Chapter Twenty-four: Into The Drink!
"That's right, my pokerface!" Brad announces triumphantly. "...I mean my submarine," he corrects.
"Muh muh muh," Barry mumbles, earning a slap to the back of the head from like three different people at once.
Chris shoves both thumbs up in the air. "Brad, I approve. Do us a favor and be useful for once in your wretched, pitiful life."
Brad half-smiles, unsure of how to feel about that comment. Nevertheless, he does as he is told and prepares to summon his submarine. The group watches in slightly sweaty silence as the S.T.A.R.S. member with the yellow vest of gold reaches down to retrieve an ordinary-looking conch shell from the sand.
"Heh.. Lord of the Flies," Rebecca whispers, nudging Anthony with her elbow. He grins like a dork who understands a somewhat obscure reference.
"Nerds," Sherry scoffs, kicking some more sand around. Some gets on William's shoe, and he quietly scolds his daughter.
Meanwhile, Brad has brushed off the conch and is now holding it to his lips. After pulling in an impressive amount of air through his nose, the Alpa team pilot blows into the curved shell as hard as he can. A tremendous sound blasts forth, trumpeting across the beach and the sea beyond.
Everyone covers their ears in surprise, wide-eyed and not a little freaked. Ashley sits back on her haunches and howls wretchedly.
As the monstrous tone fades away, Brad lowers the shell. Breathless and red-cheeked, like a little boy on Christmas morning who had just run downstairs, he peers out over the ocean, waiting..
"This is stupid, I'm going home," Billy grunts impatiently, and starts walking away. As he walks, he looks back to the others and notices that no one cares. Billy sulks horribly and returns to the group.
"BEHOLD!" Brad cries, his voice breaking like a pre-teen's. "LEVIATHAN!"
The group gasps as an enormous submarine breaks the surface of the sea beyond the wake of crashing waves. 'Vickers Is Quickers' is painted on the side. Brad looks like he is going to cry with pride. Chris looks a little weirded-out, but is grateful nonetheless. "OK well, uh, this...is an unexpected but fortunate turn of events."
Brad turns and looks at Chris, beaming with strange joy. Chris just glances at him a couple of times, trying to hold a smile. Jill elbows Chris. The Alpha team lead sighs. "Thanks Brad," he mutters.
"I can't HEAAAR YOOOU!" Brad squeals.
"I SAID 'THANKS, BRAD'!" Chris screams. Brad jumps three feet in the air and immediately begins yanking his vest off.
"Why is he doing that," Claire asks in abject monotone horror.
"Please tell me that's all he'll be taking off," Ada adds.
Brad tosses the vest onto the beach, where it suddenly inflates into a life raft. The group is more or less dumbfounded. "We...we can use this to get to the sub," Brad stammers, playing with the wrinkles on his now exposed 'Kiss The Cop' t-shirt.
"...Right," Chris breaks the silence, gesturing with clear-cut arm motions. "Everyone climb in and let's get this show on the...ocean."
And so it begins. Everyone scrambles to get in line for the best seats, even though it's just a life raft.
Brad Vickers stands before his vest/raft, meekly assigning seats as the group gets ready to file on board.
Chris Redfield and Jill Valentine are in the front of the line, Chris saluting proudly while Jill breakdances. Brad waves awkwardly and ushers them aboard. Billy Coen and Barry Burton are next in line, Billy plugging his ears while Barry attempts to talk to him about gun safety and beard grooming. Leon Kennedy and Claire Redfield are up next. "Your right hand comes OFF?" Leon states randomly. Claire just squints in confusion at him. Behind them stand Ada Wong and Steve Burnside. Steve can't seem to keep his eyes off of Claire's behind. Ada decks him. William and Annette Birkin stand behind them, discussing the inherent design flaws of a vessel that was intended to be submerged below seawater. Ashley Graham and Sherry Birkin are next in line. They're just standing there barking at each other. And finally, bringing up the rear, are Rebecca Chambers and Anthony Mihovich. The two rookie team members, field medic and...coffee boy, quietly discuss...medicine and coffee? "A tourniquet is used as a last resort," Rebecca explains. "Never leave the coffee pot on overnight," Anthony notes. "Barry hates that."
Eventually, everyone makes it on board the raft. It is extremely cramped, especially for fifteen people. Hands are sat upon, names are called, and feelings are hurt. Chris struggles to stand up, waving his hands to get everyone's attention. Jill frowns and tries to ignore the fact that his butt is pressed against the back of her head. "Ok, everyone calm down, we're going to get underway in just a second here! Brad, if you please."
Brad toots ceremoniously on his conch shell and begins paddling over the side of the raft with one hand. The overcrowded vest raft moves off of the shore at a painfully slow rate of speed.
ooo
Meanwhile, three figures are coming OUT of the water, slogging their way onto the shore a slight distance away. Marcus, Morpheus, and Nemesis, soaked to the bone and breathing hard, all collapse onto their hands and knees in the sand. Morpheus pulls some seaweed off of him, making a face as he heaves with exhaustion. Even the mighty Nemesis is huffing and grunting. Marcus pukes up a leech or two.
"I never...want to...do that...again," the robed villain states between vomiting, silently thanking Morpheus with a thumbs-up as the female tyrant...man...thingy...holds back his comrade's long hair. Nemesis groans in agreement. "Staaaarrrsss..."
All three villains look up at the same time, just to see the group of heroes heading out to sea.
A moment of shocked silence passes. The sea breeze whooshes by.
Morpheus lifts his eyepatch, staring at the unbelievable sight. "No way. No FREAKING way."
Marcus frowns heavily, his eyes widening. "Are...are you SERIOUS?"
Nemesis actually starts crying.
"I am not going back out there," Marcus states firmly. "I don't CARE if our enemies have taken to the sea; there is ABSOLUTELY NO WAY THAT I AM LEAVING THIS BEACH."
Just then, the communicator buzzes. The ringtone is 'Punch My Fat Homie' by Home Boy G-Man Dawg. "Oh no," Morpheus groans.
Nemesis clicks the 'receive' button, and Alexia's beautiful screaming face appears on the video monitor. "GO BACK INTO THE OCEAN! NOW!" she bellows. "FOLLOW THEM! SEEK! SEEK!"
The gigantic bio-weapon known as Nemesis begins shaking with fury, and he bellows right back at the screen. Alexia is taken aback by this, and actually draws away in wide-eyed shock.
"YOU TELL HER, CAPTAIN NEMMY!" Morpheus cheers. One of Marcus's leeches climbs onto Nemesis's shoulder and begins barking at the screen as well.
"WHAT?" Alexia shrieks. "HOW DARE YOU RAISE YOUR VOICES AGAINST ME! AFTER ALL I'VE DONE FOR YOU!"
Nemesis throttles the communicator, snarling viciously. "STAAARS."
Marcus leans forward to speak to their bold and beautiful leader. "Nemesis is quite right. You've run us completely ragged, Alexia. We could have DIED out there in the ocean!"
"TOTALLY!" Morpheus adds, flashing a gang sign.
Alexia is silent for a full ten grueling, tension-bloated seconds. In those ten seconds, our motley crew begins to sweat. It is the sort of awkward silence which takes place after a five-year-old bonks its knee and is about to cry.
The fierce woman draws a gigantical breath through her nose... and then begins screaming louder than she has ever screamed before, ever. "YOU PATHETIC NUMBSKULLS WILL DIE A NUMBSKULL'S DEATH AT MY BARE AND BLOODY HANDS IF YOU DO NOT TURN ABOUT AND GO FORTH INTO THAT OCEAN."
Her tyrannical tirade is short but pants-soilingly horrifying. Nemesis, Morpheus, and Marcus are left quivering in their boots (actually I think Nemmy is the only one who actually has any footwear).
"Y-y-yes, Lady Alexia," Marcus whimpers timidly, wringing his robe.
"As you say, L-l-lady Alexia," Morpheus stammers, shaking with fear.
"S-S-S-Staaars," Nemesis mumbles meekly, sniffling.
Alexia nods so hard that she nearly snaps her neck. "GOOD. AND IF I CATCH YOU IDIOTS WHINING TO ME AGAIN, I WILL HAVE ALFRED PUT YOU ALL IN DRESSES." With that, she ends the communication.
The three stooges turn slowly and look out to the sea, where The Good Guys' submarine is just vanishing beneath the depths. All three sigh heavily...and then trudge into the surf.
"I hate my life," Marcus half-whispers melodically, staring at nothing as his leeches grunt and squeak alongside him.
"Me, too," Morpheus adds, sloshing into the bitter ocean.
Nemesis sighs a final time as the water rises above their heads. "Staaaarrr-blrlblrlbb..."
ooo
Albert F. Wesker lays face-down on the beach, chewing on sand. "Mmmm," he grumbles, crunching away. "Pancakes." Suddenly, he begins to choke. The sharp coughing wakes him up, and he immediately begins to spit out all the sand he'd been eating. "AH JEEZ WHAT THE HECK, WHAT THE HECK," Wesker yells between wheezing gasps/coughs. He jumps to his feet, breathing hard. What had happened? Where was he?
"Of course," he monologues, (Does that count as monologue? Everyone else there is unconscious.) "I was knocked out by the explosion of my awesome bike slamming into the back of Chris's bus." Wesker flappy-flaps his trenchy-wenchy like a big boy should, and surveys the scene. The weird conglomeration of good guys has vanished. All that remains on the beach are himself, Krauser, Hunk, Carlos, and... Alfred.
"Euh-h-h-h-.." Wesker shudders as he eyes the unconscious Ashford. "Get up," he grunts, kicking Alfred in the ribs.
"OWWIES!" the other other blonde man shrieks, curling into a ball. "I'm broken and battered! Save me, dear sweet sister!" Just then, a small t.v. screen rises on an extending metal rod out of Alfred's breast pocket. Alexia's face appears on the screen. "NO." she yells. The screen turns off and goes back into his pocket.
Alfred sits up, sniveling pathetically and brushing sand off of his weird Napoleon suit. Meanwhile, the others are beginning to come around. "Aye yai yai, what happened?" Carlos wonders aloud, reflexively combing his hair.
"Ugh," Krauser grunts mannishly, sitting up as well. Hunk echoes this grunt as he too regains consciousness.
Wesker sighs and throws away his sunglasses, then puts on a new pair. "Glad you all could make it. My name is Wesker Z. Wesker, and I'll be your host for this evening's show."
Everyone just stares at him, no less bewildered than they had been two seconds ago.
"Oh boy, a show?" Alfred finally pipes up, looking sort of hopeful/frightened. "What's the name of the show?"
Wesker grins furiously. "The name of the show is YOU ALL ARE GOING TO HELP ME HUNT DOWN CHRIS REDFIELD AND HIS BAND OF MORONS, SKIN THEM WITH A PLASTIC SOUP SPOON, AND STEAL RESIDENT EVIL 5 FROM THEM."
Everyone except for Hunk, Krauser, and Carlos shrinks away from Wesker. ...Ok I guess that means just Alfred shrinks away from Wesker.
Anyway.
"Didn't that game come out like...a year ago?" Carlos speculates.
"Yeah, it went Gold Edition recently," Hunk adds.
"SHUT UP-A YOUR FACES," Wesker screams Italianishly, gesturing dynamically with his hands.
Krauser runs up to him suddenly, throwing himself to his knees and blushing. "Wesker, I love you and I will help you do ANYTHING," he screams, and actually starts crying.
Wesker half-heartedly shoves him away while making an 'ew, icky' face. "Get off me," he mutters. "In any case, I figure you dopes are probably going after them anyway, so you might as well do it right and follow good old Wesker. All in favor, raise your hands."
Krauser raises both of his hands so fast that he actually hyperextends his elbows, snapping both his arms. He falls to the beach, screaming hysterically. Hunk and Carlos glance at each other, shrug, and raise their hands.
Alfred staunchly refuses, folding his arms across his chest and puffing his cheeks out while shaking his head rapidly. Alexia's t.v. screen pops of his pocket. "SAY YES, FUDGE-FOR-BRAINS!" she screams. Alfred winces and begins nodding his head while timidly raising a hand.
Wesker stares at his new crew. Then he smirks. Then...he begins to chuckle beneath his breath.
The chuckle slowly transforms into laughter...a laughter so vile that the very air darkens. Wesker's laughter grows in volume and evil, carrying across the vast oceans. Echo, fade to black, all that good stuff.
ooo
"And we're on our way!" Brad announces. Everyone crowds around him in the front cabin as he navigates the submarine through the briny deep.
A moment of uncomfortable silence passes.
"Um," Ada begins, shifting amidst the horde of people, "we probably don't ALL have to be in here."
Chris nods three and a half times. "The Chinese double-agent is right. Brad, do you have like...bedrooms and stuff on this thing?"
Brad spins around in his captain's chair and cocks his yacht captain's hat at a jaunty angle. He is definitely in his element here. Somehow. "Aye-aye, Chris!" he shouts, making everyone wince. "Down the main corridor you'll find BEDROOOOOMS and BATHROOOOOOMS and STUUUUUFF and-" he stops abruptly as he notices that everyone has rapidly fled the cabin, leaving it hauntingly empty. Brad shrugs, spins around in his chair again, and grabs the wheel as he stares out the viewport at the sea beyond. The ping of radar and his own wretchedly shrill sea shanties fill the cabin from then on.
Meanwhile, everyone has taken to finding a room. Chris, Barry, Billy, and Leon decide to cohabit a room with two sets of bunkbeds. Chris immediately tucks and rolls into the room, coming up on one knee and violently brandishing his gun this way and that. Billy shoves past him and flops down onto a bed to catch some z's. Leon climbs onto a top bunk and starts fussing with his blankets. Barry is freaking out about whether he should clean his water pistol or groom his beard.
Further down the hall, the others make their rooming arrangements as well. Ada and Claire pick a room, enter it, and are followed by Ashley and then Steve. The door closes. A moment later, the door opens again and Steve walks out, with Claire holding a gun to the back of his head. Claire then pries Sherry off of Anthony's leg, dragging her- kicking and screaming- into the room before closing the door again.
"YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME!" Steve wails to Claire, banging on the door from the outside.
"I LOVE YOU MORE THAN YOU KNOW," Sherry wails to Anthony, banging on the door from the inside.
"Aww," Annette coos, clasping her hands together and holding them to her cheek. "Sherry misses us already." She then cups her hands around her mouth and calls out, "Have fun at your sleepover, Sherrykins!"
" F(car horn)CK YOU, MOM!" Sherry screams in response. Annette grins obliviously, and leads her husband to a room across the cramped submarine corridor. William rolls his eyes with a 'please kill me soon' look and follows her.
This leaves Rebecca, Anthony, and Steve standing in the hallway. Steve is expressing himself by weeping pathetically. Rebecca is eating some gummy worms. Anthony is intensely staring off at nothing.
Rebecca swallows the remains of a gummy worm and looks to Anthony. "So...I guess it's just you and me, huh?" she speculates.
"AND ME!" Steve shrieks, breaking a mirror somewhere.
Rebecca looks horrified. "Um, oh my gosh!" she exclaims suddenly. "Linkin Park is on tour at the furthest point away from us in this submarine!"
Steve gapes in shock, his eyes widening. "I CAN'T GET THERE FAST ENOUGH!" he cries joyfully, before running off down the corridor.
Rebecca blows out a sigh of relief, wiping her forehead off with the back of her hand. "Good riddance to bad rubbish," she guffaws. Then, turning to Anthony, she begins staring uncomfortably at him.
Three and a half minutes pass in that otherwise empty subway corridor. Finally, Anthony speaks. "Ok, I'll bite. What's on your mind?" he queries, trying to lean coolly against a wall but nearly falling over.
Rebecca smiles almost wider than is humanly possible. "A modest proposal," she answers.
Anthony squints in distaste. "I don't think the situation is dire enough to justify resorting to cannibalism," he mumbles.
The young field medic shakes her head in confusion, regarding him with a 'guh?' stare. "Huh? No, I was talking about stuff we could do in the room that we will obviously be sharing." She pauses, nudging him with her elbow. "Alone." Again she nudges. "Together."
"Stop nudging me," Anthony complains in a soft tone. He straightens up, raising one eyebrow in wonderment. "Of what stuff do you speak?"
Rebecca, in the middle of adjusting her trousers, stops to look up at him. "Well, we could either grow mold spores in a controlled environment using a mini fridge and a half a box of expired doughnuts-" Anthony makes a face at this, waving his hand dismissively, "-or," the cutsie-poo up-and-coming biologist continues, "we could feverishly make out under the covers."
Anthony spits up a mouthful of coffee, sputtering for a moment before wiping his mouth off and staring in disbelief at Rebecca. She just shrugs at him with sort of a 'what is wrong with you' look on her face.
"Uh," the rookie S.T.A.R.S. member checks his watch all of a sudden.
"What's wrong?" Rebecca asks.
Anthony looks up at her. "Huh? Oh, nothing. I'm just not sure how much more of this self-serving bullcrap the readers are going to be able to take."
Rebecca nods understandingly. "I see. Well, we could always just cut to black and leave it up to their imagination. That way, you're completely blameless."
Anthony cocks his head hard enough to crack his neck. "Completely?"
"No," Rebecca responds. "Anyway, let's go mumble mumble mumble."
"Sounds good to me!" Anthony exclaims. They high-five and awkwardly walk off-camera.
Author's Note: Alright, I managed to update (comparatively) quickly! Oh my gosh, Wesker has organized a new crew and HE'S MAD AS HELL/NOT GONNA TAKE IT ANYMORE. But how will he get to the good guys? They're UNDER WATER. Speaking of which, what's Nemesis up to with HIS crew? Additionally, how will the good guys pass the time on their little submarine ride? Can love bloom in an underwater battlefield? Things are getting close, folks! FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENS NEXT TIME.