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Description
Eternal Animosity
CHAPTER 1: A NEW NIGHTMARE
By: Ben Soulstone & Tamara Fernandez

Disclaimer: Please note that all these works are original creations (unless otherwise stated) and are not to be distributed publicly or privately without full consent and knowledge of the creator(s). Original character profiles, images, and names are copyrighted by the creator and cannot be used without prior consent. Please refrain from leaving rude comments if you dislike the genre/film or anything else specified. Constructive critisism only. Characters are copyrighted to Capcom, for the exception of Dennise Fern who is original creation of T.D.F.

The world was engulfed in flames. Sparks and balls of fire seemed to be at every corner. She was trapped and couldn’t escape. Then there was a roar, a screeching yell that made her ears want to burst. As she turned her head she saw him standing there, a large grotesque creature that loomed over her. But his eyes were gentle and so soft; nothing compared to the rest of his body.
“Steve…?” she asked in a shaky voice as the beast rose a tremendous axe, “Claire…Claire…” it groaned, barely audible through the explosions that took place behind him. “Claire…I…love…you…” it said as it rose its axe over its head. “Steve! Don’t! I--” but before she could respond the axe was already falling on her…

Claire Redfield awoke from a painful slumber. She was drenched in cold sweat from head to toe. It had been the third night this week she had had the same dream. It had to mean something; otherwise it wouldn’t keep coming to haunt her night after night. As she took a deep breath, she slid out from under her covers and stood up at the side of her bed. It was still dark outside, but the moon barely lit her tiny bedroom. Her eyes moved towards the digital clock on her nightstand, “Six in the morning…great,” she mumbled, running her fingers through her hair as she made her way to the bathroom.
It had been two years since the incidents that occurred in Raccoon City and Rock Fort Island. Claire and Chris Redfield had managed to escape the Antartic Base barely with their lives. After going through everything they went through they decided to try and live normal lives and start anew in Manhattan, but recently Claire was being plagued with reoccuring nightmares about a boy who died saving her life. His name was Steve Burnside, a seventeen year old that had been a prisoner on Rock Fort Island. They both got far in their attempt to escape, but at the last moment Alexia Ashford injected Steve with the T-Veronica virus. His last words are what hurt her the most.
Claire was already brushing her teeth as she looked at herself in the mirror. She hadn’t been able to sleep well the past three days and kept waking up at the same hour everyday; you could tell by the dark bags under her eyes.

Someone, somewhere, hadn’t been sleeping either…

* * *

A pale looking woman with glasses and a white trenchcoat was sitting at her desk, typing furiously into the computer. Across from her was a large tank filled with green liquid and a young male connected to several different devices inside the tank. She was in a laboratory situated in the H.C.F. HQ, computers and machines of all sorts all around the cold metallic room. A deep sigh ran through the woman’s lips as she removed her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. As she replaced her glasses she made her way towards the tank, looking up at the subject inside. She was holding a clipboard as she started to stratch down notes and other data. The woman continued to scribble down notes as her trenchcoat swayed behind her while she walked around the tank, examining every single aspect of the boy.
“How is he…?” asked a deep and peircing voice that made her jump. A tall, blond haired man with sunglasses walked into the large laboratory. This man’s name was none other than Albert Wesker, formely known as the Captain Wesker of the S.T.A.R.S. Alpha team. He slowly and mysteriously walked towards the woman as he looked up into the tank.
“He’s made some improvements, Sir…” she woman stated shyly, Wesker towering over her petite figure. He looked down at her and smirked, “Well done, Dennise…”
“Let me show you,” Dennise said walking around Wesker and making her way back to the computer she had been working at earlier. She sat down and opened a window that listed information on the subject, “here are all the vital statistics based on the last two hours. The heart rate is increasing, his brainwaves are active—”
“He’s dreaming…” Wesker said as he leaned behind her, his head by hers. “Correct. I have also had some physical reaction everytime his brainwaves begin to act up, as if he were having nightmares. Sir, he’s made some excellent progress, more than I could’ve predicted.” Dennise explained as Wesker pressed her left shoulder gently with his left hand. “Good girl,” he whispered, getting up and cracking his neck.
“One more thing, Sir. I’ve noticed a strange pattern these last three days. It seems he begins to have these ‘nightmares’ at approximately six a.m. I’m not entirely positive whether or not this is a coincedence or its connected to something we haven’t yet discovered. Perhaps because of his reanimation with the T-Veronica virus extracted from his own body, there seem to be minor side effects; but that is only my hypothesis.” Dennise explained. Suddenly she noticed Wesker glaring at the boy in the tank, as if lost in thought, “Sir?” she asked shyly.
“What is it that keeps haunting you?” Wesker thought to himself as he looked down at Dennise, “continue the experimentations and inform me of any changes. I want a full report on his progress by tomorrow night and I expect it on my desk by then. You haven’t dissapointed me, yet, Dennise…” with that he turned around and left the laboratory. “Yes Sir…” she whispered almost inaudible. Her eyes fell upon the boy in the tank as she frowned slightly, “Do not fail me, Burnside.”

* * *

Chris Redfield hadn’t been in a police precint for two years and stepping into the N.Y.P.D. sent shivers down his spine. There weren’t many options availiable to him in terms of employment and since he had extensive training in the police field, this was his best choice. Additionally he had to supply for his younger sister and working at a fast food restaurant wasn’t going to cut it.
But fortune smiled upon Chris. His old partner and friend, Barry Burton, just happened to be involved with the N.Y.P.D. and happily offered Chris a position. He accepted, especially since they could work side by side again. He couldn’t help but remember S.T.A.R.S., the organization he’d worked for in Raccoon City two years ago. All his close friends and allies that were also involved in S.T.A.R.S. had died because of Umbrella and Albert Wesker.
The image of the blonde haired man, once known as the “Cool Guy”, haunted Chris' nightmares and pryed into his thoughts. Chris wanted to avenge his fallen comrades, but as long as Wesker had those ‘super human abilities’, it was nearly impossible. The fight that occurred in Antartica constantly replayed through Chris’ mind. Logic was contradicted as Wesker bent a pole with his forearm and got up from a barrage of pipes and metal fragments that had dropped on him. Chris shook off the thoughts as he sat at his desk. He grabbed for his cup of freshly brewed coffee and took a nice sip.
Coffee, one of your average cop's greatest friend and when combined with donuts, they were a force to be trifled with. Chris pulled up a file, reading it. Normal crime was about in New York nothing out of the ordinary. “Good.” Chris thought, “I'm tired of all the zombies and monsters.” He continued, nodding as he took another sip from his mug and closed his eyes. Suddenly, he felt a large hand on his right shoulder. Chris almost jumped out of his seat, only to find the familiar and friendly face of Barry Burton looking down at him.
"Hey Chris, how's it goin'?" He asked with a small smile. Chris put down his cup of coffee and smiled back. "Alright I guess Barry. How about you?"
Barry had been there long enough to show he was an upmost weapons expert and a excellent policeman. He was promoted fairly well and had begun an 'anti-terrorist' group within the force. He did not say it's true intentions, for only he and Chris knew of its purpose. It was in fact an Anti-Umbrella group. They had heard there were other groups similar to theirs and were linked to them at all times. One way or another, Umbrella was going down. Chris knew Barry would be a great leader for this group and that he would recruit only the best of the best. Claire had been recruited as well, despite Chris really being neither for or against it. Even though she lacked the training, the traumatic events in the past had made her a wonderful candidate. He would've been against it because his sister would be in constant danger, but at the same time he was for it since he would always be there to protect her. He only hoped that they would not encounter Umbrella's handywork in New York…

Description
Eternal Animosity
CHAPTER 1: A NEW NIGHTMARE
By: Ben Soulstone & Tamara Fernandez

Disclaimer: Please note that all these works are original creations (unless otherwise stated) and are not to be distributed publicly or privately without full consent and knowledge of the creator(s). Original character profiles, images, and names are copyrighted by the creator and cannot be used without prior consent. Please refrain from leaving rude comments if you dislike the genre/film or anything else specified. Constructive critisism only. Characters are copyrighted to Capcom, for the exception of Dennise Fern who is original creation of T.D.F.

The world was engulfed in flames. Sparks and balls of fire seemed to be at every corner. She was trapped and couldn’t escape. Then there was a roar, a screeching yell that made her ears want to burst. As she turned her head she saw him standing there, a large grotesque creature that loomed over her. But his eyes were gentle and so soft; nothing compared to the rest of his body.
“Steve…?” she asked in a shaky voice as the beast rose a tremendous axe, “Claire…Claire…” it groaned, barely audible through the explosions that took place behind him. “Claire…I…love…you…” it said as it rose its axe over its head. “Steve! Don’t! I--” but before she could respond the axe was already falling on her…

Claire Redfield awoke from a painful slumber. She was drenched in cold sweat from head to toe. It had been the third night this week she had had the same dream. It had to mean something; otherwise it wouldn’t keep coming to haunt her night after night. As she took a deep breath, she slid out from under her covers and stood up at the side of her bed. It was still dark outside, but the moon barely lit her tiny bedroom. Her eyes moved towards the digital clock on her nightstand, “Six in the morning…great,” she mumbled, running her fingers through her hair as she made her way to the bathroom.
It had been two years since the incidents that occurred in Raccoon City and Rock Fort Island. Claire and Chris Redfield had managed to escape the Antartic Base barely with their lives. After going through everything they went through they decided to try and live normal lives and start anew in Manhattan, but recently Claire was being plagued with reoccuring nightmares about a boy who died saving her life. His name was Steve Burnside, a seventeen year old that had been a prisoner on Rock Fort Island. They both got far in their attempt to escape, but at the last moment Alexia Ashford injected Steve with the T-Veronica virus. His last words are what hurt her the most.
Claire was already brushing her teeth as she looked at herself in the mirror. She hadn’t been able to sleep well the past three days and kept waking up at the same hour everyday; you could tell by the dark bags under her eyes.

Someone, somewhere, hadn’t been sleeping either…

* * *

A pale looking woman with glasses and a white trenchcoat was sitting at her desk, typing furiously into the computer. Across from her was a large tank filled with green liquid and a young male connected to several different devices inside the tank. She was in a laboratory situated in the H.C.F. HQ, computers and machines of all sorts all around the cold metallic room. A deep sigh ran through the woman’s lips as she removed her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. As she replaced her glasses she made her way towards the tank, looking up at the subject inside. She was holding a clipboard as she started to stratch down notes and other data. The woman continued to scribble down notes as her trenchcoat swayed behind her while she walked around the tank, examining every single aspect of the boy.
“How is he…?” asked a deep and peircing voice that made her jump. A tall, blond haired man with sunglasses walked into the large laboratory. This man’s name was none other than Albert Wesker, formely known as the Captain Wesker of the S.T.A.R.S. Alpha team. He slowly and mysteriously walked towards the woman as he looked up into the tank.
“He’s made some improvements, Sir…” she woman stated shyly, Wesker towering over her petite figure. He looked down at her and smirked, “Well done, Dennise…”
“Let me show you,” Dennise said walking around Wesker and making her way back to the computer she had been working at earlier. She sat down and opened a window that listed information on the subject, “here are all the vital statistics based on the last two hours. The heart rate is increasing, his brainwaves are active—”
“He’s dreaming…” Wesker said as he leaned behind her, his head by hers. “Correct. I have also had some physical reaction everytime his brainwaves begin to act up, as if he were having nightmares. Sir, he’s made some excellent progress, more than I could’ve predicted.” Dennise explained as Wesker pressed her left shoulder gently with his left hand. “Good girl,” he whispered, getting up and cracking his neck.
“One more thing, Sir. I’ve noticed a strange pattern these last three days. It seems he begins to have these ‘nightmares’ at approximately six a.m. I’m not entirely positive whether or not this is a coincedence or its connected to something we haven’t yet discovered. Perhaps because of his reanimation with the T-Veronica virus extracted from his own body, there seem to be minor side effects; but that is only my hypothesis.” Dennise explained. Suddenly she noticed Wesker glaring at the boy in the tank, as if lost in thought, “Sir?” she asked shyly.
“What is it that keeps haunting you?” Wesker thought to himself as he looked down at Dennise, “continue the experimentations and inform me of any changes. I want a full report on his progress by tomorrow night and I expect it on my desk by then. You haven’t dissapointed me, yet, Dennise…” with that he turned around and left the laboratory. “Yes Sir…” she whispered almost inaudible. Her eyes fell upon the boy in the tank as she frowned slightly, “Do not fail me, Burnside.”

* * *

Chris Redfield hadn’t been in a police precint for two years and stepping into the N.Y.P.D. sent shivers down his spine. There weren’t many options availiable to him in terms of employment and since he had extensive training in the police field, this was his best choice. Additionally he had to supply for his younger sister and working at a fast food restaurant wasn’t going to cut it.
But fortune smiled upon Chris. His old partner and friend, Barry Burton, just happened to be involved with the N.Y.P.D. and happily offered Chris a position. He accepted, especially since they could work side by side again. He couldn’t help but remember S.T.A.R.S., the organization he’d worked for in Raccoon City two years ago. All his close friends and allies that were also involved in S.T.A.R.S. had died because of Umbrella and Albert Wesker.
The image of the blonde haired man, once known as the “Cool Guy”, haunted Chris' nightmares and pryed into his thoughts. Chris wanted to avenge his fallen comrades, but as long as Wesker had those ‘super human abilities’, it was nearly impossible. The fight that occurred in Antartica constantly replayed through Chris’ mind. Logic was contradicted as Wesker bent a pole with his forearm and got up from a barrage of pipes and metal fragments that had dropped on him. Chris shook off the thoughts as he sat at his desk. He grabbed for his cup of freshly brewed coffee and took a nice sip.
Coffee, one of your average cop's greatest friend and when combined with donuts, they were a force to be trifled with. Chris pulled up a file, reading it. Normal crime was about in New York nothing out of the ordinary. “Good.” Chris thought, “I'm tired of all the zombies and monsters.” He continued, nodding as he took another sip from his mug and closed his eyes. Suddenly, he felt a large hand on his right shoulder. Chris almost jumped out of his seat, only to find the familiar and friendly face of Barry Burton looking down at him.
"Hey Chris, how's it goin'?" He asked with a small smile. Chris put down his cup of coffee and smiled back. "Alright I guess Barry. How about you?"
Barry had been there long enough to show he was an upmost weapons expert and a excellent policeman. He was promoted fairly well and had begun an 'anti-terrorist' group within the force. He did not say it's true intentions, for only he and Chris knew of its purpose. It was in fact an Anti-Umbrella group. They had heard there were other groups similar to theirs and were linked to them at all times. One way or another, Umbrella was going down. Chris knew Barry would be a great leader for this group and that he would recruit only the best of the best. Claire had been recruited as well, despite Chris really being neither for or against it. Even though she lacked the training, the traumatic events in the past had made her a wonderful candidate. He would've been against it because his sister would be in constant danger, but at the same time he was for it since he would always be there to protect her. He only hoped that they would not encounter Umbrella's handywork in New York…