10

Cooperation

The first thing she felt was pain and numbness assailing every single one of her limbs; then, a nasty taste in her mouth and her face hot and sweaty. It was horrible, the worst she'd ever felt, and she instantly felt dizzy, her insides churning and her head aching. For more than ten minutes after regaining consciousness, Sherry laid upside down, her gaze staring blankly at the wall -actually the ceiling - in front of her. Slowly, her mind started working, thoughts starting to race and fit like pieces. Sherry gasped, remembering, and carefully sat up as she scanned her position. She was inside a cold and unfamiliar room with naked walls, no windows and just a bed, on which she laid. Sherry lifted an eyebrow: she was in big trouble.

Fear invaded her, suddenly thinking about all that had happened… when? How much had she been there? Questions with no answers flooded her mind, but there was one that she placed above all else: where were her parents? She feared they'd be hurt… or even worse if their captors had dared to go that far. And Sherry felt it again, that overwhelming pain that almost made her faint at school. It was like something was moving inside her, desperate to make its way out and exit her body or even take hold of it and control it. She held back a complaint; she couldn't afford that. She wouldn't show weakness.

Everything was getting too much for her and she decided to wait for the pain to subside, sitting with her legs tucked in and arms around them. She lost track of time as she waited without moving an inch when, at the moment she least expected it, she heard a painful and hoarse scream in horror, high-pitched and showing madness. It made her jump out of her skin and she retreated backwards until she touched the wall. When the echo disappeared, Sherry didn't fight against her curiosity and apprehensively paced towards the bars that secluded her. Grasping them, she tried getting a better sight of both directions of the hall but she could barely see. Then, another scream, this one louder and crazier. Sherry felt her legs tremble.

It was then that she noticed that the wall at her left wasn't a brick wall but a thick glass pane that separated her from the other room. When she looked there, it was her who screamed, a brief but loud noise escaping her lips in fear. She was gazing at a skinny woman kneeling near the bars and trying to shake them, wanting to rip them out to let her escape. The woman screamed again, another hoarse sound tearing from her throat. She gave up, obviously knowing there was no way to bend the bars, and she let herself sit down. Her hair, light brown with highlights, was tangled and dishevelled and fell upon her face completely covering it. When the woman looked up, her face was revealed: her eyes were of an intense blue colour but they had lost their lively gleam and the hues were lacklustre.

Sherry felt a knot in the pit of her stomach when the woman looked at her and she almost jumped back. Her face was bloody, the crimson liquid already dry and caked, and her cheeks, forehead and corners of the eyes had blood streaking down in thick lines. Also, Sherry could see a wound at her neck inflicted by a paw or maybe even her own fingers, which could've dug into her flesh and ripped it open. The wound was swollen, red and slowly getting infected; at that rate, the woman would die either because of blood loss or infection. Her clothes, a long-sleeved white shirt and white slacks, had blood stains all over them and they were tattered and dirty. The woman smiled sadly, revealing her straight and slightly dirty teeth.

"They've brought another one…" she spoke. Her voice gave Sherry the creeps: low, rasp and her words heavy with sorrow. "Poor child. Only God knows what they'll do to you… if such thing as a god exists." The lines the blood had traced were retraced by fresh tears that left her eyes. Her face contorted in a mask of despair and pain and she looked away, burying it in her arms and her shoulders convulsing in a low cry. Sherry felt her chest heavy with sadness and she got closer to the glass pane, gazing at the woman with the hope she would stop crying soon. Even if she was a stranger, she pitied her; she couldn't bring herself to imagine through how much she must've gone.

The woman finally lifted her head again, looking at the blonde girl with the same sad smile tugging at her lips as she continued to cry. "What's your name?"

"I'm Sherry." The girl replied, offering the woman her sincerest of smiles. The brunette wiped her tears and got closer to the pane, still in a cowering crouch.

"My name is Samantha." Said Sherry's companion. Sherry felt her curiosity pique again and she dared to ask in a quiet voice.

"How did--"

However, Samantha saw the question coming before she even finished and she answered quickly. "I was brought here eight years ago and I've been here all this time as a guinea pig… and a successful one, might I add." She added with bitterness. Sherry's mouth dropped open but she closed it as soon as she realized. Eight years?

"Eight years, yeah. 'Been alive all this time thanks to mere willpower, I guess. I just don't wanna die yet, you see. I need to see sunlight once again, at least." Samantha smiled ruefully, and Sherry could see a flicker of joy and enthusiasm appear in her tired gaze, gone as soon as it had come.

Their conversation was abruptly interrupted by the sound of a door opening and several people stepping inside the cell area and the steps quickly neared Samantha's and Sherry's cells. They were only three men, all armed, and Samantha shot them a look full of hatred and rage; in that instant, when they opened her door, Samantha screamed once again and tried to knock down the first that got inside. Her fit of rage was enough for her to lose focus and she was quickly immobilised and subdued, just like a tamed animal. Sherry watched in awe, unable to believe what she'd seen: when Samantha's mouth had opened, her fangs had grown at a great speed; both in width and length and curving inwardly like a snake's.

Her newly grown teeth had menaced to bite at the first neck that was in her reach but they didn't get their chance, and Samantha renewed her struggling in her captor's arms to be once again tamed. As fast as they'd come, the men left with a calm Samantha and as they disappeared, Sherry's eyes settled upon a familiar person that made her blood run cold. Fear took hold of her again and he left after seeing her expression.

"Why are you here?!" Sherry asked him. But it was too late for him to hear her, for he was gone in a blink of an eye.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It had been hard curing all of his wounds, especially not being in a hospital. Despite that, Rebecca could manage with all the equipment she had at their residence and, with Claire's help, it had been a bit easier. After dressing David's wounds and waiting day and a half for his almost-full recovery, the group had discussed their situation and shared information about everything they'd seen. Umbrella was more of a pain in the ass than they originally thought, especially after Caliban Cove.

The folder they had found at the warehouse, 'Experiment 6105FGARK' as it was labelled, had given them information about the project, but not as much as they had wanted to. It only told about the location of the experiment, South America, but didn't disclose any information about specific locations or subjects for the experiment; it was all too vague. Though there was one piece of information they didn't throw away: the viral agent was the G-virus.

"The police are bought. We can't trust anybody now," Rebecca told David. He shot her a dark glance, his dark eyes gleaming with frustration, and she shrugged, unable to do anything about the matter. When David dropped back into the couch again, he let out a tired sigh, running his hand through his hair as he closed his eyes.

"We can't do much right now, considering the state I am in. Bloody hell…!"

"Hey, hey, w-" started John, but David brought down his hand on the cushion next to him.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, blaming myself doesn't help." Once again, David sighed, feeling overwhelmed again by the nagging sensation of impotence.

"We can at least try and find out what's Umbrella doing around here. There has to be a facility or a lab around her in this county." Piped up Claire, crossing her arms.

" 'We'?" said Rebecca, yet not unkindly.

"Of course! I just can't leave you guys here, considering how David is," she replied matter-of-factly. "I think the more people you have, the better." David arched an eyebrow at the Redfield, who shrugged her shoulders casually.

"We might do good with some more help. May I ask though why you were around here?"

"I was on my way to the airport to catch a flight to New York. My brother has his old flat there and I thought I could spend some time there before getting organized. I stopped nearby to take a break and it was then when I heard the news about the accident." She explained.

"What's your brother's name?" asked John, spreading his hands.

"It's Chris, Chris Redfield." David's brows shot up.

"We recently worked with him, in a way."

"Not recently, but two months ago," chuckled John, correcting his partner. David smiled feebly. "Not thinking too straight yet, are we?"

"It would seem so," agreed, playfully, David. Then his expression turned serious. "Well, we still can't do much now, so I think it's best that we wait. We need to keep gathering information about this." Everyone nodded and it was then when Rebecca noticed a small paper sticking out of David's jacket, which was resting upon a chair.

"David, you didn't notice this, didn't you?" she commented as she approached the garment and picked the paper up. With a small movement, David lifted himself up on his elbows and shook his head, his brow knitting together as Rebecca unfolded the paper and stared at it in shock when she read it. "You have to read this."

David quickly took the paper, gazing at it as John and Claire did so from above his shoulder.

"Oh, goddamn it…"

It'll all be taken care of. Sorry for the inconvenience, Mr. Trapp. And don't interfere, no matter what happens.

T.

And so the paper read. Claire, John and Rebecca exchanged looks in concern whilst David didn't lift his gaze from the notice. A 'T'… why is it familiar? Then, his gaze flitted to John and Rebecca. "You know what this has to mean, right? I don't think the 'T' goes unnoticed." Rebecca nodded firmly.

"If Trent's behind the cleanup, guess we don't have to worry."

"I don't trust this," said David categorically. "Whatever he's plotting, it's not in his interest that we find out."

"But this Trent guy could be related to the experiment in South America, could he?" asked Claire. "I'm having a feeling he's related to Umbrella and that you've met him before."

"Touché, Claire," replied John. "He gave us valuable information when we went to Caliban Cove. Guy says he's against Umbrella, just like us… but in his own way, gotta add that." Claire looked at David for confirmation, and he confirmed John's words with a solid nod.

"He could be related to that experiment in South America, though it's improbable. He can't be collaborating with his archenemy; that just wouldn't add up. Although, in a way, he could be trying to get rid of it."

"Could that be the reason why he told us to stay out of this mess?" asked Rebecca, a look of concern flashing across her features. Nobody replied to her question, and David remained pensive, rubbing his chin. Then, he spoke darkly and grimly.

"It could be the reason but, if you want me to be frank, it's not just about what's happened recently. There's something else, something that's going on and we don't know about. And it's bad, too much." He shook his head gravely. "I don't like this."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hours later…

'We're still flying and it's getting to me. Really, I've never been so anxious in my whole life, and… hey, what am I doing writing? Could be the stress and I need to pour it somewhere else before it gets worse. We still don't know anything more than we already know about this case and I have a bad feeling; I've had it since the start. It's not because Umbrella is involved in this, which is quite much as of now, but it's about something I can't describe just now. It's not normal; there's something else going on. And I can't see it.'

Leon put the pen down and gingerly rubbed his eyes with his fingers. He hadn't gotten the sleep he needed yet and with everything that was going on, sleeping would be difficult and quite necessary at the same time. Most of his partners were already dozing off but not one, and it was that one who was sitting next to Leon: Jason. The young blond man was wide awake, his gaze blank and lost and his chin perched on his hand. He hadn't said a word in the whole trip, remaining stoically silent and rough, but Leon could see sadness and guilt in his gaze, fact that made Leon frown for the hundredth time. 'Although rough, Jason's a good guy', Alan had told him. In fact, Jason didn't seem a bad guy at all, just not a very open person.

"What is it that you can't see?" Jason asked suddenly. Leon's head perked up in surprise and found himself meeting Jason's gaze evenly. As his hues looked intensely at him from the corner of his eyes, Leon could clearly see a strange gleam in his gaze: killer, bloodthirsty… inhuman. Those eyes reminded him of someone, yet Leon couldn't put his finger on it yet. Still, he replied to Jason's question with a feeble smile.

"You have a good sight," he said. "If you want me to be frank, it frustrates me not seeing what lies under this matter. I just simply know there's something else."

Jason shifted in his seat, moving to a more comfortable position. "Like a hunch you can't ignore? Something that will haunt your mind for the rest of time unless you find out, dig out the truth and expose it to the world?"

"That exactly." Agreed Leon with a nod. Jason chuckled humourlessly, without a smile into which his mouth would upturn, and looked at Leon once again sideways.

"I've felt like that since I was born, if I remember well. I know I'm exaggerating, but I had that feeling since I can remember." He said with sincerity; a sincerity uncharacteristic in him. "I've always thought the world we live in is a part of a bigger scheme, that everybody has an ulterior motive that drives them to do what they actually do. I believe I'm correct in assuming you agree with me?"

"I have to admit I do, and you receive examples of it every day. It's constant, and it actually gets under your skin sometimes." Replied Leon, and he spread his hands. For the first time in the month that they'd been together, Leon saw Jason smile, feebly but he did. It was a smile full of frankness and hope, a smile that told Leon Jason had placed his trust on him.

"Finally I can dialogue with somebody who doesn't look down on me." He commented. Leon chuckled.

"Why would I?"

"That's the question, Leon: why would you look down on me? What motives would you have to despite me, to make me feel like an outcast? I'm asking for motives without considering matters like morality, the typical 'because I like you or I don't'; I'm asking about things you see inside a person. Why would those things make you somebody different?"

Leon could instantly get the different meaning he'd given to the word 'different'. It's not because of things that distinguish us, those things that make us unique. He's talking about 'different' from a collective point of view and, also, individual. He's somebody interesting; I've liked ethics and philosophy most of the time.

"If you want an answer, let me think about it. Your question was really interesting."

"You don't have to answer it, Leon. I'm just… I needed to say it, and I don't know why I felt better if I shared it with you." Said Jason without erasing his smile. Leon felt Jason was a special person; like the unfitting piece of an homogeneous puzzle in which all pieces were the same.

"Jason, can I ask you a question?"

Jason nodded. "Go ahead."

Leon pursed his lips and reflected before asking, then, "Do you have any close relatives?" Jason shifted again and his coal gaze flitted to find Leon's.

"Can I be frank with you?" asked Jason before replying. It was Leon's turn to nod, and Jason spoke. "My mother's dead and my father's one big bastard, that's all there's to my family. Interesting, huh?" he said bitterly sarcastic. Leon frowned at his words, knowing that, as he and Jason had spoken before, there was something else Jason's words belied. The way he'd interrupted Ashton back at HQ was unnatural and just by the sound that had escaped Ashton's mouth, Leon had a horrible hunch.

"Hey, guys!" Ashton piped up from the beginning of the hall. "The pilot says we're almost there, so get off your butts 'cause we're goin' in! ETA: six minutes." Ashton almost sounded excited and Leon rolled his eyes as he and Jason got to their feet and collected their bags.

There's nothing much to this mission: it's just go inside and investigate about these guerrillas, this Carlos Oliveira and the G-virus. There wouldn't be much else, unless you're a maniac and you want to kill everything in sight. If they think it's going to be like child's play, they're very wrong, though I should know better. I think that, with all Alan and I have told them, they'll be careful enough. First things first: there's got to be trust between the members of a group; if not, sometimes you're screwed and others… you get cruelly backstabbed.

Pushing those thoughts away, Leon concentrated in the current mission and kept a serene expression throughout the rest of the journey. As they landed, he could start feeling the typical hotness of South America and the dampness in the air; also, the hostility of the ambient.

Things were going to get bad from that moment on.

Author's Note: Yeah, it's been a long time since I updated and I have to say I'm sorry. Lost inspiration but got it back again. Y'know, I've become fond of Jason; I'm giving him quite the personality and I'm liking him. You'll find out about his past as the story goes on. And what of this Samantha? How will everything turn out? I'll try to update ASAP. Take care, everyone!^^