S. D. Perry - Resident Evil 01 - The Umbrella Conspiracy

VIP免费
2024-12-04 0 0 748.48KB 150 页 5.9玖币
侵权投诉
PROLOGUE
Latham Weekly, June 2, 1998
BIZARRE MURDERS COMMITTED IN RACCOON CITY
-The mutilated body of forty-two-year-old
Anna Mitaki was discovered late yesterday in an abandoned
lot not far from her home in northwest Raccoon City,
making her the fourth victim of the supposed "cannibal
killers" to be found in or near the Victory Lake district in
the last month. Consistent with the coroner reports of the
other recent victims, Mitaki's corpse showed evidence of
having been partially eaten, the bite patterns apparently
formed by human jaws.
Shortly after the discovery of Miss Mitaki by two joggers
at approximately nine o'clock last night, Chief Irons made a
brief statement insisting that the RPD is "working diligently
to apprehend the perpetrators of such heinous crimes" and
that he is currently consulting with city officials about more
drastic protection measures for Raccoon citizens.
In addition to the murderous spree of the cannibal
killers, three others have died from probable animal attacks
in Raccoon Forest in the past several weeks, bringing the
toll of mysterious deaths up to seven. . . .
Raccoon Times, June 22, 1998
HORROR IN RACCOON CITY
MORE VICTIMS DEAD
-The bodies of a young couple were found
early Sunday morning in Victory Park, making Deanne
Rusch and Christopher Smith the eighth and ninth victims
in the reign of violence that has terrorized the city since
mid-May of this year.
Both victims, aged 19, were reported as missing by
concerned parents late Saturday night and were discovered
by police officers on the west bank of Victory Lake
at approximately 2 A.M. Although no formal statement
has been issued .by the police department, witnesses to
the discovery confirm that both youths suffered wounds
similar to those found on prior victims. Whether or not
the attackers were human or animal has yet to be
announced.
According to friends of the young couple, the two had
talked about tracking down the rumored "wild dogs"
recently spotted in the heavily forested park and had
planned to violate the city-wide curfew in order to see one of
the alleged nocturnal creatures.
Mayor Harris has scheduled a press conference for this
afternoon, and is expected to make an announcement
regarding the current crisis, calling for a stricter enforce-
ment of the curfew. .
Cityside, July 21, 1998
"S.T.A.R.S." SPECIAL TACTICS AND RESCUE
SQUAD SENT TO SAVE RACCOON CITY
With the reported disappearance of three
hikers in Raccoon Forest earlier this week, city officials have
finally called for a roadblock on rural Route 6 at the foothills
of the Arklay Mountains. Police Chief Brian Irons an-
nounced yesterday that the S.T.A.R.S. will participate full-
time in the search for the hikers and will also be working
closely with the RPD until there is an end to the rash of
murders and disappearances that are destroying our community
Chief Irons, a former S.T.A.R.S. member himself, said
today (in an exclusive Cityside telephone interview) that it is
"high time to employ the talents of these dedicated men and
women toward the safety of this city. We've had nine brutal
murders here in less than two months, and at least five
disappearances now-and all of these events have taken
place in a close proximity to Raccoon Forest. This leads us to
believe that the perpetrators of these crimes may be hiding
somewhere in the Victory Lake district, and the S.T.A.R.S.
have just the kind of experience we need to find them."
When asked why the S.T.A.R.S. hadn't been assigned to
these cases until now, Chief Irons would only say that the
S.T.A.R.S. have been assisting the RPD since the beginning
and that they would be a "welcome addition" to the task
force currently working on the murders full-time.
Founded in New York in 1967, the privately funded
S.T.A.R.S. organization was originally created as a measure
against cult-affiliated terrorism by a group of retired military
officials and ex-field operatives from both the CIA and FBI.
Under the guidance of former NSDA (National Security and
Defense Agency) director Marco Palmieri, the group quickly
expanded its services to include everything from hostage
negotiation and code breaking to riot control. Working with
local police agencies, each branch office of the S.T.A.R.S. is
designed to work as a complete unit itself. The S.T.A.R.S.
set up its Raccoon City branch through the fund-raising
efforts of several local businesses in 1972 and is currently
led by Captain Albert Wesker, promoted to the position less
than six months ago.
ONE
JILL WAS ALREADY LATE FOR THE BRIEFING
when she somehow managed to drop her keys into her
cup of coffee on the way out the door. There was a
muted ting as they hit the bottom, and as she paused
in mid-stride, staring in disbelief at the steaming
ceramic mug, the thick stack of files she carried under
her other arm slid smoothly to the floor. Paper clips
and sticky notes scattered across the tan carpeting.
"Ah, shit."
She checked her watch as she turned back toward
the kitchen, cup in hand. Wesker had called the
meeting for 1900 sharp, which meant she had about
nine minutes to make the ten-minute drive, find
parking and get her butt into a chair. The first full
disclosure meeting since the S.T.A.R.S. had gotten
the case - hell, the first real meeting since she'd made
the Raccoon transfer-and she was going to be late.
Figures. Probably the first time in years I actually
give a rat's ass about being on time and I fall apart at
the door. . . .
Muttering darkly she hurried to the sink, feeling
tense and angry with herself for not getting ready
earlier. It was the case, the goddamn case. She'd
picked up her copies of the ME files right after
breakfast and spent all day digging through the re-
ports, searching for something that the cops had
somehow missed and feeling more and more frus-
trated as the day slipped past and she'd failed to come
up with anything new.
She dumped the mug and scooped up the warm,
wet keys, wiping them against her jeans as she hurried
back to the front door. She crouched down to gather
the files-and stopped, staring down at the glossy
color photo that had ended up on top.
Oh, girls. . . .
She picked it up slowly, knowing that she didn't
have time and yet unable to look away from the tiny,
blood-spattered faces. She felt the knots of tension
that had been building all day intensify, and for a
moment it was all she could do to breathe as she
stared at the crime scene photo. Becky and Priscilla
McGee, ages nine and seven. She'd flipped past it
earlier, telling herself that there was nothing there she
needed to see. . . .
. . . But it isn 't true, is it? You can keep pretending,
or you can admit it-everything's different now, it's
been different since the day they died.
When she'd first moved to Raccoon, she'd been
under a lot of stress, feeling uncertain about the
transfer, not even sure if she wanted to stay with the
S.T.A.R.S. She was good at the job, but had only
taken it because of Dick; after the indictment, he'd
started to pressure her to get into another line of
work. It had taken awhile, but her father was persis-
tent, telling her again and again that one Valentine in
jail was one too many, even admitting that he was
wrong to raise her the way he had. With her training
and background, there weren't a whole lot of op-
tions - but the S.T.A.R.S., at least, appreciated her
skills and didn't care how she came by them. The pay
was decent, there was the element of risk she'd grown
to enjoy. ... In retrospect, the career change had
been surprisingly easy; it made Dick happy, and gave
her the opportunity to see how the other half lived.
Still, the move had been harder on her than she'd
realized. For the first time since Dick had gone inside,
she'd felt truly alone, and working for the law had
started to seem like a joke - the daughter of Dick
Valentine, working for truth, justice, and the Ameri-
can way. Her promotion to the Alphas, a nice little
house in the suburbs - it was crazy, and she'd been
giving serious thought to just blowing out of town,
giving the whole thing up, and going back to what
she'd been before. . . .
. . . until the two little girls who lived across the
street had shown up on her doorstep and asked her
with wide, tear-stained eyes if she was really a police-
man. Their parents were at work, and they couldn't
find their dog. . . .
. . . Becky in her green school dress, little Pris in her
overalls-both of them sniffling and shy . . .
The pup had been wandering through a garden only
a few blocks away, no sweat and she'd made two
new friends, as easy as that. The sisters had promptly
adopted Jill, showing up after school to bring her
scraggly bunches of flowers, playing in her yard on
weekends, singing her endless songs they'd learned
from movies and cartoons. It wasn't like the girls had
miraculously changed her outlook or taken away her
loneliness, but somehow her thoughts of leaving had
been put on a back burner, left alone for awhile. For
the first time in her twenty-three years, she'd started
to feel like a part of the community she lived and
worked in, the change so subtle and gradual that she'd
hardly noticed.
Six weeks ago, Becky and Pris had wandered away
from a family picnic in Victory Park and became
the first two victims of the psychopaths that had since
terrorized the isolated city.
The photo trembled slightly in her hand, sparing
her nothing. Becky lying on her back, staring blindly
at the sky, a gaping, ragged hole in her belly. Pris was
sprawled next to her, arms outstretched, chunks of
flesh ripped savagely from the slender limbs. Both
children had been eviscerated, dying of massive trau-
ma before they'd bled out. If they'd screamed, no one
had heard. . .
Enough! They're gone, but you can finally do some-
thing about it!
Jill fumbled the papers back into their folder, then
stepped outside into the early evening, breathing
deeply. The scent of freshly cut grass was heavy in the
sun-warmed air. Somewhere down the street, a dog
barked happily amidst the shouts of children.
She hurried to the small, dented gray hatchback
parked by the front walk, forcing herself not to look at
the silent McGee house as she started the car and
pulled away from the curb. Jill drove through the wide
suburban streets of her neighborhood, window down,
pushing the speed limit but careful to watch for kids
and pets. There weren't many of either around. Since
the trouble had started, more and more people were
keeping their children and animals indoors, even
during the day.
The little hatchback shuddered as she accelerated
up the ramp to Highway 202, the warm, dry air
whipping her long hair back from her face. It felt
good, like waking up from a bad dream. She sped
through the sun-dappled evening, the shadows of
trees growing long across the road.
Whether it was fate or just the luck of the draw, her
life had been touched by what was happening in
Raccoon City. She couldn't keep pretending that she
was just some jaded ex-thief trying to stay out of jail,
trying to toe the line to make her father happy, or
that what the S.T.A.R.S. were about to do was just
another job. It mattered. It mattered to her that those
children were dead, and that the killers were still free
to kill again.
The victim files next to her fluttered slightly, the top
of the folder caught by the wind; nine restless spirits,
perhaps, Becky and Priscilla McGee's among them.
She rested her right hand on the ruffled sheaf,
stilling the gentle movement and swore to herself
that no matter what it took, she was going to find out
who was responsible. Whatever she'd been before,
whatever she would be in the future, she had
changed . . . and wouldn't be able to rest until these
murderers of the innocent had been held accountable
for their actions.
"Yo, Chris!"
Chris turned away from the soda machine and saw
Forest Speyer striding down the empty hall toward
him, a wide grin on his tanned, boyish face. Forest
was actually a few years older than Chris, but looked
like a rebellious teenager - long hair, studded jean
jacket, a tattoo of a skull smoking a cigarette on his
left shoulder. He was also an excellent mechanic, and
one of the best shots Chris had ever seen in action.
"Hey, Forest. What's up?" Chris scooped up a can
of club soda from the machine's dispenser and
glanced at his watch. He still had a couple of minutes
before the meeting. He smiled tiredly as Forest
stopped in front of him, blue eyes sparkling. Forest
was carrying an armful of equipment-vest, utility
belt, and shoulder pack.
"Wesker gave Marini the go-ahead to start the
search. Bravo team's goin' in." Even excited, Forest's
Alabama twang slowed his words to a stereotypical
drawl. He dropped his stuff on one of the visitors'
chairs, still grinning widely.
Chris frowned. "When?"
"Now. Soon as I warm up the 'copter." Forest
pulled the kevlar vest on over his T-shirt as he spoke.
"While you Alphas sit taking notes, we're gonna go
kick some cannibal ass!"
Nothing if not confident, us S.T.A.R.S. "Yeah,
well. .. just watch your ass, okay? I still think there's
more going on here than a couple of slobbering nut
jobs hanging around in the woods."
"You know it." Forest pushed his hair back and
grabbed his utility belt, obviously already focused on
the mission. Chris thought about saying more, but
decided against it. For all of his bravado, Forest was a
professional; he didn't need to be told to be careful.
You sure about that, Chris? You think Billy was
careful enough?
Sighing inwardly, Chris slapped Forest's shoulder
lightly and headed for ops through the doorway of the
small upstairs waiting room and down the hall. He
was surprised that Wesker was sending the teams in
separately. Although it was standard for the less
experienced S.T.A.R.S. to do the initial recon, this
wasn't exactly a standard operation. The number of
deaths they were dealing with alone was enough to
call for a more aggressive offense. The fact that there
were signs of organization to the murders should have
brought it to A1 status, and Wesker was still treating it
like some kind of a training run.
Nobody else sees it; they didn't know Billy...
Chris thought again about the late-night call he'd
gotten last week from his childhood friend. He hadn't
heard from Billy in awhile, but knew that he'd taken a
research position with Umbrella, the pharmaceutical
company that was the single biggest contributor to the
economic prosperity of Raccoon City. Billy had never
been the type to jump at shadows, and the terrified
desperation in his voice had jolted Chris awake, filling
him with deep concern. Billy had babbled that his life
was in danger, that they were all in danger, begged
Chris to meet him at a diner at the edge of town and
then never showed up. No one had heard from him
since.
Chris had run it over and over again in his mind
during the sleepless nights since Billy's disappear-
ance, trying to convince himself that there was no
connection to the attacks on Raccoon and yet was
unable to shake his growing certainty that there was
more going on than met the eye, and that Billy had
known what it was. The cops had checked out Billy's
apartment and found nothing to indicate foul
play ... but Chris's instincts told him that his friend
was dead, and that he'd been killed by somebody who
wanted to keep him from talking.
And I seem to be the only one. Irons doesn't give a
shit, and the team thinks I'm just torn up over the loss
of an old friend.
He pushed the thoughts aside as he turned the
corner, his boot heels sending muted echoes through
the arched second floor corridor. He had to focus, to
keep his mind on what he could do to find out why
Billy had disappeared, but he was exhausted, run-
ning on a minimum of sleep and an almost constant
anxiety that had plagued him since Billy's call. Maybe
he was losing his perspective, his objectivity dulled by
recent events. . .
He forced himself not to think about anything at all
as he neared the S.T.A.R.S. office, determined to be
clear-headed for the meeting. The buzzing fluores-
cents above seemed like overkill in the blazing eve-
ning light that filled the tight hallway; the Raccoon
police building was a classic, if unconventional, piece
of architecture, lots of inlaid tile and heavy wood, but
it had too many windows designed to catch the sun.
When he'd been a kid, the building had been the
Raccoon City Hall. With the population increase a
decade back, it had been renovated as a library, and
four years ago, turned into a police station. It seemed
like there was always some kind of construction going
on.
The door to the S.T.A.R.S. office stood open, the
muted sounds of gruff male voices spilling out into
the hall. Chris hesitated a moment, hearing Chief
Irons's among them. "Just call me Brian" Irons was a
self-centered and self-serving politician masquerad-
ing as a cop. It was no secret that he had his sweaty
fingers in more than a few local pies. He'd even been
implicated in the Cider district land-scam back in '94,
and although nothing had been proved in court,
anyone who knew him personally didn't harbor any
doubt.
Chris shook his head, listening to Irons's greasy
voice. Hard to believe he'd once led the Raccoon
S.T.A.R.S., even as a paper-pusher. Maybe even hard-
er to believe that he'd probably end up as mayor
someday.
Of course, it doesn't help much that he hates your
guts, does it, Redfield?
Yeah, well. Chris didn't like to kiss ass, and Irons
didn't know how to have any other kind of relation-
ship. At least Irons wasn't a total incompetent, he'd
had some military training. Chris pasted on a straight
face and stepped into the small, cluttered office that
served as the S.T.A.R.S. filing cabinet and base of
operations.
Barry and Joseph were over by the rookie desk,
going through a box of papers and talking quietly.
Brad Vickers, the Alpha pilot, was drinking coffee and
staring at the main computer screen a few feet away, a
sour expression on his mild features. Across the room
Captain Wesker was leaning back in his chair, hands
behind his head, smiling blankly at something Chief
Irons was telling him. Irons's bulk was leaned against
Wesker's desk, one pudgy hand brushing at his care-
fully groomed mustache as he spoke.
"So I said, 'You're gonna print what I tell you to
print, Bertolucci, and you're gonna like it, or you'll
never get another quote from this office!' And he
says"
"Chris!" Wesker interrupted the chief, sitting for-
ward. "Good, you're here. Looks like we can stop
wasting time."
Irons scowled in his direction but Chris kept his
poker face. Wesker didn't care much for Irons, either,
and didn't bother trying to be any more than polite in
his dealings with the man. From the glint in his eye, it
was obvious that he didn't care who knew it, either.
Chris walked into the office and stood by the desk
he shared with Ken Sullivan, one of the Bravo team.
Since the teams usually worked different shifts, they
didn't need much room. He set the unopened can of
soda on the battered desktop and looked at Wesker.
"You're sending Bravo in?"
The captain gazed back at him impassively, arms
folded across his chest. "Standard procedure, Chris."
Chris sat down, frowning. "Yeah, but with what we
talked about last week, I thought"
Irons interrupted. "I gave the order, Redfield. I
know you think that there's some kind of cloak and
dagger going on here, but 7 don't see any reason to
deviate from policy."
Sanctimonious prick. . . .
Chris forced a smile, knowing it would irritate
Irons. "Of course, sir. No need to explain yourself on
my behalf."
Irons glared at him for a moment, his piggy little
eyes snapping, then apparently decided to let it drop.
He turned back to Wesker. "I'll expect a report when
Bravo returns. Now if you'll excuse me, Captain."
Wesker nodded. "Chief."
Irons stalked past Chris and out of the room. He'd
been gone less than a minute before Barry started in.
"Think the chief took a shit today? Maybe we all
oughtta chip in for Christmas, get him some laxa-
tives."
Joseph and Brad laughed, but Chris couldn't bring
himself to join in. Irons was a joke, but his mishan-
dling of this investigation wasn't all that funny. The
S.T.A.R.S. should've been called in at the beginning
instead of acting as RPD back up.
He looked back at Wesker, the man's perpetually
composed expression hard to read. Wesker had taken
over the Raccoon S.T.A.R.S. only a few months ago,
transferred by the home office in New York, and Chris
still didn't have any real insight into his character.
The new captain seemed to be everything he was
reputed to be: smooth, professional, cool, but there
was a kind of distance to him, a sense that he was
often far removed from what was going on.
Wesker sighed and stood up. "Sorry, Chris. I know
you wanted things to go different, but Irons didn't put
a whole lot of stock into your . . . misgivings."
Chris nodded. Wesker could make recommenda-
tions, but Irons was the only one who could upgrade a
mission's status. "Not your fault."
Barry walked toward them, scruffing at his short,
reddish beard with one giant fist. Barry Burton was
only six feet tall but built like a truck. His only
passion outside of his family and his weapons collec-
tion was weight lifting, and it showed.
"Don't sweat it, Chris. Marini will call us in the
second he smells trouble. Irons is just pullin' your
chain."
Chris nodded again, but he didn't like it. Hell,
Enrico Marini and Forest Speyer were the only experi-
enced soldiers in Bravo. Ken Sullivan was a good
scout and a brilliant chemist, but in spite of his
S.T.A.R.S. training, he couldn't shoot the broad side
of a barn. Richard Aiken was a top-rate communica-
tions expert, but he also lacked field experience.
Rounding out Bravo team was Rebecca Chambers,
who'd only been with the S.T.A.R.S. for three weeks,
supposed to be some kind of medical genius. Chris
had met her a couple of times and she seemed bright
摘要：

PROLOGUELathamWeekly,June2,1998BIZARREMURDERSCOMMITTEDINRACCOONCITY-Themutilatedbodyofforty-two-year-oldAnnaMitakiwasdiscoveredlateyesterdayinanabandonedlotnotfarfromherhomeinnorthwestRaccoonCity,makingherthefourthvictimofthesupposed"cannibalkillers"tobefoundinorneartheVictoryLakedistrictinthelastmo...

展开>> 收起<<
S. D. Perry - Resident Evil 01 - The Umbrella Conspiracy.pdf

共150页,预览10页

还剩页未读， 继续阅读

声明：本站为文档C2C交易模式，即用户上传的文档直接被用户下载，本站只是中间服务平台，本站所有文档下载所得的收益归上传人(含作者)所有。玖贝云文库仅提供信息存储空间，仅对用户上传内容的表现方式做保护处理，对上载内容本身不做任何修改或编辑。若文档所含内容侵犯了您的版权或隐私，请立即通知玖贝云文库，我们立即给予删除！

相关推荐

更多
立即下载
分类：外语学习 价格：5.9玖币 属性：150 页 大小：748.48KB 格式：PDF 时间：2024-12-04

开通VIP享超值会员特权

  • 多端同步记录
  • 高速下载文档
  • 免费文档工具
  • 分享文档赚钱
  • 每日登录抽奖
  • 优质衍生服务

作者详情

相关内容

更多

热门标签

人际关系 动力学连接体 力的合成 配电装置 高考理综 全宋诗作者索引 公务员考试
/ 150
评分 收藏
分享
立即下载 VIP免费下载
客服
关注