Adam Luck - Thanks! And yeah, Annette knows about Woods and Mason, as well as the experimentations done on Woods. As I said before, there won't be anything Alice-related powers. His subjection to experimentation will be explained and/or implied upon throughout the next sequel. For now, it's all completely vague.

Recommended BGM:

1. Resident Evil 1.5 - R.P.D. Exterior (RPD Track 2)

2. Resident Evil Outbreak: File #2 - Desperate Times (Police Station Theme)

3. Resident Evil Zero - Dormitory Main Theme


Chapter 12

Leon had given him the location of a map he'd found to work with and after having picked it up in the armory, David had gone on his own to start searching for Sherry. Both of them had also given each other warnings about the dangers of two different hulking beasts they have faced beforehand.

This place loves its nightmarish creatures. Perfect breeding grounds for people to get scarred for life…

He couldn't keep thinking about that. Even though he never had to deal with ferocious monsters as a child, like the one he faced beneath the station, he could still empathize with how scared Sherry might be feeling. The thought only drove him further to hurry down the station and look for any potential places Sherry could've gone to, which were too many to start with. However, he was sure enough that she may be putting as much distance away as she possibly could from the basement itself, which led him to theorize that the second floor would at least be a great place to start searching.

Okay… Leon told me the main lobby is back where he came from by cutting through the east office. So that should lead me… a short distance out of here.

David was thankful that many of the corpses were already dealt with, as he has seen many of them shot in the head, which could've been the work of either Leon, Ada, or any other surviving officers around the building.

Claire… I wonder if you're already at the STARS office.

The map showed that the STARS office itself was on the west side of the second floor, just like Claire had told him before departing, which made him feel slightly elated, thinking that maybe Sherry could bump into Claire and both of them could be together for all he knew. Wherever they were, he could only pray that they were safe somewhere and all three of them could reunite and follow Leon after.

As he went towards the opposite door inside a cold corridor littered with dead bodies of various people after exiting the main east office, he began hearing a series of soft, thumping sounds coming from somewhere in the building. He turned his head back at the bloodied corridor, to see where the source of the noise was coming from.

But there was nothing… No movement or motion inside. Just the dead bodies of cops and possibly refugees that sought safety that may have never existed. He didn't know if those sounds were coming from "Trenchy", the monster Leon had nicknamed, probably walking around the police station, looking for someone or something to kill, just like Sherry's infected father.

Or maybe, I must be losing my damn mind…how couldn't anyone?

Trying to shake those apprehensive thoughts out of the way, he proceeded to enter the door and he found himself back at the grand hall of the station, which felt like it had been ages since he had last been there. A lot has happened in so little time, he hadn't even gotten the chance to process exactly what had taken place before he and Claire got separated from the statue's secret entrance that seemingly looked sealed off for good.

Walking past the reception desk and the giant statue of a woman, he climbed upstairs, hoping that Claire had taken the exact route he was now taking and that Sherry might be somewhere on the second or third floor of the station. The eerie echoes of his lonely footsteps still made him shiver in anxiety, making him feel as though he was being stalked by either a huge mutated beast or an unknown supernatural force, even though he wasn't necessarily the superstitious type. He made sure to hurry down through the main doors of the library as fast as he could, until finally closing the doors behind him.

His breathing had become somewhat shallow, and the stench inside the open library didn't help matters for him either. He thought wrong if he was under the impression that he had seen and witnessed the most gruesome things so far within the zombie apocalypse. The entire scene inside the library itself was like a horror movie to the next level of grotesque not seen anywhere else in anyone's imagination.

What the hell happened here?

Most of the dead bodies looked as though they'd been dead for days, while others still looked freshly wet. Some of the bodies on the ground had been turned into dark mush, like rotten pieces of fruit crushed by a violent force. The wood on the ground that had been splattered with the rancid organic matter had been slightly caved in, broken almost. One of the tables in the center had been completely overturned near a row of damaged bookshelves, with books dropped on the ground, showered in spots of dried blood. Hair and bone fragments could also be seen almost everywhere on the ground and fallen furniture.

David couldn't stand to look at it any longer and in a sudden response, he threw up the small amounts of bile he had left inside his knotted stomach, wishing that Claire wasn't among the dead bodies inside and that Sherry didn't have to face the monster that did all this mess. As he held his breath while looking away at the violent scene, he rushed towards the door on the same floor that'd led out of the horrific place.

On the other side of the door was a room containing another pile of dead bodies that led to another different corridor. Without taking any more glimpses at the horrendous state that many of the poor officers were left in, he proceeded to go on his way toward the STARS office, almost completely ignoring the fact that there was a dead alien-like creature with its overgrown brain filled with dark fluids of blood on the ground. He had just entered the office in which his father and uncle had spent a fairly brief amount of time working inside, though no one seemed to be there at first glance.

"...Claire? Sherry? Anyone here?" He whispered loudly, hoping to hear a normal human voice around.

In the back of his mind, however, he half-wished to find Frank or his dad inside, having made their own safe haven, while still helping anyone they'd come across. If any of them were still here, he knew they'd help out either of them. It was in their nature, in their blood to help anyone in need, to defend the innocent, defend their own country…

and yet that's exactly why I hated my dad for so long. He'd prioritized his country over me, his own son. Hell, even Uncle Woods was prioritized over me most of the time - abandoned me for…

for people like Claire. Like Sherry…

David was still mindlessly gazing at the office in front of him, looking straight at a hung brown bomber jacket with a similar logo he'd seen on Claire's vest on her back, "Made in Heaven". However, he didn't think much of it as he was now beginning to understand some of his father's past actions. It was those protective instincts he had developed for Claire and Sherry, the same instincts his father might've developed when he first met Frank and when his dad first defended his country while in the marines as an infantryman. But that also wasn't a valid excuse to abandon him as a child, to abandon his mother, and not once make an appearance at his mother's funeral.

And where was he when I— we needed him the most? Were we simply just a burden holding him back? Did we ever matter to him?

The sadness he had been feeling inside had started to develop into a burning rage, holding onto his gun as tightly as possible, almost as if he was ready to shoot anyone responsible for the miseries he had to deal with almost his whole life. It was that childhood pain that didn't allow him to ever forgive his dad, and even though Frank had told him that his dad still loved him, he never believed him. They were merely just empty words and promises to him and there was nothing they could do to heal all that pain that has since permanently scarred his heart.

Taking a shaky deep sigh, he finally began to look around the cold, chilling office. Everything had been littered with papers all over, dust has made its home across most of the entire surface inside. He proceeded to walk through a smaller office to his left, entering a door that labeled it as "S.T.A.R.S. Captain Albert Wesker's Private Office". David didn't know much about Wesker, other than him being a "total dickhead", as described by his uncle.

Inside, the wall ahead was decorated with various plaques of the squad, all of which surrounded a large poster of the STARS logo, the poster itself already making him miss his father and uncle even more.

Where has everyone from STARS gone? What kind of monsters did they have to face in that mansion other than just zombies?

As he maneuvered himself around the messy desk inside, there was a picture of the whole squad just sitting in a back corner, all covered in dust. David picked it up, wiping off the dust it had, and simply stared at it for a brief moment, wondering if it had been taken before his father and uncle ever joined STARS as both of them were nowhere to be seen. As he continued looking at the picture, he began wondering who would've been Claire's brother. The only woman in the photograph was sitting in front with a blue uniform and a dark blue beret, giving him some sort of confirmation that the woman was indeed Jill Valentine, the same emergency contact he was given by his uncle. She looked slightly older than him and Claire, but she seemed like the type to be an experienced fearless warrior.

Guessing there's no Rebecca Chambers here too.

Frank had told him that she was another rookie in STARS, just a year younger than him, apparently the only medic on the squad. He'd imagined her having a medic uniform, probably smarter than he could ever be as she was said to have a bachelor's at the age of just eighteen. He himself was barely in his second year of college and already he couldn't handle it any longer. Dropping out was the only solution for him and just thinking about it felt like he was failing his uncle for having promised he'd stay in college for at least four years.

Sorry Uncle Woods, but it just ain't happening.

Next to what he assumed to be Jill were some other men whom he couldn't recognize. To her left was a guy with a similar bandana that Frank would wear almost all the time, except, the guy wore a red one instead of the usual green he was all too familiar with, wrapped around Frank's head. On her right was another guy in a green vest, a knife sheathed in the same way that Claire had hers on his left shoulder.

Is that… Chris Redfield?

It was a possibility, but he couldn't be so sure. Much to his surprise, however, he looked slightly similar to his dad when he was in his mid-twenties. He'd seen some of the old photographs that both Frank and his father had together, and the similarities were almost too much to ignore.

Hope you were a better brother to Claire…

As he looked further to the right, he saw the same man both he and Claire had found outside earlier in the night. He was wearing the same yellow vest in the picture, making him wonder exactly what his name was or what kind of role he took for the squad itself.

There were just too many mysteries, too many unanswered questions flowing inside his mind, that he simply put the frame back in its place, trying not to delve too much into the STARS disappearance…

…but he couldn't. His uncle and father were missing as well, and there were already rumors of his uncle passing away, rumors he wasn't willing to believe just yet. Even if Leon had let him know about the announcement of his death in a printed article, he simply could not accept that as fact, at least not until he'd seen some evidence of it himself.

Wherever you are Uncle Woods, I hope you're at peace, whether you're dead or alive…

He mentally punched himself in the face, quickly reminding himself that there was no way he was dead, especially not by something as meager as a forest fire itself when compared to many of the hardships he had endured in his younger days. Not even a group of wild grizzly bears would be enough to kill him. Nothing could kill him…or so he hoped. After all, there was only so much a man like him could endure, but again, a fire killing him was not the way he thought his uncle would go out.

Just as he was about to exit the small office, there was a stamped document that caught his attention, which labeled it as, "REJECTED". Feeling like it could be something of importance, he picked up the dusty paper, blew some of the dust away, and began reading it.

August 1st, 1998

Report on the Arklay Mountains Investigation

This bizarre incident occurred in a mansion owned by the Umbrella Corporation, located in the Arklay Mountains.

On July 23rd, S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team was dispatched to the Arklay Mountains to investigate a series of mysterious and grisly murders, and immediately encountered engine failure before going radio silent. That same evening, Alpha Team was dispatched as well, and became entangled in the events at the nearby mansion.

The events, now known as "The Mansion Incident", culminated in the destruction of the mansion itself. Casualties were numerous. The only survivors were seven members of S.T.A.R.S., one of which was in critical condition. The cause of the incident was the illegal bioweapon experiments being carried out in a secret Umbrella lab beneath the mansion. The t-Virus being used in these experiments escaped the facility and is presumed to be the root cause of all that occurred.

However, all evidence was destroyed along with the mansion, so further investigation has proven to be extremely difficult.

Signed,

Alex Mason

"Dad…" David uttered quietly, feeling a tight knot of emotions inside his gut.

It was all finally making sense. Marvin may have only told them about some of the information brought to the surface, but this rejected report explained a lot about why his father and uncle had gone off the radar. The STARS had discovered Umbrella's wrongdoings since around the time when he had lost contact with them. The virus that turned people and animals into terrible, hungry beasts, had a name that he could now reference. However, many of the answered questions had now multiplied the unanswered ones, like why hadn't his father or uncle contacted him after the incident at the mansion? Why couldn't either of them let him know that they were fine? Was the police department itself corrupt, making it harder to do so?

Maybe Umbrella had been monitoring them since and possibly bribing some of the policemen around. Could explain the label on it too.

True. It was possible that they couldn't find a safer way to contact him and let him know about their whereabouts, but again, if they could find a way to counteract any of the CIA security measures, what stopped them from doing the same against a pharmaceutical corporation like Umbrella?

There were a lot of things that just weren't starting to add up and David became even more flustered and worried as the seconds flew by, thinking that there was something much more sinister at play.

No. Stop the bullshit, Dave. They're fine. Maybe they just… didn't wanna risk getting you involved somehow…

As if that worked out for them anyway.

He finally decided to walk out of the room, dropping the document behind him as he proceeded to continue finding any more clues regarding the STARS, Claire, or Sherry's whereabouts. The vivid image of that mutated monster was still etched inside his mind, still trying to wonder whether or not he was experimented on by Umbrella using some sort of special strain of the t-Virus itself.

And that thing cannot be killed apparently. Slowed down, yes, but almost immortal.

He couldn't begin to imagine what Leon's monster was capable of doing or if it was now hunting down either Claire or Sherry, which made his skin crawl at the thought of it. Claire had promised him she'd be waiting for him inside the office, but her absence told him she might've gone into trouble, considering the dead skinless, alien creature outside the office that looked nothing pleasant at all.

David paced across the room, stumbling upon the communications console and checking to see if it was still in operation for good measure. He knew a thing or two about radio comms all thanks to his dad and uncle, but as far as he could tell, the entire console had no power of any sort. Frowning, he moved on to a smaller desk next to the radio station and quickly found a piece of paper that wasn't covered in dust at all. Suddenly, there was a strange feeling of relief, knowing that someone must've been here recently and the note he had picked up must've been from Claire herself as the wording was directed towards him when he began to read it.

David,

My brother, your father, and uncle aren't here. However, I found a map that shows a secret passage behind the Chief's office. I'm heading there in hopes that I get to meet up with you somehow and find more information about our relatives.

The Chief's office should be on the east side of the second floor at a door leading to the back of the station. And don't worry about me. I'll be fine.

Be careful - there are monsters worse than just zombies and infected dogs. You probably already know what I mean if you've seen that dead slimy creature before entering the office.

Claire

David sighed grimly. "You have no idea…"

He folded the note and took it with him. He was relieved that at least he knew where Claire would be headed next as he then took out the map and checked what room may have been labeled as the Chief's office.

And… there. Bunch of doors to go through, but at least they offer some sense of safety in between the building's rooms.

It's also another room that Sherry could've gone to.

Slowly developing a new reason to smile inside the atrocious void of a nightmare they've been trapped in, he folded the map and put it inside his drawstring backpack before immediately seeing a safe underneath the small desk. The safe looked as though it had been tampered with, dust having been scrambled over the metallic surface around the lock itself. The combination of three numbers would be hard to guess. As he looked back above the desk to see what else he could find, there was a framed photograph he hadn't seen earlier.

It was him when he was just seven, along with Frank and his father, both of them grinning at the camera as David bore a wide smile, filled with joy; a joy he couldn't ever forget. But it was also a photo that brought him sadness and dismay, remembering that it was the last time they were a happy family together. For more than a decade, he never found that same joy again, and his father never seemed to care much about him afterward.

After having spent enough time ruffling through his clashing emotions, he quickly thought about something that clicked inside his mind.

The date!

He knew his uncle, at least, held that identical copy as sentimental value and would carry it around whenever he could, so if the date had any sort of significance to him, it could mean the key to opening the safe itself.

However, the main problem was that the safe had only been labeled from zero to thirty-five, making the year impossible to put in.

Maybe their birthdays?

He proceeded to try both of them, but the safe continued to refuse to accept either combination. His own birthday would also be an impossible input as the year he was born was seventy-nine and no such number was labeled on the safe.

Wait, what if…

and… wow. Can't believe that actually worked!

The combination he last inputted was finally the correct one. He took his own month and day of his birthdate, but instead of putting the year, he replaced it with how old he was when the picture above was taken. Feeling somewhat excited, he began to inspect what was stored inside, and to his surprise, there was nothing but a lonely journal with a leathery cover, unlabeled.

He grabbed the journal and opened it up, only to find the first set of pages to be all blank. However, there were written entries in the mid-section of the journal, the writing looking as if whoever wrote in it was in a great hurry. As he stood up and started pacing around the office, he began to read, feeling nervous about what he was going to uncover.

July 29th, 1998

I'm not used to writing personal shit, but Chris suggested I'd do this to keep my mind busy on something else other than trying to deal with other shit like the fucking numbers so here goes nothing.

Been almost a whole week since everything went down to shit. Got out of the hospital myself after a few days. Frank's still in an induced coma. Doctors don't know when he'll wake up. Said that the deep slashes on his chest had been quite fatal, damaging multiple blood vessels and that many of his other injuries had made things more difficult for his immune system to fight off any type of infection. Those sons of bitches from Umbrella will get what's coming to them for Frank's sake and for every other innocent who died on the mansion grounds.

August 1st, 1998

Tried contacting Hudson, but nothing. Probably for the best anyway since I sense that Umbrella is watching our every move, especially after we've sent in our reports on what is now officially known as "The Mansion Incident".

Rebecca contacted me, saying that she will be moving out of town and continuing to pursue her master's and doctorate in chemistry. Thought it was a nice change of pace for her since this town has brought nothing more than misery to just about anyone living here, except those who have decided to turn a blind eye to Umbrella's bullshitting. Wish both David and Rebecca could have a chance to meet up someday…

Chris and Jill told me everything about what Frank had been able to remember back in '86. Umbrella had an underground lab in Angola. Umbrella's CEO, Oswell E. Spencer, had some dealings with Kravchenko, who is apparently still alive somewhere. On top of all that, he's been the leader of Perseus ever since Russell finished off Stitch. What the fuck's he been up to lately?

August 8th, 1998

Haven't been able to sleep for a long time, knowing that Frank's still in the hospital. Shouldn't have to worry since he's one of the toughest guys I know, but something tells me shit is going to hit the busted fan again. How, I don't know, but I keep hearing those same voices in my head, the numbers still echoing around me. Wesker better be rotting in hell along with Steiner and Dragovitch…

That scumbag of a chiefFucking Irons hasn't done shit to help us investigate Umbrella. Instead, he merely decided to suspend everyone from STARS completely, starting tomorrow.

Fuck him!

No one needs an asshole behind our backs to slow us down on what needs to be done. Has been one of the reasons why Frank and I decided to leave the CIA for shit like this anyway.

August 10th, 1998

One moment, everything was fine, the next…

As I sat right next to him for a good minute, he flatlined, his body too weak after having endured so much. At that moment, nothing was real to me when Jill and Chris had to pull me out as the doctors began to do their thing.

Five minutes…five minutes is all it took for the whole world around me to crumble.

Rage was the only emotion I felt, the only emotion I ever knew, the thing that controlled me when we were told about the news.

Then, grief and despair. Even as I write this, my eyes cannot find any more tears to express what I'm feeling inside. The one person who I put my trust in for fucking decades, whom I shared drinks with, laughs, pain, misery, happiness… Gone just like that…

Frank was a hardened soldier, a tough bastard who wouldn't take shit from anyone, a brother who would always have your back, and a person who would never give up the fight.

Umbrella… Perseus… Spencer… Kravchenko…

They can dance over Frank's grave for as long as they can, but sooner or later, they will fucking pay!

ALL OF THEM WILL!

August 14th, 1998

For the past few days, any time I get close to anyone else from STARS, those same voices keep popping up, telling me to finish them all off, to kill them. When Chris and Barry gave me a visit to see how I was doing, those damn numbers kept typing themselves in front of anything electronic, carving themselves on boards, walls, tables, ceilings…

And in a sudden flash, I found myself grabbing my gun and directly aiming it at Barry's face before pulling the trigger!

It felt real, but they simply asked me if I was feeling okay. I merely told them I was just having a headache from all the sleepless nights. Least that part was the truth, but the look they had told me right away that they did not buy it completely. I couldn't care any less either way. Thank God I didn't have my gun close to me when it happened.

I can't deal with this shit any longer…

The last time I had this happen was just after getting out of Vorkuta and for years, it did not stop, and I kept finding myself doing the same thing to Frank and those closest to me. It was a lifetime ago, but it feels as though it were just yesterday with all the bullshit happening again.

I've decided on my own that I will seclude myself away from anyone; go somewhere far away, a place where not even Hudson could try to track me down. This is the only thing I can do to protect everyone from myself, just as I tried doing so all those years ago for the safety of my own father and sisters.

David…

I know I wasn't a better father, but no matter what, I have always, and will always love you.

My wonderful handsome baby boy…

David held the journal open, gazing mindlessly at the open space inside his dad's last entries for a long moment, trying to digest everything he had just learned…

…it was too much. Too much to take in. Too much unbearable pain to handle. Too much rage and sadness to hold back. And with one violent swing, he tossed the journal directly across the office, hitting it against a non-powered computer screen, a hissing, growling scream erupted from the rage and immense grief he had begun to feel, unable to have any control over his actions.

His mind was filled with a red, blurred haze, eyes became watery as tears dropped like dripping faucets, and he began shoving and throwing everything off the desks next to him, still shouting at the air around, yelling at the world as to why it had slowly been taking the people he cared about the most; asking why he had to be punished this way.

Frank… you… you liar! You told me nothing could kill you. Nothing could! You lied! Just like dad!

Kravchenko… the numbers…

David paused shakily, whimpering silently as he leaned forward in front of a desk that had a picture of someone's dog, having become smashed during his sudden outburst of emotions. He hadn't exactly stopped to think about the troubles his dad would've gone through when Frank told him some of the internal struggles he had developed after his escape from Vorkuta all those years ago. He heard stories about Kravchenko, about Castro's failed assassination, about Steiner, and Dragovich, the bastards that tried making their lives hell, trying to ruin their lives entirely. The details about what his father went through in his Vorkuta days were vague, if not, confusing. He's never heard of his father hearing voices, seeing random numbers flowing around his vision, and even making several attempts to try to kill Frank or anyone else close to him.

Is that why he never made the effort to stay anywhere close to me? Was he afraid that he'd try killing me? Like back when—

David had a flashing vision inside his mind, his head pounding, but the image began to introduce itself almost without warning as he began to grunt in pain.

Inside, he found himself as a young boy again, around maybe five years old. He was sitting on his bed, and his crouched mother was right in front of him as he sat with his head facing down, holding a teddy bear tightly in his hands. Her voice was soothing, a voice he could never forget. However, when she began to speak, it was as though it were her last day on earth, trying to keep herself together to express her never-ending love for him.

"Dave," her silky voice began as she whispered. "You are so loved, sweetie. So loved" her tone began to break, struggling to keep herself composed. "Always keep in mind that mommy loves you… Daddy loves you… Uncle Woods loves you… Dave, honey, be safe… be brave be strong, my baby boy."

There were steady footsteps coming in their direction, the footfalls echoing loudly throughout the stairway of their home as her mother quickly turned to face the only doorway inside David's room. He could tell that his mother felt extremely frightened, the anxiety on her face quickly revealing itself to him as her horrified expression blasted away any remaining color, turning to face David once again.

"Under the bed, hide!" she ordered him in a whisper. "No matter what happens, don't ever come out or make a single noise! Do you understand me?!"

David gave her mother a quick nod, feeling confused, but still complied nonetheless, taking his teddy bear with him underneath the bed before the door finally came crashing down with a violent force…

…and a huge creature he'd never seen before walked inside with thundering, powerful footsteps, a beast so fearsome, he could hardly breathe. The huge, hairless humanoid had caught him by surprise, snapping him back into reality as it grabbed him by his whole head, raising him several feet off the ground, almost touching the ceiling itself.

David's vision was entirely covered by the monster with oversized hands, beginning to apply a painful pressure, similar to Sherry's infected father when he got caught by surprise, already becoming sick of monsters ambushing him.

Can't get a damn break around here!

Somewhere in his mind told him the humanoid beast was the same monster Leon had described. He quickly unholstered the Glock and fired at the creature blindly in a frantic attempt to free himself. After hearing his gun click empty, he switched his grip to his other hand and took out the knife with the other. By using his grief and vengeful fury, he put enough effort to stab the creature's arm three times as hard as he could. The tall creature finally let him go and David dropped painfully to the ground while almost having a blinding migraine.

Using the smallest window of opportunity to escape, he rushed past the giant humanoid creature while he reloaded his gun as fast as he could, squinting at his dark surroundings.

"Fuck me!" He exclaimed, feeling nothing but intense rage for a small moment before a foreboding feeling began to consume him as the beast proceeded to pursue him, his heart hammering loudly against his chest.

Sherry, Claire!

Chief's office… gotta get moving!

He put away his handgun as he ran past the opened door back to where he came from. He instinctively took out his Remington, thinking that if he could shoot him enough times and slow him down, he could have a chance of losing him and make sure he doesn't end up leading him to any of the girls.

"Alright, you coated bastard. You want me? Come fucking get it!" he yelled out in a fit of vengeful anger at the rushing, towering monster behind him.

He didn't know what it was that had barged inside his room on that unknown day. What was it? What kept his mother so scared on that fateful day? The more he thought about it, the more his head started to burn inside. Whatever it was, he hoped it hadn't been anything of similar magnitude to the abomination in front of him. Though nothing much could really surprise him anymore. There were a variety of monsters that the city had to offer and now it was only getting to the point of just dealing with anything thrown at him as if the city itself was testing his own wits and persistent will to survive, stuff he thought he would never put to a test in a real-life situation like this.

As he ran inside the stench-filled library, he couldn't care any less about the violence around him, let alone the horrible smell. All he was focused on doing was to slow down Trenchy or take him out, if possible. The eight-foot-tall humanoid finally came into view, piercing eyes fixed on David, eyes that were somehow vaguely familiar to him, eyes as those of a murderous freak, of a silent assassin. As it proceeded to crunch the wood and fleshy fragments beneath it with every giant step it took, David fired. The loud, booming shot hit most of the creature's bullet-riddled chest, the outer fabric of its long trench coat ripping away in singed, smoking bits, blood nowhere to be seen, and yet the creature did not falter, kept moving as a muted killing machine.

David rushed back out into the main hall, pumping in another shell, and fired again, making sure the humanoid was just close enough to hit it across its pale, soulless face. The pellets managed to scrape and scratch its skin, but that was all the short-barreled shotgun could do. The thing had iron-like skin, and only very small amounts of blood ever came out from its facial wounds. None of the shots did any significant amount of damage and he immediately began wondering whether or not Trenchy was also an immortal being. The tall, hulking humanoid nudged its head to the side as if shrugging off any wounds it had received, and it continued to pursue him in loud, echoing giant steps, his own sprint almost unable to outrun its casual pace.

What the hell even is it? A real-life T-800?

He couldn't put his finger on what its true purpose was, other than to kill any living survivors. Umbrella had something to do with it, and he knew it had to be them that created such a monstrosity; a killer machine to assassinate any witnesses to the disasters they have caused. He had to hide, had to run away somehow. And if he could enter the Chief's office and inside the secret entrance that Claire mentioned, there was a chance he could use that to his advantage and hide there, hoping that both Sherry and Claire may have found each other, waiting for him to arrive.

With a fixed goal now put in place, he found enough strength to run faster than he had ever done in his life since his rough training days with his father and uncle, hurrying towards the other side of the station as he hoped he wasn't entirely mistaken


Just look at how beautiful you are… even in death.

Katherine Warren was shimmering underneath the bright light above the ceiling, and Irons couldn't wait to begin doing his perfect work of art yet. No other animal could ever captivate such perfection that she'd offer to him, the most exquisite thing, posed and forever transformed into the perfect dream that would soon come to fruition.

But it has to wait, my dear. If only I had time… if there was any time left.

He began to fold her inside a stone cabinet underneath the sink, putting her away as he promised he would be back whenever time gave him the mercy to prepare her in his image. Then, there was a sudden feeling of isolation, no one to marvel at how much suffering he had to go through after everything was done exactly the way they asked for.

But all that confusion was behind him now. It soon became clear that the awareness he had been given recently, gave him a new focus, and as depressing as the truth was, at least he was no longer lost in a land of endless perplexity.

Umbrella and their Perseus goons. They all designed everything from the start to destroy my life all along…

Irons sat down in his lonely Sanctuary, his own special place, wondering how much time have passed since that young woman came for him, the one who refused to tell him her name.

Something kept telling him that she had been partly responsible for his newfound clarity, a sudden irony he'd become amused by, almost appreciating her drastic appearance out of nowhere, providing him with the light of truth.

There was no doubt in his mind that the girl must've been an Umbrella or Perseus spy. They have obviously been watching him for quite some time. For all he knew, they had every bit of information about him, from psychological profiles to his financial records. It all made sense. He was the most powerful man in Raccoon, even having gained more popularity than the mayor himself, and they had thought of some way to get rid of him, to place him in the most agonizing state possible.

Irons stared at his trophies and treasures, not being able to no longer find the same pride and joy he once felt before. The polished bones and skeletons were merely just a simple scenery for his eyes to look at as he wandered aimlessly inside his restless mind.

Almost a decade previously, back when he first started turning a blind eye to Umbrella's illegal doings in exchange for money, things were vastly different. The only everyday problem he had to face was to keep worrying about his growing reputation, keeping a stable political position, and gaining positive public opinion. That was all there was and things worked smoothly for a long time, his investments paying off greatly. Life was good and simple.

And then the Birkins came and ruin everything, along with their communist pet, Kravchenko, and soon his ex-CIA friends.

It was only after the spill in the Spencer Mansion that he'd somehow managed to convince himself that the damn Captain of STARS and the rest of his pigs had been responsible for all the trouble, but now he started to see that it was the arrival of the Birkins several years ago that started to set things in motion, leading up to his now ruined life. It was then that a few years ago, Kravchenko arrived in Raccoon, which led the wretched former CIA agents to follow up his crumbs and speed up that entire process, along with the mansion spill.

Umbrella might've started monitoring the moment he met with the Birkins. At first, it would've been just watching, then planting bugs, and installing hidden cameras around the city. Perseus and their spies would have come later… and the young woman was a great match, even if she did not look or sound Russian at all.

The Birkins main purpose had been to work on a new, superior version of the t-Virus, based on one of Umbrella's co-founder's research that had begun back in the late seventies. As stern and unpleasant as William was, Irons had developed a liking for him, right from the start. He was just as adamant and fulfilling with his own work and potential as he was and he wasn't the type to keep bragging about his position either. It was a friendship that lasted for as long as he could remember, often feeling that William even admired him at some point…

and that was my worst mistake. I allowed it. I opened up a vulnerability through my blind judgment; a vulnerability he took advantage of to keep me monitored, all along.

And then came Kravchenko. The Russian was under Umbrella's payroll for almost an entire decade when he'd arrived. His initial impressions of him were not at all pleasant and Irons even thought about hiring a hitman to get rid of him for how intrusive he was in every meeting he had with the Birkins. The tensions between him and Kravchenko were finally put to a halt a few months prior when he'd offered him money in exchange to keep tabs on Woods and Mason, two of some of the most troubling packs of rebellious people Irons' ever met in his life. Not even Redfield gave him as much trouble as they did, but at last, one of them had been entirely dealt with. The experiment trials done on Woods were surely something he wasn't going to survive, just like Doug Frost and Dorothy Lester before him. Mason was somewhere else he couldn't care any less about, so long as he didn't have to see his face ever again.

But even after having done everything he could for the Russian, he still kept up with increasing demands, the pay gradually getting lower, and Irons was left with no choice but to suspend STARS, mainly to keep the communist prick off of his back, finally freeing himself from the continued burden of monitoring Mason, who knew how to properly prevent himself from being watched, while still working closely with Redfield, along with other surviving STARS members. However, it was also this fact that might've helped dig his grave even further. Kravchenko could've easily offered additional damning information about him to Umbrella as well, making Irons' life even worse than it already has been.

And where's that old Russian now, huh? Probably served himself as dinner for those monsters he helped create.

But I cannot escape from my mistakes. It's always been a trap. I've fallen right into the wolf's den willingly…

Perseus wouldn't have been much of a problem if Umbrella hadn't sealed his fate in the first place, let alone have two former CIA rats within his own town. How else could everything go so wrong in such little time? After STARS' disappearance, Kravchenko and his minions had bombarded him with demands on why he'd let them go. None of it should've been their concern since as far as he knew, he was only getting paid to monitor the last remaining ex-CIA asshole, so long as he was still around. Then Birkin came along, and before he could even assess the situation, the attacks had already started across town. It was an entire warzone. He'd seen several Perseus agents, along with the Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasure Service, all of whom were being used as guinea pigs by their own leaders. Yet he had barely enough time to seal off Raccoon before everything had fallen apart.

All of this, simply because I decided to keep a formal relationship with Kravchenko and Birkin, no less. Such a tragedy.

Irons slowly stood up and carefully walked around the cutting table, tracing the dents and markings across the dark wood with his fingertips. Behind every scratch was a story, a memory to cherish, but again, he could no longer find any comfort. His own private rooms and corridors, his own Sanctuary, had always provided him with a sense of relief and accomplishment as a result of his hobbies, but those days were far gone. Umbrella and Perseus had taken all of that from him, just as they had taken his city. How could he now live the rest of his life, knowing they had backstabbed him and used him for their own gains? Was it entirely far-fetched that they used the virus to destroy everything he held dear to him - to rob him of the power and influence he had over his own people? Had both parties decided to send in a beautiful, young attractive girl to rub it all over his nose - to exploit his weaknesses against him? Why else would they send her pretty face to him?

Soon, she'll come for me, maybe continue playing it dumb, seduce me with her helplessness, and before I know it, she'll finally finish me off, just like they had with everyone else who is of no use to them anymore…

an Umbrella spy. A Perseus agent. An exploiter… probably laughing at me behind that youthful face…

Maybe the viral outbreak had been an accident. In the last meeting he had with William Birkin, he seemed unsteady, exhausted, and unusually paranoid. Kravchenko, however, seemed rather calm, if not, more pleased than usual. He probably already knew the spill was about to happen, a pretty worrisome hunch. But even if that were true, everything else was still sound. There was no other explanation for how Irons' life had been ruined entirely. That ponytailed girl was coming to get him, no doubt. She was either from Umbrella or Perseus' payroll, maybe both, and was sent to murder him, assassinate him in cold blood. And to think she wouldn't stop there…

she'll come for Kat, destroy her pristine body, however she can. And then go after everything I owe, from my most prized stuffed animals to my entire beautiful polished bone collection inside here…all of them most likely getting burned to the ground.

Irons looked around tiredly, the small, lit-up room, the echoes of his work still playing all around the stone walls. He then gazed into space across the furniture of his well-used tools, the sweet air of disinfectant and formaldehyde still lingering around.

This is all mine. My most beloved Sanctuary. All mine…

He picked up the small revolver that had been laying on his special table. The S&W Bodyguard 38 was still his and only his. And even though his life as he knew it was officially over, the fault did not end with just Birkin, but Kravchenko as well. There was no need for ending it all here, not when they still hadn't paid the price - and that girl would surely come for him. He was going to start off with the girl, to make sure she knew what suffering meant. For every torture she would endure, it was just a small bill to pay for every action Birkin and Kravchenko had pulled over him. Flesh and bone were going to be the price, and the amount of pain he'd have to put in would only make it all worth something.

As he was about to start pacing around the room, a thundering clapping sound against something metal burst near the hatch on the furthest corner across from him. Irons turned to look at what had made the noise and in front of him was a mutant he had seen in small glimpses before across the station, the same growl he had grown accustomed to hearing for the last several times he'd spent inside his office.

What the—? William?!

He hadn't recognized the beast previously, but his hideous, half-melted face did not lie to him. It was the same scientist who was responsible for his miseries - the same man that had helped Umbrella destroy his reputation, his fame - his own city…

But his hideous appearance was too much for him to handle. He couldn't aim his gun due to the fear growing inside of him impairing his ability to do so, seeing that he looked vastly similar to one of the failed experiments of G.

Infected with the G-Virus… your own creation turned against you…

Before Irons had the time to react, it screamed a hissing, inhuman growl, almost as if Birkin knew exactly who Irons was.

"Stop!" Irons commanded, though his voice no longer held the usual political confidence he used to have over others. "Don't come any closer! G-G-GET AWAY!"

Birkin raised his smaller, disfigured hand over his own mouth, and in just seconds, Irons was no longer able to scream in panic, his own body toppling to the floor and started convulsing uncontrollably, his mind quickly formulating the fact that he had been parasitized with something he had yet to know.

The pain…!

The monster had gone just as quickly as it had arrived, and Irons felt an intense pain growing inside his throat, slowly trickling over his trachea, and then down toward his stomach. His body felt as though he had been thrown out in a scorching desert, immediately sweating profusely, and his muscles began to ache with pain he wished that girl could endure hundreds of times over.

I still… need… to deal with her!

After regaining some control over his convulsing body, he slowly stood up, still shaking from the physical harm done to him, wishing that Birkin suffered through his mutation before turning into the monster he's always been.

At this point, he knew he was going to die, thanks to G now having secured his death, but he wasn't going to die alone. And not without hearing the red-vested girl scream in pure agony, a voice so crisp and clear, even the most blackened hearts of Umbrella and Perseus agents would hear the resounding echoes. Still holding onto the revolver in his right hand, he waited, ignoring the pain as much as possible, preventing the satisfaction of that girl's smug behind that pretty face she'd give him.


Claire could've sworn she heard a deep, inhuman growl coming from somewhere as she descended further underground inside the elevator. She didn't know whether it was her own imagination or otherwise, but she knew that whatever growl it was, it couldn't mean anything good.

She had now been standing in front of a medieval door of some sort, lit up with two torches on sconces with a seemingly never-ending supply of fuel to burn. The long dungeon-like corridor that the elevator had led her to was damp and dark. The station had been chilly in itself, but the entire icy structure of the stone hall made it seem like the station itself was summer all along. It was as though she had entered a portal that led her straight into some ancient, haunted castle directly from the Middle Ages.

Claire didn't know if she wanted to go in and check it out for herself, but the thought of having to look for David and Leon was quickly telling her to do so in a hurry. For all she knew, they probably ran into trouble by whatever growl she might've heard inside.

Or you know… you're probably scared out of your own damn mind, you're already hallucinating monsters screaming like that alien-like creature from before. Just try keeping yourself together.

She took a deep breath, still trying to decide how to go in. If this was all owned by Irons himself and she'd go by what Chris had told her about Irons before, it would be dangerous for her to come knocking or trespassing via a surprise visit. If she thought Irons was crazy enough, the structure here underground told her initial thought to move out of the way - a bigger type of crazy had already come to mind.

Secret underground tunnel with creepy lighting…what sane person would ever want to spend their time in a crazy place like this?

Maybe her brother had put it more nicely about him, but the man was surely out of his mind if he enjoyed a place like this. She assumed that it probably wasn't the outbreak itself that made him go insane, but way before it ever happened. There was no definitive proof, but all she knew was that the t-Virus was responsible for everything that has happened in Raccoon and it'd affected just about everyone in the city in many different forms as a way to cope with the whole disaster, and something in Irons must've clicked when it happened.

Can't stall now. Gotta keep moving.

Claire bit her lower lip, unsure what else to do.

There was no doubt that Irons would be here, probably either spending some time for himself. And after her last encounter with him, she did not look forward to seeing him again, especially on how creepy he looked and sounded. She then thought if it was a good idea to just go back up, get Sherry, and look for another way down. The vents would be much preferable, but considering they were too small for her own size, it wasn't much of an option and she didn't want Sherry to go at it alone either.

There you go again, still stalling and Sherry is up there by herself, waiting for you. Plus, you're the one with a gun, remember?

Claire finally put her hand over the latch, giving one final deep sigh, and pushed it open, the heavy door swinging slowly without a single creak, the hinges seemingly well-oiled. She quickly stepped back and aimed her gun around…

Oh, Jesus… what is this place?

An empty room, as unnerving and unwelcoming as the corridor previously, but filled with furnishings and a decor that made her skin crawl. A single lightbulb hung down in the center with a long, snaking wire, illuminating probably the creepiest place she's seen in her life. There was a table in the center underneath the bulb, battered, scratched, and beaten with hacksaws and other cutting utensils laying over it, spots of dried blood covering some of its entire surfaces. A dented bucket and a mop sat on the corner against a wet stone wall, the mop itself covered in a mix of blood, water, and cleaner product. Metal shelves on the right covered most of the ragged wall, all of it filled with what looked like polished human bones in a pale color, sitting in between glass bottles of weird liquids and morbid trophies. The damp air itself reeked of an acidic, chemical-like substance with a faint scent of blood; a smell that screamed insanity.

Just the sight of the room itself made her downright ill to the core. She would've never thought this was the type of taste that the police chief of Raccoon City would ever have, let alone a private torture chamber that called upon a serial killer's lair of pain and twisted pleasure. This was nothing that a child should ever see as it would bring not only nightmares for the rest of their life, but irreparable mental and emotional damage to their poor innocent mind. She was at least glad that she didn't take Sherry with her when she…

"Freeze! Or I will shoot where you stand!"

Claire froze, her blood rushing down to a complete stop. Every muscle in her body became paralyzed as Irons laughed from behind her, from behind the only corner she hadn't bothered to look, from behind the opened door itself.

Oh, God! What did I just get myself into?! Oh Sherry I'm so sorry…!

Irons continued to laugh in a deep chuckle, as heartily and gleefully as a madman, and Claire understood that her fate had been sealed. She was going to die.

Author's Note: And… that's it! At least for a while

First off, I wanna say thank you to everyone who has read up to this point and has been following/favoriting this crossover since! There has been a lot of work involved in trying to tie in both universes of Black Ops and Resident Evil, especially making a convincing 19-year-old David Mason, with slight differences involved that is. I'm really hoping his backstory now is a bit more interesting to look forward to. ;)

Also, I decided to upload this chapter a day earlier than planned since I think all of you at least deserve it as an early Christmas gift! For those who don't celebrate Christmas, take it as a token of appreciation from me.

I will be taking a three-month break, as I did beforehand in my previous story. Upload schedule should be about the same as this one, depending on how far in the story I am by then. If I already have my entire first draft completed, I'll do a two-chapter weekly upload instead of just one. Right now, I've already written up to chapter 20, close to the end of the story. However, I'm on writer's block at the moment, and since I'm so burnt out already, I think a three-month break would surely bring me back to a clear mind once again.

Surprisingly, I think this story will be shorter in the number of chapters than my previous one, but since this one is more packed, it's surely a bit longer than you'd think. I know quantity doesn't matter as much as quality does, but I also wanna make sure I'm not underdoing it either.

Anyway, I hope I have delivered decently enough with this crossover by far and I wish you all a Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and a Happy New Year! I'll be sure to be back on schedule, most definitely before Resident Evil 4 Remake releases.

Don't forget to favorite/follow this story so you don't miss out on any updates before then! And do make sure to favorite/follow me on my profile as an author as well. That way so you don't miss out on a new story from me and don't find out until it's weeks/months old lol.