Notes:- I'm finally making some progress on getting this story written! Thanks everyone for your patience! It's a short chapter here but hopefully you'll enjoy it.

The Facility Endgame

Chapter Three

The lift ride to the North section of the facility was, thankfully, a short one. They stepped out into a strange, stark corridor, roughly six metres wide. The floor beneath their feet was black and so highly polished that they could see their blurred reflections in it. It looked as though it was made from expensive marble. The ceiling was the same deep black but the colour was broken up by a wide strip of gleaming silver metal with long strip lights built into it, all the same, painfully precise distance from each other. The light from above bounced off the corridor's walls, which were constructed using the same silver metal as the ceiling. Overall, it gave the corridor a futuristic feel but one that was slightly dated, as if it had been conceived back in the Sixties when people were convinced this was what the buildings of tomorrow would look like.

"This has gotta be one of Spencer's ideas" Chris reiterated, marvelling at how clean the place seemed. Jill nodded her agreement. Chris dragged the tip of his boot across the surface of the black marble, grinning with pleasure when it created an ugly blurry smudge across the floor.

"Small victories huh"? Leon commented. Chris smirked and gave his lover a cocky nod.

"Shit" Jill cursed. She was fiddling with the radio that was attached to her gun belt. She shook her head. "My radio's out. Static on all channels"

Leon checked his own radio and found his had the same problem. Judging by the dismayed looks on the rest of the group's faces, their radios were the same story.

"Great, so now Barry can't contact us" Kevin grumbled.

"And we can't contact each other if we get split up" Jill added darkly.

Carlos was the first of the group to venture forth into the corridor, making a point of shoving Kevin as he did so. He stepped lightly, trying to avoid the inevitable squeak of his boots on the floor. He kept his gun drawn, ready for a surprise attack. The others followed, their own guns drawn, their own feet light. Leon could see Brad's handgun trembling slightly in his grasp. It reminded him painfully of himself upon his arrival in Raccoon. God knows how he kept hold of his gun back then, his fingers were so sweaty. He felt a rush of sympathy for Brad although he barely knew the guy. Chris, on the rare occasions Brad's name had come up, had always been disparaging about his former colleague.

"Ok, so anyone else getting a bit weirded out by the lack of roaming monsters"? Chris asked. "Don't know about you Leon but even Krauser's ugly mug would be a welcome sight now"

"Who's Krauser"? Brad asked as the group moved down the hallway. Leon opened his mouth to answer but Chris got there quicker.

"A jealous ex of Leon's" He said with a perfectly straight face and tone. Brad's eyes widened as he looked at Leon. Chris chuckled and rolled his eyes. "Bradley, Bradley, Bradley…you'll believe anything"!

"Shut up Chris" Jill ordered in a matter of fact voice. Leon noticed that Brad's grateful look that he'd directed towards her lingered more than was usually polite. She didn't appear to notice, nor did Carlos. Chris was too busy gloating to care and Kevin was examining a door.

"Can't hear anything on the other side," Kevin said, his ear pressed to the cold steel door. There was a small panel on the side of the wall next to it. Readying his weapon again, Kevin pressed it and the door slid open. The group stepped into the room, one by one, and slowly fanned out.

"Oh Jesus…" Carlos muttered as it dawned on the group just what they had stepped into. Tiled white from floor to ceiling, the room appeared to be some sort of operating room. There were multiple dissection slabs, dappled with streaks of blood that were rust coloured with age. Gutters ran around each table and the only remains of whatever gruesome operations had been performed was the lone body of a large shark laying prone on the table closest to the left hand wall.

"Looks like Umbrella have been up to their old tricks" Kevin commented, wrinkling his nose at the smell. The room, now devoid of human occupation, smelt terrible. A sickening feeling settled in Leon's stomach and he noted, with bitter humour, that the smell of rotting flesh was something that he was used to.

"At least this one's dead" Chris remarked as he slowly edged over to the shark. Staring at the rotting remains of the shark brought back memories he'd thought were long buried. Memories of the flooded basement of the Guardhouse, trying to run in the deep water and ultimately tripping up, all the while trying to stay behind the vicious beasts so they couldn't take a chunk out of his legs or any other part of him they could reach.

"Careful Chris…" Leon warned, following closely behind his lover. Jill, Carlos and Brad were edging around the other wall, still wary in case anything might jump out for a surprise attack. Kevin was still by the doorway, guarding it. He didn't seem all that keen to come further into the room.

Chris, obviously satisfied that the shark no longer posed a threat, moved on quickly towards a row of sinks. Leon stuck close to the wall, noting with interest, a hole in it cover by thick red flaps of plastic. It was quite large and looked like it was possibly some form of disposal hatch, probably for biological waste. He shuddered at the thought of what might be lurking down there, bits and pieces of human and creature alike, dumped heartlessly by Umbrella scientists as though it was worthless trash.

He was closer to the shark now. Close enough to see that it had something sticking out of its thick tail. A syringe. He could see that there was still some liquid left within it, a purple, inky like substance. He moved forwards. If he could get the syringe then maybe they could find a way to analyse it. If it was some new type of virus and they found survivors that were infected, they'd have a better chance of developing an anti-virus if they had a sample of the original virus to start with.

Leon holstered his gun, opting instead for his knife. If the beast wasn't actually dead and made a sudden move, he'd stand a better chance with the knife at such a close range. He unsheathed the shining blade, well looked after, with a black dragon etched at the base of it. His fingers tightened around the grip he knew so well, the knife becoming an extension of his body. He moved forwards and his hand closed around the syringe. He pulled at it and it came away easily.

A sudden, heavy, flapping fin knocked his blade out of his hand. It flew away from him, hitting the wall and landing on the floor with a loud clatter. Chris and the others whipped around, weapons at the ready but it was too late.

Chris felt every single drop of blood in his body turn to ice as he turned around just in time to see the horrible mutant shark thrashing wildly on the slab. The bulky mass that was its tail suddenly collided with Leon's body with such a brutal force that it sent the younger man flying towards the wall. Chris cried out, as Leon suddenly seemed to disappear. He ran forwards blindly, numbly aware of the gunfire around him. Someone was screaming his name, Jill most likely, but all he could think about was Leon. He reached the wall, palms slapping against the tiles as he hit it. The shark was prone now, stilled by the slew of bullets that had been fired into its body.

He wanted to scream when he realised why Leon had disappeared. There was a large hole in the wall, large enough for someone to fall through. He growled as thick plastic flaps tried to prevent him from reaching his lover. He grabbed a handful of them and tore them from the metal frame. He tossed them aside, not caring where they landed. The hole was dark and obviously led to some kind of chute. Chris didn't care, he had to find Leon, he just had to…

Something was stopping him. More of those flaps? No…not flaps, someone, not something. Hands. Strong hands.

"Chris"! A male voice, sounding strained, as if he was using all of his strength to stop him from following Leon. "Get…a…fucking…grip"!

Another pair of hands joined the first and he was being pulled back, pulled away. Away from the hole and away from Leon. He tried to struggle but the two pairs of hands were too strong. One of them held his arms behind his back in a powerful lock, the others on his shoulders, pushing him back from the front.

"Fuck Redfield! How much do you fucking weigh"? Kevin's voice filtered into his consciousness. It was his hands on his shoulders. Kevin fucking Ryman.

"Get off me you floppy haired fucktard"! He bellowed in Kevin's face. He tried to punch him, to get him out of the way. All that mattered was getting down that hole. He remembered the hands that currently had him in an arm lock. He twisted his head round and saw the owner of these hands was Carlos. "And you! Fucking U.B.C.S. fucking Nazi scum! Get the fuck off me! Leon's down there"!

"Chris"! A hand on his face, grabbing his chin. It was a soft hand, a calming hand with a soothing voice. The red mist that had blinded him cleared slightly enough for him to see that it was Jill. Her blue eyes looking straight into his. "Chris you can't follow him…" Her eyes looked away from a moment. "Let him go" And the hands released him. He was vaguely aware of Carlos and Kevin backing away.

"Leon…" Not a name, but a plea. Jill was looking at him now with sorrow in her eyes. He couldn't stand it. Leon was gone. He wanted to break down, to scream, to tear apart the entire place until he found him.

"We'll find out where it goes," Jill said confidently. Chris would've felt a lot more confident if she'd have looked him in the eyes when she said that. He knew Jill. He'd known her long enough to know what that meant.

"No"! A loud, forceful sound that echoed around the room. "He's not dead Jill"

"I didn't-" Jill started to plead her innocence but he shook his head, cutting her off. Ok, so she'd calmed him down and he was grateful for that. It meant that he could clearly see how he was going to sort this out. He moved back towards the chute and saw Kevin and Carlos step forward again. He glared at them.

"I'm not going to leap down there so back the fuck off" He warned. Kevin and Carlos could be frequently stupid but they weren't that stupid. Their movements ceased immediately. Feeling his heart pounding in his chest, Chris leant over the hole. "Leon"! He shouted as loud as he could. "Leon! Can you hear me"? He waited a few seconds. "Leon"! His voice echoed down the chute. He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Chris…"

"Jill…if you try and tell me that he's dead, then I swear to God…" Chris replied, still looking into the horrible blackness of the chute.

"We don't know where that goes," She continued gently.

"It looks like it's a chute for clinical waste," A voice piped up from behind them. Chris turned around and Brad was there, one of the torn plastic flaps in his hands. "These flaps have the biohazard symbol printed on them" He held out the flap for them to examine but Chris batted it away. He felt Jill's hand tighten on his shoulder. "If it's a clinical waste chute" Brad continued, seemingly oblivious to how pissed off he was. "Then it could lead to a furnace or a-" Before Brad could finish his sentence; Chris landed a hard punch to his former colleague's jaw. Brad's head snapped back impressively, blood exploding from his bottom lip.

"Leon. Is. Not. Dead"

"Chris"! Jill had released him and had rushed to Brad who was now sprawled on the floor, blood dribbling from his split lip. Jill knelt beside him and extracted a gauze pad from the Medikit she'd attached to her belt. Carlos and Kevin were looking on, a mixture of horror and shock on their faces. Chris glared at them all, breathing heavily. What did he care? He didn't need any of them. The one person he needed had just disappeared down some godforsaken hole in the wall. "Look Chris" Jill was back at his side now, having enlisted Kevin's help to deal with Brad. "None of us want to think about what might've happened to Leon but we all know that it's a real possibility that he won't be coming back-"

"I'll say that to you shall I when Oliveira gets chewed on by a Tyrant or something? See how much you like hearing it" Chris spat bitterly. What the fuck were these people thinking? "I don't care what any of you say. Leon's not dead. And I'm going to go and find him. Fuck what's going on in this place. I don't care. Leon's all that matters to me now. So…" He folded his arms across his chest and glared at the others. "Are any of you going to come with me"?

"I don't think-" Jill started to say but surprisingly; the voice that cut her off wasn't the voice that Chris expected.

"I'll go" Brad had picked himself off the floor and was staring straight at him. The blood staunched gauze pad was still pressed to his lip. Somewhere, underneath his anger, Chris was beginning to feel guilty. He'd always given Brad a hard time, even before the mansion incident. He didn't bully him exactly, but he had often targeted him for practical jokes. And now, when it mattered the most, it wasn't Jill or Kevin that were stepping forward to help him, it was Brad.

"Guys, I really don't think this is a good idea," Jill said as Brad dabbed at his still bleeding lip.

"Look Jill" Chris felt the rumblings of rage building up inside of him. Her words felt like a betrayal. There was a small part of him, deep down, that knew if it hadn't have been Leon that had fallen, then he might've been able to look at the situation logically. It was a long drop; they didn't know where it ended. It could lead to a furnace or straight out into the ocean so even if he had survived the fall it was still very unlikely he'd be alive. But it was because it was Leon that stopped him thinking this. Leon was the most important part of his world and there was no way he was ever going to accept that he had just died. They'd been through so much together in such a relatively short amount of time that it wasn't an option. His brain would simply not compute that the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with was no longer breathing. "I really don't care what you think," He continued bluntly. Her face flashed with hurt but he couldn't stop now. "I'm willing to give up on him just yet. You may well be but I'm not" She opened her mouth, obviously to argue but he held up his hand. "You and the others can carry on with the mission but Brad and I will be taking the closest lift to the bottom levels. Leon's down there somewhere and I'm going to go and get him" He'd spotted a door at the opposite end of the room and it seemed as good a place as any to start looking for a lift. He made a move towards it. "I never gave up on you," He added quietly. "Not when everyone, your precious boyfriend included, told me you were dead". He stared her out and she looked at the floor. It was a cheap way of making his point but he didn't care.

Chris' words seemed to have ushered the group into an uncomfortable silence. There was a harsh tension in the air, very different from an hour or so ago when Chris had been teasing Brad. The door that he'd spotted opened into a large corridor that, like the ring before it, was made entirely out of glass. The sight had lost its original wonder, with no-one pausing to stare at the dark depths of the ocean that were clearly visible. They moved along the corridor silently, Chris and Brad bringing up the rear. Brad had dumped the bloody gauze pad and was now sporting an impressively swollen lip. He kept glancing at Chris and giving him little smiles of encouragement. He ended up looking more condescending but at least the thought was there. Jill seemed to be suitably cowed by Chris' earlier words and had snapped straight back into her business-like demeanour, stressing the importance of having their weapons drawn and listening out for people or creatures.

They were about halfway along the corridor, the opposite end's door in sight, when the floor beneath them started to shake. Out of the corner of his eye, Chris could see movement on the other side of the glass. He turned to look, his warning catching in his throat as he caught sight of a large, black mass moving rapidly towards the corridor at an accelerated speed. It was moving so quickly that he couldn't even get a good look at what it was. He heard a frightened gasp and he knew that Brad had seen it too. It moved through the water smoothly, barrelling straight towards them.

"What the fuck is that"? Kevin yelled.

"Move"! Jill screamed. Chris grabbed Brad and the pair leapt backwards. He saw Jill, Carlos and Kevin leap forwards. The creature smashed through the corridor, sending shards of glass flying in all directions. The water burst forth from the broken glass. Chris could hear Jill shouted but the rushing water drowned her words out. Separated by the huge gap in the glass, Chris and Brad had no choice but to go back the way they came. They turned around and saw that a thick, metal shutter was quickly closing, obviously to minimise the flooding. Chris hauled Brad to his feet and the two of them dived through the rapidly closing gap. He heard the shutter clang shut behind them. The water that had made it into the operating room had created a large puddle across the tiled floor.

"Do you-do you think they made it"? Brad stuttered, staring at the shutter in shock. "What was that thing"?

"Don't know. Didn't see" Chris replied breathlessly, shaking the excess water out of his hair. All he did know was that they were now separated from Jill, Carlos and Kevin and that they had no way of contacting them.

Leon opened his eyes and was surprised to see nothing but blackness. He was lying on his back on something that was very soft and very wet. He remembered falling down that damn chute after the shark had started going berserk. It had felt like an age before his fall had been broken by something soft. He gingerly moved his limbs, one after the other, quickly ascertaining that nothing appeared to be broken. He was lucky that whatever he'd landed on was strong enough and thick enough to break his fall.

As he came to his senses, he was hit by a gut-churning stench that inflamed his nostrils. Dread bubbled up in his stomach as he realised what that smell was. Death. Decay. It was a smell that had forever haunted his nightmares and flashbacks. They always started like this, his nightmares. Trapped in black, unable to see but his other senses heightened so that the smell of the rotting bodies seemed overwhelming. He knew what was coming. They'd be here any moment now. The zombies. Ready to claw at his flesh with rotting, blood drenched digits. His hands scrambled for his gun but it wasn't there. Oh god. It must've fallen from his belt when he'd fallen. His knife! It's not there either. He dropped it on the floor when the shark started attacking.

He had to stop this. Had to stop himself. Chris wasn't here to stop the flashback for him. He scrambled to his feet, feeling icy waves radiate down his spine as his foot sunk down into something wet and soft like mud. He needed to think logically and stop those horrible, ugly memories from taking him over. But the smell, that smell, was hard to ignore. He stepped forward again, shuddering as something crunched underfoot. The smell was suffocating. His nightmares were on the very cusp of his consciousness, fighting to bleed into reality but he couldn't let that happen. He was a survivor and he had to survive. If he looked at this situation logically then there was only one possible explanation. He'd fallen into a body dump. A place where the Umbrella scientists dumped their dead, having exhausted its uses.

But how did he know that all around him was dead? The smell alone wasn't enough. The blackness around him could be holding anything. He could feel the sweat starting to gather and his chest was feeling tight. He started to take deep breaths, trying to root himself in reality. It was so much easier when Chris was around. He concentrated on the image of his lover and it gave him the strength he needed to get moving.

If he was right and he was in a body dump that meant that the room couldn't be that big. All he needed to do was reach a wall. If he reached a wall then he could work his way around it until he came across a door. He moved slowly and cautiously, arms outstretched and groping, waiting to come into contact with something solid. The only sound in the whole room was his boots moving through the decayed remains of whatever poor souls had been carelessly discarded. He kept slipping and stumbling and at one point he almost fell face first into something that smelt like it had been there for weeks. He felt as if he was on high alert, listening out of the telltale moans of the living dead or the clicking of claws as something skittered across the floor towards him. Every step was tentative and each time he moved, he prodded at the space in front of him with the toe of his boot. It felt like he was walking across a field full of potholes that had been covered with a thick duvet. His stomach churned as he felt his combats become saturated with the viscous fluids from the bodies.

His hands suddenly came into contact with cold metal. He spread his palms across it and almost laughed with relief when he realised that he'd found one of the walls at last. He leant against it, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. The muscles in his jaw were starting to ache from keeping his teeth clenched. He moved his right boot and something underneath it popped, unleashing a fresh wave of the rancid stench. Bile rose in his throat and he had to fight hard to keep the contents of his stomach in check.

He started sidestepping to the left, slowly working his way around the wall. Every so often his boot would come into contact with something that would split or burst underfoot releasing more of the noxious smell of decay. His fingers clenched against the wall. In the darkness it was so much harder to tell himself that he wasn't in Raccoon City. But if it was Raccoon, which one? The original in all its glory with hoards of gruesome monsters ready to tear him apart? Where he had to fire a gun at a human for the first time? Or was it Wesker's twisted version. Constructed to torture him and mess with his head before their final confrontation with him and Sherry's death.

Oh god how he wished Chris was here. Sherry had never been, and still wasn't, a place where his head could go. He moved past a corner and onto the next wall, fear stabbing at his heart when a bone crunched under his boots. The same crunch he'd heard as Sherry's head hit the ground. He's in dark waters now, swimming through memories and feelings that threaten to drown him. Wesker, dressed all in black, smirking as they try to kill him and he won't die, he won't stay the fuck down.

He collapses against something, gulping in air and fighting against the panic attack he knows is coming. Something is digging into his waist; it's cold and hard like the claws of the Lickers that he knows stalk the hallways. He tried to bat it away but it didn't move and that was when he realised that it wasn't a claw. It was a handle. He'd found the door!

He wrenched the door open, gripping the handle so hard it felt like his knuckles were going to burst through his skin. He ran through the doorway and slammed the door shut behind him, not wanting to even look at what he'd left behind. The light hitting his eyes was like waking up and coming back to reality. He was in a corridor of some kind, a small, claustrophobic corridor, the sort you might find leading to a boiler room. He was standing knee deep in murky water that had a chemical smell. He took a few deep breaths and looked down at his right hand. Yes, his ring was there. It was all he needed to confirm that he truly was back in reality.

He was going to have to focus if he was going to get back to Chris and the others. The corridor was a sharp contrast to the more showy clean corridors of the higher levels. Painted dark grey and lined with a network of valves and pipes, this obviously wasn't a place that anyone of importance was ever supposed to tread. He wondered if the slight flooding was part of the reason the facility seemed deserted. A bitter smile crossed his features, some sort of leak, that old chestnut.

He started to wade through the water, hoping that whatever was in it wouldn't eat away at his clothes and skin.

"Well isn't that just perfect"! Kevin spat as the shutter clanged shut behind them. "We're separated"! He plucked at his soaked uniform in disgust. "And I could've stayed at home with my wife but oh no, good old Kevin Ryman, always has to think of the greater good" He helped Jill to her feet. "Are you alright"?

"Fine" Jill answered. "But we need to work out how we're going to get back to Chris and Brad" She bit her bottom lip. "I hope they're ok"

"They'll be fine" Carlos said reassuringly as he picked him up off the floor. Jill nodded at him but didn't say anything or look in his direction. Kevin sighed deeply.

"Can you at least talk to him"? He asked. "You don't have to like him, hell none of us do, but you could at least communicate considering the situation we're in" He grinned at Carlos who was glaring at him. "Why aren't you guys talking anyway? I'm sure whatever it was, Oliveira didn't mean it and he's very sorry"

"I'd kind of like to know what I've done as well" Carlos replied, turning to Jill.

"If you don't know, I'm not telling you" She said, folding her arms across her chest. Carlos snorted and Kevin howled in frustration. "And you're right Kevin. We have more important things to worry about" She turned on her heel and started to stalk down the corridor they'd dived into. It was the same as the one that had led to the operating room. Doors lined either side of it and each one had a name printed on it in black lettering.

"Looks like we've hit the researcher's offices" Kevin commented, keeping his voice down. Just because they hadn't come across any human life so far didn't mean that the place was deserted. He inched closer to Jill. "Where do you want to start"?

Jill nodded at the door closest to them. Just like the others, this one too had, at some point, someone's name written across it. Unlike the other doors, the lettering had been scraped at so it was impossible to see what it had once said. In the stark white cleanliness of the corridor, it looked incongruous, like an ugly imperfection. Kevin pressed himself against the door, his hand on the doorknob. He nodded to Carlos who watched the other end of the corridor, his gun raised. Jill stood by, ready to open fire on the doorway if needed.

Kevin pushed open the door and burst into the room. Jill followed close behind and Carlos brought up the rear. Fortunately, the room was empty. Carlos stayed by the door to stand guard whilst Kevin and Jill set about investigating the room. It was a small office, furnished with a bookcase, large desk, chair and lamp all made from expensive looking dark oak. The carpet beneath their feet was a plush maroon colour and the walls, in contrast to the white outside, were painted chocolate brown. The bookcase was lined with books that had been bound in red, green and blue leather.

"Why are these things always leather"? Kevin asked as he strolled over to the bookcase. He slipped his gun back in the holster and plucked one of the books off the shelf. "Science stuff" He muttered, carelessly dropping the book to the floor.

Jill was standing at the desk, rummaging through the drawers. Like the desktop, they were empty. It looked as if someone had been here before them and cleared out all of the owner's personal effects and any research documents they'd had. She was about to give up when she spotted something stuck right at the back of the bottom drawer. It was a small black notebook, like the sort a reporter or beat cop would carry. Jill pulled it out.

"Carlos. All clear"? She asked.

"Yeah. Everything's bueno" He replied. His eyes lingered on her and she looked away. She couldn't think about her problems with Carlos right now. She sat down and opened the notebook. Each page was dated and written in a neat, sloping script. As she settled down to read it became obvious that what she reading was a diary. The first few entries chronicled the owner's daily movements but nothing at all about their work within the facility. As she read on, it appeared that the diary's owner, whom she assumed to be male, was having problems with a couple of the other researchers. He complained that he was feeling bullied by them and that he was paranoid they were trying to steal his work. There was then a week between the last and next entry and after that, the entries took a more sinister turn.

15th July

Oh they looked so pretty. Brains and blood splattered across the floor. They thought that using my own gas against me would scupper my research. Little did they know how powerful it would make me and now, now they're dead. They begged for their lives of course but that just made me more determined to end their worthless lives…

Jill's stomach churned and she closed the notebook. Was this the reason the facility was deserted? One mad researcher? If that was the case then what had happened to him?

END OF CHAPTER THREE.