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FINALE...THE END?!

:::Running. Her feet sloshing through endless murky pools. That’s how it began. Priest shuddered. She coiled into Wrath’s powerful arms to rest, to recuperate from her wounds. Her bitterness made her curl her fists into tight balls of bone and flesh. Sandman…had made her lose…but why? Towards what purpose?! What was his vested interest in McMahon? Wrath’s powerful, yet deformed form shuddered beneath her.:::

“What is it?” she inquired, curling her fingers around his armor plating, the armor plating that trapped her love within the belly of the beast. He didn’t respond. He was…distant…certainly not in the “here and now”. “Viscellious, the finals are about to begin. If we are to strike, we must do it now.” Priest urged, shaking him slightly. She became panicked. “This is not funny…”

“WE CANNOT DO IT…ALONE…” the voice boomed. Priest sat back, gazing deeply into the slitted mask, and the feral eyes it held.

:::Running. Running Alone…no more…:::

She understood.

Nate Crosser sat huddled in the corner of the locker room. The room reeked of death, of decay…or was it just his imagination? Was it the sight of seeing so much death in a single day that so pervaded his nostrils with this foul odor. He closed his eyes, and snapped them open again, he couldn’t keep them closed. Everytime he closed them…he saw someone else die…

*Click*

The distinctive sound of someone cocking a magnum. Nate spun around, his senses on high alert, when weren’t they, he wondered. But, upon initial surveyance he realized he was in no immediate danger. The sound had drifted over from the showers. Nate, still ever vigilant, stepped stealthily into the shower area, his feet disturbing a murky puddle of slimy water. A figure was pressed face first against the far wall, sitting cross legged. He was raising something up to his mouth…putting it in…and “Oh God…” Nate lunged and tore at the shirt on the man’s back. Nate got on top of him, trying to pry at his wrist, to get him to take the gun out of his mouth.

“You can’t even let me die in peace Crosser! You son of a bitch!” Alexi backhanded Nate off of him with the butt of the weapon and Nate rolled off, his face screaming with pain. Alexi got shakily to his feet and he put the gun to the side of his jaw, and simply stood there…weeping…

Nate sat back on his haunches and stared in horror, in awe…of a broken man…

“Do you know how it hurts? She…she…was…’ Alexi let out a choked sob and he pressed the gun against his face even harder. “…he…he’s not gonna let any of us out of here…none of us…Jill was just one of the first…” And then Alexi burst into another sob and almost slipped. His hand reached for a towel rack and he steadied himself.

It felt so surreal. Here…here was the infamous Alexi Gustove…the traitor…the scoundrel…the warrior…and he had shattered into millions of tiny shards of glass.

“I…I told him to protect her…and…and…instead of doing that…he…” Alexi flung his weapon arm away from his face and Nate breathed a small sigh of relief. “You goddam son of a bitch! Oh God…you son of a bitch! I am going to end you!” Alexi screamed in a bestial fury. He bashed his hand against the wall so hard it drew blood. The blood coursed over the body of the gun and Alexi studied it. And then, completely spent, he slumped to his knees and into the murk. Nate was unsure of what to do…his body trembled…he didn’t know why…but before he knew it…he was hovering over Alexi…consoling him. Nathaniel Crosser wrapped his arm around Alexi’s quivering shoulders and stared into the water.

The humans filled the stands…all of them…spent from their own tournament battles…and eagerly awaiting the finale of Sandman’s demented festival. Eagerly, and fearfully, awaiting…their own destinies…

And yet, they all knew that there were some missing faces. Wrath, Priest, Alexi, and Crosser…where were they?

Sandman could sense the buzz created by the missing prescenses.

“How quaint. Off planning some sort of coup, no doubt? Sandman gazed down at his subjects from above in his terraformed luxury box. The sick twisted vines that made up his tower arced throughout the box. One trailed up and around his leg and into his hand. It hissed and tried to nip at his hand. Sandman admonished it softly and stroked its back. “Acolyte?” It wasn’t like his son to ignore him. But Sandman could certainly hear him, his breathing was course and ragged. He was preparing for his final challenge. He was accumulating all of his hate, his rage, into his corporeal self…to unleash it upon his final opponent. Sandman smiled wistfully.

McMahon walked confidently into the center of the football arena, his feet crunching down on the blood stained turf. He surveyed the people in the stands…he could feel their hate, many of them, given the chance, would kill him where he stood. In fact, they could gun him down. No doubt most of them were still armed…but they wouldn’t dare. They wouldn’t dare interrupt Sandman’s festivities. And if one of them was foolish enough to kill him…McMahon smiled and rubbed his chest, rubbed over the hollow in which his virus, THE VIRUS, was kept, the one that would end them all. “Its almost…tempting…seeing them all writhe in their death throes. Almost worth my death” To which he mentally added, “Almost…but not exactly…”

Sandman leapt down from his booth, and hen his “son” followed suit. Acolyte sat bowed before his father. McMahon smiled. “All that power, and still such a subservient wretch…” McMahon spat at Acolyte. Some in the crowd gasped at his audacity. Acolyte looked up and ripped away his scarf. He bared his fangs at McMahon. But McMahon was ready. He let out a deep, guttural howl. His veins pumped blood like a waterfall, his adrenaline processed at a rate that could only be described as “inhuman”. Some electricity crackled in his palms, and likewise a misty shadowy substance began to form about Acolyte’s. Acolyte lunged and McMahon’s corded muscles tensed, his eyes darted about, trying to predict what the beast would do. And then, time froze.

“What?” McMahon muttered. His head shifted back and forth, trying to decipher fantasy from reality. It was then that he realized time hadn’t stopped, only Acolyte. “Wrath!” McMahon shouted, enraged that the big freak had interfered in his glorious battle. The crowd muttered with confusion.

No…not Wrath…

McMahon turned to face the demon. “What is this?”

You win…

“What?”

McMahon, you win. You are my champion.
McMahon was shocked. “Just like that? What about the final contest?”

There will not be one. My son would have ripped you apart. I didn’t let him. I wanted YOU to be the victor.

“This makes no sense! Excuse me if I don’t exactly trust you, but why are you allowing me to win like this?!”

All living beings are tainted: tainted with love, empathy, a longing for others. Priest longs for her lover, as does Wrath for Priest. Acolyte longs for someone to care for him. These…”humans”…are weak for obvious reasons. And then Sandman sighed. And even I… Sandman reached up and petted Acolyte on the head as he hung in mid air. ...even I…do not want to be alone…

The crowd’s confusion persisted, for they were too distant to hear the conversation, but they could see it. And they were amazed to see McMahon laugh.

“Ah hahahaha! Oh, wait, you have to be kidding me, right?!” McMahon laughed at Sandman. “All of this…all the shit you put me through! All because you were “lonely”?! I was built to collect data and eventually destroy someone who was…LONELY?!” McMahon cackled, and as he did so some of those in the audience turned their heads. They knew McMahon was dead, he was laughing at no less than the devil incarnate! Sandman stalked closer to McMahon, and only then did McMahon start to allow a sense of dread to creep into him. McMahon took a fraction of a step back and then he smirked. “You can’t touch me! If you do, you’re all dead! Everybody in this piss hole town is GONE!” he threatened, jabbing his finger at Sandman.

I like you. Your apathy, your lack of caring…your resistance of human, of natural emotion. You are…a God amongst men…

McMahon allowed his hand to drop. When was it coming? When was his punishment coming? Sandman put his face side to side with McMahon’s.

What is…your desire…

McMahon smiled. “To get out of this hell hole…”

Granted…your vindication is in the parking lot…

McMahon shook his head. It was…it was too easy!! He looked dazed as he stumbled off of the turf and into the locker room area. As soon as McMahon was gone, Acolyte dropped to the ground.

“Father, what happened?!” Acolyte asked expectantly.

The better man won. You my boy, have experienced the pain of loss…

“Father?” Acolyte whispered, betrayal and sorrow lining in his grating voice. “He won?”

Yes…he won…

Acolyte turned from his father, his face laden with confusion. “You let him win…”

That man…is stronger than anyone in this battlefield. It is his right to live, to prosper. He alone, has found the way. In fact…he is one of few who will be left alive today. You shall be one of those few, my son.

“Father! What do you mean?!”

Four shall live…the remainder succumb to…”evolution”…now please stand aside…

Just then, Wrath appeared, hovering in the air. Priest stalked out into the field. Acolyte moved closer to his father.

“They plan to harm you! I must protect you father!” Acolyte pleaded desperately. Sandman waved at him dismissively. “FATHER!” Sandman ignored him.

“aNoTheR? YoU SpAwnEd…AnOtheR?” Wrath spoke, and chills reverberated up and down every human spine in attendance. Many of them could recall cowering in terror of this beast…this abomination. That is until he became one of them. “WhY?”

Acolyte stepped in front of his father and thrust his arm out challengingly at his…half brother? Brother? “YOU CANNOT CALL HIM FATHER!” Acolyte screeched at Wrath. “You are unworthy of speaking his name…” Wrath didn’t even spare the mutant a glance. Rather, his dead eyes bore through Acolyte at Sandman.

“iT eNds nOw…faThEr…” Acolyte screamed in rage and plunged headlong at Wrath.

This…was simply too delicious! McMahon marveled at the sleek military freight carrier that lay amongst the twisted cars in the parking lot. His laugh was a bemused cackle…he had beat them all! He alone was to live this day! “That freak is gonna end everybody in that stadium…” he realized as his boot clanked down on the extended gangplank, almost as though it was inviting him aboard lovingly. His sinister laugh echoed through the hull of the ship as he opened his arms, soaking it all in. His sauntered into the cockpit, still half expecting something…anything to go wrong! But nothing went wrong, the carrier thrummed to life like a charm.

“Oh come on, you mean you aren’t gonna make this tough?” McMahon spoke into the air. “You pussy!” McMahon slapped on his dark sunglasses as his trained hands flew over the controls. His elation grew as the plane took to the air. He keyed in the coordinates…coordinates he had memorized for the first time since he had ever met Alexi Gustove. “You fool, you have no idea how much you have contributed to my well being. I so wish you were here Mr. Gustove…for giving me the fabulous idea…”

“Oh…I’m here…you can thank me to my face now…”

McMahon turned about sharply, and realized how exactly this was going to be difficult. Alexi leered at him with pure hatred, a hatred that he was about to channel through the barrel of an AK-47 assault rifle.

“Looks like…you’ll be joining me in hell…” Alexi spat as he fired. McMahon had no room to dodge effectively, and his blood painted the room as the hot lead tore into his flesh.

Nate’s senses were too overwhelmed to hear the roar of the carrier’s engines as it took to the sky…with Alexi Gustove aboard. Certainly, Nate couldn’t deny a pang of jealousy that roiled throughout his psyche…the irk that accompanied the knowledge that THEY of all people had been the ones to get away. Yet, despite all of that, Nate smiled.

“Screw you Crosser…and thanks…” Those had been Alexi’s final words to Nate before stealing aboard McMahon’s “gift”. Somehow, they seemed infinitely appropriate. There would be no final showdown between the fierce rivals…only…a mutual understanding. Nate let his eyes wander over the skyline as the jet arced through the sky. And then, his mind screamed. An image flashed in his mind’s eye, and he gasped. His fingers crept around his linear launcher.

“This…is …it…” he whispered as he raced back into the stadium.

Acolyte brought his claws high above Wrath’s head, intent on burying them deep into his helmet and deep into his skull. Wrath’s sword appeared in his hand in an instant and he brought it up to block Acolyte’s swing. The blade clanked as it struck Acolyte’s gauntlet. Acolyte lashed out with a kick to Wrath’s midsection and Wrath stumbled back, to which Acolyte pursued with a supersonic dash. He passed through Wrath so fast he became invisible for a fraction of a second, and when he reappeared he was cartwheeling away from the beast knight like a practiced gymnast. Wrath grunted as his sword broke into two pieces and a chunk of his chest armor slid off him, exposing a deep gash underneath. As Acolyte arched his back to perform another cartwheel, he instead gathered a mass of shadow energy into his hands and used it to propel him into the sky. He shrieked as he brought the wave of black matter crashing down on Wrath. Wrath skidded along the ground, tucked, and then brought himself back to his feet using his own momentum. But by then Acolyte was twirling through the air at him like a dart. He halted in mid air and a torrent of more dark energy blasted out of his palms. He used it to swirl about Wrath and ensnare him.

“I warned you not to say his name…” Acolyte sneered as he proceeded to crush Wrath with his dark power. But then Wrath cut him off in mid-rant. He brought up his hugely deformed claw and used it to clamp around the rings of energy. He brought his fingers together like a vice and the energy broke apart. Acolyte was stunned and enraged by the show of power.

You two make me so proud… Sandman mused as he enfolded his wings over his armored frame. He marveled at their prowess. It is a shame you had to leave me Wrath…for her…he nodded his head at Priest and Priest’s face twisted with anger. Wrath cocked his head at his father.

“yOU SaY tHaT as tHOUGh I ShOUlD bE…asHaMeD.” Wrath said evenly. “I Am…nOT aShAmEd to LOVE. NoT AnYmoRe…YeT yOu PerSiSt in FeAriNg iT?

Sandman looked annoyed. I do not FEAR it…I ABHOR it. A difference that shall be beaten into you. Sandman signaled to Acolyte, but Acolyte seemed distracted. He was looking at the crowd of humans, there were more of them now…and they seemed to be…organizing?

“Father, I do not like this…” Acolyte intoned. Sandman studied them, and then he smiled at Wrath knowingly.

Good…good… the monster conceded.

“NOW!” Priest cried out. Ibuki could feel them all, everyone of them. Wrath…had brought them all together. Even those who were not enrolled in the tournament were now here, and as Wrath and Acolyte engaged in mortal combat, Wrath had directed them into strategic positions throughout the stands. And as one, as one body, from the meek to the strong, they joined together…

Rob Sullivan felt the linear launcher in his hands, he trained it at Sandman and his stomach roiled. “Could this finally be it?” He could see Nate across the stadium, aiming his own linear launcher at the monstrosity known as Sandman. “Could it?”

John Crichton used the chair to help him aim his shotgun. And then, he realized his picture of Chris had fallen out of his jacket. A tear started to form in his eye and he batted it away quickly. He had to concentrate, had to fire…

Ray DeVaro realized that for the first time in his depraved life, at this moment in time he was truly part of something that was MORE than himself. More than his sick experimentation, more than his own greed…more than anything. At first, this sensation sickened him, and then he realized that that was all an emotion affront. This felt…kinda good…

Bryan Slough took aim with his own shotgun, adrenaline honing his senses. He HATED Sandman! He HATED what Carlos had become! He HATED this city! And then Bryan felt drained…but why? And then he had his own answer…HATE was a selfish mistress…all encompassing…all devouring…it devours you from within. He looked at some of his fellow cult members, and hoped they knew it too now.

These survivors and more felt it, felt it all slipping away as it came together. They had to be in the here and now…the here…and….

NOW!

Wrath dove at Acolyte and pinned him to the ground and Priest whipped out her twin pistols and fired into Sandman. Everyone fired, bullets, arcs of electricity, every manner of projectile fell down on Sandman like a hellish rain of pain. And then, in a unison too precise for human reflexes, Rob and Nate fired their launchers in exact unison. The orbs of plasma screamed through the sky, guided by an unearthly force. Sandman bellowed as the hundred of thousands of rounds of ammunition pounded through his armor, into his putrid unholy flesh. And then the orbs collided with Sandman in the center. Sandman’s body seemed to contort and expand, and then it contracted violently until finally the field exploded in gore…

“NOOOOOO! FATHER!” Acolyte wailed plaintively. He scrambled out from under Wrath, diving on his hands and knees and scooping up what amounted to a pile of Sandman’s remains. Wrath towered over Acolyte, and all the power seemed to slip from the being once known as Carlos Veldtmore. The creature keeled over into his fathers blood and wailed mournfully. Wrath clamped his massive claw down on Acolyte to ensure his half-brother didn’t escape, but it truly wasn’t necessary. Acolyte…was beaten…

And then, as the humans realized what had happened, realized what they had done, a raucous cheer erupted from them all. The hugged and cried together, leaning on each other for support. It was finally over…

Priest took it all in, and a tear trickled over her cheek.

McMahon stumbled back against the controls, blood spewed out of his mouth as the rounds embedded themselves in his flesh. He scraped around in his own blood as he struggled to rise. Alexi booted McMahon back down to the ground and proceeded to pound McMahon with even more rounds. McMahon writhed, sending his own fluids splashing about the cockpit. Alexi bore the visage of a maniac as he stopped firing and simply enjoyed McMahon’s suffering.

“So, do tell, what was it that I helped you with?” Alexi sneered as he sat in the pilot’s seat, his weapon trained on McMahon’s skull, primed and ready for a kill shot that would destroy even a super soldier.

“If you kill me…you die too…” McMahon gurgled, putting his hand up in surrender. He slipped some in his own blood yet again and he was forced to lean against the carrier console.

Alexi laughed. “That doesn’t matter anymore! Not even my mission matters! You tore something away from me…something I’ve never been able to have until now. You stole love from me!”

McMahon erupted into a wheezing guffaw. More blood spilled out over his lips. “Huh huh…love…Gustove, I never…thought you…the type…”

“Neither did I…until I accepted it into me…you know, in a way I almost feel sorry for you…you soulless bastard. You killed Jill because you’re bitter, you know you could never have that…” Alexi accused. McMahon guffawed meekly again.

“You…are…so wrong…” McMahon gasped, as he brought his hand over his wounds. But inwardly, he smiled. He could feel his flesh sealing back up beneath his palms, all he needed was a little more time. “I don’t…NEED…love…that’s one thing…Sandman actually…got right…”

“If that’s the case…if you truly do not need love…you are more twisted and evil than anyone could ever imagine.

“Oh…that’s harsh…” McMahon taunted. Just a little more time. “Harsh…considering everything…I did for you…” McMahon nodded at Alexi’s rebuilt hand. “Another reason you can’t kill me…I figure…you’ve got about another…month…before the process…reverses…begins to eat away…at you…” And then McMahon reached slowly into his breast pocket, and shakily removed the pieces of the broken bottle of counter agent. Alexi felt a sharp pang in his gut. “But…I can…make you…more….you’ll….never break free of me…Gustove….”

“I can. And I will.” McMahon saw Alexi’s finger tense on the trigger. He still hadn’t bought enough time, but his gambit had failed and he would have to make do with his present condition. He rolled out of the way and banked back towards the pilot seat, he wrestled the gun away from Alexi, but as he did so Alexi kicked him in his still healing wounds and McMahon buckled, but still had the strength to toss the assault rifle aside and retrieve his silenced pistol. He jammed it up and under Alexi’s throat, and McMahon felt the cool sting of Alexi’s magnum pressed against his temple.

“Who fires first?” McMahon asked.

Alexi said only one word. “Go.” And a single gunshot reverberated throughout the carrier…

They gathered together on the field, still clinging to each other. In an instant, the animosity, the hatred, any negatives that had existed between them before vanished. They were one. It was then that Priest wished Johann had still been here to see it, see how far they’d all come…

She redirected her gaze back towards Wrath as he stood over the broken form of Acolyte. She walked over to him and curled her small by comparison arm around his. “What will you do?” she asked mentally. Wrath touched her mind, caressed it gently. To her, his voice was the steady and unbroken voice of her lover.

“Haven’t thought that far.” Priest suppressed a mental chuckle. That was so much like him, to fly by the seat of his pants. But, it was a question that had to be answered. Surely, he couldn’t return to society.

“You…you…”

“I know. Victoria, we both knew this time would come.”

“Still, it doesn’t make it any easier…”

“But you must continue…without me. I want you to go on living, forget about me, about what we had…before. I want you to love someone else…”

“But…no…” Priest had never felt so lost. It was like the last year of her life had come full circle. And again she was wandering through the alleys of Delta City…alone…

“You must. You will.” Wrath concluded. “Nothing can break our bond, but now we must keep that bond in heart and in mind ONLY.” Priest fought back tears, a cruel contrast to the joyous atmosphere about her. “I will always love you…” The tears came unbidden now, flowing freely. Some humans cast her an odd glance, to them, she was standing in silence, weeping. “I…shall always love you too…” A series of howls vented through the night. A hand burst through Wrath’s chest, ripping his heart out and dropping it at Priest’s feet. A single black arm had pushed out of a pool of blood and punctured through Wrath’s bare chest. Acolyte smiled sadistically as a black, bat-like creature, seemingly crafted by the night itself crawled out of the pool of blood.

Wrath fell…Priest screamed…

And then Donovan’s failed experiments fell down upon them all.

Its NEVER…that easy…

The Night Flier was amongst them.

Slowly, methodically, the devil climbed out of a pool of his own blood. Acolyte beamed from ear to ear as his father’s hand plunged through Wrath’s chest, felling the last of the Seven in a single move. Acolyte guffawed hideously as Priest fell to her knees, trying to coax Wrath back to life. It struck him as being foolish how humans always seemed to think words alone could dictate life and death. But only one being was that powerful… “Father! I knew you weren’t finished. Together we shall bask in the blood of these…humans…” Acolyte decried, approaching his father with sheer adoration in his eyes. Sandman wheeled around on his pupil. His face had begun pointed, streamlined. His eyes were nought but deep slits in his head. His body was covered in sheets of naturalistic midnight black armor. His massive wings fluttered out behind him. “Father…you look spectacular…” Acolyte marveled. “For the first time…I understand what power is…” Sandman cocked his head and blinked his eyes. Dread clutched at Acolyte’s guts. His father’s expression seemed…seemed… Sandman grabbed Acolyte by the throat. Yeah, his expression seemed like he hadn’t understood a word coming out of Acolyte’s mouth. Sandman was now no more than a mindless killing machine, exactly how Donovan Beckett had envisioned. Sandman tossed Acolyte into the cement barricade of the stadium, sending his son crashing through 3 meters of concrete. And then the night flier released a primitive, rending squeal…of joy… “No…no….” Priest whispered, gazing up at the beast. It was another nightmare world…just like…just like…

(“No sweety, its mommy!”)

Priest bent over, her knees swimming in Wrath’s blood. “Oh…God…”

Sandman looked down at the top of Priest’s head…and licked his lips…

One of the freaks came from up under the ground, its flesh was peeling and its legs were scrawny and crippled. Rather, it used it massively deformed arms to pull its way up through the dirt. As it did so, it tore through Da Pitt’s knee cap. He screamed as his leg fell away, and then the beast had lurched on top of him, and proceeded to feast on his head. “Its not supposed to end this way!” Bryan screamed, seeing his friend being devoured alive. He threw himself on the beast with wreckless abandon, pumping shotgun shells into it. The beast howled and lurched back, throwing Bryan to the ground. The creature swatted to the side in a blind fury, taking Basil’s head right off his shoulders. Bryan tried to get to his feet by the beast gored him in the stomach. Blood flew out of his mouth and he watched it splatter to the ground like raindrops... Falcon and Gambit pumped rounds into the beast from behind, and were finally able to bring it down…but by then Bryan was already dead…. Across the gruesome field of battle Antonio’s eyes widened as he beheld a raptor like mutation: some sick combination of a licker and a dinosaur, slash through the field of combat. It brought down Raven before the civilian could get off a single shot. Antonio unloaded into it with his shotgun, and then Harry Feor was at his side, plugging away as well. Finally, it stumbled over its own bullet riddled legs and writhed about in agony. But just as one foe was felled, Antonio was horrified to see his entire left side covered in crimson. “Jesus…” he muttered as he choked back vomit. Harry Feor had been bisected in two, his parts were scattered a foot apart. The beast was pure white, an albino, and it had wicked looking bony scythe’s extending from it forearms. Before Antonio could react one of the blades had already plunged right through his chest and into his heart. He died with the screams of the damned ringing in his ears. Ray had to resist plugging his ears. All he heard was shouting, horrified guttural cries, some crying out in pain, in fear. “Why does this bother me so?” He howled in confusion. And then…he saw it…the Night Flier…hovering over Victoria Priest. “Oh what the hell…” he muttered in a daze as he fired a grenade at Sandman. It detonated, and for a moment the unholy thing was lost in the smoke. And then it was above him…it was screeching at him…

“What the…?” And then he felt…burning. It was the flesh melting off his face…and then off the rest of his body. His skin diffused into a peach and red pool at Ray’s feet. His skeletal remains slumped to the ground.

“Shit! Run!” Michael Both cried as Ray’s simmering remains hit the ground. Sandman screamed at him and Both’s flesh peeled off, emitting gusts of smoke as the skin was flash fried. Shawn Smith had to dive over Michael’s remains to avoid trampling in them. But when he regained his footing, Sandman was above him. And then Shawn was missing his arms…and then his head… Tyler Durdin and Goku, both relatively unarmed…had the same thought. RUN! They booked for the exit, stumbling over bodies along the way. Vinni Karuu was in pieces on the turf…Gambit’s entrails were spilling out of his stomach as some bladed freak rended him limb from limb. And then Tyler hit the ground and needles of agony shot up his spine. A small crustacean like creature had sunk its needle like arms into him. And then a whip like appendage weeded out of the main body and put itself through his neck. Goku ran faster, and then the ground dropped out from below him. He was in a hole, and something was down there with him. He looked to his left and saw nothing but a mouth…and teeth…A sickly purple tongue lolled out and wrapped around him. It secreted something like acid until Goku couldn’t fight anymore. Nate reached out his hand and pulled Rob up onto the bleachers. And then together, as a unit the leveled their linear launchers at the greatest masses of monstrosities and fired. Nate took out two with a single blast, and the ground became littered with sickly looking yellow entrails and green blood. Ron waited until Nate’s was half charged again and fired, batting a huge flying creature out of the sky. Rob winced as he saw Xion struck down. His eyes began to well up. “Hurry you son of a bitch…” he howled at his launcher uselessly. He knew it was foolish…but of God, why did everyone have to die. And then he looked down and Alex Blade reached his hand up and begged to be pulled up to their vantage point. Ron reached down, his fingers wretchedly close to Alex’s…when Sandman appeared behind Alex. With one swift movement Sandman carved a swathe through Alex’s neck. Rob gaped in horror, and then his weapon was pulled from his hands. The launcher hovered in mid- air for a moment, manipulated by Sandman’s telekinetic ability. And then it fired on its owner. Rob was blasted apart and the sheer force of the explosion sent Nate tumbling off their vantage point. Acolyte got to his feet, slowly, shakily, using the broken wall about him to grapple against gravity. And just as he got to his feet, a bullet to the face floored him again. Acolyte stumbled back into the hole and a human placed his boot on Acolyte’s chest defiantly, and he emptied more rounds into Acolyte’s already damaged frame.

“Who…?” Acolyte whispered, his body wracked with pain.

“You know who you dumb shit.”

Acolyte looked up at him, paining wracking his thin blue frame. It was Max Neverov…

“Cat got your tongue? Maybe if Dana was here he’s get you to open your mouth! Hahahahahaha!” Max taunted. Rage boiled up in Acolyte, and then Max leveled his shotgun at the beast again and fired, Acolyte’s flesh splashed all over the wall. “Its ok! Don’t get up, Carlos. This’ll be over real quick.” Max prodded Acolyte’s with his shotgun, sticking the barrel right into one of his innumerable wounds. Acolyte stifled a cry. “Oh, please scream! That would make it so much better! Ya know, you’re really not that tough…”

“Wh…why?” Acolyte croaked.

“Ya know Carlos, it really hurts that you don’t remember me. Then again, I HAVE changed a lot since high school. Or maybe you just repressed me...I don’t know…”

“What…?”

“What do you mean “What?” God, you turning into a big freak certainly didn’t make you any smarter!” Max snorted. “Oh yeah…I still remember it, just like it was yesterday.” Max whipped out a knife….THE knife. And Acolyte felt…afraid. “Just three little letters, three little letters I put on your body. Ya know, the only reason I got so close to you during this whole ordeal was so that I could…APPRECIATE…the after effects of my handywork. I gotta say, I put you way further over the edge than I could have possibly dreamed! I mean, look at you! Hahahaha! What kind of rational person would have chosen this path?” Then Max got down to eye level with Acolyte. “Did I? Did I really have that much of an effect on you?”

“You…sick…fu..” But Acolyte couldn’t finish his statement. Max had proceeded to plunge his knife into Acolyte’s skin.

“Say it with me Carlos! F!” Max shouted with glee as he carved into the creature’s skin.

Acolyte screamed.

“A!” Max cajoled as he carved the second letter.

Acolyte didn’t scream. Max cocked his head. “Hey? No response this time?” Acolyte’s wounded arm shot up and grasped Max’s throat. “Say..it with me…” Acolyte hissed, black blood rolling over his lips. Max squawked and dropped his knife and shotgun. “Say…say…I’m sorry…”

“I’m sorry! Carlos, I’m sorry!” Max screeched in terror.

“No…you aren’t…” Acolyte gazed harshly at Max, and slowly, Max began to feel uncomfortable. His eyes…his eyes were starting to burn…

“Carlos, it hurts!”

Acolyte didn’t respond. In fact, he intensified the attack…the Penance Stare…

(Max was on the gym floor. His old buddies were all about him. Why weren’t they helping him up? Why…were they laughing? And…why was Carlos holding a knife? Carlos smiled, and plunged the knife into Max’s body. Max howled as the sharp edge sawed through his skin. But he wouldn’t pass out to the pain…oh God why can’t I pass out?

“S…I…N….N….E….R” Carlos called out as he carved each letter. “Now…you know….what its like to be BRANDED!”)

Max arose from the nightmare only to discover the nightmare had only begun. He couldn’t see. He felt his face, and his finger tips came in contact with a warm greasy liquid. And then he felt his eyes…felt where they should be…but instead felt only the interior of ragged, bleeding empty sockets. Max screamed.

“You’re doubly branded!” Acolyte called out. Max stumbled down to his knee’s in mortal fear, clawing at the wall and choking. Acolyte grabbed his hair and tipped his foe’s head back. “Thanks for the reminder…” And then Acolyte pulled Max’s head clean off his shoulders. Acolyte threw the head aside like filth and focused outside the hole he had created in the wall. And then Acolyte traced his fingers over the new letters in his chest. He stepped out of the hole, into the light, into the carnage of battle. The humans were dropping like flies, but they were putting up a valiant effort against Sandman’s deformed foot soldiers. But none of that mattered really. He stepped over the crushed body of Vyse Rays and looked at the brute of a beast that had just crushed Vyse. Acolyte put his palm on the creature’s back, and the beast simply exploded, crushed by an internal onslaught of shadow energy. Spike Peters who was nearby, looked at Acolyte in shock. And then Acolyte proceeded to carve through Spike, and then another of Sandman’s foot soldiers. Mark Stone fired at Acolyte, but Acolyte deflected the shot back at Mark. The bullet went right through Mark’s brain, felling him where he stood. And then Acolyte took to the sky, and proceeded to charge a massive ball of shadow energy. And when it was prepared, Acolyte heaved it at the stadium. The ball of energy exploded dead center in the middle of the turf. Ibuki was helping a wounded Devin Rogers to his feet when it landed right on them, terminating them in an instant. Like a shockwave, the energy ball reverberated in all directions, blasting through humans and creatures alike. Joe Higashi, Richtor Van Mender, Steve Haplin, Justin Sane, Falcon, and Adam Lance were instantly extinguished, alongside a slew of horrible beasts that they were engaged in combat with. And still the pulse of black matter spread from the epicenter. Anotsu Kagehisa was the first to actually see the wave coming. “Eveyone…RUN!” he shouted. And then he heeded his own advice and heaved forward. He could hear a creature bellow as it was engulfed by the wave behind him. His heart thudded in his chest, and then a flying beast tackled him to the ground and got on top of him. “No…GET OFF!” Anotsu screamed as he saw the wave coming in. And then both their screams were extinguished. Just ahead, Demon Tagg was clutching at the air, frantically trying to flee, when he tripped over a body and his face hot the dirt. He squeezed his eyes shut as the wave washed over him, flaying him to atoms.

Jack Caine clambered up onto the stands as the wave took life after life in rapid succession. Then, out of the corner of his eye he saw Nate Crosser climb up as well. They didn’t know each other, but they shared a mutual terror.

“What…what is that…? Caine muttered.

“It is anger…unleashed…” Nate said in awe. Even Sandman, who floated above everything, was shocked at his son’s display of aggression against EVERYTHING. Xi Fredful and Zander Tristan found their way up to the platform as well…and they marveled at what unbridled hate could do…

Xi Fredful saw the wave coming. It was all encompassing, it devoured all! Johnny, nought but a few meters ahead of Xi, faded to nothing as he too was eaten. Xi shut his eyes and expected death to take him at any moment. But it never came…Xi opened his eyes and saw endless bodies…but the wave was gone. Rather, a massive crater had opened in the center of the stadium, and Xi looked up quickly enough to see an exhausted Acolyte fall into it. Even Sandman’s soldiers, the few that remained, were stunned by what had occurred. The clustered in a group, chittering and communicating frantically.

And then Sandman cut lose with another ear piercing scream and the beasts echoed it.

Immediately after, Gabriel shocked them all.

“NO! NOW! We take the fight to them!!” Gabriel shouted. He charged into the midst of the creatures, raking over them with his flame thrower. One of them stumbled backwards and frantically tried to extinguish the flames that ate away at it with a voracious hunger. Ender Cardnol and John Crichton, both battered and bloody, charged ahead and unleashed everything they had at the remaining creatures. Another one went down, and then another. Gabriel died soundlessly as a shelled beast charged through his flames and gored him brutally in the chest with a horn that protruded from its head. Chris Valenta appeared from out of nowhere and gunned the beast down with his shock rifle. The massive arc of electricity blasted the creature in half and sent the smoking halves spinning across the ground.

Xi Fredful threw his spent handgun to his sides and pulled out his sub-machine gun and used it to unload into another of the freakish abominations. This one went down in a hurry. By this point, all of the scant survivors had rejoined together, and were combining their firepower on the beasts. Jack used his shotgun to ward off a four legged dog like beast, but the shotgun misfired and the beast dove on top of Jack and proceeded to tear into his chest. Nate Crosser, linear launcher in one hand and shock gun in the other, pointed the chock gun at the creature’s head and fired, vaporizing the thing’s skull in an instant.

Meanwhile, Ender Cardnol had put the finishing touches on a streamlined beastie that hovered along the ground like a carpet when another one came up from under the ground and stabbed one of its knobby legs through his chest, killing him instantly. Seeing this most recent in a stream of death launched Zander into a frantic killing spree. He fired at the freaks at random, doing little damage to them individually.

“Zander, wait!” Nate shouted, trying to temper the man’s rage. But his words were drowned out by a resounding boom from the side of the stadium. They all turned and were shocked to see…crawling amidst the pile of rubble it had created…a tank? The tank’s turret turned and fired into the chest of one creature, forcing its internals to come spilling out its back. This was followed by another blast…and then another from the tanks barrel.

“Viet Yamcha says…its time to whup some candy ass!” the distinct voice rang out from within the tank. The remaining freaks began to squeak indecisively until seeing another of their numbers gunned down convinced them to run. Zander fired at one of them from behind in a savage display of anger…and then the others followed suit, venting their year’s worth of aggression on these mockeries of life, and one by one, the last of them fell, kicking and screaming…to the might of the human spirit…

As the final one fell, the humans were tempted to allow elation to fill their hearts, but it simply wasn’t to be. There was still one test remaining…

Their ears were met with the grating crunch of something tearing through metal.

“NOOOOOO!” Kneeko cried out. Sandman had punched his hand through the top of the tank and had pulled Viet-Yamcha out by his neck. Sandman made a sickening gurgling sound, a sound that the humans realized was laughter, and he proceeded to wrap his claws around Yamcha’s head and crush. The ex-soldier’s head split open and all matter of gore spilled onto the tank and down across Sandman’s body armor. Sandman arched his back and threw aside the body triumphantly.

D….I….E….

Sandman closed his wings and reopened them suddenly, and when he did a series of blackened missile like objects shot out from beneath the leathery appendages. One of them tore a hole through Zander’s head, leaving a gruesome cavity where his face should have been. The other humans hit the dirt and Nate rolled and readied his linear launcher in one smooth movement. Sandman assessed the situation quickly, and moved to intercept the most viable threat to his life. In a flash, he was on top of Nate Crosser, clawing at him savagely. Nate booted Sandman in the face in a panic and got out from underneath the demon. But Sandman was faster, he raked his claws along Nate’s back and Nate cried out in agony as his shirt was coated in crimson. Sandman grabbed the back of Nate’s shirt and opened his wicked looking beak-like maw.

They all took aim at Sandman and fired in unison. Some of the bullets bounced harmlessly off his carapace, while some lucky shots struck him in the cracks of exposed flesh that were his weak point. But the creature was largely undeterred. Nate fought against Sandman’s vice like grip, propping his leg on Sandman’s kneecap and trying to push away. And then the screaming filled his ears and he could smell…taste…his own blood as his insides melted. Blood flowed freely out of every orifice, and then his skin melted away and sloshed at Sandman’s feet. The linear launcher dropped in the pile of melted flesh, signifying the end of one of the final remaining elites of Delta City.

“You son of a bitch!!!” Chris Valenta howled as the tears flowed freely from his eyes. “You son of bitch! Its really is gonna end like this….isn’t it?”

Sandman turned on Chris and studied him like only an animal can.

“Guys…guys…its over…Sandman has won….Donovan has won….Umbrella has won…” Chris choked. He dropped his weapons. “Just…give in…”

John shook his head and readjusted his sights on Sandman. “NO! It…can’t be over…it can’t end like this!!”

“Not everything has a fairy tale ending…” Valenta whispered. “Sometimes….death is right behind you…”

John was about to retort when the strange tone Chris had used to make his final statement struck him. And then hope infused him…infused them all. Death was right behind him…

“AHHHHHHHH!” Priest released her pain vocally as she charged up the side of the tank and planted her boot in the back of Sandman’s head. She forced her momentum down in mid-air and carried Sandman to the ground. The demon’s face hit the turf hard and Priest proceeded to gouge her heel into the back of his head. Sandman kicked out and spun to his feet. He flexed his wing’s out to his sides and they could see the edges of his wing’s melt away into blades. Sandman charged, intent on bisecting Priest in half. Priest lept into the air and back kicked Sandman in the skull as he passed. And when she landed, she was glowing with a radiant light, a light which the humans basked in awe of.

“Fire at him!” Priest shouted, leading the charge. They all raised their weapons and tore into him. Sandman got to his feet and holes were punched into his wings. It cried out with each new tear. Sandman took to the sky again and cupped his hands together, gathering shadow energy into his palms. And then he wrenched his hands apart, and a hail of black anti-matter fell down upon them. Kneeko fell to the torrent of evil energy, and some of it tore through Xi’s leg, sending him tumbling. His weapons clattered out in all directions and Sandman dove for the weak one. But Priest intersected him in mid-air with a flying kick. Sandman blocked it and cupped his wing around her to hold her in place. He then dropped down to the ground, blasting Priest into the ground with such force blood rose up and over her lips and into the air. Sandman brought his left clawed hand up and crashed it down on Priest’s shoulder. She heard the snap as her arm was dislocated from her shoulder. But she stymied the pain and kicked out at Sandman’s leg. Her heel pounded into a small crevice in his armor and met skin. Sandman growled and took another slash at her, but she rolled out of the way and his fingers dove into the dirt.

“Suck this down!” Chris shouted as his shock rifle belched into Sandman’s back at close range. Sandman screamed as the intense arc of electricity burrowed into his armor and charred flesh. He buzzed about in a blind rage and swatted Chris away with his wing. Chris spun in the air and landed on the back of his neck, and Valenta’s vision was awash with the colors of pain. Sandman brought his foot up and prepared to drop it down on Valenta’s chest, but Priest interjected yet again, crashing her forearm into Sandman’s face. The blow didn’t even phase him. He backhanded Priest and she felt like her head was going to leave her shoulders. She stumbled back into the dirt. Xi charged at Sandman, ignoring the cold chill rending his leg his sub-machine gun belting out hot metal. The bullets arced their way up his armor and into his face. Black blood shot out into the air and Valenta squeezed his eyes shut to clear his vision and aimed his shock rifle up at Sandman and pulled the trigger yet again. Another lightning strike overtook the dark one and a plate of his organic armor spun off, revealing smoking skin beneath. John Crichton rushed over as well and cut into Sandman with a slew of shotgun shells. Sandman reeled and Priest got back to her feet. She sunk her calf into his smoking skin and then, her hand arced with energy as she pulled it back. She crashed it into Sandman’s gut, peeling back even more armor. But then Priest was clipped by Sandman’s razor tipped wings in the stomach and she fell to her knees, nursing the deep cut. Sandman raised his hand in Xi’s direction and a cudgel of shadow energy came out and lodged itself in Xi’s neck, sending the valiant survivor crashing into oblivion. Then, Sandman called the cudgel back into his hand and swung at Chris Valenta with it. Chris ducked and he heard the weapon cut the air just above his head. Chris juked left, but Sandman predicted the movement and stabbed down at Chris’ leg. The cudgel sunk through the back of his knee, pinning Chris in place. Chris kept firing even as Sandman brought his powerful hands down on Chris shoulders and crushed them. Sandman finished Valenta off with a quick thrust to the chest, stopping his heart instantly.

John Crichton choked back vomit. “It’s just…me and her…left…” his mind whirled. And then, for some odd reason he thought, “Chris would be proud…” John saw his salvation and dived for it, ignoring the realization that he was swimming in a mound of Nate Crosser’s melted flesh. He fumbled for the linear launcher and he sought the energy read out. Fear clamped down on him. “90 seconds left to charge…” he gasped. Sandman was walking towards him now. Priest looked up at John and she saw it in Crichton’s eyes…she saw it in Chris Walken’s eyes…

“No…” she mouthed.

“Come on you horses ass!” Crichton shouted, beckoning Sandman in. “Come on! You got Chris, lets see you get me too!!” Sandman’s wings glinted in the sunlight, and a sinister blade slid out of his wrist. He brought it up and Crichton took out his magnum. “I’m coming Chris…” he whispered. He leveled the magnum at the linear launcher…and fired…

Priest threw her unwounded arm up…but that wasn’t enough to protect her from the powerful shockwave eminating from the detonated linear launcher. She was pushed back, and she grunted as she rolled over her separated shoulder. Blood exploded into the air…both human…and otherwise…in a shower of gore. The shockwave left yet another crater in the field of battle, a crater which fogged over with smoke and tingled with slight electrical snaps from the massive discharge of power. Priest fell onto her back and stared up at the sky. Her eyes were drawn to the sight of a dove soaring overhead. And then…as the final realization washed over her she broke into a sob. It was over…and again…she was all alone…

GET ON WITH YOUR LIFE…LOVE AGAIN…

The voice came from out of nowhere, but it was gentle and smooth. And familiar…

An orb trailed past her vision, whispering excitedly…

“What…? She asked in hushed tones. Another orb zipped by, and then another…

They were coming from the battle field, appearing wherever one of the warriors had fallen. Priest sucked in a gasp as one of the orbs darted right in front of her and stopped.

“You can love again…” it spoke to her. She reached out for it, but it darted away to join the other orbs that were collecting in the sky and drifting upwards.

“I…can…love again….” Priest whispered. A small smile tugged at her lips and her tears of loneliness, of sorrow, turned to joy. “Go…go…you’ve all earned it…” she spoke as the radiant orbs drifted upward into the heavens. And finally, they were all gone. Priest sighed contently.

GRAAAAAAHHHH!

The bitter haggard howl cut the sanctity of the moment and then Sandman was on her again! His legs had been ripped off, and where they should have been severed worm like appendages writhed about and bled. One of his wings had been seared off and his body was scarred and ravaged. Priest fought desperately, but he hands were wedged beneath his torso. He moved to take a bit out of her face…and then he was gone. A blast of black raced over her and when it receded Sandman had simply ceased to be. Priest flipped over onto her stomach and gasped.

Acolyte, his own body barely able to hold him aloft, stood poised for battle, his palm wispy with residual shadow energy.

“No more death today…” Acolyte said simply as he vanished into the folds of emptiness. Priest slumped back into the grass and laughed with joy.

ONE MONTH LATER…

The Russian military issue boots swooshed across the surface of the velvety red carpeting that raced up and down the length of the expansive hall. Their wearer cast his eyes about the hall, nodding at the numerous secret agents that patrolled the halls of the Kremlin. They returned his glances with broad smiles.

“[Nice to see you alive and well, Gustove!]” one of them said in Russian.

Alexi grunted and tried to clear his voice. “Its nice…to be alive and well…” Gustove said, his voice raspy and sickly sounding. Alexi proceeded onward until he reached a pair of lavish double doors. A pair of guards opened the doors for the returning hero and Alexi stepped inside. As the doors shut behind him, he saluted smartly at a dignified, hawk eyed gentleman sitting in a Victorian era chair across from a 30-ish muscular man in Russian military attire.

“[Mr. Prime Minister?]” Alexi spoke hoarsely. The Russian prime minister turned around in his seat and his face beamed.

“Alexi Gustove, the man of a thousand lives…” the prime minister said as he got up from his seat. He moved over towards Alexi and shook his hand firmly. “How are your injuries?”

“My throat still pains me, but other than some aches I am quite fine.”

“Please, Alexi, sit down.”

The military gentleman nodded at Alexi, a keen sparkle in his eyes that the Prime Minister failed to notice.

“I’m fine, sir. Frankly, a little ashamed…”

The prime minister frowned. “Because you failed to retrieve any samples? In retrospect, that failing wasn’t nearly as serious as predicted. In fact, the events in Delta City have caused a worldwide media sensation. It turns out that the covert American/HCF alliance went as high up as the secretary of defense. The military had planned to use data on “Sandman” to create a mass of genetically enhanced super warriors. Naturally, the president denied all involvement and dismissed the good secretary.”

“It seems the Americans and ourselves share at least that in common.”

“Indeed. Bio weapons ARE the wave of the future. Why waste good men on the field of combat when we can CREATE them…stronger, faster, and more powerful than any man. It is a pity that the Sandman and all of his data was lost. Nevertheless, world confidence in America has been shaken. The United Nations is in an uproar and HCF has certainly felt this backlash in their pocket books.”

“And what of the other survivors? What did the American expeditionary force find in Delta City?”

“They found a number of people…all dead…and of course there were quite a few creatures left…”zombies” and the like. The Americans pulled out and the president has declared that Delta City is going to be quarantined and bombed to remove the remaining creatures.”

Alexi chuckled. “Bombing his own city? Never thought I would see the day. However sir, I have also heard word of strife here in the motherland? What of this so called…”Novoya Regime”…?”

The military man shot Alexi a sardonic smile from behind the prime minister’s back. The prime minister frowned deeply in response to Alexi’s question, and then regained his composure.

“Another idiotic, Neo-Communist faction. Terrorists really. But nothing to be overly concerned about. Anton Novoya is simply bitter that I beat him in the polls last year. Man doesn’t have a clue as to how to run a government. He thinks he can throw money at everything and make it better…”

The military man got to his feet. His chiseled facial features turned into a wider grin. “And you do?” The prime minister wheeled around.

“General Bostlivec?!” the prime minister said, his voice rising in shock at the impetuous questioning of his authority.

As soon as the prime minister had his back turned, Alexi struck. He removed his silenced pistol and fired it into the back of the Russian leader’s skull, spraying blood all over the expensive furniture. Alexi stood rigid for a moment, appreciating what he had done.

General Bostlivec cocked an eyebrow. “So, “Alexi”, man of a thousand lives…lets see who you really are.” Alexi smirked and reached under his chin. With a quick thrust the mask peeled away, revealing a sharp featured black man beneath.

“I’m the only man of a thousand lives. Alexi didn’t pull first…” the voice had lost its cover of harshness. It became cool and calculating instead. It was McMahon. McMahon looked down at the prime minister’s corpse. “Gotcha.”

Bostlivec was already on his radio, contacting his superior. “Mr. Novoya, the prime minister has been terminated. We are officially good to go on Operation God’s Hammer.”

Anton Novoya flexed his back muscles and swished the red chardonnay around in his glass a bit. He gazed out at the afternoon sun, appreciating its warmth with his one good eye. “Well done, General. Inform Agent Wolverine that I am pleased with his performance for the prime minister.”

“Will do.” The general replied. Anton flipped off his radio curtly. He knew the general would understand his abrupt cessation of conversation, for they both had much to do. Anton glanced at his watch, it read 1:10 pm. And at that exact moment, the Novoya Regime’s sleeper agents within the Russian military would spring into action, asserting control over Russia’s armed forces…and placing Anton firmly in control of the whole of the Russian Empire. He took a sip of his wine and changed the frequency on his radio to a long range channel.

“Agent Dark?” Anton queried.

The response took a moment, but finally came back. “Yes.” The voice was synthesized, filtered, and inhuman. Anton couldn’t help but bristle at the sound of it. Few people could unnerve Anton Novoya as such…but his own Agent Dark was one of them.

“You may collect the subject at your discretion.” Novoya uttered. “Do not kill him, I want Mr. Xanthas ALIVE.”

Again, the response took a moment. “As you wish…” Novoya shut off his radio. Everything was proceeding according to plan.

“Sir, you have a priority message. It’s the one you were expecting.” Novoya smiled. The aide moved out of Novoya’s way abruptly, something the large, well built radical was used to. He approached his private high tech communications array situated at the rear of the Mongolian compound. Slim, feminine, red painted lips filled the visual. The Umbrella Inc logo revolved in the corner.

“Red Queen…the pleasure is always mine…” Anton gave a slight bow. He felt unnerved using the strange moniker, but the mysterious, newly instated, Umbrella CEO would have it no other way. Anton, however, did not like dealing in secrets…

“Of course.” Came the curt reply. That was something else, something was…odd….about this woman’s voice. Something Anton failed to place. Nevertheless, it was there. “Umbrella’s American facilities are primed and ready to face the world.” The reclusive woman whispered. She smiled at her twist of words. It wasn’t often that “face the world” equated to suicide. And it certainly wasn’t often that the CEO of one of the world’s largest conglomerates would order the annihilation of every one of their facilities in the United States. But, it was a necessary, and even productive loss. Red Queen sighed lightly.

“Something the matter?” Novoya asked.

“The facilities have been destroyed. I can…feel….their virus’ spreading…”

Anton was forced to suppress a shudder.

One by one, every American Umbrella facility in the nation went straight to hell. Computer systems crashed and workers scrambled about to fix them. But it was already too late. All over the nation, virus containment units were breached. And the little lambs could be heard screaming in other locations…as the BOW’s they had raised since infancy were released from their cages to wreak havoc upon their parents.

And then…in Los Angeles, Seattle, Sacremento, Hartford…all over the nation…the by products of man’s greed were released upon the masses.

By the end of the day…the United States had become an interconnected series of Raccoon City’s…of Delta City’s…

The horror had just begun…

THE NEXT DAY…

Something was horribly wrong in the United States. All over the nation, contact with major cities had been lost. Television and radio stations spontaneously died. The news this morning was abuzz with strange reports of cannibalistic activity in Houston, strange anomalies in Sacremento, disappearances in San Francisco, the list went on and on…and everyone was baffled. Well….most everyone…

She knew. Somehow, the terror had spread. Almost every single major city in the United States held some sort of central Umbrella facility, facilities that were rumored to have gone critical. She also knew she wasn’t alone. Almost immediately after the outbreak, she had received a strange letter.

You must see me. I know what happened in Delta City, and I know what’s happening now. I want to help. Bring your son, he’ll be safer with you than alone.

~The Sleeper

Enclosed were directions to the anonymous “caring soul’s” home. Of course she was wary, and the fact that this stranger had known about Ben scared the crap out of her. But, “The Sleeper” was right, Ben was safer with her. Priest looked over at her son and smiled. He was dwarfed by the passenger seat of the rented Sedan. She squeezed his hand and turned her eyes from the road momentarily. But inwardly, she hated herself for doing this to the child. The adoption process had only concluded last weekend giving her custody. Her eyes drank in the 10 year old’s silky brown hair, his jade green eyes, and his sneakered feet as he absent mindedly tapped his shoes up against the side of the door.

She had found love again. Found a child, for real this time. Now, she was threatened again.

“Ben…I’m sorry…” Priest murmured.

Ben turned to her and shot her a grin. “Its ok I suppose. You can make it up to me with that bike we saw yesterday.” Priest smiled.

“You mean the red one, the 18 speed?”

“Black grips too.”

“It had black grips?”

“Yeah, and the pegs…”

“Oh yeah, that one.” Priest said, feigning recollection. “Oh, we’ll see…”

And before she knew it, they were there. Ben gasped at the size of the palatial residence. “Mom, who IS this guy?”

“Honestly honey, I don’t even know if it IS a guy.”

“What are you gonna talk about?” Priest winced at the question. No need to burden him with worry, nightmares about monsters too horrible to fathom eclipsing the nation. “Nothing…important…” she lied. Priest wheeled around the circle before the steps leading up to the immense estate. A man was standing on the steps, looking about furtively. He wore a satin shirt and khaki shorts. The black sunglasses over his eyes seemed out of place with the casual attire. His hair was jet black and slicked back and he had a triangular goatee jutting down his lip. He was thin, but not frail, and looked to be in his mid-30’s.

“Is that him?” Ben asked.

“It might be.” Priest said simply. The man flagged her an “ok” gesture and Priest parked where she was. She got out and Ben followed suit. Victoria stayed close to her son and relied on her fighter’s instincts to make an assessment of the man on the stairs. Oddly enough, she sensed no menace, but a…familiarity? And not a familiarity in the normal sense of the word…but almost as though they had been together on another world or in some other time? Priest approached him and put out her hand. The man took it without hesitation.

“You have awoken the Sleeper Miss Priest.” He said, his tone even and intellectual. And yet again, it sounded distortedly familiar! And then he turned his attention to Ben. “And you’re Ben, right? If you want, you can play with my daughter Clara. She is just inside the door.” Ben looked up at his mother, searching for the go ahead.

“Could you have Clara step outside please?” Priest intoned, her voice rife with suspicion. The man called out her name and a blond girl with delicate, almost ceramic features, and round rimmed glasses stepped out. She appeared to be about Ben’s age. Priest nodded and winked once, their secret sign that if he needed anything all he had to do was call her name. Ben proceeded up the stairs and painfully out of view.

“She’s a wonderful girl. The adoption was completed last weekend.” The man intoned. Priest reeled at the strange coincidence. The man picked up on her surprise.

“I got Ben last weekend too…” she said. But then she regained her senses. “Enough with the pleasantries. How do you know about me, about Ben, about Delta City?” The man smiled slightly and started to move u the stairs. Priest followed.

“It is enough to know that I know. My identity if no longer of any importance.”

By this point they were crossing the threshold into a living area and the gentlemen directed her towards a seat. He then pulled up a chair across from her.

“I appreciate your concern, but you have to understand that I cannot trust you unless I know who you are.”

The man frowned. “I will not tell you.” Priest swallowed back some anger.

“You are not winning me over, “Sleeper.” Just what do you know about the events at Delta City? What do you know…about me….?”

And then, he recounted everything. All in great detail, he told her about Sandman, The Seven, told her about the other survivors, about the military…about her own creation by HCF…everything! She sat in shocked silence, and then finally spoke in hushed tones.

“How do you know everything? I never once saw you in the city…how could you know everything without being there?”

“There is a reason…”
“But you won’t tell me?”

“I’m sorry, I cannot. It would…skew….your perception of me.”

“Whoa, wait!” Priest allowed a touch of her annoyance to vocalize. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“If you knew…who I was before….”

“I wouldn’t trust you.” Priest finished. “Is that it? Because its been to my experience that most people don’t change, so why should I trust you now?”

“You changed…Victoria…you changed…”

That one hit hard. Priest averted his gaze and a torrent of emotions followed. It was true. She had gone from being Donovan Beckett’s merciless, yet frightened, assistant…to…to…someone who had learned anew what compassion and love truly were.

“I MUST know who you are! YOU MUST TELL ME!” Priest bit back.

“Just know that I need you…everything NEEDS you! You have the experience, the combat ability, the courage, to fight back against the darkness that threatens to overtake everything!”

“No. I won’t be kept in the dark any longer. Tell me who you are, or I walk…”

“Victoria, if you walk, you walk out on Ben’s future. There will be nothing left if someone doesn’t stop them!” That one stung her too.

“What about STARS? What, you don’t think I knew about them? What about STARS? They’re still fighting Umbrella.” Priest retorted, making reference to the covert group consisting of survivors of Raccoon City and other disasters who fought the evil corporate entity.

“Its true…they are…I have no personal contact with them, but I have studied them extensively.”

Priest realized she sounded selfish, but it didn’t matter. How could he expect her to jump back into the fray on such shadowy grounds? Especially now that she had just started to get her life back in order?

“Victoria, I’m warning you…my identity could break you…”

Priest shuddered at the bold statement. “I cannot trust you any other way…” The man looked down and then looked up again and breathed deeply.

“You were there when I was born. If anything, you were integral to my upbringing.” Priest shook her head, unable to decipher his riddle.

“I have so many…sides….” He continued. Priest mouthed “Oh My God.”

“Wrath…is that you?” she gasped. And then, she felt as though something was distinctly wrong. She heard the man call out and then the expansive windows on the side of the living area exploded. Priest ducked and rolled behind the chair and desperately wished she had a weapon.

Then again…she still WAS a weapon….

Soldiers swung in through the shattered windows. Clad in black and armed to the gills, they strode amongst the broken glass. And then she heard a tinkering on the floor as a gas grenade came in through the window. It expelled a noxious fume, at first, she was seized with a coughing fit, but then she reestablished her equilibrium and filtered out the toxins. She saw “The Sleeper” lunge out of the cloud, coughing and sputtering. And then she was tackled to the ground, three of the soldiers had brought her down and one had his weapon across her neck.

“Get off me!” Priest called out. They didn’t. She had given them fair warning. She snapped into action, kneeing one in the groin and then punching him away with such force his jaw cracked. The other two looked up in shock and each met a fist to the face. Priest hopped up to her feet and intercepted another one running at her. She sidestepped his charge and placed her foot in his nose, knocking him back and over her chair. The smoke was beginning to dissipate and Priest took stock of how many there were: about 20, each of them in prime condition. Amongst them was a woman, clad in garb similar to her fellows, but with her short blond hair billowing freely. There was something carefree and reckless about her, like she felt at home anywhere and doing anything…simply because her boss kept her on a long leash or something. Another of the soldiers came at her and Priest leap onto the back of the chair and connected with a flying axe kick. And then, the air became filled, with an inhuman hissing…like laughter…

“Agent Dark, we have a problem here. Please be a dear and come fix it.” The blond woman said casually. And then she saw Agent Dark. He stepped through the window slowly. He was painfully thin, and was blond as well. Agent Dark was a man, but looked somewhat innocent and even effeminate with his small frame and baby blue eyes. However, the bottom half of his face was covered by a strange mask, like a breathing apparatus. And yet the aura of evil that radiated from him was sickening.

“Who are you?” Priest spat. “Or shall I REMOVE the information from you?”

The same hissing sound came from Agent Dark. “Agent Persephone, remove her.” The blond woman nodded.

“Common sweetie, lets make this nice and easy.” The aristocratic blond woman moved in, smirking irreverently. Priest rushed in and grabbed the woman’s wrist. She twisted it around to her back and Agent Poseidon cursed. Priest grabbed the weapon from her holster and trained it on Dark. Priest shoved her to the ground viciously and Dark laughed again.

“Yessss….yessss…I DO know you now. Miss Victoria Priest, no?” Priest’s finger tensed on the trigger.

“How is it that everyone knows my name?” Priest shot back.

“You are a very popular woman, Miss Priest…” Dark hissed. “But a very DISPOSABLE woman now. Lets not doing anything stupid…I may have to slit your boy’s throat…”

“Oh God, Ben…” Priest mouthed. Dark cocked his head.

“Even better, the boy is here, isn’t he?” And then Dark looked over at the “Sleeper”, who was trying to reorient himself with four sub –machine guns trained on him. “And Clara too, no doubt?”

“You son of a bitch! Don’t touch them!” Priest shouted, bringing the weapon even closer to bear.

“Agent Persephone, bring the children here…” Persephone started to get up.

“Don’t move bitch!” Priest yelled, retraining her gun on the blond woman.

“Mom?” Priest diverted her gaze again. Ben and Clara were on the stairs.

“Come here kids, it’ll be ok…” Persephone began, trying futilely to sound motherly.

Clara shook her head. “You’re gonna hurt my daddy!”

“Get over here…” Persephone repeated, her voice becoming more menacing.

“Kids, run…” the Sleeper ordered. But then one of the soldiers kicked him in the stomach, doubling him over.

“Ben, go!” Priest cried out, intent on holding them off long enough to allow the children to run.

And then from out of nowhere…another voice…

“Ben, come here. Clara, you too, it’ll all be ok…” another woman had appeared by the door. She wore a long coat, but Priest could see a blade sticking out from the bottom. Her voice was soothing and Priest was shocked to see that the woman bore a striking resemblance to her!

“Mom?” Ben asked, running down the stairs to the woman. Clara followed uncertainly.

“No, that’s not mommy Ben!” Priest cried out. Ben ran to her, and the woman put her hand on Ben’s shoulder, and then on Clara’s. The children passed out and she scooped them up. Priest ran at her in a dead heat. “PUT THEM DOWN!” And then the bullets impacted into her from behind and she fell, hot searing agony washing over her. She had been hit a number of times, but even still she was already clawing to her feet painfully. Dark was coming at her and Priest fired with her stolen weapon. The bullet arced around the agent and Priest fired again, and again, and each time the ammo moved around him rather than towards him. A wicked looking blade slid out of a wrist sheath in Dark’s body suit and he sliced through her weapon. Priest pulled her fist back to punch, but Dark already had his blade imbedded in her stomach. Priest felt weak in the knee’s.

“Before she dies…I want her to know who her savior is. Tell her…Mr. Xanthas….who you really are…” Dark hissed.

“Go to hell!” Xanthas spat.

Dark made a motion and the soldiers surrounding him brought Xanthas over to Dark and Priest. Priest was still imbedded on Dark’s blade, and strangely she was getting dizzy. Then she realized she had been poisoned. The soldiers hefted Xanthas directly under Priest’s nose and forced him to look at her.

“See how they betray you…” Dark wheezed inhumanly as he ripped the glasses of her informant’s face.

“NOOOOO!” Priest howled. Those eyes…those inhuman eyes…everything else had changed about him but the eyes…

The one who walks amongst you…

Her informant…was Sandman…

Dark brought his revolver up to her skull and fired, spraying blood all about the room. Priest dropped to his feet…dead.

“Dammit! You bastards!” Sandman/Xanthas howled.

Dark cut into Xanthas’ arm, and quickly he passed out. “You should appreciate that we actually have a place for you…” Dark commented.

“What about the little brats?” Persephone intoned. Dark nodded to the mysterious woman in the coat who still held the unconscious children. She nodded, and then vanished into thin air.

“Agent Vendetta will take care of them for now.” Dark wheeled on his subordinates. “We have much to do. Clean…her….up quickly…” Dark sneered at the body at his feet. With that, he wandered out the door and into the sunlight.

The future…belonged to THEM!