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       Resident Evil Legends Part Three - The Mansion Incident, p.1

           Andreas Leachim
Resident Evil Legends Part Three - The Mansion Incident
Resident Evil Legends Part Three: The Mansion Incident

  By Andreas Leachim

  Copyright 2016 Andreas Leachim

  Cover art and design by Andreas Leachim

  This is a work of fan fiction based on the Resident Evil video game series. All characters and names and related trademarks are the property of Capcom. The author of this work receives no financial compensation from it and does not seek to infringe upon Capcom’s copyrights in any way.

  Chapter 1

  Jill slammed the car door and ran across the parking lot to the police station’s side entrance, her holster and supply belt bouncing against her hip. Uniform-clad officers greeted her at the doors, looking edgy and anxious. It did not take long for word of Bravo’s disappearance to spread throughout the station, although thankfully no one alerted the press or the public at large. But Bravo team’s families needed to be informed, and sooner or later the news would reach a journalist or television station.

  Officers loitering in the hallways or working at their desks watched her as she made her way through the station. On most days, she ignored the attention. For a long time, she’d been the only female S.T.A.R.S. member, and even though she was no supermodel, most of her male coworkers found her fairly attractive, so she was accustomed to the attention they sometimes gave her. When Rebecca Chambers joined Bravo team, she began to attract some of the stares. Today, however, the attention had nothing to do with Jill. The entire police station seemed tense about Bravo’s disappearance, and everyone knew that Alpha planned to go after them.

  She ran up the east wing stairway and down the long hallway to the S.T.A.R.S. offices, stopping first at the armory to get another pistol. She already carried her trusty nine-millimeter Glock snugly in her holster, the same gun she carried since her days as a rookie. But this time, she felt the need to carry an extra weapon, just in case. She donned a shoulder holster similar to the one Barry wore, and stashed the gun there. Her belt also contained a leather sheath for her combat knife.

  Her uniform, like all the S.T.A.R.S. members’ uniforms, was not a standard police uniform. Black boots, dark blue cargo pants, a long-sleeved blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and fingerless black gloves. Under her shirt she wore a layer of protective kevlar body armor. Like a bullet-proof vest, it covered her entire chest and back, but did not restrict her movement or weigh her down too much. Additional kevlar pads were strapped on her shoulders like bulky shoulder pads. The finishing touch to her uniform was a beret atop her head emblazoned with the S.T.A.R.S logo.

  Almost twenty-four hours had passed since Bravo team deployed, enough time to officially declare an emergency and send in Alpha team to investigate. Chief Irons blockaded himself in his office early in the morning and refused to see anyone. Jill left two increasingly-angry messages on his voice mail to complain about the situation and criticize his judgment, and at least a dozen other people did so as well. But Irons would not explain his actions to anyone, even Wesker or the other police captains. It didn’t matter now, though. Police protocol and S.T.A.R.S. directives stated clearly that any team gone for more than twenty-four hours without contact was officially in danger. For Irons to contradict that kind of order would completely ruin his authority and certainly lead to his dismissal. His reputation in the department, previously spotless, took a huge hit due to the situation with Bravo. Jill could not fathom why Irons did not take more direct action to bring them back.

  Jill pushed open the door to the command center and found all the other members of Alpha team waiting for her. She felt embarrassed, but she was there an hour early. The others must have all come to the station even earlier than that.

  Wesker leaned against his desk, his arms crossed. His ever-present sunglasses were on, reflecting the room in his eyes. He wore black boots, dark blue jeans, a gray jacket with a black bulletproof vest over it. He didn’t look happy, but that was nothing uncommon. In all her years at the RCPD, Jill didn’t think she’d ever seen him smile.

  Barry nodded toward her in greeting, standing by the computer consoles. Like Wesker, his arms were crossed and he looked particularly unhappy. He wore his usual red vest with holster on the front, containing his massive .44 Colt Anaconda revolver. He was the only member of S.T.A.R.S. that used a gun like that. The rest of Alpha team used standard nine-millimeters, while Barry’s hand cannon fired Magnum rounds.

  Chris was standing beside his desk, looking at the floor. He glanced up when Jill entered and gave her a quick, forced smile. He wore his usual black high-tops, black cargo pants, and a white short-sleeved shirt. Over the shirt was a green military vest similar to Barry’s, with a combat knife prominently sheathed across his shoulder. From his belt hung two holsters and a pair of spare clips. In his hands, he twisted a red strip of cloth that he would tie around his head right before they got off the chopper. It was his lucky headband, or so he claimed. His pistol, a nine-millimeter like Jill’s, was a Beretta instead of a Glock. The Air Force, which Chris was a former member of, used a Beretta as their regulation sidearm instead of a Glock, and Chris preferred to keep his when he joined S.T.A.R.S.

  Joseph was in the corner, sitting on the edge of Barry’s desk, dressed in flamboyant camouflage pants and a black sleeveless t-shirt to display his tattooed arms. An assault rifle was propped up in front of him and he leaned on it like a cane. His short black hair was spiked up, and an unlit cigarette dangled from his lips.

  Brad stood in front of Enrico’s desk, close to Wesker. As usual, he looked out of place. As the team’s pilot, Brad usually did not feel comfortable discussing strategy. He liked to be in the chopper, flying the rest of the team into and out of danger. Being put in danger himself, however, was something he tried to avoid at all costs. He wore black jeans, and orange jacket with bulletproof vest underneath, and a black baseball cap turned backwards.

  “Jill, how nice of you to come,” Wesker said. He had a way of saying sarcastic statements like that with a completely straight face, making many wonder if he possessed even the merest shred of a sense of humor.

  “I guess I’m late,” Jill said.

  “You’re early,” Wesker said, “but the rest of us were earlier than you. I’ve been here for three hours, trying to contact Irons.”

  “He won’t talk to anyone,” Chris said.

  Barry grunted disapprovingly. “He’s hiding from us, locked in his office. He’s got something to hide, I can smell it.”

  “He’s scared,” Wesker said, his calm voice somehow carrying more weight than Barry’s angry tone. “We’ve never dealt with a situation like this. Irons had no choice but to authorize Bravo’s mission, but that was clearly a mistake. He regrets letting them go.”

  “Then he should tell us himself,” Barry said. “You aren’t his spokesperson.”

  “I’m just putting things in perspective. If something happened to Bravo, he’ll ultimately face responsibility for it. If they’ve come to harm, he feels that he’s to blame. How would you like something like that on your conscience?”

  That silenced Barry, for the moment. Wesker could always be counted on to see the other side of any situation, to justify what seemed to be unjustifiable actions. It was a skill that Jill wasn’t sure she liked.

  “When are we leaving?” Chris asked.

  Wesker checked his watch. “Forty-three minutes.”

  “We should go now,” Barry said.

  “We’ve discussed this,” Wesker said. “We probably should have gone after them last night, but we have to wait twenty-four hours. That’s just the way it is, and I can’t do any
thing about it.”

  “So we haven’t heard anything from them at all?” Jill asked, speaking up.

  The silence that greeted her was enough of an answer. Wesker and Barry said nothing and just stared at the floor. Brad changed his stance uncomfortably, probably wishing he was preparing the helicopter. Joseph took the cigarette out of his mouth and studied it. Chris looked at Jill and simply shook his head.

  “They haven’t reported in since last night,” Wesker said. “And all of our attempts to contact the government facility have come up empty. They simply aren’t talking to us. We don’t even know what Bravo was sent there for in the first place and we have no information about their current status. We’re going in there effectively blind.”

  “Where, exactly?” Joseph asked, talking for the first time since Jill arrived. He held his cigarette in his hand, pointing with it as he talked. “How do we know where they are if they couldn’t give us a location?”

  “We have the transponder coordinates from their helicopter,” Wesker said.

  “Okay, so where is this place?”

  Wesker went to the large map on the side wall and took a red pin off a tray underneath. He stuck it into the map and stepped away so the others could see. “It’s fifteen miles from the city limits, in the west valley beneath Arklay Ridge. The closest paved road is Highway 88, but even that is four miles away.”

  “Looks like it’s smack dab in the middle of nowhere,” Joseph said.

  Wesker agreed. “Well, if I was going to build a secret government base, that’s where I would put it.”

  “You still think this is a government facility?” Barry asked.

  “I’m just telling you what I was told,” Wesker said, frustration entering his voice. “They identified themselves as a government agency and Irons verified it. What else do you want?”

  “I don’t believe them,” Barry stated forcefully. “A government facility would never call for help from a local police department.”

  “We’re a S.T.A.R.S. unit, Barry. We’re not exactly beat cops.”

  “We’re still a local police force. They’d call the National Guard before they’d call us. And even if they did, they wouldn’t keep it under wraps like this. I’m telling you this entire thing stinks.”

  “And I agree,” Wesker said. “So let’s drop it, okay? I don’t care who they are, all I know is that Bravo got sent there last night and never came back.”

  “They should never have gone in the first place.”

  “Drop it!” Wesker shouted suddenly, stunning them all into silence. He pointed his finger at Barry and clenched his teeth in anger. “Do not start on me again, cause I am done arguing with you! We got a call and they took it, all right? What were we supposed to do, just tell them we didn’t believe their story and ignore the call? We don’t have that option, Barry. If someone calls us and says they’re in trouble, we go help them. That’s our job. Bravo did their job, and now we’re doing ours. If you don’t like it, feel free to request a transfer.”

  Jill stared in shock at Wesker and then at Barry. Somehow, Wesker managed to put Barry in his place. Wesker, despite normally keeping his emotions firmly in check, still lost his temper occasionally. That was nothing new. He yelled at Jill sometimes when she screwed up, he yelled at Brad and Joseph, and he even yelled at Chris sometimes.

  But Wesker never yelled at Barry. No one ever yelled at Barry.

  Barry might have been the oldest and most experienced member of the team, but Wesker was still the commander. Jill looked at Barry’s face and saw anger and surprise on his features. Even he could not believe Wesker’s outburst.

  And for Wesker to imply that Barry was unwilling to go after Bravo was simply unbelievable. Everyone knew that no one wanted to go after them more than Barry did. But Wesker needed to make his point, and even though Jill didn’t agree with Wesker a lot of the time, she admitted to herself that he was in the right this time. It was too late to complain about what happened last night. The mission today was to fix that mistake, not to point fingers and lay blame. Wesker didn’t have a choice, and Jill knew it. Barry knew it too, but Barry was stubborn, so Wesker was forced to drop him down a little.

  “Brad,” Wesker said, his voice still angry. “Get the chopper prepped. You have half an hour. Joseph and Jill, you two get down to the armory and supply depot and get everything you can think of. Machine guns, medical packs, night-vision equipment, anything that might come in handy. We don’t know what we’re going to face, so get creative. Chris, come over here and take a look at this map, you know the woods better than I do. Give me an idea of the surroundings in this area.”

  Finally, he looked back at Barry. “Get out of here. I don’t want to see you again until we board the chopper.”

  Jill and Joseph bolted from the command center before Barry could respond. They headed down the hall, walking fast until they were out of ear shot.

  “Jesus H. Christ,” Joseph said, looking back over his shoulder. “I have never seen anything like that in my entire life. Barry looked like Wesker punched him in the stomach.”

  “He’s furious,” Jill said. “I’m just glad he’s not mad at me.”

  “I know one thing,” Joseph said, leaning over to speak confidentially. “After this is over, Barry and Wesker are gonna have some words, I guarantee it. I wonder if they’ll be able to work together after this.”

  “I don’t know. I really don’t.”

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