RESIDENT EVIL: INSURECTION PART 2
RESIDENT EVIL:
INSURECTION
PART 2
Chapter three
10:53am
Soon, the press was covering the situation first hand. It seemed that whatever was wrong with the cannibal killers that had plagued the Arklay mountains in July was back, infecting the average citizen, turning them against they’re friends and family. The news was calling it the “Cannibal Virus”, although it was more to make fun of the S.T.A.R.S. accusations earlier in the year than anything else. The fifteen or so police officers crowded around the TV in stunned silence. It was happening. Everything that the S.T.A.R.S. had said was really happening. And now they had lost one, possibly more of they’re comrades, and friends. Lt. Ruiz burst into the room. “Pete, Jack, I need you two on riot control. Looks like something’s going down at the football stadium.” They all turned, looking up into Ruiz’s cold eyes. “Well, move it!” the two officers stood, and went to the locker room to put on they’re riot armor.
11:10am
R.C. Super Stadium
As always, the press arrived before the police. Benjamin Burtoluci stood just outside of the RPBNS van, staring at the stadium, wondering what on earth they where doing here. Alex, his young but lovely camera girl was checking everything was okay. She was on the phone with they’re studio, who was eager to know what was happening at the stadium, incase it was connected with the cannibal killings that had sprung up in the city. “We go live in two minutes.” She said, looking at her watch, and then at the TV screen in the van. Ben figured that the situation was more of a “Lot of people loose a lot of betting money all at the same time” situation than a “mass cannibal attack” like his distributors had hoped. “All right.” He said, straightening his brown coat, and red tie. If this was a big thing, and Alex filmed it right, they could wind up with some award or something. An Emmy, like that crazy weather girl from Raccoon 7 was always babbling about. Ben put on his best “Good morning, Raccoon” smile, and waited. “Hold! The Mic!” Alex reached into the van and pulled out the cordless microphone, and handed it to Ben. “Good luck!” she said, giving him the thumbs up, and he winked. “We’re on air in 3, 2, …!” she pointed a finger at “1” and Ben started. “Thanks, Shaun. We’re here at the popular Raccoon City Super Stadium, which Umbrella Corporation donated to our city two years ago, where it seems that just one too many people lost a bet!” he paused to give the quick “reporter’s laugh” and then went back. “We ourselves are not quite sure of what we are about to see, so be warned, home-viewers. This may not be suitable for all ages.” Ben was still smiling as he began to walk backwards to the door, a few feet away, when a Police cruiser pulled up, and two cops in riot armor got out. Sweet! Thought Ben. A chance to get some pre-show countdown. “Excuse me sir, can you tell the people of Raccoon City exactly what is happening here that brought you here?” the cops ignored him, and drew they’re batons. “Excuse me, do you mind waiting here?” one of the cops, a tall and broad African American said to Ben. Ben tried to protest, but then there was a scream. One besides what Ben had earlier thought was cheering. The first cop, the Caucasian one, fell out of the doors, at least five people hanging onto him. “Jack!” shouted the one that Ben had been talking with. He ran to his comrade’s aid, but another person came out of the doors, and latched onto him, rearing back, biting into his armor. The African American flung the person back, and drew his weapon. This was awesome. It was like a movie! Ben didn’t even have to talk, and he would still get reporter of the year for this! The first reporter on television with one of the cannibal killers! It was great! “Freeze!” shouted the African American, and looked down at his partner. Ben looked too, and saw that his partner’s riot armor had been torn away, and that the people all around him were tearing into his stomach. “OH MY GOD!” the African American shouted. “You getting all this?” Ben said to Alex. She was to transfixed by what was happening. The light was blinking, so, yes. She was sending every last frame of this all across Raccoon City. Ben turned back, and then took a step back wards. The Caucasian cop was dead, but the African American was still trying to tear the people off of his partner. He aimed his gun into the crowd of people, and fired. Two, three bullets visibly struck the backs of two of the attackers. Nothing happened. “What the-?” Ben heard himself whisper. He turned back to Alex, but she had gone. Dropped the camera, and went running back to the van. “Dammit!” he shouted, leaping for the camera, and looking up at Alex as she started the van and began to pull away. Ben ripped the cords out of the back of the camera just before the whole bundle would have been ripped out of his hand, as Alex pulled away, doing an even two-hundred MPH donut, and speeding away into the street, out of the lot. Ben hooked the Mic onto the camera, and looked back at the leaving image of his partner. Live or not, this was gold. “This is why you’re a camera girl, and I’m a reporter.” He said, flinging off his coat, and pushing up the sleeves of his white shirt. He looked back thru the camera’s eyepiece at the scene. The African American was still firing at the crowd, and nothing was still happening. The man that had attacked the cop before attacked again, and the cop flung him off, emptying the clip into the man’s chest. More people where flooding out of the stadium, into the parking lot. The cop looked at his fallen partner. Ben could see that the man was on the verge of tears. Then his partner suddenly opened his eyes, turned his head, and reached out. “JA-” then the fallen officer bit down hard into the cop’s ankle. The African American screamed loud and long, as his partner ripped his head back, tearing a huge portion of the cop’s leg away. Blood coursed down the officer’s pant leg, and began to pool around his shoe. The cop whimpered, and shot his partner point blank in the face with his pistol. His partner’s head kicked back, and moved no more. The police officer hobbled back to the cruiser, and Ben followed, pulling open the passenger’s side door, getting in. the cop didn’t seem to care, pulling back, turning, and then speeding away. “Take the wheel.” He said thru grit teeth to Ben. Ben, still holding the camera steady on his shoulder with his right hand, steered the cruiser with his left. The cop pulled off his vest, and began to tear his white under shirt into strips, tying them around his wounded ankle. “So, Officer…” Ben looked at the nameplate on the cop’s vest, “Pete, what do you think of what we’ve just witnessed, do you know what’s going on?” the cop winced as he pulled the strip of shirt tight. “Sir?” the cop reached out and grabbed Ben’s tie. “I just lost my partner, you thick bastard. Save you’re questions.” Ben was stunned into silence. The cop took the wheel, and Ben went back to filming out the window. It had begun.
11:20am
R.P.D.
Jessica was already beginning to broadcast on all frequencies. “All on and off duty Police officers report to the Raccoon Police Department Immediately. This is an emergency. This is not a drill.” Marvin sat, staring at the secretary as she spoke as calmly as she could into the Microphone on her desk. Even Ian was beginning to look worried. They had lost radio contact with Pete and Jack almost ten minutes ago. There was a sudden noise, and chief Iron’s voice blared over the speaker. “Miss Edwards, would you come to my office, please?” it was at that moment that Mayor Michel Warren stepped into the main hall, with a rather lovely looking young woman. His daughter. “Mayor Warren!” said Marvin, standing up from his perch on the end of the reception desk. The mayor ignored them, and walked over to Jessica. “Take her to Brian.” He said, and then turned and left. “Hey, where the hell are you-?” Marvin began, but the mayor was gone. “Come along.” Mumbled Jessica. “Take over for me, will you, Brian?” Marvin turned and nodded, moving to the desk. Jessica and the mayor’s daughter left for the stairs, and Marvin began saying “All on and off duty police officers report to the Raccoon Police Department. This is an emergency, this is not a drill.” The doors burst open again, and Pete walked in, propped up by a brown haired man carrying a TV camera. “Pete!” Marvin shouted. The door to the offices was open, and the others piled out to see if they’re friend was all right. Pete sat down on the receptionist’s chair, and looked up at them. The reporter backed away, trying to get a better, wider shot with the camera. “What the hell happened?” asked Alan. “Where’s Jack?” asked Ian. Pete gritted his teeth. “Jack didn’t make it. Ask him. He filmed the whole damn thing.” They turned to the reporter, who smiled widely. “Gentlemen, and lady.” He said, eyeing Rebecca, “Prepare to have you’re minds blown.”
11:45am
Three miles outside Raccoon City
Nicholi Ginoveaf smoothed his short gray hair back onto his scalp. He eyed the other members of the U.B.C.S. as they boarded the small helicopter, knowing that he would probably be the only one to survive. There was the commander, Mikhail Victor, who would probably last the longest. There was Tyrell, the bulky African who might make it, although given the situation, probably not. Then there was Carlos, the Hispanic Gun-runner. He would more than likely die within minutes of they’re landing. Nicholi had his orders. Save data from the hive, collect data on the NEMESIS’s performance, and, if the situation should arrive, keep target A away from the hive at all costs. Nicholi had only met the man before, and would have no hesitation on killing him if the need should arrive. The last of the soldiers pilled onto the helicopter, and Nicholi made his way to the steps. He looked up and read the words on the back of the helicopter. “Umbrella Biohazard Counter-measure Service” Nicholi grinned. He was going to be a very rich man, soon enough. Umbrella didn’t know what he was planning, so he was certain that they would pay dearly for it.
12:01
Raccoon city Jr. High School
Sherry Birkin stood. They had been doing a math test (Pre-Algebra, ick) and she had been doing, what was in her opinion a very poor job, when her mother appeared in the window that was to the left side of the door. Mr. Guest looked up, and gave her mother a little wave, and then silently called Sherry to him. “Your mother’s here to see you, Sherry.” He whispered, and then issued her out the door. “Sherry, is everything okay?” her mother asked rather abruptly once Sherry was in the hall and the door was closed. “Yes, mom. What is it? Is something wrong?” Annett Birkin looked into Sherry’s eyes for a long moment, and then seemed to snap out of a trance. “N-no, Sherry. Nothings wrong. Of course not. Come along. We have to go home.” “Let me get my-” Sherry started, but her mother cut her off. “There’s no time, Sherry. Come along.” Annett half pulled/half dragged Sherry out of the school. “Mom, where are we going? Mom?” Annette replied without looking down at her daughter. “We’re going home.”
12:12
Kendo Gun shop and Weapons emporium
Robert Kendo took another swig from the Cool-soda can on his counter. He would have preferred a nice cold beer to soda, but he had to stay sober, lest he loose any customers due to drunken swagger. He looked mournfully out the window. If only the damn shop faced the street. When the Kendo Gun shop was opened, it faced a small, put pretty park. But in 1996, Gatewater hotels moved a huge, twelve-story building where the park had stood, and now Kendo’s faced a wall that was covered in the eternal words: “History is dead”. How many times had Robert read that bit of graffiti? Even he didn’t remember anymore. The punk could have at least sprayed some flowers, or a tree on there. But as it is, it said “History is dead” in large red letters. Sometimes Robert felt like going out there and writing “So what?” underneath it. “Damn kids.” He said for what must’ve been the millionth time. He took another swig from the Cool-Soda can, and continued to stare morosely out the window.
12:15
Umbrella corp. Research & Development plant
Tim Holland drank deeply from his noon coffee. His computer screen still read “Error 101-authorization blocked. What the hell was this? He had been tying to access Bill Birkin’s lab cam. For the last twenty minutes. Birkin’s cell must be off, and he wasn’t answering either his daytime or home phone. When Tim had gone down to the Hive entrance, Red Queen wouldn’t let him in, saying that his white Umbrella pass card number had been revoked. But, as it turned out, all of the scientists that had passes to the White Umbrella R&D labs underground had also faced similar problems when they had tried to go bellow as well. He had even tracked down the Umbrella card swipe records for the last 24 hours, and according to it,
Umbrella Corporation
Restricted Access pass code record
W. Birkin
2277ADMINUMB
A. Birkin
Tim had been trying to reach the Birkin’s ever since. The admin code was high-level, so he had no way of knowing anything about him or her. Tim had met Bill once at a party at the Mansion labs given to celebrate the completion of the T-002. He had been pleasant, and had made a good many jokes. Over all, Birkin had been one of the more human people working on the Tyrant project. Nothing like that partner of his, that cold bastard that got transferred right after the Tyrant was complete. He was dead, at least. Killed by the very creature he had been trying to create. Oh, well.
12:20
Raccoon City High, Home of the Flying Raccoons! Girl’s Bathroom
K-mart Kristy writhed in a world of pleasure as Bobby Wells undulated beneath her. There was still fifteen minutes left until Physical Education was over. She had missed seven days of P.E. because of Bobby, and had enjoyed every moment of it. Bobby had been the one that had suggested it, and she jumped at the opportunity. She was 17, and in her Jr. year, while bobby was eighteen and in his senior, and it felt right. She grinned, leaning down to kiss his burning face. His hands groped here shoulders, and pulled her in even more. She moaned a little. Then the door to the bathroom was kicked open, and she gasped. They usually did this both facing the door, but today he insisted on being able to see her face (although she knew what he was really after, and she was all to happy to give it to him. She tried to get up, so she could turn around and drop her skirted knees down and place Bobby’s legs on her lap like they always did when somebody walked in. But then a nock at the stall door sounded like the crack of doom. “Ms. Stacy? Mr. Wells? If you please?” It was the Voice of their Dean, Mrs. L. J. Wickman. “Wh- what do you mean? Mrs. W- Wickman? There’s no one else in here besides me!” “Mr. Harman, our school janitor was kind enough to let me know that he witnessed the young man and yourself slip in here about ten minutes ago. If you’ll re-dress and come with me to the office, I’m sure me, you, and your parents can sort this all out.” There was a long pause. “Oh, shit.” K-Mart said softly. She felt something warm splash over her thighs. She looked down and jumped up, shouting “Oh GOD!” as she realized with dawning comprehension that Bobby wells had just wet him self.
12:28
Raccoon City subway station
Bob Romero was already having a pretty crappy day. His boss, Mr. “White” had given his partner a raise, while they had been telling him how he was do for one himself. Those Dicks in management at Umbrella deserve to go get hit with a large TRUCK he thought to himself. He was co-in charge of customer services at the Umbrella Corp. Waste management Division building in Stoneville. He had lost his two-way Stone-Raccoon line ticket for the Tram, and the next one wasn’t for thirty minutes, and his wife expected him home at twelve thirty to deal with something that there son had done with a staple and a mechanical pencil, and then he had to deal with some crap about the water bill. He had ended taking the subway, even though it smelled, because he would at least get home by 12:45. God, what a day. The subway train slowed, and then came to a stop. He stepped out of the car, and onto the cement of the walkway, when a rat the size of a watermelon leaped out of the shadows and took a chunk out of his upper thigh. “What the Hell?” he screamed, and took his brief case and smashed it against the thing’s body, sending it flying over the ledge and under the train, where there was a POP and a flash of light. An alarm sounded, and the train seemed to shut down completely, lights and everything. People ran over to him and the train, either to help, or to freak because they just lost their money on the train that now looked like an empty barracks. “Hey, man! Are you okay?” “Damn dude, that thing really took a bite, man!” somebody call a hospital!” at that, Bob shouted out, “Make sure it’s an Umbrella hospital, please! I have a discount!” and then he doubled over onto the ground, clutching his bleeding leg. “What dose he mean he has a discount?” asked some body. “Probably works for Umbrella. No surprises there. Everyone works for that damn company.” Bob suddenly remembered that he had left his wallet (with paycheck clasped within) on his desk at the office and whispered, “Damn.” and lost conciseness.
12:32
East Of Raccoon Apartments, room 137
Jill Valentine switched of Fox. Nothing was on, and what was was all Umbrella Praise.
She breathed deeply, and spat out her gum into a paper 7-11 cup. She eyed her S.T.A.R.S. Beret on the hat stand and threw the TV remote at it. She missed, and crossed her arms and glowered out her window at the Umbrella poster on the building across the street from her window. “Our business is life itself my ass.” She mumbled. She had not turned on her police radio. She did not know. She would not know for four more hours, when it was dark.
12:45
7 hours out of Raccoon city
Leon S. Kennedy smashed his palm on the horn. The car in front of him beeped back, and then other cars joined the call. He sat back, the engine of his birthday Jeep humming. He had been stuck on the freeway for forty, maybe fifty minutes, and had moved, maybe ten feet. He opened another can of Cool, and turned on the air. The jeep was, of course, a convertible, but it was un-godly hot, and he was in full riot gear. Why, why, WHY, had he decided he would look cooler in the armor rather than just the standard R.P.D. short sleeve uniform? WHY? He smoothed his short blonde hair with hand as cool air blew on his face. “I guess even cops aren’t free of the good ol’ jam now and then, eh?” he heard from his left. He turned, and saw a beaming young face, hidden beneath sunscreen and a NASCAR cap. “What?!” Leon shouted over the roar of engines. “I said, even cops aren’t free from jams, huh?!” the man shouted back. “Yeah, hahaha…” Leon shouted back, laughing a little from the crude joke, and because he thought that it would be appropriate. He looked down at the soda can, and thought, the hell, and broke out a Gatorade from the ice chest in the passenger’s.
12:39
Seven hours out of Raccoon city, off the main high way
Claire Redfield stretched as the TAXAGO attendant filled her bike’s tank. She had been on an off-road that only Raccoon natives used, so there wasn’t much traffic. Still, it would be a good many hours before she would actually get to the city, so she figured it would be best to stop and refuel, and get more water for herself. The attendant eyed her chest, and weather he was scoping her or merely staring in shock at the large Bowe knife she had strapped to her vest, she couldn’t tell. And she didn’t care, either. Chris was potentially in trouble, and she wanted to get there as quickly as possible.
12:43
Raccoon sewer system
HUNK worked silently and quickly. The third entrance was here, but he needed to find the crests. How the hell did his team manage to screw up so badly? Umbrella should have warned them that Birkin had a backup plan. And now… who knows. The city was as good as dead, that much he knew. The rats had already mutated, and begun to carry the virus through the city. He needed to get back inside the hive quickly, or the rats might come back. Or something worse. “Raaaaaarrrrgggghhhhhh!” HUNK spun, and started breathing quickly. If Birkin found him… oh god… HUNK moved quicker. One of his men had had the wolf crest… but which one? HUNK cursed himself for not making a note of it. Hell. This was going to end up being worse than the incedent on the train…
12:46
Raccoon Police Department
The tape ended on a silent audience. “P-Pete… you… what…” Ruiz started, but was unable to finish. Ben had stopped smiling. The realization of what was happening had finally hit him. Everything the R.P.D. S.T.A.R.S. had said… all of it had been true. Rebecca couldn’t even face the screen. She was too sad. “We have to get in contact with the other S.T.A.R.S.” Marvin said. “There aren’t any more. We’ve all left. Chris, Jill, Brad, Barry. I’m all that’s left of the original team in Raccoon city. Alan here didn’t fly that night because he was sick, and so Kevin took over for him. And anyway, you drove them all away.” “As rightfully we should have!” Ian started, standing. “Claiming that you’re captain, Al Wesker, was a co-conspirator in a viral outbreak caused by Um-” “Shut your mouth, BOY!” shouted Marvin, leveling himself with Ian. “Don’t you get it, you stupid automaton? S.T.A.R.S. were telling the truth! You’ve just lost a teammate! To exactly what the S.T.A.R.S. said would happen! Wesker was working for Umbrella, and Umbrella has caused this, OR WASN’T THAT VIDEO PROOF ENOUGH FOR YOU!?” Marvin gestured at the screen, the paused image of Pete’s sweating, pain stricken face shuddering between frames. Ian glowered at the screen, then sat back down. Rebecca wasn’t sure what her expression should be at this, so she chose “Deep in thought.” Marvin was still standing. “We need a game plan. Those that want to defend Raccoon City from the Umbrella Corporation’s viral-cultured freaks, come with me to my office. Marvin stood, and left the meeting room, and turned the corner to walk down to the evidence room, which connected to the room that they had been planning the party for Leon in. Rebecca and Alan stood instantly, and followed. Then was Pete, helped by Brian and Elliot, then David and Edward. Soon the only one that was left was Ian. He continued to sit in his chair, and then took out his cell phone, hitting the speed dial button. “Hello? Yes, this is Ian. They know. And they believe.”
INSURECTION
PART 2
Chapter three
10:53am
Soon, the press was covering the situation first hand. It seemed that whatever was wrong with the cannibal killers that had plagued the Arklay mountains in July was back, infecting the average citizen, turning them against they’re friends and family. The news was calling it the “Cannibal Virus”, although it was more to make fun of the S.T.A.R.S. accusations earlier in the year than anything else. The fifteen or so police officers crowded around the TV in stunned silence. It was happening. Everything that the S.T.A.R.S. had said was really happening. And now they had lost one, possibly more of they’re comrades, and friends. Lt. Ruiz burst into the room. “Pete, Jack, I need you two on riot control. Looks like something’s going down at the football stadium.” They all turned, looking up into Ruiz’s cold eyes. “Well, move it!” the two officers stood, and went to the locker room to put on they’re riot armor.
11:10am
R.C. Super Stadium
As always, the press arrived before the police. Benjamin Burtoluci stood just outside of the RPBNS van, staring at the stadium, wondering what on earth they where doing here. Alex, his young but lovely camera girl was checking everything was okay. She was on the phone with they’re studio, who was eager to know what was happening at the stadium, incase it was connected with the cannibal killings that had sprung up in the city. “We go live in two minutes.” She said, looking at her watch, and then at the TV screen in the van. Ben figured that the situation was more of a “Lot of people loose a lot of betting money all at the same time” situation than a “mass cannibal attack” like his distributors had hoped. “All right.” He said, straightening his brown coat, and red tie. If this was a big thing, and Alex filmed it right, they could wind up with some award or something. An Emmy, like that crazy weather girl from Raccoon 7 was always babbling about. Ben put on his best “Good morning, Raccoon” smile, and waited. “Hold! The Mic!” Alex reached into the van and pulled out the cordless microphone, and handed it to Ben. “Good luck!” she said, giving him the thumbs up, and he winked. “We’re on air in 3, 2, …!” she pointed a finger at “1” and Ben started. “Thanks, Shaun. We’re here at the popular Raccoon City Super Stadium, which Umbrella Corporation donated to our city two years ago, where it seems that just one too many people lost a bet!” he paused to give the quick “reporter’s laugh” and then went back. “We ourselves are not quite sure of what we are about to see, so be warned, home-viewers. This may not be suitable for all ages.” Ben was still smiling as he began to walk backwards to the door, a few feet away, when a Police cruiser pulled up, and two cops in riot armor got out. Sweet! Thought Ben. A chance to get some pre-show countdown. “Excuse me sir, can you tell the people of Raccoon City exactly what is happening here that brought you here?” the cops ignored him, and drew they’re batons. “Excuse me, do you mind waiting here?” one of the cops, a tall and broad African American said to Ben. Ben tried to protest, but then there was a scream. One besides what Ben had earlier thought was cheering. The first cop, the Caucasian one, fell out of the doors, at least five people hanging onto him. “Jack!” shouted the one that Ben had been talking with. He ran to his comrade’s aid, but another person came out of the doors, and latched onto him, rearing back, biting into his armor. The African American flung the person back, and drew his weapon. This was awesome. It was like a movie! Ben didn’t even have to talk, and he would still get reporter of the year for this! The first reporter on television with one of the cannibal killers! It was great! “Freeze!” shouted the African American, and looked down at his partner. Ben looked too, and saw that his partner’s riot armor had been torn away, and that the people all around him were tearing into his stomach. “OH MY GOD!” the African American shouted. “You getting all this?” Ben said to Alex. She was to transfixed by what was happening. The light was blinking, so, yes. She was sending every last frame of this all across Raccoon City. Ben turned back, and then took a step back wards. The Caucasian cop was dead, but the African American was still trying to tear the people off of his partner. He aimed his gun into the crowd of people, and fired. Two, three bullets visibly struck the backs of two of the attackers. Nothing happened. “What the-?” Ben heard himself whisper. He turned back to Alex, but she had gone. Dropped the camera, and went running back to the van. “Dammit!” he shouted, leaping for the camera, and looking up at Alex as she started the van and began to pull away. Ben ripped the cords out of the back of the camera just before the whole bundle would have been ripped out of his hand, as Alex pulled away, doing an even two-hundred MPH donut, and speeding away into the street, out of the lot. Ben hooked the Mic onto the camera, and looked back at the leaving image of his partner. Live or not, this was gold. “This is why you’re a camera girl, and I’m a reporter.” He said, flinging off his coat, and pushing up the sleeves of his white shirt. He looked back thru the camera’s eyepiece at the scene. The African American was still firing at the crowd, and nothing was still happening. The man that had attacked the cop before attacked again, and the cop flung him off, emptying the clip into the man’s chest. More people where flooding out of the stadium, into the parking lot. The cop looked at his fallen partner. Ben could see that the man was on the verge of tears. Then his partner suddenly opened his eyes, turned his head, and reached out. “JA-” then the fallen officer bit down hard into the cop’s ankle. The African American screamed loud and long, as his partner ripped his head back, tearing a huge portion of the cop’s leg away. Blood coursed down the officer’s pant leg, and began to pool around his shoe. The cop whimpered, and shot his partner point blank in the face with his pistol. His partner’s head kicked back, and moved no more. The police officer hobbled back to the cruiser, and Ben followed, pulling open the passenger’s side door, getting in. the cop didn’t seem to care, pulling back, turning, and then speeding away. “Take the wheel.” He said thru grit teeth to Ben. Ben, still holding the camera steady on his shoulder with his right hand, steered the cruiser with his left. The cop pulled off his vest, and began to tear his white under shirt into strips, tying them around his wounded ankle. “So, Officer…” Ben looked at the nameplate on the cop’s vest, “Pete, what do you think of what we’ve just witnessed, do you know what’s going on?” the cop winced as he pulled the strip of shirt tight. “Sir?” the cop reached out and grabbed Ben’s tie. “I just lost my partner, you thick bastard. Save you’re questions.” Ben was stunned into silence. The cop took the wheel, and Ben went back to filming out the window. It had begun.
11:20am
R.P.D.
Jessica was already beginning to broadcast on all frequencies. “All on and off duty Police officers report to the Raccoon Police Department Immediately. This is an emergency. This is not a drill.” Marvin sat, staring at the secretary as she spoke as calmly as she could into the Microphone on her desk. Even Ian was beginning to look worried. They had lost radio contact with Pete and Jack almost ten minutes ago. There was a sudden noise, and chief Iron’s voice blared over the speaker. “Miss Edwards, would you come to my office, please?” it was at that moment that Mayor Michel Warren stepped into the main hall, with a rather lovely looking young woman. His daughter. “Mayor Warren!” said Marvin, standing up from his perch on the end of the reception desk. The mayor ignored them, and walked over to Jessica. “Take her to Brian.” He said, and then turned and left. “Hey, where the hell are you-?” Marvin began, but the mayor was gone. “Come along.” Mumbled Jessica. “Take over for me, will you, Brian?” Marvin turned and nodded, moving to the desk. Jessica and the mayor’s daughter left for the stairs, and Marvin began saying “All on and off duty police officers report to the Raccoon Police Department. This is an emergency, this is not a drill.” The doors burst open again, and Pete walked in, propped up by a brown haired man carrying a TV camera. “Pete!” Marvin shouted. The door to the offices was open, and the others piled out to see if they’re friend was all right. Pete sat down on the receptionist’s chair, and looked up at them. The reporter backed away, trying to get a better, wider shot with the camera. “What the hell happened?” asked Alan. “Where’s Jack?” asked Ian. Pete gritted his teeth. “Jack didn’t make it. Ask him. He filmed the whole damn thing.” They turned to the reporter, who smiled widely. “Gentlemen, and lady.” He said, eyeing Rebecca, “Prepare to have you’re minds blown.”
11:45am
Three miles outside Raccoon City
Nicholi Ginoveaf smoothed his short gray hair back onto his scalp. He eyed the other members of the U.B.C.S. as they boarded the small helicopter, knowing that he would probably be the only one to survive. There was the commander, Mikhail Victor, who would probably last the longest. There was Tyrell, the bulky African who might make it, although given the situation, probably not. Then there was Carlos, the Hispanic Gun-runner. He would more than likely die within minutes of they’re landing. Nicholi had his orders. Save data from the hive, collect data on the NEMESIS’s performance, and, if the situation should arrive, keep target A away from the hive at all costs. Nicholi had only met the man before, and would have no hesitation on killing him if the need should arrive. The last of the soldiers pilled onto the helicopter, and Nicholi made his way to the steps. He looked up and read the words on the back of the helicopter. “Umbrella Biohazard Counter-measure Service” Nicholi grinned. He was going to be a very rich man, soon enough. Umbrella didn’t know what he was planning, so he was certain that they would pay dearly for it.
12:01
Raccoon city Jr. High School
Sherry Birkin stood. They had been doing a math test (Pre-Algebra, ick) and she had been doing, what was in her opinion a very poor job, when her mother appeared in the window that was to the left side of the door. Mr. Guest looked up, and gave her mother a little wave, and then silently called Sherry to him. “Your mother’s here to see you, Sherry.” He whispered, and then issued her out the door. “Sherry, is everything okay?” her mother asked rather abruptly once Sherry was in the hall and the door was closed. “Yes, mom. What is it? Is something wrong?” Annett Birkin looked into Sherry’s eyes for a long moment, and then seemed to snap out of a trance. “N-no, Sherry. Nothings wrong. Of course not. Come along. We have to go home.” “Let me get my-” Sherry started, but her mother cut her off. “There’s no time, Sherry. Come along.” Annett half pulled/half dragged Sherry out of the school. “Mom, where are we going? Mom?” Annette replied without looking down at her daughter. “We’re going home.”
12:12
Kendo Gun shop and Weapons emporium
Robert Kendo took another swig from the Cool-soda can on his counter. He would have preferred a nice cold beer to soda, but he had to stay sober, lest he loose any customers due to drunken swagger. He looked mournfully out the window. If only the damn shop faced the street. When the Kendo Gun shop was opened, it faced a small, put pretty park. But in 1996, Gatewater hotels moved a huge, twelve-story building where the park had stood, and now Kendo’s faced a wall that was covered in the eternal words: “History is dead”. How many times had Robert read that bit of graffiti? Even he didn’t remember anymore. The punk could have at least sprayed some flowers, or a tree on there. But as it is, it said “History is dead” in large red letters. Sometimes Robert felt like going out there and writing “So what?” underneath it. “Damn kids.” He said for what must’ve been the millionth time. He took another swig from the Cool-Soda can, and continued to stare morosely out the window.
12:15
Umbrella corp. Research & Development plant
Tim Holland drank deeply from his noon coffee. His computer screen still read “Error 101-authorization blocked. What the hell was this? He had been tying to access Bill Birkin’s lab cam. For the last twenty minutes. Birkin’s cell must be off, and he wasn’t answering either his daytime or home phone. When Tim had gone down to the Hive entrance, Red Queen wouldn’t let him in, saying that his white Umbrella pass card number had been revoked. But, as it turned out, all of the scientists that had passes to the White Umbrella R&D labs underground had also faced similar problems when they had tried to go bellow as well. He had even tracked down the Umbrella card swipe records for the last 24 hours, and according to it,
Umbrella Corporation
Restricted Access pass code record
W. Birkin
2277ADMINUMB
A. Birkin
Tim had been trying to reach the Birkin’s ever since. The admin code was high-level, so he had no way of knowing anything about him or her. Tim had met Bill once at a party at the Mansion labs given to celebrate the completion of the T-002. He had been pleasant, and had made a good many jokes. Over all, Birkin had been one of the more human people working on the Tyrant project. Nothing like that partner of his, that cold bastard that got transferred right after the Tyrant was complete. He was dead, at least. Killed by the very creature he had been trying to create. Oh, well.
12:20
Raccoon City High, Home of the Flying Raccoons! Girl’s Bathroom
K-mart Kristy writhed in a world of pleasure as Bobby Wells undulated beneath her. There was still fifteen minutes left until Physical Education was over. She had missed seven days of P.E. because of Bobby, and had enjoyed every moment of it. Bobby had been the one that had suggested it, and she jumped at the opportunity. She was 17, and in her Jr. year, while bobby was eighteen and in his senior, and it felt right. She grinned, leaning down to kiss his burning face. His hands groped here shoulders, and pulled her in even more. She moaned a little. Then the door to the bathroom was kicked open, and she gasped. They usually did this both facing the door, but today he insisted on being able to see her face (although she knew what he was really after, and she was all to happy to give it to him. She tried to get up, so she could turn around and drop her skirted knees down and place Bobby’s legs on her lap like they always did when somebody walked in. But then a nock at the stall door sounded like the crack of doom. “Ms. Stacy? Mr. Wells? If you please?” It was the Voice of their Dean, Mrs. L. J. Wickman. “Wh- what do you mean? Mrs. W- Wickman? There’s no one else in here besides me!” “Mr. Harman, our school janitor was kind enough to let me know that he witnessed the young man and yourself slip in here about ten minutes ago. If you’ll re-dress and come with me to the office, I’m sure me, you, and your parents can sort this all out.” There was a long pause. “Oh, shit.” K-Mart said softly. She felt something warm splash over her thighs. She looked down and jumped up, shouting “Oh GOD!” as she realized with dawning comprehension that Bobby wells had just wet him self.
12:28
Raccoon City subway station
Bob Romero was already having a pretty crappy day. His boss, Mr. “White” had given his partner a raise, while they had been telling him how he was do for one himself. Those Dicks in management at Umbrella deserve to go get hit with a large TRUCK he thought to himself. He was co-in charge of customer services at the Umbrella Corp. Waste management Division building in Stoneville. He had lost his two-way Stone-Raccoon line ticket for the Tram, and the next one wasn’t for thirty minutes, and his wife expected him home at twelve thirty to deal with something that there son had done with a staple and a mechanical pencil, and then he had to deal with some crap about the water bill. He had ended taking the subway, even though it smelled, because he would at least get home by 12:45. God, what a day. The subway train slowed, and then came to a stop. He stepped out of the car, and onto the cement of the walkway, when a rat the size of a watermelon leaped out of the shadows and took a chunk out of his upper thigh. “What the Hell?” he screamed, and took his brief case and smashed it against the thing’s body, sending it flying over the ledge and under the train, where there was a POP and a flash of light. An alarm sounded, and the train seemed to shut down completely, lights and everything. People ran over to him and the train, either to help, or to freak because they just lost their money on the train that now looked like an empty barracks. “Hey, man! Are you okay?” “Damn dude, that thing really took a bite, man!” somebody call a hospital!” at that, Bob shouted out, “Make sure it’s an Umbrella hospital, please! I have a discount!” and then he doubled over onto the ground, clutching his bleeding leg. “What dose he mean he has a discount?” asked some body. “Probably works for Umbrella. No surprises there. Everyone works for that damn company.” Bob suddenly remembered that he had left his wallet (with paycheck clasped within) on his desk at the office and whispered, “Damn.” and lost conciseness.
12:32
East Of Raccoon Apartments, room 137
Jill Valentine switched of Fox. Nothing was on, and what was was all Umbrella Praise.
She breathed deeply, and spat out her gum into a paper 7-11 cup. She eyed her S.T.A.R.S. Beret on the hat stand and threw the TV remote at it. She missed, and crossed her arms and glowered out her window at the Umbrella poster on the building across the street from her window. “Our business is life itself my ass.” She mumbled. She had not turned on her police radio. She did not know. She would not know for four more hours, when it was dark.
12:45
7 hours out of Raccoon city
Leon S. Kennedy smashed his palm on the horn. The car in front of him beeped back, and then other cars joined the call. He sat back, the engine of his birthday Jeep humming. He had been stuck on the freeway for forty, maybe fifty minutes, and had moved, maybe ten feet. He opened another can of Cool, and turned on the air. The jeep was, of course, a convertible, but it was un-godly hot, and he was in full riot gear. Why, why, WHY, had he decided he would look cooler in the armor rather than just the standard R.P.D. short sleeve uniform? WHY? He smoothed his short blonde hair with hand as cool air blew on his face. “I guess even cops aren’t free of the good ol’ jam now and then, eh?” he heard from his left. He turned, and saw a beaming young face, hidden beneath sunscreen and a NASCAR cap. “What?!” Leon shouted over the roar of engines. “I said, even cops aren’t free from jams, huh?!” the man shouted back. “Yeah, hahaha…” Leon shouted back, laughing a little from the crude joke, and because he thought that it would be appropriate. He looked down at the soda can, and thought, the hell, and broke out a Gatorade from the ice chest in the passenger’s.
12:39
Seven hours out of Raccoon city, off the main high way
Claire Redfield stretched as the TAXAGO attendant filled her bike’s tank. She had been on an off-road that only Raccoon natives used, so there wasn’t much traffic. Still, it would be a good many hours before she would actually get to the city, so she figured it would be best to stop and refuel, and get more water for herself. The attendant eyed her chest, and weather he was scoping her or merely staring in shock at the large Bowe knife she had strapped to her vest, she couldn’t tell. And she didn’t care, either. Chris was potentially in trouble, and she wanted to get there as quickly as possible.
12:43
Raccoon sewer system
HUNK worked silently and quickly. The third entrance was here, but he needed to find the crests. How the hell did his team manage to screw up so badly? Umbrella should have warned them that Birkin had a backup plan. And now… who knows. The city was as good as dead, that much he knew. The rats had already mutated, and begun to carry the virus through the city. He needed to get back inside the hive quickly, or the rats might come back. Or something worse. “Raaaaaarrrrgggghhhhhh!” HUNK spun, and started breathing quickly. If Birkin found him… oh god… HUNK moved quicker. One of his men had had the wolf crest… but which one? HUNK cursed himself for not making a note of it. Hell. This was going to end up being worse than the incedent on the train…
12:46
Raccoon Police Department
The tape ended on a silent audience. “P-Pete… you… what…” Ruiz started, but was unable to finish. Ben had stopped smiling. The realization of what was happening had finally hit him. Everything the R.P.D. S.T.A.R.S. had said… all of it had been true. Rebecca couldn’t even face the screen. She was too sad. “We have to get in contact with the other S.T.A.R.S.” Marvin said. “There aren’t any more. We’ve all left. Chris, Jill, Brad, Barry. I’m all that’s left of the original team in Raccoon city. Alan here didn’t fly that night because he was sick, and so Kevin took over for him. And anyway, you drove them all away.” “As rightfully we should have!” Ian started, standing. “Claiming that you’re captain, Al Wesker, was a co-conspirator in a viral outbreak caused by Um-” “Shut your mouth, BOY!” shouted Marvin, leveling himself with Ian. “Don’t you get it, you stupid automaton? S.T.A.R.S. were telling the truth! You’ve just lost a teammate! To exactly what the S.T.A.R.S. said would happen! Wesker was working for Umbrella, and Umbrella has caused this, OR WASN’T THAT VIDEO PROOF ENOUGH FOR YOU!?” Marvin gestured at the screen, the paused image of Pete’s sweating, pain stricken face shuddering between frames. Ian glowered at the screen, then sat back down. Rebecca wasn’t sure what her expression should be at this, so she chose “Deep in thought.” Marvin was still standing. “We need a game plan. Those that want to defend Raccoon City from the Umbrella Corporation’s viral-cultured freaks, come with me to my office. Marvin stood, and left the meeting room, and turned the corner to walk down to the evidence room, which connected to the room that they had been planning the party for Leon in. Rebecca and Alan stood instantly, and followed. Then was Pete, helped by Brian and Elliot, then David and Edward. Soon the only one that was left was Ian. He continued to sit in his chair, and then took out his cell phone, hitting the speed dial button. “Hello? Yes, this is Ian. They know. And they believe.”