A/N: Warnings ahead. This is my first attempt at writing fan fiction including Chris Redfield, Jill Valentine, and the other members of the decimated STARS team. Any comments, criticism, and such are greatly appreciated. I would especially love for somebody who can find me a good web page with their character vital stats.
The story takes place seven years after the Raccoon city incident that puts Sherry at 19, Claire at 26, and Wesker at 45. I mention these since they are the main characters in the story. This story (As you are about to see) is also EXTREMELY dark. It starts out with a major character death. Expect trauma and all sorts of other dark human emotions-you have been warned.
Disclaimer: Resident Evil all rights and privileges thereof are copyright Capcom international (Long may they reign) the characters of Dr. Kevin Lancaster, Ramirez, the police department of Wolf's Bluff Ohio, the staff of the Horizon Chemical Foundation (Including the board of directors) are as of this moment copyright me. Inferences are to be taken with a grain of salt, I'm building cities out of sand and you can't expect it all to be perfect can you?
Chapter one: Closed with tears and Rain.
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Too many weeds in the flowers
Too many pills in the pharmacy
Too many bugs in the shower
There's to much shit in the air we breath…
You try to help
You listen well
You cannot change the way I see
-Therapy" Smile Empty soul.
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Rain
The world outside was shrouded in wet soft sheets that clouded over the eyes of its participants and pushed them through the area quickly. Inside the café however the world was warm and soft. The fragrant scent of rich, exotic blends of coffee permeated the air and it's inhabitants-leaving them smelling like crushed coffee beans. All were content; everything was in its place-from those inside warming themselves with exotic brews, and those outside passing hurriedly through the world.
The woman at the café ignored the wet passerby and set her automatic motion machine again, the clicks keeping her calm. She click-clacked a few keys on her new laptop-continuing her letter.
That's how the story began, with a click.
"FREEZE!"
The inhabitants of the dark café screamed in terror. An "armed assailant" wrapped in a thick black coat to shroud him from the world outside raised a weapon defiantly and shot the cashier. He glared around wildly-daring the inhabitants of the smoky speakeasy to speak against his actions.
"Jesus!" a man cried, "You shot him!"
The assailant repeated the process again. More people screamed, a little girl clutched at her mother's skirt and began to wail in a high pitched, keening voice.
"SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT-"
No calming him, no resolution. He was cornered, most likely doped up-a depressed teenager moving in a world where nobody really cared about his problems. Unknown to the sixteen people that would die today, he would get off on a technicality because he was only 17 and came from a troubled home.
The woman closed the laptop as the teenager in his psychotropic wonderland began to peg more of the café inhabitants. People on the street now, peered through the wet shrouds and hurriedly grabbed for cellular phones, calling the police.
"ALL OF YOU CAN FUCKING GO TO HELL-AND THEN-AND THEN-"
The woman stood. Writing an armistice for the private world war hell occurring about her.
"Nobody has to die today." She said softly, soothing him-caressing him with her calm, reasonable voice, "If you put down the gun. I want to help you, I want to understand."
Being the sort of teenager common for these times, the young man studied this supposed Angel of Mercy, surrounded by the others, bleeding from various wounds. He was part of the electronic sex, information generation. This Deux ex Machina wouldn't fool him.
"No you don't." he said as he raised the gun, "You can die too."
In defense of this man it must be said that he truly did desire assistance. However like so many when confronted with a situation that did not merit reality and rationality, he had come to a realization.
He had power
And he liked it.
And no smart-ass bitch, with her calming voice and her police badge was going to take it away from him!
"Fucker!" The manager leapt over the counter, tackling the boy.
"Get your-hands-OFF!"
"Stop." The Angel continued, "Nobody has to die today-"
But neither man paid her heed.
The scuffle was brief. The papers would sum the life and death struggle up in a single line: " Store manager Brandon Jones struggled with the assailant Michael Williams for the gun to no avail."
"Stop!" the woman rushed forward and screamed as he pulled the gun upward shooting directly into her breast-upward into her chin. She dropped like a redwood tree.
The rest of the incident was seen in a haze of red for Michael Williams. Bodies became things as he continued firing, watching the violence explode from backs and legs and arms and heads. He played video games-he knew where the body had to go down in order to go down permanently.
"That's it." He looked back, breathing heavily, excited by what he'd done, "That's all of them."
He glanced toward the cash register, unimportant. There was still some moaning-towards the back where the mother cradled her daughter's heart wound-as if clutching her chest would prevent the blood from spurting out from between her fingers.
"Nothing else." He had to leave soon. Outside was filling with cars.
He grabbed a table and heaved mightily, setting up a barricade against the oncoming police. He cleared the floor of tables, stacking one against another-the adrenaline giving him superman strength. He flung bodies next-grabbing the angel of Mercy first-and stacking a stockbroker still clutching his cell phone against her.
"Pretty." He studied the angel of mercy, "Maybe I should have fucked you first."
Wasn't that what the bad guys did? They raped the women before taking them-made them pay for living-for thinking they were better. He wasn't bad though, these people had to die so that…
He shook his head and lifted her chin up to meet his eyes. Her face was pale, her jaw slack. She wore sky blue and white and a black mini skirt that was just begging to be investigated.
"Fucking whore."
That's what she probably was, a whore who slept with other men. Hell, killing her was a public service. They'd reward him.
He nodded, yes, reward.
"Wh-Wh-"
He turned around and fired-the red haze returning as he repeated the process once again-making sure that whoever or whatever spoke was completely dead.
Perhaps it was his conscious.
Taking one last look at his handy-work he dove out the back careful to take the keys from the body of the store manager-eyes glazed and jaw slack from their confrontation.
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BAM!
BAMM!
BAM-WHACK!
The barricade of bodies and table came down like the walls of Jericho as the city's SWAT team unit swarmed in.
Jesus, Mary, and mother-fucking Joseph. The captain swore and crossed himself, hoping to ward away the daemons in the scene around him, What the fuck happened?
No gas. A second SWAT member appeared behind him, We can take off the helmets.
He pulled off his helmet and looked back at his compatriots. Uniformed officers and fellow SWAT members swarmed over the hole like ants.
"We confirm no survivors with heat-vision." A Mexican man came up behind his boss, his black hair slicked back with gel, "Whoever did um in, did um in clean."
"Witnesses say that it was a kid." The woman peered behind the counter, "He got the cashier too-pegged her right in the throat."
"Are we looking at a drug hit? The captain asked, "Anybody here that homicide or vice knows?"
"No." A detective in a trench coat appeared at the mention of "Homicide, "And I doubt we'll find anyone. Witnesses confirm that it was a boy-sixteen probably seventeen."
"You mean people saw him and didn't try to do anything?" The SWAT captain said, incredulous, "What the hell is wrong with this fucking country?"
CSI swarmed in, a few hesitating as they saw the mother and child, and a few other teenagers clustered in the corner.
"Doesn't look like there's any motive at all to this." The detective said to his partner, "Just senseless violence."
"Sometimes that's the worst kind." The partner picked up a bloodstained newspaper, "Looks like somebody was boning up on local news-"
The headline read, in big black letters
UMBRELLA INCORPORATED FACES ANTI-TRUST AND CRIMINAL CHARGES.
"Looks like the world is going to hell in a hand basket then." The SWAT captain said, "Ramirez, do we have egress?"
"Whoever did it-" The Mexican man appeared back in the direction of the Rest rooms, "Left out the back. Dumbshit didn't even lock the door."
"Alright." The detective held up a badge, "I'm Alan Johansson with homicide. I want prints, DNA, investigation of personal affects. We're going to nail this fucker before he can do this again if he wants too. Get me? SWAT-I want you to head back to the station and get patrol to set up roadblocks around the area. I want a detailed perimeter search, I have yet to figure out what else I want-but I want IDS on the victims…as soon as possible." Here Alan let his badge drop and sighed heavily, "Lets make the fucker pay who did this."
The police nodded, a general consensus amongst their employees. They began to work quickly, with a frenzy born of the fear of what they saw around them.
"Sir?"
Johansson stepped gingerly over a dead mother and child and acknowledged Ramirez. The young SWAT officer had taken up a position nearest the door examining the bodies flung aside by the entrance of the heroes.
"What is it Ramirez?"
Ramirez's dark face was unusually pale. He pointed down at the body of one of the victims, her face an oozing puddle of red blood and gray matter. A single glassy eye remained-staring up at the two of them, ignoring the gaping wound in her chest.
"What is it?" Johansson asked, "Do we have an ID?"
Ramirez licked his lips, "We might."
"What do you mean?"
"I… I think I know her sir. Dios…I do know her. My god…he'll be-devastated-"
"Ramirez, who is this?"
"Jesus-she was so young too-they just had a baby-I have no-my god…"
"RAMIREZ!" Johansson grabbed the younger man by the shoulders and shook him, "Who is this girl?"
"Jill Valentine sir." Ramirez closed his eyes tightly, tears sliding down his cheeks.
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Claire Redfield ignored the scenery passing to her left. She focused intently on the headlines again, clarifying the horrific reality
Mass Murder at Wonderland Café-13 DEAD
By Terri Morales
Thursday, citizens were shocked to open their own newspapers and read over their cups of coffee about the events that transpired the evening beforehand at the Wonderland café-a new chain owned and operated by STARBUCKS incorporated. According to eyewitness reports, a young man wearing a large black coat entered the café at about five thirty and began a shooting spree that would claim thirteen lives including those of the employees. Police say that a struggle ensued, most likely between the store manager Brandon Jones and the assailant. The assailant has been identified as 17-year-old Michael Williams-a resident of Wolf's Bluff Ohio. Store Manager Brandon Jones struggled with assailant Michael Williams to no avail as he too was gunned down.
Among the victims was STARS officer Jill Valentine Redfield-
Claire hadn't been able to get any farther.
The Saturday landscape sped past her as she leaned against the chair heavily and tried to think of what she'd say to her brother.
Chris…my god… there wasn't much she could say. It was only in the last year that they had finally admitted their feelings and gotten married. 9 months after the wedding Claire had become the proudest Aunt the world had ever seen as Young Rebecca Redfield was delivered to a joyful and ready family. The sins of the past were gone. Umbrella was a shadow now; Claire hadn't even been in touch with Sherry-
What would she say about it? She knew what it was like to loose someone she loved. But Chris who had given up so much…their parents-and now Jill-
What would happen if I died?
The train came to a sudden halt, like the end she supposed. Claire shook her head as the automatic car began announcing their destination Wolf's Bluff in big red letters.
"Thank you for traveling with TIGER transportation today." A smiling attendant said, "Enjoy! Good-bye now! Good bye!"
The various passengers responded with grunts and groans as they unloaded their baggage. Claire grabbed her backpack nodding once to the attendant as she stepped off the platform.
There.
She could have picked her brother out of a crowd easily. His face was worn, drawn with many wrinkles that only age and grief would bring a man. His brown hair laid flat against his head-the dreary rain that had been soaking the city turned him into a gray ghost. In one hand-like a forgotten suitcase was a baby-carrying device.
"Chris!"
She jogged towards him-stopping a few inches away from her big brother. Her senses were heightened by a smell that brought back awful memories of her father from their childhood.
"You've been drinking." Chris had seen how depressed his father had gotten after drinking. He had always sworn he never would touch the stuff.
Now he reeked of it, his eyes bloodshot-red from crying. Claire looked down at the baby in the bassinet and back at her brother. He saw through her.
"Oh Chris…"
"Hey Claire." Her brother's voice sounded harsh, alien-as if it hadn't been used, "How are you?"
They embraced.
Chris's body shook and he began to cry. Train passengers looked at them strangely-detecting the odor of the man before moving on. A security guard peered closely at them before moving off.
A great sorrow descended upon the train yard. Even to those not involved it was as if they were absorbing some great injustice-and each day was darkened by it slightly. Rebecca began to sniffle as Chris let go of his sister-wiping his eyes with a harried handkerchief.
"It-Its-good to see you sis."
Claire nodded.
" I haven't trusted myself to drive these past couple of days." He nodded, confirming his beliefs to himself, "I'd probably run into a tree or something." He tried to laugh and coughed instead, "I got us a cab-"
"How's…Becky?"
"See for yourself." Chris handed the baby off to her.
Rebecca was a delightful creature. She had her father's strong-determined blue eyes and her mother's soft brown hair and face. A tiny hand waved-recognizing distantly on some plain of understanding a familiar figure.
"Hi Becky." Claire followed her bother-ignoring him as he raised his arms for a cab, "How are you Becky-Boo?" her voice choked. She looked so much like Jill…
"Claire?"
Claire ignored her brother, wrapped up in her niece.
"Becky hungry? Is Becky happy? Happy Becky-"
"Claire-" The rain came down harder now. Chris looked at his sister with dead eyes, "The cab."
She looked up dumbfounded.
"What?"
"The cab." A yellow vehicle stood parked before them, "We need to go."
"Okay." Reluctantly she handed Becky off to Chris and shouldered her own backpack as the cab driver pulled open his door and peered about.
"Any bags for y'all?"
"No." Claire shook her head, "Just my pack."
"I'll put it in the back for you." He extended a hand, "Want to make sure the baby's secure and all that."
"Sure." She nodded and slipped it off her shoulders. Her black t-shirt was soaked by now, she wouldn't be surprised if she finished the week off with a cold.
"So," The driver said jovially, "Did you hear about those murders? What a nasty business…"
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Horizon Chemical Foundation
Executive offices and headquarters: Los Vegas Nevada
The labyrinth hallways of the interior of the Horizon Chemical Foundation stood in sharp contrast to the neon playground of the world outside. Hiding something so deadly in plain sight had seemed incredibly…perverse to David Swanson in the beginning. Now he found it pleasing. Should anything happen to the thousands of partygoers and reality-haters in the world around them, HCF could defend them.
He truly wanted to believe that.
However the man who he was going to see was living proof that they were just as susceptible to darkness and evil as the people outside. He raised a swarthy hand before the black oak door and hesitated-just before knocking.
A green light next to him clicked on.
So, Albert Wesker had heard him.
"Good Evening sir." David said as the door opened, "I was just-"
Something rushed out of the darkness at him. A large green and black blur with six-inch claws shrieked and dove at him again.
David raised his Glock to his head and prepared to fire.
"Stop Achilles."
The green and black blur subsided. The creature looked back mournfully to the man in the back of the room and slunk aside.
"David. So I'm being summoned to yet another Board meeting?"
David, whose pants were considerably damp, nodded once.
The man who stepped out of the darkness looked much the same as he did seven years ago on the iron deck of the remains of Umbrella's Antarctica base. The area around his right eye however was a mottled battleground of black scars. Where normal red human tissue should have healed over the burn wounds-the skin had become black and green and covered with a mis-mashing of scales.
"Are you-Are you going to bring that thing with you?" David stuttered-glancing fearfully at Achilles the Hunter-who sat contentedly in a corner picking something unnatural out of his long claws.
"Achilles? While I would enjoy watching the rest of the board of directors wet themselves as you just did-" here he glanced down disapprovingly, "He will remain here. He likes dark places."
As do you.
When HCF had first hired Albert wesker, he was seen as an asset. A Valuable contributing member of a rising company. However the long-term affects of the viral contagion that he had injected himself with were becoming more pronounced. It seemed (Or at least that was what the private scientists said) that it was a slow acting version of the G-Virus.
Which meant that eventually, Albert Wesker would go the way of his colleagues in Raccoon…
We'll be ready for it. David followed Albert Wesker at a discreet distance; He can't double cross HCF the way he did Umbrella…
"I would like a copy of the paper brought to me today as soon as possible." Wesker said, "I've been in the lab researching the upgraded version of your Chimeras and I would like to catch up on what's going on in the outside world."
"Not much I'm afraid." David chuckled, "Although there was an awful murder spree in Wolf's Bluff Ohio. That's basically all the papers have been talking about."
"Really?" Wesker turned to him; his shades were disconcerting when combined with the mottled skin of his face, "What happened?"
"Thirteen people were killed." David turned a corner, down into the lab areas. It was lunch time-so the normally busy hubs of activity were silent as the grave, "One was really famous."
"Who?"
He scrunched up his face, "That chick…" he laughed, "I think you knew her- she was the one who got out of Raccoon City alive."
Wesker stopped. David kept moving, talking all the while.
"Her name was Valentine! Yes Jill Valentine. She had that high profile marriage to that guy who used to be in the STARS unit in that city- Redfield or something. Anyway she got shot straight up through the head and left her kid behind. All the papers are playing and the teacher who was pregnant up through the press. She apparently tried to do something and-"
Wesker began to laugh.
David turned around both slightly repulsed and confused. Various scientists stopped their return to their work and frowned-staring at the scene before moving on talking in hushed groups of two or three.
"Oh how devastated Christopher will be." Wesker smirked, "Devastated-so he married valentine hmm? She was a fine officer." He held up a hand, removing his glasses. David shivered and instinctively turned away-his eyes were so so inhuman.
"What's the matter Mr. Swanson?"
David shook his head, clearing his face of the mixture of repulsion and pity he felt.
" You don't like what you see?" Wesker took a step closer placing himself almost instantaneously in front of the younger man, taking pleasure in his squirming.
"You're repulsed"
"No-no-n-no sir." David shook his head quickly, "Just-um-allergies." He pulled out a handkerchief and coughed unconvincingly, "My eyes-um-water-yeah-" he nodded, "Eyes."
Wesker lowered his head for a moment, then nodded-accepting some cold fact of the world. He studied the younger man with an unreadable look.
"Repulsion is quite normal Mr. Swanson. Let us continue to the board of directors." He put his sunglasses back on and motioned toward the retreating hallway-the chaos of the world returning to normality around them.
"Lead the way."
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A/N: There's chapter one! What did you think? I know the death of Jill Valentine will put off a lot of people-but bear with me, Rebecca Redfield is still around. It didn't make any sense to me that the STARS were so…invincible. They had to go down, and what better way to go down then by some crazy kid?