AN: To all those people who have stuck with us for the three years right down to the bitter end, this we want to thank you for. It's wonderful to have anyone still reading now after so long and especially with how our updates have been. So this is it and I do feel quite sad that it is finished. Thank you all, so much.
Jaz and Jen
"What the FUCK?!" Agent Kerr gagged at the sight of the auditorium as he entered, flanked by two soldiers.
"Don't think we'll find anything alive in here," one of them said, shaking his head ruefully.
"What the HELL happened in here?" the other one, slightly younger, turned a sickening shade of pale and dashed out of the room.
"Sick fucks…" Kerr muttered under his breath. He had seen a good deal of Umbrella-related horror in his years of service, but the sight on the stage was certainly the worst. In fact, he didn't even think he'd read about anything this horrific.
The sound of sobbing interrupted his train of thought, and he followed its direction to a previously unnoticed figure, half hidden under some seats. He approached cautiously, and found the source of the distressed. Taking care not to touch her until he had established whether she was infected or not, he motioned the soldier over and mouthed "She's fucked."
"Miss?" he began.
She looked up dazedly, the remnants of what had been pigtails falling in front of her face, and the agent was horrified to realise that the survivor was barely older than a child.
"He took her…" Claudia whispered mournfully.
"Miss," he repeated, "This is really important. Can you tell me, have you been bitten, are you infected?"
She uncurled slightly, and shook her head. From the marks on her torso, Kerr wondered if she had been attacked by a hunter. It would have had to have been quite a benign hunter to leave her alive.
"What's your name?" he asked gently.
There was a few moments of dumb silence, before she blurted out, "Claudia Graham."
The two government officials exchanged surprised glances. "The OCRC captain?" the soldier asked.
"We were to keep an eye out for you and your team," Kerr told her.
"No one left…" She stared into space.
"It's ok, you're safe now…" he began, but was interrupted by a soldier who had been canvassing the area.
"Sir, you might want to take a look at this," he said curtly, before handing the agent a small plastic card. To be specific, Claudia's Umbrella ID. "Found it in a massive pool of blood. Don't know what the fuck's been going on…"
Kerr's face creased into a frown. "It looks like you've got some explaining to do."
"I was a double agent," she blurted out, "I was a spy in OCRC, but then Wesker said I could come home and I didn't need to spy any more, and he told me to kill Pierce and I did, and I shot Jonathon and Herrison's dead too because of me, and I got my whole team killed, and now Shak's dead…"
"Did you do this?!" Kerr interrupted angrily.
She shook her head, "Wesker. Wesker did it."
"Wesker?" he turned to one of the soldiers, "Does that sound familiar to you?"
"Urban legend, sir," one replied, matter of fact.
"Do I looklike I ripped all these people apart?" she pointed out. "It was Wesker," she said forlornly, but even as the words left her mouth, she knew it was pointless.
"So essentially, Miss Graham," he said coldly, in a slow, disbelieving tone, "You are telling us, despite being a spy and a murderer, that you had absolutely nothing to do with all these bodies, and that a fictional character did it and ran away?"
"It's doctor," she said listlessly.
"It's Doctor Graham. Not Miss."
After spending two days in the prison infirmary, while Claudia would not be winning any athletics championships, she was at least able to walk, an improvement from when she had first been taken in. But the downside of this was that she had to answer some decidedly unpleasant questions about her involvement in the disaster that had been Achma.
So now she was sitting in a cold, uncomfortable room, wearing a distinctly undignified orange jumpsuit, and staring blankly at the wall. She was in caffeine withdrawal, and if the extent of her injuries hadn't made her feel awful, that certainly did. She wondered if they were making her wait deliberately. Not that it mattered, she didn't feel nervous about them appearing, because she already knew what they were going to say. And after Wesker, she didn't think she could ever be scared of anything again. For the first time she understood where people got the idea that only monsters worked for Umbrella.
The reality of Shak's death, that she was really alone, still hung in the air, but she couldn't grieve here.
Two police officers entered, one of them being Kerr, the agent who had found her. He had a murderous snarl on his face, and she got the distinct impression that he did not like her very much. She continued to stare at the wall with a resoluteness which could have been mistaken for sullen, and this only prompted him to launch into an angry tirade.
She didn't really listen to what he was saying. The volume of his shouts made her headache worse, and she reflected that he was going on for rather a long time, at length about something he was clearly very passionate about, but she really didn't have the energy to take it in. It was only when the second man spoke, that she was really able to pick out anything that was said.
"You know you're going to get the chair for this," he told her gravely. "And you're awful young to have that be your only option."
She looked at him. It wasn't the worst prospect in the world, and it was one she had been prepared for. "C'est la vie." Her reply was more sad than nonchalant, but Kerr did not pick up on this subtlety. The way he was shouting, she thought maybe he was mistaken and that the second man had said it was him who was for the chair.
They gave her question after question, and even as she told them about Umbrella, Wesker, Minataur, Shak, Herrison, Jonathon, and even Jack, they still screamed on about cooperation.
"How can I cooperate any more?" she asked, "I'm telling you everything I know. Can I have a cup of coffee?"
This offended Kerr. And he swore. Oh, how he swore. She had found someone who actually swore more than Shak. She hadn't thought this was possible.
And just like that, they left.
So, she was going to be executed. At least she could die knowing that she'd passed on all the information she had. There was a time when the prospect of death had terrified her beyond reason, but sitting here, in this cold room, handcuffed by one hand to the chair, she came to the realisation that even if she hadn't been arrested, she would have taken her own life anyhow. It was for the best. And with everyone else dead, it was only just.
Putting her head down on the desk, she closed her eyes, and fell asleep.
"FORSOOTH!" Jack was in high spirits indeed at that moment. Jesus Christ was in his heaven, whiskey was in his belly, and all was well with the world as he bounded along with gleeful oblivion.
"GREETI PRINCESS JONATHON! WOULD YOU CARE TO FIGHT EVIL AND PARTAKE IN COMMUNION WINE ON THIS FINE DAY OF…" He stopped dead as he opened the door and stared at the pool of blood on the floor, at Jonathon's unmoving body.
For once, Jack Tabernacle was lost for words.
He sank to his knees, threw his arms up, and let out a howl which resonated throughout the empty base.
He stared, open mouthed, at the body of the young man on the floor. Jack had never lost a loved one before, and an entirely new, entirely sobering set of emotions flooded him. Without his joviality, he looked for all the world like just another haggard, aging alcoholic, and no amount of whiskey could replace what he had just lost.
While all had not gone according to plan, events had transpired favorably all the same. Had he turned on the television that day, or in any of the days following the Achma incident, he would have learned that Daniel's daughter had taken the blame for everything, had been sentenced to death, and that her execution had been carried out that morning. Which wrapped things up rather neatly, and may have gratified him, although the young doctor's fate was of little concern now that she couldn't come between him and his lover.
And now Shakahnna would be with him forever.
Enthroned in the glass coffin that was the stasis tube, her battered corpse floated in various substances designed to preserve her exactly as she had been the moment she died. He couldn't tell why his teeth were gritted, but sometimes it seemed that even in death she was mocking him. Still, trivial matters such as that lacked import. He had been the victor.
As she looked down at him from her final resting place, he suddenly wasn't so sure.