A/N: Well, a long awaited update commencing with the fixing of chapters three and four! All right!
I know its been a monster long time since I've updated-I hope that Posting chapters Five and six can make up for it. XD
Go crazy peoples.
Disclaimer: Resident Evil is copyright Capcom, all rights reserved.
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Las Vegas NevadaThe next day
Kevin Lancaster yawned, barely covering his mouth with his hand.
Grimly, he returned to his task of copying the latest daily reports into the computer and reposting them again on the Employee assignment task board. He had sixteen people working under him-and he didn't want them to loose face by forgetting to do anything.
Especially after that disastrous performance by Dr. Wesker yesterday at the executive meeting.
I think he harbors a grudge. Kevin finished a sentence a violent and malicious grudge against me.
Although for the life of him he couldn't figure out why. He had done everything human in his power to make sure that each employee felt happy and comfortable. He dearly loved what he did for a living, and wanted others to feel the same way.
Maybe it was because of the similarities between Wesker and himself...
Kevin was 19, and the youngest researcher employed by the Horizon Chemical Foundation. Before that, he had a successful medical study going at Brown's college of medicine, developing the field of Genetic Pharmacology. Medicine that tailored itself to your specific genetic makeup...
He amused himself by counting the letters and arranging them in interesting combinations. His work was done for the day-and it was barely noon.
He sighed and debated pulling out his sketchbook and heading down to the animal testing room to visit his animals.
"Doctor Lancaster?"
"Yes?" Kevin stood up, book in hand, "Can I help you?"
The man handed him a stack of mail and grinned sheepishly, "Mail call sir, looks like your mother sent a package of cookies from England."
Kevin grinned. Genie often sent him chocolate chip cookies-proud of the work he was doing in the states. He handed the mail-attendant the package.
"Do you want them?"
"You mean that?" The man looked at the package, suspicious, "Your mother makes the-the best cookies."
Kevin laughed, "I know. Just don't eat them in here." He grinned, "What the hell. You've been in here before Bill-just-don't make a mess-" he grabbed a pencil and his keycard, "Huh?"
"Is there anything I-I'd hurt?"
Besides the plants...I doubt it.
He waved jauntily before leaving.
Nevada was bleak-that was the only thing that had depressed Kevin when he had first arrived. Boston had been lovely, green in spring and covered in snow in the winter. He had begun learning the habits of some of the stricter desert plants so that he could at least make the HCF offices a bit cheerful-but none of the adults seemed to honestly like it. His mother had a huge garden back in their home, and he had a lifelong love of plants and living creatures.
"Good morning Doctor!"
"Good morning!"
"Morning Doc!"
"Morning Kevin!"
"Guten Tag Kevin darling." Said a blond woman approaching from his rear, "You look nice today."
"So do you Helga." Please leave me alone...please...
Helga harbored the serious misinterpretation that he was desperately in love with her. After a disastrous incident at the Christmas party- (It had involved a bowl of punch and an ice duck) Kevin had politely explained that he wasn't interested in relationships.
They were too consuming.
"I was just about to head down to the conservatory." She smiled provocatively, "Care to join me?"
"I have-um-a prior engagement in the testing lab." Kevin bowed apologetically, "Shall I join you later? Maybe I could bake something-"
Helga giggled and Kevin frowned, affronted. Everybody-the men and the women seemed to find it terribly amusing that Kevin liked to cook and clean and design. His further refusal to date had given to some nasty suspicions...
"On second thought, I'll just go by myself Doctor." Helga grinned, "Au revoir dear doctor."
"Ciao."
Kevin turned away, grateful.
He ran a hand through his dark brown hair and sighed, contentedly. He wondered if women pursued him because of the family money, the intelligence, or the position that he had at HCF.
He chuckled If only Dad could see me now...
Both his father and mother were born into money (very old money, and surprisingly American money) but he had never asked the roots of the issue. He had grown up with ponies and animals for company on their farm in the warm pastures of England-leaving with his father for safari, exploring the avenues of learning in Boston with his mother. But at heart, like most humans when you get right down to it-they were simple people-
"Morning Doctor." The guard smiled at his approach, "You remember your keycard this time?"
Kevin blinked and stared at the impressive, impassive door of the animal holding tanks. Apparently he had become lost in thought again.
"Oh-"he dug around in his pockets, "Oh wait-hold on-"he scrambled frantically. Where was it? It wasn't in his pants pocket; it wasn't in his shirt pocket-it wasn't-
"Around your neck mebbe doc?"
Kevin grinned, "Jerry why do I bother? My head would probably fall off if it wasn't screwed in tightly!"
Jerry grinned, "Whatever the hell you say doc."
Kevin frowned, "Jerry-what did I say? If you want Pam-"he ignored the door opening as he slid his key-card through, "If you want Pam to like you then you've got to, got to watch the swearing!"
"Sorry Doc." Jerry grinned, "I keep forgetting."
"Never mind." Kevin had been raised a strict Christian, and although he had fallen out of the faith-he did believe that swearing and the crass "American English" that Americans spoke was the filth of language. He chuckled and waved to a couple of passing scientists who looked confused at his sudden cheerful behavior.
"Something new of Wesker's came in." Jerry said, "One of those "hunter" things."
"Really?" he had heard about the famous genetically modified frogs, but he had yet to see one. After all, such a creature must be incredibly shy since frogs were naturally so-
"Nasty mother- Nasty animal." Jerry grinned again and shifted his weapon to his chest, "Best be careful. Trinity and the others are still there-you were doing some genetic experiments weren't you doc?"
"Well..." Kevin was itching to get a look at this, "Hunter" "Nothing really big Jerry-"
"Hey! I heard you were working on grafting various appendages to-"
Kevin stepped inside and let the door slide shut.
The Hallway before him was painted a solid white-brilliant neon lights flashed upward from the floor below him-dimmed-for the animals safety at his insistence. Many of the other researchers had balked-but the EPA and PETA stayed away from HCF thanks to his interference...
"Interference my rear." Kevin growled, "Saving the poor creatures more like."
He turned to the left and waved to a few of the animals, which perked up at his approach. He stopped before one glass cage, studying the animal carefully inside.
"Hi Trinity..." he said softly, "How are you doing old girl?"
Trinity lifted her great shaggy head and yawned-exposing her deadly canines. Her bite could cut steel-bit through bone like a human eating soup. Her stripes traced delicate black rivers across her orange-red back. She padded closer-sensing a familiar face.
"Hi girl..." he got down on his knees and put a hand up on the glass, "How are we doing today?"
Trinity put a gigantic paw on the glass and let out a mournful moan. She was getting old...
Kevin pushed the thought of her death out of his mind. Nobody would be so cruel to do anything to this poor creature, not even her creator.
Yes, god would not take Trinity, he was sure of it.
"I've got some new friends to visit!" he patted the glass fondly, "I'll come in and see you shortly okay?" He listened to her chuff happily before heading down the hallway towards the unmarked black door at the end. A bored looking guard stood watch-clutching a weapon in his black-gloved hands.
"Hello." Kevin said cheerfully, "I'm Dr. Lancaster. I'd like to take a look at the Hunter specimens please."
"Access code?"
"Um..." he reached around his neck and managed a light chuckle, "Silly me, I forgot it was around my neck again! Did you ever have one of those days-"
"Access code?"
"5557980007." Kevin said, frowning, "What's the matter?"
"Thank you sir." The guard pushed a button at his side and the door slid open with a swish, "Enjoy your research."
Kevin stepped in and frowned-facing the door.
What the hell was his problem?He frowned. This area was much like the earlier cages-except instead of being white it was black-with muted soft lighting. He frowned and stepped forward cautiously a deserted receptionist desk.
"Specimens..." he frowned, "Little hunter, little hunter come out and play..."
He reached the first cage. Something small and hunched was staggering about inside. A dingy food bowl filled with a dark red liquid met his vision.
"Hello?" he tapped gently on the glass, "Hello?"
The creature paused in its motions. It sniffled-investigating a patch of something on the floor.
"That's right! I want to be your friend..." he was suddenly aware of how absolutely alone he was-and the soft flickering of the light was doing nothing for his nerves.
There won't be anyone there if you call for help.
"Really." He scoffed at his brain, "What could it possibly do?" he turned his attention back to the creature in the glass, "Come on boy, or girl? Are you a pretty girl?"
IT came.
It leapt out at him and smacked its head against the glass throwing it aside. Its fangs were open wide, snarling-stained red with some horrific-
He dodged-throwing himself to the left-his fingers brushing up against a stained drain in the center of the room.
"Gods..."
It was a dog, or at least it had been at one point. A German Shepard by the looks of it-but its happy smile was replaced by a lean look of menace. Bone-dear god bone-was exposed in its face-peeling back from one of the eyes-revealing the vital arteries that...
Something in the next cage hissed and a pale pink line shot out against the glass. He screamed-tripping over a box someone had left on the floor. He bumped into one of the glass cages-
MuaaaaaUhhhhhhhhhh
Scrape
Scrape
Scrape-
A hand pressed up against the glass.
"Holy Mother of god!" Kevin twisted around and eyed the cage-eyes wide and dilated. A bald head swung out of the darkness-a single intelligent eye peered out at him-the other was white-filmy-covered with mucus-
"What...what-what-what-what- is that?"
It's a George Romero zombie. A real live zombie. No-not alive.
He laughed. On some unconscious level he had seen what was there and accepted it. It was nothing really. Weak. Useless.
"What are the Yanks up too?" he whispered- coming forward for a closer look, "What the bloody hell are all these people up too?"
Somehow these creatures filled him with fascination. Who made them? Who had they been? What were they doing here so far down in the dark?
Like a nightmare...--------------------------
Wolf's Bluff
Chris Redfield frowned.
He had pulled his dress shirt out of his pants and loosened the red tie that Jill had given him for his birthday this year. He sat in one of their couches-even that seemed sad and faded in his world.
What am I going to do?They had caught him. They caught the one who murdered Officer Jill Valentine, Becky Saunders, Kelly Wood, Katy Sunderland, Carolyn Poddig, Jeff Evans, and Blake White-
The names blurred on the page, filled with a black and white photograph of the murderer.
A kid
A fucking kid
His face was open, wide and frightened and staring at the reporter with a mixed look of confusion, puzzlement, and fear. He had dark wispy brown hair and gray-green eyes. His father had been stone drunk when they found him-the kid in his room-higher then a kite on a summers day.
He needed to be punished.
He needed to die-because Becky would grow up without a mother. Because maybe Rebecca Saunders had wanted to paint when she got older. Maybe Kelly wood was working on some project at school, maybe Carolyn Poddig never finished that book was reading-maybe Blake white was captain of some team that would mourn his passing.
Why did people get away with it?
He was going to get away with it, just like Umbrella had gotten away with it. Nobody had done anything! Not even the police!
You're not being rational Chris. He was a police officer and even he could not protect each and every child in the world some people slip through the cracks.
They couldn't do that anymore!
He wiped his eyes and stood up, seeing through the family photos-the cheap paints of ducks and lakes and things that hung in houses. He ignored the books that Jill had brought from her apartment when they had moved in together.
"Chris?"
Claire stood in the doorway holding Becky. Chris ignored his daughter's pink jumper and his sister's baleful expression. What if something happened to them? What had happened to Claire in the cemetery yesterday?
"Chris? Where are you going?"
"Out." He fixed his shirt and reached for his trench coat.
"AAA." Becky waved her arms, "AAAA. AAAAAAA."
"She missed daddy! Didn't you sweetie?" Claire held the baby up, coddling it, "She missed daddy so much-we had to come home cause she was crying for you-that and it was raining but-"
"She's not even a year old yet Claire." Chris said coldly, "She can't talk yet."
"Awww! Did you hear that?" She held the baby up to her face, "Your daddy said you couldn't talk yet! You tell him how wrong he is!"
"AAA?"
"Daddy is going out."
"Where's daddy going?"
"None of your goddamn business." Chris said coldly, "You won't tell me what's going on with you-why the hell should I inform you what's going on in my life?"
Becky began to wail and Claire looked up at Chris, shocked and angered.
"Hey!"
"Leave me alone." He slammed the door shut.
Outside the rain was coming down almost as badly as it had when Marco brought him the news. It had been almost a week, and friends at the WBPD were beginning to worry.
Why can't everybody leave me alone?He stalked towards his car-a silver Miada-parked in the driveway. He and Jill had bought the car-and Jill had been looking into getting a SUV. Chris had complained-telling her that they weren't in combat-why should they drive a tank?
He slid behind the driver's side and shut the door.
"I just want to be alone..."
Deep down he was tired, so tired of everyone respecting him, loving him-expecting him to take care of him. Hadn't Jill wanted that? She wanted him to take care of her... take...care...of her...
What about himself?
He put the car into drive and the CD he'd been listening to in happier times clicked into play.
It's just no good anymore
Since you went away
Now I spend my time
Just thinking about till yesterday
One is the loneliest number
One is the loneliest number
Since you went away...
His head dropped as the world passed him by like faded photographs.
Downtown Wolf's Bluff was filled with various patrons enjoying the rainy season-and the trendy antique shops that people from Dayton wanted to visit. The streets were crowded with shoppers' and-
"Jesus!"
A pop exploded outside and people began to shriek. The front windshield of his car exploded inward-shards of glass covering his cowed body.
"SHOOTER!"
"Somebody help!"
"What the hell is happening to this town I ask you?"
"Help! Police!"
Chris scooted forward, trying to reach the door handle for the driver's side. Another pop went off and the music track changed:
One, more, murder, in this town
Don't mean a thing, you get accustomed to the sound.
One, more, murder, in this town
Just block off the street and wrap the crime scene to the ground
The screaming began to get louder as Chris wrenched at the door. The dreary rain and the landscape turned the shopping landscape into a dingy world of blue seen through a camera lens. The music continued-three skulls lay split open on the ground.
"Help!" A woman had dropped her bags looking at Chris, "help-I'm hurt, I'm shot-he shot me."
"Who?"
"The man was on the building. He shot me down, he shot me down." She began to sing in a high-off key tone, "Bang-Bang my baby shot me down..."
Hosanna, hosanna
I can't feel nothing at all
Hosanna, Hosanna
I can't feel nothing
I can't feel nothing at all
I can't feel nothing at all.
I can't feel nothing at all...
Chris reached down and frowned at the handbag that lay sprawled across the ground. The body lying a few feet away was that of a man. Far off in the distance a woman was screaming hysterically.
I said I couldn't feel anything
Saturday night
Coming out
Park along I think you're coming out
Plead to a super-fie
Take the car I got a family
One more, murder...
One, more, Murder...
"Call the police!"
"I'm with the WBPD" Chris held up his badge, "Lets get a little order here!"
Security guards were diving out of the stores looking up at the tops of the roofs searching for the sniper. They had a sniper in DC-what was going on? Their town was perfect-it was okay-not a big town.
No crime, no murders, no murders-
At least they don't get up and walk around...He stepped toward one body. A teenage boy lay on the ground-a single hole pierced his heart. Chris frowned, bent closer to the body-
The boy's eyes opened-slowly filling with a dark fluid-mucous substance. He raised his arms stinking of death and decay. Its mouth opened-slack jawed-and he moaned-
"GET AWAY FROM ME!" Chris jumped back.
"Sir?"
The guards looked at the policeman, other cars pulling up in the distance-sirens wailing.
"Sir...help...please..."
She had hurt her arm-gnawing on it probably. The poor woman's eyes were filled with the wet soppy mucous. Her skin was patchy-dirt stained. She had risen from the grave? Yes, they had raised her-umbrella-the umbrella corporation-evil-
"You're not getting me." Chris pulled out his gun, "This is a mercy."
The gun exploded in his hand.
"CHRIST REDFIELD! What the hell do you think you're doing?"
The woman was on the ground now, moaning piteously, whimpering.
Hands! They were all around him now! Pale zombie-like hands grabbing at him-tearing at him-they were going to get him! He had failed!
"Jill! Jill! Barry! Claire!"
MOAAAAAAAN one of the zombies was tugging tightly on his arm now. They had learned to talk! How insidious, Umbrella creating a sentient army of the undead, he tried to talk, tried to tell them to let him go so that he could end their torment, their pain...
MAAAAAAAHMM
AAAMMMMM
UHHHHHHHHHH
"Claire! Jill! Jill! Help me! Oh god! Jill! Rebecca! Captain Wesker!"
Dimly, he saw Albert Wesker to the side, like a dark shadow
"Captain Wesker! Find Jill! Help me! Help meeeeee!"
He did nothing, and Christopher Redfield collapsed in on himself and waited for death to take him.
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Our Lady of Victory Veterans hospital
"What's he got?"
"In a word?" The doctor flipped up a manila folder, "Post Traumatic stress disorder-and he's got it bad." She tsked impatiently, "He's suffering from major depression-which is to be expected-but the stress..."
The chief leaned his pale head on his hand, staring at Lauren Margaret with loathing.
"That's why he shot her."
"Didn't you say he used to be in Raccoon?" Dr. Margaret closed the chart, "Wasn't he the one who discovered the entire mansion and everything in it?"
The chief nodded, gasping for breath.
"That would explain it." The woman closed his folder and looked down at the floor, "Poor Guy...having that happen to him..."
"He lost his wife in Wonderland."
"No!" She put a hand to her mouth, "I-I-"she shook her head, "Oh man...he discovered everything that Umbrella was doing."
"Yeah."
"We're indebted to him."
The Chief frowned, "I never thought about it that way." He blocked out the image of Chris pulling his gun on that defenseless woman, "Now I guess it's our turn to take care of him now huh?"
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Chris Redfield lay on his bed in a dreamless state of awakening. His mind was filled with nightmares and horrible thoughts, difficult thoughts that could find no bearing. He was standing in a white room watching two people play a video game.
"Who's that?"
"That." The person with the controller said, "Is the good guy. His name is Chris Redfield."
"Oh." The second person looked confused. He could not see the TV screen-but the sound was turned up loud enough so that he could hear the moaning, the screaming-the awful writing-
"Who's that? He's cool."
"That's Albert Wesker." The gamer rolled its eyes, "He's the bad guy. It's a universe of extremes. Black/white, dark/light-"
"Hey-like the matrix?"
The gamer looked up-its face obscured, "CRAP! I'm supposed to be at work! Come on man, I'll drop you off at your house on the way."
Chris!Three people were playing a game of cards in a dark basement. Chris groaned-he raised a hand and lifted himself off the ground slowly.
"Hi." A man turned one of the cards over, "Did you get lost?"
"Wh-where-where am I?"
"He must be lost." The second man took a card, "Give me three Scott."
"I just gave you three."
"You aren't supposed to be here yet." The third man said, "You've got things to do. You can't see her again. Even though she wants to see you."
Chris frowned. There was something distinctly familiar about this place. The dark walls, the splatters of unidentifiable things...
"Who...who wants to see me?"
"Your wife dumbass." The second man flipped over a card, "Crap. Crap. Crap..."
"Three hundred dollars." The first man laid his cards on the table. Chris suddenly had an overwhelming urge to see what sort of hand had won him three hundred dollars.
"Hey!" Scott folded the cards up quickly. His face was suddenly a grinning mask; "You NEVER show your opponent your hand in a game of cards! Savvy?"
"Chris! Listen to me! Can you hear me? It's Claire! Come back Chris! Come back please!"
Chris opened his eyes and smiled at his sister. His daughter was in her arms-asleep-thankfully.
"I know..." he coughed, "What to do."
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A/N: Wow! Chris is loosing his mind! Poor Kevin Lancaster, he's far too nice for the Resident Evil Universe, but we need a completely innocent character to fully explore the corruption. Now you, as dedicated fans-may be wondering. Ramen, Where ARE the zombies?
I promise, they're coming. This is more physiological stuff then anything else. And Chris will be getting better. I wanted to make this as real as possible and I know for a fact that if I met a whole bunch of zombies and had to defend myself, I'D probably suffer from something or other. Relief for Chris is coming.