September 27th, 1998

Four helicopters flew gracefully over the Arklay wilderness; the wind generated by the blades blew the branches of the trees and scared up hundreds of birds. Adam looked at his watch again, noting the time. He along with the other sons were now clad with black battle armor, which had a large Umbrella logo patch on the right shoulder, to give the civilians the image that they worked for Umbrella, and that they were there to save them.

Adam checked his watch nervously again. For his plan to work, the timing needed to be perfect. Well, perhaps not. His operatives were already inside Raccoon, and incase he couldn't retrieve it him self, he would have them retrieve it for him and it was the sons objective to retrieve the virus, so if anyone got it before him, he'd just kill them. Simple. Adam smiled; he had it all figured out.

As the choppers reached the city, Adam looked out the door less side of the helicopter with mild interest, and a bit of amusement as he saw the lower class Mercenaries being slaughtered like cattle. That's all the mercenaries were good for. Cannon fodder, Adam thought to him self,

"L-Z comin' up, it's gonna be hot."

The pilots voice spoke over the inter-com. The helicopters hovered over a small parking lot next to a mall. Which zombies were pouring out of. Adam and the others repelled from the helicopters, and landed in the lot. Adam noticed a zombie that particularly pissed him off. Maybe it was the way it looked, or the way he felt, but he knew this carrier deserved a special fate.

Adam unsheathed his knife, and threw it into the air once, catching it perfectly. Adam then threw the knife, which soared through the air at high velocity, and caught the carrier between the eyes. The zombie emitted a groan of pain, and fell to the ground. Adam walked over, and took his knife from the pathetic creatures skull. He wiped blood and brain matter of the knife using the creatures own clothes, ignoring the ones that got close to him, they were pathetic, and could never cause damage to him in any way, shape, or form.

Adam noticed his proximity to the still hovering choppers, and decided it was time to make his leave…

John and the other sons had been fighting hard to claim the lot from the carriers, yet more seemed to show up. Most likely attracted by the noise of the choppers. Suddenly, an incredibly loud noise behind him, followed shortly is a wave of heat. John was thrown forward by the explosion, and felt him self impact the pavement. Shrapnel flew through the air in all directions, one-piece passing close to John's face and cutting it slightly. John got up as fast he could, turning the direction where he felt the heat. The four choppers lay in ruin, flames covered the wreckages. One could barely tell that they were once helicopters, they now looked like scrap metal.

"Where is Graves? And the other sons?"

John asked him self. Some gunshots could be heard in the distance, but it sounded to panicked to match the slow, rhythmic firing style of the Sons of Mars. Most likely panicked civilians. John looked around, seeing hundreds of zombies begin to flood into the parking lot. He couldn't take them on his own, so he decided tactical retreat was his best option. He swung around gracefully, and ran into one of the alleys near the mall.

Philip lowered his binoculars, he had no words to describe the things he saw unfold from his apartment. The zombies howls, moans, and groans filled the street, which combined with the alarms and sirens of crashed vehicles, making an sonata as the night fell, and rain began to poor.

Philip crawled through the window into his apartment; he knew he had to get moving. He knew he had to get out. As he began to collect his weapons, he thought about what Billy had told him in the letters. Philip was a marine whom was in a unit made famous because of a mass murder, Billy Coen, who was also in the unit.

Philip had never believed it; he knew Billy wasn't like that. The judges didn't think so though. Philip and Billy had been good friends before the incident, and Philip had written him several times while he was in prison.

A few weeks ago, he began receiving letters from Billy. They talked about how he escaped the MP truck in the mountains, and how he and the rookie S.T.A.R.S member, Rebecca Chambers had survived some horrible incident up there. In the letters, Billy told him Umbrella was behind it all.

Philip had been a little skeptical, but now, well, it was obvious. Philip walked into his bathroom, and opened up his mediation cabinet. He raided it for bandages, peroxide, and anything else he might need. He stuffed it all in a backpack quickly, not bothering to organize it. He slammed the door on the cabinet shut. In the mirror, Philip could see his brown eyes were burning with new hatred for Umbrella. They had slaughtered thousands here.

Philip was dressed in a white and blue-stripped shirt, jeans, and black shoes. He had a muscular, yet thin frame. He was attractive, and considered him self a ladies man, yet he never had a serious connection to any one he dated.

None of that mattered now, though. Philip went into his bedroom, and took the two guns out of there. A .38, and Mclusky 50. Caliber magnum. He didn't have a lot of ammo for either though, so he would have to try and conserve it. Philip holstered both weapons, and stopped off in the kitchen to gather some non-perishable foods, just incase.

He strapped the backpack on, and headed out the apartment door, which thankfully was clear of the undead. Philip burst into the apartment next to his, and scanned it quickly. It was empty. Philip proceeded to the other end of the apartment, opened the window, and slipped out onto the fire escape. A cold rain began to fall as Philip dropped gracefully into the alleys, avoiding the site of the zombies in the street.

Philip had walked for about an hour, wasting only two shots. He was in the suburbs now, which also looked like it was hit hard. Burning wreckages and bodies littered the lawns and streets of the suburbs. Philip had not encountered any survivors on his way out, but he wished he would. As Philip strolled down the various streets, he noticed a commotion in a house. It wasn't silent and gloomy like the others it was full of activity. Philip needed to check it out. It could be a survivor.

Philip ran through the lawn, the grass making a wet squishing sound as he did. He jumped up on the porch, and saw the door was already open, or rather, smashed open. He slowly walked inside, scanning the area, his .38 in hand. He could hear moaning and hissing somewhere in the house, so he stayed ready. The living room looked surprisingly, birthday hats and horns were scattered on the floor of the living room. Philip walked slowly into the kitchen of the house, and what he saw…he couldn't describe what he saw.

Bodies lay on the kitchen floor; Philip couldn't tell how many…they were in to many pieces to tell. The floor was slippery with blood, and Philip didn't want to enter. A birthday cake was on the table, eighteen candles still lit. "

Someone sure got one hell of a birthday party…"

Philip muttered to him self, turning his back to the kitchen. He proceeded up the stairs, the moans getting louder as he did. He turned right, because to the left of him was just a wall with a picture hung on it. He walked down the hall, seeing some zombies pounding on a door, three of them. They smelled Philip or something, because they turned around and started after him. Philip took a sharp breath, and squeezed off three perfect shots. The zombies all feel within moments of each other. Philip stepped over the bodies, and knocked on the door they had been pounding on.

"Hello?"

No response.

"Hello? Is anyone in there?"

Again, no response.

Philip then rammed his shoulder against the door, one, two, three times. Finally the door swung open, and Philip instantly had his gun aimed, he scanned the room, and from what he saw, it was defiantly a girl's room. The room's walls were painted pink, as well was the carpet, hell, even the sheets. The bed contained dozens of stuffed animals.

"Get away!"

Philip heard someone shout, before he could determine the force, a CD case was thrown at him, which struck him between the eyes quite accurately.

"Aw! God damn it!"

Philip shouted as he held his aching head. Philip regained his composure, and pointed his gun the direction the CD case was thrown at him. He saw a young girl with Auburn hair and green eyes in the corner, cowering from him.

"Wait, I'm not like them…"

Philip said, walking over to her.

"I'm Philip, Philip Myers. Don't worry, I wont hurt you."

The girl looked up at him, he could see a relived expression on her face.

"...I'm Jeanna Lockheart."

The girl stammered, fear still in her voice. Philip assumed she was at least eighteen by the way she talked and looked, or hell, maybe it was the eighteen candles on the birthday cake.

"It was my birthday today, and all my friends were over, and then all these people started pounding at the door, we thought they were hurt or something, so we let them in…They were crazy, they started attacking us…My dad told me to run up here…my friends…"

She continued.

"Jeanna, I'm sorry, but all your friends…"

Philip started but he could see in Jeanna's eye she knew what it was. There was no need to talk about it anymore, then. He noticed the way Jeanna was dressed, in some shorts and a tank top. She needed to get dressed in something warmer, it was freezing out side.

"Nevermind. Listen, Jeanna, get some better clothes on."

Philip paused for a second, thinking.

"And Jeanna, do you have any guns in your house?"

"Yeah, we have a shot gun in the basement, but it's locked up in a cabinet and my dad has the key."

"And where is your dad right now?"

"He went into the basement to get the shot gun"

Just great, Philip thought. He hated the thought of stumbling around in a dark basement.

"Alright then. I'll go look for your dad while you get dressed, and we'll all get out of here together."

Philip said, trying to sound as optimistic as possible.

"And Jeanna, have you ever used a gun before?"

"Well, um, I used BB and Paintball guns before, and I've played Laser tag before…"

"Great" Philip thought to him self. He took the .38, and handed it to Jeanna.

"I'll be back in a minute. Use that gun if you need to."

Philip then turned around, and started back out into the hall. He took a detour in one of the bedrooms, and stripped it of its sheets. He tossed them downstairs, and headed into the kitchen. He took a deep breath, and began piling the bodies, or what was left of them, in a corner. He threw the sheets over them. He didn't want Jeanna to see them; it would be like rubbing it in her face. He found a mop in a closet, and used it to mop up the blood on the floor. He washed his hands to, making sure there wasn't any blood on them.

Philip then walked back out into the living room, and drew his Mclusky. He found the door to the basement, which was slightly ajar. Philip swung the door open. The basement was full of boxes stacked as high as him, it was like a maze. It was lit by only one light, which swung around the room slowly. "Mr. Lockheart…?" Philip said cautiously as he walked down the stairs. All of a sudden, he felt some cold, clammy hands grab his right ankle from behind. "Shit!" Philip shouted as he felt him self lose balance, and tumble down the stairs. He tried to angle his body so his right shoulder took the impact of the fall, which worked.

Philip hit the ground with a slight grunt, and instantly snapped on up on his knee, scanning the room. He couldn't see anything, the light was moving around too much. But he could hear something walking around behind the stairs, and slowly approaching him. Philip could feel the fear building up deep inside his gut, but he couldn't be distracted by it. He could hear the footsteps coming closer to him, and he caught the stack of boxes on left fall over in the corner of his eye. He drew his body weight to the ride side, flipping him self further over to the right.

A middle-aged zombie wearing jeans and a blood stained white t-shirt approached him, arms out stretched. Philip didn't even blink as he fired the shot that would put it down for the final time. The zombies head was practically destroyed by the powerful magnum, and now looked something like a smashed in pumpkin. Philip walked over to the body, and searched the pockets for the key. He fished out a key ring, which had several keys and a small picture of Jeanna's family on it. Philip searched the basement for a moment, and found the gun cabinet. After a bit of fiddling around, he found the right key and opened it. The shotgun was a generic one, but Philip couldn't complain. He found a box with twenty bullets in it, and stuffed them into his pockets. With the shotgun in tow, Philip headed back up stairs.

Jeanna had heard the shot obviously because she was waiting near the stairs. She was now dressed in a black sweatshirt with a hood and some school logo on it, jeans, and tennis shoes with pink ties. Philip opened his mouth to tell her about her dad, but something told him she already knew.

"Lets get moving."

He said firmly.

"Alright."

She responded in a low voice, and followed him out the door.

John held the flashlight in his mouth as he laid the map out on the table. The room was dark, and was only illuminated by pale blue light, which was caused by the sun that reflected off the rain. John had been running for about an hour, and still didn't know where the hell he was, or how he was going to complete his mission like this. He was running low on ammo, too.

The areas where he could retrieve the sample were scattered and far apart. There was Sherry's sample that she was rumored to carry in her locket, but she was somewhere in the police station which was heavily defended by cops right now, and there was no way he could get to her without going through them. Then there was the lab under the city, but that was way at the other side of town, and Umbrella's tyrants were probably already on their way there, too. He didn't have the firepower to fight them yet.

There were several other places also, but they were at least ten miles from him, and about twenty miles apart, and they were all in heavily populated areas of the city, which was great. This was frustrating John. He tried to calm down, and think this over…

"STARS…"

A low voice grumbled. John removed his holstered handgun. He and the other Sons were briefed on the other creatures they could, and probably would, encounter in the city. Project Nemesis was one of them, and probably the strongest of them, John quietly tucked the flashlight in his pocket and stuffed the map in his pocket as well. John slowly turned his back to the room, and started out.

John heard a heavy form burst through the wall, and felt chips of wood and concrete pellet him. John started running, his motions to fast for the sluggish Nemesis to detect, still how ever, the beast gave chase to the Son of Mars, all the while letting out roars of fury. John ran through the halls as fast as he could, looking for a way out. He saw a window at the end of the hall, and sped towards it.

He held his arms out in front of his head as he smashed through and into the alley, gracefully landing before any of the shards of glass did. John noticed was behind some sort of utility store, because there was a huge container of propane and a lot of smaller ones in the Alley.

John instantly formulated a plan. He tipped a dumpster over, and kicked all the trash away. Just then the Nemesis jumped through the broken window, and started walking John's way. John coolly aimed his pistol, and fired three accurate shots into the container. He ducked behind the container as the explosion hit, sending a definite boom sound for miles, rubble pounded the dumpster and rained over a good radius. John slid out from under the dumpster, and saw he had pretty much destroyed the alley and the surrounding buildings.

John calmly reloaded his pistol, and looked directly into the flames. Nemesis was probably dead, but John wasn't going to stick around to find out. He took off running again, to a place where he could regroup and formulate a plan to complete his mission…