Italicized: Flashbacks
(_): Thoughts
Bold: Monster
POV: James | Date: September 29th, 1998
James materialized back into the lobby of the makeshift sanctuary, the dark smoke dissipating with a sharp crack of displaced air. His body still thrummed with the raw energy from his encounter with the Tyrant and Nemesis. Despite the ley line's regenerative power, the battle had taken a toll on him. His muscles were aching, and several injuries had yet to fully heal. The scent of blood clung to him, and his tattered clothing hung loosely over his frame.
He stood for a moment, his emerald eyes flicking to the survivors who had found refuge in the hospital. Leon was speaking with Marvin, while Ben Bertolucci was flipping through a notebook. Claire, however, was the first to notice him.
She had been standing by the hallway, looking down at a map, but as soon as she heard the familiar pop of James's arrival, she turned. Their eyes met, and without a word, Claire bolted toward him. In a flash, she was there, her arms wrapping around his waist, pulling him into a tight hug. James winced at first, but he quickly relaxed, a strange warmth spreading through him as he returned the hug. Her touch was like a balm, soothing the tension that had been building in him ever since the battle.
"James," Claire whispered, her voice muffled against his chest. "I was so worried,"
James let out a breath, holding her close. "I'm fine. Just a little bruised," He could feel her hands gently pressing against his chest, as if she were checking for any wounds. He wasn't sure if she was just checking him over or if the physical closeness was as comforting to her as it was to him.
"You shouldn't be out there fighting them alone," Claire said softly, pulling back slightly but still keeping her hands on his arms.
"I had no choice," James murmured. "They wouldn't have let us get away," He met her eyes, his voice steady but with an undercurrent of something deeper. "I had to make sure you got out of there,"
A slight blush crept up Claire's cheeks, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. The connection between them was undeniable, and as much as both of them wanted to pretend it didn't exist, it was there. It grew stronger with every passing moment, every shared glance, every battle fought side by side.
"Where's Carlos?" James asked, breaking the silence. "He's still not back yet?"
Claire's face fell slightly, the concern evident in her eyes. "No. He's still gone. We haven't heard anything. It's been hours,"
James nodded, his jaw tightening. Carlos was a skilled soldier, but the city was in chaos, and he had no way of knowing how far Carlos had gone. Or if he had even found what he was looking for. "Jill's still unconscious?" James asked quietly, looking toward the room where Jill was being tended to. Claire nodded in response, her lips thinning with worry.
"She's in bad shape," Claire said, her voice soft. "They tried everything. She won't wake up until she gets the cure,"
James's heart clenched at the thought of Jill, one of his oldest allies, lying unconscious, unable to fight for herself. He glanced back at Claire, who was still standing close to him, concern etched on her face.
"I'll go down to the labs," James said suddenly. "I've been sensing three survivor signatures beneath the city. I need to find out who they are and if they're in danger,"
Claire looked at him, brow furrowed. "I'll go with you," she said without hesitation, her voice firm.
James hesitated for a moment, searching her face for any sign of fear or hesitation, but all he saw was resolve. "You don't have to. It's going to be dangerous,"
"I know," Claire said, stepping closer. "But I'm not leaving your side again, James. Not after what we've been through," Her voice was steady, and there was a vulnerability in her eyes that made his heart beat faster.
James's mind raced, torn between wanting to protect her and wanting to spend more time with her. But he knew that leaving her behind was not an option. Not when they had come this far together. He nodded, resigned. "Alright. Let's go,"
They turned toward the hallway leading out of the lobby, Claire's hand brushing against his as they walked. The touch sent a jolt through James, and he glanced sideways at her, noticing the way her lips curved up in a small, knowing smile. It was as if she felt the same pull between them. As they made their way out of the hospital, James focused on the ley lines that snaked beneath Raccoon City, their power thrumming just beneath the surface. With a quiet breath, he reached for the energy, feeling it hum through him like an electric current.
"Ready?" James asked, his voice low, his hand extended toward Claire.
Claire nodded. "Let's do this,"
In a blur of motion, they disappeared from the hospital lobby, reappearing with a sharp crack in the parking garage below the Police Department. The cold, damp air of the underground facility pressed in on them, and the faint hum of machinery echoed through the space. James immediately dropped into a defensive stance, scanning the shadows for any signs of danger.
"Stay close," James said, his voice low and commanding.
Claire nodded, stepping to his side as they made their way through the garage. The sound of distant footsteps reached their ears, and James's senses heightened. He was used to moving through danger, but with Claire at his side, he was more aware of every sound, every shadow. They reached a door leading into the underground facility, the faint hum of the generators vibrating through the walls. James's magic tingled along his fingertips, and he prepared himself for whatever lay ahead. He had no idea what they were walking into, but he couldn't afford to let his guard down.
They stepped inside, their footsteps muffled by the concrete floor. The air was thick with the smell of dust and mildew, and the faint echo of dripping water filled the silence. As they moved further into the facility, James's eyes flicked around, scanning every corner for movement.
Suddenly, Claire stopped. "Did you hear that?"
James froze, his senses sharpening. He could hear it too now. Faint breathing, low and quick. It was coming from the wall, near a small cavity in the corner.
Claire stepped forward cautiously, her hand resting on the grip of her pistol. "Hello?" she called softly.
There was a rustling from the wall, and a young woman's voice emerged, faint but audible. "Please...don't hurt me,"
James's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"
The girl in the wall hesitated, then slowly emerged from her hiding place. She was a young girl with short blonde hair and a fearful expression on her face. "Sherry," she said softly, glancing between James and Claire. "Sherry Birkin," James's breath caught in his chest. Birkin. That name brought back memories of the horrors he had encountered before. William Birkin, the twisted scientist whose experiments had created some of the most dangerous monsters in the world.
"Are you alone?" Claire asked gently, her hand lowering from her pistol.
Sherry nodded, her eyes wide with fear. "I was hiding from...from my father. He's...he's different now. He attacked me,"
James felt a chill run down his spine. "Your father?" His voice was tight.
Before Sherry could respond, a deep growl rumbled through the air, shaking the walls. James and Claire spun around just as a horrific, mutated form stumbled into the corridor. William Birkin - once a man - was now a mass of writhing flesh, his body contorted and monstrous. His once-human features were barely recognizable, twisted and fused with horrific mutations. His eyes, glowing with an unnatural yellow, locked onto the three of them.
Sherry gasped, stumbling backward into the wall. "No! No, please, not again!"
James stepped forward instinctively, his hand outstretched toward the creature. "Get out of here!" he shouted at Claire and Sherry.
Without hesitation, Claire grabbed Sherry's arm, pulling her back. "Go!" she urged, urgency in her voice. Sherry hesitated, but Claire's grip tightened. "Now!" Claire shouted, and the two women sprinted down the corridor toward the exit.
James turned to face the mutated Birkin, who was already charging at him, its grotesque claws swiping through the air. James raised his hand, summoning a blast of magic, sending a shockwave of energy into the mutated creature's chest. The blast staggered Birkin back, but it wasn't enough to stop the beast.
With a roar, Birkin lunged again, faster than James expected. His mind raced, and with a swift motion, he summoned a large gust of wind, sending the mutated creature flying back into the wall with enough force to crack the concrete. The fight was just beginning. James's eyes narrowed, his muscles coiling with the raw power of the ley lines. This was a fight to the death.
James stood tall, his fists clenched at his sides, his bright green eyes now tinged with the deep, unsettling blue of his bioweapon form. The mutated William Birkin, now little more than a horrific shell of his former self, continued to lunge at him with terrifying speed. His grotesque, pulsating body was covered in layers of tumors and unnatural growths. One of his arms was twisted and elongated, covered in multiple grotesque eyes that blinked and shifted, as though searching for prey.
Without a word, Birkin threw a massive clawed arm toward James. The attack was swift, but James was ready. He ducked just as the mutated appendage swiped by, narrowly missing his head. The force of the strike sent a gust of wind in its wake, but James was already in motion, sidestepping to avoid the creature's second lunge. "Come on," James muttered to himself, his body coiled like a spring. He couldn't afford to use the ley lines here. Not with the building already groaning under the strain of all the magic he had drawn earlier. He had to fight with what he had left.
Birkin was relentless. His eye-covered arm flared again, sending a shockwave of energy in every direction as it shot forward. James raised his arm, conjuring a solid barrier of wind and force to deflect the attack. The monstrous arm collided with the magic, sending shockwaves through the facility as the two forces clashed. The sound of the impact was deafening, but James held his ground, even as his body screamed from the effort.
His eyes locked onto Birkin's glowing yellow ones, and he moved in a blur of motion, twisting his body to avoid the next strike. In a sudden burst of speed, James lunged forward and slammed his fist into Birkin's chest. The mutated beast howled in pain as it staggered back, but it didn't go down. Instead, Birkin retaliated, its eye-covered arm whipping toward him with terrifying force.
James ducked and rolled, narrowly avoiding the deadly strike, and then dashed to the side. He moved with precision, avoiding each of Birkin's swipes. The creature's once-human face was contorted into a horrific grin, its mutated body shifting and rippling with every movement. James's stomach twisted as he looked at the man who had once been a scientist. Someone who had once known pain, loss, and ambition, now turned into something far beyond recognition.
James clenched his fists, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to freeze. In one fluid motion, he raised his foot and swept it in a brutal arc. The kick struck Birkin squarely in the jaw, sending the creature stumbling back. Birkin's claws scraped the concrete, but he quickly recovered, his glowing eyes now flashing with anger. James didn't relent. He closed the distance again, his speed enhanced by the incredible strength of his bioweapon form. He threw a flurry of rapid punches, each one landing with bone-crunching force, but Birkin was still alive. He roared, swinging his enormous, eye-covered arm down in a vicious arc.
James didn't hesitate. He jumped, twisting in midair to avoid the strike, and with a single motion, he grabbed the mutated arm. His bioweapon strength surged as he yanked it back, using the creature's own momentum against it. With a loud crack, he tore the arm from Birkin's body, the grotesque appendage hanging limply in his grip.
The monstrous cry of pain that followed shook the entire underground facility. Birkin staggered, his grotesque body contorting and thrashing in fury. But James didn't give him a moment to recover. With a roar of his own, James hurled the dismembered arm away and charged forward, landing a punch to Birkin's exposed chest. The impact was enough to crack the monster's mutated ribcage, and with one final blow, James drove his fist deep into Birkin's chest, crushing the mutated heart.
Birkin fell backward, his body convulsing before it went limp. James stood over the creature's twisted form, chest heaving as he wiped a smear of blood from his mouth. His body was bruised and battered, but he had won.
As the adrenaline began to ebb, James's body protested, the fatigue setting in. The magic within him that had once surged to the forefront was now spent. His strength waned as the reality of the battle set in. His bioweapon form was not limitless, and without the ley lines to fuel his regeneration, it was taking everything he had just to remain upright. He stood there for a moment, breathing heavily, before turning to find Claire and Sherry. They had taken shelter down the hallway, and when James spotted them, both were standing in the doorway, eyes wide with shock and relief.
"Is it...over?" Claire asked, her voice shaky as she moved closer.
James nodded, his voice hoarse. "For now. He's gone,"
Claire rushed to his side, gently resting a hand on his arm. Sherry, still in shock, stepped toward James as well, her eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and disbelief. Claire turned to Sherry with a soft, reassuring smile.
"Are you okay?" Claire asked, her voice gentle.
Sherry nodded, though her face was still pale. "I think so..."
"You're safe now," Claire said softly, her hand resting on Sherry's shoulder. "We'll get you out of here,"
James gave a small nod, looking between Claire and Sherry. "Let's go." His voice was thick with exhaustion, but there was no time to waste. Without another word, James raised his hand, focusing on the familiar connection to the ley lines. He closed his eyes briefly, tapping into the power above the city once more. With a soft pop, they reappeared back at the hospital, the underground facility now behind them. Sherry gasped as she looked around, her eyes wide at the sudden shift in scenery.
"This is...this is the hospital?" Sherry asked, disbelief in her voice.
Claire nodded, offering the girl a warm smile. "It's safe here. We've got a place for you,"
James stepped back, trying to steady himself. The brief trip had drained him further, but he still refused to rest. He needed to find more survivors. There had to be more. He couldn't stop now. His body urged him to push through the exhaustion, but he could feel his energy rapidly depleting.
Claire turned to James, noticing the exhaustion written all over his face. She walked up to him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. "James, you've done enough for now. You're not going anywhere,"
James opened his mouth to protest, but before he could speak, Tyrell stepped forward, his eyes narrowing with concern. "James, you need to rest," Tyrell said firmly, his voice brokering no argument. "You've been through hell. You're no good to anyone like this,"
Leon, who had been observing quietly from across the room, nodded in agreement. "We need you in fighting shape, James. But right now, you need to take a break. You've done more than enough,"
James looked between the three of them, his jaw tightening. He hated the thought of stopping, of giving in to the fatigue. There were still people out there who needed his help. But deep down, he knew they were right. His body was screaming for rest, and if he didn't listen to it, he might be of no use to anyone. With a heavy sigh, James finally relented. "Fine," he muttered, though he clearly didn't want to. "But just for a little while,"
Claire's expression softened as she led him to a nearby cot in the corner of the room. "Just rest for now. We'll figure out what's next once you've had a chance to recover,"
James sank onto the cot, his body immediately protesting the sudden stop in movement. He had barely touched the sheets before he was asleep. His body had finally given in to the overwhelming fatigue, and within seconds, he was lost to a deep, exhausted slumber. Claire stood over him for a moment, her eyes filled with concern but also a quiet relief. He had saved them. Again. And despite everything, she knew he was doing everything he could to help them survive.
As the room grew quiet, she turned back to Sherry, who was still standing by the door, a mixture of gratitude and apprehension in her eyes. Claire smiled reassuringly. "You're safe now," Claire said, her voice soft. "We'll make sure you're taken care of," Sherry nodded slowly, still processing everything. The nightmare was far from over, but for the first time in what felt like forever, there was a glimmer of hope. And for the first time, Claire allowed herself to believe that they might just make it out alive.
Jill Valentine dreamed of corridors lit only by the flicker of faulty fluorescent bulbs. She drifted down one hallway after another, their walls covered in sterile white tiles stained brown by water damage. In her dream, she knew she was back at it. Her investigation of Umbrella. She had pored over endless reports and half-finished files that smelled of mildew and old secrets. Every footstep echoed, hollow in the hush of these abandoned labs. The deeper she went, the more certain she became that something terrible waited ahead.
She passed a doorway where, in her waking hours, she had once witnessed grotesque experiments left half-finished. Vats of churning chemicals and rotting creatures suspended in fluid. Now, through the dream lens, she saw them again. Pale limbs pressing against the glass, frantic for release. She suppressed a surge of nausea, forcing herself onward.
Footsteps sounded behind her. When she spun around, the figure was already at her back. James Potter, clad in shredded tactical gear. Blood clung to his arms and chest, yet his gaze was soft with concern. It made no sense. She wasn't sure why or how he had come to be part of her investigation. But Jill felt relieved at seeing him, as if he were a friend. Someone she could rely on, even in a nightmare. In that surreal way dreams often worked, she accepted his presence without question.
"Jill," James said quietly, reaching out a hand. Despite the dim overhead lights, she could see the bright green of his eyes. They held a subtle tint of blue, a glow that shouldn't have been natural. She recognized it from glimpses she'd caught in the real world, some intangible residue of the viruses that coursed through his veins. Yet here in the dream, it didn't frighten her.
She looked at his outstretched hand. Her gut told her to trust him. She slipped her fingers through his, letting him guide her deeper into the facility. The corridors bent and twisted in impossible shapes, longer than they should have been, spiraling downward. Fluids dripped from unseen pipes, tapping a slow, ominous rhythm. Somewhere far above, thunder rumbled.
At last, they reached a small lab chamber with broad glass windows. In her dream, she found test tubes, half-cracked monitors, and typed research documents scattered across the counters. James's hand remained entwined with hers. She could feel his warmth, his pulse. "You don't have to do this alone," he murmured, turning to face her. "I'll protect you, Jill,"
Something in his eyes made her chest tighten. She noticed for the first time how close they stood, their chests nearly touching. Her heart thundered. She became acutely aware of the subtle power in James's stance, the intensity in his gaze. The dream shifted, and for a heartbeat, the lab lights softened to a warm glow. James cupped her cheek, and she felt a swell of gratitude that she wasn't alone in this crusade against Umbrella.
They leaned closer. Her breath caught. She could feel the heat of him, the brush of his unshaven jaw as he bent his face toward hers. It was an intimate moment, something that she - in her real life - might have questioned or put aside for the sake of duty. But here, in the dream, she let it happen. She closed her eyes, and their foreheads touched. A flicker of serenity sparked in her chest, something that felt like possibility...or hope.
Then the lights flashed. An alarm blared, shrieking at them. Jill tore away from James, her stomach twisting. The warmth in his eyes shifted into something cold, distant. He stepped back, jaw clenching. His expression flickered between recognition and blank obedience. She saw a dark implant on the side of his head spark like faulty wiring. His bright eyes glazed.
"James?" she whispered, dread creeping into her voice.
He said nothing. Slowly, he reached around to his belt, producing a small baton. The baton extended into an elongated blade. Her heart lurched. This wasn't the James from a moment ago. This was the living weapon Umbrella had twisted him into. He glowered at her with that cold, mechanical gaze.
She took a step back. "No...James, fight it,"
His lips pulled back in a snarl. Before Jill could bolt, he lunged. A flash of steel arced through the air, slicing across her abdomen. She felt the burn of it, shock registering before pain. Gasping, she pressed trembling fingers to the wound and saw blood. He advanced again, eyes dead of all emotion. Nothing but the puppet of Umbrella's programming. His next strike pierced her chest. She collapsed to her knees, choking, tears filling her eyes. Darkness crowded her vision. She stared up at James, whose face wavered between regret and the blank stare of a monster, until everything went black.
Jill thrashed in her hospital bed, eyes still closed, unconscious but trapped in that terrible dream. Monitors beside her bleeped in protest at her elevated heart rate. If she could only wake, she might realize it was just a nightmare. But for the moment, her world was that vision of blood and betrayal.