Full Circle 3
Summary: Ark Thompson finds himself on an island with nothing but a gun and no memory. Takes place during the same time as my next story.
Vincent Goldman smiled as he looked out over the island, fires burned from several spots around the island. He winced as he moved his left arm, he was lucky the bullet had passed straight thru. He managed to patch himself up but he probably would need medical assistance before this night was over. Vincent rubbed his shoulder gently, trying not to upset the wound. He sighed angrily at the thought he let a spy shoot him. It happened earlier that night, he found where the spy was and went there with two guards from the facility. Somehow, he knew they were coming. As soon as they approached the house, he opened fire from one of the open windows. The guard on Vincent's right went down after five shots to the chest. Vincent stood behind the remaining guard who returned fire but it was pointless, the spy had run out of the back of the house and down the street. Vincent and the other guard chased after him, they soon cornered him at the docks. The spy managed to kill the last guard and started running again. Vincent grabbed the guard's pistol and fired. He hit the spy in the back, he couldn't see where because it was dark. The spy turned and fired, he hit Vincent in the shoulder and tried to run again. Vincent shot again and hit him in the back once more. That last shot managed to spin the spy around, Vincent lined up his sights on the spy's head and fired. He knew he hit him in the head, he saw the spy's head snap back from the shot. The spy fell into the water and didn't resurface. Vincent walked over to where the spy stood, Vincent saw the spy's gun on the ground and something that gleamed in the low light. Vincent reached down and picked up a set of dog tags. "Ark Thompson" The dog tags read. Vincent held those tags in his hand now. His instincts told him the spy was dead but his gut said otherwise.
Vincent managed to contact Umbrella headquarters and informed them of the situation, telling them that the spy was the one who released the virus on the island not himself. Vincent received a reply, saying that a helicopter was on its way to pick him up. But Vincent knew that they wouldn't be coming to rescue him. The board needed somebody physical to blame and he was first on the list. Vincent wondered who they would send to clean up the mess. The facility was top priority for Umbrella, they created the T-103's there. Mass produced was a better word. Sure, there were others like it dotted all over the world but this one was ahead of the others and if it fell then the others would have to pick up the slack. It would also be costly to Umbrella, millions of dollars lost in product. But Vincent wouldn't care. By the time the executives found out, he would already be in an Umbrella safe house and calling in a favor to Trent. Vincent smiled to himself. He knew he could rely on Trent. Just as long as you didn't try to fuck him over. If he ever got one whiff that someone was planning on betraying him, well, Vincent along with every other Umbrella employee out there knew of Trent's 'guard dog' Hunk. A shiver passed through Vincent. 'Hunk. What a monster.' Rumor had it that Hunk himself was a BOW. But that was impossible: BOW's didn't have the capacity for thought, for free will. Not even the Tyrants had that capability, too dangerous.
Vincent looked back out the window at the island he destroyed, over 1,000 people had lost their lives becoming creatures of the undead. He sighed. His career as an Umbrella executive was over.
He moved thru the streets, his gun in his hand. He had been searching a small part of island but didn't find anyone yet. He neared a small building with a sign above the door labeled "Arcade" There was a light on in one of the windows, maybe someone was in there. As he started to open the door, he heard a noise from behind him. He turned and saw several men dressed in black coming towards him. They wore what appeared to be black fatigues and armed with submachine guns. He slid his pistol back into its holster. "Hello?" The men stopped and looked at him. "Excuse me, where am I? I woke up and everything is crazy! Can you help?" Two of the men looked at each, almost seemed like they were communicating without words. They both nodded and turned to him, they raised their weapons at him. Time seemed to slow down for him as he drew his pistol. He didn't think as he fired, the report from the gun broke the silence. One of the black clad men screeched in pain as three bullets struck his chest. He fell over, dropping his gun which clattered to the side, as soon as he hit the ground, his skin began to bubble. The bubbles grew larger until he burst and black goo went everywhere. He fumbled for the door as he continued firing, the rest of the black clad gunmen were taking cover behind whatever they could find. He got the door open and went inside, he slammed the door shut and locked it. He leaned against the door and sighed. "Why were they shooting at me?" He wondered aloud. He looked around and saw several bodies littered around. He saw a man dressed in a sheriff's outfit. He approached the man and crouched down, the man had obviously committed suicide. He scooped up the dead sheriff's gun, a SIG P226, and checked it. Empty. He checked the double magazine holster. There was one spare clip. He took it and loaded it into the gun. He stood up as he slid the pistol into his belt. He looked around and found a back door, he opened the door and looked out. No soldiers nearby, he left the arcade and went up the street.
Elza looked up when she heard gunfire. It sounded close but not right outside the door. She got up from her cot and moved to the cell door and tried to look out. The gunfire faded away, the silence of the night replaced it. Elza leaned against the cell door and sighed. She looked up when the front door to the police station banged open. Elza looked up hoping to see a rescue team or the Army, hell, she'd take the National Guard. Her hopes were dashed as two zombies shambled in, one was the deputy that locked her in there. Elza stepped back until her back hit the opposite wall, she tried to put as much distance as she could from them. "Maybe they won't see me." Elza mumbled. The zombified deputy turned towards Elza almost as if he could remember a part of his life, that specific part where he locked her in the cell. "Oh, great." Elza muttered as the zombie deputy made his way over to her. The zombie deputy stuck his arms thru the cell, trying to grab Elza. Thankfully, the cell was wide enough so he couldn't grab her. Elza spied the deputy's revolver in its holster, if only she could grab it. Elza looked up at the deputy, licked her lips and rushed forward. She grabbed the deputy's right arm and pinned it across the cell, she reached thru the bars and grabbed the gun. She yanked it out of its holster and cocked the hammer back, praying there was a bullet in the chamber. She leveled the gun at the deputy and fired, the bullet struck him right in the forehead. The deputy fell backwards and landed on the floor. Elza fell back on her cot. She thumbed the cylinder release and ejected the empty brass. "Fuck" she muttered. "One bullet left." Elza loaded the single bullet back in the gun and closed the cylinder. She inspected the gun: it was a matte black Ruger GP-100 .357 magnum with a 6 inch barrel. "Interesting choice for a deputy." Elza thought as she slid the gun in her belt. Elza pulled the dead deputy closer to her and searched his belt for the keys to the cell. "Damn it!" Elza cursed when she came up empty. She did find a speed loader for the revolver, she slipped that into her coat pocket. Elza's head shot up when a gunshot rang out and the other zombie dropped dead. She looked towards the door to see who it was.
He stood at the end of an alley, the exit blocked off by wreckage. He looked around for another way to go but couldn't see one. He could see the top of the police station over the wreckage. He spotted an open manhole and went over to it, the keys he had the wherewith all to take from the dead sheriff jangled on his belt. He climbed down the manhole and into the sewer, he saw a path that would lead towards the police station. He drew his handgun and did a brass check, satisfied he slid the gun back into its holster. He walked about maybe a block until he came to another ladder, he climbed up and using what little strength he had left, he pushed the manhole cover off and climbed up. He looked around and saw he was right infront of the police station, the front door wide open. He drew his pistol and walked over to the door, he saw a single zombie inside. He raised the pistol and fired. The bullet struck the undead man in the back of the head. He entered the police station and looked up when a voice called out. "Hello? Who's there?" He didn't what to say, he didn't know his own name. "Um, I'm not sure. Do you know what happened here?" He called back. The female voice called back. "Ark? Is that you?" He walked over to the cell area. "Do you know me?" "I should hope so! Where have you been?" He approached the cell door. "I wish I knew. I don't remember anything." The young woman's face saddened. "Ark, it's me. Elza. Listen, get me out of here. The deputy doesn't have his keys so you're" He held up the sheriff's keys. "Great! Now get me out of here." "Uh, which key is it?" He started going thru the keys when he heard a noise from the front door. They both turned towards the door and saw two of the black clad soldiers standing in the door, weapons raised.