Chapter Six: Breakthru


The parking deck of the Raccoon City Police Station was shrouded in heavy shadows, the darkness only broken in a few spots by the faint lights of electronic signs, and the glaring beams from the burning headlights of an abandoned vehicle just outside the lowered gate. These small amounts of light offered little in relief from the all-encompassing shadows, but in truth, they only allowed the shadows to run even deeper, hiding the nightmares that were Raccoon City's newest populace.

Far in the back of the lot, the manhole that Claire Redfield and the young girl named Sherry had emerged from earlier remained uncovered, light barely emanating from it from the well-lit room below.

That very faint light was briefly obscured by something moving to block it, and a blurred figure leapt out of the manhole, spinning through the air, before landing heavily on leather boots, the long tail of his crimson cloak flaring out like a massive pair of wings, icy blue eyes flashing as the man called Tony Redgrave grinned triumphantly, rising back up to his full height.

The comforting weight of the long broadsword resting across his back along with the long shotgun next to it, the pale-haired man thrust his arms out and above his head, exclaiming, "And he sticks the landing! The crowd goooes wiiild!"

Giving an exuberant bow, then rising back up, Tony observed the darkened parking deck, his eyes scanning the shadows over for a few moments before realizing he was seemingly completely alone in the deck.

His smile turning to a disappointed frown, he groaned before muttering, "Dammit, no one's around. They totally missed my entrance!"

Walking forward, one hand resting in his coat's pocket, Redgrave's eyes moved from side-to-side as he strolled forward, his brow furrowing when he realized he really was completely alone in the Parking Garage of the police station. He stopped about six feet from the lowered gate, still looking around for any signs of life, but found none.

His eyes narrowed, concern flashing through the icy orbs. "Claire? Little girl?" he called out just loud enough for his voice to echo and reverberate through the deck.

Silence was his only response.

Eyes narrowing, Tony approached the shuttered parking gate, his eyes looking it over quickly before spotting the card-key reader set up next to it.

He ran his fingers over the key slot, before craning his head back and calling out again, "Claire?!"

All that responded were the reverberating echoes of his own voice. Facing forward, the young man observed the gate as his mind began to rush, his thoughts racing as he tried to understand where Claire and the kid she found could possibly be. His eyes looked over the concrete floor, but he couldn't see any fresh bloodstains, or expended ammunition shells to indicate that the collegiate girl had run into any kind of trouble before his arrival.

I know I wasn't that far behind them. It's been... what, maybe five minutes, tops, since I told her to go ahead while I handled that freak with the eyeball on its shoulder?... So where the hell are they? They couldn't have left the station. They'd have needed a key card to open this, not to mention... She wouldn't just leave me here... Would she?

"...No. No way," he whispered to himself.

Tony wasn't stupid enough to think that Claire would let any lingering resentment she still had after their argument convince her to just up and ditch him. He remembered the relief and excitement on her face when they had first met up in the station courtyard, and the genuine concern in her voice after he had ordered her to run off.

Nodding to himself, he looked the gate over once again, musing to himself, "In that case, where could she have gone, then?... Maybe to look for a key card, or stash that kid somewhere safe?"

Both were good possibilities. Claire liked children a lot more than he did, and it was entirely plausible she would have headed off somewhere to leave the little girl while she looked for a key card to open the gate up. Nodding, having mostly convinced himself that was the most likely scenario to explain his sweetheart's absence, Tony took a few steps backwards away from the gate, craning his head back to give it one final look over-

-when he stopped in his tracks, his head inching to look over his shoulder slowly, as his ears caught the soft *click-clack* of something sharp rapping slowly but repeatedly over the concrete ground. From behind one of the police cars, a shadow shifted, stepping out of the heavier darkness. The merc turned around completely to face the new arrival, his previously concerned expression melting away into a mocking grin of amusement as he took in the appearance this latest intruder.

"Aww, wouldja look at that? It's a big ol' puppy! I love puppies!"

'Puppy' probably wasn't the best choice of descriptions of this beast. It was a full grown Doberman Pinscher, its dark fur helping it blend in with the shadows of the blackened parking lot. But thanks to lights from the idling car locked behind the gate behind the mercenary himself, he was easily able to see that this wasn't just some loose pet that had wandered into the lot. The mutt was missing patches of fur and skin, exposing glistening red muscle and sinew, while its cataract-covered eyes were locked with his own, strings of drool dribbling down its open lips as the undead beast snarled viciously with hunger.

"Huh. Zombie dog. Can't say I've ever seen one of you in a horror flick before..." Tony muttered aloud, his right hand reaching over to grasp the spiked hilt of his sword. Unsheathing Woozy from his back, his excited grin returned as he bared his own teeth in challenge to this new beast.

He extended his left hand out, wagging his fingers in invitation while whistling at it encouragingly. "Here, boy! C'mon, puppy, let's go! Let's go!" he prodded in a hushed voice brimming with eagerness.

The undead mutt seemed to understand his words easily enough. With a sudden bark of rage, the beast charged towards the pale-haired man, clearing the distance faster than the eye could follow, launching itself straight through the air, lunging for its prey, its jaws open and aimed for his neck-

-when metal sang through air in the same moment, the long blade of Tony's sword colliding with the dog with a muted *smack* of forged steel meeting rotting flesh. With a pained, high-pitched yelp from the undead mutt, the heavy creature's flight path for the man's neck was promptly diverted. The carnivorous canine smacked into the concrete ground with a harsh *CRACK* of bone as several of its ribs snapped from the force of the impact.

Raising his sword back up, Redgrave observed the thin line of coagulated blood caught on Woozy's side, before giving the sword a sharp fling in an attempt to flick the blood off with a disgusted expression.

"Ick. Nasty," he uttered out in disgust.

Balancing the broadsword across his shoulder and turning away from the zombie dog, the white-haired swordsman muttered to himself, "This is why people oughta keep their dogs on a leash. Let 'em roam around too much, and before you know it, Fido'll be taking a bite outta some poor slob, and'll have to get put down."

As he said this, Tony reached for his holstered Beretta with his left hand, while behind him, the undead dog rose back on wobbling legs, setting its whitened eyes back onto the man in red before growling again, a low rumble of rage and hunger before suddenly snapping its jaws in a spray of spittle, once more charging towards him. At the same time as the beast began its dash, the gunslinger spun around, his handgun held out, finger on the trigger-

*BAM!*

The brash young man blinked, confused by the sudden gunshot - one not from his own gun - that was almost loud enough to drown out the pained yelp from the undead dog as its head snapped back, a good portion of its skull exploding in a shower of gore before its body crumpled to the floor with a wet smack, a pool of blood beginning to form around what was left of its head. Blinking, he looked down on the dead animal in confusion, still not entirely sure what just happened.

"Hey!" a loud voice uttered out from the darkness, breaking him from his reverie. "Gotta be sharper than that!"

Tony's head snapped to his left, his icy orbs spotting a figure enveloped in shadows over his shoulder, less than ten feet away from him. Their right hand was holding a smoking pistol.

Spinning around on his heels, the man leveled his own drawn sidearm at the new arrival, his expression annoyed, and grip on Woozy tightening. He was internally irked at both having his kill stolen, and the fact that this stranger had snuck up on him. Something only one other person had ever successfully done before: the very same bandaged-wrapped swordsman he was still convinced he had seen in that large machine room just under the very parking deck he now stood in.

Tony forced his annoyance down, keeping his focus entirely on the newcomer as they stepped closer, emerging from the heavier darkness into the bright path of the stopped car just outside the gate. Their right arm was still extended out, the small handgun - a Mauser; Broom Hc, judging by the little hook on the base of the magazine - held in one gloved hand, the barrel leveled at his face. The taller gunman was unafraid of the obvious threat, instead simply taking in the new person entirely now that he could see them clearly.

Or rather, her clearly.

This new arrival was a woman about Claire's height - maybe just a bit taller - dressed in a closed, buttoned brown leather coat, her long legs covered in dark stockings, with a grey scarf wrapped snugly around her neck, and tucked into the collar of her coat. Her pale face contrasted with her short dark hair, the sunglasses over her eyes obscuring them from Tony's view. Meeting her hidden gaze, the mercenary kept his eyes locked on her shades, his gun never wavering.

Just as he was beginning to wonder if she was waiting for him to introduce himself, the woman suddenly ordered, "Lower it."

That got a smirk from the youth, followed by a defiant shake of his head. "Oh, I don't think so. See, I was always told to let ladies go first, so how 'bout you lower yours?"

Though he couldn't see it, Redgrave could just somehow feel the woman roll her eyes as her left hand, hanging innocently by her hip, quickly dug into her coat's pocket, producing a wallet that she flipped open, exposing an I.D. and a distinct gold badge with three letters engraved on its surface.

"F.B.I.," she said aloud to punctuate her point.

Cocking a brow, Tony lowered the Beretta down a slight bit, while letting Woozy fall back over his shoulder where it hung next to his shotgun.

"...A fed, huh?" he drawled. "Guess that explains what a nice lady like you's doin' in a hellhole like Raccoon City."

Again, he could feel her eyes roll, but while the young man had lowered his own weapon down, the newcomer still had her gun pointed at him.

Pointing towards the firearm while jerking his head back and down towards the dog's body, he asked, "Don't suppose you're expecting a 'thank you?'"

The federal agent cocked her head and raised a brow, but remained silent.

At that, Tony chuckled once under his breath, holstering his handgun while saying, "Quiet type, huh? That's annoying... But don't worry. I won't take it personally."

The woman's expression remained neutral at his words, but as soon as the silver-haired youth had finished holstering his gun and sword, she drew her arm back, her finger off the trigger as she eased her thumb off the hammer of her small sidearm, slipping the small handgun back under her coat without a word.

The federal officer gave him a look over as well, her hidden eyes lingering on the horned skull and ribcage adorning the handle of his greatsword just peeking over his shoulder, before commenting, "...Surprised you made it this far. You must have some skill with that thing, after all... That big sword of yours, at least."

Scoffing off the veiled barb, Tony shrugged and replied, "Guns or blades, I'm the best there is. Bullets won't last forever down here, y'know." Lowering his arms, he glared at the federal woman with narrowed eyes. "But enough about me. What's a fed doing in the middle of this shit show? Wouldn't happen to know anything about what's going on around here, do ya?"

She didn't respond to his query, opting instead to turn around, and begin walking away. She strode past several cars as she said, "Sorry. That information's classified."

Scoffing again, the mercenary himself rolling his eyes this time as he called after her, "Yeah, in case wearing those shades at night's messin' with your vision, sweetheart, classified doesn't mean jack, right now!"

The agent whirled around to face him again, her expression intense, which stopped the vocal gunman from saying anything else. "Do yourself a favor, tough guy," she said mockingly. "Stop asking questions, and get the hell out of here while you still can. If you're as good as you say, that shouldn't be a problem for you, right?"

With that ominous warning, she resumed her stride, with Tony spotting a door with a red glowing 'Exit' sign hanging over it further down the straight line she was power walking towards it.

Giving the closed gate another glance before looking back at her, he called after the federal agent. "Hey, wait! Did you happen see a young woman come through here?! Wears a pink vest, had a kid with her?!"

The agent ignored him, however, shoving the door open and stepping inside, vanishing from sight.

Huffing an aggravated sigh, the young man glanced at the gate again, his icy eyes looking past it after a moment, and spotting two more doors to his far right. His gaze narrowed, his frustration building.

Claire was gone. To where, he had no damn idea. And now there was an F.B.I. agent roaming around, too. Rubbing his brow, fighting a headache, Tony struggled to reach a decision.

Claire could be anywhere down here... Maybe she heard the shot, and is on her way back here?... Or maybe she's found somewhere to lay low, and wait for me with the kid... Dammit. Decisions, decisions...

With a sigh, the handyman turned to look back at the door the federal woman had walked through, his eyes narrowing again in contemplation.

That woman... She claims to be a fed... She's gotta know something about whatever the hell turned this place into a zombie-filled hellhole. Maybe knows where we can find a safe way outta here... She's just gotta.

"...And at this point, I think it's about time I got some damn answers," Tony concluded grimly.

With that said, he began after her, his boots splashing through a small puddle of rainwater, leaving the dead dog behind him as he pursued this new player in the game of survival horror that Raccoon City had become.


Still sprawled across the cold floor of the shadow-filled kennel, Claire Redfield's wide grey-blue orbs flickered back and forth between the man's bandaged-wrapped face and cold, narrowed eyes, to the blood-dripping sword still held tightly in his right hand, and the large pile of flesh, bone, and blood that had once been the two eyeless, skinless monsters feasting over the ravaged corpse of a police dog. The figure's own eyes never wavered, locked directly onto her own, his fingers flexing over the ornate hilt of his blade. The bandages over his face hid his expression, but the woman could still see the intensity in his cold orbs.

The collegiate girl's mind was racing, trying to process everything that had just happened. Those monsters... He... He killed them... But I didn't even see him do it... Wait... Did he just call me 'Tony's girlfriend?' How does he know Tony? Who the hell is he? What is he?! The way he killed those things, it... It's not possible... Not... human...

She tried to will herself to calm down, inhaling slowly and deeply to slow down her heartrate, fighting down her terror and confusion as she scrambled to form a plan to escape this bandaged swordsman. It wasn't going to be easy, though. She was literally trapped in a corner, and in the most vulnerable position possible. Claire knew she would be dead, her throat cut or stabbed through the heart in half the time it would take for her to even try to get back on her feet.

*BAM!*

A gunshot, muffled by the walls of brick and concrete between it, still managed to echo loudly through the layers buffering the sound. The man in black's eyes flickered to his left, his head twitching to follow towards the source of the sound.

Claire saw her chance and took it.

Her right leg swept out, her riding boot sweeping for his black dress shoes-

-which became a black blur as the bandaged man promptly hopped over her sweeping kick, his eyes rounding back onto her, narrowed in a glare of annoyance.

Hissing a curse under her breath, Claire used her sudden momentum to roll quickly onto her front, shoving her knees against the hard floor to shoot herself back up to her feet, and prepared to make a mad dash for the steps just a few feet away-

-but came to a prompt stop when she felt cold steel against her neck. She froze in place, her eyes widening in realization that she was about to die.

The bandaged-wrapped man continued to glare down on her, inclining his head back slightly before shaking it mockingly, tapping the tip of his blade against the bottom of her jaw, making her flinch.

"Spirited, I see... That must be why he likes you."

The stranger's words were as cold as ice, the faintest hint of mockery detected in veiled undertones. The cornered young woman fought down a retort, not wanting to give this bastard any excuse to slit her throat, while internally kicking herself for rushing off like she had. Sherry's life was at stake, and here she was, being held at sword point - of all things - while the child was in the clutches of that corrupt police chief.

Very slowly and deliberately, the man drew his sword back, keeping it just precious millimeters away from her vulnerable flesh, but slow enough to keep her from trying anything else. Pulling his blade back, he twirled it once, flinging drops of blood from the monsters he slew off its sharp edge before returning it to its scabbard, the scraping of metal against lacquered wood echoing loudly through the heavy silence. Once the hilt of the weapon issued a soft *click* as it met the tang of the sheathe, Claire finally managed to force her eyes to look back and meet the man's shadowed own, the lack of light making them look like dark pools filled with lingering contempt.

Swallowing, her mouth suddenly dry and hot, the woman forced herself to speak, managing to keep the tremors currently wracking her hands out of her words. "Who are you? How'd you do that, and how do you know Tony?"

Her voice was somewhat firm, but they lacked any real bite. The college student's eyes flickered back towards the pile of cut-apart monster flesh and blood before looking back at the mysterious swordsman. The corners of his gauze-wrapped mouth twitched up slightly, and she could imagine the smug smirk on his face, no doubt pleased by the effect his killing of those monsters had on her.

The stranger took a step back, his right hand slipping into a pocket as he continued to simply watch her silently for several moments before finally speaking, his voice muffled by the bandages slightly, making the girl strain to hear him.

"My name... is Gilver. I'm an... acquaintance of Anthony's. We both get... jobs at Bobby's Cellar."

His words were odd, the younger Redfield narrowing her eyes at the way he put emphasis on 'acquaintance' and 'jobs,' his phrasing further confusing her. Still, she couldn't stop her eyes from widening when he said 'Bobby's Cellar.'

"Bobby's Cellar?" she parroted in disbelief. "That place isn't real. It's just some urban legend they tell back home. There's no such thing as a dive bar for criminals and mercenaries, and even if it was real, why would Tony go there?"

Her words fell out of her mouth in a rush, her confusion towards this strange man just growing and growing. Frustratingly, she could see amusement dance through his shadowed eyes, the corners of the bandages around his mouth crinkling slightly once again. His single dry chuckle in response to her question made the young woman want to draw her revolver out, but she refrained, simply gritting her jaw, and clenching her fist tightly over the holstered sidearm.

"You truly know nothing about him... As I suspected," he murmured, favoring her with a look that was infuriatingly piteous.

Unable to fight down her growing anger blinding her to the fact this individual was dangerous, and could still easily kill her if he chose to do so, Claire snapped back, "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?! How does some mummy-wrapped freak like you even know Tony?!"

Her words failed to get a rise out of him, his eyes remaining narrowed down on her as he cocked his head, looking her over once more before speaking again. "I am far more familiar with Anthony Redgrave than you realize. More than even he himself cares to be aware of... At least for now."

His words made her blink, their meaning completely lost. But before the young biker could say anything else, or even demand to know what he was babbling about, he spoke again.

"Though you may be his lover, it's painfully obvious that you don't know a single thing about him. Or rather... the real him," he mused aloud.

"The real... Tony?" she echoed back, her earlier anger now completely lost to the confusion this strange man named Gilver was filling her with. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Tell me, child... What do you really know about Tony Redgrave?" Gilver asked suddenly.

Claire huffed to herself, shaking her head at such a ludicrous question. "I know plenty, actually," she snapped back. "I know his favorite music, his favorite foods, and the kinds of movies he likes. I've been with him for almost a year, now, so whatever you're trying to get at-"

"When was he born?" the bandaged swordsman interjected over her words, making her stop.

She blinked, wracking her mind...

The auburn-haired girl could easily recall earlier in the year when she and Tony had celebrated her birthday at the small diner they had their first date in - Fredi's - but...

Claire realized Tony had never told her his birthday.

"Where is he from?" he inquired, drawing his head back slightly, his dark eyes betraying nothing.

...Claire found herself unable to respond.

She had met Tony in one of the more seedier bars of the city, but she had always figured he was a native city boy. It had never occurred to her until now, however, that he might have moved there from somewhere else.

"What is it that he's told you he does for a living?" he pried further.

Claire was almost ashamed of the relief she felt, unable to hold back a smug grin of her own as she quickly replied, "He's a handyman; a freelance worker who gets jobs from some guy named Morrison."

Gilver nodded at her response, but his next words chilled her rising triumph dead in its tracks. "Well... that's not entirely a falsehood on his part. He does get jobs from Morrison on occasion, and he is indeed a handyman... One willing to take on any job, no matter how dirty. He's quite infamous down in Bobby's Cellar in that regard." Raising his empty hand from his pocket, he began to tick off fingers with each word he spoke next. "Protection, racketeering, transportation... but never any assassination jobs. Even he seems to have so-called standards."

Claire felt the tremors wracking her hands move up her arms and through her torso, making their way down her legs. She was finding it very hard to remain standing still, her eyes wide with renewed horror and disbelief.

He... He-he's lying... He has to be!... Tony isn't...! Tony's not a criminal!

The stranger lowered his hand, looking back down on Claire, his eyes once more amused at her obvious state of disbelief. "How pitiful... You've allowed this man into your life, but it's quite clear he's kept you in the dark about his." The mysterious man closed his eyes, leaning his head back slightly. "Admittedly, he is rather... charismatic. With that in mind, a woman like you being so easily enamored of someone like him is unsurprising... But let me ask you this."

Lowering his head and opening his dark eyes to lock with her own, Gilver's next question froze her completely. "What if I told you there is no man named Anthony Redgrave? What if I told you he doesn't exist?... What if I told you he is not who you think he is... or even who he thinks he is?"

Claire forced herself to breathe, to blink, her mind screaming at her to run away... But she couldn't.

Because Gilver was right.

What did she really know about Tony Redgrave? She knew he liked rock and roll, and heavy metal. That if he could, he'd live exclusively on pizza and strawberry ice cream for the rest of his days. That he loved a good action flick, or a cheesy old monster movie...

But had she ever seen him fix anything around his apartment? If he was a handyman like he'd told her he was, then why had she never seen him lift a tool except to work on his bike or hers? And for a so-called 'handyman,' he loved to go through money like it was going out of style, spending amounts it would take the average person to make in a year instead of every other week after a 'job.' How did he know how to use guns the way he could, with skills exceeding that of even her own brother's sharpshooting, which had taken him years to hone?

And why - why - had she allowed herself to turn a blind eye to it for so long?

Deep down, she knew something was off about his story. She implied as much during the argument they had before she stormed off to Raccoon City. But the way he made her feel, and how he made her happy... Claire didn't want to believe it.

But whether she believed it or not, the truth was that Gilver was right.

She didn't know Tony Redgrave. Not really.

The swordsman's hand slipped inside his shirt, the bandage-covered hand producing a small key a moment later. He extended his arm out, offering the item to her. The young woman blinked, looking down at the offered trinket.

Reaching out with a shaking hand, she took the key, seeing the pink diamond emblem engraved at the head of it. Her eyes widened as she realized this was the very key she needed to get into that locked room next to that elevator she had come across earlier.

Looking up from the key to meet Gilver's eyes once again, Claire asked in a hushed voice, "Where did you...?"

"Clasped in the hand of an undead in the morgue ahead... You'll find what you need back in the police station," he explained, before turning away from her, and striding towards the door she had entered from.

Baffled, the youngest Redfield called after him, "I don't understand! Why are you telling me all this?! What do you want?!"

The retreating stranger paused in his steps, inclining his head to look back at her from over his shoulder before replying, "You've told me nothing I hadn't already suspected. Consider that key reimbursement in exchange for a moment of your time." Turning his head forward, the mysterious swordsman called to her as he approached the exit. "When you see Anthony again, give him my regards, would you?... But keep this in mind, child..."

He shoved the door open and stepped through it, his last words still reaching her as he vanished from her sight. "Tony Redgrave is not who you believe him to be... or rather, what you believe him to be."

The door to the hallway outside the kennel swung shut, leaving Claire alone with the dead dogs and the pile of mincemeat and blood that had been the skinless, eyeless monsters Gilver had killed, the bandaged man having never answered her question as to how he had slayed them.

In the back of her mind, the young woman wondered if the man in black even was a man underneath those bandages, or if he was an even worse monster than the kinds wandering Raccoon City's streets. His strange words about Tony and his identity had left her confused and upset - mostly at herself - because as much as she hated to admit it, he was right. She really didn't know Tony as well as she once thought she did.

But now wasn't the time to think on that. Sherry's life was in danger, and she was the only one who could do something about it. Slipping the key into her hip pouch, Claire made for the exit Gilver had gone through, heading for the door, her next destination the hallway the police chief had emerged from.

She needed to find a key card to open the parking gate, and she just knew there had to be one somewhere in the station. All she had to do was find it.

And then she was going to make that fat son of a bitch pay.


The door the federal woman had walked through swung open once again, Tony stepping inside the new section of the basement deck of the station, his pale blue eyes taking in the concrete walls around him, the iron bar cell doorway half a dozen feet away from where he stood, and the small office section to his immediate left, a clear glass window pane showing him its interior.

Looking around, briefly pausing to glance at the body of a dead officer laying face down on the opposite side of the gated door, the merc set his gaze forward before calling, "Yo! Fed lady!"

Silence, the lack of response telling the young man the woman either hadn't heard him, and had somehow gotten even deeper into this new area... or, more likely, she had heard him, and was choosing to ignore him. Sighing and shrugging, Tony moved into the small office room, giving it a quick look over for anything of use. Upon spotting a red box of nine-millimeter bullets, he snatched it up, and stuffed the box into one of his coat's many pockets.

He had wasted more ammunition than he thought during his fight with that strange, pipe-toting monster. And while Woozy would ensure he wouldn't be totally defenseless if and when he ran out of bullets, it wasn't something he was planning on happening just yet. Turning away from the small table the bullets had been resting on, the crimson-coated man spotted a folded map resting in a hanging file rack. Grabbing the map out of the file, he opened it up, and spread the large sheet over the table, looking over the drawn layout of the station's basement floor.

Tracing his finger over the lines of the map, the merc murmuring aloud, "So, I'm... here." He tapped the small square next to a larger series of rectangles side-by-side with the word 'Jail' written on it. From what he could tell, there was only nine holding cells total, and there was a part of him hoping one of them was where Claire and the little girl might be.

Remembering his fickle luck, Tony sighed and mumbled, "Yeah, let's not get our hopes up... So what else is down here?"

As he spoke, he dragged his finger over to the other side of the map, his eyes poring over the series of areas marked 'Firing Range,' 'Kennel,' 'Morgue,' and 'Generator Room.' The youth frowned, finding himself anxious at the idea of Claire and the girl wandering into either the kennel or the morgue. No doubt the kennel was the source of that undead dog he had encountered earlier. And where there was one wandering around, there had to be more.

The morgue was another bad idea, especially in a crisis that made the dead rise from their graves, and take a bite out of the living. The pale-haired man moved his finger over the section of the map between the firing range and generator room, the lines drawn in small rectangles stacked side-by-side, which he figured were a set of stairs leading back to the first floor of the police station. Wracking his brain to recall the layout of the station in his brief jaunt through it, Tony surmised that if Claire and the kid had taken those stairs, they'd be back somewhere along the east wing of the station; the first area he and his girlfriend had gone through.

That wasn't much better, but still potentially safer than anything else down there. He was about to turn away from the map and resume his search for the federal agent when he happened to catch something odd on the map out of the corner of his eye. Looking back down, he frowned, noting there was a long corridor drawn out by the gate; an area he had missed on his initial viewing. It was an odd spot, going straight for a few inches before turning left, and stopping at a dead end, with a small room drawn along it as well.

"Well, well, well. A closet space, maybe?" he mused aloud.

It was probably nothing, but he'd check it out regardless. There wasn't that much down here to cover, and there were only so many places Claire and the little girl could have gone.

Nodding in satisfaction, Tony stepped away from table, and headed towards the gate door, shoving it open, and stepping over the body of the cop.

Letting the gate close behind him, the mercenary started to bend down while saying, "Pardon me fella, just need to-" but stopped when he saw the ammo pouch on the belt was already open and empty. Frowning in annoyance, he rose back up while muttering, "I guess great minds think alike..."

As he turned and took a step away from the corpse, the cop's head began to rise, its white eyes locked onto Tony's ankle, one gray and bloody arm reaching out to snatch it-

*SHINK!*

The barbed tip of Tony's greatsword descended swiftly and with enough force to pierce through the zombie's skull and into the concrete floor below, causing the undead to spasm, dark blood gushing out of its mouth, its final exhale a gurgle as its outstretched arm went still. Yanking his sword out of the body without even bothering to turn around, the red swordsman saw his way forward was blocked by a locked gate, and so turned his icy eyes towards the long dark corridor to his left.

The heavy shadows engulfed the cell block, a feeble light flickering at the very end, while hungry groans could be heard echoing through the darkness. Narrowing his eyes, the mercenary walked towards the front gate, and gave one of the bars a tug, confirming it was locked, meaning the federal woman had to gone down the other corridor.

With a shrug and mumble of "Figures," the young man turned to the side, and made his way down the shadowed cell block.

The first cell to his right held a lone female ghoul standing and clutching the bars of her cage, groaning pitifully as the crimson-coated youth walked right by her. "Yeah, yeah, tell it to the judge, sister."

Most of the cells were occupied by at least two bodies, their skin gray and clothes bloodstained, but they were all seemingly dead, collapsed on their cells floors. Some were on top of each other, but the second to last cell held a rather large male ghoul that charged against his cell's door, rattling it, and snarling with rage and hunger, its bloody hands grasping futilely for Tony, who remained well out of its reach.

"If you can't do the time, don't do the crime, tubby," he chided the zombie, pausing in his steps to grin and snicker to himself. "Always wanted to say that..."

Exiting the cell block, Tony glanced to his left, seeing another closed-off gate, which was more than likely locked like the other one. Waking by two more cells, the second-to-last contained a lone ghoul that simply stood on swaying legs, its cataract-coated eyes staring at the wall, ignoring the sword-toting man entirely. He then saw that the path ahead was a dead-end, with a few small tables set against the far-off wall, and a faint light emitting from the last cell stationed to his left.

The swordsman in red stopped, his nostrils flaring suddenly as his eyes narrowed in a sudden scowl as he caught a familiar smell. One he absolutely hated, even compared to the rancid stink of the rotting flesh of the countless zombies he had encountered so far in Raccoon City.

Nicotine.

Waving his hand in front of his nose as he continued forward, Tony's eyes fell on the last cell of the block, the faint light inside of it casting faint shadows across the floor. One of those shadows was of a small cot hanging by chains attached to the wall...

With someone sitting on it.

"...Hello?" a nervous voice called out.

Rounding out of the shadows to step into the light, Tony revealed himself to the cell's occupant, his icy blue eyes looking over the prisoner. It was a man around his height, maybe a few years older, a light beard on his elated face, dressed in a brown jacket over a blue shirt and jeans, the sleeves of the jacket rolled up to his elbows. He had glasses over his brown eyes that matched his long hair, tied into a short ponytail just over the nape of his neck. The man excitedly rose up from his cot to approach his cell's bars where his guest stood opposite of him.

The stench of that foul nicotine smoke grew stronger as he closed the distance between them, and out of the bottom corner of Tony's eyes, he saw the source of the smell was a lit death stick clutched in-between the fingers of the prisoner's right hand.

Not seeing the new arrival's annoyance at the cigarette, the man happily clutched one of his cell door's bars while breathing in relief, "I don't believe it. A real human! Hello, human!"

That odd comment had Tony cock a brow, and his mouth moved to respond automatically. "Well, you're half-right, other human."

That made him freeze up and blink, a sudden chill shivering down his spine, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Why the hell did I say that? What does that even mean?!

The man in the cell didn't seem to even hear his odd words, looking pleadingly at the pale-haired man, and quickly asking, "Are we the last ones alive?"

His question brought Tony out of his thoughts, and he met the other man's gaze to shake his head in denial. "No. There's a few others. Not many, though..."

"Oh... " The man in the cell breathed a sigh of relief before quickly sticking his cigarette between his lips to inhale a long drag from it. "That's good news, I guess."

Rolling his eyes in disgust, Redgrave crossed his arms over his chest while asking, "Been down here long?"

Nodding and removing his cigarette from his mouth, also angling his head away from Tony as he exhaled a cloud of smoke - which the merc was totally grateful for - he answered, "Long enough... You gotta tell me, is Irons still alive?"

That made Tony blink and frown at the anxiety in the man's question. "Who's Irons?" he inquired, though he suspected he had to be another cop if this guy was nervous just saying his name.

The jailbird laughed bitterly, shaking his head and replying, "Who cares? Hopefully, he's somebody's dinner by now."

Chuckling under his breath at the clear bitterness in the man's words, the younger man found himself asking, "Lemme guess: he's the guy that put you down here? What'd you do to piss him off?"

The other man leaned back to take another long drag of his smoke, tossing the smoking butt aside before answering in an exhale of smoke, "I was about to blow the whistle on his dirty ass." Now that comment caught Tony's attention as the man shrugged and added under his breath, "I'd have done the same thing, too, I guess."

Intrigued, but feigning disinterest, the youth waved his hand and turned as if to move away from the cell, while saying, "Eh, crooked cops are a dime a dozen. Doesn't sound that interesting to me..."

Falling for the feint, the man snatched the cell's bars and quickly exclaimed, "No, no, man! Irons isn't just a cop. He's the frickin' police chief! He was set to announce his candidacy for mayor in November before all this zombie shit went down! And here's the real kicker!" Looking over his shoulder to meet the other man's excited, sweaty face, Tony continued to listen as the prisoner went on in a hushed whisper. "He's in the pocket of the people responsible for all this! Has been for years! That's why he dismissed the S.T.A.R.S. unit after they came back with evidence on the ones behind the murders that started back in May! They knew who was behind it, but he framed them on some bullshit drug charges!"

S.T.A.R.S... That's the police unit Claire's brother was a part of.

And just like that, more pieces of the puzzle had fallen into place. Tony was still wondering what exactly had happened in July to Claire's brother's team, but he was beginning to suspect it was all connected to what was currently happening in Raccoon City at this very moment.

Turning around to completely face the prisoner again, the younger man asked, "How do you know all this?"

"I'm a reporter. I've been following the case for months, digging up anything I could find, and it all traces back to Irons and the people he's been secretly working for. I was so close; so damn close! I had a contact who was gonna help me get the last bit of evidence I needed to blow this whole thing wide open!" the man in the cell revealed in a rush, his brown eyes wide and desperate, his hands still wrapped tight around two bars of his cells bone white.

"And then Irons went and locked you up to keep ya quiet," the other man finished.

The reporter nodded and opened his mouth to say something else when a sudden, strange sound pierced through darkened corridor Tony had gone through earlier. Both prisoner and gunman turned their gazes sharply at the sound, the crimson-coated swordsman narrowing his eyes while the imprisoned reporter seemed to grow even paler.

The reporter suddenly snatched at something around his neck while quickly saying, "Hey! I'll make you a deal..." The sword-toting mercenary looked back, his eyes falling on the small lanyard hanging around the reporter's neck, the small card attached to it reading 'Parking Permit.' "Unlock this cell, and I'll give you this," he declared, his expression far calmer than he actually was, from what Tony could see from the sweat running down his brow.

Now that had the man in red even more interested. This reporter had been going on and on about the corruption linking the police chief with the people apparently behind the zombie outbreak in the city, eagerly ranting about what he had uncovered... and suddenly, his entire tune had changed? Now he was trying to bargain out of a locked cell, which, despite all things, was probably one of the better spots to wait this disaster out. If and when the cavalry decided to show up, he'd be safe in there until then. So why the change?

Tony mused over the offer for a moment, before shaking his head and saying, "Nah, I don't think so."

The reporter's eyes bugged out behind his glasses, and the trickster had to resist the urge to laugh at the sight. He was gonna let the guy out, and he did need that parking pass, but he wasn't leaving until he found Claire. And besides, he really did want to hear everything else the man had uncovered.

If there was guilty party to this disaster, Tony Redgrave intended to get some justice for Raccoon City, one way or another.

"Come on, man, there's no other way out of that parking garage! Believe me!" the reporter exclaimed, his eyes darting from Tony to the shadowed corridor every few seconds.

Shrugging, keeping his voice neutral and bored, the younger man replied, "Never said I was tryin' to leave, pal. Not just yet, at least. Streets aren't exactly any safer, y'know." With that said, he turned around and made to begin walking away, telling the reporter as he did, "I've got somebody I need to find first. Once I do, I'll come back and bust you out. You're better off in there than coming along with me, anyway. It's still pretty dangerous down here."

As he was a few steps away, the merc heard the prisoner calling after him, desperation in his tone. "Look, we're both prisoners in this station. So let's just play nice, and help each other out-"

The man's begging was cut off when a much louder sound suddenly echoed from the cell block corridor, one that got Tony's full attention this time, stopping him in place less than three feet away from the reporter's cell. His icy orbs narrowed. He could swear that sound had been footsteps...

Heavy footsteps.

"Shit..." the reporter hissed in horror behind him, and the gunman could see in his mind the man's face somehow going even paler. "It's coming."

That comment caused Tony's head to snap back to look at the other male, who was beginning to stumble away from the cell door, his hand gripping the parking pass shaking in abject terror.

"Hang on, 'it?' What's 'it?' What's coming?" the merc demanded.

The reporter glared back at Tony, gesturing at him with the key card in his hand while shouting, "C'mon!... C'mon, stop being an asshole, okay?! You need this! Just get me the fuck out of here!"

Glaring back, Redgrave sighed a "Tch," and drew Woozy from over his shoulder. At the sight of the gothic-looking greatsword, the reporter yelped and jumped back, smacking into the cell's back wall, eyes wide as saucers.

"Stay right there. I don't wanna cut you on accident. I'll have you out in just a sec-" Tony was saying as he raised his blade with one hand, lining the tip of the weapon up for the small space where the cell door's lock was.

*BOOM!*

A thunderous crash of smashing rock erupted through the air, dust and debris flying around the reporter's face as a massive hand in a black glove with metal lining over the back of the palm burst through the solid brick behind him to snatch the man's face. The prisoner screamed in horror, and Tony froze in shock as the hand rose up, dragging the struggling reporter with it, the bricks and concrete of the wall in its path crumbling to dust from its raw strength.

The startled young man let Woozy fall back over his shoulder, his hands producing his Beretta and Colt, but no sooner did he get a lock on the gloved hand tightening its fingers over the reporter's face-

*SPLORCH!*

Tony winced in a combination of horror and disgust as the man's face imploded, his skull crushed like a melon, his left eye popping out of its socket and through the lens of his glasses, blood erupting in a small fountain of gore to line the walls and floor of the cell. The massive hand let the reporter's corpse fall to the floor, the limb pulling back into the darkness. The younger man stared at the other man's corpse with wide eyes, but as soon as he heard those thunderous footsteps once again, his handguns were back up and aimed at the holes in the cell's wall.

But whatever it was that killed the reporter was already gone, the echoes of its heavy steps fading as quickly as they came.

For a moment, Tony was alone, unable to process exactly what had just happened. His mind's eye kept replaying the image of that massive hand crushing the reporter's screaming face in a fleshy mulch and blood. That hand, covered in black leather, had lines of metal crisscrossing over the back of the palm...

The shape reminded him of an 'X.'

The soft clatter of approaching footsteps snapped him out of his daze. No sooner did his ears catch the soft *click-clack* rapping off the concrete floor did Tony spin around to face the origin of the sounds, his Beretta and Colt leveled out in front of himself. Shadowed lens met his icy gaze.

"It's just me," the woman in the trench coat said, still wearing her sunglasses despite the heavily-shadowed interior. When Tony only narrowed his gaze into an annoyed glare, as he once again found himself baffled that this woman had somehow snuck up on him not once, but twice, she stopped her approach to return the scowl, pointing a single finger at his handguns. "So you can put those things away."

Huffing under his breath, the gunslinger pulled his arms back, giving both sidearms a spin by their trigger guards before slipping them back into their holsters under his coat. Crossing his arms and staring down at the mysterious woman, the snowy-haired male inquired, "You know, I'm really startin' to wonder why an F.B.I. agent's lurking around a zombie-infested police station's holding cells. Shouldn't you be off doin' whatever it is you were sent here to do?"

She began to move past the taller man while replying, "I'm looking for someone. An informant with information relevant to my investigation."

At the word 'informant,' Tony felt another piece of the puzzle fall into place.

As the agent turned her hidden eyes towards the cell, the young mercenary spoke again just as she spotted the gory remains of the imprisoned journalist's crushed skull. "Then you're about a minute late, sweetheart. Looks like he couldn't squeeze you into his schedule."

As soon as the quip fell out of his mouth, the federal woman rounded about to glare at him from behind her glasses. "You think this is funny?" she hissed, her voice low and aggravated.

The man shrugged, waving off her annoyance as he replied, "Humor's how I cope."

With a disgusted "Ugh" and roll of her eyes behind her sunglasses, the federal agent turned away from him to look back at the body of the reporter, her hidden gaze moving from the corpse to the gaping hole in the cell's back wall, where dust still hung in the air, a few pebbles of crushed bricks rolling onto the floor without a sound.

As she continued to study the cell's interior, Tony turned his head towards her, breaking the brief silence. "You were his contact, right? The one helping him build his story on that crooked police chief."

The woman nodded slowly, her voice low as she elaborated, "Like I said, he had information of use to my investigation. We collaborated. I helped him find what he needed to prove Irons's corruption, he looked into something for me in return."

She strayed off, going silent for another moment before craning her head back slightly to gaze up at him, her expression grave. "You should take my advice, and get out of here... Unless you want to end up like poor Ben, here."

With that ominous warning issued, the agent began to walk away once again, sending another spike of annoyance through the young man. Stomping after her, he snatched her arm while snapping, "You know, I'm getting real sick of you walkin' away from me!"

No sooner had his fingers closed over her upper arm did the federal woman stop and spin around, using her momentum to try and jerk herself free. Tony's grip was like iron, however, leaving her only yanking her arm, and causing a wince to flinch across her stoic face, briefly breaking her mask of cool indifference. Realizing he might have taken it a step too far, the mercenary released his hold on the agent, who took a healthy step back, her right hand moving under her coat and staying there, the threat clear.

Stepping back and holding his hands up, he offered her an apologetic smile. "Look, clearly we got off on the wrong foot. So let's start over... The name's Tony. Tony Redgrave."

The woman glared at him from behind her sunglasses, but slowly lowered her hand, seeming to study him a moment, before finally replying, "Find a way out, Tony. Before it's too late... Then we'll talk." With that said, she once more turned around to resume departing, but not before calling back to the snowy-haired youth. "Name's Ada."

Smirking and taking a few steps back himself, Tony glanced at the locked cell door between himself and the body of the reporter, Ben, before calling after the agent, Ada. "If that's all, sweetheart, then don't go too far!"

His words did make her steps slow, and just as Ada was turning around to give him a look of confusion, her hidden eyes widened as Tony drew his gothic longsword over his shoulder with one hand. Lining the barbed tip with the small gap in the cell bars where the lock of the door extended, the swordmaster swung his blade down in a single stroke. Then he slid it back over his shoulder from where he had drawn it, and with his free hand, shoved the cell door open before stepping inside.

Approaching Ben's corpse, he gave the body an apologetic look before crouching down onto his knees, and reaching out to grasp the parking gate key card still hanging from around the man's neck. With a gentle tug, the lanyard snapped off easily, and he began to rise back up when he noticed something poking out of the interior pocket of Ben's vest. Bending back down and grabbing the item out of the pocket, the red-clad merc saw that it was a miniature tape recorder.

Rising back up to his feet with a grin, he exited the cell, and saw that Agent Ada was still waiting only a few feet away, her arms crossed and expression neutral. Walking towards her and holding up his right hand that held both items, he presented the parking pass and the tape recorder to the federal agent with a triumphant grin.

"Our way out, with a cherry on top," he announced, still grinning.

When the woman uncrossed her arms and reached out with her own right hand for the items, Redgrave pulled his hand back, just out of her grasp.

Shaking his head, the trickster teasingly chided her, "Ah-ah-ah-ah! The deal was I find us a way outta here, then we'd talk. Now, seeing as how I'm a gentleman, I'll escort you outta here. And as we walk, you talk. Ben never finished his story, but I get the feeling you can pick up where he left off. And just to show you I can play fair..."

He extended his arm out, offering the tape recorder to her.

Ada looked from the offered recorder and then back to Tony, before reaching out and taking the small device. Slipping it into her pocket, she turned around and began walking away, but gave the young man an inviting nod to follow. "It's a short walk and a long story, so try to keep up."

Two long strides, and the mercenary was easily keeping pace with her, still smirking as he said, "I'm all ears, doll. Now spill. I'm just dying to know who's behind this mess."


Returning to the small hallway with the locked door and elevator, Claire used the Diamond Key given to her by the bandaged-wrapped stranger calling himself 'Gilver' to unlock the diamond symbol-marked door, and quickly discovered a small power station, which she activated by pulling a large lever down. This caused a loud hum to echo through the enclosed space, and the college student was relieved to discover the elevator was now working. She quickly stepped inside, and hit the only button, causing the cart to rumble back to life.

The old elevator rose smoothly upward, and less than a minute later, she watched as the gated door slid open on its own, letting the cool, rain-soaked air flow in, the gentle pitter-patter of the falling water droplets easing her, somewhat. Stepping out of the cart and into the open night, the girl realized she was atop a small section of the police station, and she quickly spotted an open passageway less than ten feet ahead, past a small AC unit and some potted herbs or ferns. Not sensing any danger, but wanting to remain cautious, the young woman drew out her small revolver, keeping it ready at her side as she moved for the passageway.

She found herself in a bricked wall corridor - a small one, at that - another open doorway less than twenty feet ahead of her, faint light emitting from it to lessen the shadows. Pausing to readjust her grip on her pistol, Claire moved forward towards the light, quickly stepping through the doorway, handgun raised, and sweeping from side-to-side quickly. The college girl found herself in a well-furnished and spacious office, with Claire herself standing behind a large, polished desk, an American flag hanging less than a foot away from her by a pole connected to a wall, a small table situated in the center of the room standing over a plush and expensive-looking rug, and at least three large shelf cases, one on the far wall, and two more on either side of herself, along with a few potted plants, ferns, herbs, and so on.

It was also filled with over half-a-dozen dead and stuffed animals, from two deer heads by a coat rack next to the door along the furthest off wall, a wolf standing guard in front of the shelf case, a mounted eagle to her left, as well as a stuffed raccoon situated directly on the desk she stood in front of. Lowering her revolver, Claire's expression was one of utter disgust as she observed every grisly 'trophy' within the room. Holstering her weapon, she stepped closer to the desk, pushing the leather chair aside.

When she spotted the name plaque reading 'C. Brian Irons,' it was the only confirmation she needed.

So the creep's into taxidermy... Why am I not surprised? she thought to herself, unable to keep the revulsion and disgust out of her eyes as they fell on the dead and stuffed raccoon on the desk, forever trapped in a snarling pose of a preemptive attack.

Killing an animal for sport was something she frowned upon, but desecrating their bodies afterwards and posing them like trophies was a whole other level of depravity and cruelty. Looking away from the dead animal, Claire began tugging the small drawers on the desk open, slamming them shut almost as quickly when she saw nothing of use inside them.

Bastard had a parking pass on him... He's got to have another one somewhere around here...

There was no parking pass in any of the drawers in the desk, though she did pocket a clip of nine-millimeter ammunition. The young woman was about to step away from the desk and begin searching the other shelf cases when she noticed an open folder with a few scraps of paper inside it. Furrowing her brow, Claire picked the folder up, and before she could stop herself, found her eyes poring over the typed words.

Police Chief Irons,

As thanks for your unwavering support, I have deposited a small sum into your account, to use as you see fit. I hope I can count on you to maintain surveillance over your subordinates, especially the ones who survived that mansion.

Get rid of them if you must.

W. B.

Police Chief Irons,

I ran into some trouble with Umbrella headquarters. The suits want to take the fruit of my research away. But don't worry, this will all blow over soon. You just keep doing what I tell you to and everything will be all right.

W. B.

Police Chief Irons,

You are to up the security around my lab. Your muscleheads are to shoot any suspicious person on sight. Doesn't matter if they kill them, or even if they're Umbrella employees. I'm so close to completing G, and no asshole is going to get in my way.

W. B.

Police Chief Irons,

Get your shit together and do your fucking job! I TOLD YOU I need more security in the sewers! Don't you know how critical of a time this is for me!? As for the money, I can pay you whatever once I take over, but not before. Why don't you get that!? Never forget how expendable you are.

W. B.

For several moments, Claire could only stare at the words on the piece of paper, comprehending them slowly as their true meaning began to sink in.

Mansion survivors... Research... Umbrella...

Just like that, it all fell into place.

"Umbrella," she breathed aloud, remembering her conversation with Tony as they had driven into the city only a few hours ago, but felt more like months, and the comment Sherry had made back underground below the station about her mother making 'important new medicine,' and working for Umbrella, who had several plants throughout the city, and employed a large number of the city's inhabitants.

No matter how you chose to look at it, it all came back to them.

She didn't have all the pieces, and she still didn't understand exactly what had happened to Chris and his teammates when they went on that mission in July, but these messages to Irons cleared up and explained the situation in Raccoon clearly.

Umbrella... Someone at Umbrella was doing research on something, or making something... And it spilled, breaking out and contaminating the city, turning all these people into undead monsters... And Irons knew about it the whole goddamn time! He was protecting them, and getting paid for it!

"Corrupt son-of-a-bitch...!" she hissed out through gritted teeth, the papers in her hands crumbling as her fingers dug into them, her arms shaking as the fury spread through her veins like molten fire.

Unable to rein her anger back, Claire furiously threw the file and papers aside, slamming her hands down on the desk hard enough to send painful reverberations through both of her arms, but she ignored the discomfort, her beautiful face twisted in an enraged scowl. Slowly, she forced her anger to subside, willing it down, but not away.

She'd save it for later, preferably when she found Irons, and secured Sherry's safety. That dark promise had a soothing effect on her, her expression turning from furious to neutral, and she pulled her hands off the desk, taking a deep inhale of breath to steady herself further. Claire had every right to be angry at the callous cost of numerous lives lost in Raccoon City, but for now, the young woman had to focus on finding another parking pass so she could escape the station once and for all, and find wherever Irons had taken Sherry.

With that decided, she began to walk around the desk, already planning to tear this office apart in her search for a parking pass. Irons was the chief of police, so it was more than likely he'd kept at least two or more around for visiting guests or something to that effect. She noticed a second door tucked away between two of the shelves along the walls, and decided she'd check whatever was back there first-

-when the old rotary phone atop Irons desk suddenly began issuing a shrill ringing, the handset shaking heavily between each sharp bell hard enough to shudder slightly across the wooden surface. Freezing, completely caught off-guard, Claire could only stare at the phone for several seconds in complete bafflement as the handset shook with each accompanying ring, before finally hesitantly reaching for the handset, picking it up off its cradle, and raising it to her ear.

"Hello...?" she asked hesitantly, a part of her hoping that whoever it was on the opposite end of the line was someone who could help her find Sherry, and get out of this necropolis alive...

But that brief hope was dashed as soon as she heard the voice on the other end respond. "You shouldn't go through other people's belongings like that. It's quite rude."

Claire jerked her head back away from the phone in disgust, her lips pursing like she had tasted something foul as she recognized the voice on the line. She had met its owner not even an hour ago, after all.

"Good to see you again, Claire," Chief Irons went on, and the collegiate girl could easily picture the slimy smirk on his fat face from wherever he was.

"We've got unfinished business..."


The walk back to the entrance of the holding cells section of the basement was mostly silent, both Tony and Ada remaining quiet, though the same couldn't be said for the few zombies pathetically grasping for them, unable to reach them thanks to the iron bars between the living and the undead. Walking over the corpse of the officer by the front gate, the man pulled the door of it open, allowing the woman in first before stepping after her, pulling the gate closed shut as firmly as he could. As he did this, the federal agent held up the small recorder he had procured from Ben's body, pressing a small button on its side while moving the recorder closer to her ear.

The words that began to play from it were on a low volume, but Tony was easily able to pick up the recorded conversation even less than three feet away from her, his ears attuned, and his full attention focused on the two set of voices that began to playback from the dead reporter's recorder. The first voice was a man's, and Tony quickly recognized it was Ben's own, while the second voice was a woman's.

"-but that doesn't explain the rumors about the orphanage. I-I just find it way too coincidental Umbrella's one of the benefactors."

"You told me this interview was about the new scholarship Umbrella set up."

"Come on, Annette. Nobody cares about this. They want to know about the G-Virus, and the-"

"Where did you hear about this?"

"-and that big fucking sinkhole in the city, which, by the way, rumor has it goes straight to your underground lab."

A tense moment of silence passed.

"Now are you going to talk to me, or are you-"

"This interview is over."

A beat of silence, then a single word uttered in a tone of disgusted anger.

"...Bitch."

That got a slight quirk that made Ada's lips twitch into a brief smile, though it vanished as soon as the recorder issued a faint *click* to indicate the playback had concluded.

Bemused by Ben's comment as well, but keeping his own expression neutral as he resumed following the woman for the door to the parking deck, Tony quickly asked, "Get what you need from that?"

"Unfortunately, no. Ben didn't come through."

Her disappointment was obvious, and while the mercenary was unsure of what exactly she had been hoping to hear from the recording, he was hiding his own growing intrigue. From the sound of it, the woman on the tape, Annette, was a scientist working on something called the 'G-Virus.'

Could that be the so-called zombie disease that took over Raccoon City? he briefly wondered, but found himself pulled out of his thoughts before he could ponder further.

"Heard of the Umbrella Corporation?"

Agent Ada asked the sudden question as soon as they stepped back into the Parking Garage. Tony, who had kept up with her the entire time, his own lips sealed shut for once while patiently waiting for the federal agent to finally give him some long overdue answers to the mystery behind Raccoon City's plunge from small metropolis to a veritable city of the dead, blinked in response, his cool blue eyes narrowing as he found himself remembering the sign just outside the city's entrance.

The words written on it had been 'WELCOME TO RACCOON CITY, HOME OF UMBRELLA.'

Other than commenting on the stupidity of a company naming itself after an umbrella, he had given the corporation no second thought. But the recording had mentioned the company, and Ada's sudden question brought the image of that sign back to his mind. Tony suddenly felt like a fool for not making the connection sooner.

With a shrug and wave of his hand, he replied, "Not until I blew into this freaky city earlier tonight. Never even knew about 'em till then."

That got a small smirk from the agent, with this one staying around as the two moved past several parked police cruisers. After a moment, Ada went on, laying it all out in a single statement. "They're a pharmaceutical company secretly making bioweapons. They've created a virus. When exposed to people, it turns them into indestructible monsters."

Tony was quiet for several moments, digesting her words while once more mentally kicking himself for not connecting the dots sooner. A massive pharmaceutical company supposedly making medicine in the heart of a metropolitan city, and it never once occurred to him that they could have made something that turned normal people into the living dead. It was practically straight out of the horror movies. Hell, the fact that a giant corporation was the one behind it was straight out of the movies, too!

"Guess that explains things... Not very original if the best they can come up with are zombies, though," he responded, his words cool and calm to contrast with his rising anger at the callous disregard Umbrella clearly had when it came to keeping their shit from spilling in their own backyard, costing tens of thousands of innocent lives.

"My mission is to take down Umbrella's entire operation. And that's why I'm looking for Annette Birkin."

As Ada spoke on, she and Tony were halfway to the lowered parking gate, the bright lights of the idling car just outside it still burning brightly. The merc glanced at her when she dropped the name of her target, parroting, "Annette Birkin?"

That had been the name of the woman speaker on the recorder; the one Ben had been trying to question about the G-Virus. His new companion nodded, crossing her arms as they stopped in front of the gate, her hidden eyes meeting Tony's blue ones as she began to elaborate further.

"She's the one at Umbrella responsible for unleashing the t-Virus," she explained, her words cool as ice, but the man in red could just hear a slight tinge of anger directed at the mention of this Annette woman.

Frankly, he couldn't blame her, finding himself suddenly glad he had a name to put the blame on Raccoon City's tragedy. The name of the virus caught him off guard as well, not expecting something as simple sounding as 't' to be associated with ravenous undead humans and animals, or those skinless, long-tongued eyeless beasts lurking in the dark.

That still left the question of what exactly the purpose of this 'G-Virus' was, he thought to himself. If t made men into zombies, then what exactly was the G capable of?

"I'm going to bring her down," she finished, her words as strong and sure as steel.

The man found his earlier annoyance at her aloofness towards him fading, replaced with a begrudging, growing respect. It took some heavy cojones to walk into a situation like the one Raccoon City had become alone, but to do it to bring down the bastards responsible for the whole mess, and in the heart of their own territory? That got him grinning and looking at the federal officer in a newfound light as they arrived at the gate.

The agent stood in front of it, waiting patiently as he moved for the parking pass slot machine, the white-haired youth speaking again as he did so. "How do you know she's still alive? Or where to even find her?"

As he plucked the parking pass out of one of his coat's many pockets, Ada replied, "The sewers. According to HQ, Umbrella's offices in the city are a front. Their real work - the experiments on their viruses - is conducted in a top-secret lab built directly under Raccoon City. Knowing Annette, she's scurrying down there, finishing up whatever preparations she has left before escaping like the rat she is."

Scoffing, Tony stuck the card into the slot of the gate's machine while dryly commenting, "Fitting."

As the machine emitted a loud *beep!* of confirmation, the red light on it turning green, the woman nodded in response to his comment. "Well said."

Slipping the card back into his coat's pocket, he walked up to Ada, the agent standing her ground as the gate finished rising up, the swordsman next asking, "And lemme guess: despite the fact that Raccoon City officials should've been all over an illegal bio-tech lab being built right under their noses, they kept their mouths shut 'cause Umbrella decided to line their pockets. Am I right?"

"Welcome to corporate America," was all she had to say to that, confirming Redgrave's suspicions, and reaffirming his growing disgust at Umbrella, while finding his pity for Raccoon's governmental offices lessening.

A dark part of him hoped those sellouts had been eaten by the very victims of Umbrella's work, which would have been a fitting and just punishment for their willingness to turn a blind eye to the evils being performed in their city.

"That's why you were helping Ben out," he realized aloud. "You knew Irons was being paid by Umbrella to cover their ass, and you were hoping he could find you more evidence for your case."

The woman nodded, finally walking over the gate line, and out into the sloping driveway ascending out of the parking deck. She looked back at Tony after noticing he wasn't following her.

Cocking a fine dark brow, the federal agent asked, "You coming?"

Tony looked at her a moment before turning his pale icy eyes towards a doorway to his right down a small set of stairs. When he had first run into Ada down here, the door had been closed. Now it was open.

When he looked back to her, he shook his head, replying, "As fun as taking down big bad pharma sounds, I've got other priorities. My girl's still somewhere inside the station, and I'm not leaving until I find her. I'm afraid I'm gonna have to skip out on that crazy party for right now. But thanks for the invite."

Agent Ada smirked in response to his words, saying, "Shame. I could've used a helping hand. If you change your mind, there's an entrance to the sewer ahead, through a construction zone. It's a bit of a trip, but it's also a straight shot to Umbrella's lab... and the safest way to get out of the city."

Tony filed that last bit of info away for later, giving the woman a nod of thanks just as the parking gate began to descend back down. Just a few seconds before it closed completely, the F.B.I. agent moved a step closer, her smirk vanishing, her expression returning to the familiar neutral and controlled one he had become familiar with, though a sharp frown now accompanied it.

His eyes narrowed as she began to speak again, hushed and just a breath shy of rushed. "You need to find your girlfriend, and get out of here fast. Umbrella isn't sitting on their hands, hoping and waiting for this disaster to quietly solve itself. I think I know what got Ben. And if I'm right... Umbrella's sent a 'cleaner' to begin destroying any evidence that can link this disaster back to them. And Umbrella's definition of evidence... includes survivors."

Those words sent a chill running down his spine, his heart suddenly beating just a tad bit faster than normal. Anxiety began to creep into him, heralding a growing fear for Claire's safety.

Ada began to back away a few steps, turning as she did, her last words to Tony sending a spike of cold terror right through his heart. "These 'zombies' are what happens to people accidentally exposed to the t-Virus... Pray you don't run into what Umbrella can make when they infect them on purpose."

With that final, ominous warning uttered, she was gone, stepping past the idling cruiser, and back into the city streets.

The merc uttered a quick curse, and snapped his gaze back onto the opened door just ahead of him. With his gaze locked, he made a mad dash for it, his boots a black blur over the asphalt as he raced towards the door.

Claire had to have come through here, he convinced himself, shoving the fear for his girl's safety down as deep as he could. Tony had no idea where this new room would lead him, but wherever it did, he'd follow it, trace her steps, find her, and get both of them out of here before whatever it was that had gotten Ben had a chance to even find them.

Instead, he willed his growing anger at Umbrella back to the forefront, letting it fuel him as he raced down a long corridor, and came to a swift stop, his gaze snapping to his left, a pleased grin forming on his lips when he spotted an elevator door just up ahead: an identical model to the one they had used to descend under the station only a short time ago. This one was already called up, and that was the final confirmation for him that his girlfriend had taken it. Tony did a quick check of his mental map of the station, and he figured this elevator would probably take him back up to the East Wing.

The plan moving forward was simple: take the elevator up, find Claire, take the elevator back down, and then kiss the R.P.D. goodbye for good, along with all the monsters left in it.

Standing in front of the elevator, the mercenary smacked the recall button, impatiently waiting for the cart to descend back down, bouncing on his heels, feeling the comforting weight of his shotgun and Woozy resting across his back. He knew he could handle whatever it was Umbrella had sent that had gotten Ben, but he'd feel better once Claire was back by his side, where he could keep her safe.

Then, once he had gotten her out of this city and somewhere safe, he'd reconsider Ada's offer. Tony Redgrave was a free agent. He would make that clear as many times as he had to, and he only ever took the jobs that met certain criteria of his... But this evil Umbrella had inflicted upon thousands of innocent people was not something he was just going to let go unpunished. The white-haired mercenary grinned savagely as the elevator completed its descent, its doors opening as he shoved the gate over them aside, and stepped inside.

"You bastards might make your own demons... but I hunt demons," he murmured darkly.

Over his shoulder, the screaming skull embedded on Woozy's hilt suddenly issued a faint red spark of energy... and Tony's shadow shifted, flickering from the image of a man...

To something devilish.


With a harsh yank and shove, Claire pulled the yellow lever connected to the water pipeline to the left. She had to pull the lever tightly, the ever-present rainwater still pouring from the opaque sky above making it especially slick. But her grip was firm, and while her shoulder was beginning to ache, she would be able to put out the raging fire still cooking away at the crashed copter on the helipad above. Turns out even a couple of hours sitting out in the open rain still wasn't enough to put that particular bonfire out, but thanks to what the college student was chalking up to 'divine intervention,' the chopper had crashed under a large drainage pipeline. And while it had initially been set to dump the excess water it had gathered so far to the right split pipe, the lever she had just pulled would set it to instead drop all of that water on top of the burning helicopter, putting the fire out, and finally allowing her to safely travel around it, and head back into the police station.

She didn't even bother to give another glance at the boarded-off utility shed to her right, the only door nailed shut, but shaking furiously, hungry snarls issuing behind it. Claire passed the body of an undead in dark overalls, most of its skull and brain matter splattered across the ground, the blood running off with the rain, and she ignored an equally deceased-for-good female ghoul by the set of steps leading back up to the helipad, which she began to ascend two at a time.

The whole while, her lovely face was set in a deep look of worry and ever-growing anxiety, her lips pursed in a tight, thin line as the little voice in the back of her head reminded her that the clock was ticking away.

I'm more than half-way done. Just hold on a little longer, Sherry...

Unbidden, her mind began to drift back to her earlier exploration of the corrupt police chief's office... and the conversation they had over his phone.


"Good to see you again, Claire. We've got unfinished business."

The young woman felt her ever-growing disgust and anger at the sound of Irons's voice, smooth as a snake-oil salesman she vaguely remembered the now-very apt description of the fat bastard Chris had once given her of the man, issued from the phone receiver. Fighting down the urge to throw the offending handset aside, Claire kept it pressed to her ear, and eased her rage down. As loath as she was to admit it, Irons still had Sherry, which meant he was firmly in control of the situation.

For the moment.

Swallowing to rinse her suddenly dry mouth, she replied, "What're you talking about?"

"Don't waste my fucking time!" he snapped back, the harsh reprisal making her flinch involuntarily, the man's volatile temper still as mercurial as ever. Before she could say anything else, the crooked cop went on, his tone impatient, but just barely restrained as he issued a single demand that froze the girl's anger over into fear instantaneously. "Bring me the pendant, or Sherry dies."

Claire's free hand drifted to her hip pouch, procuring said golden locket and necklace, which she briefly glanced over before returning her focus to the phone, and the clearly unstable madman on the other line.

"The pendant? What do you need it for?"

Just holding the small charm and staring at it briefly, the college student couldn't see anything significant about it. There were strange engravings on its front and back, along with Sherry's name on the back, but aside from that, it looked like any other run-of-the-mill piece of jewelry. She'd wager her own simpler silver wing charm with an emerald embedded it - a gift from Tony for their six-month anniversary - or Tony's own gaudy ruby and silver encrusted necklace had more value than Sherry's lost locket. So why, then, did Irons want it?

"Do you want the girl to die?" he snapped, his voice still as impatient and annoyed as ever, but it was answer enough for her.

One piece of jewelry for a child's life? There was no debate.

Swallowing her pride, Claire stuffed the necklace back into her hip pouch before responding harshly, "Fine. Where are you?"

"The orphanage."

The young woman blinked, once more caught off guard by the man's terse but simple response.

"The orphanage?" she parroted, before quickly adding, "Where is that?"

"In the neighborhood. You'll find it."

God, Chris had been right. This asshole just loved being as difficult and impossible as he could be. Feeling her anger returning, Claire wasn't going to just let him control this conversation entirely.

"Is Sherry alright?" she demanded, keeping her voice leveled.

If that fat bastard thought that she was going to go anywhere without getting proof that the child was still alive, he had another thing coming. The pendant may have looked like common jewelry, but if Irons wanted it, that meant that as long as she had it, he didn't have complete control of the situation.

A pause came over the line, then the corrupt cop finally replied, his voice strangely calm. "...For now."

The threat was obvious, and Claire couldn't keep her anger back any longer.

"I swear, you bastard, if you hurt her-"

The soft *click* from the other end of the line ended the conversation, and chilled her fury over.

Muttering a harsh whisper of "Fuck!" Claire tossed the phone handset back onto its cradle. She had no idea if the girl actually was still alive, or if Irons was forcing her directly into his hands. Regardless, she had no choice. Sherry's life was on the line, and that had to take precedence over the immediate concerns of walking into what was obviously a trap.

The woman looked back over Irons's office. She'd worry about that later. For now, she still had to find a way out of the station. She glanced over her shoulder, looking back at the open passage she had come through to arrive in Irons' office.

Tony was still somewhere in the basement of the station, no doubt looking for her, none the wiser to the events that had occurred in his absence. As much as she wanted to try and find him, Sherry had to come first.

"I'm sorry, Tony..." she whispered.

Steeling herself, Claire stepped away from Irons' desk. There had to be an extra parking pass somewhere in his office...


Finding another parking pass had been the easy part. Of the two doors in the crook's office, the one leading out had been locked, engraved with a pink heart emblem, while the other had been unlocked, leading into a short hallway where a stuffed tiger had given her a fright. At the end of the hallway was another door, where on the other side was a small private storage presumably for the police chief's personal items.

It had been mostly packed with more gaudy art, and a stuffed dodo, of all things, but Claire had found a parking pass... hanging off a desk, locked behind a solid iron gate. Initially, she had been despondent and furious, until she noticed an open electronic grid panel by the door handle, the grid missing two pieces required to finish the circuit, and hopefully unlock the door. The woman had torn the storage room apart, vainly hoping to find the missing pieces.

No such luck, but she had found a delivery invoice for the installation of the electronic gate in the storage room, which, much to Claire's disbelief, listed exactly where she could find the two extra panels she would need to open the door. One was being stored in a closet space just a floor above Irons' own office, while the other was being kept in the station's clock tower. Both on the third floor, just over her head.

Annoying, but easily within reach... Or so she thought.

Among the effects in Irons' storage room, the college student found a relief showing two lovers with a pink gem heart hanging over them. A closer inspection revealed a hidden key behind it, another of the set of unique keys for the marked doors, this one a red heart to go with the green spade and pink diamond keys she had already found. With it in hand, she was able to leave Irons' office, and make a mad dash up the nearby stairs into the third floor above.

She had found the East Wing Storage Room easily enough, and after dispatching two undead officers, found the small storage room mentioned in the invoice, which, coincidentally, also required the Heart Key she had found. Inside the storage had been more unlabeled boxes, a few dusty mannequins, and a small orange package with the first panel piece she needed inside.

All in all, it had taken her fifteen minutes, tops, the get the first piece.

Unfortunately, her good luck had seemingly run out right then and there...

There had been no other door inside the East Storage Area, which meant Claire had to find a way back into the main part of the police station, and search for another means to get to the part of the third floor where she could access the Clock Tower. Easier said than done, she discovered. The hallway leading back to the second floor of the East Wing was blocked off by a lowered shutter, and the doors in the base level below had been nailed off, leaving her trapped.

Mounting frustration and increasing worry for Sherry's safety almost made her try to tear down the boards herself, but she had recalled another door opposite the East Storage Room's door. A quick check found herself back outside in the rain, now on the station's helipad, the burning remains of the helicopter that had crashed hours ago below her. Directly to its right was another door back into the East Wing, where she could head through to get back into the station. The only obstacle now was a burning pile of metal, but the solution to that problem had been simpler, just requiring a little elbow grease - and a few bullets - to set the water drainage over the burning wreck.

As Claire arrived back at the top of the helipad, jogging briskly towards the lever that controlled the drainage pipe, her mind noted the ticking time, and how it had taken her almost half-an-hour just to get back in the station. And she still had no idea how she was going to find a way to the Clock Tower itself.

One thing at time. Handle the problem in front of you before moving onto the next... she told herself as she arrived in front of the large red lever that controlled the drainage pipe.

Just as she was reaching out to grasp it, a voice called out from above her, freezing her in place. "There you are!"

Whirling around and snapping her head up, the redhead's grey-blue eyes widened in disbelief as they met a familiar set of icy blue orbs, the flames from the wrecked helicopter behind her perfectly illuminating their owner's cocky grin while giving his snowy locks a golden flair. With a jump and twist in midair, Tony Redgrave gracefully leapt from the small patio above to land with a heavy *smack* and a soft splash of puddling rainwater, the taller man initially crouched before rising back to his full height as he continued grinning at the flabbergasted young woman.

Approaching her, he broke the brief silence by speaking first. "I was lookin' all over for you! Didn't I tell you guys to wait for me while I was dealing with that weirdo with the eyeball? What are you doing back out... Hey, where's the kid?"

Tony's jovial words stopped in their tracks, his smile disappearing as he realized he and his girlfriend were the only ones on the helipad. The man in red's gaze darted around, seemingly searching for the missing child. Claire struggled to find the words to even begin trying to explain all that had happened in his absence when his gloved hand suddenly reached out to gently grasp her cheek, his bare thumb brushing over her bruised lip, making her wince. His eyes locked with hers, and the sudden intensity in them chilled her to the bone, somehow feeling colder than the rainwater covering her.

Gone was the usual cocky mirth in his face, completely overshadowed by a rising fury as he quickly realized something had gone very wrong in his brief absence.

"...Who did this? Who put their hands on you?"

His voice was low and deadly, underlined with a tone she had never heard from him before, and that only added to her growing anxiety.

Blinking, Claire's mind raced frantically. Her worry for Sherry, her frustrations with the absurd lengths she had gone through to find a way to save her, and her earlier anger and humiliation from how Irons had easily caught her off guard, and absconded with the terrified child were all coming to the forefront and overwhelming her, leaving her unable to say anything-

-when Tony's other hand grasped her opposite cheek, his touch firm but gentle as he breathed, "Hey... Look at me."

Her eyes met his again, and that brief flash of icy rage she had seen was gone, genuine concern replacing it as he peered back at her, still holding her face. That was when she realized just how warm his hands were.

"Take a deep breath, alright? Catch yourself... Then, when you're ready... tell me what happened while I was gone. Okay?"

His words were as gentle as his touch, and almost instantly soothed over her battling emotions. Closing her eyes, she nodded, her own hands coming to grip his wrists, though she didn't pull him away.

Inhaling deeply, urging herself to get back in control, she opened her eyes to meet Tony's again before finally speaking. "While you were still fighting that... whatever it was, me and the girl - Sherry - found the ladder to the parking deck. We headed for the gate... and then the police chief, Irons, showed up. He got the drop on me, and had us at gunpoint, made Sherry tie me up, and threatened me to make her go with him. He had a parking pass, and dragged her off. By the time I was able to free my hands, the gate was back down, and he was gone."

The words flowed out of her, not quite in a rush, but just saying them brought a strange mix of relief and another flare of self-anger at her foolishness for letting that fat bastard take that poor girl from her. Tony was silent as she spoke, his expression completely neutral, save for the occasional flicker of fury in his eyes as he listened to her recounting of Irons's actions.

With a sigh, he let his hands fall away from her face, using his right to run his fingers through his white locks while murmuring, "Dammit, this is all my fault. I never should have made you two leave. I should have just told you to wait where you were...!"

Claire stared at her boyfriend in a kind of stunned awe for a moment, unable to believe he was blaming himself for just trying to get them to go somewhere safer, though such a place hardly seemed to exist anymore in Raccoon.

Shaking her head, she replied, "No, no, Tony, it's not! It's my fault this happened, not yours. I let my guard down, and he got the drop on me."

Tony let his hand fall away, giving her a contemplative look before shrugging. "We can play the blame game later. Right now, there's a little girl who needs our help. You have any idea where he could've gone?"

Claire nodded, divulging what she knew while her right hand dug around her hip pouch. "I was looking for a parking pass to follow him, when I found the way to his office. He called me from another phone to his own, and he said he wanted this."

The girl pulled out Sherry's locket, handing the gold charm to Tony, who gave the item a look over, his brow furrowing as he looked back at her to say, "This pendant? How come?"

She shrugged helplessly while saying, "I have no idea. He said he would kill Sherry if I didn't bring it to him, though."

The man's harsh glare returned as he gave the pendant back to her. "Yeah, that ain't happenin'. We're getting Sherry back, and then I'm gonna have a little chat with Irons about how to properly treat women and children."

Claire shoved Sherry's necklace back into her hip pouch while replying, "Honestly, Tony, it's not worth it. Let's just give him the pendant, take Sherry back, and then get out of this nightmare."

His eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms and snapped, "Give him what he wants, then leave?! Sorry, but that just ain't my style, babe. He put his hands on you, and kidnapped that little girl. Payback may not be something you believe in, but I do."

Sighing, suddenly feeling very drained and tired, Redfield rubbed her forehead before replying, "Fine, do whatever you want... Just help me get Sherry away from him first."

Redgrave nodded, his grin returning, though not his usual arrogant smirk, this one more like a feral snarl. Claire found herself shivering suddenly, and turned back towards the red lever.

Her sudden movements caught his attention, and he asked, "Hey, what're you doing out here, anyway? I thought you said you were looking for a parking pass?"

"I am. Or rather, I did find one. But it's behind a heavily-locked gate, and I need to get back into the station to find the other part I need to unlock it."

As she was saying this, she gripped the lever, but found this one stuck in place a lot more firmly than the first. Just as she was about to grab the lever with her other hand, her boyfriend's hand appeared, grabbing the end of the lever, and, with seemingly no effort on his part, easily pulled it down. Rusty hinges issued a soft metallic squeal as the pipe opening shifted, and a torrent of gathered rainwater plunged down on the burning helicopter wreckage.

The effect was almost instantaneous, the burning flames sputtering out, hot steam misting through the damp air. The temperature began to drop as the helicopter was put out, the metal husk left over blackened and crumpled, with only a few dying embers left around it. Then they were gone.

Stepping back, the man in red observed the steaming wreck, before turning back to his girlfriend again. "Where's this part you needed, again?"

Claire started for the door as she responded. "On the third floor, somewhere in the station's Clock Tower. Come on, I'm not sure how long it'll take to find it-"

"Or!..." he called from behind her, prompting the woman to glance over her shoulder... and stop in her tracks, eyes widening when she saw the grinning youth dangling a familiar plastic card from the lanyard it was attached to, his pleased grin reminding her of a cat with a canary caught in its jaws. "We can just use the one I found, and skedaddle on outta this dump."

Blinking, feeling her jaw wanting to drop as the man once again seemed to conjure from thin air exactly what they needed to finally escape the madhouse of death the police station had become, Claire walked back towards Tony, who continued talking while casually twirling the parking pass lanyard around with his index finger.

"No offense to your plan, but it sounded pretty roundabout and time-consuming. At least now we'll be saving ourselves some precious time... C'mon. Let's head back to the chief's office, and-"

As he was saying this, the young woman was about to point out that the emergency ladder that could have taken them back up to the East Storage Area was broken, when her boyfriend spun around, still spinning the lanyard-

And then she saw the long sword with a skull carved over the hilt, which resembled a human ribcage, while two spikes were jutting out above the eye holes of the skull. Claire stared at the blade, feeling a familiar unease and trepidation suddenly clutching at her heart. The sword was easily as long as Tony was tall, dwarfing even the Remington shotgun strapped to his back right next to it. Where in the world did he find something like that? And why was he carrying it?

A hushed voice whispered from the back of her mind. The same one she had heard less than an hour ago...

Though you may be his lover, it's painfully obvious that you don't know a single thing about him. Or rather... the real him... What if I told you he is not who you think he is... or even who he thinks is?... What if I told you there is no man named Anthony Redgrave?...

A sudden exclamation of, "Aw, dammit!" snapped her out of her reverie, the hushed whispering from that bandaged man fading away. Her eyes looked away from the strange sword with the skull hilt, glancing up at the back of Tony's head as the flustered youth scratched through his silvery locks while murmuring, "The ladder's busted... That's what I get for leapin' without lookin'."

Turning back to face his girlfriend, the mercenary kept speaking as he did, "Welp, guess we're gonna have to cut through the station anyway." When he faced her again, he noticed the perturbed look on her face. Frowning, he asked, "What's wrong?"

"...Where did you get that?" she asked quietly after a moment's pause, her eyes peering just over his shoulder to stare at the sword's hilt, noting the spiked pommel at the bottom of the blade.

The crimson-coated man blinked his eyes as he started to turn to follow her line of sight, when he seemed to realize what she was asking about. Giving her his familiar smirk, Tony reached over his shoulder to grasp the hilt, and unsheathed the blade from his back. Claire flinched a step back when she saw him holding the sword up, once again displaying his uncanny strength as he gave the weapon a look over.

"Oh, this? Found it laying around. Thought it looked cool, so I snatched it. Bullets aren't gonna last forever, after all. Figured it might be fun to give this a few swings through some undead necks."

Claire stared at the sword for another moment before looking back at Tony, repeating, "...Found it?"

He merely shrugged, slipping the long sword back over his shoulder as he spoke again. "Hey, you're the one that said this place was once a museum. Maybe this was an art piece? For all I know, it'll fall apart right after I hit something with it..." He paused, his icy eyes flickering as he grinned slyly. "...But I doubt it. Come on, let's get outta this rain."

With that, the conversation seemed over. Claire let Tony walk past her, her gaze lingering on the sword across his back, her eyes meeting the dark holes of the skull with the two small horns on its temples, the skull looking back at her... menacingly.

His words had seemed convincing. The station was a renovated museum, and there were plenty pieces of art left all over. Still... that man in black's words whispered darkly in the back of her mind, filling her with doubt...

You truly know nothing about him... As I suspected...

"Babe?"

Tony's voice brought her back to reality, and she spun around, seeing him by the door, looking at her with a worried frown on his face.

"Hey, you sure you're okay? You're being pretty quiet... Did anything else happen while I was gone?"

His words brought other images to her mind. Of ominous black lines of darkness, and the two skinless monsters exploding into chunks of flesh and blood, the mysterious swordsman calling himself Gilver having killed them in a way she knew she hadn't really seen. And despite all the terrors she had seen so far in Raccoon City, that man's cold eyes were something she didn't want to ever see again.

Shoving those thoughts aside, she gave her companion the best reassuring smile she could. "No, I... I'm fine... It's just been a long night."

As she walked towards her boyfriend, he opened the door for them while murmuring an agreeing, "You got that right. Let's go save Sherry, and then it's adios to this hellhole."

The two stepped into the musty and damp corridor, the tired young woman pulling out her flashlight, and flickering it on as Tony took the lead, the college girl on his heels. A quick turn took them to the smashed hallway where the tail end of the helicopter was sticking through the two ruined walls the bird had crashed through, though somehow the ceiling above it was still intact, keeping the rain out. The air was still somewhat warm, though it seemed most of the smoke had already cleared up, more than probably having slipped out through the ruined walls.

Claire was about to move forward, seeing she and Tony would have to duck under the tail of the copter to move ahead, when he suddenly snatched her shoulder, stopping her. Looking back, she saw his eyes had narrowed and were staring ahead, past the wreck and the shadowed hall behind it.

Frowning, she asked, "What is it?"

He continued staring ahead while whispering, "Do you hear that?"

She blinked, confused, unable to hear anything-

-when she did.

Rhythmic, loud *thumps,* like pounding footsteps...

Of something very large, approaching very fast.

In the shadows behind the copter, something shifted. Tony pushed Claire back behind him, his other hand drawing his Colt out in a flourish of his red coat, his icy eyes locked behind the helicopter. The college student's own eyes watched in bated breath as a soft *crunch* suddenly issued. The woman knew the sound almost instantly, having heard similar sounds before.

It was the sound of metal crunching as something very strong squeezed down on it.

The helicopter tail end was suddenly thrust up, the long tail striking the ceiling and causing dust, brick, and plaster to come crashing down with a harsh cracking sound. As the copter's end was forced up, both Claire and Tony saw what was behind it, and what had so easily hoisted the metal vehicle up with seemingly no effort.

Well, not what...

Rather who.

It was a man, or at least something that resembled a man. A huge figure, like the tallest basketball player Claire could imagine, but with the proportionate bulk of a heavy body builder. The man's massive body was covered almost entirely in a heavy and thick black coat, a long black belt wrapped tightly around his waist, huge black boots strapped to his feet, while similar-looking gloves and black belts covered his hands and bound his arms. His left hand was supporting the wrecked helicopter's tail while his right hung by his side, the gloved fingers clenched into a tight fist, and the faint light issuing through the broken wall illuminated a strange metallic brand across the back of the palm.

A silvery 'X.'

The man's head, covered by a matching black fedora, moved slightly, and Claire saw two dark, burning red dots flash under the shadow of the hat's brim. His left hand suddenly shoved the copter's tail up and aside, sending it crashing through the ceiling, and splashing onto the helipad outside, letting more bricks and dust plummet down, joined by the rain now free to fall inside.

In the back of her mind, the young woman recalled a time when her brother had once been trying to explain the differences between flying helicopters and fighter jets from his time in the Air Force, and how pilots had to take the weight of their machines into account. Chris had explained that even the smallest of rescue choppers weighed roughly two tons, not counting the additional weight of their passengers. With that, her horrified mind concluded that no normal man should have been able to lift that wreckage with the ease this one just hand.

More faint light from outside illuminated the hallway, and Claire could now easily the man's face.

She understood her thinking had been wrong almost instantly. That this wasn't a man at all, only something pretending to be.

His skin was a deep gray, like that of a long rotten corpse, the flesh lined with hideous, burn-like scars not unlike melted wax. She could also see his eyes much more clearly. She wished she hadn't.

They were burning black pits, like smoking craters, the irises a deep magma red. And they were locked on both her and Tony.

Then, without a single word, it began to advance on them, its heavy feet stomping down with enough force to shake the entire hallway.

All at once, Claire knew she was never going to rescue Sherry, or ever see her brother Chris again.

Because she and Tony were about to die.


(Holds up phone, presses play.)

First we gonna ROCK, Then we gonna ROLL

Then we let it POP, GO LET IT GO

X gon give it to ya

He gon give it to ya

X gon give it to ya

He gon give it to ya

Alright now that that obligatory reference is out of the way, first things first: I am back, I am sorry y'all had to wait, like, three months for an update when I had been rolling out chapters on a monthly basis. I had some irl stuff happen, one thing after another, that left me drained, but recently, my motivation came back, and I was finally able to finish this chapter. A big thank you to my beta, Da-Awesom-One, for his patience and his continued willingness to put up with me.

So, to my readers (if there are any left), I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

And here's a small little teaser for the next one, not much, just the title, but I had this planned out for a while now.

Chapter Seven: Death on Two Legs

Appropriate, right?