Thanks to the players of the RPG this has been based on, Special Thanks to SkortchedUtopia for her/his great writting which I have included. (Jonatha)
-Bloodcider
------
Rainer tapped a few buttons on the keyboard and the images on the screens changed. Not that there was much to see on the multiscreened survallence system. Just a few dead bodies and a virus carrier here and there. Rainer let out a sigh, he didn't expect the infected to take over that quickly.
He had locked himself in the security room in the 4th Basement labratory, and it was very safe in there. He hadn't had the chance to release the new hunter varients. MA-130s, most likely the best model yet. It was almost identicle to the MA-121s, except that the claws on it's right hand were about a meter long, rather than a few inches.
Although, releasing the hunters wasn't a nessecity. He reached into his chest pocket and produced a small vial, filled with a dull blue liquid. The only working T-Virus antidote in existance. Umbrella would pay millions for it. That was the real nessecity.
However, if he were to release the hunters on the few survivors, all he'd have to do is take a few notes. The combat data would proove useful and earn him a few extra grand on the side. He worked over the proceedure in his head a thousand times. All he would have to do was press a few buttons, takes some notes for a few hours, set the self-destruct sequence, then get out of this house of the dead. It couldn't be simpler, right?
* * *
Tom Anderson was all alone in this mess, no one around, locked in a room, fearing for his life. All he had was this stupid shovel as a weapon.
When Tom first starting working here, he got warm welcomes from important members of Umbrella, now all he got was hard orders to follow and tight deadlines to meet, he'd heard tales so he didnt want to upset the higher-ups. He subconsiously ran a finger along the edge of the shovel, specks of dirt falling to the floor. Maybe someone was coming to save him. He could only hope and wait.
* * *
Alexander Thompson stood outside the old mansion in disgust. "So this is were Umbrealla does some of there shit." He said to himself. He clutched the Mp5 with sweaty palms. He was nervous about the situation. He only recently had joined the Anti-Umbrella forces recently, and after proper training, he was being sent in to get rid of this Bio-Hazard before the locals were effected.
Just like in Raccoon City. He thought.
He walked up onto the porch toward the door and stopped in mid-step, then dropped back. A large dog passed through the air inches from him.
He stumbled and looked at the dog, or what used to be a dog. He had learned about them. Cerberus, a zombie dog.
He fired a three round burst into it's face, and it went to the ground in a splash of blood. He approached the door, and took a deep breath before stepping in. The main hall was huge. A grand staircase rose up to a foyer that overlooked the whole room.
Alex started to feel a chill. There were two doors to his left, and one to his right. But which one to choose? Alex's eyes strained in the dark hall and thought he could make out the form of a dead body. He jogged over to it.
It was a young woman, apparantly shot to death. He didn't care, she was with Umbrella. She deserved to die.
So he turned around and headed for the door that would lead to the west wing, and heared a moan behind him. The believed to be dead woman stood up and stumbled towards him.
He was still in shock and she grabbed him. He pushed her back, raising the Mp5 and putting two rounds into her right eyebrow. Dark red matters flowed from the new holes as she settled to a rest on the floor.
He briskly turned around and went through the western door, when he fell, smacking his head off the hardwood floor.
* * *
Rainer frowned as he saw a man put down one of the Cerberus's just outside the front doors. He pressed a button and the screen changed to the lobby camera. The man was already staring strait at it. Who the hell was he? Police? He wasn't in uniform. There was no sound emitting from the speakers, so either he wasn't making noise, or they were broken.
Rainer pressed the a few buttons, and the camera took a picture of the man's face. He switched back to the external views. He noticed a few more of those damned dogs walking around outside. Damnit. How did they get out there? He thought to himself.
It would make his escape all the more difficult. Or perhaps not. He patted the .45 Caliber Glock 21 in his hip holster.
He noticed movement on the external camera's screens. Were there more people outside the mansion? He couldn't see clearly in the black and white images. Rainer's attention drifted back to the lobby camera as the man found the body of Alyssa Capone. Rainer grinned at the thought. He had tried to get a date with Alyssa a few times, and she turned him down repeatedly. She wasn't even nice about it. Putting her out of her misery had been satisfying.
The man took a step toward the body and stopped, turning around and walking away.
Ah, What's this..?
Alyssa got up and began pursuing the man. He whirled around and she grabbed him. Rainer thought she had bitten him, but no. Judging from the brain matter spewing through the air, he shot her.
I'm starting to like this guy. Too bad he'll die soon..
The man walked into the next room and Rainer looked at another screen, and the man was on the floor face down. Rainer slanted his eyebrows. What happened? Did he trip? "The hell..." Rainer subconsiously muttered.
* * *
Knee-high in muck, stupid her for wearin' bloody riding boots, Remmington Shotgun firmly in hand, Jonatha sunk down to her thigh in swamp-mud and otherwise. Oddly enough, the tomb-boy shrieked, hoisting herself back onto semi-solid ground.
"Fuckin' Christ." She hissed, sweeping at the BDU sodden material. With a disgusted sigh the woman reclaimed her current armorment, blowing red-tinted strands out of her face. An exasperated grumble and she suddenly realized...
"Where am I?" Grass sloped towards the stagnate water's edge, hiding the grotesqueries beneath. Wrinkling her nose, she decided to head inland, no matter how bad the incline was. Minutes later, the vegitation thinned, leaving only the massive trunks of imposing trees looming over the traveler. And as if almost on cue, they parted, revealing an equally ominous manor. The stench never changed.
"Well hell." Jonatha murmured, making a beeline for the deemed sanctuary. It would be dark within an hour or so, and the sliver of the moon wouldn't provide enough light to bloody drive. Playing dodge-ball about the clumps razor grass and ever thankful for such material as flannel, it would be only a few moments before the red-head would arrive upon the slime-slicked steps of the estate.
Twigs, leaves--dirt, especially dirt--piled about the corners of the porch and to the oaken doors. She frowned, riding boots not only squishing as she walked, but crunched all of the same. Mud-caked hands wrapped around a quintessential knocker, bound in the mouth of a vicious lion-piece, bronzed, no less. Two thuds. They seemed resonate within the expanse of the mansion. Pause. Brows lifted as she pondered on the front step. No answer. Just as that same dirty hand reached out to reclaim the knocker, a growl threatened behind her.
Jonatha wheeled.
A dog. A doberman pinscher, no less, hackles raised as it nearly purred it's warning, lip curled. Wait a second
--a rotted bark and snarl boiled from the creature's throat, taking a step closer. Those grey eyes widened when realized--
it didn't have a throat ... no throat... and it's lip wasn't curled, there wasn't a lip. It seemed the creature sensed her horror and took that precise moment to leap. It's lean, sinew-exposed corpse pouncing from the base of the steps to Jonatha, curling canines anticipating to sink into the flesh of the woman's shoulder.
"Fuck--" Rather than warm, pulsing meat, the hound's teeth were greeted by the filth of the shotgun. It yelped. It's jaw was already partially rotted away, the beta carotine of inscizors being jammed thickly into bone. Skidding along the porch the canine continue to whimper and mewl miserably, getting up it proceeded to shake off the blow, returning it's intention to it's desired meal. Jonatha swore. White eyes returned to the poised woman, staring down the barrel of her choice weapon. It hesitated. And continued to for a moment, occasionally growling. Clear up until something moved beyond the shadows of the trees.
"Sweet Christ..." She purred pricelessly. Ironically, so, all of the same. After all, the woman was an atheist. Backing up, squinted eyes made out forms of two other hounds encroaching upon the porch. The door blocked her escape. Already loaded with buckshots and seemingly recognized by the hounds, they didn't leap for just a precious second.
The door knob kneaded it's way into her back.
A second later, the trio would've had splendid meal. But she had opened the door just in time to shimmy through, slamming the oaken weight against leaping bodies. Thusly, they were left scratching and howling at the doors, Jonatha deemed safe within the expanse of the fouyer. Dark. God, it was dark. Perhaps, that was a good thing.
* * *
Why don't we just get a party going here? Rainer thought.
A woman was approaching the side of the house, and Rainer could see her clearly from the porch camera. She was weilding a shotgun, and a goodlooking one at that.
Rainer suddenly remembered the dogs that were roaming the woods outside the mansion.
"Good luck." He said to himself.
Rainer pushed the chair back and stood up, stretching. He let out a yawn. This was all getting quite tiresome. Maybe he would let the MA-130s out and spice things up a bit. He could wait though. His eyes danced across the screens, and he noticed a researcher still alive in one of the rooms. Tom...something. He couldn't remember, and frankly didn't care. The scientist was holding a shovel, locked inside one of the rooms. Rainer couldn't tell which one. He wanted to get this night over with though, and get his money. He began to grin again. As long as these people didn't interferre he'd be fine. Just fine. And if they did...
Well, he wasn't to hesitant of shooting another person.
* * *
Alex came out of his haze as he felt warm red liquid trinckling from a cut in his forehead. He climbed to his feet, and soon sat down again. He was too dizzy, god knows how long he'd been out. He pulled out a picture of him and hir girlfriend Cindy, sitting on a beach down in Florida. It was taken over a year ago.
Alex snapped out of his daze as he heard gunshots outside. He climbed to his feet and limped away, not wanting confrontation. He burst through the door at the opposite side of the dinning hall he was just in, almost landing in the hands of a virus carrier.
He lifted the Mp5,letting loose a single bullet into it's virus ridden brain. He stepped over the corpse and went into the first door on his left.
It appeared to be a sort of study. He locked to door behind him, and sat down at the desk in the room. One hand clasped the wound on his head as the other rummaged through the drawers for a makeshift bandage.
He turned up with pens, a paper clip, gum, and a diary. That was about it.
He flipped through the pages of the diary.
* * *
Tom had decided to pack up his fears and run, he exited the room and nearly steam-rolled a zombie.
"Uhng" it moaned, it had seen him.
"Crap!" He shouted, lifting the shovel, he swung it at the carriers head and knocked it clean off.
He was breathing hard, then he noticed a security camera, he went up to it, he was right in front of the lens. "Screw Umbrella" he thought and ripped the camera off the wall, and threw it to the ground.
He then noticed a 9mm Berreta, laying on the floor. He scooped it up and checked its clip, it had a full mag in it. He cocked it and got ready to try and escape.
* * *
Rainer winced as one of the screens burst into snow. He pressed a button, and switched to the camera at the other end of the hall.
Well, well, well....Mr. Anderson... Rainer thought.
Tom Anderson, he believed his name was, stood at the end of the hall holding what looked like a pistol. Rainer looked back at the next screen to see the man who tripped wasn't on the floor anymore, he had left somewhere. He then noticed the lights in the main hall were out. He turned to the computer at his left side and opened up the lighting system control program. Within a few seconds, every light in the house flicked on, including the floodlights that spilled across the front yard.
His eyes danced over the screens and he saw the morbid horror within the once dark halls. Blood splashes, shell casings, dead bodies...
He suddenly seemed to have a change of heart about what he was doing
-that is, until he felt the small vial in his pocket.
Keep it togeather Rainer, in a few hours you'll be a multimillionare, kicking it in the Carribbean. His mind nagged at him.
"Yes. I will." He said. "I will..."
-Bloodcider
------
Rainer tapped a few buttons on the keyboard and the images on the screens changed. Not that there was much to see on the multiscreened survallence system. Just a few dead bodies and a virus carrier here and there. Rainer let out a sigh, he didn't expect the infected to take over that quickly.
He had locked himself in the security room in the 4th Basement labratory, and it was very safe in there. He hadn't had the chance to release the new hunter varients. MA-130s, most likely the best model yet. It was almost identicle to the MA-121s, except that the claws on it's right hand were about a meter long, rather than a few inches.
Although, releasing the hunters wasn't a nessecity. He reached into his chest pocket and produced a small vial, filled with a dull blue liquid. The only working T-Virus antidote in existance. Umbrella would pay millions for it. That was the real nessecity.
However, if he were to release the hunters on the few survivors, all he'd have to do is take a few notes. The combat data would proove useful and earn him a few extra grand on the side. He worked over the proceedure in his head a thousand times. All he would have to do was press a few buttons, takes some notes for a few hours, set the self-destruct sequence, then get out of this house of the dead. It couldn't be simpler, right?
* * *
Tom Anderson was all alone in this mess, no one around, locked in a room, fearing for his life. All he had was this stupid shovel as a weapon.
When Tom first starting working here, he got warm welcomes from important members of Umbrella, now all he got was hard orders to follow and tight deadlines to meet, he'd heard tales so he didnt want to upset the higher-ups. He subconsiously ran a finger along the edge of the shovel, specks of dirt falling to the floor. Maybe someone was coming to save him. He could only hope and wait.
* * *
Alexander Thompson stood outside the old mansion in disgust. "So this is were Umbrealla does some of there shit." He said to himself. He clutched the Mp5 with sweaty palms. He was nervous about the situation. He only recently had joined the Anti-Umbrella forces recently, and after proper training, he was being sent in to get rid of this Bio-Hazard before the locals were effected.
Just like in Raccoon City. He thought.
He walked up onto the porch toward the door and stopped in mid-step, then dropped back. A large dog passed through the air inches from him.
He stumbled and looked at the dog, or what used to be a dog. He had learned about them. Cerberus, a zombie dog.
He fired a three round burst into it's face, and it went to the ground in a splash of blood. He approached the door, and took a deep breath before stepping in. The main hall was huge. A grand staircase rose up to a foyer that overlooked the whole room.
Alex started to feel a chill. There were two doors to his left, and one to his right. But which one to choose? Alex's eyes strained in the dark hall and thought he could make out the form of a dead body. He jogged over to it.
It was a young woman, apparantly shot to death. He didn't care, she was with Umbrella. She deserved to die.
So he turned around and headed for the door that would lead to the west wing, and heared a moan behind him. The believed to be dead woman stood up and stumbled towards him.
He was still in shock and she grabbed him. He pushed her back, raising the Mp5 and putting two rounds into her right eyebrow. Dark red matters flowed from the new holes as she settled to a rest on the floor.
He briskly turned around and went through the western door, when he fell, smacking his head off the hardwood floor.
* * *
Rainer frowned as he saw a man put down one of the Cerberus's just outside the front doors. He pressed a button and the screen changed to the lobby camera. The man was already staring strait at it. Who the hell was he? Police? He wasn't in uniform. There was no sound emitting from the speakers, so either he wasn't making noise, or they were broken.
Rainer pressed the a few buttons, and the camera took a picture of the man's face. He switched back to the external views. He noticed a few more of those damned dogs walking around outside. Damnit. How did they get out there? He thought to himself.
It would make his escape all the more difficult. Or perhaps not. He patted the .45 Caliber Glock 21 in his hip holster.
He noticed movement on the external camera's screens. Were there more people outside the mansion? He couldn't see clearly in the black and white images. Rainer's attention drifted back to the lobby camera as the man found the body of Alyssa Capone. Rainer grinned at the thought. He had tried to get a date with Alyssa a few times, and she turned him down repeatedly. She wasn't even nice about it. Putting her out of her misery had been satisfying.
The man took a step toward the body and stopped, turning around and walking away.
Ah, What's this..?
Alyssa got up and began pursuing the man. He whirled around and she grabbed him. Rainer thought she had bitten him, but no. Judging from the brain matter spewing through the air, he shot her.
I'm starting to like this guy. Too bad he'll die soon..
The man walked into the next room and Rainer looked at another screen, and the man was on the floor face down. Rainer slanted his eyebrows. What happened? Did he trip? "The hell..." Rainer subconsiously muttered.
* * *
Knee-high in muck, stupid her for wearin' bloody riding boots, Remmington Shotgun firmly in hand, Jonatha sunk down to her thigh in swamp-mud and otherwise. Oddly enough, the tomb-boy shrieked, hoisting herself back onto semi-solid ground.
"Fuckin' Christ." She hissed, sweeping at the BDU sodden material. With a disgusted sigh the woman reclaimed her current armorment, blowing red-tinted strands out of her face. An exasperated grumble and she suddenly realized...
"Where am I?" Grass sloped towards the stagnate water's edge, hiding the grotesqueries beneath. Wrinkling her nose, she decided to head inland, no matter how bad the incline was. Minutes later, the vegitation thinned, leaving only the massive trunks of imposing trees looming over the traveler. And as if almost on cue, they parted, revealing an equally ominous manor. The stench never changed.
"Well hell." Jonatha murmured, making a beeline for the deemed sanctuary. It would be dark within an hour or so, and the sliver of the moon wouldn't provide enough light to bloody drive. Playing dodge-ball about the clumps razor grass and ever thankful for such material as flannel, it would be only a few moments before the red-head would arrive upon the slime-slicked steps of the estate.
Twigs, leaves--dirt, especially dirt--piled about the corners of the porch and to the oaken doors. She frowned, riding boots not only squishing as she walked, but crunched all of the same. Mud-caked hands wrapped around a quintessential knocker, bound in the mouth of a vicious lion-piece, bronzed, no less. Two thuds. They seemed resonate within the expanse of the mansion. Pause. Brows lifted as she pondered on the front step. No answer. Just as that same dirty hand reached out to reclaim the knocker, a growl threatened behind her.
Jonatha wheeled.
A dog. A doberman pinscher, no less, hackles raised as it nearly purred it's warning, lip curled. Wait a second
--a rotted bark and snarl boiled from the creature's throat, taking a step closer. Those grey eyes widened when realized--
it didn't have a throat ... no throat... and it's lip wasn't curled, there wasn't a lip. It seemed the creature sensed her horror and took that precise moment to leap. It's lean, sinew-exposed corpse pouncing from the base of the steps to Jonatha, curling canines anticipating to sink into the flesh of the woman's shoulder.
"Fuck--" Rather than warm, pulsing meat, the hound's teeth were greeted by the filth of the shotgun. It yelped. It's jaw was already partially rotted away, the beta carotine of inscizors being jammed thickly into bone. Skidding along the porch the canine continue to whimper and mewl miserably, getting up it proceeded to shake off the blow, returning it's intention to it's desired meal. Jonatha swore. White eyes returned to the poised woman, staring down the barrel of her choice weapon. It hesitated. And continued to for a moment, occasionally growling. Clear up until something moved beyond the shadows of the trees.
"Sweet Christ..." She purred pricelessly. Ironically, so, all of the same. After all, the woman was an atheist. Backing up, squinted eyes made out forms of two other hounds encroaching upon the porch. The door blocked her escape. Already loaded with buckshots and seemingly recognized by the hounds, they didn't leap for just a precious second.
The door knob kneaded it's way into her back.
A second later, the trio would've had splendid meal. But she had opened the door just in time to shimmy through, slamming the oaken weight against leaping bodies. Thusly, they were left scratching and howling at the doors, Jonatha deemed safe within the expanse of the fouyer. Dark. God, it was dark. Perhaps, that was a good thing.
* * *
Why don't we just get a party going here? Rainer thought.
A woman was approaching the side of the house, and Rainer could see her clearly from the porch camera. She was weilding a shotgun, and a goodlooking one at that.
Rainer suddenly remembered the dogs that were roaming the woods outside the mansion.
"Good luck." He said to himself.
Rainer pushed the chair back and stood up, stretching. He let out a yawn. This was all getting quite tiresome. Maybe he would let the MA-130s out and spice things up a bit. He could wait though. His eyes danced across the screens, and he noticed a researcher still alive in one of the rooms. Tom...something. He couldn't remember, and frankly didn't care. The scientist was holding a shovel, locked inside one of the rooms. Rainer couldn't tell which one. He wanted to get this night over with though, and get his money. He began to grin again. As long as these people didn't interferre he'd be fine. Just fine. And if they did...
Well, he wasn't to hesitant of shooting another person.
* * *
Alex came out of his haze as he felt warm red liquid trinckling from a cut in his forehead. He climbed to his feet, and soon sat down again. He was too dizzy, god knows how long he'd been out. He pulled out a picture of him and hir girlfriend Cindy, sitting on a beach down in Florida. It was taken over a year ago.
Alex snapped out of his daze as he heard gunshots outside. He climbed to his feet and limped away, not wanting confrontation. He burst through the door at the opposite side of the dinning hall he was just in, almost landing in the hands of a virus carrier.
He lifted the Mp5,letting loose a single bullet into it's virus ridden brain. He stepped over the corpse and went into the first door on his left.
It appeared to be a sort of study. He locked to door behind him, and sat down at the desk in the room. One hand clasped the wound on his head as the other rummaged through the drawers for a makeshift bandage.
He turned up with pens, a paper clip, gum, and a diary. That was about it.
He flipped through the pages of the diary.
* * *
Tom had decided to pack up his fears and run, he exited the room and nearly steam-rolled a zombie.
"Uhng" it moaned, it had seen him.
"Crap!" He shouted, lifting the shovel, he swung it at the carriers head and knocked it clean off.
He was breathing hard, then he noticed a security camera, he went up to it, he was right in front of the lens. "Screw Umbrella" he thought and ripped the camera off the wall, and threw it to the ground.
He then noticed a 9mm Berreta, laying on the floor. He scooped it up and checked its clip, it had a full mag in it. He cocked it and got ready to try and escape.
* * *
Rainer winced as one of the screens burst into snow. He pressed a button, and switched to the camera at the other end of the hall.
Well, well, well....Mr. Anderson... Rainer thought.
Tom Anderson, he believed his name was, stood at the end of the hall holding what looked like a pistol. Rainer looked back at the next screen to see the man who tripped wasn't on the floor anymore, he had left somewhere. He then noticed the lights in the main hall were out. He turned to the computer at his left side and opened up the lighting system control program. Within a few seconds, every light in the house flicked on, including the floodlights that spilled across the front yard.
His eyes danced over the screens and he saw the morbid horror within the once dark halls. Blood splashes, shell casings, dead bodies...
He suddenly seemed to have a change of heart about what he was doing
-that is, until he felt the small vial in his pocket.
Keep it togeather Rainer, in a few hours you'll be a multimillionare, kicking it in the Carribbean. His mind nagged at him.
"Yes. I will." He said. "I will..."