Brad Vickers: The Real American Hero
Disclaimer: I wish I owned Resident Evil, but sadly I don't. Maybe one day. Maybe one day.
A/N: Brad Vickers is An hiro.
Wind swept past the helicopter as Brad slowly pulled the helicopter into a steady climb. Their destination was a mansion in the outskirts of Raccoon City, just a few miles into the woods. Bravo team had gone ahead, but there hadn't been a reply from them for nearly twenty-four hours. It was up to the Alpha team to investigate this disappearance. Not, a day earlier it was Kevin Dooley who had flown a helicopter off of this helipad, but now it was Brad's turn and he was going to do it the best way he knew how.
The entire flight was going to take only twenty minutes, not long for a pilot of Brad's skill, but he concentrated as best he could despite the ease of this mission. While Chris, Jill, Barry, Wesker and the others were laughing and having a good time in the back, not worrying about the mission at all, Brad's eyes were fixed on the surrounding area, waiting for something to go wrong.
Luckily, they reached the landing zone without a hitch; Brad slowly descended and let off his passengers. Chris made some snide remark about not 'chickening' out, but Brad ignored him and sent them off with a wave of his hand. Now, completely free of passengers, Brad pulled up again. But something went terribly wrong. His tail was unstable and he couldn't right himself in while ascending. The entire panel lit up in front of him. The tail was dragging in the air, something was on the helicopter. He twisted and turned the helicopter to try and shake it loose, but nothing he did would work. The helicopter was going to crash.
Damn it, I can't crash, not here, not on top of all of my teammates. Brad ran through options in his mind, everything he could do to ensure the safety of his teammates. Without a second's hesitation he drove the helicopter further into the woods, barely hearing Chris screaming something to him. Trees whizzed by, they quickly got closer and soon high branches were smacking into the windshield of the helicopter. A particularly strong branch shattered the glass; Brad crossed his arms in front of his face, shielding his eyes. Loud sirens blared, smoke poured out of the control panel, lights flashed all over the helicopter.
He was going to die.
Brad unbuckled the cross safety harness that held him in the chair. In most helicopter or plane crashes, the pilot was the one to die because he or she just sat there. That wasn't going to be Brad. Brad struggled to get free of the seat, but the leaves of trees were slapping him in the face every second; he was pinned down. With a great burst of strength, Brad leaped from the seat and into the back of the helicopter. He was now only a few meters from the ever closely approaching ground. With the sides of the helicopter opened up, Brad was able to see that the branches of the trees were very dense, but spacious enough that he would be able to jump to one without impaling himself. He took the chance.
With a silent prayer, Brad jumped from the helicopter with all of his might and landed hard on a branch. The air was instantly driven out of his lungs. He took ragged gasps to try and regain his lost air, but nothing worked. With the lack of air, his world began to spin in a matter of seconds, a white light shone brightly in the air around him.
He was going to die.
Soon the world turned black, his grasp on the tree slackened and he felt free as he fell to the ground. Pain shot through him like electricity. With the new shock, Brad gasped in gulps of air. His ears popped and the sparkles of white lights, died down. Vision, once again returning to him, Brad sat up. He needed to find a way to contact his team, tell them he had gone down.
The crash site was only a few meters away, but it was a terrible sight. Brad painfully walked over to his downed helicopter and reached through the broken side window and took the radio. He pushed the talk button, but received nothing, not even static.
"Damn!" Brad cursed loudly. "Of all the damned luck," In frustration, Brad kicked the helicopter, emitting a loud, hollow thud. Immediately after, there was a rustling of trees near the tail of the helicopter.
Damn it, I forgot about the thing that was on the tail. Brad pulled out his pistol from the holster around his chest. Cautiously, Brad made his way around the ruins to the other side of the tail. The leaves still rustled. Slowly, Brad touched the leaves and started to separate them.
A loud –roar came from behind, and a pit-bull jumped at him. Brad ducked down and rolled out of the way. The world seemed to slow down. To Brad, the dog hovered over his body for a time, he could look at all of the intricacies of the dog. The rotting flesh, the exposed muscle, bone fragments, even some squishy organs. If he was quick enough, he could even shoot the dog before it landed, but somewhere in the back of his mind he knew it wouldn't work. As soon as the dog landed, Brad had his pistol trained on the dog. The pit-bull snarled, taking the challenge.
It charged.
The dog ran full-force at Brad, ignoring everything else in the world except its next meal. It made a mistake. Brad fired two shots, blood sprayed out of the freshly made bullet holes just beneath the eye and snout. The body collapsed a few feet from Brad. Brad jumped to his feet and ran back to the helicopter.
He was able to salvage a few more clips for his pistol, but nothing else. Feeling vulnerable, Brad decided to find cover, but the only cover was a nearby building. It looked like it might be part of the mansion, but there was no way to tell from outside. Quickly and efficiently, Brad made his way to the building.
It looked like a garage, but that didn't matter right now. Brad opened the shutter and walked inside. It was completely empty, except for two doors, and a set of double doors off to his right. Brad walked up to the double doors and tried to open them.
"Damn, locked." Brad pulled futilely on the locked doors. On either side of the doors were imprints to place some sort of tablet or tablet shaped objects. Brad reminded himself that he needed to look for those objects, but the first thing he needed was a radio.
He quickly crossed the room and went through the left door. Inside was an extension of the garage, mainly just plant food and pesticides, lawn mowers, and other gardening tools; on the far right hand side of the room was a door, leading out into the garden. Brad walked back out and through the other door. He found himself in a long hallway, with windows lining either side. He deduced that it must've been some sort of observatory for the owners of the mansion.
The wooden floors creaked as he walked further into the hallway. There were no lights, so he was being led by whatever moonlight could pierce its way through the dense forest and shine through the windows. A sharp pain shot through his knee, followed closely by a loud –thud. He comforted his stinging knee and routed around the desk he just banged into. Brad began to move again, when he heard a heart stopping noise. The glass broke all around him, disorienting him rapidly. Brad spun in a circle, trying to black his face from the flying glass. Feathers fell all around him, the sounds of the caws echoed in his ears.
Without a moment's hesitation, he was bolting for the door. Crows dove down for him left and right, it took all he had just to dodge their attacks and run as fast as he could. He knew he wouldn't have time to open the door, so he increased his speed and slammed hard into the door. The wood splintered and cracked as the door flew open, with Brad rolling to the ground shortly after. His feet couldn't move fast enough, to do the things his instincts were telling him to do. Brad wasn't entirely sure when he had gotten the door shut, but he was glad it had happened. He leaned up against the door, panting and listening to the caws of the angry crows, as they hit the door repeatedly trying to get in.
With his exit now blocked off, there was only one way for Brad to go. Further into the Mansion.