Chapter 2: No Turning Back.
"If only we'd known, things would be different."
Ex took one last bite of his cheese pizza and turned to the open office door. Wiping his mouth on the bottom of his shirt and headed for the door, heavy boots thudding on the worn wooden floor. Each of his fated companions followed suit in an order they could never seem to break. Leon was out the door first followed by Clyde then Ex and Dane and then Rowan dead last.
"Lets get the party started." Clyde said gingerly as they all piled into their changing room to dawn their officer's gear.
Ex is always the first out of the changing room because he seemingly wears his gear at all times day or night. All he had to put on aside from his gun-belt was his surplus bought tac-vest. It was black of course, and specially designed for long-range rifle fun and mobility, it had Kevlar plates sewn into the lining covering his back kidneys, and two sections of his chest when zipped up. He also fastened his field pack to his belt, which contained a variety of survival goodies that he never seemed to use but liked having anyways. Leon was the next out of the door and over to the munitions room, that the team had affectionately nicknamed "The Shed," because the only thing Leon really kept in the changing room was his medical pack, his mixing bundle, and his Kevlar vest. Clyde and Dane were always tied for the next to last position, being that Clyde took so damned long to tighten and re-lace his boots and check the rigging of his belt and pack. He also always had to throw on this ratty old green backpack, filled with various trinkets and gadgets that also never seemed to have a purpose. He said he took so long because no matter how many times you did something or how comfortable you were with doing it, you might just fuck it up somehow. Dane was out before Clyde again this time, the reason he lagged behind the other two though was because he basically had to change all of his clothes and throw on his utility stuff. He would always tell you that he didn't like looking the part unless he absolutely had to. Finally we come to Rowan who is always last out of the changing room, not because he is the slowest, but because he is the rookie and is forced to wait until the seniors have cleared the room. Because of this, he is given the venerated and most honorable task of closing and locking up both the office and changing room doors, the team has entrusted him with the only keys to these rooms.
The Shed, though a bit musty from the old filing that used to be housed there, was aptly named. It was small and always a little muggy in the summer months but what it lacked in space it more than made up for in firepower. Every available inch of wall was covered in various armaments and types of ammunition. Upon first entering the weapons locker, many visitors and fellow officers alike are stunned by the shear military might housed in such a small space. Two rows of metal shelving units are assembled to form a narrow lane down the center of the room, the shelves housing different accessories and attachments for the weapons on the walls. Along the back wall below a section named "Heavy Arms" is a workbench with an ammunition packing press among other weapon enhancing tools. Located in this cramped but efficiently constructed room is enough weaponry and ammunition to fuel a small army, which if you were on the receiving end of a S.T.A.R.S. assault, you would think is battering down on you.
Each of the officers had their own way of arming themselves and weapons that suited their talents. Ex used to be a sharp shooter and the weapons he chose reflected this, he walked over to the section dedicated to rifles and picked out his baby, an old M-1 Garand bolt-action carbine. It held a total of 8 rounds of .30-06 Winchester Magnum caliber rifle ammunition and had a scope with custom sights that Ex had made himself. Like an old friend he greeted the rifle with a warm hello and slung it over his shoulder, and started packing ammo into the deep pockets of his vest. Clyde meandered over to the handgun section and picked up his trusty police issue 9-millimeter glock, while stuffing ammo into his pockets he turned to Leon who was also picking up a 9-millimeter, though his was a Beretta and had a slightly longer barrel than the model Clyde was using.
"Any idea what's goin' on Leon?" Clyde asked, really looking for anyone to answer.
"Don't know, o' course whatever it is must be urgent or they wouldn't need to call us in. We aren't scheduled for an investigation or a sting so it could be any number of crisis situations, that's what we're here for after all right?" Leon always had something informative to say it seemed and this calmed the others down a bit, it had been some time since they last saw action, before Rowan had signed up even, so if they were going into combat this would be his first confrontation.
Dane settled on his trusty riot-gun, the one with the round ammo magazine that held about 100 .20 gauge cartridges, he slung it over his shoulder gingerly and adjusted the strap. Looking over he noticed Rowan wandering around the weapons room seemingly not sure which weapon to arm himself with, Dane smirked a little to himself pulling a clean looking SPAS-12 tactical shotgun with the collapsible stock from the spot just below his riot-gun.
"Hey Rowan!" He shouted enthusiastically. Rowan turned towards the voice of Dane just in time to see a shotgun coming at him, he snatched it out of the air and gave Dane an inquisitive look.
"C'mon man! Spread it on!" Dane made the classic shotgun cocking action and smiled widely, obviously proud of himself.
Rowan raised an eyebrow and tossed the strange comment aside though he did almost instinctively cock the shotgun to chamber the first round. Rowan couldn't remember exactly but he was pretty sure the SPAS-12 held about 7 shells, 8 if you used the ones with crimped ends. He put two boxes of shells into the front pockets of his vest and tossed the shotgun over his shoulder the strap running across his chest. The weight felt good to him, made the weapon feel more powerful somehow. This was a solid weapon, Rowan thought to himself as he situated the shotgun where it was comfortable across his back.
They began the march downstairs to the briefing center that was located adjacent to the chief's office. There was room in the elevator for all of them though it obviously strained over the extra weight it made it down to the ground floor one more time and they all piled out into a still unusually crowded main hall. Now however the crowd seemed a little more hysterical, the drunk on the bench by the elevator was gone, but now there was a sea of civilians milling about all shouting indiscernible things to each other and officers alike.
"What the fuck is going on today? Jesus it's never this busy on the weekends." Shouted Dane above the ruckus as they forced their way through the crowd.
It took division 8 about five minutes to actually make their way to the briefing room, and after closing the door they turned and dispersed a little, each of them glad to be out of the crowded main hall of the police station. The briefing room was a simple room, large enough to accommodate the officer's of the station, with blue plastic chairs and an old chalk-stained board at the front of the room. Standing to the left of the board was chief Sterns looking rather worried which was unusual for him. Standing to the left was a man none of the officers had ever seen before. He was wearing a S.T.A.R.S. standard uniform, tac-vest, and thigh holster with what appeared to be a .45 caliber pistol much like what Ex wore on both hips. He was wearing dark sunglasses, which was strange since they were indoors and his hair was slicked back with what seemed like too much hair gel. Looking at this guy was like looking at something right out of a stylish movie. He wore a fake grin, which didn't fool anyone on the squad except for Rowan, who wasn't really paying attention anyways. Sterns motioned for the team to take seats up front, and introduced the cool man to the group as Commander Albert Wesker. The name seemed to ring a bell with Ex and Leon, both of them the veterans of the S.T.A.R.S. force in Mattoon city, he was the regional director for the S.T.A.R.S division in Raccoon City, the sight of that horrible massacre just a couple of years ago. The men stirred in their seats waiting for Mr. Wesker to begin speaking, he did not, instead he went to the board and began to draw the layout of what looked like a factory of some type.
"Hey, what the hell is the regional director doing here?" Ex had leaned over to Leon and whispered this as quietly as he could. The man up front stopped his work on the board for a bit then continued on still wearing that damned fake smirk of his, confident son of a bitch was what Ex thought about this guy before them.
"Commander Wesker is here to brief you boys on a mission of great importance, so you damned well better listen to what he's got to say or I'll have you all suspended, you hear?" Chief Sterns really had his boxers in a bunch it seemed.
Wesker finally stopped his drawings and turned to face the whole crew, he cleared his throat lightly and began to explain why they were called here. His voice as he talked seemed somehow surreal though none of the officers could quite put their finger on it. Ex thought to himself that the guy sounded strange, almost like a dead man walking. His tone was unchanging and his calm demeanor seemed almost to mock the whole sordid situation.
"I've summoned you men here today because we have a problem we need your special talents to address. You see we've been trailing a few methamphetamine dealers from Raccoon City who were dispersed into the normal populous when the police station at Raccoon City was overrun. We have tracked them here and they seem to be walled up in an old factory on the edge of this little town of yours. Normally we would send the regular police in for this assignment, as I'm sure you are aware, but these fugitives have in their possession some heavy firepower along with a few severely sensitive documents that the police of Raccoon City need to get back. That's why I've asked your chief here to assign you men to handle this. It's a straightforward mission, no nonsense sweep and clean. It is preferred that the fugitives be captured alive, however securing the documents they have is of greater importance. Those are all the main details; we believe they are stationed in the second floor office area of the old factory. You have your objectives S.T.A.R.S. and I have already signed out a S.W.A.T. van to use at your disposal. You leave within the hour at your own discretion. Oh and one more thing, there will be no backup for this mission so if you fail don't count on being rescued." This concluded Wesker's speech and he turned to the chief who ordered the men out of the room and to shut the door behind them.
Clyde was scratching the back of his head as they exited the briefing room into the crowded police station and headed back up to their office for a final check on their equipment, and to chat a bit as they always did before a mission that almost certainly involved someone dying. Once again filing into their offices, each man sat down at his desk and shifted nervously in it. Ex was checking the sights on his 1911's and after he had put them back into their holsters he leaned far back in his chair.
"So, what do the rest of you make of this? To me it seems a little hokey; the way in which the situation was described was too vague. We didn't get an expected body count, no details on what kinds of "heavy" weaponry they might be having, and something else strikes me as odd, can't quite put my finger on what though." Puzzlement was in Ex's voice and his brow was furrowed.
"Bullshit" said Clyde firmly.
"Agreed" Dane added.
"This just doesn't make any sense at all, there's something messed up about this guy, not only that but I don't think we are going to be dealing with any meth addicts, sounds more like espionage or military escapees. I mean if it were doped up punks, why would they take a position in the factory that is easy to defend as opposed to just wandering aimlessly about the place?" Leon's brain was racking over this in his mind, there was something that just didn't feel right, Ex had said it first but they all felt it.
They all sat in silence for another few minutes and then they stood and headed for the door, as they filed out Ex stopped Rowan and told the others to go on ahead, that he would catch up. He turned to rowan and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Look, what I need from you is a favor, something doesn't sit right with me about this and I want you to stay here and get me as much information about this Wesker guy as you can. I know you have good information handling skills, and I want to know everything about Wesker and the Raccoon City incident when we get back. Keep in radio contact and let me know whatever you dig up along the way. I don't think this operation should take long, I mean what's a few renegades against the force of S.T.A.R.S.?"
Rowan took careful note of what Ex had said and he nodded and agreed that he would stay behind. He did so begrudgingly he was eager to be in combat and see how well he held up under the stress of battle. Accepting this task however he set himself to it quickly and he sidled over to his desk he shook off the hefty shotgun and propped it up on the side of his desk meaning to put it back in the weapons room later. Rowan's desk was home to the only working computer in the office, and the last thing Ex saw of Rowan was him typing away at the keyboard of his computer, he shut the door to the office and headed down to the garage where the rest of the guys would be assembling. Making his way down the hall he stopped to look out the window by the stairs and elevator, he looked over in the direction they would be traveling, and realized what didn't feel right about the situation, these people were holed up in an abandoned factory that happened to be right across the road from one of the major stores in town the Wal-Mart. Why on earth would they want to send in a group like S.T.A.R.S, who would undoubtedly wind up getting into a firefight, to extract these guys when it's going to attract so much damned attention? The answer that hit him was like a cold shiver of something ominous in the near future. Because, they aren't worried about attracting attention. Something is damned hairy about this situation was the last thought on Ex's mind as the elevator doors slid rustily open.
"I think I'll take the stairs old buddy, just this once." He remarked solemnly as he let the door shut again and made his way down the stairs to the garage level.
When he actually made his way down to the garage his friends were already surveying the vehicle, which was an unmarked navy blue dodge, and Leon was at the checkout station talking to the guy behind the counter and the tall young guy next to him. Ex mixed in with his friends and was talking to Clyde about the discovery he had made a few moments earlier and letting everyone know what Rowan was up to when Leon came walking back with the tall man and introduced him as Irvine Johnson. Now here is an interesting fact about Irvine, he works for the police department as a driver, but what he really wanted was to be a member of S.T.A.R.S. but he was never able to pass the physical requirements to gain acceptance. Because of this he was a little resentful of the members who did make it, but nonetheless he felt a sense of great pride to be able to help them out on this mission. He hadn't been informed of the situation and later Leon would tell his friends that the chief wanted it kept that way.
"So, Irvine, you know where we're goin right?" Said Clyde lazily.
"Indeed I do, know it well to, my dad used to work at that factory before it shut down, I know it like the back of my hand, I could maybe help you guys out if you'd fill me in a little" Irvine tried to put on his most convincing appeal.
"That's cool man, I think we'll be able to manage, but thanks for the offer." Ex commented as they all filed into the back of the van and Irvine, rejected, shuffled off to the drivers side and climbed in starting up the van which came to life easily. The mechanics around the police station did a good job keeping the vehicles up and running, not as good of a job as Dane could do, but acceptable. As they drove off the men conversed with themselves in the back compartment as Irvine switched on the radio and tuned it into to one of his favorite stations, it was playing "Don't stop me now" by Queen if Clyde heard the tune right. It took them much longer than expected to get to the factory, the streets were crowded more than usual it seemed, and as they sped off down Broadway, the less crowded of the two streets, the sky began to darken with some heavy thunder clouds that had blown in from the west. At least it will be cooler is the thought that crossed Irvine's mind as they came to the stop sign at the corner of 16th Street and Broadway. There was a park on the left hand side of the road, some children were out on the park equipment having a grand time as their parents looked on from shaded picnic benches reading books, or generally ignoring the playing children.
Only Irvine could notice the passersby, there were no windows in the back of the swat van where the members of the ill-fated division 8 S.T.A.R.S. unit sat impatiently, milling over various thoughts and possibilities silently as they moved closer to their destination. Irvine opened the window to the back of the cab and tried his hand at small talk, remarking on the declining state of the weather.
"Yea, it'll be a real pain if it starts raining before we get done here" was what Dane had to say, the most social of the team he didn't mind keeping up a conversation with someone every now and again.
They hit another stop light on the opposite end of the large park. The old Lutheran Church stood to their right and the end of the park to their left, it wouldn't be long now, just another couple of miles up the road. They took this time to discuss just how they were going to play this out, they would park the van in the shopping center adjacent to the old factory, on its blind side, so they could get the drop on these guys if need be. The first thing they would do is send Ex and Clyde to scout the whole area of the building, and report back with how many probable exits they could find in case things went south. Then Dane and Leon would follow up the rear, coming in and being the first to enter the factory. Leon said that the office building was on the blind side of the building, a strategic advantage in that there were no windows to the outside in which tear gas or other such munitions could be used effectively from the outside. It would be an advantage for them though, in that they planned on entering on the blind side and coming up from underneath the office platform. One problem with this whole ordeal is that they had to get it done quietly, if the crowds from the mall and the Wal-mart got wind of a confrontation they could start a riot easily. That was the last thing anyone wanted so they all agreed, even Dane, to be as quiet and maneuverable as possible for this mission. Also they had settled on not killing any of the suspects, disable them if you have to, aim for the knees or the arms, but don't kill was what Ex had said.
"I think we want to take these guys alive, something tells me they might have something interesting to tell us about our friend Wesker back at the station." Was the remark he had made to his friends and the last thing that would be said before the van pulled into the mall parking lot.
Leon instructed officer Johnson to pull to the far right corner of the lot, where the small grove of trees would obstruct the view of the van from the factory floor. Irvine did his best to get quietly up to the right edge of the parking lot, staying on the far side as much as possible to avoid any chance of being sighted. Irvine was a good man, and he might have made a good member of the team, he was known for his expert driving skills as well as being a top-notch helicopter pilot. He was just too frail for the work though no way around it. Maybe if he bulked up and tried again in a year or two he might make it. In any case there was no point in dwelling on it now, he had a chance to prove his worth to the S.T.A.R.S. and he wasn't going to screw it up. While firmly focused on getting the van in just the right spot Irvine was blissfully unaware of the terror that was about to unfold around him.
The van came to a gentle stop aligned perfectly within the confines of the two yellow lines on the pavement and as it did Ex and Clyde opened the back door of the van and hopped out onto their haunches, quietly shutting the door behind them and taking off for the fence that separated the mall from the old factory. When they made it to the fence they radioed back to the team that they had cleared the rest of the parking lot without being identified. They scaled the fence easily and came down on the other side to find a small-forested ravine between the fence and the building; they maneuvered down and back up the ravine with a silent skill that only comes from years of practiced experience. Once on the factory side of the terrain they split up Clyde going around the back of the factory and Ex around the front. Ex took the front because it was the more dangerous position and required a bit more finesse, you could easily be spotted from the main road if you walked around the front of the building.
Back at the van Dane and Irvine were still having a pleasant conversation about the weather and work, meanwhile about five minutes had passed since they had any contact with Ex or Clyde. None of the men in the van felt particularly tense even with the idea that something seemed fishy about the whole ordeal, but they were members of S.T.A.R.S. after all, they were the best. Leon was the only one who you could call concerned at this point, and even then he just couldn't get the bad feeling out of the back of his head, and he kept trying to analyze the situation and break it up into the fragments that seemed strangest to him. Another five minutes passed, by this time Dane and Irvine had ended their conversation and Dane was messing around with his riot gun. They got a call from Clyde, he had made it all the way around the back and to the other side of the factory, he reported that there were no guards posted on his side and that all the doors and windows had been locked, the windows had additionally been barricaded, and the doors were most likely reinforced also. He took careful mention to note that he should have enough charge on him to knock them down, but the bad news was that he had no way of seeing into the structure. Ex hadn't reported in either, and they couldn't make any moves without a clear view of the front of the building too.
The day was hot and sneaking around like this in the muggy shade of the bushes along the front of the building wasn't exactly what Ex would call fun. Better than the desert was what he kept telling himself as he moved as silently as could be done along the front line of the old factory. He stopped when he got just a few feet from the front door of the building, there were no bushes to hide behind for crossing the front door area, it did seem that the windows had been boarded up, but still they may have surveillance of some kind running around here and it was better safe than sorry, he would wait here for a bit in case they were running security patrols on the perimeter of the building. No need to call the guys yet if he had nothing of value to report. Five minutes pass, nothing happens, in fact it seemed dead quiet, he couldn't hear anything going on inside, nor see any signs of life whatsoever and he was just about to contact the guys with this information when he heard some brief stirring inside.
Jenkins never cared for skulking around like this and he was getting tired of being cooped up too. He had to piss like a racehorse and safety be damned if he was going to be held back from attending to his natural duties. After a brief and heated discussion with Alberts, Jenkins won his hard fought battle and gained access to the factory key, which would unlock the front doors. It isn't like anyone knew they were here, and even if they did Roberts had this place bolted up so tight not even Umbrella could snake their way inside.
"Don't see what the big friggin' deal is, only takes a minute to take a leak anyways, and its not like the virus has come this far, over protective assholes is what it boils right down to. Why'd I even get mixed in with these crazies in the first place?" Jenkins gave a loud sigh as he passed into the bright daylight of the world. He shut the door and with a passing moment of intelligence did lock it back in place and put the key into his breast pocket. Now after that dutiful act he was ready to reward himself with a well-deserved tinkle off in the bushes to the right of the doorway. Jenkins was a pretty simple kind of guy and wasn't all that hard to please, just let him drain the lizard when he needed to.
Ex saw the disheveled man hobbling towards him lazily, he wasn't sure if he'd been spotted or not, but he was fairly certain it was the later because he could have sworn he heard the lazy bastard coming towards him muttering something about draining the lizard. This was a bad situation to be in, not that this guy was any match for Ex he seemed puny enough and rather plain, and he didn't appear to be carrying a weapon of note on his person. Could have something concealed, but it seemed doubtful for some reason somehow just plain unlikely.
"Can't kill this one, might have some useful information and I might be able to get some answers out of him before his friends note that he has gone missing." These were the thoughts that ran through Ex's head in the few seconds it took to draw his combat knife from his boot and spring quickly from the bushes that poor old Jenkins was mindlessly wandering towards.
Jenkins never saw it coming, he was admiring the sky, it was dark with the ominous feel of a storm on the horizon, but Jenkins liked the rain, felt cleansing to him somehow, though he never admitted that to anyone, and never would. When his eyes came back level to the wall of the factory and the bushes that he would soon be taking a leak all over all he saw was a gloved hand smashing hard into his face. The arm attached to it quickly swung around and he felt the cold steel of a blade sliding up against his neck.
"Oh God, God help me I'm dead!" Jenkins told himself in his mind, just before all thought was cleared by a blinding white flash of pain that originated in his knee, he heard a faint crunching noise as he fell knees first onto the concrete of the sidewalk. The blade was still on his neck and now there was a gloved hand covering his mouth, and a foot lodged stiffly in the socket of his knee. He tried to scream but the hand did not allow any sound more than a mumble escape into the air. Jenkins was now just a shattered image of himself and if it weren't for the terrible pain flooding his mind he might have just passed out from the shock. Amidst trying to discern the taste of blood and spit in his mouth he heard a voice speak in his ear, it was quiet and calm, not a flicker of emotion could be found in it and Jenkins thought that was scary as hell.
"Now my little friend, you find yourself in a very actionable position it seems, and you just might want to cooperate or my hand might slip and nick something vital, we wouldn't want that now would we?" The voice from behind said as the grip around his mouth tightened and the blade of the knife pressed harder against Jenkins' throat.
He was only capable of nodding, so that's what he did and the voice from behind chuckled a little, still no emotion though, and Jenkins just couldn't understand it, this guy had to be human, but it sure didn't seem like it. How could one person cause such intense pain to another and show no emotion afterwards, act as though they were best friends even?
"Now that we've established that cooperation is key in a good relationship, you and I are going to have ourselves a little chat, I'm going to ask you simple yes or no questions and you're going to tell me exactly what I want to hear, if you decide that at any time you don't feel like cooperating anymore, well, there are two hundred and six bones in the human body and you just lost one." The voice from behind said, this time with the slightest hint of pleasure in the tone, so faint you might miss it, but Jenkins picked it up loud and clear, this guy was one sick motherfucker and Jenkins didn't feel like dying tonight. He gave a nod to the enemy behind him indicating that they would indeed be having that little chat.