Nemesis is made to stay in this strange building. It is allowed to roam to any room it pleases to, a luxury it has never been afforded before. It picks up objects, inspecting them then placing them down again. This keeps it relatively occupied without a current target, but not so occupied that it doesn't hear the footsteps. Whoever is making that noise is quiet, but Nemesis is hypervigilant at all times.
It stands on the balcony of the main room, staring down at the blond man that has wandered into its realm. It feels the warning prickle of the Entity in its thoughts, warning it to not get too worked up. So it stands there quietly, wondering why the man has come here.
Post by Leon S. Kennedy on Sept 13, 2021 15:27:20 GMT
The first thing Leon noted about the Entity's replica of the R.P.D was that it smelled of rot. His time in the fog showed him that the Entity, despite its great power, had limited knowledge on how the real world functions. The environment was unnatural, and trees swayed almost mechanically. However, the smell of old blood and bile was real, smelt real to Leon at least, and just like the R.P.D. It's probably because death is all the Entity knows and is well adjusted to the scent, able to replicate it better than anything else he's smelt in the realm.
He doesn't really even know why he came to the R.P.D. There were memories, bad memories of this place lurking in every corner of the building, but he finds himself standing at the gates of the repurposed museum. They were open, and he easily made his way inside, opening the door so slowly it must have took an entire minute just to slip through. He didn't know if anything lived here, but he didn't want to take any chances with the sound of ghastly groaning and something pounding against the boarded windows echoing down the halls. He stuck close to the walls, keeping himself lowered to remain as undetectable as possible. It brings back vivid memories of Leon sneaking past zombies and the tyrant on the hunt for the medallions.
He makes his way past the reception room, briefly ducking inside to get his bearings and listen out for danger. He heard nothing yet, and slipped out to the main hall once more to reach the west office, unaware of the hulking creature that had just rounded the corner atop the balcony and watched him silently. When he stepped foot inside, a shiver crawled up his spine, remembering the note left for him. It had hurt him to read it, because Lt. Branagh sounded happy just for him to be there, and he along with everyone else had set up a dumb little puzzle for him to solve. It was endearing and sad to think about, so he tried not to until now. Now? He let the feeling consume him, months of trauma and pain having built up for this one moment. He didn't know if this was healthy, but he needed an outlet. He needed to just sit back in this place and take it in one more time, take in all that trauma and process it finally. Back in Raccoon City, he hadn't allowed himself to properly mourn everyone he saw be lost to the outbreak. He didn't have the time to mourn.
Standing at his desk, he places a hand on the cold wood and closes his eyes. "M' sorry, Lieutenant..." He said to no one in particular, very quietly under his breath because no one else needed to hear it. Just him, and the memory of Marvin haunting him.
Nemesis was made for tracking, that much is true. But it is also created to observe and the act of doing something it was created for is somewhat soothing. The human seems to know where he's going, not getting lost in the huge building like Nemesis had. The Entity did not appreciate its typical method of making a path for itself, forcing it to learn the twisting hallways.
He leaves its line of sight, irritating it. Something finally happens and the man cannot even be bothered to stay out in the open. Nemesis drops down onto the main floor, the ground shaking slightly from the impact. Thankfully the man hasn't gone far and Nemesis settles again.
The concept of how threatening it must appear does not even occur to it.
Post by Leon S. Kennedy on Sept 13, 2021 16:43:23 GMT
Leon felt the ground shake and heard the nearby impact of something big falling. What the hell? Whatever that thing was, it was moving and moving closer to him, heavy footsteps against the R.P.D's floor.
He internally cusses and makes a mad dash for the open doorway that leads to a series of hallways. The thing was relentless, hearing the scrape of various scattered chairs and debris along the floorboards in the west office. He quickly makes it down the west corridor, thankful for the complete lack of Lickers in the Entity's realm and made his way to the operation room. If his memory serves him well, there was a broken window that he could reach thanks to the pile of crates stacked on top of each other, allowing for an easy exit if cornered. He assumed the thing after him was big, heavy footfalls almost shaking the earth, and wouldn't be able to crawl after him unless it took the effort to break through the wall.
The adrenaline was pumping, and he almost swears to god that its the same tyrant that hunted him down in these very halls. But it can't be. Would the Entity really have taken the tyrant when it already had the Nemesis? And even if it did, he would see it appear in trials to hunt him, so no way that it was the same tyrant. Logically, it can't be.
But Leon wasn't thinking very logically right now. All that mattered was survival, no matter what kind of tyrant it was. All he knew was that he was in Raccoon City again, and that he was being hunted again. He didn't bother to look behind him, because that's what got you killed. He was dead set on reaching his destination to potentially lose this thing long enough to escape with all limbs attached. If he was quick and stealthy enough, the thing might even miss that he had gone through the window.
He burst through the double doors and his heart immediately dropped at the sight of the missing crates. He couldn't reach the window with how tall he was, and moving something there in time would be impossible without the thing hearing him. Is this a fucking joke? He thought deliriously, almost wanting to laugh at how everything seems to try and spite him, including an eldritch god. He spun around aimlessly, eyes scanning the room in a panic for any type of plan B. He settled his gaze at the table and bit his lower lip. This is the dumbest thing I've thought of and it definitely won't work.
He crawled under the table and waited. It would find him eventually, but combined with the darkness and its assumed size, it may lose sight of him for a second. A second was all Leon needed to sprint out under the cover and try to lose it elsewhere. He just had to hope this thing was as clueless as a zombie, which weren't very good odds.
The man bolts and Nemesis' conditioning screams at it to chase. If it weren't for the Eldritch claws digging into its mind it would've easily dragged him back with its tentacle. Those strange whispers bounce around inside its skull and it groans, clutching onto its head.
The pounding eventually recedes once Nemesis calms down, no longer on the verge of sprinting after the stranger. Still, it's curious. It takes a cautious step forward and when there is no horrid backlash from the Entity it proceeds.
This human is easy to track, having left a trail of panic in his wake. While Nemesis is far too tall to be able to spot the man beneath the table, it can hear the rattle of his breathing. Slowly Nemesis crouches down, making eye contact with the man. "S.T.A.R.S.?" It squints at him. No, just an ordinary police officer. Unimportant to its objective, but interesting nonetheless.
Post by Leon S. Kennedy on Sept 14, 2021 9:23:53 GMT
'S.T.A.R.S'? What the fuck? What the fuck was the Nemesis doing inside of the R.P.D? Did this thing live here now?
He feels trapped underneath the table, having no where else to go expect backwards. And even if he did, he wouldn't get very far without the Nemesis knowing what he was doing. If he did crawl out, he would be backed into a corner. He needs to wait until the tyrant moved, needed a window of opportunity, even just the smallest of chances. It was a shitty situation, but it wasn't like he hadn't been in one before.
It was harder to breathe the longer it made eye contact. Why hadn't it attacked him yet? The tyrants weren't like some of the other killers that seemed to enjoy mocking their victims before ending them. They were mindless killing machines, programmed by Umbrella to wipe out all witnesses. Maybe this one had been coded different, or the Entity broke it or some shit, because it just stared at him with its small eyes. He wanted to try and shuffle back, but he was afraid that even the slightest movement would snap the Nemesis out of the trance it seemed to be in.
Fuck, what do I do now? He decided to test his luck and move his hand up into a position where he could move it quicker need be the tyrant changed its mind about simply observing him. C'mon bastard, do something...
Nemesis knows what a scared human looks like; it's seen them often enough. Even the doctors that had created it were afraid, keeping their distance as much as possible. It was just the way humans were. Still, it hopes this one won't sprint off again; this place could be so boring.
The man moves slightly, staring at it expectantly and Nemesis cocks its head to the side. Yes, it sees the movement, human, what of it?
Post by Leon S. Kennedy on Sept 14, 2021 16:08:30 GMT
Leon wrinkles his nose. Why is it acting so weirdly? Why hasn't it killed him yet? It keeps staring at him, observing him like a specimen under a microscope, watching his movements but making no attempt to stop him.
He dryly swallows and continues with his careful movements, now slowly backing up and keeping an eye on the Nemesis for any further reaction. It almost seems confused with him, if not intrigued. What the hell is it doing?
He manages to move himself from under the table and stand up, thankful that he remains on the opposite side of it. He slowly backs up and takes a wide turn around it, keeping as far from it as possible and keeping an eye on any signs of agitation always. The room was small, but if it were to move, he might have just enough reaction time to duck under it. He keeps shifting gingerly, hearing his blood pumping in his ears. Sticking close to the wall, he makes his way closer to the door. It watched him, unmoving except for its deep breathing. Jesus Christ, maybe it really is broken.
Nemesis is content to watch the human slowly move around, as though he believes it will not notice him if he makes no sudden movements. Perhaps he'd be correct in that assumption normally, but Nemesis is anything but ordinary. Unlike the others it watches and it learns. The things it finds around its realm are interesting but it was not made to care about trinkets. This human may not be S.T.A.R.S. but observing him makes the Tyrant feel a little less useless.
The man is inching towards the doorway, Nemesis realizes. Trying to run again. Why must all humans be so flighty? It doesn't want to chase him, it isn't even allowed to. A soft, frustrated growl rises in its throat, loud in the heavy silence. It debates moving in front of the door and trapping the man inside but there's that warning prick of claws in its thoughts so it stays where it is, never taking its gaze off of the other. Crouched down like this the two of them are almost at eye level. The man looks different from this angle, Nemesis notes idly. Perspective? Odd.
Post by Leon S. Kennedy on Sept 18, 2021 3:42:49 GMT
It still hasn't moved from his position yet outside of making slight adjustments to keep its gaze on him. Leon kept making his way to the door when he heard the low sound reverberate from the back of the Nemesis' throat. Did this thing just fucking growl at me? He thinks bewilderedly, freezing in place. He could almost feel the restless agitation radiate from the tyrant in waves, but what was it annoyed with? Was it something he did? Did he disturb it when he made his way into the R.P.D? But if he did, wouldn't the Nemesis just try to dispose of him? Was it... Was it annoyed that he was trying to leave?
Maybe it's all an elaborate trap, and it's just trying to fool me so that it can kill me quicker, Leon reckons almost disconnectedly, feeling strangely at ease with that. It wasn't like death was very permanent here. He's more concerned about how painful it would be if anything.
Leon pauses in front of the door so that there was an easy escape route if things turn south. It was unpredictable at this point, and even though Leon started to lose his ability to care about death in the realms, his old instincts told him to still be concerned. It was big and much stronger than he was. One wrong move and who knows what will happen to him.
He eye's the Nemesis' crouched form and kept alert for any hostile intentions. "H... Hello? Is there something you want?" He asks coolly.
Nemesis visibly startles at the sound of the other's voice, unprepared for the sudden break in the silence. It glances around, looking for whoever it is this man is talking to. But there is no one here but them which makes this situation extremely strange. The human is scared, he has a clear exit point and Nemesis is not making any move to attack, so why does he not run? Furthermore he spoke to it. Nobody spoke to Nemesis except to give it orders, and this man's tone is not that of a command.
Now it's this strangers turn to stare at it. This does not bother Nemesis, it is used to being observed constantly. It's content now that the man is no longer on the verge of running off, though he is still looking at it expectantly.
"... Heh-low...?" Nemesis manages the word, garbled and hissed but spoken nonetheless. Were it able it would've smiled at its accomplishment.
Post by Leon S. Kennedy on Sept 18, 2021 4:41:54 GMT
Leon felt his jaw literally drop. He guessed that it had knew some English, being Umbrella's creation. He did not, however, expect it to know how to speak the language. He knew it could say 'S.T.A.R.S' but only because he assumed it was just apart of his programming, something it had learned to say after however long it took for him to learn its targets. He didn't even think it was capable of forming many words, seeing as Leon didn't see a reason as to why it would need to talk. Why would Umbrella take the time and effort into giving the tyrants the ability to speak if it only needed to kill, after all. Maybe all the scientist's at Umbrella were all as equally fucked in the head, but then again, Leon already knew they kind of were for creating the T-virus and G-virus.
"...Hello..." Leon repeated dumbly, completely at an utter loss for how he should respond to the new revelation that the Nemesis could talk. Does it mean the Nemesis understood everything he says during trials, understood the intention behind every spoken word?
Jesus, a response was the last thing I was expecting... It felt more likely for the Nemesis to just crush his skull. Was it always like this? Were all tyrants like this? Could he have spoken to the tyrant back in Raccoon City? He doesn't think it would have responded to him regardless though, but it didn't pause the endless questions he had for Umbrella like 'what the fuck?' and 'why the fuck?'.
He didn't know what to do, didn't know if he should sprint back to the Survivor's Campfire or take this rare opportunity to learn more about the Nemesis and tyrants in general. He doesn't know what purpose this kind of information would serve him, unlikely to help him survive better in trials, but the curiosity boarded on painful. He needed to know what the hell was going on. "Can you... actually understand me?"
Nemesis watches the man's reaction and it's honestly a little funny how wide his eyes get. As for his question Nemesis lacks the ability to truly answer. It understands a good portion of what the humans around it say, however most of its knowledge comes from guesswork. How much of it is accurate, the Tyrant has no clue.
After a few moments of thought Nemesis nods slowly, gaze never leaving the human before it. It wants to see his reaction, curious to know if he will make as much fuss as before. Nemesis doesn't really understand why the man is so shocked in the first place. It had been designed to be clever, this is not new information.
On the bright side, Nemesis' earlier restlessness has been pushed aside for the moment.
Post by Leon S. Kennedy on Sept 21, 2021 9:27:32 GMT
Leon has to physically take ten whole seconds to process this information. Why didn't I ever think that Tyrants would understand me? Of course, they would. Leon didn't understand what a Tyrant actually was or how they were made, but they had a humanoid figure and obvious intelligence. He also didn't understand why this one was so different from the one he encountered in the R.P.D.
"Why... Did Umbrella make you different to the other one?" Leon asked with hesitance, not wanting to provoke it. He risked sounding rude or insensitive, but that's if it could even process tone and language in such a way.
The differences in the two Tyrants was unmistakable. The Tyrant he had originally encountered had a fully developed face despite the fact that its skin looked blue and thin, its eyes an inhuman steel colour. Nemesis, however, had a much different face, body, even clothes to the other Tyrant. The other had a black trench coat and a stupid-looking fedora, while Nemesis had - what even was it wearing? Trash bags? Not to mention that the existence of the Nemesis had Leon thinking one thing; just how many Tyrants were out there?
It was almost terrifying to think about, and even more so now because he can finally get an answer. If there really were more out there roaming Raccoon City... Would've Claire even had a chance?
Don't think like that, Leon scolds himself internally. She made it out. She's tough. Focus on the Tyrant literally in front of you!
Why was it made differently? The answer to that should by all means be obvious, and even if it isn't Nemesis lacks the words to explain. It tries nonetheless, tries to tell him that it was made to be smart and clever, that it is awake and aware, all the things Nemesis had heard it was. But the sounds come out as no more than growls, garbled and indistinct like most words do. It huffs a sigh, frustrated with the human's lack of knowledge and its own limitations. No one has ever tried to have a conversation with it before and it is already failing this task.
"S.T.A.R.S." it emphasizes, gently knocking a fist against its own temple. It had seen some of the humans that worked on it use gestures like that and hopes it's enough for the man to figure the rest out on his own. Nemesis doesn't know what it will do if the man keeps asking it things and expecting an answer.