Author Note:

Hi all. This is my first attempt at Fan Fiction, and Im researching into Resident Evil as I go as I am not exactly fully versed. Still, I think I have a good story idea to follow on from Resident Evil 5, so here goes. Let the Apocalypse begin!

Chapter 1/Prologue: Code Racoon

To: Black
Copied to: Red
Subject: Date
We are losing. The hive is losing.
We have lost cash flow, resources and support. Our reputation is lost and it becomes harder then ever to recruit. We cannot sustain our commitment to this investment.
We can hope that Wesker is successful. If the BSAA find the flowers, all could be lost. It is a gamble that we must take. Wesker is reliable. He is efficient.
He will succeed. And then our next phase can begin.

Regards, Red

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He struggled through the mass. He felt every sinew burn and scald, over and over, his skin melt, his nerves burst into flames. He felt the blood boil within his tormented mutations, within his brain, to his every core. He felt the tentacles burn away, dissolve in the obscene liquid in which he drowned. He felt his mutant arm burning, melting...
Somehow, he found his way again to the surface of the lava. He heard through melting ears the chopper up above, the thundering rotor blades.
'CHRIIISS!'
He ripped his arm from the lava up into the sky. The tentacles from his godly arm shot wickedly through the air, closing in on the Helicopter like a ballistic missile. Usually, he would have observed the incredible resilience of the virus he had created, its power.
Now, there was nothing left. His nerves were burned away. He could only think of killing him. He felt the binding tentacles wrap the helicopters landing legs, an iron grip upon the helicopter causing it jolt and struggle in the air.
Foot by foot, he could feel himself dragging the chopper down. His eyes were melted away, but he could feel it. He could feel them being reeled in. They would die. Just like him.
Then, he heard the rockets launch. Their hiss that grew loud in the space of seconds.
He barely had time to scream. Barely had time to crane his head to one side, to try and dodge the rockets before one flew into his mouth. Snapped through his enhanced neck bone like matchstick.
His heart stopped. Finally. Suddenly. Completely.

'That...was for our fallen brothers.'
In the distance as a blot in the horizon, floated a US Battlecruiser. Off the coast of Somalia, its job was usually to escort supply ships, oil rigs and the like through the dangerous waters off the stricken African country.
Today, it had one simple task. And that was to expect the arrival of a rescue chopper from the coast. Carrying 'high priority VIP's'.

Chris could almost see the battery guns now, the dents in the gun deck from falling ammunition shells. The high tech scanning equipment for air, sea and land. The beds. The cardboard, uncomfortable beds that Chris Redfield had never looked more forward to in his life. The thought of sleep. No virus. No infected villagers. No death, no chainsaws. No thundering of the helicopter blades in his ear.

Although, seeing and talking to Jill again, after what felt like a lifetime, was something he would treasure when the morning came.
Jill Valentine sat across to the left of Chris, and every so often he couldn't help but glance at her, not quite believing what he was seeing. She had paled since he had seen her last. Every so often she would lightly brush her chest, where a device had been hooked into her skin, pulsing electrical current around her nerves, altering her brain waves irrevocably. At least, until Sheva had torn it off her, and smashed it into pieces under her boot.
Jill looked like she hadn't slept in an age. Bags rolled under her eyes, every so often her pupils contracting in and out of focus, her eyelids drooping lower and lower. Later, as another bump brought Chris back to reality, back to the loud chopper, the bumpy ride, he wondered if he was really any different. He didnt need to look in any mirror to know he would have exactly the same tired strains on his face. The same scars of a long war against bio-terrorism.
Again, he looked over to Jill, to see that the jolt hadn't awoken her. She slept peacefully.
Chris saw Sheva watching her dropped head with worry, and wondered how she could still be wide awake. She didnt have his or Jills tired look. She looked as alert as she had for the past day, watching over the water below as if Wesker coul still be following them. She looked as if she could go through the entire experience again.
Sheva mouthed something, lost over the choppers din. But Chris read her lips.
She could still be a threat. She could still be infected.
But Chris was too sleepy. Too relieved and tired to worry about it.

'She's fine. Don't worry about it. Wesker didn't care...about what happened to Jill. He thought he was going to infect the world with Oroboros.'
He was drifting off again. He didn't want to stay awake any longer. The job was done. Wesker was dead. Oroborus was doomed, sure to be wiped out by the BSAA's UN military force without their leaders. Hell...Wesker, Excella, Irving...they had used the Oroboros infected as a distraction. So they could escape off the coast of Africa, to carry out a plan that could have easily destroyed the world forever.
Those thoughts swiftly floated from Chris' thoughts as he fell asleep.
Only to be jolted awake by another sudden drop in the choppers altitude. He knew it would happen, but that didn't stop the experience being very annoying, and unpleasant.
He glanced up at Sheva again. She was shouting something again. He couldn't really hear her, although. Well, he could hear the odd word.
Wesker...too easy...
He chuckled. 'It's over.' He mumbled. 'Take a break.'
As he fell asleep on the helicopter, he took pleasure out of the thought that Wesker was finally dead. That his last plan had been thwarted.
He slipped into sleep with pleasant thoughts.

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The call had gone out. The alarms rang.
She rolled out of bed, already dressed in a battle overall, her boots still on her feet. Briskly walking to the end of her bed, as the lights above her head blazed their brightest, revealing her body armour, her gun on the large case sitting next to her bed rails, lain upon another larger case which kept a few of her most valuable possessions.
Even as she slid on gloves, a bullet proof vest, checked her pistol, checked her BSAA standard sub machine gun, terror shivered her fingers. This situation was about as 'far from Kansas' as she could have got. She had never felt further away from home.

But they had been told to expect it all tonight. Told to be ready. It was a time like this she wished she hadn't joined the BSAA, barely a year ago.
Around her, other women of the BSAA barracks were readying. She made sure she was quickest. Made sure her fingers were loose, her arms were flexible after the brief sleep she had taken. She slid on her battle helmet, another piece of bullet proof armour light on frontal face protection, so that she could see to her full extent, be fully aware. But she felt that vulnerability. She felt her nose with her fingers, knowing how fragile it was, her small round nose.
In spite of every negative feeling, she turned towards the double barrack doors. She was the first out.
The facility, usually silent as the remote location where it was based, blared with the sound of a continual voiced alarm. The sun was setting, blood red over the trees where this tiny facility was located. The trees shook all around with the gale winds that were whipping through the air. Soldiers, BSAA recruits, poured out of bunker like barracks, three small in total. The entire placement at this camp was just eighty, including officers, cleaning and catering staff.

'This is not a drill! Arm and ready! Code Racoon! Code Racoon!'
Code racoon. She went over the details of code Racoon as the rest of her twenty strong unit gathered behind her at the pickup point, painted upon the ground in blazing yellow, stark lines. Code Racoon: Deployed in case of the outbreak or potential outbreak of infection in highly populated areas. In short – Potentially, or already, another Racoon City incident. She had read about it in the processing. Goosebumps spread along her arms. Could she be any more afraid right now? She could be about to walk into hell. She didn't know if she would walk out again.

But she had been in worse situations...she was one of the first recruits of the BSAA US domestic army program. Dedicated purely to the cause of bio terrorism within the United States. She was a captain, for god's sake! She was one of the best! Somehow...

Quickly, she turned. She saw her soldiers, in two ranks of ten.
'If you are here say hail, two by two!'
Two by two, the hails came, to the very back of the line.
She finished hails, counting all present as twenty yards ahead their Chinook landed. Its double rotors thundering, the air generated buffering her face.
'In!' She screamed, but her unit was already running, mounting up by the time she caught them, the front side hatch ready for her to climb into the front. Her soldiers were in and fastening themselves in by the time Ashley leapt into the front seat alongside her unknown driver.
'Captain Ashley Graham! Is your unit ready!' He screamed.
'My unit is ready!' Ashley screamed back. 'GO! GO!'

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End of Chapter 1