Disclaimer: I do not own any Resident Evil characters or Resident Evil terms but I do own anything else that is original, Kronos virus, everything about the project and much more coming in the next chps.
Chapter Nine: Difficult Choices
THE WEST CELL BLOCK of Deephall was opened up from the inside - iron gates burst open, little empty cells and nothing but the aftereffects of a riot.
It was a different prison than the one in Rockfort, three floors higher and had very much a certain air to it. The Rockfort prisoners in green jumpsuits were already dead, risen and moaning with whitened eyes. Here, men in orange were kicking, breathing and armed, the chaos giving them the upper hand.
A rather forceful escort they gave for the three captives into the cell block. And they weren't the only captives: four guards on the floor. They had been jumped, disarmed and had their hands shackled at the back with their very own handcuffs.
Just like that, the good guys were separated in order of who was the bigger threat - Kent shoved away from Steve and Iria, and shepherded to the other guards.
Not without some resistance.
"I said sit!"
THUD!
"Omph!" With a punch into the stomach by a big brute, the Aussie timbered down easily.
"You two! Down here!" A point of a nuzzle down to a pillar.
Iria was calm and quick to obey - it was futile to fight. Steve did try to struggle, only to have a hand on his shoulder push him down.
"Good. We are all here, all of the actors," the ringleader spoke up boastfully, his gleaming eyes fixed on Iria.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!
"Now we're going to have a short meeting. Anyone who interrupts me will get a stomach full of lead."
No one dared.
He strolled away, satisfied.
Shit, shit, shit! The anxiety inside the redhead was at its thickest.
Had this been seven years ago, this would have been nothing.
But here was the thing. This wasn't Rockfort Prison. These prisoners weren't zombies, sluggish enough to be easy targets. Some of them had guns pointed at innocent people. People with guns were more dangerous than zombies.
And he did have someone to lose, sitting right next to him.
Steve swallowed to clear away the annoying lump in his throat. As of right now, Iria's safety was his biggest priority. Kent was too far away but he knew more than anything the Aussie would be alright. Yeah, he'd be alright. Fucking guy was able to take him down throughout all those trainings rounds. Even when he went tyrant form.
Steve tossed a gaze across the group of guards, noting the defeated captain recovering from the blow to the gut. Too far away to hear the quiet conversation between blue-collars.
"What happened?" Kent managed to cough in secret.
One guard answered, trying to fight against the agony across his beaten face. "Prisoners bailed out once the doors opened. The rest outnumbered us. Killed a couple in the back. Couldn't do a thing." His bloodied eyes stared off to the distance at a heap of corpses hiding in the dark before sinking his head, miserable at his own incompetence. "Sorry, Cap."
Kent shook his head. "Don't."
The men downcasted their glances as the tough leader walked past, rambling on with his talk. The less he noticed, the better he knew nothing of their trade of information.
But an opportunity for escape and detainment, that was going to be difficult. Kent carefully eyed about the block. Not much for room to create one without endangering others.
"...Communications' been out since the blackout. What's happening out there?"
There was hesitation, no word coming from the captain. He refrained from answering for the sake of giving more troubles to these poor men. But the longer he stayed quiet, the more anxious they became.
So he had no choice but to give the answer, for a fraction of peace and mercy.
"Worst case scenario."
The tied up men squirmed quietly with disheartened hearts. Already looking like death had come.
Kent, however, remained focus. Because one thing tugged at his gut. Team Alfa's venture downwards had never come across any dead or undead men in orange.
Where did they go? Yes, the fate for them would just like any others'. But where were their bodies?
"Wondering where the rest of the crew went, Captain?"
A pair of eyes and a schmuck smirk fell upon Kent, returning a narrowed glare back to the ringleader.
"They should be rounding up the rest of you blue collars on the upper levels by now. Or got themselves killed." The Colombian shook his head disappointedly. "How impatient."
His eyes trailed to Iria. A smile creepily stretched.
"Why skip out on all the fun?"
With that, the cocky bastard strolled away, babbling on with his speech to keep morale high. "So what does the majority yield, men? Cast out your suggestions."
"Kill those bastards!" one yelled, jerking his gun at the downed guards.
"Tie them up and leave them here! We're so close to freedom!"
"Heeheehee! I sure'd love to taste that piece of meat." One pointed his shiv at the quiet director.
"Now, now. We don't want to frighten the lovely lady," Orozco exclaimed.
Oh, fuck it. Steve wasn't going to let these dumbbells touch Iria. Anyone'd come an inch near her and he would go all out in the transformation shit. They'd never expect one of their hostages would have the capability of turning beast. He would have to bite down on the bullets once he'd turn berserk but if anything, in that form, he'd do whatever he could to keep Iria safe.
That was all that mattered right now.
Just needed to stress himself out somehow-
Then he felt a shove. One turn and he found himself being glared down by Iria.
No. She shook her head silently.
Doc, what are you thinking? These guys are going to kill us!
But then he stopped himself once she turned back her fullest attention on the prisoners - eyes stern and icy. Iria was not the kind of person to stop him without a reason. She had a good reason to do so.
If there was something that her colleagues would describe her in three words, it was that she was an excellent chess player. Not just on the board but even in real life.
Steve never understood chess. Well, the rules anyway. He had a fair good amount of tries with Iria - to the best of his mental strategy - during his free time. In less than six moves, this chess champion who won that title at age five would easily take his king. She was quick-witted, unpredictable and above all, calculating in her conquests.
Somehow, one way or another, she was smart enough to apply the set of rules in any moment of crisis.
If it had been years ago, minus their friendship, he'd deem her as a loonie. Actually, if it had been years ago, he'd probably be jumping the gun and trying to scare off these prisoners like a crazed cowboy…
But Iria had proved him once how frighteningly capable she was.
So right there, she was examining. The board. The pieces. Where the pieces were. Figuring out the best course of action far too quicker than he would under this tense moment. If he had it his way, he'd be juggling these assholes about in his other form. Hell, a big green monster would be enough reason to turn those handguns off the temples of Kent and the guards.
Until he spotted something in the darkness. Actually, two someones on the second level. Whoever they were, they hid carefully in the blind spots of the structure's pillars.
Did Iria notice them before?
"Bring her up."
At the Columbian lord's command, one lackey grabbed her by the arm but not with some difficulty.
"Iria!"
"Sit, boy!" The point of a barrel forced Steve to freeze and retreat back.
With the sandy pressing of the teeth, Iria pulled and tossed against the tight grip, any attempt to break free. But the American man was bigger, stronger. Yes, he was an American - jailed for terrorism on a small multicolored community and was supposed to be given a trip to the asylum instead of a sentence - but in the light of things, it was better for someone to be led until they were outside, ready to cut ties, than to add to the bloody pile.
Besides, anyone who offered to be leader in his own sadistic ways was either going to get killed later or lead them out to freedom successfully. Moreover, none was stupid enough to out themselves to their newly self-appointed boss.
"Director McLenlan," Julio Orozco, Colombian ex-drug lord, greeted with open arms. "You're going to be our saviour."
A hard shove from her captive pushed Iria forth but she refrained her whole body to stand still, not on her knees.
Interesting, he thought. Even more interesting that a woman like her would spot a fascinating tattoo on her whole arm. Not as straight-to-the-point as those he and the inmates have.
But she was a woman, he thought
"So how goes your little project in curing the weak-minded?" he hummed. "Gotten a few breakthroughs on the psyche of a criminal? Oh, but we are so complicated as compared to some of our guests."
In the back, one thug dragged a middle-aged man - his voice whimpering and pleading, his face battered and his suit disheveled - into the light and tossed him across the floor.
"The warden here told us an interesting story. About how heavily protected this place is. About your nice little town outside. And that this is a very isolated location in the middle of the ocean. Now I don't care what you white coats have been doing. All I care is your cooperation, Miss McLenlan. Or is it ok to call you on first name basis?"
She remained silent, her gaze uncaring and distant.
"Quiet type, hm?"
His eyes dragged down to the ID tag around her neck, a hand holding it up for everyone to see.
A high-level security card with two blue diagonal stripes, one of few that easily unlocked all doors, all exits, everything within the facility and out.
He could have ripped it off her and shot her down. Instead, he let it go and briskly strolled away.
Which meant he knew about the voice command, she analyzed.
"Now we could just leave all of you behind and take what we need, but I suppose there are more dogs outside waiting for us at the pier. Good-hearted citizens will try to save the damsel in distress from a group of thugs. Hmph," he hummed, continuing his circling around the blonde. "We'll just have to make a point to them, I suppose. We just need that boat, that's all. And we'll be off our merry way. Don't worry. We'll treat you like a queen."
Nothing. Not even a stir out of her.
Oh well.
He gave a light spin, arms raised up.
"The rest, you're all useless to me."
Then the Colombian ran his fingers across his neck.
Guns aimed at the guards begging softly "No, no, no!". At Kent and Steve.
"Then you'll have to include me with them."
Orozco held up an opened palm. The guns lowered.
He wheeled back at Iria.
"Why? Have so much loyalty for your buddies? If you're a very intelligent woman as they say, you should consider your odds. Them in handcuffs, or us? I'm sure some of my boys are hungry to take a bite out of you. A little fun."
Some hooting and whistling. Gah, now Steve really wanted to smash their faces.
Iria still remained unmoved. "Them."
Orozco's eyebrows lifted. Amused. This was an unexpected response.
"I have better chance of living with them than with you."
He snorted. "Hear that, boys?"
Laughter around her.
"Amusing. Alright, I'm entertained. So what tricks do you have in keeping you all alive, miss?"
"...Naive."
An eyebrow cocked up. "What?"
"You heard me," Iria exclaimed calmly. Coldly. "Or have all the gunshots deafened you?"
The Colombian prisoner huffed. "I've heard of your reputation. Very admirable indeed. I prefer my ladies to be a bit more obedient though."
Oh, how much she wanted to laugh.
He had no idea.
"You'll be dead by the time you get to the exit. And if not, then by me."
"Oooh, what spark. I like that in a woman. Looks like I won't be disappointed."
Now she was so tired that she heaved a heavy sigh.
"Do you think you're the only prisoners on this island?"
The question barely had any effect on him. It was a curious question but nothing more.
She continued regardless.
"I've searched for a way out off this island for nine years. What makes you think you can escape so easily by holding us hostages?" she asked. "We've already been hostages since the day we were employed. You're nothing special."
He looked at her. Puzzled.
"There's no point in trying. Not with everything happening upstairs."
"Really, now? Well, we won't know until we try," he hummed.
"I told you! Her card is useless! It can't open the main doors!"
"Be quiet, you old git!" The warden ducked his head down with the weak flapping of arms at the raised pistol.
"Enough with the charade, warden." Orozco muttered, his patience starting to draw thin. "I find it hard to believe none of you can leave this place so easily-"
"She can't leave!" the warden persisted. "It's the damn specimen that has her privileges!"
And all eyes were on Steve the moment the warden pointed the finger at him.
Ah, fuck.
Pretty much one fact was unavoidable within these walls. Every employee and employer knew about Steve because of two details; one, a lab rat with a very powerful virus running through his veins, two, a lab rat given access to roam freely about the island without any consequences all thanks to Iria.
As long as he behaved. That was the bargain.
As long as he behaved and Iria wouldn't take the fall for any repercussion he made.
It had been tense, a burden he willingly carried. Yes, the moment he tasted fresh salty air, he could have bolted out and left this island. Not sure how, but somehow. But not when the stakes became high. So he stayed for her sake. For the sakes of those he grew attached to.
There were several times the watchful eye of GAIAN would give warning shots at him. Many times when Wesker had played around with him just by pointing out names to drop his guard.
First, Claire. Then Iria. It finally hit the nail when he spoke out the names of Iria's family.
Why the fuck did that old git have to tell the whole world about him?
"Specimen? What does he mean?"
The barrel jerked closer to Steve's forehead. He could hear his own heartbeat tensely beat faster and faster, even his captor's.
He was already having an internal struggle to let Iria go on with her agenda or burst out right in front of the prisoner in green.
"Exactly what he means."
His eyes widened. He shot a bewildered glance at her.
Doooc, what are you doing?
The blonde slowly stirred a glance at the redhead. A change from before. Steady. Calm.
Meaningful. He knew her all too well during the time he spent on this island. Enough to be predictable.
Play along.
He gave a very small nod, his bright eyes focused and firm.
"I can't leave this facility even if I wanted to," Iria explained straightforwardly, wheeling back to the men. "This card is just for show."
Surprise thickly painted the prisoners' faces. This was good.
Nobody from this prison block knew about the crisis outside, the power failure, GAIAN's shutdown. No sign of infected wandering into the block and slaughtering the inmates.
So she told the truth. A truth with its meaning gone the moment the blackout occurred just to spin them around in circles.
"It's pointless whether you take me or not. This card won't open the main entrance. And that's good. Right now, the whole facility is on RED alert."
"Heh," Orozco croaked. "To keep us from escaping? Oh, you flatter me."
"You're the least of our worry."
He furrowed his eyes. That was another unexpected response. "Really?" He held out his arms as if to present the problem more clearer to her. "This isn't a problem to you? Heh. You're underestimating the situation, miss-"
"I'm talking about the outbreak, you idiot."
The smirk washed away in an instant.
Did he hear that right?
"O-Outbreak… What outbreak?" one inmate whined.
Iria didn't answer.
"Hey! What outbreak! ?" He jerked his weapon at her. "Tell us, bitch!"
"Now, now. Calm down," Orozco uttered, his posture calm and grounded. "Do you see anyone of us sick? Coughs, sniffles, running noses? Don't buy her bluff."
Understatement of the year, she thought.
"Pretty cocky of you to be making accusations, lovely," he jested.
Fine. Let's see how much of a bluff she was saying.
"Julio Orozco…" she called. "Leader of the Red Jaguars, cooperated with the Sacred Snakes during the 2002 t-Veronica drug operation until they were disbanded."
Steve's eyebrows rose. A familiar name indeed so it was a surprise to hear it but not enough for him to ask questions anyway.
"Suffered broken tendon during arrest in May 2003. Allegedly diagnosed with bipolar and antisocial personality disorder after you split your wife's head open. Called it domestic violence to hide the fact she was your drug mule."
A hand fired, grubby fingers ringed around her neck. Her face twisted at the sudden cut of air and the lifting of her body that she stood on her toes.
"Iria!"
But she refused to show fear. Frigid glare against frigid glare.
"You have a lot of gall to be bringing that out," Orozco spat coldly. "And on my darling."
"She was fifteen. You kidnapped her just like all the other girls. You didn't have any compassion for them."
Silence hung still between them. The composure from the good director was starting to irritate him, squeezing a bit more. Still, the skin of her neck felt just nice underneath his fingers.
How absolutely brave of her.
Then came the loud chuckles, booming through the empty halls. Iria dropped back onto the balls of her feet as the men stared in dismay at the exploding leader slap his knee.
"You're right. Can't be mad at that," he chuckled, folding his arms. "So what's the reason of revealing all of my info, dear lady?"
"I'm proving a point. Everything I've said is the truth."
Orozco's grin softened - absorbing those two sentences from her.
The truth.
Which part was the truth? His past, his cartel, that was correct. His medical record, that was right on the spot. But then what did she mean by everything? The outbreak? No, that was some bullshit. "You have one sick sense of humor-"
"Heh."
A second voice intruded into the conversation and Orozco followed it back to the tied down Aussie.
Kent glanced at him with an amused expression.
"You know, I just remembered. Since we've been abandoned, there's nothing stopping me from spilling the beans."
"Be quiet, Williams!" hissed the warden, a frown curling more wrinkles on his face.
Then he shriveled back down once he noticed a cold stare from the Aussie. Zip it was all he was metaphorically sending to the quivering old geezer.
Everything went out the window the moment the power failed.
"Explain yourself," Orozco demanded.
Nothing out of his mouth.
Suddenly, Orozco yanked his pistol out from behind. The click rang loudly from the pull of the hammer. "Explain."
The tone was dark. Yup, that got his patience rackled.
All Kent could do was smirk to see the stupid criminal fall into his trap.
"This whole facility was built to make biological warfare."
At a drop of the needle, the whole block felt cold to the prisoners. Wide eyes jumped between Kent and Iria, desperately looking for any means of tearing at their statements.
Like one big fat joke from this humourous director and security guard.
And yet, Iria was unchanged for the entire time. No amusement, no laugh at their own digesting of information.
"All of you were transferred here because of 'physical and mental reasons'. Your wardens would rather sell you off then see some you leave by pledge of insanity or lack of treatment," retorted Kent.
"W-What?" One weak voice spoke out.
"T-This is some fucking bullshit! They're lying!"
"For once in your lifetime, why don't you think?" Iria interrupted. She was getting sick of seeing headless chickens gurgling from the fear and dismay. Sick of wasting more time in this prison when bigger problems were at foot. It was time to bring down the hatchet so they could move on. Hard. "Did you really think this is like any other prison? Haven't you found it odd over the years, some of your cellmates never returned after a simple 'checkup'?"
The colors slowly flushed out from the men's faces the more they listened to the fuel.
"All of you have been nothing but our guinea-pigs for HELIX's illegal experiments. Exactly like Umbrella."
The name slowly and all the more, surely, brought dread upon all of the orange-suited men. In their thick skulls, their little brains were connecting the dots. This was 2006 after all. There was no grown adult who haven't heard of the company's reputation.
"S-Shut up!" One wooshed his gun closer to her face. "You expect us to believe you're creating zombie freaks here! ?"
"Do we look like we're kidding?" The sentence was dull, tagged with tiredness.
"T-Then when that old man said 'specimen'..." Steve's captor stared eye to eye at him.
The shotgun snapped back up.
Shhhhhit-!
"He's the least of your problem."
The barrel still hung in the air, the metal ring digging into Steve's forehead.
Thank GOD.
"What?" uttered the thug.
"Any minute now, based on their hunting patterns, the other specimens should be combing down to this block. The Kronos Virus isn't airborne or waterborne. But it is coming."
A loud shriek, ungodly but somewhere far in the distance echoed from beyond the closed main doors of the prison block.
Firearms held higher as the prisoners, tense and confused, glanced about for the source. Even the cool-headed ringleader, taking a while to proceed what he just heard.
"Do you hear them?"
The gang of cowards turned back to the woman.
So cold and so terrifying now.
"Would you like to say hello to your old cellmates again?"
Sweat trickled down brows. Teeth chattered as a few stepped away from her.
A woman who was weaponless and chained, and already they were fearful of her, no doubt running the unanswered questions through their minds.
Orozco swallowed, still keeping firm in his posture. Don't back down, all of this was bluff, he told himself.
But he could sense it. Call it intuition, whenever some undercover cop would waltz into one of his bases only to lead themselves into the rivers or shot dead at the head.
Danger.
Only, it wasn't danger that he expected, not as a knife, a gun.
It was an uncanny feeling running down his spine, the way her gaze seemed to be hawking him and yet staring off into the distance with boredom.
A villain standing right before him.
"And since this blackout started, this whole facility is overrun with 'freaks'. The moment you all step out is the moment you all will die by our creations."
"S-Shit! Shit!" one prisoner cursed, shaking his gun up and down.
"I-If she's telling the truth, we got to get out of here, Orozco!"
Then the hands raised up.
His panicked men halted, seeing their leader a bit shaken but not losing his cool.
"You are awfully calm, miss. You're in the same predicament as us." Orozco smirked at his own point. If there was no escape, then might as well take her down with him. "How are you going to get out of this alive?"
That gaze didn't waver. It didn't change.
What was wrong with this woman? She wasn't like the others in his life; scared, wailing, that loving little spark of yearning to live in their eyes.
"This isn't my first time."
The drug lord looked at her, puzzled. "What?"
"You heard me. This isn't my first time in an outbreak."
It was an indifferent, emotionless response seeping out of the calm, collected woman.
A quiet ticking bomb.
"Oh?" he song. "And what makes you so tough?"
What made her tough…
Experience.
All of those nine years have worn her down, strengthened her and prepared her.
"I've done a lot of things you cannot imagine. I've seen more bloodshed than you have in your silly little drug operations."
Orozco glared menacingly at her response but she stood still.
"I've killed people. What's more..."
Finally, Iria lifted her head up, eye to eye to the drug lord. Indifference. Apathy. That was all he could read. Something strange to be seeing on a woman that for once, it was sending shivers down his spines.
One twitch, one wrong move, one reason to give and something would burst out in front of him.
"I've stopped being a goody-two shoes a long time ago."
He couldn't help but raise a eyebrow. No, this was just a woman.
Just a bitch like all the other brats-
"Gargh!"
The noise came from behind and curiosity urged him to turn.
He was about to order his men to fire on the two intruders who had snaked down the stairs and one tackled down a straggler - two familiar faces he had seen during mealtimes.
Then suddenly, small chains roped over his eyes and immediately around the crook's neck.
"Gah!" He felt his back very heavy and metal dig deep into his apple. Hurriedly, his fingers ran up to try and pull whatever was around him.
Thin. Links. Short. Attached to cuffs-
Iria had ringed her own handcuffs around his neck and was using it to choke him to death.
Rather stupid of the men in orange to arrest her up front all because she was a woman - a harmless lady for their enjoyment.
How foolish indeed.
He thrust his elbow at his obstacle. That should have knocked the air out of her.
But she refused to let go.
"Doc!" A step forth but Steve's keen senses detected the hilt of the shotgun coming towards him.
Hands grabbed for the barrel and with a shove on it, he tossed that man helplessly aside. Immediately breaking off the cuffs with one straggling pull, the green veins snaking and dispersing before Steve seized up a pistol from the floor.
"Shit-!" The American prisoner didn't have the chance to pull the trigger at him.
It came swift - a clean slice of a handmade blade to the throat and air gushed out of his opened windpipe, not his mouth and nose. It ran so deep that his head turned nearly 180 degree just because he wanted to look back as his body, feeling all distant and foreign, dropped.
In the milliseconds before the thug's mind shut down, his wide eyes caught the cruel smile - a glimpse of a pale-skinned man in his late thirties with his orange suit open halfway and the sleeves tied at his waist, a single white top covering his mildly-sturdy physique. Overgrown brown hair in disorder, sunken greyed-out blue eyes, broken shackles from the solitary cell around the wrists, the links snapped off by the whack of some heavy weapon.
Ah.
That Russian psycho from upstairs.
Fuck-
He was gone in the head the moment his body plopped to the ground.
All was chaotic. Some aimed their weapons at the newcomers but two were knifed down easily while some were gunned down by his friend and Steve. One stray prisoner made a mistake in backing away, in the path of Kent. Immediately, the Aussie's legs launched at the inmate's and forced him down to the ground before knocking the wind out of him with a elbow to his diaphragm. He was quick, diving for the keys and working his arms to uncuff himself free. Once that obstacle was done, the prisoners all too busy to notice, he chucked another blow at the fallen man for good measures of getting up, grabbed for his gun and took aim.
Then everything became slatemate.
The circle of armed prisoners were surrounded. The two outsiders on one side, Kent at another and Steve from behind. No openings, no one dared to move at the drop of a shot as they desperately shielded themselves with pointed guns.
The first one to fire and all would be dead.
One attempted to draw his own firearm at the director-
He stopped.
Right in the middle, those hazel eyes were icy cold.
All the elbow thrusts were only making the chains tighter and tighter. Orozco's legs slowly turned to jelly, the weight pushing his body onto his knees and elbows.
"Gah...ko-gah," he desperately gasped for air.
Someone get this bitch off him, he tried to voice out but the blurry scene around him told him that everyone was incompetent.
"Gaah-ah…"
"Put your guns down or he gets it," Iria hissed madly, gripping down on her handcuffs tighter on his apple.
Her glare was dark and petrifying to them, like a tigress bearing her teeth deep into the neck of an unfortunate prey. Didn't matter to her if the cuffs were digging deeper into her skin with every inching pull. She meant business.
"You have no way off this island."
The tension hung for a minute until finally, the opponents gave in.
Down went the firearms and up went the hands. In the background, the gun still pointed, Kent worked his way to unshackle the other guards and one by one, they grabbed for one of the fallen weapons as their own.
Once the advantage went to all of the guards, Iria unhooked herself off the drug lord to his gasping for air but not without shoving him back to the surrendered men with a kick at his rear.
"Iria." With a gallop in his legs, Steve rushed over to her, checking from head to toe for any wound or bruise. Any sign that would give him reason to clock at that jerk.
"I'm fine, Kiddo," she reassured him, forcing out the mild pain at her side with a deep breath. "All his blows were nothing. With that tendon injury of his."
Down her gaze went to the fallen man, seeing his face riveled with anger, psychotic distress, all sorts of the mannerisms of his mental state.
"Insulting, isn't it?"
Salt thrown into the wound. Orozco leapt up to try and strangle at the ignorant woman-
"Don't think about it."
In one second, his whole body halted at the thrust of the Aussie's gun. Point blank.
"Detain them. We've got enough problems with the infected running about."
The prison guards divided, some stayed firm in where they stood after being released - their eyes and retrieved weapons hawked on their attackers - while the others ventured forth with their orders. A bit of wrestle here and there but one by one, all the prisoners had their places swapped with their hostages.
With a heavy sigh, Steve drooped down his shoulders. Glad that was over. Glad it didn't exaggerate. Glad for a lot of things. "Really, Doc. You either got balls or you're nuts. Or both."
"Meh." She shrugged. "He was just asking for it." The director then shone out a look of shame. "I was hoping I didn't put you out there in the spotlight like."
He huffed, flattered but upset she was putting his life over hers for mediocre problems. "Doc, I'm used to that kind of shit."
"I nearly got you killed."
"And you put too much faith over me to stay put, with that stunt of yours there."
"It's called trust. Besides, didn't I already say you're like my son?"
A beam stretched on his face. He then reached down to her handcuffs and with another pull, the metal and links broke off. Just his inhuman superstrength.
Finally, she thought, rubbing at the red rings around her wrist.
"Director McLenlan!"
Then she glowered angrily at the voice.
"T-Thank you," uttered the pleased warden, up on his feet. "Those men could have killed us if you didn't-"
POW!
And then she punched the old oaf.
"Oh, shut up and crawl back into your hole," she spat at the cowering warden on the floor, rocking back and forth with his bloodied nose.
"Really?"
"What?" She scorned. "He picked you out."
His smile widened. Yup, she was both.
What would he have done without her around.
The thought then rang something deep in his gut, the beam softening down.
"Hey, Doc?" he called, Iria turning to him. "About what he said… You can still leave, right?"
It was a peculiar question that caused Iria's eyebrows to lift. Already, the kiddo showed a hint of concern, worry. Guilt.
She refrained from telling him once more. That was a year ago and she had stuck by her choice since then, the sacrifices she made for him.
Still, she thought. She laid out one important fact.
"GAIAN's offline. There's nothing holding me back here."
The answer slowly perked him up. Like it was stupid of him to ask. "Yeah. That piece of junk is offline…"
The tone said it all, he wasn't convinced. The fact stood strong but there was some crack he was worriedly trying to search, less some cruel fate would cause her to fall through.
Take her away from him like his own family...
"Hey." Iria's tone was neither firm nor soft. But it always had that reassuring tone to him. "We're getting out of here and off this island. Everyone of us."
The last sentence held out weakly to him. They've lost few friends already and the number was probably counting down. Still, he acknowledged it with a timid nod.
Yeah… This was their last chance to get off the island. Lose it and it blows.
"And I'm sick and tired of having cabin fever every day."
A huff of a laugh forced its way out of Steve.
"The sooner we close those doors, the sooner we can leave," she assured him and turned her attention to the rounding of the prisoners, guards attentive at their reclaimed duty.
"What should we do with them, Captain?" one guard asked.
Really, what should they do, Kent thought. "We can't leave them here and it's too dangerous to move them up. Take them to the clinic wing for now."
"Better to leave these lunatics to the specimens for what they've done," a second guard mumbled quietly, sending death glares at his foes.
"By all means, go ahead."
It was a shock. The guard glanced up, just to confirm his word was true. Or it was a joke.
Only to flinch back at a stern look from the captain.
"But we are not staying here for you."
"What-?"
"If you want to stoop to their level and kill them off, go. The rest of us are not gonna be wasting time with getting payback when we have bigger problems. Or have you forgotten about your folks outside?"
The question hit the prison guard on the nerve, his head arched down and a bite on the lip. "...No, sir."
Kent gave a nod and returned his watchful eyes on the inmates, all in a line. "Move."
None of the orange suits objected.
Then out of the blues, the pistol stirred right to the Russian man.
"You too," Kent ordered, his stare edgy and dark.
Swept in for a second time, the atmosphere hung thinly.
"Whoa! Whoa!" the African Australian prisoner leapt up, arms out like trying to calm down a pack of wolves. Which seemed to be doing the trick. "Wait a minute here!"
"Step away, Stuart," the Aussie warned.
"Cool it, Kent! He helped us. If it wasn't for him, you'd be dead by now."
"He's a serial killer!"
Steve's eyes bugged out, jumping from the Aussie to the pale man. Did he hear correctly? No, he heard it loud and clear. The two words were something unexpected and incomprehensive to be heard in their predicament that Steve couldn't help but repeat them. "S-Serial killer?"
The phrase was still enough to put him, an infected person with a beast under the skin, and others on edge. Not the blonde or Kent, one unfazed and the latter cautious by that known fact.
The Russian man in a methodical demeanor turned towards the opposing group, his eyes on Iria - perhaps curious to see only her remaining still as a tree or simply looked at her because of her obvious status of authority she wore. Whatever the reason was, he did not speak or retort. Certainly, he wasn't stupid when a gun was deadlocked on him.
"I've read your report," Iria stated calmly. "Daniil Mihaylov. Moscow, Russian SFSR. Served in the Spetsnaz groups until one of your own man called you out for seventeen murders. Escaped from prison and fled to USA under a different alias. Only to be arrested for your eighteenth victim."
The annoying lump in his throat rose back up and then down by a swallow as Steve turned a glance at the pale-skinned man. Yikes. He wasn't too sure which to be afraid: the zombies or a psychopath who enjoyed killing with a handmade knife?
Actually, he had met a psychopath before. But the cool and calm composure this Daniil guy omitted under the intense atmosphere was very much difficult from that sister-loving sicko. Come on! He frigging sliced off that inmate's head!
The Russian was unaffected by the facts Iria rebuked at him. A smile spread across his face - a sign he might as well join along for the ride.
"True. But there is one mistake in that file. It was not seventeen murders."
Iria showed no sign of reaction. But he continued on.
"Hm. So...this place is overrun with outbreak, yes?" he asked. "More interesting than my time back home… If what the Australian said was true." The crooked knife in his hand swayed briskly to Kent and then back to Iria. "I assume I was bought by your company because of my mind, correct?"
A timely stiff moment before Iria nodded.
He lightly huffed, scratching his light bristled neck. "Well, is good this outbreak happened first before I become a monster."
"You are a monster," Kent groaned threateningly.
"Really? But difference between the nezhit and me is that I am not mindless.
"Besides, have dealt with them before," he explained. "Visited Raccoon City to find an old friend." Daniil gave a shrug. "In the end, I never found him. Was forced to leave."
"So you're saying you want to help us?" Iria inquired. "These aren't like those t-Virus-infected specimens-"
"They move slugglish, yes? They go on instinct but are still predictable. Have the same vital weaknesses as the nezhit back then. I've met some on our way here already. Also, is not so much for your own benefits. More for mine," he corrected. "You say this is an island. And these nezhit are loose. So I have a better chance of getting out alive by cooperating with you."
"Oh, you're gonna cooperate," Kent snapped, "Quiet," Kent barked, then directed his eyes to one of the guards. "Arrest him. If he doesn't cooperate, use force."
One blue collar gulped loudly but still ceased out his handcuffs.
"Ah, but I like my hands free. Need to un-rust my skills if I want to live."
WIth what target? On the zombies or on us, the ones breathing, Steve thought nervously.
The guard stepped cautiously closer, one gun out as his only frontal form of protection. But the prisoner didn't flinch.
"Isn't me asset a waste when there is bigger fish?" Daniil continued his negotiation.
Stomp, stomp, stomp!
It was soft. Faint. Far away. But Steve definitely heard it, turning away from the conversation to let his ears hear again..
"Or is it my bad reputation? I understand. I have killed many."
"That," Iria spoke out. "You are far too dangerous to be left alone, Mihaylov. And it is for your own safety. While I respect your tenacity to jump right in, I call it careless to be risking your life against the infected, even if it is for your own sake. As of right now, everyone's lives are important. And that include the prisoners… Even if one is a serial killer."
Daniil smirked. "Ah,good to see my charm rubbing off on you, lady. What say I treat you to a drink after this is all over?"
Iria scowled displeasingly. Oh sure, a drink and a slit to the throat. "No, Declined."
"Aw, how sad."
Still she persisted on. "So if you want to help us, then don't fight. We'll take you up to the surface safely."
"You heard her," Kent barked, drawing down an immediate end to the pointless talk. "Now drop your weapon and lift up your hands."
Daniil refused quietly.
Stomp, stomp, stomp!
"Lift them up now or I'll sho-!"
"Shut up!" the redhead screamed at the top of his lungs. The many eyes on him nearly made him flinched like a little kid yelling for attention in a group of adults. Still, they were all so noisy! Quickly, Steve wheeled back to the direction of the sound with an ear perked high.
"What?" Kent asked, readying up his shotgun.
Narrowing of his eyes, Steve grounded his teeth. "Something's coming."
All eyes turned back to the large doorway of the prison block. They all squinted to see what was coming and soon was greeted with an answer. The small pairs of red glows were faint under the light but they were present.
"Close the gates!" Kent ordered, already marching forth and shotgun pointed straight at the darkness. Two guards immediately jumped to the order with hands on the sides and slowly pushing the heavy barriers.
"But those gates are electronic, right?" Steve blurred out worriedly. "They won't close."
"Someone get a welding tool, pronto!" Kent barked with his left hand smashed flat hard on the metal and sliding one side of the door close in a slow pace.
"L-Let me go!" One inmate yelled. "Uncuff me!" But no one listened.
The humans, plus one specimen, had only few minutes to close off the only path. In the blinking-red-lit hall, bodies were staggering. Slowly, sluggish step by sluggish step, the Shades were approaching the cellblock. Shepherding down like hungry lambs without argument.
Stomp, stomp, stomp!
And the shepherd peered up its sack-like head at the humans rushing to close the doors. One of the six hound heads slithered swiftly at a nearby Shade. In one swoosh, the small and many teeth - the likeness of a lamprey - crunched onto the walker's shoulder. With the flexibility and strength of an elephant's trunk, it hauled the body like a baseball.
Something flew over Kent's line of sight that urged his muscles to tilt the shotgun up. But it zoomed to fast for him to proceed to shoot.
FLOMP! He stirred round just for a second to see the undead body dropped behind him, right onto the prison floor.
"What the-?" Few heads turned at the sudden distraction before wheeling back to the door.
"Oomph!" A second Shade was thrown right at one of the doors, the force sending a guard off his feet.
"Uncuff me!" the inmate begged, shoving up his hands for release. "Uncuff me!"
A flash of teeth rose up from behind him. The very same Shade first tossed into the hall had risen back up.
Drop went the teeth on the inmate's neck. "GAAGH!"
"Shit!"
"Fire! Fire at it-AGGH!" A Shade dropped onto the guard, arms lashed quickly around his shoulders. He screamed in agony, feeling dentals bite hard on his spine.
With the new approach of disorder, everyone's attention flayed about - their minds racing on what to do first, then second. Only Iria kept her focus on the bewildering phenomenon of flying zombies.
Why? Why was this happening? Zombies didn't just become grasshoppers with power in their legs. Another specimen was giving them the boost they needed to apprehend their prey.
This was a strange behavior, one she had never seen the caged-up specimens do. But it demonstrated high intelligence, and for some reason, this specimen was grabbing zombies and tossing them in like ammo-
An hypothesis swiftly struck in her mind and Iria's eyes filleted wide at the shocking and horrifying realization.
"Scapegoats," she hollered. "They're throwing in scapegoats!"
"What! ?" Steve hollered. "Fuck!" He swayed his lugers up at a tossed in Shade, already climbing up onto its feet and charging at him with bared teeth. The bullets flew right at the torso.
While those with the firearms fought back, those arrested scattered about - some bundled into the empty cells for protection, some scrambled behind the very fighters they had beaten before. Few cowered, hunched down and trying to make less of an eye catching target.
Only two remained stiff. One was unfazed by the pouring threat. The other was tensely holding his crowbar tight and ready for a swing.
"Tim!" The African Australian prisoner wheeled to Iria's voice, enough to catch a glimpse of her tossing the small little device. "Catch!" With the reflexes of a catcher, his hand easily darted at it.
Closer inspection and he grinned. A small portable laptop. With HELIX's logo printed on it.
He nodded at her and sprinted down to the right of the hall.
"Kent, Steve! Distract them off him!"
"Wait, why?" Only the redhead hesitated, not seeing the picture that the captain had already leapt into. Nonetheless, seeing the two adults leap forth, he followed suit.
In the background, Timothy Stuart flipped open the laptop and went to work, rapidly tapping away once it started up.
"Stuart, you better get those drones out!" Kent hollered.
"I've only been out for thirty minutes into this shit! Don't pressure me!"
Swift went his fingers, each smashing at the keys. It's been years, yes, but the further his eyes scaled across the code, the more he was getting at being familiar again with it. A second nature was coming back to him.
He hit the enter key.
Quick as lighting and at his summoning, a little 'something' that could be considered a mini-helicopter swooped into the scene - ejected out from the mechanical foldings of the walls. A drone, its name "Strix 5.0" printed across its metal body and a creation drafted and hammered out of the forges of the tech department, was in a prisoner's hands. Its only robotic eye emitting the color red zip-zapped at its surroundings with the moving of the joystick, all while hovering in midair by two large circular-based propellers holding it in midair.
Another hit of the keys and the small machine gun slotted at the belly of the metal bird wheeled to its prey.
Rat-tat-tat-tat it screamed loudly, bullets digging into meat.
"What the fuck-! ?"
"Steve, Timothy Stuart. IT tech and robotics engineer from control centre," Iria introduced, her fullest attention at shooting down a Shade. "Tim, Steve Burnside. Friendly specimen."
"Control centre? Engineer?"
"Specimen? Wait, he's that guy-"
"Questions later! FIRE NOW!" hollered Kent angrily.
The tone was harsh and loud over the wailing of bullets, enough to hunch down the two men meekly back to their firing range.
"Fuck this!"
"No, stop!" a guard yelled. From behind, the prisoners, excluding the Russian man, fled away. Screaming, wailing, their pathetic attempts in escaping from being a gory meal, all these actions were nothing more than drawing more attention on the Shades.
"Forget them!" Kent ordered. BAM! went his retrieved shotgun. "We need to contain the infected! We can't let them get to the surface!"
"GARH!" screamed out one guard as a prisoner zombie, primal instinct replacing all sense of morals and consciousness, dove right at the neck and dug his teeth into flesh. As quickly as the pounce happened, the Shade was whacked by the swing of a baton by another guard. One second, the blue-collared man glimpsed down at his friend, dead by the cut of the jugular artery, the next, he swayed up his firearm and fired. Again at the battered Shade that jumped back up onto his feet.
Stomp stomp stomp!
It was faint under the fire and screams but Steve's sensitive ears picked up the familiar sound again. The stomp stomp stomp.
"He's back!" Steve warned. And just that-
BAM! -one of the metal doorways was forced wide open by the swinging whack of the jellyfish-like specimen's head, its body snaking into the prison and crawling up across the wall.
Kent muttered out a curse, the word broken halfway through as he aimed his shotgun dead at the giant BOW, now on the ceiling. BAM! A miss!
And what luck did that thing had to drop behind the group of fighters and prisoners.
"AHHH! AHHHHHH!"
"N-No-!"
The six hydra heads snapped right at six targets: three prisoners and two guards, chucks of their own bodies chewed off in a second.
"Geezus-," Tim shut himself from continuing and circled the analog stick. Immediately, the drone wheeled its machine gun around and fired at its bigger opponent.
"BROOUGAAARH!" the specimen wailed, like hearing a scream through a water balloon filled with blood and organs. The .50 caliber magazine running in a rate of 300 per minute pierced through its very fine membrane, forcing it to recoil back from further assaults.
Then an arm frayed forth.
CRANK! The wing of the drone broke off like a twig as the flying machine wobbled down from the great force. Into a screeching dive, the
"Shit!" Tim yelped, scrambling back near Iria while he quickly and frightfully tried to command another drone out. "I'll calling in another Strix!"
"Forget it! We have to fall back!" Kent urgently ordered. By the time another flighter came, they'd be overwhelmed by the increasing shades and one big BOW. Now was the chance to retreat while the big problem was still down. "The clinic! All of you get to the clinic!"
BAM!
Swiftly, the remaining guards obeyed his order without question, carefully sidestepping to another route out of the prison block. A few orange-suited survivors were left, quickly harnessed up onto their feet to come along. No more games if they wanted to live.
Tim stopped himself from following the group, noticing that three people wouldn't budge from fighting against the threat. Kent hurried to the main entrance and slipped the heavy metal shut along with Steve already rushing over to manually pull down the locks. Iria stayed back to clear away stragglers.
The doors bashed loudly at the beating of more zombies wanting to come in.
"What about you?" Tim asked, helping the Aussie to pulling in the locks.
"We have to close off the outpost exit," Kent answered. "We can't let the infected get out through there!"
His face paled at hearing those urgent words. "Shit… What about the plans? What about all that talk 'bout leaving this place-"
"Stuart!" Kent barked and gave a strong, meaningful glare. "We're on our own here."
Tim bit his lower lip, his gut turning at the sheer grimness of the situation.
While they were distracted with the gates, panic and dismay had concealed one small little ball, the frightened warden on the ground. He was no courageous man but his own men would be enough bait while he's sneak away. It was the same panic and dismay that pushed him up on his trembling legs and slowly paced himself to another exit of Deephall prison.
Only to be spotted in a glimpse by Iria.
"Wait!" she hollered but the warden didn't listen. He sprinted onwards and out of the prison hall.
She wasn't the only one who spotted the shrewd cowardly man. Dashing in pursuit was Orcozo, his face dark and maddening instead of the terror in his abandoned comrades' eyes.
And out of the blues, the giant BOW decided to change plans: shaking off its disorientation and dashing out of the block to flee from anymore bullets. The same path as the warden and criminal.
Iria's eyes frayed open wide at the terrible realisation flushed into her mind.
"STOP! STOP IT!" she hollered and gave chase.
"Doc!"
"Dammit-Go! NOW! We'll catch up!"
The voices dulled from the warden's ears the further he ran, huffing and puffing. He didn't care what that woman was saying, nor did he look back one final time. Escape was all that mattered. Get out of this infested den and live.
Then at the turn of a corner, he caught sight of the exit route to one of the eight outposts. Keep running, his brain screamed. You'd be safe once you get to the island!
Naively happy, he dug into his coat for his own ID card. His ticket out of the facility. The stupid prisoners didn't think twice in searching deeper.
It would be a long dash across the underwater glass tunnel once he broke through the first entrance but it'd be fine, he told himself. The card was high-level. It was going to be alright. He'd live. His life mattered more than those crazy people, trying to lock down this place! With him in it!
Let all those nitwits rot with the infected-
"Give me that, you old git!"
"GAH!" He tumbled down, chin banged hard on the floor. The daze lasted for a second, enough for him to realize the ex drug lord having fallen along with him, climbing forth to his hand.
His ID card.
"No! Get off!"
Orozco fastened his elbow down on his neck. Kill the oaf for keeping this a secret and for being a nuisance. And yet, for someone being a pain in his ass for the last three years, he was putting up a fight. "Ah-ha! Think you have the balls to fight me, you damn oaf? Give me that card!"
"Stop! W-We can work together! Those specimens will come and-"
Orozco changed his mind in a snap. All the jumbling from the git's mouth was wasted time. Hands immediately lashed right at the warden's head before he could continue his proposal.
BAM!
As strong as an ox, Orozco bashed down his head. He could feel the skull crack like an egg. And then he did it again.
BAM!
And again.
BAM!
"Do you like that?" Orozco hollered with an ending chuckle and at every smashing of the warden's skull. "Do you like that! ?"
Bone caved in. The taste of iron was delightful as the warden's head spewed out liquid. His brain was just mash after the tenth beating that the panting criminal finally let go because his arm was overworked.
It was a nice splashing sound the dead warden made on contact to his own bloody pool.
"Heheeheehee… I'll be taking that." He had almost forgotten he was in a dire situation. Swiftly, he snatched the bloodied card and stood back up. "Thanks for the stress relief, warden. But I have to take my lea-"
A flash of blue slithered, from his right.
The large thin fingers stretched around his head.
Too late. Orozco didn't have a chance to see the monster sink its main teeth and its polycephalic heads onto him.
CRUNCH!
As easy as biting a tomato. Blood sprayed as the creature unlatched its hind legs off the wall like a jumping gecko to plant itself down on the ground, enjoy its meal without gravity in the way. The fluids it sucked out quickly replenished the lost liquid spewing from the closing bullet wounds, its baggy form slowly inflating back up to its original look. Satisfied, it turned its eyes - plopping up and down within its watery sack - to the other fallen prey. No good, the heart had already stopped inside this little old prey and the taste wouldn't be as delicious as the recent meal.
Then a beam of blue light caught its attention. Curiously, it stood up and searched for the strange color.
It was streaming out from the entrance into the glass tunnel.
Blue. The color of water. The color that it has always zoomed about. Familiar medium. Calm. A barrier that gave it momentary peace from the cattle prods and needles. All in all, the water was welcoming to the specimen and it well knew what the blue light meant to it as it inched forward like reaching out for a colorful lure.
It was freedom.
Game Objections:
- Keep out the Shades
- Stop Scylla
Vickie: Yes. YESSS. I've finished this chapter. After so long with so many writer's block, I'VE FINISHED IT. MUAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!
GOD are conversations during tense moments tough. :L That's not to say I dunno if I did well or could have gone another way.
Originally, also, this was supposed to have two major events: the prison part and the specimen in the tunnel but saying how I went that would make this too long with both events, I decided to cut this into 2 chapters. It's kinda a bummer that I'm extending the story by a bit but can't be helped. I actually am afraid that the longer a chapter is, the more it might be dragging for you guys (and I do know sometimes, I either could have shortening something or don't check my work after uploading until I update the next day). I still hope I'm keeping to the intensity and drama that you are enjoying but as well, not giving you anything boring. :L I get it too, I'd want to get to the juicy parts instead of having fillers. Hence why this forceful 6000+ limit.
Anyhow, it's nearly midnight (should be then once I upload this) and yes, I have to leave this at a cliffhanger. Will this Scylla really escape into the island? Will Iria and the others try to stop it? Well, I'm a bit unsure myself cuz all the events in my head are in bits at the moment. Anyhow, enjoy this long-awaited chapter and review! I'll try to get the next one up as soon as possible!
Extra note, there are some more changes on characters that I'll be editing. Such as Tim being Australian African (due to some backstory and interaction between him and Kent, not major especially because they are also in different work fields).
Extra note: Btw, did you see the little easter eggs I put in here? :3c
PS. haven't checked for mistakes. Too late to edit it. XD I'll fix them tomorrow. Sorry for that.