The Storm That Came To Isla Nublar: A Resident Evil/Jurassic Park Story

By evolution-500

Genre: Horror/Tragedy

Disclaimer: "Resident Evil" is a property owned by Capcom and "Jurassic Park" is a property owned by Universal Studios. I do not own any of these characters.

WARNING: This story contains references to violence, coarse language, disturbing themes and imagery. Reader discretion is advised.

"My devil had been long caged, he came out roaring."

-Robert Louis Stevenson

1993

Dark clouds hung ominously in the air over the security feed, reflecting off the glasses of INGEN CEO John Hammond as he stared fixedly at the screen while Jurassic Park game warden Robert Muldoon talked on the phone.

"Yeah. Yeah, I got that." Holding the phone aside, Muldoon gave Hammond a grave look as he addressed him, "The storm center hasn't dissipated or changed course. We'll have to cut the tour short. We'll pick up tomorrow where we left off."

Hammond frowned. "Are you sure we have to?"

"It's not worth taking the chance, John," Chief Engineer Ray Arnold said as he smoked, shaking his head.

"Sustained winds at forty-five knots," Muldoon added.

Letting out a breath, Hammond let his shoulders slump in defeat. "...Tell them when they get back to the cars."

Nodding, Arnold then adjusted his headset as he started to speak into the microphone, "Ladies and gentlemen, last shuttle to the dock leaves in approximately five minutes. Drop what you're doing and leave now."

As Muldoon and Arnold turned away, Hammond angrily stomped in frustration. "...Damn!"

Running a frustrated hand over his silver goateed chin, the INGEN CEO turned his attention over to Dennis Nedry's workstation, where he spotted his replacement, a tall lean man of thirty as he worked in silence, his black aviator sunglasses focused on the screen in front of him.

Sighing, Hammond's expression softened as he approached, hobbling around on his amber-tipped bamboo cane toward him.

"My apologies," he nodded, drawing the man's attention from his screen. "I didn't mean to swear. I hope I haven't interrupted your work."

"Not at all," the man coolly replied, his voice a rich and deep purring baritone. "I was just finishing up with debugging the phones. It shouldn't take long. And...done."

As he turned to face him, Hammond took his time studying the man.

Black was his favorite apparel to wear, from the dark formal shirt to the equally dark pants, a stark contrast to Hammond's preferred white on white ensemble.

Clean-shaven, with peroxide blonde hair and black reflective sunglasses concealing his eyes, the man was a hundred and eighty-six pounds of lean muscle, a man with striking sharp chiseled features, possessing an air of confidence and a strict professionalism that Hammond appreciated.

In many ways, he was a striking figure to behold, almost impossibly handsome, looking more like a Greek god than a regular human, a stark contrast to Nedry's sloppy, almost grotesquely porcine and rotund form.

In character and appearance, Wesker seemed the polar opposite of Dennis, comparatively much more reliable and hard-working, if not unusually quiet.

Then again, everyone was allowed to possess their own eccentricities, just so long as they were able to do the job well.

Giving him a grateful smile, Hammond gave an appreciative nod. "Thank you for your work, Mr. Wesker. I'll be sure to give your employers at Integrated Computer Systems a glowing review of your services."

Wesker gave a dismissive wave. "Think nothing of it, Mr. Hammond. I am only too happy to oblige." He shook his head. "It is a shame that my predecessor isn't here to finish the work."

Hammond nodded, humming thoughtfully. "Yes, Dennis' flu couldn't have come at a more inopportune time, unfortunately. Still, I appreciate your being able to come down on your colleague's behalf on such short notice, especially during such a critical moment."

Wesker shrugged as he leaned back into his chair. "It's the least that I can do, Mr. Hammond." Folding his hands together, Wesker then gave him a quizzical look. "Is there anything else that I can help you with?"

Hammond gave a light laugh. "No, no. Just an old man checking in on his staff." He then sat on the edge of a nearby desk, looking interestedly at Wesker. "How are you settling in? Any issues or concerns?"

Wesker shook his head. "Not really. The payment is good, the bungalow is quite spacious and comfortable, and the food is exquisite. If anything, Mr. Hammond, my only concern is that you are too accommodating for your own good and of my taking advantage of your good nature."

The INGEN CEO laughed lightly. "We spared no expense in trying to ensure our staff and guests feel at home." His eyes brightened. "Have you tried our ice cream?" Wesker shook his head. "Our Haitian cook, María, who works over at the cafeteria, has a wonderful variety of ice cream flavors available, all of it hand-made, plus, we have some very special meals by the Richard Brothers, so if you ever feel peckish, you should wander down and try some."

Tilting his head slightly, the black-clad figure started to stroke his chin.

"Actually," Wesker said slowly, "now that I think about it...I wouldn't mind getting something to eat. I just need to finish up on a few things first before then."

"Feel free to go anytime," Hammond encouraged. "The last thing that I want is for you is to overexert yourself. Everyone needs a break at least once in a while."

"I will keep that in mind." Nodding, Hammond started to turn away. "Ah yes, that reminds me," Wesker spoke up, drawing the CEO's attention back to him, "the system is going to be compiling for roughly around eighteen to twenty minutes, so some of the minor systems may go on or off for a while. It shouldn't be anything to worry about."

"Thank you for notifying me," Hammond nodded. "Keep up the excellent work."

* * * * *

Taking a sip from his cup of coffee, Albert Wesker patiently watched as Hammond left before turning his attention back to Nedry's messy desk.

Checking his watch, Wesker remained still, making certain that he was alone, his sunglasses glancing up at the screen.

Time to get to work.

* * * * *

Wesker lined himself up against the concrete wall outside the lab, his dark form silent and unmoving, looking more like a shadow than a person as he calmly studied his surroundings. Once he was certain that there were no guards present, Wesker checked his watch, monitoring the time as the seconds counted down.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

A smirk formed on Wesker's face as the light on a nearby security camera flickered off.

* * * * *

Rain started to patter down on the pair of 1992 Ford Explorer XLT Tour Vehicles as they drove alongside the electrified fences, the occupants not noticing as a pair of Boeing–Sikorsky RAH-66 Comanche stealth helicopters appeared, dropping cannisters across the island.

* * * * *

At the Triceratops Enclosure, Ellie Sattler was startled as something large impacted the ground, causing her and Chief Veterinarian Gerry Harding to leap back in alert as gas started to pour out from the containers, the two of them coughing before collapsing beside the sick animal.

* * * * *

At the Dilophosaurus Enclosure, a lone specimen glanced up, hooting and hollering as it quizzically tilted its head from side to side, unsure what to make of the container as it spilled out gas.

* * * * *

At the Raptor Paddock, the Velociraptors lifted their heads in alert, hissing at an ominous cloud that formed nearby.

* * * * *

Thunder and lightning cracked over the island, the waves violently crashing against its beaches and shores as parts of it became covered in dark thick clouds, shadows lengthening over the whole like a suffocating blanket.

The downpour that came was hard and unrelenting, the skies black and starless.

* * * * *

The Tour Vehicles were still as their passengers sat in wait in front of the Tyrannosaurus Paddock, watching the goat as it bleated by the electrified fence.

Reclining back in his seat, Alan Grant drummed his fingers along the steering wheel, exhaling softly as he took a sip of water from a canteen before offering to mathematician Ian Malcom. Taking it, Malcom nodded in acceptance, taking a sip in silence, their eyes focused on the car in front of them.

* * * * *

In the front seat of the second car, Donald Gennaro lied against his seat with his eyes closed while the two kids that he accompanied, Lex and Tim, fidgeted in their seats.

While Lex waved her baseball cap around, Tim was playing with a pair of night vision goggles, whirring the lenses outward.

Thoom.

Hesitating, Tim turned to Lex. "Do you feel that?"

Thoom.

Opening his eyes, Donald glanced over at a cup of water, watching it ripple with each soft boom.

Staring at the water, the two children panted anxiously, watching the ripples grow, the vehicle rippling and trembling.

"...Maybe it's the power trying to come on?" he whispered faintly, as if for fear of being heard.

Looking over to the fence, Tim placed his night vision goggles back on, zooming in on the space where the goat was...only to find it vacant, the chain swinging in the wind.

The three of them stared in silence, watching the fence.

"...Where's the goat?" Lex spoke up.

CRASH!

Jumping in her seat, Lex turned and let out a shrill scream, drawing Donald's attention to the front as he visibly recoiled, shouting, "JESUS!"

On the hood the Tour Vehicle was a large, boxy lizard-like head that must have been over 1.5 meters long, its skin scaly and dark grey, almost brown in color, with enormous, jagged dagger-like teeth, its huge angry eyes lifelessly staring directly at the lawyer.

It was a fearsome-looking head with an equally powerful set of jaws that looked capable of devouring a man whole...were it not for the fact that the head itself was detached from the rest of its body.

Staring wide-eyed at the gruesome visage, Donald could see through the lightning flashes blood and bones along with deep bloody gashes suggesting that something had been...eating it.

But that begged the question - if this was the Tyrannosaurus Rex, the famed Lizard King and fearsome ruler of the dinosaurs, what on earth could have killed it?

A low bellow and trumpet-like call that sounded utterly lifeless drew the passengers' attention back to the fence, where they spotted an enormous shadow looming high above the trees, far taller than even the tallest branches, its long, serpentine neck thicker and longer than anything imaginable.

Tossing its head back, the creature noisily crunched and swallowed lowered its head down toward the roof of the car, its massive bulk straining against the fence's electrical cables.

Staring up the glass ceiling, Donald felt his heart race as Lex let out an ear-shattering scream, the creature's features made visible through a combination of flashes of lightning along with the Tour Vehicle's car lights, its hot breath steaming up the glass.

Christ on a bike!

He had seen this animal earlier - what Hammond had called a Brachiosaurus, if Donald had recalled correctly - but whereas the first encounter had been majestic and awe-inspiring, by contrast, this new encounter filled him with dread and loathing.

The creature's wrinkly grey skin was sagging and peeling off, looking unusually pale, almost sickly and translucent, allowing him and the children to see its veins and bones, its eyes a ghostly white and flat. Its large mouth, however - the same mouth that had been eating plants from trees like an oversized elephant - was now crimson with gore, while bits of flesh were caught between its spoon-shaped teeth, some of which were broken.

Breathing down on the car roof, the passengers whimpered as blood and bone dripped onto the glass.

"Oh Jesus!" Donald yelped.

Flinging the car door open, the lawyer bolted outside, leaving the children behind as he ran for his life.

He had barely run three feet when he felt something clamp down onto him.

Screaming, Donald struggled as he felt himself pulled into the air, feeling his bones and limbs crushed under thousands of pounds of immense pressure. Pain flared across his body as he heard and felt an audible crunch, coughing up blood as he felt his own skin tear, his bones grinded up and chewed, the stink of its hot breath and awful rotting skin washing over him.

As he helplessly struggled, Donald felt his movements become sluggish and weaker, gasping out his last breath as his vision darkened before finally succumbing. 

* * * * *

"Jesus Christ!" Alan gasped, recoiling in horror as the colossal head whipped around, the movement ripping Gennaro's body to pieces, one of which slammed straight into the windshield of the car he was in.

"I thought long-necked dinosaurs are supposed to be plant-eaters," Malcom retorted, his eyes never leaving the giant form in front of them.

"They are," Alan replied as he went into the backseat, pulling away a tarp to reveal a large case. "This isn't normal Brachiosaur behavior. Something's wrong with it."

"Any idea what's happening?"

"No," Grant admitted as he opened the case, grabbing a flare, "but those kids are in trouble."

Getting out from the car, he lit up the flare and waved it around, shouting, "HEY!"

Alan watched as the behemoth turned its attention over to him, its gaze meeting his.

'Christ almighty!' He flinched.

What the hell was wrong with it?!

Those eyes...its skin...

It looked...dead...

The fence cables snapped as the creature broke through, its attention now fixed on him as it lumbered toward him, its movement slow and ponderous.

As it let out a loud trumpet-like call, Alan heard others. To his growing horror, more dark shapes started to emerge from the trees, their footsteps loud and thunderous.

One shape followed by two, then four, then ten, until finally over a dozen long necks with ominously glowing pale white eyes peered from up high, moving toward the vehicles.

"GRANT, LOOK!" Ian shouted.

Looking over to the mathematician, Alan's eyes widened as he saw the insane vision that appeared from behind the vehicles; from the opposite end, a Triceratops had pushed its bulk through some leaves, its skin peeling off, revealing thick muscle and exposed sinew.

It was a grotesque parody of a dinosaur, more bloodied nightmare than a living animal, with the same unnaturally glowing lifeless eyes of the others, its beaked mouth stained with gore, but it was the figure propped up on its frilled crest that made his blood freeze.

"ELLIE!" He screamed.

Ellie Sattler, the kind and gentle paleobotanist that he deeply loved, was skewered on the Triceratops' three horns and run all the way through, suspended and gored like some sort of horrible trophy.

But even worse, she moved, much to Alan's incredulity.

Lifting her eyes up to meet his, Alan felt nausea come over him as he found himself staring into the same white orbs, his feeling of love and sorrow turned to utter revulsion.

Whatever had affected these animals, it seemed, also affected humans as well, and from all indications, this was only the start.

Looking around in all directions, Alan and Ian helplessly watched as the forest came alive, the trees shaking with each thunderous footstep, the air filled with the uncharacteristically lifeless groans and bellows of every creature on the island.

* * * * *

From the safety of his cabin, Wesker watched the hacked security feed footage as his ship sailed from the East Dock uninterrupted, the rain and waves crashing against it, rocking it back and forth.

On the screen, various personnel ran in all directions while being pursued by the newly-infected animals.

It was a shame that such valuable creatures had to be destroyed, but alas, such was the price of progress.

Still, the data derived from this footage and subsequent autopsies should prove enlightening once H.C.F. got things under control.

Lifting up a can of Barbasol shaving cream, he unscrewed the bottom portion, studying his prize with interest.

Taking out an embryo for study, Wesker tilted his head in thought, contemplating the possibilities.

Ten years of genetic research, and it was now all his for the taking.

To think that he could have missed out on such a monumental prize by not looking into Biosyn's meddling was nothing short of serendipitous, all things considering.

A chance visit at an outdoor cafeteria in San Jose, Costa Rica, while he was on leave from the Army had inexplicably turned into intrigue when he had witnessed one Dennis Nedry.

At the time, Wesker had barely even noticed him - a fat, insignificant slob who ate like a pig - but it was when his associate had arrived via taxi that made him more alert.

After all, Lewis Dodgson was not just any individual, not with that dark cloud of infamy surrounding him in the scientific world, and before long, Wesker found himself drawn in.

It wasn't hard to capture both men, let alone make them talk; after all, Wesker had plenty of experience in the field as a soldier and with Umbrella, and he was an expert in all things that involved information-gathering, although he made sure to take his time with Dodgson more.

After all, who wouldn't be irritated at prior attempts at plagiarizing his work?

Wesker tilted his head, his black sunglasses shifting.

In many ways, he reflected, the two of them were very much alike - both were ruthless, cunning and efficient predators, using every means at their disposal in order to get what they wanted. Both sought power in all of its myriad forms, unburdened by morality.

In some ways, Wesker saw in Dodgson a kindred spirit.

Where they differed, though, was the mere fact that Wesker was simply better than Dodgson at what he did, both as a spy and as a researcher.

While there was no doubt the latter was a highly intelligent and charismatic individual, his specialty, however, lied more in corporate espionage than as a researcher, something that Wesker himself respected on some level.

Most, if not all of Dodgson's accomplishments were never his own, taken from others.

By contrast, Wesker had worked on many bio-organic weapons projects, from the T-Virus and Tyrant combat model to a number of off-the-books U.S. Army programs.

Perhaps in another life the two of them could have been colleagues; after all, a person with Dodgson's skillset would have undoubtedly been a potentially valuable asset to Umbrella, if not to Wesker himself.

Alas, it was never meant to be.

Pushing up his sunglasses, Wesker took note of the time.

8:30 p.m.

Only ten more hours left.

It hadn't been difficult to infiltrate INGEN; if anything, the hardest part was merely in the preparation and planning. By far the most difficult part was obtaining a sample of the T-Virus for testing, for there had been so much red tape and hurdles he had to go through in order to make it happen.

It was a shame to see such magnificent creatures destroyed, but alas, so was the nature of progress.

Still, the combat data should be illuminating.

It was mere curiosity that drove Wesker in order to conduct such a highly dangerous experiment, if only to see the effects of T in a more tropical setting and the effects it would have on the animals in Jurassic Park.

Once dawn arrived, nothing of the island, be it its owners, its many secrets and inhabitants, would remain, and all of the evidence of what had occurred would be scrubbed clean and remain sealed and filed away in Wesker's computer for review.

Leaning back into his seat, Albert Wesker kept on watching the security feed as more of the horror started to unfold, making notes as the denizens of Isla Nublar violently turned on their creators and park guests alike.

* * * * *

Author Notes: So, the idea of this story sort of came from re-watching the first "Jurassic Park" film. While watching, a stray thought had crossed my mind during the scene with Dodgson, and I couldn't help wondering, "what would have happened if Umbrella or Wesker got involved?" I was kind of surprised that nobody had considered doing an RE/JP crossover, especially considering the fact that it seemed like such an obvious choice. Later, when I was reading up on Lewis Dodgson on the JP wiki, I couldn't help but be struck by how the illustrated picture for the character made him look like Wesker. In many ways, Dodgson had a lot of qualities that Wesker possessed, including his penchant for espionage, and while he's unmistakably based off of Robert Patrick's character from "Terminator 2", I kind of can't help but wonder if Dodgson might have been a potential source of inspiration for Wesker.

So, I kind of thought why not give this a shot.

Shout-out to Stuff3 for his help and his advice - thank you so much, dude. You are awesome! :D

I hope everyone liked this. If not, I apologize.

Stay safe and healthy, everyone! :D