Too Much of Heaven
EXTREMELY revised.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Resident Evil but wish that I did. I could use the money. I do however own the character of Elizabeth Coronado. She is all that I have. Please do not sue me.
Watch a man in times... of adversity to discover what kind of man he is; for then at last words of truth are drawn from the depths of his heart, and the mask is torn off....
-Lucretius
De Rerum Natura (On the Nature of Things)
died 55 b.c.
The prodigy lay on her bed, curled in a fetal position. She wept softly, knowing what she was and hating herself for it. Although it was not her doing officially, she blamed herself for the deaths of the citizens of Raccoon City. She worked for Umbrella, and in some way, it was her fault. She was one of the head scientists of the bioweapon department and had ordered William Birkin's death herself so she could evaluate the G-Virus in person. She approved the decision to create the Tyrant series of experiments in a committee meeting by abstaining from the vote altogether. She believed that good men that stood idle when evil was done were just as evil as the men that committed the act. Thus, she condemned herself.
She did not have much time to pity herself when one of the members of the S.T.A.R.S. team burst through her door. She barely stirred as he ordered her to give her name.
" My name is Elizabeth Coronado. I'm the acting head of Bioweapons, " she murmured softly, fearing that if she spoke louder, he would know that she was crying.
He told her to get up. Elizabeth gathered herself and stood up, her blonde hair disheveled and her glasses askew. She adjusted her glasses and smoothed her rumpled clothes and lab coat.
She whispered, " What is your name? " He sternly replied, " Chris Redfield. " He was tall and in obvious good physical shape. He would have made an excellent specimen to work with in the experiments. No, she could not think that now. Umbrella would soon be gone, and she most likely would be tried for crimes against humanity, Elizabeth thought. She shook her head, attempting to rid herself of such thoughts.
His voice broke through to her. " Follow me. This place has gone to hell, and I have my doubts as to how you survived. Everyone else either committed suicide or been turned into a zombie by the virus."
She said, " I can tell you now, if you want, how I survived. "
He shook his head. " That will have to wait until we're safe, Ms. Coronado. "
Elizabeth meekly followed Chris, the man who discovered her. He walked stiffly in front of her in stony silence obviously still coping with the statement that she had just spoken.
Chris gripped his semi-automatic rifle tightly and pressed his lips into a thin, bloodless line. He walked forcefully through the laboratory level of the facility, shooting whatever zombie had managed to shamble across his path. He grimly mused that there ought to be a superstition about that sort of thing along with the one about black cats. All the while, the realization of what Elizabet really was plagued his thoughts. Was this pale, thin creature that followed him really the crazed mastermind that he had always imagined was behind the debauchery of Umbrella? It was extremely difficult to believe.
He looked over his shoulder at the petite scientist as they waited for the doors of an elevator to open. In the low emergency lights, Elizabeth seemed far too fragile. Her pale skin blended into the dim white walls, and her reddish-brown eyes, though not looking into his own, still pierced outward from her face somewhat unnaturally. Chris was used to the kind of brown eyes that appeared to be friendly and watery at the same time. These eyes were very different from the friendly brown eyes of his grandmother. Chris noticed as well that even in the low lights that the reflection of the lights cast a small halo around her head.
Elizabeth sensed from the lull in Chris' movement that something was amiss. She looked up and met his intense blue eyes with her own. She opened her mouth to ask what was wrong when he averted his gaze, turning to look at the zombified lab assistant that still occupied the elevator.
Chris pulled the trigger on his rifle, firing multiple rounds into the zombie. The former lab assistant jerked and spasmed under the barrage, eventually falling to the ground outside of the elevator at Chris' feet. He let a small, grim smile of satisfaction creep onto his lips.
Elizabeth did not take her eyes from the body of the lab assistant. She used to work with him although it was more appropriate to say that he had worked for her. His rotting form bore only a slight resemblance to the man that she had known. The glassy blank look on his half-decayed face sent chills down her spine. Once again she was faced with product of her own puzzling inner lunacy.
Chris turned to her, still half-smiling, and said, " Come on. I think it's safe to go in now. "
Elizabeth finally removed her eyes from the lab assistant and went into the elevator which was decorated with a marble tile floor and brass-finished walls and ceiling. Chris entered the elevator behind her. He noticed that Elizabeth seemed to withdraw into herself whwnever she could, giving him a difficult time trying to figure out what kind of person she was exactly.
She cast her eyes to the marble floor. Tracing the delicate patterns of black threads on the white background was soothing. It didn't require her to speak to Chris or attempt to apologize for the atrocities that she had brought into the world. It was safe to be in shock. The world couldn't get to her there. Of course, her nervous stomach could and was doing so at the moment. She turned her head sideways, away from the task of tracing the black threads and towards Chris, who was then pressing one of the hard plastic floor buttons so that they could return to ground level. He still held his rifle diagonally across his chest in his right hand. He appeared both fierce and frightening to her, wearing body armor, a dark green short-sleeved shirt that clung to his muscular torso, black fatigue-style pants, and black leather combat boots. Such a contrast to her long white lab coat with long sleeves, slim black pants, long-sleeved brown silk button-down shirt, and black flat shoes. The lab would not allow, according to safety procedures, open-toe shoes or long hair that was not tied back which was why she had clipped her blonde hair back. She thought that she obviously looked weak in comparison to Chris.
Chris was about to ask her what was causing her to withdraw when the elevator shook suddenly. Both former S.T.A.R.S. team member and scientist fell to the elevator's marble floor. Chris fell squarely on his shoulder blades on one of the rear corners of the elevator. His reflexes brought the gun into ready position to fire at the as yet unseen threat. Elizabeth fell halfway on top of Chris, her head pillowed by his left hip and thigh. Her prone position allowed for the perfect view of the denting ceiling.
The ceiling itself was becoming home to an increasing number of dents. Each dent was punctuated by the resounding bass of the impact of the force acting upon the ceiling. Chris and Elizabeth could only watch as the ceiling was ripped away to reveal the monster that had done the deed. The darkness of the elevator shaft obscured their vision, but the monster looked like it was a Tyrant. It focused its gaze first on Elizabeth and then intensified its cold glare at Chris. Then it growled.
" S.T.A.R.S....."
EXTREMELY revised.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Resident Evil but wish that I did. I could use the money. I do however own the character of Elizabeth Coronado. She is all that I have. Please do not sue me.
Watch a man in times... of adversity to discover what kind of man he is; for then at last words of truth are drawn from the depths of his heart, and the mask is torn off....
-Lucretius
De Rerum Natura (On the Nature of Things)
died 55 b.c.
The prodigy lay on her bed, curled in a fetal position. She wept softly, knowing what she was and hating herself for it. Although it was not her doing officially, she blamed herself for the deaths of the citizens of Raccoon City. She worked for Umbrella, and in some way, it was her fault. She was one of the head scientists of the bioweapon department and had ordered William Birkin's death herself so she could evaluate the G-Virus in person. She approved the decision to create the Tyrant series of experiments in a committee meeting by abstaining from the vote altogether. She believed that good men that stood idle when evil was done were just as evil as the men that committed the act. Thus, she condemned herself.
She did not have much time to pity herself when one of the members of the S.T.A.R.S. team burst through her door. She barely stirred as he ordered her to give her name.
" My name is Elizabeth Coronado. I'm the acting head of Bioweapons, " she murmured softly, fearing that if she spoke louder, he would know that she was crying.
He told her to get up. Elizabeth gathered herself and stood up, her blonde hair disheveled and her glasses askew. She adjusted her glasses and smoothed her rumpled clothes and lab coat.
She whispered, " What is your name? " He sternly replied, " Chris Redfield. " He was tall and in obvious good physical shape. He would have made an excellent specimen to work with in the experiments. No, she could not think that now. Umbrella would soon be gone, and she most likely would be tried for crimes against humanity, Elizabeth thought. She shook her head, attempting to rid herself of such thoughts.
His voice broke through to her. " Follow me. This place has gone to hell, and I have my doubts as to how you survived. Everyone else either committed suicide or been turned into a zombie by the virus."
She said, " I can tell you now, if you want, how I survived. "
He shook his head. " That will have to wait until we're safe, Ms. Coronado. "
Elizabeth meekly followed Chris, the man who discovered her. He walked stiffly in front of her in stony silence obviously still coping with the statement that she had just spoken.
Chris gripped his semi-automatic rifle tightly and pressed his lips into a thin, bloodless line. He walked forcefully through the laboratory level of the facility, shooting whatever zombie had managed to shamble across his path. He grimly mused that there ought to be a superstition about that sort of thing along with the one about black cats. All the while, the realization of what Elizabet really was plagued his thoughts. Was this pale, thin creature that followed him really the crazed mastermind that he had always imagined was behind the debauchery of Umbrella? It was extremely difficult to believe.
He looked over his shoulder at the petite scientist as they waited for the doors of an elevator to open. In the low emergency lights, Elizabeth seemed far too fragile. Her pale skin blended into the dim white walls, and her reddish-brown eyes, though not looking into his own, still pierced outward from her face somewhat unnaturally. Chris was used to the kind of brown eyes that appeared to be friendly and watery at the same time. These eyes were very different from the friendly brown eyes of his grandmother. Chris noticed as well that even in the low lights that the reflection of the lights cast a small halo around her head.
Elizabeth sensed from the lull in Chris' movement that something was amiss. She looked up and met his intense blue eyes with her own. She opened her mouth to ask what was wrong when he averted his gaze, turning to look at the zombified lab assistant that still occupied the elevator.
Chris pulled the trigger on his rifle, firing multiple rounds into the zombie. The former lab assistant jerked and spasmed under the barrage, eventually falling to the ground outside of the elevator at Chris' feet. He let a small, grim smile of satisfaction creep onto his lips.
Elizabeth did not take her eyes from the body of the lab assistant. She used to work with him although it was more appropriate to say that he had worked for her. His rotting form bore only a slight resemblance to the man that she had known. The glassy blank look on his half-decayed face sent chills down her spine. Once again she was faced with product of her own puzzling inner lunacy.
Chris turned to her, still half-smiling, and said, " Come on. I think it's safe to go in now. "
Elizabeth finally removed her eyes from the lab assistant and went into the elevator which was decorated with a marble tile floor and brass-finished walls and ceiling. Chris entered the elevator behind her. He noticed that Elizabeth seemed to withdraw into herself whwnever she could, giving him a difficult time trying to figure out what kind of person she was exactly.
She cast her eyes to the marble floor. Tracing the delicate patterns of black threads on the white background was soothing. It didn't require her to speak to Chris or attempt to apologize for the atrocities that she had brought into the world. It was safe to be in shock. The world couldn't get to her there. Of course, her nervous stomach could and was doing so at the moment. She turned her head sideways, away from the task of tracing the black threads and towards Chris, who was then pressing one of the hard plastic floor buttons so that they could return to ground level. He still held his rifle diagonally across his chest in his right hand. He appeared both fierce and frightening to her, wearing body armor, a dark green short-sleeved shirt that clung to his muscular torso, black fatigue-style pants, and black leather combat boots. Such a contrast to her long white lab coat with long sleeves, slim black pants, long-sleeved brown silk button-down shirt, and black flat shoes. The lab would not allow, according to safety procedures, open-toe shoes or long hair that was not tied back which was why she had clipped her blonde hair back. She thought that she obviously looked weak in comparison to Chris.
Chris was about to ask her what was causing her to withdraw when the elevator shook suddenly. Both former S.T.A.R.S. team member and scientist fell to the elevator's marble floor. Chris fell squarely on his shoulder blades on one of the rear corners of the elevator. His reflexes brought the gun into ready position to fire at the as yet unseen threat. Elizabeth fell halfway on top of Chris, her head pillowed by his left hip and thigh. Her prone position allowed for the perfect view of the denting ceiling.
The ceiling itself was becoming home to an increasing number of dents. Each dent was punctuated by the resounding bass of the impact of the force acting upon the ceiling. Chris and Elizabeth could only watch as the ceiling was ripped away to reveal the monster that had done the deed. The darkness of the elevator shaft obscured their vision, but the monster looked like it was a Tyrant. It focused its gaze first on Elizabeth and then intensified its cold glare at Chris. Then it growled.
" S.T.A.R.S....."