A Star's Descent

By evolution-500

Disclaimer: House of the Dead and Resident Evil are properties belonging to SEGA and Capcom respectively. I do not own any of these characters.

Chapter Thirteen: Knee Deep

Marini's intestines knotted together nervously.

In all of his days as a leader, be it for a platoon of Force Recon Marines or for a S.T.A.R.S. Team, there had never been a time where he had knowingly left a man behind. Having to do so now maddened the veteran to no end.

After he stepped through the doorway, he found himself near a ledge, looking down at a large pool of water. The walls were absolutely filthy, covered in grime and other stuff that he didn't even want to identify. Sniffing the air, his nose wrinkled with disgust. Clattering behind him, he watched the others step through, pushing him closer and closer toward the edge until Rebecca was roughly shoved in by Forest, forcing him to stumble off into knee deep water. Glancing down, his features warped into a scowl, confirming his suspicions of where they were.

'How appropriate,' came the bitter thought.

As if he hadn't been reminded enough of their situation, life just had to throw a curve ball; not only were they in the sewers, but he just stepped into what looked and smelled unmistakably like a very large turd, probably from a large dog.

'I hope,' he prayed as he straightened himself up.

Looking back to Forest, he narrowed his eyes into a glare. Turning back to the medic, he saw a whirlwind of emotions written across her face, a mixture of anger, guilt, shame and determination.

"I need to go back!" she said.

"Rebecca-"

"Kenneth's still out there!"

"I know that, Rebecca, but there's nothing we can do," he said simply.

She was about to reach for the door when Forest grabbed hold of her.

"Let me go!" she exclaimed.

"Not gonna happen!" Forest replied.

Struggling relentlessly underneath his grip, she pulled away and twisted around to face Marini, panting angrily as she did so.

"We need to go back for Kenneth."

"There's nothing we can do, Rebecca," he repeated.

"So what, you're just going to do nothing?! For God's sake, he's injured, we can't just leave him like meat-"

"Don't you tell me how to do my job!" Marini snapped, causing her to flinch.

He watched as Rebecca's features faltered. There was now a look of desperation and anguish.

"Let me go back, then," she said quietly, "Please."

"This conversation's over," Marini said stiffly.

"Why?"

"For one, I don't want to argue in a sewer, especially when I'm standing in fresh shit!" Marini growled impatiently before turning away. "We'll continue this after we get out. Careful where you step."

* * * *

Rebecca opened her mouth to protest, but as Marini waded away, her eyes cast down in defeat.

"Don't look so down, rookie. We'll come back for Kenneth," Aiken tried to assure.

Saying nothing, she gave him a doubtful look.

"Don't look at me like that," he said heatedly, looking almost offended. "We will find him."

"After how long?" she demanded.

Aiken was beginning to look impatient with her and was about to open his mouth when Coen interrupted, "Might I point out that your bickering is better for when we're on the surface? In case you haven't noticed, some of your comrades are bleeding and I don't think being in the sewers is going to help."

Rebecca felt heat rise to her cheeks. Part of her wanted to talk back, but when she tried to speak, she realized that he was right.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly in resignation, ashamed of herself.

No one said a word as she turned toward the ledge, taking her first step into the cold murky water. Shivering in disgust, Rebecca slipped the other foot in.

'This is so gross,' she thought.

When she gets back to the Station, the first thing she's doing before going back home was have a nice, long shower.

That is, if I do manage to get back.

Shaking those thoughts aside, she looked over her shoulder, watching as the others followed her example.

"So help me, if I find a rat down here I'm going postal," Forest declared.

"On the rat or us?" Aiken asked half seriously.

To his, and Rebecca's, discouragement, Forest didn't bother to answer, adding much unneeded tension.

"We're falling behind, let's go," Coen said, ignoring the previous responses as he moved past the medic. She was thankful that he had, for right at the moment that he did so, everyone was in motion, including herself.

As she followed after them, she cast one final glance toward the door, hoping that Kenneth was still alive.

* * * *

Water sloshed around the group's legs as they treaded through, the sounds mixing with the constant drips and runoff that echoed inexhaustibly around them. Rebecca shivered as the cold water brushed against the skin of her legs.

God it was so cold down here! Rubbing her hands together, she breathed onto her frozen fingers. With each exhalation, her breath came out in vaporous plumes. Peering her head around some of the others, she saw Marini up ahead, looking around.

'I hope we find the exit soon, otherwise we might get hypothermia,' she thought.

"I found an exit!" Marini called out.

Finally, now they can get out of this frozen hell hole.

"It's over here!" Marini waved, pointing to something. Squinting, Rebecca made out a slight indentation in the wall. In that small recess, her hopes of getting out elevated as her gaze followed the ladder upward.

"Any volunteers?" Marini asked.

"I'll do it," the medic volunteered as she stepped forward.

Slowly creeping up the ladder, Rebecca kept her eyes focused on the wall in front of her, trying not to look down, her limbs trembling with a mixture of excitement and from the low temperature. Raising her hand up, she felt along for the ceiling's flat and smooth surface, hoping to find some sort of latch. Finding nothing, she gave a hard shove, causing it to flip wide open. She flinched as the cover fell back with a loud clatter, though was pleasantly surprised as warm air brushed against the skin of her arms. Pulling herself up, she glanced around, taken aback by her surroundings.

"Wha..."

Rebecca wasn't a specialist in matters relating to tunnel networks, nor was she involved with city planning, but whatever it was she had been expecting, it was certainly not the lush interior of a mansion. A floor checkered with an alternating pattern of black and white marble tiles, the room consisted of two separate levels with a column-supported balcony that encircled the entire first floor. Connecting the two levels was a long, red carpet-covered staircase with a slight landing that reached midway, the foot and top of which were illuminated by a pair of tripod-mounted torches that framed a massive portrait of an old man. Close to the walls were a collection of Victorian-styled chairs and oil landscape paintings. Peering at the latter, Rebecca tried to make out their content, but the poor lighting provided by the torches only had the effect of sucking all of the colors out from the canvases. Turning to look back at the foyer itself, she saw that the torch light hadn't just affected her perceptions of the paintings. The entire place was absolutely lifeless.

A slight creak made Rebecca look upward. Along with the swinging unlit form of a fancy chandelier, she spotted a fresco-covered ceiling, seemingly done in the style of the Sistine Chapel. Cherubs peered down mischievously from a soot-covered background, causing the medic to cringe and look away. Her eyes searched around. Was there anyone here?

'Maybe we can get help,' came the thought.

"Hello?" she called out, her voice echoing.

Silence.

"Hello?" she repeated.

The torches flickered and wavered off the walls. Nothing.

"Hell-"

"What are you doing?!" a voice hissed.

"Gaah! Ah!" Rebecca screamed, turning around to see Coen as he shushed her.

"Keep your damn voice down!" the convict whispered.

"You scared me!" Rebecca scolded, swatting his arm.

"Shh!" Coen hissed, pointing to something on the floor as he whispered, "We're not supposed to be here."

Turning to see where he was pointing, Rebecca saw a distinctive symbol etched out on the floor close to the stairs. Moving toward it, her heart thumped as she read what was written.

"'Umbrella Research Center.'"

* * * *

William Birkin stared at the security monitor.

"Who on earth are those people?" he wondered.

"The girl is a member of S.T.A.R.S.," his companion replied. "A rookie."

"And the male?"

"I'm unfamiliar with him."

Before either could respond, a voice rang loudly from the old speakers.

"Attention! This is Doctor Marcus," it called out in a strong tone.

* * * *

The survivors stiffened at the sound of the speaker.

"Please be silent as we reflect on the company motto. Obedience breeds discipline, discipline breeds unity, unity breeds power, power is life."

* * * *

Turning his attention back to the screen, Birkin noticed more people had joined the pair. He tried to make out their features when all six monitors started to flicker. One by one, each channel flickered over to a young man with long brown wearing a white robe staring coldly at them.

"What the-"

"Who are you?!" Birkin's companion demanded, cutting him off.

The man stared at them, his features cold and stiff.

"It was I who let the T-Virus loose," he said in a cold and collected voice.

Birkin blinked with surprise. "What?"

"You should see the wonders they've done to the mansion, especially the train," the man continued.

"Answer my question. Who are you and what do you want?" Birkin's companion growled.

"Just a ghost come back from a decade-old sleep," came the ominous reply as a strange growth rose to human height beside the young man. From the growth, a face started to form, causing Birkin's heart to jump with a start upon recognizing the visage.

"Good Christ!" he cried out.

"Vengeance will be mine! Once I'm finished with you, Umbrella's-"

The man was cut off as all of the screens suddenly flickered off.

Birkin looked at the monitors perplexed. "Did you just switch him off?" he asked.

"I didn't touch anything," the blonde man said beside him. He pressed at the monitors, then at the keyboards, but no matter what he did nothing worked.

"I don't understand. Was a fuse blown?" Birkin wondered.

His companion shook his head. "No, someone else is involved."

* * * *

Enrico Marini stood in meditation as he glanced around at his new surroundings.

'Out of the fuckin' pan,' came the wry thought as he and the others stared down at the Umbrella symbol.

"Well, isn't this great! We just got off from the express track from hell, waded through the sewers, and have now arrived at Satan's gaping asshole." Forest said sarcastically, "Absolutely fabulous. So what now?!"

The Bravo Captain gave a fixed glare of annoyance. "First thing we need to do is to take stock of our inventory. Richard?"

"Well, we have couple of ammo clips for the MP.5s, but no MP.5s."

Marini scowled. Damn. "Do you have any clips for your sidearm?"

Aiken blinked. "Oh, I forgot about those," he said as he fished around in his pocket. "Yes, yes we do. One clip."

Marini sighed. It's a start, but it's not going to be enough, not if they planned on getting out alive.

'Well, better than nothing,' came the thought.

Looking over to the next Bravo, he prayed for better news. "Forest?"

"Good news or bad news?"

"Just tell me. No point pussy-footin'," he said with exasperation.

He watched as the weapons specialist hold up something. "Well, the good news is that I still have my left-over rounds for the grenade launcher. Problem is, no grenade launcher."

Marini shook his head. This was not what he wanted to hear.

The albino stepped forward. "I found this on the table," he said, holding out a box full of handgun ammo.

Giving a nod of thanks, Marini passed the ammo box along, watching as hands snatched eagerly for the remaining rounds.

"Thank you very much, Mister Wolf."

"I also found a typewriter and an ink ribbon if you're interested," the albino replied.

Marini raised an eyebrow. "Why would we need it?"

"W-Well," the youth stammered, trying to find the right words, "...shouldn't we try to make a written record or something? In the event...that-"

He trailed off, looking uncomfortable as his strange violet eyes cast down to the floor, as if trying to refrain from giving voice to the horrible possibilities.

Marini pursed his lips as his brow furrowed in thought, clicking his tongue in contemplation, before finally giving a slow nod in agreement. "You raised a good point, kid. Yeah, that's a good idea, actually. Go ahead and type it up."

Giving a slight bow, the albino departed to the right of the staircase, over toward a table with a typewriter.

Turning back to the others, Marini looked to the rookie. "What about you, Rebecca?" he asked, "Do you still have ammunition?"

She nodded. "I do, but not a lot." Marini was about to turn away when she continued, "Captain...what about Kenneth?"

The Bravo Captain sighed at her persistence in the matter. Opening his mouth to address her, he was cut off by Coen.

"I'll go back," Coen volunteered.

Startled, the Bravos glanced over to him, Marini himself caught by surprise by his response. What was he up to?

Looking around, the convict rolled his eyes, "What? Were you expecting me to say something else?"

"Oh you would love for us to believe that, wouldn't you?" Aiken said in a low voice, his tone venomous.

Coen narrowed his eyes. "What's your problem?"

"My problem, convict," Aiken said pointedly, "is that with your criminal record, I'm a little - no, very skeptical about your offer to help out. I'm concerned that you might have some funny ideas up there in that noggin of yours, like, say, suddenly disappear or slip a shiv in our backs when we're not looking."

The convict scoffed. "With all of these monsters everywhere, you think that's the worst that could happen?"

"Shut up, both of you," Marini ordered. "This is neither the time nor the place, so whatever bullshit you're holding, drop it. We have more pressing matters at hand. Rebecca, I need you to treat any and all injuries on the double. We can't let any untreated wounds become infected, especially with T-Virus present."

She gave a nod. "Yes sir," Rebecca said as she went to work, taking off her backpack.

"The rest of you, I want all of your pockets checked for any spare clips or weapons until it's your turn."

Upon hearing that, everyone moved into action. Everyone, save for the albino. Turning to him, Marini was going to ask if he heard when he saw the youth's expression. Staring up from the foot of the stairs toward a landing with an extra pair of stairways leading up to the balcony, the albino's face was tense and nervous. What was especially noticeable, though, was the undeniable look of recognition.

"Mister Wolf?"

Upon hearing his name, the albino twisted around at him with a jolt. "Yes?" he answered.

"Are you alright? Is there something here you recognize or want to tell us?" Marini asked.

The albino stared at the stairs and the landing. "It's...It's nothing. It just...it just felt like someone is walking over my grave," came the short response.

Marini eyed him carefully. "Did you use the typewriter yet?"

The albino shook his head. "I was just going to do it," he replied.

"Then get to it. When you're done you should get out of those rags."

Giving him a short nod, the albino turned toward one of his suitcases, opening it up as he proceeded to unravel the mounds of clothing off from himself. When he was finished, he quickly trotted over to the desk and went to work.

'He knows something,' Marini thought.

Whatever it was that he's hiding, it was somehow tied in with that style of staircase. Whether it signified involvement with Umbrella, Marini wasn't sure, but some way or another he will find out what the albino knows.

* * * *

Minutes passed as Rebecca began checking and treating injuries. The majority of the ones that she found were some minor cuts on their arms and faces that had needed to be wiped clean with gauze. Aside from some minor bruising, everyone that she had examined seemed to be in perfect health. Tying the final knot to a bandage, Rebecca looked up at her latest patient, feeling pleased that she was able to help.

"Okay, that's it!" she beamed.

Giving a grunt of thanks, Forest wandered off with a look of relief.

Turning toward the desk with the typewriter, Rebecca eyed the one person - in fact, the only person - to have refused her offer for a checkup and treatment.

"Are you sure that you don't want to be examined?" she asked. "If you have any cuts, I'll gladly help you."

Star nodded. "I don't have any injuries. I'm perfectly fine, thank you," he replied, his tone stiff.

'What are you hiding?' she wondered.

For a while, there were times when Rebecca felt she might have misjudged him, but ever since they arrived in the mansion, the albino was becoming increasingly squirmy.

Could he be an Umbrella creation?

Certainly, she had never heard of a condition such as his. Was there even such a condition?

She shook her head at the nonsense she was thinking. There has to be a reasonable explanation for his behavior.

'Maybe he's just creeped out by our new settings,' she thought reflexively.

If so, Rebecca would be able to understand, if not relate to what he was feeling; it was hard to feel either comforted or comfortable in this place, not unless one was Count Dracula.

The problem with Star, though, was that he was frustratingly obscure.

'I wish he was more forthcoming,' Rebecca thought as she replaced the latex gloves with her regular pair.

Raising her hand up to wipe the sweat off from her forehead, she paused when her wrist brushed against leather. Looking down at herself, the medic flushed with embarrassment, realizing she still had some of the extra accessories, including Star's coat. She couldn't believe that she still had it on. Now she understood why she was feeling so warm.

I must have looked absolutely ridiculous!

Scowling, Rebecca started to pull off the coat. She had just unwrapped the extra padding off from her shoulders when she felt something trickle from her forehead down to her cheek.

"Huh?"

Hearing that, the group turned to face her, their mouths open with awe.

"Oh fuck," Marini said under his breath.

Reaching up, she puzzlingly wiped the fluid away with her fingers and pulled them back down to see what it was.

Blood.

"Oh God. Oh God, what's happening?" she murmured.

She must have been cut by the glass at some point in the crash. As she stared at her blood-stained fingers, Rebecca began to feel to dizzy. The room spun around as she stumbled, trying not to fall. A pair of strong hands clasped onto her shoulders.

"It's okay," Star said.

"Lower her against the wall over there!" Aiken ordered.

Rebecca felt her arm loop around someone's shoulder, her vision becoming blurry as she felt her toes sliding against the ground, until find herself being carefully seated down in a semi-sitting position.

"Everything's going to be okay, Rebecca," Aiken reassured as Star opened one of his suitcases, taking out the gauze bandages. Slipping off her backpack from her shoulders, Rebecca held it out for the latter.

"Get the first aid spray and water out, you have to disinfect the injury," she said.

"Got it," he replied as he zipped it open.

Pulling out the following contents, Rebecca watched as he poured water onto a napkin that he pulled from his pocket and closed her eyes as he started to wipe her forehead. She heard the can rattle for a few seconds until there came a loud hiss, followed by a painful burning sensation that made her wince.

"OW! Ow!"

"My apologies, Officer Chambers."

Keeping her eyes closed, Rebecca felt the bandage being carefully wrapped around her forehead and tightened at the back. Opening her eyes, she saw Star looking at her with concern.

"Is that too tight, Officer Chambers?" he asked.

She smiled slightly in reassurance. "It's fine," the girl replied. "I'm sorry about your shirts."

The albino stared at her, perplexed. "No need to apologize, Officer-"

"Rebecca. You don't have to be so formal."

Star shrugged. "It's a habit that I find hard to break," he said as he placed the shirts into his suitcase. Looking to Aiken, he queried, "May I have my clothes back?"

"You already got them," Aiken replied.

"He's talking about the ones ya still have, Ali Babba," Coen said with a cheeky smile.

Glancing down, Aiken scowled. Pulling them off, he tossed them indelicately to Star, who promptly proceeded to neatly fold them into the suitcase. As he zipped up, Rebecca looked over to Marini.

"So what do we do now?" she asked, "We still need to find Kenneth."

"As I said before," Coen spoke up, "I'm willing to go back."

"Like hell. I ain't letting you off so you could stab us in the back," Aiken retorted.

Coen looked at him with irritation. "Here's a newsflash, pal - I'm not interested in killing cops. I have no love for this merry little band. But, with that said, you can count me off the list. I'm better than that."

"Oh, absolutely. You're just a lowlife murdering scumbag responsible for the deaths of twenty-three civilians."

The comment made the convict stiffen and ball up his fists. The next moment, he stepped forward, causing Rebecca's heart to leap as Aiken and Marini reached for their sidearms.

"Give me an excuse, convict!" Aiken uttered in a low and dangerous voice.

"Shut up, Richard," the Bravo Captain hissed.

For a couple of tense seconds, Rebecca watched as Coen stood there, eying both Bravos intently before uncurling his fists. As he did so, Marini lowered his hand away from his holster.

"You can help us find Kenneth, but you're not doing it alone," he affirmed, his voice neutral. Turning to the others, he continued, "We'll divide into two groups. Rebecca, when you're feeling better, I want you and Forest to search the rooms with Wolf. Salvage whatever you can find. Richard and I will go back with Coen to Kenneth."

Rebecca hesitated. "Captain, why aren't I coming along?"

"It would be too dangerous, plus you still need time to recover."

"Captain-"

"Rebecca, we got this. If any of us find ourselves in need of medical attention, you'll be the first to know," Marini assured as he and the others went back to the sewer entrance.

Rebecca wanted to protest, but her voiced died down along with their sinking torsos as they descended back down the ladder. Watching them depart, she uttered two pitiful words of encouragement. Hearing them spoken, though, they sounded empty as they left her mouth.

"Good luck."