NOTE: As I mentioned on the previous chapter, this one is basically a retelling of the 4th Survivor scenario in Umbrella Chronicles, but with a few (okay, a lot) of liberties taken, with the events, and especially with the dialogue and the radio chatter. It's written in the past tense, not the present like in the previous chapter, because this one is a flashback.
As a treat, I've also included in a line that's easily recognizable from a particular HILARIOUS romantic comedy... with zombies.
Enjoy!
…In the water. Getting up from my knees, I shook my head clear of the filthy water as it slimed down the lenses of my gas mask. Gathering in my surroundings, I found myself in the sewers, having been knocked out by the Birkin monster…
The Birkin monster. My mission objective— the G-Virus.
A thought ran through my mind, sobering me out of the haze.
The G-Virus was broken.
I immediately checked my right pocket, slipping a gloved hand inside and felt the small viral tube safely intact. Good. I had accomplished the first objective. Now, the second objective… to deliver the virus. And the mission objective had top priority over everything else.
So I went on with the mission. Quickly recalling what sector of the sewers I was in, I turned my head to the side and, just as expected, I located a hidden ladder leading upwards to the K-9 kennels in the bowels of the Raccoon Police Department precinct.
After climbing the ladder and scoping the room to check if it was clear, I turned on the built-in radio in my helmet and spoke, "Alpha Team here. Respond."
The response was instantaneous, the callous, mirthful voice overlapped with the sound of helicopter rotors: "This is Night Hawk."
"I have secured G," I said, my tone all business as I referred to the viral tube in my pocket. "I am all that is left of Alpha Team. I am on route to the rendezvous point."
The radio crackled with the chopper pilot's sardonic answer, "Once again, only you survive… Mr. Death."
"Roger that," I said just as coolly. "Don't be late."
I hustled forth, running double-time through the K-9 kennels, sighting three viral carrier Dobermans rushing towards me with gurgling barks. My Matilda pistol made short work of the reanimated canines, three rotting sleekly-shaped skulls punctured with three perfectly placed shots.
"What happened to Birkin?" Night Hawk queried, referring to the scientist who created the valuable virus residing in my pocket and tried to defend it with his life, only to fail miserably.
"He was injured in the firefight," I answered. "He injected himself with the G-Virus and… came back to life." If that was what you could call it.
"I see. That's unfortunate," the pilot said, and hearing the smirk in his voice, I knew he meant otherwise. "How are the other G samples?"
Reaching the door at the end of the kennel, I clutched the knob and opened it slowly, exiting the kennel and entering the basement corridor. I looked to the side to see three former civilians of Raccoon City turned virus carriers stumble their way towards me, their clothes torn and ragged, their decaying hands groping out as they reached out for food.
After they crumpled to the floor, courtesy of precise headshots, I answered the pilot's question: "The other G sample containers were damaged in the fight. I have the only intact sample left. The virus has likely contaminated the area. We'll have to quarantine."
"Understood," Night Hawk said. "I'll put in the request—"
"What the hell are those things?!" a panicked voice interrupted on the radio, crackling with static. It was obviously a civilian channel.
I frowned, tapped the radio, trying to get in contact with Night Hawk again, but it only switched rapidly from channel to channel, broadcasting snippets of police officers issuing frenzied, confused commands to each other, and hapless citizens screaming for their lives. I figured it must've been radio cross-talk interference. Connection on my end was probably bad.
No matter. A mere annoyance, nothing for me to be concerned about. I could continue my mission even with a haywire radio blaring in my ears. Stealing a glance at my watch, I saw that I had to hurry. The chopper would only stay on the rooftop of the R.P.D. precinct for five minutes before departing, with or without me. Armed with my Matilda pistol, TMP submachine gun, combat knife, plus a few grenades, I fought my way through the basement corridors under the R.P.D. precinct.
"—It has been days now since the last contact with Raccoon City…"
The moronic virus carriers in the dimly-lit corridors served no problem whatsoever, they were spread out away from each other as they slowly turned towards me.
"Freeze! Don't come any closer!"
It was astonishingly simple to knock the carriers over and shove them aside as I ran past, allowing me to preserve my ammo by jumping over their fallen corpses, their indignant moans fading behind me.
"—I don't wanna hear it! I need backup, now!"
The K-9 dog carriers in the parking garage posed some trouble, they weren't as easy to dodge since they had some primitive coordination in their attack behavior, but they weren't completely organized. I took advantage of that.
"You're listening to 777, RC-Radio, the lucky station. And this is our last broadcast…
I ran close to the parked cars, climbing up one as two dogs circled on both sides, and jumped over when they collided with each other. One dog carrier, attempting to flank me, instead crashed into the window of a police car after I deftly ducked under its leap, escaping out the door.
"The Common Cure. Safeprin, from Umbrella Incorporated… side effects may include—"
More virus carriers. The hallway leading to the holding cells was crammed with straggling groups of the undead, too tightly grouped for me to simply skirt past. They shuffled towards me in overwhelming numbers, groaning out a ghastly chorus.
"If any of our listeners are still alive, get out of town."
Calmly bringing up the Matilda, I utilized my sharpshooting skills to put them down, one by one, as they shuffled towards me. They dropped, headless, but not fast enough, the swarm pushing closer and closer.
"—The municipal government is paralyzed, leaving the city's poor citizens helpless…"
Lining up headshots with the Matilda took much too long, especially with the horde shambling uncomfortably close to my position, so I holstered the pistol and took out the TMP submachine gun. Aiming carefully at their upper torsos, I drummed out the rounds and spread out the shots to hit every single carrier, knocking them stumbling backwards into each other and tangling them up. While they were dazed, stunned out of their trajectory, I immediately slung the TMP and drew the Matilda. This time, with the undead carriers reeling from the submachine gun blasts, all I had to do was sweep the Matilda around and tag them with quick, brisk headshots to continue on with my mission.
"Have faith! Help is on the way!"
I appreciated having non-sticky soles beneath my boots so I wouldn't slip on the bloody floor as I darted by. Then I skidded in my steps as a giant spider carrier crawled out from the corner of the holding cell corridor, its size easily enough to dwarf the previous pack of dog carriers combined, its hairy legs bristling as its crimson-spattered mandibles, both as long as my arm, clicked rapidly in anticipation. No way to get around it so I plugged out two shots, puncturing two of its eight beady black eyes, and hopped over its twitching legs when it staggered to the side, leaving it behind as it howled shrilly in agony.
"Quick & Fast Relief! Adravil, from Umbrella Incorporated—"
Another giant spider tried to get the drop on me, but I cranked back my leg and punted it aside with all my strength, burying my steel-toe boot into its bloated midsection. It fell away, slamming into the wall. Recovering quickly, the giant arachnid skittered slowly around me, going for another try. It was ridiculously easy to outrun.
"—The station's surrounded… but the good news is, folks, we're still on the air!"
With the slow spider far behind, I reached the stairs up to the police station, skipping two steps as a time, ascending quickly to the precinct's first floor. Frantic barks telegraphed the carrier dogs headed my way, giving me plenty of time to pick them off shot by shot as they sprinted into view.
"There's just so many! We can't save them all!"
The walls of the first floor corridors were layered with flyers, framed photos of over-achieving police officers, and S.T.A.R.S. recruitment posters. Two more dog carriers popped from the corner of the hallway, two more headshots popped out from the Matilda.
"…What the hell's going on with this town?"
Making my way down the corridor plastered with useless junk, I approached the door to the department offices. Since the corridor was clear and I could spare a few moments, I took the chance to stretch my muscles, rubbing the kinks out of my shoulders in preparation for whatever was in the office. From the sound of it, a couple of virus carriers inside and… was that hissing? The office door burst open, prompting me to back away as a scaled, green skinned monstrosity leapt through the doorway, hunched over with murder in its glowing yellow eyes. I recognized it at first sight, one of Umbrella's secret underground projects, classified the Hunter series. Its muscular arms were long enough to almost brush the floor, tapered off with long claws, and its wide lips peeled back to reveal gleaming razor teeth.
"I'm at 555 Warren Street. Please hurry and send someone up here, they're all over the place— Oh Jesus! The windows!"
The Matilda would do no good here. Holstering it away, I backed up as the hunter advanced suddenly, hissing primordially, and yanked out the TMP as the hunter began its leap, swinging the submachine gun around and blowing the green beast out of the air just in time. It landed in a heap, struggling to get up, but with one sweep of the TMP, its kneecaps decorated the walls in a flurry of blackish-red. It slumped back down on the floor, yowling furiously as I ran past it, but not before stepping impudently on its ruined leg as I did so.
"—and Raccoon City, just like the sin-filled cities of Sodom and Gomorrah, is truly finished…"
I entered the department offices, closing the door behind me, hearing the hunter thump ineffectually against the frame. A small gaggle of undead virus carriers in tattered police uniforms were mulling around the office. I looked at my watch to check my time, then decided against shooting them all, it would only waste my time and bullets.
"Escape to ecstasy… Aqua Cure, from Umbrella Incorporated—"
Taking out a frag grenade, I rolled it over to the carriers and took cover behind a desk. The loud explosion shattered all the glass windows in the office, accompanied with the brutal rain of carrier body parts. I got up, scoped around, saw to my satisfaction that the grenade had cleared out most of the place. A cleanly-decapitated carrier head thumped against my boot and I instantly punted it on my way out into the adjoining waiting hall, seeing it crash into a file cabinet and drop perfectly into a wastebasket.
"—The damn things just won't stay dead! No matter what we do—"
Exiting out the waiting room, I found myself in the spacious reception lobby with an ornate statue placed tastefully in the middle of the lobby, a reception desk behind it. The lobby, made of two floors, had a second floor balcony overseeing the bottom floor. Across the left side of the second floor balcony was where the helipad would be located.
Loud thumping sounds prompted me to turn to the sight of the front entrance doors by the stairs leading outside bursting open, a throng of carriers spilling through, rushing quickly at me like a raging river of undead, most of the carriers tripping over the stairs and crashing on the ground, trampled by the other undead trying to get through the packed entrance.
"—by removing the head, or destroying the brain… I repeat—"
Way too many numbers to deal with, so I retreated to the doors on the left, booting them open to reveal the information room with another crowd of carriers, thinner numbers this time. I thought of using a grenade to clear out the room again, but discarded the idea, the other carriers from the main entrance were filling the reception lobby and there would be no safe cover from the blast. I readied the Matilda and aimed low, squeezed out my shots, firing rapidly into their kneecaps to drop them, summarily blasting out their brainpan when they keeled over.
"This concludes our report on the current situation."
Rounding the corner of the huge file cabinets in the middle of the information room, I watched as the door leading into the evidence room slam open, one carrier stumbling out, followed by another, then a third carrier, then a fourth… too many were piling out here too, blocking my exit.
"Oh, shit… Oh, shit, oh shit! They got through! They're inside—"
I backtracked and peered out the doorway leading back to the reception lobby. There were more than forty carriers shambling around, but the lobby was indeed so spacious that they were spread out evenly, making it easy for me to avoid them to reach the reception desk.
"It's over, man—"
A giant spider blocked my way, thumping down from the ceiling. One quick glance at my watch told me I was seriously running out of time. Rather than fight, I retreated, backpedaling and vaulting over the reception desk, barely missing the computer. Another giant spider dropped down from the ceiling and landed on the desk, shattering the computer and office chair, priming its furry legs to leap.
"—It's all over!"
The spider leapt just as I evaded its oncoming rush. As it bounced bodily off the wall, its thick limbs scrabbling for purchase, I sighted the emergency ladder leading from the first floor to the second floor open hallway and made for it, climbing the ladder as quickly as I could to get away from the oversized arachnids.
"—WE'RE SCREWED!!"
I lifted myself over the ladder onto the second floor open hallway, laid out like a balcony spanning the left-side, back-side, and right-side of the lobby. Seeing a surreal, tall humanoid shaped creature with giant leaves instead of hands, a wide, slurping closed petal-shaped pod for a head, closing in my position, I also recognized the name of this creature— Plant 43, codenamed Ivy. The Ivy's pod head opened, four petals splitting apart to reveal a mottled green-yellow sac inside, a defense mechanism consisting of spitting acid.
Then the sac shrunk into itself, punctured with a bullet courtesy of my Matilda. The Ivy's pod head snapped closed as it shivered in agony, its entire body exuding putrid, gaseous smoke as it collapsed, literally melting into the floor. Two more Ivies blocked my way to the helipad, looming before me, but from past experience I knew these creatures were lightweights, not too hard to put down with the Matilda. After finishing them off, and crossing almost halfway to the final corridors that would lead to the helipad, I was interrupted by a familiar piercing, hissing shriek. Sighting a hunter sprinting down the other side of the open hallway eager on its way to make me its next meal, I unloaded the Matilda on its blurred form as it crossed the other side, observing it as it rolled onto the floor dead from all the lead in its system. I released the spent clip in the pistol, slapping a fresh one home.
Crossing the remaining length of the open hallway, I entered the break room and saw that it was clear. I kept my guard up, though, keeping myself prepared for anything.
The door behind me splintered to pieces and as I turned, two big green shapes rushed at me in the air, total blurs, more fucking hunters with their claws open at the ready, damn it, shit, no time to switch to TMP so I leapt back, firing center mass on one hunter as fast as I could until it flew past, emptying the clip onto the next hunter twice as fast, both dead before they hit the ground. My heart pounded rapidly and I laid a clenched fist on my chest to steady it… that was too close a call for my tastes. I had to take it slow, exert more caution.
Reloading the Matilda again and shaking my head at the colossal waste of ammo on just two hunters, I frowned as I felt no more pistol clips left in my gear, the sole clip in the Matilda was the last one left. My trigger finger throbbed angrily, sore with the intense rapid-fire use, but I kept my gun trained into the room for any more surprises while stepping backwards into the open corridor behind me.
Sighting a murky green in the corner of my eye, I swiveled around into action, bastard hunters were becoming a real pain in the ass. But it wasn't a hunter, instead, an Ivy opened its petals in attack, thrusting out its elongated leaf-studded arms to which I was quick to dodge, pressing myself up against the wall as the arms flew by, and retaliated with the pistol, finishing it with one bullet only. As it melted into the floor, I noticed the complete silence in the room and realized that the radio hadn't been broadcasting for some time. Maybe it was fixed now?
Tapping the radio to activate it, I said, "This is Alpha Team. Respond."
Nothing. I tried again two more times, then gave up. I was opening the door to the secretary offices when my radio crackled tentatively, then fizzed out. I tapped it again, waiting. Checking my watch, I then continued on, having no more time left to waste… only two minutes remaining.
Three carriers, all of them missing legs, were sprawled out onto the floor. They craned their fetid heads up at my entrance, crawling leisurely towards me, their crusted mouths gaping open in primal hunger. Their glacial movements made it easy for me to just step around them.
"—Alpha..."
I stopped, waiting. It wasn't Night Hawk, I could tell that much, the speaker was female. Maybe it was one of the R.P.D. officers, or even the S.T.A.R.S. calling for their own Alpha Team division. Shrugging, I moved on into the final corridor, its floors paved with once-polished, now-scuffed wood. My goal was the door at the end of this corridor, leading out to the helipad.
"—Alpha—"
Twittering screeches, along with the flutters of diseased wings, followed the small black shadows rushing my way. I grunted in surprise as one of the shadows impacted with my gas mask, knocking next to the left eyepiece and veering off with a surprised squawk. I stumbled backwards at the sudden impact, almost tripping over a carcass of a former citizen with a face that looked completely covered in small scratches.
That thing that hit me was quick as hell, almost too quick to see, but I knew what just happened. A carrier crow tried to go for my eyes, not expecting them to be protected behind thick red lenses.
"—Sewers…"
I brought up my arm to protect my masked face and ducked, aiming carefully at the rest of the bombarding crows speeding my way and shrieking shrilly, trying my best to plug them with single shots. One of them escaped my expert marksmanship and got a free dig at me, clawing, biting. Grabbing it out of the air, I felt its rotting feathers and greying muscles slough away in my crushing grip even through the leather gloves, and threw it back into the cluster of the other crows, scattering them wide enough for me to gun down the rest with the Matilda.
"—Alpha Team… Goblin 6—"
Ah. That explained it. The transmission was one of the Umbrella Security Service sector, and Goblin 6 was one of my team members. Not the pilot, so nothing of importance.
"—Received your call. Currently at point K12 in the sewers…"
Her voice was fraught with agony and breathless terror, but I ignored the useless message as a creature rounded the corridor, clinging to the wall, this one looking like a completely skinned man, its primed muscles red and glistening in the dim overhead florescent lights, its talons tapping on the wallpaper. A licker.
"…Please respond… please—"
I watched the licker's long, whip-like tongue uncoil between the stained razor teeth in its open mouth, the tongue snaking upwards past its exposed brain, spiraling tightly, preparing to lash out at me. I knew it could hit me even at this distance, so I took up the TMP and shot it from the hip, catching the licker full in the mouth and shredding its tongue apart.
"—Can't move. Requesting assistance… I repeat, r-requesting assistance."
Like I cared? I couldn't spare time on worthless people who depended on others for help.
"Please… Please! I got your call, I-I heard you! Isn't anybody there—"
Another licker crawled towards me on the ceiling, so I used the TMP and dropped the creature to the floor in a splash of blood.
"—I just wanna survive! Oh God, PLEASE, DON'T LEAVE ME HERE!"
How annoying. Irritated at hearing Goblin 6's impotent whining as I gunned down Umbrella's creations and fought for my own life, I finally answered the radio as I flung open the door to the helipad, knowing I should be saving my breath instead, and coldly replied to her:
"This is war. Survival is your responsibility."
NOTE: This was an insanely fun chapter to write! The next ones will be better, however, and the flashback to his very first mission as a rookie operative is coming up!
If you liked this chapter, then you know the drill… the little 'go' box next to 'submit review' is feeling real lonely…