The street in front of the R.P.D. was completely clear of infected; unusual and slightly concerning, given the current state of Raccoon, but definitely a welcome change. There were corpses littering the street, but whether those were former zombies or humans killed by such, Jill couldn't say. Either way, she hoped none of them had any intention of getting back up for another round.
Jill had met up with Brad at Bar Jack, as planned, but he'd been in a panic, rambling incoherently about someone or something that was 'out to get' him. She thought she heard him say something about the mansion, but he'd slurred his words, as he often did when in a particularly frantic state. He'd left the bar in a hurry, and she hadn't seen him since. Until now, anyway.
She just managed to spot someone in a bright yellow jacket rushing through the front gate of the station as she emerged from the alleyway onto the main street. Recognising is as being the same jacket Brad had been wearing earlier, she made her way quickly, but carefully, over to the front gate, thanking God that there had been no active infected to confront the lone S.T.A.R.S. survivor who had not spent that night in the zombie-infested halls of the Spencer Mansion.
Brad wasn't in a good place. He'd run out on Jill almost as soon as she'd found him and gunned down the zombie that had been bearing down on him in the bar. He wasn't sure his hurried warning for Jill to stay away from him had been properly heard, but staying to try again would only buy time for that monster to catch up with him.
He'd managed to avoid the handful of zombies that he'd come across since, but had slipped on a rain-slicked metal fence he'd climbed over and cut his arm open. As he hobbled his way towards the station, thankful that zombies didn't develop shark-like noses for the smell of blood, he couldn't tell anymore how much of the blood staining his jacket was his own and how much belonged to the poor bar patron whose brains Jill had had to evacuate to save him.
And worse, that thing was still out there. He knew it. He hadn't seen it since leaving Jill, but he could hear it every now and then, never sounding quieter as he gained some distance away from it, as if it was able to keep pace with him exactly. And it was probably doing it intentionally. While he hadn't spent an entire night fending off the infected like Jill and the others had, Brad was fairly sure none of them could speak.
But this thing could.
"S.T.A.R.S.," it had growled upon catching sight of him. It had shouted the same a few more times as he made his escape.
There was no doubt in his mind that this thing was some sort of super bio-weapon engineered by Umbrella for the express purpose of hunting down and silencing every surviving S.T.A.R.S. member. Chris, Barry and Rebecca were all out of town, and there was no way they were getting back in through the blockade. That just left Brad and Jill as viable targets.
Although unlikely, Brad hoped that he could lead the creature far enough away from Jill that she'd never have to encounter it herself, and that he'd be able to escape the city himself somehow. Then again, maybe it was karma that he die here at the hand of this tireless pursuer as recompense for his abandonment of his friends during the dog attack in the forest back in July. It was his fault his teammates had become trapped in the mansion, after all.
Jill had always tried to reassure him that nobody died because of him. Joseph was already dead by then and the Bravo Team would've died regardless. If anything, she claimed, he could be argued as the only reason Alpha Team had ventured into the mansion and extracted Rebecca, saving her life.
While it was a nice thought, it didn't stop him from regularly dreaming of holding the line and being on standby as the others entered the mansion and escorted Enrico, Rebecca, Richard, Kenneth, and sometimes even Forest, out to the waiting chopper for extraction. It would have made the notion of being one of this monster's targets easier to bear, at least, with so many others to help form a united front against it.
As it stood, though, there were only two targets left in the city, and while the thought of being hounded mercilessly by that big bastard was unbearable, getting Jill caught up in the chase was even more horrifying.
Jill leaned around the corner and peered through the rusty bars of the large front gate. She'd passed through her on her way into the station more times than she could count over the years, but it had never felt so alien to her, even the first time she had entered the building. She looked around, spotting blood splatters and the odd corpse, but that was all. The front courtyard was still and dead.
Slowly making her way inside with her weapon drawn, Jill's eyes darted this way and that, hoping to spot Brad's bright yellow jacket somewhere. There were a number of directions he could have gone, assuming he wasn't still hiding in this area. The side gardens were chained shut, so he hadn't gone there, unless he'd hopped the fence, which was certainly outside of his skillset. And more to the point, those areas had been turned into graveyards, and there was no way Brad would risk entering a place filled with more potential attackers.
That left the underground walkway beneath the entrance (assuming he'd hopped the railing down), the front doors, and one of the crates over by the corner, which were marked as containing medical supplies from Raccoon General. The supplies would most likely have been unloaded already, leaving them empty, with just about enough room for Brad to hide in without being too obvious. It would also be easy to get inside, given that the crate was left on its side, based on the direction of the text that marked its place of origin.
Then again, there was a small supply room off the underground walkway, which would be a much better hiding spot, assuming he hadn't simply gone into the main building. Jill had to make a choice here. She doubted she'd find him if she checked the wrong place first, so she had to put herself into Brad's shoes. Where would he go if he thought he was being chased?
The crate was easy to get to, but was also small and exposed, making it a poor place to hide for an extended time. The supply room would be the most difficult to get to, but only R.P.D. officers would know about it, making it ideal to escape a pursuer. The main building was vast and winding, owing to its origin as a museum designed around a guided tour, which would allow one with knowledge of the layout to plan a route around the building that looped back to the entrance for him to escape while his pursuer was lost in the maze. Of course, the situation inside was totally unknowable. It could be filled with his fellow officers, ready to lend a hand, or yet more undead ready to bite off a hand.
Brad wasn't a risk-taker, so the main building was out. He also wasn't stupid, so the crate seemed unlikely, but there was also the risk of injuring himself from jumping down onto the stairs. Of course, the main building was the most open, allowing for a retreat in the event his pursuer was a human who knew the layout. Give her and the team's suspicions of Chief Irons being in Umbrella's pocket, an Umbrella assassin having access to the building's blueprints wasn't entirely unlikely.
For now, she'd have to check the crate. If he wasn't there, that wouldn't be too much time lost. She'd figure out the next step after that.
Brad head footsteps approaching.
They weren't the loud, thunderous steps of his pursuer, though. They were much quieter than that, and in an even stride, rather than the unnerving shuffle of a zombie. This gave Brad a moment of relief, before dread once more took hold as he feared that Jill may have caught up with him, putting her directly in the creature's path. His suspicions were confirmed when Jill's voice whispered his name as the footsteps grew closer.
He wanted to peer out and tell her to leave, but he was petrified that any action on his part might draw the creature's attention. It might not recognise Jill, after all, given her lack of uniform. Maybe she'd escape the creature's notice if it came past. It was probably irrational to think so, but his mind was struggling to keep up with itself as he began to hyperventilate.
Jill received no reply from the crates, which she was sure she would have gotten if Brad had been in there. She was tempted to give up on the crates and make her decision, but the prolonging of the task gave her more time to make this potentially very important decision.
Before she could make the decision, however, the ground by the entrance exploded with enough force that Jill was almost thrown off her feet. For a second, as she peered through the dust, she thought the bell from the R.P.D.'s old bell might have been pushed out, before recalling its actual location in the building.
When the dust cleared, a large black mass with patches of a fleshier colour began to unfold. It was a humanoid, as it turned out, but unlike almost anything Jill had ever seen before. As it rose from its landing position, it stood around eight feet tall. The creature immediate brought to mind the image of the Tyrant, the final bio-weapon Umbrella had created beneath the Spencer Mansion; the creature that had killed the turncoat Captain Wesker and been destroyed on the mansion's rooftop helipad with a rocket launcher provided by Brad.
Unlike its predecessor, this creature lacked the massive, mutant claw hand that had impaled Wesker, as well as the exposed heart that had proven the only spot that could give the monster pause from a gunshot. Its rotten brown skin made the blank white eye stand out more than the deathly white skin of the original. One eye being either surgically or swollen shot was probably the greatest difference in its face, as their lipless mouths were equally unnerving. The original had been nude, with no genitals. This thing was wrapped in what looked to be a large black trenchcoat and massive boots that Jill was sure could break any bone in her body with ease if the creature stepped on her.
While the eye lacked any definition, she could feel it staring at her, like a hungry snake - or the hungry snake from the mansion - eyeing up its prey.
"S.T.A.R.S.," it said in a deep, guttural growl, holding on the final S to make the snake comparison even more apt.
By all accounts, this thing was clearly a more advanced version of the Tyrant, probably enhanced by combat data recorded by security cameras inside the mansion's underground lab. It was less grotesquely mutated, its exposed heart either covered or fixed, it could speak, and the specific word it spoke suggested the ability to learn and track specific targets, rather than wildly attacking even Umbrella's own employees, as the original had done.
There was no doubt in Jill's mind: this S.T.A.R.S. hunter was the thing Brad had tried to warn her about as he'd fled. This was the thing that was pursuing him. And now, she was the only target in its sights. Jill thought for a second that, maybe, she could draw its attention and lead it away from her compatriot's possible hiding spot. She'd dealt with the original Tyrant the same way, after all, keeping it busy while Chris made the run for the launcher to finish it off.
She thought that, but her body was on an all together different wavelength. It was shaking, and not just from the chilly late-September air. The shaking was about all the movement it was doing. She willed her legs to move, internally screamed for them to carry her away from this monster before her, but they refused to obey. She was frozen at the thought of having to fight off the big brother of the monster that had tanked shot after shot and only been taken down with a rocket to the chest, with only her handgun.
The creature's first step towards her shook the ground and her arms finally began to move as she desired. She opened fire on the chest, hoping that the heart was still exposed underneath and that the coat was just to make that fact less obvious. Her aim was on-point, but the low calibre rounds simply bounced off of the coat, like BB pellets hitting a concrete wall. The Tyrant had at least been exposed enough for their bullets to lodge themselves into its pale flesh and give the illusion of progress. This thing made her feel like a child trying to stop an oncoming train by pushing against it.
Brad risked a look through the gap as he held the lid open a smidge. Jill was not far from him, firing futilely at the pursuer as it slowly gained ground on her with each colossally heavy step. She switched up her aim from the heavily-protected chest to its exposed face, but once she did, every subsequent shot went completely wide. Before her weapon ran dry, her target reached out a hand and grabbed her by both of her wrists. Brad silently screamed, "Why didn't you run!?" before chastising himself for knowing all too well the fear of seeing that thing for the first time. And the second. And the third.
With seemingly no effort whatsoever, the monster lifted Jill's arms, pulling up until her feet were left dangling a foot off the floor. She managed to pull back one of her legs and deliver a swift kick to the face. For the first time in the engagement, the creature seemed to have felt one of her attacks. In response, as if this soulless murder machine could feel frustration, it wound its arm back and threw her clear across the courtyard to the opposite corner by one of the locked gates.
Her weapon clattered to the floor in between the two combatants, landing much closer to the dominant giant than its owner. As it slowly, almost toyingly, stepped forward, each step shaking the ground, the creature reached Jill's handgun and crushed it underfoot. Its pace was even, uninterrupted. It was hard to tell if the creature had intentionally done away with her only real means of defence, of if it had gone entirely unnoticed by the creature, so focused as it was on the target in front of it.
Jill pulled her knife from the sheathe on her boot. She and Brad and probably also the creature knew that the knife would do nothing to this monstrosity that barely flinched under gunfire. The only thing giving either of the two officers hope was that Jill had managed to do some harm to the creature when she kicked it, so there was some possibility the knife might do some damage as well. Of course, the kick had evidently pissed it off, more than it had hurt it.
Jill struggled to stand and prepare herself to attack. Her arm was bleeding and her pants were frayed at the knees, through which a little more blood seeped. Brad could only imagine the throbbing pain she must be feeling as she face down this monster that was bearing down on her.
Brad had seen enough. Despite his fear, despite his limbs resisting his commands, Brad pushed open the lid of the crate, crawled to his feet and drew his own handgun. He'd left Jill behind to save his own skin once before. He was not about to make that same mistake again. Steeling himself like he never had before, Brad took aim for the creature and pulled the trigger.
Jill was so focused on the creature that she didn't notice Brad emerging from his hiding spot until he fired off a shot into the back of the creature's head. For only the second time so far, it flinched. As if it had forgotten Jill was even there at all, the creature turned back towards its initial target, who proved himself the greater threat by getting off a second shot in the side of its head.
Although still shaken and struggling to fight through the rebellion of her limbs, Jill felt a surge of courage from seeing Brad "Chickenheart" Vickers stand up to the monster that was dominating his teammate. She readied herself to plunge her knife into the back of the creature's skull while it was distracted. She was fairly sure she could jump high enough to do so.
She didn't get a chance, however, as the monster launched into a terrifying sprint, reaching Brad in only three seconds, Brad's subsequent shots going further and further wide of his target. Before Jill could even react, it had grabbed Brad by the front of his jacket with one giant hand and lifted him off his feet, raising its other hand towards his face. Jill began her run towards the two to try to use its threat priority to draw it away from Brad, but she was too far away to make it in time.
Brad fired off two more shots into the creature's face. Although it flinched, these two tiny wounds did little to impede the progress of its free hand. Over the creature's shoulder, Brad saw Jill, moving towards them as fast as her legs would carry her, armed only with her combat knife. In Brad's mind, there was only one way Jill was going to get out of this encounter alive.
"Jill! Run!" he screamed, throwing his handgun over the monster holding him aloft, where it skittered across to stone ground towards her.
In truth, he never finished the second word, as a thick, fleshy tentacle emerged from the creature's free palm, taking only a second to line itself up before it plunged itself into Brad's exposed throat.
Jill came to a dead stop as she saw the blood explode out the back of Brad's neck and heard his scream cut off into a sickening gurgle. The only positive was that the sound of Brad's scream dying along with him stopped almost as abruptly as it had begun. If nothing else, Brad's suffering was over quickly. Finished with its task, the creature casually tossed Brad's remains over the railing and into the walkway below.
Jill had only ever witnessed the death of a single comrade before now: Enrico Marini. He had been shot by Wesker and died quickly and cleanly. The rest had already been dead by the time she arrived, or had died in front of Chris. A sickening, white hotness pulsed inside Jill's skull, slowing down her ability to process what had just happened. It wasn't the blood-curdling wet thud and sharp snap of bone that Brad's lifeless body made as it collided with the concrete below that cleared Jill's mind and brought her back to alertness. Instead, it was the utterance of the monster's singular focus: "S.T.A.R.S." Its utterance this time was almost triumphant, taunting. It slowly began to turn back to face Jill.
Moving with a speed that could almost rival the creature's own charge towards Brad, Jill scooped up her friend's fallen weapon, his final gift to her, and bolted for the front doors of the station. The creature was hot on her heels after a few seconds, but she managed to get the doors closed and a stack of crates at the side of the doors torn down, blocking them from opening.
Even from outside, the large marble interior of the R.P.D.'s front entrance echoed with the monster's angered roar of "S.T.A.R.S.!" and the accompanying pounding on the doors. She had blocked its pursuit for now, but she was worryingly certain that she would see the creature again before her business at the station was through. It may well be mere seconds away if she didn't get moving, and she wasn't packing nearly enough firepower to stand a chance against the creature in a straight fight.
She had no choice but to escape deeper into the station and hopefully find some fellow officers to back her up. Or, at least some more powerful weapons than a knife and Brad's handgun. She'd head for the weapons lockup and the S.T.A.R.S. office first. Once she had some more appropriate firepower, she would find a way to destroy this monster. No matter how much time or how many bullets and rockets she had to pump into this thing, she would avenge her murdered friend. If it wanted S.T.A.R.S., then Jill Valentine was going to give it S.T.A.R.S.!
I made this chapter to tie-in to the Brad episode of Wasted Plotential, which proposes this idea, and an alternative based on the 3make version of Brad's death as a way to combine the strengths of both versions.