AN: Hello my freaky darlings :) So here is chapter 1, I hope you liked the introduction, and chapter 2 will be posted when ever, let me know what ya'll think eh? Thanks to my freaky 'guest' for your words, that's why this chapter in now up! :D Enjoy!
The Tomb Raiders Resident
Evil Endures
Chapter 1:
Boeing Flight 727.
Destination: Europe.
Passengers: 200. Staff passengers: 21. Pilots: 4.
Current location: Unknown
Current date and time: Unknown
Mission Details:
Target: Felucha Marriest. Terrorist.
Assigned Agent: Leon Kennedy.
Operation: Dark Friday.
- 2 weeks and four days: in.
Fire danced in the night.
The red glow of flame alight under the moonless sky danced as ash rose like fire flies, acting as stars, the sprinkle of rain falling like slivers of silver, some catching onto the alight ash and colliding with a hiss. The wreckage of flight 727 was scattered across the land, trailing back to the sore and washing up in the violent waves on the sea, among the metal and luggage were the bodies of the passengers floating in the water, blood coming to wash ashore.
All was silent. All was still.
The plane had divided into parts, the tail of the Boeing rested at shore, further at the roots of the mountains were the sections of B and C, then further still were A and D, along with the head of the plane, all the while wreckage and bodies were leaving bread crumbs, the ground having a trench cut through with the impact of the crash.
At the roots of the mountains there was movement among the sparks that spiked from the severed electricity wires of the plane's system, there were people crying, people screaming, there were survivors on flight 727.
The was sound in his ears, a ringing like that of the effects of a flash grenade, only it was dark, he couldn't see anything, but he sure felt it. It was hot and cold at the same time, wet and dry as fire and water battled among the ruins. He was laying face down, and everything was hurting, everything, he couldn't move, seemed to have forgotten how to. Couldn't think, couldn't form words, couldn't breath. Blackout.
The wind was brushing at his hair, tickling his face but the feeling being more painful than it was annoying, and Leon groaned, his head felt like it had been split open, and he dared not to open his eyes. Was he dead? He didn't think that the deceased could feel pain, and he knew that for certain because the undead never seemed to feel pain. No, he was very much alive, and in a lot of pain. He was alive... He was alive... He was... black out.
His left eye felt sticky, his vision dark around the edges and hazy, seeing blurs and doubles of everything as time and movement seemed to fail at catching up, as he failed to catch up. White flashed in time with the throbbing of his head, like someone was constantly beating him with an axe. His hands moved at a snails pace along the dirt and bloodied floor of the plane, and he gave up, breathing shallowly, each breath he took was rasped in pain, and Leon grunted each time knives seemed to pierce his lungs with the task of feeding his body with oxygen. Over the ringing in his ears he could hear the sound of survivors screaming, their sobbing over the dead, over the crash.
Thunder rumbled distantly, but not in hunger, rather, but in triumph.
Leon knew he needed to move, that staying wasn't an option, despite his injuries, he wasn't going to give up, he wasn't done here yet. With that thought, the agent willed himself the energy, the strength, move. He pulled his outstretched arms forward ever so slowly, and shakily attempted to rise, chunks of debris and dirt falling off him as he did so. Grunting and groaning again when pain flared and leaving him immobile, every inch of him hurt to a point where he didn't know where it started and where it ended. Taking another moment, Leon tried again, this time coming to rest on his for arms as he rested his head on the plane's blood stained carpet, more pained grunts sounding as he breathed, eyes closed for a longer pause, he tried again. Leon managed to get a few more inches up on this elbows before agonising pain flared, causing him to collapse back down with a rasped cry, bringing an arm to wrap around his middle, and this time he located the problem. His ribs and side flared with a dangerous pain he knew can't be good, he had a serious concussion due to his disoriented sight, a sticky substance he knew was blood that caked most of the left side of his face, and his right shoulder felt strange.
Leon groaned.
Rustling of metal and various equipment sounded and shifted as someone made their way though section C of flight 727, stumbling briefly before regaining their footing, quiet sobs sounding as they drew unknowingly near to the agent on the floor, freezing when the man groaned again in pain. The person shuffled forward, eyes piercing through the wreckage trying to find the source of the noise, before stepping hesitantly forward.
A sniff. "L-Leon..?" A scared female voice called out quietly.
Leon knew that voice, and at its sound made him relax with such relief he thought he would pass out, and it took most of his strength to faintly lift his head from the comforting carpet, only managing to catch sight of a pair of dirt converse shoes. "Su-...zan?" He rasped out painfully, wondering if his ears were playing tricks on him, and he rested his head back down when the pain that seemed to split his skull intensified.
More shuffling, and a moment later a body was next to his, a hand on his shoulder as sobbing reached through the beat in his head. "Leon? Oh-.. my god." Suzan cried when she recognised the man on the floor, thinking that for sure the man was dead when she lost sight of him during the crash. She wanted to hug him in relief, but didn't dare do anything other than resting her trembling hand on his shoulder, not knowing how badly he was hurt. In the light of the fire she could see it catch on the blood that ran down the side of the mans face, and the pain that etched itself onto his brow.
"Suzan...you all- right?" Leon found it hard to form words past his throat as breathing was excruciating, taking as many shallow breaths as he could, and as worried as he was about that, he needed to know if she was okay,
"Yeah..." Suzan's voice shook when she replied. "I think. My head hurts a little, and I can't really walk on my left foot." She said after a moment, looking her self over and eyeing he various cuts that dotted her arms, though they were small.
Leon signed, regretting the action immediately as pain flared again, groaning, he nodded faintly, relieved to hear that she wasn't seriously hurt. She's very lucky. "We... need to get.. off this plane." Leon muttered after every shallow breath, moving to push himself up again, this time coming to rest on his hands and knees.
Suzan nodded dimly. "Okay... okay." She whispered, seemingly to herself, she could do this. Moving forward, she noted that the man was having trouble in moving much, and she could see the hand that was wrapped securely around his chest, as well as hear his pained breathing. Takeing note of this, she took his left arm and gently wrapped it around her neck, bending down at his level and wrapping her other arm as carefully as she could around his waist. "Come on, we've gotta get you up. Okay? In three." She said quietly, and when he nodded mutely, she proceeded. "Okay... Three..." Suzan began, giving him a chance to steady himself. "Two..." She shifted her grip, making sure he wont slip as she dared tightening her hold on him. "One." And with that, she began to stand, taking him with her.
Leon cried out sharply when standing aggravated what was probable a number of cracked ribs, and he would have stumbled if it wasn't for the hold Suzan had on him, but she was having trouble with holding his weight. Grinding his teeth, Leon forced his legs and feet to work, transferring his body weight onto them so that he wasn't completely leaning on the younger woman and causing her pain.
"Okay.." She said breathlessly, wincing at the horrible ache in her foot, but she forced herself to move down the wrecked ills of the plane and over to the side of the wall which had been torn out with the impact, showing them the disaster and world in which they crashed on. The walk was slow going, each grunt of pain coming from the man she was helping caused her to panic, but she pushed on. The floor under them creaked and moaned as they moved, and she hoped that it wouldn't collapse under their combined weight.
They eventually got to the side of the plane, and Leon viewed the disaster of flight 727 through his blurring vision. The glow of many fires licked at rubble, the light highlighting many stray forms of survivors moving about and among the wreckage. There was chaos, there was panic and there was grief, and it reminded Leon of China and the outbreak, just minus the infected.
They were on the second level of the plane, and their next challenge was getting down.
"Over there." Suzan spoke up, nodding her head to their right as non of her hands were free. Part of section C had caved in, the floor acting as a ramp down to section B. It probably wasn't a safe idea, but it was the only one present at that time. Suzan shifted her grip again before she started moving them over to their exit, which was no more than a few meters away, and when they got there, she pressed a foot down hesitantly and giving the metal a little nudge, satisfied when the floor didn't even twitch. "Ready? Hold on." She asked, and Leon grunted his answer, knowing that it was this or nothing. With a mental sigh, she stepped forward carefully, making sure not to step on anything other than the floor, because if she slipped, then it would be a rather painful slid down, one she didn't want to risk.
The task was more trouble than what it looked, and Suzan gasped every time her foot came in contact with an object, or a body, apologising every time she stepped over one and keeping a mental note not to look at them or the blood the was plastered in various areas on the plane. Having to make several side trips due to piles of metal and equipment blocking their path, weaving in and out of chairs and tables, Suzan signed in relief as her foot made contact with section B, now at level with the land and she immediately headed for a torn gap in the wall, easing them down the small step and onto the soil.
"Just a little further." She muttered tiredly as she continued, taking them further from the dead bodies, and finding a spot unoccupied, a near by fire giving her light and warming her skin against the cool breeze. "Okay..." Being extremely carefull, she eased Leon down so that his back was resting against a large chunk of the plane, causing the man to groan again with the change of position, and she eagerly sat down too, getting her weight off her foot.
Leon could see that she was scared, and looking at the others who were among the wreckage, he knew that he was too. His chest still caused him a great deal of pain, but he knew it wouldn't ease anytime soon. Suzan was quiet beside him, her hands rubbing at her arms, and he felt concerned for her. "This is why.. I can never sleep.. on planes." He said quietly, intending to lighten the mood if not but a little, and he could see her smile in the light of the fire, but it didn't stay for long.
"Why is this happening?" She asked in a quiet frightened voice, rubbing her arms at the goose bumps that appeared as the heat of the crash died down a little, the rain winning over the fire, but doing very little of cleaning them of the blood and dirt that coated them.
Leon's mind flashed to his mission, remembering when he last saw Felucha on the plane before everything went black. This wasn't the work of a terrorist, but that of a storm that was far too serious than what the weather report let on, or maybe they didn't know, after all, people can only predict so much on mother nature. Leon frowned at that, because despite knowing it was a storm that brought the plane down, his instincts were still warning him of something, that gut feeling telling him that this was no normal storm, there was something very unnatural about it. "...I don't know." He replied after a moment, slowly but surly getting oxygen into his pained lungs.
Among all things though, is that they were still alive.
"Where are we?" Suzan asked out loud, looking around but not seeing much under the cover of darkness.
Leon shook his head again in answer, too taking in their surroundings but not having any luck either. "I guess we'll find out at dawn." He said, and with that the thought of surviving through the night. "We should stay here, keep the fires going, keep warm, hopefully someone saw the crash." He added that last part, though for some reason those words didn't sound right. A number of survivors were walking around, checking for anyone who was still alive, and helping those in need. Leon's heart lightened that there were still people alive, but despite wanting to get up and do something, he knew he wouldn't do much good in his condition.
Suzan agreed mutely, glancing around before spotting something familiar lying a few meters away from her. It was her back pack. With a small gasp at spotting her bag, she stood up despite how tired she was and limped over to it, picking it up and hugging it close to her as she moved back to Leon, sitting back down with a wince. A small hopefull victory for her, glad that she had some form of her possession to hold onto. Tearing open the zip, she dug inside, pulling out her phone with lightning speed. "Shit." She cursed, standing painfully up again and holding the device to the sky, hoping to get s signal.
At her attempts, Leon realised he still had his phone in his jacket pocket, and he too pulled it out, but cringed in dismay when he found that the screen had smashed, probably from when he was thrown about in the plane. It wasn't working. Not his lucky day, or night, he didn't really care, taking the back of the phone off and pulling the sim card, pocketing it before tossing the now useless device aside. Should he need to call his department, of vice versa, they'd track the sim card, and maybe it will come in handy later. He looked up when Suzan cursed again, watching the younger lady limp back and forth, holding her phone up in desperation to get a signal. He signed painfully, closing his eyes as his head continued to send a sharp pulse through his skull in time with that of his heart beat.
The storms were growing fainter but with the fires dying down it became freezing, the wreckage played across the land along with the nightmare.
His energy was slipping away, gravity seemed to sway for a few moments and Leon knew he needed to stay awake, he shouldn't have closed his eyes in the first place, not with a seemingly sever concussion. He could hear Suzan talking, but wasn't sure on the words, he thinks he might have blacked out again for an unknown amount of time, because among awareness he realised that his gut was screaming at him again, people were screaming, there was panic everywhere.
They'd been found.
Though Leon would have jumped up at the sound of something he knew all to well. Gunshots.
He jerked, forcing his eyes open but having extreme difficulties in getting his vision to focus, blurred shapes of people running, fighting, angry demands in all kinds of languages shouted through the night, some of these black blurs held torches, and others were holding their hands up at point, sparks which were the cause of the gunshots that sounded in his ears.
Leon's training kicked in with speed that outmatched his injuries, and he reached for his gun concealed in his jacket, pulling the Beretta out and blindly loading it, safety off. Mentally skipping past the fact that he still had his gun on him. Standing up painfully and swaying for a dangerous moment, Leon heard a familiar voice cry out.
"Hey?! What are you- Let go of me! Let go!"
His vision was sharpening at the adrenaline, and Leon spotted Suzan struggeling with three men who were dressed in torn armed gear. Leon knew immediately they weren't survivors from the crash. "Hey!" He called out, drawing their attention as he stepped forward, gun pointed down in front of him incase this was all just a miss understanding, his mission brief clear in his mind. Do not fire unless fired upon. Though Leon had a funny feeling that these men weren't a part of his mission or the rescue. "Let her go." He said in a clear authorised voice, taking another step forward.
One of the men shouted out in Russian before the others drew their guns, aiming at the other survivor. Causing Suzan to scream. "Leon! They've got guns!"
A bullet wizzed by his ear, another cut his arm, and Leon didn't even hesitate, bringing up his own weapon and executing a perfect head shot at the man who had just pulled a machete on Suzan, and when the man fell, the other two called out in Russian again, before firing back at him. Leon ducked despite their aim being slightly off anyway, better safe than sorry. He aimed and fired again, taking down another and with lightning speed he changed target, shooting the last man next to Suzan.
At the sound of the shouted alarm, more of the armed men saw what happened, rushing in to subdue the armed man who killed three of their own with too much ease.
Leon immediately knew they were out numbered, many of the remaining survivors were scattering at the invasion of who they thought were rescuers, most of which were either taken down or caught. "Suzan, run!" He yelled out to the frightened woman as a number of the attackers moved over to their location, and she was frozen for a moment, the questions that she had fled at the sound of more gunshots, then she ran, her backpack still slung over one shoulder.
Leon watched her go, hoping she'd be okay before bullets forced him to take cover behind the wreckage he had sat against moments ago. Each breath was robbing him of his adrenaline as pain flared, and he remembered he was still injured. Taking a few shuddering gasps, Leon moved out of cover and fired at the men running his way, managing to take out a few before he took cover again, his enemies fire coming to ping off the metal of the plane, and Leon could hear them shouting, this time in english.
"Give up! Your not going to escape!"
"Don't make it any harder on yourself!"
"Surround him!"
His arm was starting to hurt more now, and he'd forgotten about that with the wake of the bullets. Leon wasn't sure who these men were, or why they were attacking, but he wasn't going to think about it for now, he told Suzan to run, and he was going to make sure she got away. With that in thought, he moved out of cover again and fired, taking out another before covering again, just as movement to his right alarmed him, and a body jumped out from the darkness. Without thinking, he pushed himself to the side, narrowly missing the large knife aimed for his head as the blade skimmed across metal. The dive knocked the wind out of him as he landed on his side, jarring his ribs, causing him to cry out at the sharp pain. Instinct warned him again and he listened to its command, rolling onto his back and raising his gun sideways with both hands, catching the blade mid strike.
The man was on top of the survivor, growling in anger as he forced the blade to the side, skimming off metal and cutting his victims hand, causing the survivor to loose the gun.
Leon winced and let go of the weapon on reflex at the sting on his hand, his attackers blade pushing down to rest above his throat as he held the sharp steel at bay, glaring into the others eyes through the semi dark, just making out the bearded face in the fire light. He didn't like what he saw there in the mans eyes. Planting his knee on the mans stomach, Leon risked freeing a hand and pushed at his attacker, trying to get the pressure off what was slowly crushing his already damaged ribs, and in doing so, he grasped something familiar that his hand then took a hold of.
With a grunt of pain, Leon unsheathed the blade he found attached to the mans belt, and drove it right through his attackers chest, blood splattering down onto him. Mistake number 1, don't give your prey access to your weapons. However the man was resistant, suddenly grasping his jacket with one hand, pulling him up with force and head butting him. Leon's head seemed to exploded with sharp pain, and as a last act of survival he pulled the knife up in the mans chest, causing the other to scream and roll off him.
Noise invaded his senses as Leon laid their, dazed, his body not moving on his commands, and Leon knew he was dead, couldn't do anything as another form stood above him with a sneer, looking down at him for a moment before the butt of a rifle came down across his already injured head, hitting with impact and rendering Leon unconscious.
=tTRR=
All his senses were quiet, numb, like he was cut off from his body, like that feeling of being in space. Only he'd never been in space.
It was a few moments when he started feeling weird, like the world was upside down, his head felt like a anchor, arms weighing down above his head, and when Leon opened his eyes ever so slowly, blinking life into focus, he stared with a frown. His hands being the first thing he noticed, covered in dried blood and dirt, and around his wrists was entwined thick coarse rope, binding his hands together, past that, was what he thought was the ceiling, only he noticed that his logic had to be miss calculated. He was staring at the floor, meaning he was very much dangling upside down, bound.
Leon groaned.
Some unknown substance was dripping near by, and he hoped it was water. He closed his eyes again at the uncomfortable feeling in his head, and Leon guessed he'd been upside down like this for a few short hours, maybe less. Gravity and time seemingly out of his grasp. Opening his eyes again, blinking back the darkness around his vision, he spotted dots of a dark substance gathering on the dirt covered floor, which he realized was coming from his head, the wound he took from the crash had been forced open again, coating his entire left side of his face in think crimson, and if it weren't for the fact that he was hanging upside down, he'd bet he would be dizzy with the blood loss.
The smell hit him next.
Like the very pits of the underground waste of Umbrellas left overs, Leon gagged, his heart picking up with the smell, and he panicked. Now very much conscious, he took in his surroundings with darting eyes. A rectangular room, coated in blood and dirt, and filled with corpses. Leon actually seriously thought he'd been taken into an Umbrella facility, where everything had obviously gone wrong. There were bodies on tables, knives still hacked into them, some were even still strung up in the same manner as he was, though they were wrapped like a spiders dinner, feet secured to thick wooden beams in the ceiling. Some were extremely old, others were a couple of weeks recent, but that didn't help with the smell of rotting and decaying flesh.
Leon swallowed past the lump in his throat, the light of many candles in a corner creating alarming shadows everywhere, though Leon paused. Looking to the source of the light, he saw what looked like some kind of shrine, a body was hanging, though the right way up, bones showing through rotted skin, suggesting it had been there for a long time. White paint decorated the walls behind the body, a figure of a person standing under.. was that a sun? Many red candles were placed across tables under the body and covering an entire wall. The red of blood glowing in the candle light.
Last Leon checked, Umbrella don't exactly make christmas trees. As Leon looked around the room again, he noticed a shape on the wall. A door, and if there was a door, then there was a way out.
With a determined breath, he eyed his wrists, before pulling his head up and tried a glimps at where his feet were bound to the beams, catching sight of the same rope tied around and around his ankles, and trailing up his calf's to ensure he didn't come loose. Letting gravity take his head again, Leon grumbled in frustration. This didn't look easy, but he sure as hell didn't want to stick around. Those men who attacked the crash site obviously weren't there to help them, and now they'd taken him to god knows where, strung up like a slump of meat, and Leon knew that where ever the plane crashed, it was on hostile soil.
Damn it. His heart was warning him again, and Leon cursed at his instincts, getting a feeling that when his captors showed up, it wouldn't be pretty.
"Sorry boys. I'm checking out." Leon muttered, pulling his head against gravity again to get another look at his situation. He needed to reach his feet somehow.
With a thought that he probably shouldn't be doing this, but attempting it anyway just to get satisfaction out of crossing the plan off his mentle list, Leon gritted his teeth together and tensed his mid section, holding his breath as he pulled himself up slowly. With a stifled groan he pulled his arms up, grasping his thighs with bound hands and holding on, releaving some of the tension in his stomach and chest as he edged his hands closer to his knees.
His chest was flaring with pain, and his hands slipped, loosing his grip and swinging back down with a barely stifled cry of pain, swaying for a few moments. Leon cursed when he had his breath back, relaxing his arms again as he hung there. Well, option A was out of the question, Leon knew he couldn't do that again, not with his ribs protesting, and he was still for a moment, listening for any indication for any possible threat.
When nothing but the dripping of that still unknown substance reached his ears, Leon relaxed, letting out a sigh, before looking around him again. Theres got to be something he can use.
His eyes raked over the floor that was covered in a mixture of blood and dirt, clothes and bones, and a few peices of wood and tins. Leon eye'd a particualy long piece of wood, like it had come from a spear, only lacking the blade that would be helpfull right about now. Though when he looked at the wood, then at the clothes, then at the fire, a promising idea came to mind. Option B. Biting his lip, Leon figured that with a few more inches he'd be able to reach out and grasp the end of the wood, with that in mind, he began swinging, mentally laughing and cursing at himself at how ridiculous this was. He felt like he was eight again.
The wooden beams above him creaked as dust sprinkled down, though the support was strong and held firm as his hand grazed his objective, causing him to mutter a curse. Just a little more... There! With a grime and bloodied smile of triumph, Leon took a firm hold of the wood, taking a mental note to pull an item of cloth towards him along with it. Now with both items in his bound hands, Leon wrapped the cloth around the end, tying it in a number of knots before eying the candles a mere two meters away.
Arms out stretched as far as he could get them, Leon held out the cloth covered end of the stick above the closest candle. "C'mon..." He muttered, seeing the material start to singe and hoping that the damn stuff will light. Maybe it was covered in blood or something? Or maybe as his luck would have it, the damn material was fire proof. Though when it smoked for a few seconds before catching in flames, Leon could have smirked, now pulling the flaming end up above him, resting it on the side of where the rope had his booted feet bound to the ceiling.
More smoke puffed, and Leon hoped that the fire would be alight enough to do the job. "C'mon you son of a-" Leon cursed and squinted in concentration, his assault of words at the object was cut short when a snap sounded, the rope burning away to a point where it couldn't hold his weight, and Leon swore as he hit the ground with a thump.
He groaned after a moment, somewhat in a daze as he glared up at where his feet had been tied to. The feeling of being light weight now that he was partly the right way up confused him, and Leon looked himself over, suddenly noticing that his leather jacket had been stripped from him, along with his holster and gun. "-Bitch." He finished his previous sentence, but this time directed at who ever took his damn jacket.
With a growl of anger, Leon began pulling and untangling the rope around his ankles, throwing the horrid stuff away and turning his glare to the one around his wrists. This one was a little more difficult, and no matter how much he twisted his hands, he couldn't reach the rope. Leon signed, glancing at the candles. "Time for option B again." He muttered under his breath, ears pealed for any sounds as he got up, stepping carefully over the room and to one of the lit candles, pausing for a moment before holding his wrists over the flame, small wisps of smoke dancing as the fire licked at the rope.
Leon hissed as the flame burnt his skin at the last knot, forcing his hands to remain there as threads burnt away and pulling his wrists apart when the knot finally relented its hold. Now free, Leon forced his eyes away from the shine he was standing next to and turned to the door, his ticket out of here. Walking over to with quiet calculated steps so that he wouldn't kick a skull or slip on something he didn't particularly want to slip on. Pressing his ear against the cool metal of the door, Leon stilled his breathing as he listened, trained ears not picking up any sound that would warn him of a hostile's presence.
With one hand on the handle, the other pressed flat against the rough door, Leon narrowed his eyes and held his regained breath, testing his confinement.
A click sounded faintly as the handle was pushed all the way down, releasing its tooth in the wall and opening inward an inch on command. "Amateurs." Leon muttered quietly. Maybe these men didn't expect him to fight, felt over confident, safe and secure in their little home, Leon didn't know, but for what ever reason being, he was glad that they gave him another step of freedom, unknowingly as it is. How ever small it may be.
Opening the door all the way, Leon began the footsteps that of a survivor, a fighter, and he didn't go down so easily.