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The chaos continues

Woe be unto ye, my madness persists.

Count the Medals: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Wanna read it somewhere else? It's on ao3 (along with several other amazing RookieBug works)!

MASSIVE DISCLAIMER: I HAVE NEVER PLAYED RESIDENT EVIL, MY COMPUTER WOULD DIE IF I TRIED (also I don't do horror games)!!!! IF I FUCK SOMETHING UP, PLEASE TELL ME!!!!!

CONTENT WARNINGS FOR: CANON-TYPICAL GORE AND VIOLENCE, DESCRIPTIONS OF ZOMBIES AND LICKERS, CHIEF IRONS, MENTIONS OF CHILD DEATH AND KIDNAPPING, AND MORE THAT I'M PROBABLY FORGETTING!!!!!!

Some rambly stuff: Foxtrot's opinions on the people in Leon's life are generally positive, they see the entire survivor group as part of their "pack". They're actually quite proud to have lucked into such a resourceful group (despite how weak and fleshy they are, the humans always fight ten times harder than anything else Fox has ever seen, and somehow always come out on top). Because of this, they're shockingly ready to throw hands if anyone or anything insults their humans.

The first time this happens is during the mess in Valdebos, a higher-ranking cult member's Plaga happened to insult the rescue team while Fox was in earshot. The result was Foxtrot gleefully tearing that particular Plaga to shreds while Leon watched in morbid fascination.

Pings for the soul: @polarspaz @laf-e-taffy @okamishimada18 @thesmi1ingcheshire @quasar-crew @thetemporalguardian @sonicasura @drakeflight

And finally: thank you for reading.

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Once Emma was back on her feet, they hit the ground running, Leon once again taking the lead. The plan was to get Sherry back, make a be-line for the hospital, cure Emma, and get out of the city.

However… there was one thing that was bugging Claire - or rather, one person.

Ada Wong, the utter enigma who'd strolled in with a suppressant for whatever the poor girl was infected with. She hadn't gotten the full story from Leon yet, but judging from the glances he was giving her, he didn't trust her either.

The trail led them to… honestly somewhere she wasn't expecting.

"An… orphanage?" She muttered in confusion, glancing at the others.

The building loomed over them, cast in an ominous light thanks to the raging fires engulfing nearby structures. She's sure it wouldn't look half as bad in daylight, but right now Claire had more important thoughts.

"Are you sure he went this way?" Ada questioned Leon, her voice far too calm for the situation.

"I am," He replied simply, not looking at her as his tongue flicked in and out.

Claire glared at the woman, moving to stand next to the rookie cop before asking, "What's the plan?"

The mutated blond sighed, glancing at the darkened windows before replying, "We don't know how long Irons' been bunkering in there, so we need to be careful."

"There's also the chance he'll try and use her as a hostage against us, again." Lt. Branagh added, sounding angry about their last encounter with the disgraced police chief.

Robert patted the lieutenant on the shoulder, "Then we'll have to find her first, before he can try."

Ada remained silent, watching them eerily as they planned. Claire couldn't help shuddering at her unnatural calm, that woman just put her on edge.

She blinked when she saw Leon move, the mutated cop crouching so he was closer to Emma's eye level, "Emma? If you start feeling sick again, make sure you tell us okay? And stay close to us."

The suppressant had done wonders for the girl, her energy recovering enough to keep up with them with little issue. You could still tell she was sick though, her skin pale and eyes still slightly cloudy. It was a constant reminder that she was living on borrowed time, and all the more reason for them to hurry.

She nodded along, giving Leon a shy smile. Thankfully she was as okay with him as Sherry was, apparently she vaguely remembered his reaction to her infection.

Leon bobbed his head, standing as he asked, "Everyone ready?"

They didn't respond verbally - they didn't need to. The sound of several guns cocking was more than enough, along with a few concerning smiles.

"Then let's go."

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Sherry was terrified.

She was hiding under an office desk, freezing at every creaking floorboard or distant groan. Zombies had made their way into the building, either because of sick people turning, or because someone wandered inside.

She'd slipped away from Irons while he wasn't looking, but now the man was hunting for her, stalking the halls with a gun in-hand.

She whimpered as another creak reached her ears, curling further in on herself. Tears stung at her eyes, rolling down her cheeks as she fought to stay quiet.

She wanted to leave, she wanted to go home. She missed her parents, her friends… She missed Miss Claire, Lt. Branagh, and Mister Leon.

God - she didn't even know if Mister Leon was okay! She heard him screech after Irons set off that flashbang (she thought those things didn't hurt people), before she was taken away from them. He sounded so hurt; it sent fear down her spine, worry for the cop filling her at the time.

A distant wail cracked the air, nearly making her cry out in terror. Her hands flew to her mouth, forcing it shut and reducing the scream building up to a muffled whimper.

There was something worse than the zombies here, worse than even Irons. It was a monstrous thing - something that used to be human, but now definitely wasn't. Its right arm was mutilated, muscle and bone exposed with a giant evil-looking eye on the shoulder. Its hand ended in massive claws that made a bear's look like a kitten's, almost as long as her entire body. Bone-like growths jutted out above the eye, almost looking like a spine. She hadn't gotten a good look at much else, but its clothes looked… familiar. Kinda like something her dad would wear.

She curled up even tighter, knees pressing painfully against her chest, praying that someone - anyone - would come and save her.

-----------------------

"Aha!"

Leon looked over as Claire held up several duffel bags triumphantly, pulling them out of a nearby closet.

He raised an eyebrow at her, watching as she pulled out enough for all of them, notably keeping two for herself, "Why're you…?"

"For extra ammo and weapons," She replied easily, shrugging before lifting up the second bag, "this however, is for documents."

Okay… now he was more confused, "Why?"

"Because," She stressed, beaconing Lt. Branagh to pass her the papers he'd nicked with grabby hands, "we need evidence of Irons' bullshit for when we get out. Plus…"

She trailed off, biting her lip in hesitation, "something about all this just… seems really suspicious."

"How so?" Robert asked from his vigil near the door.

The brunette sighed, "It's- I dunno. Irons sabotaging everything was the first thing that tipped me off, not to mention this," She waved her hand, vaguely gesturing to the dilapidated room they were in, "whole outbreak. I mean - a disease that turns people into monsters? There's no way that wouldn't be common knowledge!"

Claire looked at Leon as she continued, "Plus, didn't you say you saw some… weird monster guy in a trenchcoat?"

Ah right, him. Leon shuddered, confirming with a nod as he rubbed his arms, "Yeah… that thing. What about it?"

"Well… from what you've said, that thing sounds way too… artificial, like someone made it."

He bit his lip, wincing as her reasoning washed over him, "If that's the case… then what? Was this all planned?!"

The idea that all of this suffering could've been planned… Leon's tail thrashed at the thought. He hoped that wasn't the case, but that gray-skinned thing seemed to argue otherwise.

"I'm not saying that-! At least, not yet anyway." Claire replied irritably, huffing as she reasoned, "If all of this was planned, then anyone with half a brain could've spotted it from a mile away. No, I don't think the outbreak itself was planned, but someone's definitely using it to their advantage."

He bit his lip, "If that's true, then who would-?"

"Huh…?" Emma's confused voice caught him off-guard, glancing over he spotted her turning a book over in her hands.

"What's up kiddo?" He asked, sharing a glance with Claire before walking over to her.

The girl's face was scrunched up in confusion, holding the book up to him as she replied, "I think… this is a diary?"

A curious chirr escaped him as he took the book, flipping it open as the others watched with interest. Written on the first page in rough handwriting was: "Sally's Diary".

A few of the entries caught his eye, reading them out for the others:

"Jan. 10 There was an important rule made today. Everyone must write a diary, get health checkups, and we ain't allowed outside by ourselves. It's good we don't hafta go to school. I don't wanna go and get picked on for my old clothes. Specially not by the guy that used to wear them. Jan. 16 The orphanage director is coming today, so I'ma gonna wear my most favoritest checkered blue outfit. The director is tall. The director has a mustache. The directory is a policeman."

Lt. Branagh's eyebrows met his hairline, the older cop's eyes widening as he inhaled sharply. Claire scowled, gritting her teeth as fury blazed behind her gaze. Robert's own eyes hardened, muttering dark curses under his breath.

Irons, the director was fucking Irons. No wonder he took Sherry here, this was his little house of horrors!

…Okay, it wasn't confirmed that the director was Irons, but from that description? Who else could it be?

Ada seemed… unsurprised, raising an unimpressed eyebrow at them all. As if asking what they'd expected.

The writing - both the spelling and the handwriting - seemed to deteriorate as the entries went on, growing messy and unorganized. Leon could smell the sickness left behind, hidden in bits of coughed-up spit that had dried onto the pages. That sickness soon turned into downright rot, embedded in drops of dried blood the poor kid left behind.

It was the same rot he smelled in the zombies, he realized with a furious hiss.

"They were experimenting on orphans." He snarled, a deep growl rattling the others to the bone.

He heard Robert's grip tighten on his shotgun, the poor father likely realizing they went through the same thing Emma had - and still was.

"…There's more." Claire spoke up hesitantly, picking up another diary from a box clearly labeled "TO BE BURNED".

Leon spotted some stickers on the front, cartoony letters spelling out the name "Tom".

She opened it carefully, treating it with more respect than the orphanage clearly did, and started reading:

"Feb. 5 It's been 2 months since I sent that letter to Oliver, and all I've gotten back is nada. Zip. Then again, they're all like that once they get adopted. Bet he's living like a king in some fancy folks' home and forgotten all about us. Really thought Oliver was different, that he'd be my friend for life. Guess I'm just a fool. Feb. 8 Ann sat all the little kids down and told them a story today. She said, "All the kids that get adopted are turned into food for the 'boogie men.' That's why no one hears from them ever again." Not sure where she gets her ideas from, but she's sure got the mind for writing trashy horror novels. Feb. 13 There's something weird going on around here, and it's not just 'cause of Ann's stories. Don't get me wrong: I've been in worse places, and this place is funded by some big drug company, but why can't we call people or go outside? Why are there so many doctors around? What's with those shots every day? It's almost like we're.... Feb. 14 I'm getting adopted. Me. Most people go for younger kids, so I figured I was too old, but I can't say I'm not a little happy. Who am I kidding? I'm totally psyched. I say goodbye to this place on the 20th. I'm gonna try my best to be a good son, someone my new mom and pop can be proud of. Feb. 19 Oliver came back in the middle of the night, all messed up, screaming "help me" and stuff. I didn't even recognize him at first; his face was all peeling and melted off. He's with the teachers and doctors now. It's just a skin thing, they say. He'll get better soon, and then we can go on adventures together again."

Leon felt sick, gagging as he imagined what that poor kid - Oliver - must've looked like. Fucking- God that poor kid!

Claire looked visibly ill as well, slipping the diary into her duffle. She lifted a hand towards him, nodding at the journal he was still holding.

He winced, handing the book - the evidence - over without issue.

She picked up another diary, this one unlabeled. She covered her mouth, muffling a sob. Instead of reading it out loud, she turned it over and showed it to them:

"if ur reebing this go kall qolice boogie mans here eeting every boby many bark boogie mans here helq theyre komming helq me mommy"

A sorrow-filled whine escaped him, god - that writing probably meant it was a young child who wrote that. A young kid who watched zombies start eating people, a kid so young that they begged for their mother to help them.

Leon was going to kill whoever caused this, mark his fucking words.

Unfortunately, the fury-inducing news wasn't over. Claire's face grew confused, pulling out a sealed envelope from the burn box.

""Letter from the Director"." She read, breathing in sharply before looking at Lt. Branagh, silently asking him something.

The older cop nodded seriously, walking over to her and looking at the letter over her shoulder as she read it out:

"Regarding the incident in question, I'm glad to report that it has all been taken care of. On Feb. 19, Test Subject 628 escaped from the lab and broke into our facility. 628 was originally from this facility's candidate pool, and apparently returned in the hope of seeking "help." 628 was quickly detained by our staff. As 628 was undergoing one of the lab's clinical trials, there was the distinct possibility that he had brought the virus with him, so we disposed of all of our test subject candidates as a precaution. Their speedy disposal was conducted by the security team, to whom I'd like to extend my thanks. As for our neighbors, we told them that due to the building's dilapidated state, we have temporarily moved all of the children to a different orphanage for their safety. As to the future of this facility, once it has been fully decontaminated, I plan to resume securing more test candidates."

Leon snarled at the clinical wording, tail writhing in response to his anger. Those weren't fucking test subjects, they were kids! Innocent children who didn't deserve to be treated like fucking lab rats!

"Son of a bitch," Lt. Branagh growled, glaring at the letter with hatred, "that's Irons' handwriting alright. Which means-"

"He had a very good reason to fuck up RPD, at least in his mind." Robert finished darkly, fury and grief warring behind his eyes.

Leon hissed again, turning and stomping towards the door. His talons gouged the wooden floor, leaving sizable gashes in their wake.

"Let's go. I don't want Sherry anywhere near that bastard for another second."

Thankfully, no one disagreed.

-------------------

The loud crack of a gun nearly made Sherry scream, her heart pounding as a bullet flew past her. Her breathing came in short, panicked bursts, lungs burning as she ran and ran and ran.

Irons had spotted her while she'd been sneaking around, trying to find a way out. He'd nearly cornered her in that room, but she'd thrown something at him - which turned out to be acid (why was there acid here in the first place…?). The jar had shattered against the man's face, the hissing of the liquid within and the screams of Irons following her as she bolted.

Now though, she was running for her life.

Thankfully the man was slower than her, the pain from his half-burned face and the fact he wasn't in the best shape slowing him down. Of course, that meant nothing since the man had a gun, and was using it liberally.

Another gunshot rang out, bullet whizzing past and grazing her cheek.

A warped roar erupted from up ahead, Sherry's heart sinking as she spotted the monster in the gloom. She skidded to a stop and bolted into a nearby room, panting as she slammed the door shut and locked it. On top of that, she dragged the heaviest thing she could find (a large and fancy-looking chair), and braced it against the door.

She backed away as the sound of footfalls grew closer; they were loud, but not the booming steps of the monster, so that must be Irons.

She clamped her mouth shut as he neared, breathing rapidly through her nose as her panic soared. She watched as the doorknob twisted, stopping part-way as the lock clicked audibly. This happened several times for a few moments, each turn growing more frantic until the entire door was shaking.

The frame rattled as a loud bang rang out from the other side - not a gunshot, but instead a desperate kick.

She could hear him yelling at her, but the words failed to pierce the dark cloud of panic that enveloped her. She backed away from the door, praying that it would hold and that he would leave.

The deep, twisted growl suddenly appeared again, this time sounding much closer than before. Like "right outside the door" closer.

Sherry backed up swiftly, pressing herself against the far wall as Irons started screaming. The monster roared, a wet tearing and stabbing noise following shortly after.

She slid down the wall, hands pressing against her ears hard. She curled up in a little ball as the noises continued, shaking and crying as she prayed for everything to stop.

-----------------------------

Sherry wasn't sure how long she stayed like that, but eventually she heard the doorknob twisting again. There was a soft rustling of metal before the lock suddenly clicked, unlocking as the figure pushed the door open. The wooden chair tried its best to stop them, but whatever it was - it was way stronger than the blockade. The sound of claws clicking against hardwood followed, moving slowly as if it was stalking her. She whimpered at the noise, folding in on herself tighter. The noise paused, a tense silence filling the vacant space until-

"Sherry?"

She froze, but not from fear, instead it was from shock. That sounded like-!

Slowly, hesitantly, she lifted her head, eyes landing on a familiar carapace-covered figure.

"Hey," Mister Leon spoke calmly, his voice soothing and relieved, "there you are. It's just me; you're safe now."

Those simple words caused the dam to break, a choking sob escaping her as she exclaimed, "MISTER LEON!!"

She threw herself at the mutated man, hands clenching his tattered uniform as tears streamed down her face.

A rumbling chirr - almost like a purring cat - filled her ears, strong and armored arms wrapping around her as.

"It's alright," He soothed, hugging her close, "nothing's going to hurt you now. You're safe."