AN: Hullo and wah. This is/be's a joint ID for
Hello Captain and Shakahnna. We decided to get together and write up a project
that we've had on the go in various forms for about six months. So we finally
got off our arses and started writing it up in coherent story form.
Before we start, a few points. Okies, the main characters in the fic are Shakahnna and Claudia. Shakahnna is NOT the same Shakahnna as the one in Resident Evil: Damnation, Jaz just happens to be completely fixated with the name and it is (apparently) inconcievable that a redhead should have any other name.
Also, Claudia and Shak are based on (you guessed it) ourselves, so don't be surprised if they're slightly unlikeable.
Thanks go to Hunk for the use of Herrison, and to Ramen because if it hadn't been for her little message board RP we wouldn't have put our heads together and come up with such a fantastic, rip-roaring adventure as the one you are about to enjoy.
Also we'd like to thank ourselves, for being the king.
Without further ado, we give you Living Like A Disaster
Love Jasmine and Captain
Dr Claudia Graham
"You, sir, are a cretin."
The stoic young man blinked twice, dumbly. It was not an entirely unfamiliar phrase to be heard around the facility from his immediate superior, so his course of action was simply to smile in bemused dumbfoundment and nod. This only served to further exasperate his commanding officer.
"Did you hear me Herrison?! I said you are a cretin! An imbecile! You are utterly incapable of performing the simplest of tasks. I am aghast, nay, utterly confounded at the sheer overwhelming magnitude of your complete and utter LACK of intelligence," two thin, pale hands were thrown up in dismay, "Honestly man, I think we need to get you to the labs, and quick, because this previously uncharted level of stupidity warrants a research project!"
The target of the aggravated young woman's tirade blinked once more. "Um...thank you."
"I rest my case."
Dr Claudia Graham turned on her heel and stormed off in the direction of her office, the tails of her open labcoat, several sizes too big for her, billowing behind her angrily. Her thick, tortoiseshell spectacles slid down her nose as her aquamarine eyes glared irately at no on in particular, her pallid, plain features frozen into the mask of haughty disdain which had earner her the furtively whispered nickname "Ice Maiden" among her co-workers and subordinates. With a reflex gesture of annoyance she pushed the errant frames firmly back up her freckled nose and tucked an auburn tendril behind her ear, which had come loose from her primly pleated pigtails that trailed over her narrow shoulders.
She could not have been more than nineteen or twenty, and it was almost comical to see someone so young display such an aloof air of professionalism and haughty irritation. Dr Graham's apparent superiority complex was well known throughout the Outbreak Containment and Research Centre, the organisation established by the United Nations after the infamous Racoon City incident, made public three years after the suburban town was anhiliated. As the Captain of the centre's primary investigation squad, the startlingly young doctor's promotion had been viewed with some envy and suspicion by her colleagues, and this rancour was only heightened by her unparalleled talent for upsetting almost every subordinate who had the misfortune of working under her with her caustic tongue and monstrous lack of sympathy for any form of scientific incompetence.
The auburn haired teenager was clutching a black clipboard with the OCRC logo embossed on the cover as she stalked past her colleagues, her head lowered and her steely glare fixed straight ahead with a look that stated in no uncertain terms "Do not speak to me." In her white, bony grip were instructions pertaining to the squad's upcoming mission, a routine outbreak containment deployment to the town of Lostonberry, a costal town of negligible interest and modest populace. Her fingers were curled tensely about the edge of the leather binder, a grim expression on her face.
"Miss Graham!" A flustered man in his twenties, kitted out in full combat clothing, caught her arm.
She shook him off tetchily, gritting her teeth, "What do you want, Norton?"
"We're leaving in an hour, Miss Graham," he replied with a disarming smile that quickly faded from his face at Claudia's seething expression, "Don't you want to get kitted up?"
She snorted in distaste and sneered at him, "I am a scientist, not a bloody soldier. All that combat nonsense is for cretins," she paused and looked at him levelly, "Like yourself, Mr Norton."
The OCDC officer looked distinctly deflated as she turned her back on him and walked a few steps away before stiffening at something and whirling round again. "Oh and Norton?" she snapped.
"It's Doctor Graham."
I hate this job.
Captain Shakahnna Taylor
"Pierce, do you be
gotted the league table?"
Despite the fact that it was routine for the STARS officers to take the last thirty minutes before being deployed out to get ready, Officer Taylor had been fully prepared for the past several hours and was now turning her attention to infinitely more important matters. No reply was elicited from her immediate partner, who was finishing tieing his steel toecap combat boots, standard issue along with the kevlar vest. Sighing, she began to root about in the drawer, sure that the precious document would not be far from her vicinity. This was no easy task, however, given that the head of the STARS Alpha Team had a mountain of case reports burdening her desk. Her thick knuckles, laced with small clear lines from various past impacts, closed about her "little black book".
"Result!" her voice chimed triumphantly, a smug smile plastered on her face, causing the large scar that ran from the corner of her mouth up to her left ear to crease. It was not a pleasant sight, but it provoked no response from the other STARS members, who were more than used to the patchwork of their Captain's skin.
"Shak," Pierce hissed, grimacing at his commanding officer's usual lack of decorum, "Is really the time for this?"
She shot him an obtusely puzzled look, completely oblivious as to why her intended actions to which he was privy would cause some problems, "It's not like they're rookies," she pointed out in a tone which suggested her words were blindingly obvious, "And 'sides, why would they be being here if they didn't hate Umbrella?" she paused and furrowed her brow, "Who doesn't hate Umbrella? Scum..." she muttered to herself, shaking her head, "Anyways..."
Pierce sighed. This supreme lack of social etiquette was the reason that, despite the huge workload that his partner put in, always the first to arrive and last to leave, would never excel her current rank. He held the dubious distiction of being the only officer to have lasted more than three months under Captain Taylor without at least requesting a transfer. She did not understand why her subordinates kept leaving, and thus his loyalty was greatly appreciated by the redhaired commander. Everyone else, however, did not understand why Pierce Fischer stayed. Although fanatically protective of her team, the workload Shak imposed upon those under her was universally declared to be 'horrendous'. Her idea of 'light' was a fourteen hour day, much to the chagrin of the other officers.
The broad shouldered cop clambered onto the desk in her customary display of agility, and raised a hand for silence, a sombre look suddenly overtaking her features. "Okies, kids," she addressed the police officers, and the room gradually fell quiet, "While we still be's here, we have to go over one of the most important parts of any mission..."
Pierce looked up, relieved at her return to professionalism. This was, however, rather short lived as she produced the aforementioned black book and brandished it at her long-suffering subordinates.
"...The How Many Of Those Fuckers Have You Killed League Table," she continued, as various members of the office looked at her in horror, a few groaning, a few quietly sniggering. One rookie piped up timidly, "What's that?" and instantly drew glares from her comrades.
"Ah, good question, sweets!" Friendly green eyes beamed down affectionately at the newest member of Team Alpha. Contrary to popular belief, she held all of her officers in high esteem. "Now as you all know peoples who choose to work for Umbrella are not human, and they are not our friends. So whoever kills the most gets a chocolate bar at the end of the mission as well as all my current leave of absence since that is shit and I don't be's wanting it anyways. Rules be insanely easy, you get 3 points per researcher, unless armed in which case be's 5. UBSC guys are 10 only cause they are actually well trained, as much as a pack of fucking donkeys can be. Triple points for each one that is a squad leader. Of course the Shak special, for everyone you shoot in the groin we be doubling your score at the end! Easy huh?"
The speech was met with stunned silence from the female rookie, aghast as she attempted to formulate a reply. After some disbelieving spluttering, the young woman blurted out, "That's...that's sick! They're people too!"
Captain Taylor erupted into a fit of incredulous laughter. "Did you just be saying what I think you said?" she snorted in disbelief, as Pierce groaned inwardly. After a few seconds, the Captain realised that she was being serious and grimaced in disgust, "Aww no, you're not one of those, are you? One of those bleeding hearts, "all life is sacred" types..."
The younger officer was stunned into an embarrassed silence, and Pierce would have bet a month's pay that the first thing she would do on her return to base was request a transfer.
I fucking love this job.
Dr Claudia Graham
Claudia marched into
her office and, the second the door was safely closed behind her, slumped down
at her desk and removed her spectacles, rubbing her eyes which were rimmed dark
with fatigue. She yawned loudly and contemplated the cold cup of tea in front
of her, before rejecting its dubious appeal in favour of a mental note to buy
Pro Plus at the next given opportunity.
Replacing the frames, she sighed as she realised it had been nigh on a week since she had last gone home, so great was her largely self-imposed workload. Idly, the young scientist reflected with some consternation on the fact that her cat was probably dead by now, and scowled. She had made plans to inject it with some virus samples she had concocted in her spare time, and felt sure that the RSPCA would be a lot less willing to provide her with another pet, given that this was the fourth time it had happened. There was only so many times she would be able to mumble "it...uh...got run over" before the excuse started to wear thin.
And of course OCRC won't provide me with live subjects...oh no. Bloody morals...bloody self-righteous....honestly, anyone would think that they didn't care about scientific advancement...not like...
Not like Umbrella.
She smiled bitterly. Umbrella still probably weren't even aware that she'd been promoted to Captain, that their spy was no longer merely a mole among the ranks of the junior researchers. Of course, she'd submitted this in her monthly reports, dutiful as ever, but she realised it was more than likely that her painstakingly neat accounts of OCRC internal affairs were consigned to the pile marked "trash" at Umbrella Headquarters.
Because they've all forgotten about me now. How many years has it been...four..five...six? I shouldn't be here. I'm above all this, and cutting off your nose to spite your face is just...unscientific.
It was a constant source of bitterness to Claudia that her current avenue of employment held her back from so-called "inhumane" endeavours, and instead had her languishing among the worst people in society: those who tried to eradicate the precious viruses that Umbrella engineered.
Some people have NO respect for microbiological progress...
The Umbrella operative bit her lip and squeezed her eyes closed tightly for a moment, before taking a deep breath and turning her attention to her mission brief. Another pointless, menial clean-up task that would drag her away from her precious laboratory time and force her to deal with infected patients, and worse, socially interact with her colleagues. Her lack of orders from Umbrella were not a surprise in the slightest to the auburn haired girl. She doubted they were even aware of her involvment in the operation.
The tired researcher allowed her vision to slide double for a moment, before refocusing on the brief in front of her.
"Ascertain cause of outbreak....determine level of quarantine required..." she muttered to herself under her breath in a flat monotone, as she skimmed over the fairly standard instructions, rolling her eyes, "And oh joy, more bloody reports to write...what fun."
With a dejected groan the petite doctor slumped forward atop the papers and cradled her head in her arms miserably.
Captain Shakahnna Taylor
Search and destroy...search and destroy...search and destroy...
With a look of pure bliss she opened the document marked "STARS: Confidential" slowly and instantly her face erupted into a wide grin, baring white teeth in sheer elation.
"I'm sure you'll all be delighted as I am," she announced to her waiting team as she made her way to the overhead projector, "We be's having three objectives: Destory all carriers, rescue civilians and capture any Umbrella operatives. Use of deadly force is authorised..." The last order was given as the red haired commando struggled to contain her beaming smile. "So I'm sure you all be's knowing what that means. Oh yes..."
Not for the first time that day, Pierce groaned.
"So as always, for those of you who are new," she looked contemplative for a moment and knitted her brows together, "That be's happening often...hmmm....anyways...we'll go through each of the recorded monsters. I've be'd preparing a visual aid..."
The Captain was no longer able to suppress her grin as she pressed a button on the remote control, and the first picture appeared on the projector screen wall. It was a laboratory diagram of a large, reptilian beast with the caption "Hunter" in large letters underneath. This drawing, however, bore a number of Officer Taylor's personal alterations, of which she was innordinately proud.
There were a number of small circles upon various parts of the creature's anatomy; over the eyes, at the jugular points on the throat, over the heart area and lastly, in a huge, unmistakable, bold, triple re-enforced scrawl of a circle, over the groin.
"These obviously just be recommendations, but here are the spots you want to be aiming for..." she informed her subordinates, as eight pairs of eyes were drawn to the creature's crotch.
Pierce did not even bother to groan this time.
"As we all know, UBCS soldiers have no balls, so there's no point in kicking them there, but if all else fails, a headshot works..."
"Shak," her second in command finally spoke up, "Haven't we heard enough about castration?"
The redhead looked at him quizzically for a moment before grinning. "Everyone's gotta have a hobby..." Her tone became serious again, "'Member, no taking these things on with your bare hands, peoples. Unless, and you know who you are, you've done this before. The book is there for a very good reason. Stick to procedure, watch each other's backs, and all will be sunshine and smiles. And maybe one of you will be able to beat me in the league table," she brandished the infamous scorechart and her eyes took on a faraway look of pride, "But I doubt it..."