Heaven Can Wait

Kasage Starrunner

Disclaimer: Resident Evil and all characters, settings, monsters, and corporations associated with the game series and the movie are © Capcom and its affiliates. The author has no association with any of these companies.

All other characters and creations are © Kasage Starrunner. The author would like to note that Petra Cross, (Jo Sullivan, possibly) and Adrian Rhoades are part of a joint game project with her and friends, and that Petra will also be used in a collaborative mange started by Mangaworkshop.net. Also, the character Alex Quenby is based on her character, Quenby Andries from the Infinite Spiral Manga saga. Other character associations will be mentioned as necessary.

Also, feel free to correct my Resident Evil knowledge. I want to be accurate. Suggestions on that account are encouraged.

Author's Notes are available after the chapter.

A Cast List will shortly be available at my site, Let Me Live::

http://geocities.com/lukleia/claire.html

Warnings: Violence (as typical for Resident Evil), profanity (the worst namely on the part of Petra)--more warnings will be added if necessary.

Chapter Four: Hell's Angels



Midfield Valley, East Side



Petra launched herself from the steps, landing five feet away from the Redfield siblings. They still stood in shock at the abrupt announcement of their names, having done their best to keep those identities a secret from noon to the present. However, this turn of events obviously proved their efforts to have been useless.

Chris lowered his eyebrows at the woman and, raising his fists, put himself between the youth he deemed a threat and his "baby" sister, Claire. "What do you want?" he growled through clenched teeth.

Petra remained unperterbed, taking the man's stare as though her were a kitten. Her eyes looked through him to the red-head, sensing the older Redfield's rising temper. The pale hands raised palms out in a gesture to try and quell Chris' protective fury, even though her own temper was rising. "Just get in the house, dammit. I don't want a scene in the middle of the yard."

Chris planted his feet more firmly in the ground. Claire's fingers dug into his shoulders. "She's right. We can't draw attention to ourselves," she whispered.

"Who the hell are you?" Chris spat, ignoring his sister.

"Someone who hates Umbrella," hissed the woman. Her eyes appeared to flash for a moment as the wind rustled her hair. Claire saw a familiar, stubborn look on her face--the same one that both of the Redfield's used far too often, and she relaxed a little.

"I'll go with you," the red-head said.

Chris grunted, but when Petra started limping up the steps toward the door, he followed. Both of the siblings took note of her condition and the tension released more. It was obvious that the green-haired youth was in no mood to put up a fight. Claire doubted she'd called the Umbrella police because of this. However, the question of how the young woman was hurt stood out in her mind. Observant blue eyes spied the ugly remains of frost-bite across her abdomen. The red-head raised an eyebrow at Chris. How had she gotten such fresh frost-bite when it was obviously so warm?

Petra shut the door behind them and then flopped back on the couch, resisting the urge to yelp at the pain. "Sit if you want--I don't care." The woman tilted her feet up on the arm of the couch and watched them. The stubborn look on her face had faded, but a bitterness remained. Now Chris' face was the stubborn one. No one in the room was exactly certain what to do concerning the strange and uncomfortable situation. As Petra's action was purely spontaneous she had not planned anything to say, so now all three were staring at each other suspiciously. The two siblings remained standing.

Petra curled her lip, but finally couldn't resist the urge to just speak her mind. "I don't know what the hell possessed you to come to this Umbrella whorehouse of a city, but to be walking around the city in broad daylight is fucking stupid."

At this, the battle again became the punk's and Chris'. He swung around glaring. "You dragged us here to tell us this! How do you even know who we are."

"You've been on the fucking news for three months. Claire disappeared off it awhile back, but some people don't forget the faces off of Umbrella's Most Wanted very quickly. There are some out there who would help you, but you're in deep shit if the wrong person discovers who you are. And it doesn't matter whether they're friends of Umbrella, or just payed off."

"Where do you fall, you little bitch?"

Claire clapped her hand over her mouth. "Chris!"

"Stay out of this, Claire."

The clock ticked from the wall and the air got heavier. Petra sat up on the couch, her face glowering. "You listen to me and you listen close," she hissed. "I hate Umbrella. I hate their products. I hate their employees. I hate their owners. And I hate fucking zombies!" The two stared at each other unblinking for a few moments. Finally, Chris broke away.

"Join the club ..." he muttered.

Meanwhile, Claire was looking at a picture on the wall. It was of the woman and what she could only assume was her parents and brother. She glanced around but there was nothing to be seen of them. The red-head's mind wandered. What happened to them? Did it have something to do with the frostbite.

"Look, maybe I shouldn't have yelled at you both like that, but would you rather I had ignored you and let Umbrella do what they will?"

Claire breathed a sigh of relief. "It's okay, but for a moment there we thought you were Umbrella."

The green haired youth looked over at the other woman as though she didn't trust her words. However, the look of malice slowly faded to a blank, tired stare, similar to how Claire looked in the mirror when she had gotten to Midfield Valley--Chris too. It made her question whether the bitterness was due to the woman's personality, or some stress involving her family and the frostbite.

"Hey, you know our names, but we don't know yours. That isn't exactly--"

"Fair, Claire? I guess you're right." She fingered one of her earrings. "My name's Petra Cross."

"The she-devil has a name," grumbled Chris.

Claire rolled her eyes. "You'll have to forgive my ass of a brother. He hasn't had enough cancer-sticks today."

Petra smirked. "He thinks that's bad--I went cold turkey a month ago."

"Ouch." The sympathetic tone in the man's voice was real. "I tried that, but then Raccoon City happened."

"That oughta do it." She eyed Chris up and down for a moment. "Listen, I'm still off them--could you ... pretend you don't ... Do you?" Her voice trailed off. The thought of a cigarette was very enticing right now, which made her irritable again. "Fucking hell."

Chris motioned to his pocket and Claire smacked him. "Stop that, she's trying to quit."

"She wants one."

"Like hell I do, but I won't ... I won't ... Dammit, give me one. I've been through hell!"

The man fingered his precious pack of cigarettes and raised and eyebrow. "That hell have something to do with your frostbite?"

"That's none of your business, you ass!"

"Such language for a lady."

Petra visibly shuddered. "Shut the fuck up."

Claire clapped her hand to her forehead. This was not happening. Someone tell her that her brother wasn't acting like and complete and total bastard. She peeked through her fingers, but he was still taunting Petra with the cigarettes. She dropped her backpack to the floor and put her hands on her hips. The scene continued.

"Tell me more, and you can have one."

"Damn you, why'd you have to mention cigarettes. You didn't seem like such a motherfuckin' son-of-a-bitch in your wanted pictures."

Chris just laughed, so the woman lunged at him, now furious beyond belief. Her hands missed his shoulders and she collapsed to the floor in a lump. "Fuck," she muttered and looked up at him, glaring. He gave no sign of conceding, so she pulled herself back up onto the couch, muttering several more creative explitives along the way. "Ah, fuckit--gimme one and I'll you guys can stay here--as long as you need to. Swear to god!"

Claire looked up again and her ponytail bounced. "You mean that?"

"Yes--hell, it's too fucking quiet in here anyway."

'How many times can she use that word," thought Claire.

Chris tossed the woman a cigarette. "Here. Need a light?"

"Got a zippo. Bedrooms are upstairs. Mine's the one with the Biohazard symbol on it. Pick one of the others and drop your shit off there."

"Uh ... thanks," Claire replied uncertainly.

Petra waved them off and lit up, breathing in the smoke like aromatherapy. "Honestly, no more tomorrow," she whispered to herself, leaving the two Redfields to unpack their things upstairs.



***



Midfield Valley, S.T.A.R.S. Headquarters



Much to Jo's delight, the team members began arriving shortly after the "Kennedy's" started on their way again. When she spied the first person coming nervously up the sidewalk she put away her sweeper and set about observing the newcomers as they entered and slowly began interacting with one another.

The first knock was timid. Jo opened the door and opted after that to leave it open to help destroy its vacant outer appearance. The short woman on the stoop greeted her with a slight wave and forced smile. Her gray eyes flashed around the room uncertainly as her small fingers ran through her short, black hair. With her other hand, she adjusted her wire-rimmed glasses on her nose. "Mm, hello. I'm Annette Riddle," she said, with a slight New Zealand accent. "I hope I'm not too early."

The brunette checked her off, smiling. "Not at all. I'm Jo Sullivan, second-in-command. Your uniform is labled on the hanger. Pick it out and put it on in the bathroom--make sure you lock the door." Annette nodded and walked off to obey her instructions, still fiddling with her hair.

This same scenario was repeated as each of the new members entered. First after Annette, was a man called Martin Hawk--a 35 year old Navajo ex-sheriff. He was followed by the Japanese Jiro Matsumoto, who bowed and said nothing. He was followed by a timid Russian college graduate, Tatyana Baranovskaya and former Scottland Yard member Clive Hargrove. A few minutes later, three trainees arrived together-- the local polynesian youth Bevan Kaie, Outback veteran Brett Davis, and the home-grown Audrey Summerfield. Last but not least, Seth Thomas and Raquel Velazquez knocked and entered. The former was an african-american from the Columbus Police Academy, and the latter a Cuban immigrant sponsored by the Umbrella Corporation. Those two were already in a heated discussion about the Corporation, which Jo opted to ignore.

It was 3:55 where there were only two people left on her list. The second-in-command looked around the room at the uniformed S.T.A.R.S. trainees, wondering exactly where Alex was and what was taking her so long. "It's almost four," she mumbled to herself.

Just then more knocking came at the door. Jo practically ran to get it. "That's either Adrian, Derek, or Alex." The wind had conspired to shut the door, so she opened it, her face smiling until she caught the look on the face that greeted her. She blinked at the man, who was a little more than angry looking with his thin green eyes and ruddy hair. He had a slight beard which darkened his face immensely. All in all he gave Jo a suspicious feeling in her stomach.

"I'm Jo Sullivan, second-in-command, and you are?"

"Derek Marlowe." He crossed his hands over his chest and said nothing else. The brunette bit her lip apprehensively, but checked him off anyways, giving the man the same instructions as the others. He returned in uniform and stood silent in the corner.

Jo looked at her watch--it was 3:59. 'Still no Adrian ... Or captain for that matter,' she thought. She was starting to get worried whether either would show.

That worry was soon discarded as they heard the roaring sound of an engine pulling in the small drive and stopping. The door opened just as the hour turned to 4:00 and Alex Quenby marched in.

"It is now exactly four o'clock in the afternoon. Set your watches." The standing and sitting team members stared at her, practically dumbfounded. "Now." They set their watches. The tall woman strode to the center of the room and stood beside Jo. "My name is Alex Quenby. You will call me Captain or sir unless your name is Jo Sullivan. You may not call me Quenby. You may not call me Alex. And you may not call me ma'am. I hope, for your safety, that this is understood."

The slate blue eyes turned to the brunette second-in-command. "Who's missing, Sullivan?"

The young woman felt the change to professional attitude and adjusted herself accordingly. "A Mr. Adrian Rhodes, age 19, residing at the University Apartment Complex."

"There had better be a good reason that he is late to this first session. Good reason= death in the family or severe illness."

"Sir, he's only a minute late."

"If I am here and you are not, then you are late, because I am exactly on time. Give me his address."

"You could ca--"

"I will pick him up personally." Seth and Derek snickered. Alex looked at them with a raised eyebrow. "It will, of course, be funny until you do something wrong, which, from the sounds of your snickering, will be shortly. Address, Sullivan."

Jo held out the paper with Adrian's employee information. Alex took it, read it, then gave it back to her. She looked at the trainees and addressed them. "You would do well to introduce yourselves to each other while I am gone. We are already weeks behind thanks to the lack of competance of not only your employer, but now also your friend Adrian. Expect an early wake-up call some time this week." With that, she strutted out of the room, leaving a layer of ice between the people bother standing and sitting in it. The motorcycle roared and sped off, while the teammates stared at each other, blinking.

Seth Thomas looked around the room and grinned. "Well, she's a pleasant bitch, ain't she?"

"Don't talk about the captain that way," Jo scolded. "At least, not in front of me."

"Shit, woman, I don't have to listen to you. You're no bigger than my pinkie."

"Don't make me kick your ass, Thomas."

The man gave her a broad grin and raised his hands in surrender. "It's cool--I'm just joshin' you. You're alright, Sullivan."

"I glad, because your life'd be living hell if there was a mutual lack of affection with both of your superiors."

The Cuban woman stood up, fists raised. "Yeah, but the Captain's got a lot of nerve, being holier-than-thou when she was almost late herself. People like me were nearly late over a bad plane schedule."

"Actually, Raquel, she wasn't late. She was exactly on time, as she said," put in Annette. "My watch timer has been atomically set to the exact time. I'd assume that hers is as well."

"Oh, and you're so much smarter than me, Miss Riddle?"

"I implied nothing of the sort--otherwise Umbrella would have actually hired me as a researcher. I was only illustrating why you should not be so quick to condescend. She's our Captain for a reason."

The ruddy haired Derek raised an eyebrow, preparing his firebomb. "And how did she get that job? By kissing Umbrella's ass like old Captain Albert Wesker?" This set off a flurry of responses, as the man had obviously intended. Immediately, the whole group of trainees were forced to decide, either vocally or mentally, whether to associate Alex Quenby with Albert Wesker or not. A mistrust erupted in the already uneasy group as they argued. To tell the truth only four people didn't get involved--Brett and Audrey were far too casual to actually care and Tatyana and Jiro just kept their mouths shut altogether, either out of shyness or common sense.

Jo actually thought things were going pretty well.

Alex returned through the door, dragging a rather disgruntled young man in behind her. She let him go once he was inside, but her grip left a white mark on his bare arm. She patted him on the head, patronizing him. "It seems our friend Adrian here felt the need to take a late afternoon nap in his underpants."

Even Jo couldn't help but giggle at the sight of the brown haired man now. He was clad in only his boxers and his house robe. The boxers had smiley faces all over them--the house robe, aliens. His chest was bare and coated in the dust from the road and his legs were white and goose-pimpled from the winter air. The blushing youth, however, did not see the comedy in his appearance.

"May I change, sir?" he mumbled.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you. Was that mouse-speak?"

"I said, may I change, please?"

Alex stroked her chin. "That's funny you asked, because if you had gotten here on time like the rest of the recruits, you would have been given a few minutes to change into your uniform. However, I've wasted precious minutes going to fetch you, so unfortunately, you'll just have to train today in what you're wearing."

The young man's jaw dropped. He couldn't believe this was happening--and all because he accidently set his alarm for 3:30 a.m. instead of 3:30 p.m.. Now he was the butt of this cynical captain's joke. Needless to say, Adrian didn't like his boxers to be the center of attention--especially the smiley face pair.

"I expect, in the future, that no one will be late. Today was an easy day to be on time--the hour of meeting was even given in advance. From here on out you may be called up at any hour to report and I expect you here exactly when I ask for you. Zombies don't wait if you're tardy."

A slight murmur buzzed across the room, with a little nervous giggling blended in. The captain glared until all was quiet again. "I hope no one has a problem with this." There was no response. "Good, now follow me out back into the yard."

One by one, the trainees exited the old house through the back door to the yard. Alex instructed Jo to line them up, execution style, across the fence to the cow pasture directly behind the house. A few fidgeted, but most stood still, attempting to keep hold of their dignity while there was still a chance and attempting to ignore the piercing chalcedony gaze of their tall, blond captain as she paced in front of them.

"I've already made my introductions, so let's get down to business. You are all members of the Midfield Valley S.T.A.R.S. Omega Training Team. There are currently twelve members, however some or even many of you will be replaced at my discretion. In a week, after all substitutions have been made, you will be divided into pairs and also into two teams of six--not including your superiors.

"In that time it is Jo-ann Sullivan and I's responsibility to make you into a cooperative team. My advice to you is to get to know each other, not like friends but as enemies. Only enemies know each other's weakest points and know what others can do to exploit them. Strengths are a moot point and easy to find. Tell them why this is so, Sullivan."

"So that they know which situations to offer assistance to any given team-mate."

"Everyone has a friend, but everyone needs an enemy. You all have the unfortunate job of fulfilling both of those rolls for every person here." Alex glanced at her watch, 4:15. "Alright, Sullivan and I are going out to have coffee. You have 15 minutes--no more, no less--in which to learn something ..." She grinned. "This will be on the final exam."

Alex grabbed Jo by the arm and led her back through the house, turning to walk down th sidewalk to a cafe a road away. Jo adjusted her beret and grimaced, not sure of what to do with the captain's new persona.

"Are we really going out for coffee?"

"De-caf. I don't want any foreign chemicals in my system while I'm training recruits." She strode down the street with the brunette in silence for a few seconds. "Aren't you going to ask me what I'm doing?"

"I didn't think it was appropriate ... What are you doing?"

"Ever heard of good cop--bad cop?"

"You can't be serious."

"No, you can't be serious. The trainees can't afford to like me, 1) someone has to punish and push them and 2) if they trust me I could turn on them too easy and then there would be no one to save this city. I can't afford to give praise, so I need you, and they need a superior that they can anonymously complain about me to if I happen to get out of hand."

"So I play middle-man?"

"Exactly. Your life may actually be more hell than anyone elses."

"From the sounds of it, you're putting us all in hell, including yourself."

"Hey, if they can't deal with me, then they can't deal with an outbreak."

Alex walked through the double doors of the coffee shop, followed by Jo. She proceded to the counter, and put her hands flat in front of the register. "Two de-caf lattes to go--you like lattes, Jo?" The brunette nodded and the server called the order over to a young man working in the back.

"You were raised on tough love, weren't you, Alex."

"Better than those sugar-coated fairytales that get you killed." The lady at the register handed Alex the coffee and she paid her, leaving a fairly generous tip. The blond handed Jo one of the cups as they walked out the doors together. "You heard about the Licker Monster and saw the Tyrant in C-block as well as I did. In the soft state some of those recruits are in, they'd be a puddle of blood and tissue in seconds."

Jo took a sip of her latte. "You're too graphic for your own good."

"It's not like you have a light stomach. How much time we got?"

She glanced at her watch. "Ten minutes."

"Good--it's spy time. I hope you like climbing trees."

"Oh, Alex!"

"You can learn a lot about waht people really do when they don't know that their superiors are watching. Come on!"



***



Alex proved once again that she liked to be precisely on time when her and Jo returned to the backyard. From their vantage point in the tree both had learned valuable information about the personalities of each of the trainees. Adrian was one of the more notable of the recruits and after they had all lined up by the fence again, he was the captain's first victim.

"Alright, boxer-boy, what did you learn in the fifteen minutes I gave you?"

Adrian twitched visibly as the others chuckled at the reminder of the youth's ridiculous predicament. His face grew red and eyes blank--as though he had thought the idea of actually learning something was a sick joke. He looked around him, stumbling for some coherant thing to say other than "Um ... um ...", as the youth realized that he did more goofing off than paying attention.

The tall woman stepped close and put her arm around his shoulders. "Next time I give you instructions, you'd best decide what I mean and do it, hmm Mr. Rhodes." Adrian nodded and gulped until she released him. She glanced over her team members. "Some answer is better than no answer at all, so say something or risk looking like a complete idiot."

At that, Alex began to interrogate down the line of S.T.A.R.S. trainees, finding some mistake in every answer that was given. Jo did her best to defend as many as possible, but the captain was brutal as well as thorough in her judgements. Clive Hargrove stated that the whole thing was quite unorthodox and was reprimanded severely for insubordination, 40 years old or not. Raquel and Seth bashed on each other, and the woman deemed their comments snide and biased, whether they were accurate or not. Raquel insisted that Seth was a male chauvanist, which he was, but both had a mocking attitude that Alex refused to tolerate.

Martin she had far less to complain about, as his statements actually taught the rest of the team to pay close attention. The birds, he insisted, were content and that was a sign to him that the city was safe for now. Brett Davis agreed with him, but his casual conversations with his comrades also gave him insight into the personalities of two members. Audrey's knowledge of the state, he pointed out, would be exceptionally useful. However, it seemed that Tatyana was incredibly superstitious and riddled with numerous phobias--including claustrophobia. When the captain warned her that these things were nothing, the poor Russian burst into tears. Alex had her turn in her uniform immediately and sent her hoe to find a safer occupation, noting the need for a substitution on her clipboard.

Jiro, perhaps, was the most observant, for he had found the structurally weak areas of the house and the best vantage point in the immediate vicinity (which was not the tree overhead). He was, however, scolded for learning absolutely nothing about his team-mates and teaching them nothing of himself. The youth took it all very gracefully and said he would attempt to be more friendly.

Derek Marlowe's response to Alex's probing quickly turned the group on edge again. He informed the captain that no one trusted her and no one trusted any of the other recruits either. She said it didn't even take eyes to know that they didn't trust her and that the lack of trust was a lie, for as she pointed out Brett and Audrey had made friends very quickly.

Finally, after questioning Audry, Bevan, and Clive she turned to Annette, who stood shaking in her boots. It made the tall captain almost want to give her sympathy, but she couldn't afford the kindness, or risk playing favorites. As cooly as she questioned all the others, she asked, "Annette, what did you learn?"

The black haired girl tried to raise her gray gaze to meet the blue eyes, but failed. Instead, she looked over her head to the ever-smiling Jo and feeling reassured spoke in a quiet, but clear voice: "I learned everyone's names, which is a start ..." Alex raised one eyebrow, so the youth cleared her throat and went on, "I also discovered that our susperiors like to spy on their team in the trees, sir."

Alex fought back her grin, tightening her frown across her face. Finally, a trainee who was observant of her surroundings for more than five minutes. She looked over at Jo, pursing her lips slightly for a moment, then turned back to the line. "I don't suppose anyone other than Miss Riddle noticed me in the tree with Sullivan?" There was a long pause. "I didn't think so." Alex turned back to the gray-eyed woman and looked at her grimly. "Riddle, why didn't you inform the rest of the team that we were in the tree?"

Annette looked taken aback for a second. "Well, sir, I assumed that you wanted to remain hidden for a reason. I didn't want to interfere."

"You kept important information from your colleagues. Now would you keep an observation such as that to yourself in an emergency?"

"No sir."

"Then don't do it in training. That's a lesson for all of you." Alex clapped her hands together. "Believe it or not, that's all I have planned for this session. I've already kept you longer than Umbrella paid me to keep you today. Remember, this was the easy part. It gets harder from here and if you whine you will be dismissed. All practice sessions will be impromptu for a week. After a week Jo and I will be conducting a kind of S.T.A.R.S. boot camp here at the headquarters. Pack only the necessities, because we will all be living together. That is all. You are dismissed."

Most of the trainees seemed all too eager to get out of the captain's sight. Within a few minutes all that were left were Alex, Jo, and miraculously enough, the boxer-clad Adrian. That young man, despite all his kidding, looked concerned as he walked up to Jo.

"Sullivan?"

"Call me Jo. You've been dismissed." She smiled at him and he smiled back, eying Alex apprehensively. "Oh, she won't bite while I'm talking with you. What do you need?"

"Well, I was just worried about Tatyana. Captain Quenby really upset her today."

Jo nodded. "Adrian, Alex Quenby is just trying to figure out who has the mettle to survive. If Tatyana were in an emergency, she would just be jeopardizing herself and the group because of her phobias. She's been formally dismissed from the team for her protection as well as this city's."

"So if we can't take the frying pan, then you guys won't throw us into the fire?"

"Exactly."

Adrian looked at her for a moment and grinned. "So why aren't you captain?"

"Isn't it obvious, I'm too nice. Now get out of here--and take that uniform with you."

"Alright." Adrian walked through the door, but poked his head back out. "Can I change before I go?"

From where she stood facing away from him, Alex grinned. "You're not on my time now."

"I'll take that as a yes."



***



Break Room, Bioject Warehouse



Marion Forscythe sat at the table in the dimly lit breakroom, sipping what had to be her third cup of coffee this afternoon. Her hand shook as she lifted the cup to her lips, however her jitters weren't just from the caffeine. The whole idea of the Lazarus Operation had her uptight. Her mind had been having a moral hissy-fit ever since she gave the go-ahead to Albert Wesker.

The door opened behind her. "Speak-of-the-devil," she muttered, thinking that a very good analogy.

The tall blond man pulled up a chair beside her and set the duralumin case he was carrying on the table. Shielded eyes watched the quaking hands, perterbed. "I'm glad that you're more of a scientist than a surgeon, Dr. Forscythe, otherwise I'd be worried about the procedure that you promised to complete with me."

The woman pushed her glasses up her nose. "Its the damn coffee--someone made it too strong."

"You I gather." Wesker gave a smug smile and gestured to the case. "Everything we need to begin the Operation is now present in this building."

Marion looked down at the case and up again to Wesker's more-than-perfect face. She lifted her shaking hand to flick a strang of hair from her face, working her lips together nervously.

"Now, doctor, you aren't actually thinking of bailing out are you? That would be most unfortunate for the both of us."

The woman put her hands flat on the desk to stop the shaking. "No-no, but I can't help wondering if this is right. I mean, this is like playing God with a human being who hasn't even given his consent for it. There's a 70% chance that if he is revived that he'll be a vegetable for the rest of his life, and that wouldn't be a quality way to live. Its really a kind of Limbo state that's worse than death. Besides, if there's the possibility of a human soul--"

"Marion, Marion, I thought you were an atheist."

"Atheists don't believe in God--souls have nothing to do with it. Besides, I'm agnostic."

"Well, now that the little detail of theology is clarified, I'd like to say my piece."

"Fine."

"First, consider it a medical breakthrough. If we succeed in completely reanimating a human being who's sole reason for dying was tissue damage, we'' have the medical break-through of the century, not to mention a kind of biological weapon far better than Umbrella's infamous T-virus. We're talking about immortality, Dr. Forscythe. Mankind would have one less thing to permanently die from. Game, set, match."

"But if it fails?"

"It won't fail. The subject hasn't been dead long enough for me to even consider the option of failure, just like the last human to go through the Operation."

"What? You've--"

"Yes. The Operation succeeded once already."



***



Midfield Valley, S.T.A.R.S. Headquarters



The hammer echoed inside the house where Jo had finished sweeping. Alex stood outside, nailing a cozy sign to the front door. The brunette walked out and shook her head, shivering a little as the temperature started to drop.

"Abandon all hop ye who enter here," the woman read aloud.

Alex stood back and admired her handiwork. "You like it?"

"You're sick, Alex, do you know that?"

"I find it funny. Tell me you don't see the humor in it."

"I don't"

The blond walked into the house. Jo followed her and shut the door behind her, locking it. She picked up the sweeper and put it away. "I think things went well today." Alex snorted, tossing her head. "Well, better than I thought it would," the brunette finished. She shut the closet door and looked around the room. "This place is still such a mess."

Alex flopped on one of the ugly couches and stared at the brown eyed woman. "What are you saying? You could operate off this floor."

Jo shook her head and laughed. "I don't know about that ... You contact Umbrella about Baranovskaya?"

"Not yet. I want to find a replacement before they do."

There was a knock at the door and the two looked at each other. "Who could it be now?" grumped the blonde.

"Don't worry, I'll get it." Jo took the short walk back to the door and opened it. A gray-haired lady holding a box of cookies and the leash attached to a great Dane stood there smiling at her. "Hi?"

"Hello, sweetie. I saw you and your friend move in and I baked you some cookies."

"Oh, thankyou very much. Do come in."

"Don't mind if I do. I'm Mona Feldmen--live across the street--and this is my Tiny Tim." The woman stepped inside and the gigantic dog followed.

"I'm Jo Sullivan and the woman on the couch is Alex Quenby."

The lady grinned, a couple of wrinkles creasing her relatively smooth cheeks. "Nice to meet you two." She looked around the room. "I must say, its about time they gave us one of these S.T.A.R.S. teams. Not that I need one. No sombies are getting in my house. But those college students--they just can't fend for themselves." She patted her Dane on the head and he wagged his huge tail. It made a loud thumping noise on Alex's couch. The blond grinned at the dog, amused.

"Have a seat Mrs. Feldmen, and you can tell us about it. Jo has some iced tea in the fridge if you want some."

Mona sat down and smiled, blue eyes gleaming with the fire that only certain old ladies had. "Iced tea would be nice." The dog jumped on Alex's lap and tried to lick her face. "Down, Timmy."

Jo left the room and fetched iced tea for perhaps the billionth time that day. She put the cookies on the counter for later and brought out the glass for the gray-haired Feldmen. She smiled at her graciously, revealing a mouth that still had all of its teeth.

"Thankyou, m'dear. Now let me tell you something about Umbrella ..."

TBC in Chapter 5.