Hello my freaky darlings. Well, if you were wondering... here is chapter 3! I've come to a blockade with 'Project White Wolf', but hopefully I'll get another chapter under way soon enough, just been busy with life. Not sure if I got a few words in here right... but.. eh. Anyway's, enjoy!
The Tomb Raiders Resident
Evil Endures
Chapter 3.
Boeing Flight 727.
Destination: Europe.
Passengers: 200. Staff passengers: 21. Pilots: 4.
Survivor Count: Unknown.
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.
The halls were a dark wood, deep browns and reds with golden highlights, large circular pillars held the high ceiling up and were neatly lined in precise measurements to the rooms entry doors. Torches flamed on the walls and cast the area in a warm glow, basking the wood in rich colours, highlighting the many white drawings that were painted on the wood. Large bowls in the middle of the room and to the sides were alight with flame, the sparks and cackles of the wood burning breaking the eery silence for a number of tense moments.
"How many?"
The owner of the voice was standing at the end of the room, back to the few others who were there. The hooded man, garbed in torn cloth and arms smeared in the same white paint that marked the walls, stood under a large shrine of the Sun Queen, her image a intimidating beauty towering over the figures, her body alight with hundreds of small candles that danced in romance, her dominions.
"We've gathered 65 survivors from the crash, 23 have been executed, the others are being moved to the Catacombs. However, we believe there may yet be at least another 20 or more survivors who have fled the crash site." One of the men standing behind the hooded figure spoke up, garbed in a torn coat and army issued pants, various necklaces of symbols and stars hung around the Solarii's neck, spiked gloved hands a rest at his sides. Belts were clipped over the man's shoulders and around the waist, pockets and pouches of animal skin carrying ammunition clips. Knives were at his hips, and a rifle was slung over one broad shoulder. Messy shoulder length hair framed a clean shaven face, but eyes were as piercing as a hawk.
"This is a big group. I'd imagine all teams are on the look out."
"I've sent word to every post." The Solarii replied, and unlike the others in the room, his accent wasn't that of a Russian, but American. Taking a step forward, the Solarii addressed the hooded figure. "Father Mathias, I have some information that might be of interest to you."
Mathias finally turned around to address the small group, taking his cruel intelligent eyes off the shine to land on the solders. Insanity shone briefly in the depths of his pupils, but the man was as calm and collected as ever, standing there without question or answer to what the other man spoke of. He didn't need to.
"One of the survivors managed to escape one of the prisoner camps dungeon. He's no fool, the survivor has been trained to fight, killed a few men at the crash site, and further more three men after his escape with not but a small knife." The Solarii spoke evenly, maintaining eye contact with the hooded man. "I pulled these from Dimitri's post, of which he got from this survivor." The Solarii solder pulled out what was a leather wallet, opening the torn object and showing the badge of Government inside, along with the agents details. Reaching behind him, the Solarii also pulled a gun that was tucked securely in his jeans, a unique Beretta and handing out both items to the other.
Mathias took the items silently, eyes taking in the dirt covered wallet, reading the words marked on the badge. Division of Security Operations, he read in his mind, before eyes trailed to the photo, silently picturing the image to memory and every detail. The gun was different, a simple 9mm, curvy and sleek, a well cared for weapon that had no doubt seen many years worth of horrors or battles. Not the issue that a Government would offer, Mathias knew that, this one was purchased by its owner, and holding the weapon, the man knew that its owner was skilled. Mathias stared at the fine weapon, though seeing its flaws, a scar marked down the side of the metal, one he knew came from a blade, and recent by how clean it was. Probably from the crash.
The men were at a little unease by Father Mathias' silence, but the Solarii solder was calm, steady, fearless. "I have my own team tracking the American down now, by the looks of things, his injured, so it will only be a matter of time before we find him. As for the outsider, she was sighted at the mountain base just recently, killed a few men, but she's left a trail. We'll be waiting for her next, she'll walk right into us." The Solarii reported, and accepted the gun that was handed back to him, placing the weapon back in its nesting place.
"Ulri's team will take care of her." Mathias said, still holding the wallet and eyeing its contents. "I'm assigning you my first Solarii in wake of Dimitri's death. You focus on the American, track him down, and when you find him.. bring him to me." Turning his back to the solders, Mathias pocketed the wallet, turning his dark gaze back to the Shrine in thought. "I want to speak with this.. Leon S Kennedy." He rolled the name slowly over his tongue. "Then you can do with him what you will. You decide the fate of any survivor, I trust that you'll do well."
"Yes, Father." The Solarii nodded respectfully, before turning and leaving the throne room, the other men trailing behind him, addressing the others as they walked. "I want all eyes and ears at attention, the survivor we are tracking is no light weight, he is a trained agent, secret service by the looks of it. Keep your guard on, I want no mistakes this time." The Solarii demanded, seeing his men nod and speak their answers of acknowledging his words.
The weight of the Beretta tucked in the waist of his jeans gave him ground, level, the Solarii wasn't going to fail Father Mathias like the others did. He was their best tracker, and he gets the job done.
=tTRR=
It was morning, and like Leon guessed, a cloudy morning. The sun's warm rays had woken him up as it escaped the grey clouds blankets for a few minutes, but was soon engulfed and leaving the plant life again to find their resources through other means. The fire he had lit died to not but ash just a few stray hours ago before dawn, but in contrast to the cold nights, the day temperature was warming up, and Leon intended to do some.. sight seeing, as it is, because if he is trapped on this island with hostile men prowling all around, then he needed a way out. Though first, he needed to contact his department.
Leon stood up carefully, wincing at the ache in his ankle, having not been able to tend to it with no resources as well as his other injuries, and he made a note to do exactly that when he goes sight-seeing. The weightlessness he felt unnerved him, and Leon hated it. His long sleeved blue shirt was missing the first two buttons, tears at the sleeves from his flight through the forest at where branches tugged on him, and covered in burns, blood and dirt so much that it was now a dark shade of washed out blue with dark blood stains. His jeans were a little more lucky, the only tear was at his ankle where he stepped home into that trap, and another from the wolves, though other than the blood and dirt that too darkened the material, it was still in tact. The feeling of being sun burnt reminded him that the side of his face was still covered in dried blood from his head wound, the substance clotting around his left eye then trailing down to his chin, irritating him with its somewhat restraining presence.
Leon signed, he felt and looked like utter crap.
His hand brushed the hilt of the Japanese knife tucked in his belt, and even though he felt like he'd been stripped, it was a familiar feeling, he'd run through hostile grounds before with nothing but a knife, but that didn't mean Leon wanted to do such a thing again. It really wasn't his lucky day, and he frowned, because he can't remember a time or place in which he was even close to being lucky.
He dug his hand into his pocket, and pulled out the sim he took from his phone, its presence relieving him for a moment. His captors may have taken his badge, gun and his damn jacket, but they missed his only means at calling for back up, and as far as Leon was concerned, they made a very good mistake.
Now that it was dawn, the light provided gave him a sense of direction, and Leon took in his surroundings for the first time in more detail since the crash. He'd taken shelter in the mouth on the side of a cliff, the weeds and vines on the side's had grown over the ledge though not hiding anything from view. All he could see were kilometres of forests and mountains shrouded in the morning fog and glow, and the sight would have been beautiful if it weren't for the fact that everyone out there were hunting people like him. Survivors. Again, Leon wondered just what soil he was standing on, and why there was so much... horror to its feeling.
Looking back to his camp, something he hadn't noticed in his hast, was that it had already been set up prior his arrival. There were rocks in a ring around the remains of the fire, wood was lying around at random though its presence was clearly organised, it hadn't been brought in by the wind, it was carried in by a person. Also the small detail in which that when Leon took shelter here, all he had to do was light the camp fire with his torch, the wood already placed in the ring and ready to burn.
If Leon really looked close enough, he could see imprints of shoe marks in the dense dirt, not his own, and that came with the feeling that he wasn't the only one to have escaped the madness of these Solarii solders who were out for blood. Blue eyes trailed from the foot prints to the path that lay beyond him, and Leon had a feeling of which he couldn't describe, a feeling that urged him to take the steps down that path, and with a final look around him he moved forward.
The chatter of animals sounded as he walked, and Leon felt comfort in that as he continued with his 'sight seeing' quest, the plant life and calmness seemed to ease the tension in his shoulders as he walked, limping a little though the pain was one he could do with. A lingering head ache still annoyed him, as well as breathing, but Leon brushed it aside, he was alive and he needed to focus on staying that way. After a number of many meters, he paused.
Running water sounded near by.
The sound forced Leon to realise just how thirsty he was, and he resumed his trek down the path to the source of his attention, down a slight slop and around a low cliff was part of a canyon. A small water fall fell in its rhythm down the cliff side, landing and causing rivets of what would be a small river that ran down through the clearing, further through the canyon and out of sight among the forest. Leon didn't take in much else as he stood there, his need for water driving him to move and he continued with closing the distance, walking over to the side of the river and kneeling down carefully.
The fresh running water glistened at him lightly and Leon brought both hands to form a bowl, dipping his hands below the surface of the cold water and leaning down to drink. It was clean, fresh and delightful as he thirsted, the liquid soothing his throat and adding moisture to his parched lips, filling his insides with its cool travels. It was a short moment later and he signed, hands stilling as his need for thirst died down to a comforting level, and he found himself staring at his reflection in the river.
A very dirty and bloodied version of himself stared back at him, and Leon frowned, bringing up a hand to lightly rub at the side of his face, seeing the clear streak it made on skin as the water soaked up the dirt there. With a thought, he gathered more water in his hands and slashed the substance on his face, the droplets running down in patterns causing most of the dirt to leave its grip on his skin, though the blood seemed to relent its hold, and Leon brought his hands up again, rubbing at the dry crimson, causing flakes to break away. He flinched at the pain in his temple, and gently rubbed at the source of where the blood had come from, the wound he took in the crash flaring and causing his head ache to bloom a little.
With most of the dirt and blood washed from his face, Leon felt a little better, and looking at his reflection again, even though he still looked like crap, at least the hell aspect had been washed away.
A noise sounded.
Leon's eyes snapped up at the cluttered sound, hand coming to brush the hilt of the Japanese knife, and now doing what he should have done before making a dash to the water, he observed his surroundings. On the other side of the shallow river was an old worn down building. Far to small to be anything other than a shed of some kind, the metal front door was open, a small glow of light shining through the small window amongst the darkness.
Leon didn't take his eyes away from the window as he slowly stood up, hand still positioned on the knife as he continued to stand for a second, eyes catching every detail. From the make of the shed which consisted of stone, brick and wood. The metal door which had a number of dents and scratches dotting everywhere, the handle missing. To the glow he could see in the broken window, the movement of flame on the inner walls causing Leon to tense.
He didn't want to see what was in there, something spoke of horror and the sorts, but as a human being, that instinct to look, to investigate the disturbance, the curiosity, won over what his mind told him and what his heart told him, his instinct won over both of those aspects, it needed to know. That, and the training that's been drilled into his bones as a fighter against monsters of all sorts, as a agent. Leon stepped through the shallow river, his feet disturbing the waters rhythm as it fought its way around the offending limbs to clash again. Each step was slow and cautious, soundless and steady on grass and dirt, the water coating the soles of his boots causing dirt the clump and gather into mud.
Leon pulled the blade free of his belt even though the warning and danger he felt wasn't imminent. Adrenalin again heightened his sensors as he stood just outside the open door and moving in slowly, eyes narrowed and knife at the ready as his movements placed him in a position to slowly uncover more and more of the small room, inch by inch. He took the final step and moved in with speed, knife raised and holding his breath, pausing to a still at his find.
Nothing.
The small dying flame of a torch lit on the wall drew his attention first, its light casting the small room in its glow and leaving little shadows to banter with, Leon's eyes raked over the room, which was made up of next to nothing. An item-less bench was on the wall, the wood chipped and dusty, the torch was placed above it, but despite all this, Leon knew there was more here than what meets the visible human eye. Lowering the blade he held, he took a step forward to the torch, and in doing so, his boot made contact with an item on the floor.
Leon paused again, looking down to the object, and lent down to pick it up. A old rusted wrench. Such an item confused him, but Leon eyed his surroundings again in suspicion, because a wrench doesn't just randomly show up from god knows where, and fall of a table on its own accord. No, someone, or dare he question, something, had disturbed the item there for causing him to investigate the noise.
Though there was little here to look at, and Leon tucked the item in his belt, not knowing why but it was always handy to have a few extra tools around when your stranded on hostile grounds. With a sigh, he moved to turn around and head back out, though something else that looked odd caught his attention. With another curious frown, he stepped passed the torch, eyeing a particularly dark and shadowed shape on the ground, its existence not looking right to him. When his shoes brushed the few stray pebbles near the darkness, those small rocks disappeared into the abyss, and a few seconds later he heard the faint sound of those rocks hitting a hard surface.
Grabbing the torch, Leon knelt down and brought the light over the area, breaking through the darkness and revealing the pipe handles of a ladder. He was standing over the entrance to some kind of basement.
"Great..." He mumbled to himself, already knowing what he'll do. With an irritable sigh, he carefully moved over the gap and eased down on the ladder, torch in hand and taking the first steps down into the darkness, the pipes he had a tight hold of were groaning slightly, and Leon hoped they'd be strong enough. He couldn't see much from his position, and what he hoped was half way down he was starting to regret it, thinking that maybe it was best if he turned back.
Despite that thought, he continued down, frowning in concentration and trying to see past him in the tight passage, wondering where the ground is, and Leon gasped when his boot slipped, causing him to think fast and gripping the pipes with his hands, his weight temporarily on his injured ankle causing him to wince. Get a hold of yourself.. He mentally cursed, his booted feet fumbling for a moment before gaining balance again, and he signed, pausing for another second before continuing.
He reached the bottom without any more troubles, and when the torch lit up the ground, he promptly smiled and carefully stepped down from the ladder. Looking up for a moment before his eyes travelled around in which he just willingly stepped into. Nothing more than a two by two meter square space covered in rusted metal, dirt and mud. Though as Leon shone the torch around, it glinted of a surface that wasn't metal, but water. He took the few steps forward and lent down a little, bringing the torch forward and looked at what appeared to be a flooded tunnel riddled with broken wooden planks and metal.
The water looked filthy, and that's putting it mildly, the torch unable to break through the surface and leaving it dark. As to the reason to the flooding, it was unknown. Muffled silence greeted Leon's ears, no droplets indicating a leak from somewhere above, nothing. Despite the uneasy feeling, Leon took another step forward closer to the tunnel, the tip of his boots brushing the waters surface and causing a ripple to sheer the surface.
"Hunnigan so put me up to this..." He muttered darkly, mentally cursing again as he stepped into the water, or in other words what he would describe as a sewer, because it certainly looked like one, and the smell wasn't too far off either.
After a few more forced moves on his part and another curse at why the hell he was willingly doing this, Leon found himself waist deep in utter freezing, murky and absolutely filthy water, the icy chill of it causing goose bumps to raise on his skin and a fierce ache that throbbed in his injured ankle. He pushed himself through the water and just a few inches shy of hitting his head on the low ceiling of the tunnel, a though that he really shouldn't be doing this again accused him. God know's what kind of substances and other various things in the water that would probably be bad for the torn wound in his calf, his risk of it getting infected was probably shooting through the roof at this stage. No, this was a bad idea.
The wet walls of the tunnel were marked in familiar white paint, and he paused for a moment, staring at lines crossed off, and he counted 44. Leon stared, was that days? Moving forward, he again paused on another one, though this one was a drawing. There was a tower amongst the mountains, alight at the top, and Leon's hand twitched to his pocket. A radio tower, and his means at contacting someone, though he needed to get to it first. Keeping the torch lit above the water, Leon ducked under one metal beam that was stuck horizontally in his path, hissing as the cold water rose a few inches as he did so. He pushed forward, narrowing his eyes at light that wasn't coming from his torch, up ahead there was what looked like a room above the surface of the water. Getting closer he moved slower, trying to quiet the waters protests at his movements, and he stepped careful when his boots came in contact with steps, walking up them until he was standing out of the water, level with the room.
He knew immediately he'd made a mistake in coming here.
A sense of deja-vu hit him as he found himself eyeing the walls, covered in paintings of white hand prints, a sun and a figure, lines that either suggested days or people were crossed off like some kind of calendar format. Chunks of some unknown source of meat were strung up on large hooks that looked like the fishing type, many tables and benches decorated the room riddled with bones and empty bottles, candles were lit under another shrine that glinted on the blood that saturated the walls, part of the room was divided by bars, like half of the room was a cage. All and all, it looked like he walked into a butcher shop where they cut up the meat.
Only a very filthy, and horrifying butcher shop. He didn't think it was legal to have such places like this on the street.
Leon took a careful step in, making sure his boots didn't kick any of the human and animal skulls that littered the floor, not seeing any form of information that would identify a person being here right that moment, the only thing lacking in the environment were the vials of viruses he would expect to see in a place like this. Taking a few more hesitant steps, Leon eyed the area, swallowing down the bile that wanted to rise at seeing hacked meat covered in flies and maggots, blood was smeared everywhere, and the unnerving part of it was that some of it couldn't be more than a few hours old.
He shifted on his feet, suddenly feeling like he should turn back, but something across the room caught his eyes, that something rested on one of the tables covered in dirt and blood finger prints. Leon froze for a second, eyes fixed on the object before he took in a anxious gasp, walking over quickly to the desk and moved a shaking hand to brush the camera that rested there.
He'd seen this one before, despite it being covered in so much dirt, he could recognise it immediately, the fluorescent stick figure drawings showing through the grime and blood. "Suzan..." He breathed in surprise, eyes fixed on the object before looking around, hoping to see the woman, but his hopes were quickly crushed when he couldn't see anything identifying that she'd been here. Leon hoped that she hadn't been here. The last he saw of the younger woman was at the crash site when he told her to run.
Picking up the object hesitantly, he brushed his hand over the surface of the screen to remove the dirt, pressing the button and was surprised in his mute when the glow of the screen turned to life, the camera's most recent photo coming to show. Leon frowned in concern and fear, the image was dark, almost to the point where it was just blackness.
But he saw her.
A brief warning of his instinct flared and Leon turned quickly at the feeling of danger, a strong hand driven by what ever desperation clamped over his mouth and nose, and Leon dropped the camera and reached for his knife, not even hearing the device drop on the cold floor with the hum of panic in his ears as the man restricting his air brought steel up to his throat, and Leon's hand paused. The fierce sting was dangerously close to his jugular and the person holding him was neither gentle or careful. A fowl and hot breath at his ear sent shivers up his spine.
"D-drop -the knife!"
The man's stutter was crazed and shaken, and Leon's hand didn't stray from his weapon, keeping still and forcing himself to calm as his restricted need for oxygen began to eat at him. The hand that held the large blade to his throat shook, and when Leon didn't do anything, the rusted steel dug in deeper, slicing a jagged cut though skin and causing crimson to run down his throat, staining the collar of his shirt. Leon clamped his eyes shut at that, he wasn't sure if the man knew just how close the knife was, or if the movement was intended.
"D-do it!"
Leon opened his eyes again more calmly, his vision turning slightly blurry around the edges as he released his hold on the Japanese blade, the clatter of steel sounding its hit with the ground, but to Leon's dismay, the man did not ease up on the blade at his throat, and he kept as still as he dared, feeling the heat of more blood run forth.
He was dragged backwards, and the clumsy movements of the other caused Leon to tense, hoping that a stray trip won't result in his throat being slit. The others panicked and crazed breathing set him at a level of unease, and he was starting to feel light headed from no oxygen, though he dared not to struggle, because bargaining with a mad man who held you at knife point would only end one way. The filthy hand around his mouth and nose was suddenly gone, and Leon took in a grateful gasp that caused his ribs to ache and his throat to move against the knife there. A few clanks of metal sounded behind him and a moment later the knife was removed, but before he could do anything, he was thrown harshly around and onto the floor, landing with a grunt.
Looking up from his position on the floor, Leon realised he'd just been locked into the divided part of the room with the meat strung up and bones for company, and he turned his glare to the man he can now see on the other side of the bars, fumbling with the chains around to secure the 'cell' door. The jerked movements and insane eyes unnerved Leon, he really shouldn't have come here. He eyed the man, frowning at the differences he didn't really expect. The man was dressed in near shredded clothes which were stained in what Leon guessed was lots of blood, but he didn't see any injuries that would be the cause.. unless it wasn't the man's blood. There were no weapons apart from the knife, and Leon knew the man wasn't a solder of any kind, but another survivor by the looks of it, one that had been here for an extended amount of time to warrant the loss of sanity.
Though any of that didn't mean the man wasn't dangerous.
"Your not a Solarii." Leon stated out loud, not really knowing the term Solarii himself, but maybe this man might.
"N-no! Not them! I-" The man was pacing erratically, avoiding eye contact. "I- I Jack. No S-Solarii!" The man pointed at himself fiercely, and started to mumble incoherent words, waving the knife about.
Leon picked himself up slowly from the floor, all the while keeping his distance and eyes fixed on the other man. "Where'd you get that camera?" He demanded, hoping against anything that the man just found it, hoping that Suzan wasn't captured or worse.
"Camera... f-found, no... woman. Yes, s-she had a- camera... She.." The man trailed off again, more unrecognisable mumbles sounding.
Leon took a step forward, anger crossing his features. "Where is she? Where's Suzan!?" Leon banged his fist against the bars in agitation, trying to get the man to talk sense, to answer his damn question, the anger he felt was tipped with a fear for the woman's safety, she was innocent, non of this was meant to happen.
"Shh! Shh! M-must be -quiet.. shh... D-demons will -hear..." The man moved over to a desk, hands fumbling over various objects.
"What did you do to her!?" Leon yelled again, despite the others rambling about 'Demons'.
"Shh! Quiet! S-she s-safe..." The man continued in hushed tones, erratic movements pausing, and Leon couldn't see over the man's back or what the other was doing. "She s-safe...now..." The man finished, though his voice took on a dark crazed edge to it, and the man turned around.
Leon didn't like what he saw in the man's eyes, or hear in the man's voice, and saying that, he didn't think he liked what the man was holding either. Dirty hands were fiddling with some kind of wooden straw, hollow enough to fit a finger in, and Leon backed away from the bars as the man came closer.
"N-now... you be s-safe too. Y-you join -her..." With that, the psychopath raised the tube to his cracked lips, and blew at the end with force.
Leon's question on that was suddenly cut short when a small object flew from the end and right towards him, the object in bending itself just above his collar bone with surprising force, and Leon jerked at the uncomfortable sting, bringing up a hand to pull the offending object free. He felt the effects right before he realized he'd been hit with a dart, its path travelling through him like wild fire, and he dropped the object with numb fingers, breathing was becoming more difficult, like what ever toxin that tainted the dart was freezing his muscles, and Leon glared up at the crazed man.
Too soon did Leon's body hit the ground, and the last thing he heard before numbness over took his mind and vision were crazed mumbles and the sound of the cell door being opened.
End of Chapter 3.
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