own skills. Maybe it's slower, but at least I won't pick up anything unnecessary. And the time between the canon's major events sometimes stretches to a couple of years. So by the time of the final meeting with Wesker and the end of all these problems, I'll be a real monster.
And so I finally reached the unremarkable little café where Cindy managed to get a job—and even got her friend hired there too. Honestly, that bartender is quite an interesting person. Back in Raccoon City she showed remarkable compassion, donating a quarter of her not-so-high salary to orphanages and churches that cared for orphans. Easygoing, always participating in every campaign, movement, or initiative that could somehow improve the lives and rights of the disadvantaged.
Yeah, people like that still exist. I'm shocked too.
And so, she couldn't abandon her friend either. She even managed to persuade the owner of this place to hire the Japanese girl as well. All that information was sent to me in her dossier by Four Eyes. Yeah… I'm still a long way from being a real hacker.
Her friend is more modest—reasonably intelligent, quiet (which seems fairly typical for Japanese people), calm and thoughtful. Careful. Often retreats into herself when thinking things over. She's on very friendly terms with computers, though according to Four Eyes she's nowhere near her level—"not even close," as she kindly added in the dossier. Is she afraid I'll replace her with another programmer? No need. Yamata is a versatile personality, so I'm definitely not trading her away. Adding someone to her in the distant future, though… well, we'll see.
But right now, the dossiers of the two girls were the last thing on my mind. The Closed sign hung on the door—and it was only half past four? That wasn't even funny. This café usually got its main rush closer to six. The lights inside suggested the same thing.
No armed men seemed to be around, judging by the movements, yet stil… the whole thing looked strange from the outsi...
I'm an idiot!
I burst inside, rushing toward the three nearest sources of light. Two of them had a vaguely familiar scent. What did you expect? My first victims—dogs—are packed tightly into my DNA, along with their sense of smell. I'd just been thinking that the enraged heads of the corporation might start making bad decisions. I had even predicted the appearance of B.O.W.s.
Well—here they are.
And here was confirmation that Umbrella had indeed gotten its hands on the G-virus: Hunter R, or MA-125, developed by Birkin and later refined by the corporation's other eggheads. Ordinary Hunters—MA-121—weren't even close to this thing, if only because this one was based on the G-virus.
Powerful. Fast. Agile.
Those were just the most obvious advantages of this new form of an old enemy.
It wasn't as bulky as its earlier relatives, but it was even a little taller, moving with greater fluidity and speed. The scales along its back had practically turned into armor, studded with spikes. The crown of its head hadn't escaped the same fate. Its legs had become shorter and much closer to the arms, while still keeping their impressive claws and gaining a wider range of uses. And those prominent fangs—especially the upper pair—made me think of a certain resemblance to my own project.
Though that was probably just my imagination.
At the moment, two of those creatures were enthusiastically finishing off—judging by the dossier—the owner of the café. Meanwhile, the third raised its arm for a wide, sweeping strike, preparing to bring it down on the victims cornered nearby.
My charges!
Not so fast, little one!
I lunged forward at maximum acceleration—and with a sinking feeling realized that the loss of my reputation was now unavoidable. I wasn't going to make it in time!
Two movements seemed to merge into one. I slammed into the monster whose claw was already slick with blood, knocking it aside, pinning it down with my body, and smashing its face a couple of times.
God, how furious I was with that creature!
It's hard to even describe.
I sprang to my feet, grabbed the Hunter—still disoriented by the force of my blows—and hurled it across the room at its kin, who had just finished devouring the café owner and were rising to their full height.
The force of the throw was such that all three monsters were literally swept toward the bar counter, where they smashed through it, demolishing the structure and punching straight through the plasterboard partition.
Excellent.
The distance to their intended victims—apparently still alive—was now over twenty meters. Which meant I had to finish the creatures quickly and then try to help the girls, who were staring at me with wide, astonished eyes. Ah. During the burst of aggression, I'd instinctively pulled back my hood.
So they recognized me…Maybe it's even for the better that those two… will die here?
(End of Chapter)
P@treon: /SadRaven
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