Metal Thunder (Karl Heisenberg - Resident Evil)

Chapter 15 - The Scrapheap

The water was warm, stagnant, and full of foundered scraps as Emily swam to the surface. It took longer than she anticipated even though the river had no current to drag her down deeper, she wasn't the strongest swimmer but had learned enough survival skills in her years of hiding to master the basics. When she reached the surface, she gasped for air, grateful that to her left, an exit wasn't far. As she grabbed the curb and pulled herself out, she glanced up to see it was indeed a long fall, the train of Soldats hung above her on the production line like tiny ants on branches now that they were barely visible.

Emily looked for the bridge she had come from, but it was difficult to pinpoint at first and there was no sign or sound of her stalker, so it was safe to assume she had lost them but for how long? And how long would it be once Heisenberg realized the action she was about to initiate against him? The very thing she didn't want to do, you gave me no choice, she reminded herself and the chills spread through her body as she made her way to the single vent at the foot of the wall and pulled the barred door off. She crawled through the dark ducts, her heart thudded like something was down here, something that she was not supposed to discover, it was something Heisenberg warned her about. Was it forbidden or was he just afraid of it? Emily did not know why she was sensing this, but she had recalled it as she crawled through the duct, like

In terms of what you could consider off-limits, well there's B5, which is disposal. There's no real need for you to go down there, it's just full of scrap that can't be used in building my army and there's also shit that I can't get rid of, or control. That was what he had said to her when he gave her a tour of this factory and she had asked him about any restricted areas. All Emily knew was that she had to be on the factory's lowest level, B5, and Heisenberg's words were crystalline in the warning. But the question was, what was it?

Emily crawled out of the vent after it took her around a corner and pushed the large metal slant aside and stepped into the dimly lit room.

"Where am I now?" she wondered as she looked around. There were only two sources of light in this room, one on the far right wall and another opposite the vent leading to what looked like an elevator. The place was cluttered with piles of tools, pieces from broken-down cars, tractors, discarded oil drums, and large crates that one might see on a cargo ship. If I had to describe this room, I'd call it Scrapheap, but why would Heisenberg not want me down here? I shouldn't be here, but I feel like I have to be, it's my only way out of this, even by force, she thought, and then her answer came, it was evident it was the elephant in the room when she saw it.

Parallel to the iron pillars was a strange vehicle that looked like it was constructed from several other vehicles that were taken apart. It had two sets of continuous tracks on each side like from a tank and a single wheel and headlight above it at the anterior protruding from a menacing metal ripper blade from a bulldozer, with its claws facing outward. From the front view, the claws instantly reminded her of Snaggletooth: the mascot for Motorhead who were another one of her favourite bands. This thing might as well serve as an imitation of that band's album cover of Orgasmatron if it had eyes and more teeth. Atop the hub of the vehicle was a single iron seat and two handles with triggers instead of a steering wheel. The left contained a chainsaw and on the right, a cannon and machine gun and a massive engine brought up the rear. Emily stared at the vehicle curiously, it was a unique piece of machinery, albeit not perfectly built. But what could be so bad about this, it was just another one of his creations was it?

Emily approached the artillery and saw attached to its seat was a note in bold letters that said:

WARNING! To anyone who stumbles upon this chamber, firstly, fuck you.

Do not, I repeat, DO NOT even think about using, touching, or even looking at this pile of scrap metal! This self-propelled artillery was designed by one of my ancestors who, like me, wanted to use this factory to do things with solid steel. But it's made out of a metal/polymer composite, which is apparently unaffected by magnetism, in other words, it means I can't control it. I've tried for years to dispose of it but I'm too afraid to go down there.