WHAT IS THIS. WHAT. IS. THIS. WHAT HAVE I DONE.
Don't watch Junior while having Resident Evil on the brain, folks. It leads to crack ideas like this.
This will be a side project (I'm still gonna try and keep up my update schedule for my other fic) so I'm not anticipating that I'll be posting more of it any time soon. I'm envisioning this as a retelling of Junior (the one starring Arnold Schwarzenegger, yes… *shame intensifies*) with RE cast members, with a few tweaks here and there.
Feel free to stick around for updates and imbibe in the sheer wackiness of this premise with me, but for everyone else who's seen enough, run and be free! (No, seriously. RUN.)
"Are you ready?"
Poised over Leon's lower stomach, the needle glinted blindingly under the sterile white glare of the surgical light, ramrod straight and almost impossibly long. At its other end, a syringe was clutched in the muscular hand of his colleague, Chris Redfield. Chris's face was a mixture of trepidation, concern, and excitement.
Leon Kennedy, lying on the medical recliner with his shirt hitched up to his chest, looked from the needle's tip, hovering barely an inch above his skin, to the clear fluid within the plastic barrel of the syringe—fluid that could turn everything around for him, pick his life up out of the dumpster and send it hurtling into the stars and beyond. His gaze drifted to the screen of the ultrasound machine beside him, where the grains in the black and white image shifted back and forth in time with his breathing. One hand tapped nervously on the armrest. The other held the probe against his belly. The gel was unpleasantly cold and sticky and he couldn't wait to get it all off. But that was allowed only after they completed the procedure, of course.
It was dim inside the tiny exam room; the only illumination came from the light above the chair and the faint glow of the computer monitor on which Chris's notes had been entered: Day 1, subject administered 10 mL Expectane with 15 mg progesterone and 2 mg estrogen. The clock on the wall read 9:15. It was the kind of hour that sparked heated arguments between neglected housewives and their elusive spouses just now stumbling through the front door. But neither man still working at the clinic that night had anyone at home awaiting their return.
Besides, they were on the verge of something monumental here. If everything went as planned, they'd both be on their way to the next stage of the breakthrough they'd been pouring blood, sweat and tears into for years. A breakthrough that had come within an inch of being dismantled only days prior, but that now saw renewed hope with what they were about to do.
Leon took a deep breath; the sonogram warped, then resumed its original picture. He tried his best to relax. The less resistance he put up, voluntarily or not, the less it would hurt. His eyes met Chris's and he nodded.
"Do it," he said through gritted teeth.
Chris patted his hand in solidarity. He confirmed his target on the sonogram one last time before making his move.
The needle went in, thin but not thin enough, and so unbearably long. Leon screwed his eyes shut and tipped his head back, stifling a groan. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if he'd made a horrible mistake. But it was too late to back out now, what with Chris poking that goddamn metal stick around in his flesh and that… thing they had created needing a warm cozy place to hunker down for the next twelve weeks. No, the time for second thoughts was long past.
How had it come to this? He couldn't believe Redfield had talked him into this. It was madness. Absolute, utter madness.
And yet, it might just be his best shot at saving his career.
"I'm in position," he heard Chris announce. "Here goes…"
The needle finally went still.
"Let's put a bun in your oven."