I do not own Capcom or any of the characters that they have created, nor do I own the characters and storylines in S.D. Perry's Resident evil novels. This story, however, is mine.
I actually pumped this one out pretty fast, so I guess that EndGame is coming along OK. In answer to buffyfan363's question, yes Ark, Lott, and Lily are from Resident Evil Survivor. I've played every game that's com out on the market, so I can say that I love putting all the survivors into one story. I also own all seven novels, and I think they kick ass, too. Well, I guess that's all the 'shouting out' (lol) that I'll do today, so let's see how John and David will react to Rebecca's capture. See y'all again in a little while.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------Chapter 4- Uneasy Allies, Unexpected Enemies
CRACK!! The radio shattered as it hit the wall with all the force that John could put behind it. The big man was seething, and David was staring at him with a strained expression on his face.
"Goddamn Umbrella bastards." John spat, kicking at a file cabinet. David sighed, shook his head, and nodded to John.
"Let's go. We'll catch up to Umbrella in a little while, but we won't do anybody any good if we get captured. We know their plan, so the next logical step is to get in touch with Barry and the others." The strategist explained. John stared with an amazed look on his face.
"But Rebecca..." He began, but David headed him off.
"We know that they'll keep her alive until they get all of us. She's as safe as possible right now, but the others may not know that Umbrella's trying to get us. We're a lot more useful outside of Umbrella's walls than inside, John." The former communications expert frowned, than growled and kicked the file cabinet again.
"If they hurt one hair on Rebecca's head, then I'll tear them apart with my bare hands." David nodded, the icy hate in his voice revealing his anger.
"I know John. Umbrella will pay for what they're doing. We'll make sure of that." Without much more to talk about, they gathered up their M-16s and left the small reference library they had been searching. Almost instantly, eight soldiers filled the hallway, shouting and aiming weapons. The two ex-S.T.A.R.S. dove back behind the library's steel door as the Umbrella goons let loose hails of bullets. John fought with the door against the hammer of explosive fire as David fired a few short bursts of shots himself. A pinched, grainy voice floated over the volleys of ammunition.
"Give up! I got the drop on Chambers myself, and the two of you are next!!" MJR Palmer's shouts fell on deaf ears as the two soldiers continued their fire. John looked at David and shook his head, indicating that they didn't have much of a chance against the greater numbers of Umbrella's soldiers. To John's amazement, David grinned and winked at him as he pulled something out of his vest. John understood seconds later as the impact grenade went sailing over the top of the door right into the midst of the firing squad at the other end of the hall. Palmer barely made it into an adjoining room before all hell broke loose, the shrapnel from the grenade putting the entire group of soldiers down and out. Both S.T.A.R.S. ran by seconds later. His ears ringing, Palmer picked up his rifle and stalked after them, leaving the shouts of his injured men behind. As they maneuvered through twisting hallways and an elevator that seemed, in John's opinion, to be running way too slow, David was praying to whatever gods that were listening that Rebecca would stay safe as the two closest friends she had ran for the lives, farther and farther away. The two men slammed out of the door at the back of the compound, the same one they had entered by only two hours before. They could hear the shouts and wailing intruder siren even from outside, and knew that they'd be in the middle of another firefight in a few moments if the Umbrella soldiers found them. After scaling the fence, they headed into the small wooded area that backed up to the small complex. Following two minutes of running, trees slapping at them and branches pulling at their clothing, they reached the black pickup truck that they had arrived in. The two soldiers stared at one another with grim faces as they took long shuddering breaths. John spoke up first.
"I don't know how we're gonna do it, but we're gonna get 'Becca back. If they so much as look at her the wrong way, I'll..." Again, David interrupted the larger man.
"Look, we've got to keep going. I didn't want to leave Rebecca any more than you did, but we'd have been overpowered after a few seconds of fighting. Rebecca's best chance lies in us gathering the survivors. I'm going to try to..." Whatever David was going to try was cut short by the ringing of his cell phone. He fumbled it out of his pocket and hit a button before bringing it up to his ear. "Yes?" he said cautiously. No one should know the number to his cell phone, except for the other members of David's team up in Maine. No one except John and Rebecca knew that the phone was still in operation.
"Hello, Mr. Trapp! How good it is to speak with you again!" A musical voice spilled out of the phone and David was taken back in his memory on one rainy September night to when he had been pulled into this nightmare. He whispered one word, one that John barely caught, despite the fact that he was standing right next to David.
"Trent."
"This had better be important, lieutenant. You should know that it is not considered wise to trifle with matters pertaining to my duties." The head of Umbrella's Special Forces division, agent Hunk, stormed down the hallway of international HQ, located in Austria. Lieutenant Christopher Clark followed closely behind him, brushing a hand over his buzzed brown hair.
"Agent Hunk, as I explained to you on the way here, the general wants to speak with you and Mr. Ginovaef at once regarding your special talents." The lieutenant paused before regarding Hunk with a hard stare. "You know that it's only because you're the head of Special Ops that you get any pull around here. I'm the general's personal assistant, and you can't intimidate me like you do with your wet-nosed punks back at training. Now don't tell me how to do my–-" Clark's words were cut off as Hunk grabbed the soldier by the throat and slammed him against the wall, face twisted into a sneer.
"You can't even fathom the things I've seen and had to do in my life. Some of the mission objectives that I have casually dealt with would give you nightmares so bad that you'd never wake up. I have fought with death. I have fought against death. I AM DEATH. Now, you will scurry on with your pointless little duties in your pointless little life before I get truly angry. Get out of my sight." He dropped the lieutenant to the ground, gasping. Hunk's eyes flashed with a deadly intensity as he adjusted the collar of his shirt and continued down the hallway to the general's office. After a few beats, LT Clark stood up and straightened his fatigues, muttering under his breath.
"Asshole. We'll see what he has to say after I—-" again Clark's words were stalled as he turned to find the company's head of security staring at him from the doorway. Nicholai Ginovaef had a predatory grin on his face as he eyed the young officer.
"Enjoy your little talk with Mr. Death, boy?" Nicholai taunted. The Russian was bodybuilder huge, with short cropped white hair and a jagged scar down one side of his face. Clark scowled up at him as he dusted off his uniform.
"I don't know who you people think you are, but I'm not standing for any more of this abuse. I'm gonna have a nice long talk with the general about you two bastards. He'll talk to the chairmen, and Jackson's sure to straighten you out." Clark's snarl turned to a whimper as Nicholai had him right back against the wall he occupied a few seconds before. The security head brandished his hunting knife with a flourish before he buried it up to the hilt in the wall centimeters from the lieutenant's head.
"If you think that he was scary with his little death fetish, you should think twice before you show me any disrespect. I would just as soon kill you as look at you. Hunk might be on death's list, but I was forged in the fiery pits of Hell itself. Would you like me to show you my demons?" Ginovaef jerked the knife from the wall and returned it to its sheaf before striding down the hall to join Hunk and the general for their meeting. Clark stared into space for a few moments and shook his head before stumbling down the hall after him, his face green.
The general in question was, of course, the head of all Umbrella's military activity internationally. He had risen through the ranks slowly but steadily, earning compliment after compliment and award after award. He could easily have been the commander of one of America's armed service branches, but the private corporation Umbrella came calling when he was a newly promoted colonel in the U.S. Army. As the commander of the international company's rather large militia, he had more power than most dictators ever do. In fact, if he wanted to, there were few countries in Europe that Umbrella's forces couldn't overrun. General Jonathan D. Roper, however, knew his place. As powerful as he and his forces were, he still had superiors and reported directly to Jackson Cortlandt, the chairman of the inner circle. It was a phone call only a few hours ago from Jackson that had Roper himself taking care of this business, rather than leaving it up to a less capable person. Roper liked Hunk, and was at least familiar with Ginovaef, but he had his orders and always came through for the company, always. So it was with a heavy but firm disposition that he showed the two soldiers into his office. Hunk was properly respectful as he took his seat, and Nicholai stood silently by the large bookcase that dominated the right wall of the room. LT Clark slipped through the door a few moments later, red faced and looking rather upset.
"General, if you would be so kind as to get right to the point of today's meeting, I would be eternally grateful. I have a few engagements that I need to tend to." Hunk acknowledged Nicholai. "And I'm sure that he has things that need his attention as well." Nicholai glared at the agent, then turned toward the man behind the desk.
"If there is something you wish to say, J.D., then let's have it. I'm a very busy person, and you know I don't like to be kept--" Nicholai stopped talking abruptly as he noticed Clark drawing his Desert Eagle from its holster. Hunk, unaware of the lieutenant's actions behind him, continued to wait for an answer from Roper. The general turned to face Hunk and Nicholai with a small .38 pistol in his hand.
"I'm terribly sorry, gentlemen, but I'm afraid that your prior plans will have to be cancelled. I've been instructed to have you escorted to the detention block. Lieutenant, if you please..." Roper trailed off, his intentions clear.
"After all that I've done for this company, do you think that you can just have me jailed like a common thug?? Are you out of your mind??" the special ops agent stood up, shouting. Hunk's hand drifted down to the 9mm that was holstered on his hip, and managed to take one step towards Roper before Clark slammed the butt of the magnum into the back of his head and Hunk crumpled to the floor. Nicholai took advantage of the situation and charged the general, knocking him sprawling and sending the semiautomatic clattering across the floor. He unsheathed his knife and prepared to drive it into Roper's skull before the bore of Clark's Desert Eagle pressed against his head.
"Drop the knife slowly, and unhand the general." Clark's voice was ice, and the gun pressed harder. Nicholai spun, quick as a cat, and caught Clark with a glancing blow across the left bicep. Bleeding steadily, the lieutenant dropped the heavy handgun and maneuvered out of the way as the knife descended again, burying itself in the mahogany bookcase. Nicholai savagely pulled the knife out, fire blazing in his eyes, and leapt towards the soldier...and stopped abruptly, his eyes wide and mouth open. The security head dropped to the ground with a crash, shaking wildly. LT Clark backed up, staring at the crazy Russian, before glancing over to his superior. Roper was leaning against the front of his desk, holding a large standard-issue tazer in his hands. Roper sighed and gestured toward the two unconscious men.
"Get them out of my office." Clark nodded, and radioed to his assistant, Corporal Michael Kimberling, to come up to the general's office. When the tall, spindly corporal came up moments later, Clark pointed at the two Umbrella agents and told him that they were headed for the detention center of the basement. As Kimberling began to cart off the two targets under supervision by Clark, Roper sat back down behind his desk, ran his hands through his short blond hair and took off his rimless glasses to clean them. He placed the specs back on his face and inspected the damage to his Armani suit: three long tears and scuffs on both shoes. Roper sighed. The things I do for the good of the company...