Leon pressed himself against the wall, listening to the sounds of quiet moans and shuffling in the hall just around the corner.
"Remind me again what they said this mission would be," Krauser hissed from beside him, his gun held against his chest. Leon found it entertaining too. A "simple recon mission" they had said, right before they sent him and Jack Krauser off gallivanting to middle of nowhere, Canada. They were ordered to find out all that they could about this "Organization" facility.
They weren't expecting for there to be a full blown zombie attack once they got there.
Instead of a reply, Leon lifted his finger to his lips, and motioned around the corner. Krauser nodded, and in an instant, Leon spun around the corner, gun at the ready. Krauser was right beside him, and between the two of them, they took out the group of undead that shambled towards them. A single shot to the head for each of them.
By then, they were both old hats with the whole T-Virus thing, but that didn't mean it wasn't freaky. Seeing people eating other people – trying to eat you – wasn't something that went over well in Leon's head.
"Do you even know where we're going?" Krauser demanded, firing another round off into the skull of an incoming worker. Leon followed suit, sliding another clip into his gun and going to work.
"There have to be archives around here somewhere."
Krauser snorted. "So "around here somewhere" is our general heading then?" He didn't sound impressed.
"If you've got any better ideas," Leon growled, "I'm all ears. The outbreak only makes it all the more important that we get that information, and I'm not leaving until we get to the bottom of all of this."
The only response he got from the other man was a noncommittal grunt as they continued down the corridor, sirens bathing them in obnoxious sounds as the place flashed red. It was eerie, to say the least, but at least it wasn't quiet. It was always worse when it was quiet.
That said, it was more than a little unnerving how close the virus victims were able to get before they could hear them thanks to those very same sirens.
That was the only conversation that passed between the two of them for some times as they headed down a set of metal stairs. Leon wasn't exactly sure where he was going, sure, but in his experience, it seemed as though all of the important things were always in the basements of buildings. Thus, he was going down.
The stairs took them to a door, and he pressed himself against the wall beside it, as Krauser pointed his gun at it. With a nod, he flung it open and before he could even peer down the hallway, Krauser's gun erupted in a spray of bullets. On instinct alone, he threw himself away from the door just in time for a zombie to lurch, jaws snapping, at where his ankle was before.
He joined Krauser in firing as body after body piled from the door, all dressed in bloodstained, filthy lab coats.
Once the things stopped coming, Leon allowed himself a small grin. "Looks like we're getting closer."
Still, the mood quickly sobered as another round of zombies flowed into the hallway.
"Christ, how many of them are there?" Krauser shouted, blasting a third eye into one and kicking another that got too close.
Leon kept his gun trained on the heads of the progressing undead. "There can't be too many more of them!" They kept walking as they shot, working their way through the slow-moving mobs until they reached another door. There was a keypad on it, and a heavy bolt system that, judging by a push of the handle, was triggered and locked.
Leon probably could have broken the code – he was good with things like that – but he was impatient, and he didn't exactly like being surrounded by the undead. So, with little spectacle, he fired off a round into it. It did the trick, and again they went through the door. Immediately, the sound of screams – undeniably human, but strange sounding all the same – pervaded their ears.
He couldn't hear any groans of the undead, and he knew that the scream belonged to someone that wasn't changed, so Leon ran in, despite Krauser's warning.
Only, when he got in the room, he realized that there was no one there. The entire room was filled with monitors, and had a huge pane of glass that showed dark. That was when Leon saw that the reason the voice had sounded strange. It was coming through speakers.
His eyes were drawn to movement as, in the centermost monitor, a video played. An old, gravelly voice played over the background noise, like a narration.
Commencing test on subject V-494, a.k.a. Steven Burnside. Test to gauge Veronica Virus interface with central nervous system.
Leon, and now Krauser, watched as a doctor strode forth to a figure strapped to a table, the camera panning in closer. At that magnification, Leon could make out the figure's features. He was a man – no, a teenager, with orange-red hair and blue eyes that were almost green. His face was boyish, and well proportioned, and shining with defiance as he glared at the doctor.
Without warning, the doctor pulled a tool that looked strangely like a cattle prod from a table and pressed it against the boy's bare side. His whole body seized up, but he didn't let out a cry. The doctor withdrew the tool, adjusted something, and pressed it back against him, lining up the points with the burns it had left the last time.
This time, the electricity raged with such fury that the boy's body arched off the table, though the restraints held him down. Still, he didn't cry, but when he opened his eyes again, something was…different.
The doctor adjusted his tool again, as if he didn't notice. Again the prod was pressed against his skin, and this time, he did cry out. This time, as he screamed, the sound began to morph and deepen as deep blue veins bulged from his skin and his body thrashed and tossed against the restraints.
He was changing, Leon realized with horror. The Veronica virus he'd heard about…it was in this kid. But even as the electricity sparked against his skin, the bulging veins were as far as the transformation went.
Subject is showing high tolerance to the transformative effects of the Veronica Virus. Suggests integration into natural functions.
At that, the video went black, only to kick back on. It was the same kid, only this time, instead of being strung up against the table, he was free in the room. And he wasn't alone. A staggering figure – a T-Virus infected, he realized – lunged for him. The teen fought back as it cornered him, punching and kicking, but bare-handed and, it seemed, drugged, he wasn't able to hold him off. He let out a cry as the thing sunk its teeth into his skin.
"What the hell is this?" Krauser muttered. They watched as the creature was dragged out and the boy was left alone clutching at the bleeding wound on his shoulder. Time lapsed in the video, showing the boy pacing back and forth, curled up in the corner, and rocking himself, but nothing happened. The boy didn't change.
Then the voice returned over the video.
Subject V-494 has fully amalgamated with the Veronica Virus. It is the perfect specimen – possessing enhanced strength and speed, with no contagions or mutations. Extreme changes in mood are negligible, possibly attributed to containment.
Project Veronica is a success.
And with that, the video winked out. Leon blinked at the screen for a few moments, just staring. The perfect specimen, the thing had said. No contagions or mutations, even though he had been infected with the Veronica virus, and the T-Virus.
The Veronica Virus…he remembered hearing about it from Claire. And the name…it sounded so familiar. Steven, it had said. Steve Burnside…Steve Burnside…
And just like that, it hit him. This was the kid that had been with her at Rockfort Prison. He was alive?
"We have to find him," he said resolutely. The pain he'd seen in that kid's eyes…it had been human. More human than any of the people that filled this place, even before the virus had been unleashed.
"He probably got taken out in all this mess," Krauser said, taking the disk from the player, and all the ones stacked near it, and shoving them in the pocket of his vest. Just as he finished though, another scream sounded. It was muffled, but it definitely sounded like the one that had been in the videos.
Leon wasted no time, tearing out of the room and down the halls in the direction of the scream. Every infected in his way took a bullet to the head without so much as slowing him down, and Krauser trailed behind him taking out any of the stragglers.
"Hold on!" Leon shouted as he ran through an open door. He was instantly hit by an array of bright, bright lights, and a frantic cry. They weren't words so much as indistinctive sounds, and Leon searched for the source.
He found it in the form of an undead huddled over a figure. Leon wasted no time in dispatching it, and ran forward as the infected was kicked to the side.
Against the wall was none other than Steve Burnside, eyes wide with panic and chest heaving frantically. Blood was spattered on his form, probably belonging to the several other undead lying broken and destroyed around the room. He'd taken them out with nothing but a baton which now lay on the ground beside him as he curled in on himself, gripping his leg. Blood dripped between his fingers.
"Steve Burnside?" Leon asked, kneeling in front of him.
"Leon, get away from him, he's been bitten," Krauser commanded. His gun was pointed straight at Steve's head, and his finger was on the trigger.
Steve didn't even seem to notice, his eyes rising to meet Leon's, his face pale, almost green. "W-who're you?" he choked out, his voice strained and reedy.
"Leon S. Kennedy. That's Krauser back there," he said, gesturing back to him.
Steve followed the gesture back to Krauser and saw the gun pointed at him. Instead of reacting in terror, like most do when staring down the barrel of a gun, he laughed. It was a hysterical sound that really sounded more like a whimper than anything, and he dropped his head onto his knee, still gripping his leg.
"Please shoot me," he said, visibly shaking. "I'm infected, please just shoot me."
"Are you turning?" Leon asked.
Steve didn't reply for a few moments, but finally, he shook his head. "Please," he begged.
Leon frowned. "We're not going to shoot you."
"We aren't?" Krauser asked disbelievingly.
"No, we aren't. We're going to help you." He turned to Krauser. "Watch the door, okay?" Krauser looked like he had something he wanted to say to that, but he didn't, turning his gun to the door. He did, under his breath, utter something along the lines of "your funeral."
"Let me see your leg," he said, shrugging out of his vest. Steve just shook his head. "Move your hands, Steve, I need to take a look at it." Again, his head shook, but after a moment, he finally loosened his grip enough for Leon to move his hands to his sides.
He pulled his knife from his shoulder holster, and as gently as he could, ran it up the side of the scrub-like pants that made up the only clothing Steve wore. He cut the leg of them all the way up to the knee, and cut them off. He realized then though that the wound was on the underside of his shin. He couldn't see it like that.
"Steve, I'm gonna need you to lay down on your stomach." Steve shook his head a little more fervently this time, and when Leon reached out to touch his shoulder, he jerked away.
"Please no," he whimpered, hiding his head in his arms. Tremors ran through his whole body and he tried to grab his leg again, but Leon took hold of his wrists.
"Shut the door, Krauser, and barricade it," he commanded. It didn't take a genius to figure out that someone would need to hold the kid down. He was terrified – he had every right to be – and he didn't want anyone going near his injury. Actually, he didn't seem to want anyone going near him period.
Krauser did as he was asked and grabbed the baton from beside Steve, going back over to the door to jam it through the handles of the door. It wouldn't give out easily enough for them to worry about it, so with that, he turned back to Leon, crouching beside him.
"Steve, Krauser here is going to help me get you away from that wall, okay? We're not going to hurt you."
Steve stared at Leon pleadingly, his shoulders dipping with silent whines. "I just want to go…"
Leon winced. The pure desperation in his voice was bad enough, but the pain that strained his face and tone made it even worse.
"You can't walk kid, and if we don't get you patched up, you're going to bleed to death, so calm down," Krauser grumbled. Leon shot him a dirty look, and Krauser shrugged before grabbing hold of Steve's shoulders.
Steve screamed, and with strength Leon didn't expect his lithe form to possess, he flung the hands away from him and threw himself away from both of the men, into the corner. His injured leg dragged behind him as he stumbled for the door.
Before he could move the baton that held it closed, Leon grabbed him, wrapping his arms around his waist and pinning his hands to his sides. "Easy, easy, it's okay," Leon said, pulling him kicking and screaming away from the door. As gently as he could, he wrestled him to the floor. He did his best to ignore the veins of blue creeping up the teen's neck as he cried.