His Final Scoop

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: So, I know that people who don't like my stories are probably sick of seeing them but I've always wanted to write more for Resident Evil 2 and this was born. It, like my other story Still Loving You, will be a series of oneshots. However, this one will be based off only the second game. Some oneshots will be AU and some will just be scenes from the game. I am, however, sticking to canon so the only pairings I will do in this is Leon/Ada, Annette/William. And, because I'm using soundtracks, I'm not going to put the artists until the end of the story.

Characters: Ben Bertolucci, Leon Kennedy, Ada Wong, Monster Birkin

Song: His Final Scoop

Genre: Angst/Horror/Tragedy

Rating: M for Violence and language

Two or three hours ago, I would've questioned the cop's sanity when he said he was the only one left. I would've snorted and said something about the cops walking above our heads or even the K-9 police dogs down the hall. I would've said something about that bastard Irons, even if I hate him with everything in me.

But the look on his face and the way the woman at his side cast him a startled look convince me he's not lying about the cop free RPD. The kid looks like he's done some growing up in the last couple hours. I know how he feels. When I first came to this shit hole of a city, I thought that I was king of the world, ace reporter Ben Bertolucci. But then hell broke loose and those fucking things attacked. The things that ate people right in front of me. Now I'm Ben, the guys who just wants to take a nap for the rest of his life.

I look at the kid and see that he really hopes I'll come with him. He's a good guy. A little dull in the head if he thinks I'm leaving my cell but I see the good in him. Surprising that a guy like Irons could hire somebody who actually wants to be a good cop.

So, instead of exiting the safety of my cell, I smile weakly and point at the crowbar on the shelf to the kid's right, my left. His eyes follow my finger and he listens as I tell him about the super secret, not so secret anymore, sewage line in the dog kennels. I can see the sadness on the kid's face as he realizes I won't be joining him and his sexy friend. I have to wonder why he'd want me with him when he's got a woman like that at his side.

I stand in my cell and watch as Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes and his lady in red leave, their footsteps fading away as they left me behind. I feel that weak smile fall from my face and I return to my bed, sitting on the thin mattress and cringing as the springs squeal in protest.

Why did I come here? I mean, it was a terrible idea when I really think about it. I was doomed to land my ass in this cell anyway. Every time I got closer to cracking open Irons' dark past, that fat slob would walk up and knock me down. Whether it was threatening to suspend my license, threatening to plant drugs on me, or threatening me with his thug cops I was knocked away.

So when shit hit the fan, where do I turn? Oh, the good ol' RPD of course! Sure, the fortified walls and trained men and women offer protection but with that pig sitting up in his mighty throne I was doomed, again. So, I turned myself in. Said I stole some loot from the local jewelry store. And they bought it, amazingly enough. The cops still did their jobs.

The kindly officer who put me in here, Fred or Ted or something like that, kept going on about his dogs. I like dogs too but this guy seemed worried about them. Said they were acting funny. The reporter in me wanted to know whether or not the dogs were affected by whatever was turning people into zombies but I kept my mouth shut. Fred, or Ted, wasn't expecting me to reach out and snatch the keys from his belt. He was a bit slow on the response when I did it.

He wanted the keys back. Said something about getting in trouble. But I shook my head and said that I was staying in the cell. Even those zombies couldn't get through steel bars. The crooks next to me taunted Fred/Ted as he walked away but I was more interested in the story at hand.

Who would've thought sweet little Raccoon City could get its head shoved up the ass of the super corporation Umbrella. I guessed that they were the cause of this, since the S.T.A.R.S., and my own research on Chief Irons, pointed the big corp. assholes to be the main causes of this. I guessed that they were indeed working on bio-weapon technology and that our lovely team of local bad-asses weren't lying after all. Then again, I'd believed them to begin with. Nothing good came out of Umbrella.

The crooks next to me were babbling about their crimes when the thing roared. More like, called out a name. At least, that's what it sounded like to me. The crooks fell into a hushed silence as the thing's roar/call faded. What the fuck was that?!

It didn't happen again so I sat on the bed. I vaguely remember laying down and going to sleep and waking up to somebody tapping on my cell. No, not our lovely cop friend Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes. Not yet. Instead, little Miss Pompous Bitch had walked her way into the RPD along with another cop. Alyssa Ashcroft, my rival reporter, introduced her cop friend as Kevin Ryman and together they explained their situation. Not that I really listened. Why would I? Alyssa was the bitch who wanted the story while I got the story. She hated me and I hated her.

Eventually they got me some files for some little thingy that was laying under my bed and I returned to my slumber. I can remember dreaming about zombies and mutant dogs and Alyssa in her annoying red suit. Honestly, who wears a red suit?!

I'm snapped from my memories by a loud noise. I look up and there it is. The fucking thing. The thing I'd earlier. I stand and stare at the creature, big and bulky. One arm is bigger than the other and its face retains some human features but all I know is it's walking towards me and I'm backing up, stammering out a plea for help from the guys next to me. None of them respond and I feel like my heart's going to explode in big gory mess and the thing just keeps on coming.

It's left arm moves towards me and I scream. Not no manly holler but a scream, a plea for life really. But that thing doesn't care. Why would it? It's not human. It doesn't care for some stupid ass reporter who should've gone with that not-so-dumb kid. I feel the thing's hand clamp around my jaw and something presses against my lips.

I think I blacked out… Because now I'm sitting against a wall and somebody is touching my shoulder. It's that kid. No… Cop. He's a cop. He deserves his title…

And he looks so worried. Like he actually wanted me to escape. For some reason I find myself thinking about poor Fred/Ted who loved his dogs. Did he escape? No… This cop said that he was the only one left. He wouldn't lie.

"Hang in there, Ben," the kid suddenly says. Did he ever give me his name? I don't think he did.

Those papers, the file Alyssa and her cop friend found, are suddenly in my hands. Why did I want the kid to know about the Chief's horrible past? Why would I want him to know that Chief Irons is a sick fuck who deserves to have his head smashed open?

The cop/kid takes the paper with a bewildered expression and I can actually feel something moving in my chest and it ain't my heart. Oh God… That thing. What did it do to me?!

I stammer out a sentence, an odd coppery taste suddenly filling my mouth. Blood? I see the look on the cop/kid's face change from bewilderment to terror and a splitting pain fills my chest. What the hell is going on?!

The pain lasts for a second or two and then everything's gone and I faintly hear the cop/kid calling my name. Poor guy. He..didn't…des…erve….this……