Resident Evil: Underworld

Disclaimer: I have FINALLY beaten Resident Evil 5. (My birthday present. Yay me!) After I had beaten the game, this idea came to me in a combination of watching a few sci-fi movies. (Channel flipping when bored does that). Now this is an idea I'm experimenting with and I will be playing around with plotlines a little bit. (Takaing place between Code Veronica and Resident Evil 5. So if I get some facts wrong, let me know and I'll fix them to the best of my ability. The title I got came from the novel title written by S.D. Perry in 1999. Like I said, if you see anything not particularly correct, don't hesitate to let me know and I'll fix it up. Oh, and also, there will be various lines from games and films to establish the order I will attempt to maintain. I will accredit each one accordingly.

"Somebody should tell us, right at the start of our lives, that we are dying. Then we might live life to the limit, every minute of every day. Do it! I say. Whatever you want to do, do it now! There are only so many tomorrows."

-Pope Paul VI

"God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks to us in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: It is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world"

-C.S. Lewis

By: VampireQueenAkasha

"A new Genesis is at hand, and I will be the creator!"

-Albert Wesker, Resident Evil 5

Prologue

Manchester

The streets of Manchester were filled with the nightly dregs of all of humanity. People engaged in drugs, liquor, and occasional night clubs. Above, the world itself was chaos and disorder, a destitute realm overpopulated with human beings. But below, something much more complicated was taking place deep within the subway station. It was quiet, save for the soft sniffling sounds that could barely be heard above.

"I ... I wasn't trying to ... "

"I'm sorry ... I didn't go to the police ... I swear it!"

A mysterious figure in a black coat stood in the darkness of the underground subway station, watching a whimpering, struggling man in the tight grips of two much larger cloaked figures. A peculiar black substance was dripping down from their blistered hands and soft growling sounds escaped from their covered faces. They both stood tall and bulky in mass, dwarfing the smaller man in their clutches. He was looking around desperately for some help.

"Pl-Please..." the man begged, "I...I told them nothing about you or the project! You have to believe me!"

A smooth, slightly accented voice filled the air from the hidden figure. A voice that carried with it pride, power, and intellect. "That was not quite what I was told, Grimsley," rumbled the shape, "The message got back to me that you did...without much hesitation...squeal like a pig to authorities. Fortunately for me, human beings can so easily be goaded by their own greed. So for now, they are going to stay quiet about it."

At the brief nod from the darkened figure, one of the cloaked beings acknowledged and reached into a pocket beneath the cloak and pulled out a small recorder, pressing the PLAY button. The whimpering man- Grimsley - gaped in horror like a child who had been caught stealing candy from a store. The recording was rough and filtered, but fragments of his very own voice echoed back at him.

"Manchester ... Pro ... ject ... W ... Uro ... boro ... s ... "

"A - Alright ... " Grimsley stammered, tears streaming down his face, "I ... I may have told them ... little things! But that was all I said, I swear!"

A small chuckle from the shadowed man. It was just the very reaction he had been waiting for; the confession. "Very good, Grimsley," the voice crooned, "I believe I can sleep soundly tonight." He nodded to the two bulky cloaked beings and turned to walk away.

Grimsley looked up with shock and desperation, realizing that his number was up. He met two sets of glowing reddish eyes. "NO!" he screamed, "Please, don't! NOOO!"

Sticky strands of saliva dripped onto his face and down came rows of sharp, jagged teeth and blistered, fleshy hands.

O

Harvardville

Claire Redfield patiently awaited her brother's departure of the helicopter that - - from what he had spoke of over the phone - - escaped his death at the hands of Albert Wesker. She had heard so much over the phone, but at least they would get a chance to do some catching up. After all, being in college and Chris off on missions, there could have always been a day he could die. So she took any chance she could to see him in between.

Chris climbed out of the helicopter and exhaled slightly. He spotted Claire among the crowd of people and smiled slightly, walking through the crowd to get to her. Claire saw him and grinned happily, waving.

Her face brightened when she saw Chris rushing up to her. "Chris!" she cried.

He gave her a sad, tired smile and they embraced. "Claire ... "

Claire could hear the sadness in his voice, not to mention the weakness. She sensed something greater transpired in the time he was gone to meet up with Ozwell Spencer at the Arklay Mansion with Jill Valentine. They were going to arrest him, the founder of Umbrella for the stolen products that would be used by Bio-Terrorists.

"Chris?"

He heaved a heavy sigh. "Claire...I'm going to need a few drinks ... " he told her, softly.

Claire knew from the tone of his voice and the suggestion that something had gone wrong. And she should have known that the problem had something to do with his partner, Jill. She had never seen him this depressed.

They visited the local bar where Claire ordered Chris a few bottles of beer. He went on to explain to Claire about the journey he and Jill had taken to find Ozwell and what it took to get there. He told her that he and Jill encountered Albert Wesker after believing him to be dead and what had happened to Spencer on the way.

"...Wesker could have killed me there," Chris continued, "But Jill decided to take him down with her. They both fell out of the window of the mansion and into the chasms."

Claire was stunned. She knew that Chris and Jill shared some romantic feelings for one another, but their line of work impeded any form of further advancements. That was how it was supposed to be and that was what they had both agreed on. Maybe Chris regretted never making an attempt or maybe his regret was letting her die. Either way, she knew that Jill's death would be something he would need some time to get over.

Chris let his head rest in a clenched fist. " I should've seen it coming ... " he murmured, shaking his head, "It didn't take long after the fall of the Umbrella Corporation for their bio - weapons to end up in the hands of terrorists. Even now, my work still isn't done."

Claire nodded and took a careful drink of her beer. "Are they going to let you take some time?" She meant to mourn Jill's death.

Chris shook his head and furrowed his brow. The only decent way to mourn anyone's death was to keep pressing forward and that was something he had difficulty grasping. Letting it eat away at him would only slow him down, he knew.

"I can't."

Claire stared at him, a fair trace of pity in her gaze. And yet, she could say or do nothing to comfort him at the moment, save for the level of alcohol that was sure to do it for the time being. And there would be little time for rest. But nonetheless, it was a decent thing for him. At least he'd numb the pain if only for a little while.

"Chris, either way, you still have an obligation," Claire pointed out, "I can't really tell you how to feel or how to move on, but I will say that it's not the end of the world. Wesker's dead now. Many people were saved by Jill's sacrifice."

Chris had to agree with that.

"Yeah ... "

Claire glanced back and noticed members of the BSAA North American Branch coming in to the bar. It seemed like a way to celebrate their victory and the defeat of Albert Wesker and Ozwell Spencer. Hm. Not much of a victory. Claire knew this was only the beginning.

O

Note-Chris uses a small line used in the fifth game.