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Dylan Wirta
Posts: 5


“I guess its time to say goodbye...”

“Officially, Lieutenant Billy Coen is dead...”

“Yeah, I’m just a zombie now...”

“Thank you, Rebecca...”

I can still remember everything about that moment, which even today still stands as the hardest moment in my entire life. The day itself remains in fragments. Shatters of the events that transpired. But that single moment left me hollow. I remember everything.

From the tweet, tweet of the birds greeting the early morning. To the sound of his voice slowly fading into the deep corners of my memory. As each day becomes fades into yesterday, I worry so much that I will lose the sound of his voice forever. The image of his face.

It gets blurrier and blurrier every day. I don’t want to lose him. I look back at that memory in my mind every second of every day, and I wish to God I had just grabbed a hold of him and never let go. But that moment in time was too important. Too big that I couldn’t put myself first. I had to continue fighting. The end of Umbrella seemed more important then allowing myself to hold onto him.

But was it? Was my feeble attempt at being a cog in the machine taking down the multi-billion dollar corporation worth it? Every time I enter a new day, I doubt that “truth”.

“July 25th, 1998. Does that date hold any significance to you?” My therapist, Dr. Lydia Mason, asks me, emotionlessly, as most therapists do. I take a deep sigh and answer her difficult question.

“That seems a little to specific to be random. But, yes. It was the last day in the hardest series of days in my life.”

“What happened?”

“I think we’ve been over this before, Dr. Mason. You get the gist”

“That’s true, but I want more than simply the gist.”

I tightly bite my lip, so much so that I think I feel blood running down my chin. I wipe my lip, but find nothing. I drop my hand, resting it on my lap, and shut my eyes before saying a word. The weight of my past is too much is face so brazenly.

“Not much to tell really. Their was an outbreak in the outskirts of Raccoon City. We were called in. Everyone died. Except for me, Chris, Jill, Brad and Barry.”

“That must have been hard for you? Watching all your friends die.”

“They weren’t really my friends.” I allow my eyes to flutter and open, but as soon as they do, she bombards me with another painful question.

“Not even Richard?” I hate her for asking that question, because I can’t shut my eyes quickly enough to hold back the tears. They come too fast, and too furious.

My lap feels soaked by the falling water by the time she hands me some tissues. I collect myself, and do my very best to speak. The words fight to stay down, but I want- I want so bad- to get them out.

“I didn’t know Richard all that well. I hadn’t been on Bravo team for very long. But he was the first person on S.T.A.R.S. to welcome me with open arms. I was so scared entering S.T.A.R.S., this committed team of dedicated friends, but he made it all better. He made me feel wanted, which is something that captains couldn’t even do. And I had to watch him suffer. Watch him wither in pain... I had to watch him die.”

“But he wasn’t your friend?”

“I don’t like to think of anyone from S.T.A.R.S. as a friend. Not even the ones still alive. It’s too hard.” My fingers tear through the extremely saturated tissues tightly knotted in between my fingers.

“Because you feel they could all still die?”

“Yeah. At any time. Especially Chris. He’s still fighting.”

“That’s Chris Redfield?”

“Yes. He’s part of the B.S.A.A. and is still putting his life on the line every day. It’s-it’s amazing. He’s so brave. But I don’t want to be best friends with him, talk to them every day, only to get the phone call saying he’s dead. I already got that call once about Jill. I couldn’t take it. I didn’t even go to her funeral. All I think about is how much that must’ve hurt Chris.”

“From what you have told me about Chris Redfield, the fact that he helped you survived that day, and that you accredit your survival to him, it doesn’t make you think of him as a friend you can turn to?”

I lift my head and slowly raise my hand. Brushing around my breast, I immediately recoil back to a faded memory of Raccoon City.

Gun raised. Pointing at me. I immediately search for Chris’ hand to grab but can’t find it. He’s standing right beside me, but I can’t grab a hold of him for protection. I’ve been through all this with Billy, Richard, Chris... I’m not going to let Albert Wesker take my life. No! Not after all I’ve been through! After all the fighting I did!!

The trigger is pulled, and I slam to the concrete floor. The world stops. It blackens. My eyes shut. I’m dead.

Pulling out of the nightmare feels like being pulled from ice-cold suffocating water. The bruise that formed just below my shoulder from Wesker’s bullet has been gone for years now. Yet I still feel like its still present. Like I can’t escape that nightmare, no matter how many years pass. No matter how hard I try.

“Rebecca?” Dr. Mason’s cool, soothing voice doesn’t seem to belong alongside my dark memories. So much so that I can no longer stay here. I have to get out.

“I’m so sorry, Dr. Mason, but I-I need to go.” I stand from the sickly yellow couch, not letting a thing stop me from reaching the exit door. Oddly the same feeling I felt rushing for the helicoper’s escape above the labs in Raccoon City sweeps over me.

“But our session isn’t over?” I don’t respond to her, I only push my way out the door, running-charging-escaping from those memories that I never want to face again.

The second the doors shut behind me, as I enter my apartment, I feel that solace should console me, but nothing. I’ve entered my “safe place”, so to speak, but I still feel like the weight of the world is crushing down on my bones. Grinding them into nothing but powdery dust.

I feel my knees give way to the heavy weights pulling-pushing me down. I do my best to cushion my fall but simply have no will to. I let the shadows overtake me and drift into a distant subconscious memory, letting this world go for the time being.


I feel like a dozen people have just walked over my grave. Dancing joyously as if my death, my rotting body six feet under, means nothing to them. I feel something and someone standing right behind me. The deceased man slumped in front of me no longer matters. Their is a gun to the back of my head.

I make my next moves cautiously, standing slowly and turning at a constant pace. The face I’m greeted to is slightly familiar, though I pick his face out of the line-up in my mind instantly, and put a name to his face.

“Billy... Lieutenant Coen...” I say, the immediate words makes him widen his eyes and respond.

“So, you seem to know me. Been fantasizing about me, have you?” He seems a little too cocky for a man who just escaped death from human execution.

“You’re the prisoner that was being transfered for execution. You were with those soldiers outside.” My words make his eyes flutter, but he continues his cool bravado.

“Ahh, I see. You’re with S.T.A.R.S. Well no offense honey, but your kind doesn’t seem to want me around. So I’m afraid our little chat time is over.” He lowers his gun and holsters it behind him, turning away and making an exit.

As he makes a quick turn around the corner, I sharply do the same.

“Wait! You’re under arrest!”

He stops, but only part-way turns his head. His full body still does not face me, making me wonder just how scared or pig headed this man actually may be.

“No thanks, doll face. I’ve already worn handcuffs.” He raises his arm, showing me the handcuff still attached to his left hand. They jingle slightly, and he continues his path towards freedom.

“I could shoot, you know!” I do my absolute best to try and sound intimidating, but I’m sure that no matter what a small, eighteen girl like me does, this murderer won’t flinch. Not even in the slightest.

I turn myself back around, ready to examine that crumpled body again, releasing a deep sigh that seems to give me back the air I so desperately searched for while trying to act brave. I look forward, ready to move, as a crash from a window behind me catches me off guard.


The present day world, that feels so hollow to me, returns. I am pulled back into the world from that faded dream.

As I raise myself up, I begin the see the world outside. Its pitch black. Not quite as dark as the night in the mansion, but close enough that it makes me want to run and hide.

But I can’t. I need to continue to fight. Don’t I? Maybe not in the same way Chris does and Jill did, but in some way.

I’m in no useful in the fight against bio-warfare or anyone’s sick and twisted ideal to continue Umbrella’s legacy, though some days I wish I was. Raccoon City proved otherwise. I was so cracked and ready to shatter following my goodbye with Billy and watching Richard die, I’m surprise Chris didn’t have to carry me in the helicopter when we made our escape.

Hearing about the events in Harvardville chill me to the bone. The fact that it took place barely a year ago terrifies me. I though we all left that horror behind us in Raccoon City.

And it makes me feel so helpless that these thing continue to happen - that people have no problem or trouble playing with people’s lives like Umbrella did nearly ten years ago. Their is a special place in hell for Umbrella, WilPharma and everyone else that gets their jollies playing games like that.

Ozwell E. Spencer... may he forever burn in hell.

I can’t stop myself from rummaging through my “collection”, even though I just ran from it and know it is the absolute worst thing for me. But is calls me like a siren. I don’t want to relive those memories anymore, but I cannot help it.

The yellow tinge of the once grayish papers make me wonder just how long it has been since I’ve looked at them. All they do is bring painful memories back into the forefront, but that doesn’t seem to be an issue to me at this very moment. I just want to feel.

The headlines I read flash like a needle in my brain.












I can’t believe my eyes reading everything that has happened since Raccoon City. It seems like just yesterday my heart began to race hearing footsteps behind me, holding Richard in my arms.

My mind races a mile a minute, thinking of all the possibilities of what those footsteps behind me mean. I can’t for the life of me imagine it is good news, though I am pleasantly surprised.

“You?” Turning my head, I recognize the man behind me vaguely.

“Chris Redfield. Alpha Team. We’re here to rescue you.” I don’t believe a word he says. Rescue. Does he really think it will be that easy. Just to walk out. Clear shot to the front door? Yeah, right.

He walks around me and kneels down.

“Richard?! What the hell happened to you?” Chris takes Richard’s hand, and we both grip it tightly. Richard weakly tries himself to hold his grip.

“Chris... this place... Get your team out of here.” Richard does his best to try and move Chris’ hand upward, towards his bleeding wound.

“Demons... everywhere...” I try to silence Richard, knowing speaking may be the worst thing for him at the moment.

“Don’t talk.” I turn to Chris. “He was bitten by a snake. It seems to have been poisonous. The size of the bite mark it huge.”

Richard begins speaking directly to Chris. I has the pleasure of witnessing all this myself.

“Its not just any ordinary snake. Take my word for it.”

“He needs serum. I left it in another room.”

Chris places a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll go get it!”

“Please hurry.” Richard doesn’t have much time left. If he doesn’t get serum right now... I-I don’t even want to think about it.

“Hold on! I’ll be back!”

Dozens of memories play sequentially in my head, but even as they fight for my total attention, I find myself remembering as if they happened no less than a hour ago.

I gently grasp a clipped newspaper article and begin to read.


Ex-Marine Lieutenant Sentenced to Death

July 23rd, 1998

By Alyssa Ashcroft

Following the brutal murders of nearly two dozen villagers in a small African village, the man responsible for the murders, ex-marine Lieutenant William “Billly" Coen was court martialed yesterday and convicted of the slayings. The man was relatively quiet at the hearing, especially when his sentence was being handed down. The execution will be carried out at the Ragathon base sometime tomorrow (continued on page E3)...

I only think of just how close Billy came to death, only to have to spend the rest of his life on the run. An innocent man running for his life because of a crime he didn’t commit... not exactly a fair sentence while Umbrella’s legacy burns on. Umbrella has collapsed, but events like Harvardville only prove that too many people are quick to continue their dark pursuit. I suppose Albert Wesker’s death was a major victory but that fact that Jill Valentine had to die with him isn’t something that sits well in the pit of my stomach.

“What I am doing?” I say to myself, though I hold on to an impossible hope that Billy heard my voice. I push the newspaper clippings aside and notice a change inside me.

Do I want to continue to sit idly by and watch these biological weapons continue to be made and sold while my friends risk their lives... sometimes giving them? I don’t want to be that person that just sits back like a scared dog while everyone else gives their all. I’ve been doing it for nearly ten years now, and I feel terrible. I feel like I’m trapped in a black pit, all alone, never fighting to free myself.

If I ever hope to free myself from this suffocating existence I put on myself, I’m gonna need some help... and I know of only one person I can turn to...


"Ugly face so killed him.


September 28, 2011 at 7:56 PM Flag Quote & Reply

George Trevor
Site Owner
Posts: 1093

Great presentation; I love the snipits of Resident Evil lore you have included at various intervals, and the narrative is superb. I enjoyed much of the imagery you have included to bring Rebecca's torturous existence to life. I particularly enjoyed the portrayal of a much overlooked character, and the timeline you have put together as a backdrop to her mental anguish fits perfectly...... I look forward to more, and will definitely feature this wonderful story in our next site update.


Thank you very much Dylan for sharing this exclusive preview of your work, here at Crimson head Elder.


Jessica... Lisa... Forgive me. May god justify my death in exchange for your safety.

September 29, 2011 at 4:43 AM Flag Quote & Reply

James Marcus
Posts: 226

I would like to extend my gratitude to this writer, because I have thoroughly enjoyed reading this fan-fiction. I cannot wait for further updates. Great work sir !

September 29, 2011 at 1:29 PM Flag Quote & Reply

Posts: 183

Interesting fiction. I look forward to further chapters.



December 17, 2011 at 3:17 PM Flag Quote & Reply

George Trevor
Site Owner
Posts: 1093

Post by Dylan Wirta :

NOTE: As the story expans, each odd numbered chapter (1,3,5,etc.) will be told from Rebecca's perspective. Each even numbered chapter (2,4,6...) is told from the perspective of an unitendified character whose identity will be revealed near the end of the story. Hints will be dropped throughout to help others piece together their identity. All I will say now is they are a character never SEEN before in the franchise but mentioned. Enjoy!




It’s disappointing to witness the truly great fall from that greatness... but for them to fall at the hands of its own creation... That is inexcusable. And the creation must fall at the hands of another, if for nothing other then punishment.

Albert killed his creator in cold blood, and while I ultimately decided to forfeit my apprenticeship with Spencer, I would have never taken his life. He had the right to be God. Not Albert.

I don’t believe I am anywhere near the greatness of Spencer, though if he cannot bring his new world to fruition, I suppose I am next in line.

It is my sworn duty to ensure Spencer vision is realized and that, should Albert Wesker ever return, I will take care of him.

Until that day comes, and I know it will, I suppose the virus Spencer entrusted me with should be my next priority. To fulfill it’s duty by granting me everlasting life. I still do not know just how it will react to a human body, a warm human body, but I have more then enough expendable to work with.

I remove myself from my inner monologue and step over to the sheet of paper beside my desk. Scanning it, I look over all my options for experimentations from the top eight...









All viable options... all of those people have knowledge of Umbrella and its competitors, knowledge that could cripple TriCell or even The Organization should it get out. And all have all been forgotten about. No one remembers them and no one cares.



CHAPTER NOTE: Since chapter 2 was decidedly short, I decided to post the third chapter as well. Back to Rebecca's perspective, a new character is introduced, though one that everyone should know.



The pacing of my feet does not stop as thoughts spin on a race track in my mind. I worry Chris will be angry with me for skipping Jill’s funeral. I worry he may not show up at all. But most of all, my heart pounds like a Hunter on steroids trying to figure out how I’m going to explain Billy to him.

Chris, like everyone else besides me, believed Billy died in Raccoon City. And how am I going to be able to prove to him that Billy was innocent? I only believed Billy because of how sincere his words truly were. I don’t know how sincere I can be at this moment, wondering if Chris hates my guts.

The knock, knock, knock at the front door gives me the distinct feeling that my heart just descended, and that I am not ready for this. I’m not ready to see him again, after all these years.

Nevertheless, this is the hand I have been dealt. No, the hand I have chosen. And I have to swallow my pride and get on with it. I need to be by Billy’s side once and for all.

Simply turning my body to face the door seems an impossible task but as soon as I am able I move one foot in front of the other and grasp the knob.

“When I didn’t see you in the church that day... I-I didn’t know what to think of it. I had plenty of B.S.A.A. members around me, and they’ve all became friends, but... I wanted an old friend beside me. I wanted you.” Chris’ words makes me feel even worse as his hand gently drapes across the top of mine. Obviously he doesn’t mean to make me feel bad, and I suppose I deserve it, but it still feels like a knife scraping against my bones.

“I’m sorry. I truly am. Barry was with you though, right?”

“Yeah, with his wife Kathy and girls Moira and Polly, but... I still wanted to see you there.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I still can’t believe she’s gone. Jill never seemed like the person who wouldn’t be around... fighting every day of her life.”

“I know what you mean. But she gave her life like a warrior. She gave her life for me. And took Wesker out for good in the process. But if I could take it all back, just to have her in my arms again... I would.” I can feel the pain resonating through his words, and that only makes me feel even more comfortable telling him about Billy. He lost Jill. I think he’ll understand why I did what I did and how much I want my old friend back.

At every chance I get to spill my words about Billy, I find myself holding them back.

“Why did you call me Rebecca?” He asks, and the question crushes me. I can tell he has some pent up hostility towards me.

“I-I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“No, I do, I just-”

“Rebecca, I don’t want to sound harsh or mean, but I’m a busy man. Still with the

B.S.A.A. and my time is very valuable. I took a week out of my schedule to come help and old friend... who I guess doesn’t really need any help.”

“I do need your help Chris.”

“With what Rebecca? I want to help you...”

I swallow air, perhaps only as a way to bide some time.


I can feel my jaw begin to quiver as I fight to get the words out.

“Rebecca what’s wrong?”

I take the deepest sigh I’ve taken, and force the first word out.

“Rebecca he was a convicted killer!” I understand where he’s coming from, but his harsh words against Billy anger me.

“I know, Chris, but he didn’t do it! He didn’t kill anyone!”

“How do you know Rebecca? Because he told you? If you want to prove his innocence you’re going to have to provide more evidence then that.”

I knew this wasn’t going to be easy. I really have no evidence... I-I just know. Billy didn’t kill anyone. His fellow marines used him as a scapegoat so they could get off Scott-Free, while the innocent man of the group pays dearly. But I know Chris will believe me. I just know it.

He sighs and sits back down beside me on my couch and looks intently into my eyes.

“Rebecca... I know you wouldn’t lie to me. And I also know you’re not one to buy someone’s bullshit... but-this-this is big. This is huge. Even if he’s innocent, and people find out about this... you’ll be charged with aiding and abetting a fugitive. You helped him escape.”

“Because he’s innocent Chris! He is.”

Chris takes his gaze away from mine and looks down at the floor. He sighs, looks back up and takes my hand.

“I believe you.”

“Will you help me?”

He takes a moment to respond, all the while I’m thinking repeatedly that he will not.

“Alright. The B.S.A.A.’s resources should help us. But Rebecca... if we find him... we need to find some way to prove his innocence beyond a doubt. Otherwise we’ll both be taken into police custody.”

I can feel my face light up the a bright bulb, and his slight smile corroborates my feeling. He stands up and begins looking down at me.

“This won’t be easy Rebecca. Not in the least. And that’s even if we end up finding him... which... I’ll be honest is not likely. But if you really want to do this... if you really want to find him...”

I look down for a moment, trying to process all that may and will happen... and boldly take his hand and stand. We look into each other with admiration and respect.

“I do.” He looks down at me, eyes squinted, the exact opposite of my very wide ones. His six-foot tall frame towers over my miniscule 5‘3‘’ body.

“Well, then... we better get started...” All I’ve ever wanted is now within my grasp...

January 5, 2012 at 5:39 PM Flag Quote & Reply

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