Copyright 2000 by Tom Lazur
Disclaimer:
The Resident Evil trademark is property of Capcom and whoever legally involved, as are the Hunter and T-01 characters. The characters Gary Peterson, Kyle Gerhard, The Englishman, Madeline, Nester, Hollace, Carl, and Kelly however are my own creation and should not be used without my consent.
Dirtied Hands, Tortured Souls
by Tom Lazur
Chapter I
"What you don't understand is that this man can be very dangerous." The man's voice was condescending. His accent set Hollace's teeth on edge. Hollace hated accents, especially British accents. He would not be surprised if all the people in the world spoke like an American, but some used accents just to sound more important. Hollace's eyes rolled upward towards the office ceiling. Its shade of cedar brown was supposed to have a calming effect. It didn't. Hollace's hackles were up and pointed at the man at the other end of the phone line, Hollace's private phone line. The only people allowed to call him on it were his secretary, his wife, and the woman he was sleeping with. How the man even got the number was a mystery.
"I know how sensitive the matter is. But one little detective sent by people with absolutely no actual authority is nothing to get riled up over." Hollace was determined not to let the man get the upper hand. Mustering his wit he made a jab at the man, "You're worrying to much. You really should learn to relax."
"Don't try to be smart about things you cannot possibly understand, Hollace." Hollace audibly choked on his anger. The man on the other line either didn't notice, or didn't care. "The situation is unacceptable, and must be taken care of. I want you to discourage Mr. Peterson from investigating further. If he's like any other independent investigator, he'll run away with his tail between his legs, give false information to his employers, and collect their money until they find out."
Hollace was gagging on his spite. "I'm not a child! I know what to do! Just leave everything to me as always and I'll get the job done!"
The English accent responded coolly. "Just peachy. Oh and one more thing Hollace."
"What?" Hollace snapped.
"Don't overestimate your value to us." The man promptly hung up, and the stillness left by the dead connection scalded Hollace almost as much as the man's curt behavior.
His face flushed with anger, Hollace practically punched his intercom button. "Ms. Walters, send in Mr. Peterson!"
"Yes Mr. Hollace Sir." Her reply was prompt, polite, and obedient, which was what Hollace enjoyed from people. He was in a position of power and it was everyone else's obligation to do what they were told. The man he had just spoken to on the other hand did not deserve any such obedience. Not only had Hollace never even seen the man, he had not even been allowed the dignity of knowing his name. The Englishman's identity remained an enigma to Hollace. Even the full extent of his resources could not glean the information for Hollace, even though he was the Under Director of the New York branch of Umbrella, the multi-billion dollar international company that manufactured things from pharmaceuticals to bioengineering, and invested causes ranging from urban restructuring to biosphere experiments.
Whoever the man was he commanded a lot of power, more than Hollace at least. He probably had more swing than Hollace's superior, the Head Director Jameson. But in spite of this Hollace smiled. He was still young, barely thirty-eight. There was plenty of time to climb the ladder, and pull the feet from under whoever was on top. All he needed to do was maintain his flawless record. The disposing of this nosy private detective Peterson would just be one more victory. One more assurance of his future success. The door opened and Hollace swiveled in his chair to face the man who had just entered.
He was fairly tall, at least six-foot three, and his chestnut brown hair was cut short and neatly. Hollace hated tall people almost as much as people with accents. They always thought they were superior to others. Hollace sighed. At least the man was well dressed. He wore a sharp blue-gray three-piece suit and carried a crushed velvet fedora in his left hand. He took a few short strides to Hollace's desk, smiled comfortably, and introduced himself.
"Good afternoon Mr. Hollace sir. I'm Detective Peterson. I'm here on behalf of the Saint Michael's Institute of Medicine."
"Sit down Mr. Peterson." Hollace was cold and unyielding.
Gary's smile retained its almost plastic perfection, but he did not move.
Hollace waited, and stared blankly at Gary as he smiled back. This went on for a few awkward seconds. "Why aren't you sitting?" asked Hollace.
Gary rolled his eyes. "You didn't say please," Gary sighed with exasperation.
Hollace blinked. Gary blinked back.
"You can't be serious." Hollace said with a disturbed expression.
Gary nodded vigorously. "I'm very serious. Courtesy makes everyone get along, and I'm sure we want to be on the best terms possible."
Hollace paused. He wasn't sure whether the man was crazy or trying to be smart. Either way, Hollace disliked even more now. "Sit down. Please."
Gary gave a light chuckle. "Well now, that was fun. Let's get started."
Hollace's stomach gave a lurch. This was probably the most irritating man he had ever met. The sooner the etiquette freak left the better. "Mr. Peterson, I understand you came here under the impression that I would give you information."
"That's true, yes."
"Concerning activities involving our chemical research."
"That is correct. I'm hoping you'll be very cooperative. I'm sure such a respectable company like Bradley Pharmaceuticals would be more than willing to help me."
"And you are a… what is it again?" Hollace asked, although both men knew what Gary was.
"A free-lance information ascertaining expert."
"A private detective."
"That too." Gary didn't miss a beat. "It seems that the people over at the Saint Michael's Institute of Medicine are a tad unclear on the subject of your newest project."
Hollace didn't show his surprise. " I wasn't aware that the Institute was privy to our private projects. I certainly wasn't aware that they have a newly ordained right to pry into our business."
"Every citizen has the right to protect his fellow man." Gary shrugged. "They believe that your research company is involved with illegal tests along with Umbrella."
Hollace frowned. "Why do they think that?"
Gary smiled. "I can't tell you."
"This is ABSURD!" Hollace stood up. "I want you out of my office!"
Gary feigned surprise. "But Holly old pal, we haven't talked at all."
"You stupid smartass! I'm calling security!" Hollace's face was beet red, and his right eye was lightly twitching as he picked up the receiver. "Mrs. Walters! Send in security!" He didn't wait for a reply; he slammed the receiver down with a loud crash.
"Uh, Holly?" Gary pointed towards Jorsan's forehead. "You've got this little vein—"
"Don't call me Holly and I know about the vein!" Jorsan was on the verge of apoplexy.
"Oh well good, the vein is pretty creepy. But about me leaving," Gary scratched his head. "That just doesn't work for me. You see I need to know about where you're doing something regarding the T-Virus." Gary watched Hollace's expression. The man whose face had resembled a baboon's ass only moments before was suddenly very white.
"How… how did," Hollace stammered, "how did you know about…" He quickly regained his composure. "You don't know what you're talking about. You probably just picked that up somewhere. And anyway it doesn't matter because soon you'll be gone." He finished with a triumphant sneer, although it was not very intimidating after a drop of sweat trickled off Hollace's brow.
The office doors opened and in walked two very imposing men; both wearing slacks and jackets bearing their last names and a security emblem. Gary didn't get up. He turned his head and nodded to the two security guards that firmly closed the door. Both men were over six feet tall and over two hundred pounds. One had deep black skin and a neat crewcut. The other was a tanned Caucasian with a shaved head.
"Hey how's it hanging guys?" Gary was not the least bit worried. "Nice jackets."
The black guard rested his hand on Gary's shoulder heavily. "Come on now friend," His voice was low and husky, "let's not get this all ugly." The force of the guard's squeeze let Gary know that things would have to get ugly. Gary raised his hands in the air.
"Alright, alright, no reason to get all fired up." Gary stood up and slowly turned around. As Gary turned, his arm pushed away the black guard's hand. Like a snake, Gary swiped his hands around the black guard's arm and twisted him into an arm bar. Gary pulled the guard up and drove his knee into the guard's testicles. The black guard yelped and fell to the ground coughing and twitching. Gary quickly picked up the chair and swung it into the other guard's face. The chair broke and its pieces fell to the ground along with the unconscious white guard. A kick to the black guard's face sent him on his merry way to dreamland.
Gary lifted up his pant leg and removed a small .22 from an ankle holster. He pointed his gun at the now shaking Hollace and put on his most threatening look.
"Tell your secretary that you want to see my partner. He should be out in the waiting room by now." Gary's voice didn't reflect a drop of the courtesy it had before. Hollace reached unsteadily for the intercom button. Gary spoke again, causing Hollace to flinch. "Remember, act natural." Gary said the last would with a smile and a relaxing sigh, and immediately thereafter became threatening again.
"H-Hello? Ms. Walters?" Hollace stuttered slightly.
Her voice responded via the intercom, "Mr. Hollace there is a… a gentleman here to see you. He says that he's an associate of Mr. Peterson. Should I tell him to leave?"
"Err, no Ms. Walters, I, uh, he is supposed to be here. Send him in."
Gary chimed in, his voice gushing with fraternity, "Come on in Carl, we've just about hammered out an agreement with our pal Holly."
Hollace glowered in spite of his peril. Only he was allowed to talk to his secretary through his intercom. Hollace didn't have much time to sulk over Gary's transgression. The door opened and in walked a man who for every bit Gary was neat, was messy and unkempt. The man closed the door behind him and Hollace looked at him anxiously. He still wore on his head a duckbill cap and his brown overcoat was wrinkled and had flecks of mud on the tail. He was about six inches shorter than Gary was and his ebony skin seemed to shine in the office's lighting. The man looked at the two unconscious guards and shook his head.
"For the sake of all that's good and holy Gary," the man said tiredly, "I hope you needed to do this."
Gary kept the pistol pointed at Hollace. He smiled at the man and said nonchalantly, "You know I'm not prone to frivolity, Carl. I'm a man of necessity."
"Yeah, sure thing." Carl reached inside his coat and removed two plastic zip strips. In Carl's opinion, there were certain criteria that needed to be filled when one purchased handcuffs. A good pair could cost upwards of 75 dollars. Another peculiar thing about handcuffs is that one only used handcuffs if one was planning on personally releasing the captured party later. Gary and Carl had no intention of releasing the men themselves, thus the utility of the zip strip, a long plastic cord that could be looped and pulled only one way, was obvious. The zip strip was intended for quickly attaching large bundles of things like wooden logs and newspapers together for easy transport. It was quick, cheap, lightweight, and didn't jingle or rattle. It was also very durable and could withstand large amounts of tension.
He took the zip strips and used them to bind the hands of the unconscious guards. He slipped the plastic threads through the built-in slits and pulled them firmly. They made a quick zipping sound as they locked securely in place.
"Alright now." Carl said, "let's find out what this little bitch has to say."
Gary smiled. "Carl, you are an inspiration." Gary then smiled at Hollace again. "Holly, we are going to find out where the facility is, one way or another."
All Hollace could do was sweat.