A Star's Descent: Book Two: Star Fall

By evolution-500

Disclaimer: House of the Dead and Resident Evil are properties belonging to SEGA and Capcom respectively. I do not own any of these characters.

WARNING: This story contains violence, coarse language, mature and disturbing themes and imagery. Reader discretion is advised.

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Survivors

There were many things that Richard regretted in his life.

For one, he regretted not bringing any food items with him.

Feeling his stomach growl, the Bravo sighed, wishing that he had a candy bar or some kind of snack to soothe the hunger that he felt.

He regretted the fact that he didn't have the foresight to pack more weaponry and ammunition on his person; had he known that this mission would have been such a massive clusterfuck, he would have been better prepared.

He regretted his decision to answer the phone and leave for S.T.A.R.S., leaving behind his girlfriend Bridgette.

Before he had left, Bridgette had warned him of the funny feeling that she was having.

She didn't elaborate on what it was wrong; if anything, she just simply stated that something felt kind of "off" about this mission, and that she was afraid for him.

He had tried to allay Bridgette's fears by assuring her that nothing would happen. In retrospect, he should have listened to her; whenever Bridgette had those "funny feelings", in his experience, more often than not, those feelings would turn out to be true.

He had once joked that she was secretly psychic or something, and while part of him had meant it to be funny, a small part of him couldn't help wonder if it were true, at least, on some level.

Usually those funny feelings would occur whenever something bad was about to happen, and boy, was he in the shit right now.

'God, I should have called in sick,' part of him lamented.

Of course, the truth was Richard would have gone regardless of Bridgette's warnings; while there admittedly was a part of him that regretted taking on this mission, he would have regretted it even more if he hadn't been here by his teammates' sides.

After all, he swore an oath that he would never allow what happened to his baby sister happen to anyone else.

As her memory came back to him, Richard's features fell.

Allison...

If only he had been able to save her. If only he had done something to-

The Bravo frowned.

No, there was no point in thinking about the past. What was done was done - there was nothing that he could do to undo it.

Aiken then let his shoulders droop slightly, exhaling.

And yet, even after all these years, the guilt remained.

Richard's eyes stared darkly down to the tunnel floor, his features concealed by shadow as he was left alone with his black thoughts.

Exhaling, he raised his head and wiped his nose, looking around from side to side as he coolly regarded his surroundings.

"Where the hell do I go now?" he wondered.

After the armored giant had flung him aside, Richard had painfully crashed near a section behind the stairs in the main hall. He didn't know how long he had been out for, but when he awoke, he found himself in some sort of dark tunnel.

Various attempts at contacting the others had been made, but the radio continued to be unresponsive, and the attempts at fixing the radio proved utterly futile, raising more questions than answers.

Looking at the defective radio in one hand, he flung the cheap piece of crap down a corridor, turning his attention back to the one piece that he had managed to extract from it - a small black chip with a metal cylinder.

By all accounts, it was definitely not part of the radio; from its shape and size, it appeared to be some sort of transmitter.

What the hell is this doing in here?

Was this something Kenneth implanted into the radio, as a way to track the movements of S.T.A.R.S.?

His brow furrowed.

No.

Kenneth was absolutely useless with electronics. A good chemist and a lousy shot, but he was a complete moron when it came to anything mechanical, which meant that whoever had installed this bug had to be someone with some level of technical expertise.

Even worse, he started to realize, it also meant that there was another mole within S.T.A.R.S.

As Richard kneeled in the tunnel's shadows, a sudden chill came over him.

'I need to find Chris and the others,' he thought with renewed determination. They needed to be warned.

Pushing himself off the ground, Richard checked his pistol and inserted a fresh magazine, then proceeded to make his way through the tunnel ahead, hoping that he wasn't too late.


Rebecca winced at the extra weight that she was carrying around on her shoulders, the girl adjusting the shoulder straps as she and Jill glanced around at their new surroundings.

Stepping onto an oriental rug with a red and green floral pattern, the two women found themselves greeted by a pair of wall-mounted shelves straight ahead with various pots, gardening tools, stacked boxes, bags of composts, lanterns, and shovels. The walls and floors were made up of long, carefully aligned stacks of dark plywood that were rotting and covered with cobwebs, the air possessing a distinctive earthy scent, while moonlight shined through a nearby window close to the left.

Seeing the various gardening equipment, Rebecca approached, lifting up a pot in examination.

"Interesting place," Jill commented. "I take it you have something of a green thumb, rookie?"

The medic shrugged. "A little," she admitted, then turning her attention over to the shovels. "Should we take those with us? You know...just so that we can conserve ammunition?"

Jill shrugged. "Sure."

As Rebecca reached out to grab a pair, a spider skittered, causing the girl to jump and retract her hand back, startled.

"...On the other hand," Jill said slowly, "...maybe we're better off without them."

"Yeah," Rebecca hastily agreed.

Turning around the corner, away from the equipment, the pair stared down a long, dusty, dimly-lit cobweb-filled hallway with a door at the end. In the mid-section, however, facing each other on opposite ends were three doors - one door to the right, and a pair of double doors to the left - while a little further down to the right was another corridor that led somewhere.

Rebecca huffed, muttering quietly, "Of course it's another creepy-looking hallway."

She watched as her companion stepped forward with weapon raised, then followed close, the medic uncomfortably looking around at the various cobwebs.

Approaching the first door to the right, the duo cracked it open and peered inside. Greeting them was what appeared to be a breakroom, although a rather crude form of one. In one corner was a shelf with cut rope and various buckets and pots, while off to the side were some shovels and spades. In another section of the room was a typewriter on a brown wooden table and a filthy makeshift mattress, which lay adjacent to some art nouveau-styled fences with plant-like decorations that overlooked it. Beyond the latter were some crates and gasoline cannisters that lined a thick stone wall that had ivy and Creeping Charlies coiling around their surfaces.

Once the survivors gathered whatever supplies they could find - namely, a few handgun bullets and some bandages - the two women moved to the double doors ahead of them, then stepped inside.

Rebecca allowed her eyes to wander, the medic taking everything in.

Greeting the pair was a surprisingly quite large and spacious area, what appeared to be some sort of recreation room. Ahead of them were a pair of very large speakers and a record player that sat beside a dart board, the wall covered in various posters. Looking to the left, Rebecca spotted a wall-mounted clock beside some coat hooks, but it was the incredibly large and rather lewd poster that drew her attention and caused a frown to form. Roughly four feet long and three feet long, the image depicted a big-busted bimbo blonde with both hands on her hips in a scandalously small bikini that showed off her "assets".

The medic sighed. "Well," Rebecca noted flatly, staring unimpressed at the offending poster, "it's safe to say that the staff were largely male."

Jill rolled her eyes. "They're not exactly being subtle about it, are they?"

"I know, right?" Rebecca laughed.

Looking away from the poster, the duo turned to the left of the dual doors, where they spotted a set of handrails.

Moving toward them, Rebecca was surprised by how much bigger the room opened up; softly lit, the room was considerably bigger than she had anticipated, with two sets of stairs leading up an upper and lower level, the latter shorter. Resting beside a massive pillar, Rebecca spotted a bar that was beside a massive pillar. Various glass bottles lined the bar's brown shelves behind the counter, while a pair of tables with white frilly table cloths had a number of assorted liquors, some of which had been knocked over and spilled, staining the fabric.

Some of the chairs that had been positioned by the tables had been violently overturned, looking as if there had been a brief struggle or incident which may have caused the previous owners to have panicked.

And for good reason, as Rebecca noticed the remains of a gigantic spider, the sight causing her to widen her eyes.

"Oh my God!" Jill gasped as she and Rebecca approached the dead arachnid.

"I know, right?" Rebecca nodded knowingly. "First time I encountered one of these things, I had screamed!"

"No kidding! The T-Virus did this?!"

Rebecca shrugged. "I believe so. Back when Star and I were on the train, we encountered a giant scorpion."

The older woman reared her head back, turning to look at her companion. "A scorpion? You're kidding."

"I'm afraid not. For whatever reason, the virus causes some species to balloon up in size." The girl shivered. "It's kind of crazy and terrifying to think about in all honesty."

Jill nodded thoughtfully. "I know what you mean." She then looked back at the spider. "What do you think killed it?"

Rebecca carefully studied the spider's remains, holding her chin. "Strange. I see some more of those cuts and small burns on parts of its body. These are relatively old, though. Perhaps a few hours old?"

"Any rough estimates?"

Rebecca frowned. "I don't know. I would need to examine it, but given my squeamishness around all things spiders..." The girl trailed off, looking uncomfortable.

Jill nodded in sympathy. "Okay. Let's check the upper floor."

Moving up the small flight of stairs onto the main floor, the survivors paused at the sight of an advertisement for an arm wrestling contest.

On the poster were a pair of muscly arms that clasped each other's hands, their biceps flexing, the captions reading "The winner will be named Chief for a Day of the Racoon Police Department!"

Rebecca folded her arms together, tilting her head to the side. "Strange that they would have this here."

Jill placed a hand on her hip, the older woman leaning slightly, "Not really. On one hand, given how top secret this whole facility is supposed to be, maybe the people that were here were trying to make this place feel more comfortable and homey. TSomething to distract them perhaps? Then again, considering the possibility of there being another mole..."

As Jill trailed off, both women shifted uncomfortably, unnerved by the knowledge that someone was still among them, potentially monitoring them.

Clearing her throat, Rebecca waved her companion up the stairs. "Let's finish this section off. This place gives me the creeps."

Jill nodded.

Climbing up the long curling staircase, the two found themselves upstairs, where they found a long green pool table with various scattered billiard balls. Rebecca watched as Jill scanned the upper area before the old woman suddenly stopped.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Jill muttered.

"What? What's the- oh God!" Rebecca rolled her eyes.

On the wall beside the billiard table and another dart board was another, even larger poster, this one showing a very up-close shot of a woman's black thong-clad rear end.

"Classy," Rebecca deadpanned. Looking away, she glanced back at the pool table, pausing at the billiard balls. Curious, she approached the table, her eyes studying the layout.

"Something wrong, Rebecca?" Jill asked.

"No," Rebecca replied. "I mean...I'm...not sure."

"What seems to be troubling you?"

"I...I don't know. Does the positioning these balls seem a little odd to you, Jill?"

Looking back to Jill, Rebecca observed the older woman as she studied the pool table before nodding slowly, "A little." Jill then started to mutter the numbers, "Two. Three. Four. Five. Six." She then shrugged, "Lock combination? I'm not sure. Then again, who knows. Maybe a cigar is just a cigar and this was someone's last game before all this happened."

Rebecca nodded in agreement, "Maybe." As the medic started to turn around, she felt something brush against her boot. "Huh?"

Looking down, Rebecca spotted a large red book with four large garnet red diamonds on the cover with gold stylings, the title reading "Bandage with Blood".

Picking it up curiously, she opened it up, flipping it open.

"What do you have there, Rebecca?" Jill asked.

"Some sort of book," Rebecca answered. "Title is "Bandage with Blood"."

"Oh yeah, that's a comforting title!" Jill snarked. "So what does it say?"

Opening up the book, the medic scanned through the pages, her brows furrowing in confusion.

"Nothing," she replied, lifting the book to Jill. "They're all blank."

Jill frowned. "You can't be serious." Taking the book from Rebecca, the older woman flipped through the pages, her eyes roaming through carefully. Lifting it to her nose, she started to sniff it.

"What are you doing?"

"Just checking for any signs of inks or chemicals," Jill explained. "Given everything we've come across so far, it wouldn't surprise me if this were written with invisible ink or something."

Blinking, Rebecca mentally face-palmed for not considering that possibility in the first place.

She suddenly hesitated.

Wait a minute...Star had earlier mentioned receiving messages written in disappearing ink. Was it...possible...?

"Can I see that book again, Jill?" Rebecca requested.

Jill shrugged, "Sure thing."

Once she received the item, Rebecca carefully examined the item again, smelling every surface, searching every page for some indication of usage or chemical, of heat. Some indication that perhaps had been used recently.

Tilting the book at one angle, then the other, Rebecca searched every corner, every part of the cover, testing to see if perhaps there were any secret switches or items.

Nothing.

If only I had a UV light.

Sighing, Rebecca shook her head. "I can't find anything," the girl murmured as she unslung the backpack from her shoulders.

Jill raised a brow. "You're taking it with us?"

Rebecca shrugged. "I have no idea what it's for, but we're bound to find out sooner or later. If not, we could always use this to perhaps write a message to anyone unlucky enough to come here."

Jill pursed her lips, nodding her head thoughtfully. "Makes sense, I guess." She then stretched, "Well, it looks like this area is clear. Let's check the other rooms."

As the two S.T.A.R.S. members descended back down the stairs, they made their way toward the exit, casting uncertain glances around them.

Reaching for door handle, Rebecca was startled as the dual doors suddenly flung open. Drawing up their weapons, Rebecca suddenly found herself staring into a double-barrel shotgun, causing her heartrate to skyrocket.

"Hold it right there," a gruff voice spoke.


The tunnels were starting to get to him.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Richard raised up his Samurai Edge, the light from his weapon-mounted torch roaming along the walls, the knee-high pool around him, and the ceiling.

He was fortunate to have been on an upper level when the tunnels started to flood.

'Just what the hell happened?' Richard couldn't help wondering.

If it hadn't been for the fact that a noise had drawn him up a ladder, he was sure that he would have been swept up by the current, if not drowned.

A grimace formed on his face as he stared down at soaked his pants. "God, I hope there isn't bacteria in this or something."

He hated to imagine what else was in the water.

Hopefully nobody else is down here.

As he continued to roam the tunnels, he took a right, then suddenly halted, his eyes growing wide in shock.

"What...the...?"

Sitting on a pipe with blue button eyes that seemed to stare directly at him was a a child's toy, a stuffed pink elephant with long pink hair.

"It...can't be..." Moving toward it, Richard nervously swallowed as he shakily reached out with one hand.

It's not real. It's not real. It's not-

Richard stared dumbfounded as he felt his hand made contact with the toy.

Trembling all over, he allowed his hand to wander, feeling every surface.

"This...this is impossible," Richard whispered, staring down at the toy with a mixture of wonder and ever-growing terror. "Mr...Mr. Fuzzy-Wuzzy?"

It was then that he felt an indescribably sharp pain, like a hot, searing poker being speared into his brain, causing him to double over and hold his forehead, the Bravo crying out as images came back with horrific vibrancy.


He was nine-years-old, wearing a white Donald Duck t-shirt and blue shorts.

It all began with his family wanting to go for Baskin-Robbins. Richard had been asking - well, begging, more like it - for them to get some ice cream for a long time now. After all, he's been doing well with school and had been very well behaved, so where was the harm?

And so the Aiken family decided to indulge in his cravings, much to Richard's delight. Before they could do that, though, they had to make a stop at the bank.

However, it was this fateful trip that would forever mark Richard's path. What began as a simple visit to the bank turned to nightmare as his sister was snatched...and cold-bloodedly murdered in front of his eyes.

Allison...

His family at the Raccoon City Metropolitan Bank were staring aghast in horror, pleading to the gunman to let go of their daughter, his sister.

Richard couldn't move. He couldn't speak, couldn't yell, shout, not even scream. He had felt himself shaking, too powerless to do anything, uncertain how to even respond.

He had watched the movies and TV shows - wasn't this where the hero came in to save the day?

But John McClane didn't come bursting through the doors with a machine gun, nor did Arnold Schwarzenegger come in and blow the bad guy away with a minigun or bazooka, as he would have hoped.

Richard recalled the terrified look on Allison's face, the horrible screams that she had made.

But even more, he remembered the man responsible.

Allison had been dangling helplessly in the air, trying to break free from the clutches of her captor - a monstrously tall and gaunt figure with long, spidery limbs, dressed in a long, red cloak with a hood, his face pale as death and horrifically scarred, both beautiful yet terrible to behold.

In one monstrously large gloved hand, Richard saw his fingers enveloped around Allison herself, the girl screaming for Mommy and Daddy, for Richard to come and save her. In the other hand, pointing directly at her head, was a large firearm that looked more like a giant cannon.

As he recalled that memory vividly, Richard suddenly paused.

'Wait,' he slowly thought, 'that's not how-'

Wincing, Richard's legs buckled beneath him as he felt a sharp pain in his skull, causing the Bravo to let out agonized yells.

More and more, Allison's final moments came to him with horrifying lucidity, the moment playing out almost as if it were yesterday, as if it were actually happening before him.

The ghoulish figure held Allison up with one monstrously large hand, his face complete devoid of all emotion. Then, without even blinking, without even flinching, he started to pull the trigger.

"NO!" Richard yelled as he helplessly reached out with one hand.

BANG!

For as long as Richard could remember, the shot always resonated with him. He had heard gunshots in television and in movies plenty of times as a child, but hearing it live was a far different and infinitely more terrifying experience. He felt the sound as it echoed, the sound of it so loud that he winced. But it was the impact that made Richard stare in shock and horror, the image that seared straight into his brain, haunting him every time he went to work and when he went to sleep.

Where Allison's beautiful face had been was nothing but a sunken bloody canyon of shattered bone and brain, the shot punctuated by the screams of other customers, by bank staff, and by his own parents.

'...I should have done something,' Richard told himself.

If only he hadn't convinced his parents to take them to get ice cream.

If only he had done something to save Allison rather than just stand there gawking like a fucking moron.

If only-

Feeling a trickle down his cheek, Richard felt his eyes burn as he stared at his deceased sister as she hung from the air like carrion on a meat hook.

He watched as the cloaked monster deliberately and obscenely held her there for all to see, his expression unnervingly flat, regarding them all with a cold aloofness that made his blood boil.

"Y-You...b...bastard..." Richard seethed.

He watched the pale man held Allison's body for several moments, then dismissively let go, turning around on his heel as he casually departed.

"Bastard..."

Pausing in his step, the hooded man suddenly turned, looking directly at Richard, his piercing, violet scarred eyes meeting his. To Richard's disgust, the man's lips were pulled into a horribly grotesque smile, revealing teeth that were far too long and far too sharp for a normal human mouth.

"Bastard..."

The hooded man started to make a noise like grinding ice as he uttered a low laugh.

"BASTARD!" Richard roared at the top of his lungs.

He watched in fury as the man mockingly curtsied before parting, leaving the Bravo behind.

Clenching his pistol, Richard grinded his teeth, his nostrils flaring as he started to chase after the phantom-like figure.

"I'LL KILL YOU, YOU BASTARD!" He shouted, the Bravo running after him with everything he had. "DON'T YOU RUN FROM ME! I SWEAR I'M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU!"


Standing in a dark corner of the tunnel, he observed with satisfaction as the angry Bravo stormed off.

A toothy grin rose from his normally stoic face, revealing long sharp canines like a lion's that gleamed in the inky blackness.

Humans. Such simple creatures.

It was hysterical how such a species could be so easily persuaded to do what he wanted.

All he needed to do now was wait.


Rebecca stood completely still, eying the shotgun as it pointed directly at her.

Greeting her and Jill were two men and two women, each of them armed with pistols and shotguns.

The oldest of them was a man in his mid to late forties, his body possessing a chunky build, his belly hanging over his tight-looking jeans. Wearing a brown vest with a checkered red and white flannel shirt, he had a face like a pig, with huge, dopey-looking eyes and a baseball cap covering his curly brown hair. Thick, sagging bags and dark rings underneath his eyes were indicative of him not getting enough sleep, his manner twitchy and agitated as he clutched hold of his shotgun.

"Who are you?!" He demanded. "What is your business here?!"

"Sir," Jill spoke, "I need you and your friends to calm down and to lower your weapons. I am Officer Jill Valentine, and this is my colleague, Officer Chambers. We're with S.T.A.R.S."

The man breathed heavily, his eyes narrowing. "'S.T.A.R.S.?'"

"Yes. Special Tactics And Rescue Services. We're with the police department. Could you please lower your weapons? We're here to help."

The fat man gave them a doubtful look. The other man beside him, a scrawny-looking fellow in a grey tank top and jeans with messy hair and a goatee, spoke up, "Don't trust them pigs, Collin. I bet they're here to cover up their illegal experiments."

One of the women, a blonde woman in short shorts and a white shirt, scowled. "For God's sakes, shut up, Jimmy. Didn't you hear what they said? They're cops - they're here to help us! Let's put our weapons down."

"Like hell I'm gonna!" "Jimmy" retorted. "Look around you - you seen this place? How do we know we're not gonna be wasted the moment our guns are down, huh?"

Rebecca raised her hands. "Sir, we are not looking to cause trouble, okay? We've had a very long night, and waving guns in each others' faces isn't helping. Not with these creatures wandering around." The medic then squirmed. "I'm just going to slowly put my weapon away, so don't shoot me, alright?"

Moving slowly, she carefully holstered her pistol, all the while trying to ignore the firearm being aimed directly at her.

"My name is Rebecca," she nodded. "What are your names?"

The blonde then lowered her weapon. "My name is Jenna. Jenna Carter. This is my sister Emily, and the dork over there is my brother Jimmy. The man with the shotgun is my boyfriend, Collin Gilman."

Rebecca blinked in recognition. "'Gilman', you say?" she repeated.

"Yes, that's right," Collin nodded. "What about it?"

The medic then turned her head to look directly at him. "Out of curiosity, are you related to a 'Charlie Gilman'?"

Collin scowled. "He's my little brother," he replied slowly. "Why? Was he the one that sent you?"

"No," Rebecca shook her head. "I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but...I'm afraid your brother is dead."

An uncomfortable silence lingered for a few minutes, the group taking time to process the news.

Shaking his head, Collin exhaled. "Well...fuck him. Filthy bastard bailed on us the moment things went to shit, left us for dead. I wouldn't be surprised if he had holed himself up in a bar somewhere."

Rebecca didn't elaborate any further as Jenna scowled. "Come on, guys, let's put these weapons down." Slowly but surely, everyone started to comply, including Collin, much to Rebecca's relief.

Turning back to face her and Jill, Jenna gave an apologetic nod, clearing her throat. "Sorry about that. We've been holed up here for hours, dealing with a lot of shit."

"I can imagine," Jill nodded in understanding. "Is this all of you? What happened?"

The blonde shook her head. "We came up in Collin's jeep along some route. We were just going out to do some hunting and fishing. Just some fun, you know? The next thing we know, three of our friends end up getting attacked by some dogs, and then those fuckers chased us all the way here. We've been dealing with all sorts of crazy bullshit around here. Even seen some weird shit, too."

"Is anyone hurt? Has anyone been either bitten or scratched?"

Jenna shook her head. "No, we're all good. We're very aware of what happens. Some of our friends had died some hours ago. One of them had turned into a zombie, and so-"

Collin winced. "Don't call it that."

Jenna turned to face him, "Well, I'm sorry, Collin, but considering that Tina came back from the fucking dead and ripped Steve's face apart with her teeth, I don't know what else to call her, alright?!"

Before Collin could make a retort, Rebecca watched as Jill raised a placating hand. "Listen, guys," she spoke, drawing everyone's attention, "I know that all of you have had a rough time, but we have a helicopter that can pick you up." At the mention of the helicopter, a hopeful smile appeared on the others' faces. "However," Jill continued, causing the smiles to falter, "there is a slight problem. Right now our radios are on the fritz. Do any of you know if there's any working phone or radio around here?"

Collin frowned, shaking his head. "We checked. All of the lines have been cut off. We have tried checking some of the other rooms, but things have been getting weird around here."

Rebecca blinked. "How do you mean?"

"Doors that were open would suddenly close and lock for no reason," he explained, "plus there were these weird blue metal creatures that would just appear and reappear at random."

Rebecca reared her head back, her eyes widening. "What?!"

Collin nodded vigorously. "Yeah, I know! I swear I'm not making this shit up! Some of them had glowing visors, while some had what looked like light sabers for hands. One creepy-looking fuck was...I don't know how to describe it, but...it was like it was...phasing in...through the goddamn door or something! Weirdest fucking thing we've ever seen! We kept low to avoid detection, but seeing them...it was something else."

As the others nodded their heads, the two S.T.A.R.S. members gave each other confused looks.

Light sabers for hands? Phasing through doors? Just what the hell was going on around here?

Looking back to Jenna, Rebecca watched as Jill cleared her throat. "What-What else can you tell us? Did you see any other creatures?"

Jenna shook her head. "Aside from dogs, some zombies, and those...whatever the hell they were, that's about it. Oh! There were some strange plants growing in different parts of this place, but those metal things were cutting through them, even taking some of their pieces."

"Is that right?"

"Yeah. I was tempted to call out to them, but I didn't want to risk it. Also, one of the other rooms has a ladder leading down, but that area is totally flooded. We haven't tried going down." She shrugged. "None of us can swim, unfortunately."

Rebecca digested this information, her brow furrowing.

So these "metal men" were collecting samples? Interesting...

"Have you seen or met any S.T.A.R.S. officers around here?" Jill asked carefully.

Collin frowned. "You're the first ones we've met so far, Officer. We were just barely managing."

Rebecca watched as Jill frowned herself. "Damn."

"I take it you're looking for them?" Jenna asked.

Jill sighed. "Some of our fellow officers from Bravo Team are either dead or missing, and right now we're trying to find the remainder before these damn things get to them first."

It was then that the medic decided to speak up, catching everyone's attention. "Listen," she spoke slowly, "did any of you happen to see a really tall skinny person dressed in a long red coat and hood around? Pale, with two pairs of facial scars and a strange eye condition?"

To her dismay, the survivors shook their heads.

"I'm afraid not, Officer," Jenna replied. "The guy sounds pretty creepy. Why? Is he the one responsible for this?"

Rebecca closed her eyes, sighing. "No, not at all," she replied. "He's a friend. One of the creatures had taken him earlier, and right now I'm trying to find him."

Jenna nodded in understanding. "I'm sorry about your friend. In all likelihood, though, he's probably...well..." She didn't elaborate any further, the implication itself already crossing Rebecca's mind. "I hope you find him."

The medic nodded. "Thank you."

Jill cleared her throat, drawing everyone's attention. "Alright," she said slowly, "here's what we're going to do. You'll need a place to hole yourselves up in for the time being. There's a breakroom just outside that you can use - you can't miss it. It's the door facing the us the moment you exit this room, okay? We'll need to clear this place of whatever's here as well as finding our colleagues and/or a working radio. Would you like one of us to stay with you?"

The civilians shook their heads. Collin tapped his shotgun. "No offense, Officer, but...I'd rather not. We don't know or trust you well enough for that yet." Sensing the dismay, he waved, "I'm just trying protect the few friends and family that I have left, and while we have plenty of ammunition to help us through, we just can't take any chances," he replied.

Rebecca nodded. Although disappointed, she understood the concern. "Okay. Before we go, there are some things that you should be made aware of."

After quickly filling them in on the known symptoms for infection, she then added, "One other thing - whatever you do, stay together at all times. Okay?"

"Roger," Collin saluted. "We'll manage for the time being. Just be careful out there, and make sure that you're quick - I don't like being in this shithole any longer than I have to."

Jill nodded. "We'll be as quick as we can."

As the civilians exited one by one, Jill and Rebecca followed, making sure there weren't any threats.

Finally, once they were all safely escorted into the breakroom, Jill gave a reassuring smile. "Everything is going to be okay, guys. We'll get you out of here. I promise."

With that, the door closed.

Rebecca watched as Jill looked back to her, her smile dropping. "What do you think?" the latter asked.

The medic shook her head. "From the sounds of it, Umbrella must have sent some sort of retrieval unit or something to collect samples of these creatures."

"Sounds like it," Jill nodded. "What do you make of their claims of phasing through walls? There's no way that's an actual thing, is it?"

Rebecca exhaled. "Honestly, your guess is as good as mine at this point. It's possible the Magician or the T-Virus is making them see things that aren't there. Star had mentioned seeing the mansion change in its layout as well as different versions of us getting killed."

Jill's eyes fluttered, her eyebrows knitting. "Different versions of us?"

"Yeah." She watched as Jill glanced uneasily over her shoulder. "What's wrong?"

The older woman stared silently at the back, listening intently. She let out a breath.

"I'm getting an unpleasant sense of déjà vu."

"Why? Did it happen to you as well?"

"Something like that." Rebecca listened as Jill told her about an incident in the mirror room, along with Barry's decapitation. "I know that Barry and I are still alive, but what happened...it felt so real! Why is it doing this?"

Rebecca pondered that as well. "I don't know." She then looked around at the hallway. "Do you think it's one of the Magician's little tricks?"

Jill frowned, shaking her head. "I don't think so, just because from the sounds of it, there seems to be a bit of a difference. From what I know, he seems to be kind of a dick. These other creatures...these...entities...it sounds like they were doing everything possible to keep a low profile."

It was then that the older S.T.A.R.S. member widened her eyes, looking startled as she glanced back at the breakroom door.

"Wait a minute," she suddenly spoke. "Something doesn't add up."

"What doesn't?"

"Why hadn't the Magician attacked them?" she wondered.

The girls uneasily looked down both sides of the hallway, studying the various doors, as if afraid to catch a glimpse of said-creature.

For a moment, both survivors were completely still, the overhead light fixture buzzing loudly.

Rebecca swallowed. "Should we...should we warn them?"

She watched as Jill pursed her lips, considering the question.

"Maybe not now," she said slowly. "I doubt they would believe us, plus they're scared enough as it is, so there's no use throwing gasoline on a burning fire. That said, though, we'll need to keep an eye on this room, just to make sure that that horned bastard doesn't lay its filthy claws on them."

"Agreed." Glancing down both ends of the hall, the medic sighed. "So," Rebecca spoke, "are you ready for this?"

"Not really," Jill replied. "Then again, it's not like we have much of a choice. Let's make this quick."

With that, the two began their search.


Rage drove Richard through the tunnels as he searched for his target.

"Where are you?" he whispered. "Where are you hiding?"

Turning a corner, he descended downward, feeling the water rising up to his knees.

He felt the damp fabric of his trousers cling onto him, but Richard was too focused and determined to even notice.

Several minutes passed as he continued to search high and low for his target, until finally he spotted something large and distinctively red some feet away.

Found you!

Narrowing his eyes, Richard slowly stepped toward the downed figure as he limply floated, moving closer until he stood directly over the albino.

Grabbing him by his hood, Richard turned the red-clad figure over, his Samurai Edge primed and steady. Part of the shoulder seems to have been cut, causing some minor bleeding, but his face was so deathly and pale that Richard had to do a double-take.

'Is he...Is he even alive?' he wondered.

How long had he been submerged for, even?

The youth didn't seem to be breathing whatsoever.

Checking his pulse, Richard was surprised to feel a heartbeat. A faint one, though one just the same.

Drawing his hand away, he gave an incredulous stare at the albino, shaking his head with disbelief.

"You really are a tough son of a bitch, aren't you?" he mused.

The unconscious figure gave no answer, his scarred eyes closed.

Pulling back his hood, Richard watched as the silver hair spilled out, some of it pointing in all directions, the Bravo taking note of his features.

"Christ, you look like a drowned rat," he muttered. Lifting his pistol, his eyes narrowed coldly as he placed the weapon right up against the albino's dome. "Good thing you aren't awake for this, as it makes things a lot easier for me. This is for my sister, you bastard."

Richard felt his index finger brush against the trigger, only to suddenly falter.

Blinking in confusion, Richard looked down at his hand, his limb shaking.

"Come on," he urged himself. "Come on! Why can't I-"

Breathing slowly, he tried again, gritting his teeth as sweat trickled down the side of his face.

Why was he hesitating?! This fucker killed his sister, for Christ's sakes!

He needed to-

Wait.

No, this wasn't right. Something was wrong - this wasn't how it...Star hadn't-

Reeling slightly, Richard felt a wave of nausea as his eyes rolled into the back of his head, the Bravo losing his balance slightly as he stumbled.

"Wha-What'ssss...happenin'?" He slurred, wincing as he felt what seemed like sharp tendrils digging into his skull. Grabbing his head, the Bravo let out a strangled cry as an unimaginable pain flared, his head feeling as if it were placed in a vice that was slowly tightening.

God, his head felt like an egg that was about to crack.

"S-Stop..." he murmured aloud. Wincing, he yelled, "STOP!"

With that loud declaration, he felt the pain vanish.

Panting loudly, Richard wiped his forehead, sighing in relief. "Finally."

Staring down at the red-clad albino's unconscious form, he kneeled down and started to shake him.

"Hey. Hey! Wake up!"

The albino lay unresponsive, his ghostly lips not uttering a single sound.

Exhaling, Richard clenched his mouth. "Come on. Come on! Don't do this to me, man. Wake up. Wake up!"

Tilting the albino youth's head, he slipped his hands under the former's arms and hauled him up, groaning as he struggled to maintain his balance. "Jesus Christ, kid, what do they feed you down in Louisiana?!"

Of all the situations Richard had to be in, it had to be down in a flooded tunnel with the fat fucking elf, even if he didn't even look it. There was no way in Hell he was going to be carrying him on his own - the dude felt like he weighed a ton despite looking rail thin.

Drawing the albino up to chest level, Richard felt along his ribs as he started to administer the Heimlich maneuver, pressing his thumb inward and upward.

"Come on. Come on! Breathe. Breathe!" He said between thrusts. "Breathe dammit! I am NOT going to be putting my mouth on yours, so wake the fuck up!"

The albino hung limply in his arms, unresponsive.

"Breathe!" He then slammed a hand on the youth's back, causing Star to cough out fluid and let out a sharp gasp. "There you go!"

Star hacked loudly, blinking and groaning. "What- Who?" Looking over his shoulder, he squinted. "Officer Aiken?"

"Yep. In the flesh. Easy, kid. Keep coughing. Get that water out of your system."

Once Star finished, he inhaled deeply. "Where-Where's Officer Redfield and Officer Frost?"

Richard shrugged. "I have no idea. Are they down here?"

Star nodded weakly. "T-They are. I-I don't know what's happened to them. We were separated when the tunnels were suddenly flooded." He tilted his head in the Bravo's direction. "H-How did you-?"

Richard shrugged again. "I was on a different level when the flood started. I've found all sorts of weird things down here." He gave him a quizzical look. "How did you get down here?"

The albino shook his head. "I don't know. One minute, I'm in the main hall with the others, the next, something dragged me away."

"Dragged you? Did you see what it was?"

Star shook his head. "I couldn't see what it was. I had blacked out." He anxiously looked at the Bravo. "Have you-have you seen the others? Have you seen Rebecca?"

Richard shook his head. "No, I haven't seen anybody. Not even the Captain." He adjusted his grip on the albino. "Come on. There's a place not too far from here that will help warm you up. You also have a bit of bad cut on your shoulder that needs to be looked at as well, so let's get you out of here before either hypothermia or infection gets you."

The albino struggled to get up, his eyes drooping. "I...I can't. Leave...leave me..."

"Come on, Star," Richard urged, shaking him slightly. "Now's not the time to be joking right now, let alone sleeping."

Star shook his head. "I can't. I can't-"

"Of course you can! Here, let me help you up, okay? Let's just get you up."

Richard struggled to help the albino up to his feet, gritting his teeth as he felt his back ache in protest. "Come on, Star. Let's get you out of here."

Little by little, the survivors rose together as Richard hefted the youth's heavy form on his shoulders.

"W-Why?" Star said simply.

"Because it's my job," Richard retorted. "Look, I may not like you that much, but that doesn't mean I'm just gonna let you die or rot down here. Now come on, stay awake as long as you can."

Slowly but surely, Richard guided the albino back, struggling under his weight as he did his best to support him.