The Mansion Incident., July 23, 1998

[Arasad]

The Arklay Mountains were a beautiful sight. From downtown Raccoon City, in a vehicle, and without traffic - it would only take fifteen minutes to reach the outskirts. Without travel, one could see the broad range on a relatively cloudy and clear day. Surrounding the large mountains was the Arklay Forest - a bastion of wildlife, campers, and the nature-loving citizens of Raccoon City. Ecologically, the Arklay Forest could be known as a temperate hardwood forest. This meant that several varieties of trees and plant-life blended with one another, showing a picture-like scene nearly every day of the year. Oak, maple, and pine trees decorated the green and lush natural carpet - and during the fall, or as early as late summer - browns, yellows, and oranges of all sorts further added to the loving scenery.

As of recent that loving scenery has changed. Several recent murders in and outside of Raccoon City have removed the climate of adventure and fun for the whole family. Most notable of these murders were the apparent teeth marks left in each victim. The Raccoon City Police Department, led by Chief Brian Irons, immediately began investigation of the apparent homicides. Detectives in charge of the investigation released publicly that the prime suspects were probably of a fanatical religious sect, a cult-based group who cannibalized the subjects after the murder. Also found on the victims were teeth marks from wild animals, of which the police have not found nor can relate to the 'religious cult' that has taken shelter in the Arklay Mountains. To make things worse, the body count continues to raise. Nearly every week more bodies are discovered dead near the forest.

How, and why, no one seems to know.

"Good morning, Raccoon City! This is Jeff Richards here at RCN-5, the station where we bring you national and international news 24/7! Just released several hours ago, the United Stat-"

The voice came to a sudden halt following a burst of static. Derek withdrew his hand from the round knob upon the radio inside the car, sighing. He didn't care about news right now. Not after everything he had read only hours before. About the murders, about the Hughes family who were found dead right outside Lake Victory. About how the daughter had been eaten alive by some wild animal. It wasn't right - the whole thing wasn't right. There was something wrong with this city, and for half of a second Derek regretted taking the job the R.P.D. offered him. His mind raced back to when he had received a phone call only months prior.

"Hello! My name is Brian Irons, Chief of the Raccoon City Police... we've got a position opening soon, for our Special..."

Brian Irons had sounded much different in real life than he did on the phone, that much Derek was sure of. Everyone hated him - even his secretary. He was a selfish and pug little fat man...

Derek glanced down to the radio, several bright red letters glaring back at him.

"Shit."

It was ten o'clock, and he was late enough as it was for the meeting that started ten minutes ago. No time for news - he just wanted silence. His foot weighted down on the pedal, breaking before the red light. He was five minutes away from the R.P.D. station building, and things weren't looking good.

Not the mention the asshole in front of him who didn't go when the light turned green. The day had started off bad. He hoped it wouldn't get worse.

[Arasad]

"Morning, Derek!"

The yell had taken the man off guard, his cup of coffee slipping from his hand as he jumped slightly. Warm liquid spilled across the floor as the glass mug shattered, and Derek grimaced. He spun on his heel, waving at the patrolman who has just emerged from his own vehicle. When his eyes spotted the figure who had yelled, they recognized him immediately. It was one of the newer cops he had to do training with, and the guy was particularly slow when fitting in with society. His name was something like Nelson, or Nelon...

"Good morning." Derek finally said, not sure about the name. The patrolman didn't seem to notice, and as he approached, he was wearing a bright smile.

"Oh! Looks like you dropped your coffee! I'll get it for you, but you kn-"

Before he could continue, Derek had interrupted him.

"Listen, Nelson, I've got a meeting and I'm already late. Thanks for picking this stuff up. Talk to you later!"

And as the patrolman looked up after crouching to clean the mess, Derek had entered the back entrance to the R.P.D. Main Precinct. As the door closed behind him he heard the patrolman whine, to no one in particular.

"It's Garing... my name's Garing..."

And Derek laughed, nodding his head as two female officers passed by. He exited the back entrance into the courtyard, which was full of several new trainees. They jogged past and waved at him, noticing the S.T.A.R.S. logo on his upper-left arm. It was nice having respect around here. Finally. After two months of getting smack talked by street cops who literally ate donuts all day, he had began to get a reputation behind him. He had been on every murder scene since his arrival, and even the Police Chief, despite being a fat asshole, was smiling his way once in a while.

In no time he had made his way upstairs to the helicopter pad, where the two S.T.A.R.S. 'choppers sat. They hadn't been used in some time, apart from the Bravo team 'chopper, which was used on occasion to transport car crash victims to the hospital. Raccoon City was a nice place when looking past all the murders. Nice people, great food, small community. Even Umbrella loved the place, and had several corporate office buildings in the area. They probably supplied nearly half the jobs here, had to be along that number percentage wise... Before he could finish the thought, he was standing outside the S.T.A.R.S. main office. Behind the door he could hear the meeting already in session.

As he reached for the knob he prayed he could slip in without being noticed. As the door opened, the speaker's voice filled the hallway. But he hadn't looked towards the door. So far, so good...

"Hey Rodriguez! Going for beers later!"

The group of detectives that passed behind him had literally come from nowhere. Derek didn't expect them, let alone expected them to talk to him. He didn't think people knew him that well. As his gaze turned back to the main office, the speaker was looking at him behind thick black sunglasses. A grin spread across his expression as he dropped his laser pointer, then folded his arms across his chest.

"Ah, Mr. Rodriguez! Decided to join us today. And..." he paused to look at his watch, "... only forty minutes late! Very good. Take a seat."

The grin had been on the speaker's, the Captain's, face the whole time. Derek sighed, grimacing once more, before moving to take a seat in the back row. Around twenty people were in the room, less than normal. After looking to a few familiar faces and receiving a few nods from some of them, he recognized that the entirety of Bravo team was missing. Before he turned to the older man next to him to ask where they were, the Captain answered the question for him.

"Earlier this morning Bravo team was dispatched to the middle of Arklay, in hopes of finding the trail of last nights murder suspects. A patrolman saw them shamble back into the forest as he arrived on the scene, after receiving a call over the radio about screaming on the outskirts of Summer Falls..." He pointed the laser towards the middle of the map, where there were several circles in a deep red color. Derek looked at the circles for only half of a second, then realizing that someone else was dead. But what was better was that Bravo team was on their trail. It might turn out to be a good day.

He smiled, glancing around the room. Several cluttered desks, a weapons locker... typical police stuff. The captain continued.

"The plan is that if Bravo finds the suspects, they will be detained. From there we will allocate more officers to search the grounds nearby, roughly here..." he pointed at a new zone on the map, "... in hopes of finding more of them. If there are more. Do we have any questions?"

There were none.

[Mistress]

The mentality of the woman was questionable, the wry grin upon her face as she stared up at the Captain, running plans through her head as she imagined the upcoming scenes. They played like old movies in her head, reels of tape sputtering around as the other man entered.

Moving a silver gaze to Rodriguez she removed her grin and tilted her head, shifting in her seat as she refocused her eyes upon the man. The new recruit was popular and she knew it.

"... only forty minutes late! Very good. Take a seat."

She returned her attention to the man in charge and reshifted in herseat, feeling rather uncomfortable the troublemaker pulled her feet upon the table relaxed back fiddling with her belt.

"The plan is that if Bravo finds the suspects, they will be detained. From there we will allocate more officers to search the grounds nearby, roughly here..." he pointed at a new zone on the map, "... in hopes of finding more of them. If there are more. Do we have any questions?"

She looked up from her fiddling and with a notion to play fool, the woman relaxed back in her chair and pulled her legs off the table.

"When do we go?" She simply stated.

[Arasad]

"When do we go?

He nearly laughed at the question, seeing as how the captain had just pointed out they wouldn't be going until Bravo team detained the suspects. If they detained the subjects. It was all a matter of chance, or perhaps fate. Depends on how one would look at it. Derek leaned the chair on its back two legs, attention on the captain while they waited for an answer. Surprisingly it took the man some time to answer; nearly ten seconds had passed.

"Well, we don't really -go- anywhere until we get the call to move in. So, I can't give you a time..."

As the captain trailed off, the communications sergeant in the back of the room jumped from his seat, repeating several phrases in a louder voice. Derek had heard him talk quietly when he first entered the mission room, but it was just quiet conversation. It was probably with the Bravo team pilot, and if it was the pilot, that meant they were bored as hell over Arklay and couldn't find the suspect. So, it might not have been a good as a day as he expected after he heard the mission plan. Derek frowned, and then focused back on the communications sergeant.

At this point, everyone in the room had as well.

"Bravo Six, do you copy? Come in, Bravo Six. This is R.P.D. One, do you copy Bravo Six?"

The captain moved away from his map, weaving his way in and out of the chairs until he was next to the communications technician. He tapped the man on the shoulder, and he jumped again, expression frantic.

"Sir, I lost them. We were talking, and then I lost them. Ken said something about a flashing light to check the engine, and then I lost them..."

"Calm down, Lawson. Are you sure it's not just a crapped out radio problem? Static?"

The technician looked at the captain as if he were crazy. He quickly corrected himself when the captain nearly snarled.

"Of course, sir. They've gone down. Last coordinates were..." And he dropped to the desk, writing down numbers from the communications equipment. The captain was over his shoulder, shaking his head. Soon after he began to talk, quiet, but commanding. Derek listened carefully, now noticing the woman at the side of the room. Who the hell was she? And where did she come from?

"Suit up, Alpha team. Lawson will get the 'copter ready to fly. Meet upstairs in ten minutes for gear check. We're going to find where and why Bravo team crashed."

Derek snapped back into reality when several people in the room stood to make way to the weapons locker. He also stood and followed, nearly fifth in line. In all there would be six of them. Lawson, the captain (whose name was Allen), the unfamiliar woman, himself, Martinez and Buhler. Buhler was the heavy weapons specialist, and he was handing out the standard issue sidearm for the S.T.A.R.S. next to the weapons locker. He nodded to Derek as he approached, offering the handgun and extra ammo.

Derek returned the nod before stepping out of the line, slapping the magazine into the handgun and chambering a round. As he clicked the safety on, he glanced around the room. Several of his fellow team members were gathering the rest of their equipment, which he had forgotten all about. It was on the first floor in the armory, with the personal lockers and storage system.

"Shit." He said quietly, stepping out of the room. When glancing down to his watch he saw there was six minutes left before he had to be on the roof. Without wanting to be late once more, he hauled ass and received the equipment. The black kevlar vest was heavy, and the extra weight meant more heat. The warm weather outside wasn't helping him, for he was already sweating. After attaching the vest he distributed the ammo to their respective pouches, obtained the flashlight and combat knife, and then bolted into the hallway.

Several officers looked at him and some offered nods, but soon the Alpha team 'copter was staring him in the face. He stepped inside, sitting in one of the seats next to the captain. After buckling in, he glanced at his watch. Two minutes left.

Not bad.

[Zeshin]

The sun crested the rolling hills of old Raccoon City, the rosy tips of dawn only so recently finished in spreading her magnificent veil across the brightening sky. A low wind claimed the streets and the trees, whistling through the grasses. All was calm, and all was bright, and all the world was at perfect peace. A bird took flight, and filled the air with its dreadful caws; the raven took to wing, and spread its shadow out across the land.

In the distance, a low whirling heralded the arrival of the dread pursuers. White foam sprayed across the seas as the black hawk swept low to the waves. It came swooping in unopposed, just as it would leave. It was a shadow in the light—a blight upon the majesty of nature—and a testament to all that man was, and ever could achieve. Upon its side it bore the simple marking of Umbrella—the symbol of wolves in sheep’s clothing. There would be no jets nor rockets nor guns to hamper their arrival. Umbrella owned this town as Umbrella owned so many others. Money was the language of the politician, and money was the dearest friend of the corporation.

“ETA five minutes.”

All heads swept up as the distinctly feminine voice echoed through their headsets. A few men nodded to nothing in particular, but most soon craned their heads back to the floor and to the windows. Hands ran along barrels and clips, prepping guns and ammo. All was well and all was right, but it never hurt to check. They had made such trips a dozen times before, and this one was no different from the rest. They moved in shadow. They moved in silence.

“Entering the final approach: Raccoon forest’s fully in view.”

Their leader’s eyes flicked out the window, watching as the whole scene swirled, the helicopter turning to make its descent. He roamed the streets and the buildings, watching all the innocent people as they came and went and faded out of few. He watched the trees and the dirt and all the majesty of nature that had always been used to conceal Umbrella’s secrets. Then the sun caught him in the eye, and the young man turned away, blinking away the spots in his eyes and slipping on a pair of sunglasses. One of the men scoffed at him, but quickly silenced beneath harsh glares. The young man went back to toying with his badge, frowning somewhat at a speck that dared to mar its surface.

“Touch down.”

The whole frame of the copter jerked and shuddered as it slammed into the earth. The metal doors slid open with a screech, and all within stepped casually out. Denal ducked his head and followed out behind them, tossing his headset back into the transport. Giving the pilot a thumbs up, he waved the bird off, and adjusted his coat before turning to his compatriots.

“Carmile, basement. Estair, garden and greenhouse. Volya, you’re with me. Collect BOW samples, meet up with the contact, and exterminate any other fleeing personal. Understood? Good. Move.”

As the helicopter took off behind them, the small group hustled across the battered rooftop and pressed their way inside. No time to stop and chat, to admire the beautiful craftsmanship, or to stop and ponder on the horrors close at hand. The company had given them a job, and that was what they were there to do. Of course, Denal had little hope for the others. Second, under the table orders were quite common under Spencer’s rule. Collecting battle information between those two other men and the BOWs were his. If they proved a problem, than it was his duty to eliminate them himself. Volya was lucky…she hadn’t been discovered in talks with the FBI.

A shame, really. All the little mice were supposed to play so very nice.

[Mistress]

Playing with the velcro pockets upon her vest she looked a little spacy at first before the blades started to churn the air around them whipping her hair about. With a sigh she slipped a hair band from her wrist and pulled her hair back into a pony-tail, her bangs moving violently in the breeze. Flicking the safety on and off upon her hand gun, she smirked slightly before returning it to its on position and stuffing it into her holster.

Silver eyes focused upon the others around them, silently she gathered information about each of the men. Eris was a specialist in hand-to-hand combat, it wasn't well known but it was the reason she was picked for Alpha team. Adjusting her headset she whispered a test in the mic and nodded as the reply came back.

Glancing at her watch she rolled her eyes and sighed heavily, they were still waiting for Derek. Pursing her lips up and out she licked her canine teeth individually before slipping a headphone into her ear and listening to some music from her conceled mp3 player. Three minutes.

Thoughts drifted around, rolling about her head as the music blared in her ear. Soon enough her fun was ruined as someone pulled her headphone out of her ear and let it drop down, she scampered for it, fumbling as the wind blew the light piece of technology around. Finally snatching it up she nodded and stuffed the mp3 player away, waiting rather impatiently for the last member.

"Did you here me Pierce?" Was yelled into her ear, she jumped and turned around smiling and blinking.

"Yes of course I did." She replied, a blatent lie the Captain didn't fall for.

"Take a seat!" She nodded and jumped into the copter buckling herself in, holding onto the side of the machine she grinned as the other jumped in and looked at his watch. Two minutes left, not bad at all.

[Arasad]

The sun was directly overhead, signifying noon in Raccoon City. A dense layer of clouds made their way over the light, however, and made things slightly darker. A world of black and white, if one would consider it so. Derek held onto a handle from the side of the helicopter as it took off, eyes set on the city below. The streets were clear of traffic, for lunch hour had begun an hour before. People were strolling the sidewalks while searching for any unique shopping they could find. Most of them were probably tourists, finding shelter away from the turmoil of large urban cities.

That's why Derek enjoyed Raccoon so much. It had a familiar feel - that small town where you would grow up and know everyone around you. Cheap, quality food. Friendly people. Hardly any crime - and an active police force to make sure nothing serious happened. Umbrella supplied countless jobs, but at the same time, supplied only enough to keep the amount of employees the same. Hardly any moved into Raccoon City, it was simply a summer and fall vacation zone. With mountains and a gigantic, explorable forest - what else would it be?

Derek smiled as the city faded behind them. It would be a good ten minutes before they made their way to the Bravo crash-site, plenty of time to try and relax. He personally tried that, but the thoughts quickly ended. Why? There was a helicopter crash, people he knew could be dead. What if the cannibalistic murderers heard the explosion and made their way to the site? The survivors of the crash, assuming there were any, could be under attack even as Derek sat there. Helpless. He reached down to his handgun, unholstering the weapon.

A dependable Beretta handgun. He had trained with it countless hours, and when it was in his hands, it was very deadly. He wasn't the best marksman, but he could drop a target from twenty yards away easily. Of course, the handgun wasn't the sniper rifle he was originally trained with - but it would do. Besides, they didn't expect and hostiles when they hit the ground. It was, after all, a search and rescue mission. There was no need for heavy weapons, and the only person who carried one was Buhler.

And even the weapon he carried, a Remington twelve gauge, wasn't a heavy weapon.

In the distance the clouds grew heavier - signifying approaching rain. It might not make it to the city, but the team would surely get their heads wet. The smile left his face. He didn't like the rain, it obstructed his view. And if it was a heavy rain as accustomed from the Arklay Mountains, the weather might get severe. He turned his gaze to the unfamiliar woman and laughed.

She wasn't dressed like a police officer. When she caught his gaze and expression he quickly dropped it, and held his left hand up in a 'thumbs up' gesture.

[Zeshin]

A shot echoed dully through the old mansion, followed by a sickening pop, and a distinct clatter. Blood sprayed across the rotting wood, and an elderly man in a lab coat tumbled head over heels into a gurney, catching it and bearing it with him down into the ground. He careened a ways across the floor before slapping up against the wall, jerking, and falling inevitably still. His glazed eyes stared in eternal damnation and horror, pale to the world, locked upon that most hideous of creatures that had seen him undone. A single bullet hole still bubbled in the center of his skull, straight through to the other side. No more of his breaths would ever kiss the air.

Meanwhile, the radio crackled in his killer’s ear as the man stepped casually over to the body, stooping down to press two fingers against its cold neck. No pulse. No breaths. No life. It had been quick, efficient, and without any complications. Just the way they had all been taught.

“Alpha, this is Estair. Heavy BOW presence encountered in the gardens. Dogs seem to have gotten loose from the kennel, and a number of other local wildlife seem to have been affected by the virus. Orders?”

Denal rose back up to his full height, gestured to his partner, and proceeded to one of the windows overlooking the foreboding courtyard. “Estair, just proceed as ordered. A number of researchers were working on projects in those greenhouses and the basements under them. We need access to it and to them. Don’t call again.”

The radio crackled as the man drew silent on the other end.

“Understood. Proceeding as ordered.”

The young agent watched as the man known as Estair scurried through the grounds beneath them, working quickly to reach the greenhouse. Both the man’s personal camera and his active radio channel would provide more than enough insight as to the fate that would surely await him within. Denal knew well enough what lurked inside; it was why he’d sent the man there. There were dossiers and reports all about the destructive Plant 42 and its…appetites. The researchers back home were quite interested in seeing how it could handle itself in the necessary combat situation.

Denal found himself smirking for the anticipation of what was to come. He could almost taste the blood on his lips. However, at the moment, he had other matters to attend to. A number of doors within the mansion seemed quite ready and willing to turn it into a maze, requiring specific keys or symbols to unlock them, of which they had very little time to deal with. Some would open with a well-placed boot, but it was becoming annoyingly common. Fortunately, HQ had provided codes for any safes or doors that required such things…at least the ones they were aware of.

“Has the target arrived yet, Commandant?”

Chris glanced up from his musings to find Volya staring at him from behind her black, metallic mask. He smirked, drawing back the chamber on his pistol and manually cocking it. “Should be soon. The more time, the more of a chance we have to set up. No need to be interrupted once he comes, da?”

“Da.”

The Russian turned, and kicked the opposite door open, instantly leveling her assault rifle into the room, and spraying it with deadly suppressive fire. Four zombies crumbled to the floor, with barely a chance to moan. Allowing his gaze to graciously linger for but a moment, Chris left her to her duties and returned to the old window. The doors to the greenhouse were just swinging shut. Gunfire crackled over the radio, but he’d no doubt the man would survive for a time. It would still be a few battles and moments before the dead man came to his real destination…depending on what paths he decided to take.

The other, however, was ready to be dispatched. The agent tore his eyes reluctantly from the garden, and walked in long strides to the flickering monitors in the research station. He wandered down the rows of keys and screens for but a moment, until he found the necessary terminal. Pulling up a chair, he sat down and pulled a small file from his coat pocket. Unfolding it, he read down a few of the numbers scrawled there, and proceeded to echo the digits on the keyboard. When he was finished, he folded the paper back up, and laid it in its place.

It took a moment to find the appropriate monitor, but the view didn’t disappoint. Three tanks squealed and creaked, their doors sliding open, loosing clouds of vapor. Three shapes emerged, lizard-like and dripping, saliva pouring from their hungry maws. They had yet to be properly trained, but it mattered little. Umbrella could always make more, and they needed a test of their effectiveness. Hunters. They were meant to be hunters. Now, agent Carmile would be their prey. Denal licked his lips in anticipation, and kicked his feet up on the desk.

Where’s a good drink when you need one?

[Mistress]

Eris grinned wide, a rather stupid look crossing her face as she returns the thumbs up to the male with two of her own. Ears listening to apparently nothing, she closed her eyes and faced out towards the coming storm. Thoughts came to her, not her own as she smiled lightly enjoying the drifting thought, her lightly tanned skin enjoyed the breeze. Snapping out of it she turned around and gave her stupid grin to the others.

"Everything is gonna be allright, right? Right .. " She muttered over the microphone. A look of rolled eyes came back to her as the drifting sensation she had carried out amongst the others. They were in waiting, the calm before the storm.

Smirking to herself once more she turned her silver eyes towards the light this time, hair whipping around her face she chuckled lightly to some inner joke, the lost mind of this one slipping away once more as the other members of the STARS team raised brows and laughter of their own towards the foolish woman.

Slipping a knife into her hand she twisted it around in her palm, fingers keeping the blade easily balanced, despite the wind.

[Arasad]

"You see anything, Derek?"

The question made Derek jump, for he hadn't heard a voice over the roar of the 'choppers rotors since nearly an hour before. Back when the helicopter took off from atop the police station. As he turned his gaze away from the opened door of the vessel, his eyes locked onto the captain's. Even through his sunglasses he could tell the attention was on himself - causing a chill to run down Derek's spine. He didn't know the captain very well, but he knew enough to know he at one point had a criminal record. Umbrella had got him released from prison with their top lawyers, and no one knew why.

Or how.

"Negative, sir. Just trees and a coming storm."

The captain nodded, seeming satisfied with the response. He turned his attention back to the pilot, who was the communications technician from the S.T.A.R.S. office. Derek blinked, wondering if they were ever going to find the downed 'copter. They had been searching for over forty-five minutes with no success. No smoke, no fire. No distress signals from the radio. Where the hell were they? If they had an engine problem any pilot could find a place to land the helicopter in the forest - there were plenty of open and plain-like zones.

And that's when Derek asked himself the worst question; had the serial killers gotten to them after they crashed? Did they see the smoke, and then put the fire out to keep any rescue teams from finding the wreckage?

"Hey! Over there!"

Buhler was pointing into the near distance, where a smile pile of rubble was burning lightly. There was hardly any smoke, and what was visible was a problem to see since it drifted into the black clouds above. Thunder clapped, which one could hear inside the helicopter, and a flash of lighting lit up the forest. Derek used the light to his advantage, scanning over the wreckage from the distance. There were no survivors to be seen, no flares shot into the air. They just don't see us. That's got to be it. The wind is covering the sound of our helicopter, so they don't hear us either... That had to be it. He gulped, holstering the handgun that had rested in his hands over the past twenty minutes.

The pilot shifted the helicopter and they began their descent. Derek was the first one to jump from the 'copter onto the grassy floor - of which reached up onto his knees. He was glad he had worn pants, and not just because of the grass. It was cold, and as the others jumped behind him - it began to rain.

"Great."

[Zeshin]

The rapid, unsteady rat-a-tat-tat of machine gun fire crackled through the open radio channel, and echoed down the halls of the godforsaken mansion. A long claw burst outward through the dust and hail of the bullets, grazing flesh and bone to ram itself into the teetering door, splintering the wood and shattering a good chunk. Yet as it hit the wall, it drove itself in and locked itself there. The beast howled in rage, but was quickly cut down without remorse, its blood spraying out across the walls.

“Can anyone hear me!? Alpha, I have a serious problem down here. Several MA-121’s are on the loose and they’re trying to tear my fucking head off. Attempting to fall back, but I need back up god damn it!” Carmile’s voice screamed frantically into the radio, still desperately clinging to the hope of salvation. Three hunters had been released, one killed. Two still breathed down his neck, and no one was answering his call.

A crackle. A voice. A sound. That’s all he asked for – some glimpse of hope! But…it would not come. The halls were as a maze, and he the rat, lost and alone. Twisting and turning, never ending. It was a game – a sick, twisted little game. Those he screamed to for help just watched him die.

Suddenly, the man flashed into view again on Chris’s monitor. The young agent leaned forward in his seat, a wry smile playing across his face as he watched his cohort back himself into a corner. The flashes from the barrel continued ceaselessly for a moment longer…and then, silence. Frantic hands struggled with the magazine, reaching for a new one while discarding the old, but it was useless. It was over as soon as the clip clicked empty.

Still, the first blow was ducked. Carmile came down and launched up with a knife, driving it hard into one of the hunters’ maws. The other got him, though. One claw, right through the chest. Denal watched as the man stumbled, screams tearing through the radio. Yet, the knife flashed again. And again. And again. And then…the first hunter drove its claw into his neck, and tore his head right off his body. The radio went to static.

“Hunter MA-121 Alpha successful. Battle data accumulated and downloaded.”

Chris pulled a small disk from one of the computer drives and popped it into a secure case before sliding it into the protective pocket of his coat. He turned then, briefly, watching Volya for a moment as she stalked her way about the room, checking both the windows and the doors to make sure they wouldn’t be interrupted prematurely.

Better safe than sorry, at any rate. Good soldier. But I’m better.

The devil turned his gaze back to the monitors as he fiddled with a magnum. All across the monitors, hideous beasts wandered to and fro, shambling in the darkness. Most the data spoke for itself – the report would practically write itself. However, visuals always helped, and the ravenous minds of the Umbrella company were always salivating for more. When he obtained the visuals and audios on Estair’s upcoming fight, he knew a bonus would be in order. No one had ever expected the drastic effects the virus would have on plant life. To see such a common thing’s effectiveness in battle would be…priceless.

[Mistress]

"Mmmheheh ... " She looked up to the sky, an akward grin upon her unpainted lips as rain fell down upon her features. She had her eyes open, blinking every-once-in a while as she stepped through the long grass. Then soon enough, her reflective eyes turned down and focused upon the surrounding areas. Everything pulsated in her eyes, giving off information she wrote and filed in her brain.

Vivid images came to her as she finally slipped her little standard handgun into her fingers, stepping forward she circled around the wreckage with her partners, keeping any eye out for anything.

Whispers came to mind as she listened intently, thoughts drifiting off onto her mission and she whispered back. Smiling softly as vulgar and deadly thoughts bubbled up to the surface. She pushed them away swiftly, another member of STARS coming into view.

Lightning lit the sky, allowing her silvery eyes to reflect its light and shimmer as the member caught her gaze. Seeing through the rain she picked a spot to patrol, eyes drifting over the others as well as the wreckage. Nothing.

"There is nothing here, sir ... " she muttered into the mic.

[Arasad]

"Jesus Christ."

The simple yet overused phrase of Derek's lifetime - yet he agreed fully. The wreckage was a mess, a mass of crumbled steel and dying fires. Black smoke continued to drift into the air even as the group approached the site, despite the rain slowly putting out its source. Martinez had covered his mouth to prevent from inhaling the substance, and Derek did the same. The unfamiliar woman, whom he still didn't know the name of, was on the edge of the debris staring inside.

"There is nothing here, sir..."

Her voice was a slight annoyance. But then again, it could just have been Derek wishing that she wasn't right. How could there not have been anyone inside? If it was an engine failure, and they did have an emergency landing... no matter how much he wished it untrue, there would have to be someone injured. Or dead. But, why would they leave the helicopter? As he approached he managed to lean over a charred steel bar - probably one of the 'choppers landing mechanisms - and take a glance inside. What was illuminated by the fires revealing a slumped figure. He wanted to move backwards, dreaded to see the image..

And then a flash of lighting. The figure was fully revealed, it was the bravo team pilot. The skin around his face was blackened, as well as scarlet red. Severe burns. Derek had seen survivors of burning buildings - where the firefighters had barely pulled the people out alive. But this wasn't the case, the survivor was dead. He wasn't breathing. The stench of charred flesh...

Derek stumbled backwards, shielding his face. That wasn't the way to die, no way in hell would he choose that path.

"Sir. Bravo's pilot..." And before he could finish the captain was standing beside him, nodding solemnly. Allen wasn't a real emotional man, but when he was sad - one could tell. It seemed he had the same expression as Derek - a regret for how the pilot had died. But that wasn't the next question that came into his mind. And the next was probably the most important, the reason why they were there. The captain was also on top of that ball game, for he also asked the question.

"Is dead. But where are the rest?"

It was around that time Derek heard the gunshot, a powerful blow that shook the silence of the night. It was from a shotgun, no doubt. And the only person who had that weapon...

"GET IT OFF! HELP! ARGH!"

Derek turned, weapon un-holstered. In the distance he saw the figure of Buhler fall to the ground - several dancing animals crowding around him. Another powerful blast from the shotgun. Screaming. Tearing. A scene from a horror movie. From another sound there was a growl, and forms of gurgled barking. They were animals attacking Buhler, and he was fading from life. Derek raised the handgun, but beside him he heard another animalistic growl. There were more. Countless.

"Run!" Derek screamed, turning to fire at the figure of a canine. In the flash of lighting he saw it was fleshy - bleeding from the sides. Decaying. Was it rabies? Within six shots it was down, but another took its place. He turned to sprint, seeing the others fleeing just ahead of him. Running to the helicopter...

Which had taken off. And was flying towards the city.

[Mistress]

Hair whipping about from the last gust of wind, the chopper blades sliced away from them at amazing speed. She pulled her hand to her radio spitting curses to the microphone as she snarled at the helecoptor pilot. Turning on her heel she saw the others approach in a sprint but her eyes glanced around, desperately trying to find escape from the infected.

Turning her head instinctivly, her gaze fell upon the lights in the dark forest. Rain beating down on her face she inwardly grinned as her eyes focused and refocused, then shined brightly as the silver-mercury reflected the several lightning strikes. Turning, the auras and pulses of the men running towards her in the rain, echoed within her sight as she yelled out.

"Come on! Lets move it!"

"Pierce what the fuck?!" It was Martinez, she ignored the man and sprinted through the trees as if it were daylight. "Slow down Pierce!" Rolling her eyes she did slow down a step, hoping the men would keep up. A wicked grin appeared upon her face, a private grin. Another flash of lightning, her eyes reflecting as she turned to glance back at them.

[Zeshin]

“Alpha.”

His feet slid from the desk, and the smile fled. “Estair? What is it?” Joy soured. Pleasure smothered itself into worthless embers. The voice echoing through his head was not supposed to be in whispers. It was supposed to be in screams. Blood was supposed to drip and a traitor to fall. A corpse still breathed, and it made the agent seethe.

“What happened to Carmile?”

Had he heard?

“Can’t you reach him on the open channel?”

“No. It’s been dead for several moments. All I get is static.”

“I wouldn’t know a thing about that.”

“You’re in the lab, right?”

Dirty little rat. Crawling around in the walls, lurking from hole to hole, whispering in the devils’ ears. Can you sniff a plot? Has it begun to spoil?

“Where are you, Estair?”

“Watching Volya pacing from the garden, Alpha.”

Son of a bitch.

Chris spun out of his chair and holstered his magnum. He snatched up the rifle leaned casually against the wall and stalked his way over to the windows, past a beleaguered Volya. She questioned him both with stare and word, but he ignored her. Outside, the rain had begun to fall and it obscured his view. Cursing under his breath, he peered outside to the best of his ability, careful to keep his rifle just out of view. Just seconds after he finally caught sight of the man, the gun in the rogue agent’s hand blared to life.

The wall snapped once, twice, and then window cracked with one bullet and shattered with two. Chris dropped instantly, hitting the ground with a spray of obscenities, and covering his head to protect it from the raining glass. Volya, too, stumbled back and pressed up against the wall, sliding down as one of the bullets grazed her shoulder and clattered to the ground. Things were not going according to plan.

“Kill the damn lights, Volya!”

Beating hearts. Ticking seconds. The world went dark, and a killer breathed. He was at home, here, lost in the thrill of the hunt. The thrill of the kill. Estair was a rat, but in this show of force, he had made himself the mark. A challenge had been issued, and whether by an equal or an inferior, it was a gesture which he could not ignore. To the blood, to the death, to the afterlife. Let the best man win. Let the wolf devour its prey.

He slipped down to the next window, and smashed a few panes open with the butt of his rifle. Gunfire immediately sprayed the rest, and Chris slipped back to the first. Carefully, ever-so carefully, he arose. His rifle slid beside him, an extension of his own body, rather than a simple weapon locked in a killer’s hand. They were equal, each as much of the other as they were of themselves. What the rifle saw, he saw. What he felt, the rifle felt. What the rifle struck, he struck.

But the target was trained. Whatever the youth might think to the contrary, his adversary was no fool. He knew his commander was a sniper, and he knew it gave him one real option: run like hell. Don’t stop running ‘til you can’t be seen and you can’t be shot any longer. Estair darted from tree to tree, making use of as much natural cover as he could find.

But it wasn’t enough.

The crosshairs needed to align for but a moment, and the deed was done. Click. The rifle loosed a silent twang, and the bullet soared. Tearing through the skies in a ferocious lust for blood, it bit through the rain and slammed home. The protective glass over Estair’s right eye shattered and sprayed inward, gouging into his flesh as the bullet burst its way out the other side. Mid-stride he was taken clean off his feet, slid up into the air just briefly, and crumpled to the ground, dead. With any luck, the dogs would tend to him in time.

As the rifle lowered, the agent turned back to his sole compatriot. There was a moment of silence and then…low, echoing booms in the distant. Chris froze at that, straightened, and strained towards the window. Volya looked at him oddly, for to her, they were as but weak, distant thunder. For him, however, they were clear. Guns were going off in the forest. Had some of the staff escaped? Getting closer. Drawing nearer. Certainly not; no one would return to the hellhole.

…the target? A more distinct possibility, but unlikely. There was more than one. The booms sounded too different in pitch and texture. As far as he’d been told, the target was meeting them alone. Information didn’t change last minute. For him, unlike the dead and dying rats, information wasn’t added. He wasn’t expendable. No, it was someone else. Interlopers. Unfortunate interlopers.

[Arasad]

The winds picked up in velocity, sending the rain down violently to clatter against the figures weaving in and out of the forest. Behind them there were the snarls of the canines, all of which were gaining speed. And fast. Lighting flashed as Derek looked back, and in that split second of light he guessed the numbers of the creatures around ten or twelve. They were crazed, they had to be. He had been around wild animals before and none of them were as determined to find the prey as those in pursuit seemed to be. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

The helicopter had disappeared into the clouds several minutes before, leaving alpha team stranded. They were now down two men; Buhler, who had suffered a cruel fate, and Lawson, the telecommunications sergeant. And their pilot.

"You chicken shit, son of a bitch, son of a mother-" And he continued the line of cursing, a hate for the pilot growing steadily.

To that date he had never been much of a person for violence, or aggressive behavior - thus he didn't suffer the consequence of always spewing angry language. Fortunately for Derek, his enraged state only lasted several seconds before the creatures continued their chase through the forest - not that he had stopped to catch his breath, but that he had taken his attention off the canines. Which was odd, seeing as how he knew two men that he once called friends were dead. And the culprit? Well, for at least one of the homicides, the murderers were following him. And close at that.

He raised his head from watching the ground, wary for any obstacle that could cause him to fall and trip. In the distance there was a light - and soon the figure of a large estate deepened in the darkness and rain. Sounds of gunfire filled the air, but not from the fleeing group. Nearby someone else had fired, and it sounded like sub-machine gun fire. Perhaps a rifle? No one locally carried such a weapon, and he didn't know of any para-military groups that the R.P.D. might have called in after the pilot took off.

Besides, it was too soon for such a response.

"Go, GO!" The scream came from Captain Allen, who was just in front of Derek. Martinez was right beside the small man, who managed to keep a steady pace. In the lead was the unfamiliar woman, who Derek couldn't see through the heavy rain...

And then they were inside the mansion, not getting a chance to examine the exterior of the estate. The doors slammed behind them, Martinez emerging from his right to throw the weight of his body against the doors. Derek joined him, sliding down. He was exhausted.

Everyone had made it inside.

[Mistress]

Eris stood there, she wasn't panting but she was soaked from head to toe. A wry grin on her face she looked down at her cleavage, blinking as she noticed her white shirt was soaked and her cheast was showing through her bra and the garment.

"Huh." She stated, a more stupid look on her face as she pulled some wet bangs from her forhead. Licking her lips she peered around at the men, smirking to herself before Allen took a double-take at the woman.

"Zip your vest up."

She smiled at him, sweetly. Appearing rather innocent as she slowly zipped up her tactical vest, hiding her breasts and hard nipples behind a camo flecked vest. Turning around, her silvery eyes scanned the area and thoughts were sent out, seeking anyone who may be able to pick up on her.

Slipping a pair of rounded sunglasses from a pocket, she pushed them up her nose and walked around, her handgun still drawn. She shakes on each step, moving kindof akwardly as if she danced slightly while moving around slowly.

Eyes swept around, the technological sunglasses storing information.

[Arasad]

"Zip your vest up."

Derek looked up from his lowered gaze, eyes drifting to Allen, whom had just given the order. He then followed where Allen was looking, at the unnamed woman. Her breasts were prodding through her shirt and bra, most likely assisted by the pouring rain. Derek quickly averted his gaze, but seemed to be the only one to do so. Beside him, also panting, was Martinez, who managed to breathe an, "Oh, shit!" beneath his breath. Derek chuckled, only before realizing what he was doing.

Gawking at the breasts of a woman he didn't know, after Buhler had just been mauled to death by rabid canines. After Bravo team's 'copter had crashed, leaving one dead and five unaccounted for. What the hell was going on? That was the question that plagued his mind, and had, until the minor distraction with the unnamed woman - whom seemed to be dancing around the stairs. With sunglasses on? Perhaps she was just like the captain, a weird obsession with shades.

That had to be it.

He glanced around the large room. It was probably the entrance hall, seeing as how a large oak staircase carpeted with scarlet cloth moved up to separate into two smaller stairways, each going left and right. They led onto a balcony supported by pillars. Upstairs he counted at least three doors - one to his immediate right, and two to his left. Outside he could hear the rain pouring against the windows, as well as the canines, who were howling and scratching at the doors. They wouldn't get in through the front, the doors were too heavy. So, he again averted his attention to drain the fear away.

The bottom floor was made of marble, and had several large pictures and decorative items surrounding the stairway as well as two more doors. One on his left, and one on his right. Convenient. They would have to split up to secure the area - which he didn't want to do. Not with more of those canines around. What if the power to the mansion went out? They had flashlights, but it wouldn't be enough to make a difference. He holstered the handgun which had been in his hands, shaking, for several minutes. He had enough ammo to drop several more of the creatures, but not enough to take on more than two at one time.

"I think we should split up." It was the voice of Allen.

And he was wrong.

[Mistress]

"Deeerreeek ... " Came the mans way as the girl with the shades, peering over her glasses at him. She smirked, silver eyes staring the man down but at the same time, the hint of madness to them sparkled and she turned away. "Come with me."

Walking normally now she moves to the right, gun drawn she stands next to the door, waiting for him to move up and open.

Eyes ran themselves down his form, possibly mentally undressing him, who knows. But her glasses scanned him and picked up every detail, matching it to record. She smirks in satisfaction as she peered over the top, the auras of the men pulsating in her eyes.

Tilting her head to the side a moment she pouted, wanting music.

[Arasad]

Though his mind was confused at the true intention of the woman, he made sure to get one thing straight. She knew his name, and he didn't know hers. When Allen had told them to split up, he expected for each of them to head in a different direction. Five doors, four people. Most of the mansion, theoretically, could be explored in a relatively short amount of time. Assuming it was just a set of hallways and independent rooms, why shouldn't it be? Umbrella owned the estate, he remembered that much. It was supposed to be abandoned, and it looked so by the amount of dust that had gathered on the decorations...

Not enough time for that. Captain Allen nodded his head at her calling, gesturing Derek towards her and the right door. As Derek left the two behind, Martinez called over his shoulder.

"Keep safe, Rodrigo! And keep the girl safe, too!"

Derek continued to walk forwards, but turned his body - now walking backwards. He waved and offered a smile to the two men. It would be dangerous if the animals made it inside the mansion. He didn't know what else could have lurked in the hallways - but at the same time, what was he talking about? It was an Umbrella mansion. The only thing here would be old suits, a dining room... perhaps even a recreation chamber. It wasn't a horror movie, after all. They were safe. From the rain. From the canines. From the darkness. And then he shifted his gaze to the woman, keeping it far away from her feminine features. His brother had had women around him, back in High School, all the time.

Resisting a temptation wasn't that difficult anymore. But this was strictly professional.

He unholstered the Beretta from his side, holding it in his right extended arm and his left just beneath - bearing the flashlight. With a swift motion he kicked open the right door - hearing Allen and Martinez do the same behind him, across the entrance lobby. The door splintered, falling inward. Thank goodness it had worked - otherwise he could have had a sore leg and foot. He cleared the room with his weapon, stepping inside.

The temperature dropped, and he could hear the woman close behind him.

[Mistress]

Silver eyes seeing in the darkness with perfect clarity, the vibrations of the light purple aura surrounding the man Derek coming to her eyes in pulses. She grins and looks around, the traces of each object coming to her, sending her much information.

Her eyes reflected the lightning again, shining like animals in the darkness as she moves her gaze back over the male. Her nose twitches lightly, picking up the scent of death she growls low but only for a brief moment.

Curiosity filled her as her eyes shifted, body shifting with each step, being a good officer, examining the perimeter with caution. The flashlight ran over her form and she blinked away the suddan light, onslaught of brightness for those mercurey pools.

"I see .. statues .. " The girl muttered into the mic. " .. not very nice ones either, I rather prefer something other than busts, modern art .. " she rambled slightly. With a wiggle she unzipped her vest again, sighing in relief she pursed her lips forward, licking her teeth eyeing the male up and down before turning her front away from his view.

[Zeshin]

“How many?”

“Four. Three male, one female.”

“Any sign of the target?”

“Da. He is with them, but they’ve split up now. Shall we wait?”

“You will. I’m going for a look around. What else do you see?”

“Scientists. A few other cops. Scattered, though. Corpses. Zombies and…Alpha, be careful. A number of test subjects seem to have escaped.”

“Copy. Perhaps they’ll thin the herd.”

With that, the radio cut out, and the static ceased. Chris adjusted his headset back and pulled forward into the hallway, swinging his rifle out to clear any possible obstacles. A few quick sweeps confirmed he was alone, if only for the moment. He proceeded, keeping careful watch on the windows looming near. Down below, he could still see the dashing, raging forms of the ravenous dogs, howling and dancing between each clap of thunder. Outside, too, the rain began to fall harder, and the forest darkened. The storm was far from passed.

A gentle creak was all that echoed as the next door opened. He moved as a wraith, stalking shadow-like between the rooms. The mansion was massive and crawling with traps and tourists and terrors unimaginable…but even as he slunk amongst them, he moved with grace…with hunger. Lightning cracked and thunder roared; the light flashed and his eyes flashed with it, the lupine visages narrowing venomously.

What more was there to say? He lived for such a place. He lived for such a hell. When the world would fall around him, and terror lurked at every corner, death round every bend, it excited him. In time, he’d realized he craved it, but it meant little. It was his job to delve within such places, after all, and it just meant that he could do so wrapped in utter bliss. Monsters…humans…it mattered little. If they could thrill him, if only for a second, than that was all that mattered.

As the final door swept open, the young agent eased cautiously out onto the balcony. His eyes combed the lighted room, but there was nothing for him there. The officers had gone, and the hunter was left to pick up their trail. By all means, he could simply scurry in after them and annihilate them one by one. However, he could wait. He could always wait. There were other critters still fluttering about the halls, and in the company’s eyes, they were more important. The ones who knew things—those were the ones that truly had to die. One could wait on the others.

But what would be the fun in letting them walk, so safe and sound? No, no, there had to be a door prize. Welcome to hell. How can we be of service today? So many choices to pick from…so many pets he could have Volya unc-

The building rumbled suddenly, nearly taking the youth off his feet. There was a low roar, like the sound of a downing ship, and then there was nothing. Lights flickered briefly. He stood upright, promptly, cocking back his rifle and snarling as he stalked back into the shadowed halls. Some surprises even he did not appreciate.

“Volya. What the hell was that?”

There was a moment’s pause before the answer. “Der’mo! Chto chyert voz’mi?! Tovarich, some crazy scientist just shattered the aquarium. Several rooms have flooded, and it looks like several BOWs were inside. Very dangerous.”

“I see. This should get interesting.”

Another bolt of lightning arced, and as the light receded, the wraith returned to his grim tasks.

[Arasad]

Derek shined the light around the small room. It smelled old, and slightly of rotten eggs. There were several statues, each with a delicate design. Perhaps they served some sort of purpose? Knowing Umbrella, the damned things were probably just expensive coat hangers. He smirked, following the interior wall past a window and to another oak door. This room had nothing in it - apart from the smell. And the creepiest statues he had ever seen.

The man stepped forward, forgetting the woman temporarily, and opened the second door. Around that time there was an explosion. He could not tell how close it was, or which direction it came from; but the whole mansion shook. He stumbled backward, handgun raising towards the door that he had just opened. Right inside was a short hallway that took an immediate left, with several display cases on each side of the walkway.

But it wasn't the scarlet carpet that bothered him, nor the new and dreaded smell of death. It was the figure that lurched forward - hiding under the lights that flickered on and off. The explosion had done something to the electricity, and as the creature moved forward, it let a low moan. Where it's neck should have been was a gaping hole - like it had been torn out. Teeth marks. It's science lab coat was covered in blood, as well as black slacks and tennis shoes.

The walking dead.

Like from any horror movie, Derek, the trusty cop, raised his handgun, shouting for the man to freeze. Was he an enemy? Did he just need help? And then all at once the figure sprinted forward - a tripped jog - and reached for Derek's shoulder. The gunshots were loud in the small room, and the flash lit in spite of the failing lights. The creature kept coming, two small holes in his chest. Where the heart should have been.

This wasn't happening.

[Mistress]

Eris silently watched for a little while, the wicked grin on her lips as the creature attacked. Gathering data with the glasses as well as her own eyes she turned her grin into a smile and pulled a finger slowly back, pushing hair behind her ear before fireing the little weapon once.

The bullet found home, right between the eyes of the infected man. It stopped short, a gurgle growl vomited up from him as he fell down in a slump, a crack was heard as it twisted its own body from falling upon the weight.

With an old-western style she smirked and blew the barrel of her gun uneccesasrily. Silver eyes reflected the lightning once more as she met the gaze of the man who turned to stare, shaking.

"Are you hurt?" She asked swiftly, ignoring the finally dead corpse at his feet. "I mean, you okay?"

Allen blared through the radio, but she ignored him. Lights flickered, the buzz of the florescent lights humming and stopping randomly with power. She looked down at her gun and frowned, holstering it and pulling out her larger desert eagle, she smiled at it, before returning a worried gaze to Derek.

[Zeshin]

“Just try, just try you dog! I saw what you did! Killed John, oh yes you did. Dirty little dog—Umbrella’s perfect little killer, right!? But you won’t kill me; you can’t kill me! Too valuable, right? My creations…they’re priceless.”

The short speech of a deranged man rang in his ears. Pointless. It was all pointless. If they had the chance—if they realized what was coming before he pulled the trigger—they all begged, or they all ran. Some simply deluded themselves right to the bitter end, as this man seemed content to do.

Scientists. Researchers. Doctors. Whatever Umbrella’s cadre of employees decided to call themselves on a daily basis, it mattered little. In the end, fools, the lot of them. Haughty and arrogant, overconfident and overrated. Genius of their fields, pouring their hearts and their souls into some of the most unbelievable and uncontrollable monstrosities in existence. Genetically-bred assassins and murderers…it was their life’s pursuit, but in the end, even they not control the beasts. One mistake, and it all would go to hell. Artists? Some dared such a claim? How could such fools, such pathetic, worthless white coats ever deserve such a name? There were always more.

Crimson pools squelched underfoot. Bang. A single shot from the powerful magnum exploded into the air, speeding forward to slam into the glass. Right between the eyes. The scientist’s head would’ve been naught but a splatter on the wall…if it hadn’t been for the glass. Bullet proof—a troublesome concept. Behind his barrier, the scientist pointed and shook, ranting as his fragile sanity snapped.

“Why? Why? Why!? What are you doing!? Don’t you realize who I am? What I’ve done? I designed the Neptune project; I made those damned sharks! I am an artiste, and I will not be treated like this! The company thinks I’m worthless? After all I’ve done!?”

Denal stepped casually from the pool, spreading bloody footprints in a calculated trail towards the window. He stopped there, staring through the glass, eyes level with his prey. Tap. Tap. Tap. Delicately, he rapped against the glass with the barrel of his gun. It was solid.

“What is wrong with you!? Listen, you should be trying to rescue me…call your bosses…call the suits…call Spencer for godsakes! I’m useful! I’m Dr. Spirows. S-p-i-r-o-w-s! Please…” The words trailed, as insanity met those cold, shrewd eyes. They narrowed, and the scientist recoiled in fright, for he could see the lupine nature in those cruel orbs.

The magnum was holstered. It wasn’t needed. A wolfish grin spread, and as the agent leered, he tapped the window with a single digit, pointing at the dead man’s back. The frightful scientist spun about, just in time to catch the growling form in the doorway. He backed up to the glass, screaming, shaking his head and muttering a string of no’s. Eyes flitted back and forth looking for a way to run, but he would never get the chance. There came a rapping on the glass, silence, and then a fist.

Bulletproof shards tore and bit their way into the scientist’s flesh and scattered all across the ground. Denal’s fist shoved right through barrier, reached in, and snagged around his target’s neck, wrapping, snaring him by the throat and tugging him right back and up against the window.

“Useless witnesses only meet extermination.”

It would’ve been easy to kill the man. But there was no fun in that. He waited, just waited, as the man struggled and squirmed, his nails digging frantically at fist and arm, trying to pry them loose. There was no hope. The Cerberus growled and it leapt at the man in a moment’s time, clearing a table and a chair and tearing its teeth into his thighs. Ripping. Tearing. Screaming. Its bites were erratic, some high, some low, but in just moment’s, its work was done. Chris let the weakly breathing body slip to the floor, and then he turned to walk away.

Useless. Everyone of—

He paused as the boards creaked, but they snapped before he had the sense to move. A bit of the floor caved, weakened from age and from a week’s disasters. The agent tumbled with it, collapsing under boards and dust, alone, in an old billiard room on the first floor.

Damn building. That’s extra, Spencer.

With a low growl, the boards were hurled aside, and Denal arose, coughing slightly as he expelled the horrid cloud from his lungs. Then he turned and started for the door. Too close. He could hear footsteps drawing close. A few curses under his breath, and he was darting for the opposite door, pulling his magnum before spinning on his heel. The first person through the distant was going to get a bullet through their head. He would guarantee it.

[Arasad]

"Are you hurt? I mean, are you okay?"

Derek nodded his head after several moments of silence. Why didn't that thing die? He had aimed the weapon - he had fired the rounds. Two of them; two projectiles that would have brought any normal man to his knees. Two shots that would have taken the breath and life out of anyone...

Anyone living. It wasn't possible - but he saw the wounds on the man before the woman had swiftly destroyed it. Not just the bullet wounds, either. His cheek had been torn away, his abdomen open to reveal several strings of his insides. Was he sick? Did he just need help? What the hell was going on here? He thought back to the last time he had read about the Spencer Estate - it had been closed several years before. Umbrella had no use for it, according to the press release.

"So, what the hell was that?"

His question came after another moment of silence. His eyes were on the fallen man, the fallen violent man - whom had tried to bite him moments before. Like that horror movie he had seen when he was a kid - with the zombies. He saw her lips part, as if ready to respond, but another explosion rocked the mansion. It wasn't a physical explosion - he didn't think it was from fire. It sounded like a faulty foundation; like a roof caving in. Instinctively he felt unsafe. It would indeed suck if the floor crumbled below them. He didn't want to know if this creep place had a basement.

"Better check that out."

[Mistress]

All at once the girl moved swiftly to the door. Eyes scanned around and as she slipped her hand around the door she looked towards Derek trying to see if he was ready. Nodding once she positioned herself out of sight and turned the knob, pulling it open. Her eyes moved across the room she could see, hearing nothing of contents she twitched her nose and nodded towards Derek again.

A swift movement, barely seen, she slips into the room and moves around, standing behind somthing for cover. Of course there were more of the creatures in the building, she knew it. She did not, however know who else was here under Umbrella orders.

The lightning struck again, lighting up the room. Her silver eyes reflected the light brightly even with the gray-tinted sunglasses upon her nose. The purple aura and motion pulses came to her swiftly, falling debris, dust and something else.

Lupine eyes met her own and she ducked. Thoughts spread out, trying to dig into the mind of the presence she found. Slipping in she tried to take what information she wanted, to know who, what and why.

[Zeshin]

Life is nothing more than the present moment.

Moment after moment, the world changes. In the blink of an eye the world can change, though one could never say whether it would be for the better or for the worst. It is a fact, simple and unavoidable. Everything changes, and nothing but the present moment decides that. Some will always look back and say that one moment in history changed life as we know it. They will say that history decides the fate of the future. It is true. After all, at one time, that breathtaking moment was the present, and some man, some creature, somewhere, took that moment into his hands and made it his.

There is a darkness that comes before each action, and a darkness that swallows after. It is the darkness of thought, the darkness of reflection. These, too, decide the fate of the world, but are far less important than the action. Yet, these are the things that consume our lives. Darkness encompasses; it lies both before and after. It is what consumes us after an action has taken place—what makes guilt and regret. It is the split second where we have to make that choice, and throw ourselves quite wholly into it, realizing that there is no return. It can be difficult, but it must be done. That is why it is the darkness, and that is why it consumes us. The light is brief, and thus the action must be bright.

As the footsteps neared, an eerie calm washed over the agent. His magnum raised and steadied, he watched the door, studied it, became intimate with every detail. Waiting, always waiting. Footsteps drawing nearer. He shifted slightly as the footsteps stopped, tensed just so, and squeezed his finger against the trigger. Then, with a crack, the door came open. He almost fired…but there was nothing at first. He held, and it would make all the difference.

When the first form darted forward, he felt the darkness. It devoured him, swirling about his brain with its menacing cackle, whispering in his ear and demanding action. There was barely time to register the femininity of the form before he squeezed off a round, but it mattered little. In the time it took thought and action to wholly connect, the woman managed to catch sight, and hit the ground just as the shot went off. A hole blew into the wall where her head had hung just seconds before, and she faded beneath the old billiard table.

Quickly, he compensated to the situation, instantly jerking up and squeezing off another round, this one aimed at the doorway. It would buy precious seconds with the second officer—this he knew—and give him time to deal with the first. Next, he dropped, both for cover and for targets. Behind the table he was protected from the second officer somewhat, while he could take potshots at the first. Perfection. Always perfection.

As the man’s agile form struck ground, he fired three shots off in a line, stalking the woman in the inevitable. First he hit where she once had been, then the second and the third followed the trail wherein she was most likely to flee. A scream would bring satisfaction. Splintering wood would bring only anger.

No witnesses. No survivors. Complete liquidation.

Through his earpiece, he could hear Volya calling out to him, asking where he’d gone. Apparently, he’d happened into one room where her cameras didn’t reach. A damn shame; now she couldn’t send some pets their way for a little added fun.

[Arasad]

The door was open. A moment of silence; time paused. Silence. And then a powerful explosion from the darkness, illuminating a darkened room. From the cloud of dust was a flash, outlining an armored figure halfway through the room. It all happened in a matter of seconds, of course. For the former scene, as fast as it had been created, again changed. As the dust cloud faded to darkness, Derek saw the threat - the figure had changed his aim. The weapon was now facing -

Carack!

"Shit!" The scream took even Derek off guard. He couldn't see the woman, she had ducked - grabbed cover somewhere...

The handgun was heavy in his hands. Uncomfortable. It provided no safety now. Not only was there a zombie in the mansion, but an armored man firing a weapon? Maybe the owned of the house? That wouldn't make any sense. Umbrella abandoned the place, why would there be another -

Carack!

"Jesus!" Derek screamed again, a round splintering wood near the door. Who was he shooting at? Why? Derek dropped to his right knee, aiming with the handgun. There was no way he could find the gunslinger through the cloud of smoke. There was no -

"Whatever. Down!" He screamed, in case the woman was in his zone of fire. Three nine-millimeter rounds found their way into the smoke. They wouldn't hit the man, especially if he found cover.

But it was better than nothing.

[Mistress]

She could clearly see the assailant now and cursed under her breath. She knew exactly who he was and what he was. Eyes refocused as she tried desperately to infiltrate the others mind, but it did not seem to work. She dodged each bullet easily and with a long drawn out sigh she moved around, trying to work her way closer.

Ears twitched slightly, picking up the voice in the microphone attached to his ear. It was extreamly soft but she didn't bother with the words, moving around her silvery-eyes caught the male again and she raised her sunglasses upon her nose and pressed a little button. She activated a small transmission, hoping the male would pick it up. Unknowing though, she kept her guard up and raised her weapon.

"Shut up!" She yelled to Derek, then moved out of the way again, finding cover in a new spot. Her eyes were trained on the assailant and she desperately tried to figure out how to not compromise her mission, as well as not die in the meanwhile.

[Zeshin]

Die. Die. Die!

To the young man’s dismay, for every shot he squeezed off, all he could hear was the whoosh of the air and crack of splintering wood and stone. The female he’d taken as his mark for a little target practice was proving to be a bit more annoying than he’d first anticipated. One shot, one kill. That was his usual motto, but in this particular instance, the marksman was finding his mark to be a little too agile and a great deal unpredictable. What’s worse was the fact that she was working her way closer. One more shot and—

The transmission from the woman’s glasses took the agent off guard. Not because he knew what it meant. Not because of a voice, a word, or a realization, but because with a touch of a button, the mic in his ear let loose the most god awful ringing screech that he had ever heard…made only worse by the genetic foul play that resulted in his particular genetic amplifications. The transmission cut through Volya’s voice, rang out, and echoed in his brain, leaving him nearly paralyzed with the pain of it all. Certainly, communication had been the goal, but the systems proved incompatible…and the mics too close. The woman’s effort acted as little more than a scrambler, and it virtually crippled Denal, costing him precious seconds.

Gunshots splintered holes into the top of the table. The assailant at the doorway was at last returning fire. At the same moment, Chris looked up and caught the woman rolling aside, pulling her own weapon into view and taking aim. She seemed hesitant, but he attributed that to nothing more than idiocy…the poor training of a local, bumpkin cop. In the confusion, and biting through the pain, he still managed to react, pulling up his magnum a final time and squeezing off another round in the woman’s direction.

The ringing had ceased, but the pain still echoed like little aftershocks. Undoubtedly the woman would be caught off guard by his effort, but he doubted it result in death. She’d proven to be quite capable up to this point, and given his slow reaction, she’d probably manage somehow. The point, however, was to buy himself time. The second shot, too—except that the second shot didn’t come. The hammer clicked, but nothing fired. He was running on empty.

Throwing himself into a roll, exposing himself from behind the table for just an instant, he struck the ground with his feet and pressed forward. With a thunderous crash, he threw himself right through the door he’d purposely backed himself up against. Dust spewed into the air, and the wood sundered beneath his weight. Time was a precious commodity, however, and the Umbrella operative couldn’t spend any time complaining, groaning, or whining about his predicament. The situation called for a retreat, and he would only make the officers pay for it all the more later. In fact…the night was proving to be a little thrilling.

In the haze of smoke, he fled. Dashin down the hall, he could hear the groans before he reached them. Yet he moved as a blur to most, a monster of man’s creation. He didn’t stop for but an instant to deal with the pack. Three zombies, and he did them in with fist and bone, cracking skull and splattering flesh. Then in the chaos he was gone again darting down and into a side room, where he slipped inside and paused a moment, both for bearings and reloading. He hadn’t made it far, but it put him ahead of them, and gave him a chance to think. Precious time, that. It would make all the difference.

[Mistress]

`What the hell are you doin firìng at me! Fuck!` she screamed down the hall, cursing the male, cursing Derek for firing aimlessly near her. Swearing a few more times she checked her clip, counting the remaining six bullets she unstrapped the velcro to a pocket, leaving it alone for now she stops the transmission from her glasses and read the information.

Silver eyes flashing, a blur of a woman slipped into the new hall, desert eagle in hand she glowered at the corpses of the zombies before turning back to eye Derek.

The purple vibration reached her eyes, the aura of a man pulsating in the area. Murcury like iris` slipped around, swirlling slightly as she pushed a thought into his mind.

Watch her back .. the little voice said, before she turned her eyes away and growled low a feral animal whose meal had been spoiled. But like a faithful pet she lowered her gun to a more defensive position, no desire to hurt the other in mind. Desire to approach without bullets in her chest, report her information and be rewarded by whatever means the man saw fit.

Thoughts drifted upon her own mission and that glower came back.

`Shots fired, unknown assailant .. `she muttered into the mic, moving swiftly to find new cover.

[Arasad]

"Get back here!" Derek screamed seconds after the gunfight had come to an end. His own weapon had half a magazine left, roughly seven rounds, because he had decided to not fire and waste the ammunition on a nearly invisible target. Smart move, though. From the looks of the... zombie, if that's what he was going to call it, that the unknown woman had killed earlier - he would surely need ammo. Conservation, like abstinence, was always the best method. As the dust began to clear, he could see the outline of the woman just in front of him.

"Shots fired... unknown assailant..."

He did not know or understand why she was still wearing a headset. The captain wasn't wearing his, it had been left on the helicopter. The story was equally the same and true for Derek. Shrugging the thoughts off, he holstered the handgun at his side and quickly strafed across the open door frame. If the attacker was still in the hallway, it would be an easy shot..

But thankfully, there was no shooting. The door closing sounds from earlier was probably due to the man fleeing. Which didn't exactly make sense at this point, did it? First zombies, and now a hired gunman? In military armor? That was the worst part - the attacker was trained. He was skilled.

"Oh well. Let's get the hell out of this section of the building."

As he exited the statue room, what he guessed was now an art gallery, he didn't wait up for the woman. He re-entered the lobby, where he expected the Captain to be. But he wasn't here. No one was. Empty. Desolate. From outside, rain shook against the side of the house with the aid of violent winds. Thunder crashed, lightning struck. It was a box-office horror director's dream come true. Mutant dogs who massacred a paramilitary police force. Zombies.

Rain. Storms. Fire. Gunfights.

"I hope we get paid for this."

The man's quiet comment went to no one in particular as he began to climb the stairs, eyes and ears on guard in case the attacker should return. Or worse, should there be more of the attacker.