boxofmisfits | Biohazard

He had never planned to go back to the city again. Had only wanted to live a nice, quiet life out in the forest. To mind his own business, and forget about his failed attempts at joining STARS. Maybe he'd been a fool to ever think that he could hack it enough to hold their interest. He'd wanted so badly, he'd tried, but in the end he was still too mouthy of a little shit. Still just some orphan better off left in the woods to fester, forage and make his own path. Not enough of a team player, or some other garbage that they had left on his official discharge. Too often found fighting, even though half the time he hadn't even started it.

If anything, his failed time in the academy had only caused the chip on his shoulder to grow. So far as he was concerned, Raccoon City could burn itself to the ground if they didn't want him. He would have made a fine operative. More their loss. Anger, he had learned, was easier to deal with than grief. It was how he had survived the loss of his mother, then the loss of his father. Tempering his wounds to fury, unleashing it with due cause. (And sometimes, just because he could.)

What put him in the city at all was the fact that he needed supplies. Needed to pick up his old bike, what few belongings he'd had at the academy that they hadn't already dumped. Get himself packed up with enough food and water to get his footing out at the old shack while he put more work into making it livable. Who knew that the day he'd chosen to do those things was the precise moment everything also decided to go to shit.

It figured. That was just Keith's brand of luck.

The gun he had on him now was stolen, tucked in a holster hidden inside his leather jacket, toothpick pinched between his teeth. In his hand was- of all the absurd things- a sword. Sharpened to deadly blade and more than enough to hack down a few zombies. More importantly, it was a hell of a lot quieter too, and made short work of removing head from body. That was really the only thing that seemed to stop them. Sever the brain, or blow it to smithereens.

Shiro wasn't the only one trying to get out of the city, only, Keith wasn't on foot. Maybe it was a hell of a bad idea to be running his bike when those monsters were drawn by packs and hoards to sound, but he figured that he was probably doing someone else a favour by getting all of the attention. Besides, he hadn't been caught yet. It was easier to navigate between the abandoned cars on two wheels over four, and when necessary- well, lets just say he'd had a little bit of stunt riding under his belt in the past. Playing too-dangerous games on wheels not his own. Stolen apologetically in his early teens, before they could slap him with a permanent record, but still old enough to end up in juvie. If only someone hadn't seen promise in him.

It was the sound that would get Shiro's attention first. The unapologetic roar of a Ducati V-twin engine. Keith's pride and joy; his baby, built from the ground up. A rusted hunk of shit when he'd rescued her, now polished to perfection. And racing right in Shiro's direction.

Shiro looked up right as he heard the motorcycle engine. He figured it was some poor sap also trying to escape the city, though the vehicle of choice probably wasn't the most practical for a zombie infestation. The person on the bike was probably going to attract an entire hoard to their location.

He saw the bike coming towards him and caught a familiar flash of red. It couldn't be.

"Keith?"

He doubted Keith could even hear him over the roar of the engine.

Oh it definitely could be. Keith's helmet was unmistakable; a red lion's jaws opening over the visor. Shiro would remember it well, for all the times Keith had slipped out and snuck to go riding.

He couldn't hear the other over the engine of his bike, but he certainly saw him. Shiro's silhouette unmistakable, especially after Keith had been drawn to it so long. Hitting the breaks, Keith hopped the curb to have enough room to turn; wheel fishtailing behind him at the sharp angle he forced the bike into. But he'd had plenty of practice, had perfect control as he skid to impeccable stop.

"Shiro! Get on!" Because like hell would Keith ever leave the other behind now that he had found him, seen him.

The sword in sheath strapped to keith's back might have looked a little ridiculous to the other, but it was a great zombie weapon. Same with the dagger he had strapped against his leg; an old friend that even Shiro would remember well.

"Hurry-!" Even as Keith said it, the unmistakable sound of a hoard of the shambling undead could be heard making their way towards them. Behind his helmet, Keith gave a helpless, crooked smile. Oops?

There was no mistaking that helmet, or that voice. It was Keith. Any relief Shiro felt at seeing him was overtaken with urgency at the sound of shuffling footsteps.

Keith didn't need to ask twice. Shiro jumped on the back of Keith's bike and wrapped his arms around the younger man's waist, bumping into his sword and dagger a little. In the back of his mind, he told himself that this was dangerous without his own helmet, but there wasn't exactly time to search for one, with the hoard on their asses.

"Go, now!"

The zombies may have been slow, but they could be persistent, and they didn't need to stop and rest.

As soon as Shiro's butt hit the seat and his arms were around Keith, he revved the engine.

"Hold on tight-" it was the only warning Shiro would get before Keith was gunning it, wheel spinning and smoking a moment (he was maybe showing off a little, sue him) before letting it catch purchase and taking off like a shot.

"What the hell are you still doing in the city?" Keith shouted back at the other, having thought Shiro and his team would have been some of the first to know- to aid in the evacuation efforts, and get themselves out in the process.

Shiro held on to Keith, just tightly enough that he wouldn't fly off the bike. He was careful not to press up against that sword. There would be time to ask Keith where he got it once they were safe. The wind blew in his face, blowing his white tuft of hair back, making his cheeks cold.

"I came back after my mission to get a few things taken care of, and then all of this happened. I don't know how it started, except that Umbrella Corp. has something to do with it, I'm sure."

Umbrella did have a headquarters in Raccoon City, so it only made sense.

"What about you? What are you doing here?"

Shiro might have wanted to hold on a little tighter than that, but Keith wasn't about to tell him so. Ahead of them, the street was blocked by four burning cars, angled dangerously, cutting off their escape path. Keith couldn't even jump the curb in hopes of getting free- but that was all right with him.

It wasn't the first set of vehicles he'd jumped today.

"Hang on," it was the only warning Shiro got, before Keith was popping the front wheel of his bike up, hitting the back bumper of the first car, dropping his front wheel onto the trunk- gunning the engine of his bike, and climbing up, over. He pushed harder, faster, sending them screaming through the flames, soaring over the tops of the vehicles, into empty air. They landed hard on the other side of the street, bouncing, wheels screaming as they found purchase, Keith's boot hitting the ground to keep them steady, keep them balanced, before they continued careening wildly down the street, leaving the zombies behind the wreckage.

"I had to come into the city for supplies-" he wondered if Shiro knew. If Shiro had heard that Keith... had gotten himself kicked out.

In Keith's eyes, there was no real reason Shiro should have known. No real reason for anyone to tell him, or for him to pay attention-

If only Keith had known.

"Apparently I picked the wrong damned day."

Edited 2018-09-21 00:23 (UTC)

"Keith, are you..." Shiro didn't even need to finish his question. He clung to Keith, certainly pressing against his weapons (and the younger man) now. His stomach lurched as they became airborne, making sure he kept his grip nice and tight around Keith, pressing his cheek against the bike helmet.

When they touched ground again, Shiro sighed with relief. Zombies couldn't climb, and those cars would provide a handy barricade, putting plenty of distance between them and the hoard.

"I'm glad you came back." Shiro knew, of course. How could he not know? He'd always felt like Keith was his responsibility.

"I was going to the police station. I need to visit my STARS office."

In any other situation, he probably would have grinned, laughed at the other for his nerves. But at the moment it wasn't really a situation that warranted laughter. Keith also forced himself to push from his mind the distracting warmth of the other pressed against his back, the squeeze around his waist as Shiro's nerves had him clinging. If only he was being spooned under better circumstances.

"The police station? Seriously?" It was almost in the center of the city, and not a great place to be trying to escape from. It would have been easier to keep travelling towards the city edge, to try and find a way out, but...

"Okay." Keith veered sharply left, speeding down the road, hopping the curb to speed up, the sidwalk a hell of a lot less crowded than trying to make his way through stopped cars. If nothing else, at least Keith still knew the city like the back of his hand. Could get them there fast, provided they didn't run into anything along the way.

Much as Shiro would have loved to hold Keith in his arms, it wasn't the time or place for it. And now he was wondering where that thought had come from. This was a life or death situation, he could sort out his feelings on the matter later.

"I know it's pretty out of the way, but I wouldn't be going there if I didn't think it was important. But I promise, after that, we can focus on getting out."

Shiro felt relieved that Keith was with him now, and he wouldn't have to be alone. It would also increase their chances of survival, if the two of them worked together.

Shiro hadn't even needed to explain himself. Honestly, Keith would have gone to hell and back for Shiro. If he had at all had any inkling that the other was in the city, he would have come for him first. Everything he was, everything he'd had- he owed that to Shiro. If he hadn't given Keith a chance...

Not that it mattered now. Keith had thrown it all away, and on what? A fight; being a fool- but they had called Shiro a liar. Had tried to act like Shiro didn't know what he was talking about, that he had somehow gone off his rocker or something, that he of all people was going to be dismissed from STARS- bullshit. Keith had thrown the punch before he'd been able to think about doing it.

Nobody talked about Shiro like that, absolutely no one.

"It's fine, Shiro. I trust you," he'd already turned, after all. Speeding like a bat out of hell, pushing his bike to it's limits- just because he could, honestly. He'd always been looking for any excuse to push it to it's limits and beyond, to hit it's top speed. He hadn't bought the fastest bike he could afford and put all the work into getting it running just to go the speed limit, after all.

"If you think the police station is where we have to go, that's where we go."

Everybody had told Shiro that he would have been better of cutting his losses and forgetting about Keith. He had a whole future ahead of him, after all, and the young troublemaker would only see it cut short. Everybody told Shiro that Keith wasn't STARS material.

But Shiro hadn't been about to give up on Keith. He'd seen something in him that nobody else did, even back then. Even if Keith had ultimately been kicked out of the program, Shiro still saw a man worth fighting for.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. My mission... we saw some horrific things, Keith."

Guilt rocked through Keith with the other's words. Briefly, his grip on the handlebars tightened, and it was impossible for Shiro not to notice how Keith had gone tense.

"It's not your fault. The only one to blame is me," He'd chosen his actions, after all. For better or for worse. Definitely worse, in this case. It wasn't at all how Keith should have resolved things, but at the time, it was the only method that seemed truly reasonable to him.

"I'm not your responsibility." Even though Shiro had vouched for him, Keith had just thrown it back in the other's face in the end. And man, didn't Keith feel like crap for that.

"As much as I want to know what the hell happened out there, we should probably talk about it later. There's a lot to worry about now as it is," little did Keith know how relevant Shiro's former mission really was.

That feeling of wanting to hold and comfort Keith returned. He just tightened his grip on the other man, which was the best he could do at the moment. "Even if you aren't my responsibility, I still want you to know that I'm here for you."

Shiro had taken a troubled young man under his wing, and done his best so keep him from ending up in juvie or worse. The two of them had a bond that wasn't about to be broken anytime soon. Now that Keith was here, Shiro was going to do his best to make sure his friend got out of the city alive.

"Okay, I'll tell you all about it at the police station." Sometimes Shiro still had nightmares about the experiments that he saw.

"Shiro..." Keith sighed, glad that his helmet, and the other's position made it impossible for Shiro to see his face. To see the ache that passed over it. "Maybe it would have been better for you to just give up on me,"

Just like everyone else.

He'd said it quiet enough that the other might have missed it over the engine if he wasn't paying enough attention, but Keith should have known better. Shiro wasn't the STARS' golden boy for missing the details.

Keith was quiet for the rest of the ride to the station, had killed the engine almost two blocks away, and had just used his skills, and the remaining momentum to let them coast up to the building. Doing his best to keep from attracting too much more attention than they already had for the noise.

"Well, here we are I guess," he murmured, shifting to pull his helmet free and pursing his lips. Not liking this at all. Surely he wasn't the only one who felt like this was a bad idea.

"Never," Shiro says it quietly, so that Keight might not have heard it over the roar of the motorcycle or through his helmet. To give up on Keith would be like giving up a part of himself. Not because Keith was some charity case or out of pity, or because Shiro had something to prove. Keith was simply a part of his life now.

When they reached the station, Shiro eased his grip, reluctantly allowing Keith to slip from his grasp. When he dismounted, he needed a moment to let his body limber up. Lucky for him, he hadn't gotten any bugs in his teeth.

The police station seemed ominous as Shiro looked up at it. Keith was definitely not the only one who had a bad feeling.

"Come on, let's just get in and out. Keep an eye out for zombies." Shiro drew his pistol and took the lead, ascending the steps up to the front door and peeking inside. So far, it was all clear. He gave Keith the signal to proceed along with him.

If Keith heard it, he chose not to comment on it. He also didn't comment on how he mourned the loss of the other's heat at his back, his arms around his waist. Instead of focusing on that, Keith busied himself with securing his helmet to the bike, before drawing his sword from it's place on his back.

He took the stairs two at a time, catching Shiro's shoulder, pulling him back before he could go through the door.

"You really shouldn't lead with that thing," Keith murmured, nodding towards the gun, his lips going thin, "It's loud." he offered, by way of explanation.

Though, knowing what he did about Shiro, he doubted that the other would take to having to having to stand back. Shiro had always been a point man, and Keith's word of warning probably wasn't going to be enough to change that.

"If anyone tries to steal my bike I'm going to be pissed," he grumbled absently.

"It's alright, Keith. It's better if I take the front, while you watch my back." Shiro pointed to a knife strapped to his belt. The police station would have more weapons and ammo inside, which would probably come in handy.

"I have more experience with these things, remember? Besides, it might not just be zombies in there." Shiro doubted there was anything as dangerous as a Tyrant, but given how zombies hadn't been the only monsters at the mansion, Shiro figured it would be best if he went in on point.

"I'm sure I don't need to tell you to destroy the brain." Carefully, Shiro opened the front door and slid inside the building. Most of the lights had gone out, casting the room in an eerie darkness, with what little light there was casting shadows. Shiro didn't hear any feet shuffling, or undead moaning.

Waving for Keith to follow, Shiro walked to the center of the lobby.

He couldn't help but roll his eyes, just a little, but it was a fond expression, lips quirking slightly. It was so Shiro, ever the leader. Ever wanting to put himself in danger first, protect everyone else. It was true too though, that Shiro did have more experience than Keith, was certainly far higher ranked, given that now Keith wasn't more than a citizen with training.

Dishonorably discharged. Words that he thought would haunt him for the rest of his life.

"What do you mean not just zombies?" Keith's brow furrowed, lips thinning in concern. What he had experienced thus far was just your run of the mill undead. Apparently, that had made him lucky.

"What the hell happened out there Shiro?" the question was soft, worry written into the very fabric of his spoken words, his grip on his sword just a little tighter, before giving it a loose swing, limbering up his shoulders again after having had them tighten up on the bike.

Keith let his eyes adjust to the low light of the room, frowning as he toed in after the other, cautious of the dark corners, ears straining for any hint of sound that shouldn't have been there.

"Nah, I've had practice with that." Keith quirked a wry smile, shrugging his shoulders and brandishing his sword for emphasis.

"We might want to pick up a couple of flashlights along the way," Keith pointed out quietly. Knowing that some parts of the Police station were windowless- would be pitch black. Not a situation they wanted to find themselves in.

Shiro's superiors had talked about giving him command of his own STARS unit, after showing leadership initiative. There was a slim chance of that happening now, of course, but that was the last thing on Shiro's mind.

"You know Umbrella, that pharmaceutical company? They made a virus and were experimenting with it. The virus made the dead come back to life, but they also used it to make monsters. We saw mutated sharks, snakes, plants, but the worst was this large monster that was going to be their ultimate weapon, the Tyrant. It was a nightmare, Keith."

Shiro tried a light switch, finding that it didn't work. He had suspected as much.

"There should be some flashlights in the storage closet, just down the hall." Taking point again, Shiro waved Keith along and headed down the hallway in question, going slowly and keeping his gun raised.

If STARS training had taught Keith nothing else, it was how to be an at least half-decent soldier. Sure, he wasn't great at 'just following orders', especially if it wasn't something he agreed with, but Shiro he could follow. Would watch his back and do anything to keep him out of harms way.

"What the hell would Umbrella want with monsters like that?" Keith wondered, unable to imagine what Shiro must have encountered up in the mountains. But whatever it was, the Tyrant sure didn't sound great. Shiro had never been one to hyperbolize, so when he said it had been a nightmare... Keith knew that it was probably so much worse.

"We think they were trying to make biological weapons to sell to militaries or mercenary groups. That Tyrant I fought looked imperfect, but it took a rocket launcher to kill it."

The idea of Umbrella perfecting such a monster and mass producing it sent shivers down Shiro's spine. Even just selling those Hunters by the dozen made Shiro feel ill at ease.

Thankfully the closet wasn't too far, and it was unlocked. Inside the closet were flashlights, a first-aid kit, some office supplies, and various cleaning supplies.

"Grab whatever looks useful." Shiro handed Keith a clip-on flashlight before taking one for himself.

Right in the middle of rummaging the closet, Shiro heard something and motioned for Keith to be quiet. It was the sound of wet, squelching footsteps.

There was something morbidly cool to Keith about the idea of something so strong that it took a rocket launcher to put an end to it- but only on a scifi, fictional way. The thought of something like that on the loose... now that was a different story entirely.

"I don't even want to think of what would happen putting technology like that in the hands of the wrong person. Bad enough that they fucked up badly enough its out here," and Keith didnt want to think about what Umbrella might do to try and contain it.

All the more reason they had to get out of the city, and quick.

Keith had already begun to fill his hands, his coat pockets. He considered grabbing a duffel bag but- no, that would only weigh them down. Make them slower. Grabbing something off the top shelf, Keith snorted abruptly.

"Who the hell keeps herbs in the closet-" he had started, but then shiro told him to be silent, and Keith froze. Cluing in immediately to the wet shuffling of footsteps, shifting his sword back in hand with a grim expression.

Shiro was about to make some remark about the herbs when he went on full alert. He stepped around Keith, looking around for the source of the noise. It didn't quite sound like a zombie's footsteps. He shone the flashlight on both ends of the hallway, but didn't see any signs of zombies.

That was when he noticed something dripping down from the ceiling.

Pointing the flashlight up, Shiro saw a monstrous creature with large, clawed forearms, a brain outside its head, and a mouth with a long tongue, dripping drool onto the floor. Even though it lacked eyes, Shiro knew that it had sensed them, because it had its head turned in their direction.

There hadn't been anything like that at the mansion. "Keith, watch out!" Shiro ran down further into the hallway before turning around to confront the beast, raising his gun at it. He was trying to draw it away from Keith.

The wet plip, plip, of something dripping that hadn't been there before was Keith's first clue that it wasn't necessarily where they would expect. But before he could mention it, Shiro's flashlight was already tracking upwards, apparently having reached the same conclusion Keith had.

"Oh, hell no," Keith had muttered, snarling as Shiro dashed down the hallway. Even as Shiro moved, Keith had snapped his dagger into his left hand, sword in the right as he debated whether or not to throw it right into that awful thing's bulbous pulsating brain meat.

"What the hell is that thing!" Keith hissed, trying to keep his voice down. Didn't want to attract more as he chased at Shiro's heels out of the closet. Stopped in the doorway as Shiro raced to give distance, enough to give the creature some level of confusion in tracking its prey. Or at least, so Keith hoped.

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