AN: Saw a couple of Mercenaries-based stories, but they didn't have much background. (C'mon people, be original.) SO I came up with this little idea and stuck the mercenaries in there! Who knows what will happen between fighting sessions?

This story is currently in the testing stages. We'll see how many people like it and I might continue! I'v got the first couple chapters outlined, just in case...

Just as a notice: I might change the title of this fic around a few times until I'm happy. I like the title right now, though. Shortish chapter, since this is the beginning. But the next ones will be longer and more interesting!

Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or the characters of Resident Evil. Those belong to Capcom.

(Unknown Location)

"It seems Capcom has gotten into another lull with its games again," a voice stated in the darkness, "How about we hold another Mercenaries event?"

"Sounds like a plan?" a second voice replied, "Who will be the contenders?"

"Send invitations to the names on this list." An exchange of paper could be heard in the darkness. "We'll do background checks later."

"So, a handful of old favorites, the regulars, and another handful that haven't renewed their contracts with Capcom for the past few years."

"Pretty much," the first voice agreed.

". . . . Who's judging these games?"

"We'll leave that choice to the author. In the meantime, you deliver those invitations; I'll stick this note on the door and clean this dump a bit before our guests arrive."

By the next morning, invitations were sent out, and people began to show up at the compound.

The first person to arrive was Chris Redfield. He took a look at the sign posted on the tinted glass doors and raised an eyebrow. The sign read, "Welcome Mercenaries! All guests must sign the truce waiver before the door will let you in. Drop of all your weapons in the metal locker; you will not need them. Once you enter, pick one of the unlocked rooms, go inside, lock it, and remain in there until you are called. This is not a trap. Really, it isn't." Chris reconsidered his choice to come to the deserted compound in the middle of nowhere, shrugged, and signed the truce waiver. A telltale click told the Redfield that the main door had unlocked, and he ventured inside, picking one of the rooms in the middle of the hallway.

Wesker arrived next. After serious scrutiny, the tyrant signed the contract and was allowed to enter. Once inside, Wesker picked the room at the far end of the hallway; he had bothered to do a little research and found that particular room was the closest to the bathrooms. The tyrant made himself comfortable as possible in his small room and waited.

Jill showed up shortly after Wesker. She too displayed confusion at the strange sign, but entered the compound anyway.

Similar reactions were experienced by Claire Redfield, Barry Burton, HUNK, and Rebecca Chambers; the only one who wasn't the least bit skeptical was Jack Krauser. Let's see what he's up to.

(Interview time!)

Krauser sat stiffly on the bed provided in the room. "I'm not scared of an abandoned building," the scarred mercenary replied into the camera that was pointed at him, "I've faced worse conditions. If anything thinks they can catch Jack Krauser with his pants down, they are sorely mistaken. I'll fight my way out of here if I have to."

(Main Story)

Five minutes after Krauser's arrival, a short message crackled over the intercom. "Right, everyone's here," the voice said, "Please exit your rooms and report to the waiting zone." All at once, the doors of each dorm opened and their inhabitants stepped out. Upon seeing each other, their faces were met with surprise except for Wesker.

"Well, well," Wesker stated, "If it isn't the survivors."

"Wesker!" Chris and Jill exclaimed at the same time. Barry and Chris moved to pin him to the wall when the intercom returned to life.

"Hey! You all signed the truce! If you can't honor it, we're sending you home!" the voice warned, "Report to the waiting room!"

Chris and Barry retreated away from Wesker. Claire and Jill exchanged a doubtful look between them, still harboring their own suspicions of Wesker.

"That's better. Krauser," Wesker acknowledged, receiving a nod in return, "HUNK." Another nod. Wesker gestured to the set of double doors that had previously been closed. "Shall we?"

Each of the survivors stood still before passing through the double doors into a brightly lit room. Jill, who found herself next to a worried looking Rebecca, spoke to her. "Don't worry," the older woman reassured, "Wesker is not in charge here. Whoever's behind that intercom is."

"Yeah, but who's behind the intercom?" Claire added as she followed her equally confused comrades.

The room the mercenaries had entered resembled the waiting area of a DMV. No color on the walls, a white tiled floor, several black benches, a TV set mounted in the corner, a couple of potted plants, and even more doors that led who knows where. "Good. Now stand in a straight line to receive further instructions," the voice commanded over the intercom. Everyone obeyed. "Alright, I suppose you're wondering why you are here?"

"Of course we want to know!" Claire objected, beginning to list reasons with her fingers, "You only brought us to the middle of nowhere, took away our weapons, and trapped us with our worst enemies!"

"Must you be so critical, dear heart?" Wesker complained, smoothing his glossy hair back.

"Leave her out of this Wesker!" Chris threatened.

"Or what?" the tyrant responded, pushing the older Redfield's nerves.

The intercom voice cleared its throat, regaining the attention of the mercenaries. "You've been invited here because you require training," the voice stated, "I mean, you can't just go between game installments without practicing. Capcom may call you back for another outbreak at any time. That's what this mercenary compound was set up for. To keep your skills sharp."

"So how does this 'training' work?" Jill asked curiously, adjusting her BSAA cap.

"Here's how it works: You will be fighting enemies as usual. However, your goal is to rack up the highest score possible," the mystery voice informed, "You will also be living here in your dormitories during your stay. This compound will provide anything you need, within reason."

"And what's the point of getting the highest score?" Krauser asked, arms folded over his chest in an attempt to hide his nervousness. He did not like being without his trusty knife.

"The scores are based on your performance in the field and determined by a panel of judges," the voice replied, "It will be up to their judgment to grade your accomplishments."

"Anything else?" Barry asked.

"I'll leave the rest to the judges to explain," the mystery voice said before silencing the intercom. One of the doors opened, and everyone's head turned to see the figure of Leon step through. "Looks like everyone made it without murdering each other," he said sarcastically as he stopped in front of the line.

"What's going on here Leon?" Chris asked, "We want some answers."

Leon looked over at Chris and shrugged. "I'm just here as a judge. You were all invited here to train until Capcom renews your contracts. From the looks of it, everyone accepted, so here we are," Leon replied, "Except, I'm not the only judge."

AN: So there we have it! I'm still trying to find subplots for this story, so feel free to suggest potential subplots in a review! Thankies!

If anyone is wondering, I am still working on my other stories! I haven't abandoned those!

Anyway, Review/Favorite/Subscribe! I could always use more followers!