IdeasGuy
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Best of Intentions: Motormouth (ch. 15)
🕑 Added 2025-01-20 16:00:01 +0000 UTCAfter getting a moment to breathe, I made my choices for Level 10. It was an important milestone level for my class -- Magic Item Adept had the potential to be a real game changer for me. It not only would allow me to create magic items faster, but they would also require less materials. Which was gonna be nice when I started building things from scratch, but the biggest change was that I could attune myself to four magical items at a time.
Which became increasingly important as time went on, as Level 10 also gave me two more infusions to work with. The two that I chose were relatively easy picks when it came right down to it -- Cloak of Protection and Winged Boots. The former was self explanatory as it would give much needed extra protection in the form of a +1 to AC. Still not entirely sure how that worked, but so far Shield hadn't let me down and safety came first.
Winged Boots, on the other hand, offered mobility. For up to four hours, the wearer had a flying speed equal to their moving speed. Something that I imagined would be incredibly handy in a city full of zombies. If you ever found yourself with your back to a wall, you could just fly up and away. It sounded lovely, especially considering how I wished I had them a level ago so I wouldn't have needed to step into a concrete pit with a monstrous bioweapon.
I also got a second third level spell, and a spell slot, which went to Haste. There were other options that I had my eye on, but honestly, being able to run away faster had a lot of appeal and it wasn't as if I was lacking when it came to high damage spells. As things were, utility had a lot more use to me than damage output.
“This whole side quest sucked,” I more or less summarized my thoughts as I snapped back to reality after making my picks. The levels were nice. Very nice. But, after the adrenaline wore off for the… third time in a couple of hours, I was beat. The kind of exhausted where you just wanted to curl up in bed and sleep not only the day away, but tomorrow as well. Yet, killing the G-virus infected Tyrant was hardly the end to our woes. The apocalypse didn't stop just because you were sleepy. Sadly.
“That's one word for it,” Jill agreed as she helped me stand up. “And we're still in a tight spot. Because of that alligator, half the city doesn't have water and the Tyrant smashed the evidence that we were trying to collect. The only bright side is that we secured production of the vaccine for the T-virus.” Thankfully, Jill had managed the latter while I was having a mini-panic attack over Alice apparently being a figment of my imagination.
“And we still have that other bioweapon after you, provided that Chris hasn't killed it,” I muttered, taking off my safety helmet and running a hand through my hair before my gaze turned to Annette. “I don't suppose you have a silver lining for us?”
Annette had been gazing into the pit of acid with a decidedly blank expression. I'm not really sure what was going on there, but she seemed to know more about patient zero than she had shared. It took her a moment to realize that I was talking to her, and she had to force herself to look away. “I… if it's evidence that you want, I… can secure proof of wrongdoing in the senior wing.”
“And testify to the courts,” Jill added, a stern reminder.
Annette paused, and now I saw a flicker of doubt in her eyes for a moment. She hadn't planned on living through the fight with patient zero, I deduced. She hadn't planned beyond that moment, and now it was starting to sink in that she had a future that extended beyond a couple of hours. “Yes… I’m willing to testify. In exchange for a few concessions, such as protection for me and my daughter.”
Jill nodded, and I got the impression she hadn't missed the hesitation either. “That can be arranged. It'll be best if you stick with us for now,” she decided. By that, she meant she didn't want to give Annette a chance to reconsider her options and pull a runner.
Annette agreed, however tepidly, and we went about our work. Since the other servers were smashed, Annette compiled the data in the senior wing of the Hive while Jill and I returned to Hive II to do the same for the servers there, in addition to securing the vaccine. The whole process took a couple of hours, letting me snag a much needed power nap, before we were loaded up and ready to go.
The four of us stepped into the elevator with me punching in the numbers before it began to rise up. Dakka took point before the elevator. The ride up took no less than a solid minute, telling me just how far down below we really were. And because of it, I was compelled to ask something. “Are there just these two Hives in the city? Do I need to worry about tripping and falling into another one of Umbrella's secret bases?”
Annette seemed a bit surprised by the question but pondered it only for a moment. “There are a few isolated labs in the bunkers that were built during the Cold War. But, I don't know anything about them in particular beyond that they exist.”
Jill let out a telling sigh as we shared a glance, both of us knowing that those were going to be a problem. Hopefully for someone else, but odds are it would become our problem. But, first, we had something else to deal with.
The elevator arrived as a floor panel slid out of the way above us. We arrived in a barren room, and stepping off of the platform, the floor panel covered where the elevator was seamlessly. Jill pushed a button, making a false wall swing inwards, and we were immediately assaulted by the sounds of chaos and panic. No one was running around as if they had to run from something, but people were just… afraid. Terrified was probably a better description.
Jill seemed dumbfounded as she looked around, “You were right!? This is the police station!” She said, sounding shocked as people reacted to us stepping out of a false wall that slid back in place.
“Course I was. I'm always right, not counting the times that I'm wrong,” I said easily, walking to the balcony that overlooked a crowd of people that were in a rough FEMA camp situation. There were cops running between people, along with medical staff that were checking everyone over but panic was settling in. If I had to guess, the scales had been tipped in the odd eight hours we had been doing what amounted to a boss rush.
I saw a handful of police officers that were trying to calm the situation to little avail. Especially as more people poured into the police station, all terrified, and that fear fed into the fear already present until it became a self-sustaining feedback loop. That clearly wouldn't do. The police station was a genuinely terrible place to have as a safe haven, but it was a natural one. People looked to the police to keep them safe.
I started walking, forcing Jill and Annette to follow as I approached a police officer speaking into a megaphone, trying to calm people down, but it just added more noise. Which was a problem in itself.
The middle aged man looked at me questioningly, then at Dakka with blatant shock before his gaze found Jill's. Taking advantage of his surprise, I grabbed the megaphone from his hand while he went to speak to Jill. After fiddling with the buttons a bit, I had Dakka hop up onto the railing before she belched out a gust of fire that immediately stole everyone's attention and, in the split second that people paused, realized they saw fire, and took a breath so they could start screaming their heads off, I spoke.
“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” I shouted into the megaphone to my stunned audience. People were looking up at me with terror shining in their eyes but they wisely listened to the man with the flamethrower. “Good. Now, some of you might recognize me as the man who has been plastering posters, and handing out pamphlets and unreasonably expensive business cards warning you of this here disaster.” There were a few, I saw. Most were clueless, but they seemed to recognize my pamphlets as I saw quite a few clutching them in their hands.
“First order of business -- let me say that I told you so,” I began, and confusion or bafflement took the edge off of the fear. People traded glances, suddenly unsure about what the pamphlets contained because I was gloating. “To all of you who so harshly judged me as I tried to avert this clusterfuu-udge, I fully expect a heartfelt written apology to be turned in upon your evacuation.” I said, realizing that there were kids in the room. Wouldn't do to teach them swear words. Though, it was probably a bit late for that.
People perked up at the mention of evacuations, far more willing to listen as I continued. “And since I saw this disaster coming from a mile away, and did my best to warn you of it, it is in your interest to listen to what I have to say. I want everyone here to take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Calm down. Beginning shortly, there will be evacuations to the metro station where you will then board a train that will take you far away from this place. Sounds nice, right? But I need you to calm down, to not panic, so we can conduct this evacuation in a calm and orderly fashion because this only works if you calm down.”
I gave it a moment and the panic didn't return in force. Good. Maybe I wasn't so bad at this public speaking stuff. “Good. Now, you all will be checked for symptoms of the T-virus, but, again, don't panic. I, with the help of Jill Valentine, a member of the elite police squadron STARS, have secured a vaccine that will allow us to treat you should you be infected. To that end, however, it is in your interest to step forward if you possess symptoms because it is more effective the earlier we catch it.”
With that, the whole room changed with some people stepping up to confirm their infection while the police reassumed control over the situation. Taking a step back, I passed the megaphone back to the police officer, who half fumbled it. He stared at me with wide eyes, “I- you- are there really evacuations?”
“There's about to be. Get me whoever is in charge of this mess to brief me on the situation,” I ordered, and the cop -- Officer David based on his nametag -- did everything short of snapping off a salute before running off to find whoever was at the top of the food chain here.
Annette was giving me a sharp look that I met with a cocked eyebrow. Cautious that people were looking at us, and likely listening, she whispered, “We don't have enough of the vaccine for everyone.”
I closed my eyes for a moment and opened them, “I know.”
In the end, Hive II fell because they couldn't produce the vaccine fast enough. Umbrella never once considered the possibility of needing the vaccine in industrial amounts, and I doubt they would have shared even if they had the capability. My Alchemy Jug that could produce five gallons of the vaccine a day helped a fair bit, but it was a drop in the ocean of what we needed. To make sure everyone who needed the vaccine got it… we'd need a hundred gallons, at least.
Annette gave me a surprised but approving look, “You said that so the infected would reveal themselves.”
I wasn’t qualified to make these decisions. I was literally just some random dude who fell into the wrong reality. I didn’t have the training. I didn’t have the right mentality. And I didn’t want to. The whole hard-boiled guy making the hard choices wasn’t me. I was about as far as you could get on the opposite side of that spectrum. This moment, I knew, was going to haunt me until my dying day because I would spend the rest of my life trying to think of a better way to handle this mess. To thread the needle and find a path in which no one had to die, and I would hate myself for not finding it in time if I ever did.
Yet, someone needed to step up to the plate since Alice wasn’t here to solve all our problems with a thought. Since I wasn’t smart enough to find the path where no one died… I was determined to at least accomplish the next best thing.
“This place is a powder keg, and a riot would get everyone killed. The first person that turns would turn the situation unsalvageable,” I reasoned and I knew it was correct. The logic was sound. I was right and I knew it down to the marrow of my bones. Yet, it was still a bitter pill to swallow. “We quarantine them, publicly give out some doses of the vaccine, and that’ll convince the cautious hold outs that we aren’t lying. By that time, we should have the evacuations up and running.”
Despite myself, I looked to Jill to see what she thought -- I don't know what I was hoping to see. Support? Condemnation? Instead I found her meeting my gaze, her expression guarded. Then she offered a small curt nod that eased some of the tension out of me.
“Mom!” I heard a girl call out and in the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of movement before a little girl lunged for Annette. It said a lot that my first thought was that Umbrella sent a child assassin after our witness, but instead of stabbing Annette in the kidney, the girl wrapped her arms around her stomach in a fierce hug. Annette seemed put off for just a moment.
“Sherry,” Annette greeted who I realized was her daughter. They had the same dirty blonde hair, but when Sherry backed up and I saw her face…
Ah.
I realized who patient zero for the G-virus was. The virus had mutated him a fair bit, but his features were promemant in Sherry's face, meaning that Annette had helped us kill what I'm guessing was her husband based on the wedding ring.
“I was so scared, everyone just left and ran away and I didn't know how to find you-” Sherry began, going in for another hug but she was kept at bay by Annette.
“Sherry, that's enough. Control yourself,” Annette scolded and I bit my tongue.
Wow. Not going to be winning any mother of the year awards, I suspected, but before I could make that exact comment, I saw Officer David approaching with a pale expression. Seeing me looking at him, he licked his lips nervously before speaking. “He's gone.”
“Whose gone? And gone as in he stepped out or gone as in he's dead?” I questioned, putting Annette's inability to comfort her daughter after said daughter was separated from her in an apocalyptic event aside. For the moment.
Jill, however, seemed to suspect the answer. “Commissioner Irons ran?” She stressed, her nostrils flaring in a way that told me she was pissed to hell and back.
“I- I don't know? Maybe? No one can reach him, and when I went up to his office, he wasn't there. No one knows where he is,” Officer David half babbled and I could see the panic settling into him. Sweat started dripping down his face and he started getting jittery -- ‘the top of the chain of command decided to cut and run, so how hopeless was this situation?’ I could practically hear the thought bouncing around his skull.
So, I clapped him on the shoulder, “That's good news. Irons was a moron. This is going to be way easier now that we don't have to deal with him,” I said, not entirely sure if that was a lie or not. In any case, I had to put on a confident front, as if I knew what I was doing and all of this was well within the parameters of some plan that I wasn't cooking up as I went along.
My bullshit had the intended effect, thankfully, with Officer David calming down ever so slightly knowing that there was someone behind the driver's wheel. Looking to Jill, I saw she already had a course of action plotted out. “Rude, you stay here and start organizing the evacuations. I'll check out what the situation looks like outside.”
I nodded, “Sounds solid. Don't die, yeah?” I asked and she just shot me a smirk before she headed off. It sucked, but it was the best call since Nemesis might still be around. As much as I would like for Chris’ day to go untouched by the bioweapon, there was a significant part of me that hoped that he had and that he’d already killed him to remove that piece from the board.
Tearing my gaze from Jill, I looked at Annette and Sherry, the latter of which was staring at Dakka with wide eyes. As she should. Robots were cool. “Stick close to me. Both of you,” I instructed before glancing at Officer David. “If there is a headquarters, take me there.”
He nodded quickly and gestured us to follow and he led us through the busy halls to what looked like a conference room. There were maps covering the walls, radios set up with a half dozen people seated before them as they tried to coordinate an effective response. My gaze instantly landed on a map that acted as a centerpiece.
It was covered in arrows, notes, and red zones.
It also looked eerily familiar.
It also looked like it was sliding the wrong direction. I absorbed the information like a sponge, taking it all in with just a glance -- the maps, the odd two dozen conversations, and the table full of CCTV screens that displayed a lot of zombies moving through places that they ideally wouldn't be in. Taking a small breath, I shifted my brain into high gear, and I focused.
I clapped my hands, bringing everyone's attention to me for the briefest of moments. “Consolidation is the key here, folks. You got too greedy. First things first -- someone is going to get me in touch with Raymond. We're going to need him to meet us halfway in securing a pipeline from the police station to central station.” I began and, after a moment of people trading looks, they started to respond to my orders. If only because I sounded like I knew what I was doing.
So, I continued, “Pull back on Sectors C, B, and D -- you're pushing too close to the red zones. Relocate the roadblocks to… Section Street and follow up until King’s Street.” I ordered, following a length of road with a finger. “Get me a list of everyone who knows how to hotwire a car. We can use them to shore up the barriers, or make up for them if we’re lacking. Zombies are stupid -- they won't look for anything beyond the straightest path to what they're after. Keep that in mind.”
My orders were relayed easily enough and as the minutes went by, I got a clearer idea of what exactly I was working with. By my guesstimates, in the past eightish hours, a solid thirty-fifty percent of the city had turned. The rate was about what I expected, even if it really did suck to hear. Of the potential fifty thousand to seventy thousand that still lived, I would say that we had around fifteen to twenty thousand in a secure location.
That was more or less inline with my more optimistic estimates back when I was crunching numbers to figure out the best plan to save the city and the world.
The military had functionally pulled out of Racoon City, which did not bode well. The police force numbered an odd three hundred, but only half had reported in. The rest were either dead or focused on their own survival. We did have an odd two hundred firefighters and other emergency service operators though, so it wasn't like we were powerless.
What we needed was to start getting people out of the city. Empty out Central Station and the police station, because then we could actually use our smaller numbers once our forces weren't stuck calming hundreds of people down. And, silver lining, Raymond would have more resources over at Central Station.
It didn't take long for me to be handed a satellite phone by one of the officers. “Raymond? It's Rude -- we're shifting priorities. I need you to give me a dozen men to help secure… line B to the metro. We're going to use it as an artery to get people to you, so you can ship ‘em off to Knoxville.”
There was a small pause on the other end of the satellite phone before an unfamiliar voice spoke. “I'm afraid that this isn't Raymond,” he said in a voice that told me that I should recognize him.
What an absolute plonker. I'm not even sure what that insult meant, but it felt like an accurate description for this moron. “Then who are you and why are you wasting my time?”
“This is President Smith of the US Government,” John Smith answered smoothly, not taking offense. And, yeah, I could guess that'd be the reason he expected me to recognize his voice.
I was probably the wrong person to talk to this guy, I could admit to myself. I had a minus next to my Charisma score for a reason. “Neat. Now, I need you to do a couple of things for me Mr. President. And I kindly ask that you don't horrifically fuck them up like your people did with this outbreak in the first place. I know I'm asking a lot from your room temperature IQ of a cabinet of nincompoops, but I really need you to try, okay?”
There was a very telling pause on the other end but, luckily, President Smith didn't seem to be the type to drop nukes out of spite. “We'll do our best,” he replied evenly, insulted but swallowing it down. “What do you need?”
“I need the military to approve the evacuations to Knoxville. We're going to use the metro to siphon off women, children, sick, and the old. I'd recommend a quarantine upon arrival in Knoxville to double check our work, but everyone that arrives should be free of the virus.” I'd really love it if the military swooped in to rescue us and carry us off into the sunset bridal style, but given how horrible the response to the outbreak had been leading up to it, I didn't trust them to rescue a goldfish at this point.
“That can be arranged,” President Smith agreed.
“Good. I also need you to keep your finger away from the big red button because there is a non-zero chance that nuking Raccoon City will cause the contagion to go world wide,” I continued, hearing a sharp intake of breath.
“Our experts-”
“No. No, no, no. I'd sooner trust a fart after a night of binge drinking and eating Taco Bell before I would your so-called experts, who are so damn braindead that a lobotomy would be an improvement,” I interjected, the stress getting to me and I lost what little control I had over my mouth. “I trust it even less, considering a nuke would be the perfect tool to use to bury Umbrella's involvement in this mess.”
“Do you have proof of that?” He asked sharply, and that was an intriguing question. He wasn't shocked at them getting namedropped. Meaning that he was looking for proof.
“I have one of their scientists and a server full of incriminating information that I stole from one of their two utterly fuck-off massive secret bases that were built under the city.”
“What?!” He barked, that cool and even tone slipping.
Huh. “So, you didn't know about that?” I asked, unsure if that was a reassurance or not. “Well, now you do. Bad news is that the CIA either managed to miss Umbrella building two bases each the size of a small town under Racoon City, or they knew about it and didn't tell you. So, for your sake, I just hope they're incompetent and not corrupt. Have fun with that. Call me when the evacuation is set up, preferably before Umbrella assassinates you,” I said, clicking the end call button.
I looked down at it for a moment, replaying the conversation in my head.
“Huh. I talked to the President. Cool,” I decided, setting the satellite phone to the side.
“That's one word for it,” A woman's voice remarked, sounding more amused than anything. Glancing over, I saw an Asian woman in a trench coat, wearing a pair of sunglasses despite being indoors. She reached into her coat and flashed a badge, “FBI. I couldn't help but overhear that you have a couple of silver bullets to put down Umbrella. It just so happens that finding them was what I was sent here to do.”
My gaze flickered to the picture, recognizing the face and name instantly.
Ada Wong.
Well… there's someone I could use to help tilt the scales my way.
I wonder if she knew Albert Wesker?
Comments
juntodsf
so are you planning on releasing 3 new chapters on monday, since we are that many behind now? If not can you please make a post about were the chapters went, was this maybe a miscalculation on the auto release for patreon? Any word to show you've seen what's going on would be appreciated
MisterTubs
If the new chapter isn't ready why not just post an update informing of the delay. Isn't this the third time this same chapter has been released? I'm starting to think that the author is doing this to manipulate Patreon release notifications to justify the subscription fee. I mean writing takes as long as it takes I get that, but I'd prefer an upfront statement saying there is some kind of delay. This feels a little like getting jerked around.
Daddy Ivan
Aw man, I got excited seeing this lmao Oh well, hopefully 16 drops in a few hours tops
Luis Barreda
it did we where suppose to get chapter 16 later on last week according to the author post about the story.
Archer
Yup I think he put the wrong one , he'll notice in a bit.
حسين عباس عبد المهدي
Didn’t this already come out ?
