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The Nemesis and the Last Escape
(© Dax Cushman)

Page 1

Based on the video game Biohazard 3: Last Escape (A.K.A. Resident Evil 3: Nemesis), created by Capcom.

September 27, 1998...

The NE-T virus was Umbrella's new hope at recapturing the kind of power that only William Birkin's G virus could have originally provided. Although some had been sceptical at its ability, it had seemingly proven effective.

"I don't know why someone would volunteer for these experiments," stated an Umbrella researcher. "Who is to check on the Nemesis?"

"You can go," said another researcher. "That way you can ask him."

"Go to hell," the first researcher said bluntly as he stormed down the corridor.

For interest's sake, the corridor stretched down to a large steel door. The door contained arm-thick bolts to keep its maw shut in from the unwanted. The researcher had a key card to gain entry. The disk-shaped handle spun, making a whirring sound. The door was now unlocked. Anything, or anyone, on the outside, especially the researcher, was vulnerable now; and could be torn apart like half-century old rag dolls. That's what people were at this point – old, worn out, and laughably fragile. The researcher could feel insects gnawing at his innards. He was stupid, he believed. Stupid for joining Umbrella, knowing the risks, yet fearing them this way. It was not his life. It wouldn't matter anyway, seeing as how he gave up his life some time ago. It was the face. Photos or drawings would not project the proper fear of the beast. Such concepts would be briefly looked over or laughed at, but not truly feared. The man in the room was a monster for a long time, and a literary man, who deeply desired to disfigure himself so as to project his feelings into flesh. The NE-T virus was untested when he penetrated the syringe into his artery and writhed and wailed as his body was shifted, torn, and unfolded.

The researcher remembered what basic fear was, and how it was constantly given form in various yarns about hell and murder. From Dante's Inferno to Ridley Scott's Alien. The thought reminded him of the scene in Alien, where the android Ash lay in pieces and stated that the alien was a life form that was "unclouded by conscience – remorse – or delusions of morality." Such was the concept for Umbrella's bio-organic weapons. Beings created with the visual, and habitual, identities from the fictional monsters. And why not, since such monsters had resided in our closets and under our beds when we were children. Would it not be wonderful psychological warfare to see them blasphemed into one mess of vulgarity and death, standing before us in our reality, much like Victor Frankenstein's Monster? This one in the room thought so. And so the researcher grasped the door's handle, trying to prepare himself for the reality of the face. He heaved the door open and stared in dismay at –

The Nemesis: a sculpture of torn, crumpled flesh and wriggling tentacles. A face gashed and carrying sutures that were rigidly standing guard along the red line of flesh, desperately trying not to let the blood free itself. The mouth warranted no lips and had long ruby gums extending to cigar-shaped teeth, which could easily dig into the skull of the researcher. A black hole of a marble eye turned to gaze upon the researcher, and then the Nemesis finally came alive. He got up off the floor and walked over to the computer terminal. The Nemesis clacked the keyboard dryly and the speaker hummed the electronic words for which the Nemesis could not speak himself, "Your feelings now are why I would mutilate myself so. For with your fear, comes respect. You enter this room and know what I am and can appreciate that. Now that you've checked on me, you see that I'm still here and need nothing. You can go now."

And with that, the researcher left the room. The Nemesis heard the researcher gasp and run hurriedly down the corridor. Who would see him next? The door opened again and the creature, Mr. X, entered. Big and grey was an accurate description of this monster. It was smooth and refined looking, and very powerful in a long pale-green trench coat.

"I hear that you'll be going to Racoon City soon," stated Mr. X. "Apparently Jill Valentine and Brad Vickers continue to reside there."

[ Continue to page 2 ]

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Genre:Living Dead
Type:Short story
Rating:4.78 / 10
Rated By:99 users
Comments: 6 users
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