Chapter Eight: Yet another flashback chapter with some stuff at the beginning. More is revealed-and Wesker and Birkin duke it out! Hooray! More Reviews please! I love them so much its disgraceful J but I love this story more! Hooray story!
Hamster: * grin * people don't like it when they update fast? I'll tell you a little secret about my writing process-usually once I finish a chapter I get started on the second one ;) That's based on something that Steven King once said in, "On writing." If you let characters and such get stale-even when doing fanfiction-they stop seeming as real. This is a big project for me-so I keep it fresh. Thank you so much for your support! :)
Confusing reality I see myself but it's not really me
How could it be when I am me
I guess maybe it's just a dream
C'mon c'mon wake up wake up
And things aren't what they seem
C'mon c'mon c'mon wake up wake up
And people are fake too
I don't lie in dreams although I lye in my sleep
And I don't sleep to dream yet everything that I see is haunting
Bent truths controlling my world I see the depths of it my toes curl
I feel so sick I'm sick of this because I know that I'm not asleep
"Dreams" – Taproot
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1978
Monday
A few miles outside Raccoon City.
"Don't worry about it." Jake Kevin said, "Its just a minor forest fire."
"Don't be so sure." One of the other firemen said, "This forest is said to be cursed-ancient Indian Burial site-the whole shit." He raised the hose higher-the fire was out for all intensive purposes-this was standard cleanup.
"You wanna do recon? Make sure there's no more blazes?" Jake was the Fire Chief. Michael had wanted to be like him since the academy.
"Well Sir-Don't you think we'd be able to see them?"
"Maybe, but I want to warn the Spencer mansion."
Michael frowned, "Spencer mansion?"
"Yes. Spencer Mansion. Big place-about a mile that way-can't miss it."
Michael shrugged out of his fire-fighting gear and began to walk in the direction that the chief was pointing. Life was full of drudgery if you were a public servant…
After walking for about a half an hour he arrived.
The building was big. Overwhelmingly huge-it was brocaded with glass windows and was fronted by a great green field.
"Whoa."
Hopefully whoever lives here will take pity on a pour fireman and get him a nice cold drink. He smiled, There are days where a cold drink-a cold anything is better then sex and today is one of those…
It was one of those "Days" indeed.
He peered upward as he heard the dim sounds of a helicopter echoing away in the distance. Were they having some kind of problem? Just who the hell lived out here anyway?
Griping, Michael wiped a hand thorough his thick black hair and sighed audibly. He reached the front steps of the house and collapsed on the woodwork staring upward at the ceiling of the porch.
The door opened, and three large burly men hauled him inside.
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1986
So?" Delaney was sitting at the kitchen table, "You met this…Mr. Wesker?"
Michael sighed, "Yeah. 18 fucking years old and he was the boss of a whole bunch of people. And his little buddy Birkin was worse. The two of them stood over me-laughing-but I owe my life to Albert Wesker." He sighed, "and there's not a day I don't regret it."
"So in exchange for your life…"
"I sold them stuff. I worked my way up through the fire department…and I delivered cadavers to Birkin."
Sherry blinked, "YOU WERE THE ONE WHO-"
Michael sighed, "Yeah, I stole from you and a whole bunch of other people. After a while I'd "like" he held up his fingers, making those familiar quotation hand gestures, "To say that Dr. Wesker and I became friends-but recently he came to me about a problem…"
"Does Chief Irons know about this?"
"Chief Irons is taking bribes from every organization." Michael snorted, "From Umbrella to the Girl Scouts. He's a pervert too-or didn't you know that the "paragon of virtue" from that big east coast college has a rape charge?
"Coming from a man who stole Cadavers from me that's quite a compliment." Delaney said. She rose out of her chair, "Did they by any chance say what they were doing with those Cadavers?"
Michael frowned and bit his lip. The morning sun was bright now streaming in through the pink (A/N-yes, the Eighties was a time of horrible kitchen coloring) kitchen.
Good Morning Raccoon City! This is Barney K. with your eye in the sky traffic and news-it looks like traffic going to Silent Hill is practically at a standstill so we're looking at a nice long time for the weather…and in other news-grisly murders threaten our beloved hamlet! Last night not one-but four bodies were found in specific locations around the city! Police are calling the killer "Hannibal Lector" Umbrella Corporation has generously agreed to -
"That would be Umbrella." Michael turned off the radio, "Eager to cover up anything that might convict them."
"But Redfield…" Delaney yawned, "Who-What do they have to do with dead guys? Conducting illegal medical research?" she rubbed her hands through her hair, "Gods I need coffee."
"I'll get you some." Michael said. He stood and padded over to his cupboards-done in a tasteful shade of seventies yellow, "You like Columbia?"
"Who doesn't?" Delaney yawned again, "Shit. Jake's going to be mad at me. He doesn't like me working crime scenes where people are mutilated."
"Didn't you get a case like that in New York?" Michael poured the coffee grounds into a tasteless Japanese Monstrosity coffee maker that was shaped like a cat with one paw raised.
"Michael. What the hell is Umbrella doing out there?"
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Spencer mansion-Morning.
"Morning. The beginning of a day. Another terrible day. "
-Rei Ayanami
Wesker peered upward at the light, "Aww shit. Its morning." The sounds of the mansion of the dead coming alive were all around them.
"It had to be." Annette was buttoning up her blouse, "Birkin and I were outside for most of the evening. Ergo-we can assume that it's morning."
"Such a smart woman." Wesker kissed her neck, "What say we adjourn to the labs for a little private study session?"
Annette acquiesced-briefly, "No! Someone will see. More importantly Birkin will see." She stood up, "I should go back to my room and get dressed."
"Lets get breakfast first."
Annette sighed and ran her fingers through her hair trying to make it vaguely presentable.
"Well…I guess I can stand it for a bit." Annette managed to grin, "Lets just try to be colleagues though okay? I really don't want anyone to think of me as a cheater."
Even though that's what you are…
"What?"
"Um." Annette bit her lip, "Forget I said anything."
Wesker studied her for a moment before nodding brusquely. He took her hand, almost possessively, and led her from the dining hall down to where the cafeteria was located.
Without taste-the builders had decided to put it directly next to the lab area (most likely contributing to why many of the researchers rushed to the restrooms after a hard day of work) the hallway was loaded with various personnel-in various stages of dress and undress-all heading for breakfast or whatever passed for breakfast.
Annette felt someone push past her-a very familiar pallid figure in a lab coat. He strode quickly through the double doors. She peered closer-watching him stand in line.
Dammit. Why the hell did he have to show up? Because he works here bitch-you don't think he'd notice?
"Birkin! Are you and woods going to get cracking on our little bodies' case? I'd like you to go downtown to pick up the bodies." Wesker clapped his friend on the back, but Annette noted his unusually cold expression.
"I'll get right on it." He did not so much as look at Annette as he spoke.
"William?" She came foreward, "Is everything alright?" the usual ice-wall coming off of Birkin was thicker then normal.
He glared at her-his ice blue eyes cold-with a hint of malice. She took an involuntary step backward right into Wesker's arms.
"Birkin. What the hell's the problem with you?"
"Would you really like to know?" Birkin dropped his tray with a crash. The breakfast noise quieted a bit.
"Listen, William, darling."
"Don't talk to me. I was not addressing you Dr. LeDour. I was speaking to my esteemed colleague. Dr. Wesker."
"What the hell are you talking about Birkin?" Wesker looked confused, "What did I do to piss you and your high and mighty scientific abilities off this time?"
"This is gonna be ugly." A passing Animal behaviorist said to Annette, "You've never seen them duke it out have you."
"That is enough Dr. Wu." Birkin said, "This is none of your concern."
"Yeah Henry. Listen-William, perhaps we'd better take this outside." Wesker was glancing at the rest of the employees-their actions were causing quite a bit of a pariah moment.
"Fine." Birkin pushed through the double doors. Annette was shoved rudely aside as the two men exited the cafeteria.
"Those two." Wu peered after them, "Like brothers-but they'd kill each other."
"What?" Annette cried. She cursed herself; her voice was unusually high, "What do you mean kill each other?"
"It hasn't happened yet." A passing tech said cheerfully, "But we have a little bit of a pool going. As Dr. Birkin's girlfriend-you want a shot?"
Annette gasped, then ran after them.
"Huh." The tech stood next to Dr. Wu, "Its up to a coupla thousand. I thought for sure she'd want a stake."
"Not everyone likes to gamble." Dr. Wu said, "Lets go get a seat and discuss our plans to deal with the recent delay we've had in our work."
"Yes sir."
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The Outskirts of Raccoon City
Michael blew past the "You are now leaving…please come again!" sign as he sped out into the forest-down a dirt path.
"Michael! You still haven't told me what the hell they're doing out here!" Sherry Delaney was gripping the seat with a vengeance. Her terrified green eyes stared foreward as Michael Redfield bounced the car through the "bush" that surrounded Raccoon.
"Holy Shit that was a fuckin' tree!" Delaney ducked her head, "Michael! Stop driving like a goddamn teenager!"
He turned a sharp corner and began to head down another path. The sturdy little vehicle was bouncing up and down like a little rubber ball.
If Umbrella is responsible. He'd hunt them down. He'd done what Wesker had asked-because he'd spared his life when he had no doubt that the men in the dark suits were going to kill him. He was just a fireman for Chrissake!
"Michael…"
I'm just a fireman. I just put out fires. That's my job-nice and simple. I don't have to loose it because I know that the fires can be destroyed. They can be killed. Cops can't do that. Cops have to deal with people.
"Michael….."
I didn't see a corpse fall open on my doorstep. I haven't been stealing burn victims for Umbrella for the past eight years. I don't know what they're doing-I don't know what they're doing-I don't-
"REDFIELD! WATCH THE GODDAMN ROAD!"
And the Little Red Jeep with the Words, "Raccoon City Fire Department." Went bouncing over a hill into nothingness.
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Umbrella Morgue.
"Why down here?" Wesker ignored the goose pimples that appeared on his skin. He was still wearing the same clothes from the previous evening-which would do nothing for anyone who happened to see him. Maybe he could change before going to see Irons to get more of a press block on these "Hannibal Lector killings…"
The Umbrella Morgue could have stepped out of a thousand cities. They were surrounded by a hundred steel doors-each carefully numbered and catalogued. Next to the door was a great bay window-for observation of autopsies and dissections. Birkin continued to busy himself with one of the drawers-empty-much to Wesker's Chagrin.
"Listen…Birkin…about Annette-"
"Who?"
Wesker frowned, "Annette LeDour? The New Orleans beauty? The Tomcat?" he folded his arms and blinked at his own stupidity.
Oh Shit…
"Who? Annette? The woman who I'm dating?" Birkin whirled about. Wesker peered closer and dropped his arms to his sides. Birkin had something pale and thin in his hands-glinting like the key to some lost civilization.
A syringe.
"What the hell is that? What does this half to do with Tomcat LeDour?"
"Is that what you call her when you're having sex."
Wesker froze. The cold atmosphere in the room intensified.
"Jesus…Birkin…she means nothing to me." He held up a hand, "Put down the syringe-or I'll break your fucking neck." He could do it-it just would pain him to do so. Annette really did like William Birkin, and his wife did as well.
"I don't think so." Birkin's chest heaved, his eyes glittering, "I think I'll begin the Tyrant project a little earlier then scheduled Dr. Wesker. Would you like to assist?"
"William-please." Wesker found himself against the door.
"You really don't have any choice." Birkin cradled the syringe like a child. Wesker was suddenly very aware of how like Marcus his friend seemed at that point in time.
Marcus never actually injected anybody with anything. Birkin had loyally studied the man-as had Wesker. He had used gas to infect the first of his "experiments" on humans…
"You're slipping Birkin." Wesker reached under a table praying for a firearm, "If you're trying to play at being Dr. Marcus he used gas remember?" the thought of actually being infected with one of the viruses frightened him to no end. Knowing that your humanity was going to slip away…
He tries anything I'll get him with it. Wesker tensed, Marsha always said I'd be good working with Internal Affairs- they handled stuff like this all the time…right?
THUMP
Birkin whirled about, "What?"
THUMP! BUMP MBUP BUMP BUMP.
"It's coming from one of the Trays." Wesker pointed. The tray was clearly visible-the very frame was shaking.
Birkin jumped back, off the table-to land on his rear and back on the cold floor. He let out a yelp of surprise as the cold floor hit him-then groaned.
"You…slept with her…"
"Shut up." Wesker dug into a cabinet. Files, files-more files-
"Birkin! There's supposed to be a gun in this room!" he whispered. He bent lower, to another cabinet-and came face to face with another stack of files.
"Third cabinet." Birkin pointed. He groaned again as he slowly got to his feet, "Why did you sleep with her?"
The tray began to Jerk and jump again. Wesker reached into the third cabinet and found the glock-standard issue for all areas of the lab.
Half loaded.
"Were you people shooting rats again?" Wesker sighed as he saw the half empty clip, "What's the most important thing when working around the undead Birkin?"
"Always carry a full gun." He muttered absentmindedly.
"Come here and help me with the drawer." Whatever it was, it was getting more impatient. The sound of something still alive in the tray was very evident.
Birkin hung back, "Why? You slept with my girlfriend. You-seduced her you-you-succubus!"
Wesker squinted, "what the fuck are you talking about?"
Birkin backed away slowly.
"Fine." He gripped the handle of the tray tightly. The steel and sweat making it difficult to hold onto. He heard Birkin thumping about behind him-and heard the slow steady sound of a gun being made ready to fire.
GRAWRRRRRRRR
The drawer exploded.
Wesker felt himself being thrown backward. The rest of the action was a blur. He heard Birkin cry out-shots fired-then he took aim at the head-
The head
Michael the morgue guy. Decayed and visibly affected by the cold of the room around him-but there was no mistaking that hair-or that face.
What the hell is going on?
Mike let out a snarl and jumped foreward. Birkin was unconscious on the ground-his head rolled back at an odd angle.
Wesker fired.
Mike collapsed across the examination table-scattering various tools of the trade. Birkin groaned and sat up, amazed that his formerly spotless lab coat was now drenched in blood.
"I'm not dead."
"Thank god." Wesker took a deep breath, "Listen. I'm sorry huh? Give me a hand with this guy."
Birkin nodded once and stood slowly. From the way he walked-Wesker could tell that his leg was still hurting from his ridiculous leap backward-but Birkin uttered not a word of complaint.
Discipline, Obedience, Unity. Wesker bowed his head and moved to the other side of the table, How true still today? He could almost hear Dr. Marcus's voice ringing in his ears…
"Well." Birkin reached for a box of gloves, "You going to assist?"
"You going to be an ass?"
"No." Birkin shook his head, "Listen-I'm sorry. About-everything. You're not the one I should be mad at." His eyes grew dark and Wesker found himself thinking of Tomcat upstairs.
"Don't be mad at her either Birkin." Wesker took the box from his hands, "she's young and she doesn't really know what she's doing. I heard she was really into Jack-that guy-he came to a meeting once-" Wesker waved a hand about, "You know who he was?"
"Jack?" Birkin frowned, "No…but then again-no." he shook his head, "Pass me that scalpel would you? I'm going to make the Y-incision."
Wesker frowned, "I came out in the first place because people were disappearing. Do you think Jack might have been one of those people?"
"Completing Y-incision." Birkin folded back the flaps of skin, "beginning to classify major organs." The inner workings of one Michael the morgue worker were suddenly spilled all about the table as Birkin calmly shifted through intestine.
"There were three people who vanished. The specimen collectors…" Wesker spoke softly.
During the instance where Birkin had felt the need to compete with Alexia-Wesker had become close to the specimen collectors. Brad, Kevin, and Lyn were all trained in trapping, hunting and fishing. When he had conducted his studies on the T-Virus affecting other creatures they'd been beneficial.
"I sent them out and they didn't come back."
"And that didn't bother you?" Wesker said incredulous, "Three people not coming back?"
Birkin peered upward at him, blood soaked lab coat, his hands filled with human parts-William Birkin looked like a horror movie reject.
"What did you say?"
Of course, if it's not dead and on a table Birkin doesn't give a shit. Wesker sighed. He sometimes wished his partner had a little bit of a can-do attitude about what he did for a living.
"Well it wasn't T." Birkin dropped the intestines, "If Annette was hear she might be able to confirm it-but I'm confident in my theory."
"It can't be progenitor." Wesker picked up the intestines off the floor and winced as they slopped over him. You really needed to wear proper clothing for this sort of thing, "Because the eyes-"
William Birkin was frozen over the zombie's face-its moth eaten teeth showing a hideous leer.
"The eyes are dilated." He pulled back, "From over exposure to Ebola-the veins are dilated as well."
Wesker peered at the eyes.
One of the trademark side effects of progenitor-was the red eye syndrome. The veins in the eye would become dilated-causing the victim to appear as if they had hundreds of tiny red worms crawling beneath the cornea. The virus would usually culminate in blood pouring out of the eye in copious amounts. Then the traditional mucous filled response as the eye tried to heal itself.
Mike's eyes were open wide-and red.
"We have an outbreak situation." William's voice was monotone, cold and small, "We need to begin evacuation procedures immediately."
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Somewhere in Raccoon Forest.
A trail of debris and broken branches marked the descent of the RFD jeep.
It lay-tossed aside like a child's toy-on its side directly against one of the famous sentinel trees Sherry Delaney was sprawled out the passenger's side door bleeding profusely from a wound in her temple. Her uniform was torn-her face lying serenely on a patch of dirt. On the driver's side, Michael Redfield groaned and peered upward at the sky coming from a very skewed perspective.
"Sh-Sherry?"
Sherry Delaney groaned.
"Sherry? Are you dead?" this was a good thing to ask in these situations. Considering his last memories were of flying through the air and being attached to a large hunk of metal. Was I on a roller coaster? He frowned; They forgot to lay the track then.
He peered upward at a mansion and then he knew.
A few minutes later, Sherry Delaney rejoined the world of the living. She crawled out from beneath the crushed jeep and rolled down the dirt away from the car.
"Gods…"
She came to rest against another tree. She sighed and pushed herself up reluctant to leave the comfortable ground. Her eyes cast about for Michael-the last thing she remembered was that he was clutching at her neck…
"Redfield?"
A dim shape blocked her view-almost rudely. She peered at it intently and realized that the pale figure standing before it was her companion.
I'm gonna kill him. She would, string him up and leave him in the woods like that movie about the witch, I'm gonna cut his fuckin' head off and shove it up his-
"Is that the mansion?" he would know. He'd been there. He'd delivered the corpses of good innocent people there.
Michael Redfield stared back at the Medical Examiner for Raccoon City. His eyes were wide and terrified.
"No."
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A/N-There's Chapter Eight! *This is gonna end up being one of my favorites * In case you're wondering-yes-the mansion that Sherry and Michael have come across is the same mansion that Rebecca Chambers and Billy Coen come across in RE Zero!
Note about viruses: If you're familiar with Ebola (I wasn't until recently) one of the things that it causes is bleeding out the eyeballs. (Twitch) gross-yes-I knows. Anyway, I figured it was a nice tribute to real life because when your body heals it oozes mucous and stuff, which would explain the zombie, eyes…yeah.
TBC-Chapter 9! I hope you stay tuned! Things get even better! Next big match up, William Birkin Vs. Annette LeDour!