S. D. Perry - Resident Evil 04 - Underworld

PROLOGUE

Associated Press, October 6, 1998

THOUSANDS KILLED

AS FIRE SWEEPS THROUGH MOUNTAIN COMMUNITY,

MYSTERIOUS ILLNESS MAY BE INVOLVED

NEW YORK, NY - The secluded mountain community of Raccoon

City, PA, has officially been declared a disaster area by state and

federal officials, as dedicated firefighters continue to wage war

against the dying blazes and the death toll continues to rise. It is

now estimated that over seven thousand people were killed by the

explosive fires that raged through Raccoon in the early hours of

Sunday, October 4. It is being called the worst U.S. disaster in

terms of lives lost since the industrial age, and as national aid

organizations and international press flock to the blockades

surrounding the still burning ruins of the city, shocked friends

and family of Raccoon citizens have been gathering, waiting for

word in nearby Latham.

National Disaster Control (NDC) Director Terrence Chavez,

coordinator for the combined efforts of the multiple firefighting

and emergency teams, released a statement to the press last night

stating that barring unforeseen complications, he expects the last

of the flames to be extinguished before midweek, but that it may

be months before the origin of the fire is determined, as well as

whether or not arson was involved. Said Chavez, "The magnitude

of the damage in terms of area alone is going to make finding the

answers a great undertaking, but the answers are there. We will

get to the bottom of this, whatever it takes."

As of 6 A.M. today, seventy-eight survivors have been found,

and their names and conditions withheld; they have been

transported to an undisclosed federal facility for observation

and/or treatment. Initial reports by HazMat teams suggest that an

unknown illness may be responsible for the incredible number of

victims, as infected citizens were unable to escape due to the

possibly incapacitating sickness. There is the further suggestion

that the disease may have induced violent psychosis in some of

those infected. Members of private and federal disease-control

centers have called for extending the quarantine boundaries, and

although no official statement has been released, there have been

several "leaked" descriptions of physical and biological abnormali-

ties in many of the victims. Said one source, a worker for a federal

assessment team, "Some of those people weren't just burned or

dead from smoke inhalation. I saw people who'd been killed by

gunshot wounds or stabbings, and other forms of violence. I saw

people who'd obviously been sick, dead, or dying long before the

fire ever hit. The fire was bad - terrible - but it's not the only

disaster that occurred there, I'd bet money on it."

Raccoon City was in the news earlier this year when a series of

unusual murders rocked the community. These were apparently

unmotivated slayings, of extreme violence, and several involved

cannibalism; already, tentative connections are being made by

local press near Raccoon between the eleven unsolved murders

from last summer and the rumors of mass violence prior to the

consuming flames.

Mr. Chavez refused to confirm or deny the rumors, saying only

that investigations into the tragedy will be thorough. . .

Nationwide Today, A.M.. Edition, October 10,1998

RACCOON DEATH TOLL RISES

AS SEARCH AND RESCUE TEAMS COMBINE EFFORTS

NEW YORK, NY - The official body count now stands at just under

4500, with the blackened ruins of Raccoon City still being combed

for additional victims of the apocalypse that took place early last

Sunday morning. As a nation's mourning begins, over six

hundred men and women are working to uncover the reasons

behind the destruction of the once peaceful community. Local

relief organizations, scientists, soldiers, federal agents, and corpo-

rate research teams have come together in a show of determina-

tion and purpose, pooling resources and accepting delegated

responsibilities in order to get to the truth.

NDC Director Terrence Chavez, the official head of the effort,

has been joined by top researchers from disease-control centers all

around the world, national security agents from several federal

branches, and a privately funded team of microbiologists from

Umbrella, Inc., the pharmaceutical company, which is investigat-

ing the possibility that there may be a connection between their

chemical lab on the outskirts of the city and the strange infection

now being called "Raccoon syndrome."

Initial studies of this illness have been vague and inconclusive,

says Umbrella team leader Dr. Ellis Benjamin, "but we're

convinced that the citizens of Raccoon were infected with

something, either accidentally or intentionally. All we know at this

point is that it doesn't seem to have been airborne, and that the

final result was rapid cellular disintegration and death; we still

don't know if it was bacterial or viral, or what the symptoms were,

but we won't rest until we've exhausted all of our resources.

Whatever the findings, and whether or not Umbrella materials

were a part of it, we're committed to seeing this through to the

end. It's the least we can do, considering how much our company

owes the people of Raccoon." The Umbrella chemical plant and

administration facilities in Raccoon City provided nearly a thou-

sand local jobs.

The 142 survivors are still being held in quarantine for

observation and questioning at an undisclosed location. While

their identities are still being protected, the FBI has released a

statement listing medical conditions. Seventeen survivors suffered

minor injuries but are in stable condition, seventy-nine are still on

a critical list following surgical procedures, and forty-six of the

survivors, while not injured, have suffered some major mental or

emotional breakdown. There is no confirmation as to whether or

not any are infected with the syndrome, but the statement did

include a reference to survivor's stories that verified the existence

of the infection.

Gen. Martin Goldmann, overseer of military operations in the

ravaged city, is hopeful that all of those still missing will be found

within the next seven days. "We've already got four hundred

people out there working twenty-four/seven, searching for survi-

vors and running identification checks - and I just got word that

another two hundred will be coming in on Monday..."

Fort Worth Bugler, October 18, 1998

POSSIBLE CONSPIRACY

BY CITY EMPLOYEES IN RACCOON TRAGEDY

FORT WORTH, TX - New evidence uncovered by cleanup crews in

Raccoon City, PA, indicates that the "Raccoon syndrome," the

disease responsible for the majority of the 7200 deaths that have

occurred in Raccoon as of this writing, may have been unleashed

upon the unsuspecting populace by Raccoon Police Chief Brian

Irons and several members of the Special Tactics and Rescue

Squad (S.T.A.R.S.).

At a press conference held early yesterday evening by FBI

spokesman Patrick Weeks, NDC Director Terrence Chavez, and Dr.

Robert Heiner - called in by Umbrella team leader Dr. Ellis

Benjamin - Weeks revealed that there is strong circumstantial

evidence that the disaster in Raccoon was the result of a terrorist

act that went horribly wrong. The subsequent fires that have

nearly wiped out the small city may have been an attempt by Irons

or one of his accomplices to cover up the disastrous effects of the

spill.

According to Weeks, several documents were found in the

wreckage of the RPD building that implicate Irons as the

ringleader of a conspiracy to take hostage the Umbrella chemical

plant on the outskirts of the city. Allegedly, Irons was furious with

city officials over the suspension of the S.T.A.R.S. in late July for

their mishandling of a multiple murder investigation - the now

well-documented cannibal slayings that took the lives of eleven

people early last summer. The Raccoon S.T.A.R.S. were suspended

after a helicopter crash in the last week of July that claimed the

lives of six team members. The five surviving S.T.A.R.S. members

were suspended without pay after evidence suggested drug or

alcohol abuse in connection to the crash - and while Irons

publicly advocated the suspension of his elite squad, the docu-

ments found indicate that Irons meant to threaten Mayor Devlin

Harris and several City Council members with a spill of extremely

volatile and dangerous chemicals unless certain financial demands

were met. Weeks went on to say that Irons had a history of

emotional instability, and that the documents - correspondence

between Irons and an accomplice - revealed a plan by Irons to

extort ransom from Raccoon and then flee the country. The

accomplice is named only as "C.R.," but there are also references

to "J.V.," "B.B.," and "R.C." - all initials for four of the five

suspended S.T.A.R.S.

Said Terrence Chavez, "Assuming these documents are accu-

rate, Irons and his crew had planned to storm the Umbrella plant

at the end of September, which would correspond exactly to the

timeline described by Dr. Heiner for the Raccoon syndrome to

achieve full amplification. We're currently operating under the

assumption that the takeover did take place, and that an

unexpected accident occurred with cataclysmic results. At this

time, we don't know if Mr. Irons or any of the S.T.A.R.S. are still

alive, but they are wanted for questioning. We've released a

national APB and all of our international airports and border

patrols have been alerted. We urge anyone with information

relating to this case to come forward."

Dr. Helner, a renowned microbiologist as well as an associate

member of Umbrella's Biohazardous Materials Division, stated that

the exact mix of chemicals released in Raccoon may never be

known. "It's obvious that Irons and his people didn't know what

they were handling - and with Umbrella continuously developing

new variations of enzyme syntheses, bacterial growth mediums,

and viral repressers, the lethal compound was almost certainly an

accidental aggregation. With the possible combinations of materials

numbering in the millions, the odds of duplicating the Raccoon

syndrome mix are astronomical."

The S.T.A.R.S. national director wasn't available for comment,

but Lida Willis, regional spokesperson for the organization, has

gone on record as saying that they "are shocked and saddened" by

the disaster, and would devote every available agent to the search

for the missing S.T.A.R.S. team members, as well as for any

contacts they might still have within the network.

Ironically, the documents were found by one of Umbrella's

search teams...

ONE

"GO, GO, GO!" DAVID SHOUTED, AND JOHN

Andrews hit the gas, whipping the minivan around a

tight corner as gunfire thundered through the cold

Maine night.

John had spotted the two unmarked black sedans

only a moment before, which had barely given the

team enough time to arm themselves. Whoever was

on their ass - Umbrella or the S.T.A.R.S. or the local

cops - it didn't matter, it was all Umbrella.

"Get us lost, John!" David called, somehow manag-

ing to sound cool and controlled even as bullets

riddled the back of the van. It was the accent - he

always sounds like that, and where the hell's Fal-

worth?

John felt scattered, his thoughts racing and jum-

bled; he kicked ass on a mission, but sneak attacks bit

the bone -

- right on Falworth and head for the strip - Christ,

ten more minutes and we would've been gone -

It had been too long since John had been in combat,

and never in the midst of a car chase. He was good,

but it was a minivan.

Bam bam bam!

Someone in the back of the van was returning fire,

shooting out of the open back window. The nine-

millimeter explosions in the tight space were as loud

as the voice of an irate God, pounding at John's ears

and making it even harder to focus.

Ten more goddamn minutes.

Ten minutes from the airstrip, where the chartered

flight would be waiting. It was like a bad joke - weeks

of hiding, waiting, not taking any risks, and then

getting tagged on the way out of the damn country.

John hung on to the wheel as they shot down 6th

Street, the van too heavy to outmaneuver the sedans.

Even without five people and a shitload of artillery,

the bulky, boxy knockoff mini wasn't exactly a power-

house. David had bought it because it was so nonde-

script, so unlikely to be noticed, and they were paying

for it - if they managed to shake their pursuers, it'd

be a small miracle. Their only chance was to try to

find traffic, play some dodge. It was dangerous, but so

was getting run off the road and shot to death.

"Clip!" Leon shouted, and John shot a look in the

rearview, saw that the young cop was crouched at the

back window next to David. They'd taken out the back

seats for the trip to the airstrip, all the more room for

weapons, but that also meant no seatbelts; take a

corner too fast and bodies would be flying...

Bam! Bam! Two more blasts from the sedan ass-

holes, maybe from a .38. John gave the shuddering

van a little more pedal as Leon returned fire with a

Browning nine-millimeter. Leon Kennedy was their

best shot, David probably had him trying to draw

bead on the tires -

- best shot next to me, anyway, and how the hell am

I going to get us lost in Exeter, Maine, at eleven o'clock

on a weeknight? There is no traffic -

One of the women tossed Leon a mag, John didn't

have time to see which one as he jerked the wheel

right, heading for downtown. With a smoking squeal

of rubber on asphalt, the mini teetered around the

corner of Falworth, heading east. The airstrip was

west, but John didn't figure that anyone in the van

was worrying much about getting to the plane on

time.

First things first, gotta ditch Umbrella's hired goons.

Doubt there's room on the charter for all of us.

John saw red and blue light in the mirror, saw that

at least one of the sedans had put a flasher on the roof.

Maybe they were cops, which would really suck.

Umbrella's job of spin control had been thorough -

- thanks to them, every cop in the country probably

believed that their small team was at least partly

responsible for what had happened to Raccoon. The

S.T.A.R.S. were being played, too - some of the

higher-ups had sold out, but the agents in the trenches

probably had no idea that their organization had

become a puppet of the pharmaceutical company -

- which makes it a hell of a lot harder to shoot back.

No one on their makeshift team wanted innocents

to get hurt; being misled by Umbrella wasn't a crime,

and if the sedan teams were cops...

"No antennae, no warning, not cops!" Leon called,

and John had time to feel about a second's worth of

relief before he saw the barricades looming in front of

them, the roadwork sign propped next to the blocked

street. He saw the white circle of a man's face above

an orange vest, the man holding a sign that said

"Slow," the man dropping the sign and diving for

cover...

... and it would've been funny except they were

doing eighty and had maybe three seconds before they

hit.

"Hang on!" John screamed, and Claire pushed her

legs against the van wall, saw David grab hold of

Rebecca, Leon snatching at the handle -

- and the van was screeching, jerking, and bucking

like a wild horse, spinning sideways...

... and Claire actually felt open space beneath the

right side of the van as her body was compressed to

the left, the back of her neck crunching painfully

against the tire well.

- oh hell -

David shouted something but Claire didn't hear it

over the squealing brakes, didn't understand until

David dove to the right, Rebecca scrambling right

next to him -and wham,

the van dropped back to the ground

with a terrific bounce and John seemed to have it

under control again, but there was still the piercing

screech of locked brakes coming from...

CRASH!

The explosion of metal and shattering glass behind

them was so close that Claire's heart skipped a beat.

She turned, looked out the back with the others and

saw that one of the cars had barreled into a roadwork

barricade - a barricade they'd probably come within

a second or two of bashing into themselves. She

caught just a glimpse of a crumpled hood, of broken

windows and a stream of oily smoke, and then the

second sedan was blocking her view, shrieking around

the corner and continuing the chase.

"Sorry 'bout that," John called back to them,

sounding anything but; he seemed wired with

adrenaline-pumped glee.

In the few weeks since she and Leon had joined up

with the fugitive ex-S.T.A.R.S., she'd discovered that

John would make jokes about anything. It was simul-

taneously his most endearing and most annoying

trait.

"Everyone alright?" David asked, and Claire nod-

ded, saw Rebecca do the same.

"Took a whack but I'm okay," Leon said, rubbing

his arm with a pained expression. "But I don't

think..."

BAM!

Whatever Leon didn't think was cut off by the

powerful blast that slammed into the back of the van.

Still most of a block away, the sedan's passenger had

fired a shotgun at them; a few inches higher and the

pellets would have come in through the window.

"John, change of plans," David called as the van

swerved, his cool, authoritative voice rising over the

noise of the screaming engines. "We're in their

sights..."

Before he could finish, John took a hard left.

Rebecca fell backwards, nearly crashing into Claire.

The van was now headed down a quiet suburban

street.

"Hold on to your butts," John called over his

shoulder.

Chill night air whipped through the van, dark

houses flying by as John picked up speed. Leon and

David were already reloading, crouched behind the

metal half-door. Claire exchanged a look with

Rebecca, who looked as unhappy about their situa-

tion as she felt. Rebecca Chambers was ex-S.T.A.R.S.,

she'd worked with Claire's brother, Chris, as well as

undertaking a recent Umbrella operation with David

and John, also ex-S.T.A.R.S. - but the young woman

had been trained as a medic with a background in

biochemistry. Marksmanship wasn't her forte - even

Claire was a better shot - and she was the only person

in the van who hadn't had any real training . . .

. . . unless you count surviving Raccoon.

Claire shuddered involuntarily as John took a hard

right, veering wide around a parked truck, the sedan

gaining ground. Raccoon City; the scratches and

bruises on Claire's body hadn't even faded yet, and

she knew that Leon's shoulder was still giving him

pain...

BAM!

Another shotgun blast from behind, but it went

wide and high.

This time. . .

"Change of plans," David said, his crisp British

accent calming, like the voice of reason and logic in

the midst of chaos. It was no wonder he'd been a

S.T.A.R.S. captain.

"Everyone brace for an impact. John, just past your

next turn, bring us to a stop. Hit and run, alright?"

David brought his knees up, wedging his feet

against the van's wall. "They want us so badly, let

them have us."

Claire slid over and pushed her feet against the

back of the passenger seat, knees bent and head down.

Rebecca moved closer to David, and Leon sidled back

so that his head was close to Claire's. They locked

gazes and Leon smiled faintly.

"This is nothing" he said, and in spite of her fear,

Claire found herself smiling back at him. After mak-

ing it through the madness of Raccoon City, skirting

the murderous Umbrella creatures and crazed hu-

mans - not to mention their extremely narrow escape

from explosive death when Umbrella's secret facilities

blew up - compared to all that, a simple car wreck

was like a Sunday picnic.

Yeah, just keep telling yourself that, her mind whis-

pered, and then she didn't think anything at all,

because the van was swerving around a corner and

John was pumping the brakes and they were about to

get hit by about a ton and a half of fast moving metal

and glass.

David inhaled and exhaled deeply, relaxing his

muscles as best he could, the squeal of brakes coming

up fast from behind...

... and wham, violent motion, a sense of incredible

vibration, a second that seemed to stretch for an

endless and silent eternity...

... and the noise coming immediately after - break-

ing glass and the sound of a tin can being crushed

amplified a million times. David was jerked forward

and back, heard Rebecca emit a strangled gasp -

- and it was over, and John was already hitting the

gas as David rolled to his knees, raising his Beretta.

He shot a look out the back and saw that the sedan

was motionless, skewed across the dark street, the

front grill and headlamps smashed all to hell. The

slumped, shadowy figures behind the spidered glass

were as still as the ruined car.

Not that we fared much better. . .

The inexpensive green minivan he'd bought specifi-

cally for their ride to the airfield no longer had a

bumper, tail lights, a rear license plate - or, he imag-

ined, any possible method for opening the back gate;

the door was a warped and crunched-up mass of

useless metal.

No great loss. David Trapp despised minivans, and

it wasn't as though they'd planned on taking it to

Europe. The important thing was that they were still

alive - and that - for the moment at least - they'd

managed to avoid the infinitely long arm of Umbrel-

la's wrath.

As they sped away from the wrecked car, David

turned and regarded the others, reflexively putting a

hand out to help Rebecca up. Since the ill-fated

mission to the Umbrella lab on the coast, he'd grown

quite attached to the young woman, as had John. The

rest of his team hadn't survived...

He shook off the thought before it could take hold,

and called up to John that they should circle back

toward their original destination, staying away from

major streets. A bad break that they'd been spotted

just as they were leaving, but not all that surprising,

however. Umbrella had staked Exeter out two months

earlier, right after they'd returned from Caliban Cove.

It had only been a matter of time.

"Nice trick, David," Leon said. "I'll have to re-

member that next time I get chased by Umbrella

goons."

David nodded uncomfortably. He liked Leon and

Claire, but wasn't so sure how he felt about two more

people looking to him for leadership. He could under-

stand it with John and Rebecca, they'd at least been

part of the S.T.A.R.S. before - but Leon was a rookie

cop from Raccoon and Claire was a college student

who just happened to be Chris Redfield's little sister.

When he'd made the decision to break from the

S.T.A.R.S. after finding out about their connection to

Umbrella, he hadn't expected to continue leading,

hadn't wanted to -

- but it wasn't my decision to make, was it... he

hadn't asked for their allegiance, or offered himself up

as decision maker and it didn't matter, that was just

the way things had turned out. In war, one didn't

always have the luxury of choice.

David glanced around at the others before staring

out the back, watching the homes and buildings slip

past in the cold dark. Everyone seemed a bit subdued,

always the aftermath of an adrenaline rush. Rebecca

was unloading clips and repacking the weapons, Leon

and Claire sitting close together across from her, not

talking. Those two were usually joined at the hip, and

were still as tight as they'd been since David, John,

S. D. Perry - Resident Evil 04 - Underworld

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