RESIDENT EVIL: THE STORY CONTINUES: BOOK TWO OF THE SERA TRILOGY
BY: ADAM NICKELS
THIS STORY IS DEDICATED TO ALL THE HARDCORE FOLLOWERS OF THE RESIDENT EVIL/BIOHAZARD SERIES. I SALUTE YOU.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is Book 2 in the Sera Trilogy. That being said, I hope you enjoy it as much as you enjoyed Book 1. On with the story!
PART ONE: ZOMBIES DON'T RUN…
Albert Wesker didn't take any shit. The lead S.T.A.R.S. Alpha leader turned Umbrella field directions agent and general badass, he definitely didn't have time for the sniveling corporate middlemen that thought they know more than he did. As the chopper came back from the Illuminados mission, he thought of one of those middlemen, namely Alfred Ashford.
The son of the head of Umbrella, Ashford was appointed head of operations after his father died in the Raccoon City incident.
Wesker snapped back to reality as the chopper landed. A tall, Asian woman dressed in red climbed out. In her hand she held a silver biohazard box.
Ada Wong's mission in Spain was to secure a sample of a virus called Las Plagas from a religious cult named Los Illuminados. Little did Wesker know that Ada was a double agent, working for a rival pharmaceutical company code-named "S." She switched the viral sample with a vial of water and gave the real one to the director of operations for S, Ozwell E. Spencer, the former owner of Umbrella.
Wesker, oblivious to this, accepted the bio box with a devilish grin, a rarity that few people ever witness.
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
Meanwhile in Africa, things are heating up as Chris Redfield, one-time S.T.A.R.S. Bravo leader, continues his mission to bring down Umbrella once and for all. U.S. intelligence shows that Umbrella is building a research lab in a remote part of Africa. Chris' job is to infiltrate the lab and destroy any intelligence that he can find.
Unbeknownst to him, the lab is not the property of Umbrella, but is owned and operated by S. as far as security goes, the lab is guarded by lab-bred Ganados, infected by a cross-species strain of the Las Plagas virus secured by Ada in Spain and a modified version of the Progenator/T-Virus. These deadly creatures, Christened Zanados, are a mix of the best traits of both of the species. The speed and intelligence of the Plagas-infected Ganados combined with the uncanny hunting abilities and superhuman endurance of the Progenator zombies makes for one formidable enemy.
This was the farthest thing from Chris' mind as he walked through the deserted street of a small rural town in Zaire. He thought he had left the horror of flesh-eating zombies behind after the incident at the Spencer mansion. He was dead wrong.
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
Wesker sat at his computer in the heart of the Hive II, a rebuilt version of the destroyed Raccoon City Facility. The Hive was a research lab, built by Umbrella and funded by the U.S. Government to research the human gene (Albeit illegally). He tapped a few keys and a map of the world with lights flashing in different locations popped up. The lights indicated the location of each of the remaining survivors of the Raccoon City incident and their threat level, red being the most threatening and white being the least. He clicked on one and the complete file on Chris Redfield flashed on screen. He was a moderate threat to Umbrella, as his mission was to destroy Umbrella once and for all.
Wesker scratched his head, puzzled as to why Chris would be in Africa. He pulled up a real-time satellite image of the area in which Chris was and was surprised to find that nearby was a modern building. He was even more puzzled to find Ada Wong exiting the building, red dress flapping in the breeze.
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
Chris entered a building with a sign that said, simply, "Hotel." Seeing a man lying on a cot in the corner, he spoke up. "Excuse me, sir, but could you direct me to the new place they're building?" The man didn't reply, so Chris raised his voice. "Hey, man, are you OK?" said Chris, concern creeping into his voice.
"He has been sick for two days now," said a voice behind him. Chris turned to see a withered old Negro with pale hair staring at him from behind old wire-frame glasses. "What do you mean, sick?" Chris replied. "He returned from hunting in the west with tales of a gleaming building stretching across the plains," was the reply. "He also said there were guards who ran at him incredibly fast, and one of them bit him on the arm. I wouldn't believe him, though. He is known to be a liar."
Chris' mind was spinning, wrapping around this new information. Bitten on the arm? Prolonged sickness? Building owned by Umbrella? Sounds like…
"HOLY SHIT! THEY'RE AFTER ME!" came a frantic cry from outside. Chris rushed outside, pushing past the old man. He was confronted with a scene reminiscent of 10 years ago.
A man was being chased down the street by a pack of shirtless Negroes carrying sickles and axes. Upon closer inspection, some of them were missing chunks of flesh, but from their wounds flowed no blood. One of them was dragging half of his leg behind him, held on by tendons and sinew. The man managed to run up a ladder and hide in the shadow of an overhang on a rooftop.
"Zombies don't run," Chris said to himself, but everything he was seeing contradicted his thinking. "Maybe it's a new strain of the Progenator virus," he said to himself.
Unfortunately, he didn't get to dwell on the subject, as more and more infected men and women were issuing forth from the surrounding buildings. Chris ran back into the hotel, directly into the path of the man who was lying down before.
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
Wesker watched as Ada stuffed wads of cash into a briefcase, got into a low-slung sports car, and drove away. It didn't take a bioengineer (which is what Wesker was) to figure out that Ada was working for that company that was based in that building.
"Krauser!" barked Wesker impatiently. From the shadows stepped forth a medium-height stocky man dressed in army fatigues and tossing a knife impatiently. "Yes, sir?" he said in a husky voice.
"Go find Ada and kill her," was his orders. "I've been waiting on that order ever since she almost killed me," thought Jack Krauser as he sheathed his knife and prepared to leave for Africa. "I only wish that fag Leon Kennedy was with her. I could kill two lovebirds with one knife. Oh, well. I'll be seeing him soon enough." Krauser turned to leave.
"And one more thing," Wesker said from behind him. Krauser paused and turned to face his boss. "If you find that menace to society Redfield, take him out as well. But do it with the least amount of fuss. We don't want the media all over this one like they were at Raccoon City. I want this to be low profile."
"YES, SIR!" shouted Krauser, beret tilted jauntily to one side, knife blade flashing in the sunlight as he turned to leave.
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
Chris realized that he was trapped as soon as the zombie-things blocked his escape route. "Only one way out of this one," he thought as he unsheathed his knife, testing its edge. He slashed his way through the first wave of undead, Special Forces training overtaking his body. He ran out into the street, shouting to the man who was being chased before. "Is there any other escape route?" Chris yelled to him. "The south alleyway will take you out of the town, but there are more of "them" out there," was the reply.
"I guess I'll have to take a chance," he said to no one in particular. "I wouldn't," said a voice behind him. He turned to face a woman dressed in a red dress and holding a Blacktail 9MM pistol. "And just who are you?" Chris asked. "My name is Ada Wong…" but the rest was drowned out as another man was consumed by the lurking zombie menace. "You better come with me," she said, "Because it's about to get hairy around here." "And you can come, too!" she shouted up at the man on the roof. "OK!" came the reply. The man jumped down and Chris could finally get a closer look.
The man had long, stringy hair and a Spanish accent. He was wearing a multicolored vest and faded gray trousers. He showed the beginnings of a scar on the top of his chest, revealed by the unbuttoned top button of his shirt. He held a 9MM Red 9 semiautomatic pistol in one hand and a bottle of pills in the other. He unscrewed the cap to the bottle of pills and took two, grunting with the effort of swallowing the pills without aid of liquid.
"So, where are we going this time, my lady?" said Luis Sera as he checked his pistol for rust spots.
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
Jack Krauser looked at the threesome through the window of their hotel in Mombasa. He considered shooting them outright with his rifle from long range, but Wesker wanted this to be low profile. As he put away his binoculars, he thought of what Ada had put him through during his stay on the island in Spain.
Ada had wounded him mortally, his arterial blood spraying in an arc high above the steel structure on which oil was refined, financing the Los Illuminados cult. Luckily, a traveling merchant came along with healing herbs just in the nick of time, saving him from an untimely death.
His thoughts returned to the matter on hand, namely killing three people silently. He didn't really know Luis Sera, for Luis was a researcher and not a mercenary like Krauser. His orders were to kill Ada and Chris, but since Luis was in the way, he might as well take him out, too. "It'll tie up some loose ends that old man Saddler left behind when he died, anyway."
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
The three fugitives sat together in the cramped room of Hotel Zanzibar in Mombasa, discussing their history and why they wanted to take down Umbrella. We know the stories of Chris and Ada but now let's hear the story of how Luis survived a Las Plagas attack.
After Leon left him for dead, Luis, in a last-ditch effort, called out to the merchant nearby. "Please. Help me," he said, weak from blood loss. "Here, stranger, take this," said the merchant, handing him a medical repair kit and herbs. "After thanking the merchant for his kindness, Luis proceeded to leave the island with Ada, via helicopter.
"And that's how I got here today. I only wish my good friend Leon could see me today. Too bad he's working on his assignment to protect the president's family…" His words were cut short as he saw a door open a fraction of an inch out of the corner of his eye. He got up to investigate.
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
"Say cheese!" the photographer said as the camera flashed illuminated the faces of the President's family. Leon stood close by, watching the surroundings for possible attackers. "Can't afford to let Ashley out of my sight again." A government official he recognized as Secretary of State James Smallwood approached him, usual goofy grin illuminating his stubble-shadowed face. "Hey, Leon, good news. You've been reassigned!"
Two days later, Leon found himself sitting in the co-pilot seat of a Blackhawk chopper destined for Mombasa, Zaire. His orders were to find Chris Redfield and tell him that the viral research lab was not Umbrella's, but S'.
As the chopper touched down at Hotel Zanzibar, Leon checked his knife's edge and sheathed the 12" blade. He exited the chopper and made his way to the front door of the hotel.
"Chris Redfield," he said to the desk attendant. "Room 1408," was his reply. As Leon knocked on the door of room 1408, he heard a tremendous crash emanating from the interior of the room. He kicked the door in to find a scene reminiscent of two years ago.
Chris Redfield was in the midst of a battle between Ada Wong and…
"NO FUCKING WAY! I KILLED YOU!" Leon yelled, startling Krauser and Ada. "Well, I guess you couldn't get enough the last time. Well, I'm ready for round two!" Leon unsheathed his knife only to be bowled over by a man stepping from the shadows.
There was a flash of light, then the sound of breaking glass as Krauser jumped out of the second-story window. Leon turned to face the man he ran into, then gasped when he realized whom it was. "Luis! I thought you were dead!" Luis replied, feigning a Cockney accent, "No, a merchant was kind enough to give a stranger a hand." They laughed heartily at this, their laughter ringing throughout the hotel.
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
Wesker noticed that the dots for two Raccoon City survivors were in the same place as Redfield, Ada, and Krauser were, so he got suspicious. He pulled up a satellite image of the area, only to find a broken window with Krauser limping off into the surrounding shrubbery. "Damn," he said in irritation, pissed at the fact that Krauser couldn't follow the simplest orders. "I'll have to kill him myself. Bobby, could you send for Krauser?" This last part was directed toward his secretary, Robert Johansson. "Sure thing boss!" was the reply. "Also, reboot the Tyrant program. This time, make him target all moderate-to-severe threat level personnel in Africa. Release him near Mombassa."
"Sure thing, boss!"
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX
PART TWO: A PAIN IN THE "S"
The four comrades drove toward the S facility in Ada's 4-door sports car. As Leon and Luis traded stories about President's daughters and the fall of Los Illuminados, Ada and Chris sat silently in the front seats. About an hour later, they came upon the outer perimeter of the S compound. "I can already smell the stench of Las Plagas," said Luis, eyes flashing in the moonlight.
"You can smell it?" asked Leon. "When you spend almost two years around the shit, you can't really avoid smelling it," replied Luis. "Let's go," said Leon in an authoritative way. "Does anyone have a smoke?" implored Luis of the people in the group. No one did.
When the foursome reached the complex's gates, a padlock impeded them. Leon fortunately had a lock pick on him. Offering it to Chris, he said, "Take this lock pick for you are the master of unlocking." Chris replied, "No, you're thinking of Jill Valentine. I can't pick locks worth a shit."
A report sounded from behind them. The lock simply exploded in front of their eyes. They whirled around and saw Luis standing there, gun smoking. "Americans can never match the cunning and wittiness of a Spaniard."
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
About ten miles away, in a desolate strip of land, an Umbrella chopper landed, stirring the dust around the landing site. Albert Wesker climbed out and went around to the back hatch, opening it with a flick of his wrist. In the chopper sat a hulking piece of flesh that was once human. An overload of the Progenator virus mixed with the G-Virus, Nemesis was Umbrella's death machine. Fully equipped with a HUD and a vast array of weapons, with nearly impenetrable armor plates surgically implanted, the brute squeezed its ten-foot, 500-pound frame out of the back hatch of the helicopter, breathing heavily. "Autokill Program Download Complete," read the screen on Wesker's laptop.
Wesker climbed back into the chopper, which whirred away into the pitch-black night.
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
As the four survivors approached the doorway of the S complex, an alarm sounded. "¡Mierda!" spat Luis. From all four sides, Zanados converged upon them, swearing in Swahili. The four friends drew their guns and prepared to fight.
A particularly large Zanado attacked the group first, spittle flowing from his bloodthirsty mouth. Luis spun and fired at its temple, sending glistening arterial blood and brain matter arching through the air, colliding with the wall behind it with a heavy splatter. The Zanado was thrown backwards by the force of the blast, landing bodily between two hedges at the border of the building. The remaining Zanados converged upon them, and they dispatched them in the same manner.
Panting heavily, the troupe walked over to the door and opened it with Leon's lock pick. During Leon's retraining at the Academy, they taught him a little bit about picking locks. He demonstrated this skill by opening the door in an amazing 30 seconds!
The group entered the building not knowing what was in store for them. What happened to them was nothing that they had ever expected. For they were intent on recovering the Las Plagas and Progenator samples and destroying them, but they came upon a problem that no one could have foreseen.
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
Stretching its limbs in a full run, Nemesis checked its weapons for any problems and found none. It checked its map for targets and found three approximately ten miles away, near a large structure. With a mechanical squeak, Nemesis turned on its heel and silently strode off, homing in on the positions where the four people were.
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
The four people walked in a tight-knit huddle down the hallway, guns drawn. A footstep sounded behind them. Leon pivoted and fired. The Zanado was thrown to the side by the shot, bullet piercing its left shoulder. A second shot by Chris's Desert Eagle shattered the occipital plate of the Zanado's skullcap. Pink frothy exit spray issued forth from the unfortunate abomination's head, followed by a great rush of blood and gray matter as the heart drove the last bit of hemoglobin from its body. The group was out of sight before the body touched the cold concrete.
"You shouldn't have done that," said a voice around the corner. "Who are you?" asked Ada of the young female voice. "The more proper question is 'What am I'," was the reply.
From the shadows flashed a holographic representation of a little girl, approximately age nine. "I am the Red Queen, the security system for this fine complex. I am made in the image of Mr. Spencer's daughter, Alexis. My job is to stop you from getting further. WEAPONS! ARMED!"
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
As Nemesis neared the location, it could almost smell the stench of the fugitives. It longed to get there sooner, for Nemesis was a beast designed to kill and enjoy doing it, a real killing machine. From the interior of the building, it heard screams and rapid gunfire. Quickening its pace, not wanting to miss out on the killing, Nemesis strode quickly toward the complex.
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
"Weapons! Oh, SHIT!" spat Luis as the group started running forward, straight through the hologram of the Queen. Automatic gun turrets lowered from the ceiling, spitting gunfire toward the unfortunate group. Leon yelped as a slug grazed his left shoulder.
Suddenly, the wall to the left of them burst open, and like a grotesque Kool-Aid man, Nemesis stepped through. All of the members of the group had heard enough about the abomination to know what it was. They were truly between a rock and a hard place as the machine guns behind them and the Nemesis ahead of them sandwiched them in. Thinking quickly, Leon bashed a door to a research lab in and motioned the group to follow.
They quickly barricaded themselves in with bookshelves and furniture. Only then did they take in their surroundings. Everyone gasped as they took in what was in front of them.
In an enormous glass cylinder, in a purple transparent liquid, floated a woman wearing a hospital gown. Taking a closer look, Chris was immensely surprised to find that it was his old partner, Jill Valentine, staring back at him from the depths of the purple haze!
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX
PART THREE: WRENCH IN THE SYSTEM
The Rasputin-Like Village Chief was bearing down on Leon, coming closer and closer to where he crouched. Ashley squealed as she sighted the man barreling toward them. Leon checked his guns only to find that they had disappeared. He screamed in terror as the Chief drew back his fist, ready to unload a massive punch.
"Leon! Wake up!" Ada's face came into focus as he realized that it was only a dream. The nightmares of two years ago still plagued him, even though the mission was a success. "Are you OK?"
"I'm fine," he replied. "Just a bad dream." He got up and remembered where they were. After escaping the S facility with Jill Valentine in tow, they headed west until they came upon another small ghost town.
Jill had been thought dead, but S had saved her by picking her up in a helicopter just seconds before Raccoon City exploded in a fiery blaze. After she got back to the S facility, she was being used as a guinea pig for their sick experiments. Fortunately for her, the troupe rescued her from a disparaging life as a lab rat.
It was three o'clock in the morning, and all was quiet. Jill and Chris were sleeping in a corner, Jill propped up against Chris' chest. Obviously, they were more than partners during the Spencer Mansion incident. Luis was sitting in a dilapidated lounge chair, scribbling notes furiously. Ada was standing in the middle of the room, looking at Leon with a look of concern.
Leon stood up, brushing the dirt off of his pants. For three days they had been traveling by night toward Egypt, hoping to board a plane in Cairo that took them home to the United States. Unfortunately, Luis could never go home, as the village he lived in was bombed off the map as Leon barely escaped by motorboat. He was now living in an apartment in New York, which, coincidentally, was the new home of the Hive II.
Waking the others up, Leon headed out the door, to Ada's sports car. It was his turn to drive. He held the key chain in one hand, shaking his head as he looked at the teddy bear attached to her car keys.
They all piled in, Ada riding shotgun, Jill wedged between Chris and Luis in the backseat. "Where exactly are we?" asked Jill, checking out her surroundings. Leon replied, "We're averaging 100 miles a day, so we are approximately 600 miles from the Egyptian border. Unfortunately, we have to cut right through Sudan. The civil unrest there will make that Nemesis thing the least of our worries." "Sorry I asked."
Later in the day, they crossed the border between Zaire and Sudan. Chris and Luis were discussing the effects of a centrifuge on a Salmonella germ. Jill sat in silence, looking bored. Leon sat, listening, as Ada spilled the beans on her involvement with S.
"I was a double agent," she began, "Working for Mr. Spencer, but making Wesker think that I worked for him." "What about Krauser?" Leon asked. "He's as loyal as a puppy. He spends so much time with his lips glued to Wesker's ass that if Wesker stopped short, Krauser's head would disappear."
Leon chuckled dryly at this comment. That was always her style, humorous, but still sly. He felt a twinge of apprehension in his stomach. "I really should ask her out. We have mutual feelings for each other. Why not?"
Just as he was about to take the plunge, their car barreled straight into a huge mass of flesh standing in the middle of the road. The car flipped, sending sheared bits of metal all over the road.
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
Krauser sat before Wesker, his head bowed, ashamed of his actions. "Can't you follow simple orders?" Wesker asked him. "I'm sorry sir, I--" Krauser began, but was cut short by an angry outburst from Wesker. "I SEND YOU, THE BEST SOLDIER I HAVE, TO KILL A MEASLY S.T.A.R.S. MEMBER, A WOMAN, AND A METROSEXUAL POLICE OFFICER, AND YOU CAN'T EVEN DO THAT?"
"It won't happen again, sir," Krauser said in a meek voice. "It certainly won't," said Wesker in a bone-chilling quiet voice. He took off his sunglasses to reveal his unnatural yellow eyes. Krauser anticipated what was going to happen, but before he could act, clamps encircled his wrists, pinning him to the chair. Wesker pulled a silenced handgun from his camel's-hair coat pocket. Taking careful aim, he fired at Krauser's temple. Krauser's scream was cut short as the hot slug entered his temporal lobe, killing the Las Plagas parasite housed within his head. Jack Krauser was finally free.
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
Chris was the first one to exit the vehicle, followed by Ada, Leon, Jill, and finally Luis. Unholstering their weapons, they turned to face what they ran into.
The hulking mass of Nemesis was standing erect in the middle of the road, unfazed by a 2000-pound car slamming into its face. It turned slowly to face the group. Its eyes turned red as its aiming system locked on to them. Just before it fired, they dived behind the car.
The rocket slammed into a tree, felling it. The heavy oak slammed into Nemesis with a metallic crunch. Nemesis went down bodily, crushed by the weight of the tree. As suddenly as the tree hit him, the tree was propelled into the air by a shove by Nemesis.
The group stared at this, slack-jawed. Wasting no time, they drew their respective weapons and fired upon the mass of flesh and bone. Nemesis was unfazed as he approached them, weapons drawn.
Just then, a large truck blew past them, slamming into Nemesis with a sickening crunch. Nemesis, already weakened by the first auto crash and the oak tree, was instantly killed by the big truck.
The group ran over to the truck, which was totaled and wrapped around a tree. Inside the cab was none other than Jack Krauser, minus the beret. His face was bloodied and his breathing was ragged. Apparently, the gunshot wound had not killed him, but started a bleed in his head, causing him to slowly exsanguiate. He had stolen one of the S trucks and drove here as fast as he could.
"I'm sorry. For everything," Krauser said, obviously on his last breath. "I now see the error of my ways. I hope what I just did can right all the wrongs that I did to you."
Jack Krauser died with a look of peace on his face. Finally, all his sins were atoned for.
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
"DAMN!" Wesker roared as he saw the truck barrel into Nemesis. He had assumed Krauser dead, but what he saw contradicted this. "BOBBY!" Wesker shouted at his secretary. The man's meek face appeared in the doorway.
Under control once again, Wesker said, "I need you to tell the researchers to come up with a more efficient killing machine. I need it finished within a week." "Yes, sir!"
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX
PART FOUR: THE PHOENIX STRAIN
The group stood around the smoldering remains of Jack Krauser and Nemesis. After a while, they continued on, walking now that their car was totaled. Only Leon hung back to look upon his old friend's face once more. Then, he too turned and walked away.
"According to the map, we are now 550 miles from the Egypt border. The average mileage of a man per day is 30 miles. That gives us about two weeks to get to that border," said Leon. Ada turned to him with a puzzled look on her face. "How are we going to get there, walking?" Leon sighed. Even with her life at stake, Ada was still high maintenance.
000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
Chelsea cringed under the intense heat emanating from the lamps in the lab. Lab work could really suck at times. But, she was getting paid top dollar to do research for Umbrella, so it was worth it.
She pushed a lock of blonde hair out of her face and turned to the matter at hand. She was told to find an efficient and cost-effective way to "program" a virus to make the infected person grow armor plates on all surfaces of the human body.
She accessed her computer, looked at the spinning double helix of a DNA strand, and then sat up with a look of victory on her face. She had done it.
"HEY RACHEL! I DID IT!" she shouted to her friend Rachel, who was working two cubicles over from her. Rachel rushed over, her usual hyperactive self. "Did what?"
"I found the answer for the armor plates. You take…" The rest doesn't bear repeating because it would put the average reader in a dazed stupor.
When she finished, the elevator door slid open and into the lab stepped Albert Wesker. "How is the project coming along?" he asked in his usual quiet monotone. Momentarily caught off guard, Chelsea looked around and then said, "Fine, sir. I finished the armor plate programming, and Rachel here is almost done with the musculoskeletal system."
"Excellent. I want the creature ready for transport by Friday. Oh, and one other question. What are you going to name it?"
Chelsea thought long and hard. The only thing that popped into her head was her old parrot's name. "Phoenix."
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
They passed a shriveled old tree by the side of the road. It was getting late, so Chris told the group, "We can sleep here tonight." No one objected.
As they prepared to bed down for the night, Leon's thoughts turned to Ada. Before they slammed into Nemesis, he was going to ask her out. Or, rather, ask her to date him, because they weren't going to go "out" anywhere in the near future. He decided once more that he was going to do it. He was going to ask her out.
He walked uneasily over to where Ada was preparing her bedroll. "Ada," he began, "I was wondering…do you think that we…"
The rest of his words were drowned out by the sound of a helicopter suddenly appearing overhead. It was jet black and had the U.S. Air Force symbol emblazoned on the side. A voice came from the interior of the chopper. It was the voice of Secretary of State James Smallwood.
"We're here to evac you to the States! Clear out so we can land!" The group complied hastily, scarcely believing their luck. They climbed into the chopper and sat down on the lavish leather interior. Luis made a sighing noise, a sound of contentment. "Now this is more like it. Finally, Americans with style." Leon replied, "Up yours, Sera!"
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
Wesker opened the door to the testing bunker for Umbrella. Taking a seat at one of the bulletproof windows, he watched as a door opened on the other side. Out stepped something that he had never seen before.
The thing stood on all fours, but was capable of running on two. It had bony armor plates covering all of its body except for the backs of its knees, claws capable of squeezing at a force exceeding 5000 PSI, and an advanced HUD. It was shaped like a scorpion, but it didn't have a tail. Like Nemesis, it was equipped with an array of weapons, from rocket launcher to submachine gun.
The door opened a second time, and a disheveled Chelsea Gillenwater stepped in, checked the monstrosity's vital signs and systems, and then gave Wesker thumbs up. She hastily retreated through the door, and a few minutes later entered the viewing room.
"All systems are go," she said breathlessly. Wesker pushed a button on the dashboard, and a door opened on the far wall, revealing a large goat. The goat bleated in curiosity and moved closer to the Phoenix.
With astounding speed, the Phoenix sprang toward the goat. Crying out in fear, the goat tried to run away, but was caught in the powerful claws of the Phoenix. With a sickening crunch, the cries were cut short. Chelsea muttered, "Oh, God," and wordlessly blew her breakfast all over the viewing room floor. Wesker sat, watching, a smug look of satisfaction on his face.
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
Sitting around the table in Luis' apartment in New York, Luis, Ada, Leon, Chris, and Jill ate a hearty breakfast. Luis burped and leaned back in his chair, tugging on his belt loops. "My, My, Denny's can cook up a fine breakfast. Another redeeming feature of this God-forsaken town."
Chris sat forward and asked, "So where is the new Umbrella Hive, anyway?" Leon answered, "It's supposed to be deep underneath the Museum of Natural History, in the catacombs somewhere. We need to be prepared this time."
Luis once again asked if anyone had a cigarette, but of course, no one did. Standing up and stretching, he said, "I'm going to the 7-11. Anyone want anything? No? Ok, Leon, feed the dog, would you?"
After Luis left, Leon got up to feed the old sack of bones that Luis called his dog. Named Toro, the thing had to have been around when Gorbachev tore down the Berlin wall. Scrabbling on the linoleum floor, Toro got up and started eating. Leon turned away and walked toward the living room, where the sounds of a popular game show were emitting from the small TV in the room. Tomorrow, he said to himself, they were going to pay back Umbrella for all they had done to them.
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX
PART FIVE: PLAN A
Chelsea stood on her knees in a bathroom stall in the employee's bathroom and retched once more, but from her stomach came no food. She had deposited it all out on the viewing room floor when Phoenix killed the goat.
She had made up her mind then that she would do all in her power to stop Umbrella's horrible genetic testing. She would be an inside man (well, woman) and inform the US government of what was going on. Little did she know that Umbrella was sanctioned and funded by the US government.
She exited the bathroom and walked quickly toward the file room. A long night was in store for her.
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
The car rolled along Broadway as Leon, Luis, and Chris neared the Museum of Natural History. The women had been left behind because, well, they were women.
"How are we going to get in?" Chris asked. Leon unrolled some blueprints and studied them carefully. "We'll infiltrate through the sewer grate here. The pipes will take us directly to the tunnels below the museum, where we will hopefully find the Umbrella headquarters."
The three men got out of the car and checked their weapons for problems. Then, Chris went over to a sewer grate and sawed through it with a small saw that clipped to his belt. He attached a rope to a light pole nearby and soon they were in the sewer system.
They walked for what seemed like forever until they came upon a blatantly obvious steel door marked, "UMBRELLA HEADQUARTERS. KEEP OUT." "Oh, my God," said Luis, "This is too damn easy. There has to be a catch." There was a catch. A 500-pound, four-legged catch.
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
Chelsea rubbed her eyes and looked at the time. It was 2:00 AM. She had finally finished copying the files necessary to implicate Umbrella in their schemes. She stood up and prepared to leave.
Suddenly, an alarm started to blare, causing the control panel in front of her to light up like a Christmas tree. She considered calling Wesker, but no doubt he would wonder what she had been doing late at night in the file room.
She decided to leave as quickly as possible, until she remembered one crucial fact. If someone were to infiltrate the Umbrella facility, Plan A would take effect.
Plan A was the contingency plan if the Hive were infiltrated. It involved the releasing of dozens of Progenator-zombies to ward off unsuspecting trespassers. Chelsea decided to lock her doors and wait until the problem was taken care of.
She walked over to the control panel and hit a few buttons. The security camera's live feeds popped onto the screen. She saw three dark figures stealthily making their way down the hallway. One of them pointed at the camera, and then with a pop the camera went out, but not before she saw the face of the man who shot the camera. It was her presumed-dead husband Luis Sera.
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
The men were making good time for the labs when the shuffling sounds of feet were heard emanating from around the corner. None of the men were strangers to the sounds of a zombie, so they faced the threat with ironclad resolve.
The zombies appeared around the corner as shadows, fading into coherent shapes when they neared. There seemed to be about a dozen of them, and the group wasted no time firing away.
The zombies in the second row stumbled over the first row's dead (?) bodies, and some of them fell. Ignoring them, Luis stepped forward and fired a round into the nearest one's forehead. The bullet exited the back of the creature's head, bringing bits of skin and brain and bone with it. The zombie slumped into a sitting position against the wall. Luis turned to face the other standing zombie. Chris quickly dispatched it and reloaded quickly. Leon pulled his 9MM and fired quickly into the writhing prone zombies, quickly ending their miserable post-lives.
"Not bad, chaps," said Luis, spitting out a wad of chewing tobacco with disgust. Suddenly, they heard a metallic clanking echoing from the same corner.
"Shit, now what?"
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
Chelsea rapidly switched to another camera and watched the scene unfold. It sure was Luis, no doubt about it. The long stringy hair helped vindicate this, but there was no mistaking that heavy Spanish accent.
"I MUST get to him," she said to herself. He was near the labs, about 3000 feet from where she stood. She could make it in less than five minutes if she ran. She unlocked the door and began to run down the hallway.
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
The clanking noise grew louder as the team watched. Then, it resolved itself into the form of the Phoenix.
"HOLY SHIT!" shouted Luis. After the initial moment of astonishment, the group opened fire, but to no avail as the creature's bony plates deflected the bullets. The group turned and ran, but was stopped in their tracks by a short woman with blonde hair and a bad British accent.
Luis opened his mouth in astonishment. It was Chelsea.
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
Wesker drove like a maniac towards the facility, gloved hands gripping the steering wheel in the classic ten-and-two position. He had done too much to let those nuisances reveal everything that he had worked so hard to keep under cover. Did Chelsea really think that he didn't know what she was up to? And those moronic S.T.A.R.S. members, coupled with that womanizing Spaniard. Did they really think they would get away with the sample? Please. He would take care of them soon. Quite soon.
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX
PART SIX: RESOLUTION
Chelsea grabbed Luis' hand. "There's no time! Let's go!" Luis obliged, look of wonder still on his face.
They rounded another corner, the thing in hot pursuit, when they were faced with a problem. The hallway was blocked by a giant security door made of solid steel. "¡Mierda!" spouted a breathless Luis.
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
Wesker sprinted down the hallway towards the security room. Rounding a corner, he pulled his silenced 9MM handgun from its holster, finally unsheathing it. He turned another corner, only to be confronted with the aforementioned scene.
The people gasped in surprise as Wesker came into view. Wesker smiled sardonically, then said to Chelsea, "Hello, my little traitor. I see you've been busy. I've taken the liberty of calling off your little Phoenix so this can be a little more personal. I only wish you could have stayed on the right track. You could have been a real asset to Umbrella."
And with that being said, he pressed his gun to her forehead and pulled the trigger. Luis cried out in surprise and anguish at what had just happened. He had been reunited with his wife, only to have her ripped away by the man in black, Wesker.
"¡BASTARDO!" he screamed, tears streaking his face. He watched the scene unfold around him as first Leon then Chris received bullets to their temples.
Saving him for last, Wesker savored the moment. All his troubles were now about to come to a crashing end. He took careful aim at the Spaniard's temple and slowly applied pressure to the trigger. "Goodbye, Luis. I hope you have a nice afterlife." Wesker pulled the trigger.
AND THEN, LUIS WOKE UP…
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
I owe a lot to the writing styles of Douglas Preston, Lincoln Child, L. Loire and Macarthur Inbody. Without them, this story would have turned out very different. Also, I'd like to thank CAPCOM and the Resident Evil team for giving me so much inspiration. I would also like to thank Jordan, Joseph, and Eric for their help and encouragement and Chelsea and Rachel for their character insights.
The third book in the Sera Trilogy will be coming soon, so keep your pants on.
Until Next Time,
Adam Nickels