"What's more, I'm sure that some of your old abilities may actually exceed your current ones. But this isn't a decline in power, because other abilities will be even stronger than before. It's a bit confusing, but I've never seen anything like this before, and it's difficult to explain some of these concepts clearly in ordinary language," Yamata said.
"I see. Is that bad? And should I try to stabilize these fluctuations somehow?" I replied, showing nothing outwardly—after all, I'm a corpse—but feeling a faint nervousness inside. From my perspective, the picture her analysis painted was far from rosy.
"It can't be called good, no matter how you look at it. But at least it explains your uncontrollable urges for blood—and, in special situations, for flesh. Building material. It's also a very interesting observation. I even waited a couple of minutes to be sure, but it's true: when you drink blood, you can almost be called conditionally alive. Yes, yes—even your heart starts beating, albeit very slowly. So slowly that ordinary devices can't detect it. But as the blood diminishes or… cools—both terms are inaccurate, but I can't explain that part to you properly. I'll just give you the essence of it: if you don't drink blood for a long time, there's a chance you'll turn into something like the creature we saw."
She paused before continuing.
"The blood of lower-level infected is useless to you. So, strange as it may sound coming from me, humans, Lickers, T-103s, and Hunters are suitable food sources. Well, and Nemesis—especially him. His blood is your salvation. Don't stare at me like that; your red eyes are annoying!"
"Well, I'm sorry, but I didn't want to become like that," I shrugged in response to her last remark.
"I understand… but it's still unpleasant. As for this 'salvation,' I think that, given your peculiar form of 'bloodlust and consumption'—though from a scientific standpoint it's a bit different, but I won't bore you with that—so, considering this peculiarity of yours and your calm consumption of other infected as food, it can be assumed that your body actually needs it. So to speak, it develops your own virus using external sources. At the moment, I know of only two carriers of the pure G-virus: the monster that came from Birkin, and Nemesis. You need the blood of one of them—preferably both—for your evolution to proceed normally, or at least stabilize."
"As far as I know, Nemesis is in the city right now. And to be honest, he's far preferable to Birkin in this scenario. Maybe the effect of his genes will be weaker, but he himself is a less dangerous creature. After dealing with him, you can return to main objective. You can't handle it right now," Yamata finished wearily.
"Listen, you're already falling asleep on your feet. Maybe we should go down into the building so you can sleep for at least a couple of hours. Otherwise, you're useless. A few more hours without rest, and you'll turn into dead weight. According to Vector's memories—as you already figured that out, since you brought up absorption—you've been on your feet since you arrived in Raccoon City. And during that time, the same mess with Birkin would get on the nerves of even seasoned professionals. And how many hours has it been? A day? Maybe two? No, stimulants are great, sure—but you're still human, and you get tired. You told me that yourself when we were dealing with our former allies."
"So I'll quickly clear the floor, you can choose a cleaner place to sleep, and I'll keep watch. I don't need rest anyway, and a couple of hours won't make any difference." I used my soft voice again.
"Why are you so concerned?" Yamata asked with a hint. "Have you decided to have a snack while I sleep?"
"Oh, I just don't want to wait for the moment when you start nodding off, get irritable, miss your shots, and react inadequately to danger. A couple of hours of rest will do you good. I don't need it, so I'll watch over my ally—because, as I already told you, even I would have a hard time surviving here alone. Especially considering the new factors that have come to light."
"And as for a snack… you're not my type." I added with a quiet chuckle.
"Well, watch out, because if you turn—yes, you're capable of it, the tests confirmed that—I won't need two subjects to study!" Yamata threatened me. As if I wanted to...
"Okay, okay, don't get clever. I'll go downstairs. You can't sleep on the roof—it's uncomfortable here, to say the least. No, I don't doubt your ability to sleep here, but it'll be much better on a soft bed. And we won't go below the top floor."
I headed for the door.
It was a pity I couldn't scan the building. There were no living beings inside, and my kin—well, half-kin, considering I'm half-dead—couldn't be detected by my vision. So I'd have to do this the old-fashioned way.
I approached the door leading downstairs and, with minimal effort, pushed my fingers into the wood near the lock, then simply tore it out—I don't have time to test my rather modest lock-picking skills.
"You could've let the lady go first," Yamata said, tucking the long line back into her hair.
Right. A reminder that not all memories are mine. I'd somehow forgotten that she could have picked the lock easily. And again, I wanted to use my strength—because it's intoxicating. More intoxicating than blood.
Probably, if the downsides of my current existence were fewer, I might have gone mad from the feeling of omnipotence. But my memories were still vivid—the bombs in the Cerberus, dead dogs, my ass. My encounter with Lisa in the pit… and all the other misadventures.
A very sobering set of thoughts.
"Let's go," I said, heading down to the top floor.