Resident Evil: A Dead Breed
folder
+M through R › Resident Evil
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
19,648
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
+M through R › Resident Evil
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
19,648
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Resident Evil/Biohazard franchise. The game and all affiliated characters, settings, etc. are copyrights of Capcom, and the game itself is licensed by Nintendo. Also, I'm required to tell you I don't make money off of
Resident Evil: A Dead Breed
A/N: To anyone who sees any similarities between my story and OmegaXII’s “Resident Evil EX: Zero”, well, there are plenty. This isn’t my attempt to rip off of someone else’s idea; rather, while reading his work a couple months ago, I felt inspired to carry his story over to other characters, namely, Jill (love Rebecca, but come on — it’s Jill Fucking Valentine). Basically, I’m using the same premise of OmegaXIII’s story, but coming up with my own. If he finds any problem with this, I’ll take my work down, but until then, hey, free advertisement! Check out “Resident Evil EX: Zero” if you haven’t already; it’s a great piece of adult fiction for anyone who loves to mix horror and porn.
Now then, shall we?
---
Resident Evil: A Dead Breed
Prologue – Setting up the experiment
---
There was a certain relaxing quality that came with a bowl of ice cream, still cold enough to bite at your fingertips through the bowl that held it. It wasn’t often that Jill would let herself go for a night, but when she did, she wasn’t about to go halfway with frozen yogurt. No, she’d always go with the tub of vanilla bean ice cream, no “fat free” façade to be found, hidden behind the stacks of frozen meals and burger patties she regularly had in stock. Living alone often meant dining alone, and with the way she shopped, she could probably support herself for the long haul if the city ever went to chaos. Luckily, though, this was Raccoon City; nothing ever happened here.
Jill pondered on that very thought as she finished scraping up her third and last scoop of creamy white deliciousness, licking her fingers of a few bits of vanilla before tossing away the scooper and turning to put what was left of her supply of guilty pleasure back in the freezer. The cold gave her bare legs goosebumps as she opened the glossy white door; her simple attire of a tank top and panties weren’t exactly great protection against the cold. She shivered audibly before shutting the door and turning back to her ready bowl of creamy goodness, bare feet pat-patting the tile of her tiny kitchen before she finally felt the comfort of carpet between her toes on her way to the couch.
She’d turned on her 14” TV merely out of habit when she first came in from work, but hadn’t actually paid attention to what was on. She set her bowl down after taking her first bite, cleaning the spoon with a lingering lick before dropping it into the bowl with a clang. Sitting down on the couch, she reached around in the dark for her remote, feeling around between her pillows while the woman on the flickering TV went on:
“...and another strange case in what some are calling “the Arklay massacres” was reported today: three more have been found dead in the area just north of downtown Raccoon City. This brings the total of unexplained and grisly manslaughters to thirteen, and again, when police arrived at the scene, the bodies were dismembered past standard identification.”
“Jesus...” Jill was now captivated by the newscast, her hand buried under the far sofa pillow as she watched a few photos of the crime scenes cascade on-screen. She’s been briefed on what little information the R.P.D. had gathered, but she hadn’t actually seen anything more about it, being assured by Captain Wesker that it wouldn’t become a S.T.A.R.S. matter until more proof had been found.
“And a warning to the viewers at home: the footage you are about to see is not for the faint of heart.”
As a photo of one of the victims came on-screen, Jill found herself repulsed by the sight, her hand reaching up to cover her mouth on impulse. The man’s throat had been completely torn out, with bits of skin all over his face appearing to have been gnawed at, like a piece of meat being shared by wild animals. The photo wasn’t of the best quality, as the news station couldn’t possibly be allowed to show actual crime scene photos, but the journalist had gotten close enough to tell the story with one quick snapshot.
Her pager beeped; she jumped. She had no reason to jump, but just the thought of whatever had... had eaten that poor man had her on edge for just a moment. She let out an irritated sigh, giving up her search for the long-lost remote and instead getting up to grab her pager off of the kitchen counter. Just as quickly as she had grabbed it, she threw her head back in silent disgust. Her ice cream night would have to wait.
---
“Jill.”
Barry’s familiar voice caught Jill’s attention as she came through the office door, all suited up for duty for the second time today. The elder of the S.T.A.R.S. bunch, Barry had always taken to her and Chris, acting like a mentor of sorts when they were recruited. Now, though, he sounded less like a wannabe-father and more like the bearer of bad news.
“Barry,” Jill affirmed with a nod. “What’s going on?”
“Bravo Team was sent into the Arklay Mountains earlier today...” His face seemed to lose some color as he gathered his next thoughts. “We haven’t heard from them since.”
“God...”
“Captain Wesker’s rounding up Alpha Team as a rescue party. We’ve got no idea what’s going on up there, but he’s gonna brief us on what we do know in the conference room soon as Chris and Brad get here.” Barry could tell she was staring through him; in all honesty, Jill had lost him mid-sentence as she pictured one of her colleagues in the same position as the man in that picture—cold, dead, lying alone to decay with a hole in his throat. She suddenly felt her stomach turn itself over before Barry snapped her back to attention. “You think you’re up to this?”
Her train of thought back on rails, she looked him in the eye and nodded.
“Good.” Barry looked around among the hustle and bustle of the office, then, placing a hand on Jill’s slender but padded shoulder, his voice dropped a few notches, and his eyes narrowed; this was serious. “One last thing I need to tell you. It’s about—”
“Barry.” Captain Wesker’s monotonous tone came from around the corner, preempting his robotic turn around it. The man was always cold-cut, all business and nothing more. He was a strong leader, to be sure, but he had a way of making your hair stand on end whenever he spoke; it was a good thing he was one of the good guys.
“Uh, yessir.” Barry seemed shaken; his nerves must’ve really been getting to him. He was a family man; the prospect of these mystery murders coming anywhere near his wife and kids must’ve been hard on him. Jill pitied him, as she had no family to speak of in town, not that it made her any less frightened by the possibilities.
“I need to speak to you privately before we go. My office.” His renowned choice of eyewear made the words seem even more hollow without eyes to remind Jill of his humanity. As Barry nodded and brushed past the captain, Wesker didn’t move. Standing his ground, he adjusted his gaze to Jill, who stood to attention right away. “And Jill, I assume Barry told you what you need to know.”
She nodded.
“Good. This operation is extremely time-sensitive. However, we can’t afford to rush into an unknown enemy without some sort of precaution, else we’ll share Bravo Team’s fate.” Without explaining what he was getting at, Wesker pulled a spray can out of his vest pocket and held it out for Jill to take. “Here.”
Jill took the bottle, looking around it for a label of some sort, like the first aid sprays and herb mix tubes she’d used in her on-field medical training. There was none. “What is it?”
“Experimental,” he replied without a change in pitch. He must have been able to read her apprehension, though, as he continued, “Don’t worry, there’s no risk of allergy or disease. The contents and origin need to stay confidential until we have more information, but if our science team is correct on what’s going on, that should protect you from being noticed by your scent. It just needs to be applied directly to the skin.”
“What, so... it’s like a repellent?” She wasn’t even aware that the R.P.D. had a science team, but she wasn’t about to question her captain on that one. There must have been a lot behind the scenes that she was simply too novice to know. She did know when to keep her mouth shut, luckily.
“More like a masker. If our suspicions are correct, whatever is committing these murders is using its sense of smell to hunt at night; if it would ever show its face by day, we would have at least one eye witness to speak of. Between smell, hearing ability and night vision, this is all we can really account for.”
“So this may or may not work?”
“It’s not a question of chances," Wesker replied in a reserved bark, "it’s a question of covering as many bases as possible against an unknown enemy.” He went into a military-like stance as he nodded to his inferior. “Go to the locker room and use as much of it as possible. It should be scent free. Then meet in the conference room in five.”
Jill nodded in return before turning and heading in that direction. If what he was saying was true, the R.P.D. was breaking out both S.T.A.R.S. units, a secret science team and blind attempts at figuring out what the hell was going on by sending their top recruits into battle with a “maybe” solution.
Jill began to fear more and more that this was going to turn into something much worse than anything she’d been trained for.
---
A/N: Okay, that’s the prologue. I promise, there WILL be actual, good ol’ smut in the coming chapters. For now, I’m just setting a scene and pace, as well as a reason for why the undead could possibly feel the need to, er, mate instead of eat.
This will be my summer project while I help my family move for about a month, so hopefully I’ll have plenty of content released between now and the end of August. Check back to see.
Now then, shall we?
---
Resident Evil: A Dead Breed
Prologue – Setting up the experiment
---
There was a certain relaxing quality that came with a bowl of ice cream, still cold enough to bite at your fingertips through the bowl that held it. It wasn’t often that Jill would let herself go for a night, but when she did, she wasn’t about to go halfway with frozen yogurt. No, she’d always go with the tub of vanilla bean ice cream, no “fat free” façade to be found, hidden behind the stacks of frozen meals and burger patties she regularly had in stock. Living alone often meant dining alone, and with the way she shopped, she could probably support herself for the long haul if the city ever went to chaos. Luckily, though, this was Raccoon City; nothing ever happened here.
Jill pondered on that very thought as she finished scraping up her third and last scoop of creamy white deliciousness, licking her fingers of a few bits of vanilla before tossing away the scooper and turning to put what was left of her supply of guilty pleasure back in the freezer. The cold gave her bare legs goosebumps as she opened the glossy white door; her simple attire of a tank top and panties weren’t exactly great protection against the cold. She shivered audibly before shutting the door and turning back to her ready bowl of creamy goodness, bare feet pat-patting the tile of her tiny kitchen before she finally felt the comfort of carpet between her toes on her way to the couch.
She’d turned on her 14” TV merely out of habit when she first came in from work, but hadn’t actually paid attention to what was on. She set her bowl down after taking her first bite, cleaning the spoon with a lingering lick before dropping it into the bowl with a clang. Sitting down on the couch, she reached around in the dark for her remote, feeling around between her pillows while the woman on the flickering TV went on:
“...and another strange case in what some are calling “the Arklay massacres” was reported today: three more have been found dead in the area just north of downtown Raccoon City. This brings the total of unexplained and grisly manslaughters to thirteen, and again, when police arrived at the scene, the bodies were dismembered past standard identification.”
“Jesus...” Jill was now captivated by the newscast, her hand buried under the far sofa pillow as she watched a few photos of the crime scenes cascade on-screen. She’s been briefed on what little information the R.P.D. had gathered, but she hadn’t actually seen anything more about it, being assured by Captain Wesker that it wouldn’t become a S.T.A.R.S. matter until more proof had been found.
“And a warning to the viewers at home: the footage you are about to see is not for the faint of heart.”
As a photo of one of the victims came on-screen, Jill found herself repulsed by the sight, her hand reaching up to cover her mouth on impulse. The man’s throat had been completely torn out, with bits of skin all over his face appearing to have been gnawed at, like a piece of meat being shared by wild animals. The photo wasn’t of the best quality, as the news station couldn’t possibly be allowed to show actual crime scene photos, but the journalist had gotten close enough to tell the story with one quick snapshot.
Her pager beeped; she jumped. She had no reason to jump, but just the thought of whatever had... had eaten that poor man had her on edge for just a moment. She let out an irritated sigh, giving up her search for the long-lost remote and instead getting up to grab her pager off of the kitchen counter. Just as quickly as she had grabbed it, she threw her head back in silent disgust. Her ice cream night would have to wait.
---
“Jill.”
Barry’s familiar voice caught Jill’s attention as she came through the office door, all suited up for duty for the second time today. The elder of the S.T.A.R.S. bunch, Barry had always taken to her and Chris, acting like a mentor of sorts when they were recruited. Now, though, he sounded less like a wannabe-father and more like the bearer of bad news.
“Barry,” Jill affirmed with a nod. “What’s going on?”
“Bravo Team was sent into the Arklay Mountains earlier today...” His face seemed to lose some color as he gathered his next thoughts. “We haven’t heard from them since.”
“God...”
“Captain Wesker’s rounding up Alpha Team as a rescue party. We’ve got no idea what’s going on up there, but he’s gonna brief us on what we do know in the conference room soon as Chris and Brad get here.” Barry could tell she was staring through him; in all honesty, Jill had lost him mid-sentence as she pictured one of her colleagues in the same position as the man in that picture—cold, dead, lying alone to decay with a hole in his throat. She suddenly felt her stomach turn itself over before Barry snapped her back to attention. “You think you’re up to this?”
Her train of thought back on rails, she looked him in the eye and nodded.
“Good.” Barry looked around among the hustle and bustle of the office, then, placing a hand on Jill’s slender but padded shoulder, his voice dropped a few notches, and his eyes narrowed; this was serious. “One last thing I need to tell you. It’s about—”
“Barry.” Captain Wesker’s monotonous tone came from around the corner, preempting his robotic turn around it. The man was always cold-cut, all business and nothing more. He was a strong leader, to be sure, but he had a way of making your hair stand on end whenever he spoke; it was a good thing he was one of the good guys.
“Uh, yessir.” Barry seemed shaken; his nerves must’ve really been getting to him. He was a family man; the prospect of these mystery murders coming anywhere near his wife and kids must’ve been hard on him. Jill pitied him, as she had no family to speak of in town, not that it made her any less frightened by the possibilities.
“I need to speak to you privately before we go. My office.” His renowned choice of eyewear made the words seem even more hollow without eyes to remind Jill of his humanity. As Barry nodded and brushed past the captain, Wesker didn’t move. Standing his ground, he adjusted his gaze to Jill, who stood to attention right away. “And Jill, I assume Barry told you what you need to know.”
She nodded.
“Good. This operation is extremely time-sensitive. However, we can’t afford to rush into an unknown enemy without some sort of precaution, else we’ll share Bravo Team’s fate.” Without explaining what he was getting at, Wesker pulled a spray can out of his vest pocket and held it out for Jill to take. “Here.”
Jill took the bottle, looking around it for a label of some sort, like the first aid sprays and herb mix tubes she’d used in her on-field medical training. There was none. “What is it?”
“Experimental,” he replied without a change in pitch. He must have been able to read her apprehension, though, as he continued, “Don’t worry, there’s no risk of allergy or disease. The contents and origin need to stay confidential until we have more information, but if our science team is correct on what’s going on, that should protect you from being noticed by your scent. It just needs to be applied directly to the skin.”
“What, so... it’s like a repellent?” She wasn’t even aware that the R.P.D. had a science team, but she wasn’t about to question her captain on that one. There must have been a lot behind the scenes that she was simply too novice to know. She did know when to keep her mouth shut, luckily.
“More like a masker. If our suspicions are correct, whatever is committing these murders is using its sense of smell to hunt at night; if it would ever show its face by day, we would have at least one eye witness to speak of. Between smell, hearing ability and night vision, this is all we can really account for.”
“So this may or may not work?”
“It’s not a question of chances," Wesker replied in a reserved bark, "it’s a question of covering as many bases as possible against an unknown enemy.” He went into a military-like stance as he nodded to his inferior. “Go to the locker room and use as much of it as possible. It should be scent free. Then meet in the conference room in five.”
Jill nodded in return before turning and heading in that direction. If what he was saying was true, the R.P.D. was breaking out both S.T.A.R.S. units, a secret science team and blind attempts at figuring out what the hell was going on by sending their top recruits into battle with a “maybe” solution.
Jill began to fear more and more that this was going to turn into something much worse than anything she’d been trained for.
---
A/N: Okay, that’s the prologue. I promise, there WILL be actual, good ol’ smut in the coming chapters. For now, I’m just setting a scene and pace, as well as a reason for why the undead could possibly feel the need to, er, mate instead of eat.
This will be my summer project while I help my family move for about a month, so hopefully I’ll have plenty of content released between now and the end of August. Check back to see.