stock: typewriter

Fic: Where There's a Will

Title: Where There’s a Will
Progress: 48/100
Fandom: Resident Evil, BtVS
Prompt: #63 Computers
Disclaimer :: Resident Evil and all related characters are copyright of Shinji Mikami, Sony Pictures Entertainment and Capcom. Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters are copyright of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. No infringement intended.

Where There’s a Will

White canvas arched up from the ground, held aloft by the metal piping giving and maintaining the tent’s shape as Rabbit found the slit in the lining and pushed her way into the alcove. Blank monitors glared back her as a motorized fan circulated the stagnant air and did little to alleviate the heat as she stepped into the tent and onto the plastic flooring. It crackled under her boot heels as she scanned the tent’s contents and sighed when she caught sight of Ashford beyond the first row of monitors.

Her brows dipped as she heard the frantic sound of fingers striking keys in rapid succession and she made her way around the first table and stopped short. The monitors blocked from the opening in the tent were on and in use, the one nearest to Ashford held the schematics of Raccoon City and several more were filled with the chaos that was happening in the streets and Rabbit swallowed as she watched a man fall beneath a swarm of the infected and she found herself immensely glad for the security footage’s lack of sound.

“I found her,” Her gaze dipped, studying the thinning hair on the crown of Ashford’s head as he brought the up another image onto the screen depicting the death of two more civilians. It was replaced by Angela’s school and Rabbit lowered herself to a crouch as she watched her tutor manipulate the camera to pan out and reveal the SUV, crumbled and on its side, where it lay utterly useless in a crossway. The truck that had struck it was twisted metal, toppled on its side and front end completely lost to the wreckage. She turned her gaze away from it, ignored the small voice in the back of her mind insisting no one had walked away from that scene.

She studied the exterior of the school, the lack of movement and frowned at the sight of a K-9 Unit patrol car that had missed the parking spot and ended up on the sidewalk. She leaned forward, pointing her finger toward it and requested, “Zoom in there.” A square highlighted where she’d referred to and Rabbit flinched, her mouth tightening with a frown as the camera panned to show the back doors open, the cages within crumpled and their doors pushed outward as if something had struggled its way free of them. “Son of a bitch,” fell past Rabbit’s lips as she recalled the Doberman from the woods and thought of Angela facing those creatures on her own.

“We have to get her out of there.”

She agreed with Ashford’s quiet assessment, but found herself asking, “Are you sure she’s alive?”

“Aren’t you?”


She was.