Resident Evil - Primal Imperative Ch. 02

The Resident Evil series is owned by Capcom.

All characters are 18+.

- - -

1.3

She wasn't dead.

That was the first thing Jill realized as she picked herself up off the street. The second thing she realized was that she was alone.

Jill stood on shaky legs, her whole body sore and aching from the near-brush with death. Coughing, she stared at the mass of twisted metal that lay across the street. The corpse that used to be their helicopter, its husk now blackened from smoke and fire. And adorning it were the charred bodies of the Lickers that brought it down.

Fucking things... I thought I was done with them...

They had very nearly killed her. Jill felt a spike of fear as she wondered: Did they kill Rebecca?

There came a voice then, hollering over the wreckage of the helicopter. A man's voice. One that Jill was both relieved and frustrated to hear.

"Anyone alive over there?" Dalton called out again, his voice booming over the sound of the crackling fire. "Sound off!"

Jill spat out a glob of blood, groaning as she rose to her full height. A dull pain thrummed along her back. Nothing broken, she could tell, but bruises would definitely be sore in the morning. If she even lived that long.

"I'm here!" She cried out.

Jill slowly moved to the back end of the helicopter. There she was able to see across to the other side of the street. And to her joy, there stood Rebecca! The medic looked a little roughed up and she was missing her kevlar, but other than that Jill's old friend was alive and well!

"Good to see you made it in one piece, Jill." Rebecca called out to her across the wreckage. Jill could see her friend was smiling, the shorter woman just happy as she was.

"Likewise." Jill said, groaning as she clutched her aching side. Jill gestured to Rebecca's missing kevlar vest... and the bloody spot on her right flank under her arm. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. Nothing I can't walk off." Rebecca assured her.

Jill nodded. She wished she was on the other side of the wreckage. Because at least then she could at least make sure Rebecca was fine. Years of service together left Jill knowing what kind of woman Rebecca was, the selfless type who downplayed her own injuries.

"Anyone alive on your side?" Dalton asked, moving his bulk up behind Rebecca. Unlike the medic, the man was still decked out in all his gear. The surprise Licker attack apparently left the Umbrella mercenary no worse for wear, Jill noted bitterly.

"No. Just me." Jill answered regretfully.

Of all the people we just lost - good people - he's the one who makes it. Typical.

"Damn." She heard Dalton say. Then he shouted again. "Were you close with any of those guys?"

Jill scowled at him through the crackling fire.

"Don't get all buddy-buddy with me." She snapped back. "I don't need sympathy from an Umbrella merc."

Again, Dalton took the shut-down in stride. Or at least, he didn't seem openly offended. He gave a snort and a half-shrug.

"Just checking if you're still all there." He said flatly. Then, even through the fire, Jill caught a dirty look in his eyes. The tiniest smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Can't have you breaking down emotionally. We've still got a mission to complete."

The stab against Jill's capabilities were clear. But Jill just didn't have the energy to rise to Dalton's bait.

"Can you find a way over to us?" Rebecca cut in, shooting Dalton a sour look out of the corner of her eyes.

Jill shook her head.

"None that I can see." She called over to the mismatched pair. Jill glanced off to the side of the street, spotting a bank with a gaping hole in its concrete wall. It seemed she had spoken too soon. "I could cut through that building, work my way over to you. But that will take some time."

"We can't afford to sit here and wait for you." Dalton shouted, his voice firm and commanded. He was no longer teasing, she knew. The man was dead serious. "The clock's still ticking, Valentine. Ladybug is waiting for us. We gotta move."

Jill scowled at the meathead slab of muscle. Who did he think he was? Trying to leave Jill behind so he could possibly try some bullshit with Rebecca?

Over my dead body...

"If you think I'm just going to leave you alone with her-"

"He's right, Jill." Rebecca cut her off. Jill blinked, shocked that her friend was actually agreeing with the mercenary. Rebecca continued on before Jill could raise a protest. "If the red zone has already gotten this bad, how long do you think Ladybug can hold out at the Tricell HQ? We just don't have the time to wait."

Jill let the point simmer. Taking a deep breath, feeling the ache in her ribs as she did so, the BSAA golden girl gave a nod. Dalton's pragmatism made sense. It was the best thing for the mission. But that didn't mean Jill had to like it.

"Are you sure?" Jill asked. But she already knew Rebecca's answer.

"I'm a big girl, Jill. I can take care of myself." The medic said. The faint smile on Rebecca's face alleviated Jill's concerns. But only a little.

Jill returned Rebecca's smile. Then she turned her eyes onto Dalton, her face twisting into a withering glare. She pointed at him accusingly.

"If anything - anything - happens to her..." Jill warned. She didn't even need to finish the sentence. Her intent was clear.

"Miss Chambers will be perfectly safe with me." Dalton promised. Though the smugness that colored his voice did not instill much faith in Jill. "You have my word."

And your word is worth jack shit, Jill thought icily.

"I'll try and catch up. Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone." Jill directed her concern at Rebecca. And only Rebecca. The shorter woman had already survived so much. She wasn't going to die tonight. Not because of a meathead like Dalton. Jill would not allow it.

"Wouldn't dream of it!" Rebecca shouted back at her. They both noted with distaste that Dalton was already departing. The medic began to edge away from the crashed helo in his direction, throwing one last smile Jill's way. "See you in a few?"

"You bet!" Jill answered.

Then the pair was out of sight. And Jill was alone.

The brunette breathed in, willing herself to ignore the aches and pains that spotted her body. She picked up a discarded pistol from the ground. Whether it belonged to one of the BSAA guys or to one of the T-U mercs didn't matter. They wouldn't be needing it anymore.

Jill checked the weapon, making sure she had a full magazine. Satisfied that she was no longer completely toothless, the BSAA operative turned from the blazing wreckage and headed into the bank.

She didn't like splitting up. She had seen enough horror flicks to know how bad of an idea that was. But the mission came first.

Jill could only hope that she made the right decision.

- - -

Sheer, dumb luck. That was the only reason Rebecca was still alive. That, and the timely intervention of one John Dalton.

Had the spike struck just a little higher, it'd have been buried deep in her neck. A killing blow. Instead, it was stopped by her kevlar vest. She walked away with a superficial cut in her side that looked worse than it was. But the same could not be said for the rest of the team.

Rebecca frowned, the chaos of their botched landing replaying in her mind. Almost their entire squad had been wiped out. Only Jill, Dalton, and herself remained. And with Jill separated by the wreckage, that left Rebecca alone with Dalton. Alone with an Umbrella attack dog.

But he saved me, didn't he?

If not for Dalton, his cool head, and his borderline superhuman aim, Rebecca would have been Licker-chow. Rebecca owed the man her life, as reluctant as she was to admit it.

Dalton had been right that the mission came first. But the truth was that Rebecca didn't need to go with him. She could have stayed put and waited for Jill to link up with her. But she didn't. She chose to go with Dalton. The truth was that going with Dalton was the safer choice.

Rebecca gave a quiet huff at the absurdity of it. The man on Umbrella's payroll was the safer option.

But even when sticking close to the man who could protect her, Rebecca still felt a sense of vulnerability. Like she was a doe walking alongside a mountain lion.

The fact that she had to ditch her ruined kevlar only made that feeling worse. She felt exposed, walking through hell in cargo pants and a white, sleeveless shirt. Underneath was a sports bra and her BSAA dog tags. And walking beside Dalton, who was decked out from head to toe in top-of-the-line gear, only exacerbated the feeling.

And even under all that gear, the perfection of Dalton's physique was plain as day. He was a walking Greek statue, Adonis made flesh.

No, not Adonis. Hercules.

Rebecca quickly smothered those thoughts. Dalton's looks could not be denied. But he was still a smug jackass. Even if he did save her life...

The odd pair continued on, moving briskly through the ruined city streets of downtown Toronto. They were only a few blocks away from the target building. Rebecca just hoped that Ladybug was still there and in one piece.

Eventually, they came upon the corpse of a Licker. From what Rebecca could see, it was the same breed as the kind that brought down their helicopter.

Dalton slowed to a stop near the dead creature, inspecting it with muted curiosity. Rebecca felt uneasy as the man nudged the body with his boot.

"Gnarly looking thing." He muttered. Then he glanced towards Rebecca. "What was it that Valentine called it? A Licker?"

"Yeah. She faced these creatures in Raccoon City." Rebecca dropped into a squat to get a closer look. She narrowed her eyes as she took in all the ugly details. "But these Lickers look different. Mutated. The ones that Jill fought didn't have tails. And they definitely didn't have those nasty spikes."

Dalton gave a grunt of acknowledgement, dropping to one knee beside Rebecca.

"How's your chest by the way?" He asked. Rebecca took note that the man almost sounded concerned. "That was a hard hit you took back there. Looked pretty bad."

It certainly sounded genuine, this attempt of his to be friendly. And so far he seemed to be the pragmatic sort. It made sense that Dalton would try to smooth things over with the only other person he could rely on in this damned city.

But Rebecca still didn't trust him. Not completely. Jill didn't like him one bit. And Rebecca knew better than anyone: Jill Valentine's gut feeling was rarely wrong.

"I'll worry about my chest, thank you very much." Rebecca rebuked him firmly. She stood up quickly then, stepping away from Dalton. She ignored the stinging pain emanating from the cut along her ribs. "Keep your eyes - your focus - on the BOWs."

Dalton rose as well. Rebecca took another step back, unconsciously shrinking her body in the face of the man's imposing height and frame. Like before, Dalton didn't seem to take her distrust personally. He merely gave a shrug and continued on.

"Whatever you say, Doc."

Rebecca trained her eyes on the merc's broad, muscled back for a moment. Then, with a sigh, she started to follow him.

Desperate times... Getting into bed with Umbrella thugs...

Bed...

Dalton didn't seem the type to take women to bed, Rebecca noted wryly. With his irreverent demeanor and his hard, roguish looks, he looked more like the kind of man who'd take a woman wherever he could. In the shower, on the floor, on the dining room table...

Rebecca blinked. She shook her head, frowning. Doing her best to ignore the ridiculous, absurd, completely unwanted sensation stirring in her belly.

No, the medic chided herself. Get your head on straight, Rebecca. You can't think like that on a mission. Not about a guy like him.

Still... she had to be pragmatic, too. Dalton was not a man to be trusted - at least not under normal circumstances. But he had the bigger gun. Hell, he was the bigger gun.

"They really armed you to the teeth, didn't they?" Rebecca found herself saying to Dalton, eyeing the heavily modified assault rifle he was carrying. Outfitted with a forward grip, a scope, and a large box magazine, his weapon almost looked like an LMG. It certainly looked as heavy as one. And Dalton was carrying it with ease, like it weighed as much as a plastic toy.

Dalton afforded Rebecca a grin. Not the wolfish, leering sort that he was flashing earlier. This one was almost... charming. In fact, he seemed to puff up with a little pride.

"I'm the team's top killing machine." He boasted, his voice a low drawl. "It only makes sense to load me up with the best gear."

Is he... trying to impress me?

A ridiculous idea, but one that Rebecca pondered all the same. If true, it would have been cute... if not for the ugly bit involving his employer, that is.

"And all of it's been paid for with Umbrella blood money." Rebecca added. Her voice became flat and cold as she reminded herself just who John Dalton was. A man who killed for a paycheck.

But Dalton only laughed in the face of her judgment. Rebecca felt her cheeks grow hot.

"We're soldiers, Doc. Not peacemakers." He shot back, his laugh rumbling in his chest. "Every cent we make is blood money."

Rebecca tried to come up with a witty retort. Tried. But she was interrupted.

Rebecca had been too busy trading barbs with Dalton to notice the Licker getting ready to pounce. But Dalton's reflexes were fast. Way fast.

It was like a switch was flipped, one moment he was laughing, the next he had his rifle at the ready, already drawing a bead on the leaping monster. Dalton fired a burst from his rifle just as the Licker lept from the roof of a department store, throwing its claws forward to skewer the mercenary.

The bullets hit their mark, ripping through the Licker's wiry body. But they weren't killing shots. Dalton didn't have enough time to line up clean hits. The beast shrieked and wailed as it sailed through the hair, colliding with the towering mass of armor and muscle.

But Dalton did not fall. The weight and momentum of the Licker's body sent them both stumbling back, but the mercenary remained standing. The same could not be said for his weapon. Rebecca saw the modified rifle fall to the pavement in pieces. The Licker's razor sharp claws had sliced through the metal like it was butter.

"Oh God!" Rebecca cried. She raised her pistol, aiming it at the monster thrashing atop of Dalton. The medic watched in horror, terrified that the monster would use its claws on the man, that it would slice him up the same way it did to his gun.

To Rebecca's great shock, Dalton's bloody end never came to pass. The Licker writhed and kicked and thrashed in the man's arms, its ear splitting howl echoing off the empty towers of downtown Toronto. But Dalton's hold was like steel.

Rebecca couldn't believe her eyes. Dalton was stronger than the Licker. Dalton was winning.

It was over as soon as it began. The mercenary scowled at the ugly, thrashing creature, sending a steely glare into the beast's eyeless face. It snapped at him with its razor teeth, trying to take a bite out of his nose. No dice. Dalton gave a snort, unimpressed. Then he took a hold of the Licker's head with both hands and twisted.

There was a sickening and wonderful crack. Then the beast went limp in Dalton's arms.

Dead.

The Licker fell to the pavement with a pathetic thud. John Dalton stood, alive, victorious. And there was not a scratch on him.

The man - the warrior - glanced down at the street where the pieces of his modified rifle lay. He groaned, a grimace twisted his handsome face.

"Damn. I liked that gun." Dalton muttered. He gave the Licker's corpse a solid, angry kick.

Rebecca could only stare, astonished. She had just witnessed an impossibility. Her eyes danced between Dalton and the dead BOW, back and forth, as if the longer she looked the more it would make sense.

"What... How?" She asked him, bewildered.

Rebecca expected Dalton to flash another proud smile. But again, the man surprised her. He gave her an understanding nod, like he knew she wanted answers. Wearing a serious, grim expression he motioned for her to lower her weapon. So she did.

"Let's just say..." Dalton began, his face and eyes hardening into that cold, steely look. "My gear isn't the only thing Umbrella spent top dollar on."

Rebecca Chambers breathed in. The implications of Dalton's answer hitting her like a bolt of lightning.

John Dalton wasn't just a mercenary, she realized. He was a supersoldier!

- - -

1.4

There was a wreckage blocking the way. A pile-up of a half-dozen or so of cars. Rebecca could see that some still had corpses in them.

Dalton was unbothered. He strode up to one of the overturned vehicles, planted his boot on the side, and grunted, shoving the mass of twisted metal with his leg. Rebecca watched as the wrecked car slid back, sending up sparks as it scraped against the asphalt.

The taller operative turned and flashed Rebecca a grin, presenting to her the now clear path. Before, the young BSAA agent might have sneered or let him know his showboating was unwelcome. But Rebecca found she didn't have her usual spunk right then. Not when she was still reeling from recent revelations.

Like Commander Dalton having superhuman strength.

And now that his enhanced nature was out in the open, the man was all too happy to show it off. Using his strength to clear obstacles, to kill zombies like they were nothing, and overall just making this whole mission look like child's play. Dalton did it all while wearing that insufferable smile. Performing so well without even a gun had swelled his ego considerably, much to Rebecca's irritation.

A day ago, Rebecca's patience would have run short very quickly. She would have given Dalton a piece of her mind, biohazard zone be damned.

But now? Now she was simply watching him. Studying him. She couldn't do anything else.

The worst part was that Rebecca was in too much of a daze to even find his attitude annoying. It was too much to worry about Jill, about the mission, about herself, and now about Dalton's Tricell-funded gifts (and it had to be because of Tricell. It was the only thing that made sense). Latching onto this one thing was what was keeping her sane.

The mismatched pair passed through the car wreck, emerging on the other side to find the street relatively clear. Save for a smattering of shambling zombies, of course.

Rebecca felt relief bloom in her chest as she noticed they now had a straight shot to the Tricell building - a straight shot to the VIP, Ladybug. Beside her, Dalton gave a low, pleased sound. He too took note of their good fortune.

But then came some trouble. A couple of undead had quickly set their sights on the pair of agents and advanced as fast as their rotting bodies would allow.

The first one attacked blindly, making a move for the towering mercenary. Dalton sidestepped a zombie's lazy lunge with ease. The merc's arm shot out quickly, like a viper, his fist striking the undead on the temple. Rebecca looked on as the zombie wheezed, seized up, and fell into a heap on the pavement. Dead once more.

Another showing of Dalton's strength. One punch to the head to rupture the brain was all he needed to dispatch the undead. Even the red ones fell quickly to superhuman merc.

Dalton kicked the second zombie square in the chest - divorcing its torso from the lower half of its body. As the legs crumpled to the ground, the zombie's upper half slammed into a brick wall - SPLAT.