Sephirot deliberately drew out his tone before suddenly changing his tune.
"How about you restore her psychic sensitivity first, and then I'll tell you?"
If Constantine didn't help her regain her talent, and if the demons found another substitute, who would Sephirot go to for his points rewards and the Spear of Destiny?
"No way. I'm absolutely not pushing her into Hell with my own hands!"
Constantine refused; he didn't want a repeat of past mistakes.
"Constantine, this isn't something you can decide on your own."
Sephirot said, "Mammon's descent is inevitable. You've seen the chaos in Los Santos lately."
"Do you think those demons are just out for sightseeing?"
As much as Constantine didn't want to admit it, his expression turned grim.
"Even if you don't help her regain her talent, can you guarantee Mammon won't find someone else with psychic sensitivity?"
"Or can you protect her every single second to keep her from being taken by demons?"
Sephirot's tone was persuasive. "Since things are already out of control, it's better to take the initiative and help her restore her gift."
"That way, the initiative stays in our hands. No matter what happens, we'll know in advance."
As Constantine listened to this, it felt somewhat familiar...
Wasn't this the exact same rhetoric he usually used to trick others into becoming cannon fodder?!
Angela also spoke up, her tone resolute: "I'll do anything, as long as it stops those monsters who killed my sister."
Under Sephirot's persuasion and Angela's pleas, Constantine scratched his hair in frustration and finally relented.
"Come with me. We're going back to my place; I need to make some preparations."
Constantine shot Sephirot a glare.
"You two go handle that yourselves. I have some private business to attend to," Sephirot said.
Constantine gave him a suspicious look but said nothing, leading Angela out of the hospital room.
"Mr. Sephirot, what are we doing next?"
The quiet Carrie asked curiously.
"Going to make some preparations in advance."
Sephirot watched the two of them leave.
The location where Mammon would finally descend was this very mental hospital. Although he didn't know what backup plans the enemy had, it was better to make preparations of his own ahead of time.
The mental hospital's underground cistern.
Sephirot surveyed the dark space.
The glass skylight above the cistern had not yet been repaired.
A few weeks ago, Isabel had leaped from above, ending her life right here.
In Western theological systems, water is a medium connecting the human world and Hell, as well as a holy substance for washing away sin.
And the location Mammon chose for his descent was also here.
"Sephirot, when are you going to settle that five million you owe me from last time?"
A deep voice came from the darkness as Papa Midnite stepped out from the shadows, leaning on his cane with a cross expression.
"What did you call me here for this time?" "I'll pay you for everything at once after this job is finished."
Sephirot spoke without a hint of hesitation or guilt, despite not having a single cent in his account.
He pointed to the reservoir beneath their feet and said, "Help me set up a few Magic circles here."
Papa Midnite took a half-step back. "What are you trying to deal with this time? It's not another demon lord, is it?"
Having been burned by their last encounter, Papa Midnite was rightfully wary of Sephirot.
"You're overthinking it. It's just a few ordinary demons."
Sephirot looked perfectly sincere. "Do you have any killing arrays with a bit more punch?"
Papa Midnite didn't believe him for a second. Why would he need a high-powered array to deal with a couple of minor demons?
You couldn't trust a single punctuation mark that came out of this guy's mouth.
He weighed his options and gritted his teeth as he quoted an astronomical price: "Ten million!"
"No problem!"
Sephirot agreed instantly. He had nothing to lose, anyway.
At worst, he'd just figure out someone to borrow from once the business was done.
Seeing Sephirot agree so readily only made Papa Midnite more nervous.
He looked around at their surroundings and couldn't help asking, "Who exactly are you planning to fight? It's not Satan, is it?"
Before Sephirot could respond, he immediately drew a line in the sand: "Let's get one thing straight, I am absolutely not helping you operate the Magic circle this time."
"I'll set up a trigger-based automated array, and as soon as I'm done, I'm leaving!"
"Deal."
Sephirot nodded.
While an array like that likely wouldn't do much against Satan, preparations still had to be made.
Besides, his true trump cards weren't these fancy magic circles.
The Yamato trial card sitting quietly in his system inventory and the communicator in his hand that could summon Dante at any moment were his real sources of confidence.
In a rental house downtown.
Andre stared at the computer screen and patted Clancy's shoulder, his voice filled with excitement. "How's the video editing coming along?"
On the screen was a record of everything they had seen and heard, from the town of Haddonfield to the mist-shrouded hardware store, all the way to the Black Mesa Research Facility.
Clancy rubbed his tired eyes and saved the file. "It's almost there..."
"But are we really going to post this? Sephirot warned us not to go looking for trouble."
"His exact words were: don't bring trouble to him."
Andre pointed at the screen.
The footage played through the Black Mesa Research Facility section, showing a figure wielding a Greatsword, slaughtering everything in its path.
However, from head to toe, the figure was covered by a thick layer of mosaics.
One could barely tell it was a human silhouette.
"Look at this blur."
Andre laughed triumphantly. "With this much censorship, even if he were sitting right here watching it himself, he probably wouldn't recognize who it is. Much less the people online."
"How could this possibly bring him trouble?"
Seeing Clancy's conflicted expression, Andre squeezed his shoulder. "Relax, man." "If he really comes looking for us, I'll be the one to step up and face the consequences."
"Think about the revenue this video could bring in."
"Think about your sister back home, still waiting for tuition to go to university!"
"Once this video is out, we'll be the hottest urban exploration stars on the internet! Sponsors will be lining up to throw money at us!"
Clancy stared at the screen, thought of his impoverished family, and gritted his teeth. He exported the video and hit upload.
A moment later, Andre watched the "Upload Successful" notification and let out a long breath.
He glanced at the despondent Clancy and laughingly slung an arm around his neck.
"Relax. To post this, I used a proxy to change our IP address and specifically uploaded it to an overseas paranormal forum. No one will ever be able to trace it back to us."
"Wipe that miserable look off your face. Come on! I'm taking you out for a massive feast. By the time we've had our fill and come back, we'll be stars!"
Security and Containment Center.
Inside the dim hall, the sound of rhythmic typing melded into a single drone.
These were top-tier hackers from across America, tasked with monitoring every corner of the internet twenty-four hours a day.
A video, posted to a certain forum after bouncing through multiple layers of redirection and IP masking, was flagged by their programs the second it surfaced.
Not only was the video intercepted, but the information tracking team had already followed the digital breadcrumbs to reverse-trace the uploader's physical address.
"Sir, the locations of the uploaders have been locked."
A monitoring technician pulled up a roadside surveillance feed.
On the screen were two men eating in a restaurant.
It was Andre and Clancy.
Sitterson walked in from outside, his expression grim.
Last time, he had taken it upon himself to deploy a prototype to assassinate Sephirot, which had resulted in his entire force being wiped out.
The men in power had chewed him out mercilessly.
If he hadn't used the equipment on the monsters to gather Sephirot's combat data and redeem himself, he would have been thrown to the demons long ago.
"Is the scenery comparison finished?"
Sitterson stared intently at the screen, his voice suppressed with rage.
"It's done!"
A researcher tapped on the keyboard and said, "Based on topographical and scene comparisons, the video begins at the hardware store in Bridgton, Maine, and follows the path all the way to the Black Mesa Research Facility."
Sitterson gritted his teeth as he looked at the pixelated figure on the screen. "And this person's identity?"
"Sir, we retrieved Andre's recent social media records and extrapolated this individual's combat data. After cross-referencing with our database, the result is..."
The technician swallowed, looking hesitant.
"Speak!" Sitterson barked.
"It's... Sephirot."
Bang!
Sitterson slammed a fist onto the console, his complexion turning deathly pale.
Just as he suspected, the other side was deliberately tearing out their sub-bases one by one!
Last time it was the forest observation post in West Virginia; this time it was the Black Mesa Research Facility in Maine.
What about next time?
Next time, when that man came knocking with that Greatsword in hand, would the target be this very Security Center hidden underground?
Those damned bastards of the Armitage family had actually forbidden them from moving against Sephirot, claiming they feared premature exposure would ruin the plan.
A flash of malice crossed Sitterson's eyes.
He couldn't just sit and wait for death. Since the high-ranking officials refused to act, he had to look out for his own life.
Provoking that bringer of ruin head-on was no different from suicide.
But as long as someone was human, they had to have a weakness.
An idea struck him, and his expression shifted.
If he couldn't touch Sephirot, he would go after the people around him.
For instance, that girl named Patty.
As long as he held that woman in his grasp, no matter how god-like Sephirot's methods were, he would be forced to stay his hand and obey.
"Deploy a task force to Los Santos immediately. Capture that woman, Patty, and bring her back. Note: do not alert Sephirot."
Sitterson's voice was cold.
He watched the otherworldly monster on the screen being split in two by a single sword stroke. His eyelid twitched involuntarily; he didn't feel like these GIs were reliable enough.
"Wait."
Sitterson continued, "Awaken T-02 Prototype, codename Tyrant. Program it with the same capture directive."
Only with a killing machine of this caliber, one fused with a high-ranking demon, overseeing the field could he guarantee the operation would be flawless.
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TL NOTES — CROSSOVER GUIDE
Some references in this chapter come from source universes that may be unfamiliar to some readers. The notes below provide the context needed to understand them without leaving the page.
CREATURES
Tyrant (T-02 Prototype) — A reference to the Tyrant, one of the most iconic monsters from the Resident Evil franchise. In the games, Tyrants are Bio-Organic Weapons (BOWs) created by the Umbrella Corporation: massive, near-indestructible humanoid creatures engineered for combat by splicing human subjects with mutagenic viruses. The designation "T-02" mirrors the naming conventions used in the games for different Tyrant models. In this chapter, the organization has gone further, fusing one with a high-ranking demon, making it a hybrid threat designed specifically to counter Sephirot's abilities.