Resident Evil: Blacklight

I slowly opened my eyes, the scenery in front of me blurry from the impact. Smoke and ash filled the air, stinging my lungs. I coughed, covering my mouth with a now-normal hand as I struggled to focus.

"Where…is this…?" I mumbled, squinting as my vision sharpened. A crumbling train lay behind me, its flames reaching at the roof of the tunnel, while ahead stood the charred entrance of what looked like a factory.

The sound of approaching footsteps snapped me out of my daze.

I turned quickly, pushing aside debris to stand.

"You…" My eyes widened as the soldiers leader stepped into view, seemingly untouched by the chaos. He looked far better than his men, most of whom lay broken and burned around us.

The man regarded me in silence before pressing a hand to his earpiece, his gas mask hiding any kind of emotions and thoughts he might have.

"Mission objective temporarily delayed." He said, his voice steady. He glanced at the corpses of his subordinates. "Yes, sir. They've been incapacitated...Understood. I won't fail."

Ending the call, he turned his attention to me, his hand lingering near his belt.

"Who are you? What do you want?" I demanded, suppressing the urge to attack.

"Alexander J. Mercer, codename: Prototype." He replied evenly. The words hit harder than I expected, though I'd already suspected the truth.

"Your actions pose a global threat." He continued. "You've destroyed a. government-affiliated research base and killed dozens of Blackwatch soldiers in the process. For that…" He reached for something at his waist. "You'll be terminated. The Blacklight strain isn't yours to sustain."

The mention of Blackwatch brought a surge of memories, unbidden and unwelcome.

The burning wreckage faded. In its place, I saw the blood-soaked laboratory. Bodies lay scattered, their limbs twisted unnaturally, blood pooling beneath them. The walls bore the marks of gunfire, while dismembered limbs painted a picture of carnage.

"Haah…haah…" My breaths came short and fast as I stared at the destruction.

My hands—no, claws—were slick with blood. The sharp metallic tang filled my senses.

"What have I done…? What…what should I do…?" I whispered, my body trembling.

Her voice rang out in my head, clear despite the chaos.

"Run. You have to run."

I blinked, snapping back to the present. The man still stood before me, his cold gaze unwavering.

"This isn't over." He said, tossing a flashbang toward me.

"Damn it!" I shielded my eyes as the device detonated, a burst of white light blinding me momentarily.

When I opened my eyes again, he was gone. The echoes of his words lingered.

"They couldn't have been Blackwatch." I muttered, my brows furrowed. "After what happened…They wouldn't send anything less than an army."

'But if not Blackwatch, then who? And why frame them?'

Before I could think about it any longer a familiar voice pulled me from my thoughts "Alex!"

"Rebecca?" I turned, spotting her wounded figure approaching.

She was limping but alive. Relief washed over me as I hurried to her side, offering support. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah…just shaken." She managed a weak chuckle.

"That's normal." I said, trying to lighten the mood. "It's not every day you survive a train crash."

"About the train." She began, her voice uncertain. "Coen said someone—" Her words faltered as her eyes landed on the bodies strewn across the ground.

"Those soldiers…what happened here?" Her voice was tinged with disbelief as she turned to me. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." I assured her. "They…I don't know what they wanted, but I used the lever before they could do anything."

Her gaze lingered on me, skeptical. "You're hurt."

I glanced down at the cuts and burns on my body, most of which were already healed. "It's nothing. Really."

Rebecca frowned but let it drop. "Even so, we should treat what we can."

"Let's do that somewhere safer, yeah? Not next to a flaming train."

Her cheeks reddened slightly. "Right."

We turned away from the train, but the sound of gunfire stopped us in our tracks.

"What the—?" Rebecca gasped as several zombies collapsed behind us, their heads blown apart.

"I didn't even hear them coming." I muttered, the roar of the flames and the crash masking their approach.

"Saved your asses, huh?" Coen appeared, gun still in hand, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Don't let it go to your head." I said dryly. "Nice work stopping the train, by the way."

"Yeah, yeah." He rolled his eyes. "Not sure we'd be alive if you'd been at the controls."

I couldn't help but laugh in response. "Fair point."

"Are you hurt?" Rebecca asked, slipping into her role as a medic.

"Now you ask?" Coen teased with mock indignation. "I'm fine, Doc. No need to worry."

"Who's worried?" Rebecca scoffed, but there was a faint smile on her face. "Let's get inside. We need to figure out what's next."

"Yes ma'am." I said with a mock salute, earning a glare from her.

The three of us turned toward the looming factory, its shadow swallowing us as we stepped into the unknown.

…

"Uuuhh… is this a sewer?" Rebecca groaned, covering her nose as she peered into the narrow, foul-smelling space below.

"Not exactly what I was expecting…" I muttered, my gaze landing on the green water that filled the passage.

"Stop whining. It's still bearable." Coen said, already splashing into the murky liquid. It reached his knees, but he didn't seem to care.

"I just don't want to smell like…whatever this is." I replied, my nose scrunching as the stench hit me full force.

"Our only way forward, so deal with it." Coen shot back, rolling his eyes.

"Fine." I sighed, reluctantly stepping in after him. The cold, slimy water soaked through my boots immediately, sending an unpleasant shiver up my spine. As I adjusted to the water's weight, I felt something unexpected latch onto my back.

"Rebecca, what are you doing?" I turned my head slightly, catching her smug grin.

"What? There's no reason for me to get in as long as you're here, right?" She said sweetly. "I'm the medic. If I get sick, who's going to patch you up?"

"I'm pretty sure this won't kill you." I said flatly.

Rebecca scoffed, feigning indignation. "Clearly, you've never heard of the bacteria and viruses that thrive in places like this. Do you want to deal with tetanus or dysentery?"

"You can't be serious…" I muttered, shaking my head in disbelief. Turning to Coen, I gave him a pleading look.

"No." He said firmly, not even bothering to look back.

"Well, at least I tried." I mumbled, trudging onward with Rebecca perched smugly on my shoulders.

…

It wasn't long before we reached the end of the sewer. A rusted metal ladder stood waiting for us, offering a merciful escape.

We climbed out through a hatch, emerging into a vast, cavernous hall. The air was still and heavy, lit by a massive chandelier hanging from the ceiling. A grand staircase dominated the room, leading up to a towering portrait flanked by torches. Two smaller staircases branched off to the left and right, winding their way to the upper floor.

"This is…an Umbrella research center?" Coen muttered, his voice tinged with suspicion. His eyes fell on the giant Umbrella logo emblazoned on the floor.

"A research center for what?" I asked, glancing at Rebecca. "Last I heard, they were just a pharmaceutical company."

"There's a lot more to making top-tier products than you'd think." Rebecca said as she ascended the staircase, her eyes fixed on the portrait.

When we reached the top, I got a better look at the man in the painting—a bald figure with a sharp, calculating expression.

"James Marcus." Rebecca said, her voice low. "One of Umbrella's founders."

I stared at the portrait, a strange sense of familiarity gnawing at the edges of my memory. It didn't take long to piece it together.

"Wait…he's the guy whose head fell back on the train, isn't he?" I asked, glancing at Rebecca for confirmation.

"Yeah." She said, nodding slowly. "I didn't recognize him at first, but it's definitely him."

"So…he's dead?" I asked, stating the obvious.

"That's the thing." Coen began, his voice uneasy. "He's been dead for over ten—"

Before he could finish, a distorted voice echoed through the room, cutting him off.

"Attention. This is Dr. Marcus."

The voice crackled through hidden speakers, sending a chill down my spine. We froze, our eyes darting around the room as the announcement continued.

"Please be silent as we reflect upon our company motto: Obedience breeds discipline. Discipline breeds unity. Unity breeds power. Power…is life." The voice carried an unsettling authority, each word dripping with pride and malice.

"What the hell is this?" Coen muttered, his hand hovering near his gun as he scanned the room.

"I don't know, but that motto alone is enough to make my skin crawl." I replied, gripping my weapon tightly despite no immediate threat.

As we exchanged uneasy glances, the voice grew louder, more boastful, delivering a bombshell that left us reeling.

"It was I who scattered the T-Virus in the mansion. Needless to say, I contaminated the train too." The man—Dr. Marcus—let out a proud chuckle, the sound echoing ominously.

"A virus…" I muttered, my stomach twisting. The implications were horrifying. 'What is Birkin's involvement in this?' My thoughts raced, my brows furrowing in unease.

"The T-Virus?" Rebecca repeated, her voice trembling as realization struck. "Is that what turned those people into…monsters?" Her fists clenched at her sides, anger mingling with fear.

"Hey, this guy mentioned a mansion." Billy said, his tone sharp. "You two know anything about that?"

"Yeah, there should be one in the mountains." Rebecca replied, her gaze fixed on the floor. "But I don't think we're anywhere close to it."

"Well, that's one problem off the list." I muttered, trying to focus despite the weight of Marcus's words pressing down on me.

"And it is all…for my revenge on Umbrella!" Marcus's voice grew darker, dripping with venom. "Ten years ago, Dr. Marcus was murdered by Umbrella. You helped them…didn't you?" His bitter laughter faded into silence, leaving only the faint hum of the speakers.

"Maybe…we should take a break." I suggested after a moment. The weight of the revelations was suffocating, and both Coen and Rebecca nodded in agreement.

…

Later, we sat on the cold floor of the grand hall, Rebecca rifling through her med kit. Her movements were quick but precise.

"I don't have much." She muttered with a sigh. "Thought this mission would be a lot simpler."

"It's a lesson for next time." I said, forcing a small chuckle to lighten the mood.

"There won't be a next time." She shot back firmly, her eyes narrowing as she pulled out a first-aid spray. "Alright, show me the wounds."

"Coen can go first. I'm fine." I said, waving her off.

"Don't play the tough guy, kid." Coen scoffed, shaking his head. "We both saw you with a few hits back at the train."

"Kid, really?" I shot him a glare. "You're six years older than me, old man. Take it easy."

"Oh, great, now you're both acting like children." Rebecca chimed in, a faint smile breaking through her exhaustion as she tightened a bandage around Billy's arm.

"He started it." I muttered, realizing how childish I sounded.

"Moving on." Coen said with a chuckle, standing as Rebecca finished tending to his wounds.

Rebecca turned to me, supplies still in hand. "Your turn."

"I told you, Rebecca, I'm fine." I insisted, shaking my head.

"Alex, seriously. Don't be stubborn." She replied, her expression softening into concern. "Just let me help."

"I'm not being stubborn. If I need help, I'll ask. I promise." I said firmly, locking eyes with her. I couldn't let them see how quickly I healed.

Rebecca hesitated but eventually sighed. "Fine."

I took the first-aid spray from her hand. "Here, let me help you instead."

"Huh?" She blinked, caught off guard by the offer. "Uh, thanks." She said, sitting down and letting me tend to her wounds.

As I sprayed the disinfectant, I noticed the unmistakable Umbrella logo on the canister. "This is made by Umbrella?" I asked, the irony not lost on me.

"Yeah, the R.P.D. gets its medical supplies from them. They've got the best stuff." Rebecca replied with a shrug.

Coen, leaning against the wall, folded his arms. "Umbrella…that guy mentioned them, didn't he?"

"He's out for revenge." I said, my mind replaying Marcus's speech.

"But why say all that?" Rebecca asked, her brow furrowed. "It didn't seem like he was talking to us."

"We're not alone." I said grimly. "Back at the train, I saw one of the soldiers—probably their leader—escape. There could be more people here."

Coen let out a heavy sigh. "Great. A trained soldier breathing down our necks. Just what we need."

Rebecca frowned. "But that doesn't explain anything. What do they want? Who was Marcus talking to? And what is the T-Virus?"

"That's the problem. We don't know anything." Coen said. "We're running blind—no goal, no information, and no way out."

I stood as I finished treating Rebecca. "Then we change that. We'll figure out what the T-Virus is, who Marcus really is, and what this place is hiding. After that? We get the hell out of here, find the others, and leave this nightmare behind."

Rebecca's resolve seemed to strengthen at my words. "Yeah. Now that I know what's going on here, I can't just walk away. We need answers."

Coen nodded reluctantly. "I'm with you. But once we're out of here, I'm going my own way."

Rebecca and I exchanged a glance, unsure how to respond.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there." I said finally. For now, survival was our only priority.

…

"Captain Enrico, do you copy? Over." I spoke into Rebecca's walkie-talkie, my voice cutting through the heavy silence.

Only static answered, the crackling noise grating against the quiet tension in the hall.

"Dammit…" I muttered under my breath, gripping the device tighter.

"Edward, do you copy? Over." I tried again, my tone a mix of frustration and faint hope.

Rebecca's brow furrowed as she glanced at me. "We might be too far away…" Her words sounded like reassurance, but the uncertainty in her voice gave her away.

"Being locked in here probably isn't helping either." Coen added, scanning the area as if expecting the static to give way to something worse.

"They'll call back." I said, handing the walkie-talkie back to Rebecca. It was more a hope than a promise. "Let's keep moving. We won't find answers just standing around."

With that, we climbed the stairs, passing the faded portrait at the landing and reaching the second floor. A statue of a woman holding scales stood above the portrait, her expression cold and judgmental.

"There's something written here." Coen said, crouching by the statue's base. He ran a finger across the engraved text, reading it aloud:

"When good and evil are brought into balance, a new path will be open before you."

"A puzzle." I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Who even designs this crap? It's worse than the R.P.D."

"Maybe it's not relevant." Rebecca offered with a shrug, though her tone was less than convincing.

"Doubt it." I muttered.

"Doesn't matter. If we find anything that fits, we'll come back." Coen said, giving the scales one last look before motioning us forward.

…

We pushed through the double doors in front of the statue, stepping into a small conference room. The air was thick, the scent of something burnt lingering near the crackling fireplace on the east side.

"This place…" I stopped as my eyes landed on the torn body of a soldier sprawled near the fire. His military gear was ripped apart, blood pooling around him.

"Soldiers." Coen muttered grimly, crouching near the body.

Rebecca staggered back, her hand covering her mouth. "Ugh…I don't think I'll ever get used to this."

"Good." I said, my voice flat as I forced myself to look at the remains. "It should never be easy to see something like this."

"He hasn't been dead long." Coen said, inspecting the wounds. "His friends might still be nearby."

"You think so?" Rebecca asked, her voice shaking. "Why are they even here?"

The question hung in the air. Neither of us had an answer. My attention shifted to a file on the desk near the fireplace. I skimmed through its pages, the bloodstains a grim backdrop to the words inside.

"These are orders…meant for the soldiers." I said, my brow furrowing as I read further. "They were warned about the infected and mutations in animals. Their mission was to clear this place."

"Hell of a job they did." Coen scoffed, standing.

Rebecca leaned over my shoulder, her voice barely above a whisper. "Who sent them?"

My brows furrowed. "Umbrella."

Rebecca's face fell, her expression a mixture of disbelief and betrayal. "Umbrella…? But they're one of the biggest pharmaceutical companies in the world! Why would they—?"

"They're at the top, Rebecca." I cut in, my tone bitter. "And when people reach the top, they start looking for what's beyond it. Beyond humanity."

She lowered her head, her voice trembling. "I admired them. I thought they…I thought they were helping people."

Her quiet words hit harder than I expected. I exhaled slowly, trying to ease the growing knot in my chest.

"At least now we have a lead." Coen said, attempting to lighten the mood. "Umbrella created the T-Virus—or was at least involved."

"Yeah." I murmured, though my thoughts lingered on Umbrella's involvement, and it's implications.

Before I could say more, a loud clatter drew our attention. I turned sharply to see a shotgun fall from under the desk.

"A shotgun?" I looked in surprise at the weapon.

"Is it loaded?" Coen raised an eyebrow.

I checked the cartridge and nodded. "Fully."

I glanced at Rebecca. "Want it?"

She shook her head, offering a weak smile. "I've got enough on me already."

I turned to Coen, holding out the weapon. "Here. You take it."

He raised a brow. "You trust me with this?"

"Not really." I replied flatly, "but if we want to make it out of here, we need to be armed. Just don't get any funny ideas."

He chuckled, strapping the shotgun to his side. "You got it, boss."

…

A few minutes passed as we trudged onward, the silence broken only by our footsteps echoing down the dim corridor. Eventually, we reached a small library. Dust coated the shelves, and the faint scent of mildew hung in the air.

In the corner of the room, a peculiar statue rested on a table beside a metallic ladder.

"Is this supposed to be a devil?" I muttered, picking up the dark-winged figure. Its head was missing, leaving jagged edges where it should've been. "Why is this even here?"

"Don't bother trying to understand." Coen replied, leaning against the ladder. "The people who built this place clearly weren't in their right minds. Trying to make sense of their thought process is a waste of time."

Rebecca stepped closer, studying the statue. "Could this be for the puzzle from earlier? Good and evil, devils and angels—it fits, doesn't it?"

Coen shrugged. "Maybe. Let's see if we can find the other half first, then we'll go back and check."

I sighed. "Am I the only one getting tired of all this running in circles?"

"Definitely not." Rebecca muttered, earning a nod of agreement from Coen.

…

We climbed the ladder, the sound of rain growing louder as we approaced the top. Finally, we stepped out into the open air.

The outside section of the facility consisted of narrow balconies stretching around the building. The metal railings were slick with rain, and the storm above cast everything in shades of gray.

"What if we jumped from here?" I asked, peering over the edge at the sheer drop below.

"Sure." Coen replied dryly, rolling his eyes. "It'll kill us instantly, after all. Great plan."

"Speak for yourself." I muttered under my breath, stepping back from the railing.

We continued forward, but the familiar sound of groaning stopped us in our tracks. From the shadows of the rain, two figures shambled into view, their jerky movements and lifeless eyes unmistakable.

"They're here too." Rebecca sighed, raising her gun.

"You didn't expect this place to be zombie-free, did you?" I replied, shaking my head.

"How about we leave the commentary for later?" Coen interrupted, already aiming his weapon.

Between the three of us, the zombies didn't stand a chance. Gunshots rang out, echoing into the storm, and the creatures crumpled to the ground in seconds, bullet holes dotting their skulls.

"Let's keep moving." Coen said, lowering his gun. "We shouldn't waste ammo unless we have to."

We stepped over the bodies and reached the end of the balcony, where a wooden door stood. Coen turned the handle cautiously, but the moment it opened, a guttural growl erupted from within.

A zombified soldier lunged at Coen, its rotten teeth snapping inches from his throat.

"Shit!" Coen stumbled back, barely dodging the attack.

I didn't hesitate. My gun roared, the shot tearing through the soldier's skull. Blood and bone sprayed across the doorframe as its body collapsed to the ground.

"...Thanks." Coen muttered, catching his breath.

"No problem." I replied, stepping past the corpse and into the hallway beyond.

The space was narrow, dimly lit, with peeling wallpaper and a faint metallic smell that hinted at blood. A set of double doors stood on the right.

Coen motioned for silence, and we approached the doors cautiously. I pushed one open just enough to peek inside, scanning the room for threats.

"Clear." I whispered, and we stepped in.

The room looked like a private study. Bookshelves lined the walls, a desk sat near the center with a half-drawn map spread across it, and in the corner was a manual elevator with a lever beside it.

"Should we go up?" Coen asked, nodding toward the elevator.

Rebecca frowned, eyeing the lever. "Wouldn't that mean someone has to stay here?"

"There could be something important up there." I said, considering the risk.

"I say we check it out." Coen declared, already moving toward the platform.

"Rebecca, can you stay here?" I asked, turning to her.

"Why me? I want to help!" She protested, crossing her arms.

"It's safer this way." I said, trying to keep my tone even. "You're the medic. If something happens to you–"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. 'who's going to patch us up', right?" Rebecca's shoulders slumped, and she sighed heavily.

I nodded, softening my voice. "I know you don't want to let us go into danger alone, but I don't want anything to happen to you either."

Her lips tightened into a thin line, but she nodded reluctantly and moved to stand beside the lever.

Coen and I stepped onto the platform, and Rebecca began cranking the lever to lift us.

"So…" Coen said, breaking the silence as the elevator creaked upward. "Guess you don't care if something happens to me, huh?"

"You're the one who said it." I replied with a smirk, though I didn't entirely disagree. At the end of the day, Billy Coen was still a criminal.

For now, we were just trying to survive together. How long that would last, though…I couldn't say.