Wesker's eyes widened as the projectile flew towards his head. It was already too close for him to duck in time, even with his speed. Wesker whipped his arm up in a blur. There was a loud CRACK, and the axe stopped in mid-air, remaining where it was although its forward movement had stopped. Wesker lowered his hand, and the object within it. The axe was stuck fast into Wesker's automatic pistol...

Wesker grabbed the axe handle, pulling it free from his weapon with a sharp tug. He dropped the now bent and broken pistol, and took a firm grip on the axe in one hand, the chainsaw in the other. He rushed towards the parasite-infested human, and with the buzzing saw, sliced its right arm off, as the axe slammed into the monster's forehead, killing both it and the parasite within instantly.

The blood-soaked scientist ripped the axe-head from his enemy's skull, taking one last look to check that the parasite was dead. He then hooked the axe to his belt. It was a fire axe, and had a hook for such carrying purposes. Wesker took a look around, sniffing the air, using his enhanced senses to test for the presence of any living being nearby. It seemed that for the moment at least, his zombified pursuers had lost his scent. They were nowhere nearby.

Wesker thought for a moment. His mission was urgent, and time was of the essence, but he needed weapons to carry it out. Now was a good time to repair his submachine gun. His pistol was useless for now, but chances were that he could find a replacement. 9mm pistols were easy to come by in this country.

He walked along the street for a few minutes, keeping a careful eye out for any sign of an ambush. No such attack was evident as yet. At last, he saw what he was hoping for. A gun shop. Such establishments were all too common in Washington D.C, but in a situation like this, that fact rather suited his purpose.

Heading into the shop, Wesker dropped his MP-10 on the workbench at the back, and quickly located a set of weapon maintenance tools. Before he got to work on the jammed machinegun, Wesker surveyed the contents of the gun racks and shelves around the room.

Hunting rifles and shotguns hung on the walls, and handguns of various types were lined up under the counter.
Wesker selected carefully. A 10-gauge pump-action shotgun, a large-bore hunting rifle with a scope, and a replacement 9mm handgun, this one with a bright red lazer-sight under the barrel. He also took a second pistol, for no particular reason other than he liked the look of it. It was a .45 Winchester magnum semi-automatic, nicknamed the "Grizzly". Collecting a sizable supply of ammunition for these weapons, Wesker stored them, with the exception of the 9mm, in a rucksack he found in the corner. Loading the pistol, he placed it ready for use on the workbench, in case he should be rudely interrupted. Taking hold of the tools, Wesker cracked open the breech of the jammed machinegun, and set to work...

Meanwhile, in another part of the city, a dark figure ran from shadow to shadow, a blade glinting in its hand. This was not one of the infected. This man's name was Nicholai Ginovaef, and he was most definitely human, physically at least. Morally, he was the equivalent of gutter slime, or perhaps of a particularily vicious predator. Nicholai hefted the combat knife in his hand as a zombie shambled out of a darkened doorway. It was risky, keeping to the shadows like this. The zombies seemed to dislike the sunlight, and so it was easy to bump into one. However, the shadows were also useful for hiding from the OTHER kind of infected... the human bodies inhabited by the plaga parasites. Nicholai had discovered this soon after the outbreak had occured. He had been in the city when the virus and the parasites had escaped.

As for what he was doing there... Ginovaef had been sent to infiltrate Umbrella's secret base of operations under the city. He had spent a week or so stalking known Umbrella employees and torturing them for information about the base's whereabouts. He now knew where it was, and was on his way there when all hell broke loose. His taxi-driver had been complaining of itchy skin, and all of a sudden, he let go of the steering wheel and tried to bite Nicholai! He recieved the business end of a combat knife that buried itself in his forehead, putting him out of what would have been the misery of life as a zombie.

Nicholai no longer worked for Umbrella. At least... not for the new Umbrella corporation founded by Albert Wesker. He was a mercenary, and had been for a long time. He cared only for money. Not for love, nor loyalty, only hard cash. He outdid Wesker in this aspect. At least that man was a scientist, despite how violent his tendancies were, and how cold his demeanor. Wesker actually did care about his work, the advancement of science, the thrill of new discoveries.

Nicholai made him seem positively warm and caring in comparison. The mercenary cared not for such things, and was only doing this job for the monetary rewards promised to him by his employer... a man called Spencer... He had given no christian name, but he could not be the same man who built the mansion outside Racoon city. He must be a relative.

Nicholai's thoughts snapped back to the present as the zombie tried to take hold of his shoulders, preparatory to taking a bite. The merc flipped the blade in his hand, into the backhanded stance favoured by knife-fighters. His arm swung to the right, neatly slicing the zombie's jugular vein as Nicholai evaded the spray of blood by ducking under the undead creature's arms and standing up behind it. A vicious backwards kick sent the rotting freak sprawling to the ground, where it rapidly perished.

Nicholai WAS carrying a gun, but since he had needed to conceal the weapon, he had not been able to carry much ammunition, so the likes of a zombie was not deserving of a bullet. He wiped his knife clean on his leather jacket, and returned it to his belt sheath. The laboratory was still a fair way off, and his mission had a deadlines. Besides, the army would eventually turn up, and there would be questions asked if he was caught within the lab complex with a weapon.

Little did Nicholai know who or what stood in his way...