Chapter Two
Claire had had enough of all this shit. Raccoon, Rockfort . . . ah, hell, this had just gone too far. That's why . . . that's why she had the pistol in a holster on her belt! After the two cities, Antarctica, Alexia and Alfred, blah, blah . . . she had bought a pistol. It wasn't the strongest weapon, only a Sig Sauer 226. But, at least it could stop something. Her hand went to her holster quickly, unlatching the button that held it closed. The heavy pistol slowly slid from its container, and into her experienced, but shaking hands.
The shot rang loud and clear, and hit dead on. A hole appeared in the things forehead, and it slumped over, dead, bleeding dark, disgusting smelling fluid. The thud that came when it fell to the floor was sickening, but they had no time to think about it. The plane had almost reached the ground. Chris jumped for the cockpit, and grabbed the yoke. He pulled back on it, and it started to rise.
Claire breathed a sigh of relief, until she saw that they were going too fast . . . too fast, and too low. Just like at Antarctica . . . just like with Steve, the plane landing, the freaky cross dresser named Alfred . . .
The plane hit, and scraped against the pavement of the runway. The sound was deafening, making Claire, Chris, and Leon hold their hands to their ears. The plane spun, the scraping getting louder, the sound of the engines ripping from the side almost ear shattering . . .
When Leon woke, he seemed to be held down, maybe by a piece of metal from the crash. But, when he looked around, he saw he was tied to a table with rope. He struggled a bit, but knew it worthless. Trying to appraise the situation from his current position, Leon found nothing more about his surroundings, except that he was in a dungeon, bricks making up the walls. The ceiling was not very high, and the room was lit with a few torches, all of which burned with a very soft light.
A few footsteps fell from the direction of his feet. A man walked up next to him, a tall, red-haired, kind of young man. Leon couldn't see his eyes, but knew that the man was looking at him. The piercing stare . . . he looked like a man who had been through a lot of unnecessary pain. There was a pistol at his side, on a holster. It looked about the size of Claire's . . . might even have been hers.
"Well, isn't this interesting? The famous Leon Kennedy . . . Claire has told me all about you. Every . . . little . . . detail. I know your strengths, weaknesses, personality traits . . . so don't try anything stupid, alright?" Leon had no freakin' idea who this son of a bitch was, but he was crazy, that's for sure.
"You know Claire? Is she alright?" He was worried for her friend, wondering if this twit had taken her too. He would rip this guy to pieces if Claire wasn't safe. Something told him that this guy was bad news, but that can be naturally assumed by just listening to his voice.
"Oh, I don't know. I didn't find her on the plane. She must have launched into the desert. I hope she's all right, though . . . " His voice became more maniacal, and Leon could make out a smile creeping across his face. "Because, you see, I still love her, like I did in Antarctica."
Leon's eyes widened, and he gasped. He knew who this was . . . it was the guy that Claire escaped Rockfort with a year ago! The name didn't come to mind right away, but Claire told him that whatshisface was very helpful back then, thinking on his feet, solving puzzles, comforting Claire when she needed it . . . but, this couldn't be the same guy. This guy was the complete opposite of what Claire had described.
"Hmm.I can tell by your reaction that you're . . . surprised? Heh . . . didn't expect ol' Steve Burnside to be here, did you? I didn't think so. I am so pleased to meet you, Mr. Kennedy. I've been waiting so long for this moment . . . and now, I'm gonna torture and kill you. When you die, Claire will be mine to love! Nothing for you . . . just like the rat you are. Worthless."
Claire had had enough of all this shit. Raccoon, Rockfort . . . ah, hell, this had just gone too far. That's why . . . that's why she had the pistol in a holster on her belt! After the two cities, Antarctica, Alexia and Alfred, blah, blah . . . she had bought a pistol. It wasn't the strongest weapon, only a Sig Sauer 226. But, at least it could stop something. Her hand went to her holster quickly, unlatching the button that held it closed. The heavy pistol slowly slid from its container, and into her experienced, but shaking hands.
The shot rang loud and clear, and hit dead on. A hole appeared in the things forehead, and it slumped over, dead, bleeding dark, disgusting smelling fluid. The thud that came when it fell to the floor was sickening, but they had no time to think about it. The plane had almost reached the ground. Chris jumped for the cockpit, and grabbed the yoke. He pulled back on it, and it started to rise.
Claire breathed a sigh of relief, until she saw that they were going too fast . . . too fast, and too low. Just like at Antarctica . . . just like with Steve, the plane landing, the freaky cross dresser named Alfred . . .
The plane hit, and scraped against the pavement of the runway. The sound was deafening, making Claire, Chris, and Leon hold their hands to their ears. The plane spun, the scraping getting louder, the sound of the engines ripping from the side almost ear shattering . . .
When Leon woke, he seemed to be held down, maybe by a piece of metal from the crash. But, when he looked around, he saw he was tied to a table with rope. He struggled a bit, but knew it worthless. Trying to appraise the situation from his current position, Leon found nothing more about his surroundings, except that he was in a dungeon, bricks making up the walls. The ceiling was not very high, and the room was lit with a few torches, all of which burned with a very soft light.
A few footsteps fell from the direction of his feet. A man walked up next to him, a tall, red-haired, kind of young man. Leon couldn't see his eyes, but knew that the man was looking at him. The piercing stare . . . he looked like a man who had been through a lot of unnecessary pain. There was a pistol at his side, on a holster. It looked about the size of Claire's . . . might even have been hers.
"Well, isn't this interesting? The famous Leon Kennedy . . . Claire has told me all about you. Every . . . little . . . detail. I know your strengths, weaknesses, personality traits . . . so don't try anything stupid, alright?" Leon had no freakin' idea who this son of a bitch was, but he was crazy, that's for sure.
"You know Claire? Is she alright?" He was worried for her friend, wondering if this twit had taken her too. He would rip this guy to pieces if Claire wasn't safe. Something told him that this guy was bad news, but that can be naturally assumed by just listening to his voice.
"Oh, I don't know. I didn't find her on the plane. She must have launched into the desert. I hope she's all right, though . . . " His voice became more maniacal, and Leon could make out a smile creeping across his face. "Because, you see, I still love her, like I did in Antarctica."
Leon's eyes widened, and he gasped. He knew who this was . . . it was the guy that Claire escaped Rockfort with a year ago! The name didn't come to mind right away, but Claire told him that whatshisface was very helpful back then, thinking on his feet, solving puzzles, comforting Claire when she needed it . . . but, this couldn't be the same guy. This guy was the complete opposite of what Claire had described.
"Hmm.I can tell by your reaction that you're . . . surprised? Heh . . . didn't expect ol' Steve Burnside to be here, did you? I didn't think so. I am so pleased to meet you, Mr. Kennedy. I've been waiting so long for this moment . . . and now, I'm gonna torture and kill you. When you die, Claire will be mine to love! Nothing for you . . . just like the rat you are. Worthless."