Author's Note: This is my last chapter upload of the year! Uploads will still continue next year, starting at some point next month.
Recommended BGM:
1. Resident Evil 3: Nemesis (1999) - Carlos' Theme
2. Resident Evil 3: Nemesis (1999) - Never Give Up the Escape
3. Resident Evil 3: Nemesis (1999) & (Remake) - The City Without Hope
Bonus Track: The Last Of Us (2013) - (SPOILER) Watch for BOLD TEXT below
Chapter 7
When their conversation was over, the line was immediately cut off. Whether it was Perseus' doing or Trent taking precautionary measures, it didn't make a difference as to how Carlos had been left feeling in the end. He walked to one of the booths and sat down, trying to digest every piece of information that Trent had given him. If everything that he'd said was true - and Carlos was willing to bet it probably was - then not only did Umbrella have a lot to answer for, but at least he knew more about Perseus and their motives to kill anyone left alive.
"Why are you telling me all this?" Carlos had asked near the end, his mind spiraling out of control. "What makes me so special?"
"Because your records speak for themselves," Trent answered. "Carlos Oliveira, mercenary for hire - except you only ever accepted the good side of the fight, always willing to protect the oppressed and abused. Twice you risked your life in assassinations, both successful - one a private contact of a tyrannical drug lord, and the other a high-ranking member of Perseus, disguised as a member of the Sacred Snakes under the alias 'Fantasma' if memory serves. And not once have you ever harmed a civilian. As you can see, Umbrella is involved in some very shady practices, Mr. Oliveira, and because Perseus has only ever blamed the CIA for their loss of dominance and influence over the Menendez Cartel and the Sacred Snakes, you are not their priority of a long list of targets. This makes you the perfect candidate who should be working to stop them at all costs."
Carlos had no idea he'd already dealt with Perseus long before joining Umbrella, but it would explain why the pair from before wanted him dead when they caught him in sight. To his surprise, however, none of them seemed to recognize him, most likely due to hiding his proper identity at the time of the assassination. However, this advantage he has right now may not mean much if they are still out there looking to kill him after surviving the initial onslaught anyway.
According to Trent, Umbrella's T and G viruses were two of some of the most dangerous bioweapons in existence, one of which was the leading cause of the so-called "cannibal disease," which began to spread from underneath the sewer system somehow, explaining the whole water contamination. He'd also said that Perseus had been deployed to destroy evidence of their own involvement and eliminate any key targets of the UBCS, murder them all, if possible, and the UBCS administrators knew this was a possibility from which they had little to no care about, so long as it was all in the name of research.
"Umbrella and Perseus are not on the same side, but they do have eyes and ears everywhere," Trent had said. "As I mentioned before, be careful who you trust. Truly, no one is safe. I learned that the hard way."
Carlos abruptly stood up from the table and walked toward the kitchen, still lost in thought. When he'd first encountered Cryan at the local convenience store, he seemed to know more than he let on, reminding him of the way Trent looked at him back at that dreadful alley. When Cryan had informed him that they were being watched from afar, he did not bother to turn his face to the other side, not once, even when they had been carrying Murphy away to safety. It could've been to prevent them from knowing he'd seen them far away or…
…maybe he's also…Perseus?
Carlos shook his head, trying to shove the idea away from his mind.
Trent already had him very paranoid, and he simply laughed it all off, refusing to believe that Cryan could have any involvement with them after he'd gone on his way to help him escort Murphy to safety. If Cryan wanted them dead, he had a lot of opportunities that flew past him.
But Trent did prove to me that he'd been telling the truth, regardless - especially by pulling out classified information about me…
Trent had refused to talk about his own reasons for undermining Umbrella and Perseus, though Carlos had gotten the impression that Trent used to work for either of them in some capacity. This would explain why he'd been so secretive in nature.
Anyone would cover for their own ass, but… how could he possibly know so much about both of them? The things he told me…
Many of the things he mentioned seemed entirely arbitrary. The general manager of the Burger Town restaurant he was in was apparently one of many of Trent's contacts inside Raccoon. He'd apparently taken out a pair of fake jewels to prevent Perseus from gaining easier access to a location that Trent refused to say where. One of these jewels, an emerald jewel, was stored somewhere in the restaurant, which Carlos had remembered seeing inside a storage locker in the flooded basement, yet Trent refused to speak about where the other one could be.
"Just make sure they end up together," Trent had said - as if Carlos was somehow going to just come across the other one. "Once you find out where the sapphire one is, you'll know what to do."
As if he couldn't have gotten any more cryptic, Trent had also told him that Perseus would be using Umbrella's secret incineration disposal plant facility in the northeastern part of town as their own evacuation site. Allegedly, Umbrella had kept one or two emergency helicopters at the nearby scrapyard, not guaranteed for flying vast distances, but enough to get out of the city limits. Perhaps the most useful piece of information he'd given him at the last second before the call ended, Trent had mentioned a vaccine being worked on at Raccoon General Hospital, where this Frank Woods had apparently been subjected to some pretty heavy experimentations behind the scenes, and while the vaccine hadn't been fully completed, there was at least one sample there.
"Although another one is rumored to be located somewhere deep underground near Raccoon University, there's a good chance the underground lab, as well as the university itself, may not be there for much longer. The hospital is no exception to this, however," he'd told him before the line was immediately cut out for good, leaving Carlos to wonder again how he knew about any of it.
What's gonna happen to those places? And how would he even know that anyway?
He had a funny feeling that Perseus was behind it all somehow.
Trent seemed to think that Carlos' survival was important, and he sounded pretty convinced that Carlos would play a significant role in the fight against Umbrella and Perseus, but Carlos didn't know why or if he was even willing to join up. Right now, all he wanted to do was to search for Cryan and Malone and get out of the city as fast as possible, but he had also promised to search for STARS Officer Woods before getting out of the city first. He had been trying to digest every piece of information that Trent had given him that he'd forgotten to ask him several more important questions in return, like where could he start his search for Frank when he could be anywhere in the city by now, or why was Perseus targeting the other STARS cop instead of the former.
A little side note would've also helped - like a local address where he'd last stayed or anything personal like that if he knew so much about everything.
Maybe some keys to a kind of anti-monster spray would've been nice too.
Carlos stood still inside the kitchen, gazing down at the narrow opening to the basement, which he had gone through the first time he'd arrived at the restaurant. He had also been informed by Trent that one of the UBCS platoons should have ordered some weapons and equipment dropped at a clock tower not far from the hospital. He hadn't specified which of the platoons were the ones that'd requested the drop-off, but it was something to think about, considering the bit about Perseus' planned evacuation site and the alleged emergency choppers, all close together in that part of town. It was some nice information to have, but definitely made him concerned that Perseus could have the area guarded somehow. Trent didn't say, but it was safe to assume the worst rather than being unprepared for it.
But if I'm so goddamn important, why let me come all the way here and have me face many dangers that could get me killed? He even said it himself: he had the opportunity to stop me from going to the field office if he wanted to, but didn't.
Nothing made any sense, and Carlos was willing to believe that Trent hadn't told him everything. Right now, he had no choice but to trust him and test some of the information Trent had given him. He knew he had to be extremely careful when it came to relying on such information, but regardless, he had to at least start somewhere with it.
First, I gotta look and meet up with Cryan and Malone around here before I could even think of searching for one person in this whole town. Maybe the police station is a good place to start with, I guess.
Carlos crouched next to the basement entrance, not looking forward to going back inside, but he knew he had to do it if even half of what Trent told him was the truth anyway.
The front doors to the restaurant opened and closed.
Carlos, still in a crouch, held his breath as he grabbed his M4, cautiously turning around to aim his rifle and hold still. Slowly, a pair of stealthy footsteps moved toward the kitchen.
He began to think about Trent, wondering if the information he gave him was all just a setup simply for him to take to his grave… or if the same pair from before had finally caught up to him, trying to take him down silently this time.
One of them stepped right out of view, aiming, and without thinking, Carlos threw some warning shots before immediately sliding past the sink in the middle of the kitchen, taking cover as fast as he could. A few seconds later, a familiar voice began uttering something out loud.
"Oliveira?"
"Hey, Carlos," the second voice followed up next. "It's us."
Relief flooded through Carlos, feeling overwhelmed with a mixture of disbelief and gratitude as he stood back up, seeing Cryan and Malone's weary faces with dreary eyes narrowing down at him.
"Man, am I glad to see you guys," he breathed deeply as he walked around the huge sink, stained in dried blood. "I was worried because I…"
The weight of information about Trent pressed his mind even further, the urgency of their situation still tugging at his conscience.
"Be careful who you trust."
Trent's words flashed through his mind, reminding him that even those closest to him could easily turn on him however they could. He trailed off, suddenly finding himself staring at the stove next to him, seeing how incredibly greasy it was all over up close.
"Because you were sent here by… someone. Is that it?"
Carlos' thoughts suddenly spurred out of control, Malone's statement catching him off-guard as his eyes widened in a mixture of shock and bewilderment. How could he know Carlos was here because of Trent?
"What?" Carlos faltered, his voice barely audible over the sound of the nearby tank spewing gas steadily. "But…how'd you—?!"
Malone glanced at Cryan, exchanging a muffled conversation that Carlos couldn't decipher. The tension in the room had become so palpable that Carlos didn't know what else to say or do as he simply continued to stare at their inaudible conversation until, finally, Cryan signaled him to follow them to the nearest booth in the dining room. Nodding at him, Carlos followed after, and Malone soon decided it was best to close the rest of the opened blinds before engaging in whatever conversation they wanted to bring to Carlos.
After closing the last blinds and huddling over the booth nearest to the front counter, the trio had a brief moment of silence before Malone decided he'd be the one to speak first, starting in a low whisper as he leaned closer to Carlos, who was the only one seated across from them.
"We've been chasing after a wanted man for years. We've never known exactly where he'd end up as he'd be takin' up new identities every once in a while. Now, this guy, he's connected to the same group that's been trying to hunt us down for the last couple of hours. According to Trent, his unit had already been stationed here for God knows how long. For what reason, he did not say, but seeing as to what happened to Raccoon City - well… you can already guess why."
As if Trent's information wasn't enough to keep him up at night, Carlos slumped his back against the booth, his mind trying to digest the information he was now given by Malone. He had now gotten to the point that any new information thrown at him would make him develop a painful headache.
After briefly stretching his back, he connected his gaze to Malone, who was still wearing that same hat that hid half of his dark features.
"So…" Carlos began, wondering what to even say to him. "This 'guy' you're after… who is he anyway?"
Malone glanced at his squad leader, who quickly gave a subtle nod to him as though trying to tell him his approval of whatever Malone had in mind at that moment.
"His name…" Malone started as he switched back to face Carlos again, "is Konstantin Obolensky, also known as 'Bell.' He's a dangerous man, Oliveira, possibly more than their leader himself. He knows too much, not just about Perseus, but about the inner workings of the US government. If he goes on unsupervised, continue to betray those around him, and give up this information to anyone…"
"Then he's pretty much a ticking time bomb…" Carlos finished off after Malone's voice trailed off with uncertainty behind his voice. "So then, why are you telling me this now? Why couldn't you both have told me about this earlier?"
Cryan leaned forward after, his rugged face as stern as ever, and he proceeded to explain further.
"Because we didn't know we could fully trust you," he told him with an unwavering voice of confidence. "Trent didn't tell us who in the UBCS would come here and help us. We needed to ensure we had our tracks covered the moment we took the mantle of guns for hire. We got a bit sidetracked when we were getting chased by Perseus. Couldn't even get a clear view of who the hell they were. One of them could've been fucking Bell, for all we know. We had to lose them quickly before you left this building."
Carlos nodded slowly, the gravity of the situation settling like a leaden weight stuck in his gut.
Maybe one of those guys from earlier must've been Bell…
Carlos didn't want to think about the significant impact this could have on all of them, or the rest of the world for that matter, so he simply shifted his main focus, his thoughts turning to the whereabouts of Frank Woods, the man Trent had asked him to rescue in return for all the information he now possessed himself.
"Do you know anything about a man named Frank Woods? Trent asked me to find him. Said he was last seen near Raccoon General Hospital last night, wearing a stolen lab coat over a hospital gown or something like that."
Cryan and Malone exchanged another brief glance, a silent interaction passing between them before Cryan spoke up to Carlos.
"We've got some history with him," he stated carefully. "But hearing that he's still alive somewhere… that's a tough old son of a bitch right there. If anyone can survive this kind of mess, it's him."
Carlos furrowed his brow, his mind racing as he considered their next move from here.
"You wouldn't happen to know where he might have lived in the city, right?" he pressed, hoping to have any shred of information that could help him locate Frank somehow.
The duo across from him slowly shook their heads, their expressions reflecting loss and regret.
"We haven't kept contact with him and his partner for a long time," Malone admitted to him, a tinge of remorse coloring his voice. "Ever since they've been restlessly looking for the Perseus leader himself, they've gone radio silent for years. As recently as last month, one of our mutual contacts informed us that Woods was 'gone' and that his partner went missing some weeks later."
Carlos sighed in defeat, not entirely sure if Frank was even alive, and all he was going to do was go through a wild goose chase in a town that could kill them at any time. The sudden memory of his previous encounter with the Perseus operatives quickly crossed his mind through the brief silence of their conversation, prompting him to share this information with them.
"Before I arrived here and escaped from a couple of the Perseus guys, I overheard them mentioning something about looking for a STARS officer named Jill Valentine at the police station," Carlos revealed, his voice low but urgent. "We could head there, not just to help her, but to see if we can find any clues about the Frank dude, see if she also knows something."
Cryan and Malone exchanged another glance, their furrowed brows and resolute expressions telling Carlos that they were probably on board with him. After a brief moment of silent contemplation, the Charlie leader nodded at him. "If there's a chance of finding Woods and uncovering more about Perseus' plans, then the police station might be our best bet."
Carlos nodded in agreement, feeling more relieved for finally having someplace to start his rescue mission. First, though, he needed to retrieve that green jewel from the basement, knowing that if Trent had been telling the truth so far, he might need it soon.
"Alright," he said. "Let me just head back to the basement for a quick second before we—"
A thunderous cacophony of gunfire erupted outside the windows next to them, shattering glass into a thousand glinting fragments as Carlos instinctively threw himself to the ground, the roaring of bullets tearing through the air, sending a shiver down his spine.
"Get down!" Cryan shouted, his voice barely audible over the deafening sounds of destruction. Carlos felt the sting of glass shards cutting into his skin as he huddled beneath the table with Cryan and Malone, the barrage of gunfire rapidly turning the restaurant into an apocalyptic flurry of chaos and terror as the furniture around them splintered and doused the ground with debris and broken material.
As suddenly as it had begun, the gunfire ceased, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. Carlos cautiously rose to his feet, his heart pounding against his ribcage as he surveyed the wreckage around them. The entire dining room was in ruins, the pervasive scent of gunpowder lingering in the air as it consumed the faint smell of grease of what Burger Town had once stood for. If the restaurant hadn't been in disrepair before, it definitely was now.
Could Trent have really set us all up?
Carlos didn't have the time to think about that right now, focusing his attention on Cryan and Malone, who had already joined him, their eyes scanning the desolate surroundings for any sign of movement or impending danger, their weapons held with tightened hands. Before they could even do anything else, several figures stormed into the restaurant from underneath several broken windows outside, their weapons trained on the trio, surrounding them all with no way of escape.
Knowing they had no other choice now, all three of them dropped their weapons, their emptied hands raised in surrender. The masked and hooded figures apprehended them swiftly, the trio's fates now at the mercy of their captors. Carlos' mind spiraled, trying his best to formulate an escape plan as they stripped him off of his M4, but it seemed as if their luck of surviving the hellish town of Raccoon had finally run out entirely, which he was unwilling to accept.
As his mind slowly began to resign itself to an uncertain fate, another hooded figure strode inside through the front doors, his hidden gaze sweeping over them with a cool, calculated detachment. The restaurant seemed to grow darker as this imposing stranger approached, his steps deliberate and commanding. Carlos found himself staring at the man's partially exposed features, who now stood right before him. He could sense there was a cold, intimidating aura coming out of his presence, quickly making Carlos feel a sort of dread that told him this hooded guy was not one to play around with.
A subtle snort came out of the taller man before moving on past Malone, staring at him with calculated intent, finally stopping his intimidating approach in front of Cryan. Carlos couldn't help but sense a huge fury growing out of Cryan as he gazed back at the face behind the hood with a piercing look of rage, almost as though he knew exactly who they were at a personal level. A malevolent grin played upon the lofty figure's lips. With a slow, deliberate motion, he pulled back his hood, revealing his identity underneath a dying flickering light, his piercing gaze glinting with a ruthless determination that gave Carlos another surging chill over his spine.
Carlos took a quick scan at his features. His weathered visage bore scars of a man that had gone through hell and back, similar to Cryan, though he noticed that beneath the dark eye patch covering his left eye was a rather conspicuous scar that traced from above his left cheek, right across part of his brow, adding an extra layer of menace to his imposing presence.
"Kravchenko…" Cryan muttered with what seemed to be suppressed anger beneath his voice.
With a cold, calculating glare between Cryan and Malone, the white-haired man taunted them, his voice laced with scorn as he announced his triumph with cruel satisfaction.
"Adler. Sims. At last," he hissed, a sinister gleam in his remaining eye. "You thought you could hide within the UBCS of all things? Perseus always finds its enemies, no matter who they are or where they run."
The derelict bookstore lay in a state of disarray, its shelves reduced to haphazard piles of debris and overturned bookcases. The shelving units were entirely in ruins, their contents strewn across the grimy floor in a chaotic patchwork of literary remains and broken dreams. Tattered remnants of torn pages fluttered in the faint draft that trickled through shattered windows, their edges frayed and yellowed with age. The musty scent of blood and decay hung heavy in the air, much like everywhere else within the destroyed city. Most of the broken skylights have long shed their last rays of light. Few remained with flickering shades of white, casting distorted shadows across the remnants of the once bustling store.
The silence within the dilapidated space was soon broken by two male zombies in blue suits that had suddenly stood up from the back of the store, arms raised as their pitiful moans reminded Obolensky of their latest failure to capture and kill their escaped targets, suddenly feeling a surge of madness rising within him.
As Obolensky and Gray decided to do some quick work with the undead inside the ruined bookstore, Obolensky couldn't help but use his frustration against them, merely using his bare hands to snap one of their brittle neckbones, twisting their head in a complete one-eighty. After the corpse crumpled to the ground and Gray had finished piercing the other's head with his pickaxe, Obolensky began kicking it multiple times, its skeleton deforming and crunching so loudly that Gray felt he even had to step in to put a stop to it.
"Ey, quit the tantrum, will you?" he snapped in a loud whisper, standing next to a large poster of H.P. Lovecraft as he looked ahead out the broken windows before facing him with a furrowed brow. "The hell's wrong with you?"
After almost turning the corpse into a bloody pulp, he finally stopped, breathing in heavily out of anger and exhaustion, his mind still stuck with the thought that Adler and Sims had run out of sight before they could catch up to them through the construction site near the shopping district. Kravchenko may have given them new orders to spy on Miss Valentine and her potential encounter with the Nemesis Prototype, but Kravchenko was merely a simple-minded man with no proper understanding of Perseus' existence.
Combat data and bioweapon research had never been Perseus' true purpose, yet all Kravchenko ever cared about was using the organization as his own petty army for tying up personal loose ends and making money out of the West's destruction and not about driving influence for the better that their home country needed to cover over Western ideologies. Adler and Sims were the living core of these ideologies, and despite having formed relationships with their team almost two decades ago, they never felt genuine. All they've done is have his mind tortured into complete insanity, something he needs to make sure they'd pay with their lives before he loses his own sense of self for good.
But those damn idiots managed to escape when they shot down an unstable pile of bricks and planks…
Shit!
His veins continued to burn throughout his body, seeing a dark haze of red, and Obolensky threw the very first thing he saw in the corner of his eye, pushing a large stack of thick, hardcover books over the dead corpse beneath him, splattering its rotten, twisted head into chunks of gray and red matter.
"You done acting the maggot?" Gray inquired sharply, his eyes unbothered by the gory mess Obolensky had left behind on the floor. "Every famished in the fucking city might've heard you by now."
Obolensky remained silent, preferring to try and push the infuriating thought aside, but despite his best efforts, the frustration lingered like a bitter taste in his mouth, tainting every step he took toward the stairway entrance with a sense of growing disappointment. Each step echoed the rhythm of his mounting agitation, a restless energy that refused to be quelled. He had come too far. He had evaded the US government's tail for as much as he could remember and had endured too much to let Adler and Sims slip away from his grasp. The fact that they managed to do so only fueled his determination to hunt them down with unwavering resolve, no matter what their commander thought was best.
With most of the UBCS dead, they'll have nowhere to run or hide anymore.
Trying to think of a more positive thought in his mind, he switched his focus to what he and Gray had done for weeks without end: keep an eye out on the remaining STARS members inside the city. At the very least, they knew most of Miss Valentine's usual behavior and activities, with all the previous weeks of spying on her own apartment having paid off.
After reaching the rooftop through a metallic door that had a key already inserted in the lock, the duo quickly settled in position as soon as they had the police station's front courtyard in their sights, noting a large RV that seemed as though it had skidded in front of the RPD.
Could be what caused that loud crashing noise from before.
Deciding to wait out for any unusual activity, he immediately pulled out one of his notes from his small backpack and began scanning them for a quick moment, trying his very best to forget about everything that happened in the last hour, hoping he could have a fresh memory of the things he took in mind as he spied on Miss Valentine's apartment.
Day 10 - Target: Jill Valentine
0500 - Visual sweep of the apartment's surroundings confirms no external threats or intrusions. Target remains asleep, indicating a restless night. No signs of disturbances detected.
0630 - Target awakes abruptly, displaying signs of exhaustion and distress. Noted lack of proper rest evident from dark circles under the eyes. Appears to be checking the apartment for any signs of tampering. Heightened paranoia evident through frequent glances at windows and doors.
0700 - Target attempts to prepare breakfast but appears to have limited food supplies. Noted lack of appetite as she consumes only a small portion of the meal. Mental and physical fatigue becoming increasingly apparent.
0900 - Engages in a brief physical exercise routine, likely to maintain physical readiness. Observed combative moments and techniques consistent with advanced combat training. Target's determination and resilience in the face of psychological strain evident.
1000 - Receives a phone call from an unknown number, leading to heightened suspicion and caution. Target's body language suggests a deep-seated distrust as she speaks in hushed tones. Attempts to trace the call yield no results, indicating potential counter-surveillance measures.
1200 - Begins to review case files and notes, indicating efforts to gather intelligence on the ongoing situation in Raccoon City. Detailed examination of maps and documents suggest planning for a potential assault or an upcoming operation.
1400 - Target engages in moments of introspection and distress, potentially reflecting on past experiences or current predicaments. Noted signs of emotional turmoil and inner conflict, highlighting potential psychological vulnerabilities that could be exploited.
1600 - Target's attempts to contact external parties are thwarted by unknown interference, signaling potential efforts to isolate her further, possibly due to Irons or Umbrella. Increased frustration and agitation observed, leading to heightened vigilance and suspicion of her immediate surroundings.
1800 - Limited meal intake observed, suggesting a further decline in physical well-being. The target's persistent refusal to relax or rest accentuates her determination to remain vigilant and prepared for potential threats or escape opportunities.
2000 - Target attempts to sleep, but restlessness and anxiety prevent her from attaining a peaceful state. Heightened alertness evident through frequent awakenings and rapid movements. Appears to be preparing for potential confrontations or escapes even in her sleep.
2359 - End surveillance shift. Overall assessment indicates the target's deteriorating mental and physical condition, emphasizing the need for continued monitoring and potential intervention to maintain control over the situation and the target's actions.
There was still much more where it all came from, but Obolensky already had everything fresh in his mind once again, almost as if he'd known Jill for a long time. In the last days of his observations on her, he'd noticed that she began fumbling over various classified reports and hard copies of what seemed to be information on different operations that Mason, Woods, and Hudson had once taken part in, most likely to investigate what could've influenced Mason's sudden disappearance. He'd wondered to himself how she'd come to such sensitive data before Jill finally burned them all in a garbage bin as part of her increased paranoia of suspicious surveillance activity around her apartment.
Obolensky, however, did not record these specific findings. Something in the back of his mind had told him that their commander did not deserve to know that at least one of the STARS had known and studied more about Woods and Mason's military history and operations involving Perseus. Yet, Obolensky felt it was a necessity as he wanted to keep his current position in Perseus. Still, Kravchenko only had the vague idea that the STARS knew about their involvement because of Umbrella and their carelessness at the Spencer Mansion, and that was enough reasoning to make sure they were dead once the Nemesis Prototype engaged them.
As he closed his small notebook, his mind began to break into fragments for a moment. Every thought washing through his mind clashed like a thunderstorm under compulsions of suppressed emotions; the voices split under two different sides of his own persona.
You should've told him the full details…
…no, he has never been a worthy leader. He betrayed your previous commander.
The chain of command is not to be questioned…
…you idiot! He needs to pay! His goals had never been aligned with Perseus' true purpose!
No! You've got a job to do. Just do it!
Somehow, he regained full control of his broken mind, mending itself as he put the notebook away, looking back at Gray, who now had his gaze fixed on him as though Obolensky was about to throw another fit of rage. In reality, he was still feeling the insanity of his emotions trying to take over him but was now finally learning to keep them in check.
"You not gonna go full nuts on me, yeah?" he asked, not out of concern but of a tone filled with exasperation.
"Just keep scanning the building," Obolensky responded in a low, sharp voice, now ignoring his gaze as he meticulously began to scan the RPD's facade through the scope of his mounted sniper rifle.
As the wind blew a cool breeze over his partially exposed facial skin, he slowed his breath slightly, keeping a steady view of some of the broken windows to the right. Through the shattered glass, he could see blood splattered on the plastered walls but no movement of either monsters or survivors wandering about. Moving the scope's focus down by a few hairs, there were charred remnants that bore witness to some of the devastation that had consumed the precinct, possibly as a result of an explosive used by any of the officers in a vain attempt to stop the infected from entering through one of the building's rear emergency exits.
Wonder if it also had been Nikolai's work…
It was a possibility, but he didn't care much about it as long as Nikolai kept his end of the bargain. If worse comes to worst, they could simply take him out, acquire whatever he had obtained, and use those records to destroy Umbrella while granting Perseus the power to form their own BOW powerhouse. Knowing Kravchenko, however, he would only use said power for his own personal gain, ruining any chance of Russia ever gaining the level of power that America currently held for herself.
And even with this amount of power, it's already backfired on them…
Pushing these heavy thoughts aside, he prompted himself to keep sweeping the RPD's surroundings, seeing the blurred, faded signs of caution tape fluttering in the gentle breeze stuck on nearby bushes inside the small garden. Beside the crimson spots of dried blood littering the courtyard pavement, a pool of dark-red substance was located near the edge of the front gates. The blood puddle seemed vaguely fresh, as if a corpse had just been lying there before either being devoured or moved away elsewhere…
…and just as he began to hover his sniper elsewhere, Obolensky's keen hearing detected something shattering, followed by a violent tremor that coursed through the rooftop they occupied. He quickly pulled his eye out of the scope, scanning around the RPD building to see if some kind of explosion was nearby. The whole structure ahead seemed to shake in response to an unseen force, and Obolensky's trained instinct screamed at him that something could've breached inside the station on the other side from where they were.
"Could that be…"
"Get ready," Obolensky interrupted Gray's unspoken prediction as both of them had their M40A1s firmly aimed at the RPD's facade, their eyes narrowed and focused in anticipation for what was about to come.
Thundering sounds of muffled footsteps and the reverberation of small explosions emanating from the west side of the police station rumbled through the air. Even as the source of the commotion was still being concealed inside, Obolensky could tell these were most likely coming from one of the Tyrant creatures that Kravchenko had informed them about, though the explosions brought up the question as to whether these were caused by survivors that had stuff like homemade grenades or RPD-issued grenade launchers to deal with such BOWs.
The Nemesis Prototype could also be wielding those weapons, engaging in a fight against Miss Valentine and other survivors that may be with her.
Feeling a rising sense of excitement to finally see everything in action, he waited with Gray, shrouded in the night sky's darkness. Both of them kept silent as the muffled sounds of a small firefight continued to slice through the cool breeze, their fingers at the ready in case they were merely a bunch of brain-dead looters fighting against the last remnants of the police force. It wasn't likely, but they could not afford to take the slightest risks either.
As if a stageplay went through a high budget for a main character's dramatized entrance, the front doors of the RPD building were blown out from the inside, the deafening explosion echoing loudly through the night air as Obolensky and Gray watched in stunned silence. The smoldering remains of the RPD's main entrance hung on the sides by its hinges, followed by the combined sounds of screams from a group of few survivors and what seemed to be a monstrous roar of animalistic rage through a single word that instantly made Obolensky know exactly what it was before the smoke and debris had the time to settle on the ground.
"SSSTAAARRSSS!"
The echoing roar of immense fury was unlike anything they'd ever heard in their lives, and even though the Nemesis BOW wasn't specifically targeting him or Gray, it still made his whole body rattle in a disturbing chill just by the sound of the growling Tyrant.
"Ah, Miss Valentine…" Obolensky beamed as he followed her through the scope's vision. "And what do we have here; another young girl and… Woods?"
Hatred boiled within him as he laid eyes on Sergeant Frank Woods, the memories of their shared past casting a bitter shadow over the events unfolding in front of him, the overbearing agony of betrayal still incurred on his very soul. Even after being under the illusions of being born and raised as part of the Western civilization, Obolensky still couldn't help but feel he'd shared one of the best times he'd had in his life with them, a feeling he had been deeply ashamed of since. Despite the camaraderie they had once shared, the knowledge that Woods had been complicit in his torture by Adler through means of inaction and neglect fueled a seething rage within Obolensky that began to consume him entirely.
As his finger slowly cramped itself near the trigger, staring at the ragged, dark green T-shirt's logo, "Rise from the Ashes," on the center of his chest brought memories of shared laughs and drinks, remembering Mason having worn that same shirt on the night before their flight to Cuba when Mason and Woods had invited him to play poker with them.
That was also before I left Lazar to his death…
There was a growing sense of guilt gnawing inside his gut, but he completely disregarded those emotions. Lazar was just another complicit and had it coming anyway. Thinking about it now, it was unfortunate that Park did not share the same fate after foolishly saving and bringing her to safety, but her time would come someday.
Shut up! Just take the shot and go!
The taste of bitter juxtaposition to the betrayal he'd endured kept eating him up like a hungry parasite, becoming blind from the shadowy reminder of the deception that had existed from the very beginning. If he couldn't kill Adler or Sims, Woods would still make a good starting point for his revenge against those who wronged him.
"Give my regards to Lazar…" he muttered, his aim unwavering as he sought retribution for the pain and suffering that had haunted him for so long, the finger on the trigger slightly hesitating for a brief moment.
Without another moment's notice, he vaguely heard Gray sharply call out a fierce "No!" to him, falling on deaf ears as Obolensky finally won over the unseen force that prevented him from pulling the trigger…
…but his aim was suddenly off the moment he shot the M40A1. Gray had shoved him to the rooftop's ground, and all Obolensky could hear was the Nemesis rumbling roars and a sudden warcry coming from Woods himself, followed by an unleashed hail of semi-automatic bullets toward the rooftop, seemingly in a fit of blind rage.
Through the blink of an eye, Obolensky had immediately realized he'd shot the dirty blonde instead of his actual intended target, the unintended consequences of his missed shot sending ripples of anguish through his fractured psyche, violently pushing Gray away from him as soon as the brief storm of bullets stopped altogether.
Once he stood back up to watch Woods, now carrying the whimpering girl who was now bleeding through her abdomen, he saw Jill standing behind, desperately locking the gates using an old shotgun as a deadbolt as the Nemesis dashed forward and screamed a demon cry of bloodlusted rage at her before it immediately began to jump over fifteen feet in the air, vanishing out of view into the surrounding streets of the RPD's eastern side. Valentine, Woods, and the younger girl were nowhere to be seen afterward.
"You imbecile!" Obolensky's voice cracked with a manic fury that mimicked the Nemesis' madness, his eyes ablaze with immediate anger toward his idiotic comrade. "I had him in my sights! And you ruined EVERYTHING!"
"Our mission was to observe and not interfere!" Gray's voice rang with a chilling matter-of-factness, underscoring every word out of his mouth. "Now that we've got a positive ID on Woods, we cannot intervene once they engage with the fuckin' Nemesis, ya hear me?! Although the girl being shot might've saved us some trouble, our orders hadn't changed, mate." Gray picked up his dropped sniper and slung it over his shoulder, looking back at a stunned and angered Obolensky before walking past him. "Let's move our arses now that you fucked with our location."
Obolensky kept trying his best to hold back every tornado of emotions churning within, trying to stop himself from either yelling back at Gray or shooting him outright. Just when revenge was within his grasp, it quickly got yanked away, leaving him grappling with a potent mixture of resentment and begrudging understanding of the consequences of his actions, and yet Gray still did not fully understand him at all.
Looking back to where everything had unfolded, Obolensky's mind drifted to the teenager's terrified face when he took a quick glimpse at his failure to kill Woods. In that instant, the haunting memory of his little sister's fading innocence quickly gave away from repressed thoughts that had been buried deep within, a specter from his long-forgotten past that had shaped the contours of his moral compass forever.
The KGB had ordered the assassination of his younger sister when he had defied orders to kill an American spy's entire family, including three children who were all no older than seven years old. Not only had the KGB killed his sister in the most gruesome way possible, but he was also forced to watch the spy's family slaughtered in front of him, leaving nothing but an entire bloodbath of death. This was a huge turning point in his life, ultimately leading to selling his services to Perseus, who promised him a "Greater Russia," including replacing key government figures. Their primary goals have never come to fruition, thanks to the West's actions, whether or not they had been for the "greater good."
Obolensky followed after his comrade through the door leading inside the building, still feeling frustrated at him, but at the same time, he began feeling something changing within.
After that horrendous incident from his past, he had no qualms about killing anyone who got in his way, never hesitating to do what needed to be done. However, something about that young girl's eyes that reflected a glimpse of fear and vulnerability had ignited a unique spark of empathy within him, an emotion he thought he never held for anyone else out here left alive in the city.
Fragmented memories came rushing back at him again: past betrayals, bloody battles, assassinations, treacherous ideologies, innocents killed…
The parade of casualties that blurred the lines between right and wrong - duty and morality - had never been so shocking and unclear to him as it was now. Even when he'd worked for the CIA against his own will, he'd been able to justify the blood on his hands in the name of the greater good, but the sight of young innocent bystanders paying the price for a secret that may inevitably come to light threatened to unravel the fragile tapestry of his convictions.
And now you may have already killed her…no different than the KGB killing your own sister.
No. Gray's done it. You had Woods in your sights, but he swayed your aim to the girl instead…
…but you pulled the damn trigger! Look where revenge has gotten you now. Is it worth all the death around you? Are you happy with the blood you have in your hands? Do you enjoy shedding your humanity for the sake of a fantasy dream?
You've already become the monster you always feared to be…no different than the Tyrant itself.
A web of existential crisis and dread settled over him, bringing an intense, profound disquiet that kept eating up his steady balance as he took each step on the stairs' treads. Between the weight of his past sins and the grim reality of the wounded young girl resembling his little sister, Obolensky couldn't help but question the cost of his own humanity in the pursuit of a dying dream that demanded the sacrifice of innocence and the compromise of his very soul…
There was no time to think, no time to stop or look back.
Frank felt his bones and muscles hurt like a son of a bitch, possibly still regenerating some of the internal wounds he had received from the full force that the Nemesis had done to him, but with adrenaline still pumping and hearing Gwen's dwindling grunts as the mutant screamed a diabolical roar of hellish rage from the human soul trapped inside the abomination within, he continued to run.
Those fuckers will pay for everything!
Gwen tried to speak out something to him, but all that came out were mere mumbles of pain that formed no understandable words, and all Frank could do was try to reassure her until they finally arrived at a clothing store's back storage room in the same dark alley that Valentine had told him to go to.
"You gonna be okay, kid," he said, trying to keep his voice steady as his heart clogged his throat. "Just stay with me, Gwen. Can you do that for me?"
She nodded slowly, wincing in pain as tears ran over her temples just when she was being gently laid flat on the dusty ground. The dim light filtering through the cracked window cast a haunting glow on her pale, sweat-drenched face, her labored, shaky breaths giving Frank a hard time concentrating on what he needed to do next.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
Need something to stop the bleeding.
C'mon, Frank. Go fuckin' look!
Frank quickly stood up, listening to the voice inside his head as he fumbled over the shelves, throwing old and filthy objects around, looking for anything related to a first aid kit; his mind fogged with worry, rage, and torment. He didn't know shit about medicine, but the basics of survival were something he knew he could handle for the time being, at least until they could get the kid some proper treatment somehow.
Here!
Behind a row of abandoned cleaning supplies, he finally found a white medkit stained with dried blood spots. Opening it up didn't reveal much, but at least a bandage roll was all there was left, just enough to promote a halt to the hemorrhaging wound.
Not thinking of anything else, Frank focused on applying the entire bandage and putting enough pressure on Gwen's wet wound, which had already soaked her gray tank top and upper jeans in oozing blood. Seeing so much blood on her just made it all very unreal to him; not wanting to believe she wasn't going to make it, forcing himself to think that everything would be fine after it was all over. In the back of his mind, however, he'd seen too many good people suffer and die from fatal injuries like this, enough to know that he simply could not ignore that lingering fact alone. Frank gritted his teeth, trying to hold back the flood of emotions, trying to throw the excruciating thought away from his restless mind.
"Keep your eyes on me, kid," he managed to choke out, his voice strained with a mixture of determination and suppressed anguish as he saw her weary eyes giving up the vivid light of life itself as her grunts were growing lighter than ever. "Hey-hey-hey, listen to my voice. I know it hurts, sweetheart - trust me, I do. Just stay with me, ya hear me? C'mon!"
The door from which they'd come in earlier had suddenly burst open and closed shut.
Jill's sudden arrival brought a fleeting sense of relief, her vague awareness of her surroundings put to a stupor as she focused on watching the shattered window for a moment. A few seconds later, she looked back at them, her expression grim and pale, before uttering something to Frank.
"The monster's gone for now. Not sure for how long, but we ought to move before Perseus and that monster know where we are."
Frank barely had any time to hold his sight on Jill, still putting his mind entirely focused on the wounded teenager, sensing her pulse slowly dwindling away as he tried to keep his voice going for Gwen to hear and follow, who was seemingly losing the battle to hold on to dear life.
"F-Frank…" she struggled in a whisper, her voice weakening with each breath she tried to catch. "I-I-If… you-find…dad…t-t-teh…tell'em… that…"
"Shut up!" he interrupted her, his lips pressed as he felt his body jerk and move subconsciously through emotions that fought to overtake him, his eyes teary by heavy sorrow with each passing second as he held onto the blood-soaked bandages. "Whatever you wanna say to me right now, you're gonna tell him yourself, okay?" Frank's voice choked at the last word, unable to stop himself from feeling the burden of having failed to protect her as much as he'd failed to protect others before her.
Gwen finally let go of her gun before slowly reaching for him with one gentle hand over his right cheek, her eyes loosely focused on him as her body trembled in sadness, fear, and pain. She slowly wiped a tear away that finally began to fall from his watering eyes.
"I-I… I love you… Fr-Frank…as my own…family…" she said wearily, almost as if she already knew she wouldn't make it, which Frank could not accept in any existing reality, shaking his head silently as she spoke quietly in a strangled cry.
"Listen to me, Gwen," Frank sniveled, completely ignoring what she'd told him previously, his voice strained with a plea of desperate determination. "I'm gonna have to pick you up, all right? Jill and I gonna get us outta here… go someplace safer. Hold the bandages in place and get ready, okay?"
Frank bent down, scooping her up warily in his arms as Gwen slowly put a hand over the bloodied bandages.
Once Frank stood up and nodded at Jill that they were ready to leave the storage room, he immediately felt Gwen's weight extremely lighten up, so ephemeral that he was vaguely aware that the worst had already happened.
When he chose to connect his eyes to Gwen, he realized that the trembling in her body had finally ceased, her unseeing eyes staring back at him with a blank stare and a gnawing sense of dread twisted firmly in his gut.
"Gwen?" he gasped, his enhanced senses no longer able to detect a beating heart, the agony and fear frozen from the lifeless expression in his arms. Panic grew steadily at the edges of his consciousness as he frantically tried to deny the horrible reality that slowly began to take over him, convulsing his body with grief. (Bonus Track - All Gone (No Escape))
"No, no, no…" he lamented, burying his face into her neck as his knees started to give in to the horror he was unwilling to accept. "Gwen…" his voice cracked in an uncontrollable, guttural sob stuck in his throat, his hands trembling as he rocked her in his arms, trying to rouse her from an unwelcoming slumber. "C'mon, c'mon, don't do this to me, baby. Please…!"
Time seemed to warp as the world around him blurred even more through tear-filled eyes, faintly aware that Jill had put a gentle hand over his shaking shoulder as if she'd been trying to tell him to let go. His mind recoiled in utter disbelief as he closed his eyes in despair, trying to convince himself it was just one of his many nightmares, that he'd be waking up any time soon, whether it was inside a hospital, his own local place, or a restaurant he'd decided to take a small nap in…
…but when he opened his eyes, the crushing reality of Gwen's lifeless body cradled in his arms became inescapable. He had promised that he wouldn't let anything happen to her, promised her that he would bring her back to her father, and the gut-wrenching thought was more than enough to crumble the dam to the emotions he'd learned to maintain as a hardened soldier. His mind-bending pain poured forth, the terrible loss of a daughter he never had, and he craned his head closer to Gwen's dirty blonde hair. The storage room echoed with the anguished cries of a broken man, a melancholic string of intensifying sorrow reverberating through the interior walls.
Frank's mind became fragmented, the overwhelming weight of grief spiraling inside as the loss of his friends and teammates began to haunt him once more, threatening him into submission to complete defeat…
…and as he continued to sob uncontrollably, he had already started contemplating welcoming death. If people under his care were destined to die while he lived, what was the point? He was already infected with the t-Virus, so who's to say it wasn't a matter of time before he finally turned into a monster, potentially putting Valentine at risk?
Jill crouched next to him and began to try speaking words of comfort that Frank knew were merely a waste of her own breath.
"I know the feeling," she murmured, her voice shaky but somehow soothing to the sorrow Frank was trapped within. "I've lost over seventy people under my care at Raccoon High, even children under the age of twelve… All of them were…" She paused momentarily before Frank heard her swallow through the sounds of his own weeps. "You once told me we gotta learn to keep going — for the sake of those who have fallen. Alex would probably be saying the same thing right now…"
After what seemed to be a torturous amount of time, Frank finally laid Gwen's body to rest on the ground, closing her soulless eyes before reaching for the Browning Hi-Power he'd given her for what seemed to be a millennia ago. For a moment, he silently debated whether or not to shoot her in the head to prevent her body from turning in case her fatal injury allowed for t-Virus infection to spread within.
Still quivering from the burning heat of grief and misery, he slowly stood up and aimed her own gun at her head, his aim convulsing, unable to bring himself to pull the trigger as streams of tears continued to pour down his cheeks, his lips twisted in the sadness of loss and failure.
Jill hovered a hand over the muzzle of Gwen's gun, cautiously lowering it down in an attempt to stop him from shooting. Frank didn't fight against it - didn't feel like he had the strength to do anything much either, other than wondering why it wasn't his miserable, sad body on the ground instead of Gwen's.
"She's not infected," Jill reassured him softly. "If she were, her veins would've been swollen - almost black red. Nothing to indicate she ever was."
Frank had already lost himself in the cavernous depths of his despair once again, deaf to her words. He kept a vacant stare of emptiness that mirrored the void left by Gwen's departure. Her lifeless form seemed to anchor him to the precipice of despair, and he couldn't tear his gaze away for as much as he could help it.
Jill reached out to him once more, her hand now moved to his right forearm as a tentative gesture of solace and comfort.
"I'm… sorry, Frank," she sniffled, repressing tears herself. "Seems like she really meant a lot to you."
Frank's internal turmoil only continued to whirl into madness.
They won't fucking get away with this…
The grief that clawed at his heart had now morphed into a turbulent sea of seething rage, fogging his mind in a blinding haze of flaming red, and the guilt he felt had transformed into a craving for blood and vengeance. His jaw clenched, the silent vow echoing in the furrowed lines of his brow and the smoldering intensity of his eyes…
…and without another moment to waste, he abruptly turned and rushed out into the dark alleyway, leaving the storage room with a single-minded determination that brooked no interference. Jill's pleas faded into oblivion, shadowed by the agonizing grief echoing within Frank. He felt like a man possessed, driven by an unrelenting force that demanded his confrontation with a reality he'd tried to escape from. His grip on the gun that Gwen had once held tightened with each step, the turmoil within him manifesting in the tense sinews of his battered frame. As he approached the street ahead, the environment became reduced to a series of disjointed images and fragments of memories he could no longer care for. His breath transformed into ragged gasps, fueling his determination to find the assholes that murdered Gwen without remorse. Jill's voice became a distant murmur, a mere whisper in the tempest raging within Frank.
After finally being out in the street where he had once run through for safety, the first thing he did was to search for the nearest building that had a clear view of the RPD's front courtyard, his superhuman senses incapable of detecting potential movements anywhere nearby, limited by his unwavering need for revenge…
…and suddenly, the ground beneath him shook violently, an ominous tremor resonating through the cracked asphalt. Frank paid little to no attention to the warning signs of impending danger from his reckless actions, lost in his descent of grief, vengeance, and insanity when the ground crumbled beneath his feet in incomprehensible speed that left him little time to react.
"FRANK!" Jill cried out.
Within a split second after feeling his legs being pulled by the earth itself, he desperately tried grabbing onto a piece of rock beneath the broken asphalt as he heard Jill's continued cries of concern.
"Shit!" the word escaped his lips through gritted teeth, trying to hold onto the flimsy rock with one hand that he knew wouldn't hold on his weight for long…
…until it finally gave away, and Frank found himself free-falling, plummeting into the earth's gaping maw that yawned before him. Darkness swallowed him whole, and the world above him dissolved into a distant memory. The last thought in his mind was Gwen's voice, whispering to him…
"Don't worry about not saying goodbye.
I hate goodbyes…"
Author's Note: As I said previously, this is the last upload of the year.
The reason why I uploaded this early on was pretty much because I already had this finished and edited for a while now. After one of my two cats passed away on the morning of Thanksgiving, I hadn't exactly put much work into the following chapter, so instead, I planned to give myself a small break in the meantime. This past week has been pretty rough trying to stick to a routine without him, especially when we have had him for almost ten years. Don't worry; this story ain't going anywhere. I will continue to write it. Just not as consistent as I had been previously, but I promise that the next chapter will definitely be uploaded before February arrives.
All this put aside, I do hope you enjoyed this chapter. Do let me know if Bell's depiction in this AU so far is either good, decent, bad, or terrible, and what you think about the sudden plot twist about Cryan and Malone's true identities.
Thank you so much for reading all the way through! See you all next year, and happy holidays! :)