Simon Salvesen probably shouldn't have been out here with just one crewman. He probably also shouldn't have hired that boy Svenn, who'd once again been late on arriving at the docks and costing them precious time at sea. But he was his nephew, a fool idiot though he was, and thus gave him another chance.

"And my brother's going to beg me to give him another after this."

Svenn was hauling up the nets, loaded with fish. A surprisingly good catch, but then he'd had a feeling that this lonesome rock was lucky when he'd looked at it on the map. A few clips south of the next major island and north enough of the coast that it had vanished over the horizon just as they'd come near it.

"Uncle, are we done?"

Simon stroked his beard, the long and scraggly white mane sticking out from the faded yellow of his hooded jacket. They still had the crab cages to get to on their way back, and with the fish they'd just caught he could reset them easily enough after they emptied them out. They'd be back later in the evening, but it hardly mattered now since neither he nor the boy was going to see daylight for another two months unless they headed down the coast later in the winter. As it was it would make up for their late start this morning on account of Svenn's tardiness.

He hadn't even had time to listen to the news or gossip at the docks like he was used to, rushing to get things set up because of how late Svenn had showed up.

"Not yet my boy. Secure the nets, we'll be going the long way back." He smiled as he saw his nephew's shoulders slump. "Will do good to learn an honest day's labor instead of spending all that time lazing about."

Honestly, what did Svenn even do all day up in his room?

Shaking his head at his nephew's foolishness, Simon made his way into the cabin, turning the light up as he adjusted the map and started checking the course to the crab cages along the low lying parts of the coast nearby. It would be a long, circuitous route home, but with plenty of fresh crab to show for it they'd earn their keep when they pulled in back home late in the evening.

"Perhaps a few extra hours at sea will teach the boy to be on time in the future." Simon thought, plotting the course as the waves gently rocked the boat from side to side. Good weather, even though there'd been a warning of a storm soon, it had been delayed just long enough for them to make one more run up the coast. For whatever reason most of the other boats had been gone, more for them but-

"Wha-aaaAAAH!"

Svenn screamed, loud and panicked. Simon rushed out, fearing that he'd find the boy tangled in the net, arm broken as the weight of half a ton of fish threatened to pull him over and into the abyss. Instead he saw his nephew on the deck crawling backwards and pointing at something in the darkness. The rolling waves swayed the net to and fro over the deck, but nothing else was out of sorts.

Till a hand or something like a hand reached out from over the side and grabbed at the rope tying one of the buoys and Simon heard a sound like knives scratching at wood.

His stomach felt leadened as he clenched his jaw tight and kept the light on whatever it was. Kneeling down and grabbing Svenn's shoulder firmly, shaking the boy till he looked up at him and away from the darkness.

"Get my gun."

Svenn scurried off into the cabin, tripping over his own feet and cursing in blind panic as he did. Simon didn't know what it was that had crawled out of the inky deep, but he intended to send it right back. His .45 could put down a beer and he'd been a crack shot back during his service so it was really only a matter of getting a good shot.

The thing hauled itself up, falling over and onto the boat, the size at least as tall as an adult man. Maybe a bit more. Behind it a long finned tail snapped about as it writhed on the deck. Rolling over and behind the entrance to the lower hold where he'd been about to dump their fish, he only saw the lower fins.

Lower legs .

It growled and moaned, strange and awful noises that warbled up from the beast and rose in pitch as if summoned forth by some wailing Siren of myth. All the while those fins stretched, cartilage pushing out as the sharp and strange sound of shifting bones moved the limbs outward and lower, the tail lifting as it did. Till the tips of those so called fins split, bony protrusions like sharp claws etching deep lines into the wood as they kicked out savagely and struck the side of his boat.

Once and then again, a cry came from the creature as it bucked up, a shark-like fin on its back raising as its legs snapped, bent below the knee and kicked through the wood before going still. The toes… the claws wiggling as it started to stand.

"Damn it… damn it boy, move faster!" Simon said, cursing under his breath, his hand shaking as he stepped back, looking around for anything that could be used to defend himself if Svenn was late.

His heart beat, a pounding countdown to doom as the beast's bluish-black tail snapped down and it tried to stand. One clawed hand, webbed fingers like some horrific creature of beast and man, grabbing onto the side of the crate and lifting itself up. The head appeared at last.

"Oh my…"

The face… extended out from its home, a thickened hood of scale armor covering the white maw of a shark, the jet black eyes wide as it gazed up at him. The mouth parted, glimmering points of razor teeth showing in the darkness as the gills at the neck flexed and water dribbled from its jaw.

"Here you g-go uncle," Svenn said, running down from the cabin at last.

"Thank god boy you-"

This wasn't his gun.

"What the hell is this?!" Simon practically shouted, not daring to take his eyes off the creature as it started to rise up. The flesh transitioned into an inky black covering, like oil or seaweed that went from just below the chest down past the legs. The shape and contours were so like a man… so like a woman that he might have mistaken it for one if he hadn't seen that nightmarish face, the misshapen legs, and that tail already upon it. The arms were thick as his own, capped with three fingered claws that had to be wickedly sharp given what he'd seen them already do. A merciless, hungry expression focused on the pair of them. Breathing in and out as it stood up taller and taller, almost a head taller than him now that the creature had risen to its full height.

And he with nothing but the speargun that had been mounted above the wheel.

Svenn had at least loaded it, and tried to pump the air chamber to pressure. But the thrice repaired tool was finicky at the best of times, and used to spear larger fish as they were brought up on those rare times he'd chartered his services out to rich sports fishermen. It wasn't a weapon meant for this. Too hard to load, far too difficult to pump up to pressure even if it could shoot farther and harder than it should. And now it was all he had.

He braced it against his leg and put his weight into it. Feeling the pump slide down and then up.

"Uncle…"

"I see it!"

The beast was opening its mouth, putting a clawed hand to its throat as if the chill air above the water didn't agree with it.

"Don't you worry abomination! I'll send you back to it." Simon pushed down again, cursing as his gloved hands slipped and the pump shot up. The beast stepped around the hold entrance, turning its eyes to look at the fish they'd caught. Nostrils stretched as its mouth opened and closed. "Good you dumb beast… look at the fish and just give me a bit more-"

It turned towards them stepping around the net. Footfall by footfall, swaying unsteadily as it moved, no sea legs despite its aquatic nature. He pushed down the pump one more time, hearing it click and pulling the spear gun up, aiming for the creature's chest.

Only for it to grab at the gun, point it to the side as his finger hit the trigger, the spear rocketing outward and into the side of his boat.

He bit back the curse as he stared the beast down, Svenn huddled behind him and cried out in fear.

"A man dies on his feet," Simon thought, reaching for his knife and ready for one last, and likely futile, attempt to slay this thing.

Only for it to grab at his wrist, the mouth parting open, the rows of teeth showing even through the slight opening of the jaw as the fleshy hood of bluish scales pulled back and the fin about its skull rose up slightly. He stared back, his own teeth bared in a far less impressive display, as when he'd lost two in a brawl there hadn't been another pair ready to spring up and take their place.

The creature loomed over him, ready to end his life and-

"[Do you speak English?]"

Svenn looked up, staring blankly at the seaborne abomination. Simon turning to look at his nephew, tears and snot running down his face as he looked up at the shark… woman ?

"[Y-yes?]" Sveen said, stuttering over his words. Before dropping down, grabbing at the creature's legs and… wetsuit? Simon's own eyes widened as he looked closer at what he had thought to be skin, seeing the seams of cloth that were attached to the fins turned legs, stretching out and stopping below the thighs as. Small clasps and metal hooks hanging loose about the narrow waist and slightly wider hips above which his nephew was currently, and quite pathetically, prostrated. "[Please don't eat us!]"

It… she , let go of Simon's hand, allowing him to step back and hold his knife before him as he grabbed Svenn and pulled him back towards the steps of the cabin. His gun was still in there, but he'd half to run in, load it, and get out before-

"There's no way." Simon looked at Svenn and asked, "What is it saying?"

"I… I don't know," Svenn said, shaking his head.

She cocked her head to one side, the strange action oddly human before she opened her mouth once more. Simon shuddered as she spoke. "[I'm not going to eat you. What are you doing out here?]"

"Boy?"

"She… she asked us what we're doing here," Svenn said, standing up, rubbing his face with the back of his jacket and shaking his head as he met Simon's confused look with his own. "I don't know uncle, I'm telling you the truth!"

"Tell her we're just fishermen!"

"God, what is this… thing?"

Sven nodded, speaking to the strange fish woman from the deep. "[We are just humble fishermen. We meant no… harm to your kind.]"

She opened her mouth and then closed it again, looking from Svenn to Simon and back again. Her armored hood of scales and flesh tugged down for a moment as those jet black eyes narrowed and the nostrils opened and closed as she no doubt smelled their fear in the air.

Before looking back to the fish they'd caught and speaking once more. "[You shouldn't be out here.]"

Svenn looked back at Simon, repeating what he'd heard. All the while the sea woman walked over to the spear stuck in the wood, yanking it out and pointing it at the two of them. The threatening motion made both step back as she spoke again.

"[Didn't you read the news?]"

"... the news?" Svenn said.

She stabbed the spear tip into the net, pulling out a fish wriggling at the tip. Planting it down onto the wooden crate nearby she used the metal to gut the fish. Simon's lip curled up in disgust at the brutal act of unneeded savagery, not even trying to kill the poor animal before-

Before he felt his stomach lurch, the smell and sight made him feel as if he would vomit at any moment as the insides of the Cod writhed, a forest of tiny pink tendrils where its guts had been, the eyes bulging out and pinkish red. The scales flaking off and the whole of it rotten in a way he'd never imagined.

Svenn didn't have the constitution and rushed to the side of the boat as the sight and smell assaulted him. All the while the fish continued to twitch and move, as if being cut from tip to tail was more an inconvenience than anything else.

His English wasn't good, but now, the panic from before giving way to exhausted confusion as the adrenaline that had been burning through his blood at last departed, he tried his own hand at communicating with their strange visitor from the depths.

"[What… do you want?]"

She pointed at herself and made a gesture with her three fingered hand, that webbed though it was unmistakable.

"[Radio… phone? I need to call the BSAA.]"

"God, an American fish woman wants to use my phone." Simon stepped back, not taking his eyes off of her as he moved into the cabin. Grabbing the phone off of its charger and handing it over. His eyes did slide across the drawer with the gun once more, but at this point he'd wager he'd best just ride out this strange encounter without any violence.

She didn't take it, instead waving her claws about as if that explained why. Simon nodded, Svenn returning, still looking green about the gills as it were, while he opened his phone up and-

"That's odd… I normally get at least a bit of signal."

"[What's the problem?]"

"[The phone's dead… we must be too far from the coast.]"

Simon nodded, not sure what Svenn had said exactly, but suspecting that it was about the issue with the phone.

"[What about your radio?]"

"[That should work]," Svenn said, walking into the cabin and unclipping the microphone from the radio. He dialed in the harbor and paused, looking back at the looming shark… woman that now stood at the entrance. His uncle was still staring at her, while both of them took in how she was obviously wearing a tight black wet suit over most of her body. The oddly humanoid proportions of parts standing out against the rest, though the stark white of her face seemed to continue under the covering, which looked to contain an almost human-like bust. Though below that a hole was shorn through the material, as if torn violently and stained red in places still. The skin beneath it was the same white shark hide by appearances, as if the injury had long since healed.

"[What?]" she said, her eyes blinking… and then blinking again as a second set of eyelids slid sideways as well.

"[Nothing,]" Svenn said quickly, looking down and blushing slightly. "[What should I say?]"

She paused, her right foot tapping against the stairs for a moment before speaking. "[Tell them that BSAA Agent Valentine has to make an emergency report.]"

"BSAA?!"

"What is this about?"

"Oh my… Uncle I think… this might be a… we might be in a-"

"What boy, spit it out!"

"Those might be infected fish."

"Of course they're infected, what else could they… be…"

Simon looked back at their very odd guest. And then turned to gaze back at the mutated and rotting yet still living fish. The pieces coming together, slowly, but surely in his head. Before he sank to the ground, shaking his head and muttering to himself. "Of all the damn things to happen this winter."

Svenn ignored him, sending the message as requested. And being greeted with nothing but static in return. He repeated twice more, his surprise giving way to shock and then something else.

Suspicion.

"It's not working," Sven said, before turning to the Agent Valentine and continuing, "[Something's blocking the signal.]"

"[Are you sure?]"

He flipped to another channel. And then another still. Static greeting them each time, even from the emergency broadcast beacon towards the south. Shaking his head as he set the radio down at last. "[We should have gotten something from one of those.]"

"[That's sophisticated electronic warfare tactics. Even then whoever is doing this can't be too far off.]" She looked out into the darkness, though whether her eyes saw anything they could not she didn't say. Turning back towards the two of them at last. "[I need to contact the BSAA as soon as possible. Is there a port with a landline nearby?"

"[The closest one is back on the coast, but that would take almost ten hours to reach for us.]"

"[Damn it! That will take too long.]"

"What are you two talking about?" Simon said, unable to parse the fast moving conversation.

"She's a BSAA agent… I think?" Svenn said. "And she needs to contact the authorities but someone's blocking our radio."

"Well, why not head north to Heimfest?"

"Heimfest?"

"Yes? There's that old soviet radio tower there. You can bounce signals clean across the arctic if you wanted."

Svenn nodded a smile coming across his face as he turned towards their strange, but perhaps not that truly frightening, guest once more.

"She thinks that's a good idea. We can get to Heimfest in under two hours if we start now."

"Well get going Svenn!" Simon said, taking up his knife again as he walked towards the net of fish.

No use taking useless cargo with them after all. And perhaps the BSAA would reward them for ferrying an agent around.

Even if they were a very odd sort.

"I suppose I did hear in the news that those Americans were starting to work with these creatures or something." Though that one had looked more like an oversized insect…

The boat made good time, arriving along the coast of the chain of islands further north in just over an hour and a half. Not that time had much meaning this far into the Arctic Circle. It was just as dark as when they started, only flowing blue and green of the aurora far into the heavens providing any color above dark waves below. The clouds from before had parted, at least for a moment, and it painted a beautiful image across the sky. Jill relished the mild distraction as they pulled towards the harbor, her fins resting and the corners of her mouth slightly open, the phantom sensation of a smile across her new features as she looked up. She'd never had the opportunity to see this before, plans for a vacation or trip north long since put on hold after Raccoon.

And now it was not her human eyes that at last beheld this particular wonder of the natural world.

She tapped her clawed digits against the wooden railing, idly wondering if it would have looked so vivid before. Her vision was sharper than before, or at least seemed to adjust to near total darkness with uncanny speed. Given what the T-Abyss had made her look like, more a humanoid shark than a person, she should be thankful that she had been saddled with the weaknesses of that creature instead of seeming to only gain its strengths. The cold weather barely bothered her, the underlying toughness of her skin providing the insulation that her rather thin wetsuit did not.

Even where the form fitting outfit was torn open, showing the now completely healed gray-white of her flesh, she barely noticed the nearly freezing water spraying up into the air as the waves rocked against them. Hell, it zipped up only just above her chest (or the vestigial remnants there of) and aside from a slight prickling sensation against the gills she barely noticed how much of her body was uncovered or being shown off now that she'd tossed the bloodstained and torn parka back onto the beach where she'd left it.

Along with pretty much everything else, save those pair of emergency flares that were still tucked into a small pouch at her side.

She was under armed at the moment, severely so. Even discounting how much of herself was being shown off this made her feel more vulnerable by comparison.

Looking back to the younger man who spoke English well enough to at least understand that she was an official BSAA agent requesting their aid.

Well, she still was one for the moment. No telling how long till whoever had set up that massacre got what they wanted and a termination order was put out on her as 'Dangerous BOW that has escaped containment' or however they ended up spinning it. Chris would be livid, but that would hardly change things unless she could find some evidence to disprove her involvement.

"Worst of all, we don't have time for this BS," Jill thought, the slits of her nose at the tip of her snout shrinking slightly as she inhaled more of the lingering putrescence of that rotten net of fish. Even cut loose and sinking back into the abyss about them, it remained about the deck as a vivid reminder that whoever was actually behind that attack couldn't have picked a worse time to put the already triggerhappy European BSAA on the wrong trail. There was no telling what the potential damage and ensuing death toll could be if they wasted too much time and effort worrying about her when this unknown infection had already become that rampant.

"It could be a string of mini-Raccoons up and down the coast."

Assuming it didn't end up in any major sea currents, contaminating more substantial supplies of maritime life. Jill's claws tightened on the wood, dragging tiny marks as her mouth narrowed and she turned her gaze from the last flickers of that radiant heavens, the haze of clouds fast blowing over to obscure them. That would be a disaster.

"We've been so lucky so far. Aside from… Wesker," Jill thought, the name bringing forth a slight vibrating growl that came from deep in her chest and was probably not a sign of her new body's altered instincts or behaviors no matter how it sounded. "Aside from him, most of the major outbreaks have been highly isolated, purposely so. This is haphazard by comparison, closer to what happened at Raccoon but done in a place that could potentially be far more devastating."

They couldn't afford to waste any time following false leads on this.

As they came up onto the dock, Jill cast her gaze towards the blinking lights on the tip of the old radio tower, far across the ex-Soviet mining town. Heimfest looked abandoned as the came up to it, a light dusting of snow from the storms over the last few days covering the ground right up to the edge of the dock itself.

"You still haven't gotten anyone?"

"No ma'am-I mean Agent," the one she'd learned was called Svenn said, looking towards her and then away quickly. Not yet recovered from the rather substantial fright she'd given him and the older man when she'd hopped into their boat, throat sore from her first use of gills in salt water. She hadn't even intended to do that, but it had been an almost instinctual reaction to diving into the rolling waves and swimming forward. Much like the metamorphosis of her lower legs towards something more fin-like, the digitrade claws popping and shifting as her cartilage armor shifted over her own bones and twisted both into more aquatic form as she moved. Thankfully it had been quite temporary and her body had readily regained a more natural, or what passed for natural for her now, bipedal stance as soon as she'd gotten out of the water.

She was certain the sight of her shifting from one mode to another had to be quite the sight. It had certainly felt like one, though she'd been more concerned about getting her voice back before they took a shot at her. "I'm just glad all they had was that speargun."

Speaking of which…

Jill picked it up, noting the long and strong steel fishing line reeled up along the base and tied to the spear itself. The purpose, shooting fish too big or too troublesome to be hoisted in and dragging them behind the boat was clear, though at the moment she was more considering how the makeshift reapers had torn off whatever trigger guard there might have been. It was pneumatic, armed by pumping the cylinder. A taxing and strenuous effort.

Though as she wrapped her talon tipped fingers about it and yanked it down she felt only a moderate resistance if any at all.

"Finally a silver lining."

She continued to reel in the line and re-attach the spear itself from where she'd been using it to dissect one of the undead fish from before, sparing a glance into the cabin where the older man was still fruitlessly trying to pick up some signal on the radio.

"Still nothing from the docks?"

"No… uncle hasn't been able to reach anyone."

"Damn it." Jill slid the spear into the barrel with a soft click and slung it around her shoulder by the strap. It wasn't much, but at least it gave her something for whatever might be ahead of them. "So either they're blocking these radio bands all the way up here too…"

"Or there's no one to pick up."

Either case meant trouble, since if there was anyone left in Heimfest they should have noticed that the first rate signal denial system had cut them off from the mainland and made some effort to reconnect already. That they hadn't painted a very bad picture, one Jill had seen too many times already not to have suspicion as to what might be waiting for her in that snow covered coal town.

"Uncle says that the tower is straight ahead, just within the old base. You can't really miss it."

The unstated insinuation of 'Now please leave and get there on your own' didn't need to be said. Though Jill looked them both over before she left. The older one was eying the controls and hadn't made to tie the boat up. Forgetting for a moment that she might need another ride, especially if she wanted to go somewhere in particular she really did need to make them aware of the danger they were in.

And how it wasn't from her.

"I wouldn't leave if I were you."

Svenn's uncle said something, Svenn replying, and the two shared a quick and harsh conversation before he turned back to her. "Ah… what do you mean Agent Valentine?"

"Whoever is blocking off communication can probably tell if a boat tries to get out. Given the kind of equipment this would take… they probably have ways to deal with that if it comes up."

She saw the dawning horror overtake his face as he translated for his uncle. He moved forward, looking at her with the same grim determination that had had him ready to try and knife BOW to death back on the deck.

"How do we… stay safe?" he asked, English hatling and accented heavily.

"Keep low, try not to draw any attention. If there was somewhere safe to hunker down in I'd suggest that, but there's no telling what's here." After a moment's thought Jill continued, "And given what I've seen so far, don't eat or drink anything that's not bottled or canned."

She stepped out of the boat, giving them three fingered wave off as she started down the dock. Her claws crunching into the light snow and leaving distinctly non-human tracks with every step. Thankfully the cold didn't bother her.

The silence did.

She was half way through the main shipping port of Heimfest, the enormous storage building and coal loading system looming over her before she saw any sign of life.

Or what had been life.

She kneeled down, her tail flopping against the cold concrete under the overhang. Thankfully no snow here, but this little shelter had done no good for the man before her. A scruffy five o'clock shadow on cheeks a dark bluish color. Eyes gray and dead, veins standing out and an angry purple on his still and unmoving neck from under the coat he wore. She placed the softer, grayer tips of her fingers against his throat, not expecting a pulse but testing the level of rigor mortis or freezing that had already occurred.

More give than she had expected, meaning he couldn't have been dead for that long.

"What happened here?" Jill looked around, her armored hood tightening, the tip of her back fin seeming more pointed as her body shifted with tension and she stood up. Listening quietly for any sign of motion in the surrounding buildings.

She neither heard nor saw anything no matter how hard she tried.

Jill stood up at last, a single glance spared for the dead man as she started towards the open gate at the far end of the structures. She'd almost made it halfway before she heard soft and muted sounds. Not unlike the breaking and snapping of soft bits of wood.

Or flesh as it was.

Jill turned, part of her darkher hood slipping down almost over her eyes as the dead man shifted, pulling up. The skin breaking apart in places, eyes still milky and dead but beggining to bulge out as they stood. The sounds became more distinct, louder and with perverse purpose as the limbs broke and yet held the part way up. Climbing to their feet and stumbling forward, the lips parting open. A far too red tongue lolling out, splitting apart into a mass of tendrils like thin wispy wires as they moved through the near darkness. The spotlights above illuminated them more as they walked closer, no sound in their passage but the slight crunch of the minor snowfall blown in under the overhang and the more notable sounds of their body's unnatural reanimation. The pained and awful noises setting her on edge, her jaw almost twisting open as the barest hint of her teeth showed and her hands tried to ball into fists. Her claws made the effort difficult.

Till at last she pulled the speargun from her shoulder, racking the pump back three times and then a fourth, feeling the stress even on even her body, before she aimed down. And let it fly. The spear impacting through the throat. The body jerking back, the mouth wrenching open further, more of that pink-red mass spraying out.

Only for Jill to grab onto the wire and pull hard, wrenching the deadman's form towards her. Where she grabbed hold of the spear and twisted it, and his head, completely off of his body.

Death did not claim him, though now he merely clawed and pushed at the ground. Not her first encounter with such a problem, though she could only hope the rest would be as slow and half frozen.

She shook her head at that.

"It's never that easy."

Pneumatic Speargun

A custom speargun with a modified pump chamber repaired and reinforced to increase air capacity. As a side effect it is quite hard to arm, requiring considerable strength.

Obviously not an issue.

Damage: **

Range: **

Special: * (Tethered to a rope, allows for targets to be reeled in).