A Star's Descent

Chapter Twenty-Three: Complications

A Star's Descent

By evolution-500

Disclaimer: House of the Dead and Resident Evil are properties belonging to SEGA and Capcom respectively. I do not own any of these characters.

Chapter Twenty-Three: Complications

When William Birkin finally regained his senses, he got off the floor and headed down a catwalk through an archway.

As he navigated the various corridors, he took a look at the pieces of revolver in his hand.

A lump formed in his stomach, slowly rising up his throat, threatening to spill, his hands fidgeting nervously as they tried putting the pieces back together as he gave a frightened glance about.

How was it possible for him, a man with a PHD in virology, to find the process of putting back together a revolver more complicated than genetically engineering a lethal virus?

As he continued to struggle, quietly swearing each time he fumbled, Birkin continued to think about what had happened back there.

Who was this "Roy Curien"? Was that even his real name? How was he able to do the things that he was able to do? How did he know?

There were so many questions running through the researcher's brain.

Birkin wanted to think it nothing more than a prank or a delusion, but he'd be lying to himself.

He saw the impossible. Heard it. Felt it. Curien knew details that no one else had. Not even his own wife Annette knew the origins of G, let alone what he had done to the Trevor family.

Birkin's eyes lowered in contemplation as he reminisced on the exchange, on the man's demeanor and words.

There was something so...enticing about Curien's offer.

Granted, he wanted his own family to be safe, to be sure, but that alone wasn't what attracted him.

The truth was, he just wanted to know!

Curien had done the impossible; the revolver pieces were testament to that, and if he were to be believed, that was only the mere tip of the iceberg of what he could do.

And Birkin wanted to see the full extent of his knowledge and power. He wanted to know Curien's secrets.

The researcher stopped as he heard footfalls.

Someone was coming.

Ducking behind a wall, he watched from around the corner as a S.T.A.R.S. officer entered through a door, a big man with dark hair and a thick mustache.

Shit!

The man cast a glance around, then paused, narrowing his eyes.

Was he spotted?

The police officer took a couple steps toward his position, then picked up something. A note.

What was he reading?

As the police officer lifted his eyes, Birkin caught a glimpse of the note, then checked his pockets.

'Oh shit,' he thought.

It was a printout of Al's orders. They must have fallen out from Birkin's pocket when he wasn't looking.

The researcher mentally screamed a series of profanities.

'Ohhh, this isn't good,' he winced. Al was going to kill him.

* * * * *

Marini read the note, his jaw tightening.