All The King's Horses
By evolution-500
Genres: Horror/Tragedy
Feedback: Always welcome
WARNING: This story contains violence, mature themes and disturbing imagery. Reader discretion is advised.
*Gyorgy Ligeti - "Requiem"
Disclaimer: Godzilla and "Resident Evil" are properties belonging to Toho Co. Ltd and Capcom respectively. I do not own any of these characters.
Chapter Two: The Storm
"Hell is empty and all the devils are here."
- William Shakespeare
The horrors that haunted the streets were vast in number and myriad in shapes and sizes.
Zombies and Crimsonheads were by far the most common, though somewhat easier to handle compared to other B.O.W.s.
Occasionally one or two of them would be infected with a Las Plagas parasite, much to his surprise, making it a little more difficult, but thankfully those weren't as common.
Tyrants were also a problem, a very big one, especially when they were in groups, though by and large they were solitary predators that rarely engaged in pack hunting.
Chris shuddered at his last encounter with one.
He had been startled the first time he came across those aforementioned freaks a few months back.
Just what the hell happened while he had been unconscious? How did those creatures get loose?
It was a mystery that had puzzled the former agent for a long time, and from what little bits of info he collected, he didn't like the answer.
By large, Chris managed to avoid drawing attention to himself, although there were one or two occasions where he had to stealthily kill a couple by stabbing them or breaking their necks.
The really problematic creatures, however, were the Hunters and Lickers.
As he crossed underneath some scaffolding, something skittered nearby, causing Chris' hand to tighten on the handle of his weapon as he remained still.
A loud thump overhead drew his attention. He watched and waited, his form tense as a Licker lazily slunk off from the side of the scaffolding to his level like some sort of fleshless monkey.
Dropping to the floor in front of him, Chris felt his pulse race as it just stood there, seemingly oblivious to his presence.
Come on, just move on. Nothing to see here.
The creature sat in front of him, then leaned forward, stretching itself like a cat.
Turning in his direction, the beast slowly crawled toward him.
Chris carefully aimed his weapon at its exposed brain, eying its every move as he lightly moved out of the way, watching with pulse-pounding terror as it waltzed past him, snorting and growling.
Finally, it slowly climbed up the wall, then hung there for several moments off the side of a wall like a gecko.
As he quietly swallowed, Chris observed the creature as it scratched itself with its hind leg like a dog before scurrying upward, disappearing through the unfinished window.
He waited a minute, then two.
Once he was certain that it was gone, the former BSAA agent relaxed.
Fucking Lickers.
He absolutely hated them.
Not only were they fast and strong, but the fact they came in packs...what a fucking pain in the ass.
Turning a corner, Chris proceeded forward, his heart leaping when he heard loud roars.
Drawing up his weapon out of reflex, he swiftly took cover beside a wall.
What the hell was going on?
Curious, Chris carefully peeked from the corner and peered around, watching as a group of Hunters and Lickers fighting amongst themselves, the two different species biting and clawing at one another.
He didn't know why they were fighting.
Perhaps it was for food?
Perhaps it was territorial behavior and one side made the mistake of crawling into the other's space?
Whatever the reason, Chris took advantage of the distraction and snuck past, making sure not to make any noise.
In another section of the city, infected crows cackled and cawed from the rooftops, feeding on whatever flesh they could find, sometimes each other in a piranha-like frenzy as feathers spilled in all directions.
Chris wearily shook his head.
Fucking crows.
Hated them as well.
Hated them as a kid, hated them back at the Mansion, hated them still.
About twenty minutes later, something white and sticky fluttered into his lens, forcing him to stop.
Wiping it off with a gloved hand, he studied the substance, then looked around, his eyes squinting through the gloom until he found the source.
A section of the street had webbing all over it, hanging from buildings, lampposts, fire hydrants and so on, with various cocoons containing wriggling prey, zombies based on the moans.
The moment Chris saw them and heard the telltale heavy taps of the webbing's owner approaching, the former agent ducked down beside a car, watching as a giant spider crawled past, the oversized arachnid crawling up a wall with a flailing zombie caught in its webbing between its pincers.
As the spider moved away, Chris proceeded on, using his lighter to burn through whatever webbing stood between him and his target.
"You're not getting away," he swore. "It's just you and me now."
Before he could continue any further, the light started to dim.
Blinking for a few seconds, Chris lifted his head to sky, a frown forming on his face as rain drops started to cascade gently down.
The storm was almost upon him.
Uttering a low growl, Chris punched a wall.
"Damn."
Chris fumed as he stared in frustration at the wall ahead of him, his face burning with anger.
Once again he'll have to play catch up.
Another goddamned missed opportunity.
As more of the rain started to fall, the former agent pulled away, a sigh escaping from him. He'll need to find some cover and put off the hunt.
At least...for now. Staring up at the dark sky, Chris watched through his soaked gas mask as more started to pour down onto him.
Terrific.
Finding a place to stay around here proved to be a challenge in and of itself, especially with such heavy rainfall coming down.
It was rare to find a location that hadn't been occupied by some mutant fucker or undead bastard, and there were times where Chris really had to struggle in keeping quiet.
One or two times he had to deal with some little shit that took notice, but the former agent was able to manage.
He was thankful that he had found a silencer attachment his pistol early on, and that both the rain and thunder masked the sounds of his shots, otherwise he would have attracted a lot of unwanted attention.
The rain was getting thicker.
Heavier.
So thick that Chris could feel his armor and clothing weighing down on him.
Moving alone was difficult - it felt as if he had a large mattress or couch pressing down on him.
He needed to find shelter soon - if he didn't, he was going to collapse.
He kept searching, and searching, and searching.
Finally, after what seemed to an eternity, he was able to find a suitable location - a small, two-story high house that was in relatively good condition.
Breaking the tight narrow window of the front door, Chris reached inside and undid the lock, letting himself in before closing and locking the door behind him.
He checked around with his silencer at the ready.
The building appeared to be a family home, with five or six rooms consisting of a dining room, a living room, and four bedrooms upstairs...three of which had been for children.
Thankfully, Chris didn't have to worry about any of the rooms being occupied, let alone have to put down any undead kiddies.
Exhaling, Chris studied the rest of the house.
The building was spartan in its furnishings, but at the very least it had a working toilet with unused toilet paper, thankfully.
Once he was certain that it was devoid of hostiles, Chris took off his mask and enjoyed the simple pleasures of being able to breathe without the fucking gas mask, his beard thick and dark.
Fuck, what he would give to have a shave and a bath...
Still, at least the place in good enough shape.
It was better than most places that Chris had lived in when he had been all the road, all things considering.
It was better than that septic tank of a hotel, better than the bombed out homes, cars, carboard boxes and other pieces of shit that he had to use as shelter.
Compared to all of those, this place seemed like the Ritz.
A wry smirk rose to one side of Chris' face.
"Yeah, just living the dream. You made it big, Chris," he said to himself. "You are really going places. Look at me now, Ma."
As he stared at his surroundings, a feeling of tiredness swept over him.
Yawning, the former agent massaged his eyes. Christ, how long had it been since he had a good night's sleep?
Sleep, in this world, was a luxury that Chris rarely ever had the chance to indulge in.
With every surface crawling with a creepy crawly somewhere, there were times where Chris never slept at all.
The longest Chris ever stayed awake was for three days at best.
Chris had moved past the three day mark, however, and he was running on nothing but willpower and fumes.
'I REALLY need to get some sleep,' he winced tiredly.
Letting out an exhausted groan, Chris removed all of his gear, all of his body armor.
"Jesus Christ, this gear," he muttered aloud to no one as he made his way to the bathroom.
Once he finished using it, Chris tiredly placed his clothes and gear on a towel rack to dry, then wandered into a bedroom and collapsed, sinking into a deep sleep.
The storm hadn't let up as he had hoped.
Reaching into his bag to grab an MRE, Chris chomped on it absentmindedly as he peeked out the window, watching the undead as they wavered about in the rain and wind.
Turning away in disgust, he searched the rest of the house, opening up cupboards and shelves for supplies.
Inspecting the refrigerator turned out to be a big mistake as the stink of mold assaulted his olfactory senses, causing him gag and wince.
For three days, Chris found himself waiting impatiently inside. Some of the time was spent doing push-ups and sit-ups.
Sometimes he would check over his supplies, his ammunition especially. Other times he would just sit and go through the house's dusty books, newspapers and magazines, reading some of them out of boredom.
There were a couple of porn magazines, which proved useful, along with one or two National Geographics.
One or two Hardy Boys books and a couple of "Garfield" comics that made him giggle like a child.
Oftentimes, however, Chris would just sit or lie down and stare up at the ceiling or out the window for hours, watching and waiting.
As Chris ate another MRE, he thought longingly of home-cooked meals. Fresh pizzas. Burgers. Chicken. Doughnuts.
Swallowing back a thick pool of saliva along with his "meal", Chris shook his head sadly as he thumbed through the newspapers. So many wonderful things have been lost.
Sighing softly, he wolfed down another bite of his "meal rejected by everyone", wincing at the taste as he broodily considered his position within this new world.
"They've really done a number up here," he said to himself, thumbing through the pages.
Of course, it hadn't been just the creatures that were responsible for the destruction; he had the shitheads in charge to thank for fucking over the planet in the ass as well!
Thanks so much, fellas - really appreciate it!
So many lives...
Chris shook his head, appalled by this turn of events.
From the various newspapers and files he had collected throughout his journey, the world he had known turned batshit crazy the moment he lost consciousness.
He knew that various government and military officials were becoming desperate, but why? Why in God's name did they have to resort to such insane measures?!
They already had known that MOABs, napalm, various biological agents and all the different types of explosives had no effect, but no, they had to go further! They had to use B.O.W.s.
He scoffed. The fuckers actually had passed a Bill to allow for B.O.W.s to be used.
B.O.W.s!
The arrogance of some people, thinking that they could try controlling something like that with Las Plagas or T-Virus!
Fuck, they had even tried using nukes! Several times, in fact, with one notable attempt being at the very crater where Raccoon City had been!
Chris had to do a double take upon reading that.
Why had Maki's beast been there of all places?
None of the articles he had ever explained how or why, but regardless, the fact that that thing had visited that very location...
Chris felt a chill come over him.
As he continued to read about the various failures, the more his mood blackened.
The only thing the world governments had ended up accomplishing were more cities being destroyed, more graveyards being filled!
They had thrown everything at it!
Everything including the kitchen sink!
Whatever they could throw at their giant-sized problem, they had thrown it, regardless of consequences.
Regardless of how many ended up suffering for it.
As he bitterly recalled the various failures, the horrible sacrifices various governments of the world had made in trying to stop the rampaging entity on their doorsteps, Chris sighed.
The desperate measures that people and governments would take, and all of it for fucking nothing.
Not even the Regia SOLIS (Solar Integrated System) Satellite weapon that destroyed Terragrigia in 2004 nor the Shango Satellite Laser had been able to kill the damn thing.
Instead, it just further empowered it.
It had become larger.
Deadlier.
Far, FAR more destructive than originally anticipated.
Chris shuddered.
He'd never forget that particular night for as long as he lived.
The earth rumbled as explosions rocked the city of Tokyo, the laser firing down in a long, column of light, splashing over every surface.
Jill cast a glance over to him. "Come on, Chris! We need to get to the shelters!"
Looking over his shoulder behind him, Chris watched the smoke as it cleared, his eyes widening in disbelief.
"You gotta be fucking kidding me!" He swore as he saw the looming dark shape. "Why won't it die?!"
"I don't know, but it's heading this way!" Jill said beside him.
The creature stared up to the sky and let out a deafening roar, forcing him and Jill to cover their ears. As it finished, the creature started to glow, causing Chris to pause.
"...What's going on?" he wondered. "Why is it glowing? What is that glow?"
The giant shape was emitting a bright ultraviolet-colored light that shined throughout the city like a beacon.
Before either Chris or Jill could say anything, he heard something loud like a tidal wave crashing through the street.
From the entity's mouth, a darkish cloudy/oil-like substance was spraying out to the ground in thick quantities, spreading down the streets in all directions, covering an enormous segment of the area.
The next thing Chris knew, there came a massive sprawling explosion.
An explosion so large and encompassing that it had obliterated the entire fucking city in a matter of seconds.
"Jesus," Chris gasped.
Entire districts were covered in vast oceans of flames, but towering over it all with his black shape like an avenging angel or Satan himself, belching out torrents of flame like a dragon, was Maki's beast.
"How can we even stop a thing like that?!" Jill cried beside him.
Chris opened his mouth to respond when the flame started to condense, the sound shifting to a high-pitched whine as it turned into a narrow violet beam that cut through entire buildings as if they were nothing more tissue.
Lifting up its head, the creature's purple beam cut through roads and buildings alike as it stared up to the sky, the beam itself shooting straight up into the air.
Chris' mouth dropped as he caught sight of an explosion high up above the Earth.
Did it just-
He wordlessly watched as the remains of the two satellites entered the planet's orbit, the various pieces burning and scattered as they slammed and exploded into various parts of the city and country.
One piece exploded into a building nearby, sending debris and bricks flying in all directions.
The last thing Chris remembered before losing consciousness was the black shape advancing along with the brick slamming into his head.
Chris shot up from the bed with a sharp gasp, his face damp and wet as he looked frantically around.
Finding himself alone, he listened to the droning wind, the rain pattering against the walls outside.
"Jesus Christ," he muttered as he sank back onto the bed, the rain pitter pattering against the windows.
Exhaling softly, Chris stared up at the ceiling, his mind lingering on what had happened.
When he had finally regained consciousness, he had found himself alone in an underground shelter with plenty of supplies.
Where everyone had gone, how long he had been out for, why they had all left and had not taken him with them, Chris had no idea, but he wanted to find Jill and get in contact with his superiors over at the BSAA as soon as possible.
Aside from a mild headache and some disorientation, he hadn't been too bad.
When he finally got outside, though...
Chris stared up at the white ceiling of the bedroom, breathing out slowly.
Since then, he had been wandering wherever, gathering up supplies and searching wherever he could.
Chris lied there in the dark, his troubled and weary mind brooding over this miserable existence.
Why?
Why him of all people?
What was so special about him?
What kind of bastard was he in life to be punished like this?
Was he being punished?
Part of him wanted nothing more than to hit something. To shoot something, anything!
To end it all, here and now.
He hated this feeling of being the last log yet to be used up and fed into the burning furnace.
What was the value of one life compared to the loss of billions?
What hope was there?
He wasn't a scientist. Sure, he knew how to mix herbs together - big whoop!
Aside from that, he knew next to nothing about science.
Rebecca would have been a better candidate, would have had a better chance at saving the world than him.
Chris wasn't a hero - in truth, he was a handyman.
A glorified garbage man.
He was the guy people turned to to clean the sheets every time a government, terrorist or corporation shat the bed.
The only problems he could solve, Chris hated to admit, were with his fists, tools and weapons - give him a target, and he can handle the rest, regardless of how ugly the job.
The former agent brooded over his position.
He had skills - that much he had.
Skills that allowed him to survive.
He had plenty of resources at his disposal.
Plenty of ammunition to go around, but there was no way in hell what he had would allow him to take on the world!
What was a thrown fist compared to the might of an ocean, an erupting volcano or hurricane?
Chris felt his frown deepen as thunder rumbled outside, lightning flashing through the window, as if challenging him.
What was his purpose?
What was there to fight for?
Hell, what else was there to live for? As far as he was aware, all of his friends and colleagues were dead and gone.
Leon, Jill, Barry, Parker, Rebecca...Claire...
Chris' eyes drooped as he recalled their faces, feelings of loneliness and sorrow creeping into his troubled heart as he contemplated his fellow comrades, their miserable fates.
Part of him wondered what their final moments had been like.
Had Claire died waiting for a call telling her that her brother had been alright?
Had Leon died fighting or trying to save lives?
And what of Barry and his family?
Horrible possibilities unfolded before Chris.
In one scenario, he saw Barry putting down his wife and three daughters out of desperation with the help of his favorite Magnum.
Three loud blasts before ultimately turning it on himself as Maki's beast crept onto his doorstep.
In another, Chris imagined them packing up and trying to flee, only to be crushed by falling debris as their pursuer loomed hundreds of feet high like an angry devil.
More and more the possibilities and imagery unfolded, each of them painful and terrifying, tormenting the former agent, until finally, something within him broke.
"...I'm-I'm sorry, guys," he said softly to himself. "I'm sorry for letting you all down."
If only he hadn't lost consciousness. Maybe he could have...maybe-
Wiping his eyes, Chris sadly exhaled, stopping himself from sniffling.
He hoped that none of them had suffered.
If they had died...he hoped that it had been quick, that their end had been peaceful.
Merciful.
As Chris thought about his friends, he suddenly had an image of them as zombies, an image that caused a shudder to ripple through him and nearly made him puke.
Shaking his head in disgust, he tried to think of other things, desperately trying to avoid thinking of his friends and loved ones in that way.
Christ, the idea of them out there, somewhere, living as one of the undead or whatever creepy fuck these things mutated into...he couldn't bear the thought of that!
Fuck that!
He hoped to God that wasn't the case, otherwise it would mean going out and finding them, and...and...
Rolling onto his side, Chris stared to the wall, refusing to move from the bed.
Even if they were out there, zombified or mutated...he was certain that he wouldn't have the strength to go through with the horrible action.
Even though he had killed so many.
Outside, the storm raged on as rain softly tapped against the glass. Lightning flickered through the window, highlighting Chris' still form as he lay alone in the room.
Chris stirred from the bed as he heard a noise.
Lifting his head from the pillow, the former agent listened, tilting his head to the side in concentration as he strained his hearing.
There was no mistaking it.
Music.
Somewhere, he could hear horns blaring loudly somewhere far yet distant, as if calling from a distant memory.
Moving to the south window, Chris stared outside through the glass as he heard the unearthly wraithlike voice of Vera Lynn cutting through the din of rain and undead moans.
"We'll Meet Again," the voice promised,
"Don't know where, don't know wheeeeen
But I know We'll Meet Again
Some sunny daaaaaaaaaay!"
Chris felt his heart skip a beat as he heard the song.
Could there be survivors here?
"Keep smiling through
Just like you always do
'Till the blue skies drive the dark clouds far awaaaaaaay!"
The music seemed to be coming from a building two or three blocks away, what seemed to be a large casino, the building and street lit by moonlight.
Just as Chris was about to get dressed and gather his equipment together, he heard the bloodcurdling cries of the infected.
Looking back to the window, he watched as the entire moonlit road in front of the casino became swarming with creatures.
Dozens.
Hundreds.
Thousands.
Millions.
So many creatures of different shapes and sizes coming from all directions, gathering toward the source.
"So will you please say hello
To the folks that I know
Tell them I won't be long
They'll be happy to know
That as you saw me go
I was singing this song."
Ducking low, Chris helplessly watched as every manner of nightmare made their way toward the sound, his hand brushing against the pistol that he kept holstered on his hip.
He saw infected dogs as they barked and howled.
He saw Lickers leaping toward the noise from building to building like frogs.
He saw Hunters as they clamored and roared, knocking over zombies and other smaller creatures as they charged inside.
"We'll Meet Again
Don't know where, don't know when
But I know we'll meet again
Some sunny day."
As he watched the swarm of nightmarish creatures gather, part of him prayed that there weren't any survivors inside.
He hoped that it had just been a jukebox or radio that played at the inopportune moment.
Regardless of whether there were survivors or not, Chris knew that he was in quite the predicament.
The situation was becoming far too dangerous, and if he stayed here for any longer, it would only be a matter of time before one of those goddamn things made their way over to his position.
Turning away, Chris quickly gathered his things, throwing on his body armor as he checked and readied every available weapon that he had.
From the casino, a ghostly chorus called hauntingly to Chris, almost mockingly as he placed on his gas mask.
"We'll Meet Again,
"Don't know where, don't know when
But I know we'll meet again
Some sunny day
Keep smiling through
Just like you always do
'Till the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away.
So will you please say hello
To the folks that I know
Tell them I won't be long
They'll be happy to know
That as you saw me go
I was singing this song
We'll Meet Again,
Don't know where, don't know when
But I know We'll Meet Again
Some sunny day."
Stepping out into the cold rain through through the back door, Chris stared out into the night, its pitch blackness partially tinted and complimented by the silvery light of the moon in the sky as it shined above.
Under other circumstances, he would have called it serene, peaceful, but that only belied the dangerous deceptiveness of it; it looked so calm.
So inviting.
For a moment, Chris could almost imagine the darkness speaking to him with a kindly voice, inviting him to relax and sleep.
For a moment, Chris felt tempted to give into it.
After all, what was there to live for?
Perhaps it had to do with his stubborn nature, or perhaps it had to do with his willingness to hang on no matter how things looked, or perhaps he was just simply a masochist at heart - regardless of why, Chris refused to give in.
If he was going down, then it was not without a fight.
Quietly closing the door behind him, carefully avoiding making any possible noise, the former agent made his way through its barren back garden, his eyes scanning his surroundings.
He couldn't be entirely certain, but so far he didn't see or hear anything nearby.
Softly sighing, he adjusted the straps of his backpack on his shoulders along with his grip on his M-15. Ideally, he would rather not going out in this weather.
Hell, he'd rather it be daylight with clear skies, but unfortunately he had to play with the cards that he's dealt.
Once he finished checking his corners and was certain that he was alone, Chris double-checked his gear and weaponry.
Everything was in order.
Nothing missing.
He had food, he had ammunition, weapons - everything he needed.
He stared out into the blackness ahead of him with loathing.
"This is going to be one hell of a night," he muttered aloud.
He didn't look forward to this.
Not.
One.
Bit.
Exhaling, Chris mentally braced himself.
Well, here goes nothing.
As he was about to get started on his walk, the former agent suddenly heard a noise.
Boom.
Pausing mid-step, he glanced around, watching and listening intently.
Boom.
Tracing his finger along the trigger of his M-15, Chris felt himself tense up as the sound repeated, his hand gripping the barrel as a still puddle in front of him rippled.
Boom.
Chris swallowed.
That wasn't thunder he was hearing.
He knew that sound, and based on the panicking screeches the Lickers and Hunters were making, they knew it too.
Boom.
He felt the ground tremble beneath him, saw the various buildings shake, the rain becoming harder.
Heavier.
He heard the house behind him buckle and creak, as if it were trying to escape, as if it were afraid of what was coming, the wind blowing so hard that the structure was looking ready to give way at any moment.
Gripping his weapon tightly, Chris' eyes narrowed behind his mask in anticipation as car alarms went off.*
He saw the ground darken before him, blotting out the moonlight, causing him to turn.
Running recklessly out to the street at the front of the house, Chris saw nothing at first.
Nothing but thick, black fog that rolled along the street, enveloping everything in its path.
Standing completely still, Chris observed the fluffy, billowing clouds as they drifted throughout the entire street, consuming all of the buildings and vehicles.
He looked around curiously at his surroundings, watching and listening, his heart pounding loudly in his ears.
It was then that he suddenly became aware of an odd smell.
The aroma was both disgusting and sweet, foul and...steaky, reminding him of burning charcoal, or like a giant piece of decaying meat that's being cooked over a fire.
Something like thunder crackled.
Turning his attention straight ahead, staring straight into the fog itself, he saw ripples of lightning flash within it, but through those flashes, he noticed a shape, a distinctive silhouette, being illuminated.
It would have been easy to have mistaken it as an even larger, darker cloud, for it had appeared so naturally with the storm itself that it almost seemed as if it were a living part of it, a living extension of it.
More and more electricity danced and flickered, the light reflecting off its burnt scales, its impossibly large feet creating loud, thunderous booms and craters with every step, grey ash fluttering off its body like snowflakes, painting the world around it grey as it passed, buildings and vehicles crumbling everywhere it moved, its pale white eyes glowing like a pair of spotlights hundreds of feet high up in the air.
Chris kept watching, his breathing quickening as the being appeared before him in all of its horrible glory.
It would have been easy to mistake the creature for a dinosaur given its basic shape, for it did in some slight ways bore a passing resemblance to a Tyrannosaurus Rex, but in truth, it was far, far larger than one.
Standing upright on two massive legs, with four toes on each semi-digitigrade foot, was a being that seemed to be more mountain than animal - a four hundred foot tall, black cloud of scaly, charred flesh, exposed muscle and bone.
Craning up his neck as the creature appeared two or three blocks away, Chris saw a robust, barrel-like chest with an oddly protruding sternum, its skin blackened and horribly marked with keloid scars and deep fissures with exposed muscle, while some reddish orange highlights on parts of its body ominously glowed like a furnace, mainly on its neck, back and parts of its legs.
An impossibly large serpentine tail that seemed disproportionately longer than the rest of its body swished lazily around behind, each sweep of its mighty tail causing gusts of cold wind that blew back smoke, at times nearly knocking Chris off-balance.
A lot of the time, however, the tail would consistently hang around and above the beast's head, moving around as if it had a mind of its own.
Pausing, Chris squinted at it.
Dorsal plates spiraled unnaturally along its tip, but that wasn't the unusual thing about it - every time the tail moved, he kept noticing something...odd about it. At first, Chris had trouble pinpointing what had bothered him so much about it, until finally he got a really good look at it.
...Was that...a mouth...with...teeth...?
Looking to its back, Chris could make out a number of raised scutes, exposed, jagged, maple leaf-like dorsal plates, a series of eyes, mouths, tendrils and spider-like appendages of varying sizes that twitched and clawed at the dark sky, looking as if its own strange skin were alive and trying to crawl right off, causing the agent to shiver in revulsion.
Turning his attention back to the creature's torso, he saw a pair of tiny, shriveled arms with exposed musculature, the four-fingered clawed hands gnarled, folded up close to its body.
Raising his eyes, Chris saw a massive, lizard-like head with a face like a demon, with a pronounced nose that had large, round nostrils, and a jawline that extended widely to the sides of its head.
Possessing neither cheeks nor lips, the former agent saw its exposed gums and mouth, with multiple rows of massive, jagged, gnarled teeth like a shark's.
The most disturbing feature of the beast, however, were its beady eyes - white and seemingly-lidless, they glowed unnaturally above him, the creature's expression blank and lifeless despite it moving.
Palming his weapon, Chris steadied his breathing, his eyes narrowed with grim intent.
"I got you now, you bastard."
With that declaration, Chris raised his M-15 assault rifle and popped a few grenades in its direction, the tiny explosives detonating harmlessly against its legs.
Pausing mid-step, the creature turned in his direction as Chris swapped weapons from his backpack, taking out a rocket launcher.
Once it was ready, he aimed, then fired, watching as it exploded against its chest, the blast not affecting the creature at all.
It was now walking toward him.
Swapping for a grenade launcher, Chris raised its barrel and fired, watching as a tiny, smoking arch curled in the air, the blast catching it by the knees.
"COME ON!" He roared as he fired another and another.
Explosions rocked every surface of its skin, catching it in the chest, its arms, its neck.
No matter how hard he tried, no matter the angle, his efforts proved fruitless.
Chris defiantly stood his ground, resisting the urge to flee as he unleashed every bit of ammunition and explosive he had.
He fired every rocket, every explosive in his arsenal.
Once those were used up, Chris then swapped weapons, using every single weapon at his disposal, from sniper rifles, machine guns to shotguns and rifles.
Whatever he threw, the creature kept advancing toward him, completely oblivious to his efforts.
Slapping in the final magazine of his Magnum, Chris fired at its head and eyes, the pitiful shots ringing out, not deterring his monstrous opponent for even a moment.
Once the creature appeared to be in throwing distance, Chris lobbed every grenade that he had.
Incendiary grenades, flash bangs, fragmentation - nothing left a mark on it. It never stopped coming.
"That's right, you fucker!" Chris said between shots from his pistol. "Come this way!"
It kept a steady pace, its steps slow, almost methodical.
As the last of Chris' ammunition was spent, the former agent took out a flamethrower, carefully aiming.
Once the creature was close enough, he unleashed, watching as a long jet of flame flicked against its burning skin.
"Come on! COME ON!"
Chris' finger remained pressed on the trigger, watching as the creature pushed forward in resistance.
How was it possible for something to be so goddamn strong?! How was it possible for something to survive such impossible odds?!
Chris' finger never left the trigger - he kept it locked on, using up every last ounce of fuel that he had.
By the time it had depleted, Godzilla was already upon him, stopping just a few feet away, staring directly down at him.
Tossing the useless weapon aside, Chris stared fearlessly and challengingly back, his fists clenched by his side.
Two opposing forces stood before one another like warriors on a battlefield, the war-torn, bloodied ash-filled street their arena, their gazes unflinching, unwavering, their wills strong and unconquerable.
Two scarred, battle-weary souls, two hardened survivors that have been shaped by years of pain and conflict and unquenched rage, finally meet face to face for the first time under the veil of night, rain, and fog - the last knight, the last dragon slayer in existence, in a world full of monsters, standing in direct opposition to the towering titan before him in a decisive confrontation.
For several moments, all was still, until finally the air became filled with the cries of the dead and the damned, a horrible orison dedicated to this dark god king and his newly established sovereignty, the ruined city, with its crumbling castle towers, smashed cathedrals and empty, black eye-like windows, watching on with baited breath the outcome of this fateful meeting.
Taking out his knife, the only weapon he had left, Chris risked taking his eyes off his target, studying the item in his hand quietly for a few minutes.
As he stared at the tiny blade, something within Chris painfully broke as he let out an exhausted sobbing, despondent, and undoubtedly insane laugh, the weight of it all finally breaking the camel's back, crashing down upon him as he finally gave in to madness.
Nothing could control the sheer amount of emotion pouring out of him as he laughed and cried simultaneously in a despairing voice, nor did he try to restrain the floodgate of memories that ate at him.
In his broken mind's eye, he saw everything flash before him, everything leading up to this moment, the ghosts of his past coming back to haunt him with a startling vengeance.
He saw his various failures flash before him, the faces of Claire, Jill, Rebecca, Barry, Leon, and Parker, along with all of the other countless lives that he had lost throughout the years, had been forced put down throughout the years, his weary, traumatized mind at its limit.
A pitifully, and woefully, tiny sword, indeed.
Once he had finished, Chris looked back up to his opponent and tiredly took off his gas mask, accepting his fate as he awaited judgment, the dark, towering and still form of Godzilla silently regarding him.
"So," Chris spoke with dead eyes, speaking as if he were addressing an old friend, "...what now?"
Author's Note: So, right now I bet people are probably scratching their heads at this fic. As is apparent, I am a HUGE Godzilla fan, and for a long time now I've been wanting do a story based on the big G. Part of the problem with writing a story for him, though, was coming up with something that wasn't just a rehash of his movies, which is something that happens a lot, especially in monster movies in general. The idea of crossing over with "Resident Evil" didn't come about until I was replaying RE6, a game that I unashamedly admit to enjoying and liking (at least, much more than the godawful 5), when the thought occurred to me - why not do an RE story with Godzilla? It's interesting comparing the two series. Both are immensely popular, but the original 1954 "Gojira", along with "Godzilla 1984" and its more recent entry "Shin Godzilla", were very much horror movies that had very dark themes and strong horror elements that made them utterly terrifying, the first one especially. Godzilla as a character was the embodiment of war and nuclear annihilation, a figure who was poetically and evocatively described as a living nuclear weapon that was destined to walk the Earth forever, so it kind of made sense that he could appear in the context of RE, especially given the various creatures, parasites and viruses being irresponsibly released on a frequent basis. And since "Godzilla vs Kong" was coming out, I thought why not give this a go.
In writing this story, I didn't want to have any shared continuity with prior Godzilla films, be it the Showa, Heisei, Millennium or the Legendary Era films, the first one especially, just because they didn't really fit with the RE series' timeline, nor did a lot of them fit thematically with the games themselves. "Biollante" had slight elements of RE with its themes of genetic engineering, but again, same problem. A lot of influence was taken from "Shin Godzilla" as well as the original 1954 film (both of which I highly recommend to anyone, kaiju fan or not - they're absolutely phenomenal films), although the basic premise was somewhat inspired by Herman Melville's "Moby Dick" with touches of Richard Matheson's "I Am Legend". In terms of Godzilla's appearance, again, "Shin Godzilla" and the original '54 film were big influences, but I also looked at real-life mutations from Chernobyl for reference. Needless to say, there are some downright terrifying stuff out there! *shudders
I'm not sure if the end result is good or not, but I hope you all enjoyed reading this. If not, then I only have myself to blame and apologize.
Take care, everyone, and stay safe and healthy! :)