Disclaimer: Silver Scythe and Silver Scorpion are mine, and Resident Evil is property of Capcom in every legal aspect (I hope). So in other words, you can't sue me.

Barton

October 29

The town was blockaded, but no one went in, not even to get after the survivors. No survivor was worth their own destruction. Amanda had woken up to hearing her parents' groaning. God, get a friggin' room, she thought, before the dog and John jumped her from the behind and in front. The U.B.C.S. teams had not arrived yet, but every once in awhile someone who probably had a loved one in the city would jump up and run to the city. The Army let them pass, not really caring. His funeral, and he probably would have attempted suicide later if he didn't go in, was the train of thought between them. That is, until the man in the motorcycle showed up.

It was night, so you could not see his face. His figure was covered in a Blade look-alike trenchcoat, so nothing was visible. He rode up in his motorcycle, waking a few up. They waved him off and went back to sleep, actually having some action today between the undead, though it was just some extra-stupid zombie trying to escape and having his head blown to shrapnel. The figure rode on past, unnoticed, so they did not notice the multiple pistols, shotguns, bandoliers of ammo, rocket launcher, and the large stick poking out to the side of the trenchcoat. The soldier on guard duty was barely awake, but enough to notice a man most likely literally armed to the teeth. He stepped in front of the man, raising his hand.

"State your name and objective dealing with this situation." the officer commanded.

"You first." was the quiet and calm reply.

"Sir, if you do not answer I have the authorization to shoot you."

"Good for you. Sir."

"Look, sir, I'm warning your psychotic ass, tell me-" he pointed to himself. "-What you're gonna do with that." he pointed to the general area of Barton.

"You do the same, then I'll answer." the soldier looked about ready to shoot the man, but knew he'd have some paperwork to do afterwards. And he hated paperwork.

"Prevent any B.O.W.s from escaping the vicinity of the city until the U.B.C.S. teams arrive, then help with the investigation and keep the perimeter." the soldier said exasperatedly, leaving some "confidential" details out of the picture.

"Now how about you?" the soldier asked.

"Investigate the Daffan Pharmaceuticals lab, and destroy any experimental B.O.W. within the vicinity." the man said, leaving out some details of his own.

"The B.O.W.s were released by some renegade from Umbrella, saying he wasn't getting paid enough." the soldier stated.

"And who told you that tidbit?"

"Umbrella confessed nationally last night that Victoria Fallon had committed suicide by stealing a still-in-development 'G-Virus' vial and drinking half the contents, giving the rest to some friends over for dinner."

"Wrong. Daffan Pharmaceuticals is a cover for Umbrella, who had yet another lab contamination here."

"Do you have any proof of that, pal?"

"That's what I'm going to the lab to find out." the man said.

"Do I have permission to go in now?"

"Sure, I don't give a fuck. You go right in and get yourself killed." the soldier said, angry at the thought of Daffan being a cover. His wife worked for Daffan, and they were the most family-oriented damn company he'd ever seen. And this guy had the balls to think that Daffan was a B.O.W. producer. He stared with a rage burning inside him as the man got on his motorcycle.

Hope that bastard gets killed, the soldier wished as he went back to his post, noticing the

the trail of silver liquid the man left behind. The soldier picked it up and sniffed it. It's not gas, the soldier confirmed as the man drove off into Barton.