Fandom speak of this D/N/A [ Jake Muller x Sherry Birkin (Resident Evil) | MoggieMoof and pheaca ]

[pheaca]

Work had never been in short supply for someone with Jake Muller’s reputation.

If he wanted, he could have retired long ago. All he did was stockpile cash, gig after gig, until he had more than he knew what to ever do with. A guy like him never had a need for much of monetary value, never settling down, never valuing much more outside of his work. The pile just grew and grew, with no clear end in sight.

Guess the same could be said for him, really. The mercenary life for some people was a get in, get out sort of deal—coast on what they got until they had to come back for more. At least they had some long-term goal of being rich enough to live in some sort of life-long tour of their desired gluttony. Seemed all Jake had for him was a life-long tour of endless war fields.

…Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Most jobs he’d taken in the past few years weren’t the best payers—hell, he’d even taken a good meal for payment, a couple of times. All that stockpiling had seemed to serve some sort of purpose, after all. The work hadn’t changed much, really, but the clients had… Stepped down a level, to say the least. They didn’t have the hundreds of thousands to fork up for his assistance, but they gave everything they had to survive to the next day. It was something he had to respect. Hell, they were at least better to work under than guys that couldn’t keep themselves from getting their asses handed to them by some B.O.W., then blame him for their own stupidity to not run the fuck away.

Charity work wouldn’t do much for him, in the long term. Those sorts of employers never spread the word, much, and as fun as destroying bio-weapons could be, it was a pretty monotonous task, after a while. Once and a while, he had to set his sights—and his payment—a little higher.

If he knew it would lead him to a creepy ass place like this, maybe he would have thought twice.

When he was handed coordinates and a basic biography on the target, a woman by the name of “Renee Pierce,” and asked about where the hell the place was pointing, all he got was a you'll find out paired with a smirk.

Hindsight was 20/20—And hindsight told him he should’ve spit in his client’s face. However, part of him didn’t feel like pissing off the entirety of the B.S.A.A., right now, with how much he’d ended up crossing paths with him over the past few years. Not that the guy would’ve caused much of an immediate fuss if he did; according to him, this whole mission was ‘top secret.’ Not even the members within the whole operation were meant to know about it. Some internal investigation, or something, related to the lady. Not his business, there.

What was his business, now, was playing hide and seek with a bio-terrorist in their personal little Disney World. Or… Really, really shitty Disney World. Not like he knew much about this place—nor did anyone else, it seemed, considering how it looked like this amusement park hadn’t been touched in years, hell, maybe decades.

The stale scent of rusted metal and rotting plastic had intertwined with a pungent sting that had become all too familiar, permeating throughout the air with no obvious source… Hell, might have been all around him, just out of sight. While there were no immediate signs of activity, there was clearly some sort of history here past the obvious exterior to prove the information provided to him had weight behind it.

Death always left its presence, one way or another.

Would’ve been nice if it could’ve left a clearer path, though. As is, he felt like a damn clown wandering the emptiest freak show around.

Who the hell made an abandoned amusement park their own personal hideout… Only some complete psycho. Bet whatever was hiding out around here was going to be damn annoying, if her experiments she’d been running on the side were anywhere near as insane as the place she’d chosen to make all them in.

Where the hell was this woman supposed to be hiding, anyway? No Snow White's castle, or whatever, to look like some impregnable fortress. Just a whole lot of decayed framework and buildings hiding who-knows-what in the pitch black.

…Well, not everything had been hiding. Seems like someone else had been caught exploring the area before, hanging off the shittiest wooden coaster he’d ever seen. Surprised it hadn’t collapsed from the dude’s sustained weight off a black, dried out tentacle. Maybe the dropped camera had saved it from such a fate.

Taking the time to mess with that hadn’t gotten him much of anything. Even replacing the battery from an extra in the guy’s backpack, all he was met with was some of the shittest commentary he’d ever heard, barely making much through the cracked screen past glimpses of the “cute” mascot, whatever that dumb rabbit was called, and the inevitable screams of agony when he skipped near the end.

Beyond confirming there was at least something here, it seemed like a complete deadend. Still, he took the memory card and batteries, just in case he could find any tech that could display it a little better, with a swift, half-hearted apology to the corpse for the postmortem robbery before continuing on.

…Seemed pretty endless, messing with every little thing outside he could, collecting what information he could—even finding an old map. Sure, it was a little delicate, but it was better than nothing to plot out the area, making a couple of notes on what buildings to check based on little more than their size and stupid ass names and classifications.

However, all those searches were put to the side for a more immediate sound, coming from a nearby “shack,” as the map referred to it. Who knows what the hell that held inside… But it was his best lead, for now… In the unknowable, black void.

“Great…” Honestly, he’d been avoiding going in, rather preferring to bring immediate threats out of the pitch dark he’d have little more than a flashlight in, but guess he didn’t have much of an option… Especially if there was some stupid “explorer” like the hanging man.

With a minute sigh, he marched himself up to the entrance, staying just outside, giving him ample time to jump back if necessary, one hand on his pistol roster for an immediate response.

“Hey, you know trespassing’s against the law, right?” Not like he was one to talk, but at least he knew how to defend himself… Or, those words weren’t being processed, and he was going to be facing some gnarly ass bioweapon that didn’t give a shit about what any laws or morals entailed. “Wouldn’t recommend breaking that here. Seems like they’ve got some crazy security.”

If it was some dumb kid, maybe that’d be enough to get them to scram, before they became dead meat, or he was about to learn what horrors this place was truly hiding.

 

[MoggieMoof]

After Sherry’s time out in the field with her unlikely partner–Jake Muller–at the time, she had been offered a small bit of time off. You’d think that for someone who had just spent nearly seven months in constant danger, with six of those months involving torturous tests, she’d get a pretty hefty amount of paid time off… Wrong, apparently.

Yeah, even she has to admit that she had her hopes up–but three weeks in exchange for what she had experienced was bizarre, even by her standards.

The first week was spent holed up in her apartment. Now with some time alone, the events that transpired over the last six months finally caught up to her–as did her experiences in her youth. It’s easy to ignore the effects that traumatic events have on your psyche when you’re actively living within them, but when you’re left alone to your own devices? Not so much.

Sherry made a quick return to weekly, scheduled therapy sessions after that.

When those three weeks were up, she was immediately back to her regular schedule. Her state of mind was debatably easier to manage upon her return, mostly because it was all so much easier to ignore when her schedule was constantly packed. Especially with her official, full time transfer to the Division of Security Operations, there was just no room for her to take any of it into consideration. At least, not long enough for anything to stick. Although unhealthy, Sherry found herself taking comfort in it.

In addition to her new set of responsibilities under the DSO, Sherry volunteered herself to offer some guidance and time to children placed under state custody. When survivors were recovered during bioterrorism attacks, there were rarely ever children among them–but when they were, depending on their status, some ended up under state custody for the sake of their own safety and extinguishing possible threats that way… Much like what happened to her as a child. It was mostly driven by simply wanting to provide a child with the same kind of solace that she received from Claire and Leon after what happened in Raccoon City. It was a fulfilling task, offering youngsters some understanding from someone who had actually experienced something similar to them.

After having developed a real connection with these kids and nurturing a sense of trust with them, they spoke to her of their own experiences. There was a pair of siblings that she had been particularly close with as of recently, a sweet duo of twins who frequently mumbled and hesitated over a certain name in their history–fair, really. It’s what trauma does, so Sherry handled such topics with care.

Then, during a recent DSO briefing, a familiar name had been brought up: Renee Pierce. The name struck a chord within her immediately, because she remembered–that was the name those kids kept uttering about. One of her brows lifted, offering the operative giving her the rundown a questionable stare. Whether the operative took note of her slight change in demeanor, she didn’t know. Either way, no matter the possible connection, she had been given a new task and she was going to complete it. The mental image of those kids and their fright was just an extra push for her. She’d get the job done for them.

So, where was she now? Well, probably the most nightmare inducing location on the planet. Disney World’s second cousin twice removed, Dire World (ha, she made that one up herself). It had been an hour or so since she had arrived, perhaps two? She didn’t know as she wasn’t keeping track, however she did know that this place had been entirely too quiet since she had arrived. The only living things that she had come across were bugs, flies and maggots that had taken a liking to completely rundown booths, presumably they had been previously run by food vendors of some sort. The undeniable stench of rot and mold that came from the booths convinced her to steer clear before she lost her lunch, so she quickly vacated the area.

A map was difficult to find, but eventually she came upon a structure that vaguely resembled a gazebo. Previously, the sign that hung on a post right next to it probably would have said “Guest Services”, but now it read “ues er ices”. Upon closer inspection, she found a handful of pamphlets nestled within a small holder that read, “Maps,” of course.

She spent a bit of time assessing the map, taking note of locations that might be of importance–but, then again, it was difficult to pick which places would be more important than others, with names such as “Mansion of Wishes”, and “Palace of Glass.” Sherry couldn’t help but let out a sharp exhale at the titles on the page.

Finally, she laid her eyes on the location with the incredible title, “Shack.” Probably the most out of place name within the entire pamphlet, so she decided it might be worth checking out. Her journey to the shack in question was entirely uneventful, which she was beginning to grow more suspicious of by the second. Eventually, the shack came into view and she all but speed walked her way down the trail. The entrance to the shack was–well, of course it was locked, and while she could have shot the padlock for a quick and easy removal, she chose to stay quiet instead. Picking the lock was a tad more time consuming, but it was much quieter, and she still got inside of the shack safely–so, a win, basically.

Sherry slowly toed the door open, flashlight in one hand, handgun in the other. After a brief scan of the small area, she came to the conclusion that nobody was inside, and invited herself in. There wasn’t much to be seen inside, really–it seemed to be more of a storage unit, if anything. Worn out props that must have been tossed in here after being broken, a dusty, wobbly desk that had definitely seen far better days, a large toolbox tucked off into the corner, a few paint buckets that were still sealed…

“Huh,” She mumbled to herself, giving the shack another once over just to be safe. Not quite ready to leave the shack empty-handed, she stepped closer to the desk at the other end of the room–if it could even be called a room. She gave the corner of the desk a nudge with her hip, and she watched it wobble slightly before it settled back into place. A nearly amused scoff escaped her before she began to root through the desk’s drawers.

Nothing, really. A few pens, scissors, old sticky notes, yellowing rolls of duct tape, an old keyring with the world’s most rusty keys… She shut that drawer in favor of searching through the next one, but the next drawer down seemed to have different plans. When she pulled the handle, the drawer easily opened–but that was quite literally the issue. It opened far too easily, in fact the drawer practically fell out of its place, pouring an array of smaller items out onto the floor. The weight of the drawer shifted before she could think of pushing it back into its previous place, and the drawer in its entirety, fell to the ground with a loud clatter.

“Oh, you’re kidding.” She couldn’t help but scoff–way to be quiet, right? As if frozen in place, she stood there in silence, staring down at the drawer that now lay helplessly on the floor. Incredible luck, really, Sherry thought.

Her attention was caught by the muffled sound of footsteps, coming down the same path that she had sped down, stopping practically just outside the door. During this time she maneuvered herself to the wall just beside the door, on the same side as its hinges–that way, if they entered, she’d be behind the door. There was no other place to hide, so this was the best she had at the moment.

Then came a voice, a snarky voice, jabbering on about the law of all things–as if she didn’t know the law! Her hand snaked down to her hip on impulse, her fingers curling around the grip of her handgun. Slowly, she pulled it from its holster, her thumb carefully drawing over its exterior to flick off the safety. She decided that she’d wait here–no way was she about to step outside to meet someone who would most definitely be a threat, that’s basically sui–pause.

Sherry’s brows furrowed together as a few puzzle pieces clicked together in her head. That voice was recognizable…

“Jake?” Any nerves from moments before that realization were gone, completely out the window. She shifted from her spot to reach for the door, to open it and see him, but she paused–because what if it wasn’t? What if she had heard this person completely wrong? Her hand went stiff on the handle, and her other one tightened around the grip of her handgun.

After weighing her options, she pressed her lips together into a thin line before she flicked the safety off again. Slowly, and hesitantly, she opened the door a crack. Just the tiniest sliver, allowing her to peer out. It was dark and all, but… That scar of his was a dead give-away. “...Oh my God–Jake?”