Chapter 3:
Things were going perfect so far, with the experiments on Wesker being successful, and him being co-operative. But sadly he had caught on to our intentions. Once he has succeeded in his mission, then he's useless. We won't destroy him. Just experiment with him; find out why our tests worked on him, and no one else. But having the T-Veronica Virus, that would be no worry to him. The T-Veronica Virus has endless potential:
We.... No, I could rule the world with it!
Wesker had better find it! Wesker, that fool, constantly overestimating his importance.
Trent smiled.
He's nothing!
Trent thought back, to when his father was still with him. His smile changed to a look of intensity. 'I'll do you proud, father!'
His father, the founder of HCF, he was a genius. When Umbrella had emerged, he's the one that had the great idea, to enrol me within their ranks. It was my job to steal Umbrella's secrets, report them to my father, and even to sabotage them. The S.T.A.R.S, they had been a great help! I made sure to help them out, give them all the info they needed. Heh! They're probably still trying to find ways to destroy Umbrella!
Well, any little helps!
***
Barry had started out towards a bar; he'd heard that Umbrella workers went to drink there. From what he'd heard, it was a scummy little joint, but hopefully, all he needed would be there. And it was just around the corner.
I'll also be able to get a little pick-me-up from there.
And there it was nothing special, just an ordinary bar. But the rumours he'd heard were right: it was a shithole. He pushed the door open, and several eyes glanced his way. It was unlike a regular bar, it was quiet, too quiet, and nobody was speaking! He instantly felt like he wasn't welcome.
The walls were brown, and in some places the plaster was revealed. The tile floor was dusty. And it generally felt gloomy inside. There were about a dozen people inside, several around the bar. Many of them were still staring at him. He was now starting to wish he were somewhere else. But this was the place; some of the people here could be working for Umbrella.
Barry walked up to the bar on his left, when suddenly the barman spoke, 'Whaddya want?' the voice was unwelcoming and he couldn't decide whether he meant, what he wanted to drink, or why he was here, so he looked towards one of the crowd by the bar. 'Actually, I wanted to ask a couple of these guys some questions.' They all looked up towards him.
Shit, I really shouldn't be here!
'Go on, then.' The one of the men growled.
'Do any of you work for Umbrella?' He glanced over all of them.
'Who wants to know?' another man replied, aggressively.
'My name's Barry. I work for the American Police, I want to ask you something.'
'Get lost, scum! We don't like your sort around here!' one of the men snapped. They all nodded, muttering things Barry couldn't quite pick up.
'But this is important!' Barry was starting to feel desperate.
'OUT!' the barkeeper had jumped to his feet, pointing towards the door.
'Okay. But I'll be back!'
Shit! This has all gone wrong, they won't tell me anything. Now what?
He muttered a curse at the barkeeper, and was making his way towards the door. He turned, facing the crowd again. They stared back.
He wasn't welcome and he knew it!
And with that, he pushed the door, and stepped back out into the darkness...Only to walk into someone, someone familiar.
'Hullo, Mr Burton. Long time no see!'
***
Chris was dozing happily in his bed, when suddenly he was woken. By a piercing scream.
It was Rebecca, no doubt about it. Chris leapt up, he grabbed his Beretta from his bedside cabinet and bolted for the door, only to find that he was locked in.
Shit! Barry must have gone out and locked the door!.
Chris started bashing into the door, using his shoulder as a battering ram. It hurt like hell, but that didn't matter, Rebecca was in trouble!
Crashing through the doorway, the door smashing into the Hall wall, Chris ran straight to Rebecca's door, tugging at the handle.
Shit, another locked door!
Chris banged on it, 'Rebecca, are you okay?'
He waited; there was no reply. He banged again, harder than before. 'Rebecca!?' he yelled.
No response.
That was it, he needed to be in that room. He kicked the door twice. It still wouldn't budge. In his frustration he gripped his Beretta and aimed straight down at the lock.
Bang!
The lock blasted inwards, and like clockwork the door swung open.
Chris charged into the room, gripping his gun even tighter. He looked around.
Shit! She's gone.
Observing the room even closer, he saw that the window had been smashed. Inwards, as most of the debris had landed inside. He ran to the window and stared out, looking towards all the places she could have gone.
Nothing.
He ran back to his room, threw some clothes on, which were scattered over the floor by his bed, holstered his Beretta and flew out of the room.