So Much for Teamwork
RaccoonAnus City July 1998; still some lonely forest somewhere in the doomed Arklay BloodStains. Brad Vickers is somewhat piloting with the commander still seated beside him just in case things went wrong; because being with Vickers meant that something would anyway. So if he could help it, Albert would prefer to die in the action rather than thanks to Brad's incredible efficiency to constantly fuck things up. It was also the only thing he was relatively good at, or rather not so terrifically bad at. Who knows how he got admitted in this unit but one would suspect trickery; the kind that involves the Chief's genitals in his mouth. Best not to dwell on; poor mouth though, it didn't deserve this. Might explain why he needs breath-mints…
They were S.T.A.R.S., Specifically Trained Assaulting Residents Suicidal; all professionals, expert qualified in many domains, tough as concrete and able to keep their cool in the worst situations. They are all highly reliable, as talented to work alone and deadly efficient, cunning and brave with a strong moral sense of justice.
Or so they should have been all that.
Suddenly Brad sneezed, which scared him consequently made him lose control of the chopper; Wesker would have corrected the mistake if it weren't for Vickers screaming and panicking, now holding unto Albert hence hiding his view. Everything could have been prevented; if only they had prevented Brad being part of this mission in the first place.
The crash could have been more brutal than anticipated but it all ended well. They even collided into Bravo's helicopter, subsequently definitely killing both pilots this time around. Hell, can't blame Richard if he couldn't read a pulse right, he's not a medic; it was Rebecca's responsibility, she should have been the one examining whether the men were really dead or not…...it still all ended well though.
Albert tossed Brad aside and glared at him, though through the shades Vickers didn't understand he was being mercilessly frowned at; otherwise he would have pissed his pants a second time. The stench made Wesker move to the rear, forcing his way in between Burton's muscled arm and chest, «Everyone still alive? »
Everybody nodded except Barry who was busy carefully examining if the weapons were still in good conditions, an intense look of concern on his visage like a father caring for his kids; except he never even considered looking at his daughters so compassionately.
Albert slid the door open and got out of the cockpit, «Alright losers, take the donut formation and look for any clues; and here's some invaluable advice: try not to get lost. », he turned to Vickers, «Don't touch anything, don't do anything, don't even talk. We'll be back in a few minutes, but if we're not, and given the severity of our mission it's highly probable; then try not to shit yourself then call for backup. Also I assure you that if you disappoint me again, urine will be the least of your problem. » Albert knew Brad would frustrate him once more; he always did, so he was looking forward to his punishment.
Now was time to face the horror; the survival horror. And that means tremendously-lame acting and cheesy-as-hell dialogues all shit-wrapped in an atrocious soundtrack. But it has its own flavor; one of heavily-rotten flesh mixed with coagulated blood, human dejections and vomit plus monsters sweating chemicals; all of which has been trapped inside and mingling for days in a mansion during hot summer. Incredibly delicious. The team did not know what pleasant aroma awaited them. Fortunately there isn't just Director's Crap anymore but also its remake on PS3, so we have that to heal our wounds with. Zombies weren't so lucky though.
So it goes like this, all team members had their personal equipment. Burton not only had his kick ass 357 Magnum but his Samurai Edge handgun which was equipped with infinite bullets, despite not wearing an 'infinite bullet' bandana like Solid-Erected Snake. But being a gun maniac and a reticent asshole he'd share none of his firepower with the others. Valentine had only come prepared with some cheap Beretta and a gray Memory Card, looks like she didn't read the debriefing about swapping Playstation consoles. Greenfield only had his trusty knife because he wanted to have that 'CQC FTW' trophy, and since trophies are for attention-seeker dumbasses well it suited him just fine. Albert had his shade, which was more than enough.
Joseph had been reluctant at taking the designated formation, not that he'd ever dare disobey Wesker by fear of being strangled with his bandana or having it shoved down his throat. But he wanted to record some important things; like the way trees and tall grass were moving in the ominous wind. That and his labored breathings because he truly enjoyed recording unidentified fiends roaming in semi-darkness and having shadows move about under the faint rays of his flashlight. To top it off it had started to flicker, perhaps he should have thought to change the batteries in there as well and not just in his goddamn camcorder. Too late now, unquestionably too late. Maybe Joseph F. stood for Joseph FuckItAllToHellI'mAlreadyDead. Consequently when he heard a strange noise, like some crazed unknown entity whispering his name, he ran back to his teammates. Truth is, it had been Vickers sobbing to himself calling out the man's name for some reason; best he doesn't know about that though.
S.T.A.R.S. recruits were advancing professionally; in fact they would have looked decent if it weren't for Chris stepping on something consequently falling face first. Jill looked his way, he got up spitting something, «Ah shit—literally, dog poop! », he spat some more before grabbing Joseph's head-cloth to clean his face.
The man's eyes grew bigger than Barry's biceps, «You! That's my lucky bandana you asshole! Now you put crap all over it! »
Chris chuckled, «No such things as lucky charms. Grow up. », he said while himself acting quite immature by pointing his comrade's reaction to Jill with a pompous attitude. She suddenly got more interested by the surrounding vegetation than him. The now-unprotected man looked down at his sullied possession and remained behind as the team kept advancing, his sight blurring from the tears. The camera on his shoulder would record his sobs live. If he have had a moronic friend then said buddy would have put that on You Tube, stupid people do that these days; but he's companionless so that actually is a very good thing.
They continued their search for the other team members, or any of the member's limbs. The donut formation was a good idea; soon Jill found remnants of a dead animal, though it did not help their investigation at all. A mere minute later Joseph was yelling. Chris figured it was because he'd been mourning his bandana but thought he was really overdoing it once the screams became quite atrocious. Valentine started firing though, followed by Barry plus Wesker, so Chris wondered why they were trying to kill the other Alpha.
Truth is Joseph had just found a severed hand only to be attacked by hungry mutated dogs seconds later; said beasts were now savagely devouring him which was bound to make anyone panic and scream in utmost pain. Upon witnessing the MA-39 Cerberus, Albert ordered his team to run for cover; Greenfield thus hid behind a bush. This was not the sort of dogs you could throw a bone to, unless it was your own, with some flesh still attached to it. Fortunately for them all Wesker knew the location of the manor thus led them there as they were hunted by four crazy canines; plus by the sound of it more were converging on their position now.
As they were all running the Captain shouted «Aim for that mansion! »
So Chris aimed and fired. The bullet flew right passed Jill's head; she shot back a glare at him, «Do that again and I'll blow a hole in your head; believe me it'll not improve your intellect! »
The high grass soon led them into a forest and it meant many branches hitting Chris in the face as he ran. Wesker, whose eyes were already darkened by sunglasses, had no problem whatsoever. Valentine would just swiftly avoid any contact with them as if she had been training for that her entire life, as for Barry, he needn't bother since the lot exploded on his muscular body. They kept firing behind them, not exactly being able to aim while frenetically running for their lives, so someone shot Greenfield in the leg. Accident happens, or was it… some of the bullets actually attained the dogs and even killed one; good, because now they were at least seventeen of them chasing the soon-to-be-dead Alphas.
With her agility, Jill was the first to arrive and swung the door open, then managing not to shoot any of her teammates as she covered them from the assault while they sprinted to her. Barry then slammed the door shut and locked it subsequently hearing the dogs hit their nostrils on the strong wood. However the canines kept at it, whimpering and growling fiercely as the S.T.A.R.S. slowly started to give each other glances. Their expressions indicative of concern turned to doubt…. and then severe questioning. Eventually the beasts got tired of it and finally left, ten minutes later.
Burton looked the grand hall, «Looks like we just found out where the rich folks in RaccoonAnus live. »
Jill looked around, «Captain Whiskers, where's Chrisco? », she went for the door but Albert rapidly shot her in both knees. She yelped and fell.
Leader addressed her, «We all know he's always late, I'm certain he got lost behind and is now looking for another way in. With all those blood-thirsty wild monsters out there, being by himself in unfriendly darkness and not knowing what to do; I'm sure he'll make it. » Nobody believed that but when a gunshot was heard in the West Wing they all assumed it was him somehow.
Barry stared at the door to their left, «What was that? »
Wesker's sunglasses were still directed towards Jill but his eyes had moved unto the large back, «Well I doubt it was those dogs firing, Burton...» said he derisively, then addressing the woman, «Valentine, go investigate the source. »
«Maybe it's Crisco, oh no…», not fearing for his life but rather disappointed he was still alive.
Barry, who wouldn't admit out loud he was uncomfortable being left with the Captain, came up with an excuse, «I'm going with her, Chris is our old partner, y'know. »
Jill knew it was a lie since he and Yellowfield were far from close, but Wesker wanted them gone as fast as possible so he just nodded. He watched them move toward the door, then said, «Stay alert. »
Their unemotional, pro-to-the-bone and uncaring Captain telling them to be careful was more chilling than anything else. Next Jill assumed a defensive position adjacent to the door, Barry charged at it with the mental image of it bursting open under his concentrated drive. Well it didn't, he just rammed in it hard, hurting his shoulder then slipped to the floor where upon contact a quick grunt escaped his throat. The woman quickly turned the handle and they entered, closing the door behind them hence being safe from their dear leader now.
Then Barry decided to state the obvious even though Valentine was also endowed with a pair of functional eyes, «A dining room….! » And he also inexplicably sounded as if he'd only seen one on television but never in real life. The resonance of an old clock was soothing; the pool of blood near the chimney was not. Well not to Burton anyway, «Jill, you should have a look at this! »
Undisturbed, she got closer and stared, «I assume you found something of interest judging by the tone of your voice. »
Barry touched it, rubbed it in between his fingers, smelled it, spread some over his red tactical vest in order to gauge its tint and then tasted it, «Strawberry jam! Or, I think it is. Jill, go investigate the other room, I'll stay here for it is unsure whether this is truly jam or not. » She was about leaving when he turned her way and said, «Oh, and Jill », he tossed her a coin, «Buy me a bag of chips on your way. »
She started asking him what kind but it was clear that he wouldn't move from his position, he seemed in some sort of trance and whenever she asked something he'd repeat ''I hope this isn't Chris' jam but his blood…''
Well she'd leave the delusional man to his own daydream. For her part, she wanted to investigate; surely this would prove to be quite entertaining if she took into consideration the transformed dogs and now that blood. Now you find yourself in company of Jill GoddamnFuckYeah Valentine, a United States Army soldier, bomb disposal expert skilled with her fingers who also excels in lock-picking and disarming traps, with general knowledge of chemical and drug related matters. Also a 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment-Delta (Delta Force) woman, and scored top grades in Explosive Ordnance Disposal at "Range 19 Alpha". Then she joined S.T.A.R.S. to kick more asses.
But even if she had been trained to pick around 600,000 different types of locks and is a total bad ass; all her skills hardly mattered since CAPCOM would never make her use of 80% of those in her entire career. Good job guys. It's also hard to imagine a 1st SFOD-D soldier falling on her ass three times during the mansion incident too, but hey, CAPCOM for ya.
Opening the door, our blue beret specialist was welcomed by a putrid stench and noises as if someone was masticating. So she thought she had indeed found Bluefield; he always was one gross sloppy eater and smelled horrible every time he worked out. She turned the corner only to realize it wasn't him but a member of Bravo team; poor Kenneth Gee Saliva wasn't as happy to see her though the livid creature that had been eating him clearly was.
The carefree zombie interrupted his feast and turned white eyes on his new prey. Not one looking to make new acquaintances, Jill shot him in the eye; the head was thrust backward before the body dropped on the other corpse. As for Saliva, he had apparently magically materialized inside the mansion even prior to Bravo's helicopter crashing thus decided to investigate on his own. The only black man on the team plus with zero screen-time and he was already dead, plus we were barely fortunate enough to know his name only now thanks to Jill writing subtitles on the carpet near his corpse. If I didn't know CAPCOM I'd say this is racism. But NO, this is SURVIVAL HORROR and he should have known better than face this colossal threat alone; because when you ENTER the survival horror, you better be prepared. Mentally, physically, and thumb-ly; especially those.
And be white.
Else you'll become a 'shadow of your former self', and that truly sucks.
Valentine bent, pushed the zombie aside in order to fumble into Ken's pockets for ammunition. She did find a cassette in his Kevlar vest; it was labeled with some cheap music band so she tossed it aside. When Jill got back into the dining room, Barry was still there examining the obvious blood stain, though his face was inches apart from the floor now as if he'd been licking it.
The woman reported while stepping closer, «Hey Tons of Fun, got some tragic news; found no chips. », she didn't even think to mention poor Kenneth being half-devoured back there; how inconsiderate. « I did encounter a zombie though. », the woman had said that with so much indifference that it took some seconds for Burton to realize she wasn't joking; more so when the door slowly opened and said foe walked through it. Valentine stared at it, «Don't they ever die? », then seeing Burton stepping forward, «Watch out, it's not vegetarian! »
Barry suddenly felt sufficient; his muscles bulged with manly pride as he pulled his Colt Python out. «I'll take care of this! », he aimed at the zombie's head and a bullet pierced the wall behind it. Valentine frowned, wondering how he could miss from that close. The living dead avidly grabbed the man's wrist and moved closer, granting Burton with nice fetid air to breathe. Jill's brows narrowed even more, she'd have to take care of this herself. Swiftly taking the Magnum she placed the barrel right to the zombie's head and pulled the trigger. Suffice to say its content went everywhere, especially inside Barry's mouth whom had been in the process of screaming.
She watched as he puked, asking, «Burry, what were you doing near that red substance? »
«Investigating; didn't you see the subtitles telling you so? »
«What were you really doing? »
«Look, I have to get my proteins somewhere! »
«Fine. Let's report back to Whiskers. », she said as she started walking away, leaving Burton puking near the fireplace. Well if it wasn't jam, it sure is something else now.
Another surprise was awaiting them back in the hall; their cherished unsociable team leader had vanished. Not one to complain about such fortune, Barry started cleaning his Silver Serpent from brain matters. Jill looked around, «Do you think he went into a corner to empty his bladder? », another thought crossed her mind about the delicious Captain then but she didn't share it. Chasing a smirk off her face, she turned to Burton, «And what's up with this eerie tune we're now hearing that suddenly got triggered? Well we better move unless you're planning on staying here, and-», she analyzed the way he was cleaning his precious baby, «or if you'd like some time alone with your trusted silver partner there…. », he didn't seem to mind the bits of decomposed tissues on his face though.
She suddenly hurled her handgun at him which struck the man in the face snapping him out of it, «Huh? Oh yeah, we probably should be looking for the Captain who so mysteriously left us to die here together, along with this horrible carpet; but I don't feel like it. Oh, I almost forgot. », he threw her a set of lock pick, «I thought you might need these. »
The woman stared at him, «…these are actually mine, which were in my pocket…»
«Well, yeah, I felt like trying it out, y'know. »
«…No, I don't. And when exactly did you borrow these? Anything else you stole from me that I should be aware of before we separate to overcome this fatally-dangerous manor? Because these lock picking tools will play an important part in my survival, so I'd love to know whether or not you robbed me of more chances to remain alive.» she was kind of pissed, nobody, NO ONE touches her lock pick device. It was sanctified belonging.
But Barry had gotten back into his trance cleaning his Magnum again, perhaps he was getting senile. Jill just got closer and searched around his pouches for more spare clips before abandoning him there. She went through a door and that's when the song in the hall abruptly stopped before thunder struck gloomily. Barry eventually finished cleaning his firearm and realized he was alone. Utterly, sadly unaccompanied and lost in a desolated and smelly mansion filled with horrible creatures hungry for his flesh; and fleshy tissue he has.
He thought '…Well at least the Captain isn't here…'
He glanced around… it looked quite unpromising.