Cayden Redfield - The Statue Room

[R.E.S.]

Cayden honestly had no answer to give to her about what the ‘right’ answer might have meant. He hadn’t exactly sat down to think about it before—what had mattered to him was just getting the fuck out of that room and finding her. The long-term scope was often beyond his immediate comprehension, because he was such a hot-head.

“I don’t know what answering right would have meant. Or even what the right answer WAS. It was a stupid riddle. Maybe the way that things turned out was the best possible outcome, all things considered.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded in agreement at her decision.

“Right.”

Meeting up with others could be dangerous, but if it happened, it happened. For now, their main priority was figuring out how to escape.

Just about then there was a thump at the door, followed by one low and hungry wail, then another. Apparently the carriers they’d ditched in the hall had finally figured out that they were here. Not too surprising, considering that they hadn’t exactly been whispering to one another. Well, it was about time they moved on anyways.

Motioning once again for Claire to stay put behind him, Cayden threw open the door only to watch the first carrier fall to the ground and the second one half-stumble on top of him. He brought one fist back and slammed it into the dead-man’s ribcage hard enough to slam him into the wall in the hallway. The satisfying ’CRUNCH’ he got out of the impact told him that he’d effectively broken the zombie’s vertebrae. Bringing up his boot, he dealt with the other T-carrier, crushing his skull with a moist ’SHLICK’. Just to be sure that the other guy wouldn’t be getting up again, Cayden put his booth through his face as well.

“All clear. Which way do you want to go?”

[evios]

The banging at the door caused Claire to turn her head slowly towards the sound, she went for her gun but at Cayden's single she relaxed. Her nephew was very effective with killing, they both were by now, but Cayden got thrills from it. She waited behind until the threat was annihilated in a most effective manner. She stepped though the door way and looked around.

They could go back downstairs, for a lot of good that would do them. Around the banister and to the right to that door, or the door closest to the left. As of now if didn't exactly make much difference to Claire. She walked to the left, her shoulder hugging the wall as she did.

[R.E.S.]

The second that Claire opened the door, Cayden found himself immediately slamming it shut, shoving her behind him and out of the way. Wicked, talon-like nails raked against wood mere inches from his face, and the door shuddered in its frame, but for the moment it held. He didn’t know if it would for long though, so Cayden drew his newly-acquired gun, training his Ruger on the rattling exit.

It looked like he might have to use the SMG sooner than he’d thought – that had been a Crimson. Two, actually; he’d caught glimpse of a second one further down the hall. The violent pallor of their skin and their white sunken eyes unmistakable, if their claws didn’t give them away. Even on better days, they were an enemy that he preferred to avoid. Tenacious, relentless, and quick—not as quick as he was, but quick enough to fuck you up, if you put your guard down—they weren’t to be trifled with. Definitely not the best adversary to take on in a melee fight, and he still wanted to conserve ammunition. Not to mention that fighting something that was ahead of you while trying to simultaneously protect someone who was behind you was always risky business. In other words: fuck that noise.

Wordlessly, Cayden backed up, setting his feet heel-to-toe, heel-to-toe in order to avoid making any further sound. He motioned for Claire to start moving in the opposite direction, slowly. They didn’t need to piss the thing off by alerting it to the fact that they were still here. The rattling died down as they backed away until eventually the hall went silent again, but Cayden didn’t say a single word. Claire didn’t either.

They backtracked to the stairs and then went past them, taking the door on the right rather than the door on the left. Cayden chose this time. And when they emerged outside, on a cobblestone terrace, for a moment the red-head breathed a sigh of relief. Freedom! But at the sound of multiple howls on the wind, several animal cries conjoined together into one haunting, dangerous melody, he felt a little of that hope drain from his body.

A glimpse over the edge of the terrace showed him exactly what he had feared. There was a pack of Fidos patrolling what appeared to be the façade of a grand manor—two stories—as many as he had ever seen them together in one area. Not two, not five, but at least twenty Cerberus. Even if he scored a killing shot with every round (unlikely, even with is accuracy), he’d be left with around ten bullets. He figured that he could break both of their fall from the second story, but how badly would that damage him now? At full power it wouldn't even faze him, but as a human their combine mass would have shatter his legs. It was impossible to gauge exactly where he fell on that map, and this hardly seemed like the time or place to be testing his luck.

Besides, Claire wasn’t as fast as he was. She couldn’t out-run the canine-like B.O.W. and even if he picked off as many of them as he could, there would be more of them out there, in the woods. Cayden knew it. He could sense them in the distance, lurking in dark places in the dead of the night.

This was not the exit for them. Wesker would not let them escape so easily.

[evios]

Should have known there would be Crimson Head zombies on the other side of the door, Claire didn't flinch when she saw them, not even when Cayden pulled her away and putting her behind him. They were both hindered with their abilities stripped from them and little ammo, so any fights had to be considered carefully.

Claire followed Cayden this time, going anywhere he would lead and that was outside. She was realizing that if her nephew wasn't with her, even with his power sapped, he might be able to jump off the balcony they were standing on and escape the dogs. Cayden had a way out if he left her, but Claire didn't want to be alone again. She was left behind so many times, her hand grasped at Cayden's arm and pulled him away from the balcony edge. As if she was quietly saying "No, you better not leave me.". Her eyes held the bitter regret that she felt when she seen her brother die.

[R.E.S.]

Cayden seemed surprised when Claire pulled him away from the balcony’s edge, a desperate, pleading light caught in his Aunt’s eyes. While it had been true that once upon a time he would have abandoned her—or anyone else—without a second thought, if he thought that it meant he could save his own skin... by now Cayden was a very different man.

The half-tyrant felt his gaze soften slightly and he drew the Redfield woman closer to him, resting the muzzle of his chin atop her head while he drew a single hand through her tangled red hair.

“You don’t have to give me that face. You know that I would never leave you, Aunt Claire.”

Cayden released her from his arms slowly, and when they moved apart from one another he kicked over a potted plant with the heel of his boot in his frustration. He crossed his arms and drew his thin eyebrows together in a pinched frown, considering their dilemma.

“We don’t have another option but to stay here and keep playing this game for a little while longer. But I promise you we will find another way out. We always have.”

He was quiet again for a moment before he spoke. Crouching down on his knees he inspected the plant that he had kicked. Promptly he pocketed the herb - Never knew when they were useful.

“The Browning holds 14 rounds, right? And I’ve got 32. That’s 46 shots in total. Not ideal, but it will have to be enough,”

Even as he said it, Cayden turned his head and noted the little red and gold discarded box of ammunition.

“...Strike that. 60 shots.”

[evios]

Claire was less tense after Cayden's words to her, he was the only one she really trusted anymore. When he pulled away and counted out the ammo they had between them she dug her nails into the palm of her hand, breaking the skin and then flicking her hand at the forest. Not only did the blood barely move from her palm but there wasn't even a small flame. Instead the wound she just caused seeped out blood, leaving her disappointed. It was almost laughable that she would find herself missing her abilities. With a sigh she brought her tired gaze back to her nephew. "We should move on." She didn't want to admit it but it was colder outside than it was in the mansion.

[R.E.S.]

Cayden slipped the extra ammunition rounds into one of the stomach pouches on his holster. Having ammunition was a definite plus, even for the pair of them. Having to lug it around, however, was always another matter. He made a quick mental note of the additional weight that it put on him, trying to make his best guess at how much the baggage might encumber him, if at all—he was still getting used to being at “half-power,” as he’d conceded to calling it. For now it seemed that it wouldn’t be a bother; he hardly noticed it.

The younger of the pair turned his attentions back to his aunt just in time to watch her flick her hand out, trying to start a spark of a flame. So she had nothing to give, did she?—Her blood, which was usually a highly-corrosive accelerant that burst into brilliant flames whenever it met with enough oxygen, fell by the wayside, without igniting at all. …It wasn't the only thing that troubled him.

He did not tell her, because she didn’t need to know, but he could not follow the goblets with his eyes--he should have been able to see them, with hi-def quality, despite the dark. He should have been able to hear them where they landed. Should have smelled the iron. But there was nothing.

"...Yeah, You’re right. C'mon. Let’s go." Cayden agreed. For now, he would continue to observe just how hampered his powers were while keeping in mind that Claire had none of her own.

It was going to be a long night.

Trying his hand at the door that they had not yet gone through, Cayden was surprised to find it locked. It was only the second locked door that he had encountered inside of this... mansion he supposed it was, thus far. Odd. But the metal and wood stood little against his mettle and muscle. The timber splintered easily, yielding to his superior strength, and with only a mild amount of force, they were through.

The room that greeted them was an elaborate, grand hallway: bi-level and beyond brazen in its gaudy, ostentatious, decadent nature. Cayden's boots met with expensive red carpet, the kind that cost a man his arm and his leg per square foot, and his fingers quested over the solid black-walnut railing, while he stood observing the pale egg-shell white walls, elaborate crown molding, and decorative, antique, black candle sconces.

The level below them was equally obscene; tiled white marble flooring, granite pillars with cast-iron archways, and more red carpet, which led straight to the front door. All of the adjoining doors were a matching cherry-coloured mahogany wood, and the only lighting came from the tall candle-stands adorning the room, as well as one low-lit chandelier hanging overhead.

Cayden easily heaved himself up and over the waist-high banister and landed on both his feet - if he was going to test himself at jumping off of high places, he figured that he might as well practice in a place where it was safe to do so. He was peaceably satisfied when he noted that, although he had felt the shock of impact, he had not, in fact, ruined either of his legs with his weight of his fall. He felt perfectly fine. Stepping around the spacious grand hall curiously, he decided to investigate and secure the area while Claire took her time safely descending the staircase. It looked to be all clear.

No shadows danced in the corners, and aside from the occasional low-howl from the world outside, the foyer remained silent and still; deceptively saccharine and disarming in its appearance, it might have actually been inviting if it weren’t just so wrong. Places like this, they just didn’t exist anymore.

The décor aside, what caught Cayden’s interest were two small bits of paper—pristine white cards—lying abandoned, which seemed highly out of place.

Pinned do the door was a message that read, “No Exit.”

He figured that much was rather obvious; the pack of Fidos they’d seen patrolling the most-obvious escape route meant that anyone who tried to get out of this place that way wouldn’t be getting very far. The other note, though, that was something more interesting… Upon the second card were written the words;

“Where are your companions? Where are your protectors? Where is your child?”

Cryptic. And the message wasn’t for him. Because Cayden knew where HIS companions, protectors, and ‘child’ were: all dead. Long gone. The card only served to reiterate to the Tyrant, yet again, the notion that they were not alone within the confines of this elaborate estate, and he wondered vaguely where the human whom this message had been left for might have wandered off to—and in turn, what ends he or she might have met with.

“Nothing here.” Cayden said, tearing the second card in two. He let the separate halves fall to the floor unceremoniously.

Even though he and Aunt Claire had better things to do than to go searching out stray survivors, he decided that if someone else happened upon the door, thinking it to be a way out, they at least deserved a fair warning. So he left the first card in place. And maybe ripping the other card in two would let whoever had left it there know that they had come through this way, if they were to come back.

“Let’s keep moving.”

[evios]

Keep moving, Cayden said. Claire wasn't sure where they should move to. It didn't seem like a chance in hell of getting out this place. Sticking around in one room guaranteed someone finding them. Likely someone they don't want to find them. Other chances were that if they stumble across someone and they were hostile, they had little ways of fighting them. She use to rely on instinct when it came to solving problems like this.

Claire sank down to sit at the bottom step of the staircase, she leaned forward and her hair fell over her face like curtains. It wasn't fair to Cayden that she was delaying him like this, but she didn't even consider that. She couldn't bring herself to think about anything more. She was useless. Even with Cayden calling to her, she didn't respond. Her head slowly raised, her gaze at her nephew was nearly unreadable, tired, pained, begging to ask a question she herself could not phrase. If she was herself, she might have asked why. Why would they keep moving? Where should they move to? Yet, she remained silent.

[R.E.S.]

Cayden worried when Claire sank down on the stairs, saying nothing and refusing to move on, that she may have been harboring some hidden injury that he had missed, or perhaps the Anti-BOW gas was affecting her more than it had affected him; or that maybe without her powers, it was making her body frail, exhausting her because of the toll that T-Veronica had taken upon her for all of these years.

He promptly came to the Redfield woman’s side and crouched in front of her, down on the floor. Placing a hand on her knee, he tried to and urge her to move on.

“Aunt Claire?”

There was no response. Again;

“Claire? Hey, Aunt Claire, c’mon… We have to go.”

And that was when she looked at him, and he felt his stomach drop. It was worse than what he’d thought.

Her hollow eyes stared out at him: tired, empty, lifeless. And he knew then that she was on the verge of giving up completely. He had seen that look before, many times, on the faces of men who were ready to die. And he knew that was a brink that he could bring her back from – if she gave up now, there was nothing that he would be able to do. Because even if he could provide for her a means of getting out of here, it meant nothing if she relinquished her will to survive.

“Don’t you do this to me,” he snapped at her, the tone of his voice dropping dangerously low; “don’t you dare leave me alone …If you won’t stand up, then I’ll carry you on my shoulders if I have to. But you aren’t leaving me in this place by myself.”

[evios]

Claire's gaze dropped as Cayden both seemed to scold and beg her, her nephew would not be able to take care of himself and carry her. She slid her hand over Cayden's that was resting on her knee. She couldn't bare anything happening to Cayden, especially not because of her. She was also silently delighted that he would rather carry her than leave her behind. He was waiting for an answer.

"I won't. I'm not leaving you alone." Claire spoke in a soft tone, she wrapped her fingers around Cayden's hand, holding it to show she's telling the truth. The both of her hands took hold onto Cayden's. Even with the wound on her hand she wouldn't hurt Cayden, not currently. "Which way?" She asked as she used her nephew to get up from the floor.

[R.E.S.]

Relief spread across the redhead’s angular features, and he did not let go of his aunt’s hand; even when she’d stood up, he let her keep his left hand clasped in both of hers.

From the foot of the stairs, looking out, there were three doors that they could take; a pair of double doors on the left, a single door, and then another set of double doors on the right. On the staircase itself, behind them, strange, metal door. It appeared to be nothing but a painting at first glance, but the protruding brass handle stated otherwise. Lastly, on the floor above, there were three more doors; if they excluding the fourth door that the two of them had just come though. Looked as though they had their pick of the litter.

Cayden was willing to bet that they had already wandered through the majority of the right-hand side of the estate (since he had very little idea of the flooring, he couldn’t determine if that was North, South, East, or West - but he did know that they’d come from that general direction). Perhaps they’d have a better time if they tried the left-hand side of the estate? Either way, it looked like they could always double back here, no matter what way they chose to go.

His fingers tightening their grip in Claire’s smaller, more delicate hands, he took them left through the double doors.

[evios]

Cayden was practically tugging Claire to walk with him, not because she was unwilling to walk, but because she wanted a constant reminder that he wants her to follow. Through the double doors that the younger Redfield had chosen, they were greeted by a statue of a woman drawing water, dead center in the room and a dead zombie laid out right beside the statue. It looked like its skull was bashed open from the edge of tacky piece of 'art'.

Claire eyed the urn on the statue, from what she could tell, it was hollow. She thought about everything they've seen already and that maybe there would be something in the urn. While Cayden checked the door across from them, seeing if the hallway was clear, it was so unlike these places to have so many open doors. Claire was pushing the small dusty old dresser up to the statue. She stepped up onto it in order to peer into the urn.

"There's nothing." Claire muttered, unaware of the cracking sound of the wood below her. When she moved back to get down, the edge of dresser broke off, causing her descent to the floor much quicker. After the initial shock passed, she pushed herself up off the floor.

[R.E.S.]

As they entered the room before them—a small gallery, Cayden noted dully—the younger red-head carefully eyed the dilapidated corpse crumpled in the centre of the room, lying prone next to a granite statue which was still freshly-smeared with its fetid, ooze like, rust-black blood. The whole room stunk of pungent decay, but to Cayden it was hardly a new smell. Instead the Tyrant merely tilted his angular jaw at the scene, curiosity alight in his red-and-gold reptilian eyes.

Judging by the wound that had made a mess out of its face, whoever had downed the ghoul had done at least a half-decent job, but he put his boot through its skull just to be sure it wouldn’t be coming back as a crimson all the same.

Relaxing a little when he didn’t seem to sense any other bodies within their immediate vicinity, he left Claire with the main collection of rather conflicting and seemingly-arbitrary paintings; a mess of uninspired landscapes and bland, insipid still-life. He took a moment to inspect the L-shaped passage—a vault storing some of the owner’s larger paintings, secluded off from the rest of the room only by a set of red velvet curtains that were drawn out of the way—and had come to the conclusion that it held nothing of any practical use, when he heard the splintering of wood and then a loud crash from the way he’d just came. Rushing back to where he’d left Claire not but moments before, Cayden arrived just in time to see his aunt pushing herself up off of the ground and onto her feet.

“Be a little more careful, will you?” Cayden snapped with a hiss. He wouldn’t admit that he was worried, but he was. And she probably knew it too, judging by the look that he knew that he was wearing; he might have sounded harsh with her, but he couldn’t be bothered to mask the concern across his features. Not anymore. He had grown too old for that, and Claire was all that he had left. As he stared at the half-broken desk that she had fallen off of, he wondered to himself, what would have happened if he had (unintentionally) left her alone in a room with an actual booby-trap…? Cayden shook his head at the thought, willing the chills away.

“…Just, stick close to me, alright?”

With that Cayden shrugged, feeling himself growing more and more frustrated with the situation. He still didn’t understand the purpose for why they were here, and that was beginning to irritate him. Why weren’t they dead already? What purpose did letting them live serve?

“Doesn’t look like there’s anything of use here.” Cayden informed her.

Outstretching his hand again in case Claire wanted to take it, Cayden slowly took the door to the next room over, and immediately stopped when a husk of metal stood in his way. Coated in plaster and specks of debris, Cayden reached out in order to test the foreign object in front of him and found that it offered very little give. Almost immediately he recognized what it was: a B.O.W. capsule, dropped clean through the mansion. The fact that he could even move it meant that it was empty, and yet he rapped his knuckles against it just to be sure.

Well, no time like the present to test just how much of his power he had lost.

The brunette put both hands on the right-side of the cylindrical transportation-unit and pushed. When it didn’t crumple immediately he exerted more force, gritting his teeth together and willing for the metal to buckle—finally it did, but not before he felt the strain of the effort in his shoulders and wrists. Normally he would have been able to brush it aside like tinfoil. That notion irked.

With the capsule flattened against the wall in a dented mess, Cayden brushed the debris that had fallen over him off of his shoulders and out of his hair. He took Claire’s hand again, and then studied the passage in front of them for the first time.

It was a long and empty corridor, which ended when it forked left around a bend, the rest of the hall vanishing behind a sharp corner. The new room definitely gave Cayden a sense of unease; the passage-way was just generally-creepy, with a high ceiling and tall, arched windows. Several panes of glass had been cracked within their frames—from the impact of the B.O.W. capsule that now lay behind them, if he had to speculate—and the woods that lie beyond that were impenetrably deep and immensely foreboding. To be frank, Cayden preferred the urban jungle as opposed to dark and rural forests. Cities offered street-signs, or iconic land-marks to guide the way, and gave them places in which to hide. The woods would offer them none of that protection, but leave them bare, and that made him weary about any potential escape.

Ignoring the decidedly bleak thought, he held his aunt’s hand tightly within his own and strafed along the left-hand wall, almost hugging it. His senses told him to be on high-alert, and so when a dog came crashing through one of the windows up ahead, he found himself more relieved than startled. Un-holstering the weapon that was currently tucked beneath his left arm, Cayden pointed the SMG and fired once, two rounds, taking the Doberman down with a loud and explosive BLAM BLAM that echoed off of the walls surrounding them.

[evios]

Claire turned to face Cayden when he snapped at her, she made him worried about her and she was sorry about that. She took the hand offered to her, but the trip was short lived when they came up to a blockage. Cayden had let go of Claire's hand, causing an ache in the pit of her stomach, she leaned against the wall as he went to work on the metal husk. She wondered if she was really that weak if her nephew was still able to use his abilities even after the anti-B.O.W gas, but she could not.

Even when Cayden took her hand so they could move on once again, her mind screamed to her. Where are we going? Move on to what? This is Wesker's playing field. She didn't have any idea what this place was, and she doubted Cayden didn't neither. What was certain was that they were probably going to run out of bullets and run into trouble. Whether it be Wesker, or someone else that is stuck in the mansion like them.