*Please note that some of the contents of this story may slightly differ
from the original gaming content*
*Also note that this story was written before the European release of Resident Evil Zero, which lists alternate events to the ones stated here*
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May 9, 1998: Played poker tonight with Scott and Alias from Security, and Steve from Research. Steve was the big winner, but I think he was cheating. Scumbag.
Michel Dees, Kennel manager.
***
"Talk to him, Johnny-boy." "Why don't you?" "What, you're scared of him, hu? Worried you'd get your blonde ass fired into the fucking ground if you talk to the execs?" "Fuck you and he's not an exec, he's the project leader." "Dammit, John! Go up there and talk to that weirdo! You know you can do it!" "Go fuck yourself, shit head. I'm not getting anywhere near that thing he's looking at." "Man, you're one of the idiots working on the bastard!" "I still don't see how I'm the one who has to talk to that guy. He's . not right." "If you started to pay attention to right and wrong, then you wouldn't be working here, smartass!" "I still fail to see the part where I have to talk to the weirdo." "Look okay, it goes like this; you're higher in rank than me, buddy! From lowest to highest, it goes; Bill Rabbitson, that's bunny, he's sitting next to you with the big hair and the bandanna." A light-hearted man with a red and white polka dot bandanna waved at him. "Ellen Smith, she's the bitch. Problem is that she's an exec and she's pals with the project leader. Henry Sarton, that's me, Martin Crackhorn, he's the ginger who locks himself in the study, John Howe, that's you." "I know who I fucking am." "Sure you do. Michel Dees," He continued "I think he's the kennel guy or something, Steve Keller, he's the nice guy on my right with the cig, and last, but not least, William Birkin. That's the dude over there."
They all turned from the closed off couch area through the window to the specimen area. There where curtains to hide the view, some of the researchers had a horrid habit of throwing up at unexpected moments when the shutters where open. God knows why. They work on the damn thing. The researchers and more notably, the consultant researchers where odd people indeed, in fact, probably only he, Henry and Steve ever tried to socialize. Bill Rabbitson hung out with everyone, but rarely spoke, but if you got him talking, good God. Sometimes, he would never shut up.
The Researchers where better qualified and looked down on the technicians as though they where nothing. The techs where some of Johns best pals, but only a handful of his fellow researchers even saw them as fitting company to be socialised with. Ellen Smith was a prime example of this behaviour. You'd think that she got bad press, being a woman executive and all but if anything she was the worst. She was savage and would probably fire anyone who gave her a funny look, let alone look at her in any way at all. Martin Crackhorn spent all his free time writing letters to his wife Alma, so he rarely had time to speak to the gang and Michel Dees seemed to have some social problems and found it difficult to empathise with people, so it seemed unlikely he would ever sit down with a cup of coffee and be ready for a nice friendly chat. He would sometimes play cards if he was feeling particularly lonely but he never win and would slink away to God knows were for hours. Henry and Steve were like peas in a pod; both utter assholes. They thought of themselves as the leaders of the gang. As unbearably piggish as they were, they were good guys at heart and they played a good game of poker. Steve smoked a lot of cigs and you could always tell if he was a room or two away from the cloud, but apart from the lounge area, smoking in the underground labs was strictly prohibited. The mansion on the upper levels was where the staff lived. Each staff member was issued with a map; the mansion was designed to be a labyrinth, any intruders would suffer the same rumoured fate as the designer of the place; he went mad in the corridors of the mansion, lost in his own masterpiece. He died of dehydration or starvation, whichever came sooner. Despite the fact that the mansion was indeed a confusion, there was one man whom had been here from the beginning, who knew the mansion so well that he didn't need a map anymore. A man who knew the structure better than its own artisan, and that mans name was William Birkin. He never spoke to anyone, but he never gave John the impression that they were lesser to him, either. He just didn't notice them half the time and the other half he just nods at them as they walk past him in the corridors. He always had his hands folded behind his back and his height, his freakish walk, like he was floating along or something. it all gave John the creeps. His eyes, mostly. John would try to avoid eye contact with that man as much as possible. John could even look one of the '121's' directly in the eye, but, God, please not William Birkin. His eyes where a large and pallid blue, almost like a monsters. and if that wasn't proof enough that William was quirky, he was the only human being John knew that actually got on well with Ellen Smith. He heard that it was because his wife was like her and he knew just how to deal with a difficult woman. John had seen Birkin's wife before on one of the visits she occasionally gives him, and by God, John didn't care if she was a bitch or not, he would try his luck with a woman like that.
She was blonde with attractive dark blue eyes and she had very long legs. John liked long legs on a woman. Back to those eyes. She looked at him once when he got a bit too close to her for comfort; if looks could kill, he would've left that room in a wicker basket, only unlike Ellen, when Annette Birkin gave you the look of death, it made butterflies shoot up through your stomach. You would probably take more note of one of Annettes' evil stares than one of Ellen's; Annette was much more likely to punch you in the gut if you ignored her.
Ellen would look at home on a broomstick, but Annette was foxy, but deadly; as bad as her husband, because. everyone in the labs knew what happened when you messed with William's wife.
There was this tech once; a buff sort of guy, Adam was his name. He was supposed to be the type women went for; rich, strong, blue eyed, strong cheekbones. If John were a girl, he wouldn't go for him; he was a slimy old
snake and he only wanted Annette because she was well off and an instant family would be his reward. William found out, as he had a horrid habit of doing. William seems to know everyone's dark little secrets; he even somehow found out that John met his girlfriend Ada Wong at a friend's engagement party. It's been said that William found Adam smooth talking his wife in one of the storage rooms in the mansion. God only knows how. If William received a tip off, then how could he have gotten there so quickly, and to the correct storage room, to boot? There where numerous storerooms dotted all around the mansion and to walk from one side to the other, it could take a full hour. William found Adam nonetheless, and beat him senseless. William was very tall, but very skinny indeed; so how he could have beaten such a burly man as Adam is a mystery. What happened to Adam after that is shrouded in legend. It was no secret that William knocked this character about, but he heard that William went as far as killing the guy. Everyone who was said to have anything to do with it kept mainly quiet, but . the Tyrant.
The Tyrant was the main focus of the project. It was a creature that had once been a man, only now it was the subject to all the experimentation on the Tyrant-virus, or T-virus for short. A team of surgeons had to work on each membrane, composing each and every inch of the creatures' body. Conveniently, William was the lead of the team and the Tyrant project began round about the time Adam was 'admitted to hospital'. But if it was so glaringly obvious, how come he was the only one to have noticed? "Cuz they're smart enough not to make a big deal about it!" He though "think about it; would you really bring it to light? You have no idea who's in and who's not, so if you spill the beans, William's gonna start another Tyrant project!" John winced at the through that that thing in the tank was Adam at one point. If it was, it shared no resemblance to him whatsoever.
John worked on the whole 'brain chemistry' aspect of the project. William did too but he had never talked to him, only handed him some papers with a set of well-written instructions. John had the misfortune to touch William as the papers passed hands. His fingers where thin and bony and the skin of his hands were cold and clammy. John instantly pulled away. William gave him a look, brooding anger, like he was telling himself not to let his brain go A.W.O.L on him.
John was told not to take much recognition of the notes, to simply just do his work and mind his own business, but how could he with figures like this?? From what he could remember from the list of neurotransmitters and level indicators, the numbers where totally screwed up. The serotonin and norepinephrine were much too low, but the dopamine was outrageously high, almost completely off the charts. John didn't want to be around if ever that 'Tyrant' thing got loose, because it was going to be one hell of a schizophrenic.
It was a sick joke, really, to put the staff lounge right next to the room where the Tyrant was stored, even with a window displaying it in all it's glory. Sometimes, if you watched it long enough, it would even twitch... John never got to watch it sleep for too long, because if any of his 'friends' caught him, he would be accused for being as wacko as Birkin. John watched Birkin out in the specimen area, holding his cup of coffee, too engrossed in admiring his work of art to do anything else. "You goin' out there for a cosy chat or not?" "Yeah..." Breathed John, getting some backbone for a change. "Yeah, I'm gonna talk to that. man." He got up, and fell over again. He had had one too many Irish coffees and was slightly out of it. Maybe that's why he got a sudden sense of invulnerability towards the one man on the team that could kill him and get away with it. How about that? Instant hero; just add alcohol. John shambled mindlessly out into the glowing, pristine whiteness of the specimen room, and over to the unmoving figure of a man that looked intently at his sick abomination. "Ahem." . Nothing happened. John was almost too scared to look into his face to make out for any signs of acknowledgment. "AHEM." He said, louder this time. As he bought his hand away from his mouth, it was shaking like a leaf. The figure next to him gradually turned his head to face him with his sickening inhuman stare. When William fixed his attention solely on John, he became so panicked that he was gripped by a strange sickness in his gut.
"Yes?" Said Birkin, his voice was shockingly deep. From a man with his features, a high, feverish tone was to be expected, but not this deep booming voice. It wasn't so much booming, as it was rumbling. "What do you want?" "Err, I don't want anything! I just want to talk!" "You've never talked to me before." "That's because . well, you're the project leader and all and I don't want to say the wrong thing.". William smiled, sarcastically "And that's all that's been keeping you all?" "Yes, actually." John started to laugh. "You know, it took me a couple of Irish coffees to get the nerve to come up here and chat to you!" He started to break down into hapless giggles, but when he saw the blank look on Williams' face, he sobered up straight away "Instant moron. Follow the same directions as seen above.." "So." Began John, attempting to make small talk. "Annette." "What do you know about my wife?" William said, emotion drained from his voice. It may have been Johns imagination, but William slightly stressed the 'my wife' part. "Does she have a sister?"- -William snapped his head at John and, with rage from the bottom of his heart, transformed his once emotionless look into a threatening, burning, evil glare. "KIDDING!!!" Shrieked John. "KIDDING!!! KIDDING!!! KIDDING." William began to calm down. "Kidding. Only kidding.only kidding." William had completely changed back.
John allowed a short while to pass while he got his nerves back, but in that while, he seriously wondered weather William had siblings. A man as fucked up as him was more likely to be an only child, or at least he hoped he was an only child "Oh God. The horror. More of 'em" That was an unsettling notion. "So," Tried John, again. "Why are you here?" "." William looked back to the Tyrant. "You mean with him?" "Yup. I mean, it's your coffee break, man and you spend it like this." "Yes." "Why?" William sighed. "There's a fair chance it won't ever wake up from its sleep, do you know that?" "It . it stands to reason." "It's the proto-type you see. We'll gather all the information we need from it and then we'll just . get rid of it. Such a waste." John felt very uncomfortable with this line of conversation, but in an effort to get some insight into the man, he played along. "But. He'll be going for a good cause, the development of his own species" "And maybe the destruction of ours." Said William, Concluded Johns sentence. "But the first of a line of ultimate warriors; it seems respectful to let it live." "But it's a martyr." Said John, feeling more daring. "A martyr to its race. Don't deny it its destiny." John paused slightly. "Speaking of martyrs." He looked down at his hands. "Where did you get that thing?" William stared down at his coffee, whisking it with the little plastic fork that the coffee guy gave them. Why a fork? Because he couldn't find a spoon, that's why. "Do you mean the original structure?" John slowly nodded. "Well," Said Birkin. "It was human once. but like all our 'special deliveries', we got it from the R.P.D." ".!" "We mainly get organs removed from less insured bodies in the R.P.D morgue for simple tests on various membrane. We used to test on animal tissue, but animal protesters were after our ass the whole way." He snickered. "Did you know that there are more animal rights protesters than human rights? The next logical step was to use human tissue, and to be honest, it gave much more reliable results." "You still haven't answered my question." Said John, wanting to get to the bottom of this now that he had asked. William smiled, and then he started to laugh aloud. "Mr. Howe, you are thorough in your enquire." He went back to stirring his coffee. "The Tyrant was just an unnamed man the police Chief brought in. Just some smelly old beggar who died in the gutter. No mystery there." -William spilt some of the coffee on himself on his hand. It clearly was quite painful, but he was hiding it very well. "." John dared himself to push his luck further. "Maybe Irons registered the man as unnamed because that's what you wanted him to be." He said the defiance in his voice forced its way onto his face, but once he got it there, it almost became him. William stared daggers at him. "Then just where do you think I got this structure from??" John took a deep breath and then made his deduction, taking in mind Williams' peculiar nature. "It wouldn't have been some bum on a street corner; you wouldn't accept a piece of meat of such poor quality. It had to have been someone of a certain physical and mental perfection or else you would've turned it down, and slabs like that don't fall on the market often, if ever and even if it did, it would get snapped up by another research conglomerate before you would get a chance to order it, so you must have prepared the meat yourself."- -"You mean Adam, don't you?" John was taken aback by William's sudden bluntness. ".Yes-sir." William concentrated on his coffee. A long while passed ................. ".Are you gonna drink that?" - -"He deserved it you know." William blurted out, critically. "Everything he got he had coming and I made such a good use of such a waste of a man." ".He had intelligence."- -"He didn't use it ever. All he did was build his body like a primitive animal in the jungle!" "He obviously used his intellect a bit or else he wouldn't be a tech here." "You fail to see what I'm saying! He wasted his gift and I took him and made him something incredible!" "If it's so incredible, why didn't you subject yourself??" William laughed "Oh, Mr. Howe, if only that was an achievable possibility. It loses its faculties when we alter it, wiping its brain of all human idea. If I ever became a thing like that, I would want to be able to experience it all." ".You're serious, aren't you?" "Deathly. Can you even comprehend such supremacy? Doesn't it astonish you, the mere understanding that no being has ever come close to your . capability.?" "A rocket launcher will soon solve that one."- -"How ignorant of you, Howe." Spat Birkin. "No," said John. "If you wanted a thing that had absolute power, then you should make something that weapons wouldn't affect, no, that weapons would help it rather than destroy it!" William didn't move. He just smiled. "We're working on that currently." "How come I've never heard of it?" ".Annette simply doesn't just pop in to visit me for her own satisfaction, you know. She is as capable as I when it comes to biochemistry, so us Birkin's are indeed the ones holding the prospects to Umbrella." "Then If you two have made something that sounds superior to the T-virus, why is this lab still in commission?" Birkin smiled and said almost musically; "It won't be for much longer." Birkin suddenly turned to John. "Now go back to your acquaintances and don't converse of what I have told you here at present." "And why the hell not?" ".Think of Adam." . . . . . . John didn't hang around for much longer. He walked slowly back to his friends, resisting the indescribable urge to run as fast as he possibly could.
The door to the lounge clacked open and he dived in, as though his life depended on it. "What?" Said Rabbitson tightening his bandanna; he did that when he was nervous "What the hell did he say to you??" "Man, he is just fucked up!" "John," Said Henry. "I didn't send you out there to that freak just so you can forget everything he said!!!" -"SHH!" Hissed Rabitson. "He's moving." All eyes turned to William back in the specimen room. He was finishing his coffee. Whenever William finished his coffee, he always went back to work right after. "He's coming!" Warned Rabbitson "Drill, people!" The drill was simple; everyone ducked and covered until William went by the coffee room and left them alone. They really didn't want to talk to William Everyone dived onto the ground, as close under the window as possible; the further beneath the window, the less likelihood of one being seen. Everyone fell silent as the footsteps got closer and closer and- -They didn't pass, but instead, the door clicked open and Birkin leaned in. He just looked down on them like they where nothing, and they looked up at him from their crumpled heap on the floor, four grown men squeezed in the small space between wall and a coffee table. Surprisingly, Birkin just smiled down at them and at John. He didn't say anything, he just left. "Well shit." Said Steve who was under the coffee table. "Made us look like a bunch of. of FOOLS" -"Some fools don't have to be made!" Called back William. "Dammit! How the hell could he have heard us?!" "Birkin hears all." Said John, jokingly. "Not fucking funny, man!!" Steve yelled "You think that just because you've talked to him once it means you understand him or something, hu?" "Understand him more than you do, Steve. They guy just loves his work." "'Just'? The man's a sick freak." -"Cut the crap." Said Henry. "Nothing like this has ever gotten in the way of our pal-ship before. Time out, people." They all climbed off the floor and each other, brushing the crap off their coats. ".Okay then." ".Alrighty.."
***
May 10, 1998: One of the higher-ups assigned me to take care of a new experiment. It looks like a skinned gorilla. Feeding instructions were to give it live animals. When I threw in a pig, the creature seemed to be playing with it. tearing off the pig's legs and pulling out the guts before it actually started eating.
Michel Dees, Kennel manager.
***
Just when John thought the 121's where as demented as the manufactured creatures could come, a new species was announced to the Researchers this morning; the Ma2's. The 121's or 'Hunter' as they where called, where green scaly things, as big as a man and unnaturally muscular. They had almost glowing yellow eyes that where incredible for night time seeking. That was one of their main advantages, that and their speed, but considerably noticeable was their intelligence. Unlike the human test subjects for exposure to the T-virus (the Tyrant was engineered), the hunter had considerable intellect and was capable of simple tasks, like opening doors, or working switches. The humans exposed to the T-virus became zombies, or at least they where indistinguishable from the types on the late night horror movies. This 'zombie' like condition was actually an unexpected side affect rather than something intended from the start. As for these new Ma2's or the 'Chimera', their name suggests what it is. It had a main body structure like a spindly skinned ape, and piercing eyes. They where more motion sensitive than Hunters to assist in tracking. They had a hooked claw on one hand and a strange eye-like structure on its chest, and it's mouth was like a spiders, only opened out more. They where a little bit of everything. If the Hunters where in the house, you couldn't run; they would track you down, but the chimeras were bastards. If you ran as fast as you could, you may just get past, but if it got hold of you even just a little then it was all over. They stuck onto your back if they could and take your head off, but that rarely happened. They would just end up cutting you up bit by bit.
Of course, they didn't feed them people; that would be too impractical. Usually it was pigs or cows at the biggest, and maybe something exotic if they could get hold of it. They all knew though that if Birkin had his way then those things would get a lot more human meat, infact, if there were any leftovers from the tests involving human remains, then they would be rewarded for consuming them. "Good God, you're an ugly thing." John said, peering through the bars into the cage and at the strange skinned monkey creature. "'Ma2'" Read John. "Isn't that a freeway in England?" Bill Rabbitson stepped up to John. "Oh, hey, Bunny." Said John, taking his eyes off the thing only for a second. "Look, don't get near this thing." He told him. "Last week one of security got too close to one of the Hunters. That poor bastard was dead before he even had a chance to scream and the Hunters had a shorter reach than these things." "I'm not fucking getting near that, no need to warn me." -Someone tapped John on the shoulder. "JESUS!!" Even the Ma2 jumped out of its skin. John turned around, extremely angry at whoever had done this to him- -But then the anger dissolved when he saw who it was. "Doctor Birkin!" He said with a delirium in his voice, as well as his appearance. "What-a- surprise!!" "Calm down, Mr. Howe." William said calmly. His eyes wandered over to the Ma2, and a quick smile flickered across his features. He turned back to John and muttered; "I'm giving you leave, Howe." "What? Why?" "Not a word. Don't let Rabbitson hear you." He said promptly. "You must not come down to the labs tonight, Howe. Not at all." "Why?" ". Pay attention to my warning." William hurried off without another word
***
May 11 1998: At around 5 a.m., Scott woke me up. Scared the shit out of me, too. He was wearing a protective garment that looked like a space suit. He handed me another one and told me to put it on. Said there'd been an accident in the basement lab. I just knew something like this would happen. Those assholes in Research never rest, even at night.
Michel Dees, Kennel manager.
***
"What is this?" Asked John to Steve. Steve gave him what was clearly a design of decontamination suit. Steve was wearing one and for once he wasn't smoking a cig. "There was an accident in the labs." -Johns heart stopped.- ". Pay attention to my warning." He heard ring through his mind once more. What the fuck was this?? "What the hell happened??" He ordered. "The tank broke." He replied. The shit-head didn't appear too worried about it. "The tank that cleans out all the chemicals and stores them until they can be 'disposed of in a sanitary manner'" "Then why the hell don't they hit the emergency drainage system!?" Steve paused. "You have to see what happened." Steve tossed him the suit. "But I ain't gonna let you out 'till you put that shit on. One whiff of the virus and you're fucked." John didn't bother arguing. He saw what happened to a victim of the T- virus, but only on a dead body. It took up to a week for a live man to become one of the undead. John looked at his watch. "Four forty?! Shit!" John startled himself into thinking. "Hey. You didn't tell me how the tank broke." "One of they guys went mad and started shooting. Broke the tank and the whole lower levels are flooded up to your knees." "Why did he go mad?" "That I don't know, but you have to see what's happened." John followed Steve down to the labs. It took them long enough, but when John saw what was going down, he . he didn't know what to think. Everyone in research was rushing around, yelling excitedly at each other and passing papers and charts around. "What's doing down??" Barked John. This had gone on long enough.- -Someone tapped him on the shoulder, but rather than jumping out of his skin, he turned slowly.- "Doctor Howe." "Doctor Birkin. What the fuck did you do!?" "Now, now. You are in no position to throw around wild accusations." "You told me not to come down here on my shift and if I had and was exposed to the leak, then I would've been infected." "Then why aren't you thanking me for my warning you away?" "You did this didn't you??" He hissed. William sighed. "Must you be like this?" "You made that guy go mad, didn't you?? What the fuck could you possibly gain from this stunt!?" ".You haven't seen it yet, have you?" "Seen what?" William led John away. "In room 002." He said. "Dwells my latest experiment. it was more of an accident than deliberate; I'll have you know, Mr. Howe. It's roots hang down into the basement level, this level and they suck up the water from this man made lake." "What the hell are you talking about?!?!?" ".I've entitled it 'Plant 42', and I'd recommend you to stand very clear." Birkin opened the door to room 002. "It's only small, but it's growing very quickly" John didn't know what to make of it at first. Once it must have been a small herb like the ones growing in pots all around the mansion but now it was a humungous mass of meaty tentacles focused around a slowly pulsating centre. what looked like. a heartbeat- -A small part of the masses tentacles darted at him and he jumped out of the way almost entirely instinctively. Birkin slammed the door violently closed on its disgusting limbs that retreated from the pain with a strange screeching noise. Though desperation was in his actions, he didn't reveal any fear on his features.- ". Fuck." Gasped John. William looked at his fellow scientist on the floor, panting and sweating in his sudden burst of adrenaline. "Was it good for you too?" Joked William with a smirk on his face. "I was nearly fucking plant food!!!" "Well, you'd be of more nutritional value than a bottle of Baby Bio." "DID YOU KNOW THAT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN?!?" "I sincerely didn't." "You DID, didn't you?!" "It wasn't that aggressive when I last beheld it."
***
May 12, 1998: I've been wearing the damn space suit since yesterday. My skin's getting grimy and feels itchy all over. The goddamn dogs have been looking at me funny, so I decided not to feed them today. Screw 'em.
Michel Dees, Kennel manager
***
It's hard to have a coffee break in a decontamination suit, infact it was impossible. Not eating or drinking until the airborne of the virus had been cleared up. John and they guys were having their break in the usual spot in the lounge facing the specimen room, but eerily and for the first time in the region of a year or two, Birkin hadn't shown. At first they thought he was late, which would've been unusual in itself; he watched that thing every day, even on his holidays, but now he hadn't shown.
"Something is very wrong here." John thought aloud. "No shit." Barked Henry. "We've got a big ol' weed growing down in the lab!!" -"Is it me," Interrupted Steve. "Or is this goddamn suit really itchy?" "Damn straight!" Agreed Henry. "I'm okay in here." Said Rabbitson. "You're okay everywhere!" -"I'm not getting anything either." Said John. "Maybe you guys have a skin condition or something; a bad reaction maybe." "Has to be." Said Henry.- -John remembered William's warnings the night before the accident.- -"Henry, Steve? Where were you guys when the tank broke?" "I was in the next room." Said Henry. "I heard screaming, some dude going on about zombies, then there was this shoot out and it must've got hit in the crossfire." "I was in the lab at the time." Said Steve. "The guy went wack-o. The security guys had to nail him." "Bunny? Where were you?" "I was in the mansion. resting." -"Hey, Johnny." Said Henry. "Didn't you have a shift on that day?" ".I was given leave." "Bad luck. You missed everything." Maybe he had, but John had a horrible feeling about this. Everyone who was in and around the lab area at the time was getting itchy skin. When the shifts started back up again, John asked Rabbitson to stay behind. "What's up?" He asked. "I'm telling you this because I think you're the only one I can trust one hundred percent, Bunny." Bill cringed. "Is it about anything to do with Birkin?" "He told me just before the tank broke not to go down to the labs that night and now, everyone who was down there is getting itchy skin." Bunny looked worried. "We're wearing protective clothing! You can't mean that they got infected." "Itchiness is the first symptom. We're in the research team! You know what it does!" "Then why did they give up clothing that doesn't work?" "It does, but the airborne swept across the lower levels very quickly that night, before the suits where issued, so as long as we don't come into physical contact with one of them, we won't have to worry" "But Birkin would know that without a doubt!" "That's what I'm worried about. Bunny, keep an eye out for him. I want to speak to him."
***
May 13, 1998: Went to the infirmary because my backs is all swollen and feels itchy. They put a big bandage on it and told me I didn't need to wear the suit any more. All I wanna do is sleep.
Michel Dees, Kennel manager
***
Some weird shit was defiantly going down. Most of the staff had come down with 'the flu' and John had to work overtime along with Rabbitson. "Bunny." He hissed. At first, Bill didn't think he had heard it because the suit reduced his hearing but then he saw John waving at him frantically from one of the storage rooms. Bill looked around the room before going after John, the only other life forms he could see where the 121's and the Ma2's in their cages and they weren't going to tell if Bill had a little chat while on the job. "Did you find Birkin?" Asked John in desperation, dragging Bill into the room and closing the door to a jar. "It's like he's hiding. " He replied. "No one's seen him since the accident with the plant yesterday." "Oh no." Whined John. He was becoming a little fed up with all the 'horrific accidents' going on. "What happened now?" "One of the techs went down to point 42 for some chemical tests when he though it was dormant and it got him. He was sucked dry of all his bodily fluids, slowly." Bill then started to do sound affects. "SHHHLOPPE!!! Like a ripe tomato. He went all gooey and lumpy when it started and he was still alive at the time"- -"That's enough." -"It got a few others too." "I said I'd heard enough!" John paused. "God. Good thing Birkin closed that damn door with me." "But then if he knew all this 'tank business' would end up with an outbreak, why did he bother to save you?" John didn't answer himself but continued with Bill. "Bunny, are there any others like us? Uninfected, I mean." Bill shook his head. "God, the only other dude I know for sure is still okay is Martin Crackhorn ." Bill tightened his bandanna. "I hope you're wrong! EVERYONE'S fucking coming down with this shit!" "Shh, someone will hear if you yell like that." Warned John. "Stay cool for a bit longer. We'll call someone, like the R.P.D if this shit gets really out of hand." "We can't call the R.P.D!" Bill yelled. "Birkin gets his sample flesh from there so they're not going to help!" "Then whom the hell do we turn to??" Billy thought critically for a moment. "I know this guy who works at the R.P.D S.T.A.R.S. He's my best pal and he's a good guy to rely upon. A very good guy. His team-mates are all really good people and I'm totally positive they'd help." ".Are you sure?" "God, John. Don't you have faith? I said I'm positive Chris will help." ".You think you can get to him?" "The phones are ripped out so I'll have to go on foot." "Go tomorrow night. Hopefully by that time we've gotten a few uninfected on our side. Go talk to Martin at break. I'll keep an eye out for Birkin. I'm going to have to have a very long chat with that .man." "Wait," Said Rabbitson, suddenly. "Birkin isn't working on the 'Plant 42', Henry is. He leads the works down there and shit so the project was assigned to him." "Moron..." John said. "Why the hell hasn't he ordered that things extermination??" "An opportunity to study it." Bill said grimly. "They only recently just started working on countermeasures like a weed killer type chemical that should be applied to the plants root if it got out of hand." "There are shoots springing up all around the lab and they haven't killed it yet??" "I know!" "And it's killed a few staff members and they still stay their hand??" "I know, I know!" Bill paused. "What with this supposed infection and all, maybe they're delaying it's extermination because they know it's not going to make a difference." "But why gather the information if it won't make a difference?" Bill looked into Johns eyes seriously. "Maybe they're expecting someone to stop by and collect it?" John looked thoughtful for a moment, but then broke out of his train of thought. "This is all speculation." He said. "We should stick to what we know for sure and work on a way out of here." "We're not even sure if everyone's infected yet!" "Bunny, we worked on the effects of that damn thing and now after a leak in the tank that stores waste T-virus, and everyone who was in the labs came down with itchy skin, the first symptom, you still have doubt?" Bill smiled nervously. "I really hope it is just a bad reaction with the fabric." "You'll have a bad reaction with my fist if you keep trying to explain away what you don't want to except." He replied. Rabbitson looked shocked for a second but then he smiled. "I'll talk to Martin, but it'll be as hard as finding a needle in a hay stack. He hides out a lot." "Why don't you try his chamber first, dumb-ass?" He said blankly. "But before you do anything, try to get in contact your little 'S.T.A.R.S' friend. We need a shoulder to fall back on if this falls apart, okay?" Bill nodded. "Right. Gotacha. But if any of this involves going near that plant"- -"Don't worry; no shit-sucking plants involved." "Good." He said in relief but shuddered involuntarily. "That damn piece of kale gives me the creeps." He kicked the door open and turned his eyes back onto the clipboard. He came up to a 'Ma2' and it stared at him dangerously with its tiny motion perceptive pupils. Bill flicked some sheets over on the board and equipped a pen and after he had done scribbling some notes onto the paper heavy-handedly he looked up at it and hollered; "Yeah, what do you want?!" It didn't stop staring at him and Bill marched over to the subsequent pen.
John grabbed some lab resources that his branch needed and shuffled out of their, his hands full. He nearly dropped a few beakers, but caught them and balanced them proficiently on top of the stack. John stumbled blindly out of the room with faith in God that people will watch where they were going for once; It was a freakin' lab for Gods sake! They were supposed to be looking out for those with lab supplies shambling down the corridors but some of the researchers and even techs lumbered heavily down the corridors heads buried in their notes. It was an accident waiting to happen. Now that John had gotten on the subject, William was without a doubt one of those men too engrossed in his work to look where he was going. Some of the lesser men walked right into the coffee guy numerous times: He was the type who if he saw someone headed for him who wasn't looking where they were going, would purposefully just stand there with a shit-load of polystyrene cups full of scalding coffee. William would've been subjected to this but though he, like all the others, definitely does not look where he is going, he somehow manages to evade him, usually gracefully spinning out of the way and snatching a cup at the same time. He didn't drink it until the break would end, quickly guzzling it down in the Tyrants' chamber. He stuck to this routine every day, every single day like clockwork! John found it amusing yet sinister and he would wait to observe him come out his subdivision and begin his little journey at the same speed, at the same time... Some people would say that William was boring, that a man who did the same things every day wasn't exciting and that anyone who knew his must be aching all over for a new experience; John knew a few men in this establishment that would heckle him, saying that a real man would be bored senseless by having the same thing to do every day, than a normal man would need to get out and do something different. John felt sour toward them. Watching him closely, he didn't see pointless repetition! He saw a man perfecting himself. Birkin was a man of perfection, he strived for perfection and he was perfection. How can a man be good at what he does if he doesn't become what he does? It enraged John when his colleagues ridiculed such a man. "Have you been sniffing some of this shit?" He thought. "You're starting to sound like Birkin, what with all the talk of excellence and perfecting techniques." But Birkin was on his side. He may be apparently iniquitous, but he seemed to . to like him. "God, that don't matter. He's done something big and he's hiding from you because he must understand that you're conscious of what's going down." Birkin must've been watching him. "*GASP* Conspiracy theory! Don't be such a shit. Just because you've made a dangerous ally and he somehow knows all about you doesn't mean. err, what was the question again?" "Fucking brain. Shut up!" He whispered
***
May 14, 1998: Found another blister on my foot this morning. I ended up dragging my foot all the way to the dogs' pen. They were quiet all day, which is weird. Then I realized some of them had escaped. If anybody finds out, I'll have my head handed to me.
Michel Dees, Kennel manager
***
Everyone was silent and for once they closed the shutters to the specimen room. Rabbitson was missing and had been since John had spoken to him. He didn't turn up at morning break and now even after shift hours he didn't turn up. "Birkin has to have been involved" Was his first impression. "Whoa! Every time shit goes down, Birkin has something to do with it. You sent Bunny to find Birkin and he isn't seen since. What would you think? Wait, I am thinking." "Where is Bunny?" He asked plainly. There was no reply. None of them knew. There was a name dancing through his mind over and over and over like a torturing demon. Adam, it said. Bill Rabbitson went after the truth, after a man capable of soulless murder and now he's gone missing. All of his feelings, his fears and apprehension over this whole notion boiled down to one simple thing: John felt sick. "God." He said in a placid sound.
Someone opened the door and everyone turned, daring to hope it was Rabbitson, but it wasn't. It was Crackhorn. "You are missing Bill Rabbitson?" He asked. "John, may I speak with you?"- -"We're all Bunnies friends!" Henry answered. "I know, but what I need to say is Johns business." Crackhorn lead John out with Henry and Steve fuming. He looked about the specimen room before telling him what he needed to know. "Rabbitson came to my chamber last night speaking of an infection and that he and you are to contact the S.T.A.R.S." "Yes!" Said John. "He told me you appeared uninfected." "I too have noticed the version of events, maybe not as early on as you but I have noticed." "What do you intend?" Crackhorn shook his head. "I have no idea. I believed I could trust no one as I thought those who where uninfected where the catalysts of the affair." "What happened to Bunny?" John said. "If you're not coming with, then at least tell me what happened to him." "John." He said, sighing. "I heard gunshots late at night." ". . .Oh my God. . ." "There is no guarantee it was Rabbitson they where firing at!" "There was every guarantee! I told him to get in contact with the S.T.A.R.S, one of them was his friend but all the phones where ripped out. He must've tried to go on foot." "But we can't be sure it was him!!"- -"Bunny goes missing after he tries to get in contact with the outside and you heard gunshots and somehow it can't be him???" John looked down at the floor. "God.I feel sick to my stomach with all this. I want to just end it now." -"Birkin ordered the armed guards." John looked up, tears in his eyes. "He what?" "I was within ear shot at the time he ordered them. He didn't let the change be announced, however. He spoke about catching traitors trying to leave the facility off guard." "When was this?" He asked breathlessly. "About a day ago." "." John looked critically. "Did you see how bad some of them were getting?" He asked. Martin nodded. "Yes." Martin covered his mouth with his hand. He looked like he was on the brink of breaking down. " Some of them look like the living dead already, just with faculties." "We have to get out of here." He said. "How do we do that? More to the point, why should we?" "Do you want to wait around until they start changing??" "I don't want to hang around even now." Martin looked at John with a fear in his eyes, a fear that stirred him up. "I've been hearing strange things." He whispered uneasily. "Strange scratching noises. mainly in the courtyard." ". Something's gotten out, hasn't it?" "That's impossible. The 121s and Ma2's are all there." John thought about that for a moment. "What about the Tyrant-retrievers?" "The what?" "The zombie dogs; the Cerberus." "You mean we're still continuing that project?? We've learnt all we can from them already." "But the order to destroy them hasn't passed. The guys at 'White Umbrella' want us to keep hold of them until they're certain those things useless now." "Whose job is it to look after those thing??" Demanded Martin, distraughtly. "Michel Dees. He looks after most of the things in here, mainly because he seems incapable of disgust." John felt awkward to refer to the next name "William. occasionally comes down to the pens to admire his work." John remembered seeing Dees at the pens. "God. Dees was there this morning, scared the life out of me. He was dragging his foot along the floor just like a zombie. He must've known that those things have gotten out." "No, those things got out later in the day. I didn't hear the noises until lunch." Martin held his stomach. He seemed to be truly disturbed by it all. "Martin, you know a few techs, right? Tell as many as you can of the affairs! It's the only way. We're not the only one with our necks on the line."
***
May 15, 1998: My first day off in a long time and I feel like shit. Decided to go visit Nancy anyway, but when I tired to leave the estate, I was stopped by armed guards. They said the company's ordered that no one leaves the ground. I can't even make a phone call - all the phones have been ripped out! What kind of bullshit is this?!
Michel Dees, Kennel manager.
***
John was sniffing around the mansion looking for clues as to what was going on. He was told regularly by his superiors not to, that the mansion was a dangerous place but he didn't care.
John was snooping around the room with the grand piano, a room that the execs and higher ups used for after dinner entertainment, one of them William. John had been looking around the estate for hours without a single lead but his determination was what kept him going and finally it paid off.
In a bin in the corner of the hallow room was a piece of semi scorched paper. On it was the helipad chart, only it was slightly different from the ones on the notice boards. The pad was due for use in a few days time and one of the names on the list. was Birkin. "Fucking rat!" Hissed John. Birkin was due to get out of here before things really turned to shit, as was some other higher ups like Ellen Smith and some of the techs.-
-John felt his heart skip mid-beat...- - .His name was on there, scribbled on in pen only it had been crossed off in pencil. John recognised the handwriting from the charts he was handed on the brain chemistry of the Tyrant; it was William's handwriting. "He was going to take you with, out of this nightmare! So you wouldn't suffer the same fate." The only person on the list that was still uninfected other than him was William. John looked at the date of take off in the grids of the chart. The chopper was due to take off on the day John estimated that everyone would've turned. "And the turned can't get on the helicopter. It must've been a safety measure." Johns name had been scribbled through hurriedly with pencil. Birkin must've changed his mind. "Birkin must've known I was planning to start telling people. Dammit! I only told one man to start off with to get it off my chest and now it's gone to shit! The chopper is the only way out of here and . and that's the way we're going."
***
May 16, 1998: Rumour's going around that a researcher who tried to escape last night was shot. My entire body feels hot and itchy and I'm sweating all the time now. I scratched the swelling on my arm and a piece of rotting flesh just dropped off. Wasn't until I realized the smell was making me hungry that I got violently sick.
Michel Dees, kennel manager.
***
His friends didn't turn up for work today, none of them did. Only he was in the holding pens, - -And his heart stopped when he saw the consequences of the lack of staff and maintenance checks.- Something had happened during the night, a power cut or something. the cell doors to some of the pens had been smashed and shredded through. The bars of the cells where supposed to be electrically charged. "Shit." He muttered, a feeling of dread leaking into him... John felt as though the whole place had already turned. Before, the mansion labs were full of life but now, everywhere he went there was no one . it was as though the facility was empty.- -Someone tapped him on the shoulder-
John turned slowly around, feeling a longing for it to be a friendly face but knowing who it must've been- -It was Birkin. "Birkin!" He hissed bitterly. The man was smiling a sickly, abnormal smile. "I am he." He replied almost curiously. "You bastard! What the hell his going on?!" William unhurriedly looked over Johns shoulder at the disaster behind him and then causally looked back into Johns scowling features. "My, my." He said sounding melodramatically surprised. "Whatever in the world happened here??" -"I"- -"Now now, Mr. Howe. I am not to be held responsible for any of this." "This is because of that tank bursting! It's all your fault!!" "How mine?" He replied, smiling. "It was obvious from square one!" "Wish you'd discontinue the shouting." Birkin said. "It's giving me a migraine." "The gall!! You don't take this seriously, do you?!" "Oh, Mr. Howe..." He chuckled but that odd, deep throaty noise died abruptly. "You have no idea.." "About what??" He barked, boldly daring to infuriate Birkin for the answers he held. "You've fucked us all around in this square dance for too long now, William Birkin! You did something to the guy who busted the tank, didn't you? You planned this all from the start! It would've been too risky and expensive to design and build an environment for Plant 42 on such short notice, so you made it unofficially; you just needed some poor sap, a guy who's not going to give any evidence against you." "Oh, Howe." Birkin said, sighing. "Why ever would I do that? Umbrella can afford it." "But the plant is carnivorous and highly dangerous, so if you made it as free as that officially, any deaths will be entirely Umbrellas fault and would look bad but this way any deaths wouldn't be the fault of the company." "There would be little point in such an elaborate hoax. It would be cost ineffective." - And that's when it hit him. ". .Umbrella doesn't know about this, do they?"
William's eyes widened. "They know. It was companies orders not to let anything leak." "And who receives and issues the companies orders to the teams?? You do!" John grinned wide a satisfying glow filled him. He was sure he had worked it all out. "You're doing this because the company will fund your research into the new virus you mentioned to me a lot more if you destroy this facility thus making your chemical plant the only research centre in Raccoon. That way, it would receive the entire amount of funding distributed to Racoon labs, rather than it being split between two facilities! You love your life's work so much that you'd kill us all for it." William was frowning low and dangerously, vexed that his tenderly executed plot had just been snuffed out. Umbrella would get all the blame once it found out about the loss of the mansion facility I the horrendous genetic blasphemes that where assembled within it. No one for a second would dream that the blame could be on one man for using a diabolical companies own bio weapons against it. Birkin had made quite a smoke screen. "Rabbitson is dead, you know." William said unexpectedly. "What was it you used to call him? 'Bunny'. Wasn't it? Sweet." William chuckled. He didn't sound suited with that word coming out of his sick lips. "A play on the 'B' in Bill and the 'Rabbit' in Rabbitson." "Don't pretend you know him."- -"The name was thought up by his friend Chris Redfield of the R.P.D branch of S.T.A.R.S when they met in the Air force. They've been friends for a long time now and they meet regularly at 'Emmys', a restaurant close to the City limits. He wears a bandanna for luck and his hairstyle has nothing to do with any African origins. It is, in fact, natural, despite everything people say." ".How the hell do you know that, you sick"- "You have a girlfriend you picked up at your. 'buddy' Steve's engagement party named Ada Wong. After a quick one-night stand, you thought the earth had moved and decided she was 'the one'. Little do you know that she deems you to be somewhat underprivileged in bed and that she is an Umbrella-hired spy using you to research into these affairs." "You're lying." "No, she says that if you fucked a mouse it probably wouldn't notice"- -"Not about the bed thing!!!! She can't be a spy." "She's as cool headed, no, even more so than I and you think she's a normal woman?" ".But ." - He was lying- "That's the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard." "Yet more so than zombies, hunters, chimeras and the perfectly engineered soldier 'just chillin' in the specimen room while you down your coffees and discuss brain chemistry? Throw in 'yours truly' in the staring role of 'mad scientist number one' and you've got yourself the most difficult-to-believe notion since Darwin decided to rock the world with his theory of evolution." "Even if no one will believe. . ." "You'll what? You didn't finish your little summary, Mr. Howe. If no one believes you, you have nothing to hope for." William smiled. ". You." "Yes me." "STOP finishing my sentences!!"- -A thought crossed his mind. John had been searching for this man for so long since the plant first sprouted and now he could ask him whatever he wanted. ".Why did you tell me all this??? HU? Why the hell are you even doing this to me?? You didn't bother with Bunny, so why are you still messing with me??" Birkin smiled. "You seem capable." "Of what?? You're not making any sense!!" ". Never mind." William started to walk away, but paused and turned back to the enraged man. "If I were you, I'd start packing. Some of them, some of your work buddies are starting to turn. With those in the mansion, the Hunters loose in the courtyard and the chimeras running around in the power room, it'll be a task escaping." "There's still hope."
***
MaY 19. FevEr goNE But ITChY. HUngRy anD EAt DOgGie fOod. tchy ITcHy SCotT cAMe uGlY FacE So kILLed HIm . TaSTy.
ItcHY. TaStY ~.
***
John had locked himself in a storeroom in the lab facility. John ran there, chased by some of the things his former friends had become. John recognised them but didn't wait around to see if they recognised him. He must have been in denial, or shock. He was sitting on boxes of ammunition for a nine millimetre something that he desperately wanted right now and didn't feel a thing, not even fear for his own life. "'I seem capable' Birkin told me. Capable of what? There are zombies running around out there and I don't care! Either I'm a heartless bastard like Birkin or ." John didn't quite know how to finish that sentence off. "Maybe that's the potential William saw in me.I'm sick, like him." It was a ridiculous notion but it was the best he could come up with. "And where the hell is Martin?" Martin Crackhorn hadn't shown up for the past few days. He wasn't infected . was he? John paused. Was he the only one that was uninfected? Was this all part of Birkin's plans or did they just screw up in one big way? Did he want John to survive so that his conspiracy plan of geniuses was witnessed by at least one man? Was John going to die of starvation or dehydration in this room, or was he going to get ripped to death by- -There was a gunshot, muted by distanced. A dieing gasping moan sounded made faint by the vastness of the outside area and then a dulled thud. Running footsteps tapped away, barely perceptible by John's ear but he knew who it must have been. -BAM- -Another, only much closer. John stood up. "Hello?!" He called out. He could hear something fall down, scuffing the door slightly as it went and then breathing... a slight panting that scraped into a smearing sound as the man rubbed his face. He then turned and ran down the corridor, a door slammed behind him. "WAIT!" John cried out. He opened the door- -To find that something on the other side was preventing him from doing just that. John shoved at it harder and it started to give, slow moving and on the floor a smear of blood fanned out the further he pushed the door. A corps was blocking the door and John shoved it completely aside, a corpse that he didn't want to see whom it was. A bullet hole was in what was left of its skull; gore freshly seeping from the puncture. John puckered his lips, wanting to ask himself more questions that would have to be left rhetorical. at least for now. William Birkin had put that zombie to sleep. He didn't need to come down to this part of the labs to get where he was headed for. He had come down right to where John was hiding and put to sleep all the monsters that would be in his way. William wanted John to get out but he didn't want him with. John was weary about following him but he had no other choice. It was either that or die.
*** My dearest Alma,
I sit here trying to think of where to begin, of how to explain in a few simple words all that's happened in my life since we last spoke, and already I fail. I hope this letter finds you well and whole, and that you will forgive the tangents of this pen; this isn't easy for me. Even as I write, I can feel simplest of concepts slipping away, lost to feelings of despair and confusion - but I have to tell you what's in my heart before I can rest. Be patient, and accept that what I tell you is the truth.
The entire story would take hours for me to tell you, and time is short, so accept theses things as fact: last month there was an accident in the lab and the virus we were studying escaped. All my colleagues who were infected are dead or dying, and the nature of the disease is such that those still living have lost their senses. The virus robs its victims of their humanity, forcing them in their sickness to seek out and destroy life. Even as I write these words, I can hear them, pressing against my locked door like mindless, hungry animals, crying out like lost souls.
There aren't words true enough, deep enough to describe the sorrow and shame that I feel knowing that I had a hand in their creation. I believe they feel nothing now, no fear or pain - but that they can't experience the horror of what they've become doesn't free me of my terrible burden. I am, in part, responsible for this nightmare that surrounds me.
In spite of the guilt that is burned into my very being, that will haunt my every breath, I might have tried to survive, if only to see you again. But my best efforts only delay the inevitable; I am infected, and there is no cure for what will follow - except to end my life before I lose the only thing that separates me from them. My love for you.
Please understand. Please know that I am sorry.
Martin Crackhorn.
***
William smirked, partially against his will, when he saw that Mr. Howe had made it to the Helipad. He had feared for a minute that he might have accidentally overlooked a few of those disgusting creatures that stalked the labs; Howe was unarmed. William looked down from his viewpoint in the chopper well aware that he was out of the mans reach. A rope ladder was still hung down from where William had climbed up, and John dashed for it. William snatched it away, just as Howe reached it. "If only." He said to himself. "What are you doing?!?!" Screamed Howe over the roar of the 'copter. Williams eyes were caught by saw some of the creatures as they emerged from where John had come. He had been chased and was desperate for sanctuary. "If only." William said aloud. "If only what??! Let me up!! They're coming!!!" The desperation in Johns voice caused William to break down into a few unpleasant giggles. "What the fuck are you doing, you sick bastard?!?!" "If only!!!" William repeated, cackling like a demented old hag. "What the hell is wrong with you, Birkin?!?! Let me up, NOW!" "No can do, Johnny-boy!" William said, pointing a finger mischievously at him. John shot a look back at the zombies that where gaining on him. "I don't fucking have time for this crap now!! Lower the ladder!!!!" "If only you had kept your mouth shut and not asked any questions!!" William yelled down. "Just like I had instructed you to do!!! I would've taken you here myself, given you a new life, everything!!!" "I don't want a new life, I want MY life!!!!" "Shame! I would have let you live, just one man to have witnessed this other than myself but you had to play the inspector and work this all out!! I would've told you after all this, when it was safe for you to know and when this disaster became just yesterday's news, but now you know too much too soon!! Now, you can die knowing you did this to yourself!!!" "You're a fucking screwball, William Birkin!!!" John cried up, now hazardously close to the zombies. "You know I won't talk now if you bring me up!!!" "Umbrella would beat the answers out of you if they ever found you, and I will never let Umbrella find out what really happened here!" William signalled to the pilot to take him up. "You have only yourself to blame!!!" He hollered one last time. "NO!!!!" John screamed up as the zombies got to him. "This is fucking bullshit!!" He cried up from the pile of creatures that had now pinned him to the floor. "Umbrella will find out!!!!!" He cried. "And when they do, I'll be seeing you in HELL!!" John kept screaming, not at the monsters that were tearing pieces out of him, but at the monster that was looking eagerly down at him as the chopper took him away. John swore bravely that Birkin would die for this right up until his very last breath when his gargled, enraged shouts and curses abruptly came to an end. William smiled and nodded to himself, satisfied that the creatures had killed the man and sat back down in the padded chair and closed the door of the helicopter. William rested his head on the chair, leaning back and looking thoughtfully out of the window. He forced back a smiled; it seemed that he had pulled it off, which meant Umbrella funding for his G-virus would sore dramatically. Yes, today had been very good for him indeed as It would meant that he could once again work his life's work with the woman he loved just like old times. "Fly this thing carefully, okay?" Said William to the pilot, closing his eyes tiredly. "I don't want this thing crashing after all that." He let out a deep little chuckle from the back of his throat and let the thrum and the relaxing vibration of the choppers blades lull him into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.
from the original gaming content*
*Also note that this story was written before the European release of Resident Evil Zero, which lists alternate events to the ones stated here*
****************************************************************************
****************
May 9, 1998: Played poker tonight with Scott and Alias from Security, and Steve from Research. Steve was the big winner, but I think he was cheating. Scumbag.
Michel Dees, Kennel manager.
***
"Talk to him, Johnny-boy." "Why don't you?" "What, you're scared of him, hu? Worried you'd get your blonde ass fired into the fucking ground if you talk to the execs?" "Fuck you and he's not an exec, he's the project leader." "Dammit, John! Go up there and talk to that weirdo! You know you can do it!" "Go fuck yourself, shit head. I'm not getting anywhere near that thing he's looking at." "Man, you're one of the idiots working on the bastard!" "I still don't see how I'm the one who has to talk to that guy. He's . not right." "If you started to pay attention to right and wrong, then you wouldn't be working here, smartass!" "I still fail to see the part where I have to talk to the weirdo." "Look okay, it goes like this; you're higher in rank than me, buddy! From lowest to highest, it goes; Bill Rabbitson, that's bunny, he's sitting next to you with the big hair and the bandanna." A light-hearted man with a red and white polka dot bandanna waved at him. "Ellen Smith, she's the bitch. Problem is that she's an exec and she's pals with the project leader. Henry Sarton, that's me, Martin Crackhorn, he's the ginger who locks himself in the study, John Howe, that's you." "I know who I fucking am." "Sure you do. Michel Dees," He continued "I think he's the kennel guy or something, Steve Keller, he's the nice guy on my right with the cig, and last, but not least, William Birkin. That's the dude over there."
They all turned from the closed off couch area through the window to the specimen area. There where curtains to hide the view, some of the researchers had a horrid habit of throwing up at unexpected moments when the shutters where open. God knows why. They work on the damn thing. The researchers and more notably, the consultant researchers where odd people indeed, in fact, probably only he, Henry and Steve ever tried to socialize. Bill Rabbitson hung out with everyone, but rarely spoke, but if you got him talking, good God. Sometimes, he would never shut up.
The Researchers where better qualified and looked down on the technicians as though they where nothing. The techs where some of Johns best pals, but only a handful of his fellow researchers even saw them as fitting company to be socialised with. Ellen Smith was a prime example of this behaviour. You'd think that she got bad press, being a woman executive and all but if anything she was the worst. She was savage and would probably fire anyone who gave her a funny look, let alone look at her in any way at all. Martin Crackhorn spent all his free time writing letters to his wife Alma, so he rarely had time to speak to the gang and Michel Dees seemed to have some social problems and found it difficult to empathise with people, so it seemed unlikely he would ever sit down with a cup of coffee and be ready for a nice friendly chat. He would sometimes play cards if he was feeling particularly lonely but he never win and would slink away to God knows were for hours. Henry and Steve were like peas in a pod; both utter assholes. They thought of themselves as the leaders of the gang. As unbearably piggish as they were, they were good guys at heart and they played a good game of poker. Steve smoked a lot of cigs and you could always tell if he was a room or two away from the cloud, but apart from the lounge area, smoking in the underground labs was strictly prohibited. The mansion on the upper levels was where the staff lived. Each staff member was issued with a map; the mansion was designed to be a labyrinth, any intruders would suffer the same rumoured fate as the designer of the place; he went mad in the corridors of the mansion, lost in his own masterpiece. He died of dehydration or starvation, whichever came sooner. Despite the fact that the mansion was indeed a confusion, there was one man whom had been here from the beginning, who knew the mansion so well that he didn't need a map anymore. A man who knew the structure better than its own artisan, and that mans name was William Birkin. He never spoke to anyone, but he never gave John the impression that they were lesser to him, either. He just didn't notice them half the time and the other half he just nods at them as they walk past him in the corridors. He always had his hands folded behind his back and his height, his freakish walk, like he was floating along or something. it all gave John the creeps. His eyes, mostly. John would try to avoid eye contact with that man as much as possible. John could even look one of the '121's' directly in the eye, but, God, please not William Birkin. His eyes where a large and pallid blue, almost like a monsters. and if that wasn't proof enough that William was quirky, he was the only human being John knew that actually got on well with Ellen Smith. He heard that it was because his wife was like her and he knew just how to deal with a difficult woman. John had seen Birkin's wife before on one of the visits she occasionally gives him, and by God, John didn't care if she was a bitch or not, he would try his luck with a woman like that.
She was blonde with attractive dark blue eyes and she had very long legs. John liked long legs on a woman. Back to those eyes. She looked at him once when he got a bit too close to her for comfort; if looks could kill, he would've left that room in a wicker basket, only unlike Ellen, when Annette Birkin gave you the look of death, it made butterflies shoot up through your stomach. You would probably take more note of one of Annettes' evil stares than one of Ellen's; Annette was much more likely to punch you in the gut if you ignored her.
Ellen would look at home on a broomstick, but Annette was foxy, but deadly; as bad as her husband, because. everyone in the labs knew what happened when you messed with William's wife.
There was this tech once; a buff sort of guy, Adam was his name. He was supposed to be the type women went for; rich, strong, blue eyed, strong cheekbones. If John were a girl, he wouldn't go for him; he was a slimy old
snake and he only wanted Annette because she was well off and an instant family would be his reward. William found out, as he had a horrid habit of doing. William seems to know everyone's dark little secrets; he even somehow found out that John met his girlfriend Ada Wong at a friend's engagement party. It's been said that William found Adam smooth talking his wife in one of the storage rooms in the mansion. God only knows how. If William received a tip off, then how could he have gotten there so quickly, and to the correct storage room, to boot? There where numerous storerooms dotted all around the mansion and to walk from one side to the other, it could take a full hour. William found Adam nonetheless, and beat him senseless. William was very tall, but very skinny indeed; so how he could have beaten such a burly man as Adam is a mystery. What happened to Adam after that is shrouded in legend. It was no secret that William knocked this character about, but he heard that William went as far as killing the guy. Everyone who was said to have anything to do with it kept mainly quiet, but . the Tyrant.
The Tyrant was the main focus of the project. It was a creature that had once been a man, only now it was the subject to all the experimentation on the Tyrant-virus, or T-virus for short. A team of surgeons had to work on each membrane, composing each and every inch of the creatures' body. Conveniently, William was the lead of the team and the Tyrant project began round about the time Adam was 'admitted to hospital'. But if it was so glaringly obvious, how come he was the only one to have noticed? "Cuz they're smart enough not to make a big deal about it!" He though "think about it; would you really bring it to light? You have no idea who's in and who's not, so if you spill the beans, William's gonna start another Tyrant project!" John winced at the through that that thing in the tank was Adam at one point. If it was, it shared no resemblance to him whatsoever.
John worked on the whole 'brain chemistry' aspect of the project. William did too but he had never talked to him, only handed him some papers with a set of well-written instructions. John had the misfortune to touch William as the papers passed hands. His fingers where thin and bony and the skin of his hands were cold and clammy. John instantly pulled away. William gave him a look, brooding anger, like he was telling himself not to let his brain go A.W.O.L on him.
John was told not to take much recognition of the notes, to simply just do his work and mind his own business, but how could he with figures like this?? From what he could remember from the list of neurotransmitters and level indicators, the numbers where totally screwed up. The serotonin and norepinephrine were much too low, but the dopamine was outrageously high, almost completely off the charts. John didn't want to be around if ever that 'Tyrant' thing got loose, because it was going to be one hell of a schizophrenic.
It was a sick joke, really, to put the staff lounge right next to the room where the Tyrant was stored, even with a window displaying it in all it's glory. Sometimes, if you watched it long enough, it would even twitch... John never got to watch it sleep for too long, because if any of his 'friends' caught him, he would be accused for being as wacko as Birkin. John watched Birkin out in the specimen area, holding his cup of coffee, too engrossed in admiring his work of art to do anything else. "You goin' out there for a cosy chat or not?" "Yeah..." Breathed John, getting some backbone for a change. "Yeah, I'm gonna talk to that. man." He got up, and fell over again. He had had one too many Irish coffees and was slightly out of it. Maybe that's why he got a sudden sense of invulnerability towards the one man on the team that could kill him and get away with it. How about that? Instant hero; just add alcohol. John shambled mindlessly out into the glowing, pristine whiteness of the specimen room, and over to the unmoving figure of a man that looked intently at his sick abomination. "Ahem." . Nothing happened. John was almost too scared to look into his face to make out for any signs of acknowledgment. "AHEM." He said, louder this time. As he bought his hand away from his mouth, it was shaking like a leaf. The figure next to him gradually turned his head to face him with his sickening inhuman stare. When William fixed his attention solely on John, he became so panicked that he was gripped by a strange sickness in his gut.
"Yes?" Said Birkin, his voice was shockingly deep. From a man with his features, a high, feverish tone was to be expected, but not this deep booming voice. It wasn't so much booming, as it was rumbling. "What do you want?" "Err, I don't want anything! I just want to talk!" "You've never talked to me before." "That's because . well, you're the project leader and all and I don't want to say the wrong thing.". William smiled, sarcastically "And that's all that's been keeping you all?" "Yes, actually." John started to laugh. "You know, it took me a couple of Irish coffees to get the nerve to come up here and chat to you!" He started to break down into hapless giggles, but when he saw the blank look on Williams' face, he sobered up straight away "Instant moron. Follow the same directions as seen above.." "So." Began John, attempting to make small talk. "Annette." "What do you know about my wife?" William said, emotion drained from his voice. It may have been Johns imagination, but William slightly stressed the 'my wife' part. "Does she have a sister?"- -William snapped his head at John and, with rage from the bottom of his heart, transformed his once emotionless look into a threatening, burning, evil glare. "KIDDING!!!" Shrieked John. "KIDDING!!! KIDDING!!! KIDDING." William began to calm down. "Kidding. Only kidding.only kidding." William had completely changed back.
John allowed a short while to pass while he got his nerves back, but in that while, he seriously wondered weather William had siblings. A man as fucked up as him was more likely to be an only child, or at least he hoped he was an only child "Oh God. The horror. More of 'em" That was an unsettling notion. "So," Tried John, again. "Why are you here?" "." William looked back to the Tyrant. "You mean with him?" "Yup. I mean, it's your coffee break, man and you spend it like this." "Yes." "Why?" William sighed. "There's a fair chance it won't ever wake up from its sleep, do you know that?" "It . it stands to reason." "It's the proto-type you see. We'll gather all the information we need from it and then we'll just . get rid of it. Such a waste." John felt very uncomfortable with this line of conversation, but in an effort to get some insight into the man, he played along. "But. He'll be going for a good cause, the development of his own species" "And maybe the destruction of ours." Said William, Concluded Johns sentence. "But the first of a line of ultimate warriors; it seems respectful to let it live." "But it's a martyr." Said John, feeling more daring. "A martyr to its race. Don't deny it its destiny." John paused slightly. "Speaking of martyrs." He looked down at his hands. "Where did you get that thing?" William stared down at his coffee, whisking it with the little plastic fork that the coffee guy gave them. Why a fork? Because he couldn't find a spoon, that's why. "Do you mean the original structure?" John slowly nodded. "Well," Said Birkin. "It was human once. but like all our 'special deliveries', we got it from the R.P.D." ".!" "We mainly get organs removed from less insured bodies in the R.P.D morgue for simple tests on various membrane. We used to test on animal tissue, but animal protesters were after our ass the whole way." He snickered. "Did you know that there are more animal rights protesters than human rights? The next logical step was to use human tissue, and to be honest, it gave much more reliable results." "You still haven't answered my question." Said John, wanting to get to the bottom of this now that he had asked. William smiled, and then he started to laugh aloud. "Mr. Howe, you are thorough in your enquire." He went back to stirring his coffee. "The Tyrant was just an unnamed man the police Chief brought in. Just some smelly old beggar who died in the gutter. No mystery there." -William spilt some of the coffee on himself on his hand. It clearly was quite painful, but he was hiding it very well. "." John dared himself to push his luck further. "Maybe Irons registered the man as unnamed because that's what you wanted him to be." He said the defiance in his voice forced its way onto his face, but once he got it there, it almost became him. William stared daggers at him. "Then just where do you think I got this structure from??" John took a deep breath and then made his deduction, taking in mind Williams' peculiar nature. "It wouldn't have been some bum on a street corner; you wouldn't accept a piece of meat of such poor quality. It had to have been someone of a certain physical and mental perfection or else you would've turned it down, and slabs like that don't fall on the market often, if ever and even if it did, it would get snapped up by another research conglomerate before you would get a chance to order it, so you must have prepared the meat yourself."- -"You mean Adam, don't you?" John was taken aback by William's sudden bluntness. ".Yes-sir." William concentrated on his coffee. A long while passed ................. ".Are you gonna drink that?" - -"He deserved it you know." William blurted out, critically. "Everything he got he had coming and I made such a good use of such a waste of a man." ".He had intelligence."- -"He didn't use it ever. All he did was build his body like a primitive animal in the jungle!" "He obviously used his intellect a bit or else he wouldn't be a tech here." "You fail to see what I'm saying! He wasted his gift and I took him and made him something incredible!" "If it's so incredible, why didn't you subject yourself??" William laughed "Oh, Mr. Howe, if only that was an achievable possibility. It loses its faculties when we alter it, wiping its brain of all human idea. If I ever became a thing like that, I would want to be able to experience it all." ".You're serious, aren't you?" "Deathly. Can you even comprehend such supremacy? Doesn't it astonish you, the mere understanding that no being has ever come close to your . capability.?" "A rocket launcher will soon solve that one."- -"How ignorant of you, Howe." Spat Birkin. "No," said John. "If you wanted a thing that had absolute power, then you should make something that weapons wouldn't affect, no, that weapons would help it rather than destroy it!" William didn't move. He just smiled. "We're working on that currently." "How come I've never heard of it?" ".Annette simply doesn't just pop in to visit me for her own satisfaction, you know. She is as capable as I when it comes to biochemistry, so us Birkin's are indeed the ones holding the prospects to Umbrella." "Then If you two have made something that sounds superior to the T-virus, why is this lab still in commission?" Birkin smiled and said almost musically; "It won't be for much longer." Birkin suddenly turned to John. "Now go back to your acquaintances and don't converse of what I have told you here at present." "And why the hell not?" ".Think of Adam." . . . . . . John didn't hang around for much longer. He walked slowly back to his friends, resisting the indescribable urge to run as fast as he possibly could.
The door to the lounge clacked open and he dived in, as though his life depended on it. "What?" Said Rabbitson tightening his bandanna; he did that when he was nervous "What the hell did he say to you??" "Man, he is just fucked up!" "John," Said Henry. "I didn't send you out there to that freak just so you can forget everything he said!!!" -"SHH!" Hissed Rabitson. "He's moving." All eyes turned to William back in the specimen room. He was finishing his coffee. Whenever William finished his coffee, he always went back to work right after. "He's coming!" Warned Rabbitson "Drill, people!" The drill was simple; everyone ducked and covered until William went by the coffee room and left them alone. They really didn't want to talk to William Everyone dived onto the ground, as close under the window as possible; the further beneath the window, the less likelihood of one being seen. Everyone fell silent as the footsteps got closer and closer and- -They didn't pass, but instead, the door clicked open and Birkin leaned in. He just looked down on them like they where nothing, and they looked up at him from their crumpled heap on the floor, four grown men squeezed in the small space between wall and a coffee table. Surprisingly, Birkin just smiled down at them and at John. He didn't say anything, he just left. "Well shit." Said Steve who was under the coffee table. "Made us look like a bunch of. of FOOLS" -"Some fools don't have to be made!" Called back William. "Dammit! How the hell could he have heard us?!" "Birkin hears all." Said John, jokingly. "Not fucking funny, man!!" Steve yelled "You think that just because you've talked to him once it means you understand him or something, hu?" "Understand him more than you do, Steve. They guy just loves his work." "'Just'? The man's a sick freak." -"Cut the crap." Said Henry. "Nothing like this has ever gotten in the way of our pal-ship before. Time out, people." They all climbed off the floor and each other, brushing the crap off their coats. ".Okay then." ".Alrighty.."
***
May 10, 1998: One of the higher-ups assigned me to take care of a new experiment. It looks like a skinned gorilla. Feeding instructions were to give it live animals. When I threw in a pig, the creature seemed to be playing with it. tearing off the pig's legs and pulling out the guts before it actually started eating.
Michel Dees, Kennel manager.
***
Just when John thought the 121's where as demented as the manufactured creatures could come, a new species was announced to the Researchers this morning; the Ma2's. The 121's or 'Hunter' as they where called, where green scaly things, as big as a man and unnaturally muscular. They had almost glowing yellow eyes that where incredible for night time seeking. That was one of their main advantages, that and their speed, but considerably noticeable was their intelligence. Unlike the human test subjects for exposure to the T-virus (the Tyrant was engineered), the hunter had considerable intellect and was capable of simple tasks, like opening doors, or working switches. The humans exposed to the T-virus became zombies, or at least they where indistinguishable from the types on the late night horror movies. This 'zombie' like condition was actually an unexpected side affect rather than something intended from the start. As for these new Ma2's or the 'Chimera', their name suggests what it is. It had a main body structure like a spindly skinned ape, and piercing eyes. They where more motion sensitive than Hunters to assist in tracking. They had a hooked claw on one hand and a strange eye-like structure on its chest, and it's mouth was like a spiders, only opened out more. They where a little bit of everything. If the Hunters where in the house, you couldn't run; they would track you down, but the chimeras were bastards. If you ran as fast as you could, you may just get past, but if it got hold of you even just a little then it was all over. They stuck onto your back if they could and take your head off, but that rarely happened. They would just end up cutting you up bit by bit.
Of course, they didn't feed them people; that would be too impractical. Usually it was pigs or cows at the biggest, and maybe something exotic if they could get hold of it. They all knew though that if Birkin had his way then those things would get a lot more human meat, infact, if there were any leftovers from the tests involving human remains, then they would be rewarded for consuming them. "Good God, you're an ugly thing." John said, peering through the bars into the cage and at the strange skinned monkey creature. "'Ma2'" Read John. "Isn't that a freeway in England?" Bill Rabbitson stepped up to John. "Oh, hey, Bunny." Said John, taking his eyes off the thing only for a second. "Look, don't get near this thing." He told him. "Last week one of security got too close to one of the Hunters. That poor bastard was dead before he even had a chance to scream and the Hunters had a shorter reach than these things." "I'm not fucking getting near that, no need to warn me." -Someone tapped John on the shoulder. "JESUS!!" Even the Ma2 jumped out of its skin. John turned around, extremely angry at whoever had done this to him- -But then the anger dissolved when he saw who it was. "Doctor Birkin!" He said with a delirium in his voice, as well as his appearance. "What-a- surprise!!" "Calm down, Mr. Howe." William said calmly. His eyes wandered over to the Ma2, and a quick smile flickered across his features. He turned back to John and muttered; "I'm giving you leave, Howe." "What? Why?" "Not a word. Don't let Rabbitson hear you." He said promptly. "You must not come down to the labs tonight, Howe. Not at all." "Why?" ". Pay attention to my warning." William hurried off without another word
***
May 11 1998: At around 5 a.m., Scott woke me up. Scared the shit out of me, too. He was wearing a protective garment that looked like a space suit. He handed me another one and told me to put it on. Said there'd been an accident in the basement lab. I just knew something like this would happen. Those assholes in Research never rest, even at night.
Michel Dees, Kennel manager.
***
"What is this?" Asked John to Steve. Steve gave him what was clearly a design of decontamination suit. Steve was wearing one and for once he wasn't smoking a cig. "There was an accident in the labs." -Johns heart stopped.- ". Pay attention to my warning." He heard ring through his mind once more. What the fuck was this?? "What the hell happened??" He ordered. "The tank broke." He replied. The shit-head didn't appear too worried about it. "The tank that cleans out all the chemicals and stores them until they can be 'disposed of in a sanitary manner'" "Then why the hell don't they hit the emergency drainage system!?" Steve paused. "You have to see what happened." Steve tossed him the suit. "But I ain't gonna let you out 'till you put that shit on. One whiff of the virus and you're fucked." John didn't bother arguing. He saw what happened to a victim of the T- virus, but only on a dead body. It took up to a week for a live man to become one of the undead. John looked at his watch. "Four forty?! Shit!" John startled himself into thinking. "Hey. You didn't tell me how the tank broke." "One of they guys went mad and started shooting. Broke the tank and the whole lower levels are flooded up to your knees." "Why did he go mad?" "That I don't know, but you have to see what's happened." John followed Steve down to the labs. It took them long enough, but when John saw what was going down, he . he didn't know what to think. Everyone in research was rushing around, yelling excitedly at each other and passing papers and charts around. "What's doing down??" Barked John. This had gone on long enough.- -Someone tapped him on the shoulder, but rather than jumping out of his skin, he turned slowly.- "Doctor Howe." "Doctor Birkin. What the fuck did you do!?" "Now, now. You are in no position to throw around wild accusations." "You told me not to come down here on my shift and if I had and was exposed to the leak, then I would've been infected." "Then why aren't you thanking me for my warning you away?" "You did this didn't you??" He hissed. William sighed. "Must you be like this?" "You made that guy go mad, didn't you?? What the fuck could you possibly gain from this stunt!?" ".You haven't seen it yet, have you?" "Seen what?" William led John away. "In room 002." He said. "Dwells my latest experiment. it was more of an accident than deliberate; I'll have you know, Mr. Howe. It's roots hang down into the basement level, this level and they suck up the water from this man made lake." "What the hell are you talking about?!?!?" ".I've entitled it 'Plant 42', and I'd recommend you to stand very clear." Birkin opened the door to room 002. "It's only small, but it's growing very quickly" John didn't know what to make of it at first. Once it must have been a small herb like the ones growing in pots all around the mansion but now it was a humungous mass of meaty tentacles focused around a slowly pulsating centre. what looked like. a heartbeat- -A small part of the masses tentacles darted at him and he jumped out of the way almost entirely instinctively. Birkin slammed the door violently closed on its disgusting limbs that retreated from the pain with a strange screeching noise. Though desperation was in his actions, he didn't reveal any fear on his features.- ". Fuck." Gasped John. William looked at his fellow scientist on the floor, panting and sweating in his sudden burst of adrenaline. "Was it good for you too?" Joked William with a smirk on his face. "I was nearly fucking plant food!!!" "Well, you'd be of more nutritional value than a bottle of Baby Bio." "DID YOU KNOW THAT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN?!?" "I sincerely didn't." "You DID, didn't you?!" "It wasn't that aggressive when I last beheld it."
***
May 12, 1998: I've been wearing the damn space suit since yesterday. My skin's getting grimy and feels itchy all over. The goddamn dogs have been looking at me funny, so I decided not to feed them today. Screw 'em.
Michel Dees, Kennel manager
***
It's hard to have a coffee break in a decontamination suit, infact it was impossible. Not eating or drinking until the airborne of the virus had been cleared up. John and they guys were having their break in the usual spot in the lounge facing the specimen room, but eerily and for the first time in the region of a year or two, Birkin hadn't shown. At first they thought he was late, which would've been unusual in itself; he watched that thing every day, even on his holidays, but now he hadn't shown.
"Something is very wrong here." John thought aloud. "No shit." Barked Henry. "We've got a big ol' weed growing down in the lab!!" -"Is it me," Interrupted Steve. "Or is this goddamn suit really itchy?" "Damn straight!" Agreed Henry. "I'm okay in here." Said Rabbitson. "You're okay everywhere!" -"I'm not getting anything either." Said John. "Maybe you guys have a skin condition or something; a bad reaction maybe." "Has to be." Said Henry.- -John remembered William's warnings the night before the accident.- -"Henry, Steve? Where were you guys when the tank broke?" "I was in the next room." Said Henry. "I heard screaming, some dude going on about zombies, then there was this shoot out and it must've got hit in the crossfire." "I was in the lab at the time." Said Steve. "The guy went wack-o. The security guys had to nail him." "Bunny? Where were you?" "I was in the mansion. resting." -"Hey, Johnny." Said Henry. "Didn't you have a shift on that day?" ".I was given leave." "Bad luck. You missed everything." Maybe he had, but John had a horrible feeling about this. Everyone who was in and around the lab area at the time was getting itchy skin. When the shifts started back up again, John asked Rabbitson to stay behind. "What's up?" He asked. "I'm telling you this because I think you're the only one I can trust one hundred percent, Bunny." Bill cringed. "Is it about anything to do with Birkin?" "He told me just before the tank broke not to go down to the labs that night and now, everyone who was down there is getting itchy skin." Bunny looked worried. "We're wearing protective clothing! You can't mean that they got infected." "Itchiness is the first symptom. We're in the research team! You know what it does!" "Then why did they give up clothing that doesn't work?" "It does, but the airborne swept across the lower levels very quickly that night, before the suits where issued, so as long as we don't come into physical contact with one of them, we won't have to worry" "But Birkin would know that without a doubt!" "That's what I'm worried about. Bunny, keep an eye out for him. I want to speak to him."
***
May 13, 1998: Went to the infirmary because my backs is all swollen and feels itchy. They put a big bandage on it and told me I didn't need to wear the suit any more. All I wanna do is sleep.
Michel Dees, Kennel manager
***
Some weird shit was defiantly going down. Most of the staff had come down with 'the flu' and John had to work overtime along with Rabbitson. "Bunny." He hissed. At first, Bill didn't think he had heard it because the suit reduced his hearing but then he saw John waving at him frantically from one of the storage rooms. Bill looked around the room before going after John, the only other life forms he could see where the 121's and the Ma2's in their cages and they weren't going to tell if Bill had a little chat while on the job. "Did you find Birkin?" Asked John in desperation, dragging Bill into the room and closing the door to a jar. "It's like he's hiding. " He replied. "No one's seen him since the accident with the plant yesterday." "Oh no." Whined John. He was becoming a little fed up with all the 'horrific accidents' going on. "What happened now?" "One of the techs went down to point 42 for some chemical tests when he though it was dormant and it got him. He was sucked dry of all his bodily fluids, slowly." Bill then started to do sound affects. "SHHHLOPPE!!! Like a ripe tomato. He went all gooey and lumpy when it started and he was still alive at the time"- -"That's enough." -"It got a few others too." "I said I'd heard enough!" John paused. "God. Good thing Birkin closed that damn door with me." "But then if he knew all this 'tank business' would end up with an outbreak, why did he bother to save you?" John didn't answer himself but continued with Bill. "Bunny, are there any others like us? Uninfected, I mean." Bill shook his head. "God, the only other dude I know for sure is still okay is Martin Crackhorn ." Bill tightened his bandanna. "I hope you're wrong! EVERYONE'S fucking coming down with this shit!" "Shh, someone will hear if you yell like that." Warned John. "Stay cool for a bit longer. We'll call someone, like the R.P.D if this shit gets really out of hand." "We can't call the R.P.D!" Bill yelled. "Birkin gets his sample flesh from there so they're not going to help!" "Then whom the hell do we turn to??" Billy thought critically for a moment. "I know this guy who works at the R.P.D S.T.A.R.S. He's my best pal and he's a good guy to rely upon. A very good guy. His team-mates are all really good people and I'm totally positive they'd help." ".Are you sure?" "God, John. Don't you have faith? I said I'm positive Chris will help." ".You think you can get to him?" "The phones are ripped out so I'll have to go on foot." "Go tomorrow night. Hopefully by that time we've gotten a few uninfected on our side. Go talk to Martin at break. I'll keep an eye out for Birkin. I'm going to have to have a very long chat with that .man." "Wait," Said Rabbitson, suddenly. "Birkin isn't working on the 'Plant 42', Henry is. He leads the works down there and shit so the project was assigned to him." "Moron..." John said. "Why the hell hasn't he ordered that things extermination??" "An opportunity to study it." Bill said grimly. "They only recently just started working on countermeasures like a weed killer type chemical that should be applied to the plants root if it got out of hand." "There are shoots springing up all around the lab and they haven't killed it yet??" "I know!" "And it's killed a few staff members and they still stay their hand??" "I know, I know!" Bill paused. "What with this supposed infection and all, maybe they're delaying it's extermination because they know it's not going to make a difference." "But why gather the information if it won't make a difference?" Bill looked into Johns eyes seriously. "Maybe they're expecting someone to stop by and collect it?" John looked thoughtful for a moment, but then broke out of his train of thought. "This is all speculation." He said. "We should stick to what we know for sure and work on a way out of here." "We're not even sure if everyone's infected yet!" "Bunny, we worked on the effects of that damn thing and now after a leak in the tank that stores waste T-virus, and everyone who was in the labs came down with itchy skin, the first symptom, you still have doubt?" Bill smiled nervously. "I really hope it is just a bad reaction with the fabric." "You'll have a bad reaction with my fist if you keep trying to explain away what you don't want to except." He replied. Rabbitson looked shocked for a second but then he smiled. "I'll talk to Martin, but it'll be as hard as finding a needle in a hay stack. He hides out a lot." "Why don't you try his chamber first, dumb-ass?" He said blankly. "But before you do anything, try to get in contact your little 'S.T.A.R.S' friend. We need a shoulder to fall back on if this falls apart, okay?" Bill nodded. "Right. Gotacha. But if any of this involves going near that plant"- -"Don't worry; no shit-sucking plants involved." "Good." He said in relief but shuddered involuntarily. "That damn piece of kale gives me the creeps." He kicked the door open and turned his eyes back onto the clipboard. He came up to a 'Ma2' and it stared at him dangerously with its tiny motion perceptive pupils. Bill flicked some sheets over on the board and equipped a pen and after he had done scribbling some notes onto the paper heavy-handedly he looked up at it and hollered; "Yeah, what do you want?!" It didn't stop staring at him and Bill marched over to the subsequent pen.
John grabbed some lab resources that his branch needed and shuffled out of their, his hands full. He nearly dropped a few beakers, but caught them and balanced them proficiently on top of the stack. John stumbled blindly out of the room with faith in God that people will watch where they were going for once; It was a freakin' lab for Gods sake! They were supposed to be looking out for those with lab supplies shambling down the corridors but some of the researchers and even techs lumbered heavily down the corridors heads buried in their notes. It was an accident waiting to happen. Now that John had gotten on the subject, William was without a doubt one of those men too engrossed in his work to look where he was going. Some of the lesser men walked right into the coffee guy numerous times: He was the type who if he saw someone headed for him who wasn't looking where they were going, would purposefully just stand there with a shit-load of polystyrene cups full of scalding coffee. William would've been subjected to this but though he, like all the others, definitely does not look where he is going, he somehow manages to evade him, usually gracefully spinning out of the way and snatching a cup at the same time. He didn't drink it until the break would end, quickly guzzling it down in the Tyrants' chamber. He stuck to this routine every day, every single day like clockwork! John found it amusing yet sinister and he would wait to observe him come out his subdivision and begin his little journey at the same speed, at the same time... Some people would say that William was boring, that a man who did the same things every day wasn't exciting and that anyone who knew his must be aching all over for a new experience; John knew a few men in this establishment that would heckle him, saying that a real man would be bored senseless by having the same thing to do every day, than a normal man would need to get out and do something different. John felt sour toward them. Watching him closely, he didn't see pointless repetition! He saw a man perfecting himself. Birkin was a man of perfection, he strived for perfection and he was perfection. How can a man be good at what he does if he doesn't become what he does? It enraged John when his colleagues ridiculed such a man. "Have you been sniffing some of this shit?" He thought. "You're starting to sound like Birkin, what with all the talk of excellence and perfecting techniques." But Birkin was on his side. He may be apparently iniquitous, but he seemed to . to like him. "God, that don't matter. He's done something big and he's hiding from you because he must understand that you're conscious of what's going down." Birkin must've been watching him. "*GASP* Conspiracy theory! Don't be such a shit. Just because you've made a dangerous ally and he somehow knows all about you doesn't mean. err, what was the question again?" "Fucking brain. Shut up!" He whispered
***
May 14, 1998: Found another blister on my foot this morning. I ended up dragging my foot all the way to the dogs' pen. They were quiet all day, which is weird. Then I realized some of them had escaped. If anybody finds out, I'll have my head handed to me.
Michel Dees, Kennel manager
***
Everyone was silent and for once they closed the shutters to the specimen room. Rabbitson was missing and had been since John had spoken to him. He didn't turn up at morning break and now even after shift hours he didn't turn up. "Birkin has to have been involved" Was his first impression. "Whoa! Every time shit goes down, Birkin has something to do with it. You sent Bunny to find Birkin and he isn't seen since. What would you think? Wait, I am thinking." "Where is Bunny?" He asked plainly. There was no reply. None of them knew. There was a name dancing through his mind over and over and over like a torturing demon. Adam, it said. Bill Rabbitson went after the truth, after a man capable of soulless murder and now he's gone missing. All of his feelings, his fears and apprehension over this whole notion boiled down to one simple thing: John felt sick. "God." He said in a placid sound.
Someone opened the door and everyone turned, daring to hope it was Rabbitson, but it wasn't. It was Crackhorn. "You are missing Bill Rabbitson?" He asked. "John, may I speak with you?"- -"We're all Bunnies friends!" Henry answered. "I know, but what I need to say is Johns business." Crackhorn lead John out with Henry and Steve fuming. He looked about the specimen room before telling him what he needed to know. "Rabbitson came to my chamber last night speaking of an infection and that he and you are to contact the S.T.A.R.S." "Yes!" Said John. "He told me you appeared uninfected." "I too have noticed the version of events, maybe not as early on as you but I have noticed." "What do you intend?" Crackhorn shook his head. "I have no idea. I believed I could trust no one as I thought those who where uninfected where the catalysts of the affair." "What happened to Bunny?" John said. "If you're not coming with, then at least tell me what happened to him." "John." He said, sighing. "I heard gunshots late at night." ". . .Oh my God. . ." "There is no guarantee it was Rabbitson they where firing at!" "There was every guarantee! I told him to get in contact with the S.T.A.R.S, one of them was his friend but all the phones where ripped out. He must've tried to go on foot." "But we can't be sure it was him!!"- -"Bunny goes missing after he tries to get in contact with the outside and you heard gunshots and somehow it can't be him???" John looked down at the floor. "God.I feel sick to my stomach with all this. I want to just end it now." -"Birkin ordered the armed guards." John looked up, tears in his eyes. "He what?" "I was within ear shot at the time he ordered them. He didn't let the change be announced, however. He spoke about catching traitors trying to leave the facility off guard." "When was this?" He asked breathlessly. "About a day ago." "." John looked critically. "Did you see how bad some of them were getting?" He asked. Martin nodded. "Yes." Martin covered his mouth with his hand. He looked like he was on the brink of breaking down. " Some of them look like the living dead already, just with faculties." "We have to get out of here." He said. "How do we do that? More to the point, why should we?" "Do you want to wait around until they start changing??" "I don't want to hang around even now." Martin looked at John with a fear in his eyes, a fear that stirred him up. "I've been hearing strange things." He whispered uneasily. "Strange scratching noises. mainly in the courtyard." ". Something's gotten out, hasn't it?" "That's impossible. The 121s and Ma2's are all there." John thought about that for a moment. "What about the Tyrant-retrievers?" "The what?" "The zombie dogs; the Cerberus." "You mean we're still continuing that project?? We've learnt all we can from them already." "But the order to destroy them hasn't passed. The guys at 'White Umbrella' want us to keep hold of them until they're certain those things useless now." "Whose job is it to look after those thing??" Demanded Martin, distraughtly. "Michel Dees. He looks after most of the things in here, mainly because he seems incapable of disgust." John felt awkward to refer to the next name "William. occasionally comes down to the pens to admire his work." John remembered seeing Dees at the pens. "God. Dees was there this morning, scared the life out of me. He was dragging his foot along the floor just like a zombie. He must've known that those things have gotten out." "No, those things got out later in the day. I didn't hear the noises until lunch." Martin held his stomach. He seemed to be truly disturbed by it all. "Martin, you know a few techs, right? Tell as many as you can of the affairs! It's the only way. We're not the only one with our necks on the line."
***
May 15, 1998: My first day off in a long time and I feel like shit. Decided to go visit Nancy anyway, but when I tired to leave the estate, I was stopped by armed guards. They said the company's ordered that no one leaves the ground. I can't even make a phone call - all the phones have been ripped out! What kind of bullshit is this?!
Michel Dees, Kennel manager.
***
John was sniffing around the mansion looking for clues as to what was going on. He was told regularly by his superiors not to, that the mansion was a dangerous place but he didn't care.
John was snooping around the room with the grand piano, a room that the execs and higher ups used for after dinner entertainment, one of them William. John had been looking around the estate for hours without a single lead but his determination was what kept him going and finally it paid off.
In a bin in the corner of the hallow room was a piece of semi scorched paper. On it was the helipad chart, only it was slightly different from the ones on the notice boards. The pad was due for use in a few days time and one of the names on the list. was Birkin. "Fucking rat!" Hissed John. Birkin was due to get out of here before things really turned to shit, as was some other higher ups like Ellen Smith and some of the techs.-
-John felt his heart skip mid-beat...- - .His name was on there, scribbled on in pen only it had been crossed off in pencil. John recognised the handwriting from the charts he was handed on the brain chemistry of the Tyrant; it was William's handwriting. "He was going to take you with, out of this nightmare! So you wouldn't suffer the same fate." The only person on the list that was still uninfected other than him was William. John looked at the date of take off in the grids of the chart. The chopper was due to take off on the day John estimated that everyone would've turned. "And the turned can't get on the helicopter. It must've been a safety measure." Johns name had been scribbled through hurriedly with pencil. Birkin must've changed his mind. "Birkin must've known I was planning to start telling people. Dammit! I only told one man to start off with to get it off my chest and now it's gone to shit! The chopper is the only way out of here and . and that's the way we're going."
***
May 16, 1998: Rumour's going around that a researcher who tried to escape last night was shot. My entire body feels hot and itchy and I'm sweating all the time now. I scratched the swelling on my arm and a piece of rotting flesh just dropped off. Wasn't until I realized the smell was making me hungry that I got violently sick.
Michel Dees, kennel manager.
***
His friends didn't turn up for work today, none of them did. Only he was in the holding pens, - -And his heart stopped when he saw the consequences of the lack of staff and maintenance checks.- Something had happened during the night, a power cut or something. the cell doors to some of the pens had been smashed and shredded through. The bars of the cells where supposed to be electrically charged. "Shit." He muttered, a feeling of dread leaking into him... John felt as though the whole place had already turned. Before, the mansion labs were full of life but now, everywhere he went there was no one . it was as though the facility was empty.- -Someone tapped him on the shoulder-
John turned slowly around, feeling a longing for it to be a friendly face but knowing who it must've been- -It was Birkin. "Birkin!" He hissed bitterly. The man was smiling a sickly, abnormal smile. "I am he." He replied almost curiously. "You bastard! What the hell his going on?!" William unhurriedly looked over Johns shoulder at the disaster behind him and then causally looked back into Johns scowling features. "My, my." He said sounding melodramatically surprised. "Whatever in the world happened here??" -"I"- -"Now now, Mr. Howe. I am not to be held responsible for any of this." "This is because of that tank bursting! It's all your fault!!" "How mine?" He replied, smiling. "It was obvious from square one!" "Wish you'd discontinue the shouting." Birkin said. "It's giving me a migraine." "The gall!! You don't take this seriously, do you?!" "Oh, Mr. Howe..." He chuckled but that odd, deep throaty noise died abruptly. "You have no idea.." "About what??" He barked, boldly daring to infuriate Birkin for the answers he held. "You've fucked us all around in this square dance for too long now, William Birkin! You did something to the guy who busted the tank, didn't you? You planned this all from the start! It would've been too risky and expensive to design and build an environment for Plant 42 on such short notice, so you made it unofficially; you just needed some poor sap, a guy who's not going to give any evidence against you." "Oh, Howe." Birkin said, sighing. "Why ever would I do that? Umbrella can afford it." "But the plant is carnivorous and highly dangerous, so if you made it as free as that officially, any deaths will be entirely Umbrellas fault and would look bad but this way any deaths wouldn't be the fault of the company." "There would be little point in such an elaborate hoax. It would be cost ineffective." - And that's when it hit him. ". .Umbrella doesn't know about this, do they?"
William's eyes widened. "They know. It was companies orders not to let anything leak." "And who receives and issues the companies orders to the teams?? You do!" John grinned wide a satisfying glow filled him. He was sure he had worked it all out. "You're doing this because the company will fund your research into the new virus you mentioned to me a lot more if you destroy this facility thus making your chemical plant the only research centre in Raccoon. That way, it would receive the entire amount of funding distributed to Racoon labs, rather than it being split between two facilities! You love your life's work so much that you'd kill us all for it." William was frowning low and dangerously, vexed that his tenderly executed plot had just been snuffed out. Umbrella would get all the blame once it found out about the loss of the mansion facility I the horrendous genetic blasphemes that where assembled within it. No one for a second would dream that the blame could be on one man for using a diabolical companies own bio weapons against it. Birkin had made quite a smoke screen. "Rabbitson is dead, you know." William said unexpectedly. "What was it you used to call him? 'Bunny'. Wasn't it? Sweet." William chuckled. He didn't sound suited with that word coming out of his sick lips. "A play on the 'B' in Bill and the 'Rabbit' in Rabbitson." "Don't pretend you know him."- -"The name was thought up by his friend Chris Redfield of the R.P.D branch of S.T.A.R.S when they met in the Air force. They've been friends for a long time now and they meet regularly at 'Emmys', a restaurant close to the City limits. He wears a bandanna for luck and his hairstyle has nothing to do with any African origins. It is, in fact, natural, despite everything people say." ".How the hell do you know that, you sick"- "You have a girlfriend you picked up at your. 'buddy' Steve's engagement party named Ada Wong. After a quick one-night stand, you thought the earth had moved and decided she was 'the one'. Little do you know that she deems you to be somewhat underprivileged in bed and that she is an Umbrella-hired spy using you to research into these affairs." "You're lying." "No, she says that if you fucked a mouse it probably wouldn't notice"- -"Not about the bed thing!!!! She can't be a spy." "She's as cool headed, no, even more so than I and you think she's a normal woman?" ".But ." - He was lying- "That's the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard." "Yet more so than zombies, hunters, chimeras and the perfectly engineered soldier 'just chillin' in the specimen room while you down your coffees and discuss brain chemistry? Throw in 'yours truly' in the staring role of 'mad scientist number one' and you've got yourself the most difficult-to-believe notion since Darwin decided to rock the world with his theory of evolution." "Even if no one will believe. . ." "You'll what? You didn't finish your little summary, Mr. Howe. If no one believes you, you have nothing to hope for." William smiled. ". You." "Yes me." "STOP finishing my sentences!!"- -A thought crossed his mind. John had been searching for this man for so long since the plant first sprouted and now he could ask him whatever he wanted. ".Why did you tell me all this??? HU? Why the hell are you even doing this to me?? You didn't bother with Bunny, so why are you still messing with me??" Birkin smiled. "You seem capable." "Of what?? You're not making any sense!!" ". Never mind." William started to walk away, but paused and turned back to the enraged man. "If I were you, I'd start packing. Some of them, some of your work buddies are starting to turn. With those in the mansion, the Hunters loose in the courtyard and the chimeras running around in the power room, it'll be a task escaping." "There's still hope."
***
MaY 19. FevEr goNE But ITChY. HUngRy anD EAt DOgGie fOod. tchy ITcHy SCotT cAMe uGlY FacE So kILLed HIm . TaSTy.
ItcHY. TaStY ~.
***
John had locked himself in a storeroom in the lab facility. John ran there, chased by some of the things his former friends had become. John recognised them but didn't wait around to see if they recognised him. He must have been in denial, or shock. He was sitting on boxes of ammunition for a nine millimetre something that he desperately wanted right now and didn't feel a thing, not even fear for his own life. "'I seem capable' Birkin told me. Capable of what? There are zombies running around out there and I don't care! Either I'm a heartless bastard like Birkin or ." John didn't quite know how to finish that sentence off. "Maybe that's the potential William saw in me.I'm sick, like him." It was a ridiculous notion but it was the best he could come up with. "And where the hell is Martin?" Martin Crackhorn hadn't shown up for the past few days. He wasn't infected . was he? John paused. Was he the only one that was uninfected? Was this all part of Birkin's plans or did they just screw up in one big way? Did he want John to survive so that his conspiracy plan of geniuses was witnessed by at least one man? Was John going to die of starvation or dehydration in this room, or was he going to get ripped to death by- -There was a gunshot, muted by distanced. A dieing gasping moan sounded made faint by the vastness of the outside area and then a dulled thud. Running footsteps tapped away, barely perceptible by John's ear but he knew who it must have been. -BAM- -Another, only much closer. John stood up. "Hello?!" He called out. He could hear something fall down, scuffing the door slightly as it went and then breathing... a slight panting that scraped into a smearing sound as the man rubbed his face. He then turned and ran down the corridor, a door slammed behind him. "WAIT!" John cried out. He opened the door- -To find that something on the other side was preventing him from doing just that. John shoved at it harder and it started to give, slow moving and on the floor a smear of blood fanned out the further he pushed the door. A corps was blocking the door and John shoved it completely aside, a corpse that he didn't want to see whom it was. A bullet hole was in what was left of its skull; gore freshly seeping from the puncture. John puckered his lips, wanting to ask himself more questions that would have to be left rhetorical. at least for now. William Birkin had put that zombie to sleep. He didn't need to come down to this part of the labs to get where he was headed for. He had come down right to where John was hiding and put to sleep all the monsters that would be in his way. William wanted John to get out but he didn't want him with. John was weary about following him but he had no other choice. It was either that or die.
*** My dearest Alma,
I sit here trying to think of where to begin, of how to explain in a few simple words all that's happened in my life since we last spoke, and already I fail. I hope this letter finds you well and whole, and that you will forgive the tangents of this pen; this isn't easy for me. Even as I write, I can feel simplest of concepts slipping away, lost to feelings of despair and confusion - but I have to tell you what's in my heart before I can rest. Be patient, and accept that what I tell you is the truth.
The entire story would take hours for me to tell you, and time is short, so accept theses things as fact: last month there was an accident in the lab and the virus we were studying escaped. All my colleagues who were infected are dead or dying, and the nature of the disease is such that those still living have lost their senses. The virus robs its victims of their humanity, forcing them in their sickness to seek out and destroy life. Even as I write these words, I can hear them, pressing against my locked door like mindless, hungry animals, crying out like lost souls.
There aren't words true enough, deep enough to describe the sorrow and shame that I feel knowing that I had a hand in their creation. I believe they feel nothing now, no fear or pain - but that they can't experience the horror of what they've become doesn't free me of my terrible burden. I am, in part, responsible for this nightmare that surrounds me.
In spite of the guilt that is burned into my very being, that will haunt my every breath, I might have tried to survive, if only to see you again. But my best efforts only delay the inevitable; I am infected, and there is no cure for what will follow - except to end my life before I lose the only thing that separates me from them. My love for you.
Please understand. Please know that I am sorry.
Martin Crackhorn.
***
William smirked, partially against his will, when he saw that Mr. Howe had made it to the Helipad. He had feared for a minute that he might have accidentally overlooked a few of those disgusting creatures that stalked the labs; Howe was unarmed. William looked down from his viewpoint in the chopper well aware that he was out of the mans reach. A rope ladder was still hung down from where William had climbed up, and John dashed for it. William snatched it away, just as Howe reached it. "If only." He said to himself. "What are you doing?!?!" Screamed Howe over the roar of the 'copter. Williams eyes were caught by saw some of the creatures as they emerged from where John had come. He had been chased and was desperate for sanctuary. "If only." William said aloud. "If only what??! Let me up!! They're coming!!!" The desperation in Johns voice caused William to break down into a few unpleasant giggles. "What the fuck are you doing, you sick bastard?!?!" "If only!!!" William repeated, cackling like a demented old hag. "What the hell is wrong with you, Birkin?!?! Let me up, NOW!" "No can do, Johnny-boy!" William said, pointing a finger mischievously at him. John shot a look back at the zombies that where gaining on him. "I don't fucking have time for this crap now!! Lower the ladder!!!!" "If only you had kept your mouth shut and not asked any questions!!" William yelled down. "Just like I had instructed you to do!!! I would've taken you here myself, given you a new life, everything!!!" "I don't want a new life, I want MY life!!!!" "Shame! I would have let you live, just one man to have witnessed this other than myself but you had to play the inspector and work this all out!! I would've told you after all this, when it was safe for you to know and when this disaster became just yesterday's news, but now you know too much too soon!! Now, you can die knowing you did this to yourself!!!" "You're a fucking screwball, William Birkin!!!" John cried up, now hazardously close to the zombies. "You know I won't talk now if you bring me up!!!" "Umbrella would beat the answers out of you if they ever found you, and I will never let Umbrella find out what really happened here!" William signalled to the pilot to take him up. "You have only yourself to blame!!!" He hollered one last time. "NO!!!!" John screamed up as the zombies got to him. "This is fucking bullshit!!" He cried up from the pile of creatures that had now pinned him to the floor. "Umbrella will find out!!!!!" He cried. "And when they do, I'll be seeing you in HELL!!" John kept screaming, not at the monsters that were tearing pieces out of him, but at the monster that was looking eagerly down at him as the chopper took him away. John swore bravely that Birkin would die for this right up until his very last breath when his gargled, enraged shouts and curses abruptly came to an end. William smiled and nodded to himself, satisfied that the creatures had killed the man and sat back down in the padded chair and closed the door of the helicopter. William rested his head on the chair, leaning back and looking thoughtfully out of the window. He forced back a smiled; it seemed that he had pulled it off, which meant Umbrella funding for his G-virus would sore dramatically. Yes, today had been very good for him indeed as It would meant that he could once again work his life's work with the woman he loved just like old times. "Fly this thing carefully, okay?" Said William to the pilot, closing his eyes tiredly. "I don't want this thing crashing after all that." He let out a deep little chuckle from the back of his throat and let the thrum and the relaxing vibration of the choppers blades lull him into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.