Chapter 2
Chris and Jill were coordinating the soldiers and agents in the aftermath of the attack on their convoy. Carver and Stump were among those on perimeter guard who were keeping watch for any further attacks.
Any zombies to show up afterward were of small quantity. With the two of the snipers in their large compnay, Archangel and David "Crosshair" Boltzman, taking higher positions to counter any possible opposition fire similar to the RPG that his Stump's convoy earlier as well as acting as a warning for any potential large zombie forces.
Crosshair armed with a SL8–4 and Archangel with a MSR.
Rabbit remained on standby.
Suddenly there was static to come through over the communication feed. "Good morning Vietnam!" a voice came through. It was not Hunnigan, lacking the voice that used to make Rabbit smile in the field.
Rabbit looked to his battle-brothers, seeing they were as ignorant as to the word-bearer's identity. So he clapped back. "Who is this?"
"Just a concerned citizen," was the answer. "Damien Walker." Rabbit remained silent. "That's right. I know your name."
"That's not saying much, jackass." Rabbit retorted. "I was on the list of people you terrorist scum demanded."
"Oh, well how's this: you're from Tall Oaks, born to Killian and Moira Walker, you nearly attended Ivy University, you're a DSO operative—one of the first ones recruited alongside Kennedy—, you were a prisoner of Umbrella on Rockfort Island, you were imprisoned there after your dumbass big brother—who worked in the Umbrella Security Service—got your parents and little brother killed. Is that an adequate enough display of my knowledge? Do you still have nightmares about the Doc?"
Rabbit glanced around, seeking a possible vantage point which the interloper on their communication line could be watching them from. Dramatic psychos such as this one are always prone to such theatricality.
"I know the tough-looking chick not far from you is Angela Miller." the voice added. "Wonder how her dear older brother and his family would feel knowing that Aunt Angela works for the same government and destroyed them."
"Screw you!" Angela barked back into the feed.
Rabbit added "You do realize you're digging a deeper grave for yourself, right?"
"How's that?"
"Well, you just insulted my brother, and then used my friend's to attack her." Rabbit clarified. "And since you work for the jagoffs who have effectively jerked me and my associates here to play to your boss' tune, I have more incentive to take my time killing you. Slowly, methodically, and intimately."
"That choice of words didn't sound right, just for the record." Stump told him.
"I would have to agree with your friend." the stranger said.
"Stump, shut up." Rabbit looked at Stump calmly. Then made it clear the stranger was next on the list. "Jackass version of Anonymous, blow a shotgun."
"As unpleasant as described."
Ghost entered the verbal fray. "Identify yourself."
"And who might you be?" the stranger asked. "With the mask on you people all look the same."
"Lieutenant go fuck yourself." was Roach's response.
"Well, Lieutenant, Joker will do." the man finally answered quite boldly. Giving them a you can't do dick to me level of arrogance.
Roach and Bain glanced at each other in unison in response to the name. Their faces were concealed by their gear, however the recognition was clear in the language of their bodies. Rabbit noticed but kept it to himself.
"I'm assuming there's a reason you're talking to us instead of firing more RPGs on us." Chris said. His indignation being reserved for a later point.
"Yes. Apologies, Captain Redfield. It was not on the itinerary of our plan for you and your girlfriend. Unfortunately one of my comrades grew overzealous." Joker said, feigning apologetics. "I am contacting you with a message for your associates, Rabbit and Miller."
"Which is…?" Rabbit was straight to the point, same as Chris. "Don't leave me in suspense."
"I wouldn't dream of it." Joker was quick to tell him. "There's a small boat south to the south of where you are called the Leviathan's Rest. You or the redhead are to go there and we'll begin. Failure to comply shall result in some…unpleasantness for both you and a guest of ours."
"Very well." Rabbit sighed. Checking the datapad on his left forearm. "You said south of my current position, yes?"
"That is correct-o-mundo." Joker confirmed gleefully. "Have fun." Then the intruder removed himself from the feed.
"Arrogant ass." Rabbit was quick to walk over to one of the humvee wrecks to retrieve a few more mags.
"What do you think you're doing?" Leon asked.
"You're hearing starting to go in your old age?"
Chris joined Leon's position. "Are you honestly going to play along with this psycho?"
"You'd rather I let him kill someone?"
"There's no proof they have anyone." Jill pointed out. "He could be bluffing. They never gave the impression that there were hostages with what we were sent. Don't you think that would have been pertinent for them to share in advance? Especially if they wanted to coerce us more?"
It wasn't a bad point. Then again, it was coming from Jill so it was to be expected. In fact, this was more than likely a trap—Rabbit would bet money on that possibility. But this was not a situation where the standards of conduct would be up to par. It was a very unorthodox occurrence, so he questioned if it was reasonable to be thinking rationally—especially since it sounded like he was dealing with someone unstable.
"I'm aware, but I'd rather not take any chances. I'm aware it's probably—most likely—a damn set-up. Would you really like to take the chance you're wrong and he's not bull shitting? Besides, I'm too curious to not go. Unless…" He faced toward Chris. "Unless, of course, you're ordering me not to go, Christopher?"
Then they saw the look in his eyes and Leon thought instinctively Not this again…
It was not an attempt at impudence or disobedience. More of an exemplification of his character.
His eyes. The eyes which often seemed to be the main aspect of his appearance that did not look devoid of life fifty percent of the time. They betrayed that this was happening regardless of what Redfield said—regardless of what command said. Unless it came from Blackwatch's director, he would not be deterred.
Chris would need to sedate him, or beat him into submission if he wanted Rabbit to fall back in line.
"No." Chris told him. "But you're not going alone."
Oh, now you care?
"Fine with me." Rabbit said. Standing motionless.
"I'll babysit him." Angela said.
"Funny." Rabbit smiled at her wryly.
Cross, the lead of Blue Umbrella's Havoc squad, looked at Bain and Roach, considering it for a moment before saying "Bain, you go with them, too."
Chris seemed surprised by him volunteering one of his people up. Cross beat him to the punch of saying something—even potential protest. "We don't have time for this dog and pony bullshit, Redfield."
Redfield nodded in reluctant agreement. "Very well."
Stump volunteered to go with them, with the englishman not far behind, as well, however Chris and Jill overruled the request—deciding they both would be needed with them more, and that the trio would be more than enough to survive.
Rabbit passed by him, Stump told him guiltily "Have fun, brother."
"You too, Stump."
Watching them disappear in the distance, Chris and Leon were left less than enthused by the situation. Overwatch was not going to be pleased when they learned of the development, nor would Hunnigan.
Steve entered the Switchboard, finding Felix resting comfortably in his chair, eyes glued to the various screens showing footage of the affairs transpiring outside within the city streets and buildings, and a few showing locations on the outskirts.
"You wanted to see me, cretin?" Steve announced his entrance, more so for the chance to insult Felix than anything else—as if the sound emitted by the door's opening and closing was not enough.
"Yeah. Get over here, Burnside." he told Steve with his hand being held up, beckoning him to come over. "I thought this might interest you."
Steve complied. Stepping toward him, reaching him within half a second—thanks to the perks of Wesker's experiments—to see the various screens. "What is it?"
Felix pointed to one of the screens, showing the image of a three-man team moving. "And you said they wouldn't comply…" One of the faces caused Steve's eyes to widen, the only one he recognized. It was that man, the one from his memories of that past life—when he could still call himself a human.
"Damien Walker." Steve muttered with a sigh, sounding almost melancholic. Like an old man reliving a bittersweet memory.
"Look on the brightside, my friend. Even if this doesn't play out, with him and that bae here, you at least get to have some closure." Felix said mockingly. Not attempting to hide the intention of his verbal jab.
Steve did not hesitate to slap him upside the head.
Felix laughed before returning his eyes to the screen. "To think Simmons had someone such as him on his payroll. And failed miserably to convert him." Felix chuckled. "I'm not sure if that is as much of an indictment of Simmons' incompetence or this Damien guy's stubbornness."
"Both." Steve told him. "It's a bit of both."
"I suppose that's to be expected. Trent favored him and his friends for a reason."
It felt wrong!
They pressed onward. The main host continued further into the city. Passing by the emptied buildings and places of business, as well as corpses and the blood flowing through the streets. With Stump ambling not far behind Sheva, with a BSAA soldier with short black hair named Nadia Eckhart at his side—making their idle chit-chat. For now their peoples' focus was still on the current objective of seizing the local police station, and yet Sheva could not help but to worry about Rabbit and his people.
The situation was abnormal enough as it was already, but letting him go off the way he had was even more so. It was not the first time she knew of him doing such a thing, but the present occasional felt even more troublesome.
Rabbit in particular was on her mind.
Sheva did not like the idea of letting Rabbit go off like that with such a small company for backup. It wouldn't be a stretch to say she liked him. Ever since their first meeting following the death of Wesker, they always had good terms between them. He reminded her of Chris as well as her friend Josh Stone—dedicated to his work but a little weathered by the course of his life. Despite how he acted, she could always see the kind of man the operative was: one willing to take on a problem regardless of how troublesome. Even with his sad face—hinting of a past comprising miseries—, she often helped bring a smile out of him from time-to-time. A generally good person. So she was not fond of the idea that he just went off to possible death and she could do nothing to help him.
At times, if she didn't know any better, Sheva would think she liked him, as a woman.
More than likely she was not the only one. Stump was perhaps thinking of him as well—given their long standing friendship since their inductment into Blackwatch. But at least Stump could suppress his concerns.
Even as she moved on, instinctively eliminating the zombies, the intrusive thoughts emerged. That was until a disturbance from above caught her attention.
"What's that?" Nadia asked.
Shrugging, Stump responded "Do you really have to ask, fraulein?"
"I keep telling you to stop calling me that."
Stump smirked as Sheva was examining the clouds. Hearing him say "It's obviously a helicopter."
It sounded similar to the blades of a chopper approaching. So Stump was probably correct. Sheva was curious as to what type it was.
Sea Knight? Chinook? Apache?
There were so many types, if it was one that carried personnel on board that was one thing. Their large company of soldiers, agents, and operatives had enough collective firepower to deal with a contingent of militants. On the other hand…
Soon Sheva had the answer to her double jeopardy question.
A lighter, smaller one. It was less of a concern as what was dangling from it; this was a container of several drop pods. Chris gave the "Light it up!" order and they collectively opened fire, hoping to crash the damn thing before its payload could be released. Thankfully not all the humvees were destroyed, so the task was not too laborious. But unfortunately they were a second late as the loads dropped a moment before the chopper showed fire and began spinning to the side as the pilot lost control. Each of these pods was unleashed into the ground. None were harmed. But suddenly something from within began thrashing.
Bashing at the flash of the container and the hunchbacked, reptilian hunters emerged from within.
"Shit!" Captain Forge cursed. Opening fire with his G36 assault rifle.
Hunters were always a difficult category of B.O.W. to contend with. Manageable but tough. Thankfully some such as Cillian were armed with scatter guns in case they were able to get too close.
Another battle broke out. They would prevail, the question was how long it would take.
Rabbit marched onward, holding onto his rifle by the handle and the front of its mag as if it was a frontal grip, with the holographic sight up and the scope brought down to the side. With Angela and Bain following behind him. The quietest among the trio was Rabbit himself.
That was the eerie thing about him, from what Miller had noticed in the time she had known him. He was quiet in general cases of interaction and conversation. He was not too different from a dead man—as he was often prone to describing himself.
Bain himself was quiet as well. Never speaking unless prompted to by herself.
The clicks they covered between the defensive perimeter and that juncture was substantial. More so in trying to catch up with Rabbit who had taken to pacing more and more in speed to cover more ground. And Sheva thought Chris was fast! Eventually he slowed down for them to catch up, marching on normally so that they would not be left behind in the dust.
It'd be a shame if he got them in trouble after all. Yeah. A regular tragedy.
"Are you insane!" Hunnigan's professional voice suddenly broke through on the communication feed; foregoing that professionalism.
"Volumes, Hunnigan!" Rabbit barked back. "Christ and all the Saints, that hurt. What is wrong with you?"
Thankfully he didn't have tinnitus…or at the very least a severe case of one—a downside of Blackwatch missions taking him into battlefields and warzones—but it was certainly to make it worse.
Angela and Bain were ignorant as to what had happened initially, until he said Hunnigan's name.
"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you? Blundering into an obvious trap."
"What's it matter? Either way there's going to be a headache, so fuck it."
"Callousness is fine when it's your own life, Rabbit! But this isn't a call you can just make on your own!" Hunnigan told him. Sounding like a concerned friend giving a lecture. Rabbit was just glad there wasn't a chance the field agents and soldiers could not hear—the last thing he wanted was to hear more of Stump's snickering and then some from an army of other people.
"I don't have time for this…" Rabbit sighed. "If you're going to be like this I'll just go silent and shut off my connection." Continuing on.
Hunnigan then began speaking with Miller.
They continued on regardless, with the boathouse Joker spoke of coming into focus. It had no sign to indicate it as thus—Rabbit was merely hoping he had the right location and had not erred too severely. Based on the information given on his arm pad, it must be.
"This must be it." Angela said, joining his side.
Stepping forward, Rabbit said "Hopefully."
Gradually they reached the boathouse, with Bain at the rear, providing cover while Rabbit was still the point man. Stepping lightly, taking great pains to watch their surroundings carefully. Wary of any possible traps or slumbering undead.
Wouldn't want another incident like in Gaza. The DSO operative had to drag Hargrave for five clicks just to get him a medic—for nothing.
Reaching it, and peering into the boathouse's window, an unusual sight awaited Rabbit: a caucasian zombie tied to a chair.
The hell?
