(A/N: Once again, I do not own Resident Evil games or books, thus any relation to them belong to SD Perry and Capcom respectively. I also don't own Reno and Rude of Final Fantasy seven, from whom the bodyguards, Alpha and Omega, are based off.)
Chapter 1: Infection
"Sir! Everything is set for Viral Launch!"
"Very well. Await my command."
The small black clad man stared through round, black rimmed spectacles at the computerised screen of green lines tracing a see-through board that told him exactly what was going on. He traced a finger along the metal bar of his wheel-chair and smiled unpleasantly. He pressed down on his wheel chair arm, his bony finger depressing a single white button.
"Shall I give the order, sir?"
"Yes," was the immediate answer on the other end.
"Very well; fire."
The technician nodded and tapped at his keyboard, murmurs going up and down between each desk until someone said in a clear voice, that brought a smile to the lipless features of the wheel-chair bound man,
"Done. Launch was a success."
The man swivelled his wheel-chair, giving the technicians the briefest of nods, before he and his two guards got into the lift. He nodded at one of the men, who pressed down on a button. The lift doors closed, the device lifting its way through the countless floors of the facility. The breath of the man was ragged and plumes of steam were visible before him. He pressed down on his wheel-chair, allowing the blankets around him to heat up. The two body guards did not notice the change in climate; they were trained to ignore it.
As the lift rose and rose, the man thought to himself about he wonders that he would bring to the world through his research: the reanimation of dead cells and in all the ultimate creation of life. He couldn't help but smile, though that was a given to a man with no lips. He sighed happily to himself, and looked at his two tall bodyguards. The first was a bald man, of huge stature and strength, his dark brown eyes hidden below his sunglasses, which he wore religiously. He was a smart, tactful and well dressed man, his suit was primed and pressed, his shirt almost too white. The other was a shorter, but by no means weaker man, whose appearance was the opposite. He had long flowing red hair and his suit hung open carelessly. He smiled at his two body guards; these were some of the best men on the planet, and if they couldn't keep him safe, there was no one better that could.
As the elevator chimed open, the man brought the wheel chair out and his body guards were close behind. The Progenitor Virus that ran through their bodies kept them docile to orders from the man, and yet they were as human as anyone else in the facility. He stopped before a door, which opened at his command and he pushed himself inside. The two men waited outside.
The man stared at his desk, and lifted his laptop. He propped it up and began to type away. He remained like this for at least half an hour, and as his finger pressed down on the button that would send the file to the printer in the corner of his room his back stiffed, the air pushed from his lungs and he slumped to the desk, his head pressing against the cold metal of his laptop. He knife was withdrawn with ease and footsteps were the only noise made, and these were silent and careful. There was the quiet ruffling of papers, a short pull of a zip, more ruffling and the zip again, before a tiny grunt as who ever was once in the room, was suddenly outside.
Back in the hallway the two bodyguards stared straight ahead. One flinched suddenly and the other smashed a fist onto the alarm button. They withdrew their machine guns and the door to the room open, the lights coming on immediately. They caught sight of the black clad figure moving outside, the dead man and they one spoke into his wrist communicator,
"Father is dead. There is someone outside, permission to intercept?"
There was a brief rumble of static before the two bodyguards climbed out the window after the murderer. The cold winds did not bite their skin and the sheer might of the two men did something to protect them from the harsh gales. The other they followed was much the same. The red haired one frowned and the bald one nodded. They followed carefully. The ledge that the three figures hugged to was thin; only a foot or so out from the sheer cliff face. Suddenly, the figure leaped and caught onto the edge of the cliff above. There was an opening that led to the facilities heliport. The two bodyguards leaped after him, and rushed onto the heliport. There stood an assembly of the strangest figures the two virus-ridden men had ever seen. The tall one they were chasing pulled off his face mask to revel red and yellow eyes, with slick blond hair. There next to him stood a small, yet strong woman in combat gear, holding a long silver rifle. Next to her was a man in black leather with white hair, not even flinching in the cold winds and a team of HUNKs. The two brothers looked at one another, and slipped their guns away, raising fists. The blond cocked an eyebrow, but threw his gun to one of the HUNKs and stepped forwards.
His voice was quiet easily American but there was something else there that seemed sophisticated; a hint of a European accent, possibly German or Austrian. The tall white haired man nodded and stepped forwards. He had a long sword that ran down his back in a sheath. He crouched slightly, gripping it and stared malevolently at the red haired bodyguard, who slipped his hand into his jacket and pulled out a nightstick, which he extended with a flick of his wrist. It was longer and thicker than the standard and he stared back at the white haired Duvall.
Wesker's smile broadened as the bald one looked at him, cracking his knuckles. Wesker put on his own sunglasses and the two moved closer together. In a swift poesy technique the bald man assumed the style of French Kick-boxing, while Wesker simply moved into the style of ass kickery. He learnt to fight on the streets, not in some fancy gym. He balled his fists in front of him, feet apart slightly and flashed a grin at the stoic man.
The man launched a kick at Albert, which was blocked in the flutter of an eyelid, and Albert's fist flew for the bald man's face. To the surprise of the watchers, it was caught with ease and the two men struggled for a moment, before leaping back from one another. Albert stepped in, throwing a few punches, which were intercepted and thrown back. Albert blocked the blows with moderate ease and dropped to the floor, sweeping his feet out. The man leaped high and came back down on Wesker's extended foot. He stumbled back. First blow to Wesker. The two stared at one another for a moment, before launching across the helipad again, to duel.
Ada resisted the urge to try and shoot the bald man, though by the fact he was on the ground spitting up blood after fighting Wesker, she doubted the effects of a bullet anyway. Mr. Death put a hand on her shoulder and nodded in the direction of the red haired man and Morpheus.
Duvall was swinging the long Japanese sword with all the skills of one who had been training with it all his life and the red haired man responded with his nightstick in the same way. The two weapons clashed into one another reputedly and to the general dismay of the watchers, Duvall had failed to land a blow on the man. While Morpheus held a look of contempt on his face, it was met by a look of sheer enjoyment at the fight. The red haired man was enjoying the battle and Duvall was simply not responding. It was obviously angering the red haired killer, but he made no attempt to do anything foolish. Suddenly, the katana lanced for the gut of the red haired man who batted it aside with his nightstick.
The two opponents twirled away from one another, panting slightly. Morpheus raised a hand to his face and pulled down a bandana strapped about his head, covering his eyes. The red haired man raised an eyebrow, but followed suite with a torn piece of shirt, which he pulled off with ease.
On the sidelines, Mr. Death raised an eyebrow and looked at Ada who was just smiling to herself. He looked back at the two warriors, who were circling one another blind now.
"I don't understand. How can they fight like that?"
"Blind faith, Mr. Death."
"Mort."
"Huh?"
"My name's Mortimer, though everyone calls me Mort."
"I see."
Suddenly, the clashing of weapons was heard again at a much faster beat. Mortimer looked up at the clashing blows that the two were throwing against one another. He raised a hand to his helmet and spoke into it. There was a hushed conversation and finally he stared back at Ada with interest.
"Those two are the bodyguards of a scientist, probably the one Wesker gutted. They're both infected: G-T Virus and the Progenitor Virus at a massive level. It's not terminal and it's made them just like Wesker, but a bit more docile."
Ada nodded, understanding finally why the two of them were not falling to the relentless assaults of Wesker and Duvall. It made sense in a strange way, but it also troubled Ada. She handed her rifle to one of the HUNKs and crouched down, drawing her knife. She waited for the opportune moment and with a tiny outlet of air the weapon sailed through the air, where it was met by both sword and nightstick. The two warriors stepped back and Morpheus looked over.
"What?"
"Choppers here, Samurai Jack. We gotta jet."
The red haired man raised a hand in defiance, but machine gun bullets rattled his chest. Morpheus made to stop them but Wesker ran past dragging him by the collar.
"Move; this is retrieval not assault."
The two of them bounded into the helicopter after Ada and the HUNKs; the two body guards watched it leave and silently returned to the complex.
In the helicopter Wesker was staring at the black folder in his hands, which held the papers that he'd taken. The HUNKs at the cockpit for the helicopter were watching to make sure that no airborne pursuit would bother the team. Wesker turned around, looking at Ada and Morpheus. Not his full team yet, but it was a start. He'd have to start calling in favours. He needed a fuller team if they were going to go anywhere. Mr. Death lifted a helmet and put it on, talking, or rather, shouting into the mouthpiece to be heard over the din of the helicopter rotors, and motioned for Wesker to do the same.
"Wesker…"
"Ah, Albert; the launch went ahead, the virus was sent. Have you retrieved the papers?"
"Yes, we're bringing them to you now."
"Indeed you are. You have another two days Albert, then you're being sent in; team or no team."
Albert cut the connection there, not wanting to hear anymore. He sighed and looked over at Ada and Morpheus. Both had proved themselves worthy to be on his team and both were reading to bring down Umbrella. Though, Ada was more interested in bettering her own life and Morpheus was much too pleased to be keeping himself pretty.
Albert looked over at the HUNK team, namely Mr. Death. Death had been working under Albert for a long time. He had first worked for Morpheus, and then after Racoon, under Wesker directly. They were the perfect team really; hired killers with the moral values of rodents.
Ada watched him, her brow furrowed. Why was he looking so grim? He was a trained killer, there was quiet possibly no one like him on the entire planet, and he looked… afraid? No; perhaps not. What then?
"Sir? We're almost home."
Wesker nodded to the pilot and tucked the leaflets inside his jacket, nodding to Morpheus. The white haired man glanced up at him and nodded back. The chopper neared a ship, prowling the waters. It was huge, a tanker most likely, with a name stamped on its side.
'The Second Coming'.
Ada frowned, looking down at the mighty vessel as the helicopter came to land on the helipad. A team rushed forwards, opening the doors as Wesker and Morpheus leapt down. Morpheus instantly strode by and up towards the stairs leading to the high prow of the ship.
Ada turned to the blond Wesker, to find him marching off with the armed soldiers. She shot a glance at Death, who shrugged and eased off his chest armour, throwing it to an armoury guy, who smirked and stalked off with it.
"Hey, Dea—Mort!"
Death spun around, running his left hand over his right shoulder, wincing as he eased stiff muscles. He gave a quizzical glance, asking her what it was she wanted.
"Um, you know where Morpheus is heading?"
"Heh."
Death stopped rubbing his shoulder, giving it a jerk that made a fait popping sound. He unhooked his TMP, tossing it to the side where it stuck the metal with a faint clink and shrugged.
"I dunno. Whitey goes where ever he wants to really. Normally, though, he just prowls the damn deck looking like a wench on crack. Later, Ada."
She nodded, numbly and turned towards the helicopter. The HUNK squad were disengaging from the helicopter in the same manner Death had. She sighed and stamped up stairs, following the same route Morpheus had.
She climbed another three sets of stairs, a long walk along a passage way and a stop to ask for directions later, Ada found herself on the deck of the ship and instantly understood why Morpheus had chosen here.
"Ada… Can I help you?"
She spun around and then stared upwards. Above her, on the roof of the cabin, sat Morpheus. He was no longer wearing his long black coat, just a simple black tank top. She wondered if the man ever changed out of black clothing.
"N-No. I was just looking for some company…" She trailed off, looking down at her feet, like The Naughty Girl Who Was Playing With Mommy's Make-Up Again.
"You came a long way, Ms. Wong."
His hand was in front of her and she gripped it, allowing him to pull her to the top of the cabin with inhuman ease. Moonlight glinted off his pale, pink eyes and she took in his strong figured face.
"Are you like Wesker? Bio-enhanced?"
He nodded slowly, turning away and staring up at the moon, which hung like a perfect round tear in the black sky. She wondered for a moment if she had upset him, but he turned back and inquiring look on his features.
"Tell me, Ada, why did you help Kennedy? Pity? Love? Friendship even?"
She shook her head. Ada had no friend. Leon was… an enigma; a constant reminder that she was becoming exactly what she hated. He was like her conscience, and she found him… endearing.
"No, nothing like that. He's the past I can't let go of. The future I'll never have."
Morpheus nodded in understanding, but Ada doubted the albino knew what she was talking about. She was different from him, and that was simply seen. While he was aloof, and powerful, cold and calculating Ada was a liability to a team like Wesker's. She sighed and lay back, stretching her arms out and staring up at the black, star dotted night sky.
"Morpheus?"
"Hmm?"
"What is that? Is it a shooting star?"
Morpheus glanced up and then stared down at her with a shake of his head. Something that stirred within the albino, much like it had on the island and he looked like a couching tiger.
"No, dear. It's a missile containing a virus heading for a select location in Europe."
Ada blanched and stood up, jumping from the cabin and glancing up at Morpheus, ready to ask him whether or not he was coming to tell Wesker that the missile had passed over head.
Only the albino had disappeared, and his jacket had too. She heard soft boot falls on steel then a tiny exhale of hair as someone jumped. He's crazy, she thought dreamily.
Suspense! Well, its over for now. Soooo sorry about the massive wait people.
wertzy :Thanks for the review. Dr. Death was just on his undercover mission as the limo driver. It's not a definng event.
annoymoss : wahh!I update, okay? sign in next time, so i know who you are :p