#lockpicknkey

A vacation to Europe. That’s what he said at least but the note he left was hopefully enough to read between the lines and to let them know he was still alive and that he hadn’t given up on bringing Umbrella down after the Arklay Mansion Incident.

News of Raccoon City’s razing however made his heart sink a little when he heard it. Hopefully what was left of the team made it out. There had been no word from Barry, Brad, Rebecca or Jill. But knowing them, they were strong and survivors, at least that’s what he told himself.

He had a safehouse set up in an abandoned part of Paris, and some intelligence he had been gathering along with supplies if need be for a gunfight. Chris was close to the truth.

“ champagne does that to me, every time. ”   

hazel eyes float over to the woman beside her. she can’t remember the occasion, all she can recall is someone had pulled out a dark green bottle, adorned in a gold label and fancy lettering. there was a speech involved before the cork was popped, but do you think she was paying attention? nah, she was just here to say she was able to drink on the job. free wine was free wine after all.

lockpicknkey  ||  Project Alice Activated

Raccoon City had become a war zone while she was knocked out cold, Alice quickly came to realize. As she moved through the debris and flames, her hope for finding survivors had dwindled. She had tried her hardest to stop Umbrella, all for it to go to shit in the end. 

There would be no forgiveness.

Passing by a familiar restaurant, its bright neon lights promising donuts and other tasty food, she cocked her gun and sighed. Alice knew she needed to get out of here as soon as she could. With a disaster this bad, there was no doubt Umbrella would be up to something to conceal it, or worse...

She heard a roar in the distance that caused her hair to stand on end, eyes wide as she suddenly felt a wave of heat, her mind going back to fragmented memories of being on an operation table, hearing broken voices discuss Project ALICE and their newest acquisition of Project NEMESIS.

Oh, Fuck. 

Before she could start moving -- since she had no interest in getting up close and personal with that B.O.W. -- the double doors of Moon’s Donuts busted open and a figure appeared. 

❝ and the timing’s never right, but for now let’s get away. ❞  

Nemesis stomped around Raccoon City, looking for anyone still left alive that he might be able to help. Not... that they would come to him, necessarily, even if they did. That didn't mean he shouldn't still try.

After taking a grenade to the face some time ago, he found that his mind was once again under his own control. Oh, Umbrella was still attempting to issue him orders well enough. He could see them coming up on the digital feed that overlayed his natural vision... but where compulsion and blind rage had driven him before, Nemesis found only a calm indifference to their orders now.

Was everyone gone, or were they in hiding? Given your ugly mug, I'd say the latter, he thought to himself. But then... he heard a voice. Is someone actually talking to me? He turned around to see... oh. This was likely to get real awkward real fast. It was the woman he'd been chasing around the city. The one Umbrella had wanted him to kill. He'd almost succeeded a few times, too...

"Not... cat-ching... on thire?" he joked with a shrug of his massive shoulders. He hoped she could even understand him with his deep voice and inability to form certain sounds without lips and having huge teeth. "I'n sor-ry thor try-ing... to kill you." Really? Smooth. Oh yeah, I'm sure she'll just be like, "That's okay, no hard feelings." Idiot.

His tentacles undulated curiously, but he tried to get them to calm down. Probably the last thing she wants to see are gross tentacles whipping around. "Are you... o-kay?" he asked, really wanting to know but also half expecting her to just shoot him in the face...

He chuckled, amused by a sentiment he often found himself considering.

“We’ll sleep when we’re dead, but that’s actually no excuse for not sleeping now,” he replied, grinning just a little even though she couldn’t see it down the phone. She could probably hear the amusement in his voice though.

“I’m glad you’re awake though... I... Are you going to the Raccoon memorial service on Wednesday?”

She phrased it in such a way that he didn’t feel like he was being bullied into getting over it and as such, he didn’t snap. She sounded a little like she understood the pain he was in.

“But how?” He asked, peering into his glass of warming whiskey on the bar as if the answer might be in there, the surface beaded with condensation. He didn’t like to drink heavily while in the company of someone he knew, but a single glass would do for the time being.

His brows knitted, his gloved hand tightened around the glass for a moment and his head bowed.

“Adam was...” he trailed off. Adam was. He wasn’t anymore.

It was such a high-profile killing though that perhaps the world would be united in the fight against bioterrorism anyway, so perhaps Adam’s wish would come true at least in part.

“Move on...” he shook his head and sighed, knocking back the measure of whiskey at last. “Just keep on fighting right? It’s the right thing to do.