Chapter Five: Fight From the Inside
The rain no longer fell in heavy waves, coming down more lightly now, in less volume. But the darkened sky above showed no sign of breaking away, the storm persisting. Under the faint light of the Mizoil station that Tony and Claire had fled from several hours ago, dozens of undead still remained, some wandering the lot of the station. Others remained stationary, swaying on rotting legs, and all groaning in unfulfilled hunger, their filmy eyes unable to focus on anything. Above, a low rumble of thunder emanated from the heavy clouds, the wind picking up in a sudden gust that sent rain drops flying, splattering the undead while the overhead lights of the Mizoil canopy began to flicker and wane, casting the lonely road into darkness for several seconds.
The lights of the station flickered back on again in moments, with none of the zombies indicating they even noticed the brief loss of illumination. A female ghoul in a gray shirt and torn jeans, however, began to turn its head ever so slightly, her limp and dirty hair having mostly fallen off from the visible rotting around her skull, a long, bloody cut across her neck a bright red against her nearly white skin. The female zombie's clouded eyes stared off in the darkened road beyond, from which both Tony Redgrave and Claire Redfield had arrived earlier.
From that darkness, a lone figure began to emerge, the shadows seeming to cling to his darkly-dressed form as he emerged from the deeper darkness, the footsteps of his boots only making a faint and soft *click* as the soles traveled across the asphalt. As the figure walked along the lone road, approaching the gas station closer by the moment, the lights of the fuel station revealed the figure had heavy white bandages wrapped tightly around their head and hands, while a large case hung across his back, the strap over their right shoulder, and gripped in their left hand was a long, thin black scabbard.
As the figure emerged completely from the darkness and into the weak electronic light, the zombies, all now hearing the figure's soft footsteps, began to stagger and stumble towards the person. Hungry moans and groans issued from their throats, some raising their arms out like a sleepwalkers, each ghoul's eyes cloudy, filmed over, or filled with blood, yet locked on the solitary morsel bearing the warm flesh and blood they so craved.
The figure continued to walk, seemingly paying the undead no mind, their eyes narrowed and focused ahead. It was only when they spotted more zombies approaching from the direction they were headed did they finally slow and cease their pace. The figure turned his head to the right, finally acknowledging the dozens of ghouls that were advancing for him. The man's eyes narrowed, annoyance flashing in his cold orbs.
Shrugging his right shoulder, he let the long, black, leather guitar case he had been carrying land on the asphalt with a heavy clatter, along with a curious ring of striking metal. The man turned to face the horde of undead that seemed to surround him on all sides now, their moans of hunger - of the damned - swelling into an uproar of voracious gluttony-
-when the man's right hand moved so fast it was a dark blur, grasping the long, ornately-wrapped hilt of his blade, drawing the weapon out rapidly, the sound of sliding metal brief and almost muted by the moans of the ghouls all around him. The long eastern katana spun rapidly through the air before coming to a sudden halt as the blade descended in a single stroke.
Almost instantly, the horde of zombies all came to a stop, many of their hungry moans suddenly silenced.
The bandaged swordsman, the man only known as 'Gilver' to the patrons of Bobby's Cellar, raised his blade, sliding it back into its lacquered sheathe smoothly, the hilt connecting with the tang in a soft *click.*
Then, as if that single noise were a signal, the sound of the soft rain was drowned out by the all-encompassing, hideous and slick *squelch* of tearing meat. Across the dozens and dozens of silent corpses, long cut marks appeared across their heads, arms, torsos and legs. Perfectly in-sync with each other, the rotting flesh exploding in bursts of coagulated gore, the torn and flayed flesh and limbs collapsed on the ground with heavy, wet *thumps.*
Gilver's contempt-filled eyes studied the various bits and body parts of the zombies for a moment, before his eyes fell on a pair of parked motorcycles in the gas station's lot. Moving across the road and into the station's parking area, the mysterious swordsman approached the bikes, his eyes on the familiar, darker, red-hued one. Once he reached the bike, he looked it over for a moment, his gaze falling on the second motorcycle. A Harley, this one also red, but brighter than the other. Studying the motorcycles for another moment, his gaze moved away from them towards the bloodstained concrete in front of the station's door, where another zombie was futilely banging at the glass panel, blood-shot eyes locked on the bandaged man as he walked closer towards the blood stains.
Gilver's eyes moved away from the blood, tracing faint tread marks left in the ground, more than likely from a vehicle speeding away from the station to escape the living dead. His eyes locked on the ground, his light footsteps following the faint marks, the darkly-dressed man seemed not to notice one of the more intact zombies, this one's head still on its neck, minus a waist and its left arm, but desperately grasping with its remaining right hand for the sword wielder's right leg, only just out of reach. As the man passed the ghoul, he reacted with a level of casualness a normal person swatting a bothersome fly would.
Without looking away from the tire marks he was still following, his right hand shot for his sword's hilt, drawing the blade out so fast it was a blur, before the sharp tip buried itself into the zombie's head in the fraction of a second it took to blink. The creature went limp with a heavy sigh, its fingers limply curling, its torn body going still. Ripping his sword out of the corpse's skull, spinning it once to fling the tainted blood off its pristine surface before sheathing it again, his gait came to a stop a little ways further down the road, where the tread marks vanished, the fleeing vehicle's speed leveling out.
Gilver stared ahead at the far-off outline of the nearby city, noting how dark it seemed, with only a few lights on in the many buildings looming ahead. His bandaged head inclined to his right ever so slightly, his gaze falling on a green sign about six feet away from himself. His narrowed eyes studied the white painted words.
WELCOME TO RACCOON CITY, HOME OF UMBRELLA, it read.
The corners of his mouth twitched into a sneer.
Twisting around, Gilver walked back to the spot where he had dropped the long black guitar case he had procured from the shabby apartment Tony Redgrave lived in, shouldering it with ease, like it weighed nothing at all despite the faint, but heavy metal rattling inside of it. Turning around to face forward once again, he resumed his casual pace down the highway road, leaving the scattered body parts of the so-called victims of this 'cannibal disease' behind him.
That they were obviously zombies straight out of a cheap horror film meant nothing to him. He did not care that they were once people somehow turned into undead monsters out for the blood and flesh of the living, for he did not fear shambling corpses.
He feared nothing.
And if Anthony was somewhere in this city of the dead, he would sense him soon enough. Gilver found himself wondering how Tony and his woman were handling the situation. He knew the red-coated mercenary was still alive, for even he, in his current state, could easily handle the walking dead regardless of whether he was with or without his sword, though more than likely he would still have been armed with a firearm of some sort as a means of defense.
However, the mysterious mercenary was somewhat disappointed to see so many undead left in their miserable state of false life at the station he arrived in, despite the fact that he knew Tony had stopped there before going to the city. The man could have killed these creatures even without his sword... so why hadn't he? Perhaps because of the woman? Had they met up here, and the man had chosen to cowardly flee in the name of her safety?
Gilver scoffed under his breath, the sound further muffled by the bandages over his mouth.
Foolishness.
Still, it didn't matter. If Anthony was holding himself back simply to keep this girl he was enamored of in the dark about his true nature - a nature Gilver suspected even Redgrave was trying to fool himself about - then the time for denial and lies was coming to an end. He had searched him out to see to that personally.
Though the fact that someone new and unexpected was now involved made it all the more interesting. He had been preparing to contend with Tony's partner, Grue, as well as that old woman gunsmith he often visited, the so called '.45 Calibur Virtuoso' named Nell Goldstein, to force him to remember what he had buried away. To open his eyes, so to speak.
But if this woman the man in red had followed into a city-turned-necropolis filled with the undead - and perhaps other monstrosities - meant so much to him... then perhaps she was the key to forcing Redgrave to accept the truth about himself.
Gilver's fingers tightened over the hilt of his katana, anticipation brimming inside him like a furnace, but he forced such feelings down, willing his burning blood to cool for the time being. Such emotions were best ignored... or set aside for another time.
He would adjust his plans accordingly for this new development. But in the meantime, he still had to find the two so-called lovers within this diseased city of the damned.
He was in no rush, however. He had found Anthony easily enough the first time, and this search wouldn't take even half as long. The closer he got to the city itself, the more he could feel the mercenary's unique presence. Once he had enough of a sufficient 'sense' for the white-haired man, finding him would take but a moment.
Then, once he had located him, and returned the item Tony had so carelessly left behind, he would observe him with his 'girl,' as the man Grue had called her. He would watch him from the shadows, as he originally planned. Maybe even amuse himself by killing time in the city itself. A side-project, if you would; something to keep his mind sharp... and his blade even sharper.
Then, when the time was right...
Gilver's sneer became an excited grin.
Then the party would truly begin...
With slumped shoulders and a heavy heart, Tony descended the secret stairway that would lead him into the hidden room Claire had unlocked under the Goddess Statue inside the R.P.D.'s Main Hall. Just two steps from the very base of them, however, he stopped, his forlorn expression morphing into a frown as he craned his head back to peer over his shoulder at the locked door back above, hidden in the darkness. When he had last seen Marvin, the infected officer had drawn his sidearm, prepared to ensure there would not be another undead wandering the overrun station...
But the red-clad youth had yet to hear a single shot, even through the heavy lair of concrete and stone separating them. His eyes narrowed, his thoughts running.
Must be... psyching himself up, I guess...
Yeah, that had to be it. It wasn't exactly an easy thing to do, and he felt like such a heel for his half-assed 'offer' to the man. Then he realized he was waiting to hear a man end his own life, the raw morbidity of that suddenly making him feel sick to his stomach.
This place is starting to lose its appeal, he concluded internally with a grimace, finishing his descent down the stairs.
As soon as he did, the lights flickered from above him, making him blink rapidly as his icy eyes strained to adjust. They did after a moment, and he took in the new surroundings he and his girlfriend had found themselves in.
Tony shouldered the Remington before musing aloud, "Huh. Not exactly what I pictured when you said 'secret passageway.'"
The best way to describe the somewhat cozy-looking room was as someone's dream den, complete with a large, well-made and polished wooden desk in front of several full book cases, another small table set to the left, where curiously sat what appeared to be a small replica of the station itself. Claire was standing to the desk's side, where a large crate was stacked against the wall.
She currently had her back to him, arms crossed over her chest while faint shudders rippled through her lithe frame. The man's normal cocky expression had fallen away to one of genuine sympathy and understanding as he made his way towards the young woman.
"Hey... You wanna talk?" he offered gently.
She was in obvious distress over Marvin's fate, and that was an oddly comforting realization at just how much the officer must have meant to her in their short time of knowing each other, helping her survive the station as she searched for the means of escaping it before his arrival.
He couldn't say he wasn't somewhat jealous towards Marvin for protecting and aiding her when he couldn't, but he shoved those feelings aside, instead embracing his admiration for the man doing so despite his deteriorating condition. Marvin had been a real cop until the bitter end, and Tony vowed to honor his last request. He would get Claire out of the hell Raccoon City had become, no matter what.
The auburn-haired girl shook her head slightly, her voice speaking up, carrying a faint quiver that seemed to sync with the soft shudders of her body as she replied quietly, "No, I... I-I just need a minute, Tony. Then we'll go, okay?"
He nodded while affirming, "Sure. Take your time."
If she needed to grieve, he would let her have that much. It also gave him the time to turn his thoughts away from Marvin towards this new, mysterious room they found themselves in. His eyes scanned over its contents, a part of him both somewhat impressed and further bewildered. At first, he had simply wanted to write the room off as possibly something left over from the station's heyday as a museum, as Claire had mentioned earlier, but now he wasn't so sure.
He stepped away from from the grieving girl and towards the other table, his free hand reaching into one of his coat's pockets, and producing a few shotgun shells. He began to reload the rifle, mostly to give his hands something to do, the sound of racking metal familiar and calming, allowing his mind to focus as his eyes studied the many books shelved around him along the walls. His gaze narrowed, and as he finished reloading the weapon, he placed the shotgun down against the table's side while coming closer to the shelves to get a better look at the books, confirming his suspicions.
These are first editions of some of the classics... Hemingway, Steinbeck, Stevenson, Shakespeare, and those are just the names I recognize. They're in pretty good shape, too. No way were these cheap... Who the hell, in a police department of a little city like Raccoon, could afford these? And why in the world would they store 'em down in a cozy little hidey-hole underneath the station?... Something here stinks, and it's not the zombies rotting upstairs.
Moving away from the bookshelves, he approached the small display where a small scale replica of the station itself sat, which he found to be an oddity out of almost everything else he had seen so far in this strange, secret room, though its presence somewhat confirmed his suspicion that this room was a more recent addition to the station. Tony found himself suddenly eager to ask Claire how she had learned of the station's hidden passageway, because it seemed rather far-fetched that Raccoon City's finest would know about such a ludicrous location underneath their desks. And the more his mind ran over all the oddities of the station itself, the more he began to suspect it was somehow connected with the mysterious zombie plague ravaging the city.
If this room was an actual bunker like I'd been half-expecting, then its secrecy might've made sense. But this? This den is some weirdo's dream brought to life, and definitely cost more to make and build than whatever they sunk into renovating this place from a museum to a police station ever did, he concluded with a frown.
"...Tony?"
Claire's voice broke him from his thoughts, and he quickly turned around to let his eyes fall on her. Her own grey-blue orbs were slightly red-rimmed and puffy, but she wasn't shaking any longer, her cheeks dry, and her expression focused once again as her gaze easily held his own once more. Her strength was something he absolutely loved about her. Her iron will to press on despite her obvious inner turmoil.
"I'm ready now... Let's get out of here," she declared, hooking her thumb towards the open pathway behind her.
Nodding, Tony bent over to grasp and heft the shotgun back up over his shoulder, before saying, "Lead the way, babe."
Following after Claire, the two walked through the only other open passageway in the small secret room, passing one last table with some marble figurines adorning it - also not cheap, and just as out of place as everything else down there, Tony noted - turning left to find an old-fashioned elevator waiting for them. The woman pulled the gate open and stepped inside, with her boyfriend stepping in after her, and closing the gate as she hit the only button on the right wall of the cart. A soft *ding* issued, the button lighting up as the cart shifted, beginning to descend.
In moments, they arrived at their next destination, with Tony taking the lead to yank the gate open, his eyes surveying the suddenly-darkened area they found themselves in. Peering around, he spotted a set of stairs to his left leading deeper into the shadows below. Gripping the shotgun with both hands, he waited for Claire to walk up behind him, taking in their new surroundings as he had.
"Bottom floor. Sporting goods, and women's lingerie," the man quipped, mostly to break the sudden heavy silence before throwing Claire a smirk, to which she rolled her eyes but smiled back slightly, which he was happy to see.
"Yeah. 'Cause no horror movie's complete without some topless girl running around screaming in nothing but her underwear," she muttered as she walked past the youth, whose grin turned sly as he followed after her.
"You offering?" he inquired, to which the girl responded by, not missing a step or even bothering to turn around, flicking his face with her hand, her fingers just missing him, making his grin widen into a smirk.
He stayed a step or two behind her as they descended a new stairway, the young biker girl pulling out her flashlight, and switching it on to illuminate the concrete gray walls surrounding them.
As she did, Tony spoke up behind her. "So I never asked how you even learned about this so-called 'secret passageway,'" he said casually, genuinely curious.
"When I first got to the station, I saw an officer running from some zombies in the laptop connected to the security cameras in the building," she began to explain as they reached the bottom of the stairs, passing some overturned orange traffic cones as they began down a second flight, her voice low but easy enough to hear in the heavy silence of the basement-like area they found themselves in.
"I tried to save him, but I... It-it was too late," Claire continued, her voice beginning to quiver again, making Tony regret even asking now. But the young woman inhaled a steadying breath before pressing on. "He said he'd found a way out, and gave me that small notebook with a diagram drawn in it before he died. The pages inside showed where the secret passage was, and the combinations needed for the locks to get the medallions that opened it. I don't know how he found out about it... And I never had the chance to ask Marvin," she concluded as they made their way down the longer set of stairs.
Behind her, the young man nodded, her answer somewhat satisfying his curiosity, though now he was starting to regret not looking through the files on the officer's desks in both rooms he and Claire had traversed through on their hunt for the last medal.
There might've been answers in one of those papers, there might not have been. No use cryin' over spilled milk, he reminded himself.
As much as he wanted to know the origin of that secret passage, it was more important that it could potentially get them out of the station and the city itself, with the 'how' and 'why' best left on the back-burner.
As they reached the bottom of the second flight of stairs, Claire's flashlight beam fell on a red emergency box which had a small red light glowing on it, her beam of light moving from it to hover over the open gated door next to it. As the couple reached the bottom of the steps, she peered into the open doorway, looking over the grille-lined floor grates, metal wall, and large boiler to their right.
"Looks like that's our exit," she observed as she moved to step inside, when Tony's hand gently grasped her shoulder to stop her.
Claire rounded around to give the man a perplexed look, while the taller man jerked his thumb over his shoulder, indicating the last stairwell behind them leading to the bottom of the room they were in.
"Still a little more to explore," he explained, beginning to head down the stairs when he paused, seeing the sudden forlorn expression across his girlfriend's face.
"Tony, can... Can we just go, please? I really don't want to be here any longer..." she murmured, rubbing her left arm with her right hand as she did.
Understanding hit him instantly, and he kicked himself internally as he nodded and replied, "Yeah, you're right... Let's just find the way out, and get goin'."
His response made Claire's fallen expression brighten as she smiled and nodded, taking the lead, the two walking across the metal grille-lined floor, and further into the new area. While the collegiate girl kept her gaze straight ahead, Tony found himself looking around at the various pipes and grate-lined ceiling, steam issuing around a series of large boilers. The man in red followed her, his own expression now both perplexed and once more curious.
"What the hell?..." he murmured to himself, just barely loud enough for Claire to hear over the soft hiss of steam issuing from several pipes lining the walls. "This place looks like-"
His words were cut off by a sudden rush of light steps across the metal grate lined ceiling above, a small figure's shadow flickering above the man and woman below it, with Claire snapping her gaze up when she heard soft, but rushed panting.
"Hello? Hello?!" she called out, before giving chase after the figure, her own footsteps loudly reverberating around them.
Tony reached for her, his gloved hand just missing the collar of her pink vest by a few inches as she dashed off, the crimson-coated youth calling out after, "Hey, wait! Don't go running off without-"
-when he stopped upon hearing new, heavier footsteps from above... accompanied by agonized groaning, a male voice crying out, "Hnnngh... Noooo... NOOOOO!"
The mercenary's eyes snapped up, only just catching the shadow of a much larger figure just as they vanished ahead, following after the smaller shadow that had already vanished only a few seconds ago. But even with that faint and brief view, he knew something was very off, the proportions of the figure somehow... wrong. Inhuman.
"The hell was that?" he whispered, before suddenly realizing he was alone.
His eyes snapped forward, seeing the corridor only continued on and on, heavy shadows making it appear deeper and darker than it truly was. That thought alone did little to ease the sudden tension in his stomach as he began to move again, taking long strides just short of running after the disappeared college student.
"Claire?! Claire!" he called as he gave chase after his girlfriend.
He dashed past more pipes and larger boilers on either side of himself, the air getting warmer and thicker the deeper he went, the humidity almost unbearable. But he ignored the minor discomfort, his icy eyes locked dead-ahead as he searched for his girlfriend. When he finally exited the long corridor, his desperate search paused as he took in the impossible sight before him.
What the hell?!
The room he now stood in was massive, easily half the length and width of a football field, filled to the brim with massive machinery, power generators, and large turbines, all of them active and humming with heavy buzzing activity, the lower level of the room lined with thick mists of steam. Tony even spotted a large mechanical walkway across the railing he stood on, looming operation rooms on either side of himself while one was further ways up.
Taking a few more steps so he stood against the safety bar of the railing, the young man whispered to himself, "Why the hell would something like this be under a police station? It's a frickin' miniature power plant!"
His mind tried to rationalize it as the station needing its own separate power grid in case of emergencies like the one currently gripping the city by the throat, but both the sheer size of the room and the number of generators he could count sent that conclusion out the window. Just from a glance, he could tell that this small plant could power a dozen city blocks at the bare minimum, which was way too much juice for even the somewhat large police station. Tony narrowed his eyes, his suspicious paranoia returning in full force.
Nothing's adding up about this place... I've gotta be missing something. Something that explains all this ridiculousness...
His thoughts were broken as Claire's voice called out to him from his immediate right, "Tony! Over here!"
Snapping his head towards the sound of her voice, the white-haired youth caught sight of the auburn-haired college girl standing in front of an open doorway, which was blocked off by an overturned metallic shelf case. Storming towards her, heavy boots issuing slightly loud but somewhat hushed *clangs,* he arrived next to her in moments, his expression annoyed if not also relieved.
"Could you not run off like that? It ain't exactly safe around here, you know," he reprimanded her gently for once, their positions usually reversed.
Claire gestured with her left hand at the case while replying, "I know I heard someone running ahead of us. They can't have gotten too far ahead. I just need your help to move this; it won't budge for me."
With a somewhat heavy sigh and slight shake of his head, the merc placed the Remington against the wall of the doorway while moving past Claire to get a better grip on the shelf, speaking as he did, "Yeah, yeah, I'll get this outta the way. Gimme a sec-"
"Wait," she interrupted him, her hand raised for him to stop, her grey-blue eyes cast downward.
Tony cast her an annoyed glance while asking, "What now?"
"I thought... I think I heard something. Just hold on for a second," she replied before she began crouching down onto the floor, her eyes narrowed as she peered through the gap of space between the doorway and the shelf, staring at something he couldn't see from above. The college girl pulled out her flashlight, flicking the beam on-
-just as something scurried past her line of vision, briefly caught in the light's flare, and letting her see a flash of pale white and blue dart behind some boxes.
"Hello?" Claire called, her voice just above a whisper...
And to her shock, a small, dirty face peeked from around the boxes, revealing dirty-blonde hair with a pink hairband nestled in their locks. She realized it was a young girl, not much older than ten at the most. The young woman was amazed a child had somehow managed to survive the nightmare in the city above.
Still standing by the shelf, waiting for his sweetheart's word to shove it aside, Tony narrowed his eyes as he felt his impatience building, wondering what she was doing when he heard a faint sound back the way they came, his head turning to look back while Claire spoke on below him.
"Hey... It's OK. I won't hurt you, I promise," she spoke soothingly.
She crawled forward slightly to extend her head and torso through the gap of space, relief rushing through her as the little girl peered further out from behind the boxes, revealing her blue striped sweater over her white shirt. The girl's mouth was slightly agape, her bright blue eyes wide with obvious terror as she inhaled slowly but sharply in short gasps.
Still speaking calmly, wanting to give the girl some clearly-needed reassurance, Claire spoke on while offering her free hand to the girl, "Do you need help? Here, you can take my hand."
Tony glanced back down at her, about to ask who she was talking to when a much louder sound echoed from close by, his eyes snapping back up as his ears caught the distinct echo of what could only be metal being bent or broken out of place. Without even realizing what he was doing, he found the shotgun back in his hands, the barrel half-raised, his finger hovering over the trigger. He could hear something else. A sound that was getting louder by the second.
Footsteps. Heavy footsteps, like something large was approaching. Fast.
"Claire..." he whispered harshly down to the distracted young woman. Whatever she was trying to do, she had to do it fast.
She simply ignored her companion's hissed beckoning, instead keeping her focus directly on the small, scared little girl just an arm's length away from her when she realized the girl's mouth was moving, and she could just faintly make out a few syllables, but nothing else.
Inching closer, but not too quickly as to frighten the child off, Claire shook her head while saying, "I'm sorry, I can't understand you."
Back the way they had come, the footsteps continued to rise in volume, and Redgrave realized from the echoes of how they seemed to be pounding down that whoever their owner was, they were staggering, but at a pace too quick to be a zombie's. The mercenary raised the shotgun fully as the steps reverberated heavily, meaning whatever was coming was now only just around the corner, out of his line of sight and fire for the moment, but closing in quickly.
Behind him, the faint voice spoke up, light and young, but just loud enough for both him and Claire to hear. "You need help," it said. It was a young girl's voice, his mind realized as the staggering steps began to round the corner.
Claire looked back at the child, her mild concern melting away into more sudden concern at the dawning panic and raw terror in the girl's eyes.
"Why?" she asked, and Tony could easily picture the sudden confusion on her face to match her tone.
"He's right behind you!" the little girl whispered in barely-restrained panic, her shaking hand and finger pointing just over Claire's shoulder.
The college student blinked, muttering a confused "What?"
The older girl had said that just as the staggering horror rounded the corner completely, and for a moment, Tony Redgrave could only stare with wide-eyes and gaping mouth, his throat suddenly dry and locking up.
Redfield whirled around as her own ears finally caught the sound of the pounding, staggering steps, and the same panic and terror in the little girl's eyes suddenly flashed in her own as she whispered in horror, "Oh my god..."
The lumbering horror shambling towards them had been a man once, or rather still was to an extent, wearing brown leather shoes, gray slacks, and a white coat. The man's head possessed shaggy, dirty blonde locks of hair, but all resemblances of humanity ended there. The white coat was torn in half, and like the slacks, covered in splashes of dark red blood, while the entire right side of the man's torso bulged grotesquely with thick, fibrous streams of blood-red and deep purple muscle tissue, huge shards of yellow bone jutted out in the approximate spot his shoulder had once been. The tissue on his chest encroaching on the remaining slick pale skin also showed engorged rib cages, the red, tumorous flesh even seeming to seep onto the right half of the man's face. The remaining left half still looked somewhat human, the man's left blue eye bloodshot, his dirty, stained face twisted in a combination of agony and feral rage. But these unsightly changes to this former human's body wasn't what had startled the two into the same stunned silence and horror, their eyes barely even noticing those horrific changes inflicted on this clearly once-human being.
No, neither the red-coated man or pink-vested girl found that they could not look away from the massive, dinner plate-sized, yellow and orange eyeball growing out of the transformed flesh. The massive orb searched about wildly, thick sounds of slick flesh issuing as it suddenly locked onto Claire, staring into her own eyes, and holding her gaze for a moment, before ever-so-slightly looking past her, the massive organ locked on the crouched child hiding behind the older woman.
Tony lowered his left hand away from the shotgun to put a protective arm in front of Claire, who remained squatted down, her own right hand moving for her holstered revolver-
-when the monster's massive right arm spasmed suddenly, the mutated limb darting into the air, fingers thicker than Tony's entire clenched fist snapping open before thrusting down. The metal grille below shattered like the most brittle of glass, sparks flying as the huge hand gripped a bent section of pipe, and, without showing even the slightest bit of effort, tore free from the support railing-
-sending both Tony and the monster crashing down into the floor below.
Claire's eyes widened in growing terror as the boy vanished in a flash of red, a loud, meaty *thump* sounding over the ringing crash of metal and she screamed, "TONY!"
She scrambled towards the broken section of the pathway, her wide, desperation-filled eyes peering, down, fearing the worst-
-when she saw the pale-haired youth was still on his feet, the Remington shotgun trained on the monstrous being currently collapsed on top of the smashed grille panel. The creature made strange, distorted grunts as it struggled to push itself back onto its shaking feet, using the pipe it just tore free as a makeshift cane. Its massive, tumor-like eye darted about, blinking wildly before settling on the red-coated man in front of it.
Without turning his cool icy gaze off the monster, the gunslinger called back, "I'm fine, babe! You stay right there while I handle this! Got a feeling words aren't gonna cut it with this freak!"
With that said, Tony pulled the trigger on the shotgun, a massive, resounding *BOOM* echoing through the machine plant, the entire spread of buckshot striking the monster's chest, and making it stumble a step back. The creature groaned, its massive orange eye suddenly closing as the normal-looking arm gripped its face, moans of agony beginning to rise over the echo of the shotgun blast. Redgrave pumped the Remington's gauge, chambering a fresh round as he began retreating backwards, his expression cool and collected as he observed this strange new monstrosity before him.
It wasn't a zombie, that much was obvious. But exactly what else it could be was currently beyond him. But the whats and whys didn't matter right now. It was clearly dangerous, and needed to be put down. With that conclusion, the mercenary in red remained on the offensive, firing the shotgun, chambering another shell, and firing again in a rapid succession of heavy blasts of hot buckshot that shredded the freak's flesh into ribbons and sprays of hot blood splashing the concrete walls and machinery around them, the concussive force of each blast succeeding in pushing the creature several steps back as it moaned and howled in obvious pain.
But it didn't fall down in a crumpled heap of dying, shredded flesh or a pool of blood, somehow still standing after taking on blast after blast of firepower that should have ripped it to shreds of meat. And as the shotgun issued a slight *click* as its magazine tube ran dry, Tony blinked, giving the weapon a quick look before snapping his gaze back up at the strange beast. His eyes widened when he saw the monster's strange, rubbery-looking, muscle tissue-like flesh actually begin to encroach on the pale, bloodstained, and torn skin some of the shotgun pellets had ripped into, the tumor-like tissue growing over the damaged skin, and repairing it as dozens and dozens of the buckshot pellets were pushed out of its body, clattering onto the floor like lead rain, all the damage he had potentially inflicted gone in seconds.
"Huh... That's not good," he whispered to himself as the creature howled and began swinging the bent pipe held in its massive arm about wildly.
The pipe struck machinery, and dented the metal that composed it in a single strike and a shower of sparks. The nearby concrete wall was not as lucky as it disintegrated into flying crumbs, kicking up dust. The youth dodged back as the pipe swung for him, the air whooshing as he felt it miss by precious inches.
The beast's sudden rampage came to a halt almost as soon as it began, the still-human face's lips working, a slurred moan of, "Shhhhhhhhhhhhareeeeeeeeee...!" issuing, the sound confusing his opponent, half of him wondering what it was trying to say while the other half screamed at him to not waste his chance.
Swallowing the urge to spit out a string of curses, Redgrave hastily tossed aside the empty shotgun, and drew the Colt out, finding his target on the monstrous arm and the tumor-like eye before he began squeezing the trigger as fast as he could in rapid succession. The heavy rounds struck the strange, tumorous flesh, missing the eye, and sending jets of bright, orange fluid spraying everywhere. The monster howled in fresh pain, its blind swings coming to a halt as its smaller left arm desperately clutched at the pulsing flesh, the large holes spurting more of that orange gunk shrinking fast. But the pause gave Tony enough time to snatch the discarded shotgun, and make a mad dash around the corner, shoving the Colt back into its holster to free his fingers to scramble for fresh shells for the Remington.
Above, Claire watched the exchange of gunfire strike the monster in rising hope that was dashed and replaced by a combination of horror and disbelief at the sight of the wounds Tony's shotgun inflicted on the beast heal and close before her very eyes, the young man forced to retreat and scramble to reload as the creature staggered after him, groaning and dragging its make-shift club behind itself in a kick-up of sparks and screeching metal.
Sudden movement behind her broke the woman out of her reverie, and she snapped her head around just in time to see the little girl running away, the boxes she had been hiding behind tumbling over.
"Wait!" she cried after her, forcing her body through the gap in the doorway and the bookshelf, squeezing through easily to snatch the child's wrist before she could flee.
The little girl screamed in blind panic. Claire managed to drag herself through the gap, and keep her grip on the girl's wrist, pushing herself up as the child struggled and wailed, "Let me go! Let me go, let me GO!"
"Easy, easy! I told you, I'm not gonna hurt you!" she spoke back, her voice just short of shouting to get her words over the terrified girl's own.
"He's after me, he's after me! He's gonna get me if I don't run away!" the girl screeched, tears of terror running down her dirty cheeks.
Claire clamped her other hand down on the girl's shoulder to steady her, and keep her in place as she released her small wrist to grasp her other shoulder. Steeling herself despite her own fears towards the strange monster Tony was fighting not too far away, the college student locked her eyes with the child's, speaking as slowly and calmly as she could, hoping that would sooth her somewhat.
"He's not gonna get you. I promise." The woman's words were firm and unshaking, and they had their intended effect, the girl calming down somewhat, ceasing her desperate thrashing and stilling, though still panting partly. "Now I need you to stay here, okay? Stay right here, and don't go anywhere. I'm going down there to help my friend stop that thing, alright? I'll be back with him soon. Until then, I need you to stay right here."
Claire stressed her words both to make sure the kid understood and hopefully believed her when she said she was going to help Tony against that creature. Mostly, she was just hoping she had convinced herself, because she had heard him blast away at the thing with almost every shell his shotgun had, and she could still hear it roaring.
The girl nodded shakily, mumbling, "Okay... I-I'll... I'll stay here..."
The young woman nodded back, offering her a soft smile and saying, "I'll be back before you know it."
With that said, she made for the open doorway leading to a recalled ladder shaft by the walk rail when Tony's voice called from below, "Don't even THINK about it, babe!"
Peering over, the woman saw the pale-haired man was standing close to the where the emergency ladder would drop, reloading his shotgun as he spoke on, "You and that kid need to get outta here while you still can! In the meantime, I'll take care of this thing!"
In complete disbelief her boyfriend's dismissal, she called back, "Are you kidding me?! You can't just expect me to leave you here to fight that thing by yourself!"
"That's exactly what I expect you do!" he snapped back, craning his head up to meet her gaze, his icy eyes filled with such intensity, Claire felt her growing anger cool and diminish before it could even fully form. "I can't fight this thing and worry about you at the same time! Besides, someone needs to keep that little girl safe!... And let's be honest, you're way better with kids than I am."
He threw her a cheeky grin, which made the girl sputter in response to his complete flippancy at the danger he was putting himself in. "Tony, that's crazy!"
"No, it's the facts. Now grab the kid, and find a way outta here while I pump this thing full of lead! I'll catch up once I'm finished here!"
No sooner had he said that did the creature stagger from behind a set of machinery, its normal hand clutching the human half of its face while its monstrous arm swung the large pipe like a bludgeon, the make-shift club smashing the large devices with enough force to leave massive dents in them, large bursts of steam issuing out, and quickly beginning to fill the lower space with thick, burning mist.
Chambering a fresh round into the shotgun as he finished loading, Redgrave shot his partner one last smirk while saying, "That's our cue, good-lookin'. You two make yourselves scarce while I keep Smashy, here, busy!"
With that, the steam finished filling the lower area, the crimson-coated gunman disappearing into the heavy mist, Redfield hearing his muffled footfalls dashing away.
Rising back up and cursing under her breath, the young woman admitted to herself that while she was not one to run from a fight - especially when someone she cared about was involved - Tony had a point. There was a child in the picture now, and she had to prioritize her safety over his.
Turning back around, she quickly strode back towards the little girl, who blinked in surprise as Claire snatched her hand again while saying, "Come on, we're gonna find a way out of here."
"But... wh-what about your friend?" she asked, her tone still carrying obvious fear and timidity.
"He's gonna keep that monster from following us, and hopefully put it down for good," she explained to her, hoping she could convince the girl - and by extension herself - of Tony's suicidal bravado.
The child pointed towards a staircase leading to a higher level while murmuring, "Um, there might be a way out up there..."
Claire nodded, offering her a smile while saying, "Alright, then. Let's go."
Back down below, Tony had ducked behind another set of turbines, having set the shotgun aside to free his hands to snatch fresh clips for the Beretta and Colt, reloading them as his mind raced on a strategy. The shotgun had only managed to push the freak back a couple of steps, the damage from the repeated buckshot having healed in moments, so he needed to find a weak spot for his shots. Only two obvious ones came to mind: the freak's still human-looking face, and the eyeball tumor growing from its bicep. The steam had started to let up just a bit, so the gunman chanced a peek from around the turbine, spotting the staggering monster less than six feet away.
The creature still groaned in torment as it blindly swung its pipe about, its moaning turning into pained slurs of "Haaaaaaaalp mehhhhhhhh..."
That made the mercenary freeze up slightly, his eyes widening in horror and realization. He may look like a monster, but there's still some kind of consciousness left in him...
Claire's earlier words reminding him the people of this city were victims of whatever had caused the outbreak came flooding back to him, but he pushed them down. He had no cure to offer, but he could bring this creature's torturous existence to an end. With that decided, the scarlet gunslinger rounded from behind his corner, both Beretta and Colt drawn, the two handguns opening fire simultaneously. The hollow-points from the Beretta and the heavier .45 rounds from the Colt smacked into the strange tumorous flesh of the monster's grossly swollen arm, thick orange muck spurting out with each impact. The creature howled in pain, its human arm gripping its larger arm as it began to swing the pipe out, striking more machinery, and showering sparks and shards of metal to go flying about.
As Tony's handguns ran dry, he ejected the spent magazines and quickly reloaded, the creature's spasming having caused it to freeze up as its wounded arm began twitch and jerk in a strange manner-
-and the mutant flesh seemed to be bulging and swelling into an even larger monstrosity, the dinner plate-sized orange eyeball swiveling around to lock onto the crimson-clad youth, the tortured groans and moans from the human face dropping an octave, becoming snarls of rage as the half-human face turned to glare at him as well, the pained grimace replaced by a furious scowl of animalistic fury, blood running down its normal eye like tears as it began to stomp towards him, its shuffling gait seemingly forgone for an enraged charge.
Swallowing a curse, Tony's hands somehow finished their task of reloading just in time to duck under the monster's sudden swing, the pipe tearing the upper portion of a turbine to shreds, sparks flying from the impact. Rolling under the follow-up swing, the merc jammed his handguns back into their holsters, and scooped up the shotgun, using the momentum of his roll to jump back up, and fire a blast of buckshot directly into the still-human half of the beast's face. Aside from shredding the pale, blood-stained skin, he knew he hadn't hurt it as much as he was hoping to when the beast simply swung its makeshift club back down hard enough to leave a large dent in the space he had been standing on, the youth dodging at the last second by dashing backwards, firing another round from the rifle as he did, this blast striking its gut just as uselessly as he was forced to retreat once again while the howling creature pursued.
Back above, the little girl had led Claire to another workstation area overlooking the machine plant below, the kid pointing towards a large lever while saying, "It won't move."
The collegiate girl examined the lever for a second before spotting a movable walk-rail just outside the workstation window, the walkway hanging from several large cables, and was currently parked six feet away from where it was supposed to be. Grasping the lever, finding it was indeed firmly locked in place, she gave it a hard tug with all her strength, successfully pulling the switch back. As soon as it settled into its new spot, mechanical gears began turning loudly, and the hanging walkway began to move back into is proper spot.
"You got it!" the little girl exclaimed excitedly, beginning to dash ahead while Claire followed behind her.
As they walked across the walkway, the girl looked to her left, watching Tony dash through gaps between the machinery as the hulking, pipe-carrying creature chased after him, smashing anything between itself and the gunman in red, who would slide just out of reach of the creature's weapon before firing one of his handguns back it in retaliation.
"Are... Are we really just gonna leave him?" she asked, looking up to Claire, who was watching the battle as well, her expression showing her obvious worry.
"Believe me, sweetie, I didn't want to," she admitted gently, meeting the child's gaze before going on. "But I know he can handle himself, and I need to get you away from that thing."
The blonde little girl looked away from the young woman back towards the roaring monster, the creature smashing another boiler, and causing more steam to burst free and obscure the lower area in a haze of hot mist once again.
"I was... looking for my mom..." she whispered.
Claire blinked upon hearing that. "...Your mom's down here?"
She nodded. "I think so... I hope so..." She looked back at her to inquire almost desperately, "Will you help me find her?"
The college student gave the child a reassuring smile and nod before affirming, "Yeah, sure. I'd be glad help you. Now come on, let's go."
The little girl pointed towards a nearby door before looking back at the older girl to say, "Um, there's a ladder in there. It goes to the garage of the police station..."
The older woman looked over at the door, echoing, "Garage? You mean like a parking deck?"
She nodded, and Claire felt her hope rise back up.
We can find a car there. Even if it doesn't have keys, I can hot-wire it, and we'll be kissing this zombie-infested hellhole goodbye in no time, her mind raced excitedly.
"Alright, then that's where we're going," Claire stated with another smile, the girl's lips curling up slightly in a shy one of her own.
As the two started walking, the biker girl chanced a look back, hearing muffled gunfire and monstrous roars from the floor below; the sounds of Tony's continued struggle against the strange pipe-wielding monster.
Don't you dare die on me, Anthony Redgrave. Because if you thought I was mad after you said that stupid crap about Chris...
"Um, miss?"
The little girl's timid voice broke Claire out of her thoughts, and the taller woman turned her grey-blue orbs down to meet the kid's lighter blue ones.
"My... My name is Sherry," she introduced herself quietly.
Smiling back, Claire replied, "Nice to meet you, Sherry. I'm Claire. Claire Redfield. Now, what do you say we get out of here, huh?"
The child, Sherry, nodded, smiling a bit more brightly this time as they headed for the next room and the ladder for the parking deck.
The barrel of the handgun trembled against the bottom of his jaw, where it was pressed tightly against the paling, sweaty flesh. The hand that held it was shaking ever so slightly, the darkened knuckles clenched tight. His eyes were closed, his teeth grinding down as he struggled with the simple act of applying the smallest amounts of pressure to the trigger of the Browning flush underneath his chin.
One small squeeze... and it would all be over. If he could do that much, then at least his body wouldn't become one of the many diseased undead wandering the city, searching for the warm flesh of the unlucky living. But no matter how hard he tried to will himself to just pull the trigger one final time... his finger would just not obey.
Marvin Branagh remained sitting on the bench, his left hand gripping his handgun and holding it at the base of his chin, the limb shaking visibly now, while his right still clutched his aching side, where only a day ago, a colleague had sunk his rotting teeth into him after the lieutenant had made the deadly mistake of hesitating, believing his fellow officer still had a trace of his humanity left.
He had been wrong, however. And now here he was, about to pay the price for that mistake.
The wound was no longer bleeding, or even itching, as it had started to some time ago. Marvin suspected that this meant his time was growing shorter. If he didn't act soon, he was damning himself and any unfortunate soul unlucky enough to happen upon his body.
But suddenly, Marvin found the handgun was growing heavier... as was his arm...
His labored breathing began to slow, his eyes flickering open weakly as his head slumped backwards, gazing sightlessly at the ceiling above... His thoughts drifted towards his companions... Towards the S.T.A.R.S. unit Irons had disbanded after their final mission in July...
Briefly, the dying policeman was filled with immense regret... He should have listened to Claire's brother, Chris Redfield, and his partner, Jill Valentine... Should have heeded their warnings of what they had encountered back at the Spencer Estate...
Then, his arm slipped down entirely, settling against his lap, the JMB Hp3 nine-millimeter slipping limply from his loosening fingers, where it fell upon the linoleum floor with a gentle clatter...
Marvin Branagh's sightless brown eyes stared lifelessly at the ceiling above...
Suddenly, the lights in the Main Hall all flickered, briefly casting the large foyer into total darkness. When they flickered back to life, heavy footfalls echoed through the silent hall. A tall figure in black, head and hands wrapped tightly with white gauze bandages, quietly emerged from around the corner, walking past the door to the West Office. His cold eyes briefly glanced at the still body of the police officer lying still on a bench across from the towering Goddess Statue, before they turned to give the icon their full attention.
The newcomer approached the base of the statue, his dark eyes observing the section where three palm-sized medallions had been inserted, each bearing a different engraving upon them. Without looking away, he carefully placed the long black guitar case he had been carrying with his right hand against the base of the statue. While behind him...
Marvin's body lurched upright from the bench, strings of drool falling from his open mouth as his eyes, now a cloudy white, fell on the stranger in black less than five feet away from him. With a hungry moan, arms stretching out, the officer's undead corpse began to stagger towards the man, who remained facing the Goddess Statue, seemingly unaware of the approaching danger. The zombie took a single step, followed by a second-
-when the sound of scraping metal quickly rose over the undead officer's hungry moan, the long katana slashing out as the mercenary called Gilver swept his sword out once with his right arm. Marvin's body came to a stop instantly. Spinning the blade, the swordsman silently returned it to its sheathe.
As the hilt fell against the lacquered wood, a thin red line appeared around Marvin's neck, before his head suddenly fell from his body with a sickening wet squelch of splitting flesh, his body crumpling to a heap shortly after.
Still paying no heed to the dead man, Gilver instead turned his gaze towards the guitar case he had placed against the base of the statue. His right hand reached out, undoing the zipper holding the leather material together. Once it fell away, the bandaged swordsman silently studied the contents within, his index finger tracing the carved metal in the shape of a skull...
Back below, Tony was sprinting through the heavy fog of humid mist, his head snapping from one direction to the other every time his ears caught a muffled footstep or groan from the creature that had somehow vanished from his line of vision. Deciding to seize the brief calm, he ejected the spent clip from his Colt, and grabbed a fresh one from inside his coat, reloading as his eyes scanned the steamy mist for any sign of the mutant. His mind raced as the seconds ticked by, and there was still no sign of the thing.
Where'd it go?... It's my height, and has an arm the size of a frickin' mastiff, so where the hell could it be hiding?!
As he rounded the corner, Redgrave glanced over the side railing he found himself by, seeing how the darkness-covered bottom below seemed to go on forever. With this, he began considering trying to knock the damn thing over it, since his bullets didn't seem to be doing jack to it anyway.
No sooner had he started to wonder how he could lure the thing over here did a loud *CLANG* issue directly behind him, causing him to whirl around, his icy eyes meeting the still-human looking face's lone bloodshot one as its massive hand clamped over his head, and began squeezing down hard. Letting out a pained "Gah!" Tony jammed the barrel of the Colt directly into the thing's tumor-looking eye, and pulled the trigger again and again, the heavy rounds striking the twitching orb over and over, hot orange blood spraying out.
The monster bellowed in true pain this time, yanking its arm back, its huge hand still clutching its unfortunate victim by the head, flinging the red-coated gunman aside with ease, as if the fully grown man weighed less than a crumpled piece of paper. The gunslinger slammed into a large piece of machinery hard enough to dent the metal with a deep impact crater, blood gushing from his open mouth as he crumpled into a heap with a pained groan while the beast crumpled to its knees in agony, its large yellow eye turning a dark hue of orange as more of its strange blood began to gush down like thick, oozing tears.
The pale-haired man managed to push himself onto his hands and knees, agony ripping through his upper chest and back, choked blood spilling from his lips. He was in bad shape; the worst he'd felt in a long time. He could feel the broken, grinding bones along his chest and back, along with the distinct, painful pinch of a broken rib poking into one of his lungs. But he ignored the pain, pushing it down, reassuring himself that he would heal like he always did, and forced himself back to his feet, his icy blue eyes searching for the monster.
When he saw it had collapsed to its knees in front of the railway overlooking the black abyss of whatever lay below, he knew this was his best and probably only chance to finish this.
Forcing himself back to his full height, blood dripping down his jaw, Tony tensed himself up, willing his pained body to stay up just another moment-
-when a voice called out, hushed and muffled, but still loud enough to be heard over the chaos of the situation, calling out a name...
A name that made him freeze in place, his eyes widening.
Suddenly, he was elsewhere, flames all around him, a woman's voice calling out another name frantically.
Rushing air and spinning metal brought him back to reality, the man in red flinching as something slammed down in front of him in a burst of sparks and shining steel. Tony looked at the object, recognizing it instantly. It was a blade almost as long as he was tall, the tip currently embedded in the metal floor hidden from sight, but he knew it would be barbed at the edge. The hilt was seemingly carved from a human ribcage, with two humeri against them, and not one but two skulls etched just above the spike-pommeled handle, one skull having a set of horns above its empty eye sockets.
"...Woozy?" he whispered, the affectionate nickname he had given the sword he had carried with him in every job, always succeeding where guns usually failed. If they survived his handling of them, that is.
His eyes shot up to the ceiling, spotting a section of a walkway on hydraulic movers, his eyes widening as they were met by stone cold orbs, the only feature he could make out from the head surrounded in bandages. The darkly-dressed figure held his stare for another moment, then took a single step back, disappearing into the shadows.
Tony stepped forward, his mouth opening, a name starting to rise from his lips, "Gil-"
When he heard the monster roar once again, his eyes snapped back forward to see the creature pushing itself back onto its feet, using its pipe club like a cane to steady itself. The man in red knew it was now or never.
His right hand shot out as his feet began to charge forward, his strong grip ripping the sword free in a screech of metal and the weapon was thrust out, striking with all the flair of a scorpion's stinger. The creature with the tumor-like eye swung its pipe out to deflect the blow, but Tony's sword cut through the long pole like a hot knife through butter, the barbed tip impaling it directly in the gut in a burst of blood and torn flesh. The monstrosity roared in agony, the broken halves of its makeshift club clanging onto the floor below, but the swordsman paid them no mind.
He ripped his blade free from the beast's gut, tearing into it with three quick swipes before suddenly thrusting the blade out rapidly, a single thrust quickly becoming a blurred frenzy of a million stabs delivered in the span of a second, the final blow sending the monster flying back off its feet as Tony cried "Breakdown!"
Careening back, the creature staggered backward, its voice a raspy gargle, thick blood splashing out past its lips, when suddenly, the still-human looking face seemed to shift slightly, the bloodshot blue eye widening as the massively disfigured right arm and tumor-like eye spasmed painfully, the now-blood red eye twitching erratically as it darted its gaze about frantically. The mutant's human-like face gave Tony one last look, and the boy swore he saw what could only be described as relief rising through the tortured, blood-soaked face.
Then the creature spun around, dragging its bleeding body towards a handrail that it grasped with its normal arm. With a final distorted scream, it lunged over the side of the rail, falling into the deep darkness below, the scream fading into the blackness as well, before being silenced by a softer sound, which the youth swore was a faint but heavy *splash* of something large striking water.
For several seconds, the scarlet swordsman simply stood there, breathing heavily, wincing as he felt that rib that had been poking one of his lungs snap back into place, causing him to cough, hacking a few droplets of blood as he did, before he turned his gaze back up, looking at the walkway where he had sworn he had seen that bandage-wrapped swordsman named Gilver; the stranger who had arrived at Bobby's Cellar and fought him to a draw. Slinging Woozy over his shoulder, Redgrave glared at the spot for another moment, his mind racing as he tried to understand what he saw.
I know what I saw... It was him... But what's he even doing here?! Did he follow me? How'd he even know I was here?!
Unable to draw any conclusions to his internal questions for the moment, Tony began collecting his fallen shotgun and Colt, ejecting its clip to count the remaining rounds before holstering the sidearm, and shouldering the shotgun. He had to catch up to Claire and that kid she found, hoping they hadn't gotten too far ahead of him.
Arriving at the base where the collapsible ladder should have been lowered but wasn't, the merc huffed a sigh before bending his knees slightly, and jumping up, flying through the air by almost twenty feet, landing on the upper walkway with a heavy *CLANG* and slight wince as felt the impact reverberations ring through his knitting chest.
Before following after Claire and the girl, Tony took one last look towards the railing overlooking the black abyss the creature had flung itself into, once more wondering what had turned a once-normal man into a creature like that. Again, he considered the possibility of a mutation of the zombie disease afflicting Raccoon City, but while he felt the two were connected, he didn't think they were the same cause.
Narrowing his eyes, the swordmaster set his gaze forward and started off, a small part of him hoping whatever humanity that creature still possessed had been put to rest from the torment it now found itself trapped in.
With one last grunt of effort, Claire shoved the manhole cover off entirely, allowing her to pull herself up and out of the manhole, Sherry's smaller head peaking out a few moments later. The woman gave the parking deck a quick look over, and despite the faint smell of rot, there was not a single zombie or even a body anywhere to be seen. She gave Sherry a nod, and the smaller girl pulled herself out and stood up, standing close to the woman's legs as the two began to walk about the deck.
Giving the child another look, seeing that she still looked tense and apprehensive, Claire broke the silence to ask her, "So... what's your mom like?"
The sudden question made Sherry blink and glance up at the older woman before she mumbled, "Oh, uh... She works for Umbrella, making lots of important new medicines... She's always at work, so I don't get to see her that much," she admitted quietly, her right hand rubbing at the small necklace charm around her neck.
The biker girl felt a wave of pity wash over her. "Well, hopefully, you'll get to see her again soon."
Her gaze then narrowed as she internally mused over the fact that this girl's mother worked for Umbrella.
Umbrella... They have a huge chemical plant in the heart of the city. And Sherry says her mom is working on new medicines...
She knew where her thoughts were leading her. And while she had no proof, it was still too much of a coincidence to ignore. She recalled that deranged note she had found in the station's West Storage Room, the writer cursing at some corporation. Her eyes narrowed in thought.
Maybe there is a connection... But I can't focus on that right now. We just need to find a way out of here, she concluded, just as Sherry uttered an excited gasp, her hand shooting out to point at something.
"Over there!" she cried out.
She broke into a run, Claire following behind her, spotting the bright lights shining ahead, her heart leaping into her throat when she saw it was a set of headlights on a parked car just outside of a lowered parking gate. Finding herself running after Sherry, the two arrived at the front of the gate in seconds.
Sherry's brief joy quickly soured into obvious disappointment as she mumbled, "It's closed..."
Frowning, the young woman looked to the gate's right, and fought down a frustrated groan when she saw the large orange and blue key reader set up next to it.
"Dammit. We need a key card," she uttered aloud, looking back at the gate and sighing before adding, "The one time I actually need Tony to try and be macho..." Looking back at the little girl, she asked, "Are you sure this is the way?"
Sherry nodded quickly before replying, "This is how my mom took me last time."
She really didn't want to try to lift the thing up by herself. It probably weighed too much for her to even so much as budge it, plus it was more than likely locked down securely. Still, what else could she do? They needed to get out of this death trap before some new monster reared its ugly head-
"...Sherry?!"
At the sound of the low male voice, Claire was back on her feet, moving in front of the little girl protectively as a rather large figure began to approach from the shadows.
"I've been looking everywhere for you, Sherry..."
As he said that, the man stepped out of the darkness completely, revealing himself to be a heavyset man dressed in a grey vest over a white shirt, and blue slacks with a red tie tucked into the vest. His hair was a fading gray into white, deep bags under his beady brown eyes, a thick gray mustache over his lips.
He smiled brightly at Sherry, who remained partially behind Claire's legs, speaking again as he slowly continued to approach. "Brave little girl to leave your house in the middle of this mess..."
When he was less than six feet away from them, he finally turned his gaze to the older girl, his smile dropping as his left hand reached down to his side, and a second later, the barrel of a revolver was aimed directly at her face.
"On the ground, hands behind your head."
Claire stared back at the barrel, her eyes wide with disbelief by the sudden change from friendly man to very real threat. "You can't be serious..."
In response to her disbelief, the large man simply moved the revolver slightly to the side of her right and fired a single round, the bullet shattering the windshield of a parked car.
With his point made, he realigned his gun back on her, reiterating his earlier words with a clear annoyed edge in his tone, "On the ground. Now."
Knowing he had her dead to rights, and that she'd never draw any of her weapons fast enough before he'd shoot her, Claire raised her arms over her head, and slowly dropped to her knees, glaring coldly at the fat bastard, who grinned smugly, pleased.
He turned his beady eyes back to Sherry as he took a few more steps towards them, closing the distance between himself and the young woman while using his left hand to produce a zip-tie from one of his pants pockets, tossing the band towards the little girl while ordering, "Sherry, tie her hands."
Sherry blinked, looking completely terrified as she sputtered, "Why are you doing this?"
"Shut up. Tie her," the fat man ordered again, his revolver never wavering away from Claire's face.
Sherry looked from the zip-tie then back to the man, clearly frozen with fear and indecision.
Seeing this, the man stepped closer towards Claire, the barrel of the handgun less than six inches from her face now as he barked, "OK, then. You tie her up now, or she dies."
Whimpering in terror, but unwilling to let her new friend die, the child bent down to pick up the zip-tie, quickly scampering behind the other girl. The college student let the little girl pull her hands down to bind them with the zip-tie, her grey-blue eyes cold sapphires as she continued to glare at the fat bastard, his smug smirk infuriating her further.
"What's this all about?" she demanded as she watched the man move towards the key reader.
The bastard had the nerve to turn his back to her as he produced a parking pass key from his vest pocket while simply stating, "Child endangerment, for starters."
A light on the reader turned from green to red, a soft chime issuing as the gate began to rise up, the fat man turning to face Sherry, and motioning her to come forward with his gun as he said, "Sherry, come here."
Claire felt an icy spike of fear run through her heart, adrenaline pumping in her veins as real terror for the little girl's life rushed through her.
"What are you gonna do to her?" she demanded.
"None of your fucking business," the fat bastard snapped back.
Unable to fight down her burning anger, Claire threatened him, "If you hurt her, I swear to God, my brother is S.T.A.R.S. and I will fucking-"
The rest of her threat was cut off by the heavy kick to her gut from the man that dropped her onto her side, a whoosh of air knocked out her lungs, while the fat man again demanded to the terrified child, "Sherry, get over here."
When she still didn't move, the man rolled his eyes and stomped towards Claire, bending down to snatch her by the ponytail, asking in mock politeness, "What's your name?"
When Redfield kept her mouth shut in defiance, he tightened his grip on her hair while shoving the barrel of his revolver closer to her face, hissing angrily, "What's your fucking name?!"
"Claire!" the young woman snarled through clenched teeth, internally urging Tony to show up, and beat this fat bastard to a bloody pulp.
But he was either still fighting that strange monster, or worse, dead, and she found herself alone as the fat man looked back up at Sherry to snarl at the horrified little girl, "Sherry, you come with me now, or say goodbye to Claire!"
"OK, OK, I'll go!" Sherry conceded, quickly moving towards the opened gate. Pleased, the fat man rose back up as the child weakly demanded, "You better be taking me to my mom."
Throwing his hands up in a shrug, the fat man stated, "Absolutely."
Claire forced herself up as best as she could, saying to Sherry desperately, "Don't listen to him! He's full of shit-"
Her words were once more cut off, this time by the fat bastard's large hand that gripped his gun, pistol whipping her across the jaw hard enough to split her lip, the young woman tasting blood as she collapsed on the asphalt, gasping harshly before going still when she saw a large, broken shard of glass only a few inches away from herself.
"Stop hurting her! Please!" the child begged desperately, unable to bear seeing Claire in such pain.
Rolling his eyes in annoyance, the fat man stomped towards the girl, snatching her by the upper arm in a tight grip while snapping, "Don't tell me how to do my job."
He began dragging the struggling girl over the parking gate's threshold, Sherry wailing in terror, "Stop! Let me go! Let me go!"
As the older girl dragged herself by her elbows closer to the glass shard, the man had successfully begun dragging Sherry off as the gate began to descend, all the while saying, "Obviously, nobody taught you manners! We'll fix that. Oh, yes, we will," he promised darkly.
Sherry looked back at Claire, her blue eyes shining with terrified tears as something shining dully fell from her neck as she thrashed and screamed, "LET ME GO! LET ME GO!"
Redfield felt her fingers wrap around the large glass piece, and she quickly cut through the plastic of the zip-tie, freeing her wrists from it. Shooting back up onto her feet, she chased after the fat man and Sherry-
-only to find her path impeded as the gate successfully re-closed, cutting her off, letting her only watch as the man dragged the girl off into the distance, out of sight in seconds.
Her fury peaking with a painful clench of hopelessness around her heart, Claire kicked the gate as hard as she could and screamed after the man, "I'LL GET YOU, YOU FUCKER!"
Her rage dying, heavy pants for air slipping past her lips, the young woman found herself looking down, catching sight of a small gold charm with a gold necklace attached to it. The same charm Sherry had been rubbing earlier when talking about her mother.
Bending down to scoop it up, Claire clutched the necklace tightly between her fingers, wiping her bleeding lips as she whispered, "Stay safe, Sherry..."
That fat son of a bitch was going to pay. She swore to herself she'd see to that personally.
Unholstering her revolver, and safely tucking Sherry's necklace into the deepest pocket of her satchel, Redfield whispered to herself, "Okay... Key card first. Then that asshole gets what's coming to him."
There had to be another parking pass somewhere in this deck, or even in the police station, if she had to look elsewhere. If the personnel of the station needed them to get in and out, there was bound to be another one laying around somewhere, or hidden inside the pockets of one of the many dead or zombified officers. She couldn't wait for Tony any longer, if the man was coming at all, because every second put Sherry's life in greater peril.
With that settled, she broke into a fast jog, spotting an open door to her left down a small set of stairs. Clearing the steps with one long jump, she dashed down the hallway and rounded the corner, finding an elevator and a locked door to her left, the door branded with a pink diamond insignia. When she tried the handle, she found it securely locked. Her frustration boiling, she kicked the door uselessly before turning around to pace, when her eyes landed on a large poster map of the parking deck, with a magazine opened to an article on the small table under it.
Blinking, Claire approached the table, looking down at the magazine in disbelief when she saw a picture of the fat man in a blue police uniform, the article headline reading: Chief Brian Irons, Raccoon's most respected hero!
"That... bastard is the police chief?!" she uttered in disbelief, her anger boiling over into fresh righteous fury.
He's supposed to be a cop! A man who protects and serves, not an asshole who terrorizes women, and kidnaps little girls! her mind raged, and she slapped the magazine aside. A useless gesture, but damn if it didn't make her feel better.
Calm down. I need to search this floor with a clear head. If I let my anger distract me, I could die at the hands of a zombie or worse. And what good am I to Sherry then?
Inhaling a deep breath, Claire nodded to herself, willing her pounding heart to slow back down to a regular rhythm. She needed to find a parking pass. And since the elevator and the diamond-marked door were both locked up, she had to look elsewhere. Departing the hallway, she then spotted another door past some park cars with a red 'Exit' sign glowing brightly over it. Having nowhere else to go, she quickly stepped through it, arriving in another hallway, this one filled with heavy darkness. The overhead lights were out, with only the illumination of a nearby soda machine offering any type of light.
Pulling out her flashlight, she spotted a blocked pass with an impromptu barrier of furniture and other large objects, and two more doors, both locked when she tried them. Grinding her teeth, but refusing to give up, the woman made her way down the long hallway to her right from the door she had arrived through, the beam of her flashlight cutting through the darkness-
-and spotting something that quickly darted across the wall, a distinct *click-clack* echoing through the silent chamber. Claire froze on the spot, instantly recognizing the sound and its originator.
Those inside-out lizard things from the station... There's more of them down here!
That realization made her gulp, her mouth suddenly dry, but she forced herself forward. She had to find a pass, a key to the locked doors, something that would help her get to Sherry a moment sooner. And if she had to kill these things to do that, she would.
Arriving at the end of the hall, coming up to another turn, Claire saw her way forward was again blocked off by a hastily-constructed barricade, leaving her only other option a door to her left. Inhaling deeply, she gripped the doorknob and turned it slowly, pushing it open, and peering through the gap. What she saw froze her in her tracks.
The room she was looking into was a large kennel area, multiple cages stacked atop each other, each empty, the thin metal bars broken and bent, with a sea of blood covering the floor. Two of the inside-out skinned monsters were messily tearing into the bloody bodies of a pair of large dogs; Dobermans, she recognized. Swallowing again, the redhead steeled herself as she slowly began pushing the door all the way open.
They're eating, too focused on their meals... They don't have eyes, so they have to rely on smell or sound; maybe both... It reeks of blood and rot, and if I move quietly, they won't realize I'm here. I'll be out before they know it.
Her conclusion didn't make her feel any more confident, but she didn't have much of a choice but to press on. Stepping into the kennel completely, Claire began to inch past the skinned monsters as they continued to tear into the bodies of the poor dogs, blood splattering around them, bits of flesh dropping from between their jaws. The young student kept her eyes glued on the creatures as she continued to slowly make her way around them, spotting a set of stairs just past the two beasts, where another dead dog lay in a pool of its own blood-
-Claire's foot suddenly slipped from under her, a fresh and wet spot of blood becoming her undoing as she collapsed loudly onto the floor with a shocked cry, her eyes wide with terror. At the sound of her body impacting directly behind them, the two creatures jerked up, snapping their eyeless heads at her, their bloody jaws falling open as they roared at the realization of fresh prey for them; a fresh and hot meal.
The girl froze in horror as the two beasts leapt through the air towards her, their massive clawed hands drawn back-
-the soft sound of sliding metal rose over the hissing roars of the twin creatures, who seemed to freeze in midair, lines of wispy, yet straight black smoke appearing over them, a rush of air whooshing by the woman's stunned form-
-and then the creatures' bodies, exploding in bursts of gore and tearing flesh, collapsed into piles of meat and bone across the bloody floor. Claire stared at the bloody pieces that were all that remained of the monsters, unable to breathe, blink, or comprehend what had just happened.
Then heavy footfalls echoed loudly through the kennel room.
"So..." a cold voice murmured, sounding oddly muffled.
The girl blinked, her gaze snapping up as she watched a figure dressed in a dark suit emerge from the shadows, his face obscured by heavily-wrapped bandages covering his head and hands, which held a long eastern katana in the right that was dripping with the monsters' blood, and a long black scabbard in his left. The man's cold eyes were locked with Claire's own, and though she couldn't really tell, she swore she spotted the slight crinkling of the gauze around the area of his mouth, meaning he was smirking down on her.
"You must be Tony's girlfriend."
Dun, dun, DUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN.
Sorry, couldn't resist. This chapter is a bit shorter than the last one, but we're setting up some fun stuff for the next couple of 'em!
Tony and Claire are almost out of the police station, but they're gonna run into new faces (one bandaged, the rest not), and next chapter Tony is gonna meet a few new people, while Claire has a very interesting conversation with Gilver.
Major props to Da-Awesom-One for editing this chapter and helping me rewrite my initial plans for this one.
Drop a review and fave/follow if you can, I'll start on the next chapter as soon as I'm over this damn stomach bug I caught a bit ago.
