Author's Notes; too many updates… too soon… headache… Anyway, things get better, in a terrible way in this chapter, so hope you enjoy so please R&R soon…
There was nothing out of the ordinary about it to start with. I raised my head for a second when Brad's headset beeped. A common occurrence, especially with the S.T.A.R.S. I don't think I even noticed it, not at the time. I was too immersed in my own life. Too wrapped up in my plans to care about simple thing like a call coming through.
But it wasn't simple, and I should've known that. But no, my head was pushed way too far up my own ass to give a shit what was going on with anything on the outside.
The Bravo's were out you see. Something else that I had gotten used to.
When old Enrico wanted to take his team out, wanted them to get some of the glory, they got the glory, and they used it well. Unlike the Alpha's, the Bravo's still had some semblance of humility, not believing that they were the best, but knowing they weren't the worst. It's why they always went out first. They had some control. Enrico believed in 'assessing' the situation first, attempting to determine if his team were good enough to handle the situation. They usually were, but he always thought it best to check…
In that respect, he was almost as cool as Wesker himself. Almost, cause half of what made Wesker were those shades he wore, and I smashed those some time ago…
Nevertheless, it was pretty standard for them to call. Enrico literally checked out every blip in protocol with HQ, wanting to prove that his team were up there with the Alpha's. Were… it's strange to think of them in the past tense…
As I said, I didn't think anything of it. Brad rushed over to his headset, discretely removing the finger from his nose before tapping on the keys of his computer. He typed quickly, but that was nothing new. He always seemed nervous around the other alpha's, wanting to be part of the group, but restricted by not being able to hold a gun straight or look an enemy in the eyes. And they were pretty crucial if you wanted to be a cop. Brad was only good for one thing; hacking. Which he did very well.
So when he went to his keyboard, and started thumping the keys like his life depended on it, I didn't think that there was anything wrong. I didn't think, full stop.
It's when he stopped that made me nervous.
He wasn't much in the way of a soldier, a fighter. He always took the easiest way out. So he did everything on the computer at twice the speed, like he was making up for some flaw in his character that separated him from the rest of us. He would've never stopped tapping the keys. Not normally.
When he stopped this kind of dead silence descended on the room, no one moving for just a second, just because he'd stopped. Then it hit, the noise. Brad must've put the headset on loudspeaker because I could just hear static; the monitors in front of him turning that hazy grey colour you get when the TV goes dead. The static was deafening, and almost violently sudden as I'd gotten used to the dull thud, thud, thud of Brad's fingers on the keys. Everyone stopped, listening to the change of sound. Still only for a second.
A second later it changed again, voices amidst the static. Panicky, scared voices. The Bravo's pilot, Kevin, hurriedly transmitting their co-ordinates before screaming at his coming fate. Then it crashed. I guess it crashed. I mean, we didn't hear anything, but that was the problem. One second there was screaming and chaos, terrible chaos as the Bravo's fought to keep their composure. The deafening sound then cut to silence in an instant.
Right then I should have trusted my gut. That very second the comms went silent I should've listened to myself.
But I didn't, and now most of the Bravo's are dead. I was just as cocky and pig-headed as always, mouthing off about how careless the Bravo's were not checking their copter in the first place. Boasting how the Alpha's would come to their rescue like a knight in shining armour. I knew something was wrong, but I didn't wan to admit it to myself. It didn't wan to admit that I could potentially be bringing her into a hostile environment where she might get hurt, or even killed. I could never admit that. Cause we were Alpha's right? And whatever Marini encountered we could beat. We were better…
Now I look back, I don't see how we were better. Just as many of us died that night as them. The problem was that we all didn't die, some survived. She survived. That's probably the worst thing, she managed to get out ok, even thought at times I thought that maybe she'd become just another rotting corpse shambling along the corridors of the Spencer Mansion. While I was in there I would have rather killed myself that let that happen. I would have willingly offered myself to give her a chance at life. I still would now, even thought that's a little late…
You see, this is where people start to tell me that I've lost it, finally gone over the edge. But I don't have anything to lose, so I don't really give a shit what they think.
If she'd been killed that night, turned into one of those rotten shells, walking round wearing the face of the woman I'd loved, me, having to put a bullet in her head, then that wouldn't have been as bad. Sure, I'd probably feel like eatin' my own bullet afterwards, but I wouldn't actually do it. I wouldn't have had the balls to. I still had other things to live for; like… like Claire. But we all know what happened to her. If she'd died then I would've pulled through.
It goes like this; I knew her less then, so I had less to lose. Granted, I still loved her, more than anything else, but I love her more now than I did then. Loved…
So, like before, I ignored my instinct, and for that one split second I hoped that we'd be ok after all. In that second of silence…
We were going in after them…