Author's Note:
We're almost at the first meeting: I can't wait AHH.
Thanks for the reviews everybody, and to everyone who's favorited and subscribed. Thanks!
1997
The nightmares were impossible to battle off. Even with Anna's renewed help, Billy's snatches of sleep were riddled with the terrible memories.
Every night, even closing his eyes meant reliving the whole ordeal. He slammed himself against the soft, white walls of his new home and shouted for his freedom.
They thought he was insane.
The asylum was a place Billy never thought he'd have to go too. He'd considered it, sure, spoken to shrinks and priests and everything in between, but fucking in a asylum, wrapped up like a hoagie for sale? Sedated every five minutes?
God, he was haunted by it. Despite the injections, he could never get more than a few snatches of sleep before his own screams woke him.
"What?" Billy asked in disbelief, not caring that he was loud, not caring that an enemy could hear. "This isn't a village at war!"
It was impossible. They had to be in the wrong area. But according to the map, they were exactly where they were supposed to be.
All but four of them were left: himself, Chet, and two others, Robert Damon and Joe Lowman. Their trek had continued in silence, the way they were ordered, until they reached their destination.
But none of them expected a tiny, peaceful little village.
"This is impossible," Chet hissed angrily. He kept his gun out and continued down to the village. Billy released his hold on his. There's no way he would've run in there waving a fucking gun around.
They made it to the square, and some people seemed extremely unnerved by the white men with guns.
"Alright everybody! We want information!" Chet screamed, gesturing for them to gather.
"What the hell are you doing?" Billy demanded, glaring at his superior. "These are innocent villagers. We can call a chopper here. We were obviously given wrong information!"
Chet ignored him. "Now!"
"They don't even speak English!" Billy shouted, his anger getting the better of him.
Robert and Joe stood behind Chet. Billy felt rage bubble over him. They were going to threaten and cow foreigners because they were pissed? Innocent people? "What the hell are you gonna do?"
The few terrified people who hadn't run into their homes were gathered in a tight circle, clinging to each other in terror, crying and screaming, pointing at the men and shouting their fear in some language Billy didn't know.
The sun beat down on Billy and he was ready to fight. He wanted to kill the weak bastard. Chet, throughout the time they'd been together in the group, hadn't once proved himself a capable leader to Billy.
He fucking despised him.
Chet cocked his gun. "Where!" he screamed, insane with the rage and heat and losing his men, the thought of looking like a fool back home overpowering his thoughts.
He aimed his gun…
"Stop!" Billy yelled, feeling helpless. "No!" The first few bullets were released from the other two's guns. "Cease fire immediately!" He couldn't exactly stop Chet from firing his own gun without leaping in the goddamn way.
He tried, though.
Billy put himself in front of the line of fire, and Chet swiveled his gun, pointing it at Billy. Billy stood his ground, ready for Chet to shoot him in desperation: maybe it'd bring him too his senses.
But instead, in one smooth, fluid motion, Chet turned his gun around and slammed the butt against Billy's temple, his thick helmet not blocking the blow. "Shut up!"
He fell to the ground in a haze of pain and tried his hardest to stay awake. He couldn't fucking go down now!
He watched as Chet, Joe, and Robert aimed their weapons at the innocent, hysterical people. Billy wanted to do something, but the blow robbed him of his senses, of his ability to move. He was paralyzed, horrified.
Quickly, one by one, even two by two, the villagers went down, blood staining the dirt streets and the houses around them, covering each other's clothing and skin in the wet, despicable substance that smelled like rust and pain. Agonized screams filled Billy's head and he tried to get up, he fucking tried, but everything faded, until there was nothing but black, the scent of blood, and the screams that dragged on forever…
"Get up," Chet kicked Billy viciously. Billy came too slowly. Just a dream, right?
He opened his eyes and figured out he was fucking tied up like a thanksgiving turkey. "What the fuck is this?" Billy spat.
"You killed twenty-three people. You went nuts when we found out that this was a peaceful village, and destroyed their lives. You depleted all your ammo in doing so. You're insane."
"What the fuck!" Billy demanded, his eyes narrowing, his vision red with rage and the blood all around him. "You selfish fucking murderous bastards. I may not have fucking killed them but I'll sure as hell kill you!" he spat.
"We tried to subdue you, Billy, but you were out of control," Robert sneered.
Joe remained silent. It's what drove Billy off the edge. "You fucking killed them to save face! If I 'go crazy' and on a fucking rampage, then you guys can take the credit for rescuing them. So this won't have been a total failure as a mission." Billy realized, the words dripping off his tongue like poison.
He felt Dick's dog tags in his pocket.
"Wrong," Chet smirked, pleased with this game. "You went crazy and killed them. We tried to stop you Billy, but you're a big guy, Lieutenant. You were nearly impossible to overpower. We're lucky we stopped you before you did any more damage. The chopper's gonna pick us up here, along with officers to restrain you and your… murderous tendencies. Maybe you should've listened to the doctor. She could've helped you get your crazies out." Chet pretended to frown sadly, then sniggered. "Good old Samuel Regan is coming along too, to try you."
Billy knew what that meant. He'd be court-martialed and tried. But Billy was a devoted officer. How could they believe stress could kill him after all the times he'd served?
Samuel Regan?
He'd met the man twice. One of those times had been before he joined the Marines, one day at school, when he was just a kid.
Charlene's dad. Fucking spoiled little Charlene Regan was the daughter of the man who held Billy's life in his hands. After Billy had fucking humiliated Charlene and left her in bed.
He wondered if Regan knew about it.
Either way, Billy was probably going to fucking die.
"Shh, Billy, it's all okay, I'm here." Anna soothed Billy.
"Why did you come back?" Billy asked, breathing heavily, sweating from the memories of the heat, of the pressure.
"I'm strongest when you need me most, Billy. And you really do need me now."
Billy scoffed. "I don't need you. I'll probably be joining you soon."
"Billy, the more you talk to me, the more they think you're crazy."
"Crazy, or dead. This is a fucking tough choice. What do I do when they realize I'm not one of the crazy inmates?"
"Then the sentence assigned to you when you were court-martialed is fulfilled. Execution."
"Ex-Lieutenant Billy Coen executed." Billy rolled his eyes. "I wonder if they fucking broadcasted this shit. The media gobbles up this bullshit."
"No, they'd keep this one quiet, I think," Anna said thoughtfully. "They probably don't need to tell America that a Lieutenant went nuts on a rampage and could've caused a war."
"Could this really have caused a war?" Billy asked, thinking about fucking Chet's immediate decision to annihilate the village. He shuddered at the memory, trying to suppress the flood of emotions that came with it.
"I have no idea. You're the Marine, I'm the dead girl you talk too," Anna answered sarcastically.
"Little bitch," he answered, rolling his eyes. But he couldn't help but smile at Anna.
"What a way to talk to me," she shot back, trying to coax him into a laugh.
And he did laugh. The situation was beyond ridiculous. He was fucking blamed for the murder of twenty-three fucking people in a foreign country, in an asylum, with Anna bright and perky as ever with him.
"So if you only come when I'm fucked up, maybe I need to screw up more often," Billy reflected.
"Billy, don't look at it that way. Look at it like… I'm a guardian angel that only comes when you need assistance. When everything's okay, you don't need me."
He shrugged. "Well, with this shit, I'm pretty much fucked till I die. So no more goodbyes for us, Anna."
"That's a bad thing," she pointed out touchily.
"Not for me," he answered, laughing cheerfully until he fucking felt a prick in his neck.
Fucking sedatives would kill him.
"Rebecca, this'll be fine! If you're a field medic with Chris Redfield, then that'll give you experience to try both ends of the spectrum!" Johnson told her, his white hair looking shockingly bright. "Then you can decide if you want a job with Umbrella or if you like the adventure of being a field medic."
Rebecca chewed her tongue nervously. "I guess I'm more nervous to meet that guy Wesker, and Chief Irons seems really scary too."
"Then this'll toughen you up," Johnson encouraged his young friend, his surrogate daughter. "If it's too much, you can quit!"
"I'm tough!" Rebecca replied indignantly.
"And anyway, the young Redfield mentioned you'd be going through rigorous training first. You aren't just going to be thrown out into the field."
That did reassure Rebecca. She was in the car with Johnson as he drove her to the police station. She was going to meet Chris there.
Several weeks ago, she had mentioned needing a job. Telling Chris about the offer from Umbrella, he offered for her to come join S.T.A.R.S., on the newest team, Bravo. She didn't need any experience: training would be provided.
She had reluctantly agreed to think about it, and in Chris's mind, that meant "Okay! Let's do it!"
So she was on her way to meet Wesker, the captain Chris both respected and hated. He sounded intimidating. She wondered what he'd be like. Tall and brawny, probably. She imagined him with dark hair and eyes like an eagle, glaring her down.
Johnson parked. "You're going home with Chris, right?" he asked Rebecca as she got out of the car.
"Yes, thank you for the ride, Johnson." She smiled at her mentor and he gave her a gentle one in return, waving as he drove away.
Taking a deep breath, Rebecca walked into the station. She walked straight to the S.T.A.R.S. office and smiled at the noisy room, filled to the brim with paperwork.
"Hey, Rebecca!" Chris grinned at her and reintroduced her to his teammates. There was Jill, who she'd met at the barbeque party Claire had thrown for Chris last year, Barry, who she'd met, and a shy, friendly man named Brad, who Rebecca hadn't met.
He ushered her over to a closed office door. "This is Wesker. Just introduce yourself and it'll be fine."
Rebecca was utterly confused when Chris shoved her into Wesker's office and closed the door quietly behind him.
The man sitting behind the desk, with the label Captain Albert Wesker wore black sunglasses that completely hid his eyes, contrasting with his dark blonde hair and marble skin. She wondered if it were as cold as the stone.
His outfit consisted of all black, and he had several guns hanging about the room.
He didn't look up as she arrived.
"Hi-Hello?" she asked quietly, wondering if he heard her come in. He remained busily silent.
"Hello?" she asked more loudly.
"We will not be getting anywhere with this interview if you do not introduce yourself, miss." The slow dry voice captivated her, with a slight accent that wasn't anything except… Wesker.
"Um… my name—" she faltered. "I'm Rebecca Chambers, and I'm here to apply for the position as a medic for S.T.A.R.S. Bravo team?" she ended the statement with a slight jump at the end, as if she were asking him permission. This man was beyond intimidating.
He paused for a moment to look at her before continuing his paperwork. "Continue?" he asked her, almost lazily, and definitely condescendingly.
"Uhm. I'm seventeen years old, and have no other engagements, so I can start right away," she rambled, shoving all the information at him. This Wesker was completely terrifying. "I graduated from Raccoon University at age fifteen with a degree in biochemistry. Here's my application, my references, my resume, and my documents."
She held her breath.
The man barely gave her copies a second look. "Leave them here. Come in tomorrow and meet with Barry Burton to begin your training. Promptly at seven AM. I do not tolerate lateness." He added, almost as an afterthought.
She nodded quickly and raced from the room. Chris was waiting at the door: she almost hit him in her rush.
She quiet closed the door and saw that everyone was staring at her.
She sighed in relief, and Jill grinned at her. "Welcome aboard, Rebecca. I hope he didn't scare you too badly in there."
"Terrorized me," Rebecca corrected with a smile.
Barry boomed a laugh. "So I guess I'll be seeing you tomorrow, Rebecca!" he grinned at her proudly. "We take pride in being a team of interesting people! Hope you're up to compete with us!"
She grinned at Chris and answered him: "I know I can beat Chris any day," she boasted, completely lying.
Brad chuckled and Chris grabbed Rebecca, giving her a noogie. "Chris, that's my hair!" she objected laughing.
"What, you going out with Jacob tonight? No need for you to look all pretty."
"I look pretty all the time," Rebecca corrected him teasingly. "Are you implying something, Chris?"
Her friend threw up his hands in surrender. "Of course not, you know me, just can't keep my mouth shut," he joked.
She laughed happily. "You're taking me home, Chris."
"Why don't you call Claire and ask her to pick you up? I'm actually swamped with paperwork right now," he admitted sheepishly.
"That's what you get for procrastination," she mocked.
He rolled his eyes. "Okay, big shot college girl."
Rebecca snorted at him. "Okay big shot Alpha man."
"Hear that, Jill?" he flirted with his coworker. "Alpha male."
The young woman rolled her eyes. "Right, partner. Why don't you alpha male yourself into killing the spider that just crawled onto my desk." She replied sarcastically.
He puffed up his chest. "Well—"
Rebecca elbowed him. "How about it, Chris," she emphasized, knowing how much the tough, macho man hated being called to kill spiders for her. Claire killed spiders, he reasoned, so why couldn't Rebecca?
But for Jill, he exaggeratedly strutted over and squashed the ugly little creature crawling on the side of her desk. "Anything for you, partner."
Barry grinned. "Save it for another time and place, you guys!" he scolded, chuckling.
Rebecca had a delighted look on her face along with Barry. "Yeah, another time and place!" she shot the young man a teasing look, which both he and Jill ignored.
Claire was right, as usual. Chris did like to flirt with Jill. Not that she blamed him.
Chris had been chronically single for the time Rebecca had known him. He'd had a few dates, seen a couple girls, probably had sex with some of them, but he'd never brought home a girlfriend to introduce to she and Claire.
And Jill was beautiful. Rebecca studied her covertly, watching the young woman. She had a beanie flung across her desk, revealing a bob of soft, straight brown hair and wide-set light blue eyes. Her face was classically pretty, but with a strength inside that belied her joking request about the spider. She had a light tan, and wore a lovely blue, which brought out her eyes, and a strong, feminine body, with a chest three times the size of Rebecca's.
Rebecca felt a twinge of envy at the thought of Jill's likely cup size, but brushed it away. Jacob liked her as she was, and that was really all that mattered. She wasn't trying to impress anyone.
What she liked about Jill was that she obviously wasn't either.
Of course, there could be nothing between the two partners, but Rebecca took any chance she could to tease Chris.
If she told Claire, poor Chris would never hear the end of it.
It was immature, it was presumptuous, and it was evil. So Rebecca would keep it to herself... for now. But if anything did happen, tomorrow or years from now, she'd be ready with an "I knew it" gloat.
She called Claire and waved goodbye to the Alpha Team members, and mentally prepared herself for what most likely lay ahead: brutal workouts, more midnight study sessions, and a chance to prove herself as a mature, capable woman. The woman she knew she was, if she could only have a chance to show the world.