-CHAPTER 2-
Rebecca lugged her things onto the luggage belt, exhaling deeply with both hands on her waist. She was well on her way to speak with this representative of the President, to receive a briefing on the "urgent matter". And quite frankly, she was shitting bricks. She'd done some rather extraordinary work worthy of praise in her time, but to do something for the good of the nation? Rebecca was very nervous, to say the least. They did mention that there would be others just like her there, people from all over the U.S. who've made a name for themselves in the name of science as well. Feeling suddenly unaccomplished, she felt the tinge of tension rise again. At least she wouldn't be alone; although it was pleasant at times, Rebecca didn't really care too much for the flattery she received for surviving what she called a scientific freak-show.
Rebecca ran a limp hand through her messy short brown hair before moving onward. Her simple white t-shirt, rolled-up jeans, and worn sneakers were hints enough as to how well she was doing with her time. Apparently, running late. She hurried to the plane destined for New York, steeling herself for the tremendously important duties that were to be given to her. Once on board, her carry-on laced securely around her left arm, she scanned the seating, noticing nervous faces from many different people all over. A young man with a ponytail and strange scar seemed to stick out, though, considering how many couples and families there were onboard. Other than that the passengers were nothing out of the ordinary.
She found her seat and sank into it with a relieved sigh. She wasn't one for liking airplane rides. However, the fear of flights suddenly didn't compare to the awesome journey she'd try to prepare for. Rebecca got lost in thought, wondering exactly why she was so worried. Most likely, they needed her expertise on some matter, probably not pertaining to anything like the T-virus. In fact, they plausibly just wanted to hand her a position among their ranks, which would be great. Working in her own lab was a dream she never imagined would happen ever since her STARS ordeal. But despite all of it, for the moment, she needed to rest and clear her mind.
She shut her eyes, slowly drifting into a dreamland where things were getting better, where all her fears and anxieties would fade-
-when a light voice sounded from the intercom and suddenly, the plane began racing forward, her unready limp body bouncing lightly off her seat. She let a strangled gasp and froze, feeling like an eighteen-year-old again. Within minutes, the plane was up in the air. Rebecca's hands began to sweat slightly, noticing her plane frights hadn't dissipated in all the years. The plane was rising at last. Even though her ears were already ringing, she couldn't help but feel alleviation diffuse throughout her body. She thought one last time about the meeting and the favor they wanted from her. With strong resolve building inside of her, she firmly determined that she'd be brave about the whole shebang. No more worrying. There couldn't possibly be any danger to what they would ask her to do. So she was at least guaranteed that . . . right?
Before drifting back into her calm state of rest, the plane shook violently, knocking her back off of her seat, this time crying out in sharp panic. Several passengers turned their attention to her as a woman voiced through the intercom again.
"Sorry, passengers! Just a little bit of turbulence, so don't ya'll worry!"
Rebecca slumped lower into her seat, face all red, officially deciding that she hadn't changed at all in the last six years.
Rebecca passed through the walkway of the large building that stood quietly in New York City. It was night, and all she could think about was the great mystery that hid inside. A crack of thunder pushed her off her feet, and in the silent darkness, she could swear she heard a wailing noise.
She continued on, about to reach the double doors in the front, only to pause again at the sound of rustling in the nearby plushy green bushes. Rebecca instinctively placed her right hand on her hip, her heart sinking at the emptiness of her grasp; she didn't have her gun. Again she proceeded, assuming it had been her imagination. But then, she knew she heard the panting of something hungry, something fast, sprinting on four powerful legs and coming for her. Just like before.
In a state of panic, Rebecca pulled at the doors, which somehow resembled the police station from Raccoon City. She let out a desperate whine as the doors failed to budge, frozen in place. She immediately turned left, not even looking back at the thing that would tear her apart. Its strong canine jaws bit into air, the snapping sound like a bear trap. She ran forward, suddenly engulfed in the greenery of a wet, dark forest. As she raced for escape against the now multiplying pursuers, a patch of fog began to suck her into a zone of nothingness. Still, she ran.
In front of her, all she could see was a mansion, one tall and deserted and alone in the forest of nostalgia. The front door was open, broken and cracked as she noticed a crashed train on fire right beside it. Before she could enter, fire began to surround her, the decaying Dobermann suddenly gone.
"W-where am I?" she asked herself, suddenly noticing a human-shaped figure jumping off the railed upper floor. He was covered in nasty slimy things; leeches.
Her heart skipping a beat, she veered right around only to run into the monstrous, towering creature from the estate, the one that had one giant clawed arm and the pulsing heart. She just stood there ready to meet her demise, when something pulled her down, and down she went into the arms of someone she knew. Every image before her froze as she locked eyes with that someone.
"Billy . . ."
BOOM.
Rebecca awoke to the complete stop of the airliner. She was disoriented, hearing several cheers from excited passengers. Looking out her window, she discovered she was at the airport in Newark. It was quite a while since she last had any of those bad dreams, the pain, suffering, and guilt she felt for not being able to do much but survive with those memories. She was about to get up and stretch (while chewing over the dream's details), when she noticed a folded piece of paper on the empty seat next to her. On top simply read "Rebecca". Eying the passengers carefully, trying not to look too conspicuous, she swiped the neatly folded note, stuffing it in her pocket in the meantime. Who on the plane would possibly know her name she couldn't tell. But she felt paranoid nonetheless at the fact that someone on board snuck that while she rested, probably as they went into the restroom or something. Who could that someone be?
Right, Rebecca, let's just go to the stewardess and ask if you can take several swabs from the toilet for identification. Brilliant, and you call yourself a biologist.
As the last of the passengers left, a couple and their two kids, Rebecca began to think that it could've been her acquaintances from the government. But even if that was the case, why be so mysterious? And why couldn't they just call her? She had a cell phone. She figured she'd read it once off the plane, hoping not to attract any unwanted attention, for the remaining stewards and stewardesses were eyeing her worriedly. And with good reason; she was wide-eyed, like a deer caught in headlights.
She quickly stalked through the nearly empty aisle, nodding at one of the stewardesses who had been watching intently. By the time she was out, it seemed everybody along the way was staring at her. Not able to contain her curiosity any longer, she made her way into the lobby, sat in a seat nearest to where the conveyor belt was located, oblivious to her current surroundings. She fumbled out the note, in hopes for a simple explanation. She focused on the handwriting, which was quite neat and well-written.
Rebecca Chambers,
We know about you and the STARS and what you all went through at the Spencer Estate. We also know about your run-in with the "enhanced" Markus and the runaway you were with. We know everything pertaining to the viral outbreak, as well as the incidents proceeding it. You played a vital role in it all, although you may object now. You've been prepped by your past ordeals. Regardless, your role here isn't done yet.
Stunned, Rebecca tried to resist an urge to look around. Not done yet? Did this have anything to do with her meeting today? Or worse, could it have something to do with the now-renegade-terrorist, Albert Wesker . . . ? Her heart was racing at that point, realizing that someone on board had been watching her, someone who knew it all. But before considering anything else, she continued reading on. Below the small note were cryptic messages listed.
Pick room 102.
Veronica.
Mannequin9778.
Beware 176.
Beneath the iron maiden.
Area 8, dig.
Quick then slow.
Right below the Funny man.
Rebecca's face became distorted with confusion, feeling like the butt of a very, very vicious joke. Had she been with Jill or Chris, she may have felt that way, but not even those pranksters would stoop that low. She was certain at that moment she was being stalked. And by the constant usage of "we", there were more than one, probably waiting for her at crucial checkpoints. However, one thing was made quite apparent. They didn't seem like their intention was to hurt her, but to warn her. Then again, she wouldn't want to take any chances. She wasn't quite fond at the idea of her dying for being too overly friendly.
With a shaky sigh, Rebecca slipped the note into her carry-on while keeping a poker face. She stood next to the belt for her things, pondering on about the note, the dream, and the unnerving correlation they may very well have.
K I N G
King had finished getting dressed after waking up to Ace's annoying loud mouth. It seemed even at the crack of dawn, he had to have his drinks. Surprisingly, King managed to get enough rest, even after all that thinking he had done. So much had gone on in the world while he was away, it seemed he was on another planet entirely.
"King," came a less rowdy voice from outside the door to his room, "are you up?"
"Yeah, come in," he replied, a resilient tone as he spoke.
"Hey, captain. Of course you're up, with that jerk yelling his lungs out." It was Queen, all dressed and ready. She had her lucky baby blue jacket with her, tied right below her bosom as always. She wore camo pants and her military-style boots all laced up; prompt as usual.
"Normally, I'd say let's skip breakfast, but we aren't gonna be coming back for awhile," she said blandly. "Could be days without anything but ramen and granola bars." King snickered tiredly.
"Well, I'm not complaining. Been through much worse."
There was a loud commotion downstairs, causing Queen to look down at the floor angrily.
"Doesn't he have any decency?"
King got off the bed he was sitting on, yawning as he followed her down onto the first floor. Ace and the others were at the lobby, chatting amongst themselves. At his arrival, he straightened up a bit.
"You're up early today, Ace. Couldn't sleep?"
"Oh, sorry, boss. You know me, moment before a big mission with big pay, gotta have my drinkie!" The mildly disgruntled captain shook his head.
"Well, better sober up soon. We're leaving."
Ace shot a look of confusion at him, placing the bottle of beer he held on the pool table just as Jack smacked a ball, hit it, and knocked its contents all over.
"Great job, dumb-ass!" Joker shouted.
"Why so early?" he asked, not paying any attention to his handiwork behind him.
"Let's go," King simply replied.
Joker smiled brightly. "Heh, guess you better call off your call girls before he gets pissed!" Ace just followed King upstairs, wondering exactly why his captain didn't want to waste any time.
"Are you mad at me?" he asked him, peeking his head into his hotel room.
"No. But last night, I received an urgent call."
"Was it her?" he asked a little quieter, entering the room as King began sorting through his bag of equipment.
"Yeah. Said we need to do this posthaste. Things seem to be getting stickier as we speak."
"Aw, man! Just when you think an espionage mission couldn't get any worse. If it's anything like the infamous Venezuela operation, count me out!"
"Don't worry," the captain replied, his tone low and set, "it'll be in and out."
"Ya' promise?" he reassured, giving him a look.
"Yeah, whatever. I promise. The only annoying part will be waiting for the 'signal'."
"Of course, another thing only you know about!"
"Well, in order for us to be qualified for the mission, I needed to accept their conditions. That was one of them."
"Stupid! What if you get shot the very second we land?"
"Then, we dump your ass off there and leave!" Joker chimed in.
"Is everyone set?" King asked him, the older man leaning at the doorway.
"Yep," Joker answered with a grin, "plus I got all our stuff checked and ready. Jack and Queen are loading the duffle bags as we speak."
"Alright then, people, let's go."
With those final words, they went downstairs, barely taking in the rather lavish hotel with its marble floors and thin, red carpets lining the pathway. Beautiful landscape paintings lined the genuine oak walls, slightly overlooked by the grand piano that glimmered in the chandelier's light. Over at a distant corner was the pool table which still reeked of liquor. Their "employers" sure took good care of them for the past three nights. It was a shame to them that they had to leave so soon. The gang gathered at the front next to where the tall double-doors were. They were to take a personalized plane to an island somewhere near South America.
"Let me see," Joker said to himself, "got the Berettas, got the clips, the vests are here, the walkie talkies. . . hey Ace, make sure these babies are in working condition."
"What, the guns?" he asked, receiving perturbed expressions from his comrades.
"Were you dropped as a child?" was Joker's reply, and for a minute, the others thought his question was a serious one.
"Can't kid around with any of you's," Ace responded, turning to one of the many paintings.
"Alright, it's show time, ladies." The group headed outside, passing several finely-groomed bushes in the shape of fancy angels. The decorations failed to match the gloomy sky, though, appearing like a storm was brewing. Hopefully, it'd be nicer on that island.
Down the tiled walkway was a black sports car waiting for them. King smirked, shaking his head all the while.
"Hey, Ten," Ace greeted, the driver lowering the passenger's window.
"Hey, guys. Need a lift?"
Ten was another of the Hell's Angels. He, too, was an adept agent, but he was always so inscrutable and hard to read. It always seemed like everything he took part in had to benefit him in some odd, creepy way. Despite the way his friends felt of him, though, he was a reliable asset to the team. Unfortunately, he had another assignment to partake in.
After putting all their things into the trunk, Ten drove off toward some forest.
"So, what do think?" he said, still wearing his black shades. Incidentally, he wore black shirts, black pants, black hats, and according to some rather loose women, black underwear.
"Pretty snazzy," Queen answered.
"I like what you did to the interior," added Joker.
" . . . Can I see the engine when we get to the spot?" Jack questioned, the others not surprised at his response. After all, Jack was also the vehicle specialist.
"We'll be there lickety-split," Ten stated. "Just make sure not to take the time to enjoy the scenery. You don't have all that much time. Should a police or someone see you guys take off, we could end up being pursued. We don't want that."
"I think I know how to handle this, thank you very much," King told him with a confident smile. "By the way, how did you come up with the money for this? Haven't you been on some 'vacation' for some time now?"
"Oh, you know I have my ways."
"So you've stooped to prostitution, huh?" Ace said smartly. "Ten a gigolo, kind of hard to imagine."
"I don't want to imagine," Joker replied, taking apart several components of his custom Glock.
"Well, you've figured out my secret, Ace. By the way, we're just about here."
Within several minutes, the car came to a halt in the middle of a spacious forest. Up over a hill was a view of the flat plains below. They left the car, lifting the bags of items they were to bring along, simultaneously admiring the view.
"Better start hiking down," Ten suggested. "Don't want to keep your ride waiting."
"You better get back to whoever you owe money to. They're not lending you a few bucks there."
"Yeah, yeah, I gotcha King. Now, get going. I'm already late for my massage."
They gave their regards to Ten and headed down the hill, King's anxieties increasing as he continued to think about the mission.
R E B E C C A
It took Rebecca a half hour to carry all her things taxi after taxi, looking for the building in which she would meet her taskmaster. Once she finally found it, she wiped sweat from her forehead and smiled. A cold breeze stirred her worn-out body, causing her to walk a bit faster. For the moment, she had cleared her head of the strange incident on the plane. When she reached the door, she paused.
"Just a dream . . ." she whispered to herself.
She marched inside the incredibly large building, just recently built to accommodate the political bodies of the government. Inside was even more amazing, the stuccoed floor and walls appearing too extravagant for a place of politics. The main lobby was easily the size of a strip mall, slightly intimidating her. She reached for her letter, the one they sent her, and came up with the note instead.
"Damn . . ." she muttered, tossing it back in when a voice startled her.
"Hey, there. You must be Rebecca Chambers." The young man smiled brightly at her, Rebecca's only reaction being an equal smile back.
"That's right. How did you know?" Her question was asked more timidly rather than suspiciously.
"After meeting all the other ladies, the only one missing seemed to be Ms. Rebecca Chambers, biochemist extraordinaire." Rebecca blushed a bit, the man taking note of this. "What were you looking for just now?"
"Er, uh, my letter with the directions to the meeting room."
"Ah, don't even worry 'bout it! I'll help you get there. I had the place scoped out earlier. Oh, how rude. By the way, the name's Nash. Nash Silverburg."
"A pleasure to meet you."
"Oh no, the pleasure's all mine." The man had a sly look to him, not necessarily the sneaky sly. More like the lady's man sly. Rebecca would surely keep a close eye on him. Moreover, though, he acted like quite the gentleman for the moment. He had blond hair slicked back, a few strands falling limply down the left side of his face. He wore a dark brown jacket and a scarf, and a simple pair of flayed jeans and sneakers; not much different from her clothes, except, sadly she looked much sloppier.
"Let me help you with your luggage," he insisted, taking the heftier briefcase. "Follow me."
They passed through the clean, well-kept halls, Rebecca marveling at the expensive decor throughout the mansion-like building. Several busts and paintings reminded her of the Spencer Estate, making the trip around a bit gloomier.
"You know, you're much prettier with that smile of yours," he disrupted her musing. "Why the frown?"
"Oh, nothing," she responded, forcing a smile, "just a little nervous."
"There's nothing for you to be nervous about. They're just going to make use of your amazing talent."
"Can I ask you a question?" she cut him off.
"Sure. Anything."
"Are you one of the people called upon by the President, too?"
"Hmm, you guessed right. I'm possibly the best microbiologist in all of California. They also wanted my help."
"You came all the way out here? Well, I guess if the President asked you to . . ."
The pair reached the room seconds after, the door itself more expensive than many of the decorations. He opened the door for her, Rebecca entering a room that appeared like some leisure room for bigwigs to hang and relax.
"Wow! These people sure know how to choose a room," she blurted.
"Ah, I see the last of the guests have arrived," came a voice among the people already there. Besides Nash and her, he was the only one standing; the others were seated at a long table alongside a row of windows. He was an older man, at least in his early fifties, dressed in a suit like the stereotypical politician. "I am Cecil, the representative for the President. Care to start, now? Go ahead and take a seat, there's no rush."
As she sat down in the plushy red chair, Nash sitting next to her, she noticed the four others sitting around. There was an attractive blond lady dressed in a red miniskirt. Her expressions and gestures made her seem a bit full of herself, though. And the choker she wore with a diamond adorned at its center proved testament to her wealth. Next to her was a young-looking Caucasian man with telling eyes, his straight, brown hair brushed to the side and covering his entire forehead. He seemed nice; he was the only one to greet her, even if just with a smile. The other two sat on the other far end, one a dark-skinned woman who appeared very smart and professional and the other, a dark-haired man probably in his mid thirties or early forties, his glasses adding to his sophisticated appearance.
"As you all know," began Cecil, "you've all been summoned here to do us, the American people, and the world an incredible favor. On an island off the coast of South America, we have a lab where we come up with top-secret prototype cures for various rare and exotic diseases, most untested. Although barely as productive as we previously thought, now is a time where we must begin using that base so we can finally find answers. Of course, your roles will just be a temporary solution to the bigger problem at hand. There have been high-leveled threats as of late regarding biological warfare, as you all, masters of your professions, probably have already been aware of. Intelligence suggests the source of the sudden rise, namely the perp dealing the bioweapons worldwide, is an insider on our own front. Supposedly, a man with a prior history of overwhelming resentment to the US government, and its decision to . . . well, those details don't really make much of a difference on what it is you all are going to embark on. We need you all to cooperate and find us a way to counteract his ploy, even in the least possible way. As long as his weapon providers continue to expand, many innocent lives will be in jeopardy, now especially in the homeland. We are looking into any way to create vaccines and serums for possible future attacks, but it is nearly impossible without an actual understanding of what it is this calculating man plans to use."
"So," the pretty girl broke in, "you want us to come up with some miracle drug for every occasion? I don't quite understand what it is you're asking us to do."
"Ah, Elaine, is it?" he continued. "This is just an overview briefing on the situation at hand. Our country is actually in great peril, but instead of panicking the people of the U.S., we've decided to take our best scientists and the country's very finest to answer the call to stop this impending threat. Team Axis, the military team, will be tasked to hunt down this mysterious dealer and his providers. Team Atlas, that's you guys, will be doing assisted laboratory work with a particular bioweapon. You're one of several different subgroups on Team Atlas, however, your mission is the direst; fighting a bug nicknamed the 'warper', a nasty little thing. As you know, I'm just a spokesperson, not a scientist. So when you get there, they'll fill you in on the finer details. Any other questions?"
"Just how long will we be staying there, for curiosity's sake?" asked the man with the glasses. "Not to sound vain, but my passion lies with animal behavior, which by the way I'm overdue on a video project detailing the survival rate of-,"
"As long as it takes to come up with a solution. Don't worry, we'll take the liberty to attending to your every needs, whatever they may be." His light, unfeeling eyes met Rebecca's, making her feel uneasy. "Is everything alright, Ms. Chambers? You are all entitled to decline the offer; this isn't a draft or anything. But we could use the incredible knowledge of the creator of the T-cure."
The others' attention turned to her all of the sudden, their eyes wide with amazement. Rebecca began to blush again, still not so used to getting such attention from others. Nash gave her a shocked look, shaking his head.
"Pleasant personality, great looks, brains; you never cease to amuse me, Rebecca," he quietly said.
"Shut up," she whispered. "Of course, I wasn't even thinking about that. Just a bit . . . anxious."
"Yes, I would imagine," Cecil said. He lowered his head slightly. "It appears that this project is vital to the protection of our people. However, don't think that you all are in this alone. We, the authorities of America, are also trying our best to come up with clues, plans, anything that would help us track down the perpetrators of a recent attack kept under wraps. Your private plane shall arrive in several more hours, so until then, help yourselves to anything and any place in this building. I'll be in my office on the tenth floor if there's anything you need. I shall take my leave, now, while you all take the time to get acquainted."
With that, he walked out of the nicely furnished room, leaving the scientists to themselves.