Guns of the Patriots, a resident evil fanfic

This is my new story that I wrote under the impression of Hollywood''s Undead "Young". This song is just... Well, it is amazing. Normally I don't listen to rapcore, but when I heard this song playing while the installation of the "Velvet Assassin", I was totally stunned by it... And I listened to it so many times that I wanted to write a fic. This is about the World War III, as if it was in the world of Resident Evil.

About my previous mistake with the "Desert Eagle"... I know that the gun isn't called "Deserted Eagle", I just was writing my previous fic in the evening, and my stupid mind played a trick on me...=) So I'm sorry for that)

This fanfic is called "Guns of the patriots". I don't know if the title is right, I just felt like naming it so.

Chris/Jill pairing is pretty clear implied in the end. Rated M for the sexual content in the end.

We are young
We are far
Born in this world as it all falls apart
We are strong
We don't belong
Born in this world as it all falls apart

Jill looked up, wiping sweat from her forehead. The sky was grey; grey because of the gunpowder. Hudge grey-black clouds were closing the sun, and the sound of gun fire seemed to live in this place forever. Holding her pistol tightly in her calloused and tired hands she fired, fired and never missed. Her uniform was dirty, her face was filthy and her hair stick to her sweaty face that was marred with scars. But her blue eyes were shining with rage and allegiance, allegiance to her duty. When an enemies bullet hit her shoulder and stuck there, causing the bleeding, Jill groaned, grabbing her now injured shoulder with one arm, but she didn't fall.
She kept firing her gun, holding it with one hand, her eyes mirroring the orange flames of the explosion that erupted nearby several minutes ago. For a second she turned her head slightly to the right and met the green eyes of her partner - Chris Redfield, that were burning with fury just like hers.
They stood back to back, aiming and shooting, aiming and shooting. Both covered in sweat, blood, bruises - god knows what else but they couldn't care less. Jill smirked with the corner of her mouth and returned her gaze to the battlefield, not knowing - but sensing - that he returned the smirk. Around there were screams, gunfire, explosions, dirt, suffer, struggle.
Around them was war.

I see the children in the rain like the parade before the pain
I see the love, I see the hate, I see this world that we can make
I see the life, I see the sky, Give it all to see you fly
Yes, we wave this flag of hatred, but you're the ones who made it
Watch the beauty of all our lies passing right before my eyes
I hear the hate in all your words. all the wars to make us hurt
We get so sick of so sick, we never wanted all this
Medication for the kids with no reason to live

Rebecca was sitting on the bed, observing numerous injured, lying on the cold, broken metal beds. She heard a moan - it was a boy that boy that caught disenteria. She walked to his bed, bringing a cool sweaty hand to his forehead. The boy had fever, but she couldn't do anything about it. There were no medicine from it, and all she could do was to give him a dirty wet towel, that was white years ago but now was brown.
- Doctor...
Rebecca was about to go to an another injured one, but stopped when she heard the boys whisper. She walked to him and looked at him sadly. She knew he would die, but there were other people that needed to be saved, other people, soldiers, that could fight. It sounded inhuman, but it was the truth she could not deny.
- Doctor... - the boy coughed and Rebecca saw blood spilling out from the corner of his mouth.
- Shh.. Don't talk. - she said quietly. The boy grabbed her hand with his sweaty palm and started to mumble something. Rebecca leaned closer so she could hear his incoherent speech.
- Mom... Dad... Call... Them... Please.
Rebecca stroke his filthy hair, smiling as sincerely as possible. She got used to death, and now it was getting harder and harder for her to feel sorrow for the victims of the war. She knew she was turning into a cold-hearted person with dead dull eyes and no soul behind her words but she could do nothing about it. She squeezed the boys hand and and sighted. She knew she was about to tell a lie.
But she had to.
- They're... They're here. They say that everything will be okay. You will be okay. You'll live... You will see your friends and be able to play with them. You will go to school...
Suddenly she felt sharp pain; the boys nails dug into her skin, leaving bloody marks.

- No! - he yelled, evil tears in his eyes. - You are lying! They... They are not here! My dad died in jail when I was three and my mom sold me to the drug dealer, my little brother was eaten by wolves...
Rebecca just stood there, listening, believing the pain in her hand was in her heart and blood, trickling down her hand and dropping to the floor was tears that had to drop out of her dry eyes. - Tell me... Just tell me... Would I... Would I go in Heaven!?
Rebecca sighted and the boys palm dropped her hand, covering his mouth - he started to cough again. When he looked at his hand the boy saw blood.
- I... I don't know... - the medic said. - I'm not... I'm not a God.
- But you have to know! I have no one else to ask!
Innocence. Innocence she lost long time ago. Since the train. Since the mansion.
The boys eyes suddenly became glassy, his pupils unmoving. Rebecca took his hand to feel pulse, but there was none.
The boy was dead.
The sound of the plane erupted from the sky. Rebecca didn't even flinch - she got used to it already. With the last glance at the now dead boy she went to other injured. Her hand snaked to her neck, her fingers grabbing the dog tags that were warm, if not to say hot from her skin. She looked at the entrance, catching a glimpse of solders, shouting something to each other.
"Billy... I hope you are still alive out there somewhere..."

We are young
We are far
Born in this world as it all falls apart
We are strong
We don't belong
Born in this world as it all falls apart

Jill saw Leon, running and shooting at the same time. He was cold and concentrated, time to time reloading his pistol and turning back to look at the battlefield behind him, blowing his long hair out of his eyes. He was dressed not like them - not military - but still as a government agent, and it wasn't comfortable. He lost his communicator, that fell out of his pocket, falling in filth, but he didn't notice. Jill wanted to yell him, but it would be useless even if she did - the sound of the gunfire was too loud.
Leon wasn't that innocent boy bu all means right now. His eyes held pain, and right from the corner of his eye and to his chin lasted a long nasty scar, alike with the one that his once a comrade Krauser had. Suddenly he fell in the dirt, rolled, but still kept firing, then jumped up and kept running. When the clips ended, he ran to a dead soldier and took his AK-47, whispering something like "Sorry, buddy, but I need this more than you do". This was war. There was no time for morals.

As we walk among these shadows, in these streets, this field of battle
Take it up, we wear the medal, raise your hands with burning candles
Hear us whisper in the dark, hear in the rain you see the spark
Feel the beating of our hearts, fleeting hope as we depart
All together, walk alone against all we've ever known
All we've ever really wanted was a place to call our home
But you take all we are; the innocence of our hearts
Made to kneel before the alter as you tear us apart

Now they had medals - shining gold medals with the useless words carved in them. Medals for bravery they were given on the second day after the war ended. But it didn't end for them, they still heard the screams of soldiers, screams of the enemies, the roaring of the engines of the planes and the armors. They've lost a lot in this battle. First - their comrades were dead. Claire died, killed by the bullets of their enemies, and Chris was wearing a black eye patch, as he lost his eye. He was quiet and didn't look anyone in the eyes. He had a shining gold medal shaped like a star (ironically remindidng him of his job in S.T.A.R.S. long ago) on his chest, but what was the point of wearing it if Claire couldn't see it?.. She was given a medal too, posthumously. But what was the point?..
Out on the battlefield, where the war was only several days ago, it was raining. The rain was washing the land, trying to clear it from blood, but couldn't. Crows were flying from body to body and eating the slowly rotting flesh of the dead. Hyenas were running among the bodies, about to start their disgusting feast. But on the other hand there wasn't anything disgusting about it.
There are lots of truths in the world - the truth of a lamb that wants to live and the truth of a wolf that has starving little wolflings that need to eat.
The war ended, that was true, but their hearts were already rotten, like those dead, and were being eaten by the violence they saw and even made.

So we March to the drums
of the dammed as we come
Watch it burn in the sun - we are numb

Aftermath there was a parade in the honor of their victory, and they were marching in front of the eyes of thousands people, saluting to the marshals, generals, presidents, soldiers, people just like them... The sound of drums was echoing in their ears, but they were oblivious, they didn't care, they were numb. Chris and Jill's fingers were intertwined, their other hands frozen in the common military gesture; both of them looking straight ahead, trying to think that there will be future. A big scar that married Jill's cheek was still red and probably infected, but who cared? Rebecca was marching near Leon, her nurse hat still present on her filthy hair, her eyes dry and her fists clenched. Leon looked dark, his lips pursed and his face unemotional. They were still young but they saw too much already. They would never be the same.

We are young
We are far
Born in this world as it all falls apart
We are strong
We don't belong
Born in this world as it all falls apart

We will fight or we will fall
Till the angels save us all

After all this, only few of them were left alive, few of that team, that survived biohazards not so long before this... Before the World War III. Barry was assassinated in Canada, along with his family. He couldn't save them, and he couldn't save himself, no matter how hard he tried. Billy was in hospital, unconscious, barely alive, but breathing. Some of their war comrades, soldiers were alive too - but from their unit there were only 20 soldiers left.
It didn't matter that Wesker was dead. They thought that when they kill him, the world would be better. Ha. How foolish they were.
The World War III started after a year of what they believed was piece.
The war started simply - with sirens, erupting practically from nowhere. Then there were screams, gunshots - and the calm voice of the president on the radio and television.
- Attention please, this is the president speaking. All male and female at the age from 18 to 50 that can hold guns, you are in need for our country and for the whole world. We need an army, we need soldiers, more soldiers. This is not a joke. This is war.

So they fought for the sake of the whole world, they fought, they saw their comrades die, the falling of the ones that were their friends, they saw kids die and their parent cry over their little cold unmoving bodies. They saw old men and women taking the guns from the hands of their fallen sons and daughters, going to the center of the battle for revenge and their death. They saw boys and girls, their grandchildren, take their guns after them and fight too - fight because they had nothing else left to do in the world of war.
Chris had seen his sister - aiming and shooting, killing and shooting again until three bullets pierced her forehead. She slowly dropped to the surface, her eyes closing, but still holding her gun tight. Chris felt something painfully squeeze in his stomach, but he made himself look away and just keep firing, swallowing hard.
They had duty calling. They had work to do. They didn't have time for tears and regrets.

We are young
We are far
Born in this world as it all falls apart
We are strong
We don't belong
Born in this world as it all falls apart

Clinging to each other, tongues dancing, digging their nails in each others bruised skin, whispering, mumbling incoherent words when they parted for seconds to take a breath. In the dark room, Chris's eye patch was practically melting with the blackness of the space around them. He could feel Jills scars on her face, sides, stomach, legs... She could feel his calloused hands running all over her bruised body, touching, stroking, as he whispered words to her. Words that in normal circumstances were nothing, but exactly now they were everything.
- Never leave me, never forget me, never betray me... - he whispered to her, moaned in her ear, hugging her nude body close to his bare chest.
She caressed his face, almost violently, desperately, and mumbled him the same. They had no one else close left - Chris's parents and Claire were dead, Jills father died on the battlefield, her mother died when Jill was two. Now they had no one close left besides each other. And after war,
after everything, they just had to know, had to feel they had each other. Jill had Chris and Chris had Jill. No matter what. This way they could feel they were alive, and not the living dead. They were young, they were strong, but they were in the world that was falling apart, apart because of the people that built that world, because of the selfish human beings just like them.
- Never, never, never... - they were mumbling desperately to each other, touching each millimeter of each others bodies so they would be sure they were real real. The night was dark, they were soaked in the blackness. It smelled like gunpowder and metal, blood and sweat and the sky was now black and it was painful to breathe in the bitter oxygen. But that is how the world was now. That was the aftermath.

We are young
We are far
Born in this world as it all falls apart
We are strong
We don't belong
Born in this world as it all falls apart