Resident Evil Series Fan Fiction ❯ The Reaper's Image ❯ 1976 ( Chapter 2 )

Chapter two

1976

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 

Images of broken light, which dance before me like a million eyes,

That call me on and on across the universe,

Thoughts meander like a restless wind inside a letterbox they

Tumble blindly as they make their way

Across the universe

Jai Guru Deva Om

 

Nothing's gonna change my world

Nothing's gonna change my world

Nothing's gonna change my world

Nothing's gonna change my world

 

“Across the Universe” - The Beatles

 

Arklay Mountains, 1976

 

“Its enough to make one cry, is it not?”

 

A drawling male voice broke through Maris Lacey's determined concentration. She was only a couple chapters away from finally finishing the book she'd been trying to work on all summer. The majority of the reading had occurred on her journey to Raccoon City. The following train ride to her new `school', Umbrella's Arklay Management Training Facility, had unfortunately yielded disappointment as the others had broken down into a boisterous excitement. The chaos hadn't died down until they were ushered off the train and through the facility into a large room, complete with a podium and heavy wooden desks able to seat at least two people comfortably beside each other. She'd found relief as her fellow trainees quieted down to a hushed chatter while they waited for the head of the facility to appear.

 

Ah, sweet silence! She thought - until the young man sitting in front of her had turned around and spoken. She had sat at the back of the room for a reason, and now it seemed the best laid plans of Maris Lacey were all for naught. “Yes, indeed,” she answered dryly, refusing to look up from her page in case it was just a small interruption, “it is enough to make one cry.” Of course, she had no clue what the boy was talking about, but it didn't matter. Her own personal feelings on being interrupted happened to match up with his comment; why not agree?

 

“All of them, hand-picked because they're supposedly the best and brightest young minds Umbrella can find - and here they are, acting like little children at a carnival.”

 

Excuse me… She lifted one eyebrow and raised her head from her book to look at the man. A deep shuddering twitch rolled over her as she realized who was addressing her. “Francis, I didn't know it was you, hello.” She attempted her best diplomatic smile, although deep inside she wanted a man-sized hole to open up and swallow him forever.

 

Francis Telford was the son of her father's close personal friend and one of the directors for Umbrella Corporation. Rumor had it his father had even worked personally for Edward Ashford for a while and had become quite amiable. Maris doubted that, but regardless of the truth the Telford family was still pretty close to nobility within the upper-class echelon, especially in Umbrella's nouveau-riche social circles. So although she would have preferred to tell him to screw off she had social code to uphold. However, that didn't stop Maris from harboring an almost innate hatred for the irritating little prick.

 

“Yes, I tried to get your attention earlier on the platform, but you didn't see me, and then I couldn't find you on the train.”

 

“My apologies.” So that was you yelling like a moron at me? Thank god I ignored it… “It's been quite hectic today, I agree.” She looked around. “I haven't had much time to read my book.” Get the hint and go talk to someone else.

 

“Yes, yes,” He motioned with one hand while brushing his other through his short brown hair, “there hasn't been much time for anything today. And there hasn't been one interesting thing at all. Rather dull day if you ask me… My god, and to listen to the incessant droning of those little flies—“

 

Maris's mind automatically shut out his rant. She knew he was discussing the “lesser-born” individuals in the crowd and she didn't particularly want to listen to that at the moment. Let's see, chapter 15, page 352…

 

(-X-)

 

I'm late, I'm late, I'm late. William Birkin's thoughts repeated into a mantra as he rushed through the corridors, trying to remember the directions to the classroom the new trainees were supposed to be waiting in. He'd been unceremoniously held up by one of the managers. Apparently there'd been a small issue with some of his paperwork and it'd taken nearly a quarter of an hour to fix it. Bureaucracy at its best; it was enough to make him already wonder if he was going into the right profession.

 

It seemed like forever before he managed to find the lobby and in turn the classroom off the first balcony overlooking it. He tried to throw on his breaks, but instead slid, his shoulder impacting with the thick wooden door. His face scrunched up into a winch, a burst of unpleasant, yet mild pain branched through his arm. The momentary collision faded quickly though and he rebalanced his stack of texts and notebooks in his arms. Here goes…

 

William nudged open the door and squeezed his way in, “sorry, sorry.” He apologized, noticing more than a few of the trainees were looking up at the doorway in confusion. The last thing he had wanted was attention this early on in the game. He was never really one for social situations. Without thinking he tried to close the door with his foot, but managed to hit it just hard enough so that it slammed shut. Immediately he felt his face flush as a light chorus of laughter accompanied by irritated mumbling started up. His eyes dropped to the floor, avoiding the others' gaze.

 

The instructor was sitting on the edge of the platform in front of the podium. William was thankful he hadn't interrupted anything. “I'm sorry for being late.” He told the man. His nametag read `Pierce.' He proceeded to explain what had happened.

 

“Well, at least you're here on time.” Pierce said, “it's a wonder anything gets done around here with those idiots in the office.” The last bit was muttered more to himself than anything, but held a small note of an informative air. “Find a seat, Dr. Marcus shouldn't be very long now.”

 

“Thank you, sir.” William replied, and turned to find a seat. This is already shaping up to be such a wonderful day. He mused, sarcasm scorching his thoughts.

 

(-X-)

 

So much for reading. Maris decided it just wasn't her day for completing the chapter, much less the book. First it was Francis with his arrogant dribble and then that dorky looking kid who managed to not only apparently test the strength of the classroom's door, but also make a lot of noise doing it. Yet she couldn't be too annoyed with him. He looked so lost and uncomfortable in this place. Overwhelmed. That's the word. She corrected herself mentally. In a way she could relate, but she'd been fending off that feeling since childhood so she'd had more practice. She'd bet her entire year's allowance that he was new blood.

 

That also meant he was fresh meat for the other kids, the one's who had family already working for Umbrella like herself. She felt a little sorry for him, and the fact he happened to look so young and vulnerable made it worse. His light brown hair seemed to fall in just the right length to frame his incredibly boyish features. That included a pale complexion with a gentle dashing of freckles. He was in for it - and bad.

 

One of the other trainees insisted on proving her right by finding the time to stick his foot out and trip him. Books and papers tumbled to the ground and the young man fell flat on his face. Maris felt a tremor of anger at this. It was not necessarily because she felt sorry for the poor kid, but mostly because there was a certain level of respect and honor to be upheld in certain families, and that wasn't one of the ways to do it. It rather made one look foolish and barbaric, something nobility was supposed to strive to rise above not excel at.

 

Francis laughed. This didn't shock her at all.

 

She shoved her book to the edge of the table and without even looking around stood up and moved gracefully around to the aisle. The boy had already sat up on his knees, nursing a bloody nose from where he'd hit the floor so hard. He paused to look at her warily. With a sigh she reached down her hand. “You should really watch where you're going. Some people,” she glared up at the boy responsible for tripping him, “sometimes leave things lying about where they shouldn't.”

 

The bloodied boy gulped, and after a moment of thought reached up and took her hand. “William Birkin.” He introduced himself, trying to wipe the last bit of blood off his nose, but only managing to create a ruby smear.

 

Maris pulled out her handkerchief and handed it to him. “Maris Lacey.”

 

(-X-)

 

Birkin…?

 

Everyone's attention was directed to the commotion in the middle aisle, so no one saw the way an older teen's head raised from his notebook. It was the first time he had chosen to take any apparent interest in any of the other trainees. Of course, his introversion was really a way to keep any unwanted interlopers from disturbing what he was really up to. His trusty notebook was now home to the multiple facts and rumors he'd heard about the other trainees as well as his own personal opinions. He was well aware of the dog-eat-dog competition present within the Umbrella Corporation and planned to start early setting up a system enabling him to keep track of threats, possible allies, and those just not worth paying attention to.

 

He'd done a little digging before arrival and found few who he truly believed could come close to threatening the procurement of a decent position within the ranks. One of those names had been William Birkin. He was a top-notch researcher even at his young age and was predicted to come out pretty well at the top of whatever he set his mind to. He'd have to keep an eye on him, although there might be one promising sign.

 

`Accident prone. Slightly outcaste.' He jotted down in his notebook on Birkin's page. However, this small victory didn't mean anything. Dynamics were liable to change swiftly in this kind of setting once everyone realized that it wasn't necessarily the people you knew, but the amount of raw talent you had. Frankly Birkin had more raw talent than most of the crowd put together.

 

Lacey, I've heard that name, too, somewhere. He thought to himself, pen tapping against the paper rhythmically as he pushed his sunglasses back up. Come on, Albert think! He proceeded to wrack his brain. The information was just beyond reach and apparently refusing to come to him.

 

Before he could dredge up any useful tidbits he was drawn back to the scene in the next aisle over. Maris Lacey had bent and was helping Birkin retrieve his scattered possessions. Meanwhile someone had come to stand behind Lacey and waited for her to stand back up before placing a hand on her shoulder. She instinctually spun around, a growl rising deep in her throat, “What the fuck do y—“

 

Albert Wesker actually smiled. It was the deep, self-satisfying smile of one that has just witnessed a big mistake and gained pleasure from the fact that it was someone else's. The way Lacey's aquamarine eyes widened into a near-comical mask of fright and absolute horror was priceless. He would have given anything for a camera in that moment.

 

Apparently she had thought that it had been one of the other trainees intent on causing more trouble and instead came face to face with the head of the facility. All of the girl's previous bravado and apathy towards the others disappeared. “I—I'm sorry, I… thought you… were… them.” Her words even seemed to drain of power as she spoke, trailing off slowly into a mere whisper.

 

Dr. James Marcus regarded the petite girl wordlessly for a minute. His face was placid as he considered her. Meanwhile the room had grown deathly still, as if even the wood was holding its breath. Marcus was a man that demanded respect, and fear. His presence was paralyzing. “Maris Lacey.” He stated, after taking a quick look at her nametag. “I see.” Those two words were said like a realization that her name explained everything. Albert felt perhaps it should and it frustrated him he still hadn't figured it out.

 

Abruptly he reached out, took one of the books off the pile she was holding. “Yours?” He asked, then dropped it back after reading the title.

 

“No, Dr. Marcus, sir.” She answered. She had seemed to gain her voice back, for then at least. “They're his.” She motioned her eyes back to where Birkin was standing uncertainly.

 

“Ah, Mr. Birkin.” Marcus said, sounding more pleasant at the scientist's presence, although his voice dropped to a slow curious tone to inquire, “What happened to your face?”

 

“I fell.” / “Someone tripped him.” Both Birkin and Lacey answered at the same time, which earned them contemptuous glances from each other.

 

“Don't let people walk all over you.” Lacey hissed at the young scientist. Albert didn't imagine she was too happy for her efforts of helping him out being rewarded by his covering up what really happened. If it had been Albert he would have taken that chance to thin the crowd.

 

“Hm.” Marcus made a low pondering noise as he walked passed the two. “Miss Lacey is right Mr. Birkin. However,” when he arrived at the podium he turned and looked at her, “you did address me in an insubordinate manner and for that we'll speak after the meeting.”

 

Maris Lacey's lip twitched. Perhaps she was attempting to stifle a scream.

 

Albert turned the page and wrote another note, `Maris Lacey: Speaks before she thinks.'

 

(-X-)

 

The meeting didn't last long. Marcus' opening speech lasted almost a half hour, after which the newcomers were given room assignments, roommates, and schedules. The real informative speeches would be given the next day as everyone was splitting off into their own specific sector of expertise. It was rather anticlimactic really, but William was thankful for the speedy departure. Five minutes stuck in that room was bad enough, much less thirty. The only good thing was that he grabbed the empty seat next to the girl who had helped him out. Of course, after Marcus had gotten onto her she grew silent and stuck to herself, fidgeting uneasily with the book on the table in front of her.

 

He wanted to say something to her, but he didn't know what was appropriate. `Thanks for getting snapped at because of me' didn't quite cut it. But finally, when everyone was filing out of the room to head to their allocated spaces he spoke, “Maris?” Just her name, but he'd see her reaction and go from there.

 

It took her a moment to reply, but when she did it wasn't quite the reaction he would have hoped for. Her tone dripped with malice and controlled anger. “Do me a favor,” She said, directing just her cold blue eyes on him, “and don't talk to me. I really can't afford any more trouble - especially on your behalf. Take care of yourself from now on.”

 

William didn't show it outwardly, but his soul flinched. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—“

 

She just waved him off and shook her head as she climbed to her feet and stepped passed him towards the door. Her whole demeanor was tense with rage and she reminded him of a coiled snake ready to strike. He made a decision then and there to try to avoid her. He hadn't intended to make enemies this soon, but he supposed it was just another notch on his belt of mistakes. Dejected he pulled himself up and followed the crowd. He was just in time to see Maris stopped beside the stairs, the boy who had tripped him needling her.

 

“Good job, Lacey. If you want I'll help you go pack. Considering you won't be here for much longer.” He laughed a loud, obnoxious laugh.

 

Maris smiled, and it was the kind of smile that only meant one thing: that somebody was going to be doing the opposite, real soon. Without warning she twisted her body and bent her arm. The boy cried out in pain as her elbow smashed forcefully into his nose. He was knocked backward and landed on his ass, still screaming and holding his face. She cracked her knuckles, and noticing blood on her hands leaned down and wiped them on the boy's vest. “No thanks, I think you'll be too busy in the nurse's office.”

 

William watched as she walked away, awed by her actions. The entire time she'd held the same apathetic expression. As far as anyone was concerned, by that look she could have just been taking afternoon tea.

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Well, our dear Maris has a tendency to try to get the last word in now doesn't she?  God, I don't know why but I love that scene.  How about you?  She sure had a temper back at that young age.

R&R as always.  I promise I won't bite.

Next Chapter: Chapter 3 - Broken Kingdom

We return to 1998 and the Arklay Facility where something dark moves beneath the surface, waiting... And our hapless anti-heroes begin to face their past.