Darkness Arises
By E-Z B
Chapter 40: Captured
The loud whining of steel on steel slowly stirred Jake Cavanaugh from his slumber as he lay slumped against the wall in the engineer's cabin, ruining what had probably been one of the best dreams he'd had in quite a while.
Grunting harshly, the young criminal raised his head and rotated it before popping it back into place. Bracing himself against the wall he slowly rose back to his feet and stretched his limbs out before walking over to the shattered window to feel the air blowing through against his face. Feeling slightly refreshed he rubbed his face a little until his vision had refocused and he took in his new surroundings.
Gone were the vast fields of miscellaneous farmland and small, quaint hamlets off in the distance, now replaced by the tall buildings, smog and urban sprawl of a city and judging by the moving vehicles and people walking around on the nearby streets, a city with actual, living people, a sight that seemed so foreign compared to what he had witnessed for nearly a week.
"Never thought I'd be so happy to see other human beings," Jake spoke quietly to himself as he continued to take in the fresh air blowing against his face. Sure, they were people who would probably run away upon knowing who he really is and try reporting him to the police, but at least they were still alive and wouldn't have some manmade virus to pass onto him.
From taking a look at the factories and warehouses around him, he could tell that he was in the industrial part of town and was probably en route to some train yard. Chances were very high there were probably workers milling about on their daily rounds, meaning he would have to sneak his way out of the train yard and then sneak his way through the back alleys until he could find a more suitable disguise, then he could walk amongst the common public until he found a way out of the city.
"Then hopefully I can find someplace those freaks can't find me," the criminal thought to himself remembering the numerous brushes with death he had endured battling Albert Wesker's HCF forces. Those were some sneaky creeps he had fought back there and relentless ones too who were hell bent on taking him out, so willing a majority lost their lives in the process.
Now entering the train yard, Jake looked around finding numerous trains already parked and searched for any workers, but strangely found the place seemingly deserted.
"Damn it! Please tell me I'm not wandering into another Raccoon or Springvale," Jake grunted to himself again readying his M-4. The stop was coming up and the career criminal pulled back on the brake to slow the train down. Acting on natural instinct, he knelt down near the control panel expecting heavily-armed commandos to be waiting for him. Crouch walking towards the door, the criminal hugged the wall again and waited for the train to come to a complete stop.
Breathing in deeply and mentally readying himself for another battle, Jake listened for any footsteps and radio chatter he would expect to hear from his adversaries. Instead he could only hear the beeping horns of cars, squawking of seagulls and chatter of ordinary civilians in the distance, the normal kind of noise pollution he expected from a big city.
The sounds of normalcy were enticing to the criminal, but his suspicions kept him pinned down and he continued listening for anything out of the ordinary near one of the shattered windows. A chill running down his spine told him something was not right and he exited the cabin, moving in a crouch walk low enough to avoid the windows. Dead bodies still littered the floor from their attempted sweep of the train, only to fall before Jake's armor-piercing rounds. Their blood had long dried and some of them still clutched weapons of similar makes in their hands. Suspicion still running high in his mind, the criminal looted whatever ammunition he possibly could before making his way to the back door at the end of the train, thinking snipers were positioned near the side exits.
Slowly sliding the back door open, the criminal leapt down and rolled for cover behind a stack of metal crates. Hearing nothing he moved over to another stack and kept moving forward between random cover until he had reached the front of the train.
Coming to the end, he now found a wide open space filled with numerous stacks of iron crates, forklifts, a few more rail cars and lying facedown on the ground, the dead body of a worker, his gray industrial jumper painted crimson by the ragged holes in his back.
"Looks like my paranoia has once again been justified," Jake thought to himself looking off to the side and seeing a few more shot up bodies littering the paved surface. He was not alone and danger certainly had him surrounded from all sides. Having taken a brief nap he felt a little more energized and ready for another round of battle.
Sticking his head out a bit, he waved the muzzle around until he was briefly blinded by a red light, forcing him to fall to the ground for cover. A half-second later, a bullet struck the crate above him.
"They've got silencers now, another thing to keep in mind," the criminal thought to himself ready to peek around another corner. "Obviously can't risk unwanted attention in a populated city, probably got a pretty public image to protect. I'll give them some attention alright."
Standing up and raising his rifle into the air, he fired a random burst hoping to draw out the hiding guards, knowing he was now threatening their cover of silence.
A hail of silenced bullets pinged off the metal container Jake hid behind and numerous pairs of footsteps lightly pounded the ground before him. Stepping into the open, the criminal fired into an approaching HCF commando, striking him in several vital areas. Strangely though, before the dying commando could hit the ground, his body disintegrated into nothing.
"What the fuck?" Jake muttered to himself taking cover as more commandos appeared. He knew he wasn't hallucinating, but that man had vanished into thin air upon receiving several fatal rounds. The concept wasn't entirely new to him as he remembered reading government conspiracy books, more specifically a topic regarding the enigmatic "men in black," who were presumably secret agents who were supposed to have dissolved into nothing upon dying to cover up traceable evidence. These commandos weren't "men in black," but they probably did have some kind of bomb built into their bodies designed to detonate once they died.
It meant nothing either way to the career criminal; they stood in his way, for that they would die.
The commandos continued firing away with silenced pistols and submachine guns, a few snipers armed with silenced rifles backing them up. Unlike the troopers he had encountered back in Springvale, who communicated back and forth frequently, these troops made no sound using hand gestures to do their talking.
"Giving me the silent treatment, huh?" Jake sarcastically quipped before stepping out and firing another barrage, taking down two more troopers and literally reducing them to nothing. With the grace of a circus acrobat, another trooper back flipped onto the train he arrived in and began firing at the criminal. Taking the masked man down with a shot to the face, the criminal then pulled out his remaining hand grenade and tossed it through one of the shattered windows.
"Try explaining this, freaks," the criminal thought to himself running away from the train, only to have it systematically detonate behind him.
The commandos were firing away more frantically at him now knowing their cover was threatened. Their rounds had no effect in scaring the criminal as he continued to fire away at them, dropping a few more as he ran towards a warehouse, striking a few explosive barrels and taking out more of the mysterious troopers.
Running through an opened garage door, the criminal quickly found himself rolling underneath a swinging mass of iron beams suspended in the air above and keeping his back lowered as hooks swung above him. Silenced rounds tore through stacks of wooden crates and cardboard boxes as the criminal bobbed and weaved his way around several that stood in his way and ducked underneath a running conveyor belt hoping to reach the nearest exit.
Silent killers filtered into the warehouse behind their target, firing away madly at a man who was just too quick for them, even with his muscular size. The frantic looks and gestures indicated their desperation to take down the fleeing criminal before he could reach the general population.
Jake continued to somehow unwitting dodge the bullets soaring through the air around him as he made his way towards the nearest garage door, the panel being struck beside him as he bolted through the door raining sparks onto him.
"Be on the lookout, he should be heading your way," the criminal heard a voice call out over a radio from nearby. Strangely, it was calming to hear that they could actually talk.
Creeping into the shadows once again, the criminal withdrew his katana and waited patiently for any approaching enemies. Using a tactic he had perfected over the years, he listened for the sounds of gravel crunching and kept the blade held close to his body ready to claim yet another victim. From his hiding spot, he witnessed two of the soldiers making their way through a nearby gate, only the sounds of their breathing indicating they were alive.
"Time to do your thing," Jake muttered towards his sword as if it were a fellow human. Waiting for his enemies to pass, he leapt into the opening and slashed his sword twice in rapid succession, taking down both men like dominoes. Only their weapons remained and knowing he would eventually have to play the mysterious commandos at their own game, snatched up one of the silenced MP5's along with all the ammunition.
Creeping through an open train yard, Jake moved throughout open train cars and hid behind other objects to avoid being spotted by the commandos and had managed to kill a few more with his sword and silenced firearms when they managed to get too close for comfort.
"For once I can feel thankful these freaks dissolve into nothing upon death," the criminal thought to himself wiping sweat from his forehead, knowing that he would not have to worry about the additional struggle of hiding the dead bodies of his enigmatic adversaries.
Jake silently checked the current clip of his silenced submachine gun as he hid in a train car and listened for the sounds of crackling gravel around him. It sounded like two or three troopers were circling the car as he hid. Reaching into his belt he pulled out one of his handguns and emptied the clip, placing the bullets in one of his storage compartments and readying the now emptied clip as he made his way towards a hatch at the top of the train car.
A loud clatter came from within the train car the three HCF commandos had surrounded, a rusted out red car labeled "Sherwood Farms, Inc." Shifting his head back and forth, the commando closest to the car pointed urgently in its direction as if silently shouting "He's in there!"
Running frantically towards the car, the lead commando threw the sliding door open and joined by his two comrades, the three men entered the darkened car and opened fire, rattling metal cages and knocking over several crates. The gunfire abruptly halted when they noticed the opened hatch on the car's rooftop.
The loud rattle of the door sliding shut behind them sounded and the three commandos tried turning around, but it was too late and they were soon locked into the cramped car.
"It's him!" one of the commandos whispered loudly to his colleagues and quickly made his way for the hatch.
"Thought I'd be leaving so soon?" a familiar voice called out. Jake Cavanaugh leapt down through the opened hatch and raised his silenced submachine gun, spraying the three commandos with a volley of silent fury.
"What a joke," Jake muttered to himself until the clang of metal shattering rang out and the sliding door of the train car flew open. Twelve commandos stood with silenced weapons raised, all trained on the lone criminal.
"No more running Cavanaugh, it ends now!" one of the commandos barked.
"Alright, I give! You win!" Jake shouted throwing down the submachine gun and raising his hands into the air.
Before the commandos could cock their weapons, Jake reached underneath his trench coat and withdrew his dual Berettas.
"You punks obviously have no idea who I am!"
Loud popping resounded through the train yard as the criminal dropped several enemies with deadly head shots and forcing the others to seek cover. Jake could only smirk as he noticed the commandos had foolishly sought cover near a large gas tank and pulled the trigger, followed by a massive boom that enveloped the enemy troopers and knocked several train cars from their tracks.
"Not!" Jake said with a cocky smirk and turned on his heel walking away.
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"He's still alive?" Albert Wesker asked the squad leader over his cell phone, "You needn't worry Captain Almasy; Jake Cavanaugh will not make it out of Maple alive. You have my word and if you can hold him off long enough, Commander Karkian and I will be there to personally deal with him."
A brief pause followed before the supervisor spoke again, "Give us fifteen minutes, we are approaching the Maple airspace as you speak."
Captain Almasy spoke in a more frantic tone from the other end, loud enough to be heard by Commander Karkian sitting next to Wesker, "You do have the time to hold him off, trust me. The synthetic Sweepers are designed for combat and nothing else, better them to perish than your own troops. We will be there, you can count on it. Wesker out."
Albert Wesker slapped the cell phone shut and slid it back into his pocket. The former S.T.A.R.S. captain sighed and leaned back in his seat while Commander Karkian sat next to him looking on intently. The commander had once again temporarily removed his gas mask so his steely stare once again enveloped the supervisor, forcing the man to take notice.
"What is it now?" Wesker asked in annoyance, removing his shades so his reptilian eyes met with the Commander's gray ones.
"I hope you remember our deal," Karkian rasped, "Cavanaugh's head will be mine and I want nothing to stand in my way!"
Wesker's annoyance turned to a smirk, "I'm a man of my word Gabriel and you will eventually get your chance with Cavanaugh."
Gabriel Karkian furrowed his brow at his long-time colleague, placing one of his hands to his pistol, "Don't bullshit me Albert, I know you're plotting something. Don't think I haven't been around you long enough to sense when you're planning something. I'm going to find out what it is and when I do, you won't even want to think of what I might have planned afterwards."
"Your paranoia never ceases to amuse me," Wesker chuckled placing his shades back on and sitting back in his seat.
"Bastard," Karkian thought to himself sitting back in his own seat looking at the troopers sitting across from him.
The two men were riding in the back of a CH-47 Chinook transport helicopter en route to Maple; with them were thirty commandos who made up the fresh Ares Brigade, another elite HCF unit second only to the Gold Squad. Unfortunately, the former squad had suffered several casualties back in Raccoon City and its surviving members would need a much needed rest period, hence the second best team has been sent in.
Most of the men sat silently while a few sitting next to each other chatted quietly amongst themselves. They were on the verge of another important mission and wanted to keep their focus unbroken as they approached the city from above.
"Sir, we are now approaching Maple airspace! Be prepared for drop off in approximately thirteen minutes," the pilot reported to Wesker via his own private earpiece.
"Acknowledged," Wesker boomed into the piece and looked over to Karkian.
"Time for another meeting Mr. Cavanaugh," he thought to himself, "This time things won't be ending in your favor as much as they will my own."
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The rattle of the vehicle-mounted heavy machine gun droned out all the sounds around Jake as he fired upon the silent killers surrounding him.
After some more wandering in search of a possible exit, the career criminal happened across another open area where numerous commandos were heavily entrenched, ready to shoot upon sight. The rage of what they had done to him still boiling heavily in his veins, he decided to let off some steam.
Deep down he had also hoped to attract the attention of the authorities, something he had never thought he would want to do for once in his life.
Pulling out his M-4 assault rifle he had instantly mowed down several commandos and went through more than one clip before happening across an M1025 Scout Humvee. Leaping into the vehicle-mounted turret, the criminal just squeezed down the trigger and proceeded to cut down the dissolving commandos left and right until his ammunition ran out.
"Plenty more where that came from," Jake muttered again pulling out his M-4 and running for cover while firing at the same time. The amount of bullets flying in his direction had been greatly reduced thanks to all the commandos he had killed, but was still enough to be of major concern and left him searching for a possible escape route.
Sticking his head out to fire again, the criminal's eyes widened when he found himself staring down the barrel of a Stinger missile launcher, the sadistic faceless commando squeezing the trigger as he stuck his head out.
"Crap!!!"
Jake pushed himself away from the building and took off running as fast as possible, the loud hiss of the missile being fired following close behind him. Attempting to round a corner, from there on he could only recall a bright flash and a deafening boom before he was sent flying through the air.
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"Did you just hear that?" a frightened office worker shouted to the crowd of people gathered at an outdoor bistro, "It sounded like a rocket…and…and…and then gunfire!"
"I heard it too!" shouted a young woman, "It almost sounded like it was coming from the train yard!"
Citizens of all ages, shapes and backgrounds temporarily halted their daily activities as they listened in on the explosions from a far, many seeking cover believing that they were under attack.
Towards the Maple Train Yards sped a caravan of police vehicles, cruisers, S.W.A.T. Enforcers, motorbikes and helicopters flying overhead. Their mission objective, attend to the disturbance at hand.
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In an event nothing new to the career criminal, Jake Cavanaugh's life had literally been rocked and turned upside down.
"Ugh…fuck…" the young criminal cursed trying to fight his way out of the large heap of trash and old mattresses he had landed in after being thrown by the massive rocket blast. Climbing through the crumpled papers and soggy cardboard he finally managed to push his hand through the filth he lay beneath. With another grunt he pushed his upper body through the pile and shoved an old mattress aside.
"Hey buddy, you alright?" a gruff voice called out next to him.
"Wha…what…" Jake grunted wiping the grime from his eyes. Blinking his eyes open he looked to his right to find a small group of hobos gathered around him, all of whom were unkempt and dressed in tattered clothing. Grunting again, the criminal ignored the man's question and stood up, as he did more disheveled tramps entered the picture emerging from beneath cardboard boxes and sleeping bags and a few even stepping out from their crudely constructed shanties to catch a glimpse of their unexpected "visitor."
"Hey buddy, I asked you a question," the same bum spoke again. Catching a closer look at the man as he stepped down, the man was revealed to be in his late forties to early fifties with short shaggy red hair and a bushy, even scragglier beard with streaks of gray. The vagrant carried the look of an ex-soldier with a filthy olive drab combat jacket that had an American flag patch stitched into the right shoulder and matching pants dotted with numerous tears. "Are you alright? We heard this loud explosion and then you came flying down here like a black comet! Sound like ya' were havin' a big battle up there or somethin'!"
Jake still didn't respond, only breathing heavily at the man's persistence. Raising his fist, he backhanded the aging bum and sent him flying into an old television set, forcing several of the man's companions to leap back in terror.
"Everybody get the hell out of here now!" the criminal screamed and raised his M-4 into the air firing wildly at nothing. "You heard me, fucking move!!!"
Many of the homeless vagrants who had been lying around in drunken stupors were quickly sobered by the ear-splitting rounds and were sent fleeing through the trash-laden alley, tripping over each other as they sped toward the exits they knew.
"Keep moving! Get the hell out of here!" Jake shouted still firing into the air as he ran forward dodging whatever debris lay before him. The shattering of glass forced the young criminal to turn around and he looked up to find the silent killers leaping into the alley training their weapons upon him.
The career criminal said nothing as he slapped a new clip into his rifle and fired back at his relentless adversaries, taking down three of them in one barrage before resuming his flight.
Rounding a corner, Jake was nearly knocked from his feet as he bumped into homeless drunkard. "Get out of my way!" the criminal shouted shoving the man to the ground and using a powerful shoulder tackle to knock another out of his way. Pushing his way through some sheets hanging from a clothesline he happened across the gate the bums had been escaping through.
Kicking the gate open, the criminal found himself near a construction site where a few construction workers looked on in bewilderment as the horde of drunken bums came flying out of the alley.
"Hey man, what's going on back there?" a burly construction worker in a sweat-stained wife beater asked upon spotting the fleeing criminal. Jake only responded with a filthy look and kept on running.
A second later, the construction worker fell over dead as a silenced round pierced his throat. The silent commandos had made their way into the open and fired upon Jake and the construction workers around him, forcing the hapless civilians to take cover behind whatever they could.
Jake took cover behind a parked front loader and fired back at the commandos, taking down two more before he was forced to reload. Seeing a stack of metal crates near a chain-link fence, the criminal fired back into his attackers before quickly ascending the crates and leaping over the fence.
Panicked workers fled about in all directions as Jake found himself leaping down into the site of a plaza in progress, all work being conducted having been abandoned the second the gunfire and explosions began.
"That's right, get the fuck out of here!" Jake shouted to the fleeing workers as he dodged around a few running in his direction and ran down a hill where he spotted a parked Rancher.
Looking around for the silent commandos following him, Jake quickly bolted for the parked vehicle hoping there would be some keys inside. Moving as quickly as he could, he ran until he was halted by the cocking of numerous rifles.
"Drop your weapon and put your hands up!!!"
From the cover of unfinished buildings several heavily-armed S.W.A.T. members emerged, clad in their black and blue uniforms and toting MP5's and tactical shotguns. The roar of an engine was heard and the back gate came flying open as a S.W.A.T. Enforcer came barreling into the construction site, followed closely by another and then several police HPV1000 motorcycles.
"This is the Maple Police Department, drop your weapon and put your hands up! Do it now!" a voice blared from a loudspeaker above as a Police Maverick flew into sight.
"Terrific!" Jake muttered loudly to himself as he stared at the officers surrounding him.
"You heard me, drop your fucking weapon now!" the same officer shouted again and began walking towards Jake with his MP5 trained on the criminal's forehead.
Grunting in frustration, Jake tossed his weapon to the ground, glaring hatefully at the officer approaching him. "There!" he spat bitterly.
"Every gun you have, toss them to the ground immediately!" the officer barked again, several more of his S.W.A.T. colleagues creeping up behind him with weapons at the ready.
Shaking his head in defeat, the criminal tossed the silenced MP5 to the ground, followed by his dual Berettas, SOCOM and katana sword. The officer glared at him from beneath his balaclava, able to tell Jake still had weapons on him.
Reading the officer's questioning stare, Jake growled as he reached into his coat and produced his S&W, his favorite gun and the very gun that had saved his life countless times in Raccoon City, tossing it roughly to the ground.
"Now show me your hands!" the S.W.A.T. officer barked.
Jake stood silent furrowing his brow at the approaching officer, almost as if he dared the man to walk up and hit him.
"Show me your fucking hands now!" the officer hollered, having lost his patience and walking up to the career criminal. Jake remained quiet and made no attempt to resist the man's advance as his wrist was grabbed and the officer reached for a pair of handcuffs.
"You're under arrest pal and if you're behind all this shit, then you can bet that you're in for some hard time!" another officer barked shoving his shotgun into the criminal's lower back.
"Officer Mendoza, please read the man his Miranda Rights," the first officer spoke again as he was about to apply the first cuff.
The piercing of flesh sounded and blood splattered onto another nearby officer. Officer Mendoza fell to the ground with a gaping hole in his throat, killed by an unseen attacker.
"Son of a…" another officer blurted out raising his weapon. Before he could react, he fell over dead with a bullet between the eyes.
The tense officers began to panic and one by one, they fell to the ground all killed by silenced rounds from unseen assailants. In the end Jake Cavanaugh stood alone amongst a field of bodies, the work of only one group.
"Come on out you bastards," Jake muttered silently to himself picking up his guns ready for another confrontation.
From the shadows emerged the same commandos who had been stalking Jake ever since he escaped from Springvale, clutching their still smoking rifles and submachine guns. The mysterious men stood tall above him looking down with weapons ready, but for some reason they did not fire as if awaiting orders.
"You bastards sure are tough when you're all in one large group," the career criminal taunted kicking his M-4 back into his grip. None of the commandos replied and kept their weapons trained on him.
"And you talk big for a dead man Mr. Cavanaugh," another voice spoke, one Jake hoped he would never have to hear again.
Albert Wesker emerged from the crowd of commandos and smiled wickedly towards the lone criminal.
"What the fuck?" Jake gasped in astonishment.
The HCF supervisor should have been dead. Jake watched with his own eyes as he fired a round that struck the man between the eyes and sent him crumpling to the ground dead.
But here he was, still alive and kicking, then again should such a sight have been so unique after everything he saw in Raccoon City?
"What's the matter Jake? You're not happy to see me?" the ex-S.T.A.R.S. captain taunted crossing his arms over his jacketed chest.
"And just how the hell did you do it?" Jake asked resting his rifle against his shoulder, "Did Umbrella screw with your DNA too?"
Wesker smiled at the comment, "Let's just say I am not like you, I have become something more, something along the lines of an advanced evolution beyond Darwin's wildest dreams."
"Is that so?" Jake asked, "Advanced evolution or not, it doesn't mean I'm still not going to kick your punk ass!"
"Ever the overconfident fool," Wesker chuckled and with the grace of a feline, performed a forward flip at superhuman speed, landing a few feet away from the career criminal.
"Still not satisfied," Jake scoffed, "You're going to have to do more than that to scare me."
"A man without fear, I don't know whether that's supposed to be a good thing or a bad thing for you Mr. Cavanaugh," Wesker said adjusting his perpetual shades, "A wiser man would have turned and ran away minutes ago, perhaps a death wish runs through your inferior genetics."
"Keep talking, it's going to get you busted up even more than you can afford," the criminal replied tightening the grip on his M-4.
"You called my men tough when they have strength in numbers against one, frankly you're not much better having to point an assault rifle at an unarmed man," the HCF supervisor spoke, tossing a Colt .45 and combat knife to the ground.
Jake grunted and tossed his M-4 to the ground, "If that's how you want it, fine!"
"I admire your courage, but you are a fool to face me," Wesker said furrowing his brow beneath his shades.
"Just shut up and fight already," Jake shouted back.
The career criminal hopped up and down throwing a few practice punches into the air while the HCF supervisor balled his fists and buried his foot into the dirt.
Moving closer to one another, the two men circled each other waiting to see who would make the first move.
Growing impatient, but keeping his cool long enough, Jake started by throwing a roundhouse kick in Wesker's direction. The supervisor easily tilted his head back to dodge the attack.
"Don't tell me that's all you've got for me now do you?" Wesker coldly taunted.
Jake said nothing and threw an uppercut which the man easily sidestepped. Leaping back quickly the criminal then leapt forward again and threw a combo of punches at his opponent ending with a right hook the man again dodged. Attempting to divert the supervisor's attention, he leapt into the air performing a Tae Kwon Do-style roundhouse kick and then knelt down as soon as he touched the ground performing a spinning sweep kick. Unfortunately, his opponent was still too quick, ducking the first attack and leaping quickly over the next.
"Come on, this can't be the legendary Red Dragon I've heard stories about," Wesker taunted, "The Red Dragon I heard about was quicker than the eye, flying with the speed of a dragon!"
Before he knew it, Jake found himself sailing through the air, knocked backwards by a powerful spinning back fist to the cheek that came to him in a blur. The criminal's body spun in the air several times before it finally hit the ground.
Pushing himself back to his knees he could barely shake it off, "Damn it, what the hell is this guy on?" he thought to himself, "That was like being hit by a Mack truck!"
The criminal never had a chance to rise back to his feet as the same black blur charged towards him, kneeing him hard in the gut and sending him flying even farther back.
"Fuck…" Jake could barely gasp before the blood started pouring out of his mouth. His stomach and abdomen were now on fire, feeling like they were about to dissolve after taking another punishing blow from the HCF supervisor.
"You disappoint me Jacob," Wesker said walking towards the man with his hands behind his back, shaking his head in disgust. "To think I almost wasted ten million dollars on your worthless hide. The thought of you being a highly sought after mercenary is highly laughable," the supervisor spoke with no trace of emotion.
Rage burned in the criminal's mind, perhaps the only thing that kept him moving in this confrontation.
"Just…shut…the…fuck up…" Jake grunted in between coughing up blood. He lay on his back struggling to rise again, the pain in his torso keeping him pinned to the ground.
"Sounds like you should be the one shutting up," Wesker chuckled placing his foot on the criminal's chest and pressing down hard, hard enough to cause a gut-wrenching pain, but not hard enough to crush his victim's ribs and sternum.
"Quit toying with him and kill him already!" another voice called out, the same voice Jake recognized from the radio before he entered the Springvale subway.
Wesker ignored the commando's comment and reached down, grasping Jake's throat with an iron grip and easily lifting him into the air as if he were a rag doll. The criminal had already dwarfed him by three inches, but now he looked even taller as he stared down into his tormentor's shades.
"You should've accepted my offer, now look at you," the HCF supervisor spoke; "Now you're going to die." With those words, Wesker tightened his grip.
Jake had to think fast or else he would be dead within a few seconds. He could tell the man wanted to toy with him for a while and probably could've snapped his neck like a twig had he chose, he would have to gather up all the strength he could.
Using what strength he had left, the criminal brought his foot up, performing a roundhouse kick to his assailant's face. Wesker did not cry out in surprise and only staggered back a few steps, summoning up more strength from within, Jake followed up using his entire body to perform a leaping somersault kick that snapped the supervisor's head backward and sent the shades flying from his face.
Jake cried out as he landed hard on the ground, striking one of his knees hard against the dirt. Trying best to ignore the pain spreading throughout his body he forced himself to look up at his attacker, who lightly shook off a powerful kick that would have normally knocked someone unconscious upon impact. His opponent looking down upon him, the criminal saw something that shouldn't have been from a normal human being.
Opening his eyes, rather than the normal shade of blue, green, brown or hazel he would have expected, instead Jake saw two bright yellow corneas with black slits where pupils should have been surrounded by a tint of reddish-orange, the same kind of eyes he had seen on the Hunters back in Raccoon City.
"What…the hell…are you?" Jake asked in ragged gasps, more blood dripping out every time he opened his mouth.
"I already told you; I'm the next stage in human evolution!" Wesker triumphantly declared and threw a punch at his opponent's face.
Acting instinctively, Jake threw his arms up to block the attack, but instead found himself pushed backwards again grunting in pain as he felt the bones in his left forearm snap.
"That's the thing I like about you puny humans," Wesker smiled, "you're still able to feel pain!" The superhuman supervisor rushed towards Jake again in a blur of motion and drew his arm back, connecting with another powerful punch that dented the steel plates beneath both of the criminal's Kevlar vests and fracturing three of his ribs.
Jake wriggled on the ground in intense pain, suppressing his cries of pain beneath blood-stained teeth. Never before had he been manhandled like this and it was the anger of that realization that kept him coming back for more. His mind would never allow him to back down from a sneak like Wesker and his iron will would never allow him to give in to a beating like this, especially from a coward who had sent him on a literal suicide mission without prior knowledge.
Again Wesker snatched the criminal, this time by the collar, so that he was looking directly into the advanced humanoid's reptilian eyes.
"Scream for me!" Wesker demanded, wanting the satisfaction of hearing the criminal's will break into pieces.
"Fuck…you…" Jake weakly growled, "I'll never scream…not for someone…like you…"
"Have it your way," Wesker smirked before effortlessly slamming him to the ground with one hand, hard enough for him to rebound.
"Not like this!" Jake thought to himself lying on the ground. He had to do something fast. It suddenly clicked in his mind that he still had his combat knife on him and fighting back the pain, reached down to his shin holster to remove the glistening blade and with all the force he could muster chucked it at his adversary.
Wesker saw the blade coming from a mile away and using his enhanced reflexes easily caught the object in midair.
"Playing with knives? Perhaps there really is no honor among thieves," the supervisor taunted flipping the blade a couple times before tossing it back to its owner, catching the man in the shoulder.
"Damn you!" Jake managed to shout as the blood ran down his left shoulder, further aggravating the already injured limb. Reaching over, it took him a few attempts before he finally managed to extract the blade and weakly dropped it next to him.
"Perhaps my message isn't getting through to you Mr. Cavanaugh," Wesker spoke dusting off his sunglasses and placing them back over his reptilian eyes, "Please allow me to re-emphasize my point."
The ex-S.T.A.R.S. captain cleared his throat and then let out the same bone-jarring shriek made only by the Hunters, causing even greater torture for the wounded criminal who could only lay there and take the punishment as the pain left him crippled.
"I hope you're happy with yourself because look at what your foolish pride has brought upon you Mr. Cavanaugh," Wesker spoke before grabbing Jake by his ankles and spinning him around a few times before he finally let go and sent the young man flying into a stack of oil drums.
"Damn…you…Wesker…" Jake rasped as he tried to get back to his feet, but could not move a muscle and passed out from the pain.
Albert Wesker stood with hands on his hips proud of his work. For once he felt proud in the presence of Jake Cavanaugh, having eliminated someone he deemed too inferior to even exist.
"Alright Wesker, you've had your fun with him, now it's my turn," Commander Karkian spoke up raising his M-4 assault rifle and training it on the fallen criminal's battered body. "Believe me; I've been waiting a long time for this."
Just as the commander lined up his sights and was ready to squeeze the trigger, the gloved hand of Wesker suddenly shot out and clamped down upon the muzzle of his rifle, crushing it with the tiniest effort.
"Huh? Wesker what the hell are you doing?" Karkian screamed looking down at his ruined rifle. "You promised me I would get his head once this mess was all over with!"
The supervisor only snickered at the commander's protest, "I lied! Let's just say Mr. Cavanaugh's usefulness might not have run out just yet."
"What? What the hell are you talking about?" Karkian shouted getting in his face, "He refused your offer and murdered countless troopers belonging to you and now you still want him on your side? What the hell is wrong with you?"
"I'm a man who sees opportunity in the most unlikely of all places, that's what's wrong with me my friend," Wesker replied shoving the commander aside and walking towards the prone criminal. "I know of plenty ways we can still get this man on our side. You have to have faith that I can still mold him into our own personalized killing machine."
"You're insane!" Karkian retorted, "I say we kill him right now and save ourselves the trouble!"
"And I'll do to you exactly what I did to him if you keep being a bothersome nuisance," Wesker shot back before turning his attention to his befuddled commandos, "Take him away! Hurry before more cops show up!"
Jake Cavanaugh lay on the pile of steel drums slowly stirring back into consciousness after taking a vicious one man onslaught from the enigmatic Albert Wesker, all signs of pain returning to him the second his eyes once again fluttered open.
"Wha…uhhh…" the criminal slurred trying to speak, but nothing legible coming out as his head was still spinning from the beating he had received.
"Come on boys, be "gentle" with him," a commando spoke sarcastically and through the blurriness Jake was able to make out four commandos approaching him.
"Jeez, we go through all the trouble of trying to kill the dipshit and now Wesker wants him alive? Give me a freaking break!" another spoke.
Jake felt four pairs of hands grab his aching body and lift him up, forcing him to emit a gurgled cry of pain as more blood poured from his mouth.
"So you're still awake, huh?" a third voice called out, clamping down on the criminal's injured forearm and making him grunt loudly again.
"Too bad we need you alive, or else we'd gladly kill you right now!" the final commando spoke.
Before Jake knew it, everything went dark again as he was whipped upside the head with the butt of an M-4.
