The Umbrella Management Training Facility.Underground Tunnel.
CRASH!
RUMBLE...
A deafening noise echoed through the dark tunnel as the massive steel beast came to a violent halt. The Ecliptic Express had derailed, plowing into the rock and debris, but the tunnel was wide enough to absorb the impact. Instead of pancaking into a wall, the train skidded on its side, sparks flying until friction finally won.
Dust and smoke filled the air, choking the limited light.
"Cough! Cough!"
Havel crawled out of the wreckage of the rear car. His armor was scuffed, and he had a few bruises, but he was alive.
Holy shit, he thought, dusting himself off. That was close. If I hadn't grabbed that stanchion, I would have been paste.
He looked toward the front of the train, which was buried under a pile of rubble.
"Hey!"
"Rebecca! Billy! Are you two alive?!"
He shouted into the gloom. Logically, the front of the train took the hardest hit. But Havel wasn't too worried. These two had "Protagonist Armor." In the Resident Evil universe, vehicles were the ones that died, not the main characters. Leon Kennedy crashed everything he touched, and he always walked away with perfect hair.
Sure enough...
"Cough..."
"We're here, Havel! We're alive!"
Rebecca's voice called out. She emerged from the smoke, supporting Billy. The ex-Marine was limping; the crash had banged up his left leg, but otherwise, they were in one piece.
"I'm fine," Havel said, walking over to meet them. "But we're in deep now."
He pointed his flashlight at the tunnel walls.
"Look."
Painted on the concrete wall was a faded logo. A red and white umbrella.
"The Umbrella Management Training Facility. This is where they train their future executives... and where they likely conduct their darker experiments. If I'm right, this place is going to be crawling with more zombies than the train."
Billy and Rebecca looked up at the logo. The paint was peeling, and the area was covered in thick cobwebs and dust.
"It looks abandoned," Billy noted.
"Don't let that fool you," Havel warned. "Abandoned just means the monsters have had time to breed."
The tunnel behind them was blocked by the wrecked train. The only way forward was a set of metal stairs leading up into the facility.
"No way back," Havel muttered. "We have to push forward."
He unslung his backpack.
"Billy, take this."
Havel pulled out the Winchester 1887 lever-action shotgun he had bought from Old Man Hawk. He tossed it to the Marine.
"It's an antique, but it packs a punch. It's the 'Demon-Slaying Holy Flame.' Treat her well."
Billy caught the weapon one-handed. He inspected the wood stock and the unique lever mechanism. A nostalgic smile crossed his face.
"Ha..."
"My old man used to have one of these. I learned to shoot on a Winchester. Haven't held one since I was a kid."
He racked the lever with a satisfying clack-clack. It felt good. Familiar.
Havel grinned behind his mask. "Yeah. It's the same model the Terminator used. You know, Arnold? On the Harley? If you can flip-cock it like him, I'll give you a bonus."
"Hey! Havel!"
Rebecca stomped her foot, interrupting the bromance. "What about me? Don't I get anything cool? Why does the convict get a shotgun and I get nothing?"
She glared at him. It wasn't about the gun; it was about the principle. She felt left out.
Havel reached out and pinched her cheek through his gloved fingers.
"You're the Medic, rookie. Your job is to keep us alive, not to play Rambo. Besides..."
He leaned in closer.
"If I give you a big gun, knowing your luck, you'll probably trip and shoot me in the ass. You stick to the handgun. We'll protect you."
"You...!"
Rebecca swatted his hand away, blushing with anger. "I'm a qualified marksman! I won't shoot you! Probably!"
Havel chuckled. He knew better. In Resident Evil, the AI partner was usually a liability. He didn't want to tempt fate by giving her a cannon.
"Let's move," Billy cut in, limping toward the stairs with his new shotgun. "Before whatever lives down here hears us arguing."
The Management Training Facility.Monitoring Room.
"Wesker."
"Someone's inside. Look."
William Birkin pointed at a bank of monitors. The grainy black-and-white feed showed three figures climbing the stairs from the underground tunnel.
"That uniform... it's S.T.A.R.S.," Birkin hissed. "What are they doing here? Did the RPD figure out the leak? Are they here to arrest us?"
"Should I release the B.O.W.s? We should kill them before they find the lab!"
Birkin was panicking again. Intruder meant exposure. Exposure meant Spencer.
Wesker stared at the screen, his face impassive behind his sunglasses.
"S.T.A.R.S...."
He recognized them. Rebecca Chambers, the rookie from Bravo Team. And the big one in the gas mask... that must be the new recruit, Havel.
"Interesting," Wesker murmured. "They survived the crash. And they seem to have picked up a stray."
He looked at Billy Coen.
"No need to panic, William. They are rats in a maze. Let's see how they handle the test subjects. It will provide... valuable combat data."
Wesker leaned back in his chair, a cruel smile playing on his lips.
"Let the games begin."