Recommended BGM:

1. Resident Evil (1996) & Director's Cut (DualShock Ver.) - First Floor Mansion

2. Resident Evil Zero - Study Room

3. Resident Evil: The Umbrella Chronicles - Live Evil

Chapter 9

Knowing they had to make their ammo count and not kill as many zombies as possible, Chris and Mason both took off through the dim corridor at a full sprint, their boots crashing down on the darkened wood floor. They couldn't risk taking down zombies and making them turn into the crimson monstrosity they had encountered earlier.

There were at least three zombies roaming about, all grouped up near the stairs. Normal zombies were slow in general so dodging them wasn't much of a problem. They had taken a run down through the hall and around the corner, facing two doors at the end. It would've been easier to take them out, one by one, but the risk that came with it was too great until they could find something to blow their heads off or burn down their corpses altogether.

They tried entering the door to the right, but it was locked, having an engraving of an armor, which infuriated them as they only had a sword key to work with. The other door, however, was already unlocked and with readied weapons, Chris slowly opened it, with Mason following right behind him. They were met with creepy draping shadows of two zombies trying to get inside the mansion through the only windows inside the corridor up front, pounding against them in a seemingly futile manner.

This triggered them into action to keep moving as it sent thoughts to them of all that was at stake. Chris figured that if the Alphas were all lost and didn't know about those crimson freaks, all of them could be in serious danger and he was barely able to get rid of one that took almost just about an entire clip's worth of ammo.

Mason kept thinking to himself that both Richard and Rebecca needed better protection. He figured if even just one crimson head runs around the area and finds out about their hideout, it could easily rip the door to shreds and move the heavy trunk without much effort, cornering his Bravo teammates. It began to worry him with every step he'd take.

Calm yourself down, Alex. Worrying won't do anyone a favor. Rebecca is smart. She'll know what to do.

His mind was going everywhere, thinking about every possible scenario that could happen to any of them. He sighed internally, brushing all those thoughts out of him restlessly.

Just keep your head straight and simply focus on finding your missing teammates. You're ex-CIA, remember? No shit is going to stop you from doing what you can do best.

Woods… I hope you're alright, brother.

The corridor was even darker than the last. Only a couple of antiquated sconces were the only things that kept the corridor lit up on both ends of the hall. On the right was another smaller light source through a narrow space that led to another room on the left side of the wall. Facing the narrow space was also another door, which was locked, but this time, with the right kind of lock as it had an engraving of a sword.

With a low smile, Mason inserted the golden key into the lock, as Chris covered him by aiming his weapon left, right, and into the small narrow space in the back, twice in a row; having had enough surprises for one night as is. The key turned smoothly with a satisfying click, and Mason headed in first, stepping into a small, ordinary bedroom. It was somewhat better lit than the corridor itself, having a brightly lit lamp on a small drawer across the room in a corner, next to the bed in the center.

The coast seemed clear and Mason signaled Chris to join him and soon followed after him, closing the door behind them. Chris immediately turned to the bed, then the closet in the back corner of the room, and the one facing directly in front of them, shuddering as he stared back at them repeatedly.

Monsters underneath the bed… hiding inside the closet… could it be possible?

It was almost just about every child's first set of fears, and it has been his as well; the monster waiting for the naive child to fall asleep and grab them in the darkness of the night.

And how old are you now?

For all he knew, Alex didn't share any of those fears as a child and could possibly be called out for it if he were to know about his silly imaginative fears. He couldn't admit it to Alex right then and there, immediately brushing the embarrassing thoughts out of the way. He proceeded to slowly walk around the room with Alex, inspecting almost every nook and cranny inside the room, hoping to find anything useful, specifically any hidden weapons, ammo, or even kerosene to help burn zombies with his lighter after "killing" them.

There was dried blood scattered across the floor as if a struggle had happened here in the past, possibly against zombies. Besides a shelf filled with spirits and perverted posters of young girls in swimsuits, there was just the cluttered bed with some clothing and an empty liquor bottle, alongside a study desk and drawer in between.

Underneath the desk and drawer were a clutter of books, journals, pencils, pens, and papers scattered around the area as if someone was in a hurry to look for something before. However, there was a lonely small, untitled journal laying on top of the desk. Although the desktop was covered in filth, the diary itself was clean, as if it was moved fairly recently.

"Should we give it a read?" Asked Chris, his interest peaked with curiosity. "We could find something in there that could be of use for us in the future."

Mason shrugged. "It'll most likely be a waste of time." He pointed at the posters on the wall closest to them. "This type of person probably had nothing better else to do with their lives, other than staring at young girls for a living. No wonder this mansion went to shit anyway if this is the kind of people that lived here."

Still peaked with curiosity, Chris decided to read the diary out loud anyway as he sat on the desk's chair and read.

May 9, 1998:

Played poker tonight with Scott and Alias from Security, and Steve from Research. Steve was the big winner, but I think he was cheating. Scumbag.

Chris smiled a bit at that. "I'd be furious too, not gonna lie."

"Told ya," said Mason coldly, shaking his head as he prepared himself to leave the room. "Telling you now, this is a huge waste of our time."

Chris proceeded to skip over to the next entry, still ignoring his pleas. However, his smile soon faded away, his heart skipping a beat as he continued to read.

May 10, 1998:

One of the higher-ups assigned me to take care of a new creature. It looks like a skinned gorilla. Feeding instructions were to give it live animals.

When I threw in a pig, the creature seemed to play with it…tearing off the pig's legs and pulling out the guts before it actually started eating.

"What?!" Mason exclaimed, suddenly more intrigued than ever. "Could he be talking about the zombies?"

Chris shrugged. "I don't know, but obviously this means that whoever wrote this must've worked here before. I guess this whole cover-up is bigger than we've ever suspected."

"Go on," Mason responded impatiently, sitting down at the bedside next to him.

Chris continued reading on, developing spine chills for each word he read out loud.

May 11, 1998:

At around 5 A.M., Scott woke me up. Scared the shit out of me, too. He was wearing a protective suit. He handed me another one and told me to put it on. Said there'd been an accident in the basement lab.

I just knew something like this would happen. Those bastards in Research never sleep, even on holiday.

May 12, 1998:

I've been wearing the damn space suit since yesterday. My skin's getting grimy and feels itchy all over. The goddamn dogs have been looking at me funny, so I decided not to feed them today. Screw 'em.

May 13, 1998:

Went to the infirmary because my back is all swollen and feels itchy. They put a big bandage on it and told me I didn't need to wear the suit anymore. All I wanna do is sleep.

May 14, 1998:

Found another big blister on my foot this morning. I ended up dragging my foot all the way to the dog's pen. They were quiet all day, which is weird.

Then I realized some of them had escaped. Maybe this is their way of getting back at me for not feeding them the last three days. If anybody finds out, I'll have my head handed to me.

May 15, 1998:

Even though I didn't feel well, I decided to go see Nancy. It's my first day off in a long time but I was stopped by the guard on the way out. They say the company has ordered that no one leave the grounds. I can't even make a phone call. What kind of sick joke is this?!

May 16, 1998:

Rumors going around that a researcher who tried to escape the estate last night was shot. My entire body feels hot and itchy and I'm sweating all the time now.

I scratched the swelling on my arm and a piece of rotten flesh dropped off. What the hell's happening to me?

The writing had become shaky and incoherent. Chris turned the page and could barely read the last few lines, the words disorderly scrawled across the paper.

May 19, 1998:

Fever gone but itchy. Today hungry and eat doggy food.

May 21, 1998:

Itchy itchy Scott came ugly face so killed him. Tasty.

4 / Itchy. Tasty.

The rest of the pages were blank, some with spots of dried blood on them.

Mason was entirely speechless as Chris was left in shock, frozen in place. Some of the pieces were finally being put into place; secret research at a secretly kept mansion, an accident in a hidden lab, an escaped virus or disease of some kind that transformed people, and possibly wild animals, into the ghouls they've seen throughout the night… and some of them even got out.

After some time of digesting the information in silence they have read and listened to, Mason broke the awkward silence between them, summarizing the stuff they have known and theorized that turned into reality.

"The murderers, the attacks, the lies, the manipulations, smoke, all of it; obscuring a big damn fire for far too long. Typical, isn't it?"

Chris frowned. He was still trying to make sense of the things he had just learned, but the fact that this whole thing is much bigger than they expected it to be, scared him the most.

"The chronology in the diary about the 'accident' having started around in May, made sense, but exactly what kind of research was being done here?" He rubbed his head, ruffling his hair as he now stood up. "And how much is Umbrella deeply involved in this anyway?"

Mason shrugged. "No clue, but you should definitely show this to Rebecca and see if she has any clue as to what kind of virus has been researched here. I'll continue to try locating our teams elsewhere in the mansion."

Chris hesitated for a moment but nodded moments later. He was worried about Alex going by himself through the zombie-infested mansion.

"You sure you gonna be okay?" He asked in a troubled manner, his expression showing all kinds of worry and anxiety.

"I've been a part of the Korean and Vietnam Wars. Been in Vorkuta for two years. I'm a former CIA agent," he cocked his gun as he prepared to leave on his own. "I think I'll be fine."

Chris smiled back at him, admiring the accomplishments Mason carried with him. He had heard some brief stories about Alex and Frank having gone through so much together and beaten many impossible odds before. The fact that Mason has survived for this long said a lot of things about him both as a hero and as a person.

"Alright," he replied back. "Take good care."

Mason nodded back at him in approval as he quickly opened the only door in the room and left out of sight.

Chris was now left behind in his own thoughts. He swallowed heavily, knowing that the possibility of him and the other STARS members being infected was moderately high, considering how much they still did not know about how this whole disease even works.

Chris and Alex almost caught him off-guard earlier. Hiding inside the underground tunnel wasn't the best idea as Wesker hoped that they didn't come down looking for him. However, Richard's need for medical attention saved him from being found.

As he began his way moving upstairs, he had just settled down on the second floor's balcony when Jill and Barry came barging out into the hall, yelling for his name. He crouched in silence, hoping he wouldn't get caught by the Alphas. Thankfully, none of them bothered going upstairs and once again, he got extremely lucky.

After Jill and Barry went their separate ways, Wesker sat against the wall on the balcony, wandering in his own thoughts. He knew that he needed best hurry as time was of the essence, but he wanted to outline and figure out a few possible scenarios before he took action. Mistakes had already been committed on his part and he didn't want to make any more of them. The STARS were a well-trained group, making his margin of error very minimal, at best.

Bravo's helicopter went down as expected, but at least half of them are still alive somewhere in the estate. Brad Vicker's sudden display of cowardice should've been a part of his planning, but was caught off-guard by it, delaying some of his own plans.

I wonder what you're up to now, Sergei…

Sergei Vladimir was a colonel for the Soviet Army; Spencer's puppet who would do anything in order to please him after he'd found his place in Umbrella. He had developed a rivalry with him, but it wasn't always a friendly one at that. Both knew of each other's past and Sergei was already becoming suspicious about Wesker's true intentions during the execution of their orders. He had to tread carefully, in case he'd bump into him as X-Day had approached much faster than he anticipated and didn't expect to carry out his orders this soon. Sergei was assigned to do his own clean-up in the Umbrella Executive Training School, but there was little to no doubt that he could come to this place and confront him, regardless.

Being caught red-handed and unprepared was not his type. It was merely …amateurish.

He sighed, vanishing those thoughts altogether. There'd be more time for pointing out his own faults later. He hadn't expected to end up here, but here he was, and throwing self-pity for his lack of foresight wasn't going to help matters either. He had more important things to do.

He knew the grounds of the mansion fairly well, but not as much as he knew about the lab itself. He'd only been inside the mansion on very few occasions since both he and William Birkin were transferred to the Arklay Lab during the late seventies, almost exactly twenty years ago.

The mansion was a maze, designed by a New York-based genius architect at the bidding of a madman. Spencer was, and still is, a complete lunatic, and he'd had the house built with all kinds of trickery and traps installed around the place, a lot of the ridiculous spy crap that had been so popular both in real life and in entertainment media during the late sixties… Spy crap that was going to make his job twice as hard than it needed to be.

Hidden keys, complex mechanisms— it's almost as if I'm stuck in an espionage thriller, but complete with mad scientists, loose B.O.W.s, and a ticking clock.

His original plan was to lure both Alpha and Bravo teams into the mansion and clear the whole area with at least a handful of them dying in the process before proceeding to the lower labs and taking care of business. He already had the codes to unlock every area he needed to be in the lab and his employer gave him possession of the master keys that would guarantee almost every door to be opened throughout the mansion. However, the back door leading to the courtyard was locked with no keyhole installed as it would only open through the use of a special emblem inside a depression, which was one of two ways to reach the lab itself, and the most commonly used route.

Which ain't gonna happen. Those 39s would be on to me before I could even take two steps, and if the 121s got out…

Wesker shuddered. He had no intention of going back outside without the help of an army to back him up. After all, he and the other Alphas barely managed to escape the 39s altogether, which didn't exactly cross his mind on how to properly deal with them beforehand; another mistake added to the growing list of self-need for improvement.

Another way of reaching the lab was going underneath the main stairs, through the underground tunnels. The main gate, however, needed two special emblems to unlock. Even if he did have both emblems, the coffin, which contained the disposed dead body of the crazed architect's wife, had four different sets of chains holding the coffin's cover in place by four heavy stones. With those stones, they also held the gate mechanism locked in place that would only unlock by somehow moving those heavy stones into the deep abyss altogether, removing the force from the chains themselves.

Nathan Winchester was the last person to have contacted the company, directly from the mansion over a month ago. He was one of the many researchers that helped develop some of the first BOWs known to the corporation. The doctor has helped scatter many key puzzle pieces in a fruitless effort to keep any virus carrier from entering or leaving the estate altogether. The death masks weren't just to keep the Crimson Head Prototype 1 at bay inside a coffin, as John Clemens suggested, but to discourage anyone from ever using them as one of the required emblems was hidden inside, which required all four death masks to drop and open up the coffin. Where the other emblem was located was anyone's guess. Rumors started to spread about an escaped test subject stealing it for themselves. Wesker had a vague idea about who the test subject was, but hoped it wasn't the same one he thought it was. Since then, no one knows of the whereabouts of the other said emblem.

But by then, most of the staff and researchers were all infected and began reaching a certain point where they started suffering from extreme paranoia and delusions, one of the most pleasant side effects the virus had to offer. God only knew how those lab researchers completely messed with the place during said episodes as they slowly fell into insanity.

Winchester was no exception, though he had managed to hold his sanity much longer than most of the others, as Wesker had expected since he knew how the virus worked in different types of metabolisms from various individuals. As he gave valuable information to the company about the current state of both the labs and the mansion itself, Umbrella ultimately decided to create X-Day. It involves a complete clean-up of collecting valuable combat data from the inevitable arrival of STARS, acquiring remaining BOW embryos, and rid of all traces of the virus by any means necessary. This wasn't mentioned to the mouth-running scientist as he was simply assured that help was on the way.

Wesker had a great laugh over that one. They'd sat with their feet up for almost two months while Raccoon suffered many casualties and disappearances, letting the RPD deal with the situation in vain. As incompetent as they were, there was virtually nothing the police could do, especially when they were under the thumb of the company itself. As a result, both Sergei and Wesker were sent to execute X-Day as soon as possible, which by now, was critical.

The STARS captain unconsciously ran his fingers across the soft carpet, trying to remember even the slightest detail from Winchester's long call. Everything had to be dealt with and taken care of before sunrise, whether he liked it or not. He had to get to the underground lab, which meant looking for the one missing emblem, or all four death masks to retrieve the other one that was locked inside. Winchester had been mostly incoherent in between his words, ranting about infected murderous crows and huge spiders, but he's only ever insisted that the death masks were "hidden where only Spencer would have the slightest idea to find them," and unsurprisingly, it made sense to him.

Everyone who worked in the Arklay Lab knew about Spencer's obsession with ancient, medieval-inspired booby trap mechanisms. Unfortunately for Wesker, however, he hadn't bothered studying the mansion completely, since he never thought he'd never need the information; yet another terrible mistake at that, slowly clenching his fists the more he thought about it. He did remember a few memorable things, such as the spiked armor death trap on the third floor, the gas chamber disguised as a mere armor display room, the secret room in the bar—

But even if I did know all the potential hiding places, there wouldn't be enough time to go through all of them. Not by myself….

Wesker suddenly grinned and stood up, amazed that he hadn't thought of it already.

Who said I had to do it all myself?

He had ditched the STARS members to procrastinate and plan on how to search for either Spencer Family emblems, including the annoying death masks if he had to, but there was no reason for him to do all the work by himself. Chris wasn't the first to come to mind; he had the mind of an uncontrollable teenager most of the time. Jill was somewhat difficult to tell about her usefulness. Frank… he seemed more rebellious and stubborn than even Chris himself, maybe twice as worse.

I'll have to be extra careful with him…

Barry, however…

He was a family man after all. And both Jill and Chris trusted him with their lives.

He couldn't forget about the other Bravo member that was still elsewhere in the mansion with Chris and the other younger rookie by now. Alex Mason was a formidable soldier, yet one with a soft heart compared to Frank Woods. The reason he knew this was all thanks to a tip-off from Sergei's lapdog himself, who informed the company about some background information regarding the recent STARS recruit, which included details of him having been subjected to a Soviet brainwashing program, masterminded by a Nikita Dragovich. Although Mason was considered a failure, the records in the database revealed that it had worked to some extent.

There are many ways I could go on with this in mind… His close relationship with Frank is something worth ...exploiting.

There couldn't have been any better timing. Whether it was by coincidence or not, Frank and Alex just so happen to have joined STARS several weeks back for reasons he still did not know. They have personally told him in the past that the main reason for them joining STARS was to help out the uncontrollable situation going on to the citizens of Raccoon City and that it was in their blood to help as many people as they could. Wesker believed this to be true; half of the truth. Their intentions were too simplistic. Why would a couple of former CIA agents that have been on duty for decades sign up for something way below their usual pay grade just less than a couple of years after leaving the CIA for "retirement purposes"?

The question didn't matter now.

Still grinning, Wesker walked to the door that led to the dining room balcony, surprised to find that he was looking forward to his little adventure. It was a real chance to test his skills against the rest of the team and the other accidental test subjects that were surely still wandering around. And if he were to pull it off, he was going to be a very rich man by tomorrow.

This might actually turn out to be fun.

Author's Note: A poll is now up and running! You will be able to see it by clicking on my profile. Vote what would you like me to do after Chapter 11 is finally uploaded. That way, you don't have to feel forced to put up a review or send me a DM for the sake of a simple request.

If for some reason, no votes are put in or it ends up being a tie, I will decide what to do next and an announcement will be brought on my bio at the very top following the poll's closure within the same hour.