A Star's Descent: Book Two: Star Fall

By evolution-500

Disclaimer: House of the Dead and Resident Evil are properties belonging to SEGA and Capcom respectively. I do not own any of these characters.

WARNING: This story contains violence, coarse language, mature and disturbing themes and imagery. Reader discretion is advised.

Chapter Thirty-Five: Darkness

Curien's metallic clawed hand curled into a fist as he uttered a low growl, the air crackling and shimmering with electricity.

"That little shit is ruining everything!" he snarled as he stared at the screen. "I can't detect any signs of his presence anywhere."

"It's possible that he's hiding somewhere in the caverns, my lord," Twenty-Three spoke up from a nearby console.

Curien tilted his horned head in thought, considering his point.

"If he is," he said slowly, "then it will spell trouble for us. Have some stealth units prepped and Hermit Type-6803 on standby. We need to contain them. I want all possible exits monitored and sealed - it is imperative that neither Tower nor the Magician escape. This game has gone on for far too long."

"Yes, my lord," the hooded servant nodded. "Will we be enacting Omega Protocol?"

"Negative. The facility cannot be destroyed - not while there are still survivors and specimens around."

"But suppose that the situation continues to degenerate, my lord. Will you authorize its destruction then, sir?"

His mechanical visage darkened. "We will cross that line when we get there, Twenty-Three. For now, we will wait and see."

The servant's head nodded. "As you wish, Master." He then looked back to the screen. "What of Hangedman Type-041?"

"Have Chariot collect Hangedman's remains. I want units dispatched to comb the area for its head, if not for any specimens that had managed to escape onto the Mansion grounds. Remember, stealth only - I want them all to maintain a low profile at all times. Do NOT have them engage with any possible survivors."

"Yes, my lord. Will you be withdrawing Chariot from the Infection Zone, sir?"

"Negative," Curien affirmed. "Once he's finished, I want him to proceed down to the lower levels of the mansion. I fear that Plant 42 has been feeding on some bloody strays that managed to make their way inside." Electricity crackled along his clawed fingertips. "It is time that we concluded this mission."

The battle was finished. After countless hours of fighting through endless waves of creatures, the two agents were able to persevere and succeed in their mission. With the Emperor destroyed and Goldman eliminated, the two men stood together at the top of the DBR skyrise, basking in the cool air as the wind struck their forms.

And yet, despite their success...to the young man, it didn't feel like a victory.

As the two agents stared over the rooftop ledge at the body that lay sprawled out hundreds of feet below in the courtyard, the young agent found himself feeling even worse than before.

Goldman's death should have brought some measure of comfort to him. After all, considering the things that he had done, the people that had ended up getting either hurt and/or killed because of him, the young man should have felt some form of satisfaction at seeing Goldman falling from the top of the building.

Maybe it was because of the fact that it had been the DBR CEO himself who had voluntarily leapt off to his doom that made the young man feel so dismayed; rather than face the consequences for his actions, rather than face justice as the young agent would have hoped, Goldman took his own way out. Goldman chose death rather than face the limelight, a spiteful middle finger to both him and his partner.

Even in death, it seemed, Goldman was one step ahead of them.

Lowering his pistol, a stainless steel Beretta Cougar Inox, James closed his eyes and sighed in relief. "Well, not quite how I hoped it would turn out, but...it's finally over."

The young man stared at the fallen form of their target, his expression troubled.

Turning to face his partner, James paused, giving the young man a concerned look. "You okay, rookie?"

The latter said nothing at first, shifting in discomfort.

Finally, he raised his eyes to meet his partner's. "James," he said slowly, "...did we...did we really do the right thing?"

The older agent pondered the question.

Finally, he sighed, shrugging his shoulders. "Don't know," he replied as he looked back down at the courtyard. "That said, though...I...like to think that we had. I mean, someone had to stop him."

Looking back to his partner, James exhaled as he continued seeing the troubled look that was still on the young man's face.

The padding on his grey blazer raised on one shoulder as he swept a hand through his brown hair.

"Look, if you're looking for an answer," James said slowly, "I'm afraid I can't give that to you, kid - the only one who will be able to answer that question is you. You can lament all you want about the path that we have taken to get here, but it's a waste of time, rookie. We're here - that's all that matters. Sure, I sometimes think about how things could have been done differently, what would have happened if we had taken some of those different routes along the way, if not how many lives we could have saved...but...what's the point? The past is the past - you can't change what had happened."

Closing his eyes, the grey-suited agent shook his head, "I'm afraid there's no easy answer to any of this, rookie. All we can do as people is to keep on going, regardless of whatever obstacles we encounter. Regardless of the number of people we let down. Regardless of our failures. As long as we're alive, as long as we try to keep on living, as long as we try to save as many lives as we can...all we can do as people is to hold our heads high, move forward, and hope for the best. That's all we can do. That's all anyone can do."

The young man quietly absorbed his words, the troubled expression still present on his face.

Looking over to him, James placed a hand on the youth's shoulder, catching him off-guard. "If it means anything, kid...you've done some good. Not many would have made it this far. You should feel proud of yourself, rookie - a lot of people died, but you actually did save lives today."

The young man looked doubtfully down. "Did I?"

"Of course you did," James assured. "You saved that boy earlier, didn't you? Amy and Harry might be roughed up, but they're still kicking. Same with G. And with Goldman and his monsters dead, we have saved hundreds of thousands, if not millions, from experiencing this shit."

The young agent quietly reflected on his words, then felt his shoulders sag. "But how many have we managed to let down, James? How many could we have saved?"

He watched the more experienced veteran give an uncomfortable look, the grey-suited man squirming.

"...I don't know," James answered, "but, that being said, it could have been worse, rookie. A lot worse. Don't think about it too much - you'll drive yourself into an early grave if you aren't too careful, and it would be a damn shame if that were to happen. You're a good kid, rookie, and if anything, we need more good people in this world."

As the words lingered, the young agent nodded thoughtfully to himself as his eyes looked back down over the roof's edge.

"...Do you think it's really over?" he quietly questioned. "Do you think someone might pick up from where Goldman left off?"

James frowned as he looked over the ledge with him. "I hope not, rookie. I pray to God that someone doesn't look at what happened here and tries to replicate this shit. I sincerely hope that nobody gets inspired by what Goldman did. But then again, you never know - there are tons of fucked-up evil people out there. You never know what's going through a person's mind. Truth be told, I actually prefer dealing with these creatures than with people, just because it's simpler that way. Mutants aren't complicated. Not always." He shifted uncomfortably, then looked at his watch. "Let's get out here. We've got a lot of paperwork to get through, and the sooner we leave this place the better. I hate the air around here."

Giving one look over the roof's edge at the man below, James offered a dismissive wave. "Goodbye, Goldman."

He then turned around and made his way to the stairs.

The young man stared to the body down below, then sighed.

'I hope the prick burns in the deepest part of Hell,' the rookie agent thought.

Part of him regretted not being the one to have pushed Goldman off the roof in the first place, though truth be told, his first thought had been to put a bullet between the eyes - maybe that would have brought some measure of comfort to him.

After all, someone had to avenge all those people that had been killed.

And yet...he felt ashamed. He was ashamed of himself for having such dark thoughts. He was horrified by the thought of cold-bloodedly murdering a person like that, even if it was a murdering, genocidal bastard like Goldman.

But even more, he was ashamed of himself for not being good enough.

He didn't feel heroic; like the IMI Desert Eagle that he held in his hand, he felt hollow and empty.

He felt as though he had let everyone down.

All those people that he failed to save...Amy and Harry...G...that child and his father...

Even James seemed to be disappointed in him, despite the words he had uttered. Even though the veteran agent tried comforting him, the rookie saw it in his eyes, in his stare, that he had fucked up, that his presence in the agency seemed out of place.

Staring down at the body below, the young man felt no satisfaction at seeing Goldman's corpse.

His failure to save Goldman was just another in a long line of failures.

As an agent, he was good enough to have survived, to have persevered all the way to the bitter end and save himself...but ultimately, he wasn't good enough to be able to save all those people, including Goldman, bastard he may have been.

He wasn't able to achieve justice for the countless victims left in Goldman's wake, the people who now have to live with the trauma and try to pick up the pieces of their ruined lives, if they're able to at all.

But even worse, he wasn't good enough to be immune to the darkness that he was now aware existed within himself, and that fact alone was going to haunt him for the rest of his life.

Staring over the rooftop ledge, the young agent looked to the IMI Desert Eagle in his hand, his eyes staring contemplatively at the steel barrel. He looked indecisively at the weapon, then at the roof's ledge, contemplating his next course of action. Part of him felt tempted to take the next step and follow Goldman down to the grave, ashamed of his failure as an agent. As a human being.

Closing his eyes, he lowered the weapon down, and let out a weary sigh.

Screw it. As pathetic as he was, he just wasn't strong or brave enough to take that extra step. He was too much of a cowardly chickenshit, for better or for worse, and for that reason, he had no choice but to continue on living...even if he was reluctant to do so.

Staring down at the body down below, the young man shook his head in disgust.

"Goodbye, Goldman," he uttered in cold contempt to the corpse down below.

As he sluggishly turned on his heel, the young agent followed after his partner, exhaustion setting in, his shoulders slumped.

Not quite what he imagined his day on the job was going to be.

Opening his eyes, Star awoke with a groan, his body cold and wet.

God, again with those visions. Just what were they? But even more importantly, what happened?

Pushing himself up, he coughed as he found himself lying face-first in cold mud, the muck squelching and suckling underneath him, the taste of it in his mouth. Lifting his head up, the albino drew back his hood as he felt the mud cling onto him.

He felt it everywhere on her person - in his hair, in his clothes, on his hood, on his left ear and on the entire left side of his face.

Wiping it off as much as he could, the albino spat as he unsteadily stood up, running his hands through his hair as he tried getting all the dirt out.

Looking around, he tried to determine his surroundings, but all he saw was darkness - there wasn't a single light source anywhere. All he heard was a constant dripping noise from some place, and from the way it echoed, it sounded as if he were in some sort of tunnel or cavern somewhere.

Where the hell am I?

It took a long time for Rebecca and the others to get their bearings.

It had happened so quickly that by the time anyone reacted it was already too late - the only thing Rebecca could do was watch as it snatched Star off his feet, moving with such speed that it left her mind reeling.

So fast...

How was it even possible for something that big to move that fast? How was it able to just suspend itself in the air like that? It didn't have any wings on its being, and the way it was able to levitate off the ground...

It was almost like some form of...magic.

The first to break the silence was Barry, the big man staring wide-eyed where that thing had appeared.

"What happened?" he asked. "What the hell just happened?"

"That was-" Jill swallowed, "that was the 'Magician' thing, right, Rebecca?"

Rebecca nodded slowly. "Y-Yeah. I'm pretty sure it was him who locked us in that crypt. I can't believe how fast it is, though - I've never seen anything like it."

"Any theories on why it is so?" Barry asked.

Taking in a deep breath, the medic shakily exhaled as she shook her head. "No. I'm completely stumped on it."

Jill frowned. "I'm going to call in Brad and see if he can get you out of here."

The girl then risked looking away, turning to face the other survivors. "What?"

"It's too dangerous," the older woman replied. "No offense, rookie, but you have no experience, plus the longer we stay here, the higher the chances of our being infected."

Rebecca hesitated. "What about Star and the others?"

"I'll stay behind and try to reach them. In the meantime, I want you and Barry to get out of here."

"Say what now?" Barry frowned. "I'm not gonna leave you here, Jill. Not with that freak hovering around."

Jill frowned back. "It'll be for the best, Barry. I need you to take Rebecca and get out of here-"

"I'm staying," Rebecca interrupted, cutting the B&E specialist off.

"Rebecca-"

"I said I'm staying," the medic asserted. "Maybe I'm not the most experienced or strongest member in S.T.A.R.S., but I can't just leave!"

"You don't have a choice." Jill softened her eyes. "If you stay here, Rebecca...you will die. Chances are more likely than ever that you could end up getting killed. I don't want you to be eaten by these damn things."

Rebecca gave a pregnant pause as she considered what she was told, the girl hesitating.

Softening her look more, Jill shook her head slowly. "Rebecca," the older woman said in a quiet voice, stepping toward her, "nobody will hold it against you if you decide to leave. You managing to survive for this long is impressive in itself. It's okay."

The medic's lip trembled. "B-But...but I-"

"You don't have anything to prove, rookie," Jill assured, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Not to me. Not to Barry. Not even to Captain Wesker. You are your own person. Sometimes, surviving is just enough. Take my advice, rookie - go home. Your mother is waiting for you back at the station. She's been worried sick about you, and if I were you, I'd take that ticket out of here as fast as possible and never look back. Please, Rebecca. Go home."

Upon hearing of her mother, Rebecca's will started to waiver, the girl's determination faltering.

Should she really call it quits?

Part of her desperately wanted to go home - she was tired, cold, and hungry, and the idea of being back home with her mom...

Hadn't her whole reason for joining S.T.A.R.S. been to save her mother?

For the first time in her life, Rebecca felt herself caught between a rock and a hard place.

On the one hand, certainly, she would love to go home and get away from this nightmare.

She wanted to leave this awful mansion where corpses walked.

She wanted to leave behind the monsters and terrible secrets, the insanity.

She wanted to leave behind that constant feeling of apprehension and dread of not knowing of what was around the corner.

She wanted to see her mom again, to see if she was alright, and hug her as tightly as she possibly could, and never let go.

As it was, the medic was in over her head.

But...on the other hand, she thought of the people she would potentially be leaving behind.

She thought of Richard. She thought of Enrico. She thought of Chris, Joseph, Barry and Jill. She thought of Captain Wesker. She thought of the other people that were potentially trapped in this awful place, the people in need of help.

One person, however, mattered just as much to her, and if she left now...

Rebecca sighed. 'I'm sorry, Mom. Please forgive me, but I can't just leave yet. There is something I must do. Please...please stay strong for me. Please stay alive for me.' The girl then swallowed. 'God, Snowball, Rachel - if all of you can hear me, please look after and protect Mom while I'm away. I don't want anything to happen to her. Please keep Mom safe.'

Looking up at Jill, Rebecca shook her head. "I...I can't leave. Not now. If I leave...I won't be able to live with myself."

The older woman quietly regarded her. "Rebecca-"

"This isn't about me, Jill!" Rebecca cut her off. "I can't just knowingly leave everyone behind! Not when I can be of some help! That thing took Star, Jill - I am not going to abandon him, nor am I going to let any more people die on my watch."

Jill shook her head. "There's no guarantee that your staying here will change anything, Rebecca."

"People are getting hurt and killed, Jill - look around you!" Rebecca exhaled. "Look, I appreciate your concern, but this is something that I have to do. If I leave now, not only will I be letting you and the rest of the team down, but I will also be letting Star down as well. I promised Star that I would help him, and I intend on keeping that promise."

The older woman gave her a steady stare. "Are you sure about this, Rebecca? You could end up getting hurt, even killed. Or worse, you could end up becoming a...zombie."

As the words left Jill's mouth, Rebecca's courage started to falter, the medic repressing a shudder of disgust.

She loathed the idea of becoming one of...them.

The girl swallowed. "...I...I know of the dangers, Jill. I realize that I...that I might...not make it. Or-Or end up becoming one of...those...things." The last word was uttered so quietly that it was almost inaudible. "That said, however..." She then looked up and met Jill's blue eyes with a renewed determination, "nothing...is going to stop me from helping people. I might end up becoming a zombie in the end...but that is not going to stop me from doing what's right and trying my best. I'm not gonna lie, I'm afraid. I'm completely and utterly terrified."

She licked her dry lips, "But...that being said, though...without fear...there's no opportunity to be brave." The medic shook her head. "It's not about me, Jill. I have to do this."

Jill regarded her for a moment, then gave small, impressed smile, nodding thoughtfully.

"Alright," she said slowly, "we'll look for everyone together." Jill then looked at the other survivor. "What about you, Barry? Would you like to leave? You've got a family waiting for you back home, after all. You can always leave."

Barry was silent as he considered the question, the big man shaking his head slowly. "I'm afraid I can't, Jill. There are...things that need settling."

Rebecca watched as Jill's smile grew.

"Okay then," the older woman nodded. "We'll search this place from top to bottom and see if we can find Star and the rest of Bravo."

Star remained completely still in the shadows, refusing to even move, the water constantly dripping. Part of him wanted to call out, but another part of him, however, warned against doing so, for fear of drawing the attention of whatever zombie or creature lurked around here.

It was so dark that it was practically pitch black, and for all he knew, he wasn't alone.

Closing his eyes, Star mentally cursed his predicament as he took in a deep breath, the albino exhaling slowly as he sought to control his climbing heart rate.

Count to four, inhale. Count to four, exhale.

In. Out.

He repeated the process several times, making sure to slow his breathing as much as possible while also keeping himself from hyperventilating.

Just relax, Star. Just take things slow.

Opening his eyes again, he waited a while as he allowed his eyes to adjust and adapt.

Finally, once he was ready, Star studied his surroundings.

He was in some sort of tunnel or cavern - that much he could tell - although it seemed to have possibly been man-made. It was a small, cramped-up chamber that was probably no more than nine or so feet wide, with a high ceiling. The floor, however, was soft and muddy, about a foot or so deep. He couldn't see any exit anywhere in sight...save for a tight-fitting hole at the other end of the room that must have been three or four feet in diameter.

Staring at the hole, he blinked several times, then frowned.

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

He looked around again, hoping to God that he could find another way out, that this was some sort of practical joke.

Finding nothing, he looked back to the hole ahead, then let out a despondent and bitter sigh.

Figures.

Getting up from the muck, Star attempted to take a step forward, only to find his left leg stuck. Looking down in confusion, the albino's frown deepened. The mud reached all the way up to his knee.

Even worse, he could feel it pouring against his leg.

Great.

Narrowing his eyes, Star struggled to get his boot free as he wriggled and strained himself, the albino gritting his teeth and letting out grunts of exertion as he forcibly tried pulling himself free before finally feeling the mud relenting.

YES!

Looking back to his foot, the albino blinked, then scowled in annoyance upon seeing the exposed sock on his foot.

"Goddamn it," he breathed.

Looking to the spot where he pulled his foot from, Star stuffed it back into his boot, grimacing at the feel of mud sliding underneath the sole of his foot.

"Shit."

Oh, this was just fantastic. Just what he needed.

Trying again, he lifted his foot again, then took a tremendous step forward, then another.

Star's frown deepened as he felt the mud sliding around on his feet, getting between his toes.

"This just keeps getting better and better," he deadpanned.

The albino struggled to make his way to the other end, pausing every second or third step in order to retrieve one of his boots, his patience waning each time he had to pull his boot out from the mud.

Hearing a pop as he inadvertently pulled his bootless foot out, Star swore. "Shit."

Stuffing his foot back in again, he tried again...only for the other boot to slide off.

Star clenched his teeth, his temper flaring.

"SHIT SHIT SHIT!" He yelled, his cries echoing.

He wanted to hit something, and badly.

Fuck this.

After what seemed like an eternity of wading through cold sludge, he made his way over to the hole and crawled onto his knees, thankful that the ground was firm.

Looking over his shoulder, he checked his feet to make sure the boots were still on. Satisfied, he looked back to the hole ahead, then started to crawl forward, hoping that he'll be able to find an exit.

Rebecca raised her radio. "Star? Star can you hear me? If you can hear this, please respond."

Star grunted as he crawled on his hands and knees through the tight-fitting hole, cursing to himself for not being able to see anything.

Banging his head against the reclining ceiling, he swore loudly as he rubbed his sore forehead.

"Fucking-!" Taking a deep breath, the albino exhaled.

Calm down. Just take it slow.

As he progressed, the more the hole started to tighten, forcing him to lie flat on his chest and practically wiggle forward inch by inch in order to move. He kept crawling, and crawling, and crawling, feeling the tunnel becoming tighter and narrower.

It was so tight that he barely had any room to breathe, causing him to take short, ragged breaths.

Swallowing anxiously, Star shifted in discomfort, his face soaked with sweat as feelings of claustrophobia started to overwhelm him.

More and more he felt as if the cramped space was closing in on him, the albino panting and trembling all over, feeling as if he were going to faint.

Tugging at his collar, Star rasped for breath.

He moved two feet forward, and then he started to feel overwhelmed.

I-I can't take this anymore! I-I need to get out of here!

"H-Help! HELP!" Star breathlessly screamed as he panicked, wriggling around in all directions. "HELP! HELP ME! SOMEBODY! ANYBODY! SOMEBODY PLEASE! HELP ME!"

As he frantically felt his way around, completely lost in darkness, the more he started to feel disoriented and afraid.

Up became down, and all sense of direction was lost as he found himself struggling, searching blindly for an exit as he bumped and scraped past tight walls, searching endlessly for a way out like a blind mouse.

He flinched as things brushed past him, causing him to let out fearful exclamations and to shrink in fright.

At one point, he could have sworn that something touched him right on the shoulder, causing the albino to shrilly scream at the top of his lungs, a lost soul without either a map or light to aid him.

In that moment, he no longer saw himself as Dante, as he had often imagined himself throughout this ordeal, nor were he as brave and as courageous as the poet's ghostly guide Vergil.

In that moment, Star became nothing more than a frightened wailing child, lost and alone as he screamed and shouted himself hoarse.

He pled incessantly for anyone to respond, only to find no one around to answer his pleas. Only his tortured cries echoed through the tunnel, until he finally lost the strength to shout, his calls turning into childish whimpers and sniffles as he cried in darkness.

"Somebody...somebody please help me..." he wept in a quiet and tired voice as he pitifully lay flat on his stomach, his violet eyes overflowing with thick tears, "someone-someone please help me...someone please help me...I want to go home..."

Chris descended down the long, dark stairway, his pistol shining a light.

"RICHARD?!" He called.

His voice reverberated along the tight corridor, the sound travelling downward.

Feeling a hand slap him on the shoulder, Chris leapt, startled as he looked over at the source.

"Hey hey, there you are!" Joseph came into view from the shadows, his form illuminated by the light. "Wassup, my faggot?"

Closing his eyes, Chris untensed and exhaled in relief. "God, you scared the hell out of me! You're such an asshole, Joseph."

Joseph made a playful smooching sound, gently smacking his cheek a few times. "I love you too, retard."

The Point Man brushed his hand away. "What are you doing here?"

"Isn't it obvious? To keep an eye on your dumb ass."

Chris rolled his eyes. "Jill sent you?"

"I volunteered, actually," Joseph replied, grinning. "Someone has to look after you, after all."

Redfield scoffed. "Please, you are one to talk."

The two men then glanced down the stairs.

"So," Chris said slowly, "any thoughts on what might be down there?"

Joseph tilted his head to the side as he considered the question.

"...Grandma's secret sex dungeon, perhaps?"

Snorting, Chris stifled back a laugh as he attempted to remain stone-faced. "Be serious."

"Hey, it's possible, you know," Joseph shrugged. "Maybe this is where Old Man Spencer likes to take a 'sweet young thang' like you when he's all hot and bothered and feeling frisky. He wines you, dines you, and then...he takes you down...where you are then exposed...to HIS V8-POWERED VIBRATOR, BIIIIIIITCH!"

The two men listened as the sound travelled.

"V8-POWERED VIBRATOR, BIIIIIIITCH!" the echo called back.

Hearing the reverberated words repeat, Chris and Joseph looked at one another, then suddenly burst out into a fit of laughter.

Wiping his eyes, the Point Man shook his head. "God you need your head examined."

"I know," Joseph agreed. He then lifted his shotgun. "Let's do this."

The radio crackled in Rebecca's hand as she attempted once again to contact Star.

"Star? Star? Star! Star please pick up! Please say something! If you can hear me, please respond!" she called.

As the radio went silent, the medic placed it away, combing her hands through her hair.

"He's not answering," she said as she looked around anxiously. "God, I hope he's alright."

"We'll find him, Rebecca," Jill assured.

Beside her, Barry frowned. "But how, though? This place is huge - he could be anywhere! Hell, we don't even know if he's even on the estate itself anymore given how that thing moved."

Jill grimaced as she checked her pistol. "I'm afraid he's got a point. Not only that, but our supplies aren't great, either. We don't even know how to deal with the Magician either, let alone know how to even locate it."

Rebecca shifted her gaze from one person to the other, the girl pondering the problem. She then looked over at Barry.

"Can I see the manuscript for a sec?"

Barry handed it over to her. Taking it, the medic quickly flipped through the pages before finally stopping on those related to the entity. She looked over the notes and diagrams carefully, then nodded thoughtfully to herself.

"...I think I know how we can find them," she spoke.

Jill blinked in surprise. "You do?"

"Yes."

"How?"

Rebecca held the manuscript open and pointed to what was written inside. "According to this, the Magician has three hearts. Two artificial hearts working in conjunction with an even larger and more powerful battery "heart" or organ. It has no digestive system of any kind, let alone a respiratory system."

Barry reared his head back. "What? So, how does it even eat or breathe?"

She shook her head. "It doesn't eat. Not in the traditional sense. See these armored parts on its body? They're silicon-celled solar panels - it "feeds" on solar energy. But that's not all - according to these notes, the Magician has been designed in such a way where it has to rely on an auxiliary power supply unit that it has stored in its battery, which would only give it a few hours' worth of energy once the sun is gone. If it fails to find a suitable light source or source of energy to sustain itself..."

Jill started to catch on, "The bastard would eventually have to shut itself down."

"Exactly!"

Barry stroked his chin. "So, from the sounds of what you're saying, that means that this thing would need to be close to a generator, transformer or something along those lines in order to juice itself up." His face darkened. "If that's true, then, assuming there are no generators or electrical conduits somewhere up here, it means one thing."

"What's that?" Rebecca asked.

The big man checked his Colt Anaconda. "We might need to go down to the basement after all."

As Barry's words lingered, Jill and Rebecca anxiously glanced at each other, the latter paling.

Swallowing, the former adjusted her beret. "We might have to," she admitted, "but first, let's check around up here. That creature couldn't have gone far with Star, so let's all be careful, alright?"

Rebecca silently nodded.

Raising up her pistol, Jill nodded back. "Okay, let's go."

Chris descended down the stairway, feeling the room twisting in a never-ending downward spiral as he was followed by Joseph.

As he descended further, the passages themselves started to become darker. Grimier. Overhead lamps lit the concrete walls and floor on the upper levels, while a series of wax candles lay scattered across the floor, lighting the path ahead, guiding the two of survivors down toward a narrow, stony tunnel.

Hearing the drip of water, Chris eyed the path ahead.

"The fuck is all this?" Joseph wondered.

Chris frowned. "I have no idea."

Once they got to the bottom of the steps, the survivors turned right and headed deeper into the tunnels, the passageways becoming narrower and tighter, the ground lined with crude, worm-bitten rickety hardwood flooring. Straight ahead, the two of them saw a large steel door.

As the two Alphas approached, Chris looked uneasily at Joseph. "You ready for this, man?"

Joseph shook his head. "Hell no."

Raising a nervous hand, Chris grabbed hold of the handle, and started to turn it.

Stepping through a rusted door, Chris edged toward a corner, then peeked, the Point Man frowning. "Crap."

"What?" Joseph asked beside him.

Chris gestured for him to peek. Moving closer, the Omni-Man froze. "Oh come the fuck on!" he groaned.

They were in a T-shaped stone passage. To the left was a long tunnel, but blocking the way at the very end was a very large spherical boulder.

"Are you fucking shitting me?!" Joseph muttered in disbelief. "Of all the possible traps to build, the people who designed this place thought this would be a bright idea?"

Chris frowned. "It's not a trap, Joseph."

"Oh wake up! Look at it, Chris - it's a trap! Do you see how big it is? Its shape, the way it's oh-so-conspicuously and precariously placed?" He then looked around. "Do you hear that? If you listen to it very carefully, Chris, you will hear something."

"And what's that?"

"'TRAP!'" Joseph shouted into Chris' ear, making him wince, his voice echoing.

Massaging his inner ear, the Point Man gave him a dirty look. "Jesus, keep the volume down, you'll wake the dead."

"They're already awake, dude."

Chris frowned. "Touché, I guess." Looking back to the boulder, he scrutinized it. "I think it's safe. It looks to be held firmly in place."

He then started to approach it.

"Dude, are you fucking nuts? That thing is going to come loose!"

"It's fine, Joseph."

"Bullshit, look at that thing! This is like the Acme School of supervillain-level of traps, and as soon as we're gonna get close, it's gonna start rolling down on us!"

"Come on, Joseph. Are you chicken?"

Joseph froze. "What do you say?"

Chris grinned. "You heard me." He then tucked his hands into his armpits as he started to flap his arms, mimicking a chicken's flapping wings as he clucked. "BAWK! BAWK BAWK BAWK!"

Clenching his shotgun, Joseph grinded his teeth as he stomped up toward the boulder alongside him. "Fine!"

Stopping in front of the boulder, the two gave it a once over, looking around.

"...I don't see any way around this thing," Chris commented as he glanced around the tunnel. "I don't see any other exit over here."

His companion frowned. "Well, I guess we oughta head back then."

Chris nodded. Looking back to the boulder, he punched it.

"Ow!" he cried out, wincing.

Joseph laughed. "Ha ha ha! Dumbass."

Giving him the finger, Chris waved his sore hand around several times before blowing on it.

Turning around, he massaged his fist when they heard a crack, causing both men to pause.

"Huh?"

As they glanced over their shoulders, the stone came loose, and started to roll.

"YOU SUCK, CHRIS!" Joseph shouted as he and Redfield ran as fast they could, the two of them flinging themselves over to the space at the entrance.

As both men dived to the ground and rolled to the side, they watched as the large boulder passed by and crashed straight into the wall, the whole tunnel shaking from the impact, causing dirt to spill on them both.

Once everything settled down, Joseph looked over to Chris, offering him a glare.

"...It's amazing how stupid you are," the former dryly remarked.

Wiping the dirt off his face, Chris spat on the ground. "Well, at least we managed to avoid it."

"But I told you so."

Chris sighed. "Yes, you did," he conceded.

Getting back up, the two of them dusted themselves off and brushed off as much of the dirt as they could.

"I wonder whose bright idea it was to build that thing!" Joseph remarked before changing his voice, "'Gee, this 'Indiana Jones' movie is so awesome, I wanna have that for my super-secret underground lair!'"

Redfield shook his head. "God this place is so fucking bonkers. Let's get out of here before something creepy decides to show up."

And with that, the duo proceeded up toward the newly-opened path, wondering what else awaited for them.