Resident Evil: Devils Crossroads
Prologue: Lives entwined.
Disclaimer: Of course, I have absolutely nothing to do with any of the franchises mentioned or used in this story. This is purely my own flight of fancy. The main stuff is, Devil May Cry, Resident Evil, Evil Dead, and Metal Gear Solid, however there are mentions of Dinocrises and Area 51 (The new version). Enjoy.
1998,
I'll never forget it. It was the year that those grisly murders occurred in the Alcalay Mountains. The whole thing was something straight out of a horror movie; cannibalistic killers and wild animals stalking out of the forests to slaughter innocent civilians. The Special Tactics And Rescue Squad or S.T.A.R.S. were sent into the area to find out exactly what was causing all of this.
What they found was a secret biochemical laboratory under an abandoned mansion. Inside they discovered that the cannibals were actually, zombies, well for lack of a better word. Not only those, but freakish mutants straight out of a fifties horror flick. The S.T.A.R.S. members soon discovered that it was all because of a mutation causing toxin called the T-Virus.
During the whole thing, the mansion was destroyed by a self destruct mechanism. When the surviving members tried to tell everybody what happened they were suspended from duty. Hm, guess no good deed goes unpunished. Around a month later outbreaks started happening in Raccoon City itself. The whole thing was a complete mess with nearly the entire city being infected and mutating.
Myself, and several others barely escaped with our lives. Not half an hour later, the whole of Raccoon City was nuked. An official investigation discovered that the massive pharmaceutical enterprise known as the Umbrella Cooperation was to blame for the whole thing. The U.S. government forced Umbrella to halt all business and soon its stocks plummeted. For all intensive purposes, Umbrella was finished.
Soon after I was hired by the CIA; I was given special training along with a friend named Jack Kruaser since we were slated for becoming part of the Secret service. Soon after training, Kruaser vanished and I haven't heard from him since. It's been six years since that horrendous incident and I'm about to become President Grahams daughter's full time body guard. Heh, lucky me.
Another survivor of Raccoon by the name of Rebecca Chambers is also working for the CIA right now; at the moment we're sharing duties until we can be flocculated into our separate departments.
My name is Leon Scott Kennedy, and here I am on the cusp of a brand new and exciting life.
"Brand new and exciting life? What in the hell was I thinking?" Leon asked himself bitterly as he finished his fifth sheet of paperwork. It was one of those applicant forms that made sure you were a nice and loyal boy scout before you got transferred into the White House. Heh, and here I was thinking this would be glamorous.
Leon sat back in his padded office-style wheeled chair; there was a gentle and tenacious squeaking noise emanating from the woefully inadequate ceiling fan that adorned his and Rebecca's conjoined temporary office. Thankfully, he and Rebecca had sliced off small bits of their pay checks to purchase a mini fridge/freezer and microwave for those nights when they had to stay here until one in the morning.
Agent Kennedy tiredly ruffled his light brownish-red hair. He hadn't been getting much sleep recently due to recurring nightmares of what happened to Raccoon; the difference being that his dreams altered the whole event to where he had never gotten out. This had taken all sorts of forms, from Leon being kicked into the vat of molten iron that he had finally killed Mr. X with, to getting a make cover courtesy of a Licker's claws. Leon winced painfully at those 'memories'.
Why can't I have normal nightmares anymore? Like say, being in my college history class without anything but my boxers?
Leon sighed and closed his icy-blue eyes; this really wasn't getting him anywhere and made the paperwork that much more laborious to finish. Suddenly the Dick Tracy private eye style door swung open with a loud call of "Hiya Leon!" from Agent Chambers. The former RPD cop glanced at the younger woman and gave her a sleepy smile.
"Hey 'Becca. What's with the bags?" Leon inquired, eyeing the pair of plastic supermarket bags clutched in the dark-brown haired woman's hands.
She gave a casual shrug, and never lost her beaming smile. "Weekly restocking." She replied and began to shove various frozen delights into the mini-freezer. That was something Leon had always admired about her, she was unflinchingly optimistic; now that was an accomplishment after going through the whole Spencer Estate thing. Despite himself, he was reminded vaguely of Claire; the two hadn't spoken in several moths and even that was just to check up on the latest sleuthing on Umbrella. She, her brother Chris, a woman named Jill, and a man named Berry were still unconvinced that Umbrella was dead; honestly Leon didn't think so either but he wanted to keep some sort of life outside of that unpleasantness.
"Drowning you with papers again mm?"
Leon was snapped out of his musings and saw Rebecca eyeballing his stack of forms. The former RPD cop let out a disdain filled sigh and gave a stiff nod.
"Yeah; I feel like I'm back on my first day of middle school with all those stupid and meaningless forms."
Rebecca gave a shrug of one of her petite shoulders; she may have been only two years younger than Leon, but she was much thinner and about two inches shorter. This was not to say she was unattractive, Leon thought she was very pretty in fact but he had strived not to dwell on those facts; business relationships almost always led to heartache. Plus he had come to think of her as a little sister so there really wasn't any danger of such things.
"One of those things I guess." She chirped.
A brownish-red brow was quirked.
"Oh? And how come you don't have to do this?"
She smiled thinly and tapped her head with one finger. "I'm just special."
Leon smirked slightly but did his best to look irritated. They did this every-so-often as a stress breaker. "So, the higher your SAT scores the less paper work you get?"
That smile of hers remained. "Guess so; maybe ya should have studied more."
"Hey, one D in Geometry shouldn't merit this pile of misery."
Rebecca looked at him.
"Alright, alright, a D in Home Economics too; so I don't like cooking and sowing. Why should that be held against me?"
Before she could respond a rhythmic beeping alerted them to the phone on Leon's desk. The Former RPD officer picked up the phone; suddenly he straightened in his seat and replied to the voice on the other side with a "Yes sir". Rebecca glanced curiously at her temporary partner with a curious expression.
"Really? Kidnapped? Yes she's here too." There was a brief pause and Leon locked his ice-blue eyes with Rebecca's chocolate-brown ones. "We're on our way." He hung up the phone, stood and grabbed a well worn-brown-leather bomber-jacket off the coat rack.
"Leon?" Rebecca asked curiously.
"Get your gear; we're going to the White house now. The President's daughter has been kidnapped."
Well, least I got away from that paperwork.
Dante Sparda, was bored; probably more bored then he ever had been. Damn, that pizza delivery guy was slow tonight. The platinum haired half devil had his black booted feet propped up on his disaster area of a desk which lead up to a pair of surprisingly baggy black-leather pants. He was leaned almost dangerously far back in his big dean-of-students style chair. A loose burgundy shirt covered his muscular frame with a crimson button-down vest over that; his trademark blood-red leather duster hung on the rickety old coat rack in the back left corner of his business, Devil May Cry.
The rest of the room was clogged with various old paraphernalia which included an antique jukebox that sported a fist imprint in the top of it from when Dante had lost his temper with it. The hardwood flours were as rustic as the rest of the structure, making it look like a painfully bad recreation of an old west saloon. A thin layer of dust covered a large proportion of the random objects inside, added to its rustic motif. Dante put his hands behind his head in a bored fashion and sighed.
Since that whole Tem-Ni-Gru incident his business had gone straight down the tubes. The best job he'd gotten since then had been four months afterward and he had to wade through the sewers from the better part of his afternoon; the whole thing yielded a big four demons, two of them being the rank smells emanating from the place and the other two being a pair of Hell Prides. All in all it had not been worth his time and the job had only netted him three-hundred bucks; all of this was blown by the second day on beer, pizza, and some rather risqué videos.
Dante hated to admit it, he was strapped for cash, but frankly he'd sooner bring the demon world back then get a normal job. The very idea of him having to wear a suit, tie and call somebody else boss was physically nauseating. Plus, the movie Office Space had filled him with a large amount of distaste for nine to five jobs no matter what they were. What was worse was that his T.V. had gone and crapped out on him; effetely rendering him un-entertained. And an un-entertained Dante Sparda was a very, very bad thing.
Damn it, why won't something happen? Hell, I'll be happy if a Hurricane spawns right in the bathroom! At least it'll give me somethin' to do. Dante mentally grumbled.
The half devil checked his digital watch and scowled. "For Christ's sake; it's been half an hour since I called! I'm gonna beat the living," His rant was cut off mind sentence when he heard the sound of footsteps on the small flight of steps up to the main door. Ha ha! Time for food!
That spark of joy was squelched as a man in all black strolled casually inside his business. Dante mentally sized the man up; he looked like a less formal Agent from the Matrix. His light blonde hair was spiked evenly upward and his eyes were hidden behind a pair of overly-dark sunglasses. He had a fairly pale complexion and a very stern looking expression. The man in black had an aura around him that practically screamed two things; the first was "Secret Government agent", the other was "Danger Dante Sparda, Danger!"
Even so, the demon hunter leaned forward with a friendly grin. "Well, well, if it isn't my good friend Duke Nukem! How've you been?"
The man kept dead silent but Dante defiantly saw a spark of annoyance pass over his face. The sinister looking blond surveyed the room like he was expecting guns to pop out of the walls and Swiss cheese him via bullets. Wow, what a neighborly guy who just happen to wander up on my doorstep. This must be how Sarah Conner felt in the first Terminator movie.
"Ok, my fault friend. I apologize if I 'offended' you. So what can I do for you Mr…" Dante trailed off.
The man turned his obscured gaze to the demon hunter. "Wesker will do."
The platinum haired man gave a nod. "Alright Mr. Wesker; what can this fine establishment do for you?"
Wesker completely ignored that and he took a few pounding steps toward the desk; suddenly a nefarious smirk crossed his face. "Is your name Dante? The son of Sparda?"
Dante's brow furrowed and one of his hands snaked under his desk; he wrapped his fingers around the handle of Ivory and feigned a casual expression. This was exactly how Tem-Ni-Gru had started and it had started with his whole shop getting thrashed by a bunch of demons. Understandably, Dante was very uneasy that their whole encounter had started off with that statement but he kept his cool, at least for now.
"Yeah well, guess that's what people call me. So, again, what might a friendly demon hunter like myself do for such an upstanding citizen like yourself?"
Wesker glanced at him impassively. "I have a job for you, however if you are content to make snide remarks I can take my business elsewhere."
A JOB!? OH THANK YOU GOD!
"Sorry again; kind of a force of habit. So, what kind of job are we talking about?"
A secretive smirk crossed Wesker's chiseled face; all it did was make him look like he was about to go Hannibal Lector on someone.
"I represent a weapons developing company; you wouldn't have heard of it. A secret affairs type of business if you catch my meaning."
Dante gave an understanding nod. Yeah, secret weapons companies were real popular these days. It only made him wonder why people didn't have ray guns yet.
"Yeah I get it; one of those don't ask, don't tell kinda companies. I'm with you so far."
"Excellent. The daughter of one of our major stockholders has been abducted by radicals in Spain. I'm not entirely sure as to what they want but the company head obviously don't want such, upsetting, news to reach our stock holders. We would like you to retrieve her and bring her back to the U.S."
Dante quirked a brow.
"I understand and all, but this really isn't my field." Dante knew full well that shady companies like the one this Wesker guy was 'representing' had their own private militias and hit squads. There was obviously a fairly large risk factor to this, or it was just a plain bullshit story. Dante figured it was the latter but he didn't resign himself to declining just yet.
Wesker seemed to understand this and his smirk widened into a grin. "The pay would be substantial."
"Oh yeah? Just how substantial are we talking here?"
"A quarter of a million dollars; I'm sure you've had enough math classes to understand how much money that is."
Two very contrasting thoughts ran through the demon hunter's head. Firstly the reward amount clinched the fact that this was no doubt a bullshit story to an extent. He was pretty sure the company part was true. The second part was a near giddiness that the prospect of getting so much cash in one sitting. Dante most defiantly needed the money and so he silently weighed his options, bringing his hands under his chin to make an impromptu rest for his head.
Ok, so what if it is, and probably is, bull? What's the worse that could happen? After all, I took out an entire evil tower's worth of Demons, what could a few Spaniards do?
"Alright, I'll take the job. Devil May Cry at your service." Dante stood with a smile and extended his hand.
They shook.
"Excellent. We have arranged for a plane to take off from Reno international airport tomorrow at nine thirty sharp. You will have to make a few layovers but it shouldn't take long to reach Madrid. From there we have also arranged for a car to drive you to the outskirt of the village where we believe the girl is being kept. The driver will meet you in the terminal."
Dante nodded with a grin that barely contained his jubilation at the prospect of work. Wesker turned and headed for the exit but stopped just outside the door.
"Oh yes, you should expect heavy resistance from the radical's group, if not some sort of counter-operation. Feel free to take care of these threats by any means necessary. We'll mop up for you." With that, Wesker vanished out the door.
Dante Sparda grinned as he flopped back in his chair. Now he really had something to look forward to tomorrow. With that the devil hunter and soon to be "child rescuer" settled down to wait for that very late pizza boy. He twirled his silver gun round his left index finger casually.
"That poor kid will be in for a surprise when he comes up. Making me wait this long." He muttered with a good-naturedly devious grin that only he could pull off.
The soft sound of brewing coffee penetrated the silence that hung between former Foxhound Operative Solid Snake and his good friend Hal 'Otacon' Emmeric. Both sat at a modest circular wooden table in the kitchen of their shared apartment with Mei-Ling, former information specialist and somebody Snake had been helped by in the past. Mei-Ling was asleep in her and Hal's shared bedroom; the two had hit it off the second they'd met and Snake had lost some sleep because of it. It was one of those times when Snake damned the thin walls of New York apartments.
Currently, the three of them had banded together and created Philanthropy: an anti Metal Gear organization. Metal Gears being giant walking battle tanks that Snake had done battle with and prevailed over three times in his, thus far, thirty-two-years of life. Otacon, has he preferred to be called, had dug up some new information on the current black project weapons being developed. Most weren't any real threats to them but there was one disturbing rumor which they're whole conversation was based on.
Snake surveyed the glowing laptop-computer screen with a look of disdain. He'd never been much of one for computers but since he lived with two technology buffs his beliefs had been democratically overruled.
"A viral weapon?" Snake read aloud.
"Yeah, I'm not sure about the specifics since its still only a rumor but I thought it merited looking into. After what happened at Raccoon City in Colorado we can't be too careful."
Snake gave a curt nod as he read on. He'd heard about the Raccoon city tragedy as it came to be known. A whole city gone mad due to a human made mutation-prone-virus; at least a thousand people dead, probably more. That had happened the year before Snake's second encounter with Metal Gear in Zanzibar land. At the time, he hadn't given it much thought beyond disgust that such a thing could happen. But when Philanthropy had formed after Shadow Moses, Snake had started to remember the story of Raccoon offhandedly.
Otacon had affirmed that if such a virus were loaded into missiles, a Metal Gear could easily unleash a viral apocalypse rather than the original nuclear one. Quiet honestly, Snake couldn't decide which the worst prospect was. And after the recent rash of disasters in the U.S. they had been paying extra attention to everything they could. Nine Eleven was by all means the most well known but there were other and far more sinister ones.
The first of these was the Third Light project that Snake and Otacon had heard tell of. What it did, supposedly, was allow dinosaurs to crossover into the current time. Now that was an outlandish idea but the fact that a research center for it and an entire town that was rumored to contain a testing facility for it had vanished, it might be more than just a goofy rumor. If it was true, it turned a poorly conceived movie idea into Jurassic Park on steroids.
The second was much more recent and it was about the destruction of Area 51. Even Otacon hadn't been able to find anything on the whole incident other than that the only survivor, a Hazmat team member named Ethan Cole, was supposedly still at large. This of course assumed that Ethan Cole wasn't just a fanciful tack-on to the actual event. The destruction was real enough; it left a mini-grand canyon in the heart of New Mexico.
"So what would we be dealing with?" Snake inquired, finally finishing his reading.
"All we know is that there is some sort of viral weapon or unknown virus being researched in rural Spain. It could be anything from some sort of new type of cold to another AIDS. Whatever it is, it's not good to just leave there floating. And what's worse, I've been doing some research and it seems that there is a new Metal Gear being developed."
"A new Metal Gear in development at the same time as this virus thing happening in Spain? Heh, far too convenient for a simple coincidence."
"I agree. I think we should check it out. And there's more bad news." Hal hung his head slightly, feeling disappointed in himself for only being able to give his good friend ill tidings.
"More bad news? Hm, that sure is a change."
"The president's daughter, Ashley Graham was abducted earlier today."
Snake's head snapped up.
"What?"
"Yeah; a new Metal Gear, a possible new biological weapon and the president's daughter is missing."
"A text book take-over-the-world scam, huh? That's just great."
"From what I've gathered two agents are being sent in to retrieve her. Leon Kennedy and Rebecca Chambers; both are survivors of the Raccoon city tragedy." Hal explained.
"Good, so that gives us some leeway. What's my insertion method?"
A small smile appeared of Otacon's face; despite no longer being military, Snake still used the lingo. "There's a village where this all seems to be taking place. I suggest a tourist ploy rather than anything to fancy. Because of its location I recommend brining weapons from here."
Snake nodded. "Well that will make my life a little easier. What about the agents? Should I expect anything from them?"
Otacon shook his head, causing his messy brown hair to wave. "You and they should be relatively far from each other during the mission. However if you come into contact with them, I suggest you be as helpful as you can."
Snake nodded but with a sour expression. He was never much of one for operating in the field with a team. "Right."
"Ok, I'll book you a flight for tomorrow."
Snake nodded and stood; he decided that some more sleep was in order rather than any coffee. Otacon didn't pay it much mind as this was normal behavior for him.
One thing's for sure, this won't be a walk in the park. Snake thought as he flopped onto his bed for a little more rest.
I've decided to continue Mechwar's work in my own way. I like to thank him for letting me continue his story, and I wish good luck to him. I'll repost the original chapters he posted, plus newer ones written by me. Also I've decided to add Ash Willaims from the Evil Dead series in this story in a future chapter.
Plz don't get angry to those who read his story before. He has allowed me to continue his story and if you still hold doubts about this go to his profile and you'll see.
I hope you guys will support this sudden change of events, and will continue to love the story!
Plz review