Tales from Raccoon City:
Undercover Hero
A short story
Starring:
Leon S. Kennedy
Claire Redfield
Albert Wesker
Kevin Ryman
With frequent (annoying) appearances by:
Chris Redfield
Part One:
"Why doesn't anything ever stay dead in this goddamn city?"
Boston -2003
They raced across the rooftop. The rain beat down on them with fists of fury; blinding them. Where the thunder rumbled, the echo of boots accompanied it. The man in the hat nearly fell as he raced out of the stairwell.
The man behind him never faltered.
One terrifying trip for the first; one final race for the last.
The man slogged through the standing water. He ran for the far side and hoped, hoped, hoped he could make the jump.
Behind him, the roaring voice in the man with the gun commanded, "Don't! Irving! It's not too late! Stop!"
The man in the hat spun back with his heels at the edge of the cracked roof top. He threw his hands off like he'd toss some kind of magic and thwart the other man who chased him, "Kennedy! You idiot! You wiener! Haven't you figured it out yet?! I'm already dead! When he finds out I squealed..." The man laughed maniacally, "BOOM! You's just in time for the fireworks show!"
His voice squeaked. He giggled high pitched and terrified. "You think you scare me!? You'll put me in jail. Him?! He'll pick me apart piece by piece until I beg for him to kill me!"
"I can protect you!" The wind caught the hair of the other man. It tossed it prettily around a handsome face. The jacket was leather and black and repelling water. He looked like a bad ass, but he talked like a cop, "Come back with me, I swear to god I will make sure he doesn't touch you!"
"It's too late! He already knows. He's already heading for her! You better go! You better hurry! Stop wasting time with me!"
Irving trembled at the edge of the roof in the pouring rain. Kennedy begged, "Ricardo! It's not over! I can put you in protective custody!"
"You kiddin? I'd rather be dead." Irving laughed again and shook his head, "Good as you are, Kennedy, you ain't good enough. You don't know who you're dealing with. But you better be as smart as they say. You're gonna need it to stop him."
"Where? Where is he? Tell me how to find him!"
Irving pointed over the boiling clouds, "Head West to where she is. Wesker? He's in Raccoon City."
"WAIT!"
But it didn't matter. The other man threw his arms to the side and let himself fall backward. Because apparently dying in a splatter on the ground was better than awaiting the wrath of Albert Wesker.
Outside of Raccoon City, Mizoli Gas Station - 2003
The black Jeep rolled to a stop at the pump.
Just like that, Detective Leon Kennedy had lost years of undercover work. Bringing in Albert Wesker had proven impossible. He was smoke. He was wind. He was invisible. Until another city went down in a rush of rotting disease.
A mastermind of madness, he'd been dropping bioterror attacks all over the country. They started sniffing too close, he set off an outbreak to cover his escape. The only lead they had, the only one, was the whispers about a kid.
He'd had one, they said, back when he'd been the Captain of the S.T.A.R.S. in New York. He'd had a woman. He'd had a family. The wife and the kid had gone missing right after the first outbreak had leveled Tall Oaks.
In the middle of the madness, she'd been lost to the wind like her husband.
Was she his accomplice? Rumors said no about that too. They said she was just a college kid when she'd met him. They said she'd fallen for his charm and his looks and his powerful presence. She'd run the moment she knew that his power had turned to madness.
From inside the car, his partner was scanning the file. They'd been partners for as long as he could remember now. Ryman was loose around the bottle, didn't care much for a razor, and often bawdy with the humor. But he was hell on wheels when it came to fire fights.
As Leon began gassing up the Jeep, Ryman poked his head out and a puff of cigarette smoke followed him out the window. Leon gave him a droll look, "Your Mom didn't teach you that smoking around gas pumps is deadly?"
"Nah. In the trailer park I grew up in, matches were given to you at birth along with gasoline. So I was little playing with fire from a young age. I fear not the flame, my friend."
Leon rolled his eyes, "What's the deal?"
"Right. So the wife's name is Claire. Formerly Redfield - maybe so again if she dropped the married name. Sister of the current Captain of the S.T.A.R.S. there Chris. Did you try out for S.T.A.R.S. there at one time?"
Leon shrugged, "A million years ago. Spent one day on the force and quit. Turns out, I was made for better things."
"Me too man. Seriously. But anyway...so Redfield is probably offering her shelter. She's pretty well insulated. Teacher at the local elementary, second grade. The kid would be in kindergarten now by our calculations. Names Jake."
Leon hung up the gas nozzle and came around the side of the Jeep. He slid in the driver's side and started the engine. As they drove to the Apple Inn where they were staying, Kevin filled him in on the rest of it.
"Burton wants us to get into the school and make friends with the wife. Keep an eye on her."
"Makes sense. Irving seemed pretty sure that Wesker would come for the kid."
"No doubt."
The Jeep rolled into the parking lot of the Inn. Kevin looked around and crinkled his nose. "This place is something else. I always get the heebie-jeebies when I roll up into this town."
"Me too. Like bad deja vu."
"Seriously."
They climbed out and headed toward the clerk in the lobby of the pretty inn. It was simple enough to get checked in. Leon in 305, Kevin in 304 - when they met again in the hotel lobby they kept looking over files while they ordered drinks.
Kevin said, "The Principle has agreed to let one of us go undercover as a Kindergarten teacher for the safety of the class."
Leon took a swig on the beer. He shrugged a shoulder. A handsome man, he was the type of face one didn't forget. With an aquiline nose and a shag of hair that skimmed his jaw on one side, he managed to look more like a model than a cop.
Kevin was rougher, a little gruffer, and alot hairier. He had a perpetual five o'clock shadow at six a.m. and a devil-may-care wardrobe that consisted of sloppily knotted ties on wrinkled mismatched shirts. By turns, Leon was always dressed pristinely. When his uniform had been retired for a Detective's shield, he'd worn the softer side of a detective well. When he could dress down he still wore khakis or slacks paired with a less rigorous jacket - leather or bomber if the weather allowed. And there was never anything less than a steel toe on any shoe he wore.
The question wasn't who looked less like a cop on this particular afternoon though. It was who looked more like a kindergarten teacher.
Ultimately, the terrible assignment was decided by a rousing game of rock, paper, scissors. Kevin managed to win the day with a rock that conquered Leon's last ditch pair of snapping blades.
"YEAH!" Kevin pounded the table twice, "Yeah! I'm command. You're the victim! What's up, teach?"
Cursing, Leon shot back his beer and grunted, "I knew we should have arm wrestled. What the hell do I know about kids?"
"Not my problem. Better get you home to bed, princess. You got school tomorrow."
Cops and kids. Two things that should never mix. Additionally? Kids seemed to hate him. He simply didn't know how to talk to them.
"I'll give you twenty bucks to do it."
Kevin laughed, "Nope. No deal."
"I'll let you fuck my girlfriend."
Kevin slapped his shoulder, "Nice try. You don't have a girlfriend. And even if you did, we both know I'd already be fucking her."
"...if she was into girls maybe."
With no sympathy, Kevin ruffled Leon's hair and made him scowl. "Come on, you cry baby, suck it up. How bad can it be? You saw that field of cows on the way into town right? They're farmers kids and shit here. It'll be a piece of cake."
Cows. They terrified him. He was fairly sure they were hostile. He was going to wake to find them stampeding and mooing and eating cud while they munched on his balls. He'd likely rise to find one ridden by a clown with a mullet and just really put the seal on the shit show that had become his life. How in the hell had he ended up having to be a teacher to miniature monsters masquerading as people?
Leon winced and caught a look at himself in the long mirror behind the bar. He could do this, right? It wasn't a big deal. It was just kids. How bad could it be?
He'd never been more scared in his life.
Cows and kids. He was officially in hell.
He'd fought things that would give normal men nightmares. He'd faced down death and spit in its face. He'd fist fought giants and dodged lasers and defeated mutants with nothing but a pencil and a pair of underwear.
But nothing in his life could have prepared him for the horrors that awaited him.
Beside him, the principal remarked, "You have to open the door to go into the class, Mr. Kennedy."
Right.
They just kids. He could handle kids.
He opened the door. The Principle, a very nice woman named Moira, snapped her fingers for the classroom of rugrats that were playing and laughing. They all gathered together on the rug by the blackboard and sat down.
A sea of faces like those of a pack of lions turned up to await the pieces of him being tossed into their open maws.
Children. They terrified him.
Moira greeted, "Good morning children."
"Good morning, Principle Burton." In tandem. Like automatons. Like an army of clones. Leon felt the back of his neck begin to itch. His mouth was dry. There was sweat at his lower back creeping down his ass crack.
"Mrs. Lomax had to go away for awhile."
Before she could finish, one child piped up, "Is she dead?"
Moira, a pretty woman with short dark hair and limpid blue eyes, sighed, "No, Jake. She didn't die. She just went away."
Jake, Wesker's kid. Leon eyed him for a long moment. Short red hair, big blue eyes, skinny and had a little scar on his cheek. Redheaded - of course. Of course, he was. He was ginger. He had no soul. Made sense, given who his father was.
Another child, a girl added, "I bet she has a tumor."
Moira sighed with a great gust, "No, Sherry, she doesn't have a tumor. She had to visit family."
The little boy Jake queried, "Did they die?"
Moira glanced at Leon. He shrugged, no help here. Kids were demons. They were probably plotting their death too. Moira took a deep breath, "No, Jake. No one died. She's just taking a vacation for awhile. In the meantime, this is your new teacher. Can you all say good morning, Mr. Kennedy?"
"Good morning, Mr. Kennedy." They spoke like robots. They all stared. He cleared his throat twice before he could reply.
"Good morning."
"Now while Mr. Kennedy is here. I want you all on your best behavior. Do you understand?"
"Yes. Ms. Burton." Terrifying how they did it so perfectly together.
"Good." She patted Leon's arm, "They're all yours."
She smiled and left him. He stood there frozen. Finally, a kid asked, "Are you a ninja?"
Surprised, Leon shook his head, "No. Why?"
And the little girl beside that boy answered, "You're so big. Are you a bull fighter?"
"...uh. No."
The girl, Sherry, a blonde thing with enormous sparkling eyes in a white sailor style dress, giggled, "You're so cute. Are you a superhero?"
The kids liked that. They giggled and talked. They said he was Batman. They said he was Wolverine. Then one shouted, "NO! He's GAMBIT!"
And they liked that even more. They fired questions at him. They wanted to know what he liked to eat. Where did he like to play? What games did he enjoy? Did he go to the park? Did he like tacos? Did he ever fart on his sister when he was young? Did he swallow a bug on his motorcycle? Did he use eggs in his hair like her mom? Did he have girl hair because it made him feel pretty? Were his muscles real? Did he have a pack of gum? Did he like cookies? Did he ever see a ferret poop? Did he like to play Twister? Could he teach them to swim? Was he going to fist fight Chuck Norris? Why did he have a scar on his face? Did he have a dog? Had he ever looked at his poop before he flushed it?
After a handful of moments, he finally gasped out, "Ok! Ok ok ok. That's enough questions. We should just do-" The blonde one Sherry was doing some kind of strange wiggle. She was grabbing her crotch and shaking around in a dance.
"w-whatcha doin there? What is it?"
"Mr. Kennedy," She whined, "I need to use the potty."
"Ugh um..ok. Sure. You...what? You go in your pants or something? You need a diaper?"
All the kids were giggling now. Sherry gave him a weird look and whined, "I can't get my things undone, Mr. Kennedy. I need you to help me."
Oh. Oh shit. Oh shit shit shit. She wanted him to take her to the potty and undo her overalls. Lord. In the girl's bathroom?! Was that even allowed? He needed help.
Now.
Desperately.
Leon told the kids. "Uh...ok. Just hold on. Hold on. Class...just stay sit...stay." He was something else. Did he think they were dogs?
What choice did he have here?
He hurried into the hallway and poked his face in the glass windows of the other classes searching for a female teacher. In the second one, a pretty redhead was pointing to a map of the world and talking about Spain. He knocked twice on the window and waved his hand desperately as Sherry whined, "Mr. Kennnnnedy, I'm gonna pee my pantsss."
Oh god. Pee. Poop. And girls bathrooms. He was panicking as the redhead stepped into the hallway with a smile on her pretty face.
"Hi. Can I help you?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. I am. I just..." He waived at Sherry where she stood. "Help."
Eyes sparkling, the redhead patted his arm and turned to the girl. "I've got her. Come on sweetheart. First day?"
Leon nodded, looking at her butt in the little khakis and white top she was wearing as she leaned over to help the little girl with her overalls. She led her toward the bathroom, "Word of advice?"
"Please. Anything. Help."
Redhead. Jake's mom. She had to be. Didn't the file say she was young? Much younger than Wesker. But that was no surprise. She was gorgeous. Soft features on a face that was eager and the pink pale of a good irish breeding. The white shirt she wore didn't bother to cover up the breasts she was sporting. She had good full hips and a heart shaped butt that begged for a spanking.
What was wrong with him!? Now was not the time to be picturing girls naked! But he was panicking. He tended to get irrational when he did. Soon he'd start punning. Soon he'd start spouting off bad movie lines to cover up his nervousness.
She grinned, "Kindergarten is like your worst enemy."
His brows winged up and she finished, "Never turn your back on them."
What did that mean?
"Thanks. I think I can handle i-" He looked in the window of his class. He froze in horror. Heathens. Monsters. Madmen. They'd go insane. They'd run rampant. They were painting on the walls and jumping on the desks. They were throwing toys and fighting each other like Dothraki at a wedding. Boys wrestling. Girls slopping whole hands of paint all over the blackboard.
What madness was this? What untenable torture had he heaped on himself? Where were the lickers? Where were the hunters? Where were the zombies? He knew how to slaughter the undead.
He didn't know how to fight children.
Leon glanced behind him for the redhead. She was nowhere to be found. He was on his own. He didn't have a gun. He didn't have a pack of gum. He didn't have an evac.
He didn't have a prayer.
But he wasn't a man that ran. He was Leon Kennedy. The savior of the President's daughter. The guy who single-handedly took down a thousand zombies in Tall Oaks. The guy who was going to enjoy killing Albert Wesker when he finally got ahold of him for this.
...if he survived.
His hand grabbed the knob and jerked. His belly fell out his ass in fear.
And he went inside to face the demons.