Shouldn't really have to say this, but I'm not Shinji Mikami, no matter how much I'd enjoy his money. In other words, all creatures, characters, and Raccoon City are properties of Capcom (save for my original alterations/creations, of course.)
Five Seconds
From beginning to end, it took no more than five seconds. Five seconds between the pull of a trigger and the explosion that ended Osmund Saddler. Five seconds was all it took to destroy the thing that had brought unfathomable pain to a peaceful village as a man and put a government agent, a college student, and an Asian women whose occupation could only be guessed at, through twenty-fours hours of hell as a creature.
As soon as those five seconds ran there course, as soon as Osmund Saddler's mutated form hit the ground, now nothing but a cooling pile of flesh, when every victim of Las Plagas stopped, dropped their weapons, and began their trek to the mines. As the island exploded and the three survivors of the nightmare Saddler had created sped away in their respective vehicles, the last few of the group trickled into the large cavern that had been carved into the rock. Ganados, Colmillos, even an El Gigante that had squeezed itself in were all bowing down before what was apparently a blank rock.
When the last of the remaining followers of Los Illuminados had found a place to bow, the Ganados began to chant. It echoed around the room, making the small group sound like an army. When a crack appeared in the wall, their chant increased in speed, reverberating off the walls. All was silent except the Ganados' chanting in their eerily singular voice, "Surja nuestra diosa. Surja nuestra diosa. Surja nuestra diosa."
A few more cracks appeared in the wall and the chanting ceased, some untold trigger telling the Ganados that it was time to cease. There was a moment of silence before the wall exploded, rocks destroying several of the creatures instantly. A single tentacle was visible through the dust, unlike any that Saddler had used. It was robin-egg's blue, and had what could only be described as a soothing aura to it. It's tip swerved back and forth, as if to survey it's surroundings. The infected followed it with their eyes, waiting for the dust to clear and show the tentacle's owner.
They were not disappointed. As the dust settled, the figure became clear. It was a woman, completely nude, with hair and eyes the color of obsidian, hypnotically gorgeous save for the tentacle that protruded from her chest. With an inquisitive look at the creatures that filled the cavern, she gave a snort of disgust. She spoke in a voice that dripped of disdain, "It seems Saddler had little idea what he was doing. It's amazing any of you were able to take my children into your bodies."
The tentacles suddenly lunged forward and grabbed a zealot by the neck, throwing him against the wall with bone-shattering force. None of his companions moved an inch, not even when the lone blue tentacle was suddenly joined by several dozen of it's sisters. The woman, eyes glinting with sorrow and disgust, murmured, "I'm sorry, my children, but these bodies simply will not do. I'm afraid you must be sacrificed."
The tentacles lunged forward with frightening synchronization - they didn't need it The infected didn't move, not even when their brethren's host bodies were ripped open and the Plagas fell out of their bodies. They shuddered and made cries that only the woman could hear at the caustic world they had suddenly found themselves thrown into.
The woman wiped away a tear of sorrow as the tentacles slithered back into her chest. Her skin already reforming, she closed her eyes and allowed the onslaught of information she had absorbed in her sleep to hit her full force. A happy village, seen through the eyes of a man named Esteban, the first one to fall under the influence of her children; the plans of a man named Albert Wesker, seen through the eyes of a soldier named Jack Krauser; a blond woman being placed in an incubation chamber, seen through the eyes of a pathetic priest; and most importantly, an Asian woman in a red dress stealing her other, seen through the eyes of a government agent named Jack Krauser. He was trapped in his most basic form and it pained her to see him like that. She had to find him, had to free him so they could be together again.
The woman's eyes burst open, as one last spot of skin closed. She knew who had her other, the one that Saddler and the others so sacrilegiously referred to as "The Sample." But Saddler was dead, his body rotting not three miles away. And thanks to Krauser, she knew where she was heading: a place called New Orleans to find a man named Albert Wesker. She would find her other first, then she would worry with Ms. Graham. She had to be taught a lesson in obedience.
'After all, one should never disobey their god.'
AN: I'm not entirely sure if I'm going to continue with this story, although I'd like to. As I'm sure you already know, any reviews and constructive criticism is greatly appreciated, especially the latter.
P.S.
I'm not masochistic, I'm just trying to improve my writing.