Resident Evil: Exodus - The Tale of Elza Walker

Interlude 1

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The old RPD station was fully engulfed in flames by the time it received its next set of human visitors. They stood across the street in the shadows of one of the nearby buildings, watching as it burned. There were about a half-dozen or so of them, all dressed in the black paramilitary gear of the Umbrella Security Service (U.S.S.), save that each had customized it according to their peculiar vocation or tastes. Their leader, a middle-aged woman of firm athletic build, who was wearing an open-faced lit gas mask, turned to the hooded figure who stood next to her. He was a tall man whose every movement seemed to mask his figure in shadow. "What do you think?" she asked, in a raspy voice that might have belonged to a twelve-pack-a-day smoker.

The hooded man shook his head. "Not a chance," he answered in a chilly but contemplative tone.

"I agree," the woman replied.

She was about to say more, but a big burly member of the group interrupted her. "What the fuck do we do now?" he demanded.

"Report in," the woman answered calmly, "and see what happens."

The burly man scowled even as the woman raised her hand to her headset. "Control, this is Wolf Pack. Current target is completely engulfed in flames. We can't reach it. Visual feed on channel. Are you receiving, over?"

There was a pause, and then a tinny male voice with more than a hint of a hiss in it sounded in the group's headsets. "We are receiving, over." There was a pause, and then the voice spoke again. "What does your best man say?"

The woman looked at the hooded figure. "Not even he's willing to risk the fire," she responded coldly. As if to accent her words, there was a crashing noise from the direction of the old RPD. As they watched, the upper floors of the building collapsed and fell inward, sending flaming debris and smoke everywhere.

"Confirmed," came the voice again. "New orders. We will send a regular U.S.S. team to sift the ruins and see if they can find anything. Proceed to your next target. Out."

The woman lowered her hand from her headset. As she did so, the burly man spat on the ground. "One of these days I'm gonna kill that sunnuvabitch," he growled.

"I'd like to see you try," said the second woman in the group, of short build and with obvious Oriental features behind her own gas mask.

The burly man turned on her. "Oh, YEAH?!" he bellowed. "Well WHO THE FUCK ASKED YOU?!?!"

"SHUT UP!!!" roared the middle-aged woman. The burly man stopped cold. The middle aged woman walked up to him and pointed an accusing finger in his face. Despite their differences in size, it was obvious who was in charge here. "Shut your hole. Remember who pays your checks."

There was a long pause, and then the burly man backed down. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered, as he lowered his head and slunk back into his place among the group.

"All right," the middle-aged woman continued, her glare taking in everyone in the group. "You heard the man. We leave this mess for HUNK's pretty boys to clean up. As for us, we proceed to our next target. Now let's move, people."

With that, the black-clad group dissolved into the night.