Author's note:

So - this story is still super hilarious for me to go back and read. I love it. I wish I could crank it out a little faster - but I have eight hundred stories and my mind won't rest on just one.

Slainte!

….

VIII: UP A MOUNTAIN SIDE - CAME A MOUNTAIN

ROCKFORT ISLAND, 1998

:::::::::::::::::EIGHT:::::::::::::::::::

Up the mountain side, came the mountain.

Well, not the mountain exactly - he was years away from being the mountain. But he was boulder (*cough*) and he was the brother to the missing girl. And he was THERE. He'd tracked the message from Kennedy and here he was - climbing a mountain to find his baby sister.

He was ready to rumble too. He was. He was loaded for bear - or zombie - or big fat tyrants or pissed off former Captains - or nasty hunters with hook claws. He had an assault bag strapped on his back filled with gear. He was so fucking prepared it was overkill.

Mr. Boyscout. Always prepared!

Nothing was going to stop him. He was a tank. A tornado. A rapid rage filled hero on a quest to save the day! He was BULLETPROOF!

He gave his bulging arm muscles a little wink, impressed with his own girth. He wasn't huge yet, but it was coming. He was going to be a mountain! All muscle! Unflappable! Unstoppable!

He had guns on his back and guns above his fist. What the what!? He was so ready to fight bad guys. He whistled, happily, "Unstoppppppable!"

The chunk of mountain side he was currently grabbing crumbled. Concerned, he grappled for another piece and missed. His body swung back, smacked into the heavy craggy wall, and he nearly fell.

The second his arm swung back, the bag on his back swung with him. He hit the wall, the bag took the hit, the strap gave a SNAP of releasing cloth and his big bag of bad ass tricks? Down it went.

Chris Redfield let out a horrified shout of rage. "ARE YOU KIDDING ME!? COME BACK! BAG! COME BACK! What in the figgity fuck man!"

And he was now down to a handgun and a knife.

Who the hell went into a fight like that!?

Maybe he'd get lucky and there wouldn't be anything to fight. Maybe he'd just find Claire and they'd get away without doing battle with monsters.

Maybe the war would end and he'd fuck a thousand chics and get blowjobs until he dropped dead at 102 with four wives and fifty rockin off spring. Why not? If they were making up shit that was NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN, why not imagine he'd have a twelve inch dick and twin's with double d's doing him until he went blind?

Why not?

Maybe there was one waiting on top this mountain for him.

He reached the top and hoisted himself up, grunting a little.

Nothing but mud and a mess. That's what was left of the sizzling shit pit that had once been Rockfort Prison.

The building waiting for him was blocked by an enormous tank. It was in sad shape and didn't look like he was going to find Claire in the hollowed out carcass left behind.

The tank was cold to the touch and WWII issue. Chris pressed the button that was, seemingly wide open and waiting on it. It chugged and huffed and rolled ten feet forward...and a small lift appeared out of the ground.

Chris sighed. He stepped out the lift.

He hit the button and down he went into the ground.

Stupid.

STUPID.

Nothing good happened underground.

But?

Down he went.

The lift stopped and he stepped off, gun up and ready. He cleared into the first room on his right in the sterile, cold, steel bunker where he found himself. The room had several lockers and a cot. He checked for anything useable and was about to leave...when the sound of laughter tickled his ears.

A large monitor flickered on in the adjacent area and showed a beautiful woman.

She was cuddling a body with her face in an ugly red officer's coat.

She smiled at the camera like she could see him, "Captain Redfield is it?"

Chris shifted, lowering his gun. Would he shoot a monitor? Seemed stupid.

He answered, "Who are you?"

"Alexia...it's my island where you find yourself. It's my brother who lies dead in my arms. It's your sister who murdered him." She lifted her lips in a small smile, "It seems we're in a bit of a mess. I have what you want. You have what I want."

He met her eyes in the screen. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"An eye for an eye, Captain. I'll give you your sister back...if you take the place of my brother."

Jesus.

PSYCHO.

She kissed her dead brother on the mouth and made Chris twitch. Twins. GROSS.

"Sure. Sounds fun. I like a little kinky shit and at least we're not actually twins...but whatever. You give me, Claire, you keep me. Even stevens. Sure thing. Where you at, dollface? I'll head that way."

Alexia grinned, amused, eyes twinkling. "A long way away, Captain. You have to earn it, it seems. Where the cold blows and the end of the world beckons...find me. And join me. And Claire? Maybe she lives to see another day."

The screen flickered off. Chris cursed in rage.

There was nothing he hated more than bitches playing god. He'd met that type before...and left him boiling in his own blood in the bottom of a burning mansion.

Clearly, this bitch didn't know who she was messin with.

...

Obviously, the "bitch" in question wasn't dead at all. In fact, Albert Wesker was standing watching the same show.

He saw Alexia. He knew where the power he covted waited.

And he knew it was time to get rid of Redfield. He touched a button and a tiny little robot emerged, flickering a laser on the floor. With it, a small chamber opened to his right...and two sets of huge claws emerged followed by a reptilian leer.

Wesker stroked the face of the hunter, almost lovingly, almost like Alexia had stroked her dead brother.

"Finish him. Make me proud."

And a warbling cry echoed around the darkness where they stood.

...

Chris hurried from the room, racing toward the far end of the hallway. The door opened to a chamber filled with a shattered walk way and rushing waterfall that spilled in a foamy wash down into nothing. This place was trashed. It was derelict.

He knew in his guts that Claire wasn't here.

But where was she?

He rounded the corner and got hit in the face.

Just like that.

Pop.

It lifted him off his feet and threw him across the room. He went into the wall on his ass and felt like his nose was broken. Spitting blood, Chris heard the warbling.

He got his gun up.

It landed on him and took him to the floor with a shriek in his face that smelled like old blood and fart.

His gun went off and shot it in the chest and it drew back its clawed hand to impale him.

Bulletproof his ASS. He was deader than Moses. He blocked it, the claw tore up the floor an inch to his right shoulder, and a gun went off. Once, twice, three times - the hunter turned and the unknown gunman spun a back kick at it.

It reared, Chris kicked it in its rubbery sexless groin, and shot it right in its roaring face.

Another boom and it was blasted off its feet and thrown into the wall.

Chris rolled, the hunter slid to the floor in a heap, and the gunman put his hand down.

Clasping it, Chris was pulled to his feet.

They held eyes.

Chris thought: What kinda shit was this? Leonardo DiCaprio's buffer brother coming to save him?

And Leon thought: What kind of fucking idiot wore their uniform around when they were trying to stay undercover?

Leon said, "Chris Redfield?"

And Chris replied, "Who's asking?"

"Leon S. Kennedy." They shook, quickly.

"How'd you know it was me?"

"...you're wearing your old uniform."

Chris blinked. Leon blinked, and remarked, blandly, "Maybe not wise when you're trying to stay under the radar there, fella."

Chris shook his head, "If you're here. Where's Claire?"

"Long story short, she's with Sideburns."

"...tell me that's the indian name of some bad ass secret agent."

Leon shook his head, sighing, "Sadly no. It's a twelve year old pervert that wants to get in her pants. But he can, apparently, pilot a plane. I saw them fly off. Yeah...you heard that right. They left me."

"...you let a twelve year old pervert kidnap my sister?"

They held deadpan expressions.

Leon pursed his lips. Chris lifted his brow.

And Leon remarked, "Yeahhhh...I'm the dumb one. Of course, she drove into Raccoon City looking for your stupid ass a few months ago. Because, apparently, a phone call saying DON'T GO, SIS, ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE wasn't on your to do list while you were fleeing for your life like a little bitch."

The silence dragged between them.

Finally, Chris replied, stonily, "Point taken. Watch it, Kennedy. I don't have to like you to work with you here."

"I'm a likeable guy, Redfield. Claire likes me. Quite a bit in fact. We like each other. You might know that, too, again if you ever made yourself available so we didn't have to hunt you down like the lost colony of Roanoke."

"I've been busy." They moved into the far room, clearing as they went.

"Yeah? Us too. Maybe you didn't hear, surviving Raccoon City, tracking you down, working for the government. Just the usual."

Chris rolled his eyes and they cleared into the next area. A lab, clearly, with a tank swirling with some kind of nitrous oxide or something. The one thing that was clear?

They didn't want to know what was in there.

Chris checked the station sitting there. He clicked keys and scanned information as it popped up.

Leon, curious, remarked, "Where's the back up?"

Chris said nothing.

"The back up, Redfield? The help? The helicopters and the crew coming to save the day? Where are they?"

"No back up. Just me."

Quiet.

Silence.

And Leon laughed. He just laughed. "Just you."

"Just me. I couldn't risk anyone else."

"Just you...and a handgun."

"...yep."

"Just you and a handgun. That's it? You couldn't at least bring a fucking assault bag with an artillery? You had to come with just one fucking pistol? Who does that!? Who goes into a hostile area with just a goddamn pistol!?" (*cough*)

Chris eyed him drolly. "You, apparently. You storm that compound in Paris with just a pistol, you hypocrite?"

"NO! I had TWO pistols!"

They held glares.

And Leon added, "And Claire. I had two pistols and Claire."

"I had a fucking bag, ok!? I...dropped it."

Silence.

"You dropped it?"

"Yeah. Har har har. I dropped it! I was claiming the mountain to get here...and it fell. Whatever. It doesn't matter anyway. Let's...just figure out how to get off this island and find Claire, ok?"

Leon shook his head, laughing without humor. He'd been fucked in his life plenty. First - in the third grade when three kids had ganged up on him and beat him bloody for his lunch money. Second - when he got caught poking the quarterback's girlfriend in the backseat of his Jeep Sophomore year and got his front teeth knocked out for it. Third - running late for his shift at work and walking into the zombie Apocalypse. And now. NOW.

Standing here with an idiot in an RPD STARS uniform that dropped their only hope down a mountainside.

He opened his mouth to say something clever and the door opened. They both lifted their weapons.

They both turned.

And Dolph Lundgren came through the door.

He was wearing sunglasses and an ugly black battlesuit.

Leon mused, "Whafuck?"

And Chris shouted, "WESKER!"

So NOT Dolph Lundgren apparently. But close enough.

Wesker smirked and said, "REDFIELD!"

Why was everyone always shouting on this island?

But it didn't matter. Because Wesker rushed them.

He didn't move. He...teleported. Or broke the space time continuum. Or poofed and popped up in front of them. Whatever.

It sucked.

He hit Chris so hard the guy was throw across the room. He backhanded Leon like a bitch and sent him spinning like a top. Leon hit the wall, flipped over the console, and came down on his butt behind it.

Whafuck?

Chris was strangling and grunting like a pig.

Wesker was laughing and dangling him. "Redfield, you brave fool, this is where you join the rest of your incompetent team. I've been waiting for this moment."

Leon fired two shots, Wesker ducked right and left and missed being hit by both, and threw Redfield into the tank.

Awesome...not. NOT awesome at all.

It cracked. It leaked.

It broke.

And the screen by the far wall lit up.

A beautiful face, a musical laugh, "...oh...ohhhh...beautiful. Come see me. Won't you?"

It clicked off. Wesker tilted his head, smiling softly, "Alexia..."

And POOF.

Gone.

The tank shattered. It threw shards like bullets.

The rubberband man stepped out. The far door flew open and a nasty faced hunter came on in on its bowlegged gait.

Leon jerked Chris to his feet and jacked a shell into the shotgun. Chris reloaded his handgun with his last magazine.

Leon sighed, backing up, and mused, "Dropped it huh?"

Chris gave him the finger and a glare, "Shut up, you little asshole, just shut up."

And the rubberband man threw his arm between them.