Chapter 12: Panic Attack
July 12th, 1205 hours
'I should never have left Riverview.'
Dean had just made it back to his room, having come from an early lunch with Spencer and a few others, when he found a note half-slid under his door. He picked it up and unfolded it, the handwriting very neat and precise.
When you get the chance, come down to the command room- it's time.
As soon as he saw it, he turned on his heel and made his way back through the building, passing by other people heading in the same direction. Clearly, something big was going pushed through into the command centre to find it nearly full. Chris, Jill and Matheson were there, along with Spencer, Jayne, and several others he didn't recognize. As he approached, Matheson looked over.
"Oh Dean- come on, I want to introduce you to someone." Dean came over as another man- a lean figure in his mid thirties with a youthful face and green eyes, his brown hair cut short, wearing a dark jacket over a grey t-shirt- turned to face him. "Dean, this is Michael Wilson," Matheson stated, "and he's going to be team leader for our upcoming operation. Mike, this is Dean Travers- I told you all about him, right?"
"You sure did," Wilson smiled, his voice the standard Boston burr with the blunt vowel sounds. He extended his right arm, exposing a small sickle tattoo on his wrist, and Dean extended his own to give a firm handshake. "I've heard a lot about you, Dean."
"All good things I hope," Dean replied with his own slight smile, glancing over at Matheson and the others.
"Oh, of course," laughed Wilson, releasing his hold. "I know you've been out of it for a few years, but don't worry, I'll keep you straight- I'll keep you all straight." He looked over at Spencer and Jayne, the latter folding her arms and glancing away from his sight.
"So what's your experience?" Dean then asked.
"Four years regular infantry, five years in the Navy Seals," Wilson responded without missing a beat. "Experience in counter-terrorism, hostage rescue, bomb disposal, intel extraction- at least half a dozen other things you can think of, so don't worry Dean- I know what I'm doing."
"I meant in regards to Umbrella and bioweapons," Dean countered smoothly. "What did Umbrella do to piss you off so much?"
"I had three brothers who used to be in the military like me," Wilson said quietly. "But they weren't as lucky as me- they fell on hard times, turned to mercenary work. And then at one point they all joined the U.B.C.S unit they sent into Raccoon City." The room was quiet after that, the majority of the people there knowing all too well what it was like losing someone you cared about suddenly.
"I'm sorry," Dean said.
"Don't be," countered Wilson. "It wasn't your fault. I blame those corporate bastards for creating that mess to begin with- so I'll get back at them one way or another, no matter what." There was another silence, and then the clearing of a throat as Matheson got the attention of the assembled figures.
"Okay people, now that the introductions are out of the way, let's get down to it," he announced, walking over towards a command desk and tapping away at the keyboard before him. A set of four pictures came onto the main projection screen- one each of Wilson, Dean, Spencer, and Jayne- Dean recognised the little mugshot they had taken his second day here. "You've probably worked it out already, but you four are heading out into the field later tonight once we've got everything cleared. Any concerns?"
"None from me," said Wilson smartly.
"Nope," said Spence.
"Nope," Dean intoned. Beside him, Jayne just shook her head.
"Speak up please," said Matheson. She glared up at him.
"No."
This is going to be fun.
"Good," said Matheson, hitting a few more keys, and then the images on screen flew away, replaced with a set of satellite images showing a forested area somewhere. "Chris has been gathering most of our intel for this op so I'll let him explain the mission to you all. Chris?"
"Thanks," said Chris Redfield as he sidled past Matheson to take his place at the command desk. "Okay guys, listen closely..."
'The next state over, there's an old coal mine with a shaft that goes several miles down. Or, that's what it looks like to the outside. It's actually a storage facility for Umbrella equipment and B.O.W's. It had been inactive for at least a year before Raccoon City was destroyed, but recently it's seen a lot of activity- probably because the company's feeling the squeeze now with the legal battles, they're starting to open up their old facilities to try and keep up with the demand for bioweapons.
'We've see a lot of trucks coming and going from that place, and every container has the Umbrella logo on it- seems a bit of an obvious mistake to make, but maybe they're just so desperate to get this done they haven't thought about it- all the better for us. I've scoped the place out, and from what I can tell, there is the one main freight entrance through this warehouse, and I've also counted a few armed guards there. All light arms, but enough to scare some curious campers off- or even kill them if it comes to that. But there's always a back entrance.
'And here it is- looks like a maintenance shack which leads into the main facility proper. Now of course I haven't been inside so I've no idea what to expect, but it's highly likely they've got a lot more armed guards inside, as well as the usual standard security fare- metal detectors, surveillance camera systems- but Spencer assures me that he can get us through all of that easily. So I trust that you all support him while he clears the way.
'You'll be going in by yourselves, so no chance of any further backup. It's dangerous, for sure, but we can't risk Umbrella seeing us coming from a mile away and shutting down that facility before we can even do any damage. When you get inside, you've got two main objectives- find your way to the main data archives and download all of the research and combat data that you can find, and secondly- activate the facility's self-destruction system. I know that sounds dangerous, but Spencer had a special programme he's developed to that end to give you all enough time to escape before the big bang.
'When you're out, call us on the emergancy band and you can call in the chopper to extract you. It won't be easy, but I'm sure that you will all succeed. Any questions?
There were none. Instead, the quartet gathered in the large hall which used to be a gym, now converted into a makeshift armory where they could stock up on their gear before heading out. There were mainly light weapons laid out, including a variety of submachine guns and a few cut-down shotguns, clearly designed for close quarters combat. Dean picked up a UMP and unfolded the stock, checking the sights.
The UMP was a steady, reliable weapon that used the .45 ACP round, giving it a lot more stopping power than Hecklar and Koch's classic MP5 series. He put it back down on the table, and looked over to where Spence was looking over the handguns. He picked up a Glock 17 and turned it over in his hands, and then practiced aiming down the sights with it.
"Good choice," said Dean aloud, getting Spence's attention. "Glocks are light, very durable- you could pour sand into it and it'll still work. Hell, they even fire underwater- which is more than you can say for a lot of other handguns." He moved around to the other side of the table, as Spence chuckled and put the gun back down.
"I've got a confession to make," he said, taking on a sheepish tone.
"Well since we're about to go into the field, it might be an idea to get it out now," Dean reasoned. Spence just sighed and closed his eyes briefly.
"I've never shot at another person before," he announced.
"Well...you wouldn't be the first one to say that," Dean nodded, "but we are going into the field Spencer. That's probably going to involve shooting at some bad guys at some point. Unless you fancy hiding in a dumpster while we go on ahead and clear the way?"
"But I've only ever shot at paper targets before," Spencer countered. "Not flesh and blood- come on, you used to be a cop. Surely you know what I'm talking about?" Dean rolled his tongue inside of his mouth for a moment before replying.
"Yeah," he said, "before Raccoon City went to shit I only used my gun twice- first time was on some low life who had taken a family hostage. If I hadn't taken the shot, he would have killed them. And the second time some asshole on angel dust tried to gut me. So yes, I shot him- and threw up afterwards- but that's the choice you have to make. It's either you, or them. And Umbrella's guys...they aren't weekend warriors.
"They're USS- Umbrella security Service. Former military, special forces- you name it. They're cold-blooded killers through and through and wouldn't hesitate to execute you on the spot if they find you," Dean continued. "I'm not trying to scare you, Spencer, but that's how it's going to be alright?"
"Alright," nodded Spencer, weakly.
"And if in doubt, just pretend they're made of paper," Dean added cheerily, moving away. Spence just nodded again, and then swallowed nervously. Opposite him, Jayne Moran picked up an MP5K and racked the bolt on it. She then looked straight at Spence, her cold blue eyes regarding him keenly.
"I certainly hope you can do it- don't see why we should all suffer because you don't have the balls to pull the trigger." Then she slammed the weapon down and walked away, underlining her point. Spencer Levinson breathed in deeply, and then exhaled slowly, his right fist balled.
Chris and Matheson watched all this from afar with folded arms, and Redfield sighed and glanced sideways at the former CIA agent. "You think they're ready for this?" he asked.
"Physically, yep," nodded Matheson, pointing. "Spence is a little lacking, otherwise they're all in almost prime physical condition, especially Jayne- I tell you, watching her train...like a machine."
"But what about psychologically?" asked Chris. Matheson stiffened up and then looked over.
"Oh. Want me to play amateur psychologist again?" he asked with a slanted grin.
"No joking around," Chris warned him, "I just hope we're not sending them off to the slaughter."
"Okay," nodded Matheson, his eyes scanning the room and then settling on Spence. "Well, Spence had never fired a gun until three days ago, and he's never killed a person before...so he might be as eager as beans and smart as a whip, but that hesitation could hold him back. With any luck the others can cover him on that."
"Hope so," said Chris. "And Jayne?" Matheson snorted and looked away.
"Jayne? Stone cold killer and borderline sociopath, even if she doesn't like to admit it," he said. "I saw the files, I saw the newspaper reports- what she did"-
"What she did before doesn't matter here," Chris interrupted. "Far as I'm concerned, those guys got what they deserved."
"Geez Chris, didn't realize you could be this cold too," Matheson laughed, looking him straight in the eye. "Doesn't matter whether you forgive her or not, she's got a lot of pent-up rage inside her and if she can't direct it properly then it might impact on the mission- and not in a good way."
"She'll learn," said Chris, watching as Jayne picked up a SIG-552 assault rifle that was almost as big as her, checking the moving parts over. "She'll have to if she wants to succeed with the group."
"Well I hope she learns fast..." said Matheson in a playful tone.
"And Dean?" was Chris' last question.
"What about him?"
"You know what I mean," Chris said, shaking his head. Matheson's initial response was a shrug.
"Well..." he began, "he's pretty composed for someone who survived a mess like Raccoon City. And he is capable enough- but I see when he goes for it in the training gym- he's full of that anger too, not like Jayne is, but pretty close. He doesn't find an outlet for that anger then he'll take it out on those around him. And that is not good for teamwork."
"Well what they said was true," Chris answered, shaking his head slightly.
"And what's that?"
"That you are a cynical son of a bitch." Matheson stared right at Chris, and then threw his head back and burst out laughing, turning away.
"Well CIA service can do that to you," he said.
By the time that 1800 hours had rolled around, all four were out in the field. Though within an hour, Dean wished he had stayed behind.
Laid out flat on a grassy ridge, they watched as a transport truck with a heavy shipping container on its back trundling down a dirt road towards a massive steel, corrugated door. A pair of armed guards in black uniforms and caps waved the truck down to check the papers, and then waved up at a lone security camera. The doors trundled open, and the truck vanished inside with the door swinging shut behind it. Also outside were a number of jeeps and other vehicles, as well as some recent tyre treads in the mud, making it clear this place was in constant, use.
Wilson lowered the high-powered scope he'd been using to observe the door, and then sidled back from the edge of the ridge. The others were laid out behind him, low in the grass, waiting for his verdict. They were tooled up for light recon work- a light Kevlar vest with standard combat pants and boots, armed with suppressed MP5-K submachine guns and Glock pistols as sidearms, along with a few flashbangs and other equipment. Dean had opted for a UMP instead though, preferring the greater stopping power- especially if the guards inside would be armored up like the Jokers at Riverview.
"Just like Chris said," Wilson whispered, "not getting in that way."
"So let's go and find that back door then," Dean suggested. "It's bound to be less guarded than this place."
"I second that," said Spence, "besides, we're losing light." Jayne remained silent as ever. If anything, the deep stripes of camo paint across her face made her look even more fierce than normal.
"Well let's go then," Wilson said, leading the way in a back-breaking crouch walk. The others broke off one by one and followed suit. Though it took them nearly ten minutes as they skirted around fences and more guard patrols- at one point, they lay on their bellies in the long grass for nearly three solid minutes as a pair of guards passed them by mere feet.
The rear entrance was a lot less impressive than the front. There was what looked like a sorry-looking gardener's shed standing at the corner of a clearing- complete with corrugated steel for a roof and a lone window- while four more guards in black uniforms and caps patrolled two and fro in pairs. The four anti-Umbrella crusaders watched for a few more minutes, memorizing their patrol patterns.
"Okay," whispered Wilson, looking over his shoulder, "we take them out, nice and quiet. We split up, take two each."
"Will that work?" hissed Spencer in reply.
"Of course," hissed Wilson back. "As long as we do it in sync so they don't get a chance to call the alarm. Knives out," he then ordered, and slowly drew the knife which was holstered at his waist, the steel dulled down with a bit of boot polish to prevent it catching light. Spence's eyes went wide.
"What, you haven't seen a knife before?" asked Jayne snidely as she drew her own blade.
"Leave it," hissed Dean, drawing his blade and holding it close beside his leg. "Yeah, I got it."
"Okay, Dean's with me- Jayne and Spencer, take those two on the left." Wilson extended his index and middle fingers towards the two guards who wandered off into the trees to the left of the shack, leaving their compatriots standing over by the shack itself.
"Move out," finished Wilson, and then he slid down the bank slowly, Dean following close after him.
"Try and keep up," said Jayne, as she led Spence off to the left. He followed after her, fumbling for his own knife.
The two guards stood on either side of the small building, looking to and fro, not paying any attention to the two camouflaged operatives coming up behind them, blades drawn and held tight in clenched fists. Wilson and Dean came up beside one another at the rear of the brick shack.
Wilson pointed at Dean and then to the right hand corner, marking his target for him. "We'll go on your mark, Dean." Dean nodded, and then crept up to the corner of the shack, and then around the corner, his back pressed up against the brick. He could see the protruding arm and shoulder of the guard on his side, arm held down by his side, fingers hovering just above his holstered pistol.
Nice and easy.
He crept along one step at a time, always aware of where his feet were placed so he didn't stand on a twig or something else that could alert his prey. The guard barely moved, like he were some statue standing guard at a mansion entrance. Then he raised his arm and scratched his face, lowered it again. Dean took a few more steps forward until he was stood just beside the corner of the shack, inches from the guard. He raised his hand, holding the knife with the tip pointing down towards the ground.
He closed his eyes and counted down from three in his head.
Three...two..one-
He snapped his eyes open, reached out with his left hand, grabbed the guard by his jacket collar and pulled him around the corner and against the wall. At the exact same time Wilson came around his own corner and caught the second guard in a chokehold before he could even shout out a warning, and he too was pulled around the corner.
The guard went for his weapon, but Dean drove his knee up into the man's groin, knocking the air from his lungs. Then he pushed his head back against the wall and slashed his knife across his exposed throat. There was a spray of blood, some of it going onto Dean's face, and he stepped back. He saw the look of horror on the guard's face, saw the life drain from his green eyes. He grabbed at his savaged throat and dropped to his knees, making some horrific gagging sound as blood gushed from behind his fingers and stained the front of his black jacket. Then he fell over sideways with a thud, the rest of his blood staining the grass.
Dean looked down at his blade, then quickly wiped it clean on the guard's pants and moved around to the opposite side where Wilson was finishing off the second guard. The latter's feet kicked and twitched a few times, and then fell still. Wilson tossed the dead weight aside and looked up. "You good?"
"I'm good," said Dean, sheathing his blade.
Less than two hundred yards away, the other pair of guards were unaware of what had just transpired. They stood beneath a tree, passing roll-ups between one another. Then one of them produced a brass-plated lighter and went to light his friend's roll-up.
"Now."
A small rock sailed over the heads of the two guards and landed in the bushes several yards ahead of them. There was a loud rustle, and they both immediately turned, fumbling to drop the lighter and grab their guns instead. They aimed in the direction of the sound, looking at one another. Then they nodded and one of them set off, slowly approaching the bushes, leaving the second one to stand guard.
"All yours," whispered Jayne. Then she slid away from Spence, keeping low to the ground. She slinked away like a snake, making barely a sound. Apparently this wasn't her first rodeo, or so the saying went. After a few seconds she was completely out of sight, leaving Spence dumbfounded.
With a shake of the head, he turned his attention to the guard who had stayed behind. He drew his own knife and scuttled forwards. He kept his eyes locked on the guard's back, silently willing him to not turn around.
Yards away, the first guard crouched down in the bushes from where he had heard the rustling, brushing the brush aside to try and find the source of the disturbance. He found nothing, save for a rather out of place stone. He picked it up, turned it over a few times, his face showing a quizzical expression.
"The hell...?" he muttered, beginning to stand up.
He didn't make it very far before a slender arm wrapped around his windpipe jerking him up, and then a knife punched through the front of his uniform and through his heart. His eyes went impossibly wide, and he tried to struggle, but within a couple of seconds he was already dead, eyes rolling back into his skull as blood seeped into his black jacket and shirt.
"Sweet dreams," whispered Jayne, letting him slide to the ground.
Spence raised his knife, ready to strike the fatal blow (even though he had no idea where to aim specifically on the human body to land said fatal blow), when the guard suddenly turned around, as though it seemed to smell him crouched there. The eyes of both men went wide.
Oh-
The guard went to yell something, but then there was a wet thud and he flinched as something hit him from behind. Spencer saw the slight glint of light on a steel tip protruding from the man's throat, and then the guard fell forwards onto his face, the hilt of a combat knife protruding from the back of his neck. Spence was still staring dumbfounded at the corpse when Jayne walked up, bent down, and pulled her knife free.
She looked down at him as she wiped the blade clean against the dead man's jacket. "Uh...thanks," he finally managed to say, but she gave him a look that was somewhere between disgust and pity. Then she tapped a finger against her ear piece.
"Clear."
By the time all four were reunited, they had dragged each body into some thick bushes to conceal them, though they could do nothing about the blood stains which had soaked into the grass, except hope that nobody else would find them. They gathered around the door of the shack, their weapons readied. Dean tried the door handle, surprised to find that it was unlocked. He looked at the others and shrugged.
"When we're inside, cover each other and check your corners," Wilson advised. "All it takes is for us to miss one guy and we all go down." Dean and Spencer nodded, but Jayne remained impassive as ever. Then he opened the door and peered inside, and then filed inside. Dean followed after him, and Spencer was about to follow up, but Jayne caught him by the wrist and pulled him back.
"Next time," she whispered in his ear, "I'll just let him shoot you."
"Back off," snapped Spencer, pulling his arm away. "I'm sure even you choked at some point," he continued, and then stepped inside. Jayne just shook her head and followed him inside, where Wilson had found and opened up a large floor grate to expose a ventilation tunnel. There was little else of note inside.
"Into the rabbit hole," Dean announced, dropping down the gaping hole feet first. The others followed suit.
"Alpha, be advised, sensors have tripped."
"Copy that Alpha. All units, sound off."
"Charlie, standing by."
"Delta, standing by."
"Gamma, standing by."
"Solid copy on all, standing by."
There was the light groaning of steel and the ventilation grate was slowly pushed out of place, hanging down by one lone bolt so it didn't hit the ground. A pair of boots emerged from the darkness, and then Dean dropped down, landing in a crouch, sweeping his UMP to cover the passage. He saw nothing save for smooth steel walls with the occasional stretch of piping and floor grating- it reminded him too much of the passages of Delta Storage and Research back in Raccoon City.
"Clear," he announced. Wilson, Spencer and Jayne dropped down behind him, one after the other.
"So far, so quiet," observed Spence as he threw his pack down on the floor and rummaged through it, while Jayne stood over him, aiming her MP5K down the passageway behind him.
"You got the gear?" asked Wilson.
"All set," replied Spencer, holding up something that looked like a flash drive with a small keypad attached to it. He held it out for Dean, who took it after a brief pause.
"What's this?" he asked.
"It's what we're going to use to destroy this place," Spence answered. "Find a workstation in this place, plug it in, and input the access code, and it'll upload a worm virus to remotely activate the self-destruct sequence. The wonders of modern technology..."
"So...what's the access code?" asked Dean curiously.
"Checkmate."
"How original," Jayne observed sarcastically.
"Play nice," warned Wilson, taking the drive from Dean's hand. "Alright, we split up again- me and Dean will find a workstation and stand by, while Spence and Jayne find the server rooms and download all the data they can find. When you do, radio us and let us know- then we can activate the self-destruct system and get the hell out of here."
"Just like that?" asked Spencer.
"In and out, just like we planned," Wilson responded. "The less time we're stuck down here, the better."
"I can agree with that," Dean nodded. "So, we good to go?"
"Good to go," said Spence, standing up. "See you soon." And with that, they headed off in separate directions. Dean watched Spence and Jayne vanish around the corner, and then looked over at the team leader.
"Worried about them?" asked Wilson.
"More worried about whether Jayne will kill him first."
Jayne and Spence's passage turned out to be fairly uneventful in every sense of the word- the corridor just followed a largely straight path, with the odd right angle when it turned. They found no signage either- and while Spence was getting somewhat frustrated by the fact they could be going completely the wrong way, while Jayne liked the fact they could keep going rather than getting slowed down by unnecessary choices.
"Hang on," she said suddenly, pointing up at a sign painted onto the upper part of the wall beside them. It simply read 'Archives' in white against a black background, and then further along the passage were a set of double doors. "That's our stop."
"You sure?" asked Spence.
"Unless you want to scour the rest of this place by yourself then go ahead," Jayne countered, approaching the doors. Spence hurried after her, helping her to push the heavy steel features open. They stepped inside of the cool concrete chamber, and Spence found himself caught off guard.
"Well...this was unexpected."
"What is?" asked Jayne, as he walked up to the three server banks in front of them- each stood just under nine feet tall, ringed by heat-resistant panels in black, a series of blinking lights inside. Bundles of wires and cables trailed back and forth between the towers and then into the wall-mounted control console just behind them. High above them, a large fan whirred erratically.
"Well...this is all ancient," Spence reasoned, pulling out a hand-held PDA. "I mean these servers are ten years old, at least. And that air conditioning system looks pretty ancient too," he exclaimed, walking around the towers, pointing here and there.
"And that bothers you, why?" asked Jayne, sarcastically.
"I just thought Umbrella might have had better stuff is all," he shrugged. "I mean, they spent enough on their precious B.O.W research so why not a little extra to cover their data storage needs?"
"Spence, who the hell cares? Just download the damn stuff," she spat, losing patience. With a shake of his head, Spence pulled out his small tablet computer and set it up, plugging in a set of cables into the side of the control console. He went to start typing something, but stopped, his hands hovering over the keys.
"...well that's also weird."
"What is?" she asked, losing patience again.
"There's no security on this," he said. "No firewalls, so detection programmes- nothing. I got in straight away."
"All the better for us," Jayne deadpanned, "now get it done." Spence just shook his head again and tapped a couple keys, starting the download procedure. While a long string of 1's and 0's scrolled along the black screen (to be converted into the proper files later), a progress bar was overlaid over it, counting up to 100%.
"You know..." he began, drawing another glare from Jane.
"What?" she asked sharply. He hesitated slightly before continuing.
"Don't you think this has been too easy for us?" he questioned, standing his ground. She just rolled her eyes.
"Spencer, you don't stop whining"-
"Oh for crying out loud, Jayne!" he interrupted loudly. "Why don't you pull that damn stick out of your ass and just listen for once?! This has all been way too easy. Aside from those guys outside, we haven't seen a single guard inside this place. I haven't seen a single security camera either, even one of those subtle blinking red lights either. And then this- these servers are ancient and have no security whatsoever. It's almost like they wanted us to just walk in and help ourselves."
Jayne stopped for once, her mind working in overtime. Not that she thought about it, she hadn't seen any security measures since they had first set foot inside- she'd just been so impatient to get out of there that she hadn't paid a lot of attention to it. But now that Spence had bought it up...it did seem far too easy.
The progress bar on Spence's tablet reached 100%. It blinked green and then closed itself, the binary code on the screen rearranging itself into a large smiley face, and a simple, ominous message.
Found You
"Oh God," gasped Spence, slamming the tablet shut and packing it away even as Jayne reached up and touched her ear piece.
"Guys, it's a trap, they knew we were coming," she warned, "we need to get the hell out of here"-
There was a dull thud from the wall just beside them, and then the lights suddenly flickered and went out- bathing them in the soft red glow of the emergency lights. One of the steel panels on the wall beside them dropped away. Acting on pure reflexes, Jayne raised her submachine gun and fired off a quick burst. There was a grunt of pain, and then a thud as a human body hit the ground.
"Christ!" exclaimed Spence, but he didn't get the chance to take it all in before more panels dropped away and more men appeared. They were dressed all in black so all he could see was the silhouette outlines, and the glowing red points from infra-red goggles. They raised weapons and opened fire, and he fell to the floor, narrowly avoiding having his head shot off. He fumbled for his MP5 and aimed it up, pulling the trigger repeatedly, but nothing happened- just a dull click from the weapon.
"The hell?!" he blurted, even as Jayne sighted and fired, knocking down one of the figures and making the other duck back from view. Then she bent down and dragged Spence to his feet, an angry growl building in the back of her throat.
"Helps if you take the safety off," she snapped, pulling him towards the doors while he sheepishly flicked the fire selector switch on his weapon. Behind them, the other panels in the server room dropped out, and more figures emerged. They could hear short, sharp bursts of static feedback as they communicated back and forth in terse bursts of communications.
"There! Take 'em down!"
"Not likely!" Jayne shouted back, unloading the rest of her magazine. She knocked another two of them down, just as Spence managed to get his safety off and opened fire himself. He sent a tight burst across the far wall, missing human flesh but making their aggressors duck out of sight. Then they backed away through the doors.
But even in the passage they didn't have much of a chance. The wall opposite of the entrance came away- like one of those secret doors in the old library in the old country house- and there were another three shooters standing there in a line, their weapons already raised.
"Oh"- began Spence.
The shooters opened fire. He felt a jolt through his torso as a 5.56 round struck him hard in the centre of his chest, knocking him flat on his back. The back of his skull cracked against the steel floor grating, and he was out like a light.
Not too far away, Wilson and Dean had reached a space which looked like it could have been a work room at some point- there were the outlines of cubicles and desks, but any form of electronics looked to have been stripped out a long time ago- even the sockets on the walls were blackened with dirt and dust.
"Looks like these haven't been used for years," Dean observed, kicking at one set of sockets. "Why bother keeping it all around though?"
"Who knows," shrugged Wilson, "just worry about the mission at hand." He walked up to a set of doors, and pushed against it with his shoulder. Then he rammed against them, but they held fast. "Locked. There has to be another way around."
"Well I saw some other doors back there," Dean suggested with a shrug of his shoulders. "Could try those"- he was interrupted by a sudden buzzing in his ear- in both their ears, as it happened. He pressed his fingertip against it, listening in.
"...a tra...w we were...need to get...ll out of"-
"Damn it, there's too much interference down here," Wilson grumbled, messing with the radio unit at his waist, but Dean just stood in place. All of this just seemed a little too...convenient for his liking. In fact, it reminded him a little too much of that ambush in the old warehouse.
"Shit! We have to get out, now!" he exclaimed, flicking off the safety on his UMP.
"What are you talking about?" asked Wilson, looking a little flustered.
"I- when Umbrella tried to kill me the other week, they lured me into an ambush," Dean explained, "they had a jammer activated so that I wouldn't call for help, and then next thing I knew they were coming out of the shadows trying to gun me down. Trust me, this has the exact same feeling to it." Wilson just stared back, the cogs in his mind clearly working over and over on themselves. Then his eyes went wide.
"Get"-
Dean threw himself to the side instinctively, just as something whistled past his ear and flattened itself against one of the steel wall panels. Still on the ground, he rolled over and opened fire on reflex at the figure that hadn't been standing there in the doorway a couple of seconds ago. The figure buckled and thrashed, then fell over flat on his face, the thermal goggles he was wearing shattered by the fall.
About the same time, the lights went out. The red emergency lights then chose to bath the space in a sinister red glow.
"Ambush right!" called out Wilson, spinning in that direction, his MP5 raised. He fired off a long burst, and two more silhouettes went tumbling down. It seemed that the walls appeared to have disappeared when they didn't realize, changing the entire layout of the facility's corridors in an instant. And now Umbrella's stone-cold killers were bearing down on them.
There was another one suddenly hovering over Dean, trying to ram the stock of his rifle into his face, but Dean dodged out of the way, then grabbed onto the guy's boot and yanked, pulling him off of his feet. Then he scrambled up and kicked the commando across the face, knocking him out. Two more were directly ahead of him and he fired from the hip, catching one of them in the pelvis and spinning him aside, but the second one darted sideways into one of the cubicles- then burst out and came straight at him.
Holy-
Then a bullet struck the assaulter in the side of the head and he was pitched sideways into the wall, crumpling into a heap. Dean glanced over to where Wilson was crouched, MP5 raised. He just nodded his head slightly, a gesture that Dean returned. But then he saw the two commandos coming up behind Wilson.
"Behind you!" he shouted, rushing forwards. Wilson turned in time for the butt of a rifle to catch him in the cheek, and he stumbled away, falling against the wall. The commando tried to attack again, but Wilson kicked him in the side of the kneecap and he went down, then drew his knife and slashed him across the throat. By the time he was falling back, Dean had caught up and slammed shoulder-first into the second commando.
They both impacted against the wall and bounced off. The commando dropped his assault rifle as he did, but he just kicked Dean right in the sternum and pushed him backwards, drawing his knife. But Dean already had his UMP up and drilled his opponent right in the chest, dropping him like a sack of sand. Then he quickly turned and tried to fire again, but the weapon just let out a dry click. He looked down, saw the brass jammed into the exit chamber.
He threw it down, there being no time for him to try and unjam it in this situation. He reached for the Glock instead, turning and dropping to one knee as he gunned down another commando who was trying to sneak up on him. A few yards away, Wilson was on his feet as yet another commando attacked him head on. He batted away a punch and buried his knife right through the commando's armpit, in between the Kevlar plates of his armor. The man shuddered briefly, and then collapsed as the squad leader pulled the knife out. Then without skipping a beat, he turned and tossed the knife- the point planted itself through the right eye of a commando armed with a cut-down shotgun.
That guy's got the moves.
Wilson used his foot to nudge his MP5 into the air, and then snatched it up once it was at chest height. He pulled the bolt back and turned, firing off the rest of his magazine. The remaining commandos ducked out of sight, covering themselves behind the walls. "We need to get out of here, now!"
"Don't have to tell me twice!" Dean hollered back, firing off a few shots from his Glock. Then he crouched down and snatched up the UMP, running with it towards the passage they had used to come this far. Wilson fired off the rest of his magazine and then followed afterwards, the air interlaced with bursts of comm traffic from the remaining commandos.
"They're falling back!"
"Cut them off!"
Dean probably should have been paying more attention to that traffic, as he looked over his shoulder briefly to see if Wilson was following him. It meant that he didn't see the commandos waiting to ambush him until it was too late- when he turned back around, an outstretched arm knocked him off of his feet. The Glock went one way, the UMP the other, and he hit the concrete hard.
He didn't get a chance to nurse himself though, as a boot kicked him in the ribs, rolling him over, and then a gloved fist punched into his jaw. Three commandos- armed only with their fists- gathered around him, landing punches and kicks as he rolled on the cold floor. They shouted and screamed at him as they did.
"That was for our buddies at Riverview, asshole!"
"You're not so big down there, are you?!" bellowed the second one, grabbing Dean by the front of his Kevlar and pulling him up to face level. All Dean saw was a pair of blue eyes behind the black mask. He smirked and laughed, blood trailing from the corner of his mouth.
"You think this is funny?!" demanded the third man, punching Dean across the face a couple more times. "It won't be so funny when you're drowning in your own blood!" he added, landing a third punch that rolled Dean onto his front.
"You got anything else to say?!" demanded the other commando.
"F...fuck you!" Dean managed to yell, before he rolled over and kicked one of them squarely in the groin. He barked out and fell back, clutching at his privates. Dean managed a smirk, before another punch to the jaw nearly knocked him out cold.
"Fuck it, grab the needle!" shouted the one standing over Dean's upper body, grabbing a hold of his shoulders, while the second withdrew a hypodermic needle from one of the pouches on the front of his vest. Whatever it was, it must have been pretty strong stuff based on the warnings the other commando was shouting at him. The third one remained curled up on the floor, coughing and retching as he held his groin.
The second man leaned in, his thumb hovering over the needle plunger. Dean- not in any mood to be injected with any mystery drug- lashed out with his feet again. He caught the needle man in the kneecap, and he stumbled forwards to fall on top of him. Dean jerked his head sideways, and the needle struck the concrete beside his ear, snapping off on contact.
Dean could feel that hot anger boiling up inside him again. Without a second thought, he snatched the needle from the commando's hand and thrust it backwards over his shoulder. There was a soft thunk as it made contact with flesh, and then a scream of agony as the commando pinning him down let go. Released, Dean grabbed onto the collar of the first commando and hauled himself up, before ramming his head into the commando's masked face, and then swung him around into the wall face-first. He fell down with a thud, and Dean turned to the second man.
He was still screaming, clutching at the broken needle stabbed into the spot just above his collar bone. Blood spurted from the wound, but after a few moments his screams were dying away and his motions were becoming sloppy, like he were in a dream haze- the drug was clearly some kind of sedative. Unrelenting, Dean stepped up and prepared to lay him out with a haymaker punch-
-when another commando came up and swung a crowbar into the back of his kneecaps.
Dean went down in an instant, to his knees, screaming. He tried to rise up immediately afterwards, but the crowbar was swung again- this time into the back of his head, and the force of the blow knocked him down fully. He rolled over onto his back, his head tilted sideways to show him the open passage he had just ran down. There was no sign of Wilson. The back of his head was wet and sticky, his vision half-blurred.
This is it, he thought. My first time outside of the base and I'm laid out, half-dead. I fully fucked up on this one, I should never have left the farm, I should never have left mom and dad...Lisa-
"Fucking hell Hotch, he did a number on you," sneered a commando standing over him, clutching the crowbar he had just used.
"Whatever, we got him now," growled Hotch, getting to his feet and raising a hand to his ear. "Be advised, we have them- repeat, we have the intruders."
His eyes managed to glance up enough to see another commando approaching in purposeful strides, this one wearing a somewhat more streamlined Kevlar vest that wasn't overloaded with extra supplies and weapons, the sleeves on his shirt rolled up past the elbows. He walked right up to Dean and looked down.
"Night night," he said, driving his boot into Dean's face.
A/N: And we are back. First of all, for any of my regulars who are reading this then I apologize for the lateness of my next update, as I have returned back to university to do a postgraduate degree so my diary is very full right now as you can imagine, but I will endeavor to continue writing as and when I'm able to.
The next few chapters...I've had quite a lot written out, and it's just a case of piecing it all together into legible chapters- we should have another five or six chapters to go for this story in total, and by then I should have an idea on where to take the saga of Dean Travers next. Watch this space...
As an aside, Happy New Year to everyone on the site! If you are new to Fanfiction and are just reading this, I'm James- aka Jammer69er- and I have written a few Resident Evil fanfics for this site since 2005 (has it been that long?) as well as some Dead Space pieces of work, so if you are interested then have a read, leave a review and some feedback, or even favorite it if you're so inclined.
Until next time folks.
