He couldn't be sure what the gender of the undead was, but whatever it was, it was dead twice over. The last zombie in the large room collapsed in a neat pile, brain matter congealing in the hole at the back of its head. It was amazing to Leon how rapidly they decomposed, especially without sustenance. It barely resembled a humanoid if not for its arms and legs. He idly wondered if their stiffness was also a result of the frigid temperatures; these undead seemed to move slower than others he'd seen.

Carlos calmly reloaded his rifle, tapping his fresh cartridge against the butt of his rifle as usual. It was something he always did on the field, to remove any possible dirt from the clip, but at this point it was either habit or superstition. Leon knew he had been a freedom fighter of some sort in his other life, but this was top of the line equipment funded by the US government. No second hand weapons here, and no dirt in the magazine.

"Alright, let's get back down there," said Billy, eager to use his shotgun again. He had asked Carlos twice to let him take some shots with the rifle, but Carlos had told him that was the price he paid for taking the shotgun. Billy fumed after each rejection, fingering the handle of his knife more than once. Leon looked at him now with skepticism.

"This isn't a field trip," Leon said sternly, surprising himself. Even Carlos was taken aback by his assertiveness. Billy said nothing, brushing Leon aside as he stepped onto the ladder. He was just under the floor of the catwalk when they heard it; something rattled beneath them, clicking against the sheet metal.

The creature must have had more patience than in any other BOW they'd ever encountered. It must've come over when the first rounds were fired, and waited within the shadowed outcropping of the catwalk. Billy reached for the shotgun tucked in his back, but the monster was far faster, launching an elastic tongue towards him. He turned away, avoiding the instant kill attack aimed at his heart, and took the brunt of the damage in his shoulder instead. Falling from the ladder, he reached out and grabbed the tongue in an attempt to pull the Licker down with him. His teammates above were running towards the ladder when they heard his panicked scream, the barbed tendrils of its lashing tongue tearing his hand to bloody shreds.

Billy slammed into the pavement below, knocking the wind from his body. His vision blurred, and he suspected he had a concussion. He tried to roll to his side and felt the agonizing burn of broken ribs jabbing into internal organs. He screamed again, a bloodcurdling cry beyond human suffering, as he rolled once more so his chest rested on the ground. Leon circled around the ladder's opening, looking for a shot on the creature. He only saw a blur of dark motion as the Licker dropped noiselessly from its perch to the ground below, atop Billy's back. Carlos looked straight down the ladder and saw the creature atop Billy, its claws tearing his flailing arms apart and its corrosive drool dissolving the skin about the back of his neck as he howled in pain. It slowly wrapped its grotesque tongue around his throat, the razor sharp barbs of the appendage digging harshly into his flesh, before it suddenly retracted, severing his head in one swift motion.

Carlos had seen a good amount of blood in his day, more than most soldiers, but he'd never seen so much blood spray out of one body in all his life. Buckets of Billy's blood shot across the room from his neck, the red geyser spurting his body's life fluid across pallets and crates stacked on high. Without thinking, he began to fire his rifle at the monster below. Leon's machine gun soon joined the fray, and by the time they were done, the Licker was laying in an ocean of blood in two pieces atop their squad mate. The two reloaded quickly, their eyes nervously scanning the dark areas of the rafters above them before quickly descending the ladder.

Reaching the bottom, Leon kicked at the Licker's upper half. Mostly unrecognizable from the hail of bullets, it was still unlike any Licker he had even seen. A patient hunter? Acidic drool? A barbed tongue? If there were more of these, the rest of the team needed to know. He reached for his communicator before Carlos stopped him.

"What are you doing? They need to know about those things," Leon said.

"We got enough problems of our own," replied Carlos, his accent thickening. Leon knew this only happened to his friend in times of great duress, and so he froze, reaching for his gun. Seemed Carlos had cause to worry. From the shadows emerged four jet black Lickers, stalking purposefully and silently towards them.

--

Dark eyes watched his every movement. Like murky clouds against graying skies, the shifty pupils never left his person. He strode confidently down each corridor, appearing to be well trained and efficient. His marksmanship especially stood out. The majority of his shots were headshots or torso hits, and he rarely needed more than two rounds for each walking corpse.

He snuck furtively by another of those floating camera devices, and Ada couldn't help but be further impressed by these Redfields. She had heard great things about the Ashfords, but considering her time on the island, she had yet to see anything remarkable about them, save their expensive tastes and pampered living. The Redfields were simple, efficient, reliable; sort of like a truck whereas the Ashfords were the fancy sports car with all the frills and half the substance. Then again, Ada would never be seen publicly in a truck, so maybe the Ashfords weren't all that bad.

The elder Redfield was quite the survivalist. Minimal equipment and still acquiring what he needed on the field. He had struggled against that worm thing in the cave, nearly to a point where she might have to intervene, but he luckily found its brain with his last few rounds. In its death throes, the creature spit out Rodrigo, the guard who had helped capture the other Redfield and later released her. Ada had met him once at an Umbrella function when she had been dating John, and she wasn't fond of him at all. The man had asked her outright if she was a prostitute, claiming that no woman that beautiful would waste time with a geek like John. While much of his claim was true, Ada couldn't help but feel the man was on to her scheme, so she made up a lie about Rodrigo making a pass at her and refusing to take no for an answer. John pulled some strings and had Rodrigo moved to a faraway island facility, and the head security officer they hired at the Residence in his place was a complete assclown. No doubt John wished for Rodrigo's experience and skills once the virus hit the scienctist core, and now Ada found herself crossing paths with him again. Not too sadly, though, this was the last time, as she checked Rodrigo's fallen body. Once certain he was dead, she fired a silenced bullet through his forehead at point blank range. Even if the airborne virus had dissipated, she was taking no chances. Fate had a funny way of screwing with her when she let her guard down.

--

"Hot damn, this is some shit we're in," whispered Carlos, his back pressed against Leon's. The creatures had slowly surrounded them, showing more and more cunning. Now in position, the creatures simply crouched, crooking their heads in a grotesquely animal way. It was only then that Leon realized that these creatures, like their lesser versions, were nearly blind. As Carlos opened his mouth to say something again, he felt Leon's gloved hand come over it. He immediately understood. The two stood like statues, waiting for the creatures to move again. After many breathless minutes, they began to slowly crawl again, this time away from the two. One came within inches of Leon's leg, and he fought the reflexive gasp that threatened to escape from his throat.

The nearest creature was about two yards away when Leon's radio crackled to life.

"Hey shitheads, where's your update? Over," sneered Bellagio, the abrasively cocky demolitions expert.

At the noise, the creatures wheeled in their tracks, screeching as they rose up on hind legs, and began running towards the two. With a lopping gait, the upright Lickers resembled lanky sprinters, and moved much faster than when crawling. Leon and Carlos both had their rifles up and ready, blazing at full auto and knocking back the nearest creature. It fell into a heap, tripping up the two Lickers behind it. The two heard their rifles click in unison, and Leon immediately dropped his rifle, reaching for his handgun. Carlos dove and rolled towards Billy's fallen shotgun over ten feet away. Raising the pistol, Leon realized his friend would not reach it in time, and began yelling to attract the attention of the one creature still standing, who now veered towards him. He steadied his gun hand, waiting for the calm to come over him, knowing he wouldn't get many shots before it covered the short distance between them.

His first shot was far too low, almost six inches lower than where he had wanted. Knowing that he'd never be able to raise it and aim in time with the recoil, he let the gun's barrel instead drop, waiting for his shot to come. The next round smacked soundly into the bend of the Licker's leg, and it spun wildly out of control as it fell to the ground. Running to its side, Leon stepped on the back of its neck and fired a round through its exposed brain, splattering dark gore across the gray pavement.

Leon heard movement to his side and spun, firing blindly with his handgun at the two creatures coming at him. The six shots he got off all missed badly, ricocheting off the concrete walls behind them. The low growl of Billy's shotgun shook the room as Carlos fired the last of its rounds into the two, rendering them piles of fleshy mush. The two began to reload wordlessly, nodding thanks to one another. Leon reached for his radio.

"Listen up everyone; Coen's down for good, and there's an evolved advanced Licker in the facility," Leon said into the radio. "These things are smarter than any I've ever seen and are patient. They also hunt in packs. I repeat, they hunt in packs. Over." He clicked it off, sighing as he once again saw the bloody remains of their squad mate.

"We read you loud and clear, Kennedy. Switch over to silent radio mode if that's the case. Don't want any sudden noises to attract these things. Over," said their leader calmly. Leon and Carlos exchanged a tired look before heading back towards the door. They cast one last glance at Billy's bloody corpse, wondering what secrets he had taken to the grave with him, before moving on.

--

"Captain, Coen is dead, according to Kennedy," said the radioman. Campbell stared at him with cold, flinty eyes before nodding.

"Dammit; it's to be expected, but I didn't think anything could kill that kid."

"Kennedy said there's a new breed of Lickers hunting in packs, and also that they're extremely patient."

"Have everyone switch to silenced automatic and tell them to be ready for groups then, but no explosives along the main hallway unless cleared by me. Also advise team leaders to have sonic grenades ready to deploy."

"Yes sir," saluted the younger man, quietly bowing out of the room to make the call.

Campbell rubbed his eyes tiredly. It wasn't fatigue that clouded his head, but this whole damned mess. Trying to wrap one's head around the scale of this disaster, this conspiracy, could make someone want to put a bullet through it eventually. But there would be a time for that later. Now was the time to complete the mission, he thought, leaning into the shadows to furtively slide a half filled vial into his side pack. Once he was certain no one had seen, he went back to meet his men. His most trusted soldier, Jack, came over to him, that obscenely large and curved knife in his hands. Jack treated that knife better than most men treated their women, it seemed.

"Everything ok, Captain," he asked brusquely. Though he meant to be sympathetic, there was little room in this hard man to even try playing nice.

"Everything's fine, Jack," he muttered, staring his old friend in the eyes. Jack grasped his shoulder and shook it confidently.

"It's for the best, Bruce," his friend assured him, patting him on the back. But looking into his eyes, Campbell couldn't help but think his old comrade knew something he didn't. And maybe something he shouldn't.

--

He was uncharacteristically panting when she got into contact with him. His breathing was ragged, as if he had strained himself recently. Ada couldn't help but grin at his obvious discomfort.

"Bad news, Wesker. The girl got the plane going when I was searching for her and she made it off the island."

"I know. She is on the Umbrella research base in Antarctica."

"The Arctic?" She was glad Wesker couldn't see her smirk; the tracer she had put on the plane after bringing it online gave her the coordinates hours ago. The image of his icy veneer shivering in the cold was also rather delightful.

"Yes. This is very disappointing, Ada. Your failure might cost me this mission."

"I thought it was completed? By the way, have you run into Alexia yet?"

He paused, a beat longer than usual. "Just now..."

Ada heard something in his voice and leapt on it. "So you have her in custody?"

"No, I was interrupted by a—"

"Failure? Tsk, tsk Albie, that's not like you at all…"

"I will not tolerate insubordination, Ada."

"Things change. You gotta roll with it," she said, grinning broadly. This was better than anything she could remember in a long time.

"Alexia's virus has incubated and completely manifested. She is beyond capture at this point."

"Sounds like you're throwing in the towel."

She heard a sharp intake of air from his end, and when he spoke, his words were coated with frost. "I would choose my next words very careful, if I were you, Ada."

"I, ah…oh, look at the time, and I forgot to mention the best part, Wesker: Your favorite Redfield is headed your way, looking for his sister," she lied. "Nothing stronger than the bonds of family," she mused playfully. She knew family, or any bond of loyalty, bothered Wesker to no end.

"Every bond has a weakness, a secret to breaking it," he said matter-of-factly. "You just have to know what to look for." Dispensing his usual nugget of evil bastard wisdom, Ada knew his seething anger had passed from her and rested squarely on the shoulders of the Redfields.

--
Note: Ok, I'll admit it...I had a lot of fun killing Billy there. Nothing against him so much as it was my raw hatred of RE:Zero. The idea of a super advanced Licker wasn't planned, it just came to me as I was writing the scene. Originally I had him fending off the Licker with his knife, and Leon taking something from it (which we see in RE4), but the image of a barbed tongue slicing his hand and throat to pieces was just too delightful to ignore. I did, however, tone it down from what I had originally, where it sucks his brains out of his eye socket as its acidic drool melts his face off. Guilty pleasures should only go so far, right?