No, I do not own Resident Evil, Parasite Eve, or Tomb Raider

No, I do not own Resident Evil, Parasite Eve, or Tomb Raider. I just thought it would be cool if Aya disappeared, the S.T.A.R.S. called in Lara Croft to help them find her, and they went through a version of all 3 games. Oh, well, death, destruction, and gore are abundant in this fic. But you probably knew that, didn't you?

P.S. I named it this because Aya hasn't been able to forget Eve or what she did, soI'll leave it up to you.

Ghost in the Shell

~*~*~*~*~

By Holybear

Steve Burnside was tired. Not even tired, exhausted. It was nights like these that made him want to completely quit helping Claire and the S.T.A.R.S. But he did anyway, probably because of Claire and Claire alone.

Oh, sure, he'd seen the nasty looks that Leon Kennedy gave him, the ones that were disapproving and cruel at the same time. Whenever Leon looked at him like that, it made Steve think that he was unwelcome. Maybe he was. Maybe he was too blind to see it.

Sighing angrily, Steve flipped on the TV, eager to get his mind off that painful topic. Shit. There was nothing on except the 12:00 news. He shrugged and turned the volume up.

"FBI agent Aya Brea went missing last night from her home in Los Angeles, California. A special agent for the FBI, Brea worked in the L.A. division of Mitochondrion Investigation and Suppression Team, better known as MIST, and was generally popular among her fellow agents. Her disappearance was reported by agent Pierce Carradine and private detective Kyle Madigan, both good friends of Brea."

Steve frowned, studying the woman's picture. She was very attractive, with pale blond hair in a short jagged cut, delicately chiseled features, and deep blue eyes. Despite her pixie appearance, she wore an expression that made her look as if she were somewhere else. Still, if you looked at her profile, she looked something like their own Jill Valentine

Creak.

Looking up sharply, Steve reached for his Beretta, eyes trained on his bedroom door. He crawled off the bed and sneaked out into the dark hallway.

"the Los Angeles branch of the Special Tactics and Rescue Squad, or S.T.A.R.S., have already sent out a call to the branch in Raccoon City, Nebraska. That branch has had much experience with this type of case, and the L.A. S.T.A.R.S. are waiting for Raccoon's answer." Steve jumped, startled both by the TV's sudden noise and the announcement. Why didn't they tell me? Oh, wait. Chris and the rest were suspended. Creeping down the hall, Steve strained to hear any other sounds.

Creak.

Steve snapped the Beretta up, ready to fire. Suddenly he heard a violent screech, similar to those of a Hunter, and something sprang towards him.

It was hideous, with beige or tan skin and Hunter-like legs. It waved its short yet lethal-looking arms at him, screeching once again. Turning its dark, sunken eyes on him, Steve could see the rest of its head. Its skull looked like someone had grabbed the back and stretched, creating a perfectly smooth oval-shaped cranium. Its mouth was wide, nearly splitting the face into two. Steve caught the scent of rotting meat and saw the glint of teeth in its nasty little mouth.

Firing desperately, Steve leapt backwards, struggling not to shriek himself. The thing made an odd gurgling sound and jumped, sinking its claws into Steve's throat. With a hideous vocalization like a giggle, it tore upward, ripping out Steve's throat. It swallowed the soft, pliable flesh, then turned its eyes onto Steve's. It almost smiled—then grabbed his face and tore upward once again.

"if you or someone you know has any information about Aya Brea, please call the number at the bottom of your screen."