Flamestrike: I apologize for the lack of updates! I just didn't want to have to rewrite the last chapter so I wanted till the last possible moment. But I'm glad to hear you're still enjoying my work.

Chris Redfield: Okay, here's some more!

E-Z-B: I'm taking your advice … any everyone else's for that matter, and making Kenny kick a little more ass. We're quite far into the story already, and he's only just begun fighting. Keep in mind though, at the beginning of the story, he wasn't a fighter yet.

Emma: Heh heh … yeah, I play the RE games. I've got everyone that exists for the PS, the PS2 and the Gamecube, even the crappy Gun Survivor ones. Well I don't have Gun Survivor 2 cause it was only released in Japan and I heard it was bad anyway. I have a life outside of video games, I really do.

Jano: Wow, so many people liking my story! I'm touched, I really am. The number of reviewers has definitely shot up from when I first started writing. Every review counts, guys!

Lost Survivor: No, I'm not so mean as to put Kenny on Alfred's side. Nobody, real or not, deserves that kind of treatment. Out of all the RE villains, nobody has creeped me out more than Alfred.

Jojo10: I appreciate your compliments! I've worked hard to make sure this story fits with the official RE storyline. The only tweaking I've done is with the in-game scenes and just thrown Kenny in, really. Some of what Kenny experiences on Rockfort during this chapter may not match what players experience in Code Veronica 100% because my memory of that game is pretty vague.

We dashed down the ornate hallway, with beautifully painted portraits of the Ashford family set in Victorian style frames posted in a neat line along both walls. Our rapid footsteps echoed off the checkered floor, our breaths hot against our cold skin. The heavy double oak doors at the end of the hall seemed like an eternity away. They beckoned and we just kept on running, the fact that Steve could die at any moment rooted into our minds … well, Claire's mind at least. I honestly couldn't care less if the jerk died. I tried to get him to escape the island with me, but he insisted on taking his own way out. And if this is where it got him, then he deserved no less.

But Claire's unselfishness made me aware of how my sense of logic and hers conflicted. She wasn't going to let him die, no matter how much he deserved it. Claire wasn't only pretty, but she was kind – even to those who didn't deserve her care. How could an angel like her be in a mess like this? Oh yeah … it was my fault. If I hadn't told her Chris was in Paris, she would've never been captured and brought to this isolated zombie infested island in the middle of nowhere.

Our bodies crashed through the heavy doors like they were made of paper. Claire was right – the room looked like some kind of miniature museum. In three corners of the room, glass cases were set into place, each one displaying detailed models of military vehicles from the various eras of war. A fisheye light was set above each piece, giving them an almost holy glow. The room was small but the amount of pure shit it contained was magnificent. There were collections of guns, uniforms … pretty much anything that had to do with the military – all displayed neatly. While I was busy gawking at the display pieces, wondering just how much their total value would total to, Claire was busy at the fourth corner of the room, where a piece of wall was. She banged on it hard with her fists.

"Steve! Can you here me?!" she bellowed.

I don't know why, but I expected the room to be soundproof. Anyway, it wasn't. Steve's muffled voice came from the other side of the wall.

"Get me out of here …" he said weakly.

"Put the Lugers back!" she advised urgently. "Please, Steve. You can't sacrifice your life for a pair of guns!"

My eye caught hold of a red blinking light just underneath the gun display. "Hold on, Claire, look at this," I said approaching the display. "What are these black squares underneath the guns? It says something about pairs …"

"Oh … doesn't seem too hard," Claire said, pressing the third and fifth squares. "We have to find two identical guns, and these look the same."

"Seems a little too easy for me," I said with a little disappointment.

"I've got it!" Claire slammed her palm down on the flashing red button and the wall slid out of place, revealing a secret room behind it, also adorned with more war memorabilia. The heat wave that came out from it was suffocating and I found myself fanning my face. Steve came stumbling through, drenched with sweat … and a pair of golden Lugers in his hand.

"I need those," Claire said to him, sticking out her hand. I rolled my eyes. Was she really expecting him to hand it over?

"Really?" Steve asked, holding the guns up, resting them on his shoulders. "Well if I give them do you, how do you expect me to defend myself against the zombies?"

"We don't," I mumbled under my breath. But that only earned me a hard nudge from Claire and a glare from Steve.

"Hey, who asked you, Squirt?" he shot back. "Anyway, Claire, until you can find me a suitable pair of guns to replace these, their mine. See you around, babe." He walked out the door we came in, leaving Claire and I gawking at his audacity. We save his life and this is the thanks we get?!"

"We really should have just left him in there …" Claire said, slapping a hand to her face.

"Come on, let's get out of here," I said, following in the direction Steve took.

"Not quite so fast," Claire said, grabbing my elbow, stopping me in my tracks. "I need to find some hemostatic medicine."

A bewildered look fell upon my face. "What the fuck for?!" The both of us continued heading down the hall way, me practically dragging Claire along. We exited the room, and into the unbelievably long corridor, reaching the entrance hall with her still struggling a little.

"There's a man that helped me," she said, sighing. "He unlocked the cell door that they kept me in and let me go. Juan Raval Rodrigo is his name, and he …"

"Rodrigo?!"

"You know him?"

"Yeah! And the real Rodrigo is a cold hearted bastard! I don't see why he'd let you out from your cell unless there was something in it for him. Oh no wait, there was. He needed some medicine."

"It's not like he expected me to find it," Claire said, jumping to his defense.

"Then it's probable that he wasn't expecting you to live after releasing you either."

"Wow, you don't like people much, do you?" she said, scratching her head.

I shrugged. "I've had a hard life, what can I say?"

"Shh!" Claire hissed, pressing her finger to her lips. "Do you hear that?"

I stopped talking a stood very still, listening for any form of unexplainable sound. At first I heard nothing. But when I pricked my ears up a little higher, I notice a faint hum in the distance. It sounded like … planes? "The sea planes," I said, grabbing Claire by the wrist. "They're taking off. We have to make it to the dock!"

"What?!"

"This island has an airport that also serves as a dock for our seaplanes. We can use the planes as a means of escape."

"You've got to go ahead first, Kenny," Claire said. "Leave this island and send in some help for us via Chris, as soon as you can. You still have his contact, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah, but you've got to come with me. Chris will be worried about you if you don't."

"I'm not going to let Rodrigo and Steve die here," she said.

"But …" I began, but when I saw the determination in her sharp blue eyes, I decided that going against her wishes wouldn't fly. "Fine," I said, giving in, "but I'm leaving a plane at the dock for you. I'll leave the dock bridge down so nobody will think about taking the spare plane. But when you escape, you realize that you will have to raise the bridge right?"

"Hold on, you know how to work the mechanics on this island?"

"Uh … three months of training?" I suggested.

"That's not a whole lot."

"It's enough for me. Now listen closely, if you want to raise the bridge, you'll need the level to the machine on upper level of the aiport. I'll keep that in the plane. To get to the plane …"

" … I'll need the army seals, I know!" Claire said, throwing her hands up. "Just get out of here, Kenny! Escape this place and send help. You're our only hope."

"You'll be alright," I stated, more than asked. I knew she would. Claire had to remain safe. I could ever forgive myself if anything happened to her. Well … truthfully, I was more afraid of what Chris would do to me if she died – cause she wouldn't have if I hadn't told her where he was … okay I think I've repeated that enough times already.

I left Claire in the palace and headed out to the courtyard, gazing up at the large moon overhead, watching the planes as they zipped by. A soft breeze blew at my face, ruffled my hair. It moved the bushes and shrubs that lay around the courtyard in flowerbeds carved from stone. The cobblestone ground was cold against my bare feet and for the first time that night, I realize that I was still in my sleepwear, from when I had gotten out of bed to take a closer look at the new prisoner, just before the missile strike. When I got to civilization, a change of clothes was the first thing on my priority list.

Instead of heading left from the main doors to the palace to the military training facility, I hung a right, towards the submarine that would take me to the bottom level of the airport. The cobblestone path led towards a single iron gate that squeaked viciously upon opening, leading down to a flight of stairs. The platform on the bottom led to the submarine submerged in the man-made river. I descended the stairs and approached the platform, stepping onto its metal surface. The cold struck my feet, sending shivers up and down my spine uncontrollably. There was a hollow in the stand that was connected to the platform where a pirate ship's wheel could be connected. Spinning the wheel would make the sub rise from the water and open its hatch. But I needed to do no such thing.

I removed the top panel casing to the stand, revealing a number pad and some exposed wires connected to it. By punching in my ID number, password, and speaking into the mini microphone attached to the number pad, the computer had recognized me as me. The platform extended over the river with an electronic hum and the submarine revealed itself to me, the hatch door opening without any fuss. Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the metallic, underwater prison.

My footsteps made a metallic clang against the metal steps of the ladder as I descended. Judging by how quickly the echoes bounced back to me, I developed a rough impression as to how big the submarine was – about the size of a bedroom. I waited a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, and then they began picking up the light coming from the console at the front end of the submarine. I walked over and keyed in my destination – the airport. A slight humming sound came from the motors and the moonlight that shone into the sub from the hatch gradually faded as the hatch closed. Then I heard a bubbling noise. Looking out one of the porthole windows, I could see little movements of air rising from under water.

The submarine jerked violently to a stop just a few minutes later, having reached my destination. The hatch once again opened up and I crawled out, into what looked like an underwater glass room. I looked down, noting that I was standing on concrete, but the walls were made completely of glass – I could see right into the depths. It was dark and murky, so incredibly thick that not even a flashlight could pierce that abyss. I started imagining strange creatures emerging from the waters and smashing their giant bodies against the glass, forcing the water to rush in a consume me. I think I've watched Jaws a few too many times.

I shook my head to gather my conscience and walked out of the glass room towards a set of stairs that lead down into the lounge. The lounge was a pretty plain place to be honest, hardly any furnishings, a desk and a chair, and a fish tank set into the wall. There were two doors across where I stood, one on the left, and the other on the right. I took the left door which lead out into the gates, where we would board the planes.

"We were just about to leave without you …"

"Fuck! Wesker!" I cried. The ex-S.T.A.R.S. captain stood there with his arms folded, between me and the platform that could be lowered to the seaplane. The moonlight reflected eerily off his sunglasses. A part of me wanted to laugh at him for wearing the sunglasses at night, but I had to stifle my reflexes. Wesker was all about business and he's proven it to me before.

He cocked his head towards the aircraft behind him. "The plane's loaded with survivors. I suggest you get on." I didn't reply, only stood there picking him apart visually, taking note of his body language, his tone of voice, and his gestures. Why was Wesker trying to help me? The last time we met, he knocked my conscience into outer space with a single punch. I knew that he wanted the Shadow Technology from me, so any cooperating with him would seal my fate in his hands.

"No," I said. I wanted to sound firm, confident and in control. But it came out as more of a plea. The corners of Wesker's mouth stretched apart in a wide grin. "Whether you like it or not, Kenny, you're getting on that plane. I came here for a sample of the T Veronica Virus and instead, I found you. Knowing that the only sample of the virus lies in Umbrella's Antarctic Base, I have to go there next and get it. Since I'd rather not make another trip here for the Shadow Technology, I figured it would be more convenient for you to just go there as well."

"I'd rather be zombie food," I spat.

"As you wish …"

He dashed at me, his arm winding behind him for a powerful punch. I dodged to the right, parried his strike with an outward block. Grabbing his forearm the my blocking arm, I held it in place as I swung my other hand downwards onto his elbow in a karate chopping fashion. But Wesker grabbed that hand at the wrist. He pried my arms apart, with inhuman strength, leaving me wide open to an attack, and butted me with his forehead. There was something different about him, there was no mistaking it. The force that he used to strike me was so powerful, it sent me flying from his grip into the wall behind me. My body cracked the cement, sending a rain of dust and debris over my body.

I looked up to gather my senses and notice that he was already in the air, preparing to land a kick at my chest. I rolled forward under his body, not even a second before his foot came into contact with the wall, creating a hole in the concrete. I was frozen for a split second, unable to believe just how powerful he was. He pulled his foot out of the wall with lightning speed and ran for me again. The intense training the military put me through sharpened my reflexes. I jumped into the air, performing a double mid-air somersault. After the second somersault, as my body ran parallel to the ground, I kicked both legs out together, catching Wesker in the chin with a drop kick. His head snapped back sharply and he stumbled back, as I curled by body into a ball when I contacted the ground to soften the impact.

I heard a clap as I got back up to my feet, noticing that I had kicked the sunglasses off his face and they skidded off towards the broken wall. He stared at me with his reptilian eyes and I shuddered, not quite used to them yet. His collected expression transformed before my eyes into a scowl – a very uncharacteristic expression for him.

Wesker released his own legs out from under him, catching himself with his arms just before he crashed to the ground, kicking out his legs at the same time. He caught me at the ankles and I was once again heading for the ground. I landed on my elbows and hips – the incredible pain shooting through them like a flash of lightning. Wesker followed up the kick with downward stomp aimed at my head. Reaching quickly into my pocket, I extracted the magnum that I'd been carrying with me this whole time, and aimed upward, pulling the trigger like it was my only hope in the world.

A loud bang echoed throughout the area, deafening my ears for a brief moment. Despite that moment of silence, I could have sworn I heard Wesker grunt in pain. Something warm splashed on my upper body. It was blood, it had to be blood! His body, still with his foot up ready for the stomp that would've surely put me out of service or even killed me, fell over with a thud.

I opened my eyes, only realizing then that they were closed, and took note of what really had fallen on me. And I was right. I was blood. Then I noticed his fallen form … unmoving in the silent night air. He really was dead. I thought about showing his body to Chris, or taking pictures of it … anything that would make him believe that Wesker was alive. The keyword here is was.

My thoughts were interrupted when he sat up, almost like a zombie would have, and continued glaring at me. There was a skin tear between his eyes that was dripping blood. But beyond the skin, there was no flesh, only some metallic element … was he a robot? Did Wesker gain mechanical implants? Who did this to him?

He grinned at me, a devilish smile. "You're making me very angry, Kenny …"

I gulped and backed off, away from this freak of nature, clutching the magnum like a child holding his teddy bear in fear from the monster under the bed. But Wesker … he was a REAL monster. "…very angry …