Resident Evil: The Next Contestant

For Shakahnna (My Hunny)

Albert Wesker was no stranger to duplicity. Indeed, deceitfulness was one of his more prominent characteristics. For much of his life, he had led his employer, Umbrella Incorporated, to believe that his loyalty belonged solely to them, while at all times furthering his own ambitions. While posing as a Captain of S.T.A.R.S at the company's behest, he had infected himself with an experimental regenerative mutagen that had made him functionally immortal. After that incident, he had allowed his second employer, the Tricell Corporation, to believe that he had defected to their ranks.

This, in turn, set in motion the events that had led to that organisation's eventual dissolution and Umbrella's rise to absolute dominance. That particular intensification of their operations had resulted in his own advancement to Chief Executive Officer, a position that he had held, unchallenged, for many decades since.

These days he found himself embroiled in a peculiar affair with one Shakahnna Morgan. This was perhaps the most curious deception of all. By day, he continued to manage the concerns of his employer as usual, and did so with all of the ruthless efficiency that had earned him his lofty position to begin with. By night, however, he assisted the redheaded female in her continuing quest to decimate the company utterly. This was due, in no small part, to the corporation having outlived its usefulness. He was a powerful and wealthy man; indeed, of late he found himself wanting for little other than suitable companionship.

And the young lady whom he currently entertained at his estate had proven herself more than suitable.

He therefore saw no grounds to deny her the requests she had made of him, to destroy Umbrella, in exchange for her willingness to remain incumbent at his residence of her own volition.

One condition of their agreement regarded her fellow terrorists, those individuals that opposed the corporation, whom he had taken great pains to exterminate in decades past. All intelligence relating to those men and women was to be provided for her perusal, including the locations of any processing facilities where large numbers of her colleagues were held prior to extermination. It was that article that had led her to arrange, in excruciating detail, the operation for that evening.

She had spent fourteen days and fourteen sleepless nights reviewing schematics and consulting detainee manifests. It was clear that this matter was one of great importance to her. For his part, he had elected to take a leave of absence from his duties to assist her in this matter. As he no longer required sleep, he had been quite content to match her insomnia that past fortnight, and had contributed much from his own knowledge of the installation's inner workings.

Unfortunately, his beloved had recently gained possession of a rare compact disc, no doubt by bartering with a member of his private staff. She had developed an unhealthy fixation with one song in particular, and had repeated it ad infinitum over the course of the last two weeks. As such, the otherwise pleasant task of preparing for their outing had been rendered practically intolerable, and Wesker, whose memory was flawless, could not erase the melody's contents from his mind. Focusing on the task at hand was proving to be quite difficult as a result.

The otherwise impregnable installation had proven to have a rather prominent weakness. They made their way into the hybrid penitentiary and death camp through an abandoned system of natural caverns that adjoined the maintenance tunnels running below the facility. There was little in the way of resistance, and only a thin rock wall stood between them and the area they wished to infiltrate. The redhead had equipped herself with explosives for that very reason.

As they made their way to the upper levels, the blond reflected that they had prepared in every conceivable way, though their current condition left much to be desired. Shakahnna's strategy, such as it was, was impeccable; they were each at the peak of their individual physical abilities and well-equipped, as ever. Unfortunately, these factors were undermined by the harrowing fortnight they had both endured. His reserves of both patience and concentration had been eroded by the relentless barrage of antique rock music. His beloved wore a distracted glaze over her wide, manic eyes, which were ringed with circles of bruise-black skin, and her usual broad grin was stretched somewhat further than it should have been.

To makes matters infinitely worse, rather than permitting them to utilise subterfuge to circumvent the majority of the installation's security staff, she had mandated that all staff there were to be executed, without exceptions. As though to ensure that she caught the attention of their enemies, she was wearing a crude, hand-stitched insignia of a red star on the right and left shoulder of her green fatigues. Such emblems were usually associated with terrorists such as the ones contained here.

She would not be persuaded that such a symbol could prove dangerous.

"I judge by what she's wearing, just how many heads I'm tearing, off'f assholes coming on to her..."

They advanced into what appeared to be the mess hall of the installation's security force. The reaction of the men gathered there was much as he expected, though they had been caught unawares by their sudden incursion and were not properly equipped to handle two armed intruders. Their professionalism had lapsed in their complacency, and not a single soldier there had thought to retain possession of his sidearm while they ate. He would be glad to see them die, if only as an admonition for this failing. Inefficiency was intolerable.

The guards rose from their seats even as the redhead bolted forwards, letting out a wordless cry of jubilation as she vaulted the nearest table and kicked the man on the other side in the jaw. The impact knocked him onto his back, where she pounced upon him and sank the blades that served as extensions of her fingers between his ribs, piercing his heart and lungs. Even as he lay squirming, she rose, bringing her arm up in a vertical slice and embedding her claws in the underside of a second man's jaw. Blood drooled in thick rivulets over his chin as she wrenched her hand free and permitted him to slump to the ground.

Wesker, ever eager to play the voyeur to any slaughter she orchestrated, watched as she cut into their ranks. His only regret was that the abilities of these men were so woefully inferior to those of the young lady whom he accompanied. They were little more than cattle to them both. Indeed, part of him wished to interfere on her behalf, so that her energy could be saved for more worthy opponents. His penchant for sadism stayed his hand, however.

"I wish she'd take the night off, so I don't have to fight off, every asshole coming on to her..."

A third man darted towards her and she moved swiftly to intercept him, her forehead exploding into his nose with a loud crunch of shattering cartilage. He collapsed instantaneously, bloody tears flowing from the corners of his eyes where his decimated cheekbones had lacerated his eyeballs. A colleague of his found himself lifted roughly into the air and slammed onto his back on the tabletop, before the redhead's talons found the apex of his legs and carved a gaping wound in his crotch.

With her latest victim screaming and bleeding profusely, she whipped around, tearing the flesh away from a fifth male's skull and sending him reeling away, clutching at the exposed ivory of his cheekbones. She gripped the back of his head and slammed him face first into the concrete floor, only intensifying his shrieks further, before leaping forward and bringing her right foot around into the groin of another guard. As he doubled over, she speared his hands with her blades as they clutched at his bruised testicles. With his hands trapped at his pelvis, he could do nothing but watch as she slit his throat with a flick of her wrist and discarded him to the floor.

All the while, her lips moved as she recited the lyrics to the self-same song she had subjected him to those past few days, as though she had taken it upon herself to select it as the anthem for the evening.

"They'll go and ask the DJ, find out just what would she say, if they all tried coming on to her..."

The sole surviving member of the installation's off-duty security force, a stocky man with a clean shaven scalp, seized a carving knife from the nearest table and leapt at her. The blade cleaved across her upper arm, almost cutting clean through the rough star on her shoulder, soaking her sleeve with gore. As he twisted his weapon around, attempting to plunge it into her belly, she caught his wrist, leering into his face as she turned it around with ease and slowly slid him onto his own knife. The serrated edge puckered the bare flesh of his torso and tore a gaping hole in his gut.

Blood gushed over Shakahnna's hands and then she let him slide to the ground, his eyes wide with horror. Grinning to herself, she glanced over at her blond paramour and shot him a lurid wink, to which he remained ever stoic. Not to be deterred from her self-congratulation, however, she reached into her hip pouch and removed a stainless steel flask. Even from his considerable distance, Wesker could detect the scent of strong alcohol. Intoxication would not be conducive to her current battle with fatigue, he felt.

"They think they'll get inside her, with every drink they buy her, as they all try coming on to her..."

Tucking the flask back into her belt, she turned to the door that would lead them to the dormitories. In keeping with the demands she had made of him, she was systematically eliminating the security personnel, effectively cutting off the supply of reinforcements to those currently patrolling the installation. He admired the expediency with which she was dispatching them. It was a pleasure to see such efficiency from her.

They advanced into the sleeping quarters, which was little more than a long corridor with wide berths set into the walls. The sounds of the skirmish in the mess hall had sent the remaining men scattering, fleeing away along the passage. The redhead seemed dismayed by this turn of events, her lips puffing out in an overly theatrical pout. There remained one man to confront them, however, and this individual's physical stature was considerable enough to challenge even that of Wesker.

The dark-skinned male stood at almost seven feet tall and was around half as wide at the shoulders, wearing heavy boots, black uniform trousers and a white vest, his dog tags hanging from his thick neck. He seemed more than willing to engage them, to the point of seeming almost eager. Indeed, he was perhaps the most competent and dedicated soldier they had encountered thus far. Shakahnna's own interest was noticeably piqued at the notion of a worthy opponent.

As they approached, one of the giant's colleagues departed with a yell of: "Fuck 'em up, Jackson."

"Here comes the next contestant..."

The man advanced, and Shakahnna moved to intercept him. She ducked a heavy right hook, lashing out with her claws to cut into the flesh of his abdomen. His response was to strike her with a backhand that snapped her head to the side and staggered her for long enough that he was able to land a powerful kick to her midsection. She slammed backwards into a bunk, flicking her claws out at him as he came close again, the blades on her fingers carving tracks of crimson in the solid muscle of his stomach.

Catching one of her arms at the wrist, he twisted her captured limb aside and gripped her throat with his remaining hand, pressing his thumb into her neck. Her remaining hand clasped around his forearm, her talons slicing into his skin as her cheeks took on a deep flush. She purred deep in her throat, and this was the moment that her blond paramour decided that it was time to intervene.

"Is that your hand on my girlfriend?"

He surged forward, a dark blur of motion, and seized the soldier at the elbow, thrusting his palm forward and snapping the limb at the joint. The guard let out a disbelieving yelp as the jagged bones split his skin, moments before Wesker wrenched back on his arm, pulling him away from the young woman. A palm thrust to the chest knocked the man into the bunk at the opposite side of the corridor, before a barrage of quick punches shattered his ribcage, each blow punctuated by a wet crack.

He thrust a knee into the hapless individual's gut, doubling him over and sending him slumping to his knees, where he staggered forward breathlessly. His left hand clutched at his damaged torso, while the other searched for something to cling on to, finding only the redhead, who was leering appreciatively, the colour not yet having left her features.

"I wish you'd do it again..."

Wesker stepped on the back of his calf, a moment of applied pressure fracturing his leg below the knee and causing him to cry out. He let go of Shakahnna and collapsed to the floor, even as the blond continued to grind his foot into the latest broken limb.

"I'll watch you leave here limping..."

Then, without a hint of exertion in spite of the man's size, he gripped him by the reverse of his vest top and pulled him up to his knees again effortlessly. He laced his arm around the guard's neck and wrenched back on it, his spine cracking with a suitable hint of finality. The corpse dropped limply to the floor, disconnected vertebrae bulging grotesquely at the side of its throat. It let out one final gurgle and then lay still.

"There goes the next contestant..."

As he turned away to follow the fleeing soldiers, to prevent them from either escaping or raising the alarm for their comrades elsewhere in the building, he heard his partner let out a grunt of displeasure. He turned to face her, raising an eyebrow as though to ask her to clarify the vocalisation.

"You never let me have any fun," she said, her complaint turned into a pleasant comment by the grin that she still wore on her face, even now.

With that, she skipped past him and away down the corridor, evidently eager to find more playmates with which to indulge herself. He followed close behind, on the off chance that she would require his assistance again.

-x-x-x-x-x-

It was several hours later that they breached the technological hub of the facility, the chamber labelled as Central Command on the installation's diagram. This had been Shakahnna's goal from the very beginning, he was quite certain. However, she had deliberately taken a circuitous route of the base, bringing them into contact with every pocket of resistance it had to offer. The guards' quarters were now quite devoid of life, and the watchtowers stood unmanned. All that remained was to infiltrate the prison itself.

By this time, he had expended much of his available ammunition and stamina. His clothing was shredded from various direct hits scored by his enemies, and stained with blood from wounds that, though fatal in a lesser man, had healed quickly due to his viral augmentation. Repairing such injuries was rapidly becoming a chore, however.

His beloved did not appear to be faring much better than himself, having resorted to scavenging for supplies from the bodies of her fresh kills. Her right eye was swollen shut from a rifle butt she had taken to the face, and she was bleeding from her puffy lip and nose. Her clothing was torn in places, and the colour of her skin was now more the myriad hues of bruising than it was not. She had also developed a noticeable hitch in her bouncing gait, though this was as a result of an old injury rather than a new one. Though she continued to grin widely, as ever, her elation was curbed by her fatigue. She did her level best to remain as boisterous as before, all the same.

As he watched, she was in the process of accessing the CenCom terminal, which would grant them access to the prison's internal systems. Her progress was agonisingly slow, primarily because she was typing with a single clawed finger and referring every other second to a sheaf of printouts that she had been keeping in her pocket. Though he was being given ample time to recoup his lost strength, he was rapidly growing impatient with the lack of progress they were making.

"Perhaps I may be of some assistance," he offered, from his position behind her.

"Gerrit up ya, thou fucker," she responded eloquently, which he had long ago learned to accept as a refusal, "don't want you fucking everything up."

"Might I ask what your strategy is for the remainder of this operation?"

"You can get bent," she answered, continuing whatever task she was currently undertaking, and remaining silent for a few minutes before she spoke again, "we're gonna go into the cells and kill all the guards. Then we're going to release all the prisoners and let them free."

"You are aware that it would be far simpler to unseal both the prison and cell doors from that terminal, and allow your comrades to escape under their own power?"

"And then most of them would die after about five seconds, because the Umbrella scum down there all have guns and they're half-starved and practically crippled," she added, "no thanks, douche bag. We'll be doing things my way, I think."

"Your approach is inefficient."

"And you're a cunt."

She fell silent again, focusing on her slow progress with the workstation before her. After a few more moments of her rhythmic tapping, the console let out a loud alert, and then the room went dark, leaving them standing in the faint red luminescence of the chamber's emergency lights. Though Wesker was startled enough to raise a single, slender eyebrow, Shakahnna herself leapt backwards, right hand clutching at her chest in fright.

"Christ!" she cried, "I fucking shat myself."

"Am I to assume that this was not intentional?"

"Oh shut thou pus, you smug cunt."

He was about to offer his own rejoinder when a dark shape smashed through the chamber's main viewing window, landing in a crouch at the centre of the room. The blond spun, bringing the Desert Eagle holstered at his hip to aim at the new arrival, even as his partner did the same, her twin Colt .45 semi-automatic pistols coming around in one fluid motion. The shadow stood, the dim crimson glow illuminating the chamber shining on bare, pebbled flesh and long locks of flesh spreading from the skull. Bare feet crunched glass as the Veronica-model Tyrant turned to face them, features drawn into a stern mask of emotional passivity.

With a warped sigh, it barrelled forwards, dodging sharply as Wesker's cannon barked, the high velocity slug punching a hole in the far wall. The monster spun into a flying kick that caught him firmly in the sternum before he could react and sent him careening backwards into a server cabinet. Sparks erupted from the electrical equipment as his impact caused it to buckle beneath his weight. In that moment, the creature rounded on his associate, ducking a poorly aimed salvo of .45 calibre bullets, before sweeping the redhead's feet out from under her.

"I even fear the ladies - they're cool but twice as crazy - just as bad for coming on to her..."

Its foot came down on the fallen woman's head, but she rolled aside, letting its bare sole hammer down on the carpeted ground. Coiling her body around the Tyrant's leg, she impaled her claws through its opposing knee, before applying her weight to its captured limb and dragging it to the floor. Her arm moved like a piston, ramming her bladed fingers over and over into the meat of its thigh, looking for nerve clusters or vulnerable spots in its genetically enhanced frame. Dark ichor spattered the floor, moments before the monster drew its free foot back and slammed it into the side of her head.

Dazed, Shakahnna was unable to prevent it from snapping its legs up in one sharp movement, the motion throwing her off and across the room, where she collided with a desk laden with paperwork. Standing groggily, the redhead raised her hands as her opponent advanced, its movements slowly, purposeful and showing no sign of injury. Despite the obvious danger posed by this specimen, the leer on her face was as pronounced as ever. Indeed, she even saw fit to offer the creature some encouragement in the form of a suggestive wink.

She swung a decapitating strike, faster than a normal man could have reacted, but which it ducked easily, its fists hammering her torso, before a hard front kick slammed her backwards into the wall. As she bounced forward, the creature hopped onto the desk and, in one fluid movement, locked its thighs around her head, throwing her over onto her back with a single jerk of its hips.

Keeping her skull trapped in the vice of its legs, it began to crush her, restraining her arm easily with its own powerful limbs.

"And each time she bats an eyelash, somebody's grabbing her ass, everyone keeps coming on to her..."

Wesker's gloved hand clamped around the Tyrant's throat as his beloved's face began to turn a particularly vivid shade of scarlet. Its head jerked up, eyes focusing on him, prioritising him as its target, even as he lifted it into the air. Its muscular lower limbs uncoiled from around the woman's throat, letting her slump to the floor massaging her neck, before its foot kicked out, striking him solidly in the chest. The impact was severe enough to shatter several of his ribs, but not enough to deter him.

He threw it backwards into another server bank, which collapsed with the collision. It dropped to its knees, but recovered in a single heartbeat and darted towards him once more.

"Here comes the next contestant..."

He met the creature at the chamber's midpoint, his fist slamming into its jaw and snapping its head to the side, before he thrust a palm strike at its chest, which it blocked with a sweep of its arm. It pummelled his stomach with rapid punches, before driving its foot into his gut and using that as a stepping stone to ram its opposing knee into his cheek. His sunglasses were shaken from their perch on the bridge of his nose as he staggered backwards into the terminal behind him, and it crushed them as it fell back to the floor.

The redhead attacked for a second time, carving deep grooves in the Tyrant's stomach with her claws, before slashing at its face and cutting out one of its eyes. It responded with a devastating blow from the base of its fist that sent her crashing to the floor almost instantly, the force of the impact causing her legs to buckle. It grabbed her by a fistful of her tactical vest and attempted to drag her to her feet, but she resisted, kicking back into its knee with the heel of her boot, before spinning and impaling it through its sexless crotch. Clearly unable to feel the injury, it placed its bare foot on her chest and kicked her over onto her back.

It knelt down over her, seizing her by the front of her jacket and holding her in place for a series of heavy punches to the face. All the while, Shakahnna grinned up at it through features stained with blood.

"Is that your hand on my girlfriend?"

The blond's Desert Eagle barked loudly, deep craters appearing in the monster's near-impervious skin as the high calibre weapon's rounds punched holes along its spine. Nearly shaken from its perch, it stood, rounding on Wesker, only for its previous opponent to lace her legs around its calf and drag it back to its knees. Even as the redhead began to stab into its hip, it brought its right arm around in a backhand blow that slammed into the side of her head and left her reeling.

"I wish you'd do it again..."

Another bullet blew a wide hole in its collar bone, and its attention snapped back to its male opponent. It shook itself loose from the dazed woman, who was cursing at it drunkenly and still trying to stab it, and advanced towards him. Yet another slug from the cannon exploded on its thigh, sending dark blood streaking across the carpet, before another blew apart its opposing kneecap. It staggered, and then fell to its knees, face twitching with confusion as it suddenly lost the use of its lower limbs.

"I'll watch you leave here limping..."

With an air of casual finality, in spite of the damage that had been done both to him and his beloved, he levelled his weapon at the female Tyrant's head. But he stayed the killing blow, instead simply choosing to gesture to his associate as she rose to her feet, conceding to her the opportunity to execute their enemy. Licking her parched lips with the anticipation of the kill, the young woman advanced. She plunged her claws to their hilt in the creature's shoulder, severing the tendons that controlled its arm, punctuating the stab with a grunt of peaking arousal. With her opposing hand, she did the same to incapacitate its other upper limb, still leering widely as she indulged herself in a few choice moments of sadism.

Then, she gripped a fistful of the monster's fleshy tresses and embedded her talons in the side of its neck, sawing through the armoured flesh and reinforced bone. The alloy that had been used to craft her chosen weapons was peerless - he had seen to that - the better to ensure that her killing sprees could go unabated by damage to the blades. They would make quick work of even the advanced Tyrant model. Indeed, moments later, the redhead tore the B.O.W's head away with a sharp tug, holding the trophy aloft with a triumphant grin.

"There goes the next contestant..."

The creature's twitching corpse dropped to the ground as Shakahnna secured her prize to her belt, its near-black gore drooling along the length of her leg. Wesker holstered his pistol and advanced on her, looming over her meagre height. She bared her teeth up at him as he leaned down, cupping her jaw in his right hand. Her claws traced the curve of his cheek, thin trails of blood running over the line of his chin.

"I trust that this was acceptable entertainment for you, dear heart?"

"Oh yeah," she informed him, voice husky, practically a purr, before knocking his hand away from her face and marching towards the door, "soon as we're done with this place, I'm going for a wank of victory."

He watched her proceed ahead of him, his eyes flaring red to her back, before he turned to follow.

"As you wish."

-x-x-x-x-x-

The remaining guards in the cell block were in a state of panic by the time they breached the prison. Their communications had been shut off due to the lack of power, as had the majority of the lights. Several hapless personnel had already fallen victim to the incumbent inmates, who had taken their opportunities to tear the men to shreds with makeshift knives, or even with their bare hands. Unfortunately, there was no way for them to make good their escape, until Shakahnna arrived.

Quieting their protests with promises that she would release them all, she led Wesker through the penitentiary, hunting down and slaughtering any staff that were left in the installation. Once their task was complete, they returned to the prisoners and overrode the electronic locks in those areas where such methods were available to them. Where there was no recourse for this, Wesker applied force to the entryway of each cage, permitting the various terrorists to depart from their confinements.

Many of the men and women they released took note of the emblem sewn onto the young woman's arm. They were as pleased to see that their cause had not died while they languished there as they were grateful for her assistance. She told each of them to escape into the wastelands beyond the facility's walls as quickly as possible, never permitting them to remain in her company for more than the requisite few moments. Wesker watched each exchange in silence, and the redhead seemed acutely aware of his attention.

It occurred to him that she would much rather have accompanied her comrades in arms than return with him, and that this was why she was sending them away, before the temptation became too great. This notion caused his jaw to clench imperceptibly, a factor that only she would be capable of noticing.

"I'm hating what she's wearing, everybody here keeps staring, can't wait till they get what they deserve..."

Once they had released the last of the prisoners, and she had directed them to the nearest exit, they stood for several silent moments in the empty corridor of the holding facility. He imagined that she was granting them the opportunity to disappear completely before they too made their departure. She still did not consider him completely trustworthy, it seemed, and perhaps that was a wise choice on her part. But whether she mistakenly had faith in his honesty or not was immaterial to his ultimate goal of possessing her.

"I trust that my performance has been to your satisfaction, Miss Morgan?" he asked her, once they were finally alone.

She responded by ramming the blades attached to her fingers through the underside of his jaw, pinning his mouth closed. "Shut up," she ordered, before pulling him close and clamping her lips over his own, the slick, pink length of her tongue playing across the bloody slit of his lips.

"Here comes the next contestant..."

He forced her backwards into the wall. His right hand clasped her chin, holding her head firmly in place as their gore-slick mouths continued to press against one another. The other seized her free arm, and lifted it up over her head, pinning it against the wall behind her. Her breath caught in her chest, hitching as he applied further pressure to her swollen, bloodied features. His broad frame pressed into her own, holding her flush to the concrete at her back.

"Is that your hand on my girlfriend..."

He felt a shiver of excitement pass through her, even as her teeth bit clean through the skin of his lip, an enticement, an encouragement. Her teeth ground against the wound in his lower lip, even as he forced his own lips to part, snarling with the effort, and lunged forward, biting hard into her neck.

"I wish you'd do it again..."

She let out a throaty groan and then slid loose the blades from his jaw, letting blood cascade down their chests. Acquiescing to his desire for pain, she instead rammed her newly freed talons into his torso, below the line of his ribcage. He let out a further growl, clutching her chin so tightly that bruising sprang up on the lower part of her features, as he continued to grind his teeth against the flesh of her neck.

She savoured the violence of their tryst for a few long moments, and then she breathed the two words that caused his eyes to glow red instinctively: "Easy tiger."

She pulled her claws free of his body once again, gently tracing the tips of her crimson-wet claws across the front of his gore-slick uniform shirt. He released her, as per her wishes, noting the brightness of the colour in her cheeks and the thundering of her heart in her chest. Even as he watched, she traced the weeping wound beside her throat with a fingertip, shuddering at even the slightest touch. It was all the more frustrating when he took into account the fact that she was clearly not averse to his attentions - quite the opposite, in fact.

"Maybe later, big boy," she said with a grin, almost as though she were capable of discerning his thoughts at a glance. With that, she bounced away along the corridor once again, leaving him with no other course of action but to follow.

"There goes the next contestant..."

-x-x-x-x-x-