"Hello and good evening people of Spearhead. This is Roddy Vasquez here, reporting live outside our very own Umbrella Headquarters. It's just now nearing 10:30 P.M., and no Umbrella employee has left the building, even though working hours are certainly far over. Not only that, steel shudders have closed over the windows and doors, further building suspicion and paranoia. What in the world could be going on in there? We'll be right here delivering details first when they arise. Back to you guys in the studio."

"And, cut!"

Rodrigo "Roddy" Vasquez, the ever-cheerful field newscaster, dropped his perma-smile, replacing it with a look of disgust. Normally working just for daily news, Roddy had to substitute for the real nightly newscaster, who had called in sick at the last friggin' minute. Surrounded by the curious public, Roddy walked over to the newsvan and hopped in, attempting to find some sort of hiding place from the frantic population. The van was dimly lit, and unoccupied, perfect place for a nice relaxing smoke. He popped the cig in his mouth, and brought a flame to life from his crappy K-Mart purchased lighter. Just as he lit the cigarette, a siren blared and he jumped, dropping the cancer-stick to the floor of the van. Roddy grumbled and incoherently cursed under his breath as he stomped out the cig and threw open the newsvan doors.

"What the fuck is going on out here now?"

"Roddy, get over here, we've gotta start filming!" screamed Lopez, affectionately nicknamed "Roach" thanks to his "interesting" odors. Roddy brushed off his suit before beginning, trying his best to keep his attention on the camera rather than the scrapes and pounds that he could hear from inside of the building behind him.

"Good evening once again everybody, Roddy Vasquez here with a News 8 update. Only a few seconds ago, a high pitched siren had emitted from Umbrella HQ. We are unsure of the purpose, but a vast array of shrieks, pounds, and scratching sounds have been evident since the siren went off." The doors slowly opened. "People are currently leaving the Umbrealla building, and you're seeing it right here on Channel 8 folks! Let's see if we can try to get an interview with one of the employees. Exscuse me, sir? Sir?" Roddy approached one of the employees, and his gut began to wrench within him. He got a nasty vibe from this rather pale man in a ruffled dress shirt. His pasty face turned towards him, the purple crescents under his eyes and drool dribbling from his lips only adding to Roddy's fear. He lurched forward, surprisingly strong hands clamped down onto his shoulders as rotten teeth lunged at Roddy's throat. The teeth sank in rather deep, and as Roddy prepared to scream, the crowds outside the building did it for him as panic broke loose. More and more of the cannibal Umbrella employees poured out of the now wide open doors, and many found their way over by Roddy. His first attacker pulled up, ripping out his windpipe. He had lost a great deal of flesh from his chest, his throat, and one had even started tearing out his cheeks before he died.

Being a relatively intelligent man, it didn't take Roach long to realize that these Umbrella people meant trouble. One had spotted him, and began to take chase, so Roach bludgeoned it with the camera, which did little to no good. Now, he was being followed by about five, so into the news van he leapt. He twisted around and reached for the handle to shut the doors, but bloodied jaws beat him there, gnashing at his fingers. He pulled his wounded hand away, and realized how truly screwed he now was. As "they" piled into the news van, Roach couldn't help but scream as their fingers plunged into his abdomen. He saw his own innards being ripped from him before he ceased to be.

-----

HUNK looked back down into the elevator, where Envy's claws were still swiping throughout the cab. Poor Marsh was still bleeding on the ground, his hands still feebly trying to stop the river of blood from his legless socket. His screams had reduced to slight moans, and his now white face would just wince slightly if Envy's claw swept close to him. Unexpectedly, a siren began to sound. Envy's claw pulled out of the elevator, and he could see that she had stopped moving. Looking through the hole in the elevator floor, HUNK saw Envy begin to head downwards toward the main exit of the building, attracted by the siren. The timing couldn't have been better. The elevator, which had been heading upwards, was close to reaching the top floor of the building. HUNK could see the pulley system, and he carefully aimed his 40 mm grenade launcher at it, and let the explosive fly. As planned, the cable snapped, and the cab began to fall, and HUNK grabbed the edges of the opening, bracing himself. As it fell, he could hear a certain thump of the elevator hitting Envy's thick body. After a few seconds of falling, HUNK timed his jump and leapt from the falling cab, and perfectly landed right in the small alcove for the elevator doors. He watched the cab complete its fall, and smiled behind his mask when he heard the loud, gratifying noise of a big fucking bug getting smushed.

Wesker's voice echoed through his head. "Destroy the B.O.W.s and collect samples from each." Being in the doorway leading to the third floor, HUNK knew that a three story fall couldn't hurt him that bad, so he leapt from the doorway and onto the top of the elevator. Peering through the elevator cab's exit hatch, it was obviously not a pretty sight in the elevator. Marsh was still there, but very much dead, his body broken and twisted and bunched into the corner. The sample collecting wouldn't be much of a task for HUNK, however, for the hole in the floor made by Envy's claw was quite a sufficient entryway, for a great deal of Envy's vital fluids covered the walls in thick coats. Her face was slightly peeking through the hole, smashed beyond any sort of recognition. HUNK craned an arm into the blood-soaked elevator with a small Q-Tip in hand, and swabbed some of Envy's blood from the wall. Placing it in a secure test tube, HUNK leapt back up to the closest set of doors to pry them open. There were still six more monsters out there, for now...

-----

Ben felt a little disheartened by their "arsenal" that he and the others managed to put together. They had picked apart the locker room and armed themselves with anything that could serve as a weapon. He had the belt from the now dead (again) man, Alyssa and Cindy both had nightsticks that they found in lockers, Mark had actually pulled off a locker door, while Jim and George were both unarmed. Ben figured that his heart was on the brink of exploding, it was beating so fast, as he wiped a slick layer of sweat off of his brown forehead. His dad placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and gave him a squeeze.

"You good Ben?" Ben nodded, and Mark went on, "Alright everybody, we aren't exactly ready to take on any armies or anything, but if we stay cool and alert, we should be fine. Follow my lead, got it? I don't know who or what is out there, but we're gonna start by trying to find Kevin and David." Mark turned to Cindy and saw her face light up. She smiled at him, and he returned the favor. "Okay, I'm opening the door now. Get ready everybody." Mark's meaty hand wrapped around the doorknob, twisted it, and slowly opened it. He saw only figure, slowly shuffling. He was the only one up, clad in black with an auto slung over his shoulder. He had a hand on his arm, and he was looking at the bodies strewn about the Lobby. Mark turned to Alyssa, and gestured for the nightstick. He put down the locker door, as gently as possible without any noise, and firmly grabbed the nightstick. He crept up behind the man, who finally noticed him when the nightstick slapped across his face. He fell to the floor with a scream, both of his hands going to his face. Mark was surprised that the soldier was actually alive, but regardless, he took his handgun and automatic from him.

"What the fuck are you doing! I'm human! What the hell is wrong with you!"

David and Kevin ran out from the small office upon hearing the scream. "Whoa Mark! What just happened?"

Mark turned to them, wary with his newly acquired pistol. "Are you two okay? No bites, no scratches, yeah?"

Kevin smiled and spun around, "Clean as a whistle. Who's our new friend?" By now, everybody had come out of the locker room, and they were gathered around the soldier on the floor. He had short, buzzed brown hair and dark squinty eyes. He had a broad nose and a firm chin, the former was now bleeding thanks to the nightstick. He had black fatigues and a black kevlar vest, and a gas mask hung around his neck. On his vest, the name "Bohr, Harvey" was printed. "What do you people want?" Bohr eyed Mark, then his son, and his expression shifted from pissed to worried. "Hey, I didn't have anything against you guys, it was just a job, okay? Y'know, bread on the table kind of stuff!" Bohr was quickly shuffling away from the group, towards the exit.

A confused Mark trailed after him. "What are you talking about? Did you do something to me and my son? Speak up already?"

Crabwalking away from the burly ex-security guard, Bohr sputtered, "The lady upstairs gave the orders so we carried them out, I don't even know you!" Unfortunately for him, Bohr's frantic screams were rather loud. The dead began to walk towards the doors. As they approached, the group took a look outside the building for the first time. There was chaos. The undead that had been unleashed were prowling the city, and the citizens of Spearhead weren't faring well. Bohr, totally unaware of the shambling attackers on the other side of the doors, clambered to his feet, and ran through the doors, right into their grasp. Four got him, and he turned around to try and run back into the building, but to no avail. Mark took Bohr's pistol and aimed carefully, getting a good stance and steadying his arms. He knew that he couldn't save Bohr, but he could still put down the zombies, preventing any other deaths. Bohr thrashed and screamed, crusty, rotten fingers digging in his eye sockets and his ears and fingers and neck were being chewed like a dog would chew on a raw-hide. Mark shot Bohr first, putting a sudden climax to his agonizing screams, then he picked off the four zombies one by one.

"We need to find a good hideout, but first, I suggest we get some decent clothes."

"That's one of the best ideas I've heard all night." Kevin slapped Mark on the shoulder. "I've got 12 rounds left from the basement guard's gun, and if we're quick, we could probably get there fine."

"Excuse me, but may I make a suggestion?" George stepped forward, "I think we should actually take a quieter approach to this. Going in gung-ho with all guns blazing would be nice if we had more to work with, but we don't. Also, keep in mind that we don't know where we are. I say we explore this city, but as quickly and carefully as possible."

Kevin snickered, "That's the second best idea I've heard all night."

The group left the Umbrella building, and into a broken city of Spearhead they plunged.

-----

Ms. Black sat in her chair, ideas churning in her head rapidly, a whirlpool of anger, betrayal, and confusion. Most everything was probably out of the building and in the city by now, so Spearhead was pretty much doomed. Ms. Black felt that she herself was also pretty much doomed. If the monsters didn't get her, Wesker would be sure to. She knew it was a futile attempt, but she got up and went to the phone. Dialing quickly, she waited, the blaring ringing tones building suspense, even though she didn't expect much response. Her heart stopped when the tone stopped, and she heard the phone fall from its hook. She could hear groaning, and she now assumed the worst for Doctor Quillocy. However, her ideas were totally denied when she heard a crash and gunshots ring out. Doctor Quillocy's panicked voice suddenly took over the line.

"Who is it, who are you there? Is that you Black? Are you there? Hello? Hello? HELLO? Dammit." And in that span of five seconds, Dr. Q. was gone, and by the sound of it, totally insane. Black was on her own. She turned from the office, collecting her ID card and handgun from the desk. Upon entering the hallway, Black had guns pointed at her. Two soldiers, one Hispanic and the other a gruff bearded man, slowly approached her with their guns raised.

"Como estas?"

"Who are you?' The bearded man took one hand off his Magnum pistol, and snatched Ms. Black's ID card. "Suzuki, Yoko..." She scratched at his face and took off running. She didn't get too far, however, because the Hispanic still had his gun on her. She took the round to the knee, and dropped like bricks. She writhed on the floor, cradling her wounded knee. The bearded one, Burton it said on his vest, kicked her gun away as he kept her staring down the barrel of his .44. "We do not want to kill you. We want to know who you are. I'm assuming that your name is Yoko, yes?" She spat at him. Barry stood up and turned to Carlos and whispered, "I'm thinking that this one will be easier if she's out." Carlos nodded, and Barry reached down to pick her up. Once she was up, she didn't recall much, aside from a gloved fist hitting her in the face, knocking her into unconsciousness.