I do not own Resident Evil or any of the characters.
Newest Job
It's kind of typical for stories about zombies to start with lightning and rain, isn't it? How about a story starting with a bright sunny day, and a cute couple having a nice picnic in a field of flowers. And a horde of zombies just swooping in and ripping them apart and eating their intestines. Nah. Unfortunately, this story really doesn't start off all that amazing. There's no screaming couple. No zombies. No bright sunny day. Hell, there isn't even rain. Just a bored guy, sitting at a desk, watching a dot bounce back and forth across it as he played pong.
"Don't you have better things to be doing with your time?" one of his friendlier coworkers asked.
"Like what?" he snorted. "We're security guards. Supposedly highly trained and well armed security guards, but security guards none the less. My entire job consists of sitting at a computer screen, watching empty camera feeds, waiting to tell someone that some poor fuck is actually stupid enough to try and break in, thus making himself a target of over two hundred bored guys with too many guns and not enough women or things to do."
"Women are good things to do," his coworker said. "Or are you finally admitting you're gay Secret Agent?"
"Quit calling me that," he grumbled. "Just because I'm cursed with the horrible luck to have the last name Agent for some ungodly fucking reason, doesn't mean I'm a secret agent. Anyway, as I was saying, how many women are in this facility?"
"Well, there's sixty-year-old-Janet in the medbay, Buck-tooth Breanne in the mess hall, and then there's Wendy in maintenance," his coworker counted. "So one who's passably hot."
"And has been run through by every guy in this facility except me," he said. "As I said, not enough women or things to do."
"Oh I get it," Agent's coworker grinned. "Breanne rejected you."
"Oh sweet Jesus," Agent groaned. "How did I leave the Marine Corps and end up with the same types of idiots?"
"Good luck," Agent's coworker grinned.
Suddenly, the door opened and the two's commander walked in, stopping in front of the two of them.
"Marcus, good news," he said, in that positive tone that just screamed 'you're going to hate your life but I don't care'. "You're being assigned to a field operation. It's a good chance to get away from the desk and learn how to be a real agent."
"Oh," Agent's coworker said. "Well, that's great then."
"Uh, Sir, what about me?" Agent asked.
"What about you?" the commander asked.
"This is Marcus's third field op and I haven't gone on one," Agent said. "Being in the field is all I want to do."
"Why did you join this organization?" the commander asked.
"To fight bioterrorism, Sir," Agent said.
"Wow, you got fucked," the commander snorted. "Why not the BSAA, or the DSO?"
"Family," Agent said. "My family had connections in the organization and got me in easy."
"I see," the commander nodded. "Well, you're in luck. You're being sent in Marcus's place. You'll be attached to a BSAA team. You're going to investigate reports of a virus outbreak in a small village in the mountains. isolated area, hard to reach, and long periods of no communication with the outside world. What's that sound like to you, Agent?"
"Perfect area to test a new virus," Agent said. "I'll be packed and ready to go in a few minutes."
"Your helicopter leaves tomorrow at zero six hundred," the commander said. "You'll be dropped off at the rendezvous where you'll meet up with the BSAA team and you'll be providing back up for them while they investigate."
"I thought you said I was investigating," Agent said.
"Allow me to rephrase," the commander said. "Don't get the BSAA agents killed, and report whatever they find out when you get back."
Agent sighed but nodded, turning back to his Pong-free computer screen as the commander left. Marcus turned to him.
"You'll do great," Marcus said. "After all, look at how long you spent working on those fancy guns of yours."
"Shut up Marcus," Agent grumbled.
He wasn't wrong. Agent had used his money to get his weapons customized and his free time practicing with them. Of course, fancy guns didn't mean jack shit during a bioterrorist attack. Marcus sighed, staring at the cameras as the time ticked by. Finally, their replacements came and they returned to their squad bay, a large open room with bunk beds and locksrs lining the walls.
Agent packed up a couple sets of clothes, got his flak, helmet, gas mask, gloves, and magazines, all filed with his ammo. Next, he checked his weapons. First was a Tavor C-TAR 21 with an EOTech mounted on the top and a laser sight on the left side. Next was a Glock 17 with a RONI Carbine Conversion Kit and 30 round mags. Lastly were a Colt M1911 chambered for .45 caliber rounds and a Walther P99 with a compensator attachement with an extended slide rail, along with a holographic sight.
Once everything was ready, he went to bed, waking up to his alarm three hours later and quickly getting his gear on, slinging his rifle, carrying the RONI in a case and with his two pistold strapped to his thighs. He held his helmet and mask in his hand, hurrying to the helicopter pad and boarding his ride. It took off, flying away from the base as Agent grinned. He was finally getting a chance.
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