Author's Note: Hello to anyone who follows my stories. I wanted to write this story before releasing the sequel to my previous series, "I AM HUMAN." Similar to how I had three stories to come together to make that, I wanted to write this story so things make a little more sense in it. If this is the first of my stories that you have read, I recommend checking out "I AM HUMAN" first, if not, go ahead and read.
Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil, I'm just one of many fans who likes to write stories about it. Enjoy!
Nothing exists. The black void is all that appears for him now. His last moments seemed like an eternity, his life flashed before his eyes, but it was much shorter than most. He was cut down, not even in his prime yet, left alone to experience a nightmare that was all too real. However, he feels as though the price he paid was worth what he did, yet he can't remember why. He feels as though it was the most important decision in his life, so how can he not remember what is was. In the end, he guesses it doesn't matter now. It looks as though there's nothing to look forward to, nothing but darknest. Void, empty, lifeless, darkness…, except for a light.
He looks out to the only known direction in this realm, towards a single glimmer. He reaches out with whatever control he has of his being, his hand now visible in this void. He tries to move, now feeling his weight dropping, his feet coming to a floor that wasn't there before. Each step makes an echo, one that doesn't stop, adding more and more sound. The light seems to stay the same despite how far he goes. Suddenly, he feels a sharp pain in his chest, as if a sword was thrusted through him. He clings to his chest, waiting for the pain to subside, but it only gets worse. The light begins to dim, and fear now pushes him forward. These feelings, he thought he lost them, but now they're back, all the more reason to keep running.
Suddenly, the light grows brighter as he runs faster and faster. With all his might, despite the ever growing pain, he goes faster than he ever has, regardless if he can remember any time before. The light eclipses the darkness as it grows. He trips, falling to the ground from the pain, but the light still shines brighter and brighter. It overtakes his sight as he hears the ringing now, a scream coming from the new world, his screaming. With what he can tell , he can feel people struggling to hold him down. He feels himself crash to the floor as whatever was holding him gives way. He backs away as fast as possible with whatever control he has, stopping as he hits the corner of a wall. He shields his eyes from the light, being too bright to handle. He sits there, motionless now, waiting for any danger to subside. Suddenly, he can hear a soft whisper, something he felt like he hasn't heard in ages.
"Hey," the voice asks, "are you alright?"
The voice is as gentle as possible to help calm him down. In that moment, his fear begins to decline, not instant, but enough for him too scan his surroundings. He finds himself within, what appears to be, an operating room, the table he rested on was on the floor. A small group of people in white attire surround him, a few of them begin standing up after being knocked to the floor. He looks to his hands and finds himself without clothes, his skin covered in sweat. He looks up to see who was talking to him, a woman, wearing the same white attire. She turns to the others saying "Bring him some clothes." Two people from the group leave to do so as she turns back to him.
"Sir," she returns to her quiet voice, "do… do you remember who you are?"
The man looks to her for guidance, something to tell him what's going on, but it's evident that he won't get any help. In an instant, a throbbing pain hits him, causing him to clench his forehead in pain. As quick as it appears, it vanishes, as if to give him something. In that moment, with what strength he has, he says what was given to him.
"S-Steve… Burnside," his voice raspy from a lack of water.
The woman turns to the others, "prepare the interrogation room, and help this man get dressed."
As she leaves to prepare for something, the remaining members help Steve stand back up, placing him back on the table. The two return with some plain white clothes. Try as he might, he is unable to move as the people dress him and give him much needed water. When they finish, they all stand back, waiting for him to move. Steve sees that they want a reaction, so he tries to stand. In an instant, he collapses, bracing himself with his arms. As they try and help him up, he musters up enough strength to stop them, gesturing for them not to help. Within a few minutes, he begins to rise up, letting his legs get use to holding his weight as he leans on the table for support. Not long after, he's finally able to stand and walk with purpose.
A man of the group leads Steve out of the room and takes him through the door. Outside, there's nothing to see. The walls are lined with white panellings and ceiling lights on top, that's it. There are no windows, no other doors, no signs, just a long, white hallway. Finally, after about a minute or so of walking, the hallway comes to a dead end. The man gestures for Steve to stand in front of him, he does so. Suddenly, the ceiling above shows a wall sliding down between them. Steve tries to move, but it comes between them too fast and locks him in the small places. He stands there for a moment, waiting for something to happen, an indication of what's happening. Suddenly, he feels something, something he hasn't felt before. He looks to the wall and places his hand on it. To anyone else, it would have seemed as if the room is still, but Steve, somehow, can tell that it's moving down like an elevator, but at much faster speeds. Within moments, he feels the elevator room stop, how he can, he doesn't know.
The door opens, back into the ceiling, showing what looks like the same hallway, but he knows better. Without many options, Steve begins walking, seeing another dead end on the other side. He decides to wait by the wall until something happens. As predicted, the wall goes up into the ceiling to reveal a small room, a simple table and two chairs, all white. Before he's able to decide whether he should walk in, a voice plays over the area, no intercom or anything, telling him "walk into the room, please."
Steve decides to listen to the voice and walks in, taking a seat in one of the chairs. In moments, the same woman from before walks in, holding a clipboard and a pen. After taking her seat, she begins talking to him.
"Do you understand me, Mr. Burnside?"
Steve sits there for a moment, struggling to answer her, as if something is restricting him, even things as casual as talking.
"Y-yes…, but please, Steve is fine."
"Ok," she makes a note on that, "my apologies. I wish to keep this profession. Now, I will ask you some simple questions. Once we're done, you will be taken to your room for observation."
"C-can I ask… a question?" Steve asks.
"Of course," she replies, "but let's keep it short."
"Where am I? W-who are you people?"
"I'm afraid I can't say for now. But, I will tell you that my name is Cynthia, and I'll be working with you often."
Steve takes the time to memorize her face. She has black hair with a braided ponytail and pale skin. Other than that, nothing else stood out. Her clothes were all white, just a simple long sleeved shirt and pants. Suddenly, his vision begins to blur for a moment. However, in that instance, he sees things, horrifying things. He sees a monster, gruesome and terrifying, but his face was almost like its. While it's body was massive, spiked, and green, the face had few changes. He sees it attack a woman, and soon, a name comes, Claire. He puts his head down for a moment, trying to collect himself. Cynthia becomes concerned. "Are you alright, what's wrong?!"
"Tell me," he begins to say as he looks back to her. "Tell me… what happened to me? I want to know."
Cynthia moves her hand to her ear, tapping on a concealed white piece. She waits a few moments before stopping and saying "I understand, I'll tell him."
"Mr. Burnside," she begins, "let me explain. You see, you… died."
The shock of hearing those words send waves of memories back to him. The island, the undead, Alfred and his monsters. What feels like an eternity is only mere moments, but it's enough to snap him out of it in that instant.
"Mr. Burnside, you were part of an incident on Rockfort Island. You were a prisoner there, but you escaped. You came into contact with a woman named Claire Redfield and managed to escape with her help. Unfortunately, you were pursued by the being known formerly as Alexia Ashford. In the event, she infected you with the T-Veronica virus, ending your normal existence. I can't say more, but what I can tell you is that we revived you. And, we wish to help you any way we can."
Most of what she said went over his head the moment she mentioned Claire Redfield.
Claire… Claire…
From what he can remember, she's telling the truth, but with her lack of detail about who she is or what this facility is, he'll have to roll with it for mow.
"So," he replies, "what does this mean for me?"
"We wish to do what we can to help, but in the event that your… condition… is beyond our help, we wish to give you a second chance."
"A second chance at what?"
From behind him, the wall opens with a voice answering him. "To make a difference."
Steve turns to see an aged man, appearing as though his time should have been up by now, yet here he is, walking strong, without a cane or any sign of enhanced limbs. He looks Steve over for a moment, noticing the slight, green hue to his skin. "Amazing," he marvels at his appearance. "You might be the most human yet, Mr. Burnside."
Steve is taken aback by that response, realizing something. "There are others?" he asks.
"Oh, yes, you are not the first. And like them, we are giving you a choice to be of some… assistance? No, maybe… service? It's hard to find the right word for it."
"What do you want with me?"
"You can't feel it, yet, but you're getting stronger. Your body is slowly recovering, far beyond human limits. Mr. Burnside, we want to help you as best we can, but we feel we deserve something in return."
Steve finally realizes what he means to do with him. "You want to use me as a weapon, just like those freaks and monsters."
The man appears shocked by this assumption. "NO, no no no, of course not. We have no intention of using you for any personal game."
The man looks to Cynthia, gesturing her to move out of her seat. He takes the chair and looks to Steve.
"Mr. Burnside, Steve, we want you to help us stop such terrorists groups and extremists. We are known as Entity."
Cynthia tries to stop him, but the man raises his hand to her, a sign that he knows what he's saying.
"As I was saying, our purpose is to capture and contain such incidence. However, at the moment, we wish to remain in the shadows, hiding ourselves from the public, at least our true purpose, and stop these incidence from spreading. Even as we speak, new operations are being created to counteract such incidence. Unfortunately, they have no means of helping people, like yourself, at such points, relying solely on fire power. We are developing the technology to cure you, and all others we find. As for your cooperation, we wish for you to help us, something of a temporary super soldier, until we can properly treat the infected and infected areas."
At the moment, Steve is trying to comprehend what he's asking for, almost lost for words or any response. "Let me get this straight," Steve replies, "you want me to help your forces stop viral outbreaks, and in return, you'll cure me and everyone else."
"To be more accurate, we will cure you regardless. We have many reasons for such an arrangement. You can help strengthen our small forces, record data that can be of use for our research into vaccines, and allow you the opportunity to be part of a better future, instead of simply staying here, behind these walls. We rather not imprison you, but we can't just let you go about your days like nothing has happened. This way, you can help us, help yourself, help the ones you love."
In truth, Steve understands fully well what he means now. It's either spend his days behind these walls, god knows how long, or help make a difference on the outside. The thought of those he loves leaves him with faint images of a woman, someone that he cares for deeply, even if he can't remember who she was.
...Claire
He sits there for a long time, the two waiting as long as necessary for an answer. He finally does.
"You're trying to help me through this unknown journey, right?"
"Of course, my young friend."
"...Alright, I'll do it. I just want to know one thing."
"What is it?"
"Who's Claire Redfield?"