'I need to finish this headcount before they start sizing each other up,' Nico thought, his eyes darting nervously between the villains already exchanging predatory glances.
"Eighth floor!" Nico called out, his voice echoing through the chamber. Rachel Foley and Jack Norman descended the platform, their footsteps heavy with menace. You barely glanced at them, too focused on getting through this potential powder keg.
"Ninth floor!" Nico's voice cracked slightly as Deborah Harper slithered forward, followed by Derek C. Simmons who straightened his tie with mechanical precision. Carla Radames trailed behind them, her eyes calculating everyone's weaknesses.
"Tenth floor!" Pedro Fernandez stumbled forward, still adjusting to his new form. Neil Fisher maintained his professional demeanor despite everything, while Alex Wesker's cold smile sent shivers down Nico's spine. "Keep it moving," he urged, wiping sweat from his brow.
"Eleventh floor!" The Baker family emerged from the shadows. Jack's boots scraped against the floor as he pushed Eveline's wheelchair, her wizened face a stark contrast to the childlike malice in her eyes. Marguerite's joints clicked unnaturally as she moved, while Lucas fidgeted, already plotting something sinister.
"Eveline?" Nico muttered, squinting at the elderly woman. "I watched them create the child version..." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Must be able to age-shift at will."
'Thank God they don't remember their histories,' Nico thought, imagining the bloodbath that would erupt if they recalled their complex web of betrayals and vendettas. He shuddered at the thought.
"Twelfth floor!" Nico's announcement was barely necessary as the Lords made their grand entrance. Lady Dimitrescu ducked elegantly through the doorway, her daughters materializing as swarms of flies before reforming beside her. Salvatore Moreau sloshed forward, leaving wet footprints in his wake. Donna Beneviento glided silently, Angie perched on her shoulder, while Heisenberg clanked with every step, metal objects vibrating in his presence. Mother Miranda floated above them all, her feathered cloak rippling without wind.
Heisenberg swaggered to the center of the room, twirling his massive hammer before slamming it down with a thunderous crash. The floor cracked beneath it as he scanned the room with a challenging grin, daring anyone to question his dominance. Several villains instinctively backed away from the Lords, particularly from Moreau's grotesque, fish-like form.
"Shit—I forgot the first floor!" Nico cursed, fumbling with his clipboard. Those console-game bosses had been placed on level one, lacking the human façades that made the others somewhat manageable.
"First floor, please!" Nico called out apologetically. Morpheus D. Duvall strutted forward, his surgically-modified face frozen in perpetual vanity, while Sergei Vladimir's hulking frame cast a shadow over everyone present.
"That concludes our headcount!" Nico announced, clapping his hands together. "Return to your designated floors immediately. I'll visit each of you personally to discuss your roles." His voice carried more authority than he felt.
He watched them disperse—some with respectful bows, others with dismissive nods, a few with outright contempt. Miraculously, they filed out without incident, the sound of their varied footsteps fading into eerie silence.
Once alone, Nico spotted an ornate door at the chamber's far end that seemed to pulse with energy. "This has to be it—our one world item," he whispered excitedly, pushing the door open.
Inside, on a pedestal bathed in ethereal light, sat what appeared to be a simple snow globe containing a miniature castle. The Terraform.
"This beauty can reshape reality, build entire landscapes in seconds," Nico murmured, circling the artifact reverently. "It was supposed to recreate the game maps, but it couldn't break through the game's coded boundaries..." His eyes widened as realization struck. "But this world has no such limitations!"
He snatched up the globe, cradling it like a newborn. "Time to see what this baby can really do!" he shouted, racing toward the elevator with childlike excitement.
The elevator's ascent felt agonizingly slow. When the doors finally parted, Nico bolted to the archives lab, skidding to a halt at a reinforced vault. Inside lay treasured blueprints—meticulous recreations of every Resident Evil map.
"Months of our lives went into these," Nico reminisced, gently tracing the pencil marks. Countless hours replaying games, pausing at every corner, sketching every corridor and trap. "Even the underground labs are here—every spawn point, every trigger zone."
"Your sacrifice won't be in vain, guys," Nico whispered to his absent colleagues, gathering the blueprints carefully before sprinting to the control room. He spread them across the monitoring table and activated the P.A. system.
"Attention all creatures! Return to the underground labs immediately!" His voice boomed throughout the facility. "Terrain reconstruction in progress! This is not a drill!"
He scanned the bank of monitors, watching as creatures of all shapes and sizes scrambled toward the sublevels. "Perfect," he grinned, turning his attention to the snow globe. "Let's remake this world."
The Terraform hummed to life, a red scanner emerging from its base. Nico passed it over each blueprint, the light changing from crimson to emerald as it absorbed the designs.
"Brace yourselves!" Nico laughed, dropping into an office chair and gripping the armrests.
The laboratory convulsed. Metal groaned, concrete cracked, and the very air seemed to warp around them. In minutes that felt like hours, stillness returned.
"It worked!" Nico leapt up, practically dancing to the elevator. "Level twelve—show me the magic!"
As the elevator doors slid open, Nico gasped. No longer sterile corridors, but a twilight forest path leading to a crashed van. "I can smell the pine!" he exclaimed, running his fingers over the vehicle's dented metal. "So real!"
He navigated the dense woods with growing excitement, branches catching on his clothes, leaves crunching underfoot. After a breathless trek, he crested a hill overlooking the village—weathered buildings clustered beneath a brooding sky.
"Incredible!" Nico's voice echoed, startling a Lycan that had been prowling nearby. The creature snarled before leaping across rooftops, patrolling its new hunting grounds.
Nico wandered through the eerily familiar streets, struggling to get his bearings. "I should've talked to Donna first," he muttered, scanning for landmarks. "This place is way more confusing in person."
After several wrong turns, he spotted the four-winged gates leading to House Beneviento. Beyond lay the suspension bridge swaying gently over a misty ravine, and the forest of hanging dolls, their glass eyes following his every move.
"Now that's properly creepy," Nico shivered delightedly, passing the moss-covered grave of Claudia Beneviento.
A weathered sign beside the manor entrance read: "Give up your memories."
"Don't mind if I do," Nico chuckled, inserting his keycard. The ancient door creaked open reluctantly.
Inside, the service elevator awaited—far different from the facility's sleek lifts. This one juddered and groaned, lights flickering ominously as it descended. The sensation of being watched prickled at Nico's neck, though he knew better than to fear what lurked here.
As he stepped from the lift into the cavern, something seized his ankle. Nico shrieked, his heart nearly exploding from his chest.
"Jesus Christ! Angie?!" he gasped, lifting his foot to find the porcelain doll clinging to his boot, her stitched smile impossibly wide. "Warn a guy next time!" he wheezed, clutching his chest.
Scooping up the mischievous doll, Nico emerged to behold the Mountainside Manor perched before a cascading waterfall, mist creating rainbow prisms in the afternoon light.
He entered the kitchen to find Donna Beneviento surrounded by her doll collection, their vacant eyes all turning to him in perfect unison.
"Found something of yours," Nico said, handing Angie back with trembling fingers. "Please keep your toys on a leash. My heart can't take many more surprises."
A soft, musical giggle escaped Donna—a sound so unexpected it startled him all over again.
"Quick question," Nico asked, examining a particularly lifelike doll. "What exactly is our location now? Are we still underground?"
Donna's lips remained sealed, but Angie's head tilted upward. "Still beneath the earth, Creator!" The doll's voice—Donna's ventriloquism—echoed unnaturally. "Under a mountain! My doll friends spotted a village nearby—more medieval than ours. Ripe for the taking!"
"A village..." Nico's mind raced with possibilities. The perfect opportunity to recreate Resident Evil Village's storyline—establish a deity, cultivate worship, spread influence to surrounding settlements, and lure in more powerful enemies. A perfect trap.
"Creator? Your smile is frightening the dolls," Donna's actual voice whispered, barely audible.
"Just plotting," Nico reassured her. "Could you gather the other Lords here? I'd rather not trek through the entire map."
Donna rose, Angie in arms, but Nico quickly caught her sleeve. "Wait—can't the dolls do it? And stay, please. I want to talk to you. The real you, not through Angie."
With a slight nod, Donna commanded her dolls, which scampered out through hidden passages on their spindly limbs.
"So," Nico began awkwardly, "how's the new place treating you? Better than those empty white rooms, I hope?"
"It's..." Donna's voice was barely above a whisper, but rich with emotion. "It feels like home. Having walls, furniture, my dolls displayed properly..." Her fingers traced patterns on the wooden table. "It feels real."
"Those old rooms were inexcusable," Nico admitted, shame coloring his face. 'We created sentient beings and kept them in storage boxes,' he thought bitterly. They'd been so focused on creation they'd forgotten about dignity.
"I'm truly sorry, Donna. You all deserved better."
"Don't apologize, Creator." Donna's voice grew slightly stronger. "We knew you had greater plans for us."
Before Nico could respond, the ground shook violently, and a tremendous thud rattled the manor's windows. The dolls scurried back inside, chattering excitedly.
"Sounds like our guests have arrived," Nico said, offering Donna his hand. "Shall we?"
Outside, the other Lords had assembled, but Nico's attention immediately went to the massive crater where Lady Dimitrescu stood, now shrinking back to her merely tall human form.
"What in God's name was that?" Nico demanded.
Dimitrescu sank into a graceful curtsy, still towering over him. "Forgive me, Creator. My wings are faster than the paths. I had to transform to reach you quickly."
"Why didn't you just use the lift—" Nico stopped mid-sentence, suddenly picturing the nine-foot aristocrat wedged in the tiny elevator. "Never mind. I see the issue."
Clearing his throat to salvage his dignity, Nico addressed the group. "Before we discuss strategy, I'm curious—how do you find your original domains?"
"The castle is magnificent," Alcina purred, gazing fondly at her fortress visible on the distant mountainside. "My daughters are particularly enjoying the dungeons again."
Nico noticed Moreau fidgeting nervously in the background, webbed fingers twisting together. "Moreau! Speak up, big guy. How's the reservoir treating you?"
The fish-man's bulbous eyes widened with surprise at being acknowledged. "The w-water is perfect, Creator," he stammered, a lopsided smile revealing rows of needle-like teeth. "So much space to s-swim freely. Thank you."
"That's what I like to hear!" Nico clapped him on his slimy shoulder, genuinely pleased. The game never gave Moreau the recognition he craved from Miranda.
"Now, ground rules!" Nico's tone sharpened. "No fighting among yourselves—I'm looking at you, Dimitrescu and Heisenberg! And absolutely no attacking allies from other floors. We're building something bigger than your petty rivalries."
They nodded solemnly, though Heisenberg rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses.
"Donna's scouts discovered a village nearby," Nico continued, excitement building in his voice. The Lords leaned forward eagerly, predatory instincts awakening at the mention of fresh prey.
"Miranda," Nico turned to the veiled figure. "You'll infiltrate as an old woman, accompanied by one of Donna's dolls. Preach about yourself—about 'Mother Miranda'—let them mock you, but don't retaliate unless attacked."
Mother Miranda nodded, her feathered headdress shimmering as it caught the light.
"Once they've dismissed you, send the doll back secretly—that's our signal. We'll unleash Lycans on the village, creating chaos while sparing you. Then," Nico pointed to Heisenberg, "you'll charge in as their savior, dispatching a few monsters—but don't kill them permanently; they're hard to replace."
Heisenberg twirled his hammer impatiently but nodded.
"Command them to pray to Mother Miranda for protection. When they're all on their knees, we'll recall the Lycans, proving your 'divine intervention.' That should establish our foothold."
The Lords began to disperse, eager to begin, but Nico hadn't finished. "WAIT!" he roared, his voice distorting unnaturally. "Did I dismiss you? RETURN AT ONCE!"
The ferocity of his outburst shocked even him. The Lords froze, then hastily reassembled, exchanging wary glances.
'The virus is taking hold,' Nico realized with dread, fighting to regain composure. He'd merged with his creation more completely than intended.
"Forgive me," he managed, struggling to soften his tone. "But please wait for proper dismissal."
"As I was saying," he continued, presenting Heisenberg with an intricately carved wooden goat. "Give them this as a symbol of Miranda's protection. Tell them to craft more, place them around their village, and—most importantly—leave regular offerings. Our creatures need sustenance, and human sacrifices will serve nicely."
The Lords' expressions ranged from hunger to delight at this final instruction.
"Now you may proceed with the plan," Nico declared formally.
They departed with varying displays of respect—Dimitrescu transforming mid-leap into her winged form, soaring back toward her castle with terrifying grace.
"The virus is progressing faster than expected," Nico whispered, massaging his temples. While physically harmless, he feared losing his humanity, his empathy—becoming truly one of them.
"What is, Creator?" Donna's soft voice startled him.
"Nothing important," Nico lied, forcing a smile. "I forgot you weren't part of the mission. Would you escort me to the village? We need to prepare the Lycans."
They entered the creaking lift, enduring its descent in awkward silence until Donna spoke.
"Who were those others at the gathering? The ones not from our world?"
"It's refreshing to hear your actual voice," Nico admitted. "Those were creations from other Creators—colleagues of mine."
"The five who made us?" Donna asked, her eyes betraying rare curiosity.
Nico's heart constricted. 'They remember my friends,' he realized, picturing his colleagues' faces—their excitement during late nights coding these very beings.
"Not just five, Donna. Thirty of us once worked together."
Her sharp intake of breath echoed in the confined space. "But those others looked human. You always told us humans were beneath us."
The programming they'd instilled stung to hear reflected back. "They appear human but possess powers like ours. They're special, like you."
The lift shuddered to a halt, allowing them to continue their journey through the forest.
"What happened to the other Creators?" Donna asked, her question innocent yet piercing.
Walking beside her felt strangely natural, like a father and daughter strolling through twisted, nightmarish woods.
"They... didn't survive. Our kind doesn't live as long as yours," Nico fabricated, unwilling to reveal his humanity.
Donna stopped abruptly, tears welling in her eyes. "And you, Creator? Will you leave us too?" Angie clutched tightly to her chest.
Nico's heart broke for her. Donna's tragic backstory—orphaned young, isolated in her estate until Miranda found her—made her fear of abandonment devastatingly real.
"Never," Nico promised, gently taking her trembling hand. "My colleagues discovered immortality too late for themselves, but not for me. I'll stay with you all. Always."
"You promise?" she asked, her adult body housing the wounded child within.
"Cross my heart," Nico said, fighting back his own tears. "Now stop crying before you get me started too."
Donna's giggle—childlike and genuine—brightened the gloomy forest as they continued toward the village. Nico realized with growing wonder that these "villains" weren't simply monsters, but complex beings with fears, desires, and traumas that shaped them.
Perhaps in this new world, with the right guidance, they could become something more than their programming intended.