Rookie Mistake

by HarcourtHolmesII

Summary:

Leon was just becoming comfortable as a member of Raccoon City's police department when he is suddenly recruited into S.T.A.R.S. Out of his depth amongst the military men and women, demolitions experts and top of the line scientists, Leon struggles to find where he belongs amongst their ranks.
Then numerous reports of gruesome murders in the Arklay Mountains come pouring in to the RPD and the S.T.A.R.S team is recruited to uncover what is going on.
Trusted with the lives of his fellow S.T.A.R.S members, Leon must step up to the plate and be prepared for the worst to come, unaware of his captain's own cruel intentions with the team and with Leon himself.

Chapter 1

Notes:

Trigger Warnings:
- Referenced Homelessness
- Referenced Alcohol Abuse
- Referenced Vomiting / Hangover

‘I can’t believe you…’

 

Leon’s gaze turned away from the window, away from the street he was monitoring, and towards his superior officer. The lieutenant’s lips were quirked up into a smirk, the telltale sign that his disbelief was not fuelled by anger or disappointment. He took a long sip from his coffee cup, gulping the still steaming sludge with a long, relieved sigh.

 

‘How do you mean, sir?’ Marvin snickered, another disbelieving noise. As if he couldn’t understand why the rookie cop was confused.

 

‘You get the opportunity of a lifetime and you turn it down? How can you just do that so… So easily?’ Leon could hardly suppress the roll of his eyes, so he quickly turned his gaze back and out through the window.

 

Of course, it was about the offer he had received earlier that morning.

 

He had been called into the chief’s office just as he arrived at the precinct. He had been worrying himself stupid, thinking he had done something wrong. Had he filed evidence incorrectly, risking the investigation of a case? Had he misplaced some crucial files? Were his efforts in the field being called into question? All of these thoughts and more had been racing through his head as he walked the long journey to the chief’s office.

 

When he got there, it had not just been chief Brian Irons waiting for him.

 

Captain Wesker of the department’s S.T.A.R.S team was stood behind the desk, speaking with Irons as Leon entered. Eyes turned to him, one pair small and imbedded deep into the back of  the chief’s piggy face. The other pair remained hidden, as they always were, behind a pair of dark sunglasses, his expression unreadable.

 

He had been greeted with an outstretched hand by the chief, which he took. He shook it firmly, and took his seat as it was gestured to him. The captain stood at attention by Iron’s side, appearing the subordinate officer, but Leon knew better. Captain Wesker had a phenomenal command over the department’s officers, and he had learned quickly to respect the captain even more than the chief. If Leon’s suspicions were correct, captain Wesker would have been a popular candidate for taking over command of the police, if that wasn’t already a step down from his current position.

 

‘Leon?’

 

‘Hm?’ The rookie turned his blue eyes back towards Branagh. The man was clearly waiting for him to say something, to continue the conversation that Leon had started to tune out. He didn’t mean to be rude, but he was already sick of people telling him he had made a mistake. Rita, Marvin and even Rebecca had something to say about his choice. The other officers seemed more dumbfounded than anything, and then just a little bit… Jealous?

 

‘It’s a huge thing, Leon…’ Marvin said, putting down his coffee and turning his body around as best he could in the driver’s seat so he could face him. ‘This is a big deal. We’re not mad, but we just don’t get it. You turned it down so quickly! You didn’t even ask to think about it. How can you turn down an initiative position in S.T.A.R.S so easily?’

 

If this was what a regular father sounded like, Leon was glad to have missed out on any disappointed speeches from his parents. Being housed and pushed around by the foster system, Leon never got the chance to get a talking to like he was now, and he was a little relieved he didn’t have to hear it through his teen years.

 

‘It’s not what I want, sir-’

 

‘Marvin.’ The lieutenant’s voice was firm, but not unfriendly. ‘Whilst we’re in the car or office, you can just call me Marvin.’

 

‘Marvin.’ Leon felt it wrong to be so casual with the lieutenant, but he didn’t let it bother him for long. ‘Being a police officer is what I’ve always wanted. I never wanted to be, nor do I have the training, to be initiated into a specialist team like S.T.A.R.S.’

 

‘Do you know how many of our boys would kill to be apart of S.T.A.R.S? Better hours and pay. Hell, you’ve got more authority in the entire police force than even a sergeant. When I was your age, I always wanted to join the team and went through their screening tests at least four… five- No, six times. Being a cop is nice and all, but that can’t be your only reason for rejecting the offer, surely?’

 

Leon nodded, feeling a little sheepish.

 

‘Really, it’s all I ever wanted. I never wanted to be a detective or part of a SWAT team. I wanted to be on the ground, helping anyone I could. If I see a crime in action, I want to be right there to stop it if I can. Not stuffed in an office waiting for the crime to happen so I can ‘solve a mystery’. And I don’t want to be diving in front of bullets for only those on the higher payrolls.’

 

‘That’s not-’

 

‘I know that’s not what S.T.A.R.S does, but I’m happy here. This…’ Leon gestured to the car and the crowds passing them by along the curb through the windscreen. ‘This is what I’ve always wanted.’

 

There was silence from the lieutenant, as the older man slumped back into his seat and took another sip of his atrocious coffee. Leon thought the conversation was over, but his relief turned to frustration.

 

‘Sleeping in your car is what you’ve always wanted?’ It was a low blow tease and Leon didn’t hold back his glare. It only seemed to amuse the man as he chuckled again into his drink.

 

‘I haven’t had the time to rent a place. And besides, I’m comfortable and I’m saving money.’

 

‘You know you would be more comfortable in a departmentally issued residence, courtesy of S.T.A.R.S employment? You wouldn’t have to sneak in every morning to shower, either.’

 

He made a good point.

 

Leon had not had the chance to find a property to rent in Raccoon City since his arrival. He hadn’t been in the best state when he first travelled out, straight after graduating from the academy. His girlfriend, Michelle, had broken up with him the morning of graduation, and over the phone. She had given little explanation, and even though it had been a long-distance relationship, Leon hadn’t sensed that the pair were under any kind of strain.

 

When she had called him and broken it off, he was inconsolable. The graduation didn’t cheer him up and neither did the number of drinks that had knocked him out to sleep that night. He had woken the next morning with a head full of flies and a buzz in his stomach that turned to a churning tidal wave of sickly vomiting. He had held onto the bowl of that toilet for so long, it felt like hours. It was well into the afternoon when he was kicked out of the academy residences and forced into the blindingly bright and loud daytime.

 

He had driven into the evening, well after the sun went down, before he arrived in Raccoon City. He had managed to buy a room at a small, after-hours motel and collapsed there after another night of drinking. He hadn’t even realised he had missed his first day of work until he arrived the next morning to one, very unimpressed lieutenant Marvin Branagh.

 

He was lucky not to be fired on the spot.

 

It had been five months since he had joined the RPD, and he had worked himself into the ground to regain some semblance of respectable human dignity. He had done well in the office and on the field, but he had been neglecting his own need for a place to call home.

 

‘I’m fine, Marvin. Really. I’m happy where I am, and I’ll earn enough eventually to get a place of my own.’

 

‘Yeah, maybe. By the beginning of the next century.’ The older man scoffed. ‘You should think about it. I mean it, Leon. You graduated top of your classes at the academy and you’re a crack shot in the gun range. You may not have the experience of most members of S.T.A.R.S, but it is a huge opportunity. Especially if it really was a special request by captain Wesker.’

 

‘That’s just a rumour. He was just there. He didn’t even say anything.’ Leon could recall the captain throughout their short meeting. Quiet and watching with those hidden eyes. Leon couldn’t picture his face without those secret service sunglasses; they seemed almost a piece of him just as the Matilda had become Leon’s own hand of justice.

 

‘He’s not normally there for just any job interview, Leon.’ He said.

 

There was a crackle of static over the radio. Marvin twisted the dial until dispatch could be plainly heard. ‘Two-Forty-Six in progress. Dunstan and Rhodes, 36 and 11^th. Suspected casualties.’

 

‘Lieutenant Branagh and officer Kennedy responding. Show us going.’ Leon gripped the hand hold above his head as Marvin switched the sirens on. With a long wail and a shine of blue and red, the police car accelerated forward, out of its space and down the street. Vehicles parted to the right, allowing them to pass as they hurried to the scene.

 

As they sped away towards the address, Leon’s mind sped away from the thoughts of S.T.A.R.S’ proposal, leaving it behind in the dust. He was too pumped, too anxious and far too ready for the day ahead of him than the morning he had left behind. No matter Branagh and everyone else’s opinions on his decision, Leon had made up his mind.

 

He doubted anyone could change it.

Chapter 2

Notes:

Trigger Warnings:
- Detailed Referenced Gunshot Wounds
- Detailed Referenced Injury and Blood
- Trauma
- Mild Swearing
- Referenced Homelessness

‘You did good today, Leon.’ Marvin rested a hand on his shoulder, drawing the young man’s tired eyes up and away from his work.

 

Marvin’s uniform jacket was slung over one shoulder, car keys dangling from the loop around his finger. He looked about as tired as Leon felt, both of their bodies still aching from the sudden launch into action at the shooting earlier that day. They both had been checked over by the nurse, but Julia only offered a recommendation of pain medication to be taken after their shifts were over and a good long sleep when they returned home.

 

They should consider themselves lucky.

 

A jewellery store robbery gone wrong, one of the inexperienced gunman didn’t have his safety on. He had shot one of the two cashiers by mistake; a young woman just making a living to assist her college funding. Miss Kylie Bennet was shot in the thigh, just above the knee and had been left to bleed-out on the floor as the robbers started bagging what they could.

 

Another shot had gone off only seconds later, when miss Bennet’s colleague, mister Samuel Erving had tried to step in and help her.

 

He hadn’t survived the hit.

 

Seeing the blood on the floor, smelling the powder and tasting the coppery flavour of blood in the air still hit Leon like a truck. His brain kept it all on a loop, the moment he had opened the staff entrance through the rear alleyway. He had seen mister Erving first, behind the counter with an unrecognizable explosion of colour where the top half of his head had been. Leon’s stomach still churned uncomfortably as he recalled miss Bennet beside the deceased, weeping and gasping into her hands, unsure if she was sobbing from the pain or the fear.

 

One of the robbers, the one who had shot miss Bennet, had been slumped over on the floor. His mask had been removed and he was wiping his mouth of vomit when Leon had cuffed him. The poor boy, no older than Leon was now, didn’t even struggle.

 

The other two had started a firefight when they realised one of their own had been taken into custody. Marvin had started firing through the open front door of the store, the moment both guns turned on Leon. It was all a blur. One Leon was still struggling to unfold in his head.

 

In the end, one of the robbers was shot dead in the crossfire, whilst both others were taken into custody. Leon then spent twenty minutes holding miss Bennet until the ambulance arrived. He had removed his belt, wrapped it tight around her leg and pulled, strangulating the muscles and slowing the flow of blood. She was lucky, extremely lucky, that the bullet hadn’t blown through or even nicked the major artery in her leg.

 

Marvin was shouting through his radio, demanding the ambulance team hurry, and ordering any curious civilians away from the scene until more officers arrived. Twenty minutes felt so long without the sound of the ambulance siren. It felt like hours that Leon knelt there, hands coated in this poor, now unconscious woman’s blood.

 

Leon’s gaze was transfixed on his hands. He had to be pulled away by Marvin when paramedics arrived on scene, not hearing the sirens or their voices telling him that they were there to help. He couldn't let go.

 

There was just so much blood-

 

‘Leon?’

 

‘Hm?’ Leon’s eyes turned up to Marvin. The older man was looking at him with a weary and worried expression, brows pulled into a tight, nervous cinch above his nose. The lieutenant sighed, looking back at the door that led to the main hall and then back to Leon.

 

‘It’s been a rough day. You can crash at my place if you want, Leon.’ Marvin tried to offer a smile, but it was pulled tightly at the corner of his lips, not quite there. The offer was genuine, but it seemed Marvin was in just as bad a state as Leon. ‘The couch is a lumpy piece of shit, but it’ll be leagues better than the back of your car.’

 

‘I couldn’t do that, Marv-’

 

‘It’s fine, really. You’re welcome to stay, man.’

 

‘Thank you, Marvin. But I’m gonna stay here a bit longer. You should head home. I know you’re probably missing Grace and the kids. I don’t want to bring you down when you should also be relaxing.’

 

Marvin thought it over for a moment before he ripped a small post-it note and hastily scribbled something down. He folded it and turned it over to Leon with a thankful smile.

 

‘My door’s always open, Leon. Whenever you need it. If you come over later tonight, just give me a call.’ Leon took the little piece of paper between his fingers, placing it with care into his wallet. He nodded, offering a hand to Marvin. They shook and then Marvin headed out, leaving Leon behind in the office.

 

It wasn’t long after he left that the night shift workers came in. They shuffled to their respective desks quietly, passing Leon by with a nod of acknowledgement and little more.

 

Leon had learned very early on in his time at the RPD that there was a sort of class system amongst the officers. Chief Irons sat at the very top, of course, but it was always more in appearance. Coming up behind, and officially taking the spot as the most authoritative figure, was captain Wesker and then the rest of S.T.A.R.S. Then the daytime crew, like Leon and Marvin, and at the very bottom of the barrel, was the night shift officers.

 

The officers of the night shift arguably did most of the work with files and paperwork. They ground through the worst of it and received worse hours and pay for all their efforts. It was no wonder they usually weren’t in the best mood to see an officer like Leon working overtime. Chief Irons never seemed to mind the daytime officers taking their time, but he had very little respect it seemed for those on night shift.

 

Soon enough, whether Leon was imagining it or not, he felt the tension was too much. He collected the papers in front of him together, clapping them lightly against the desk to arrange them tidily in the manila folder and then stood. He slunk quietly out of the office to drop off his work in the filing room and to hurry out to his car to sleep.

 

The filing room was small, packed with shelves so tightly you could hardly move between them without knocking something over. Usually, Jean, one of the younger officers that Leon got along with, would be there to greet him and file it away for him. But once six o’clock rolled around, Jean would hurry to clock out. Not that Leon could blame him; next to the night crew grinding through paperwork, being restricted to the file room must have been suffocating.

 

He was flicking through a box full of files, attempting to find a space between the folders that he might slip his paperwork into when there was a firm rap with hard knuckles against the wood of the door. Leon barely looked up, expecting it was another officer trying to pass his work off to him to file away. He was just about to inform the officer that he wasn’t Jean when they spoke.

 

‘Kennedy.’

 

Leon’s eyes turned back over his shoulder, nearly jumping to attention. He lost his place in the box of files, all of them slipping back into place. He would have to search again for that brief hope there was a gap he could slip the folder in.

 

But his eyes were fixed on captain Wesker in the doorway. Even despite the more casual setting for this meeting, the captain stood like he was at attention. Back ramrod straight, he dwarfed Leon despite the few inches of difference between them. Those sunglasses still in place, Leon’s only impression that he wasn’t in trouble was the slight smirk at the corner of the captain’s lips. Leon cleared his throat, attempting to stand straighter than his already perfect posture would allow.

 

‘Captain Wesker.’

 

‘How are you this evening, officer Kennedy?’

 

Small talk? It seemed so trivial for the captain. More trivial still was that the captain himself would be in the filing room. It wasn’t like he tended to that stuff himself, and S.T.A.R.S had their own system that was entirely separate from the rest of the RPD’s paperwork.

 

‘I’m fine, sir. Just finishing up some filing then I’ll be headed out.’

 

The captain hummed, a deep sound in his chest. In the confined space of the filing room, the door that Wesker took up all but trapped the rookie cop inside. In such a short distance, every word seemed louder and commanded more attention than ever before.

 

‘Have you thought about buying yourself a hotel room?’

 

‘H-Huh?’

 

‘To stay in. It is not news to anyone where it is that you’re currently staying.’ Leon’s mind turned to the image of his car in the RPD’s basement, tucked away in a dark corner. How many times had captain Wesker or any other members of the department seen him curled up in the backseat, his jacket his only source of warmth. It was a humiliating thought, Leon’s cheeks reddening in embarrassment.

 

‘I have, but it won’t be long before I run out of money that way.’

 

‘And staying with the lieutenant isn’t an option?’ Leon’s fingers twitched; a ghost of a sensation of that post-it note with the welcoming address on it being offered to him.

 

‘I’d hate to be an inconvenience, sir.’ The captain set foot into the filing room, and just that alone was enough to close the distance. They weren’t too close, but Leon felt he was being caged in against the shelves behind him. He kept the thought to himself as the captain’s head dipped ever so slightly, allowing Wesker to get a good look at him from head to toe.

 

‘You turned down the position in S.T.A.R.S.’ It seemed the captain was done discussing Leon’s living situation, for which the rookie was all too eager to leave behind. Even if this topic annoyed him, it felt like a breath of fresh air in this all too warm and suffocating space.

 

‘Yes, sir.’

 

‘I’d like to understand your thinking, officer Kennedy.’ It seemed the captain was not going to let him go so easily. ‘Why did you turn it down?’

 

‘I… Well, I’ve always wanted to be a police officer, and this work means a lot to me-’

 

The captain held up a hand, shutting Leon’s voice down in an instant. He couldn’t see those eyes behind the shades, but he could practically feel the frustrated glare staring him down. If Leon felt small before, he felt like he shrunk another three feet under the captain’s glare.

 

‘I don’t want to hear your carefully crafted excuse, Kennedy. I heard it the first time and lieutenant Branagh informed me of the same thing earlier this afternoon.’

 

‘It’s not an excuse-’

 

‘It is and it is a poor one.’ The captain bore down on him, words harsh and without any leeway for Leon to breathe. Despite his discomfort, Leon swallowed down the fear bubbling at the back of his throat and stood tall. Well, as tall as he could.

 

‘I meant every word of it, sir. I have only ever desired to be a police officer and I don’t want for more than that.’ He was being watched closely. He didn’t stutter and he did not falter. ‘Thank you for the kind offer, but I’ll have to reject it.’

 

The captain withdrew a bit, pondering Leon’s steadfast attitude. He didn’t seem angry or even annoyed with him, in fact, he seemed enticed. His smirk was back, and he turned around towards the door of the filing room. He stopped, peering back over his shoulder at Leon. There was a glint of something dangerous in that smirk and Leon realised it was the slight appearance of sharp teeth.

 

‘You start tomorrow at oh-six hundred hours, Kennedy. I expect to see you in our office on time and…’ There was another cursory glance over Leon’s form. ‘… Don’t forget to bring your gun.’

 

Leon’s mouth opened, about ready to tell the captain that he wasn’t coming, but as suddenly as he had appeared, captain Wesker was gone. Leon was alone in the filing room, folder still clutched between his hands, now shaking.

 

With fury or anticipation, Leon did not know.

Notes:

Two chapters in one day because I couldn't help myself. Either way, if you've read this far, I hope you have enjoyed both of them! Do let me know what you think, but no pressure! ^^

Chapter 3

Notes:

Trigger Warnings:
- Referenced Death
- Referenced Criminal Organisations
- Mild Trauma
- Definitely Immoral Workplace Interviews XD

‘SPECIAL TACTICS AND RESCUE SERVICE’

 

Somehow, those five words were enough to halt Leon in his tracks. Hand high, ready to knock, but suspended still in midair.

 

He swallowed something viscous down the back of his throat, trying to steady his breathing. Somehow, those five words shook Leon to his core; more than the blood and the gunfire that pierced through his memories. He blinked, but the words remained, seemingly larger and more intimidating than before.

 

He didn’t want to become a member of S.T.A.R.S. And he meant that.

 

Why was it so hard for others to simply accept that truth?

 

But he had been ordered to the office. He was expected to arrive on time and prepared with his trusted firearm. And all because captain Wesker couldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.

 

His hand lowered, thumb rubbing back and forth across the fingers in his fist. It was a nervous habit, and it frustrated him how much his own body was betraying his attempts to remain calm. He swallowed that same, viscous sensation in his throat, clearing it and allowing himself to breathe despite how his chest constricted.

 

Before this, before yesterday’s brief meeting with captain Wesker in the filing room, Leon had always been confident in what his next move would be. He had his life sorted; not day by day, but he had his goals and he had met those goals. S.T.A.R.S had never once factored into his life outside of his ‘work colleagues in the upstairs office’. And that was how it was meant to be.

 

He would just have to have a talk with captain Wesker.

 

After all, it was just an initiative position. He didn’t have to prove himself to S.T.A.R.S and certainly not to their captain.

 

But denying the position alone was difficult, and speaking with captain Wesker was no easy task.

 

There was a chime, somewhere in the distance. It wasn’t the bell tower, as that place was under repairs and had been even before Leon had arrived for his first day of work. But it was a clock chime. Six o’clock had rolled around and Leon was due to arrive.

 

He steeled himself, breathed, and knocked hard against the door.

 

There was a moment of silence before the door opened in towards the office. On the other side, a pair of dark shades and a disgruntled expression greeted Leon. The face softened slightly, and the door opened wider, allowing the rookie entrance into the room whilst Wesker stepped back and away from the door.

 

‘Right on time.’

 

‘Sir? Uh… I have to talk to you-’ Leon was interrupted by that same motion from yesterday. A gloved hand up, a silent order to cease talking. His mouth snapped shut and Wesker gestured to a nearby chair at one of the desks. He sat down as if on autopilot, noting with embarrassment how the captain’s mouth, once a hard line, had quirked up at the corner. It seemed he found Leon’s nervousness amusing.

 

‘In a moment, Kennedy. I’ve got a call on hold.’ The man turned and reentered his office without another word.

 

Leon was, once again, unable to get a word in.

 

He sat in the chair, trying not to twist and turn or spin it around in a circle. It was all too… Formal? No, he was sure that was the wrong word. Whatever word it was he was looking for didn’t really matter; he simply felt way out of his depth in this foreign world.

 

He eyed the office. The weapons locker at the far end of the room, a large communication station at the opposite end abuzz with static and then the series of desks between. The desk Leon sat at was swept clean and tidy. A few books were perched upright at the back, detailing bomb defusal guides and history of the United States’ military forces. Along the top ridge of the wooden desk was a polished plaque that read ‘Jill Valentine’.

 

Leon hadn’t the honour of meeting her yet, but if Wesker had his way, Leon would be working alongside her soon enough.

 

He could see Rebecca’s desk on the opposite side, a medical bag slung over a hook on the wall beside it and a framed bachelor’s degree in chemistry above that. It was a lot messier than Valentine’s desk, with pencils and scribbled sheets of paper layering the desk in a thin layer of chaos. He wondered what it would be like to work alongside Rebecca. They hadn’t been friends for too long, but they got along well even if their interests were vastly different.

 

‘I can’t tonight. Tomorrow after five?’ Wesker’s voice caught Leon’s notice. It wasn’t loud, but the man had left his office door open and even despite Leon’s attempts not to listen in, he could still hear every word.

 

‘William-’ There was silence for a moment. ‘I am not discussing this now. Tomorrow, after five.’ Despite how calm the captain sounded, Leon could almost feel the frustration ebbing out through the open door. He felt awkward, listening to one half of a conversation he didn’t even understand the context for. It was bizarre and he knew it was an idiotic thing to feel awkward about, but he couldn’t help it.

 

There was a long period of uninterrupted silence. When the captain spoke next, his voice was a growl into the phone, but it had a shiver rolling up Leon’s own spine.

 

‘Tomorrow, William. I will not say it again.’

 

The phone was returned to the receiver with some force. Leon flinched, feeling his hand twitch and fidget. He was rubbing his fingers together again in a fist, the knuckles turning white. He was reaching his limit on how long he could take being out of his element.

 

‘Kennedy.’ Wesker was standing in the door, gesturing with two curled fingers for the cop to follow him. Leon did as he was told, standing from Valentine’s seat and hurrying to follow the captain into his office.

 

Wesker didn’t move as Leon entered the office, forcing the younger man to shuffle past him in the doorway. It forced them close; close enough that Leon could smell the RPD’s toxic coffee on his breath and feel the heat at his back. He could feel that wave of embarrassment rising up against the skin of his neck and cheeks, flushing them a shameful red. He tried to hide it as best he could, keeping his head turned down to the desk and away from Wesker as he passed him by.

 

Once he was seated once more, Wesker shut the door with a click of the old lock. He rounded the desk and took a seat opposite Leon. There was a squeak of the old leather chair, the captain reclining against it in an unusual show of casualness. It was an odd image, the austere captain, always intimidating and at attention, almost relaxed in the cramped office.

 

‘Apologies. I had to deal with an urgent matter.’ It didn’t really sound like an apology, simply an explanation.

 

‘Of course, sir.’

 

Wesker reached one gloved hand below the surface of the desk, opening a drawer and withdrawing a folder into his hands. He opened it, peering through the pages there with some interest. Leon couldn’t see his eyes from behind the shades, but it seemed the captain was assessing him up and down. He had a feeling he knew what was inside the folder.

 

‘Your reputation precedes you.’ Wesker hummed again, thoughtfully. He turned another page. ‘Top of your class in the academy. ‘Exceptional performance in all areas,’ according to your commanding officers.’ Leon would usually feel pride when someone would mention his achievements, but now, all he felt was humbled. Next to captain Wesker, Leon must have seemed so… Normal.

 

‘Just exaggerating, sir-’

 

‘So, you’re saying they lied?’ Wesker tilted his head away from the file, allowing Leon a peek just over the top of those dark glasses. Eyes like steel, silver-gray and cold, glared at him and just like the previous evening, Leon felt himself shrink under such a gaze.

 

‘W-Well, no-’

 

‘Then don’t debase yourself.’ Wesker growled, turning his eyes back to the file in his hands. ‘I don’t intend to waste my time, so don’t interject with your meek attempts at modesty.’

 

‘Yes, sir.’ Leon’s voice was quiet, all thoughts of simply rejecting captain Wesker’s request to join S.T.A.R.S silenced for the moment.

 

The captain turned in his chair, sliding the folder onto the table. There were photographs of Leon’s graduation, both from high school and the police academy, copies of test scores and graphs of his improvement in the academy. There was also a long, compiled list of quotes from previous teachers and officers, commending him for his work, and civilians praising him for his efforts these last five months. It felt like all his dirty laundry was being aired out, even if all of what Leon could see was positive.

 

It was just embarrassing.

 

‘Says here that you also participated in several classes outside of school, including two languages and a martial class?’

 

‘The martial arts was for only a little while, sir. I’d hardly call it an achievement.’

 

‘And your language classes?’

 

‘French and Spanish.’

 

It all seemed like an interview for a college rather than a place in S.T.A.R.S. Leon wondered if anyone else was screened in a similar fashion before him. Even the smallest of things seemed to have caught captain Wesker’s interest, including some arrest forms regarding Leon’s own family. He wondered how Wesker had even gotten ahold of those.

 

Leon never liked thinking back to his family and what they were like. Sure, he didn’t really know them for long, but none of them were good people. They had attempted to initiate him into the ‘family business’, but it wouldn’t take. Leon had a greater sense of morality than most members of his blood, and he was still just a teenager when they died.

 

‘Sir.’ The captain looked up at Leon and stared, waiting for him to speak. It was the most freedom Leon had been allowed since he had entered the office, so he leapt for this opportunity. ‘I… I understand that chief Irons offered me this position, but, sir, this is above me. I couldn’t offer anything to S.T.A.R.S that one of your officers couldn’t do leagues better. You said you didn’t want to waste any time. Well, I think you’re wasting time, attempting to hire me.’

 

Wesker was quiet, his face stoic. Leon wasn’t sure what he was thinking, and it was unnerving him.

 

Finally, the captain’s face split into that dangerous smirk once more. Something about it seemed almost predatory and it had Leon struggling not to quake in his seat. He faced down guns and knives and even a flamethrower once. Why was it that the captain instilled in him such fear?

 

‘Attempting?’

 

Leon’s mind drew a blank. He tilted his head, confused by Wesker’s use of the word. It seemed Wesker was amused by Leon’s own use of it too, because there was a resounding chuckle deep within his chest. It was a sound that made something tighten beneath Leon’s sternum and he couldn’t help but shudder slightly in his seat.

 

‘I’m not attempting anything.’ Wesker said, standing and rounding the desk. As he did so, he took hold of his holster off the bureau behind him, clipping it with ease around his shoulders. He rounded behind Leon, out of sight and somehow, Leon realised, it was more unnerving being unable to see the man.

 

‘As of oh six-hundred hours, this morning…’ Wesker turned his gaze up to the clock on the wall above his desk. ‘… So, twenty minutes ago, officer Kennedy, you are now an initiative in S.T.A.R.S.’

 

What?!

 

Leon reeled back and wheeled around, out of his chair, in time to watch the captain open the door to his office with a click, and then open the door to the hallway. He gestured for Leon to follow with a flick of his head, smirk still plastered on those sharp features.

 

‘I was merely assessing your abilities, Kennedy. And we’re not done just yet.’

 

‘But captain-’

 

‘I need to understand how best to utilize my newest recruit most effectively.’ He stepped out of the office and Leon, on instinct, followed behind. ‘I can’t do that without seeing your more practical skills in action. If you impress me, maybe I’ll see you returned to the downstairs offices to say ‘goodbye’ to your old colleagues.’

 

There was no getting a word in with this frustratingly cruel man!

 

Leon shut his mouth, finally deciding to just go with it for now. At the end of the day, Wesker answered to chief Irons. He would have a talk with the chief after Wesker finally got an underwhelming performance at the gun range.

 

He refused to be the man's lap dog.

Notes:

So, I should probably mention this is not beta read. I apologise if some of the wording is odd or if you find the occasional grammar mistake. I struggled to review my own work sometimes, but don't feel shy to let me know if I screwed up a sentence somewhere! Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed!

Chapter 4

Notes:

Trigger Warnings:
- Guns
- Minor Swearing (not in dialogue)

The gun range was underground. A small room wedged between the generator room and the kennel where the dogs within were growling amongst themselves. There was a damp smell in the air where the rain and sewage system ran through the pipes overhead in the halls and parking lot. There weren’t too many officers in the basement save for Tony, who greeted them with a wave as he carted a large load of dog food dishes into the kennel.

 

Leon waved back, his smile small.

 

He wasn’t looking forward to these assessments.

 

As Wesker had led him through the precinct’s halls, he spoke with Leon about the assessments required for his S.T.A.R.S applicant file to be completed. He stepped quickly and with purpose, and spoke much the same. He didn’t allow for Leon to get a word in against the assessments and he didn’t allow anyone to bar their way through the station. Any officer that saw the two of them hastily stepped out of the way and if they didn’t, Wesker cleared his throat aloud enough for them to know he was passing by. Then, they hastily rushed to not be in his path, almost afraid to slow him down.

 

Leon wouldn’t be surprised if they were. After speaking with the captain only a couple of times, he had come to the realization that, in some small way, the captain did scare him. The power Wesker had over the department was intimidating, and the ease with which he commanded Leon and the other officers was startling.

 

They had several tests to complete and Leon looked forward to none of them. Only one of them he was actually concerned about failing, but he remained anxious about the others due to his confidence he would succeed. He hated the thought of jeopardizing his place in the force by purposely failing the tests, which meant he would likely succeed.

 

He hated it.

 

The very first of his assessments was his weapons expertise and how he handled a variety of guns. The second was a driving test, which was the one Leon was certain he would fail. He wasn’t a terrible driver, but in enough high speed chases he had taken more risks than was necessary and had been written up at least once for his mistakes. The third and final test was a sparring session between himself and another S.T.A.R.S member, and Leon mentally pleaded that it would not be the captain confronting him on the mat.

 

‘Kennedy.’ Leon’s blue eyes shot up to look his superior in the face. The captain stared down at him from behind those dark shades, a little disgruntled at his lack of awareness. It seemed he had missed something.

 

‘Sir?’

 

‘You have four targets ahead of you.’ The captain said, pointing out and over the divide. On the opposite wall sat the silhouetted human targets, each ring within the body marked in white. ‘I’ll be timing you. Shoot as accurately as possible and move on to the next weapon.’

 

Leon stared down at the gun directly in front of him. It was a S.T.A.R.S standard issue Berreta, the Samurai Edge. He hadn’t had the chance to glance at the other weapons, but perhaps that was what Wesker had been saying when Leon had drifted.

 

It didn’t matter.

 

Leon took a grip of the pistol, turning it in his hands once and checking the magazine. He noted immediately that the gun was empty, which was standard in the gun range. With the cells across the parking lot, it was safer to have the ammo tucked away and out of reach of potential troublemakers.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he noted Wesker’s lips pull up into a knowing, smug smile, hand dipping into his pocket to retrieve a timer. Perhaps it wasn’t common for the rookies to check that the gun was loaded before firing.

 

He found the ammunition in the booth at the end of the room, clipping the magazine in place and returning to Wesker’s side. He took his stance, breathing steadily so as to steady his hands and flipped the safety off.

 

‘Go.’

 

Leon unloaded the blanks into the target with unrivaled precision.

 

One.

 

Two.

 

Three.

 

All the way up to fifteen, he shot exact hits against the target. He dispersed them as necessary, making sure Wesker knew that they were all hitting their exact targets. One blank to each leg, one to each hand, six to the chest and five to the head. Little white blips exploded onto the silhouette, but Leon didn’t have time to admire his handiwork.

 

With a flick, Leon switched the safety back on and unloaded the empty magazine onto the counter in front of him. He sidestepped over to the next window, picking up the W-870 shotgun resting on the laminate counter and flicked it over to view the chamber.

 

Four shells in the chamber.

 

He cocked the shotgun, and for four blank shells, pumped each one into the target ahead of him. One to the head and three to the chest, like he did it everyday. The gun was heavy in his hands and the barrel had begun to burn his fingers.

 

He replaced it and moved on.

 

Next was a magnum; engraved on its side in the silver read the words ‘LIGHTNING HAWK’. Leon picked it up, checked again and hurriedly replaced the empty chamber with seven rounds. The force of the magnum was not unlike the shotgun’s push, but Leon held strong despite the surprising force.

 

Seven rounds and seven expertly placed shots later, Leon disassembled the weapon and moved on.

 

The final gun was an SR M1903. Leon only knew its exact type because it was a prize weapon over at the gun shop across the street. It must have been a brand new buy, because Leon couldn’t see any wear or tear along the handle or barrel. He checked the gun, finding a single bullet on the inside of the chamber, a presumably intentional addition.

 

He aimed down sights, scope up to his eye, adjusting with careful, precise movements. He aimed for the head, and the silhouetted target exploded from the blast. The head’s sticker fell into tattered pieces on the floor and Leon lowered the rifle, replacing it down on the counter with the safety on.

 

There was a click.

 

Leon turned to Wesker who had snapped his thumb down on the timer to stop it ticking. From behind the shades, Leon couldn’t tell what he was thinking. But for a while, he stared at the time in silence.

 

Finally, the captain turned away and replaced the timer on the nearby table. There was a notepad and pen waiting for him, and the captain scribbled down the results before flipping it shut and placing it into his pocket.

 

‘Sir-’

 

‘Very good.’ His voice was still that same stern tone, but Leon felt his chest swell with pride. ‘You were just two seconds short of beating Valentine’s time.’

 

‘Is that-?’

 

‘Good? For a cop, yes.’ That fucking smirk was back, and Leon felt his pride deflate from his chest. Leon’s blue eyes fell to the floor, feeling himself biting back his anxiety. He hadn’t expected this assessment to make him so self-conscious; after all, he didn’t want this. But it still meant something, that he wasn’t doing as well as he had hoped.

 

There was a slight pressure on Leon’s shoulder, drawing his eyes from the floor and to the hand that rested there. He followed the hand to the wrist and then up the length of one strong arm and to the shoulder, then past the collar of a S.T.A.R.S uniform and up to the captain’s face. Against Leon’s shoulder, that hand was warm and not as tight or harsh against his person as Wesker had proven to be.

 

Instead, it seemed an awkward attempt at reassurance, and Leon felt his skin blossoming with heat. He hoped that in the darker, flickering lights of the basement, the captain wouldn’t see the flush reddening his cheeks.

 

‘You did well.’ The captain pat his hand once against Leon’s shoulder once and then stepped around him. The hand withdrew and the cool ripped Leon’s eyes away from staring into the captain’s dark glasses. He swallowed around that lump in his throat, the one that threatened to halt his breathing, and hurried to follow the captain out.

 

‘Next up is the driving test.’

 

And suddenly that anxiety was back.

Notes:

Whoo! One test down and now... *checks notes. Promptly shits self*... The driver's test XD

Chapter 5

Notes:

Trigger Warnings:
- Vomiting
- Physical Violence
- Swearing
- Broken Bones

It was just as much a disaster as Leon had expected.

 

It wasn’t captain Wesker in the passenger seat though, but another S.T.A.R.S officer by the name of Brad Vickers, their vehicle and engineering expert. He had seemed confident when Leon met him, shaking his hand; he expected them to pass with perfect scores, as it was unusual for anyone to fail the driving test.

 

And then Leon was instructed to take his place behind the wheel.

 

The course was set up out the back of the precinct; long, thin channels constructed of pylons, bright lights and targets set up about the road.

 

He had to both drive the vehicle and be prepared to shoot the targets as they passed.

 

As if it wasn’t already a given he would fail, they just had to incorporate multitasking into the driving test. If they had put him on a motorcycle, he would not be so worried, but Leon had always found cars to be too bulky and he didn’t care for their restricted turns.

 

Still, the shooting he passed with flying colours.

 

The actual driving test, however…

 

Vickers had stepped out of the car the moment they skidded to a stop, sickly pale and on wobbling legs. They gave out from under him almost immediately and, to Leon’s shame, there was the sound of retching. He gripped the wheel tight and rested his forehead against it, his face flushed a bright red from embarrassment. Lifting his gaze up from the steering wheel, he had caught sight of captain Wesker chuckling at Vickers' discomfort, his pen grazing the writing pad he had picked up from the gun range.

 

Somehow, Leon figured that the captain knew he was going to fail.

 

Still, despite the humiliation that settled deep within his gut, Leon tried to think positively about the results. After all, he hadn’t wanted to be part of S.T.A.R.S, and one failed test was almost definitely going to guarantee his return to the West office and all the police officer’s friendly faces. Marvin would reprimand him again, probably, for squandering the opportunity, but Leon didn’t really mind.

 

Anything was better than being scrutinized under the captain’s hidden gaze.

 

He stepped out of the car, in time to smell the lunch that Vickers' had emptied onto the concrete, and stepped away with an apologetic look. His ears had turned red and he was hiding his eyes from the captain and Vickers' own looks.

 

‘How’d he do, Brad?’ For a few moments, there was incredulous silence from Vickers' as the man vaguely gestured to Leon, to the car and then to the ruined course.

 

‘D-… Did you even see what happened?’

 

‘Of course, but I want your honest opinion.’ The captain wasn’t smirking, but his words were lilted with amusement at his officer’s bewilderment. ‘Brad?’

 

‘Uh…?’ The older officer turned to look at Leon, who had not lifted his gaze from his suddenly very interesting boots, and then back to captain Wesker. ‘Well, I think I can say in confidence that he failed the driving test.’

 

‘Shooting?’

 

‘Uh… I mean, it was perfect. All shots made and all of them lethal.’

 

‘Vehicle damage?’

 

‘N-… None?’

 

‘And time?’ Vickers seemed to shudder, thinking back to his time in the passenger seat with almost certain trauma.

 

‘He made the time, but-!’ Vickers was interrupted by Wesker’s hand up, the telltale sign to shut his mouth. The captain rifled through a couple of pages, noting down the ailing officer's assessment. As he thought over the results, the end of the pen found a place balanced between his hand and the curve of his bottom lip.

 

‘According to the exam conditions, he passed the test.’

 

What?!

 

Leon’s head shot up, blue eyes wide in just as much fear as Vickers' own, twisted face. The S.T.A.R.S officer, in a rare act of assertiveness, snatched the papers from Wesker’s grasp and looked at them himself. His nose was so close to the paper, Leon wasn’t sure if he was reading them or sniffing them.

 

‘They’re your own assessment details, Brad.’ Wesker’s smirk was peaking at the corners of his lips. ‘He didn’t meet any of the immediate failure conditions, and he passed the 60% mark; an acceptable passing grade.’

 

Vickers' skin, only just recovering from the sickly pallor he had held since the first ten seconds of the driving test, suddenly turned sheet white. If he looked sickly before, now he just looked afraid.

 

‘Sir… You can’t be serious-’

 

‘Have you ever known me to joke, Brad?’ Wesker snatched back the papers with a firm hand, his tone now a growl. He was uninterested in listening to Vickers' attempting to reason him out of passing Leon and, instead, stepped around him and over to the rookie who had remained rooted to the spot in shock.

 

‘Come along, Kennedy. We have one last test for you.’ He didn’t wait for Leon to answer or to fall in line beside him. Leon had only a moment to catch up before the captain pushed the doors open and entered in without looking back to see if he had caught up. He could only offer one last, apologetic look to Vickers' as the doors shut behind them.

 

He hoped the man wouldn’t hold a grudge.

 

‘Sir?’ Captain Wesker didn’t seem to pay him much mind. Whether he was listening or not, Leon decided to continue talking. ‘I don’t think I should be here. You heard officer Vickers, sir. I should have failed that test and-’

 

‘I have no interest in your pitiful self-degradation, Kennedy.’ He shut him down quickly and threw a look over his shoulder in Leon’s direction. From how he moved his head, Leon caught sight of the irritated glare of steel-grey eyes behind those dark shades and Leon’s jaw snapped shut. ‘I told you; I have no interest in wasting my time, and I am certain that assessing you to be apart of S.T.A.R.S is no waste. I want only the best on my team and, despite your best efforts to tear up the driving course, you have proven yourself to be better than most. Are you aware that you are the only one, besides myself and Redfield, to have gotten a one-hundred percent score for the shooting segment?’

 

Leon was not aware.

 

Despite the humiliation stewing in his gut, he felt a lighter sensation as his chest swelled with a small sense of pride. To be the only other one to match up to Wesker in the target practice was an amazing boost to his ego, but the last thing he wanted was to let his pride swell too far.

 

‘I didn’t know, sir.’

 

‘Well, now you do.’

 

Wesker led Leon through the back corridors of the RPD, abandoned art storage rooms, the medical wing and then finally, through a set of double doors. The room was supposed to be an entrance hall not unlike the lobby, with tall columns and marble floors, but it was smaller and with thick, blue mats laid across the floor. There was a punching bag, some gymnastics equipment in the corner, ready to be laid out for training, and a free, open space in the centre of the hall.

 

In the centre of that space was another officer, one Leon hadn’t met but he had heard only good things about.

 

Wesker’s second-in-command, Chris Redfield, was standing in the middle of the mats, hands on his hips and his bulkier vest and pouches deposited haphazardly to one corner of the open space. As they entered, he greeted them with a half wave and a large, contagious smile. Almost immediately, Leon felt his own lips pull into a small smile in return.

 

‘Officer Leon Kennedy, Commander Redfield.’ Wesker introduced them and Leon took Chris’ outstretched hand. It was strong, firm and encompassed Leon’s almost entirely. He was a bigger man than Leon, not only in height, but also his build. He was, at least, six feet tall and built like an armoured truck, even with his weapons nowhere to be seen. Leon caught himself staring, withdrawing his hand with a nervous half-chuckle.

 

‘Nice to meet you, Leon. Ignore the formalities; you can call me Chris.’ His voice was warmer than Wesker’s too. The two S.T.A.R.S officers dwarfed him almost completely, Leon more lithe than the both of them, shorter and with his face still lined with a thin layer of baby fat. He felt like a child between them, so small and outmatched in such close quarters.

 

‘Nice to meet you, Chris.’ He said softly, shifting from foot to foot nervously.

 

‘Wesker’s been telling me all about you. It’s not easy to impress the captain.’ Redfield barked with laughter, but Leon didn’t join him and neither did the captain. ‘I look forward to working with you.’

 

‘I won’t be-’

 

‘Enough.’ Wesker interjected with a growl, stepping closer to Leon, forcing the rookie to take a step back from Chris. ‘Are you ready for your final exam?’

 

‘The physical combat?’

 

‘Correct.’ Wesker stepped away, gesturing to Leon’s gun. ‘Take it off and anything else to make you feel more comfortable. We’ll have three rounds and then you can hit the showers.’

 

‘How do I know if I win?’ Chris laughed again, Leon’s ears and cheeks turning that flustered red again.

 

‘If you win, you’ll have gotten me on the floor out of the ring or knocked out cold.’ It was then that Leon realised that they were standing in the middle of a white, chalk ring, drawn into the mat beneath his feet. ‘No shoes either. We want to keep any chance of a break to a minimum.’

 

‘You?’ Leon looked between Wesker, who had stepped out of the circle, and Chris. ‘I’m fighting you?’

 

‘Don’t worry, kid. I can’t go easy on ya, but I’ll be as nice as the captain will let me.’

 

There was a sense of relief that washed over Leon, knowing he wouldn’t have to get into close quarters with the captain, but he was dreading fighting the Redfield powerhouse. He had seen what the man had done to other officers both on and off the S.T.A.R.S team. At least one had to be sent to hospital that he knew about, Chris being the first and most constant visitor that officer had throughout his stay.

 

He was a big puppy, according to the other officers, but with one nasty bite.

 

‘If the round hasn’t ended by the five minute mark, it’ll be marked as a win. So long as you remain in the circle, conscious and do not give up, it will be a point in your favour.’ Leon nodded at the captain, unclasping his holster and delicately replacing his gun on the ground beside Chris’. Boots were kicked off, followed by his socks and then he stripped himself of the police uniform vest.

 

He stepped back into the ring, Chris taking the opposite ‘corner’. Chris was crouched low, hands in fists and ready to trade blows. Leon bounced on the balls of his feet, rolling his hesitance and weariness off his shoulders with a shuddering shrug. His hands came up, just in front of his face, relaxed but open, ready to catch the blows that would surely come.

 

Wesker had pulled out that same timer from the shooting range.

 

‘Begin.’

 

Chris charged in, faster than Leon had expected, and like a bull he ran through Leon’s defence. His arms wrapped tight around Leon’s middle and he began to push, dragging Leon back and towards the white line. He couldn’t escape his grasp; Redfield’s grip was too strong and he realised that he would be pushed over the threshold almost immediately. He had only moments to consider his options.

 

He gripped Chris’ shoulders and swooped low, pushing his legs forward and underneath the giant of a man. With all his effort, he brought Chris’ weight and strength down onto him and let Redfield force himself up and tumble over his head. He rolled over Leon, winding him and leaving the rookie gasping for air, as Chris tumbled forward into a somersault. He landed on his hands and knees, swiveled, and prepared to charge when there was a click of the timer.

 

‘Point to Kennedy.’ Both Leon and Chris’ eyes trailed down to the mat, the smear of white chalk revealing that Leon had, in fact, managed to switch their positions. Chris had pushed Leon back, but Leon had turned Chris onto the outer field and had let the man follow through with his attack.

 

Redfield had passed over the line in their brief struggle.

 

There was a disbelieving laugh from Chris as he stood up, brushing off invisible dirt. Leon, despite still gulping down much needed oxygen, let out a few shaky laughs of his own.

 

The first round was his.

 

‘You’re a slippery bastard, aren’tcha?’ Chris stepped back into the line, helping Leon up with an easy pull. Leon rest a hand on his chest, rubbing at tender flesh. There may have been a bruise, but until he hit the showers, he wasn’t going to inspect it.

 

‘Nope.’ He popped the ‘p’ playfully. ‘Just lucky.’

 

‘We’ll see about that.’

 

Wesker cleared his throat, ending their little back and forth.

 

It was unlikely Chris would try that tactic again. Even if he did, Leon was sure that he wouldn’t be able to pull the same trick again. He was lucky for it to have worked so easily, but maybe it was just Chris taking it easy on him.

 

They assumed their stances, Chris no longer stooped as low to the floor as he had been before. Much the same as Leon, his hands were up, still clasped into fists.

 

‘Again.’ The timer clicked.

 

This time, however, they spent a few seconds circling their arena. Chris wasn’t as flighty as Leon, but that may have been because the man could withstand a few punches. He wasn’t being so cocksure this time though, and was eyeing Leon just as cautiously as Leon was him.

 

It was Leon that breached the gap.

 

He struck forward, as fast as he could and ducked under a wide strike from Chris. He turned, wheeling his whole body around to get as much build as he could, before his roundhouse kick met Chris’ face. The kick was hard and it sent the man back a moment, reeling from the blow. For a second, Leon was sure he had done something to the man, but his hopes were dashed.

 

Chris recovered quickly and returned with full force. One and two and through and through, there was a hailstorm of punches dealt between them. Leon couldn’t dodge, only block with the point of his elbow and a lucky catch with his hand. But Chris didn’t let him hold that hand for long, catching Leon’s gut with his other fist and knocking him off his feet.

 

He flew a couple feet across the mat, tumbling and rolling onto his side, hand pressed to his aching ribs. He spluttered, trying not to barf up the small breakfast he had managed before heading to Wesker’s office. He struggled to pull himself up, but was forced to roll out of the way as Chris brought his elbow down, hard, where Leon had been laying. There was a heavy thud and the mat caved in where the elbow met the floor, Leon breathing a sigh of relief that it missed his ribs.

 

He took the precious seconds to flip back up and onto his feet, racing back over to Chris and wrapping his arms tight around the man’s shoulders and neck. He tried to place the trachea in the crook of his elbow, pulling tight and wrapping his legs over Chris’ shoulders too. He tried to keep the struggling man as top heavy as possible, unable to stand or move without being dragged back down to the floor.

 

Blow after blow connected with his thighs, desperately trying to fight him off. Finally, Chris gave up on trying to force him off, instead, he forced himself to stand, despite Leon’s best efforts. Supported by Chris’ shoulders and off the floor, Leon felt those strong hands grip his leg and twist. He cried out, loosening his grip and slipping free from Chris’ shoulders with a heavy smack against the floor.

 

He groaned, attempting to stand back up, only to feel a knee connect with his back, right between his shoulder blades. His arms were twisted behind him, tightly pressed there in such a way that, if he struggled too hard, would release them from their sockets. His mind was racing, looking around for a way, anyway, to escape his predicament when there was a click of a timer.

 

Chris released him immediately and helped him up with a gentle hand. Leon’s shoulders creaked with relief and he graciously took the hand offered to him. He was stood up on shaking legs and given a once-over by Chris, who was giving him a small, embarrassed smile.

 

‘You feelin’ okay, Leon?’

 

‘Y-Yeah…’ Leon rolled his shoulders. He winced. ‘Just feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. Twice.’

 

They shared a brief, breathless laugh. Despite Leon ultimately losing the round, it seemed both he and Chris were running a little low on stamina.

 

‘I’m glad you’re okay. Do you need a break or…?’

 

‘I’m fine. Let’s go again.’ Leon said, head in the game and all too willing to give it another go. Physical fights were an adrenaline rush and always something he enjoyed practicing at the academy. ‘It’s just one more round, right?’

 

Wesker nodded.

 

Leon couldn’t tell if his fighting was impressing the man or not. It was the quietest the captain had been since the assessments had begun. Was he impressed with Leon’s skills in combat, or just critical of them? After all, he did just lose that previous round with Chris because of his own mistake. He should have realised he couldn’t overpower the man.

 

Once more, Leon and Chris took up their positions across the circle.

 

Once more, the timer clicked.

 

They circled for a few seconds and then Chris closed the gap. He ran in, punch aimed towards Leon’s head. Leon had only a moment to block it when Chris swung low, missing Leon entirely. For a second, the blonde was confused, eyes tracking Chris as he stooped to the floor and then turned his body in a low-spun kick.

 

Leon’s legs were swept out from underneath him, careening him back into the mat. He landed on his back with a yelp, but he didn’t have the time to ponder the pain. Instead, he put his gymnastics into action, hands above his hand propelling him into a short leap into the air and back onto his feet. Chris was still low so Leon brought his foot up high, as high as it could go, and brought it down on the man’s shoulder. It connected with a thud and a groan from Chris, before those strong hands gripped his leg.

 

He was tossed like he weighed nothing, twisting in the air and digging his toes and fingers into the mat to stop his motion towards the line. He was toeing the line when Chris charged him again. Leon leapt out of the way, but Redfield expected it. He didn’t careen over the line like he did the first round, instead twisting and repeating Leon’s own tactic back at him, raising his leg high and bringing it down as hard as he could.

 

It caught his hand.

 

Leon screamed, loud and visceral. He could swear he felt something snap, and he twisted his hand out from underneath Chris’ heel. He eyed it for a moment, both Wesker and Chris standing up and hurrying over to his side. Wesker crouched beside him, attempting to smooth his hands over Leon’s arm and down to his injury, whilst Chris remained standing, running his hands through his short brown hair under the stress.

 

‘Shit! I’m so sorry, Leon! I didn’t mean-’

 

‘Shut it!’ Wesker snapped at him, his glare obvious despite the shades. He reached for Leon’s hand, but the rookie shrugged him off, hiding the injury from sight. He had tucked his hand under the crook of his arm, applying heat in a desperate attempt to ease the pain.

 

‘Let me look.’

 

‘No. I’m fine.’ Leon breathed, wiggling his fingers slightly. His hand flared up in pain like fire had been set to it and he hissed, pulling away from Wesker’s surprisingly gentle hand on his shoulder. ‘I can keep going.’

 

‘Leon, no. We’re not continuing this now-’ Wesker threw another glare Chris’ way, silently demanding he shut his mouth. Hesitantly, Chris fell silent.

 

‘Are you sure, Leon?’ Wesker’s voice was soft, right against his ear and his hands were resting firmly on Leon’s shoulders. ‘We can continue, but there is no shame in backing out now.’

 

He knew that.

 

In fact, it was in his best interest to back out. If he walked away, he wouldn’t likely pass the assessment and would be allowed to continue his work as a regular beat cop. His dream job; what he had always wanted.

 

But he didn’t want to give up.

 

He had always been told at the academy that he had a bit of a defiant streak. Even the hazing that his peers put him through and the tests he was simply not expected to beat; his commanding officers had told him he just wasn’t good at giving up.

 

‘I… I want to keep going.’

 

Chris and Wesker shared a brief look before the former sighed in defeat. He helped Leon back up, taking his other hand with care, whilst Wesker stepped back and over to where he had been standing before. He picked up the writing pad and papers and the timer from the floor where he had dropped them. Leon hadn’t realised they had been tossed aside in favour of helping him.

 

It made him flush a little. Thankfully, it was hidden by his cheeks being already red from the pain.

 

He kept his arm tucked close to his chest, even as he took his stance. He was off balance without one arm, but Leon wanted to do this. He didn’t want to be forced out of these exams because he gave up. He wanted to test his worth, even despite the damage to his hand.

 

‘I’m ready.’

 

Wesker clicked the button on the timer.

 

‘Begin.’

 

Their final round was a flurry of blows from Chris, all of Leon’s efforts focused on just dodging them all and blocking the few he couldn’t with his free arm. He was relieved to know that Chris was not taking it any easier on him due to his injury, and Leon’s plan was simple; run down the clock. He would pass so long as he remained in the ring for five minutes.

 

He could do it.

 

He leapt over a low kick, ducked under a haymaker and reeled back from another swipe. Despite Chris’ efforts and Leon’s injury, the rookie was still faster. He led the other around the ring, knowing his strategy couldn’t last forever. And he was right.

 

Chris caught on.

 

Chris backed off, regaining his breath. He smirked, still enjoying their clash despite the lack of blows dealt. He charged Leon again, a full-body blow not so easily dodged when one was expecting a punch. His shoulder connected with Leon’s guts, but he didn’t push. He knew Leon’s strategy for that, so instead, he pulled. Leon was hoisted off his feet, high above Chris’ head, and brought down as hard as he could against the mat.

 

Leon curled in, rolling away from the onslaught just barely. His back hurt from the blow, but it would have been worse if he hadn’t relaxed. He knew a judo throw when he saw it.

 

He hadn’t rolled far and Chris was in his space again. He ducked under a fist and twisted himself around and behind Chris. His good arm was snagged, but he kicked his legs out, using them to run up and propel himself into a flip. He threw Chris to the floor beneath him with the momentum and dropped onto his chest with both feet.

 

Chris was about to push himself up and force him off when the timer clicked for the final time.

 

‘Round’s over. Point to Kennedy.’

 

Leon rolled off of Chris with a rush of much needed oxygen filling his lungs. He laid there on the mat, staring up at the high ceiling with a sense of pride. He had made it. He had done it.

 

‘You alright, Leon?’ Chris was knelt beside him, offering to help him up. Leon didn’t pay much mind, waving it away with his good hand. He just needed a breather and some time to rest, his eyelids drooping heavily. He could fall asleep where he was, in fact, it seemed like a wonderful idea.

 

‘Kennedy?’ Wesker spoke then, leaning over Leon’s sight. ‘Leon? Are you still with us?’

 

He felt gentle, probing hands over his body, wincing as they brushed over bruising flesh and tender, closed wounds. He could faintly hear Wesker speaking to him, but he could not make sense of the words. Chris disappeared with an order from his captain, disappearing from sight and leaving just him and Wesker in the gymnasium.

 

‘Leon. Leon, I’m here. Your adrenaline’s run out. You’re going to pass out.’

 

Was he?

 

Is that what was happening?

 

‘You’ll be okay. Chris has gone to get the nurse.’ A gloved hand came to rest against his brow, soaking up the heat from the fight. He felt sweaty and gross and he cringed at how it must have felt to Wesker, touching his skin. His injured hand curled on habit and he whined, pulling it close, only to feel the captain take it. His grip was gentle and his words, no longer something Leon could understand, were spoken in a gentle voice just above his ear.

 

It wasn’t long after that his world turned dark.

Notes:

Finally! Sorry for the delay!
It took me a while to work out how to get this chapter out. I was originally going to put the whole driving test here, but in the end I decided it wasn't all that important to the plot. Sorry if anyone was looking forward to that! XD
Anyways, I hope you enjoyed reading so far!

Chapter 6

Notes:

Trigger Warnings:
- Swearing
- Human Experimentation
- Referenced Animal Experimentation
- Body Horror
- Minor Gore

‘Test G:V-0214; failure. Subject’s mutation deteriorated… Again…’

William sighed loudly into the tape recorder, leaning forward in his seat to drop his head into his hands. It was becoming a common sight, his stress palpable and growing with each passing day that he failed to acquire the desired results. His blonde hair had started turning silver along his ears and every day he seemed sicker; pale and clammy. Always nervous and looking over his shoulder for the dreaded higher-ups, with their steep demands and threats of turning his work over to someone else.

Wesker observed him from the door, pitying the struggling man. William had always been brilliant, and it was exactly that which drew Wesker to his side when they first met. They had grown close over the years but Wesker’s resolve had thinned, dealing with the man’s outbursts of paranoia and growing anxiety. There was a sense of loyalty to the one man in the world he would consider a ‘friend’ that stopped him from cutting him off like a leper’s limb. He didn’t care for that loyalty, not when S.T.A.R.S was already wriggling their way into his life outside of work and William had gone the extra mile to name him godfather to Sherry.

People were his to manipulate and use, like any other tool.

And still he had become attached.

‘Mutation developed from injection site first. Within twenty minutes, the subject experienced fever symptoms, swelling around the injection site and suffered from delirium. By the one hour mark, the subject was exhibiting signs of enhanced aggression and inflammation of the site that put stress on the body. And-’

‘It expired?’

William near leapt out of his chair, switching the tape recorder off with a click! He looked about ready to sprint for the door and take the whole computer with him, until he realised that it was Wesker in the observation room with him. He slumped back into his seat with a heaving sigh, clutching at his heart and offering a spiteful glare.

‘Must you sneak about?’

‘I need not sneak. You’re far too enraptured in your work to notice.’

William huffed, blowing his fringe out of his eyes and replacing the tape recorder back down on the table. He pulled at his tie, loosening the noose and offering Wesker a seat with a lazy wave of his hand. Wesker didn’t particularly want to sit, but it was considered polite amongst most others to take the offered pleasantry, so he did. He crossed the room and sat beside William, peering through the glass and down at the testing chamber below.

There was an open containment cell slotted into place by a giant, mechanical claw. It was an overly expensive way to move their subjects about without having to release them from their cells under unreliable sedative doses. In the centre of the chamber was a figure that would have once been human; likely a criminal or one of the city’s homeless. But what was left certainly did not appear human.

Whoever they were before no longer mattered. Now, they were an open wound of sinewy muscle and inflamed tendons; a bulbous, weeping eye crushed between the crook of one hunched shoulder and under a jaw full of teeth. The eye twitching, looking between the lights above and their figures in the window was the only sign that the subject was still alive.

It was surprising that William’s efforts had some success, but the subject was destined to be terminated. Wesker could observe how the mutation was still desperately trying to grow despite the unfortunate location of its new, vital organ.

‘Is this what all your excitement over the phone was for?’ The scientist shifted in his seat, not meeting Wesker’s hidden eyes.

‘It had been going so well…’

‘You got your hopes up over this?’ Wesker was in complete disbelief. ‘After months of work, all you have to show is that it can still live, despite being crippled by its own mutation?’

‘I thought-’

‘What use is its survival if it can’t even stand up?’

William buried his head in his hands and from behind his palms, Wesker could make out some muffled sniffles. He rolled his eyes, sitting back in his chair and trying to calm down a little. He wasn’t usually so spurred to aggression, not that easily anyway, but to be dragged away from his own work at the RPD was frustrating. And all for a failure that William should have seen coming.

‘Has Annette’s research provided anything useful to your work?’ William shook his head, pulling his hands down his face and dragging his exhausted features with him. He sighed, eyes red from the bright lights and lack of sleep, then turned his attention back to the test subject, still prone on the floor of the testing chamber.

‘Her work on T has uncovered its suitability to creatures of all types and not just mammals. Recently, she exposed some reptiles to the virus to varying success.’

‘Good.’ It was good. It was another small success that would appease the Umbrella corporate for a period of time. At least, by the end of the week, Annette and William wouldn’t be subject to having their funding cut or their work redistributed.

‘Yeah. Yeah… She’s… She’s doing good. Her work is going well- certainly better than mine.’ He huffed a small laugh, tired and frustrated. ‘I just… It would be good if I could produce something more stable.’ His voice had begun to rise, and he turned his reddened eyes down at the mutant in the chamber, lips twisted into a sneer.

‘Something fucking useful for once!’ He slammed his hand on an illuminated red button. The containment cell door slid shut with a grating screech of steel against steel. A flashing red light strobed across the white room, that bulbous eye flicking about as it tried to pinpoint the location of the siren that had begun to blare.

In all four corners of the room, the heads of small pipes appeared from slots in the wall. They began to spew viscous liquid into the chamber and as it poured in, flooding it quickly, the subject began to screech and squeal. From the observation room, Wesker and William watched as the subject’s tendons began to melt away in the acid bath, the easiest way for Umbrella to terminate an unwanted subject. Afterwards, it would be decontaminated with a high-grade sterilizer that would stink up the room for days.

William, having let a little of his frustration out, sat back in his seat with a small, tired smile. Destroying something worthless was a quick way to relieve some stress, and some of the scientists took great pleasure in the destruction of their failures. William was one of them.

‘Feel better?’

‘Much.’ That tired smile turned coy and Wesker smirked. There was the William he preferred. A little bit manic and certainly cruel, but a genius nonetheless.

‘Was subject G:V-0214 the only reason you wanted to see me?’ He asked, hoping it was. Though he had enjoyed watching the subject melt into little more than a crimson puddle, he wanted to return to the police station. He had some much needed paperwork to fill out, including the incident forms regarding Kennedy’s injury in the gymnasium.

‘Nah… Annette wanted me to ask you about someone…’

‘Oh?’ That caught his interest. It wasn’t often that they wanted him to investigate or kill someone; that was usually left up to the other members of Umbrella’s intelligence division, or the security service. ‘And who is that?’

‘I don’t know his name, but some guy requested an interview with Annette. Said he wanted to discuss some of Umbella’s ‘pharmaceutical triumphs’ or some shit like that. She agreed and then he turned the whole interview around. Apparently he started asking about bioweapons and even the orphanage. She shut it down, but she thinks he’s working for someone else. She’s worried it’s someone trying to steal something.’

That did catch Wesker’s interest.

Of course, Umbrella had its competitors, both in pharmaceutical drugs and the bioweapons industry. But their reputation was still stainless amongst the regular populace. If someone was trying to uncover their underground operations, then they were aware of Umbrella’s more questionable research and business deals. They would have to be dealt with, and soon.

‘I’ll look into it, but for the time being, have Annette file a report to the police with a description of him. If she can give me his name personally, even better, but the report will make less of my colleagues question his arrest.’

‘Sure.’

‘Have her come up with a story and make sure it’s believable. I’m sure, with a small fee, Irons will assist with manipulating some arrest records.’

‘Will do.’ William nodded, a crooked smile on his features. ‘Can’t thank you enough.’

‘You can show your appreciation by not calling me during work hours. It’s distracting and if someone was to answer that wasn’t me, you certainly can’t start your sentences with demanding I come down to NEST.’ His voice was a warning growl, and it made William shrink into his chair in embarrassment.

‘Makes sense…’

‘Don’t let it happen again.’ Wesker stood from his seat, brushing invisible dust from the lapels of his lab coat. ‘Do give my best to Annette and Sherry.’

‘I will.’

‘I’d best be getting back to the office.’ Wesker stepped away and over to the door. Just as the door slid open, a recorded, effeminate voice detailing his level 4 clearance, he heard William behind him.

‘Uh, actually… I did have one more question.’

Wesker reigned it in. William could irritate him when he didn’t relay his intentions quickly, and Wesker’s lack of presence would no doubt be noted. It may not stir suspicion, but ducking down to NEST within work hours was something he had to cover up. Any potential give away that Umbrella was involved in the affairs of the police department behind the scenes had to be removed or covered up, and if anyone did discover it, they had to be silenced one way or another.

‘Quickly.’

‘I was just wondering… about S.T.A.R.S?’

‘What about them?’ He turned, eyeing William with a glare the man couldn’t see. Still, William seemed to hesitate, as if he could determine his building frustration.

‘Will we have enough? I mean, test subjects…? The higher-ups want to implement a test within the next couple of months and they want to be sure that they’ll receive plenty of combat data before they sell the T-virus. I know you’ve got the best of the best among your little guinea pigs, but they wanted to be sure that you’d get enough for the T-virus’ promotion?’

Wesker chuckled.

‘Of course. In fact, I happen to be preparing one for testing as we speak.’ His thoughts trailed to the sight of Leon Kennedy in the hospital, his hand being delicately wrapped by a nurse. Despite his injury, he was all charming smiles and sweet words. ‘Give him a few weeks and then my S.T.A.R.S will be ready.’

He turned his back on William.

‘Of that, I promise.’

Chapter 7

Notes:

Trigger Warnings:
- Missing Persons
- Implied Human Deaths (if you know Resident Evil)
- Implied Animal Deaths (if you know Resident Evil)
- Swearing
- Manipulation

‘I thought you were getting’ out of here.’

 

Leon caught the pen with his good hand, giving Marvin a crooked smile as he looked at him over the height of his desk. His other hand was trapped in a tight cast, itchy and uncomfortably gritty with built up sweat. He was looking forward to it coming off the following week, his fingers twitching with hardly hidden excitement.

 

‘Well, you thought wrong. Haven’t heard back from the captain since he gave me that ‘Get Well’ card.’

 

‘That’s unusually kind of him.’

 

‘Jill told me he bought it at a gas station after he got nagged by Rebecca.’ He chuckled. He placed pen to paper, checking off some boxes and signing along a pair of dotted lines. From somewhere behind the wall of folders and personal items, Leon could hear Marvin’s snicker.

 

‘That sounds right. It’s not like him to get all sentimental.’

 

‘I figured that. Doesn’t seem the type.’

 

Of course, Leon had seen how quickly captain Wesker had come to his aid in the gymnasium. He had moved quickly, had ordered Chris with urgency Leon hadn’t heard before, and then spoke so softly to him as he passed out. Those words were so gentle, despite how factual they were. It had been odd, and so out of place, Leon never thought to mention it to anyone else when they teased him about Wesker’s cold behaviour.

 

They were all content believing the captain didn’t have the heart to be empathetic.

 

Leon decided not to mention Wesker’s kindness.

 

He felt the captain would appreciate keeping his reputation clear, so to speak. Not that him being capable of empathy was so horrible, but Leon figured that he would appreciate not having the younger officers gossip. So, he kept his mouth shut.

 

And so had Wesker.

 

Leon hadn’t heard anything back about his assessment for the S.T.A.R.S team, from either the captain or chief Irons, and though he was delighted to be back at work at his assigned desk, he couldn’t help but feel… Tense. That sensation of unease and anticipation; not knowing if you did well or fucked up hard, like waiting for your grade on a massive, high school exam.

 

When Marvin had all but dragged him to his home to stay, not allowing him to sleep in his car with the broken hand, the Branagh residence was flooded with little cards. Chris had sent him a couple coupons for a burger joint down the street from the precinct, and a donut shop around the corner. Rebecca had drawn up her own and had marked her name and Enrico’s in the card. A few other officers had offered small cards, mostly with little teases at him getting his ass kicked by Redfield, and there was at least one with a press of red lipstick to the inside.

 

Wesker’s card had been casually tossed on his desk his first day back at work; he was dropping off paperwork and then passed Leon by without even a glance. With a small flick of the wrist, a card was extracted from the pile of manila folders in Wesker’s arm and then tossed onto Leon’s papers, right under his nose.

 

It smelled of gasoline. Leon didn’t need Rebecca to confirm it was simply a pity present, but he accepted it graciously. He tried to thank him, much like he had done with everyone who had given him a card, but the captain was impossible to catch. He was either in his office, the S.T.A.R.S’ front door locked for anyone that wasn’t one of its officers, or leaving the office. And Leon was hardly interested in camping out the showers or parking lot to catch the captain’s notice.

 

Despite how anxiously he was trying to distract himself from his assessment results.

 

‘Yeah… Captain’s never been one for nice gestures. Practically rules this place with an iron fist, certainly more so than the chief. Every day I question why I bother to listen to that ass…’

 

Leon looked over at Marvin, quirking one brown up.

 

‘I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak ill of a superior before.’

 

‘And in the office, you never will again.’ Marvin chuckled, taking a long sip of room temperature coffee. ‘I don’t like the idea of getting my ass kicked today.’

 

They settled into comfortable silence, pouring over their work and scratching their answers in half dried ink. Leon’s foot bounced impatiently, as it always did when he wasn’t on the streets, trying to keep his eyes focused on the papers before him.

 

A few missing persons reports, most of those missing last detailed as hiking, going for a morning jog or walking their dog in the Arklay mountains. There was one report for a working girl whose friend hadn’t seen her in three weeks after she got into a car with a paying customer. It wasn’t a good sign, especially since the residence had no signs of being lived in during the last three weeks.

 

Kidnapping maybe? Murder perhaps…

 

Either way, it wasn’t a good sign.

 

And then there were the missing person reports for the Arklay mountains. More and more were piling up and the precinct was struggling to find room for them all. There were no links between any of those that disappeared except their location and the Arklay county sheriff hadn’t been too forthcoming about any further details on the cases.

 

It was bizarre, and a little daunting.

 

He didn’t know for how long he sat there, reading over the reports and signing off on papers. Only that by the time Marvin stretched and stood with a startling squeak from his seat, Leon’s left wrist was aching to be twisted and stretched to ease the cramping. Marvin swiped his jacket off the back of his chair and patted himself down, ensuring he had his wallet and keys. Leon knew that it was time to leave, placing the reports into their respective folders and lightly tapping them on the desk to sort them.

 

‘Don’t be too long getting those to the record room. I can practically smell Grace’s pot roast from here.’

 

‘I’ll be quick.’ Leon promised, standing and collecting his own jacket. He jogged, aching to get his legs moving after being stuck behind a desk the past couple of weeks, passing by other tired officers and the night squad.

 

He dropped off the files, signing them off in the logbook then headed for the parking lot. He jogged back through the hall, through the lobby and into the east wing, shucking his jacket over one arm. Then, a firm hand caught him by the shoulder, Leon whipping about in surprise and ready to defend himself, still healing hand be damned.

 

A pair of dark glasses and a self-satisfied smirk caught his attention first, Leon’s cheeks reddening in embarrassment at being caught surprised. He cleared his throat, relaxing and shrugging off the hand on his shoulder so he could finish pulling his other arm into his jacket.

 

‘C-Captain Wesker, sir. You… I wasn’t expecting you.’

 

‘I can tell.’

 

Leon’s blue eyes turned down the hall, past the press room and to the fork that, if he turned left, would lead him out the back door and to the parking lot where Marvin was waiting. He shuffled from one foot to the other, not quite looking at the captain.

 

There was an awkward stretch of silence between them, the captain stoic, staring and not saying a word, whilst Leon was anxious and feeling unprepared for the sudden meeting.

 

‘Uh, Marvin’s waiting for me, so I shou-’

 

‘He can wait five minutes.’ It didn’t seem like Leon was being given an option. The captain stepped closer, Leon shuffling a step back on instinct. The captain’s head dipped, those shades not casting any kind of clue as to where his gaze was, but Leon could hazard a guess that they were glaring at either his anxiously shifting feet or his healing right hand.

 

‘How are you?’ Leon blinked, speechless for a few moments that seemed to stretch uncomfortably on. He stuttered a moment, glancing at his escape and then to his hand.

 

‘Uh… Good. Yeah, I’m good. Nurse said I can take the cast off by the end of the week…’

 

‘Sooner than I thought.’ Wesker hummed, resting one gloved hand against the side of his jaw, tapping one index finger against his temple in thought. Whatever he thought of, Leon wasn’t sure. ‘You’re a quick healer. I expected at least another two more weeks on desk duty.’

 

‘I’m just lucky.’

 

‘Luck is good to have, but I don’t think that’s just it.’ Wesker stepped closer and Leon held himself in place. This time, without him stepping back, the distance between them had thinned. They were close enough to-

 

‘You’re staying with Branagh, yes?’

 

‘Yes, sir.’

 

‘Good. I’d hate for you to make your injury worse by sleeping in your vehicle.’ The captain said, and Leon could feel his just dying flush return full force.

 

‘Thank you…’ Leon bit his lip, eyeing the way out and stepping away from the captain with an apologetic smile. ‘I- I should go. Marvin will be wondering where I am.’

 

‘Don’t you want to know if you passed the S.T.A.R.S assessment?’

 

Despite Leon’s wanting to leave, he couldn’t deny that he was curious. Even if he was sure he would turn it down, he wanted to know if he made it. Did he impress them? Did he prove himself to be as good as he’d hoped? He doubted it, considering his driving test and him fainting after the adrenaline crash, but he couldn’t sit on the cusp of wanting to know.

 

He turned back to Wesker, his brain hurling numerous curses at the smug, smirking captain waiting expectantly for him to turn around.

 

It was like the captain knew what he was going to do.

 

‘Yes, sir…’

 

Wesker walked over and past him, Leon stunned to silence as he watched the captain leave him behind in the hall. He felt his gut sink, hating how he was held captive by the man’s words alone. He felt foolish, expecting anything other than failure-

 

‘Isn’t officer Branagh waiting for you?’ The captain asked, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the exit hallway. Leon felt a rush of relief and hurried to catch up to the captain and walk with him to the parking lot.

 

‘You’re an expert shot and certainly skilled. You’ve got a lot of dedication to the work and an astounding amount of loyalty. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone I could so easily trust with having my back in times of trouble.’ Wesker spoke and with every word, Leon felt his heart soar and his pride swell. Such praise, and from the captain of S.T.A.R.S of all people!

 

‘I think you’ll make Alpha team someday, with your skills.’

 

Leon felt his pride shatter. Suddenly, he realised what this really was; all that praise was just to butter him up before he was torn down. He didn’t make it, and with how Wesker turned his head to look at him, he was sure his disappointment was obvious for the captain to see.

 

They stopped before the exit to the parking lot, Wesker turning to face Leon head on. He didn’t seem disappointed, but then Leon should have expected that. He was just a rookie cop with an insane lucky streak and some good grades… He wasn’t a veteran or a specialist in one of those fields that S.T.A.R.S searched for in potential candidates.

 

He was just a cop.

 

‘I’d expected you to be happy.’ Wesker hummed, catching Leon’s chin with the knuckle of one gloved finger. Leon hadn’t realised he was hanging his head like an abandoned puppy, his cheeks turning a darker red in shame. ‘You didn’t seem keen to leave the police department.’

 

‘I wasn’t…’ Leon admitted softly.

 

‘Ah, I see. You changed your mind?’

 

‘N-No. But I… I don’t know. I thought I was better than… Nothing. Never mind.’ Wesker withdrew his hand, pondering the rookie before him for a moment. Finally, he smirked, clapping a firm hand on Leon’s shoulder.

 

‘Well, it’s a good thing you still passed.’

 

Leon blinked again, looking up at Wesker as if the captain had just grown a second head.

 

‘Sir?’

 

‘You haven’t made Alpha team, but if you’re willing to accept the position…’ Wesker reached into his coat, withdrawing an envelope with the S.T.A.R.S stamp in the corner. ‘… You would be welcomed to the Bravo squad.’

 

Leon took the envelope with his good hand, gaze flitting between the captain and the letter, his heart racing and something like elation filling his heart. He smiled and a small laugh escaped him; he couldn’t believe it.

 

‘I didn’t think you’d-’

 

‘I’ve been very busy these past couple of weeks. Figured I’d wait until you were healed a bit more before I gave you the forms.’ At the rookie’s relief and joy at having passed, the captain’s smirk stretched wider.

 

'Thank you, sir.’

 

‘No need. Just tell me, can I expect you to show up for your first day on the job, July eleventh?’ Leon thought for a moment.

 

Wesker had just praised him for his loyalty, but was this a test after all? He had said numerous times to Wesker, Marvin and all of his other co-workers that he wanted nothing more to be a regular beat cop. He was happy where he was, and it was still true.

 

But was it all he wanted?

 

For a few moments, Leon wasn’t sure what to say. It seemed Wesker was getting tense, waiting for his answer too, the captain’s jaw tightening and the hand that had passed over the envelope clenching with that slight squeak of leather.

 

Finally, Leon made his decision.

 

‘I’ll be there.’

 

All tension in the captain’s body disappeared, and his lips returned to their easy smirk. Leon wondered if it was the only way the man knew how to smile.

 

‘Then I’ll see you in three weeks. That should give you enough time to clear your workload with the lieutenant and move into your new residence.’ Leon had almost forgotten that the job came with that perk. ‘I expect you to be on time and ready for action. I’ll brief you on the Bravo squad’s assignment when you arrive for your first day.’

 

‘Yes, sir.’ Leon couldn’t help but feel that same shrill feeling of excitement getting his blood pumping. The anticipation of his first assignment as a member of S.T.A.R.S’ very own Bravo squad!

 

He had to tell Marvin!

 

He had to tell Rebecca!

 

‘Thank you, sir. Have a good evening, sir!’ Leon tried not to rush out the door in his excitement. He couldn’t hide the skip in his step though, and Wesker eyed it with amused glee. As Leon left him behind in the east wing and headed into the parking lot to greet a frustrated Marvin, Wesker turned the other way and started for chief Irons’ office.

 

Leon made it all too easy.

Chapter 8

Notes:

Trigger Warnings:
- Detailed Mentions of Blood and Gore
- Mentioned Cannibalism
- Manipulation
- Human Experiments

Working with the Bravo squad was not unlike working amongst his fellow police officers. Same desk work, same files and the same cork boards with pinned photos of locations, victims and suspects. Same bad coffee and cream filled donuts brought by that one charitable officer on their way into work. Same nasty hours and the exact same routine of spending most of the day at your desk with only a rubber band ball or morning radio to ease the passage of time.

 

It didn’t take long for Leon to become very familiar with his new coworkers, cramped into the small office and each of them more welcoming than the last.

 

Rebecca had introduced him to Enrico, vice-captain of S.T.A.R.S and captain of the Bravo squad, who had taken to him well. Richard had been on the phone to his girlfriend when Leon was introduced to him, but despite his standoffish behaviour in that moment, he proved to be very friendly later.

 

All of Bravo squad sat at one end of the office, by the large scale radio and dispatch station. Officer Forest Speyer spent much of his time huddled over the console, headset locked almost permanently to his ears. Chris would frequent the console as well, when work was particularly slow. Apparently, the two were as thick as thieves and, according to Rebecca, were the prime suspects behind any pranks that the police officers had been suffering through the past few years.

 

Leon’s desk was at the end, closest to the door and right beside Speyer’s desk. With Speyer rarely there, the desk frequently gathered a thin blanket of dust, and the open space meant he and Rebecca could converse face-to-face.

 

She had been so excited to no longer be the lone rookie on the squad and their resident newbie. She still had yet to be sent on her first field mission, but she had a lot to share about their work with Leon anyway. All of S.T.A.R.S’ computerized files ran off a different system from the rest of the RPD and had an advanced new security system installed.

 

It took Leon a few tries to get the hang of it.

 

Joining S.T.A.R.S also came with a massive perk in that he now had his own apartment within the city. He lived just down the hall from Chris and the floor below Richard and his girlfriend. It was a quaint little space, made for one person or a couple; a single bedroom, bathroom and combination living space with kitchen. Beige-grey carpet and off-white walls in a rusty, red-bricked building with a black iron fire escape just outside his bedroom window; the pinnacle of working class apartment.

 

It was perfect.

 

‘So, your S.T.A.R.S badge doubles as a USB, made to unlock the computer for the weapons locker.’ Rebecca was instructing him on the security accesses that they had; useful to know since their clearance was higher than any of the police officers in the RPD.  ‘Keep it on hand at all times and never leave it in your personal locker-’

 

‘One time!’

 

‘Shut it, Richard. No one’s letting it go.’ There was a chorus of chuckles shared between the officers, Richard swiveling back around in his seat to pout over his work.

 

‘Now, you have your own Samurai Edge, but you may place any other guns into the weapons locker. It is standard procedure to have your personal weapons checked for any potential disrepair, however. S.T.A.R.S recommends any weapon inspections are to be carried out by mister Kendo, across the street behind the station. He’ll provide the necessary certification for the weapon and has modified many of the alpha team’s guns on special request.’

 

‘Got it.’ Of course, his Matilda was standard regulation. It didn’t require the inspection by mister Kendo, but the certificate was still signed and collected from the RPD’s resident gunsmith.

 

There was the hard smack of folders hitting his desk, Leon flinching as a tilting tower of files stood trembling before him. He hurried to redistribute them across his desk so as to avoid a cataclysmic tumble, eyeing the one who dropped them on his desk. The captain’s door slammed shut with a crash of wood against wood, Leon cringing at the splintering sound that reverberated throughout the office.

 

It seemed that captain Wesker was in a bad mood.

 

‘Yeesh…’ Chris’ voice was hushed, perking himself up in his chair so he could address Leon over the desktops. ‘Something’s pissed him off. You good, Leon?’

 

‘Yeah, of course. It’s not like the other officers haven’t done the same.’ Rebecca reached across to his desk, taking a couple of the folders and reading through them herself. Chris pitched in too, taking several more and flicking through them with barely hidden disgust.

 

Peeling through the manila folders, Leon wasn’t surprised that Rebecca looked about ready to throw up and that Chris was eyeing the trash with more and more certainty.

 

The photographs within were graphic to say the very least; the photos, developed in the dark room, were a visceral red with blood and offal. The victims had wounds that seemingly came from animal teeth and claws, vicious and hungry. Evidently though, there were no traces of dog prints or bear prints in the bloodied puddles caught in the photos, but the patterns of well worn boot prints and human hands.

 

All of the files read similarly;

 

‘Dated: July 17^th, 1998’

Victims found within their home. Evidence of a break-in. Multiple offenders. The victims were found in pieces and half-eaten.

No further traces of the culprits, but witnesses claim they saw a large group enter the residence via the windows, smashing glass and crawling inside. These statements line up with the evidence.

Some of those same witnesses have been removed from their homes for their own protection.

Located in the outer suburbs, just south of Arklay mountains’ main highway. County sheriff has agreed to assist in further investigations of the countryside in search for the missing hikers. Potential link?

Investigation has been handed over to S.T.A.R.S on orders from chief Brian Irons, and to be headed by the Bravo squad and its captain, Enrico Marini.’

 

His first official mission had come far sooner than he had expected.

 

‘Jesus Christ…’ Chris tossed the files back onto Leon’s desk, his face having turned sickly pale since he had first opened the folder. It seemed, even despite the things he had seen throughout his service in the air force, nothing could truly prepare a man for such horror. ‘I do not envy you guys.’

 

‘Who could even do something like this?’ Rebecca’s voice wavered, sifting through the photos with rising tension in her shoulders. Leon leaned over to place a gentle hand on her shoulder, Rebecca offering him a small smile she must have thought would be reassuring.

 

‘We’ll find out.’ Leon promised, patting her shoulder and leaning back in his chair to return to pouring over the files. His reading was disrupted by captain Marini, who stood at the head of their desks and cleared his throat to catch all of Bravo squad’s attention.

 

‘Usually, missing persons reports, and murder investigations would pass through the police department first. However, because of the severity of these attacks and lack of noticeable pattern, we have been charged with the investigation.’

 

‘Chief Irons wants this done quickly, as there has been a public outcry demanding closure for relatives and friends of the deceased and missing. He has been fending off these people for weeks, and now the press has hold of the stories.’

 

‘We can expect there to be a morning report on the most recent murder cases, and we can’t have a wide scale panic across Raccoon. We have a volunteer pilot for this mission and will be heading out within the week. We will be going right to the source for these attacks; the Arklay mountains. Alpha squad will be continuing further investigations in the suburbs here, awaiting any leads we can stir up on our mission into the mountains.’

 

‘We can expect hostility, so we will be carrying weapons with express permission to use deadly force if we encounter a hostile. Do not mistake me…’ The captain held Bravo squad’s attention with ease, each of them waiting with bated breath.

 

‘This is a high risk mission. Expect the worst and never go out on your own if you can avoid it.’

 

‘Yes sir!’ Leon, Rebecca, Richard, Forest, Edward and Kenneth all said at once. With an affirmative nod across the whole team, Enrico returned to his desk. The rest of Bravo squad shared looks amongst each other, nervousness settling in amongst the officers.

 

Unbeknownst to the officers outside, Wesker had been listening to every word.

 

He settled into his chair, rubbing the growing pain away that had settled behind the inner corners of his eyes. His shades hung loosely between his thumb and finger, twirled around in a subconscious fidget.

 

The investigation into the Arklay mountains would take the Bravo squad far too close to the Umbrella facilities there; the Spencer mansion and the training facility off the maps but hardly invisible to the naked eye. The buildings would be stumbled across if the S.T.A.R.S dogs went sniffing, but Umbrella wasn’t going to risk their operations and locations being spilled to the public.

 

When rumours initially started spreading about the potential leak of the T-virus into the local area, Umbrella officials had leapt at the opportunity to turn their downfall into a data collection experiment. Instead of continuing through with their plan to subject S.T.A.R.S to premeditated tests against their bioweapons, it was directed to Wesker’s charge that they ‘naturally’ be forced to engage.

 

An investigation into the missing hikers was a perfect ground zero for Umbrella.

 

It would be a shame to lose his S.T.A.R.S officers so soon. Wesker had almost become fond of them, one in particular so new but so quick to frequent his thoughts. Almost absentmindedly, Wesker wheeled over to the blinds that hid his office from the sight of the other officers. He peered between them, propping them slightly open with two fingers, so that he might eye his newest prize.

 

Leon Kennedy was so young and so promising, just as Rebecca had been. But there was something about him that Wesker found most intriguing, and his flustered reactions to Wesker were a delightful surprise. It had made him all too tantalizing and Wesker had been too keen to manipulate the assessments to ensure the young man would join S.T.A.R.S.

 

As it turned out, the results certainly didn’t require his hand to change anything.

 

Through the crack in the blinds, he observed Leon with interest, watching as he read the files, spoke with Rebecca and keyed in details into the computer in front of him. All of them mundane actions, but when Leon was doing them, it was nice to watch.

 

It was a damned shame he would lose his newest pet so soon.

Chapter 9

Notes:

Trigger Warnings:
- Mentions of Cannibalism
- Manipulation
- Mentions of Death
- Reference to Explicit Situations (Blow Jobs)

‘We haven’t been able to get into contact with the laboratory or training facility. As of yet, we do not know if the train has reached the facility station.’

 

Wesker’s grip on the phone tightened, glaring ahead at his shut door. The more he was learning about the virus leak, the more he was realizing the futility of Umbrella’s efforts to hide their involvement. They had taken one major step; ordering him to initiate the self-destruction of the Spencer mansion once all combat data was gathered.

 

However, since the mansion had gone radio silent, they could safely presume that there had been major casualties amongst the Umbrella staff on the premises. And multiple casualties before the NEST could attain the necessary documents and embryos from the laboratories meant that the staff hadn’t succeeded in removing any precious research.

 

He would have to scrounge for those himself.

 

The more he understood about the situation, the more he realised there was only one conclusion he could draw; Umbrella officials were well out of their depth, and he needed to abandon ship before his involvement was discovered by outside forces.

 

He wasn’t worried about S.T.A.R.S. They would be dead before the night was up.

 

But, on the off chance that they did manage to relay certain details to the public, he couldn’t let the guaranteed investigation lead to him. On the off chance something did get out of either facility and was detained, his involvement with its construction and design could not be discovered.

 

‘Sir? What would you have us do, sir?’

 

‘Locate the train.’ Wesker growled into the phone. ‘No one is to get aboard and no one is allowed to leave. Once you’ve cleared the train of any hostiles, get it moving to the training facility.’

 

‘But sir, what if the station is overrun?’ The U.S.S captain of Delta team was starting to get on his nerves. His constant questions about the situation and its surrounding circumstances were reasonable, but Wesker had other urgent business to attend to.

 

‘Then you set the train to automatic drive and disable the brake system. Evacuate your men before the train’s speed gets too high and let it destroy the tunnel. Then, you may return to the NEST.’

 

‘Yes, sir.’

 

He slammed the phone down on the receiver and stood, swiping a hand through his hair and slicking it back in one fluid motion. It helped to soothe him slightly, relieve the building anticipation for the mission ahead. He stepped out of his office, a couple of his officers’ heads turning to look up at him. He nodded, breezing past them and out the door, shutting it firmly behind him.

 

He proceeded through the RPD’s winding halls, passing by the small group of his vice-captain Enrico, Bravo squad’s pilot Edward Dewey and the volunteer pilot Kevin Dooley returning to the office after the final check of the helicopter. He greeted them with a simple nod of acknowledgement, being sure to turn off one way so that they may not suspect his true destination.

 

It was a longer route than he would have liked, but he needed to be sure he wasn’t noticed heading out to the roof.

 

Wesker had extensive knowledge of the security systems and was able to maneuver around the cameras as he liked. He knew which ones ran off thirty second interval captures, and which ones took notice of motion. Any that he failed to avoid, he would have to negotiate with chief Irons to have his presence removed or the footage deleted entirely.

 

Finally, he wound his way up the final stairwell to the roof. With a click of a code, he exited onto the flat surface of the roof and hurried over to the helicopter, doors still slid open and ready for the Bravo squad to accommodate.

 

The final checks of the helicopter had been completed and now all he was required to do, was sabotage their radio and engine.

 

He had to be meticulous and make sure the engine would fail at precisely the correct time. Too far out and his officers may not be close enough to the grounds to be caught on surveillance as any sufficient data would be lost. Too close and they may just immediately die to the infected creatures on either property.

 

First, he slipped into the front of the helicopter and started for the flight console. The radio would be the easiest to destroy, but he needed it to work for a time. Thankfully, William had crafted a special device for just such a purpose that could mimic radio signal failure. The tiny machine was so small that it slipped onto the wire which transmitted the outgoing radio signals, and it would eventually eat through said wire. The team would be deaf to the goings on back at the station and any efforts to contact backup would be distorted and eventually impossible to make.

 

It was a quick and learned process, Wesker well accustomed to sabotaging others’ machines and computers for the sake of Umbrella corporation and his own ambition.

 

The second job he had to be sure was accomplished was the engine failure.

 

He didn’t have a little machine for that, especially since the helicopter still had to takeoff and navigate the skies until it reached Raccoon forest.

 

Instead, he had to siphon the fuel carefully from the helicopter back into the cans and returned to the storage unit below the metal grated stairs. He hurried to retrieve the emptied fuel cans and a tube for siphoning and rushed to make it up the stairs. It was a much longer process than destroying the radio and with every minute that passed him by, the more his eyes flicked over to the door to the roof stairwell.

 

Eventually, he took his eyes off the door and slammed the fuel cap closed and screwed it tight. He hopped into the helicopter and opened the console to fidget and screw with the fuel gauge when he heard the heavy door creak open with a metallic shriek.

 

He sat up in the helicopter, staring down at the one he needed to silence, only for his stress to ease. His gaze locked onto the rookie’s rear; the young officer had propped open the door to the roof with one heel whilst he leaned back into the stairwell to retrieve a large duffel no doubt full of weapons. He should have realised it would be Leon that was tasked with hauling all of the mission supplies to the helicopter.

 

Wesker allowed himself to admire the rookie only until he turned around and started towards the helicopter. He tapped the fuel gauge, ensuring his sabotage was a success, before he squeezed into the back of the helicopter and hopped down and onto the roof. Leon’s eyes shot up to him, his hands full with one duffel stuffed with medical supplies and the other stuffed with weapons and ammunition.

 

‘Oh, captain Wesker.’ Leon cleared his throat, standing a little straighter despite the weight of one duffel resting against his back. ‘I didn’t expect you to be up here. I thought you were with the rest of Alpha team.’

 

‘Chris is my point-man. I trust him to lead the team efficiently enough. Besides, my work with the investigation has currently hit a dead end. I returned to the station to see if any further documentation of the murders had been handed in to us.’ It was so easy to lie to the rookie, his trust in Wesker so innocent and naïve.

 

‘Oh, right. I didn’t mean to insinuate-’

 

‘It’s okay, Kennedy. Curiosity is good.’ He sauntered towards Leon, smirk growing as the rookie seemed more and more uncomfortable with the distance rapidly closing between them. He leaned down towards the rookie, so close he could brush noses with him, and reached out one gloved hand.

 

Leon’s usually fair skin turned a vibrant red, visible despite the dark cloud cover overhead. Wesker could practically feel the heat rolling off his cheeks as he reached out and towards him, fingers running over the young officer’s shoulder and slipping the strap of the duffel bag free. Leon gasped, surprised at Wesker’s actions, reaching to readjust the strap back onto his shoulder.

 

Instead, Wesker slipped the bag away from him entirely, swinging it over his shoulder with ease. He turned, steel eyes gazing at Leon from behind the lenses of his shades, and then gestured the rookie officer to follow.

 

Leon did as he was told.

 

The duffel bags were carefully placed into the helicopter and slid under the seats. Leon brushed his hands together, his palms a painful red from carrying the heavy weight all by himself; usually, it was a two man job, or it required multiple trips. Wesker shouldn’t have been surprised that the rookie was still trying to prove himself, even when no one would normally have noticed it.

 

‘Are you nervous, Kennedy?’ Wesker chalked it up to his morbid fascination that he decided to ask the question. He wanted to know what the young man was feeling, knowing he was going on a dangerous mission and unaware that it would end with his certain demise. Was he scared? Did he want to request he stay behind?

 

‘A little…’ It wasn’t quite the response Wesker had been expecting. ‘Actually… More than anything, I’m kind of excited.’

 

And that… That was not at all what Wesker had been expecting.

 

‘Excited?’

 

‘I want to bring these sick killers to justice more than anything. I’m curious as to why they did what they did, and why they’re still doing it. I want to know why so I can stop it.’ A very noble idea. Stupid, but noble.

 

‘Not too many people would say they’re ‘excited’ to bring cannibals to justice.’

 

Leon’s lips slipped into an awkward smile, his gaze turning down to his shoes like a little boy caught in a lie. His cheeks, still red from Wesker’s close proximity had become inflamed with shame and embarrassment.

 

‘And… Well… I’ve been missing the action.’ His voice was so quiet Wesker almost didn’t hear him, despite his advanced senses. ‘Being out on the street, stopping crime as it comes; that’s why I became a cop. I haven’t been able to do that, but now… Now it feels like I can do something and make a difference here. Being stuck behind a desk is all part of the job, but the streets and out in the world, ready for action; that’s what I live for.’

 

Wesker’s smirk stretched at the corners, settling into a bemused smile. Realizing the rookie was an adrenaline junkie with a heart of gold? It wasn’t too often he saw the real thing amongst the RPD’s officers.

 

He chuckled softly, resting a hand on Leon’s head. He could feel Leon’s soft locks grazing the skin of his fingers, soft and at a nice length. His hair was just long enough that he might grip his hair at the top and manipulate that head however he wanted, and suddenly the image came to Wesker’s mind of Leon settling lower. Low enough that the head of blonde hair was all he could see between his knees.

 

He hurried to rid his mind of such a tantalizing image. The rooftop was not a good place for his enticing delusions, especially since Leon wouldn’t live to see the dawn.

 

‘I knew I was right.’ He said, catching Leon’s attention.

 

‘Right about what, sir?’ Leon’s breath stuttered as Wesker leaned down to him, leaning close enough he could whisper in the rookie’s ear. The side of that blonde fringe tickled Wesker’s nose and he chuckled again, the deep sound reverberating through Leon’s ear and sending shocking tremors down his spine.

 

‘That you were- Are a perfect candidate for Alpha team.’ He leaned back, ruffling Leon’s hair for only a second before withdrawing his hand. And just in time too.

 

The door opened again, the shrieking metal hinges alerting him to the approaching Bravo squad. Wesker’s smile fell, realizing his time with Leon had reached its end, and he moved around the rookie and past the other S.T.A.R.S officers. He stopped Enrico to wish him and his team luck, knowing full well that he would be firing a bullet between their eyes if he found out that any of them had survived.

 

As he headed towards the door and his escape back into the RPD, he turned his head just in time to catch Leon’s gaze one last time. He offered a smile, one of the few genuine ones he could give, before he shut the door behind him.

 

He stood there until he heard the helicopter’s engine roar and the blades start to rotate.

 

He was surprised with himself.

 

It wasn’t like Wesker to regret but…

 

But he did.

 

Just a little bit.

Chapter 10

Notes:

Trigger Warnings:
- Helicopter Crash
- Graphic Descriptions of Injuries
- Graphic Descriptions of Death
- Blood
- Swearing

Though it was only mid-afternoon, the clouds bathed the helicopter and the world below it in darkness. The rain struck hard against the windows, blurring together what little Leon could see. Raccoon forest beneath them shook with the wind, trees twisting and turning in their roots, but the shifting masses appeared less like trees and more like violent ocean waves crashing down into the sea.

 

Rebecca beside him took his hand, gripping it tight and pulling him back away from the window. He sat back in his seat, returning the grip with a tight squeeze and swallowing down a tightness in his throat. That feeling of stress and anticipation had been building since he had first entered the aircraft on the RPD’s landing pad, but now it was reaching a boiling point.

 

It was too cramped in the tight, metal box and suddenly far too hot.

 

There was a sudden lurch and the whole helicopter shot up for a moment. The whir of the blades above their heads stuttered for a second, Leon’s heart seizing in his chest.

 

‘Sorry guys. Just some nasty turbulence.’ Officer Dooley said from the front seat. But only a second later, the helicopter lurched again and shot up and then sunk lower in the sky, the turbine above them halting for a moment and then starting again. He could hear officers Kevin Dooley and Edward Dewey in the front seat, pushing buttons on the console and tapping glass displays.

 

The radio crackled to life for a moment, but all they could hear was static. It was loud, deafeningly so, and then the helicopter dropped again.

 

This time, it dropped rapidly.

 

‘Everyone hold on!’ The pilots scrambled to readjust the helicopter in front, whilst Leon, Rebecca and the rest grabbed hold of their support beams. The belts were pulled tight across their chests and Rebecca’s grip on his hand started to bruise his flesh.

 

‘What the fuck's going on?!’ Enrico demanded, the careening descent of the helicopter the only thing stopping him from unbuckling his seatbelt and storming into the front.

 

‘Engine failure, sir!’

 

There was a crash and the whole helicopter tilted forward, nose down into the black pit below. Rebecca cried out and Leon wished he could do more than hold onto his support, terrified out of his mind. The helicopter swerved to the left and then kept turning, spiraling out of control and into the trees, branches scratching nasty scars into the glass.

 

When they hit the ground, they hit it hard.

 

Leon and Rebecca both bounced in their seats, the side of Leon's head clashing with the steel door. The helicopter bounced against the ground again and his head swung back and connected against that same hard point on the door. He hissed between his teeth, feeling something warm beginning to run down the side of his head and into his eye.

 

Finally, something struck the front of the helicopter, the whole horrid thing coming to its final stop with a shattering of glass and a deafening shriek of crumbling steel. The routine hum of the blades had stopped altogether and then the lights flickered off.

 

‘Fuck…’ Someone said in the dark, and Leon couldn’t help but agree. He blinked something out of his eye and rubbed the side of his head along the length of his forearm to clear his vision.

 

A bright white light pierced through the dark, captain Enrico adjusting his flashlight so that it wouldn’t blind the officers. He peered about the cabin and the pilot seats, checking them over to see if they were moving.

 

‘Is everyone okay? Anyone hurt?’

 

‘No, sir.’

 

‘I’m good.’

 

‘We’re okay.’

 

Enrico took point, gripping the handle of the helicopter door and pulling as hard as he could, Richard unbuckling himself from the seat to assist him. The door squealed in protest and stopped halfway. The captain hopped out on unsteady legs and the rest of Bravo team followed. Leon, pulling up the rear, pulled the duffel bags free of the backseat, unzipping them with shaking hands. Somewhere behind him, he heard someone retching and Richard clapping them on the back to assist them.

 

Rebecca squeezed in beside him, hurriedly snatching some bandages and antiseptic spray out of the duffel. Leon pulled out a first aid kit that had sunk to the bottom and passed it to her, more flashlights illuminating the damaged aircraft and the surrounding woods.

 

For the next hour, Bravo squad sat in the dark, the whipping winds making it nearly impossible to converse. They sat in a circle, Leon passing around the weapons whilst Rebecca tended to the injuries they had sustained.

 

Richard had a nasty gash in his abdomen that needed to be stitched up. He was told not to put too much strain on it if he could help it, lest he start bleeding again. Enrico had two of his fingers snapped in the crash and they were pressed tightly together and wrapped to avoid jostling them too much. Kenneth had a nasty gash to his knee that caused him to limp out of the helicopter. It was wrapped and nearly all of their bandages were taken by those injuries alone.

 

Leon sat a little further away from the group, not willing to be so close to the crashed sardine tin in case it blew up. Perhaps he was being silly and perhaps Hollywood movies had overexaggerated the possibility, but after that crash he dared not risk it. He was clipping a spare round into the Matilda when he felt a hand on his shoulder, startling him. He whipped his head around and, once again, he felt something warm run down the side of his head and into his eye. He wiped it away, Rebecca’s soft gasp in his ear.

 

‘Leon, will you let me look at you?’ She hadn’t asked anyone else that question, but Leon nodded all the same. The bright beam of a flashlight was shone in his face, Rebecca’s fingers probing along his eyelids and forcing them open to stare at her. She turned his head gently and eyed the side of his head, pressing her petite fingers into his scalp. He hissed and she withdrew her them, warm blood running down from the pads of her fingers.

 

‘It’s only a small wound and you don’t have a concussion, but you have to be careful.’ She clicked open the first aid kit and withdrew some gauze and a small sponge. That can of antiseptic was lifted to his head and with a hiss, the wound was sprayed. It hurt and he flinched away from it, unable to help himself. She cleaned up the blood as best she could and bundled the gauze up against his head, having him hold it there whilst she wrapped it. The bandage was firm against his temple, the wound throbbing beneath the gauze, but Leon let her tend to it with her tender touches.

 

Finally, with everyone bandaged up, Enrico stood from his seat in the mud. For the moment the rain had died down, much to everyone’s relief.

 

‘Kevin! Edward! What’s the situation with the helicopter?’ Edward stuck his head out of the door, shaking his head.

‘Unknown, sir. Engine failure is the best we can tell you until a thorough examination is performed. Radio’s dead too, so there’s no chance we’re calling for help anytime soon.’

 

‘Dammit.’ The captain muttered, frustrated. He looked around at his officers, thinking something over until he came to a decision at last.

 

‘Officer Dooley, you stay with the helicopter. See if you can repair the radio and give our final coordinates. The rest of us will investigate the surrounding area. We have a mission that we must see through, whether we can expect extraction before tomorrow or not.’

 

‘Yes, sir.’ They all said in time. Edward stepped out of the helicopter, grabbing his guns from the duffel bag whilst Kevin shut the door back into place with that same, agonizing screech of metal.

 

Bravo squad stood and started off into the woods, guns at the ready and flashlights bathing the trees in a ghoulish light. The rain meant that their lights reflected off the trees and leaves, creating this effect of strangers moving within the brush. The group had fanned out, just far enough that they could cover more ground, but close enough where they could see the next person over despite the thick undergrowth.

 

Eventually, someone called out and the group converged on their position.

 

The flashlights lit the door to an upturned car, the letters ‘MP’ staring back at them in white. Their boots crunched on glass, drawing the group’s gaze downwards and to the carnage below.

 

Two figures in uniform were strewn out the front window, pale skin littered with glass and skin torn like paper down their cheeks and hands. Their bodies were still steaming and the engine was still humming. Their mouths were twisted open with wide, almost unhinged jaws, revealing the black pit of their throats caught in a final scream. Strange imprints in the flesh like strangling bruises littered their skin, the pads of those thick ‘fingers’ apparently covered in something small and sharp.

 

‘What the fuck did this?’ Richard muttered, hand over his mouth to will away the urge to vomit.

 

‘Captain! Look at this.’ In her hands, Rebecca held a clipboard with notes. At her feet was a silver attaché case, propped open to reveal small keys made for handcuffs, a couple of files and mold for two guns in the case. One of those guns was missing.

 

‘It reads; court order for transportation. Prisoner: Billy Coen. Ex-lieutenant, 26 years old. Court-martialed and sentenced to death, July twenty second...’ Suddenly those bruises on the martials made a lot of sense. Leon, already at attention, turned to face back towards the woods, searching for any movement that might be the criminal in the dark.

 

‘It says that the prisoner was to be transferred to Regarthon base for execution.’ Rebecca had only a moment to finish her reading before the captain slipped it from her hands, peeling through its contents quickly. Edward was beside him in a moment, glaring down at the paper in fury.

 

‘They were good soldiers, and this bastard killed them!’

 

‘Enough!’ Enrico ordered, turning to the group. ‘He can’t have been involved with the murders we have come to investigate. According to these documents he was to be transferred for execution tonight. He may not be involved, but we still have a dangerous criminal in these woods.’

 

‘So, what do we do, sir?’ Rebecca asked, shifting from foot to foot uneasily. This mission had her rattled from the beginning and Leon could see it.

 

‘We split up. Cover the area as much as we can and see if we can uncover this Billy Coen. He may not have gotten far; the bodies are still warm. But don’t forget why we’re really here. We’re searching for any of the missing hikers too, and civilians we can save and any of those bastards responsible for the murders in Raccoon city.’

 

Enrico turned to Leon and Rebecca, both of them standing to attention.

 

‘You two rookies stick together.’

 

‘Yes, sir.’

 

Final plans were decided and short goodbyes were said, each of them turning their backs to the rest and starting back off into the forest. Rebecca kept close to Leon, as her expertise in the medical field was why she was sought out for S.T.A.R.S. It wasn’t that she couldn’t handle a gun, but Leon had proven to their S.T.A.R.S captain that he was more suited for combat.

 

They were quiet, walking through the woods. They didn’t like the silence, but neither of them knew how they could comfortably break it.

 

It wasn’t until their lights shone upon some iron tracks and the maroon carriage door of a train that they halted. Their lights shone across gold lettering that read ‘Ecliptic Express’, but neither of them of knew such a train to pass through Raccoon city. The train was still powered, the inside illuminated with bright, golden lights. Somewhere, beyond the glass and the iron, they could hear some muffled voices and they proceeded carefully to the carriage door.

 

Rebecca stood to one side, ready to open it, whilst Leon held his gun out at the ready.

 

She pulled it open and he surged inside, Rebecca following close behind.

 

There was a crackle of static from a little tape recorder sitting on the floor of the carriage, but otherwise, the carriage was silent.

 

But the smell of death hung thick in the air.

Notes:

There was a lot I wanted to cover in this chapter, so sorry if this one seems rushed!
I was so motivated to get the story of Resident Evil rolling I couldn't help myself and threw myself into this chapter maybe a bit too quickly.
Hope you enjoyed it!
I may need to return to it for a rewrite in future...

Chapter 11

Notes:

Trigger Warnings:
- Graphic Depictions of Violence
- Death / Undeath
- Gore
- Human Experimentation

‘Oh my God…’

 

Both rookies raised their free hand to their faces, taking in a deep breath in the crook of their elbow in hopes to stem that horrific stench. It made their eyes water, Leon leaning across a set of empty seats to open a window and then another, in hopes of airing out the stench. Rebecca crept forward in the carriage, eyes drawn to that little recorder on the floor by a passenger’s feet.

 

‘Identify yourself.’

 

Leon glanced her way and then back towards the rear door of the carriage. There was another small cluster of seats there, just opposite a stairwell that sharply curved up and to the second level. He couldn’t see up and around that corner, but he could see one of those seats at the back was occupied. He rushed over to them, leaving Rebecca to investigate the front half of the carriage.

 

The closer he got, the worse the smell became.

'Hello? Is there anyone here?'

 

The figure was slumped forward in their seat, jaw hanging open and viscous drool and blood dripping from their teeth. Hands hung limp at their sides, a small case on the seat beside them also covered in some viscous liquid. Curious, Leon leaned forward, withdrawing a pen from one of the pockets of his vest. He pressed closer, just enough that he could reach the case and run his pen along it, picking up a small amount of liquid along the way.

 

There was some weight to it, but it was like a clear jelly. A mucus of some kind, not unlike what a slug or snail might leave behind. He turned his head, looking down the aisle at Rebecca, clearing his throat to catch her attention.

 

She turned her head, as did the passenger right beside her.

 

‘Rebecca!’

 

She turned, yelping and tripping back to avoid a swinging pair of hands reaching out and grasping at thin air. That jaw full of square teeth snapped at her, a deep, hungry growl erupting from the passenger’s throat. It didn’t stand up but rather crawled out of its seat, reaching for her as she backed up and raised her gun.

 

Leon was standing to help when he felt a strong hand grasp his wrist.

 

He was pulled down to a hungry maw, that same one that he had so carelessly ignored. He dropped the pen, focused on those teeth snapping at him. Leon grit his teeth, raising his gun and placing it between those jaws, shutting his eyes and pulling the trigger. A loud BANG! resounded through the carriage, the wall behind the seat painted with a blooming, crimson flower.

 

Another crack of a gunshot and Rebecca’s own monster dropped to the floor. The bullet hadn’t quite ripped through the skull like Leon had managed, but to their horror it still hadn’t been enough.

 

It wrapped its grasping fingers around her ankle, pulling itself up to snarl and snap, the fresh wound right above its collar leaking blood onto the floor.

 

 Rebecca fired again and somewhere behind Leon, something stirred. He turned his head, wrenching his fingers around the hand that still had his wrist in a death grip. He pulled at them and they cracked and popped, releasing him. He stumbled, turning and eyeing the new monster that had started to rise from its place on the floor. Instead of wasting another bullet, Leon unsheathed the knife at his hip, whipping it around in hand and striking quickly.

 

He slashed at the throat, adding to its wounds, but the monster did not drop. The creature lunged, but Leon jumped back, turning his knife in hand. As the creature fell forward from its missed attack, he brought his knife down, burying it deep into the back of the skull. It entered hilt deep, blood pooling around his fist as he withdrew the blade.

 

He turned to look at Rebecca, both of them sharing a breather in the silence of the train.

 

‘What… What happened here?’ Rebecca’s voice shook, but only slightly. She had to keep a cool head, they both did, lest they lose focus in the middle of the mission. They needed to be sure they could trust the other to make logical decisions, and that meant keeping their panic to a minimum. ‘T-These poor people… What happened to them?’

 

‘I don’t know…’ Leon’s voice trailed off, eyeing his kills with a sinking sensation in his gut. He had killed before in his short career as a cop, but these people… They were dead when they got here. He had never thought he would have to kill someone for a second time, let alone some civilians.

 

‘Maybe this… I don’t know if it has something to do with this, but I found this.’ He beckoned Rebecca over with a wave of his hand. She hurried to his side as he offered her the pen and gestured to the case.

 

‘What is it?’

 

Rebecca eyed the strange jelly, turning the pen between her fingers. She hummed, reaching to her back where her chemistry kit was strapped to her jacket. She knelt to the floor, pointedly ignoring the body to her left by the stairs, dead eyes still open and glaring at her.

 

She pulled out a tube, scraping the strange jelly onto the lip of the glass. The pen was tossed away and the tube was capped. It seemed unremarkable beneath the glass, but it was safer to test what it was under more sterile conditions. It was packed away with the rest of the case, Leon helping her to strap it in tightly against her back once again.

 

‘I’ll have to look at it back at the RPD. If we can get back there…’

 

‘Until then, what should we do?’ Rebecca turned, confused.

 

‘What do you mean?’

 

‘Do we investigate this place further or do we go back for the others?’ Leon asked, nodding his head to the door they came in. ‘We have our orders, but I don’t think captain Marini was expecting us to run into… This.’ He didn’t need to point to the bodies at their feet, his words were enough to let Rebecca know exactly what he was referring to.

 

‘So, should we go get back up? Or stay here?’

 

‘Hm…’ Rebecca thought for a moment. Technically, she was Leon’s superior, so it was up to her their course of action. It was true that the others needed to be warned, but in her and Leon’s hike to the train, they hadn’t run into any of these not-so-dead humans… It was quite possible that the woods were free of them and the entirety of their population was restricted to the train.

 

And wandering about in the woods without knowing exactly where their comrades were… They might just run into Coen in the dark and if he was hiding and armed, they would be entering yet another dangerous situation. At least, on the train, only humans were getting in and out, alive or dead. From what they had just fought, they could handle it.

 

‘There may be survivors. I think we stay aboard.’

 

Leon nodded, eyeing the stairs, the door behind them and then the door in front.

 

‘On your orders, Rebecca.’

 

 

~X~

 

 

‘Any engagement as of yet?’

 

He was running late. He didn’t mean to be, but getting away from Alpha team had been difficult. Frost had discovered that their communication with Bravo squad had dropped and Alpha was getting antsy in their office, waiting for orders to leave after them. They had to be convinced that the Arklay mountains could weaken the radio signals. They had to be assured that Bravo squad would find a way to get home on their own terms.

 

Wesker was used to lying through his teeth.

 

‘Yes!’ Birkin was at the console, slouched forward in his chair so he could get as close to the screens as he could. He was eyeing the shuddering live footage with anticipation, watching as one after the other the members of Bravo team were met with the infected.

 

He was almost kicking and jittering in his seat like an excited school child. It reminded Wesker of a time when they were young, when William had first been allowed to cut open a human subject. He’d been grinning then too, even as his patient begged him to stop.

 

‘Four of them have already found the mansion.’ He flicked through the footage, settling at last on the sight of one of Wesker’s officers running for his life through the trees. He had to rapidly flick through the cameras to catch a better view of the officer, being run down by Umbrella’s own Cerberus’; a name lovingly given to their infected Dobermans. They howled and growled and tore at his ankles, William scratching his observations down onto paper.

 

‘Hm… Dewey’s doing well outrunning them.’ Wesker took his seat, watching the terrified Edward Dewey rush through the underbrush, tripping and scrambling through thorns and sharp branches. He was cut up and bleeding on all sides, making it impossible for him to lose the dedicated hunters behind him.

 

‘Who else hasn’t made it to the mansion?’

 

‘Uh…’ William flicked through the provided folders, eyeing the photos of Bravo squad’s members with a keen eye. It was tough, picking apart who it was that had survived thus far and who it was that was missing.

 

‘That volunteer pilot’s dead… Didn’t make it out of the helicopter.’ That scratched Kevin Dooley off the list. ‘This officer is heading in the opposite direction… And… Officer Chambers and Kennedy are missing.’

 

‘Missing?’

 

‘I haven’t caught them on camera yet, not since the crash. But they definitely haven’t made it to the mansion, and they are much too far away from the training facility to have made it there.’

 

The lack of data on those two was disappointing. It was unlikely that either rookie had lasted all too long, especially since one was a police officer well out of his depth and the other was trained first and foremost as a medic. The chances of either surviving were astronomical, especially by comparison to their teammates.

 

He had to believe his disappointment was simply due to lack of data.

 

It would do Wesker no good now to start caring for his pets.

 

‘Oh, right. Now that you’re here…’ Birkin reached towards the radio. He tuned it to a specific channel and then tapped the microphone in front of Wesker.

 

‘The USS has found the train.’

Chapter 12

Notes:

Trigger Warnings:
- Murder / Manslaughter
- Serious Wounds and Gore
- Guns and Gun Violence
- Human Experimentation
- Swearing

Every step towards the front of the train, not knowing what was on the other side of those sliding doors, terrified the both of them.

 

Rebecca had made the decision to push forward, clear the first floor of the vehicle and determine why the train was stalled. Had there been an issue with the engine, or were these monsters also trapped at the front with the controls? Maybe the conductor dared not move the train forward with the zombies stalking the carriages, lest they escape and attack others at the next station.

 

They had yet to find any survivors.

 

They had passed by a few overnight compartments and around the conductor’s office just short of the doors connecting the carriage to the engine. Leon tried the handle, pushed and pressed but the door only rattled in place. He sighed, turning his back to Rebecca and aiming his gun back down the way they had come, making sure that they wouldn’t be suddenly attacked by more monsters.

 

They passed around the front of the conductors office, a thick, electronic lock beaming a bright red in the dark. Just beside it and the door it was connected to, a body was slumped on the floor, unmoving. They eyed it with suspicion, well aware that those zombies that had attacked them hadn’t been moving either when they first approached them. Rebecca turned to look back at Leon and he was quick to unsheathe his combat knife, passing it her way.

 

‘Hello?’ She spoke softly, Leon’s eyes returning to the hallway they had made their way down. Somewhere, distantly, he heard glass crunching under a heavy weight. ‘Sir, are you alive?’

 

Rebecca hesitated only a moment more, before raising Leon’s knife and bringing it down on the man’s calf. It entered with a sickening squelch! and though there was some blood, it was slow and the body was cool against the side of her hand. She withdrew the knife quickly, expecting the body to lunge, but it did not. Still, to be sure, she replaced Leon’s knife at her hip and then pulled out her gun, leaning closer to inspect the body.

 

There was the glint of something small and silver right by its open hand.

 

Leon, however, heard footsteps approaching, and then the figure of someone turning the corner just behind the conductor’s office. For a moment, relief flooded through Leon’s veins. He was just lowering the gun when dark eyes landed on him and the barrel of a handgun rose up to greet him.

 

Leon reared back into the cramped space, almost knocking Rebecca off her feet.

 

‘Stay back!’ He commanded, his grip on his Matilda tightening. He turned his gaze up towards the windows that lined the hall, revealing the faintest silhouette of the stranger’s reflection. Much like himself, the figure had taken up a defensive position, close to the wall behind the conductor’s office.

 

‘Identify yourself!’

 

Rebecca pulled up beside him, taking a similar position right beside him. For the moment, the stranger was probably unaware of her presence, so it was better to keep that to themselves. Her gun was aimed down, safety on, but ready to switch it over the moment the threat approached. Just as she was taught.

 

‘Hey! Come on… We’re both in the same situation here.’ The stranger spoke back, surprisingly calm despite their standoff. ‘I’m not gonna bite.’

 

‘Sir, we can discuss what situation we are in after you identify yourself.’

 

There were a few seconds of silence.

 

‘My name is Coen. Billy Coen…’

 

Beside him, he could feel Rebecca tense. He turned his gaze over his shoulder, watching as she mouthed that name in horror. They were just ten feet from a killer, trapped in a train with cannibalistic monsters. It was hardly a good set of circumstances, but at least they outnumbered the criminal.

 

‘Sir… Billy. I am going to ask that you slowly put the gun down, safety on and-’ There was a chuckle, amused but derisive.

 

‘Please… I’m not gonna do that. Not when its my one defence in this shit heap.’ The stranger growled back. ‘Didn’t realise I was talking with an officer of the law. If I’d have known that, I would have shot first.’

 

Leon grit his teeth. What were they to do? It was a tight hallway between them and Coen, perhaps only ten feet long but only wide enough for one person to squeeze through. There was no way they could cross that distance without him landing a fatal shot. And what was worse, he had the whole rest of the train to retreat to, but the one door behind them was locked.

 

They were trapped.

 

Rebecca pressed a gentle hand to Leon’s shoulder, a gesture to soothe his heightened nerves. She took his attention away for a moment, whispering softly to him.

 

‘Let me try.’

 

He let her speak.

 

‘Mister Coen! My name is Rebecca Chambers and I am with S.T.A.R.S. We’re trying to survive this just as you are.’

 

In the reflection of the window, Leon could see Coen frown. He still had his gun up and at the ready, but he seemed to be pondering their situation.

 

‘Let’s, all of us, place our weapons down and talk.’

 

‘Not gonna do that, girl.’ Coen sneered, but his face in the reflection didn’t hold the same malice with which he spoke. Maybe he wasn’t so keen on shooting a woman. Some criminals had those morals, no matter how twisted their previous acts of violence. ‘If I do, how can I trust you to do the same? Your friend there probably wants to shoot me the first chance he gets.’

 

‘I would rather take you in.’

 

‘Yeah, sure. I’ve tried the cuffs.’ There was the jingle of little metallic links. ‘Don’t think they suit me.’

 

Leon’s eyes snapped up to the windows. Rain had started pattering against the glass, but beyond the wind and water, in the trees that bent and bowed in the wind, something was moving. Fast. Towards the window right by Coen’s position.

 

There was an explosion of glass, the sound of a gun being fired and then Coen’s heavy boots racing down the hall back towards the rear exit to the carriage. Leon peeled around the corner, racing to track him down, leaping over the body that had curled up in the corner. He heard Rebecca behind him, heard her skid through glass shrapnel onto her hands and knees to inspect the body, giving him the chance to barrel around the corner and after Coen.

 

He made it to the second door for the night compartments when he heard the rear door shudder open, the briefest shrill scream of wind, and then the door sliding back into place with a thud!

 

‘Edward!’

 

Leon turned back to face Rebecca, feeling his heart shrink in his chest. He felt his throat close up and a heavy stone sink into his gut, dragging him to his knees. He crawled over to their side, getting in close enough that he could see the fresh bullet wounds that Rebecca was doing her best to place pressure against. Her hands were flooded with red, Edward’s breath broken and weak.

 

‘Oh, Edward… Give me a minute. We’ve got you.’ With an insistent wave from Rebecca, Leon crawled closer and placed his hands tightly against Edward’s wounds. Beneath his hands the blood pooled, desperate to escape. He felt sick, feeling it push against his palm, bubbling there and threatening to spill over. He dared not look at Edward, dared not look at those eyes he knew were turning glassy and white, just as the other bodies aboard the train appeared.

 

‘R-Rebecca…’ He coughed, blood spurting out against his lips and chin. He reached for her hand, gripping it tight and stopping her from trying to pull out her medical supplies. She tried to wrench her hand free so that she might grab the bandages, but he shook his head slowly, lazily against the carriage wall.

 

‘It’s… It’s alright, ‘Becca… I- Ah… I have t-to tell you…’ His voice was so distant, so soft. He swallowed, choking a little on the blood he had swallowed down. ‘T-Those things… Those z-zombies… T-They’re everywhere… The w-woods are f-f-full- F-Full of them…’

 

His grip on her hand fell slack.

 

‘B-But they’re n-not the worst… W-Worst of it…’

 

He took a gasping breath, his chest shuddering and collapsing downwards beneath Leon’s hands. It was so sudden, but as quickly as he had arrived, just as suddenly his body gave in. Leon didn’t release his hands, hoping beyond hope that Rebecca had something, anything in their supplies, that could restart a heart. Something that could remove those two deadly bullets imbedded into Edward’s chest.

 

Instead, she gently took his hands and pulled them away from the wounds.

 

There was nothing that could be done.

 

They had to find Billy.

 

They had to get out.

 

 

~X~

 

 

‘Shots fired, sir. There appears to still be survivors aboard. What would you have us do?’

 

The commanding officer of Delta squad waited patiently for an order. Wesker, on the other end of the comms, sat back in his seat, thinking it over, allowing himself to distractedly observe the live footage of his S.T.A.R.S men run for their lives.

 

He had watched Edward Dewey charge through the train window through the only camera that had any view of the train and its tracks. He hadn’t expected his officer to make it so far, nor did he expect Edward Dewey to be greeted with bullets.

 

The camera was situated in a tree, aimed downwards at the tracks and the train. From its position, they had witnessed Dewey run into view and charge headfirst at the train, desperate to careen through the glass and escape the undead hounds snapping at his heels. They had seen him disappear into the dark of the train, heard two cracks of a gun and then watched as the Cerberus’ growled and stalked back and forth along the tracks.

 

They couldn’t see into the train, much to his frustration.

 

He wanted to know who it was that shot his officer.

 

‘Follow through with your mission orders. Set the train to crash into the tunnel ahead. If you encounter the survivors, keep them alive and evacuate them with you, however you can. If they are members of S.T.A.R.S…’ He thought for a moment.

 

‘Apprehend them. Evacuate them to the NEST. They cannot be allowed to escape, knowing you are Umbrella forces.’

 

‘Yes, sir.’

Chapter 13

Notes:

Trigger Warnings:
- Canon-Typical Violence
- Guns and Gun Violence
- Hostage Situations
- Body Horror

Following Billy’s trail on the train was next to impossible.

 

There was only the way ahead and the way behind, but still they could not determine the destruction or messes of clutter to be from the general undead creeping about or from Coen’s escape. They peered into every section of seats, checked every exit to see if it was locked and still they had found nothing of the man himself.

 

Rebecca was at Leon’s hip the entire time, never stepping far enough away that they might be separated by the occasional zombie attack. What he failed to see, she warned him of. What shots she missed, he followed up with perfect aim. The progress had been slow, but they cleared what inches of the train were not barred behind locked doors.

 

Eventually, the carriage doors slid open to reveal a stairway up into the dining car. In front of them was a steel, unpolished sliding door that read ‘STAFF ONLY’. There was a small circular window, high enough that Rebecca would have to stand on her toes to see into, that revealed a dark kitchen inside and another door beyond it. A notice was pinned to the wall that Rebecca tore off to read, revealing that their way through was impeded by the power switch being turned off.

 

Their only way was up.

 

It was the only way Billy could have gone, unless the man had managed to find a key for any of the locked doors.

 

Leon proceeded up the stairs first, Rebecca at his back and gun at the ready. The red carpet crumpled under their feet, muting their steps only a little. The further they climbed the stairs, the more they could smell something burning. Above their heads, they could see some smoke wafting out from the dining room and they quickened their pace.

 

What would have once been a wonderfully regal interior, decorated and detailed in gold alongside rich and noble reds, was now a complete disaster zone. Tables and chairs were thrown about, some candles had fallen to the rug and those that hadn’t been put out on impact instead spread their flame from wax to tablecloth. A small fire was licking at the furthest table from them both, where a figure remained hunched over.

 

Leon turned to his right, eyeing the reception desk. As Rebecca stepped away from him and began to investigate the destruction, Leon approached the desk with careful steps. His hands, stained red from Edward’s blood, gripped the Matilda tighter with an unwavering grasp.

 

He whipped his body over the reception desk and aimed his pistol down, catching sight of Coen’s legs underneath the desk. He was about to make his demands but the wind was knocked out of him as those legs kicked out, knocking him off his feet. His head collided with the desk, cracking it painfully to one side. The injury from the helicopter crash screamed in agony, Leon gritting his teeth and releasing a pained groan. Somewhere, he had dropped his gun.

 

Billy had crawled over to him, grappling his prone body and twisting him around to secure him against his chest. He was strong, and Leon was still reeling from the way his world was spinning. He could feel the bile at the back of his throat beginning to burn its way up his throat and threaten to explode from his lips. He swallowed it down and forced himself to struggle and to fight.

 

‘Let him go!’ Somewhere, beyond the haze of his turning world, he could hear Rebecca’s voice roar in a fury he had not heard before. He could feel Coen forcing him to his feet, one arm completely trapped to his side whilst the cool metal of Coen’s stolen gun rested against his temple.

 

‘That’s not gonna happen, girl.’ Leon growled, stamping his foot hard against Billy’s toes. The man winced and cringed, releasing his grip enough that Leon could maneuver his free arm to elbow him hard in the gut. It connected against tough muscles, Billy grunting hard against his ear, but as Leon moved to escape his clutches, Billy grabbed him again and brought him down with him. They were on the floor again, Billy changing his grip so that he might restrain Leon better and then the gun was once more placed to his head.

 

By now, Leon’s world was tilted to one side, everything off its axis. His vision was hazy and he was dizzy, struggling to stay standing against Billy’s side.

 

‘Billy, stop! Release him!’

 

‘Don’t wanna hurt him if I don’t have to. Drop the gun and let me go!’ Billy’s voice was loud in his ear, deafening him and causing his entire world to shift again. He could feel the blood leaving his face, and his stomach turning again.

 

‘I think he has a concussion, Billy. Please…’ Leon tried to talk but his windpipe was caught in the crook of Billy’s arm. He felt dark eyes on him, Leon turning his head just enough to catch sight of frustration twisting in Billy’s expression and then something moving beyond the haze. He turned his gaze over to Rebecca, giving her a good look at a pair of pupils unevenly spread across blue irises, but his focus was on something moving beyond her shoulder.

 

‘R-Rebecca…!’ He gasped, trying to warn her.

 

There was a furious snarl and Rebecca turned.

 

That figure that had been hunched over the final dining table in the back corner, where the flames were still crawling higher on the cloth, had fallen apart and just as quickly had reformed. That same jelly that clung to certain areas of the train was leaking from its body, its flesh wriggling like there were worms or leeches crawling underneath the skin. White eyes stared her down and it began to stumble closer, its body swinging about like the bones were not entirely solid.

 

She screamed and Leon felt himself released from Billy’s grip, being sure to snatch his gun as he wrenched away. He took the opportunity to surge over the desk, away from the criminal and to Rebecca’s side. Every step made it feel like the world was tilting, and he nearly fell on his ass to reach her.

 

By her side, the two of them raised their guns.

 

CRACK! Leon’s first shot cut its skull in half, but that same jelly-substance bubbled and pulled it together like the cranium was connected by elastics. CRACK! Rebecca’s shot passed through the knee, forcing the mutated monster to collapse to the floor. But it did not falter for long, the leg wriggling with those same hidden worms and then it was standing again.

 

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

 

‘Duck!’ Leon wasn’t so sure when Rebecca had cried that warning, but for him, it came a second too late. She ducked beneath an arm that reached out with writhing worms, that grasping limb enveloping him instead. It hurt, like he was being crushed in a sinking submersible; pressure on all sides that was bruising up his arms and across his chest.

 

When the limb withdrew, Leon stumbled. Still there was pressure and what felt like thousands of tiny, pincer teeth digging into his uniform. He turned his gaze down to his body where those same crawling bugs, that held the monster up, were now crawling all over him and spreading across every surface of skin. It hurt but Leon couldn’t scream, his breath still lost from the initial grab. He collapsed off his feet, Rebecca’s scream resounding through his head.

 

CRACK! CRACK!

 

More gunshots, but even as Leon felt those leeches slide dead off his body, his world started to shrink into the distance, darkness creeping in at the edges of his vision. More shots and gentle fingers on his face, Rebecca’s words impossible to make out from beyond the dark haze.

 

Leon’s eyes slipped shut at last. Somewhere there was something like a soothing, choir voice encouraging him to slumber.

 

He listened.

Notes:

Sorry for the long wait! I've been a bit distracted, but I've been wanting to update this for a little while! Hopefully I haven't kept you in suspense for too long! <3

Chapter 14

Notes:

Trigger Warnings:
- Gun Violence
- Injuries
- Animal Horror
- Swearing

The sensation of those horrid, mutated leeches crawling over his skin and into his clothes was what woke him up.

 

He gasped, ready to scratch and tear at the nasty things, but felt nothing bar the mildly damp, scratchy sheet falling off his body. His hands were shaking, reaching out to grasp the sheet and peel it away from his body, the chill in the room seeping into his bones. Despite his fear, the sheets were not damp with salty, heated sweat, but cold water that smelled like fresh air and the musty dust of the room.

 

Leon’s curiosity was answered with hard spatters of water showering down against the glass of the window. It was just behind the desk that pinned his cot into the corner of the room, the glass opened only a crack but enough to let in the rain. It splashed against the bare skin of his forearms and across his cheek, freezing and fresh. He breathed it in, that natural, worldly scent of rain in the grass and sighed.

 

For a moment, he thought he was tucked into his bunk at the police academy, Jean asleep above his head and muscles aching from the previous day’s obstacle course. He rolled his shoulders, ready to slip back under those thin sheets and curl back up into a nice, warm cocoon.

 

But the memories came flooding back; so real and alive.

 

He had graduated from the academy months ago. Had requested to be transferred to the Racoon City police department and became a member of S.T.A.R.S Bravo squad. He had been on his first mission, his helicopter twisting out of the air like it was caught in a hurricane, and then he and Rebecca investigating a train filled with monsters-

 

REBECCA!

 

He was up and on his feet in an instant.

 

He was still in uniform, mostly, save for his bullet-proof vest, belt and holster; they were on the desk beside him, lit by a small, dangling lamp. There was a typewriter just beside them, a note typed out onto a slip of paper that remained trapped in the platen.

 

𝙸’𝙼 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝙱𝙸𝙻𝙻𝚈.
𝙸’𝙼 𝚂𝙰𝙵𝙴.
𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙴 𝙵𝙸𝙽𝙳 𝙼𝙴 𝚆𝙷𝙴𝙽 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙲𝙰𝙽.

 

He didn’t trust Billy.

 

But he trusted Rebecca.

 

If she said she was safe, he would believe her.

 

He replaced his vest over his shoulders, strapping it on and wincing. His right eye twitched and a deep, ebbing ache started just behind the eye and pounded right against his right temple. He groaned, feeling his world tilt and watching as his vision collided together in the middle, doubling the desk, his gun and the window. He blinked and it faded.

 

That couldn’t be good.

 

He vaguely recalled Rebecca’s words to Billy; her scared, soft voice telling him that she suspected a concussion. That wasn’t good at all.

 

He raised a gentle hand to his temple, feeling his fingers skirt against something soft but rough. He hesitated, and then followed that thick cloth further up the side of his head. There was a mirror in the room and he went to check, feeling relief flooding his veins when he realised he had been tended to. Rebecca’s first aid supplies had been used, and a thick bandage had been wrapped tightly around his skull. His fringe on the right side of his head was red with crusted blood.

 

Relief turned to ice in his veins.

 

He had to find Rebecca.

 

They had to find the others.

 

Despite the pain in his head, Leon pulled his belt tightly around his hips, clipping it and replacing the holster for his gun and knife. He checked the ammunition, thankful to see a full clip of fifteen bullets, but was frustrated that his combat knife was missing. Rebecca must have taken it to use in messy close quarters, so he didn’t really blame her.

 

He opened the cabin door, exiting the overnight cabin with careful steps, only to be greeted with a pair of metal tubes, aimed directly at his head. The darkness within promised a shell or two aimed for his head, Leon realizing with fury and fear that it was a shotgun aimed directly between his eyes.

 

He glared beyond the double barrel, blue fury meeting cold, dark eyes. He may have still been scatterbrained, but he could recognize Billy Coen easily enough. The muscles, the swept-back hair and a tattoo emblazoned across his shoulder.

 

Evidently, Billy Coen was Rebecca-less.

 

Leon growled and, faster than Billy could react, whipped one hand up, snagging the barrel in one tight grip. Billy, so caught off-guard by the sudden display of aggression, backed up as Leon twirled the gun easily in his hands, glancing quickly at the chamber to confirm his suspicions, and then turning the gun on Billy. Even as his vision doubled and Billy shakily morphed into two figures, Leon could recall exactly where the criminal had been standing. He kept his aim steady, eyeing down the barrel with a sneer.

 

Never had Leon felt the urge to truly hurt someone before.

 

But Rebecca wasn’t here.

 

‘Where is she?’

 

‘Hey-’ Billy attempted to step back towards him, Leon pumping the gun in warning. It stopped the criminal in his tracks. ‘Whoa, hold on. D-Did you read what she left for you? She’s okay-’

 

‘WHERE IS SHE?!’

 

Leon was desperate for an answer. He needed to know and he needed to know now! If she was dead, or worse, he needed to know. He needed to arrest this man and find her, help her if he could or… Fuck, he didn’t know if he could kill her like he did the other zombies aboard the train…

 

‘Leon, hold on! Okay? She’s safe!’

 

‘Where?!’

 

‘L-Look, okay? S-Someone started the train and-…’ Billy was eyeing the gun with unease. Carefully, he placed his fingers against the barrel and started to tilt it away from him. Leon readjusted his aim, brows knitted tight into a murderous scowl. It wasn’t within his nature to want to kill, but the thought of Rebecca left to die by this monster-!

 

‘She’s trapped in a room upstairs!’ Billy assured him. ‘She’s okay! Really! Nothing happened, but we went onto the roof. We were trying to get power to some of the electric locks, but the train jolted. She fell into one of the rooms upstairs but I can’t get her out. The door is jammed, and she said there was something in the keyhole. She suggested finding something small enough to pick it out.’

 

‘And that involves you carrying around a shotgun, because…?’ Leon’s growled hadn’t subsided by much, but he did have questions. How much had he actually missed? Based on Billy’s words, it didn’t seem like he had missed much, and Rebecca was apparently safe if trapped, so it could have been a lot worse.

 

But he didn’t trust him.

 

‘I found it. Figured it was better than just carrying around a pistol. Certainly does the trick with most undead bastards.’ Billy’s fingers twisted, revealing a small key on a thin, silver chain. ‘I got this key for the conductor’s office. I was going to check and see if there was anything inside that could help. Apparently there’s a ladder to the bar upstairs from there. If nothing else, maybe they got a couple of ice picks up there. Could be small enough to get her free?’ He sounded hopeful, and Leon’s anger faded a little.

 

He had no choice.

 

Until he found Rebecca, he had to trust this man.

 

It certainly gave him a better chance of finding her.

 

‘Fine…’ Leon lowered the shotgun slowly. ‘I’m keeping this until we find her.’

 

Billy nodded, stepping around him and towards the conductor’s office. The key clicked in the lock and with a forceful turn, undid the latch and opened the door with a swish. It clattered to one side and then they entered into the cramped space, a small, square hole in the ceiling where a ladder was folded precariously into the confined space.

 

The only way was up.

 

‘I’ll go first.’ Leon huffed, carefully switching on the safety for the gun and adjusting his belt to act as another holster across his shoulders. The shotgun slipped onto his back and stuck there with a tightening of the leather, and Leon turned away from Billy, staring ahead at the climb ahead of him. A golden light waited for them at the end of the line, and Leon didn’t wait a second more.

 

He ascended first, Billy following close behind him.

 

When he reached the top, he stepped out of the way to make room for the criminal. He was pleasantly surprised to see that he had been telling the truth; a regal room of gold and red, with a long bar that held hundreds of bottles of whiskey, vodka and wine. It was exactly the kind of place Leon expected someone of royalty to frequent.

 

As Billy came up beside him, Leon stepped past the bar, gazing for one of those picks or something similar to open Rebecca’s cage. Instead, his whole world was rocked suddenly to one side and then harshly snapped back to a stable standstill, but Leon’s head wasn’t spinning. His stomach wasn’t lurching with anything other than discomfort.

 

What the Hell was that?

 

‘Y-You said the train was moving?’

 

‘Y-Yeah.’ Leon turned to look back at Billy, who had tumbled over. Evidently, his world tilting was not just because of his own concussion. Something had just tilted the entire train over, and the mess of broken glass on the floor surrounding the bar confirmed Billy wasn’t somehow tricking him.

 

Something big had just gotten off the train.

 

Or, an even more terrifying thought, but something big had just gotten onboard.

 

‘But the train hasn’t moved like that before. Christ, it jolted a bit, but that! Nothing like that before.’ As if to confirm Billy’s observations, there was a screech. It was muffled, almost distant, but something in Leon’s heart seized in fear. The hairs on his neck stood up and goosebumps broke out across his skin.

 

He leapt forward, tumbling head over heels into a roll. Just in time too, because there was another screech and then the roof over where he had been standing was torn through like paper. The chandelier came down where he would have been standing, shattering to pieces in a cacophony of glass. Pincer claws dug into the metal sheets and ripped and pulled, until the entire roof was stripped back to reveal a nightmarish face of dark, round eyes and snapping mandibles.

 

It didn’t fall in but skittered, on six legs ending in fine points. Its front limbs were armed with those nasty pincers, large enough to cut Leon in half like scissors to paper. The chitin armour was black like it had been burnt, rough everywhere except for the sleek plates that rose up its back and along the long shaft of its tail. Its tail whipped in after it, revealing a bulbous, garlic-shaped stinger, its fine point dripping with venom.

 

Leon took a shaking step back, slowly withdrawing the shotgun from its shoddy holster. Behind the bar, Billy was frozen in place, trapped just beside its legs. One wrong move, and the monster would see him.

 

The scorpion shrieked again, deafeningly loud in his ears, and with the roof destroyed, Leon could finally hear the raging storm outside. It roared and flooded the room with that same, freezing water Leon had woken up to. He could hear the steel of the train wheels squealing against the tracks, but it was lost in the sound of the scorpion’s hungry shriek.

 

Leon raised the gun.

 

And the monster lunged towards him.

Chapter 15

Notes:

Trigger Warnings:
- Canon-Typical Violence
- Blood and Minor Gore
- Mutated Animal Death
- References to Human Experimentation

‘We must attain samples of these experiments…’

 

William was muttering again, leaned over his books and scribbling down his observations with such speed, his writing was incomprehensible to anyone bar himself. His knuckles were a constant shade of white and his hands shaking as he wrote.

 

They had been sitting by the monitors for some hours, observing Wesker’s officers claw and fight their desperate way to survival. Birkin had been excitedly taking down note after note, occasionally making the same remarks regarding samples and subjects. He was saying it to ‘himself’, but really, it was Birkin’s attempts to subtly tell Wesker exactly what he desired when S.T.A.R.S Alpha team was finally sent to investigate. As annoying as it was, he couldn’t really blame the man for his excitement; Wesker was intrigued too, and such successful test subjects were most desirable to collect.

 

‘Sir?’ There was static and a sharp ring of the radio broadcast. It was the captain of USS Delta team once again, Wesker taking the microphone and pulling it back over to him. He pressed one finger to the illuminated yellow button that read ‘INPUT’, leaning forward so that they might hear him clearly.

 

‘What is it?’

 

‘There are some persons of interest aboard the train.’

 

‘Oh?’

 

‘We found the body of one Dewey, Edward of S.T.A.R.S deceased in the next carriage over. But, we have found evidence of their being other people aboard, armed and dangerous.’

 

There were only a couple of people that should have been out in those parts of Arklay forest. It could be a wayward hiker or dogwalker, but the chances of such a coincidence were incredibly slim. Captain Enrico and Richard Aiken were still exploring the manor and officer Forest Speyer was currently bleeding out on the terrace, blind and weak from being attacked. It couldn’t be any of them, so it meant there was either one of two officers aboard the Ecliptic Express.

 

‘Do you have a visual? Can you attain one?’

 

‘They headed up to the second level, sir, via the Conductor’s office. We could get no visual without compromising our position. We’ve decided to wait until they come back down to our level to apprehend them, sir. That way, we can hope to avoid a firefight.’ It made sense, but it frustrated Wesker all the same. He wanted to know where his rookies had disappeared to and wanted them found before they got too damaged to repair.

 

There was a sudden shriek over the radio, deafeningly loud in Wesker’s ears. He sneered, watching as Birkin retreated from the desk entirely, hands over his ears in pain. He growled, leaning into the microphone, the shriek dying down and replaced instead by that muted rumble of the storm overhead. Static sounded through the radio, as well as the pained gasps of Delta squad.

 

‘What was that?!’

 

‘We… We don’t know, sir.’ He hated all of these unknowns. ‘B-But something big just got on the train.’ That caught Birkin’s attention, the curious scientist hurrying to slide his chair back over to the desk and right up to Wesker’s side. Though his gaze was still firmly planted on the monitors, he was keenly listening in to what Delta squad had just discovered or seen.

 

‘It rocked the whole bloody train, whatever it was.’ Through the speakers, in the background beyond the wall of heavy rain and occasional, drastic thunderstrikes, there was a series of short CRACKS! Wesker didn’t need his commanding officer to tell him what they were; he could recognize a shotgun when he heard it.

 

‘And it seems to have found our targets.’

 

‘Be ready to collect them alive when they’re done. If they succeed in killing the mutated subject, take samples from the deceased. Then get off the train before it derails.’

 

‘Yes, sir.’

 

 

---

 

 

The stinger drilled into the floor right where Leon had been standing, the stench of an unknown venom perforating through the air. The scorpion shrieked, clicking its mandibles, wrenching its tail free with a SNIKT! out of the rug and metal beneath.

 

Leon had rolled to one side, pulling the gun up high and firing two shots.

 

BANG!

 

BANG!

 

The shells bounced off its carapace, one piercing the glass and escaping into the storm outside, whilst the other burrowed into the wall just by Billy’s head. The criminal ducked, eyes widening on the hole in the wall just inches from his nose. The carapace dented but otherwise remained unmarred. The scorpion seemed unbothered by the shots, raising one large claw high above its head and bringing it down towards Leon.

 

He ducked beneath its swing, a chair crunching beneath the weight and force of the blow. Splinters flew in all directions, scratching his cheeks and the back of his neck. He hissed, glaring into those dark, beady eyes that just stared back. Those mandibles snapped together again, drool running from those hungry jaws. The pincer moved, swiping at his legs. He leapt over them and onto the table, but the table legs crunched and collapsed, unprepared for the sudden weight. The table crumbled to pieces and Leon fell into the mess; he could already feel his rear and back bruising.

 

BANG!

 

‘Leon!’ There was another BANG! and the scorpion skittered, wheeling itself in a slow arc to turn around and face the criminal. A few more shots sounded off, but the pistol had even less of an effect on the arachnid. The pistol’s bullets sparked off its chitin and shot off in all directions, but nothing pierced its hide. The scorpion hissed, all six legs rapidly clicking against the floor as it dashed towards Billy.

 

Leon watched as his saviour turned to the bar and started collecting bottles off the wall, hurling them with all his might towards the scorpion. They smashed against its armour, glass and alcohol running off its body and onto the floor. He slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out a small lighter, but before he could flick it open, the scorpion’s pincer struck out. Both halves of the pincer pierced the bar display behind him, pinning the criminal to the wall between them. He fumbled, the lighter tumbling onto the floor and out of sight.

 

Leon hurried to collect the shotgun from where he dropped it. He snapped it open, revealing the chambers, and replaced the shells with another snap of the gun. He cocked it, aiming it up and towards Billy and the pincer that was encroaching upon his waste. The claw clenched against his waist, caving in flesh and drawing blood, Billy gasping and kicking his legs in a desperate bid to escape. His nails raked across the claw, but leaving nothing but long, white lines across the surface.

 

BANG! BANG!

 

The sound of the scorpion’s shriek rivalled the thunder outside, piercing their eardrums and ringing through their heads like a high-pitched alarm. Both shells hit their mark; that little piece of the exoskeleton connecting the pincer to the arm, cracking the shell and then dividing it in two. The pincer relaxed and then dropped to the floor, Billy falling with it and onto his hands and knees.

 

The scorpion turned towards Leon once more, making that same, shrieking snarl. Instead of just hunger, however, Leon could swear he could see the fury in those eyes. It charged towards him and Leon leapt out of the way. Its head hit the wall, but even as it collided with the wall, the whole carriage tilting dangerously to one side, its pincer lashed out and then the tail whipped down towards him. He ducked beneath the pincer in a quick roll and then only just managed to leap back from the pincer.

 

He moved to get to his feet, but he realised with horror that the pincer hadn’t missed entirely. The fine point to the stinger had pierced his vest, impaling it and pinning him to the floor. He dropped the gun, scrambling to unstrap the body armour. He managed one strap, but before he could undo it entirely, the stinger retreated, pulling him with it.

 

He gasped, reflexively reaching out to take hold of the tail. The scorpion couldn’t see him, but as it turned to look for him, it lashed him about, attempting to throw him off. Leon held on tighter. He didn’t want to imagine what would happen if he fell off it now. From where he was, clinging for dear life on the tail, he could see Billy from over the bar, picking himself up and holding tight to the wounds in his side. Blood pooled beneath the grey of his singlet, marring it a deep, dark crimson.

 

‘Get the lighter! Go!’ Leon ordered, the giant scorpion turning to follow Billy with its eyes. It snarled and shot its tail towards him, Leon using all his weight to throw the stinger just off course. The stinger delved into the floor to Billy’s right, the criminal still having to duck and roll just to avoid it. He watched as Billy’s outstretched hand wrapped around the golden lighter case and, with a flick, the flame was revealed.

 

The tail pulled him back and Billy hesitated. Leon was dangling just above the monster’s head, the tail curling back in preparation for another strike. The stain of alcohol was all over it, and Leon wasn’t too sure he would be missed if the creature was lit up. But they couldn’t afford to wait.

 

‘Do it now!’ Billy hesitated no longer, tossing his lighter against its hide. It an instant, there was a flash of gold and blue and an explosion of fire from the point of contact. A wave of heat burst against Leon’s back, burning but not touching him. He felt like he was being held over a kitchen stove, one that was screeching and stumbling about in pain as the fire consumed it. The rain cooled him down somewhat and helped to lower the flames, but otherwise, the scorpion continued to roast in the fire.

 

Its tail came down again, this time Leon’s vest was torn and he was repelled from it and to the floor. He scrambled back to his feet, Billy helping him up and out of the way. The smell was horrid, both men struggling to hold back the bile in their throats. The creature still wasn’t dead, furiously lashing out and they ducked under some precarious swings, diving out of the way in opposite directions. Once more, Leon tumbled over and landed just short of the shotgun, replacing it with the last shell in their arsenal.

 

The scorpion was on him, mandibles ferociously snapping at his head and neck, bearing that immense weight atop him and pinning him to the floor. He could hear more pistol bullets flying, could feel how the scorpion shuffled and trembled, its armour having been burned through in places and revealing weaknesses to Billy’s aim. But still, it snapped at him, Leon forced to hold the shotgun between him and those mandibles to keep himself alive.

 

CRACK!

 

Finally, one of the pistol shots found its mark, right by the creature’s head. It turned just enough to face Billy before deciding to finish the job of killing Leon.

 

But that was all the time Leon needed.

 

When the monster turned his head, he readjusted the shotgun, cocking it and raising the barrel up and aiming up towards its face. As it turned back to face him, mandibles opening wide, he shoved the barrel deep into its jaws, sneering up at it a certain kind of pleasure Leon hadn’t ever felt before.

 

‘Hungry?’

 

It was his last, witty comment before the shot rang out. The boom of the shotgun was muted at first by the scorpion’s body, but there was a crackle and pop of the carapace above its head. Shards of chitin fell all around Leon’s body and he hurried to kick himself out from underneath its mass before it all came down and crushed him. Any final shrieks in its throes of death were drowned out by the fire, the monster finally becoming still on the floor between himself and Billy.

 

His head hurt, but he finally felt as if he could breathe.

 

At last…

Chapter 16

Notes:

Trigger Warnings:
- Gun Violence
- Physical Violence
- Animal Violence (Technically? Mutated leeches, at least)

‘This should do, right?’

 

Leon’s eyes turned over towards Billy, eyeing the ice pick in his hands. It was sharp, and almost needle thin. If anything would be able to pick a lock, it might just have to do. He shrugged, nodding his head lazily to one side.

 

He felt slack, his muscles on all sides aching. Being tossed about by a creature ten times one’s own size was having an effect; he could feel the dark bruises forming up his back, could feel the deep ache in his neck whenever he turned his head one way, like some form of whiplash. Being tossed about like a ragdoll probably wasn’t helping his concussion either, his vision almost constantly blurry and his ears filled with a muted, distant sound like ocean waves.

 

‘Are you alri-?’

 

‘I’m fine.’ Leon bit back, shutting Billy’s concerns down. He didn’t need this criminal to pretend to care. They were only in this together until they could escape safely back to Raccoon city. There, he could face justice for his crimes and maybe achieve something of a reduced sentence for his actions on the train. Maybe he would be committed to life instead of facing the electric chair, and that was fine by Leon.

 

So long as they made it out alive.

 

‘I… I need to head back to the night carriage again.’ He said through gritted teeth. With the way his head was spinning, he couldn’t wait for them to find Rebecca. He needed medicine for the pain and he needed it now, and he could recall some medication left for him by the typewriter. ‘I’m going to head back. Meet me at the Conductor’s office. With Rebecca.’

 

‘Yeah… Sure.’ He seemed hesitant to leave him alone, but Leon didn’t pay much mind. He could handle a couple of wandering zombies, but he didn’t want to whilst his stomach was still lurching and his head was still swimming. A quick fix was better than waiting to be told that the quick fix was their only option with limited resources. He couldn’t trust that Rebecca had found a stash of any kind of medical wonder where she was trapped.

 

Billy stepped around the bar and headed back towards the end of the carriage’s upper level. A door was stuck fast there, but he had found a key. It would let him cut some time towards Rebecca’s location, so he made a beeline towards it, ice pick in hand. He passed the still burning corpse of the giant scorpion, gagging at the toxic odour in the air of burning arachnid. As Billy stepped over the one remaining claw and disappeared through the door to the hallway, Leon unclasped the lock on the hatch, leading into the office.

 

Carefully, he made his way down the ladder, one foot after the other, until he could drop to his feet. He stumbled a moment, groaning into his hand as the world tilted and he nearly lost his lunch. He took a minute to just breathe, his bruised chest swelling with the air in his lungs and with his head between his knees. The bile in the back of his throat stuck fast there for a moment and then receded back down to his stomach.

 

Leon opened the door to the office and was greeted immediately with a refreshing chill and sharp breeze against his face and body. It cooled him almost instantly and he breathed in that smell of a strong storm, little flecks of rain striking his skin. It was a wonderful change from the bar and the rest of the train, and Leon turned his eyes to where the strong winds were coming from.

 

The door to the engine…

 

It was open.

 

Suddenly, all feelings of relief and calm evacuated his systems. Sirens started blaring in his head and his hand slipped down to his gun. The last time he had been there with Rebecca, just before Edward had died, the door had been locked tight. It needed a security card, which neither had and he certainly hadn’t found. When he had run into Billy after regaining consciousness, the door had been shut then too, of that he was sure.

 

Which meant, sometime during the fight with the scorpion upstairs, someone had to have unlocked it.

 

Someone else was here.

 

If Rebecca was trapped, she couldn’t have been there to open it. And Billy had gone the other way. There was no way he could have wrapped back around before Leon had descended the ladder, and why would he want to? If he wanted to leave the train earlier, before it started moving, he had the chance. Why wait until the train was racing at breakneck speeds down the tracks to leap overboard?

 

Cautiously, Leon stepped towards the blind corner around the bend, aiming his gun ahead and prepared for an ambush. The first corner was safe, empty save the dead body of the conductor on the floor. He approached the door slowly, the engine now deafeningly loud in his ears and the rain now slashing at his face like tiny knives against his skin. He blinked the stinging water out of his eyes, looking forward and to the open door into the engine room.

 

In that moment, just around the right side of the door, surged a large dark shape that snagged his wrists and forced his gun downwards. He fired a shot on reflex, the bullet lodging itself into the metal beneath his feet as the figure wrestled with him for the gun. He ripped his hands free, attempting to back up, but the stranger bore down on him with such strength that Leon was lacking.

 

There was the crack of something hard against the side of his head, Leon’s whole world turning and then it happened again, forcing him to the floor. He hit the metal walkway with a crunch of metal against skull, Leon’s throat closing up and his stomach clenching painfully. He felt a barrel of a gun pressed to the side of his head, heard voices in his ear, but he didn’t wait to have his head blown off.

 

As drunk as he felt, he whipped out one leg, catching the figure off guard. The large shape of the figure fell to the floor with a clatter of all kinds of body armour and weapons. He tackled him, wrenching the gun from his hands, but before he could turn the semi-automatic gun around and aim it down towards the - Soldier? Mercenary? – he felt hands on his shoulders, ripping him back and away from his attacker. The new force had snaked an arm around his neck, just as Billy had done, but Leon was not about to be caught again so easily. He dropped the gun and with its safety off, bullets flew in all directions. It was mostly harmless, a few windows busted by the sporadic fire, but it had the desired effect of forcing his first attacker to cower, giving him time to turn his attention on the one behind him.

 

He grabbed ahold of the arm around his neck and pulled with all his effort. His strength didn’t match the attacker, but as the stranger pulled back with all their strength, Leon used it as the leverage to haul himself up, slipping his head out from the arm and going right over his attacker’s head. He landed on his feet behind him, turning the tables and pulling him down to his level in such a way that the other couldn’t easily escape. He whipped out a pair of handcuffs, slinging them around one wayward wrist and then latching the other cuff to the railing, leashing the second attacker to the train. He stepped out of reach, but the one that had attacked him first had recovered.

 

Knuckles struck his cheek, twisting him around on his feet and then again across his jaw. It sent him to the floor again, this time spilling his lunch and continuing to retch uncontrollably on the walkway. Whoever they were, the one that floored him, pressed their boot into his back and pulled out a radio. It was hard to make out the voices over the storm, but Leon strained to listen.

 

‘Sir. We’ve apprehended one of them now.’

 

‘W-… One?’

 

The stranger leaned down to him, pulling him onto his side by his hair and then unclipped the badge on his belt. They flipped it open, and Leon wondered if the USB in his S.T.A.R.S badge would continue to work after being in the rain.

 

‘Officer Kennedy, sir.’ There was a crackle of static.

 

‘Brin-… To me.’

 

‘Yes, sir.’

 

The boot pressed harder against his back, but then the mercenary (he was inclined to think mercenary rather than soldier) stepped over towards his companion. He took out his own small pistol, and shot the thin handcuff chain apart with the CRACK! of a well-placed bullet.

 

Leon, his head right against the floor of the walkway, could smell something foul. It was not unlike the scorpion’s venom or that strange, leech covered monster from the dining car, and he felt himself shudder in anticipation. He turned his head, eyeing the excretion, that same viscous jelly, spread across the walkway, and despite the pain, Leon was up on his hands and knees, scrambling away from the torrent of hideous leeches.

 

The mercenaries noticed him moving and reached for him, but Leon ducked beneath their hands and out of the way of the encroaching monstrous force. The leeches had found their way to the one with the cuff still around his wrist, crawling up his boot and towards his knees and crotch. He yelled and he screamed. Their radios sparked with life, but whoever was on the other end of the line, their voice was drowned out by gunfire and screams.

 

Leon watched, stepping back and as far away as he could from their struggling forms. His hip connected with the railing, the grass and trees passing by behind him at dangerous speed. One of those mercenaries struggled for something, for a gun or for their partner he wasn’t sure, but their hands found him. The leeches began to spread, crossing those outstretched arms like bridges, climbing across him and onto his shoulders. He reached up to swipe them off, wishing he had his gun in his hands, but the weight of the mercenary, his own desperate struggles to escape the leeches and a sudden lurch of the train was all gravity needed.

 

He felt himself falling first, and despite his fear, reached for the mercenary on top of him. They tumbled over the railing together and for moments that stretched to hours, Leon was in freefall. He watched as the engine of the train disappeared behind the shoulder of the first carriage, and those maroon painted walls of the Ecliptic Express disappeared into the mist.

 

Leon had only a second to realise what had happened, before his body connected with the ground and his vision died like someone switched off the lights.

 

Was this what death felt like?

Chapter 17

Notes:

Trigger Warnings:
- Swearing
- Human Experimentation
- References to Death and Violence
- Mild Body Horror

Leon came to in a ditch.

 

He awoke to see the dark canopy of branches above his head and the storm pelting down on him so hard it hurt. His whole body was trembling and he was sure he was blue in the lips. Every movement was heavy and painful, ebbing with deep-seated aches. He could swear he could hear every one of his bones grinding against each other as he moved, sitting up and holding his pounding head.

 

He was sunk partially into the mud, wet grass clinging to his uniform and skin. He seemed remarkably uninjured despite all the pain, but he found no gouges and was able to stumble and stand at last.

 

The mercenary that had fallen off the train with him however…

 

He switched on his flashlight, peering through the dark. The white beam of light trailed a slow path through the trees, illuminating shadows that moved and crept all the closer. When the beam turned down to the base of the closest tree, the dark, bulky shape of that mercenary came into view, wrapped at an impossible angle around the trunk. Leon took a few deep breaths, pushing down the urge to be sick once more, and then approached the body with careful steps.

 

He reached for his knife, so that he might be sure that the figure wouldn’t come back as one of the undead. However, he found its sheath empty. He must have left it on the train-

 

The train!

 

Rebecca!

 

The realization hit him like two tons of bricks, and he peered up at the raised hill above his ditch. It was carefully cleared of trees and he could see the glint of that metal railroad in the white light. But no train… Nothing to even show it had been there, save for the road it had to travel along.

 

He was alone.

 

There was the crackle of static and he turned to face that mercenary’s corpse once more. On his hip, a radio blared to life, crackly and a voice almost indiscernible. Desperately, Leon surged forward, reaching for the radio and unclipping it from the body’s belt. He brought it to his lips to speak, but hesitated a moment.

 

Why were these two on the train?

 

Was the other one still alive?

 

Had they found Rebecca?

 

The radio crackled to life once again.

 

‘Can… H-Hear… Wha-… Your status?’

 

Leon snarled down at the voice over the other end. He had no cue who it was that they were talking to, but he had to know. Those mercenaries were looking for S.T.A.R.S and they had been the ones to start the train, of that he was sure. But why?

 

He clicked the button, stepping under the nearest tree to provide himself some cover whilst he spoke.

 

‘This is officer Kennedy of S.T.A.R.S Bravo squad. Identify yourself. Over’

 

Silence.

 

Whoever it was that was on the other end had gone quiet. The radio still crackled with life, so Leon knew he was being listened to, but whoever it was had gone silent. He grit his teeth, trying not to just yell into the receiver. He was pissed. Beyond pissed. All of this trouble, and for what?!

 

‘I repeat, this is officer Kennedy of S.T.A.R.S. Identfy yourself, now. Over.’

 

A moment of silence.

 

‘Officer Kennedy…’

 

It was a voice he did not recognize. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but he would have liked to have been handed their identity on a silver platter. They sounded masculine, based on the voice, but the connection wasn’t perfect. It was quite possible that the signal was being warped beyond repair.

 

‘How have you been finding your evening?’

 

It was the clearest he had heard the voice so far. There was still a great deal of static in his ears, but the voice remained remarkably clear. He stopped holding the button for the microphone, taking the moment to growl to himself and gather his thoughts.

 

‘Joyous…’

 

In the background of the microphone, there was a deep chuckle. Evidently from a different tone of voice, but it was so faint and distant from the microphone, Leon could determine nothing. Only that whoever laughed was not the one talking to him.

 

‘This would be easier for us if you could tell us what you have gone through thus far?’

 

‘What am I? A fucking guinea pig?’ It was the angriest Leon had ever felt in all his life. It was the kind of anger that simmered like a covered pot of boiling water. Steam and bubbles escaped, threatening to spill over the stove top, and Leon could feel the steam in his ears and his face turning red.

 

‘Perhaps. Your experiences would be precious data for us. Would you like to give it up, before you eventually die tonight?’

 

Leon switched the radio off with a click. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Why would anyone out themselves to him and tell him who they were and what they were planning? But he had hoped to gauge something from the deaths of these mercenaries and now he was left with nothing and no one.

 

His eyes turned down to the radio, glaring at it and about ready to pelt it into the woods. He had to find Rebecca and get out of there whilst they still could.

 

They had to get back to Raccoon City.

 

As he lifted the radio, reeling back to toss it into the trees, he stopped. A thought came to mind and an idea started to form. He had no idea where Rebecca was but she… She had a radio and so did the other members of S.T.A.R.S...

 

He could get help after all!

 

He just had to remember the numbers…

 

 

---

 

 

‘Damn…’ Wesker sighed, leaning back in his seat as the audible click of the U.S.S’ captain’s radio clicked off. It was a shame… He had been hoping that William could pull out a little more information from the rookie, but he should have expected that it was a long shot. The rookie may have been naïve but he wasn’t entirely an idiot.

 

Hearing his voice over the radio had been something of a small relief to Wesker. There was still more data to gather from the young officer, if he found him when he and Alpha team were sent out to recover Bravo squad and their remains.

 

‘I don’t know what you expected…’ William leaned back in his seat, away from the microphone. He turned in his chair, cracking his neck tiredly and seeking relief for the ache that came from sitting bent over a desk for hours on end. ‘He wasn’t going to tell us anything.’

 

‘One can always hope.’ Wesker turned his gaze back to the screens. The tunnel into the training facility was burning brightly, the wreckage of the train up in flames after it crashed headlong into the tunnel. He had been surprised to see Rebecca alive and well, hopping off the train followed closely by a stranger. He hadn’t seen the man before and he was sure he wasn’t in the missing person reports.

 

As he watched them both make their way through the tunnel, towards the exit up into the facility, he was surprised when his own radio sparked to life on his hip. He had informed his team that he was not to be contacted overnight, and he was sure that, as stupid as the chief could be, he was not going to contact him without his permission.

 

‘H-Hell- Hello? Captain Wesker?’

 

Shock rocketed its way up through his system, realizing exactly whose voice it was on the other end. A sly grin spread across his face, William looking at him almost dumbfounded. Wesker had to take a moment to gather himself so he would not chuckle at the almost unbelievable coincidence, reaching to his belt and plucking the radio free. He held a finger to his lips, gesturing to the monitors, and William leaned over to them to mute them all.

 

‘Who is this?’

 

‘O-Officer K-Kennedy, sir… We need- Need backup. Immediately, if possible.’

 

‘What’s happened?’ He leaned closer to the receiver, wondering if Leon felt relief hearing his voice. He wondered if he was some kind of savior for the rookie, even though it was because of him that they were in such a dire situation. ‘What’s wrong?’

 

‘This is-… Crazy, sir… But there are d-dead-… Walking. They’re attacking us… I know it sounds mad, but-…. True. And there are g-giant monsters out here too.’

 

‘What are you talking about, Kennedy?’ William was leaning over his notes, scribbling down what he could hear through the radio. ‘What do you mean giant monsters?’

 

‘A-… Orpion… Scorpion, sir.’ That was one of their experiments alright. Though Wesker hadn’t involved himself much in the experiments on the animals, he had heard how they could grow enormous with increased aggression. Apparently, their venom became more potent as well, the experiment nicknamed ‘Yawn’ by Annette was able to kill an adult in under two minutes with its powerful venom. As far as they were aware, too, the usual antivenoms no longer worked against the experiments either.

 

‘This is unbelievable. Are you sure?’

 

‘Yes, sir. I must reques-… Backup for-… Team or immediate extrac-…’

 

‘The weather is unforgiving. We won’t be able to head out until after the storm recedes.’

 

‘I… Understand, sir.’

 

‘Do you recall your coordinates?’

 

‘I…’ There was silence for a few minutes. ‘I do not know mi-… But the heli-… It crashed j-just short of…’ He relayed the coordinates thrice, to make sure the captain had them clearly. ‘And o-officer K-… Dooley should s-still be with there.’ Wesker was well aware that Kevin Dooley was dead. According to William, he had been torn apart by the Cerberus’ not long after the team had left him behind.

 

‘We’ll be there as soon as we can. Find Rebecca if you can. Otherwise, return to the helicopter.’

 

‘Y-Yes, sir…’ The radio fizzled out and turned to silence. Wesker grinned down at it with some delight. His rookie was alive, at least for now. He replaced the radio at his hip and then turned back to the monitors. When William seemed to wait, watching him, he turned his head and glared over at the scientist.

 

‘What?’

 

‘Aren’t you going to go get your team together?’

 

‘I said the weather was too rough.’ Wesker hummed, leaning back in his seat and stretching his back until his spine popped nicely back into place. ‘We’ve still got some hours left before the weather is supposed to recede.’

 

‘I’m sure Bravo can wait until morning.’

Chapter 18

Notes:

Trigger Warnings:
- Extreme Body Horror
- Injury
- Very minor Frostbite
- Swearing
- Violence

‘Rebecca? Rebecca, can you hear me? Over.’

 

He checked the channel on the radio, tweaking the dial either side millimeter by millimeter, searching for that sweet spot. The connection over the radio wasn’t perfect, not in the middle of the woods with a horrific storm raging overhead, but it was the best he could do. Better still, was that he had gotten through to Raccoon City and his captain.

 

They could expect backup.

 

They might just be able to escape this nightmare.

 

The radio crackled and then there was a shuttered click!

 

‘Leon? Is… You?’

 

‘Rebecca! Yes. It’s me! I’m so glad you’re okay. Where are you?’

 

‘I… D-Don’t know. This place-… Some big mansion-… Train crash-! Zombies everywhe-…’

 

‘I saw the crash. Do you know where this mansion is?’

 

‘L-Leo-… -On’t know…’

 

The radio was starting to really struggle. Perhaps the signal from her radio was dying or very weak where she was. He tried to speak to her again, repeating himself over and over, asking if she was there and safe. He got nothing but static in return.

 

Dammit!

 

He looked up from the radio with a frustrated sigh. The little cave he had found, a burrow really, was a cramped space he had dragged both himself and all of the supplies he could off of the dead mercenary. His Matilda, a powerful, double gauge shotgun, a new bulletproof vest to replace the one he lost during his fight with the scorpion, and a single flash grenade were all the defence he had to brave the night. Still no knife, much to his frustration, but maybe Rebecca had picked it up when he had fallen unconscious onboard the train. He was sure he hadn’t woken up with it when he first bumped into Billy without her.

 

The little, muddy burrow was beginning to flood with the lashing, intrusive rain. He hated the thought of leaving his little safe haven behind to go hiking through the dark, but he had his orders. And he didn’t like the chances of being hunted down to the burrow and then trapped in a claustrophobic space with zombies or another giant, starving animal. The scorpion was terrible enough, but what other abominations might haunt the woods? What might fit through the tunnel mouth, trapping him inside and reaching out with hungry jaws, until he had no choice but to be devoured?

 

He had to leave. Get out of there whilst he still could.

 

He needed to regroup with Rebecca if he could.

 

If he failed to do so, he needed to try and retrace his steps back down the tracks and towards the crash site of the downed helicopter. He wondered if officer Dooley had also gotten into contact with the RPD, requesting backup. Maybe the others had made it back and were waiting for them.

 

It was wishful thinking, at best.

 

Leon strapped the bulletproof vest across his chest and shoulders, patting it down against his aching muscles with a groan. It was bulkier than he would like, but maybe that would work in his favour. It should be harder for teeth to tear through, even if it was quite a bit more restrictive than his own. He strapped the shotgun over his shoulder, rolling his shoulder in the socket to test his movement and the gun’s weight against him. He clicked the magazine into his Matilda and placed the flash grenade into his pocket, thumbing along the sleek metal of the pin ring.

 

He wasn’t sure it would be so useful against a zombie, but another one of those giant animals… Maybe…

 

He crawled his way to the edge of the cave and stepped out into the wind and rain, nearly swept away by the force of it all. He was sure that, one wrong slip, he might actually be lifted off his feet and pulled away in a hurricane into the dark storm clouds above. The canopy above bent and bowed in the breeze, the occasional twig dropping to meet the forest floor, and Leon hoped that those twigs would be the worst of his troubles. He’d hate to have survived literal zombies only to be crushed to death by a falling branch.

 

He had to find this mansion Rebecca mentioned.

 

He started off into the trees, trying to get some idea as to which way was which, even if the forest all looked the same and there was no sun, moon or stars to guide him. He wasn’t sure anymore what time it was, and how much time he had missed when he had been left unconscious twice.

 

Leon couldn’t be sure how long it was he was walking for, but he knew he was lost when he hadn’t found the train tracks within ten minutes of leaving the cave. He hadn’t dragged the supplies and himself all that far from the tracks, so he should have found them very quickly. But there was no glint of steel and no distant crackling of the fiery remains of the train.

 

He could scream.

 

He might have. If he did, his scream was lost in the roar of wind and the crash of thunder through the sky.

 

As he trudged through the trees, over root and stem and beneath the low hanging branches that clung to his clothes like clawed, hungry hands, Leon felt his patience whittle down to nothing. He blinked back tears, invisible in the rush of water against his freezing cheeks and the chilly blue of his lips.

 

When he tripped over something sharp, tumbling into the mud, he definitely screamed. He wheeled around, reaching for the branch that had torn into his calf, grabbing it tight in one hand and pulling the rotting piece of wood from the ground, ready to snap it. Instead, he stopped, the sound of his furious scream dying in his throat as he eyed the ‘branch’; really, it was a carved piece of wood, shaped into a small picket. Maybe once, it would have been white, but the paint had been chipped and worn away long ago. The wire and nails that were imbedded in the picket connected it to another small picket and so on, creating a tiny, half-buried fence in the mud.

 

A fence meant owned land.

 

It meant civilization.

 

He tossed it into the dirt, scrambling in the slippery mud to his feet and scanning through the darkness for any sign of a building. The mansion was what he was hoping for, but instead, he saw a small, muddied path that led a winding road up towards a distant cabin. Inside, past what looked to be broken windows, he could see a flickering golden light.

 

Survivors!

 

And even if there was no one to be found, he could get his bearings under the shade and maybe in front of a warm fire.

 

He approached the cabin, a shack really with its small size and shoddy appearance, only just slowing down as he took his first step on its front porch. The wood creaked loudly beneath his weight and he cringed, waiting to hear the muffled snarls of the dead inside. He heard nothing and dared to peak through the nearest window.

 

It didn’t appear all that hospitable, save for the decent sized fire in the little hearth on the opposite wall. There were certainly signs of being lived in apart from the fire; the odd little items like old boots and a bucket, but not much. Maybe it was not a member of Bravo squad, but perhaps a hiker. Maybe they had nowhere to go but to this little hut in the middle of nowhere. It may have been their only safe haven, like his cave had been for him.

 

That little burrow was probably flooded entirely by now.

 

He stepped over to the front door and tested it with a knock and a jiggle of the rusted handle. The metal shrieked, turning one way and then the other, but the door opened with a sudden lurch. Leon stumbled inside, looking about with wide eyes at the tiny space, before stepping inside. At least, it was safer than outside.

 

The fire was like a warm caress against his skin, the blood frozen in his veins beginning to re-circulate through his body, his fingers and back into his face too. It felt horrible to be in such a dry space with the wet clothes he had on, but he was not about to start making this little shack ‘home’ until he figured out where he was.

 

He stepped past the fireplace and to this tiny set of stairs that led up and around a corner. There was a tiny, square room with a small bunk. A worn mattress with a dirty, stinking sheet was what he saw first, then the claws marks that raked through it. The realization that the owner or the occupant of the shack had been attacked was a disheartening thought. He hated that he felt less upset than he would have liked, but even if his body wasn’t numb anymore, he felt his heart and mind were.

 

He shouldn’t have expected a miracle.

 

But what he did see in that little room was a little window right in the back. Through it, he could hardly see a thing, except for a series of small, square lights in the distance, scaling their way up a wall that blended into the horizon against the stormfront. Occasionally, the lights in them would flicker as figures moved past the window, some slowly and some fast. Whatever that building was, it was massive! It was close enough he could see it… Hell, he could definitely find it even with the shitty weather outside!

 

It had to be the mansion Rebecca was talking about over the radio!

 

He was excited, turning on his heel to head back into the main room when there was a crackle at his hip. He withdrew the radio, testing the first channel through which he had managed to contact Rebecca with. When he got no response, he carefully turned the dial until the numbers read that familiar channel name of the S.T.A.R.S Alpha Team communication line.

 

‘-eon. Leon, d-do yo-… read me?’

 

It was captain Wesker again!

 

‘Yes, sir. Loud and clear!’

 

‘Update. What’s-… going on? W-Where a-are… You? Have yo-… Rebecca yet?’

 

Leon took a seat on the edge of that stinking mattress, the bedframe squealing a bit under his body. He stared out the window, observing those windows in the distance, those little lights and figuring in his head exactly where he needed to go when he left the shack.

 

‘I’ve gotten in contact with Rebecca. She’s fine, from what I could tell, but the signal died as we were talking. I’m trying to locate her now. She described a mansion, and I think I’ve found it. I’m just about to head up there now and-…’

 

Leon’s voice died in his throat.

 

There was a familiar creak from the front porch, but then an unfamiliar grind of what sounded like metal against the floor. The door lurched open with a heavy Thud! against the wall, just as it had done for him, and then there were limping footsteps creeping inside. The scrap of bare feet over rotting wood, the rattling of heavy, linked chains and then the absolute stench that followed.

 

Leon was nearly floored by it; rotting but not just from a deceased body. The kind of rot that came from living in your own filth. The stench of sickness and decay and the horrid, metallic sting in your nose that follows the spill of blood and pus.

 

‘Leon? What’s-… Going on? Status, now!’

 

Leon wished he had shut the radio off. He should have shut the radio off.

 

But he had been so relieved to hear Wesker’s voice again, and hearing that lurking form stalk inside, he had wanted to hear Wesker’s voice. He wanted to be sure his captain was there and could hear him, like him being able to hear Leon would be enough to protect him.

 

When those chains rattled their way up the little stairs, up to his little room, the figure limped into the doorway. Not much bigger than Leon, but that figure of… Whatever it was, took up his only escape.

 

He could see it wore rags and should have evidently been human. He could see two legs and two arms, ending in feet and hands respectively. Bound tightly over the hands was a piece of rotting wood, clamped shut around thin, bony wrists where blood flowed freely and old blood had coagulated into jammy, crusty cuffs. The body was thin and hunched, leaning too far forward and low to the ground. Chains trailed behind them from around their ankles and from that piece of wood around their wrists, like they belonged in some medieval, torture dungeon.

 

But that face…

 

Was it actually their face?!

 

‘Kennedy! Answer me! Are you still there?!’

 

Three faces were stitched together at the creases along where the ears and hairline should have been along a scalp. They were connected together like a haphazardly crafted burlap sack, the open orifices sunken and wide open, revealing only the tiniest glimpses of what should have been the real person beneath. White eyes, like a cat’s in the shining light of the moon, and a mouth full of sharp but rotting teeth were all he could see beneath that mask of flesh.

 

He felt sick.

 

The monster stepped forward, reaching out towards him with its grasping hands. A moan so haunting, so filled with malice and melancholy, escaped from beneath that horrific mask. Leon knew what real dead flesh looked like. He had been to the morgue and had seen his couple of bodies during his work as a police officer, even if it was only a short time on the job.

 

That was real.

 

It was all real.

 

‘S-Sir…’ His voice trembled, the hand clasping the radio shaking so violently he was sure he might drop it. ‘I… I need you to s-send backup. G-Get Rebecca and t-t-the others out of here as s-soon as you c-can…’

 

‘Leon?!’

 

The monster lurched forward and Leon reared back.

 

‘Get them out! G-Get them all out of here! And don’t come back! B-Burn it all to the ground! P-Please, sir-!’ He stumbled out of the way, just as those clasped hands swung and just missed his throat by a few mere inches.

 

‘Save them! D-Don’t come for me!’

 

That moan became a cruel growl that pitched into a wretched shriek. Leon pulled his hands up to his ears, trying to drown out the noise with his palms before backing up into the corner at the back of the room.

 

He had nowhere to go.

 

The monster was on him immediately.

Chapter 19

Notes:

Trigger Warnings:
- Graphic Depictions of Violence
- Graphic Depictions of an Injury
- Blood
- Trauma

The doors were heavy against his hands, almost impossible to open on his own. They creaked open slowly inch by excruciating inch, revealing the white marble tile and a thin, red carpet that led up the stairs at the end of the entrance hall. He hurried to squeeze himself inside, even despite the door still sinking back into place, crushing his aching body in the thin gap to ‘safety’.

 

He fell inside, onto his hands and knees, and then let himself fall onto his side on the carpet, breathless and gasping. He hit the floor with a heavy thud, too exhausted to move and far too relieved to care.

 

He turned lazily onto his back, only stopping to unstrap the shotgun so he wasn’t lying on top of it. His eyes met the gaping ceiling and the large chandeliers that hung low from their hooks on the ceiling. Despite the little lights resembling candle flames, the light emitted from the chandeliers was far too white, and it made the room feel cold and not nearly as welcoming as that hearth fire had been.

 

As Leon’s blue eyes started to close, his eyelids drooping shut against his will, he was shocked to action with a gasp. A blinding white light and a great, shrieking cry filled his senses, and Leon was suddenly scrambling backwards, looking about the hall and expecting to see that horrid form trudge into sight.

 

---

 

He ripped the pin out of the little flash grenade, clutching it between his shaking fingers. His vision was starting to darken with inky black blots, and he couldn’t breathe past the pressure on his throat. That rotten stench invaded his nose and mouth, but he dare not cough. He dare not waste the remainder of his oxygen on screaming or coughing from the sickening smell.

 

He dropped the flash grenade to one side, and as the world lit up in a bright, blinding light, the hands over his throat retreated. They furious screech filled his ears, but Leon didn’t wait for his own vision to return.

 

He started scrambling on his hands and knees for the front door.

 

---

 

The doors into the hall remained shut.

 

There were distant moans, revealing the safety of the mansion to be false, but there were none to be heard immediately within his vicinity. No growls echoed off the high ceilings and cavernous walls, which meant he was okay, if only for the moment.

 

Leon’s head hung, his eyes still stinging with tears from the point-blank flash grenade. His throat still hurt too, and tracing his fingers gently over his neck revealed exactly where those fingers had dug into his muscles, clamping down against muscle and cutting off his air supply. The fingers had left bruises that were tender to the touch, and even with the gentlest touch, Leon could trace the lines of crescent moon shapes where the nails had dug into his skin.

 

He had to call Rebecca.

 

He reached for his radio and found the clip on his belt empty.

 

---

 

‘Leon! Get out of there!’

 

It was the clearest he had heard his captain’s voice, but Leon couldn’t respond. He couldn’t tell him that was exactly the plan, as when the monster lunged, he had been forced to drop it and grab his gun. The Matilda burned in his hands from firing off several shots, but still the creature stood there. Its hands were in front of its face, like a scared child, but it was too late.

 

Leon had seen those bullets land, burrowing through the mask and into flesh.

 

Why was it still standing?

 

‘Leon?!’

 

The creature’s head lowered a little closer to the floor, those white eyes staring down at the radio and silently waiting for another sound from the radio. It seemed transfixed on the device, completely unbothered by the gunfire, but for some reason, the voice on the other end had caught its attention.

 

‘Leon, we’re coming! Hold o-!’

 

It screamed, so sharp and unhinged and Leon had no choice but to cover his ears lest they start to bleed. The monster raised its hands high above its head and brought them down in a forceful arc, the radio shattering into pieces with a disheartening CRUNCH! The monster kept clawing and scratching and throwing its hands down upon the radio until it resembled nothing but fragments.

 

When the sparks died and the room turned silent once again, it all seemed to come to a standstill. The monster was breathing heavily, its whole body expanding with deep gulps of oxygen, slowly raising its head and staring off into the distance.

 

When that white eye turned on Leon, the fury returned tenfold.

 

He had only a second to shoot the magazine before those hands reached back and the wooden cuff around the wrists connected against the side of his head. Before he could fall, those hands stopped his fall, wrapping tightly around his throat, and hoisting him off his feet like he weighed nothing.

 

---

 

Dammit!

 

He had forgotten it had been destroyed.

 

His only means of communicating with his team, his friends, and it was gone. Now he was well and truly alone.

 

He pulled his knees up towards his chest, wincing and turning to look past his knees and down at his left leg. He groaned, gently turning his leg one way and then the other, eyeing the blood and the piece of metal imbedded into his calf. It wasn’t large; it was a thick nail, used in construction. No. What made it hurt was the wire that had strung itself around the wound and was digging into it, no matter which way he turned his leg.

 

Leon’s fingers crept down his leg, his hands shaking as they approached the intrusive object. He hadn’t even realised he had something impaled through his calf until then.

 

When the fuck had he gotten this?!

 

---

 

He found the door.

 

His fingers grasped that rusted doorknob and twisted it desperately, rattling the door in desperation to escape. Behind him, he could hear the monster swinging its chains about and stumbling about blindly, looking for him. With all his might, Leon turned the knob, and the door lurched open, back out into the wailing storm.

 

He scrambled on his hands and knees only until the drop off the porch. He found his feet and started running, turning right immediately off the porch, so that he might wrap around and find the mansion. He turned his head up, blinking the rain away so he could follow the lights to where he had to go.

 

His momentum was halted by something tripping him over, a sharp sting shooting up from his leg like electricity. He tumbled into the mud and dirt, but he was already on his feet, not daring to stop.

 

He had to get to the mansion.

 

Distantly, he heard dogs growling.

 

Even closer, he could hear the rattle of chains and lurching footsteps following him off that rickety porch step.

 

---

 

He reached up to one of his shoulders, tearing off a sleeve and tearing it again, so he might make a working bandage. He had to be prepared for the blood to flow.

 

Rebecca had told him not to take out an object if it was stuck inside of you. It was keeping all the blood inside and sealing off the injury in the best way possible, until he found a medical professional or got to a hospital.

 

But he couldn’t run any further.

 

Not with this nail inside his body.

 

He ripped off his other sleeve too, the chill of the mansion’s hall causing the skin on his arms to break out in goosebumps. His hairs stood on end and his hands began to shake just that little bit more.

 

Leon carefully touched the nail. Almost immediately he felt all his oxygen escape him in as silent a gasp as he could manage. He grit his teeth, biting back a scream and didn’t wait a second more to gather his breath. He grasped the nail and ripped it out, replacing it and the hole it had left behind with one sleeve, bundled up into a makeshift gauze. The gushing wound dyed the blue, winter uniform of the RPD with crimson, Leon’s hands carefully balancing keeping the ‘gauze’ in place whilst he wrapped the other sleeve tightly across the wound and tying it into a tight knot.

 

As he cinched it, pain exploded beneath the pressure, and Leon’s desperate attempts to trap in his noises failed. He screamed loudly into the empty grand entryway of the mansion, the sound bouncing off the walls in a cacophony of noise that filled his ears.

 

His vision was dark in spots, and he rubbed one eye with a bloodied hand.

 

Fuck, he was tired.

 

Even as he heard the distant snarls of hungry, searching predators, Leon’s body collapsed, exhausted, onto the carpet. The last sight he had was of those little white lights above his heads, and the view of the chandeliers swaying ever so slightly from left to right.

 

The last sound that met his ears were of nails or claws, raking across the doors desperately to get to him.

 

The last thought that crossed his mind was whether he had locked the front door.

Chapter 20

Notes:

Trigger Warnings:
- Injury and Blood
- Self Sacrificial Attitude
- Human Experimentation
- References to Murder and Assassination

The radio had been silent for hours.

 

Wesker had left the surveillance room and Birkin behind some time ago to return to the RPD. He carried with him the radio all the time, but there was no signal to catch anymore. No Leon on the other hand begging for help and seeking his advice.

 

He knew the death of his soldiers was to be expected.

 

If it were not the undead mutants that stalked the woods and mansion, it would be up to Wesker to finish the job. He had been prepared for the outcome, for the simple fact that the blood of his trusted men would stain his hands. But as he heard Leon’s final words in his ears, just before the radio crackled and fizzled out into silence, he felt a strange sense of guilt clawing at his heart.

 

‘Don’t come for me’, he had said.

 

Over Leon’s transmission, Wesker heard the telltale growls of Lisa Trevor and the clinking chains that she carried with her everywhere. He knew immediately that Leon was in a dire situation, worse than most other creatures that roamed the manor’s halls, but he could do little more than try to warn him.

 

Birkin had given him a confused look out of the corner of his eye. Wesker did not blame him. It was unlike him to be so invested in the life of a regular human, Birkin and his family being the only exceptions to his usual distance. But something about Leon’s last words, the man that had whittled away at his defences with every naïve, ridiculous word out of his mouth, and Wesker had been spurred to action.

 

He ignored Birkin’s confused, frustrated calls to come back. He left him behind to hurry to the elevator and take it back to the parking lot. He needed to return and start preparing.

 

And Alpha team was now prepared to go.

 

He detailed what he had heard over the radio, manipulating the circumstances surrounding the call for aid so as not to arouse suspicion, and Alpha squad hurried to arm themselves for the fight ahead. They were headed into the unknown in the dark and without any further intel from Bravo team.

 

Even Wesker wasn’t entirely sure what to expect.

 

And he had to be careful too.

 

He may not have been entirely human, but he was not immortal.

 

The wayward bite could infect him, and without previously detailed instances of one of his kind being infected with the T-virus, Umbrella would have him caged for further tests. He would matter no more than his own guinea pigs and he had zero interest in being tethered to the company anymore with Spencer and his foolish decisions.

 

His orders spurred his squad to action. Chris had gathered the weapons, Brad checked over the helicopter and the rest of his squad prepared their radios, first aid kits and specialist items. He was sure Jill checked over her lockpicking tools no less than a dozen times just to be sure she had every piece.

 

They hardly spared the chief a warning before Alpha squad took off.

 

‘Don’t come for me.’

 

Wesker hated taking orders. And he wasn’t about to entertain Leon’s desperate pleas without first finding the rookie that occupied his thoughts like an infection. His fingers twitched, tapping repeatedly along the inside of his biceps as he sat in the chopper. He was unusually distracted and fidgeting. He knew Chris noticed and he was Jill did too.

 

Albert Wesker did not fidget.

 

He was going to complete his mission. He was going to collect the data extracted from the surveillance cameras and the biological material he could recover from engagements between his soldiers and the mutants. He was going to slaughter the survivors to ensure Umbrella remained untouched by questions and investigations.

 

And he was going to find Leon.

 

It frustrated him to no end, but he couldn’t help but wonder…

 

Would he kill him too?

 

Or was there, perhaps, another option?

 

 

---

 

 

He came to with the sensation of hands on his body, grasping and touching and prodding.

 

Leon gasped, struggling and pushing and desperately tearing at the hands that groped his body. He was kicking, wincing as his leg desperately screamed and burned with agony. Why did it hurt so much? Why did his head ache like he had been crushed by a car?

 

The hands took a hold of his shoulders and, despite Leon’s efforts to escape, they held tight.

 

There was a distant voice.

 

Familiar.

 

‘-eon! Officer Kennedy!’ There was a sharp sting that threw his head to one side. He winced, holding his cheek as his blurred, splotchy vision cleared enough to catch sight of captain Marini staring down at him.

 

‘W-Wha…?’

 

‘Get yourself together!’ He was shaken roughly, the action hurting his neck and head like whiplash. Suddenly, the idea of being crushed in a car didn’t seem all that strange. Not with how everything hurt and the blinding white lights that caused his eyes to sting.

 

‘C-Captain?’

 

‘Yes. Yes! It’s me. Can you hear me?’ Enrico checked him over again, eyeing the bandaged cut over Leon’s brow. He could feel crusted, dried blood in his eyelashes and along his eyebrow. His head had been bleeding again.

 

Even without Rebecca’s medical expertise, Leon knew that was a bad sign.

 

‘Yeah… I can…’ Something about this felt so surreal. Speaking to another human, another living being that wasn’t trying to eat him or kill him, seemed so strange. He doubted morning had come, so it wasn’t like he had been twenty-four hours without human contact, but it felt so much longer since he had fallen off the train. He didn’t know how long he had taken sanctuary in that ditch and how long it had been since he collapsed on the floor of this strange place. ‘W-Where are we?’

 

‘Don’t know.’ Marini’s hands searched down Leon’s leg and he hissed, pulling the limb away even as it singed with infection and agony. ‘Shit, sorry. What happened?’

 

Leon could hardly remember. He shook his head and the captain’s face twisted in discomfort. His brows cinched down and he was biting his lip. Now that Leon’s vision was clearing somewhat, he could see the split lip and the red cuts that streaked his captain’s skin.

 

‘Are you okay, sir?’

 

‘Been better, rookie. And you? You look like you’ve been put through a meat grinder.’ A strangled chuckle escaped Leon’s lips, shaking his head only to regret it as his world spun.

 

‘A… A lot of shit’s gone wrong tonight. I… I tried to stay with Rebecca but we… I couldn’t…’ He felt tremors wrack up his frail body. He felt so weak, so useless. He hadn’t managed to achieve anything on Bravo squad, except getting himself injured beyond recognition. He had become a burden on his team.

 

Wesker had been wrong.

 

‘Don’t let yourself think like that, Leon.’ Marini’s hands on his body stopped fluttering about, abandoning searching for further injuries and instead settling on Leon’s neck. He could see Marini eyeing the bruises that no doubt marred his throat, and he shrunk back under such scrutiny.

 

‘I need you to listen to me, Leon.’ Of course, Leon wouldn’t ignore him now. He was an attentive rookie, always prepared to do as his superior officers ordered. Even as his head swam with a serious migraine, he sat up and to attention. ‘Can you walk?’

 

It was a question Leon didn’t like the idea of trying to answer.

 

He tested his leg and, pushing himself away from Marini’s hands, pushed himself onto his hands and knees. He struggled from there to place one foot underneath and stand up, feeling his whole body stumbling to one side. He nearly faceplanted against the floor, but Marini caught him, helping him to stand. Leon tested his bad leg, gritting his teeth to swallow down the furious flare that surged its way up his calf.

 

He took one step and then another.

 

He nodded.

 

‘Alright. Then, I’ve got a plan.’ Leon was all too keen to hear it. ‘We need to find the others. I left Kenneth in the dining room to search the manor when I found you. He’s just through there.’ He gestured to the large set of double doors to Leon’s left. ‘I’m going to take him through the manor and search for the others. I need you…’ Marini hesitated but a moment.

 

‘I need you to head back to the chopper.’

 

Leon dreaded the thought of stepping back outside. The want to argue was quelled by his own obedience, words of objection swallowed down in respect for his captain. In the manor, in close quarters with who knows what, Leon was a liability. It was arguably safer than wandering through the dark, but Leon was the only option, and he realised it.

 

He was the one that could afford to die.

 

‘My radio picked up a transmission from Alpha squad, but I’m struggling to send a message out. If Dooley’s still there, he might have been able to get a message through to them but if he isn’t…’

 

Leon didn’t need Marini to finish his explanation.

 

He was relieved to know his message managed to make it to Wesker. He felt his heart flutter with elation, realising that Alpha squad was on their way to help. But he knew what was expected of him now.

 

If officer Dooley was dead, then it would be up to Leon to make the journey back to the helicopter and get their coordinates to Alpha team. And if he should die along the way, he was one less burden for either team to carry. His body would act as a marker, hopefully to lead Alpha team towards their destination.

 

It was the smart choice.

 

‘I understand, sir.’

 

Marini passed his radio over to him and clapped a hand over his shoulder. Leon groaned with the pain it wrought upon his system. The captain for Bravo squad stood and left him behind to enter into the dining hall, leaving Leon alone with only one way to go.

 

Back out into the dark.

 

He may not have been a soldier, but Leon was loyal to a fault.

 

He was an obedient dog.

Notes:

I AM SO SORRY!!!

It has been a long time since I updated but I have been busy! I have discovered new fandoms to explore and to love, I have been busy with new developments in my life and just overall struggling to get on top of things. I will admit, this chapter was especially difficult to get out because my computer died partway through writing it and I nearly lost everything. So, if this chapter seems rushed, that is why! I'm so sorry again for the long wait but I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Chapter 21

Notes:

Trigger Warnings:
- Graphic Description of Injuries
- Gun Violence
- Referenced / Stated Death
- Animal Violence
- Manipulation

The trees crept in on all sides, branches groping for any wayward limb like the undead that stalked the woods. Every step was practised, careful, set down in silence to ensure they would not be heard over the whistling wind and the ambience of the night.

 

Brad had set the chopper down in an open field about a mile behind them and had opted to stay behind and man the radio. The reception was spotty already, not just because of the nearby mountain range blocking signals, but also Umbrella’s security measures surrounding both the manor and the training facility. The rest of Alpha team could only assume that they were unable to receive the coordinates or any kind of distress signal from the Bravo squad due to the reception.

 

Wesker knew it was because their volunteer pilot, officer Dooley, had been ripped to shreds by the Cerberus’ prowling the grounds.

 

They maintained a short distance between each of them, well within eyesight to address a threat attacking their comrades but far enough to spread through the trees. Every snikt! Of a twig underfoot and every creak of a heavy, swaying branch had them on edge.

 

Even he was feeling the pressure.

 

He knew to keep a cool head.

 

He had seen the T-virus in action before, in closed experiments, and what it did to the subjects. He knew he could outpace most of them, and a few bullets to the joints could slow them down if he needed a getaway. But even still, he couldn’t help but feel on edge.

 

The dark of the night was oppressive on all of them, forcing each member to pull out their flashlights and shine the beacons of light into the creeping woods. Every shadow shrank away and grew in the light, moving like they too were aggressive monsters. Creeping claws were revealed to be branches, lashing tongues were the moss and fungus that clung to gnarled bark… Wesker could hear Chris behind him, every now and then turning all the way around to eye his blind spot and the shadows that lunged for it.

 

Raccoon Forest was quiet.

 

Too quiet.

 

‘How the Hell are we supposed to track Bravo down all the way out here?’ Jill’s voice was a hiss, just above a whisper. She had moved ahead, drawing in close to Chris. ‘We only have the coordinates Kennedy gave us and, from what we know, he was far away from the rest of them.’

 

‘He said he was headed North.’ Wesker’s voice was stern, cutting through the night a little too loud for his own liking. ‘He mentioned a large building with lights in the windows. That is what we are looking for.’ Leon had never said he was heading North, but he had to set his team on the correct course for the mansion. At least, if they got split up, they would have a clue as to where they were headed.

 

‘There shouldn’t be any buildings like that all the way out here.’ Chris’ voice drew Wesker’s attention, gazing at his second in command over his shoulder. Redfield’s brows were drawn in tight, shrugging his shoulders at Wesker’s expression. With the shades, no one could quite tell what he was thinking and it seemed Chris had taken Wesker’s silent glare as an expression of confusion. He chose to elaborate.

 

‘The sheriff of the county says no one’s been allowed to build out this way since the forest was cordoned off as a nature reserve. So…’ Chris shrugged again. ‘Either this is a really old building, constructed before it became illegal to do so, someone’s been building out here without ever being noticed, or Leon was seeing things.’ Wesker rolled his eyes beneath the shades, not that his team could see. He knew Leon was not hallucinating the manor, but he had to keep himself indifferent. Distant.

 

‘Did he seem… In his right mind, sir? When he managed to contact you?’ Jill asked softly, probing. That investigator’s inquisitiveness.

 

‘He was injured. He did say he was bleeding from the head.’ He admitted. ‘Leon could have been seeing things, but his words are all we have to go on. If we continue to doubt it, we will have no lead to follow at all.’ He shut down their questions for the moment, his squad falling into silent step behind him.

 

The silence did not last for long however.

 

It was just as they crested over a steep ridge in the woods that there was the telltale CRACK! of a gunshot through the air. Then another and another. The squad did not wait for the sounds to die, Wesker leading the charge as they hurried through the woods. They raced, their feet pounding against the mud so hard that it hurt. Splashes of dirt crusted their faces and uniforms as they sprinted amongst the trees towards the gunfire.

 

By the time they could smell the smoke and oil, the gunfire had ceased.

 

Once again, the wood was silent. Flecks of rain fell from the storm clouds overhead, mixing water and mud across their skin and clothes. With the return of silence, their surge to action died down so they could approach with caution. They took careful steps through the woods, their lights finally landing upon a large, metallic body partly buried in the mud.

 

The tail end of the helicopter was propped up high in the air, resting against the Y intersection of branches in a large, nearby tree. The blades sat crooked upon its roof and thick smoke, impossibly dark and solid against the beams of light, billowed out of its engine. There was a chemical smell in the air of oil and a few startling cracks of electricity. As they slowly approached the helicopter, all bar Wesker himself felt their hearts sink into their stomach.

 

There was movement in the front of the helicopter. All lights were switched off besides Redfield’s own as Wesker’s second-in-command stepped ahead, creeping closer to the front of the helicopter. The rest of Alpha team circled the downed chopper, keeping a safe distance in case one of those electric sparks set the whole thing ablaze. Redfield’s flashlight pierced through the open doors and into the front of the chopper where a dark figure stumbled and shifted against the console. A bloodied hand reached for the doorframe, Chris readying his gun for the worst to come through the open doors.

 

‘C-… Chris…?’ The voice was so soft, so broken that almost none of them recognised it. Redfield’s hands shook on the grip of his gun, wide eyed and fighting back horror as their rookie shambled out of the helicopter, landing on his knees in the mud.

 

Leon looked like he had been through Hell.

 

His body tremored and his blue eyes were wide, pupils like pinpricks in the white of Chris’ flashlight. Bruises and blood and scratches marred his young face, a yellow-brown bandage pressed into a wound on his scalp and his left leg was wrapped in the torn remnants of his uniform shirt. He was shaking, his teeth chattering, the hand on his Matilda trembling uncontrollably as he sat up in the mud.

 

He looked like a walking corpse.

 

All lights were switched back on the moment they realised who it was, Chris rushing forward and to Leon’s side in an instant. Behind him, Wesker pulled up alongside him and helped Chris to get Leon’s arms wrapped over their shoulders. They pulled him away from the wreckage and settled him down at the base of a tree, held up only by their hands and the gnarled roots digging into his thighs and hips.

 

‘Holy shit…’

 

‘Is… Is it t-that bad?’ It was a soft, sarcastic quip. Leon’s adrenaline was running out with the relief of being found and his body was suffering the consequences. He looked like he could collapse and die at any moment. Almost without thinking, Wesker reached to the pack on the side of his belt and pulled out a thin, white can of spray. Though Umbrella had always marketed them as iodine sprays for infection, really, they were a chemical marvel made to treat even the worst of injuries.

 

‘Sorry… Leon, you’ll be alright. It’s bad but we can treat it.’ Chris assured him, hand on his shoulder.

 

Wesker peeled back the torn sleeve that encompassed the wound on Leon’s leg, revealing blood that gripped the material like glue. Red and black and yellow and brown, all nasty colours that would make anyone without a strong stomach vomit. He aimed the head of the spray can down towards the wound and, as a precaution, raised his hand and rested it over Leon’s lips. Leon’s blue eyes widened, lips parted and breathing hot air onto his glove, but the rookie did not look scared. He just looked determined.

 

When he pressed down and the hiss of the chemical spray shot onto the wound, he felt teeth bury into his leather glove. Leon grunted, shrinking away and shifting to escape the pain, even as Chris held him down to keep him from squirming. Fat tears leaked down his cheeks as he cried and twisted, but his teeth remained ever tight on Wesker’s gloved hand.

 

Once the can was almost empty, Wesker released his grip and the flow of the spray stopped. His hand withdrew, Leon gasping like a man drowned. Deep teeth marks were imbedded into the leather and Wesker eyed them curiously. It was neither the time nor the place, but Wesker scrutinised the strength in Leon’s jaw with a tempered sense of hunger.

 

‘The head this time.’ Leon, still gasping and shaking from the pain, nodded and bowed his head. His blonde locks, matted with grime and blood, fell in front of his eyes shielding them from Wesker’s gaze. He was almost disappointed. He wanted to see them scrunch up tight with the pain or open wide with the shock. He peeled back the bandage just above Leon’s temple and the spray hissed to life once more. Again, Chris had to hold Leon in place, lest the rookie actually take off running.

 

The can was emptied and tossed aside into the dirt. Bandages were rewrapped, fresh and clear of the muck that had been steadily growing with infection. Behind Wesker and Chris, the squad had split to surround a short perimeter except for Jill. She had entered into the helicopter and was exploring the mess within. She had hopped down into the dirt with a distant, steely look in her eyes, aimed directly at Leon as she approached them.

 

‘Officer Dooley’s dead.’ Her voice was stern, clipped and it drew Chris’ notice. Leon shrank back against the bark of the tree as Jill kneeled beside Wesker, gun hanging against her lap and safety off. A threat. A warning.

 

‘He was shot.’ Leon did not appear surprised, but his lips did twist down into a small frown. They could all hear the implication in Jill’s words, the suspicion aimed at their rookie as she glared down at him. ‘And I checked the helicopter and its radio… Would you care to explain why it was tampered with?’

 

‘What?’ Leon’s voice cracked, the boy’s eyes widening as the members of Alpha shared a look of understanding between them. Wesker was the only one that did not engage with this line of reasoning, as he knew exactly why the helicopter’s radio was destroyed. But he was also well aware that this was a good thing for him; if Leon became the suspected party, any and all eyes would be off him during the investigation.

 

‘It doesn’t make sense for him to call for help if he’s responsible in anyway, Jill.’ Chris defended him, putting himself between Jill and Leon.

 

‘He could’ve gotten in over his head, Chris. And he executed Kevin!’ She pointed an accusatory finger in Leon’s direction and the rookie blinked away the remainder of his tears. Despite the obvious pain he was still in, Leon pressed his hands into the bark and steadily raised himself off the ground and onto his wobbling legs. He nearly fell forward, but Wesker stepped just close enough for Leon to catch himself against his shoulder.

 

‘Thank you…’ Leon’s voice was a whisper to him. Wesker almost hadn’t heard it himself, but Leon squeezed the shoulder and arm offered to help support him. He used Wesker to help himself stand straighter, so that he might address Jill as an equal and not a criminal.

 

‘I did… I did execute him. But I d-did not k-kill him.’ All eyes on him, except for Wesker’s, either rolled in their head or squinted at him like he had gone mad. Leon rushed to explain himself, stuttering as hurriedly through as good of an explanation as he could give.

 

‘This will s-sound insane, I know, b-but for all of o-our s-s-sakes you have t-to believe me… T-There are m-monsters out here… T-They’re like z-zombies… I know that sounds c-crazy but you h-have to believe me!’ Jill had turned away, scoffing a derisive sound that certainly detailed her disbelief. Chris shifted from foot to foot, looking as if he was uncomfortable with the idea that Leon was insane, but starting to believe it.

 

‘I mean it! T-Truly! And we have to g-get out of t-t-these woods now before they c-come! Or worse…’ Leon’s voice drifted. Wesker eyed him, expecting the boy to be falling unconscious at last from exhaustion, but instead, Leon’s eyes were wide and fearful. They were searching the woods that surrounded them, eyeing Barry and Frost on the edges of the perimeter.

 

‘W-Where’s o-officer Vickers?’

 

‘He’s back with the helicopter, Leon-’

 

‘W-We have to warn him! And everyone needs to pull in t-tighter.’ He pointed towards Forest and Barry who were starting to look more and more nervous with each word that passed over Leon’s lips. ‘I-If you’re c-c-caught, they’ll tear you apart!’

 

‘Enough, Leon.’ Jill huffed, glaring down at him. Leon backed down but only for a moment.

 

‘T-They’ll have h-heard the gunshots… P-Please, call V-Vickers! He must g-get off the ground and get b-back to Raccoon City! He needs to g-get back-up i-immediately-!’ A twig snapped nearby and Leon’s head whipped towards it. Wesker followed his gaze, peering into the dark foliage in search of what might have been nothing.

 

It was not nothing.

 

Leon’s grip on him tightened and then he was pulling on his sleeve, desperate for them to move. Wesker had better eyesight than most, especially so in the dark, so whilst Leon could only make out a silhouette prowling closer, Wesker could see every detail of the Cerberus stalking along the edge of surrounding trees. It crept along the dirt, low to the ground, and several more pairs of red, unblinking eyes pierced the dark.

 

And Joseph Frost was right before the pack.

 

There was a growl and a howl and then the hound mottled with bloodied wounds and salivating with a hunger unquenchable leapt towards him.

 

There was the CRACK! of a gunshot and all Hell broke loose.

Chapter 22

Notes:

Trigger Warnings:
- Blood and Gore
- Human and Animal Death
- References to Murder
- Gun Violence

It was a flurry of limbs and the whizz of bullets flying overhead as the undead dog pounced through the air. The shot fired by the Matilda had buried a bullet deep into its skull with a thick spurt of viscera and a cacophony of shattering bone. Its front paws landed on officer Frost’s chest, pushing him into the dirt, but its jaws fell slack and is body crumpled into a heap upon him. In his panic, his finger had pulled the trigger of his gun and a powerful wave of bullets had pierced the trees.

 

He was screaming and scrambling out from underneath the limp body. Chris raced towards him, but the rest of the dogs had breached the foliage, their ambush ruined. The pack growled and bit down into pliant flesh, tearing it away with ease. Joseph’s screams ripped through the night, the howling wind not enough to mute his cries to the world.

 

Alpha team had begun to fire upon the pack, hoping beyond hope that Joseph could be saved. Chris charged into the fray, kicking one of the dogs across the open field with one well placed boot. They could all hear its rib cage crumple and break, but the dog was back on its feet, staggering back towards them with furious growls.

 

CRACK! Jill’s bullet clipped the ear of the dog devouring Joseph’s neck.

 

CRACK! Chris’ gun fired on the hound that was tearing into his friend’s abdomen.

 

CRACK! A bullet from Wesker’s gun pierced the head of another hound, the undead Doberman dropping into the mud partway through its leap for Chris’ throat.

 

‘Chris!’ Wesker’s commanding voice was barely heard over the commotion. Leon, still partly laid over his shoulder, felt the captain’s voice more than heard it. Over the dogs, almost everything was drowned out, even the last of officer Frost’s screams and bubbling breaths.

 

‘Chris! Jill! This way!’ Wesker commanded, pulling Leon in beside him. Leon was forced to step back and over the roots of the tree he had originally been propped up against. The captain assisted his steps backwards, gun still trained on the dogs and firing. Jill, Chris and Barry too had realised the dogs were still alive and hungry. Even as Forest was reduced to little more than meat, the pack’s white-red eyes glared and followed Alpha squad’s every movement. With their hunt quiet and still, now they hungered for the living making a hasty retreat into the trees.

 

Chris ran up to Leon’s other side, captain and second-in-command wrapping his arms over their shoulders. Leon could feel his wounds knitting together with the medicine applied, but his limbs were still weak. He needed rest, which would undoubtedly lead to his demise if he fell out of step with them now. Jill and Barry pulled up the rear of their desperate retreat, firing on the dogs as they came in close. But they were all slow.

 

Too slow.

 

‘T-The mansion… It’s just ahead…’ Leon could see the little specks of light through the windows. But they were too far. They couldn’t make the mansion’s front door before the dogs would eventually overwhelm them. It seemed that the captain had come to this realisation too, as Wesker’s grip on his arm faltered for just a second. Leon wouldn’t blame him if he dropped him in a bid to bait the dogs and seize the opportunity to escape. The captain’s grip reaffirmed itself on his limb and, with a slight sense of renewed vigour, they pushed ahead through the trees.

 

The snapping jaws of the pack were on their heels.

 

Suddenly, overhead, there was a thrumming vibration that thundered through each and every one of them. The dogs faltered, snarling as the giant, metal body of a helicopter passed overhead. The helicopter blades whirred through the air, the sound deafening and the dogs wincing and cringing away from the sound. They had halted their chase for the moment, snapping up at the sky above their heads, hoping to snatch the helicopter from the air and devour the pilot inside. It was a brief respite in their chase, and what Alpha squad desperately needed to break the foliage and charge through the open gate into the mansion’s curated gardens.

 

‘What the Hell is Brad doing?!’ Chris yelled in his ear. As the helicopter disappeared from sight, and with it the sound that had distracted the dogs, so too did their defence against the pack. No longer distracted by the strange prey that had appeared overhead, all eyes were back on Alpha team. The dogs sprinted towards them, crossing the grounds quickly and leaping towards them as they made their ascent up the steps and through the giant doors.

 

With a deep, rusted creak, Chris pushed the door open with his shoulder, just wide enough that the three of them could sidestep inside whilst Jill slipped in after. It took both her and Chris’ strength to shut the doors tight and to seal them all inside with a click of the heavy brass lock. They collapsed onto the marble tile, gasping for oxygen deeply and painfully as they tried and failed to regain their breath.

 

Behind them, Leon was carefully lowered to the stairs. He slipped off his captain’s shoulder, landing on the second step and collapsing backwards to rest against his elbows. There was a step pressing into his back, but he didn’t care. It was the most relief Leon had felt since he woke up in the night carriage of the Ecliptic Express.

 

His relief was short lived.

 

‘Barry?’ Jill’s voice brought him back to the moment, each of them checking about the room to see where officer Burton might have been. But they found nothing. ‘Where is he? Where’s Barry?!’ Jill’s voice started to rise with panic and she reached for the handle of the door.

 

‘Don’t!’ Wesker’s voice cut her off, Chris’ hand on her wrist stopping from committing the fatal mistake.

 

‘He can’t be dead too! We can’t have left him behind…’ Jill’s voice broke and Chris immediately pulled her into his arms. She clenched her fingers into his vest and hid her face in his chest whilst Chris turned his head away from both Wesker and Leon. Though he had hid his face, Leon could see tears slipping down his cheeks, dripping off the curve of his jaw.

 

Leon didn’t have the tears to shed anymore. He was too exhausted; drained of blood, sweat and tears as his night had turned from bad to worse. He hadn’t known Barry Burton like the others, but he knew that he and Jill were especially close. The two of them worked side by side, almost in perfect sync with each other at their desks. But their perfect teamwork had been disrupted by the chaos and now Barry was gone.

 

Quiet had settled over the hall, broken only by Leon’s heavy breathing and Chris and Jill’s hushed, mourning sobs.

 

‘You…’ Leon raised his eyes to meet Jill’s hard gaze, unsurprised when she crossed the threshold between them. Chris was still wiping his eyes as he turned to watch her storm over to the rookie and raise her hand. Leon didn’t flinch, didn’t even turn to prepare for the hit, but the hit didn’t land anyway. Her curled fist was caught partway through the swing by Wesker’s palm, the captain’s steel-grey eyes glaring at her over the rim of his dark shades.

 

‘That’s enough, Jill.’

 

‘He told us there were zombies in the woods! He’s fucking insane! What he meant were rabid dogs! If we had known, we could have climbed the trees or set an appropriate perimeter and Joseph and Barry would still be-’

 

‘Jill…’ Chris’s voice was soft, but firm enough to make her pause. ‘It’s not his fault.’

 

‘Kevin is dead! The helicopter’s radio was sabotaged! What he is raving about is impossible!’ She jabbed an accusing finger towards Leon, glaring down at him with barely concealed hatred. ‘He called us in and no one is here! Where is the rest of Bravo team? Does this not seem even the slightest bit suspicious to you, Chris? Captain?’ She addressed each of them in turn.

 

Leon couldn’t deny, what she was saying did make sense. From her perspective, the loss of life was entirely on his shoulders. What he was saying didn’t make sense with what they had seen so far. He hadn’t even run into the dogs himself before Alpha squad found him. He had only ever heard their growls and howls following him, but never had he seen the animals.

 

‘It doesn’t matter if officer Kennedy is in anyway responsible for the sabotage of the helicopter radio. Not if we can’t get him back to Raccoon City. We need to survive the night first, and don’t forget; first and foremost, we are here to investigate the disappearance of Bravo squad. If we leave now, we’ll only have Leon’s testimony and little else.’ Leon appreciated the captain’s logic, even if it still decisively pinned the fault on his shoulders. At least, it meant that Leon might still be allowed to prove his innocence and to help.

 

‘How are we going to get back? We don’t know why Brad left or where he’s headed.’ Chris made a good point. Leon shuddered, but he had an idea as to why Brad might have taken off.

 

‘He…’ Jill glared at him, daring him to continue speaking. ‘He could’ve b-been attacked… He might be b-bitten…’ He hoped not. He hoped, at worst, officer Vickers would have been scared off, but it was not what they could rely on. If he was bitten, then they needed to find a way to get him to turn around and come back. He couldn’t head into the city.

 

He would need to be…

 

‘Oh, for- You’re suggesting he’s a zombie now, too?’ Jill scoffed.

 

‘He might be.’ Leon countered. ‘I know w-what I’ve seen. I know what I’ve s-said sounds f-fucking insane, but if he was b-b-bitten, we n-need to h-have officer V-Vickers d-detained on arrival at R-Raccoon City. Or we n-need to convince him to t-turn back.’

 

‘Will you put a bullet in him too?’

 

‘Yes.’ Leon hated how he sounded. He hated that he made it sound like it was an easy decision. He hated that it made him seem like he couldn’t care less that Brad Vickers was a colleague and a human being whilst still coherent. But it was a choice taken away from him the moment he realised someone was bitten.

 

He had learned fast as the night had passed him by; the dead did not stay dead.

 

Jill was only just holding herself back from attacking him. Chris rested a hand on her shoulder, the only thing keeping her back from attacking Leon. Captain Wesker, who had released her fist after a time, had taken to standing partly in front of Leon, keeping him just out of sight.

 

There was a series of gunshots beyond the doors into the dining room. All of their heads snapped to attention, eyes turned on the set of double doors. The weight that had settled itself uncomfortably in Leon’s gut had lifted only slightly, relieved and elated at the signs of life.

 

‘That could be Barry. He might’ve found another way in.’ Chris’ voice was hopeful. ‘I’ll go check it out.’

 

‘J-Just so you know… When I w-was here, c-captain Marini said he w-would be there… W-With officer S-Sullivan.’ Leon said softly. ‘It may be t-them you hear. J-Just keep an e-eye out for them.’

 

‘And what will you do, captain?’ Jill had heard him, acknowledged him only barely in her address to Wesker, but her eyes were carefully trained on the Alpha team’s captain or Chris or the doors to the dining room. She avoided Leon’s gaze entirely, still furious and her fists still shaking with her fury.

 

‘I’ll stay and secure the area. I’ll keep an eye on the rookie until you get back.’ He assured her. ‘You and Chris should go together. Watch each other’s backs.’ Both officers nodded, checking their arms and supplies as they stepped towards the doors and out of the foyer. Only Chris chanced a glance back at Leon and Wesker, nervous to leave them alone in the hall.

 

The door swung shut with a heavy click.

 

They were alone.

Chapter 23

Notes:

Trigger Warnings:
- Swearing
- Blood and Gore
- Gun Violence
- References to Physical and Sexual Abuse (Imagined)
- Manipulation

Exactly as Leon had said, the room they had entered into was indeed a dining room.

 

An extravagant room with a second storey balcony that framed the hall below, it looked like something straight out of a king’s castle. Oil paintings framed in gold were hung high on the walls and the moonlight outside shone through a large stained-glass window, white moonlight ripple with reds, blues and greens. At the far end of the room from where they entered, a large hearth housed a warm, roaring flame. It chased away the chill that lingered in their bones from the foyer.

 

Since the gunshots had died, nothing greeted them into the room bar the crackle of the flames and the distant rumble of approaching thunder.

 

‘I don’t like this…’ Jill’s voice was in his ear. Chris peered down at her but she wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes were trained down the barrel of her gun, focussed on what may come around the corner or through one of the doors ahead of them.

 

‘Too quiet for you, Jill?’

 

‘Yes, but that’s not exactly what I’m referring to.’ Chris rolled his eyes and turned back towards the door right by the fireplace. There was an embossed, wooden shield held high above the hearth; some regal crest etched into its surface. He did not recognise it. He’d never been an expert on crests and family trees or history beyond the twentieth century. But something about the crest seemed oddly familiar to him. As if he had seen the pattern within it many times in his life, but it had faded into the background.

 

It seemed Jill was curious about it too, as she lowered her gun so she might trace her fingers along the crest. The shield shifted beneath her fingers, loose and easily removed from its perch, but she carefully fixed it back into place. She shook her head, as if chasing away a thought or memory.

 

She turned back to Chris, a hand on the jutting bone of her hip.

 

‘I think there’s something more going on here.’

 

‘With Leon?’ Chris scoffed, stepping around her and to a side door. ‘You made that perfectly clear in the hall.’ He gripped the doorknob and pressed his ear firmly to the door. Beyond the wood, he could make out rain and sleet rattling an open window and something like muttered movement beneath the volume of the storm.

 

‘I’m serious, Chris.’ Jill hissed, gripping his forearm tightly to draw his attention. He glared down at her hand, shrugging it off with a sneer.

 

‘Jill… I may not have known him for long, but Leon… He wouldn’t hurt a fly if he could help it.’ He remembered their spar in the ring, how Leon used tricks and agility to manoeuvre the fight to his advantage. He could recall hearing Marvin’s gushing praise for the rising rookie, as well as the gossip that surrounded the boy. How Leon hated to be a burden on anyone, so he slept in his car without the ability to rent an apartment. How Leon had seemed solemn for the lives lost during the botched heist he and Marvin had interrupted only a couple months back. He could remember seeing Leon’s bright smile when he went to check in on him at the hospital and how broken his smile had been when he clambered out of the helicopter, relieved to see Alpha team to the rescue.

 

‘But that’s just it, Chris. We don’t know him. Not really. He’s been at the RPD for, what? Eight, maybe nine months? We’ve barely known him a few weeks. And he joined S.T.A.R.S right when this investigation started. By the time we were getting reports of cannibalism and disappearances, suddenly he’s apart of S.T.A.R.S?’

 

‘So, now the zombies are real and Leon is responsible for all of it?’ Chris levelled her with a confused glare. Jill removed her beret for a second to run her hand through her short brown hair. She sighed, rolling her shoulders, gathering her thoughts. She replaced the cap and bit the inside of her cheek.

 

‘The helicopter was sabotaged. He admitted to executing Kevin in the pilot’s seat. He’s been out here all night and none of Bravo squad are with him. You’re telling me the rookie survived and no one else? No one else with such extensive training and experience?’ Though her anger was rising, she kept her voice hushed. She wasn’t sure how much Leon and Wesker could hear if she raised her voice.

 

‘He also told us that captain Marini and Sullivan were back here.’ She gestured around the room, raising an arched brow. ‘Where are they now? Did they just disappear too, or did he lie about them being here? For all we know, we could be walking into an ambush in the next room!’

 

‘Or, he was out at the helicopter for some time. They were forced to move on. There’s a lot of stuff that doesn’t add up, I agree, but I just cannot see Leon being behind this, Jill. I think you’re jumping to conclusions…’ With the way Jill’s lips pursed into a tight pout, he was well aware she did not agree with his sentiment. It didn’t matter much to him though. They couldn’t afford to fight amongst themselves.

 

If Leon was guilty, they needed conclusive evidence.

 

Chris turned his attention back to the door he was pressed to, turning the doorknob inch by excruciating inch. It squeaked and rattled in place until it clicked open and he and Jill hurried past it. She aimed to the right and he aimed to the left. Ahead of him, he could see the thin corridor they had entered into opened up into a wider entryway. He faced the open window he had heard on the other side, thin curtains billowing in the harsh winds whipping about outside.

 

He took point, starting carefully down the hallway. Beyond the howling wind, rattling windowpanes and the pelting rain, he could hear shuffling and something slick moving about. He swallowed down the anxiety building a brick wall in his oesophagus and stepped around the corner.

 

He nearly barfed.

 

Over the limp body of Kenneth Sullivan, a figure crept. Its hands were burrowed deep into a gaping wound in his stomach, steam rolling off Sullivan’s body. The blood and flesh were still hot, his cheeks still damp with rolling tears. But Sullivan’s eyes were distant, not a single light left in their pupils. Much the same, when it realised its meal had been disturbed, the figure with gaunt cheeks turned its head, revealing white eyes and its jaws covered in blood.

 

For a few seconds, Chris and Jill were stuck in place. Fight, flight or freeze? Their bodies instinctively chose the third option, something subconscious wrongly telling them that the creature wouldn’t notice them if they did not move. But the monster with meat still locked between its teeth was starting to pull itself up and onto its unsteady feet. It swayed like the wind could blow it over, but it took one step and then another, closing the distance between them with outstretched arms.

 

Jill shot first, firing the gun and watching as its head was kicked back with the force of the bullet. Its teeth clicked and it staggered, but then it regained its pace. She fired again and then Chris snapped himself free of his mistaken survival instincts. He raised his gun and shot a bullet between its eyes, just to the left of Jill’s first shot. Blood and brain matter exploded behind it and then it slumped forward, landing with a heavy thud on the floor.

 

Their eyes flitted between Kenneth’s still warm body and the rotting corpse at their feet. They turned to look at each other, a clear thought running through both of their heads at the realisation that Leon was right.

 

He was telling the truth.

 

They hurried back out the way they had come. They needed to warn the captain. They needed to find somewhere safe for Leon to rest. They needed to find Barry and get the fuck out of there!

 

But by the time they burst through the dining room doors and into the foyer, they found no one. There was no trace of the rookie or their captain, except the shotgun that had been hooked over Leon’s shoulder since they found him.

 

‘Where are they?’

 

 

---

 

 

‘I hope they’ll be okay…’

 

Leon’s voice was so soft, the young man so small in the grand scale of the foyer. He certainly didn’t look like he belonged there with his torn uniform and bloodstained skin. But Wesker admired it, his interest concealed behind the dark lenses of his glasses. His eyes roamed the rookie’s body, how much damage he had taken over the course of the long night, but how determined his spirit was to survive.

 

If there was one thing Wesker could respect, it was someone that did not know how to die.

 

Leon had proven himself time and time again, both in training and on the field. This night was his best performance yet, surviving all manner of the T-virus’ mutations. Wesker regretted he had not been there in person to witness his achievements; he would have liked to have studied how he moved and how he thought during such critical moments.

 

But they were alone now.

 

A study may not be too far out of the equation.

 

‘I trust Chris and Jill will keep each other safe for the time being. For now, Leon…’ Wesker knelt down in front of the rookie, drawing those wide blue eyes back from their place on the floor. Leon’s gaze was uncertain, a little fearful, and Wesker was drinking it in. A certain level of fear was something he enjoyed in all of his peers and acquaintances. Those he called ‘friends’ paid him respect because he intimidated them or impressed upon them the superiority of his mind and strength.

 

Leon’s nervousness was a drug that Wesker was all too eager to taste.

 

‘… We should get you somewhere safe.’ He hummed. His fingers ghosted along Leon’s body, starting from their grip on the rookie’s hip. Leon would have leapt beneath the unexpected touch if it were not for his injuries. Just cringing away from Wesker caused him severe agony. His fingers trailed a careful path from Leon's hip, along his side and ribs, across the length of his pale throat until Wesker's leather clad hand locked into a gentle grasp at the crook of Leon's jaw.

 

‘I… B-But sir, what about the others? What if t-they come back and w-we’re not here?’ Leon’s concern was cute. Irritating, but endearing.

 

‘I’ll return for them soon. But for now, we should find somewhere for you to rest a while. If you exert yourself too much, your body will not recover. Even with the medicine.’ Wesker leaned closer, right into Leon’s space. The rookie shrank beneath him, pressing his back painfully against the stairs. The shotgun he had strapped around his shoulder and back was pushed to one side and then Leon pressed a hand against Wesker’s chest.

 

It was a gentle touch, but the message was clear; stop.

 

‘A-At least let me leave them this… They might need it.’ Wesker huffed but pulled back so as to allow Leon to shuck the strap of the shotgun off his body. Carefully, he placed it as best he could on the stair in the middle, well within sight. Leon took his time doing so, his shoulders hiked up high by his steadily reddening ears. He had enough blood to blush at least, and Wesker bit back a smirk at the pretty picture.

 

Once Leon had scrutinized its placement long enough, Wesker pulled in closer to him, wrapping his arm around the dip of Leon’s waist. The rookie was pulled to his side with a sharp yelp, wincing as he stumbled on his bad leg. His arm was pulled over Wesker’s shoulder, pressing the two of them close together that he could feel the heat on Leon’s skin and he could smell the blood in those blonde locks.

 

‘C-Captain… Uh, t-this isn’t n-necessary…’ It was a poor attempt at insisting he was fine, especially when he still stood at an angle and limped along with a tremor in his leg.

 

‘There’s no need to be ashamed, Leon~.’ Wesker’s voice rumbled through his chest and he knew Leon could practically feel it. The boy shuddered against him, the red in his cheeks a delicious colour that Wesker wanted to covet for his own forever. And if the night went how he wanted it to, he might just have Leon as his own when it was all over.

 

Willing, or unwilling.

 

Carefully, he started them towards one of the doors on the opposite side of the foyer. He opened the door into a thin hall, thankfully unlocked, and led Leon carefully to a storage room tucked beneath a set of stairs. The rookie was so out of it, so distracted by his own shame and worry, he didn’t even question how Wesker navigated them to the room so easily.

 

By the time Wesker shouldered the door open, Leon was passed out from the pain.

 

He laid him down in the room to rest, carefully laying him out on the wooden floor. There wasn’t much in the room to make him comfortable, so Wesker opted only to leave another can of medicinal spray behind for him to use. When he woke up, he would need another spritz to ensure any lingering infections were gone.

 

Before he left, Wesker eyed Leon’s unconscious body. He admired the slow rise and fall of his chest. How his innocent features turned even softer in the throes of unconsciousness. It would be a delight to see them twisted into fear when Wesker had Leon beneath him at last, his hands on his throat and his tongue in his mouth.

 

But he had to get rid of his little piggies first.

Chapter 24

Notes:

Trigger Warnings:
- Blood and Gore
- Gun Violence
- Animal Violence

He was really getting tired of this.

 

Waking up with only a vague sense of familiarity, unsure of exactly where he was and what had happened to lead him to waking up in an unknown location, Leon was tired of it all.

 

His exhaustion was steadily creeping in again, even as he sat up and rolled his shoulders. There was a nasty crick in his neck, just along the tendon that ran from his jaw to his collar, and it was cramping hard from his time on the floor. Last he remembered, he felt ready to pass out again on the steps in the foyer of some magnificent mansion, the remaining members of Alpha team arguing over his head about whether he was trustworthy.

 

He remembered the hurt.

 

In a way, he supposed he understood Jill’s hesitance to believe him. Any other night, Leon would have been near impossible to convince that zombies and other undead creatures were real. But this night, he had seen corpses shamble and reach for him, bite their jaws so hard their teeth bled as they desperately tried to tear him apart.

 

But Leon still wasn’t entirely sure what he had done to be accused of sabotaging them.

 

There was a throb behind his eyes, a sting in his ear that welcomed an irritating buzz in his hearing. He tried to recall what it was Jill had accused him of. The only thing he could remember was her saying he had sabotaged the helicopter.

 

He didn’t even know how to fly one, let alone how to break it down.

 

They had performed the final checks, both Kevin Dooley and Edward Dewey had confirmed that it was ready and safe. And the helicopter had even flown well all the way until they had been cruising over Raccoon Forest. Why he was the major suspect, he still wasn’t sure… But he could have been missing something. After all, some of his memories throughout the night were still jumbled. He couldn’t remember anything after getting back to the mansion, he could hardly recall even making it outside and to the helicopter after captain Marini ordered him to go.

 

Though his body still ached all over, the worst of the pain had seemingly disappeared.

 

The burn that licked at his ankle and calf had died down to a warmth that settled uncomfortably beneath his skin. Still too hot, but the searing pain from where the nail had imbedded itself into his muscles and flesh had nearly vanished entirely. And though his head still spun a little, especially as he stood up and his world righted itself off an axis, he could feel no pain beneath the bandages.

 

The little storage room he was tucked into smelled damp and earthy. There were large crates stacked atop each other and a giant chest pressed into the back wall. It was large enough that Leon could tuck himself inside if he had to, but he was disappointed to find it empty. The only thing in the room that seemed of any worth at all, was a thin can of antiseptic spray, left precariously on the edge of a small, round table right by the door.

 

He snatched it gratefully, finding a spot on his belt to loop it through and keep it on his person in case he needed it. He was relieved to find his Matilda still strapped to him as well and that his ammunition was not in a desperate state. He had more than enough to deal with the zombies as he encountered them, but he was also desperately missing the shotgun he had collected from Billy.

 

It had been so long…

 

What had even happened to Rebecca and Billy?

 

Was she even still here? Was Billy still alive? Hell, was Rebecca still alive? Was anyone still alive?

 

Leon wasn’t sure how long he had been passed out for, and the little room had no windows or clocks to tell him how much time may have passed. He could still hear some distant thundering, but Raccoon was well known for having tumultuous weather that could last days at a time. It was a wonder the city didn’t flood more often.

 

There was a crackle at his hip and Leon lifted up the radio Captain Marini had given him.

 

Over the static, he could make out a familiar voice, but their words were broken and staggered. Whatever they were saying was impossible to decipher. Curious if it was, perhaps, so broken because whoever was talking was on another line, Leon fiddled carefully with the dials. His fingers, still stained a pinkish red from Edward’s blood, delicately twisted each dial until the static faded but the buzz was enough to let Leon know he had the correct line of communication. He waited for that voice to repeat itself. It didn’t take long.

 

‘T-… Brad Vickers of S.T.A-… Can anyone hear me? Is any-… Alive?’

 

‘Yes. Yes! We’re alive!’ Leon felt his system flooded with relief. He could almost cry for joy that they still had a way out of the godforsaken mansion. He felt, however, disappointment settle in quickly as the radio sputtered again and Vickers repeated his message.

 

He couldn’t hear him. Not well enough, anyway.

 

But maybe he could fix that.

 

Leon’s little room was tucked somewhere in the mansion and had no windows or doors. It was quite possible that any floors above were making it impossible for reception to get through and he was missing the far superior radio he had taken from the mercenaries. He might be able to get a clean reception, enough to inform Vickers as to what he must do, if he could get to the roof of the mansion.

 

It was worth the shot.

 

So Leon replaced the radio at his hip and dared to peek outside of his door.

 

There was a set of stairs going up, but Leon had no interest in them. Against the wall in the opposite corner was a window just big enough he might be able to shimmy through. And that was all the motivation he needed. As he stepped through the thin gap and into the hall, he nearly tripped over the body laid at his feet. He didn’t recognise it, thank goodness, but he didn’t chance ignoring it and risking a bite at his ankles.

 

He nudged it with his foot and, when it started to moan and shift, Leon pulled the Matilda free of its strap. He aimed and fired once then twice for good measure, its head jolting violently against the floor with each bullet. Blood leaked out and onto the floor beneath his boots in a deep puddle of gore, but he wasn’t done yet.

 

Above his head, there was a familiar groan and then a body surged over the railing of the stairs. It fell at his feet, practically delivered itself to death, and as it started to prop itself up Leon readied the Matilda, pressing it to the zombie’s temple. It took only one bullet this time to blow its head apart with a loud Crack! that echoed through the small corridor.

 

When there were no other sounds to greet him, Leon took that as his cue to make a move. He stepped over the two bodies he had left behind and over to the small window. He unlatched it and pulled the lower pane up as high as it could go. Immediately, he was struck by the freezing winds and the sleet that cut his skin and froze his lips. It didn’t take much to pull himself through the window, relieved to see that he was still on the ground level of the mansion. He landed on his feet and then brought the window carefully down so it did not latch again. Another way out may not have been unwelcome to the others.

 

Then he stared up at the roof that jutted out over the walls above his head. Thankfully, due the age of the mansion and its design, there were a great deal many decorative pieces, thick gutters and trellises of ivy all along its walls. It made for an easy ascent to the roof.

 

Matilda back on his hip, Leon pulled himself up onto the lip of the windowsill. Behind him, distantly, he could hear those hounds howling over the storm and, within the mansion itself, just barely muted gunshots elsewhere in its halls. There were some still alive after all and Leon was elated to realise he was not alone.

 

Carefully, hand over hand, Leon pulled himself up one of those ivy bound trellises. The rain made it difficult to grasp, but he took his time to ensure he had a strong enough grip to continue. He placed the toe of each boot carefully into the footholds and shifted from trellis to gutter as the vines and ivy came to their end. The gutter was harder, plastic and slippery. For every two inches he rose up the side of the mansion, he slipped back another inch or three. It was slow going and his body was trembling with the cold, but Leon persevered until he could wrap his hands over a gargoyle perched right by the rooftop.

 

It was a strange stone creature, carved in the guise of something Leon had never seen depicted amongst gothic architecture. It appeared like a dragon, curled up into a striking position. Wings pressed high, but its mouth was like a wide, three petaled flower filled with hundreds of sharp teeth all along the inside. A strange blemish sprouted from its back, with curves reminiscent of a woman, just behind the ‘head’ of the unusual dragon.

 

It was bizarre to say the least, and not something Leon had ever known a regular gargoyle to look like.

 

He used the curve of its tail and then its sharp wings to hoist himself up enough that he could grip the slippery shingles of the roof. His foot pressed into the back, accidentally breaking off that strange piece that sprouted behind its head, and then he was crawling, almost dragging himself along the roof. Thankfully it was not so steeply tapered and he found enough footing to stand up.

 

The static crackled over his radio and then Brad’s voice was sputtering a repeat of his previous message. Distantly, through the clouds, Leon could hear the sound of a thrumming set of helicopter blades.

 

‘T-This is Brad-’

 

‘Brad!’ Leon barked as loud as he could into the radio, relieved to hear Vickers cut himself off and respond.

 

‘Holy shi-… -eon? Is that y-you?’

 

‘Yes! Ye-es! Oh my God… It’s so good to hear your voice, Vickers!’

 

‘Same here, Leon.’ Those chopper blades were getting louder. ‘W-What’s the situation down…?’

 

‘We’re alive, I think. I haven’t seen anyone else for a while but I can hear them. We got separated. We need help!’

 

‘I can land-’

 

‘No! No, don’t land! We don’t know what’s down here waiting for you if you do!’ Leon could see the dark, metal body flying overhead. ‘Were you bitten? Before you took off?’

 

‘Nah… Damn dogs-… Tried. Didn’t g-… Me…’ Another rush of relief through Leon’s body. So Vickers wasn’t at risk of turning. Thankfully, it meant he was safe. The problem was, he was safer in the air. He couldn’t easily land without attracting the attention of every monster in the place. Just like the dogs had been desperately trying to snatch him out of the sky, Leon was sure the zombies and any other horrible creatures would be drawn to the noise.

 

‘Do you have any equipment we could use? Anything at all?’

 

‘Yeah! A lot of specia-… -ipment was l-left behind when A-Alpha… went lookin-…’ There was a beat of silence from Brad. ‘I d-don’t know if I can safely… drop off?’

 

‘Y-You have to try! Please! Is there a way it could be lowered down to the roof of the mansion?’

 

‘Are you… There?’

 

‘Yes! If you can send it down on a rope, I can grab it. Leave the items someplace safe for the others to find. And send me some rope down too, so I can safely get it all off the roof!’ He waited a moment for a response, but there was none to be heard. The helicopter continued its path overhead and the radio fizzled out as it disappeared.

 

He sighed and settled in to wait for its return.

 

He sat there for far longer than he would have liked, shivering from the cold and soaked through to the bone, before those helicopter blades were cutting through the clouds once again. This time, there was a long strap that dangled from the bottom of the helicopter, low enough that Leon could reach it as Vickers hovered overhead. He still had to stretch to unclip it and almost dangle off the strap himself. When he landed back on his feet, a few loose shingles came free beneath him and he staggered to right himself before he went slipping off the ledge.

 

‘Thanks! I’m going to get these inside if I can! I will try and signal you again when we need you to pick us up! Until then, you might need to make regular checks! The radio signals are choppy at best, but if anyone is alive, they can hear you!’ Leon assured him and then the helicopter was taking off again in a low hover through the air.

 

Just as he hoped, Leon opened one of the bags and was relieved to find both medical supplies and ammunition within, as well as the rope he requested. He tied the straps of that first bag together and then shuffled carefully over to the edge of the roof. Using the gutter and a gargoyle to keep his footing, he placed each foot slowly along the roof until he found the window he had escaped through.

 

He had only just begun lowering the bag down the wall when there was a screech and a caw. Confused, Leon whipped his head about to see what was making such noises, when he spotted a small flock of crows in the trees ahead of him. They seemed like normal birds at first glance, dark feathered and untouched by the gruesome wounds most of the undead were covered with.

 

But those eyes…

 

They were red and staring with a familiar sense of hunger that Leon knew all too well.

 

‘You’ve got to be kidding me…’ As if it was the dinner bell, the crows took that as their signal to begin. Wings flapped and feathers flew as the birds darted and swooped through the air towards him. Leon batted them away with one arm as he hurried to lower the bag the rest of the way. Instead of lowering it to the ground and using the rope to follow it down as he had originally planned, Leon tied it off at the top, the bag suspended just outside of the window. It would make it easier to find than for it to fall to the dirt.

 

The birds pecked and clawed at him aggressively. He hardly had the time to pull out the Matilda and begin shooting between each of the birds’ attacks. One scratched just above his brow, another nearly took out his eye and one of them pecked his fingers just hard enough, Leon was sure the burn in the tip of his finger was because one of his nails had been ripped out.

 

He gritted his teeth and fired, stepping back higher on the roof, the weight of the second bag on his back making him feel uneasy with each step. Shingles shuffled and then there was a steady creak and tremor of the roof beneath him. By the time Leon realised the problem, the roof was already caving in.

 

He fell through it, beams of wood catching his fall as he tumbled into a dusty and derelict attic. He coughed and choked on the dust that exploded in his fall, but he was lucky to find that none of the birds followed his descent into the dark. He groaned, having hit the floor hard, and pulled himself into a ball and then onto his hands and knees.

 

Something shuffled in the dark and he was back on his feet, Matilda trained on what was moving beyond the shaft of moonlight that had followed him inside.

 

A figure moved in the dark, accompanied by another.

 

Leon flicked off the safety on his gun, but before he could fire, a soft voice reached his ears.

 

‘L-… Leon?’

 

The two figures stepped into the light, enough that the dark crept back and Leon could see the relief etched into horror-worn faces.

 

‘Rebecca?! Richard?!’

Notes:

I may have shoehorned in the slightest reference to Resident Evil: Village because that is my second favourite of the RE games! And also, I believe Spencer would want to pay homage to the family that helped to start him down the path of his inhumane experiments ^^

Chapter 25

Notes:

Tigger Warnings:
- Human Experimentation
- References to Animal Experimentation
- References to Injury

‘Leon!’

 

He was nearly bowled over, right off his feet, as Rebecca darted across the space between them and threw herself into him. He was only just able to switch the safety back on before the Matilda fell from his hand and clattered against the floor. A trail of billowing dust was kicked up as Rebecca buried herself into his chest, her hands wrapped across his middle. As relief and warmth bloomed in his chest, Leon reached down to loop his arms over her shoulders and drag her in as close as possible.

 

He had no tears left to shed, but he felt he could cry.

 

‘It’s good to see you alive.’ Richard had stepped out of the dark, resting a heavy hand on Leon’s shoulder. All up his arm and across the lower half of his face, his skin and clothes were slick with blood. There was a bruise lingering along one half of his face, creating a splotchy blue-yellow line across his skin, and a deep cut through his left eyebrow.

 

‘Same… I didn’t expect to see you or anyone else after the night we’ve had.’ Leon’s arms slid back and Rebecca stepped away. She seemed remarkably untouched, save for a few bruises and a drying stream of blood that appeared to have dribbled out of her ear. ‘What happened to you?’ She blinked, reaching for her ear and her relived smile pulled taut across her face.

 

‘If you can believe it, ran into a giant bat of all things.’ She said, looking him over too and gesturing down to the cloth that hung loosely around his calf. ‘What about you?’

 

‘Nothing big, that one. Not a zombie or anything, just a freaking nail, if you can believe it.’

 

Maybe it was the way he said it, or the relief they all felt to have found each other again, but something about it all felt so light-hearted. Amusing, even. Here they were, running and fighting for their lives against zombies and giant monsters, and it was a nail that nearly did him in. As he said it, Leon couldn’t keep the smile from creeping onto his face, especially as Rebecca hid her giggles behind her hand and Richard started snorting with barely contained laughter.

 

It felt good to smile and to laugh again, even at his own expense.

 

It did not last long though, as there was a deep creak through the attic and distant gunshots in the floors below.

 

‘Is that captain Marini?’ Richard questioned, stepping away and over to the door. It had been haphazardly boarded up; a few pieces of junk furniture that had been stashed away had been moved to bar the door.

 

‘It… Could be? I think it’s more likely Chris or Jill.’

 

‘Alpha team? They’re here?’ Richard perked up, the news clearly a welcome revelation. ‘We may actually get outta here after all.’ He looked excited, as did Rebecca who had fallen off her feet and landed on her rump on the floor. She released a great breath, a small smile growing on her soft face.

 

‘God, I hope so…’

 

‘I… I’m not so sure.’ He hated to be the one to ruin their mood, but Leon had to be truthful. It would do no good now to spare their feelings. ‘Officer Vickers can’t land at the moment. He’s dropped some supplies, but we’re stuck here until we can find the others.’

 

Richard kicked a piece of junk, some old toy or tool or container, and it was shot across the room and into the wall. It clattered against a few different things, but Richard looked unimpressed. It was not enough destruction to express his frustration, so he smacked one side of his fist hard against one of the crates. He was making a lot of noise, but there were no sounds to greet them, nothing that told them that he had alerted anything to their presence in the attic.

 

Leon let him vent, taking a seat across from Rebecca on the dusty, wooden floorboards.

 

‘What happened to Coen?’ He inquired softly, Rebecca’s whole body jolting, her gaze shooting up to meet his own. He didn’t think his question would be so astounding, but she seemed a little… Scared? Nervous? His confusion must have shown on his face, because Rebecca took a swift cursory peek at Richard over her shoulder before answering.

 

‘I… I found him dead…’

 

‘Good riddance.’ Richard huffed. ‘Piece of shit might’ve been the only person worth ripping to pieces in this whole goddamn nightmare.’ He growled, taking a seat on the sheet covered lounge pressed to the attic door.

 

Leon had not cared much for Billy Coen, as a hardened criminal that was responsible for so many civilian casualties, but being ripped apart by zombies or eaten by one of the giant monsters was hardly a way to go for anyone. He would never wish that kind of death on even his worst enemy, and Billy had proven to at least be a decent help. It was because of him that Rebecca was here before him now, if he was to be believed that she had been trapped aboard the Ecliptic Express.

 

Around her neck, there was the glint of metal in moonlight. Her own dog tags and another chain that hung there, hidden beneath the collar of her shirt and vest.

 

Something didn’t add up, but with the way Rebecca was looking at him, almost pleading with him to believe her, Leon let it slide. They had worse things to worry about. He would ask her about it later, if they managed to survive the night.

 

‘Okay... I suppose that is one thing we won’t have to worry about then.’ Tension almost immediately fell from Rebecca’s shoulders. Leon was not always the best at telling who a person was or figuring out another’s motivations, but Rebecca was an open book. There was far more to the story than what she was telling him. Than what she had told Richard. He would come back to it later, sometime privately, where she didn’t have to worry about being judged.

 

He trusted Rebecca.

 

If she was staying quiet, he trusted it was for a good reason.

 

‘Leon…’ She hesitated a moment, fidgeting her fingers together. ‘T-There’s something really wrong about this place. It’s connected to a training facility of some kind, one of Umbrella corporation’s old facilities according to some documents I’ve found.’ Her chemical kit was slid off her back and she unzipped it. A few pieces of paper, most of them yellow and worn with age, slid free and she hastily reached to collect them and stop them from fluttering away.

 

‘Some of these letters go back twenty years… Apparently they were studying different viruses, but not just to cure. But as if they were trying to create something new and dangerous. The Tyrant virus, is what they called it… That’s what we’re dealing with if these documents are to be believed. All the creatures that we’ve run into tonight, they’re dead but not exactly zombies in the way movies would have you believe.’ She passed some papers his way, Leon reading what he could. Most of the letters were ineligible, the ink having worn away or the pages marred or torn with time.

 

‘They’ve been mutated. The dogs, they call them Cerberus, escaped experiments. They keep far worse creatures underground too. And look here.’ She pointed to one of the diary entries she had passed his way. Amongst the chicken scratch scrawl were a few names that he could just make out on the yellow page.

 

Nicho... Zino...iev

 

Lui... ...ra

 

William …kin

 

Albert …er

 

Ja…s Marcu…

 

Oswell Spenc…

 

‘Students of Umbrella corporations training facility, staff and directors and constituents. It seems that the students that succeeded became members of staff, assisting with the developments of these mutagens. But if they failed… They became the experiments…’

 

Leon felt sick.

 

Who would do something so heinous? Experimenting on people like guinea pigs… Was that what S.T.A.R.S was? His mind wheeled back to his last few moments on the train. Those two mercenaries strapped with weapons. Then he was freefalling through the air and into the wet grassy ditch as the train sped out of view. And then there was the radio crackling in the mud and he picked it up and…

 

There had been a voice on the other end.

 

‘How have you been finding your evening?’ Mocking, pretending to care. There had been someone laughing on the other end too, another observer of their misery. ‘This would be easier for us if you could tell us what you have gone through thus far.’ They had inquired as to what had happened to him, what he had been through.

 

‘Your experiences would be precious data for us. Would you like to give it up, before you eventually die tonight?’

 

Data. That is what he was reduced to; numbers on a page. What S.T.A.R.S had become when they had been dropped into this mess. He recalled Jill accusing him of sabotaging the helicopter, and now everything was starting to make sense.

 

There was a traitor… Someone had intentionally thrown them into this nightmare, someone associated with Umbrella, and they were the unlucky experiments. But who was the question…

 

‘Richard and I saw someone leave this place only a little while ago. Someone we didn’t recognise.’ He looked at her and Rebecca turned to look over her shoulder at Richard. He was running a hand through his cropped hair, but he was drawn back to the present, away from whatever thoughts were running through his head, by Rebecca’s words.

 

‘Yeah… Yeah, we saw someone. Some big guy in a thick coat. Didn’t recognise him, but he was guarded by these two monsters. They looked like men, but they were like eight feet tall. We don’t know where they went, but we haven’t seen them since.’

 

‘Did you see their face? Could you recognise who it was if you saw them again?’ Richard shrugged, shaking his head.

 

‘Doubt it. We never got a good look at his face, and there was no way we were going to try to get his attention. Those two fuckers he had with him looked like they could crush us with their bare hands.’ Richard thought for a moment, tapping his chin. ‘He didn’t look like he was in a rush to leave though. Like, a lot of these pages that Rebecca’s shown me, a lot of these people were panicking and trying to escape this place. But this guy? Reminded me of captain Wesker, ya know? All business, stick up his arse, kind of guy. Didn’t even look phased by these monsters.’ It didn’t tell them much. It didn’t really tell them anything at all. But it was a start.

 

Umbrella corporation was at least partly responsible.

 

Someone had been here and had left, but their intentions were still unknown.

 

And there was definitely someone responsible for S.T.A.R.S being stranded here. Someone who had made sure Bravo team crashed and that Alpha team came searching.

 

Someone who had betrayed their trust and sentenced them all to death.

Chapter 26

Notes:

Trigger Warnings:
- Childhood Trauma
- Bullying
- Swearing

When Leon was a child, he had always been scared of basements and attics.

 

Something about the small, cramped spaces, abandoned and dusty and tucked away out of sight caused a shiver across his skin. He hated the musty smell, the damp atmosphere from the rain that crept through the ceiling or the walls, and he despised those little light bulbs that dangled from a thin wire off the roof. Every new home Leon had occupied whilst he was bumped around in foster care, all of the houses had at least one of the two.

 

He could recall one particular family he lived with, seven kids including himself with two foster parents. A lovely couple who unfortunately couldn’t have children of their own, they doted on the children. Maybe just a little too much. Some of the older kids felt they could do no wrong in their foster parents’ eyes, so they loved to push their limits and see what they could get away with. And all of their little ‘experiments’ were dares they pressed upon the younger children, including Leon himself.

 

Of course, Leon’s fear of attics and basements did not go unnoticed.

 

And what bratty sibling wouldn’t take the opportunity to try and get their little brother to piss their pants?

 

It had been on a weekend in early Summer, the weather sweltering hot and all of the kids bored out of their minds. Their foster mother had taken two of the youngest into town to collect some popsicles and groceries, whilst their foster father had passed out with the toddler for a nap upstairs. This left Leon, as the youngest coherent sibling, to be picked at and prodded by his elders.

 

‘Eat this, Leon!’

 

‘Go grab that thing for us, Leon!’

 

All harmless things for the most part. Eating a nasty concoction of random crap they brewed together in the mixer, whilst they sat there sipping on cold orange juices and laughed at his misery. Stealing a gun out of their dad’s bedside drawer, though it was thankfully unloaded. They played with it, pretending to shoot him in the head and Leon could still feel the press of the cool barrel against his forehead.

 

And then came the final dare for that day, before their foster mother returned from the shops.

 

‘Get up into the attic, Leon. And don’t come down until we tell you!’

 

Of course, Leon had resisted. And putting up a fight had encouraged his four older siblings to wrestle him to the attic stairs and slam themselves against the outside to prevent him from escaping. He had banged against that door until his fists hurt, had yelled until his voice dried his throat, but they just laughed and held the door steadfast.

 

Trapped and desperate to escape, Leon braced himself and dared to step away from the door and up those stairs. One foot placed delicately after another, the stairs creaked with every step, announcing his entry into the room above.

 

The roof slanted harshly above his head, not a single light switch in sight. There was no sign of a flashlight either, something to ease his way through the dark, except a distant square window. With the sunlight as his guide, Leon raced through the attic, almost slammed into the glass, as he grabbed and searched with his fingers for any kind of latch. Something that would allow him to slip it open so he could squeeze through and tumble outside.

 

Something rattled in the room and he increased his efforts tenfold. There may have been a two storey drop below, but a broken neck was not at the forefront of his mind.

 

When he could find nothing, Leon wept. He cried and he shouted, pressed his back to the wall and slipped down and into the dust, curling up as tight as he could. That rattle had not ceased. In fact, as he settled onto the floor, it seemed to only get louder.

 

Blue eyes searched the junk between him and the door, scared to see something he did not want to see, but desperate to find what it was that was making such a noise. The rattling continued to sound through the quiet of the attic, accompanied by a sharp hiss by his right hand.

 

His head snapped around.

 

The bright reddish-brown hide of scales and beady eyes stared back at him. Curled into a tight S, waiting for Leon to make the first move, the diamondback rattlesnake stared him down.

 

Leon would later find out that this was only the second scariest encounter he would ever have with a snake, and not even the worst experience he would ever have with a reptile.

 

 

---

 

 

Rebecca had insisted on being sure certain evidence was preserved for the investigation. She had tucked most of the documents she had recovered from the training facility back into her chemical kit, but she had handed to both Richard and himself a bunch of papers to hold on their person. It seemed a smart decision, if the worst happened and any of them got separated or eaten by the undead flooding the mansion.

 

They had to find the others.

 

Leon had opened the second bag, curious as to what Brad had dropped to him. The first bag had contained medical supplies and ammunition, so he hoped the duffel still in his possession contained much the same.

 

He unzipped it and was not too displeased to find another two guns inside and the ammunition to accompany them. He could recognise a grenade launcher when he saw one, two of each kind of grenade carefully tucked into a thick attache case inside. The other was a rifle, not great for close quarters, but Leon lifted its weight into his arms with a sense of comfort.

 

He missed having the shotgun to rely on for messy close encounters, but with the rifle, hopefully he wouldn’t have to deal with some monsters so closely. A few more flash grenades and some spare ammunition for Rebecca and Richard’s Samurai Edges, but his Matilda was left to run dry. Disappointing, but he supposed he hoped to find some more ammunition if he made his way back down to that storage room he woke up in.

 

Those supplies dangling just outside the window by the stairs might just be his lifeline.

 

Richard had insisted on Rebecca holding onto the grenade launcher. After everything she had told him, and since Leon had learned of her horrible night traipsing through the facility ‘alone’, she had gotten used to holding the unwieldy weapon. It had been discarded in her mad dash to the mansion, those damned dogs snapping at her heels.

 

Richard took the extra ammunition and two flash grenades for their use whilst Leon got to hold on to the rifle and the remainder of the flash grenades.

 

Four in total.

 

If they ran into the monster with the shackles and that horrid wail, Leon was sure the two of them would be well-fitted to deal with it. Or at least, escape the monster temporarily.

 

‘Are we ready?’ Rebecca checked the launcher in her hands, loaded with acid rounds, and nodded to confirm. Richard hummed in agreement and then gestured Leon over to assist him with shifting the furniture away from the door. It was heavy work, but they pushed it all to one side until the door swung open all by itself.

 

‘It’s why we had to board it up. Fucking thing is hanging off its hinges.’ This whole mansion was falling apart in places. Leon was all too relieved they would be leaving the attic behind, the cobwebs and dust and that constant dripping from the rain lashing the roof above their heads.

 

The door squeaked on its hinges and then they were stepping out and into the tiny adjoining room. It was just larger than a closet, connecting them to a thin corridor and then into a larger room much more kept than the others. Or at least, there was not as much dust between them and the door across the far side of the room.

 

Richard rushed to the door, snarling when the door remained stuck fast. The handle rattled in place and Leon shuddered, taking a deep breath and staring at the floor trying to right the anxiety that pressed in on his fear-addled mind. Rebecca’s gentle touch on his bicep, though it was supposed to be comforting, made him flinch and he stepped away.

 

This was all feeling too familiar and though it had happened years ago, the trauma was starting to creep back into his mind. The memories, tainted and skewed by the years between him and the incident, somehow the incident remained untouched by time. He clenched his fist tighter around the Matilda, knuckles white.

 

‘Fuck! Fuck, no! You’re kidding me! We came from this way, there is no way we’re locked in here now-!’ There was a noise on the other side of the door and then a series of knocks, shutting him up.

 

‘Richard?’ The voice was muffled, but recognisable. ‘Is that you?!’

 

‘Jill!’ Rebecca dashed over to the door, almost skipping with excitement to hear another member of Alpha so close by. ‘Oh, it’s so good to hear your voice!’

 

‘Can you let me in?’ She rattled the doorknob again and Leon twisted uncomfortably, narrowing his eyes on the scratched up floor beneath his feet. It was strange… The abrasions in the wood seemed new and the floor was practically polished of dust. Why was this room so clear? It would suggest something had been here, something big enough to leave such damage against the floorboards.

 

‘Can you let us out?!’ Richard yelled back, laughing. Jill’s soft chuckle was heard through the wood of the door. ‘We got trapped in here after hiding from those undead fucks. Don’t suppose you have your lockpicks?’

 

‘You’re a lucky man, Richard.’ Jill’s smirk was clear in her voice, and then there was a jingle of her tools and the creaks of the floorboards outside as she settled down to start fiddling with the lock.

 

Something shifted against the back wall, behind a thin pillar and amongst some crates. The sheets over the crates were pulled taut over them, a great weight pulling the white cloth with each miniscule movement of what laid beyond. Leon turned the rifle over his shoulder and into his hands, taking a hesitant step closer.

 

There was a small window in this room. Through it, the storm raged outside. As he approached, catching sight of a curled body that dwarfed Leon so entirely, a streak of lightning flashed overhead, accompanied by a rumble of thunder.

 

The thunder did not hide the sharp hiss of the giant snake beyond.

 

Leon froze, gaze laser focussed on its maw, opened wide in a deep and hungry yawn.

Chapter 27

Notes:

Trigger Warnings:
- Blood and Gore
- Trauma
- Injury
- Animal Death

‘LEON!’

 

Rebecca’s voice.

 

High.

 

Screaming.

 

Scared…

 

The turning world and everything in it came back into focus, just long enough for the quicksand at Leon’s feet to give way and for him to move. He was still weak, still in the throes of a memory long passed, that all he could do was stumble forward and onto his hands and knees.

 

It was enough.

 

That yawning maw passed overhead, a great canopy of smooth, tawny scales shooting across him, above him, fast enough a breeze whipped his face. He had to tuck and roll, just in time to avoid being crushed as the serpent’s weight came crashing down on where he had been standing. He couldn’t roll far, not when the rest of that curled body slipped and slid along the floor past him, immediately trapping him alongside it.

 

Rebecca screamed again.

 

The room was filled with a cacophony of sound, deafeningly loud to the point it hurt. Richard’s gun fired on the giant snake and it hissed angrily in response, Rebecca screaming as it came down on the two of them by the door. They dodged its next attack just barely, the snake’s head crashing into the door with a heavy thud. On the other side, Jill could be heard scrambling back, the wood splintering under the weight of the reptile.

 

The snake was so large, it completely filled the room. Spread out, all lithe muscle and twitching tendons, its body wrapped and curled into every nook and cranny. Getting around it without physically touching the body was impossible, especially for Leon who was surrounded on all sides. Beneath them, the floor shook with every strike as it threw its body around.

 

‘Rebecca!’ He yelled over the gunfire. ‘Rebecca, please! Shoot it!’ Leon had switched the rifle out for his trusted Matilda once more, joining the onslaught of bullets. Due to the size of the animal, all of the bullets found their mark, but it was such a giant creature that the ammunition was like little pinpricks to it. They pierced the scales, but drove no further through thick muscle.

 

Rebecca, however, hesitated to fire.

 

Her finger was on the trigger, the grenade launcher aimed at the monster, but her eyes kept falling on Leon in the middle of its coils. It was loaded with acid rounds, which should be enough to do the damage they so desperately needed, but Leon could see why she hesitated.

 

He wasn’t sure if he was thankful or not as the body curled in tighter, back into striking position all around him.

 

The snake hissed, almost a roar in his ears, saliva dripping from its jaws, as it lunged again. Leon pressed himself to one side, right into the muscle of its body as its head came down on where he had been. It hissed again, snout dark from the impact. The floorboards beneath them squeaked and groaned, shaking beneath them as the snake reared back. If a reptile could snarl, Leon was sure its lip would curl with frustration, those dark eyes glaring down at him mad with hunger.

 

Richard fired again and the snake whipped its head about to face him. Richard’s eyes widened, but he wasn’t fast enough to dodge it completely this time.

 

The head of the great serpent came down, but Richard had been trapped in the corner by the door. He could only dodge towards the snake and, as if to punish him for his mistake, the reptile’s thin fangs caught him as he moved. They ruptured easily through the material of his vest and shirt, cutting deeply into the flesh just below his ribs. Blood spurted through the air and Richard cried.

 

When the snake pulled back once again, its black tongue flicked in the air, tasting the blood and the fear. It prepared to strike again, so Leon raised his Matilda and aimed upwards.

 

He shot and the bullet grazed its eye.

 

The mouth opened wide, shrieks erupting from deep within the snake’s body. Its head shifted from side to side, trying to shake off the pain, and Leon fired again.

 

The reptile wasn’t injured, not truly. It wasn’t enough to damage the monster beyond scratches and pin pricks of damage to its powerful hide. But it was getting angry.

 

‘Richard!’ The man had collapsed on the floor. He was holding his side, sweat already dripping down his brow and along his neck. He was pale, shivering and weak. When he looked up to meet Leon’s gaze through the mess of coils and scales, they seemed so distant, pupils shrunk in tight until Leon could only see white of his eyes.

 

‘Richard, toss me your knife! Please!’ He dodged again, the snake smacking the floor beneath his feet. Fangs pierced the floorboards, wrenching a small portion of the floor free in its jaws as it reared back. It bit down, crunching the boards into splinters and then it was back on the attack.

 

Something thudded onto the floor beside him, Leon grasping for the black sheathe and the knife within. His hands wrapped around the handle, just in time for those coils to wrap in tight around his body. He gasped, feeling his body beginning to bruise and break under the power of the reptile’s gripping muscles. The floorboards squealed beneath their weight again and Leon felt something snap and crack.

 

They jolted, both he and the snake, and then the floor dipped suddenly lower.

 

‘Rebecca! Fire the grenade! Now-!’

 

Everything went dark.

 

His world was nothing now but dark reds and a black abyss that stretched out below – above? – his head. It was so hot it burned, wet with a stench unmatched, the walls cramping in on all sides. The sounds of battle and a powerful scream were muted down to near nothing as his world became reduced to a thin tunnel of muscle all around him. His stomach swooped and then he was being swallowed down and into that dark abyss.

 

He was being eaten alive.

 

He sunk – fell? rose? - quickly through the oesophagus, muscles overpowering with strength even greater than what he had experienced wrapped up in its coils. He struggled and pushed and pressed against the walls that just compressed back even harder. It was almost impossible to move and he struggled to wrap his hands around the sheathe of the knife and wrench it free.

 

He finally fell into a space that opened up just a little more, the weight slightly less oppressive than the tunnel of the snake’s long throat. He twisted and turned. Trying to find which way was up was impossible, especially as the snake moved with him inside it. He was wrenched this way and that, his hearing deafened by the sounds of rumbling and gurgling all throughout the snake’s stomach.

 

He couldn’t breathe. He was gasping, desperate for clean air. He was choking on that horrific stench, but he was sure his lungs were collapsing too. He was thrashing, panicking. He couldn’t stop panicking!

 

Something collided with its body, hard enough that Leon felt it through the stomach wall. Then the snake was hissing somewhere above his head, so loud that it echoed all the way down and tremored through his very body. It was hit again and Leon could feel now the stomach twitching and curling in tighter all around him.

 

Then there was the strange sensation of falling. Falling but not falling, so secure was he by the muscles and stomach walls that, when he and his captor hit the floor, he felt only the cushioned thud against its muscles. The radio crackled at his hip.

 

‘-eon! Leon! A-Are yo… -live?! P-Plea-!’ Rebecca’s voice on the other end. He reached for the radio, but he couldn’t grab it. It was all too tight. ‘I shot it! Pl… Be alive!’

 

She shot it.

 

She shot the snake.

 

Rebecca shot the snake with the acid rounds.

 

The snake was still shrieking, still moving. Leon grit his teeth, tasting all sorts of horrid mucus on his lips and tongue as he pulled up the combat knife. He held it out, the hilt resting against his chest, pressing as hard as he could. His weight wasn’t enough, but the strength of the snake contracting its body all around him was just the push he needed.

 

The knife pierced the dark, his world alight for a moment with a thin view of the outside world. And then it was flooding. Hot gushes of blood poured in on him, but Leon took what leverage he had and drove the knife down, carving a thin slice through the weakened, sizzling muscle. The snake’s body trembled all around him, he could feel it whipping about and struggling with itself as it could not comprehend what was happening to it. He was thrown about inside, but he kept the blade hooked on that little opening he had carved into its flesh.

 

More blood rushed in to fill the stomach, he could feel it breaching his clothes and clinging to his skin, sinking into every gap it could find. If he wasn’t quick, he would be drowning in it.

 

He could see a sliver of the room beyond and he drove the knife down again, piercing its stomach and tearing another hole into its body. He wrenched the knife away and brought it down again and again, every swipe of the combat knife causing those muscles to weaken. Acid also breached the wound, mixing with the blood and seeping onto his hands. They burned, but he kept digging.

 

Finally, there was enough of a gap that his body simply fell free, slipping out and onto a floor covered with wooden shrapnel and splinters. He gasped, oxygen coming back to him in one fell swoop. He sputtered and coughed, vomiting up blood that was not his onto the floor below. A few splinters fell into his hair, drawing his eyes up to the hole in the floor, large enough that he and the snake had fallen down two whole storeys.

 

As horrible as it was, Leon was lucky to be inside of it when he fell.

 

There was a shift behind him as the snake writhed and twitched, mouth open in that familiar yawn. Leon grabbed the knife Richard had tossed his way, hands shaking as he crept closer to the monster. It was whipping its body about, its stomach open and spilling its contents onto the floor. Blood seeped into every crack of the tile beneath his feet.

 

He stepped carefully around the snake’s long body, seething with fear and with fury, his grip on the knife tightening.

 

As he approached its head, the snake hissing at him either to attack or to scare him, he brought the knife down hard, piercing its eye. When the snake whipped its head up, taking him with it, he held on tight. He was flung this way and that, but the knife held firm, deeply fixed within its socket. When the snake sunk lower, weak and dying, Leon took the opportunity to rip the knife away and drive it back in.

 

Over and over and over again.

 

Leon didn’t stop. Not until the room was flooded with crimson and he was soaked from the hard won victory. He was gasping, still desperately choking on air that he so desperately craved.

 

When at last he knew it was dead, only then did he stop.

 

Only then did the tears finally fall.

 

He thought he had none left to shed.

 

He was wrong.

Chapter 28

Notes:

Trigger Warnings:
- Swearing
- Blood and Injury
- Sickness
- Animal Death
- Blackmail
- Emotional Manipulation
- References to Stalking
- Masturbation

The sounds of fighting suddenly died.

 

If that was good or bad, Jill wasn’t waiting around to find out anymore.

 

She shoved her lockpicking tools back into her pockets and then took a couple steps back from the broken door. She rolled her shoulders, prepared herself and then charged forward, slamming her boot down as hard as she could. The door splintered the first time, so she did it again.

 

On the second kick it came apart.

 

Her pant leg was diced by the splintered wood, cutting deep slices into her skin. She wasn’t bothered by it, far too focussed on breaching the door. With a hole large enough for her to get her hands through, she gripped and pulled on the flimsy fractures until she could rip it apart and slip inside.

 

The large attic space was a warzone, filled with upturned junk pressed into the farthest corners of the room, a pillar snapped clean in half and a giant hole in the middle of the room. A single light dangled from the ceiling of the attic, still swinging wildly, causing a dance of shadows across every wall. Despite the efforts of the flickering light, the abyss below into the lower levels of the mansion remained dark. Jill could see the walls that supported their floor, could see that the broken floors extended past that first storey, but she could see no further.

 

And, very clearly, there was no Leon.

 

No Rebecca either.

 

Richard, however, was stooped in the corner closest to the door, pressed right to the wall and shivering uncontrollably. A wound in his side spilled blood into his clothes, but it was the nasty blackening of the surrounding flesh that had Jill scrambling to his side. He was feverish, his skin boiling to the touch and sweat beading at his forehead and along the back of his neck. His hands gripped what remained of his vest so tightly that his knuckles were white. She could hear his teeth clicking behind his lips.

 

‘Richard? Hey, Rich, I need you to stay with me.’ She had nothing she could drape around him to ease the discomfort of the fever. No water, no medical supplies… Fuck, this was bad.

 

She didn’t dare address the wound until she could get him somewhere safe.

 

Then, she recalled a room she had discovered some time ago, before she and Chris had been forced to split up. Whilst Chris took off running, shooting into the crowd of undead that clogged their hallway, Jill had slipped into a small room to take refuge. Thankfully unlocked, it seemed to be a small medical bay, with a tiny cot pressed into one corner and the walls lined with Umbrella brand medical supplies.

 

She had been carrying some bizarre keys to other rooms, stuff she and Chris had worked to collect together, that she simply did not have the space on her person to carry more. She had abandoned the medical bay when she heard Chris’ gunfire fade into the night, praying it was because he had found a safe haven.

 

Jill had crept the halls, careful to put down what zombies she did find, as she navigated the labyrinthine corridors into the west wing of the mansion.

 

The medical bay was in the west wing, but it was their best chance.

 

‘Come on, officer! On your feet.’ She pulled his better arm over her shoulder and started back towards the door. She kicked out the fractured door until she had crafted an exit large enough to guide Richard through on his hands and knees. Every inch forward was a test of pain for her comrade; he was barely hiding his pained noises behind a bloody, bitten lip.

 

‘I’ve got you, Richard. Come on…’ It was a long way to walk.

 

A long way without knowing what was around the corner.

 

But it was Richard’s only chance.

 

 

---

 

 

Chris had heard the crash across the mansion.

 

Even over the volume of his battles, he could hear the burst of gunfire, the distant screams and an explosion of sound that shook the very floor beneath his feet. He had been backed into a corner, a zombie with an odd mutation chasing him down faster than he had ever seen before, forced to hold it off with one of the decorative spears that lined the hallway.

 

He had hoped to find Jill still in the west wing after they had been forced different ways, but when he returned he only found the corpses they had left behind. Including some that had a strange mutation, where blood vessels popped and veins frayed out of the skin of their faces. It made the heads of the corpses appear a dark crimson, like a hellish, rotting demon.

 

Once they were on their feet, they ran faster too.

 

Chris had been backed up to a door, the crimson-headed corpse impaled on the display weapon when he had heard the explosion. And he wasn’t about to be held hostage by the monster when his team needed his help.

 

It had taken two shotgun shells to the head for it to burst into a red cloud, a spray of bloody rain pouring down and over him. It was a sickening image, but Chris wrenched himself away and kicked the body into the rug. Only after it collapsed did he step through the door and back into the dining room, this time on the second floor balcony.

 

He had rushed out into the foyer and crossed into the east wing on the second floor. He turned this way and that, searching for the source of the explosive crash.

 

It didn’t take long for him to nearly fall into it.

 

He opened the door, pushing it open with the weight of his shoulder, only to nearly plummet into a hole that was opened up in the floor below. His grip on the door handle held tight, thankfully preventing him from nearly careening over the side and into the dark. He caught his breath, staring at the destruction before him in shock.

 

Above his head, the ceiling was caved downwards towards him. Pinched between the frayed edges of the gaping hole, there were some strange, diamond shaped tiles; tawny brown and dripping with blood. Delicately, Chris took one between his fingers and pulled it free so he might examine it.

 

If he had to guess, they reminded him of snake scales.

 

A tiny noise drew his attention back up.

 

The entire room was dark, any light that had been affixed to the ceiling lost when whatever it was had plummeted through the ceiling. The hallway light was enough to light up the centre of the room and the precipice before him, but it did not illuminate what else might be on either side of him. He had been foolish not to check before he rushed inside.

 

He grabbed his flashlight, switching it on and shining it around the bend and into both corners of the room. The corner to his right had nothing but a toppled over bookshelf and papers strewn about it, a mess but nothing there to make a noise like what he had heard.

 

Chris turned to the left, his light catching the shape of a pale body laid across the floor. As his light landed on the young face, Rebecca made a soft whine in her throat. Her eyelids screwed tightly shut, she was hanging half off the floor, her knees and feet dangling in the abyss beneath them.

 

Something snapped and the floorboards cradling her unconscious form dipped lower, Rebecca sliding slowly back, into the cavernous dark pit.

 

Chris did not wait for her to fall any further, stepping quickly but carefully closer. Every step towards the middle made him wince, the floorboards creaking and cracking beneath his weight. He could only get close enough to grab her wrists and pull her along the floor towards him, and even then he could feel the floor sink beneath their combined weight.

 

Once she was far enough away from the edge, he could pull her into his arms. She was so light, so pale… There was a cut gushing with blood just above her fringe.

 

‘Rebecca?’ A flutter of lashes was the only response he received, small and unassuming. He needed to get her somewhere safe.

 

He would stay with her until she woke up.

 

He was relieved to see her alive, but now he had to fight to keep her that way.

 

 

---

 

 

The surveillance room was hidden in the laboratory beneath the mansion.

 

It was filled with television screens, lit up with gritty, monochromatic footage of the corridors, grounds and rooms. There was a sound system and a radio, but they were now crushed, sparking with electricity that escaped in short bursts. Documents and files of recorded experiments and data had been collected and carefully tucked into a silver briefcase Wesker had found in one of the offices.

 

Since he had last been on the radio with William, he had discovered Umbrella had decided to shut him out. Umbrella executives, Spencer himself, had become suspicious of his motives and of what he planned to do with the data recorded, that they had sent out a Plan B to sabotage his efforts.

 

That loyalist dog, Sergei Vladimir, had intercepted him earlier. A member of the Umbrella corporation’s Russian branch, he was Spencer’s most loyal follower. He had already implanted the RED QUEEN virus, something Wesker had helped to design, into the system so as to lock him out and encrypt anything in their digital records. This left him with only the paper copies, out of date and not as impressive as a hard drive full of information.

 

It was true that he and William had privately discussed leaving Umbrella. William had mentioned his family being threatened and, though the man was not all that invested in the family life, he had been terrified. Wesker was not so easily intimidated by Umbrella or moved by William’s terror and care.

 

However, he had grown unimpressed with Umbrella’s failure to contain the outbreak. They were ruining their own reputation amongst the bioterrorism underground. To make matters worse, though Wesker found that the loss of lives hardly mattered to him, if the outbreak stretched much further, the virus could be lost with the destructive repercussions of Umbrella’s failure. He had to force a self-destruct on the mansion, but if the NEST failed to keep itself hidden and an outbreak occurred in the city, they would lose everything.

 

He had made the decision in retaliation, but it was not a baseless decision.

 

Umbrella had to be left behind.

 

He could convince William, he was sure. The man would do anything to protect his family, even if he wasn’t all that attentive to their needs.

 

As for his S.T.A.R.S…

 

Wesker could save them… He could get them out and convince them to go to war with Umbrella. They were as loyal to him as Sergei was to Spencer, but… Raccoon City was Umbrella’s home base. They would be fighting in their territory and with too many people in the pockets of the company, some he had even helped fund and blackmail himself.

 

No.

 

S.T.A.R.S had to die.

 

Collecting the data was more useful to him now than the men and women he would lose.

 

He had his own hard drive and, though he could collect no data already digitised in their files, he could record what the surveillance cameras picked up from that point onwards. He inserted the USB into the computer, tapped a few keys and waited. The drive had a little light that flickered from a yellow-white to a deep red. On the computer screen, the RED QUEEN virus tried to wipe it as the information came, but as it was being downloaded straight onto the drive, the virus could do nothing to stop it.

 

Now, he just needed to collect some physical samples from their subjects in the underground laboratory.

 

He was just about to get up from his seat when he heard a scream through the surveillance cameras. Gunfire soon followed and a great, snarling hiss filled the sound system, drawing Wesker’s eyes to the screen that displayed the grainy footage of the attic.

 

It seemed the experiment Annette had lovingly named ‘Yawn’ had escaped.

 

The snake’s coils were pressed right up to the camera, making it almost impossible to see what was happening beyond it. But he could hear screaming, yelling and more gunshots.

 

There was a loud BANG! and something sprayed across the screen. The glass lens of the camera cracked and sizzled and then went dark. Then, on another screen, Wesker watched as Yawn’s great body crashed through the ceiling and then plummeted through another floor. Behind its destruction, Rebecca tumbled into the office below the attic, knocking her head hard against the floor. The snake landed on the ground floor, its body undulating with heavy breathing.

 

The scales on its underbelly were melting away, acid eating at its muscles and tendons beneath. Something shifted in its flesh, something sharp extending outwards and then a thin cut appeared in its grey underside. The lack of colour on the screen made it next to impossible to work out what was happening, but Wesker could see the blood pouring out of its body, blood riddled bones and refuse of poor scientists caught inside pouring out and onto the floor.

 

But then one of those bodies moved.

 

He tried to get a different angle on what it was he was observing. There was a camera situated in a corner, below a desk, that he could zoom in enough to watch as that person lifted themselves up and out of the blood. They wiped their face, pushing their fringe out of their eyes with their arm. The S.T.A.R.S logo emblazoned on their vest was just barely visible and, Wesker realised with shock, it was Leon.

 

Alive and as healthy as any ordinary human could be after literally gutting their way out of a giant snake.

 

Wesker sat forward in his seat, feeling a heat simmer in his gut. The rookie had always been endearing to him, cute and naïve. Ever since Wesker had first seen Leon, watching him train in the grounds of the academy when he made his last visit, he had been fixated on the young man. He had always been cute.

 

Now, drenched in blood, and digging his blade over and over into Yawn’s eye until the snake stopped moving, Leon was beautiful.

 

That simmer became a boiling hot sensation in his gut and Wesker followed it down with his hand. His fingers passed over the leather of his belt and then pressed into the crotch of his tight pants, where his erection pressed hard against his palm. He usually had so much self-control, but of course it would be Leon that could ruin it.

 

He bit his lip, groaning a soft sound as he imagined Leon, soaked as he was, on his knees in front of him. Looking at him with those wide, terrified eyes; baby blue and oh so pretty. Those bloodied lips would open for him, mouth hot and wet and wanting.

 

‘Fuck…’ He pressed his palm down against himself, watching with growing arousal as the Leon on the screen fell off his feet. He curled in on himself, tears barely visible on his face. Wesker imagined licking them up, knowing he caused this.

 

He was breathing heavily, fogging up the glass screen. He wiped it away with his gloved hand, daring to press his fingers beneath his belt and towards his cock. He could feel precum dampening his briefs, brushing his leather bound thumb over the head.

 

‘Leon…’ Fuck, he was hooked. This little rookie was everything he had wanted and more. Rebecca had come close, but Leon had surpassed her in every way. He wanted him… He wanted his pet on his knees, warming him up and keeping him company in his office at the RPD. Or restrained to his bed, trying to escape his chains only for Wesker to come home and punish him.

 

The thoughts of Leon and what he might do to him when this was all over were almost too much.

 

Sadly, timing was not on his side.

 

There was a knock on the door and Wesker growled, low and dangerous. He removed his hand from his trousers, swiping his precum between his gloved fingers. Then, he turned to glare at the door behind him, knowing exactly who it was that had come to disturb him.

 

‘What is it?’ The door opened, Barry Burton stepping inside. He was not missing like everyone had come to believe.

 

On Wesker’s orders, Barry had separated himself from the rest of Alpha team in their mad dash to the mansion. Threats of what Wesker might do to his family was all the captain needed to keep Barry in line and working for him. Even if he wanted to tell his team and help them escape, Wesker knew where they lived. Knew where his child went to school and where his wife worked. Knew their schedules well enough to ensure Barry’s cooperation.

 

But the man did not know when to leave him alone.

 

‘I found captain Marini. Sir…’ He spat that word like it offended him. Really, it didn’t insult Wesker even a little bit. He was still riding the high of watching his rookie tear himself free of a monster. Barry’s insolence just made him smirk.

 

‘Then you know your next steps. Lead Valentine outside and down to the shed. I’ll deal with Enrico myself.’ Barry slammed the door, storming away to do as his captain ordered.

 

S.T.A.R.S had to die.

 

But Wesker was sure he could find some way to get Leon out.

 

He wanted him alive and kicking once they were out of here.

Chapter 29

Notes:

Trigger Warnings:
- Swearing
- Blood and Gore
- Gun Violence
- Drugging
- Intrusive Thoughts
- Wounds and Injury
- Animal Death

He was sick of it.

 

There was a snarl, a hungry bark and then the Cerberus was leaping at him. The Matilda was raised and shot twice in total, both bullets piercing the mutated hound’s skull. There was the shattering of bone and the spray of brains and blood and then the dog collapsed in a heap on the ground by his feet. Another dog stalked nearby, teeth bared and red eyes focussed entirely on him and his smoking gun.

 

It seemed the mutation did away with any and all survival instincts, because it too charged at him, snapping at his calves.

 

Leon raised his gun and shot it once, watching as the Doberman’s body seized and then crashed forward into the mud. It tumbled to a stop by his feet, the dark tar of mud caking his legs all the way up to the knee.

 

It was still so little compared to the blood that dyed his clothes and drenched his skin. There was so much of it that it had yet to congeal and start sticking to him like a second layer. Instead, the crimson dripped from the ends of his fringe and ran into his eyes, blinding him until he wiped it away. Sometimes, he would taste that horrid iron tang on his tongue and would realise that the blood had slipped past his lips.

 

Admittedly, he had stopped spitting it out a while ago.

 

He had left that monster behind, its giant coils cramped into a tight tangle in the confines of that small art gallery. He had painted the gallery in blood and left an impression that extended beyond the borders of the framed artworks and marble sculptures. He had to leave his radio within it as it had slipped off his belt when he was poured out onto the floor alongside the skeletons of the snake's previous victims. He had heard the crackle of static in its stomach, but he could not retrieve it past the dead weight of the reptile.

 

He wasn’t quite sure for how long he had sat there feeling sorry for himself, sobbing uncontrollably and curled up like some frightened child. He was supposed to be an officer of the law, a policeman and now a S.T.A.R.S officer.

 

He didn’t feel like it.

 

Leon had only left the gallery when he had spotted a familiar beret pass by the window just above the desk opposite him. He had tried to capture Jill’s attention as she disappeared down a long dirt trail, but she hadn’t heard him through the glass and over the crack of thunder. She may not trust him, maybe even still had some kind of misplaced anger or fear towards him, but she was the only living person he had seen since he had ripped himself out of the belly of the beast.

 

So, he picked himself up and wound his way past locked doors and down a long corridor of stained glass windows, making it outside at last. As he had stepped out into the chilly winds and fresh air, Leon had welcomed the wash of rain to come and clean him of all the gore. What he had found was the Ceberus pack, an entire flock of murderous fowl and that the clouds overhead had finally emptied themselves and the storm had receded into the night. The pack and their crow companions had been following Valentine’s trail when Leon, coated head to toe in blood, caught their notice like a beacon of light in a dark tunnel.

 

Of course, the moment he stepped outside the rain would stop.

 

Slaughtering the undead beasts that turned to hunt him instead, biting and pecking, was mildly cathartic. All of Leon’s fury, his stress, his sorrow and his fear were unleashed upon the animals, the Matilda hot in his hands and Richard’s knife coated with more than just the blood of the serpent.

 

As the Cerberus’ laid twitching by his feet, feathers and fur still drifting on the night breeze, Leon stepped over their bodies and continued further into the dark. He wasn’t entirely sure where Jill was headed when she passed by his window, but she was someone in a lonely world full of monsters. He followed the direction he last saw her headed before being cut off by the pack, keeping an eye on the boot tracks in the mud that detailed her trek further onto the grounds.

 

What was she doing all the way out here?

 

What was it she was after that led her to leave the ‘safety’ of the mansion behind?

 

It wasn’t like Jill Valentine to run. He had heard the stories of her experiences in the military, joining an elite counter terrorism squad. Even back then, she had always looked to experiences that excited and scared her, much the same as himself. Where the two of them differed however, was just how drastically underprepared Leon was for a mission like this.

 

Jill? Chris? All of the other members of S.T.A.R.S had proven themselves time and time again on the battlefield, with real experiences. Leon? All he had was six months of training at the academy and a streak of luck that he was cursing with every day of living that put him through more of this nightmare.

 

Leon wasn’t suicidal… But God, he almost wished he hadn’t woken up after he had fallen off the train.

 

So, Leon continued to follow her trail. Jill would never run from the monsters within the mansion’s walls, so something had forced her to explore the grounds. Something or someone had driven her out into the night. Maybe she was searching for Barry or Chris, or maybe she was looking for the supplies Leon had left hanging in front of the storeroom window. At the very least, he could point her the right way or help her out.

 

He didn’t want to be alone.

 

As he followed her path downhill, twisting this way and that, something about the world around him felt startlingly familiar. Leon had followed the path, past twisted trees and their grasping roots, past the old iron fences that were bent at odd angles, warped by time, and something about it all was giving him an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. It all looked different without the lashing rain and the sharp sting of wind in his eyes, but something was creeping and crawling along his skin and up his spine, leaving behind goosebumps and a tremor in his hands.

 

It wasn’t until he saw the front porch of that tiny shack that it all came rushing back to him.

 

He could see the silhouette of Jill inside, illuminated by that small, crackling fire in the tiny hearth. He could see her following the path he too had taken inside, but he saw little more before he was forced to duck out of sight.

 

There was a hunched, staggering shape breaching the crest of a nearby hill. It stalked through the mud and grass, long chains dangling below it and carving a thick, serpentine line in the dirt. Its pale, frail limbs climbed the step, Jill unaware just as he had been. The creature reached its hands for the door and stumbled inside, the door crashing hard against the wall as it lumbered into the shack.

 

He hadn’t even realised he had just been laying there, watching it all happen.

 

His hands were shaking, tears bleeding into the mess of crimson on his cheeks. Everything inside of him was screaming to run and to not look back.

 

But then there was the shriek of the monster and the thuds of a scuffle. Leon wasted no more time, forcing himself onto his shaking legs. He grabbed the rifle off his back, twisting it around in his hands and aiming down sight. The scope on top focussed his sight down to a perfect view through the glass and to the vision of the creature’s hulking silhouette. He could see Jill in its hands, could hear the jingle of the metal chain and the gasps as Jill attempted to break the grasp that had locked tight around her throat.

 

Like a thunder strike, the shot echoed all throughout the night and woods, the bullet piercing the glass and shattering it on impact. Inside, the hulking figure of the monster careened away from the window, Jill falling out of sight of the scope. There was the spatter of blood that stained the wall opposite the window and then the hulking shape was roaring and shrieking and screaming, moving faster than Leon had seen it do so before.

 

The creature abandoned Jill, almost throwing the door into the shack off its hinges as it careened off the porch. Its mask of faces turned this way and that, until the dark socket with one, living and wide, glaring eye stared up at him. Leon shot again, but the creature was moving as if untouched by the piercing bullets. It ambled up the hill towards him and Leon’s flight response kicked in at last.

 

The rifle swayed on its strap, falling to his hip and then he was scrambling onto his feet. He raised his Matilda, skirting backwards as the monster lumbered closer and raised its arms. Bang! Bang! Bang!

 

It was still coming.

 

A few more shots rang out that did not belong to his Matilda, drawing the monster’s glare back towards the shack behind it. Despite the relief it brought him to know that Jill was still alive, Leon did not dare let this creature rush back down towards her and trap her again. Instead, he shot it again and again, bullets burrowing into the mask and into the frail limbs that reached out for him.

 

‘This way! Come for me!’ And it obeyed.

 

Leon led it this way and that until his Matilda ran dry. He slipped it back into its holster and took off running, hoping he had given Jill enough time to escape the shack and make her way back to the mansion. He still was not entirely sure why she was out here, what she was doing so far away from the others, but he was not going to let another person die tonight if he could help it.

 

Despite the creature’s lumbering gait, limping and staggering all the way, it wasn’t all that slow. He was fast but the creature was enduring, as if it could not be tired at all.

 

When Leon finally did find the mansion, he didn’t bother skirting along the outside until he found a doorway inside. Instead, he removed the rifle and crashed through the first window he saw, the butt of the gun breaking the larger bits of glass out of the way first. Leon didn’t wait to climb over, wincing but otherwise ignoring the bite of glass shrapnel that cut into his hands.

 

This place was familiar. He knew it.

 

He charged through the door under the stairs and slammed it shut behind him. He could hear the creature screech and pull itself through the window quickly behind him. He locked the door and held steadfast against it, especially grateful when another body came and helped to hold the door firm against the attack.

 

He wasn’t entirely sure how long it took for the monster to give in, but when it finally did, there was a hand on his shoulder and Leon was being turned around to face someone he didn’t expect to see.

 

‘B-… Barry?’

 

‘Leon?! Holy shit… How are you alive?!’ He supposed he did appear like he should be dead. Still covered head to toe in blood, with open wounds on his palms and bloodshot eyes, he probably looked more dead than the actual corpses wandering the halls.

 

‘I could ask you the same. I’m so glad to see you.’ Leon breathed, a smile stretching onto his face. He couldn’t help himself, wrapping his arms tight around Barry’s body, just relieved to see another of his team alive. He would have started sobbing too, but he kept the tears at bay. He wasn’t surprised that Barry didn’t return the hug; the man was probably disgusted by the mere sight of him. There was the crackle of the radio on Barry’s hip, Leon’s eyes turning down towards it. On the other end, another familiar voice spoke, thankfully still alive and kicking.

 

‘Burton. Where are you? Come in.’ Their captain was alive too! Leon couldn’t help the laughter that started to bubble out of his chest, untamed giggles that probably sounded like they belonged to a madman just started pouring out of his lips. Barry’s hands raised to Leon’s arms, pulling him in tight until they were looking each other dead in the eye. Barry looked serious, maybe even a bit frustrated. Leon's shoulders quaked in his hands, as he tried to calm down and focus on Barry's face.

 

‘Leon… Where’s Jill?’

 

‘She’s outside. She’s okay. I think…’ Barry’s grip on his arms turned tight, painfully so. Leon’s giggles died slowly, blue eyes widening on Barry’s twisted frown. He blinked, confused as to why Barry seemed so angry. And then his eyes fell on the sight beyond Barry’s body.

 

The sight of Rebecca, her head patched up with bandages, curled up in the cot with a cloth over her nose and mouth. On the floor, just behind Barry’s feet, laid Chris. His lips were pale, the smell of chemicals heavy in the air.

 

Any and all relief died quickly in Leon’s heart.

 

‘A-Are they…? B-Barry…?!’ Their chests were still moving, breath still coming and going. ‘What did you do?!’ Leon received no answer, but the click of a gun’s safety being switched off. He looked down, blue eyes tracking the barrel of the samurai edge being pressed into his chest. His breath stuttered and his chest heaved as his stomach plummeted.

 

Barry… Barry was the saboteur.

 

Barry Burton was the one trying to kill them?!

 

The radio crackled again.

 

‘Burton! Answer me! Where are you?!’ Had he grabbed the captain too? Or had he fooled him? Maybe he made him think he was on his side whilst he hunted down the rest of S.T.A.R.S? Leon wasn't sure. Leon didn't care. He was far too focussed on the other implications that came with this discovery.

 

‘Y-You sent Jill out into the woods…’ The pistol was pressed harder into his chest. 'You led her out there to die!'

 

‘Stand down, Kennedy.’

 

Leon refused.

 

He grabbed for the gun. Barry was bulkier; bigger and stronger than he was, but Leon was faster, slippery from the blood and enraged. He snagged the pistol and they wrestled with it, Barry’s hand gripping his vest and pulling him off his feet. Leon’s legs kicked and he wrenched himself up until his legs locked over Barry’s shoulders and behind his head, pulling himself up and twisting the gun this way and that. The radio continued to crackle with Wesker’s commands, unheard by either of them. Rebecca and Chris remained motionless, the chemicals used to knock them out still potent and suffocating.

 

BANG!

 

The gun went off.

 

There was smoke.

 

Their struggles stopped.

 

For a moment there was nothing but still, peaceful silence.

 

And then Leon’s entire being was on fire.

Chapter 30

Notes:

Trigger Warnings:
- Swearing
- Blackmail and Threats
- Emotional Manipulation
- Human Experimentation
- Injury

As the captain of the Special Tactics and Rescue Service, Albert Wesker had a certain expectation of his officers and their capabilities.

 

He had handpicked all of the men and women under his charge, having scouted them for the experience and the skills he wanted to develop and test. He had spent hours pouring over files and records of their histories and experiences, most of them having a military background or a history in a specialist division of some kind, such as bomb defusal squads.

 

In the early years of his station in the Racoon City police department, he sat in his quiet, near empty office, feet up on his desk and nursing a lukewarm black coffee in his hand. He would sip the drink, grimace at the poor quality, set the mug down, rub his eyes and then continue perusing the files of possible candidates for his squad. The radio would play some late night news, turned down to just a soft murmur in his ear, whilst he stamped certain files for accepted candidates and tossed the failures to one side.

 

Chris Redfield

 

Jill Valentine

 

Enrico Marini

 

All of them exceptional in their fields. All of them with something spectacular to offer his team and his superiors. Not that they would be made aware of their superiors associated with Umbrella corporation, but each task handed over to S.T.A.R.S, Wesker had to be careful about. Of course, stopping a terrorist attack before it started would create a fantastic impression for the public, but Umbrella corporation needed certain attacks to succeed, or certain plans to be twisted for their benefit.

 

S.T.A.R.S would be saviours, but not just for the public’s benefit.

 

Of course, Wesker had been taken by a few wayward recruits and their skills. Most of the younger officers he had allowed on his team, they had someone already in the team to sponsor them and speak on their behalf. Just like Forest, who was close friends with Chris and had fought alongside him in the army. Then there was Rebecca Chambers, who had such impressive intelligence and with an understanding of biology and chemistry that rivalled even his own.

 

And then there was Leon Kennedy.

 

Wesker had discovered Leon when he had made a short trip outside of Raccoon City to the closest police academy, the next state over. He was making an appearance for a certain selection of recruits, to offer one of those ‘motivational’ speeches and to put the rookie officers through an extensive two days of specialist training.

 

Suffice it to say, he was not all that impressed.

 

Then the other classes of recruits were made to attend, the specifics of the extensive training undisclosed to them. There was a hope amongst the higher ups that, by not mentioning the real reason for the special tasks, that the recruits would not be so stressed. They would not choke based on their own anxieties, something like that. Wesker hadn’t cared all that much. As far as he was concerned, he had seen enough.

 

And then Leon Scott Kennedy came onto the field.

 

Wesker had been observing from the sidelines, Leon surpassing his fellow rookies and passing each test with flying colours. Normally, Wesker would not be so impressed, but the young man had hardly broken a sweat. He wasn’t arrogant, just chalked his skills up to luck and practise, but there was something about Leon that had caught Wesker’s eye.

 

And it was not just because he passed.

 

He had left the letter of offer for the S.T.A.R.S team with the academy to pass onto Leon, but he had received no response. To say he was frustrated, no… Furious, that he had not gotten his way was an understatement. But then, he had been surprised to see Leon had still applied for a position at the Racoon City police department.

 

Of course, he just had to have him.

 

He had simply been curious at first. What about Leon was drawing him close, as if they were some how more alike than Wesker and his own men? He was a pretty young man, there was no doubt about that. But this wasn’t just by his appearances or his merit, as perfect as both were.

 

There was something beneath Leon’s skin… Something in his DNA that drew Wesker to him like a Wolf to Dog. They were similar, but how was the question.

 

And Leon had proven, over the course of this very long night, to be nothing short of exceptional. The peak of human evolution. Inhuman in the very way that Wesker was. Oh, what Spencer would give to get his hands on a specimen as perfect as Leon Kennedy, but no…

 

Oh no.

 

He was all Wesker’s.

 

There was one, miniscule problem, however… One tiny thing wrong with all of Wesker’s efforts to see Leon through to the end of the night…

 

And that was that every. fucking. thing. in the mansion seemed to be out to kill him, his own teammates fucking included!

 

 

---

 

 

‘I give you a total of two, simple tasks.’ His voice was a low, predatory growl. Behind the lenses of his glasses, the world was dark, desaturated, but Leon.

 

The young rookie was a deep crimson in his vision, Yawn’s blood seeping into the lounge he was laid out on. The tremors that wracked through his exhausted body would be imperceptible to the regular human eye, but Wesker was no regular human. Leon’s vest, or rather the one he stole from the mercenary’s corpse, had been stripped and Leon’s uniform had been torn off his body. He was still bloody, but Wesker was not quite sure where Yawn’s blood ended and Leon’s began, especially beneath the new bandages wrapped tight around Leon’s abdomen.

 

Beside the broken, comatose rookie, Barry stood. He looked like he was about to breakdown, his hands shaking and the gun he had used to shoot Leon resting on the desk by the door. Barry didn’t look at him, didn’t glare at him, and this only angered Wesker further.

 

He had been leaning over Leon, brushing blood soaked hair out of that young, beautiful face, but now he was on his feet. He closed the distance between himself and Barry in only two short seconds, causing the man to flinch and step back. Wesker didn’t let him escape, but he didn’t touch Barry.

 

He didn’t need to.

 

‘Two tasks; bring Leon to me alive and kill everyone else.’ He snarled, Barry’s wide eyes now flittering across the lenses of Wesker’s glasses, searching for the glare hidden behind them. ‘You have failed both. Leon is halfway dead already because of you and your itchy trigger finger and the others have escaped…?!’ Indeed, by the time Barry had returned from dropping off Leon in Wesker’s tender care, Chris and Rebecca had come to from their unconscious states and Jill had found her way back inside the mansion. Richard was still recovering in the medical wing and Vickers was still hovering overhead, waiting orders for extraction.

 

Movement on the surveillance cameras caught Wesker’s eye. Chris had found his way down into the underground laboratory, flooded with water and filled with hungry sharks. Hopefully, they would complete the task that Barry had simply failed to do.

 

‘Is your heart just not in this, Burton?’ Now, Wesker raised his hand and brought it to Barry’s chest. The man flinched but did not move again, except to watch as Wesker’s prying fingers found their way into the front pocket of his vest. His wallet, a thin, careworn leather piece that was an old birthday gift from his wife, was taken and flipped open. An old photograph of Barry’s family was extracted with great care by Wesker, Barry catching the wallet as it was tossed his way.

 

‘That’s a shame…’ He pretended to examine the photo, as if he didn’t already know what Barry’s family looked like. ‘Such a lovely little family they are. How old is your youngest? Six?’

 

‘F-Five…’

 

‘Ah, yes… Five. So young. And yet…’ Wesker flicked open a silver lighter that rested on the security officer’s desk. The little flame sprang to life and immediately took to devouring the photograph. Barry rushed forward to snatch it back, but Wesker stopped him with a hand on his chest. The photograph was devoured by the growing flame until nothing was left but a thin layer of dark ashes on the floor and on Wesker’s hand.

 

He chuckled.

 

‘You would give them up, wouldn’t you? You’d let me kill them, let me turn them into the very same monsters hunting us all now, just for your comrades?’

 

‘NO! God, no! Please don’t-’

 

‘Then don’t fail me again.’ Wesker raised his hand, the one dirtied with the ashes of the photograph, patting Barry’s face mockingly. The sneer on his face revealing canines and the true fury with which Barry dared to tempt. The ashes stained Barry’s cheek, tears threatening to slip from the man’s eyes.

 

‘Their blood will be on your hands. It’s just your choice as to whose blood it’s going to be.’

 

Barry didn’t stick around after that. Not that Wesker was all that surprised to see him practically flee with his tail between his legs. He watched him leave, waited until the door clicked shut behind him and those footsteps faded down the hall. Only then did Wesker’s eyes leave the door and trail back towards his rookie.

 

It was fortunate the painkillers in Leon’s system were also an anaesthesia blend; another one of Umbrella corporations’ miracle creations. In this way, he would heal but otherwise be dead to the world whilst he recovered. As much as Wesker wanted to have him, even now, he wanted Leon to be awake and aware the first time he took him. That, and he still had a mission to complete.

 

He would be safe there.

 

But Wesker might be able to override the RED QUEEN virus in the main computer down in the laboratories. A direct connection into the mansion’s files might be just what he needed to extract the data he was intending to collect. Lisa Trevor was now wandering the halls, but he could handle her.

 

He doubted the others would catch up in time to stop him from getting what he needed. But even if they did, he had at least two more tricks up his sleeve.

 

The T-virus injection that was now running through his very veins.

 

And a T-002 tyrant ready for field testing.

Chapter 31

Notes:

((I was going to put this over two chapters, but as I am leaving for a holiday in two days and I wasn't sure if I would get it out before then, I wanted to put it all together before I left. There is still more to come, this story is not over! Hopefully I'll be back soon to give you what this story is building to soon! ^///^)

Trigger Warnings:
- Blood and Gore
- Injuries
- Gun Violence
- Emotional Manipulation
- Human Experimentation
- Mentions of Torture

‘Wesker.’

 

Hm…

 

They had gotten to him faster than he’d thought.

 

Four pairs of footsteps, three guns raised, but their captain only paid them a cursory glance over the rim of his dark shades. Silver eyes stared down the barrel of three samurai edge handguns, hardly put off by the show of force. He smirked, fingertips still clacking away at the old keyboard to type in whatever override commands he was familiar with. No such success so far, but he had managed to take control of the mansion’s systems, including the laboratory’s security protocols.

 

The four of them were completely unaware of the trap he had laid bare.

 

Except for Rebecca, the others waited steadfast for him to make the first move. A rookie mistake on their part, something he would have expected from Leon or Rebecca, not his hardened officers. He supposed familiarity and their history of cooperation stayed their hands for the time being; mercy maybe, but definitely their ‘friendship’ kept them from pulling the trigger.

 

Chris and Jill especially had been faced with two figures that had committed traitorous acts and had forgiven both for the moment. Barry stood beside them and who knows if they had found Leon. The rookie was in no state to fight, but Barry was in no better shape. The man was struggling to keep himself in line, his finger tightening incrementally on the trigger, desperate to shoot his captain and be done with it. Likely only due to the trust the others had placed in him did he keep himself from firing.

 

‘So, you’ve come.’ He hummed, smirking over at Chris. ‘You make me proud. All of you. I’m impressed you’ve all survived so long.’ He chuckled, fingers still tapping away. The little white lines of digital code shone bright in the dark lab, illuminating his pale face and the sweat rolling down his brow. He probably looked quite worse for wear, in fact he felt it. It wasn’t like him to just get ill, so something must have caused the sudden onslaught of symptoms. It hadn’t taken Wesker long to conclude that the Tyrant virus running through his veins was taking an untoward effect on his body.

 

Since he had injected himself with the vial of the virus William had given him, he could feel his very being changing right down to the atoms. His DNA was being rewritten; already superhuman now becoming something inhuman. But unlike the symptoms of the weak humans infected with the virus, he could feel his body expanding with muscle and power beyond the pique human capabilities.

 

Even now, he could feel his muscles rippling beneath his skin and his bones hardening like iron inside his flesh. It hurt, it burned, but it was a pain he savoured with barely contained excitement.

 

He licked his lips, eyes roaming over the wounds that lined his precious S.T.A.R.S officers, staining their uniforms and weakening their bodies. Rebecca’s head was wrapped tightly from her fall, Jill was sporting a series of dark bruises around her throat and Chris’ calf was soaked with blood. Wesker could smell the blood in the air, metallic, hot and tainted with sodium chloride; saltwater. A shark bite.

 

‘And where is dear Richard? Did Yawn’s venom take its toll?’

 

‘He’s safe, headed to get Brad’s attention.’ Jill growled, clicking the safety off her gun. ‘And you’ll be coming with us to face trial for your crimes against us, against these poor people that you and your bosses’ tortured. We’ll see you incarcerated for your crimes. Maybe, if we’re lucky, you'll even be dealt out a lethal penalty for your actions.’

 

‘So quick to resort to such violence.’ He chuckled, tapping a few final keys on the computer. The RED QUEEN virus was impenetrable, but he still had control. Distantly, an alarm blared and a siren sounded throughout the facility. A voice over the speakers announced the inevitable self-destruction protocol, causing all eyes to widen and all of his soldiers to falter just a little. Still so scared, even after all they’ve seen.

 

‘What the Hell are you doing?!’ Chris bellowed, making to storm in close. He stopped only when Wesker drew his gun, barrel pressed to Chris’ chest. Jill and Barry aimed higher, biting back their fury as Wesker stepped around Chris and over towards one of the giant glass tubes that lined the walls of the laboratory.

 

‘Did you tell them, Barry?’ Wesker tilted his head, raising a brow. His smirk only grew, pulled back higher, his lip raised to reveal the white of his teeth. ‘Did you tell them how you planned to kill them for me?’

 

‘We know you blackmailed him, Wesker. No more tricks.’ Jill growled. ‘We know you have Leon too. Barry told us you wanted him for something.’

 

‘Oh? So, Barry here has failed to mention that he killed him?’ Rebecca’s gasp was sharp in the echo of the lab. Jill’s hands trembled and Chris’ glare died almost immediately, replaced with a look of shock. His features twisted with barely contained fury and upset at Barry’s ultimate betrayal.

 

‘B-Barry…’ Jill’s voice was soft. Broken. ‘Y-You didn’t…?’

 

‘No, I-…! I didn’t mean to-’ Barry had no idea if Leon was alive. Wesker was sure of the rookie’s survival, but Barry had left before Leon had shown signs of surviving the gunshot wound. It was a play he could make, another card to be dealt in their little game.

 

‘Oh, yes. Shot him point blank range. I’m afraid…’ He sighed, really putting on the act. It was an obvious act of sorrow, but they wouldn’t believe his mourning of Leon’s death, no matter that if the rookie did die that he would be in mourning. It would be a great loss for Leon to pass away, and if Wesker had his way, he would be sneaking him out still unconscious whilst the mansion went up in flames.

 

‘… I’m afraid Leon didn’t survive the injury. The bullet ruptured internal organs and the loss of blood was too much.’ He waved his gun vaguely in Barry’s direction. ‘And it is all on his head, as that was no order of mine.’

 

‘I…’ Barry was speechless, as was Rebecca who had stepped away to hide her sobs into her hands. ‘I didn’t mean to! It was an accident! I only meant to take him hostage, not kill him!’

 

‘But you did it… You killed him…’ Jill’s gun fell from Wesker’s head, shaken and shocked that her closest friend on the team was responsible for the ‘death’ of a teammate. It gave Wesker all the freedom he needed to reach beside him with his free hand and press a large, round button. Immediately, all guns were trained back on him, but already the liquid suspension was draining and the Tyrant was stirring within the tube.

 

‘What the fuck is that?’ Chris breathed beside him. Wesker smirked, well aware of the tyrant’s red and furious eyes focussed solely on him.

 

‘A truly magnificent Tyrant specimen. The next step in human evolution.’ His words were no longer about the experiment exclusively. ‘Powerful. Glorious.’

 

There was the shattering of glass.

 

‘Perfected.’

 

And then he was choking on his own blood.

 

 

---

 

 

TEN MINUTES REMAINING.

 

By the time he came to with the taste of his own blood still in his mouth, his vision was swamped with the routine turning of red alarm lights. The laboratory was empty of his S.T.A.R.S officers and the tyrant, still a mess with the chaos of their apparent fight.

 

He could see the fine hairs that clung to the consoles, every drop of blood splattered along the floors and walls, could even tell it all apart. Chris’ was darker than most, Rebecca’s bubbled more and the Tyrant’s stunk of the refuse of exposed flesh mutated with the virus. He could see the shells of the bullets, could smell the gunpowder in the air and see the stains the dark powder had left behind, no matter how faint to the human eye those stains should have been.

 

It was incredible.

 

So caught up in the miracle of his rebirth, he had almost forgotten that he was in a crumbling facility due to self-destruct with a still healing hole through his stomach. He peered down at his uniform, torn asunder by the tyrant’s attack, and could see the massive wound knitting itself together, strand by strand of thin tendon and layers of skin. Seeing it all happen in real time, to himself no less, Wesker’s mind immediately went to his desire to test his limits. His mind still that of a scientist’s, he desperately wanted to see how his body would repair itself after far worse damage, or if it would heal faster the more used to his new form he had become.

 

But the scientific questions could wait.

 

NINE MINUTES REMAINING.

 

First, he needed to get Leon out of the facility and escape on foot.

 

Of course, the one thing Wesker had failed to consider regarding his plan was what the sirens would draw into the facility. With the blinding lights and the blaring sirens, the mansion had become a beacon to the mutants wandering the grounds, and the labyrinthine halls that stretched out between him and his pet were overrun with Cerberus’, Hunters and more ‘zombies’ than Wesker had ever seen.

 

He almost missed the surveillance room through the throes of unstoppable undead and mutants.

 

SEVEN MINUTES REMAINING.

 

But he only slipped inside for a moment before he withdrew and was starting to make his way down the corridor with startling ferocity. His arms were empty of the rookie he had hoped to steal away, as empty as the room had been. The rookie had either been found by the others and taken, or he had left the room since Wesker had set off to the underground laboratories. Either way, dead or alive, Wesker was furious to find his prize was lost, just as he had lost his data and his place in Umbrella not on his terms.

 

His path through the crowded halls was slowed further by the presence of Lisa Trevor. She knew these halls almost as well as he did, and whenever he shot her down she would get back up and stalk around him to cut him off. With the flood of mutants, he couldn’t hope to pass her and escape so easily, so when he entered into the foyer and found her in his path once more, he resigned himself to one final fight.

 

It would do him some good to practise some of his new strength.

 

FIVE MINUTES REMAINING.

 

The immortal one raised her chained hands high above her head, bringing them down to claw and to strike him down. He had only intended to dodge out of the way, but a few tensed muscles like a wound up coil and Wesker had darted across the foyer with a speed he had never known. Like whiplash, his neck stung sharply a moment between the vertebrae, but then the pain was gone and he was leaping up the stairs as she lunged for him again.

 

Instead of leaping up the stairs two at a time, he careened high through the air and landed messily on the first landing and then the second. Each failed attempt to snag him and wring his neck, Lisa roared in anguish. She charged up to him, but he was faster. Easily, he could skirt around her now with such an open room, and he took such joy out of her frustrations. A few ‘zombies’ attempted to sneak a bite of his flesh as he moved, but one strike with the butt of his handgun and the 'zombie’s head snapped to one side, all the way around. It collapsed in a heap, its nervous system severed, paralysed but still snapping its jaws at his boots. One well placed stomp and its head blew apart in an explosion of viscera.

 

Wesker chuckled, giddy with power he had never held before.

 

That no one had ever felt before.

 

THREE MINUTES REMAINING.

 

A few more ‘zombies’ and a few more explosive impacts later and the foyer was painted a drastically different colour. Royal red that stunk of decay. It suited the Spencer mansion far better than the white and black checkered tile.

 

Lisa still attacked, but despite his newfound strength and speed, Wesker was no fool. He knew to keep out of her reach. She too was a mutant, presumably impossible to kill (though they had yet to blow her up in a mansion fire), and held strength that allowed her to rip humans to pieces with ease. He was not about to risk another injury so soon, not when he still needed to escape.

 

He darted around her, the sound of her screams and his gunfire thunderous and ear-splittingly loud against the high walls and cavernous halls. Her hands swiped closer and closer every time, Lisa’s one visible eye white with rage as she reached for him. Groped for him. Desperate to avenge her family, avenge herself, for what Spencer, Wesker and all the other scientists had done to her.

 

TWO MINUTES REMAINING.

 

Eventually, his exhaustion caught up to him.

 

He was still getting used to such inhuman power, he should have realised he was not yet ready to go all out in a fight, especially so soon after such a debilitating injury from the tyrant. The wound in his stomach was gaping still, bleeding more and more with each dodge around her clawing hands, Wesker’s movements slowing with the pain of the wound reopening and restitching itself back together all at once.

 

She caught him.

 

Nails sharp and broken pierced the skin of his forearm and brought his movements to a sudden stop. Quickly, her grip was readjusted and her hands reached for his throat. He fired several times into her stomach, feeling the bullets rocket through her and cause her entire body to jolt. Her grip only tightened as she screeched into his ears. Her nails dug deeper and he grit his teeth.

 

The voice over the PA was still counting down.

 

ONE MINUTE REMAINING.

 

There was the telltale Crack! of a gunshot, but one that belonged to a gun that was not the S.T.A.R.S’ standard beretta. There was the creak of a heavy laden chain above his head and then the chandelier tilted dangerously to one side. Another gunshot and Wesker kicked himself out of her grip, ripping her hands away from his throat as he propelled himself off of Lisa’s broken body. The chandelier came crashing down where he would have been still trapped in her grasp, Lisa Trevor collapsing to the floor beneath its crushing weight.

 

Crystal shrapnel exploded in all directions, Wesker’s wide eyes locked on the smoking Matilda’s barrel in the dark of the gallery’s doorway. There, bracing a wounded abdomen and gasping with barely contained pain, still soaked head to toe in the blood of that giant serpent, he stood.

 

Leon. His Leon.

 

30 SECONDS REMAINING.

 

Leon raced towards him, his gait off put by the weight he was taking off his injured half. He reached for his captain and Wesker, astounded by the sight of his rookie still alive and breathing, aware and working to save who he could, let him grab him. Leon was not stronger than he was, but Wesker needed the assistance, his body fighting him every step of the way. The wound opening and closing and his body struggling to recognise what was now the new normal.

 

It was Wesker’s shoulder that met the door and then the two of them were limping off and into the night. Leon’s breaths were ragged, weak, but Wesker could his heart beating strong in his chest and could feel the heat of his pumping blood. He felt no fear that Leon would survive the night, so long as they escaped the explosion.

 

TEN SECONDS REMAINING.

 

Only Leon spared a glance to the helicopter that retreated into the skies above their heads. Wesker encouraged him forward by quickening his pace, his wonderful Leon gritting his teeth and forcing himself to keep up alongside him.

 

When the mansion finally went up in a torrent of flames, they could feel the very heat of the explosion lick up their backs. Just barely escaping with their very lives.

 

And Wesker had Leon. His rookie. His specimen. His pet.

 

His Leon.

Chapter 32

Notes:

((Last chapter before I leave for holidays tomorrow! I'll be back in about a week, but I'll try and get the next chapter up not too long after I get home!))

Trigger Warnings:
- Trauma
- Injuries
- Blood
- Sexual Tension
- Nudity
- ONCOMING SMUT ALERT! (Next chapter for full scene!)

It was three long hours of walking before they found the main road that divided the Arklay Mountains’ pass.

 

A strange, oddly peaceful silence had settled over the pair of them as they traversed the woods. Leon’s eyes darted nervously between the trees, searching – always searching – for packs of hungry dogs or walking corpses. He hadn’t met Wesker’s eyes since they had escaped the destruction of the mansion and neither had spoken a word since finding each other. It seemed to Wesker that the young man beside him was far too distracted to talk; it was only natural after all.

 

He had been left behind.

 

He was still badly damaged.

 

And the longer they walked, the weaker Leon was becoming.

 

So, Wesker did not break the silence, at least not until the woods peeled back revealing a thin wire fence and the black asphalt beyond. He helped Leon over the highest wire, one leg and then the other, and then stepped over it himself, quick to catch the trembling rookie before he tumbled off his feet. He pulled him close, close enough that he felt the tip of Leon’s cold nose press into the column of his throat. Close enough that he could feel the breeze of Leon’s shaking breaths against his skin.

 

He wrapped his arms tighter around his prize, but he needed to get to his radio. He needed Leon to rest for a moment so he could call for assistance. He guided Leon’s shivering form over to the nearest tree, one with a canopy that stretched out over the road and hid the phone wires overhead in the night sky. Leon was carefully lowered into the dirt where he tucked himself in as tight as he could get, hiding his face from Wesker’s sight by hiking up his knees. Wesker could hear the wince through Leon’s tight jaw, observed as he lessened the tension in his legs and lowered his left knee just enough to stop putting so much pressure on the bullet wound in his abdomen.

 

Wesker fiddled with the dial on his radio whilst he stood guard over his prize. The crackle of static filled his ears, but he knew all of the channels off by heart. Thankfully, due to the superior equipment Umbrella provided him (before they decided to cut him off like an infected limb), his radio was able to pick up the signal broadcast of the Arklay county sheriff’s department. It was still a little scrambled, but the message for help was sent to and received by the sheriff.

 

It would be some time, but it was time enough for Wesker to finally address Leon without the immediate threat of death hanging over their heads.

 

He stepped closer to the rookie’s curled body, expecting him to raise his head and acknowledge him at least. Instead, what Wesker got was a choked gasp, muffled into Leon’s knee in a poor attempt to hide the sound. Leon’s whole body was shivering due to the cold, but his shoulders were also shaking with sobs that wracked through him so violently. It was no field of expertise for Wesker, human psychology, but he was well aware of the traumatic experiences Leon had to fight through. He had seen the surveillance footage, had heard him over the radio and-

 

Wesker bit his cheek, hiding his growl deep in his chest.

 

In his rush to escape the mansion, he had forgotten to collect his USB from the surveillance computers. He had been so set on finding Leon, he hadn’t even thought to grab it on the way out of the office. Just another thing he had lost that night; his men, his position in the RPD, his position at Umbrella and now a prized store of data for his own study or to sell for a new position elsewhere.

He had lost everything… Except for the young man in front of him.

 

For Leon’s sake, he could try to act a little human, at least until the county sheriff came to pick them up.

 

So, he trudged over to sit beside Leon against the tree, sliding down its hard bark until he sat heavily in the dirt with a sigh. It was enough of an alert for Leon to sniffle and open his scrunched up eyes, peering at Wesker over his knees with those large, baby blue irises. Such a pretty colour, remarkably dry despite Leon’s devastation. He must have been dehydrated.

 

‘I am… Relieved to see you alive, Leon.’ Leon said nothing, but continued to stare up at him with those wide, scared eyes. He was still young, Wesker needed to remember that. Despite all of the incredible feats he had witnessed and learned that Leon had accomplished over the last forty-eight hours, the boy was still only a fresh rookie with a naïve worldview that was all but demolished in the mansion’s walls. ‘You did flawlessly for your first mission with S.T.A.R.S. I am very impressed, after everything I have heard tonight, what you managed to accomplish.’

 

Leon remained silent.

 

‘I am… I am sorry, Leon. What you have done is incredible but I never intended-’ Leon’s head sunk lower against the tree until his head came down heavily against Wesker’s shoulder. The captain stiffened, feeling Leon’s warm cheek through the sleeve of his uniform and those fine, blonde hairs tickling his jaw from Leon’s fringe. He blew them away, only for them to slowly drift back and tickle his skin once again.

 

There was a shift and then Leon’s hand grasped at the ruined front of Wesker’s shirt, not pulling but just holding tightly. As if Wesker was his very lifeline, Leon’s grip tightened to the point his hand was turning a stark white, even beneath the thick layer of slowly congealing blood. The stench of Yawn’s stomach contents and gore filled Wesker’s nose, but it was not a scent that was off-putting to him.

 

‘I’m j-just glad you’re alive, s-sir…’ It was so soft, even with his improved senses Wesker struggled to hear it. It was as if Leon was losing his voice and Wesker desperately hoped, for purely selfish reasons, that it was not the case. ‘I’m glad y-you’re here w-w-with me… I don’t… I d-don’t want to be al-alone right now…’

 

He wrapped a hand over where Leon’s gripped his shirt. Leon tensed for a moment and then his hand started to relax beneath Wesker’s palm. His skin was warm, sticky with sweat and offal, and then Leon turned his hand ever so slightly one way, slotting their fingers together.

 

Something in Wesker’s chest bloomed and his stomach swooped with a sensation he had never felt before. He was not unfamiliar with how his own inner workings behaved in response to certain stimuli, but these sensations were not negative ones he was familiar with. The swooping sensation was not in response to fear, and the blooming heat in his chest was not the pride he carried himself with.

 

But they were positive.

 

Different.

 

‘I’m not going to leave you alone. We’re going to get somewhere safe and just make it through the night for now.’

 

‘The hospital?’

 

‘No. I’m thinking somewhere private. I’ll have someone I trust come and assess your injuries in the morning, after you’ve had a full night of decent rest.’ Leon seemed satisfied with the promise of safety, so when Wesker turned to adjust him a little more comfortably and Leon simply settled back against Wesker’s chest, he let him. Leon’s head rested just over his chest, his ear pressed right over his heart. Maybe it was comforting, to hear true signs of life even if one was still struggling to believe it.

 

It was another long hour of silence before the police car peeled around a bend in the road and came to a stop with a racket of loose gravel. The sheriff stepped out, adjusting his hat and badge, but Wesker didn’t wait for him to assist Leon into the vehicle. The captain did that by himself, helping Leon slide into the back of the car, shut his door and then made his way around to slip in beside him. Almost immediately, Leon proceeded to rest back against him and Wesker wrapped an arm around Leon’s shoulder, dragging him in.

 

The sheriff acted as their chauffeur, as there was no chance a taxi would pick the two of them up in the middle of nowhere and recognise them as law enforcement with the amount of blood they were coated in. The sheriff peeled back onto the road and then started on towards the distant glow in the valley below. Raccoon City came quickly into view, but it was some time before they entered into its outermost suburbs. During the drive, the sheriff attempted to ask questions, pester them as to what the sudden, growing fire in the forest was, but Wesker shut him down with a growl and a glare.

 

Leon drifted in and out of consciousness the entire drive. When he was finally prodded in the side and then carefully removed from the car, he had almost not noticed he was moving until he was being herded through an open door. The lights were not switched on, but Leon didn’t need them. He was so well adjusted to the dark at that time, he could see very clearly despite it all.

 

It was a large apartment with floor to ceiling windows that detailed a lovely view of the city skyline and all of its flickering lights. There was an open kitchen space, a lounge room and dining area with a hallway that disappeared behind a floor to ceiling bookshelf. All of it was large and all of it was done with a modern style that Leon found otherworldly. He was so used to the gritty red brick and iron, or simple suburban homes, that the strangely uniform shapes and dark colours looked like something out of a sci-fi novel.

 

Leon gaped, only able to observe it for a few short moments before Wesker was guiding him down the hallways and into a large bedroom. They crossed the absurdly large room, past a bed that could easily fit six people, and through another door into a bathroom. The light was switched on this time and Leon flinched, scrunching his eyes tight to ease the pain as the white light left impressions through his very eyelids.

 

‘Dump your clothes there and bathe. Take your time. I need to make a couple of calls.’ Leon nodded, about to turn and thank Wesker when the door slammed very suddenly shut. He worried for a moment if he had crossed a line, letting his guard down like that around the captain and letting him hold him like a… A what? A child? A lover?

 

Oh God, he didn’t know.

 

He tried to drown his fears with the scalding hot water that breached the shower head. Stepping into the tub was difficult with his aching body, but he did it without complaint or a cry for his captain’s assistance. He settled into the porcelain tub, watching it fill with water that quickly turned from clear to pink and then to red. He pulled the plug and did it three more times, stealing a bar of white soap to scrub and scrub until his skin was red and raw.

 

It took a further ten minutes for his skin to ease back into its fair pallor and only then did he know for certain that he was clean of blood. He still made sure to scrub into every gap that he could reach, lest he miss something and the smell get worse. But he found that the more he scrubbed, the more sore his arms became and the more tempting it was to just lay back and relax.

 

He was about to as well until there was a firm rap of knuckles against the wood of the door. He flinched, almost jumping out of the tub when the door opened. Wesker didn’t step inside, but he did place some black clothes on the marble countertop and a fresh white towel. Leon hardly had the time to thank him before the door was shut again.

 

Outside of the bathroom, Wesker rested his back against the door, running a hand down his face. He could smell his own scent on Leon in those brief few seconds he had the door open, the smell of his soap, of his skin from when he had held him in the car. Without the blood, he smelled like he was Wesker’s very own possession. It caused something hot to stir in his gut, and then Wesker’s hands were lowering to the front of his pants.

 

He had missed the chance to release his tension when he had witnessed Leon literally rip his way out of a monster’s belly, but he didn’t want to miss it now. Least of all when he could imagine Leon’s young body naked and dripping just on the other side of the door. He could hear him breathing, could smell the dry wood and smoky scent of his own soap on Leon’s skin, and could practically taste his sweat in the air from the hot steam.

 

His hand started to drift south, towards the front of the clean pair of pants he had gotten dressed in, when he heard the shower shut off and Leon step out onto the tile. He heard the towel slip free of the bar and then the soft, scratching sounds of it being used to rub him dry. Wesker stepped away from the door, his hand gripping and releasing, fighting between palming himself through his pants and restraint. He took a seat at the foot of his bed, his eyes rolling back as he thought of Leon naked beneath him.

 

The door opened faster than he had expected and Wesker snapped his hand away from the crotch of his pants. His eyes shot open and his gaze fell on the all too delicious sight of Leon stumbling uneasily out of the bathroom, still holding his abdomen. The button up, black pyjama shirt fell to partway down Leon’s naked thighs, revealing the bottom of the black boxer briefs that hung loosely off his hips. Leon, clearly not expecting Wesker to be in the room, seemed all too eager to duck back inside the bathroom in embarrassment.

 

Wesker didn’t let him.

 

He grabbed hold of the door, faster than what Leon had been expecting, and all but wrenched the rookie out of his sanctuary. The door was slammed shut and the rookie was nearly thrown onto the sheets, falling onto his back with a pained hiss. Wesker slowed his assault for a moment, eyeing Leon’s shaking hands and the tremble in his knees, reeling in his control for just a little longer.

 

Leon’s eyes were wide and staring. Filled with a certain level of fear, yes, but something else too. Something that blew his pupils so wide that the baby blue was drowned in the dark haze. The shameful pink on his skin had either changed or was never shameful… Now, it was a lustful fluster that had Wesker struggling to keep his hands in check.

 

It seemed his Leon desired this too.

 

Even knowing the young man had a ‘crush’ on him, it surprised him that how rough he had been was not entirely something that had Leon scrambling for the front door. Instead, Leon pushed himself up onto his elbows, one foot hooked up on the edge of the bed. The knee on that leg fell outwards, an invitation that Wesker did not pass up.

 

He was on Leon in less than a second, his hands reaching to tear his own clothes off the rookie’s body.

 

‘P-Please…’ Leon’s voice caught his attention and Wesker raised his head to look into his eyes. Leon just stared back, meeting his hunger head on. ‘J-Just… Be gentle? I… I’m s-still hurting…’

 

Wesker responded first with a growl and then…

 

‘Just this once, Leon.’

Chapter 33

Notes:

Trigger Warnings:
- SMUT / Sex Scene
- Swearing
- Blood and Injury
- Minor Sexual Violence (Biting)
- Stated / Referenced Human Experimentation

God… He was so, completely fucked.

 

The sheets were soft like satin, cradling him gently below the powerful hands that roamed his skin. Fingers skirted into every dip of muscle, tickling him and drawing gasps from his lips like his very voice was being manipulated by their touch. Those fingers traced to the hook of his hips, steadying him and his impatient squirming. One of those large hands carefully skirted along the edges of the bloodied bandage on his abdomen, drawing it up just enough so the thumb could tease the sensitive flesh beneath. His muscles twitched and contracted, the wound in his gut burning bright in agony.

 

It hurt.

 

It made him quiver.

 

It fuelled his gut with a hot sensation.

 

It felt so good.

 

Wesker’s body was colder than Leon’s own, adding to the striking sensations that his touches wrought. He was gentle, as Leon had begged him to be, but that didn’t mean that Wesker was kind. Daring to graze the wound with his fingers was proof enough of that, as was the fact that Wesker never breached the distance between their lips. He would draw close and Leon would turn his face one way in hopes of catching those thin lips with his own. But his captain would avoid them entirely, dipping lower to press his lips into his throat. He held his hips to the mattress with enough strength that Leon could not move if he tried, the rookie forced to simply take the attention to the pliant skin of his throat.

 

Teeth grazed the length of his veins, lips suckling all the while. Leon could feel the blood rushing to follow Wesker’s movements, bruises quickly blossoming on his pale flesh. His hands grasped at the sheets first, but then he needed something stronger to steady himself with. His grasping hands travelled the length of his captain’s arms from his wrists to his shoulders, and there he embedded his nails into the skin. He held on tight, the only sign he had made an impression on Wesker being the deep growl against his throat.

 

Wesker had settled himself between Leon’s legs, the rookie’s knees hooked over his thighs. He shifted closer, raising Leon’s rear further off the bed. The undergarments Wesker had lent him were not stripped but rather torn away. The material shredded apart in one quick movement that Leon almost didn’t notice. If it were not for the chill of the room, he may not have realised at all. He gasped, feeling the front of Wesker’s pants brush against him. There was a tent beneath the cloth, firm against him and pressing ever closer as Wesker got more and more enthusiastic.

 

A whine escaped Leon’s throat and then Wesker’s clothes were gone. Leon must have still been out of it, drifting in and out of consciousness, as they seemed to be gone in the blink of an eye. Instead of just a clothed boner, there was the press of a leaking head to Leon’s entrance. He gasped, gritting his teeth as just the tease of it caused him to clench tightly and tense up. He had never been with a man before, certainly had never been the one on the receiving end, so just the very thought of fitting anything inside made his stomach swoop low with worry.

 

Wesker slowed his movements, halting and stared down at Leon with a fire in his eyes Leon had not been expecting. In the dark of the room, they seemed aglow; bright and red and hungry. The very sight of those beautiful eyes stole Leon’s breath away. Unbeknownst to him, Wesker himself was just as enraptured with the sight of the rookie beneath him, body flushed and bruised and his lips open and salivating.

 

He stopped, only because he promised his rookie that he would be gentle.

 

Going in with no preparation would not be gentle.

 

‘Have you ever done this before?’ He leaned down, closing in on his black and blue throat once again. The young man shuddered as the breath from his lips ghosted across his skin. He shook his head, but that wasn’t good enough.

 

‘Tell me, Leon~.’ The hand that had teased his wound dipped lower than his abdomen, follow the thin blonde hairs that travelled southwards. The rookie keened, his nails digging in harder but that only spurred Wesker on further. One finger traced a pattern into the rookie’s thigh, daring to sink lower towards his hard-on but not quite touching it. Leon whined again, blonde eye lashes fluttering to catch the tears building in the corners of his eyes.

 

‘I-… N-No, sir. Not with a m-man, at least.’

 

Wesker didn’t mean to purr, but the sound that rumbled out of his chest could be described as nothing else. Leon may not have still had his virtue, but he was untouched in the way Wesker would have him. It was all too exciting, having his perfect specimen beneath him, reacting to every touch like it was setting him on fire.

 

He was caught off guard when Leon leaned forward. He pulled back, but not enough that Leon’s lips didn’t tease his own. They were full, pink and wet with saliva. There was the barest taste of iron on his lips and Wesker’s evolving mind latched onto the taste. Something undeniably reptile; apparently Yawn’s blood, and hot traces of Leon’s own blood. He had bitten through his lip at some point and the wound had not quite clotted yet. He licked his own lips and then dived in for another taste.

 

Wesker’s tongue entered his mouth first and Leon’s eyes widened. He had been scared for a moment that he had crossed a line initiating a kiss, but then his captain returned it with such fervour Leon was sure he might suffocate. That was okay… Strangely enough, the thought of being used as a warm, unconscious body by his captain was not entirely terrible. In fact, he was sure his prick twitched in excitement at being ‘of use’ to the man above him.

 

That probing tongue explored every part of Leon’s mouth, tangling with his own and dipping into the sharp crevices of his teeth. Wesker tasted of blood too, headier than Leon’s own and with the distant traces of bad coffee. It reminded Leon of his office at the RPD, the mug he had seen on Wesker’s desk, and thoughts of being pressed down on that desk and fucked right there flooded his mind.

 

He wanted Wesker to use and abuse him, no matter their location.

 

And Wesker was thinking much the same.

 

When their lips parted at last, Wesker’s tongue taking its time to withdraw, Leon almost missed the sensation of suffocating beneath his captain. But his disappointment was erased in seconds with the press of intrusive fingers beyond his lip, tracing along his tongue and exploring far enough back into his mouth that Leon gagged. He swallowed around the fingers, tasting the dry skin and traces of gunpowder. He licked and he suckled and he moaned around them, feeling his captain’s breath fan out over his throat and collarbone.

 

‘Good boy~.’ Oh, and didn’t that just make Leon’s heart flutter. He was sure he was going to pass out from how hot he was becoming, especially with those gleaming eyes so focussed on him. The red-yellow seemed so alien to him, reptilian in a way that had him trembling. But those eyes belonged to Wesker, his captain, and he trusted his captain with his life.

 

He wasn’t sure for how long he suckled on those fingers, only that by the time they were drawn away with a wet plop that his cock was leaking painfully with want.

 

Wesker didn’t keep him waiting.

 

Those strong hands raised his hips a little higher and Wesker settled a little lower, so that his lips and teeth started tracing lines down Leon’s chest and stomach. His muscles quivered and flinched beneath every tease and then he felt all oxygen shoot out of his body as Wesker’s fingers intruded inside him. He felt lightheaded, blinking and staring down at his captain who was licking along the V in his muscles towards his cock. He nearly blacked out as that tongue traced its way from base to tip and those lips wrapped around the head of his weeping cock.

 

‘C-Captain!’ He screamed. He wasn’t so sure much noise did escape him though, because the captain hardly reacted. His head sunk lower, tongue tracing the slit and then along the vein whilst his fingers twisted and pushed at his tight walls. Leon could hardly believe it, struggling to contain the urge to squirm. His fingers dug into the sheets beneath him and he felt like he was ripping apart the black satin with the tension.

 

The captain’s lips popped off his cock and the rookie whimpered. His bottom lip trembled a moment, his vision swimming with tears. Wesker did not let them go to waste, leaning up to catch the tears as they fell with his lips. In the meanwhile, his fingers slipped out of Leon’s body and were replaced instead with the head of his own cock.

 

He brought Leon up towards him, enough that his fuck-starved rookie could wrap his arms over his broad shoulders. He let gravity do its work, simply manoeuvring Leon’s pliant body the right way so Wesker could slip inside. The head of his cock breached Leon’s entrance and the young man cried out, his body tensing tightly around him as he continued to sink lower and lower. When he finally did bottom out against him, Wesker only gave him a few seconds to adjust.

 

He was impatient.

 

He had wanted this for far too long.

 

And he was sure the rookie wouldn’t deny him and his impatience.

 

He lifted Leon up and almost entirely off his cock, the strength the Tyrant virus had given him making it all too easy. And then Leon was rocked back down with a speed that forced all oxygen out of his lungs. His feet locked behind him at the ankles, as if trying to keep Wesker buried hilt deep inside him, but he didn’t have the strength to defy him. Wesker easily snapped his hips against him, rocking Leon up and down without breaking a sweat.

 

‘Fuck! Oh my God…!’ Oh, he was keeping this one. He was so. Fucking. Tight. So pliable. So, fucking perfect.

 

And he belonged to him.

 

‘What was that, rookie?’ He growled, pressing his nose into Leon’s throat and nuzzling the tender flesh there. He swiped his tongue along the skin, tasting his own saliva and Leon’s sweat. Leon’s hands were in his hair, gripping it in a desperate bid to keep himself steady. The sting of his hair being pulled made Wesker growl and open his jaws, biting down hard enough to draw blood.

 

Leon screamed again.

 

‘Use your words, Kennedy. I want to hear your voice. Tell me… Fuck! I need you tell me what you want~.’ He lapped up the blood and bit down again, hungry for more.

 

‘Please, sir! C-Captain, I-… T-Touch me, please!’ He didn’t keep his Leon waiting, wrapping his hand tightly around Leon’s cock. His thumb brushed over the swollen head and caught drops of precum. He was too cute, too beautiful… Why had he left his claiming of Leon Kennedy for so long, he wasn’t sure. In fact, he regretted not forcing himself on him sooner, trapping him in the showers or locking him in his office.

 

Perhaps, Leon would not be so unwilling as to let him do this again and in such enticing scenarios.

 

Leon was panting now, unable to stop so long as Wesker had his dick in his hand and was fucking him so deeply. He could feel the boy was close, his thighs trembling and his cock twitching uncontrollably in his grasp. And when Leon did come, it was messy and without restraint.

 

The sound that left his lips was strained, dry and almost painful. He came hard, the mess of semen dripping over and through Wesker’s fingers. His cock was red, almost raw from the attention. Wesker sucked the traces of Leon’s cum off his fingers, as if it was something delectable. To the captain, it certainly was.

 

He settled Leon back down against the mattress, watching him sink into the soft sheets with his eyes rolled all the way back. Every bruise, every mark laid out before him on Leon’s untouched canvas of skin. He traced his fingers over his chest and down his stomach until he felt a firm muscle beneath his palm. Just below Leon’s navel, his stomach was distended just a little, the skin a little tighter there and something hard beneath the flesh. To Wesker’s shock and delight, he realised he could feel his own cock invading Leon’s body.

 

He kept one hand there so he could feel himself move in and out, Leon screaming and squirming and panting as Wesker sought his own release. Every little movement from the rookie threatened to spill him over the edge. It didn’t take long for him to follow Leon’s lead, biting down hard over the wound in Leon’s neck, muffling the roar that escaped his chest. His hot seed spilled inside and Leon shrieked, his hands pulling hard at his hair.

 

A few more pathetic drops of cum spilled from Leon’s half-hard cock, rolling down and onto his groin. He was so tight, Wesker took his time slipping from Leon’s body, lest the man actually be ripped open.

 

‘S-Sir?’ Wesker silenced him with his lips, taking Leon’s mouth first with a gentle nibble on his bottom lip and then plunging his tongue back inside. Leon did not seem disgusted with tasting his own seed, in fact, he seemed to relish it. He hummed into Wesker’s mouth, moaning in surprise as Wesker separated their lips and turned them over, pulling Leon atop his body.

 

‘I hope you realise this means that you belong to me, Leon.’ He felt the rookie nod, his hair tickling Wesker’s jaw. He was cuddled right against Wesker’s chest, his ear pressed right to where he could hear the captain’s thundering heartbeat. He seemed soothed by it, soothed by Wesker’s very presence, that he very quickly drifted into a deep sleep. One where Wesker could hear his heart slow to a crawl, could hear his pupils shift beneath his eyelids as he very suddenly entered REM sleep.

 

As Wesker felt exhaustion catch up to him, his mind turned to the implications of their activities and what he had tasted on Leon’s lips. He had tasted Yawn’s blood in Leon’s mouth, his own seed had been spilled inside of Leon’s body…

 

There was no conceivable way that Leon was not infected. He had swallowed traces of the Tyrant virus in Yawn’s blood and Wesker’s saliva, and his body was going to be forced to absorb at least a little of Wesker’s own sperm.

 

If Leon was not mutated before, he certainly would be now.

 

And Wesker was excited to see what changes would come of it.

 

How his little Leon might become literally made for him.

Notes:

I am so sorry for how long this took to update!

I have had this chapter ready for a little while, but I wanted to write the following chapter (34) so I could post them both at the same time. However, even though I know how I want to proceed, I have been struggling to put words to paper, so... I'm hoping to get 34 out soon, but here is the promised Smut chapter ^^

Sorry for it taking so long! I hope it won't be too much longer before the next chapter is complete! Thank you for your patience <3

Notes:

So... A friend of mine and I discovered that we share a love of both Leon Kennedy and Albert Wesker, and a thought came to our heads about how hot it would be if they were together. Thus, this story was born! I was inspired and I had to write it, so now it exists and is a thing and I am too happy XD
Hope you enjoy, anyone reading this, but please do mind the warnings! This story will get dark in places and it is Resident Evil so... That's is its own trigger warning. Either way, let me know what you think and enjoy reading!