Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or its characters, nor Mass Effect and its characters. They are owned and licensed respectively by Capcom and Constantine Films, and Bioware and EA Games. I am merely borrowing them to make a entertaining piece of fiction.

/-/Author Note/-/

I'm on a bit of Resident Evil hype for some reason or another. I actually was able to buy all three films (I already own Afterlife) awhile ago, which I am immensely pleased about. For some reason, it was rather difficult to find the films themselves. Four different stores and only two of them had the movies, most of which were Blu-Ray (which I don't have), and only one of them sold all three, which was in a combo pack, and the very last one on the shelf. Worth the $25 dollars, I assure you. Anyway, this sort of just popped into my head and I just went with it, seeing as they're aren't that many crossovers featuring the film characters of the Resident Evil universe.

Prologue

A woman of indeterminate age, vying between mid to late twenties, gave her surroundings a very brief, if not thorough once over as she slowly slid down the bark of a tree, giving out a hiss of pain as her wounded leg protested the strain she was putting on it.

Looks similar to that of runway models, even with her short brunette hair in disarray, dirt and dried blood caking slightly on her face and skin, her clothes burned, cut, and in general disrepair, the woman could easily turn heads without even a glance in her admirer's direction. A thin and lithe frame, very few would consider the woman an actually threat in any given fight, and would spend more time ogling her then actually appraising her for combat capability. That in itself had turned out to be a blessing in disguise, as during her security stint back for the Treasury Department, coworkers as well as culprits underestimated her in a fight, giving her an unneeded, but appreciated advantage.

Not that stopped the rumors that she had got her position in the security division due to "rendering services" to some sort of board executive within the Treasury…

Shaking her head and ridding herself of the rather useless, if only vague memories of her former life, the woman reached for the hem of her black shirt, tearing off a large piece before splitting it down the middle while at the same time outstretching her wounded leg, biting the leather harness strapped to her shoulders to keep the pain infused yells to a minimum from the movement.

Rolling her pants leg up, which was proving to be a rather worthless effort due to its terrible condition, in addition to the copious amount of blood coating it from her injury, she simply tore the offending garment off, revealing her newest injury to the her line of vision.

Though truthfully she had seen worse injuries (so much worse), it was still bad by all rights. A solid hole had been punched right through her femur bone, about the size of tennis ball. Blackened skin signifying burn damage coated the outer skin, in addition to the inner muscles and nerves of her leg, but due to her slightly unique…abilities, the wound did not cauterize as high temperature injuries usually would.

She grimaced slightly as she witnessed her bone beginning to re-grow itself, the hole slowly forming back to a solid mass, the skin stitching itself back together, the damaged nerves reattaching themselves. It was a sickening sight to behold, and it took a considerable amount of her willpower not to vomit at the sight.

Swallowing her rather dry throat, and moving her vision away from her slowly, but surely healing wound, the woman used her torn shirt piece as a makeshift bandage, tying a tight knot around it, hissing slightly at the pain before slumping herself backwards, a bead of sweat working its way down her brow to her cheek.

Licking her lips and wetting them, she gave the forest area around her a once over again, only this time taking the time to pay attention to the small details she had failed to take notice earlier or simply ignored outright.

The trees she immediately noted were different. Not only were they full of life, which was a miracle considering the hellish dirt ball that was now Earth, but they were also unlike any tree she has seen before. Tall and lanky, the bark a near aquamarine green, and the leaves a dark shade of red, they were a species of plant life she had never witnessed before, and were undoubtedly a collection of hybrids of some sort.

Looking up past the tree lines, she noticed the sky's nearly blood red color, which she had come to the conclusion was not at all natural, which was only confirmed when red lightning bolts soared across the clouds, though there wasn't a single drop of rain to signify the beginning of a storm.

Odd, more like disturbing really, but that wasn't the worst occurrence that she had seen today, let alone the past several hours.

Absently, she rubbed the bandaged wound on her leg, ignoring the pain that the action caused, her mind racing as the image of grey colored…robots of all things, came to the forefront of her mind, oddly shaped weapons in their three fingered hands, and how one had pulled the trigger, putting a round right through her currently injured leg.

She had blacked out momentarily from the pain, already in a weakened condition to begin with, and when she had awoken, the walking tin cans had her by the arms, dragging her across the ground, taking her somewhere, though where she did not know or care.

Using her impressive skill set of martial arts, and thankful momentarily for her slightly returning abilities, managed to break free of her captors, shoving her fist through one's head (or what she assumed was the head), and throwing a solid kick to the other's chest, once again breaking through the metal covering. She did not wait to see if either of her opponents were dead, and instead ran, or limped as she had then started to become aware of the intense pain her leg was in, towards the dense forest life that surrounded her.

Hours, perhaps minutes, she wasn't entirely sure, but she had kept going for as long as her body could before slumping down in exhaustion.

And now, since she had been able to attend to her injury, alone and for the moment, safe, the woman started to think. And with this action, came memories.

After killing the man solely responsible for the end of the world, she and her friends and allies for the briefest of moments, felt at peace. Content, happy even. Safe. Safe from the infection, from the dangers that the world now held due to one man, and by extension, one company under his leadership.

That sense of security lasted for all but five minutes before at least over one hundred attack helicopters appeared over the horizon, firing missiles and bullets while deploying troops, and killing off the two thousand passengers aboard. She had tried to defend them, having them retreat to the bottom of the ship, hoping to get the remaining survivors to the air transports and escape. That plan had failed, and she had watched helplessly as men, women, and children were slaughtered in front of her, her friends captured, and having one of her treasured comrades, brainwashed, aim a gun to her head and pulling the trigger.

And then she ended up waking up to the sound of screaming innocents ringing in her ears. She watched as men and women were brought to these three pronged bases, giant spikes impaling them high into the air, their blood and organs raining from the sky like rain. Children simply killed on sight, with no sense of consciousness. It reminded her too much of the countless innocent children she watched get ripped to pieces by the large masses of infected corpses.

So ultimately, it came to no surprise when she had leaped into the fray, guns blazing, firing shot after shot at the cybernetic monstrosities. Her bullets, simply being small tubes of metal with gunpowder, merely bounced off the armor worn by the humanoid machines, though that did not stop her increasingly growing strength from creating decent sized dents in their place.

However, these machines, unlike the undead corpses she was used to fighting, weren't as simply minded or slow to react as she was used too. In the time frame it took for her to tear off one of the machine's head from its body, it took for a second one to level her in its sights and pull the trigger.

This again was why she had a giant hole in her leg.

Closing her eyes and leaning her head back, she tried to come up with some sort of plan, though nothing was truly forthcoming. She was obviously no longer anywhere remotely familiar, both in terms of scenery and timeframe. Remembering that she had been shot in the head, and that she had 'died' beforehand, and yet lived, she wouldn't have put it past her former employer's to have recovered her body, experimented on her, and then reactivate her in the middle of nowhere. Hell, they could have built those damn walking robotic nightmares as a means to test her combat capabilities. At this point, anything was possible.

She scoffed slightly, realizing that in her weakened, tired, and injured state that her mind was simply grasping at straws. In all honesty, there was really no explanation for the situation that she found herself in.

Gingerly, her mind turned towards her friends, and she held herself to a moment of silence, praying to whatever gods or goddess out there that wherever they may be, that they were now safe and at peace.

A loud and deep horn like sound was her answer.

Covering her ears and her face contorting slightly in pain, she glanced up to the sky, her expression going from pain, to shock, awe, disbelief, and finally fear.

Breaking from the heavens above, shrouded in red flashes of lighting, its tentacle like appendages stretching outwards like that of the hand of a god, was a leviathan of legend. Magnificent as it was frightening, she could not help but swallow the lump in her throat at the sheer size of it as it descended down to the ground.

She had just fallen down the preverbal rabbit hole and came out in an f***ed up version of Wonderland. And what she saw would make the damn Jabberwocky look like a defenseless kitten in comparison…

She did not like being injured. It was not from a fear of pain, or an aversion to suffering any form of injury. It was because if she was injured, that exposed a weakness to her enemies. And considering who exactly her enemies were, and the horror they could, and willingly unleashed upon her world, she couldn't afford to show weakness. Ever. Injured as she was however, her combat effectiveness had lowered significantly, thus a weakness they she was not at all happy about. While still able to wield a weapon, a gun in this case, her accuracy was basically shit now. Only wielding her shotguns, which she only had a few shells left for each, her center was off now, and each shot unless taken at very close range would undoubtedly miss. Add in the fact that each shot would cause her small frame to buckle slightly, which would put more strain on her injured leg then as is, would put her in more pain then she was comfortable with.

As a result, she had to make each and every shot count now. She couldn't afford to miss. Not now.

Especially not after what she just saw. Not after what she just saw.

What she had seen as machines simply systematically killing select humans through those giant spikes, had turned to be a much more gruesome and terrible fate.

Transformed into glowing, mindless monstrosities, she a violent flashback of equally terrifying creatures from her own world, wearing the faces of friends and family, all with blood dripping from their blackened teeth, eyes milky white, and reaching for her with their pale white hands…

The sound of gunshots going off had awakened her from her trancelike state, and she found herself surprised to see her shotguns out and smoking, one of those undead creatures, a husk of its former self, lying in a pool of its unnatural colored blood.

She didn't stick around to see if there were any more of them somewhere.

Stumbling, she entered into some sort of warehouse, or so she believed. The door had been torn open and thrown to the side, a small fire burning on top of the building and on the grassy plain before it. It was a scene she had seen many times in the past several years, and had grown used to.

The copious amounts of blood on the inside merely made it all the more familiar.

The dead bodies made it feel like home.

At the door, a gun in hand, (or what she assumed was a gun) was what appeared to be a civilian wearing what appeared to be some sort of lab coat. A scientist of some sort perhaps? His torso was riddled with holes, the smell of burnt and charred flesh rising from his motionless corpse. Kneeling beside the body, she unnecessarily checked for a pulse, and after finding none, removed the gun from his cold grip. Holding it up to her face, she took note of its odd shape. A pistol by design, or so it appeared, it felt odd and misshapen in her hand. Larger and far blockier to what she was used to, its design was overall sleek, if just a bit unpractical. She did not see a hammer to cock back, or a place to eject a spent clip or how to precisely reload the gun. Even the way to properly handle it, was off to what she was used to, having to hold it in an odd angle with her hand, putting more strain on her wrist in comparison to her magnums, when she still had them. It lacked sights to make targeting easier, and due to its large size, would not fit in any of the holsters she had present. If nothing, the only the only true redeeming factor of the weapon was the fact that those walking death machines carried the similar armaments and they had punched a solid hole through her leg. If this pistol even had half that firing power, it could determine whether she would live or die in this shithole.

Holstering her shotguns, and taking the pistol in to hands, still trying to find an easier way to hold it, she stepped out of the warehouse, leaving the dead where they lay. Usually, she would have put a bullet in their heads to make sure they stayed that way, but circumstances proved to her that the walking dead didn't rise from the ground, but fell from their perches in the sky…

She was getting better with her newly relinquished pistol. Three shots against those blue glowing undead husks, two of which drilled them between the eyes, stopping them dead cold, and the other blowing a quarter of the third's skull off from its head.

That last one was a bad shot. She had meant to nail it between the eyes too, but as she observed earlier, the grip on the gun was odd and not something she would get used to without more practice.

Practice that she was getting plenty of as it seemed.

Aiming her pistol once more, she fired a few shots, nailing a few more of those undead like creatures in the head, though this time she managed to land three shots consecutively in between the eyes, the other two nailing her targets in the forehead and temple. Not perfect, but three out of five wasn't too bad…

Stepping over the bodies that littered the camp ground she currently found herself at, she took a look around her surroundings, finding several of the deceased to be wearing lab coats, but others wearing something akin to manual labor clothing, and others armor beyond the realm that she had ever seen. Though the majority of them badly burnt and suffering heavy damage, they still looked rather resilient and much more impressive then the Kevlar armor she had worn while working for the Treasury or Umbrella.

Taking her eyes off the departed, she turned her gaze further down the camp site, finding what looked to be some sort of dig site further down. About to make her way there and look for any possible survivors, or at least an explanation as to where she was and how she had gotten here, her returning ultra sensitive hearing picked up the slightest falls of footsteps behind her. Evenly measured, slow but increasing in stride, but lacking the heavy imprint that she recognized from those tin cans, nor the shuffling from those walking nightmares, she determined that it was probably a survivor of some sort.

She was about to lower her guard, when out of the corner of her eye, she caught on the visor of one of the dead and heavily armored humans beside her, the reflection of whomever was approaching them. Or rather, what they were carrying in their hands, aimed directly at her back.

A weapon, similar to the ones that those walking death machines carried.

And the figure just moved their finger to the trigger.

Whirling around and pulling out one of her shotguns, she leveled it as well as her pistol at the person sneaking up behind her, only to find a woman in white and bright pink armor, startled at her quick reaction, but not lowering her weapon of choice to the ground, and instead bringing up to bear directly at her face.

The two women just stared at one another, one holding up her rather odd looking assault rifle, and the other one of her double-barreled shotguns and newly relinquished pistol.

The one in pink and white armor's grip slackened slightly at the sound of rapidly approaching footfalls, which were moving in a double line formation. Her own grip slackened for a moment, before bringing it right back and leveling it at the armor wearing woman in front of her.

While it was definitely not another of those walking tin cans, she wasn't about to let her guard down, especially if the new comers to this little party were as equally trigger happy as the woman in front of her.

In a few short moments two other beings, humans thankfully, came running towards them, both dressed similarly to the woman that she had in gun range, though with quite a few differences.

One was male, and had what appeared to be some sort of lighter version of the armor the woman before in pink was wearing, par that the color scheme was on the darker variety. Armed with a similar pistol to her own, he had it aimed immediately at her once had quickly assessed the situation. Black hair that was groomed back, tan skin and somewhat delicate if not somewhat good looks, she would label him as somewhat classically handsome, reminding her of those old photos of her grandfather back in 1940's and 50's. His armor, unlike the woman she still had her shotgun leveled at, while it didn't look brand new, seemed to be well taken care of, which added another dimension to the man in front of her.

Truthfully however, the only thing she cared about was the fact that he was leveling a gun to her face, and she returned the gesture in kind, quickly shifting her grip to the one he was using on his own pistol, mirroring his exact movement within three seconds flat. While still feeling a tad odd, she wasn't putting so much strain on her wrist now holding the weapon, which she knew immediately, between the eyes with no trouble.

Glancing at the last figure that approached her, she figured if things progressed any worse, she'd at least have her three new practice targets.

The last newcomer, a woman based off of her frame and armor had a similar weapon to the one wearing pink, though it was in a more lax position. Similar to her female counterpart, she wore a helmet, though she could see the shining green irises of her eyes underneath the somewhat dark visor that was meant to shield them. Fair white skin, much like her own, she noticed that the woman's armor, while not new and obviously taken care of from the slight shine that it still gave off, had marks of battle that a simple coat of paint couldn't hide or get rid of. Scorch marks from what looked like bullet holes, scratches that looked like it had been made by either a knife or claws; she looked like a woman who had been to hell and back.

With a posture that exuded a sense of confidence and charisma, she was the femme fatale in living breathing form.

And then she spoke.

"I'd recommend putting the weapons down miss. Especially the relic in your left hand. If that's as old as I think as it is, and has any live ammunition with gunpowder, there is a pretty good chance that it's going to possibly blow your hand off if you try to fire it."

An eyebrow rose before she responded in kind.

"It works just fine. Trust me on that."

After a moment, she directed the shotgun at the woman's direction, her body still at the ready, though by all appearances seeming lax. "Or would you like a demonstration on how will it can shoot?"

The woman in the onyx armor, which she also duly noted had the letter and number N7 printed on the torso (a distinguishing rank perhaps?), smiled slightly, though there was a slight strain to it. Obviously this woman was under a bit of duress, but then again as she cocked the hammers on her shotgun and back onto its original target as the pink armored soldier tried to move in close to her on her left, so was she.

Fighting for survival against a population of probably more than four billion that wanted to tear you apart and eat you would do that to a girl.

"No, I'm fine, thank you though. Not very often I actually get a choice in whether or not I want to be shot at."

A sarcastic smile graced her face in reply.

"You're welcome."

Nodding her head slightly to her compatriots, (both of which reluctantly followed her silent orders), holstered their weapons of choice, the man placing his pistol to his waist which magnetically attached itself to the belt on his waist, while folding up into a misshapen cube of sorts, while the woman's rifle shrunk to a rectangular shaped box on her back. The woman in onyx armor did the same, before stepping up to her person, taking easy cautious steps, relaxing her body into a placating manner.

It was meant to show that she had no intention of hurting her and to put her at ease.

She leveled both her weapons as the woman's face.

All it did was serve to patronize her.

"Don't patronize me."

She told her as much.

Stopping short, the woman decided that having taken the wrong approach chose the more direct route.

"Your injured, and from the looks of it, pretty badly. You are using an age old weapon that EVEN if it still could fire, uses ammunition way out of date not to mention ineffective in regards to current technology. You look like you've been fighting for your life for days on end, and don't have a clue on how to use that pistol in your hand. I noticed how you adjusted your grip after noticing Lieutenant Alenko's own handle on his pistol. We've holstered our weapons and wish to help you. Aiming your weapons at us isn't exactly convincing us that helping you is the right thing to do."

She knew what the woman was getting at, and she had a point. It really wasn't helping her situation one bit, but after having the likes of Jill, Carlos, Angela, and L.J trying to help her, and three of them ended up dead, and one's mind completely subservient to that of the organization that branded her insane and ordered her killed…

It was understandable her reluctance to accept anymore 'help' from anyone, especially from heavily armed soldiers.

However, taking note of the olive branch that was being offered to her, and knowing that she honestly had very little to gain from refusing, she indulged their offer with a tight smile, holstering her shotgun, though reluctantly, relinquishing the pistol the woman in onyx armor.

"Excellent. Kaidan, check her injuries, and get a supply of medi-gel on her right forearm and left leg. Looks like those are her worst injuries."

Taking note that the man's name was Kaidan, if only not to seem rude, she reluctantly allowed him to check her forearm as well as leg, add some sort of orange paste like substance that quickly moved on its own across her skin, hardening and sealing itself around her wounds, acting somewhat as a cast to her surprise, minus the debilitating effects of movement, and sending some sort of drug into her system that numbed the pain. It didn't heal her injury; although she noticed that it did help close her wound all the faster.

Kaidan noticed as well or that at least that the medi-gel, or whatever they called it, was doing its job a bit better than it was supposed to.

He shot her a suspicious glance, which she returned with an aloof, if not uncaring expression. Whatever the man's suspicions, she'd let him keep them swirling around in his head for a bit. It wasn't as if she was going to begin spilling out her secrets to him…

After giving the woman in onyx a nod, signaling that he patched her up as best he could, the woman came over to her, kneeling before, bringing herself to her eye level.

She was feeling patronized again, but let it slide for the moment. The woman still had her pistol after all.

"I don't believe we've been properly introduced. I'm Commander Shepard, the Executive Officer of the SSV Normandy SR-1. The man that helped patch you up is Staff Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko."

Alice soaked in the information that she was told, her sharp and keen mind filling in the gaps, forming a more complete picture of the small group before her. The woman in onyx armor was military, and a high ranking officer at that. Second in command of what she believed to be a battleship, though she hadn't heard of one going by the name Normandy, and she had no clue what the SR-1 stood for aside from a possible specialization, if not a unique ship altogether. The man, Kaidan was only perhaps a few ranks below the woman, and probably an equally seasoned soldier just like the woman named Shepard.

Taking the opportunity presented, the woman in pink armor raised her hand in a salute before saying, "Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams ma'am."

A quarter master then? A weapons specialist no doubt and an infantry soldier at that, though she was curious as to why she seemed like this was her first combat situation. The fact that she was willing to shoot first instead of verifying if what she had been aiming at was an actually enemy, was an amateur mistake that only those just recently on the field tend to make.

Pushing such thoughts and concerns to the side for the moment, she nodded her head in reply and deciding that while she may not trust them just yet, and may never do so, all things considered, she should at least for the moment anyway, give them the benefit of the doubt.

Until they revealed their real motives anyway. If they weren't in her favor, she'd deal with them the same way she's dealt with all her problems in the last several years. With a bullet between the eyes.

Smiling politely with no warmth reaching her eyes, she noticed how the one called Shepard returned the gesture in equal measure.

"My name is Alice, nice to meet you Commander Shepard."

/-/Author Note\-\\

A current one-shot, this will probably be updated later on in the future to a full length story. For the present moment, I have way too many projects going on and simply decided to write this bit down quickly while it was fresh in my mind. The hope is to have a more concrete draft written down for this story and possible sequels and maybe if I'm lucky, actual chapters ready to be posted. Anyway, review and let me know what you think about this little one-shot. Criticism is always welcomed, so long as its actually constructive.