MTLNOVEL Chapter 10: Chapter 010 – Rescue Angie school
Alice stared at the woman before her—reporter Terri Morales—without saying a word.
Only one thought passed through her mind:
"Does she seriously not know what Umbrella is? Naive."
Suddenly, Reuel tensed. His gaze sharpened, narrowing toward the distance.
"Something's coming…" he murmured, low but firm.
"Sergeant Thorne, prepare for contact."
"Understood, Lord of Terra," Thorne responded without hesitation.
One hand signal was all it took. The Tempestus Scions sprang into motion. In an instant, a perfect combat formation materialized.
Thorne's battle-hardened instincts—forged in the fires of Cadia—were screaming.
Something was out there. Disgusting. Creeping. It had been tailing them for several blocks now.
"Reuel, what the hell is going on?" Jill asked, growing uneasy.
"Most likely… Licker. Get ready."
A black blur darted across their vision—so fast and shadowy it was nearly shapeless.
But the Scions weren't fooled. They knew: that wasn't the wind.
"Formations break! Hunt the creature down!" Thorne shouted.
The ten members of the Tempestus Scions spread out with precise discipline, locking down the area and aiming at every possible hiding spot.
Alice looked up—reflex.
Without warning, she fired toward the church wall.
Jill followed instantly, aiming her gun at the same spot.
A piercing screech tore through the air. A Licker.
From behind the rubble, several Lickers crawled out. Their movements were fast, unnatural, long tongues whipping wildly.
Gunfire erupted.
Alice and the Umbrella mercenaries opened fire again and again. But Lickers didn't go down like common zombies. Their bodies were tough. Ordinary bullets didn't stop them right away.
But Kasrkin Squad-Delta didn't flinch.
They advanced in tight formation, plasma rifles blazing—and over twenty Lickers were obliterated within minutes.
They would not let a single creature lay a finger on the Emperor of Mankind: Reuel.
Then, a scream echoed from inside the church. Panic. Fear. Or maybe… someone's final moment.
One thing was certain: there were more Lickers than they'd estimated.
Alice stepped forward. Rifle raised to her shoulder. Her eyes cold and razor-sharp.
Her movements said, without a single word:
"Leave this to me."
"She's going to be okay, right?" Jill whispered, worried.
"Trust me," Reuel replied calmly. "She's been injected with the T-virus. She's stronger than anyone now."
Alice stepped into the wet grass, her steps silent. The shadows of the church walls swallowed her—but not her resolve.
Suddenly—a Licker lunged from the darkness, jaws wide open.
Alice was faster. She kicked upward, slamming the creature into the wall.
Her rifle lit up.
Three shots.
The Licker's head exploded.
Another one came from behind. Alice spun, rolled, then struck twice—one blow to the gut, one to the skull.
It collapsed. Dead.
Her movements were like a deadly ballet—graceful but lethal.
Chaos in harmony.
Alice walked back to the group. Her face unreadable, her breathing steady.
"Nice work, Alice," said Jill quietly—her voice a mix of admiration and… maybe a hint of envy.
"Alright, let's head back."
Reuel had initially hoped the system would trigger an entry process, but his golden finger remained silent—no notification appeared.
Peyton and Terri Morales got into one of Reuel's vehicles. The three-car convoy drove through the fog-shrouded, desolate streets of Raccoon City. Occasionally, they passed small groups of zombies—two or three strays. But the vehicles didn't slow down, didn't pay them any attention.
Reuel leaned back in his seat, eyes narrowing through the fogged-up car window. In his mind, the plot of Resident Evil 2 played like an old, overused recording he knew too well.
If this is Resident Evil 2… there shouldn't be any Nemesis yet. But… why do I feel like he's here?
"If Matt's not around… then who's the Nemesis this time?" he muttered softly. "It can't be… but—"
The car passed a dilapidated phone booth, barely standing. Suddenly, the soft, piercing chime of Silent Night rang out into the cold night air. Quiet, but sharp. Everyone in the car heard it, but none reacted.
Reuel merely let out a slow sigh.
Ashford… that old professor.
He's bound to show up soon, begging us to save his daughter.
But something far more pressing weighed on his mind.
Could answering this call trigger a system mission?
I need access. I need a system reward. Maybe… an Astra Militarum unit?
The car kept moving. When the second phone booth appeared at the next corner, the ringing resumed—louder, more urgent this time.
Without hesitation, Reuel pressed the intercom button.
"Stop the car," he said calmly into the headset. "I'll answer the call."
"Reuel, why are you answering that phone?" Alice asked, suspicious. Her eyes swept the area, alert. "We're still in the danger zone."
Reuel gave a small smirk. "Let's find out which bastard's got the balls to spy on us… and chooses a public phone as their line of contact."
Without waiting for a response, he stepped out and picked up the receiver. His voice was calm, sarcastic.
"Hello. Who the hell are you?"
"Thank God… I thought you wouldn't answer."
An old man's voice came through the line—hurried, but relieved.
"I need your help. Save my daughter. If you succeed, you'll have a seat on the plane I've arranged."
Reuel smirked, unfazed. "We can get out of this city on our own."
"No, you can't. Umbrella has locked down all of Raccoon City. And before dawn… this city will be 'cleansed'."
Silence. Reuel closed his eyes, calculating the odds.
"Fine. We'll do it.
Where's your daughter?"
"She goes to Raccoon City Middle School. Find her. I'll guide you to the helicopter's location."
Click. The call ended.
Reuel returned to the vehicle and spoke directly to Jill.
"We're heading to Raccoon City Middle School. There's a girl who needs rescuing."
Jill nodded firmly. "I know the way. I'll drive."
Alice glanced over at him. "Who called?"
"A high-level Umbrella executive. His daughter's trapped in the school. In return, we get a seat on the chopper."
Reuel paused, then added heavily:
"Before dawn, Umbrella's going to 'cleanse' the city."
Alice stared at him, sharp. "Cleanse? You mean… how?"
"With a tactical nuclear strike."
Alice shook her head in disbelief. "That's… insane. The government would never allow it."
Reuel looked straight ahead. Cold.
"The government doesn't need to know. Just feed them a story about a reactor meltdown. The media will handle the rest."
"Ready to go," Jill said as she started the engine.
Reuel pressed a button on his wrist. "Red Queen, monitor the team. Report any suspicious movement."
"Acknowledged, Big Brother," the AI replied, flat and obedient.
A few minutes later, the convoy arrived at the school.
A thin fog blanketed the schoolyard—empty and eerie.
"Sergeant Thorne," Reuel said, "Take a team. Find the girl. Stay alert—expect zombies, infected dogs, or mutated children. Don't underestimate anything."
"Understood, Lord of Terra. We will proceed with caution."
"Good. We'll wait here. Don't get separated."
Sergeant Thorne and his squad entered the school building. Weapons raised, sensors active.
Reuel exhaled slowly.
"Better to have a unit than try breaking through this mess alone."
"Let's help them too," Alice said, glancing at the massive building. "This place is way too big. They'll struggle alone."
Reuel nodded slowly.
"Alright. But stay alert. I'll guard the vehicles."
----
"Red Queen, can you take control of the global satellite network now?" asked Reuel, his gaze locked onto the school building where Jill, Alice, and the Kasrkin squad were sweeping floor by floor.
"Yes. I have currently accessed all military and civilian satellites. I control them all," Red Queen replied.
The holographic projection of the little girl appeared, sitting gracefully on Reuel's arm like a porcelain doll. Her eyes glowed with a faint red light.
"Find a safe location," ordered Reuel. "Prioritize a place we can reach once the child is secured. Somewhere we can use as a safe zone. And make sure—Umbrella doesn't know we're moving."
Red Queen smiled faintly, proud.
"I've already marked one location: Salt Lake City. Naturally protected by the Wasatch and Oquirrh mountain ranges, and close to the Great Salt Lake. Limited road access. Enemy satellite shadows won't detect it. Umbrella will never know we're there."
Her voice suddenly changed—deeper, more serious.
"Brother... The professor who called earlier—Dr. Ashford—he's being watched. He doesn't realize it. Shall I inform him?"
Reuel shook his head, his expression hardening.
"No. Keep watching. I want to see how far Umbrella is willing to take this game."
He pressed the communicator on his wrist.
Krsshh...
"James, do you copy?"
"Yes, sir." James's voice came clearly through the channel.
"Prepare for evac. The helicopter must be ready to lift off at any moment. We're moving out soon."
"Understood, sir."
Reuel ended the transmission. He stood in silence. His eyes were still fixed on the school, but his mind had wandered far away.
Did I miss something?
From The Hive to here...
Was there something important I overlooked?
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Gunfire shattered the silence, echoing from within the dimly lit school building.
Reuel remained calm. The Kasrkin troops from Cadia were the elite of the 40K world—facing a zombie apocalypse was no different than a morning drill for them. He knew Jill and Alice were in the best hands anyone could ask for.
A few minutes later, the school doors burst open. From the dark hallway, Jill and Alice emerged, flanked by the fully armed Kasrkin soldiers. In the center of the group, a small girl was being gently escorted.
Reuel stepped out of the vehicle. His stride was steady, full of control. He approached them without a word.
With a calm motion, he wrapped one arm around Jill's waist, the other around Alice's.
"You're both alright?"
"Nothing serious," Jill replied, leaning into his embrace. "Just a couple of annoying zombie dogs—but Alice took care of them."
Alice chuckled lightly. "As long as they can be counted, they're not a threat."
Jill nodded toward the small girl in the middle. "Here she is—Angie Ashford."
Reuel looked at the child. She was prettier than he remembered from the film. No spots, no wounds. A clean, innocent face—striking in a world falling apart.
Behind them stood two other figures: a large Black man—L.J.—and a curly-haired female reporter, Terri Morales. Both looked at Reuel and his team with tired, blank faces, unsure whether to be impressed or afraid.
TRRRIINGG... TRRRIINGG...
The sudden ringing of a public phone sliced through the stillness. Sharp, out of place, and relentless.
Reuel walked over and picked up the receiver.
"Hello?"
"I want to speak to my daughter. Right now," said the voice on the other end—Dr. Charles Ashford—tense and urgent.
"You can," Reuel replied curtly.
He turned to Angie. "Little loli—cough—I mean, little girl—your dad wants to talk to you."
Angie took the receiver. "Daddy?"
"It's me, Sweetheart," Ashford answered, his voice softer now. "Are you alright?"
"Daddy, where are you? When will we meet?"
"They'll bring you to me. Now, give the phone back to the man next to you."
Reuel took it again. "Where's the aircraft?"
"At city hall. The helicopter's ready, but your time is almost up. Move quickly."
Click.
The line went dead.
"Let's go. Target: city hall," Reuel commanded. Everyone got into the vehicles. Alice held Angie close, shielding her from the chill of the night.
As the vehicle rolled slowly through the fog of a dying city, Alice leaned in and whispered into Reuel's ear.
"This little girl... she's like me. I can feel it."
Reuel turned to her, calm.
"I know. And it doesn't matter."
He kissed Alice's cheek briefly, a faint but real smile tracing his lips.
---
On the other side, Professor Ashford, who had been monitoring Reuel and his team's movements, suddenly narrowed his eyes. His computer screen froze—total system freeze—right after the phone call with his daughter.
"Computers are so unreliable. Just like people… isn't that right, Professor Ashford?"
The voice came from behind. Calm. Flat. But laced with a threat as cold as steel.
Ashford turned his wheelchair and found Thomas standing in the doorway, his thin smile doing nothing to hide his malice.
"But still, I must thank you," Thomas continued. "Those people look quite... elite. For the Nemesis project, I'm going to enjoy experimenting on them."
"Bastard! You've been spying on me?!" Ashford snarled, eyes burning with fury.
"But of course," Thomas replied lightly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "What good is trust in a world like this?"
"Son of a bitch!"
Ashford tried to spin his wheelchair toward Thomas—a desperate move fueled more by rage than any real strategy. But two of Thomas's men had already stepped forward, effortlessly restraining and locking the chair's controls.
"Enough, Professor." Thomas's tone remained casual. To him, Ashford was nothing more than a pawn not yet discarded. Useful, but ultimately disposable.
"Now come… let's go see your daughter together. Witness firsthand how brilliant I am—and how extraordinary our new products have become."
He waved a hand behind him, and several black-uniformed mercenaries entered the room, the red-and-white umbrella insignia gleaming on their chests.
Without a word, they escorted Professor Ashford out of the room.
Thomas followed close behind, his smile unchanged—cold, professional, and nearly devoid of emotion. A true Umbrella product.
---
Kasrkin

Kasrkin: The Elite Soldiers of Cadia
Kasrkin (pronounced "KAH-sir-kin") are an elite military formation of the Astra Militarum, originally dedicated to the defense of the fortress world of Cadia. Hailing from the same world as the renowned Cadian Shock Troopers, they are officially classified by the Departmento Munitorum as a form of Tempestus Scions, more specifically identified as "Grenadiers" due to their mastery of heavy weaponry and elite tactical training.
The name "Kasrkin" derives from kasrs—the Cadian term for fortified city-fortresses in the planet's native Low Gothic dialect. As part of Cadia's military heritage, Kasrkin are chosen early, often during their time as Whiteshields (fresh recruits in the Cadian Planetary Defense Force). Only those who distinguish themselves in combat as Cadian Shock Troopers are selected for further training and possible induction into the ranks of the Kasrkin.
Their training is more grueling than that of standard Imperial Storm Troopers, making them the Cadian version of such elite troops. However, unlike Storm Troopers indoctrinated to serve the Imperium at large, Kasrkin are born and bred to protect Cadia—even after its destruction during the 13th Black Crusade.
Unshakable Dedication
Kasrkin are renowned for their calm under fire, capable of holding their ground amidst the deadliest firefights—where even seasoned Astra Militarum veterans might falter. After Cadia fell, many Kasrkin units continued to serve, passing down their training, discipline, and vengeance to surviving Cadians and their descendants.
Known across the Imperium as a symbol of precision and discipline, the Kasrkin are among the finest warriors the Astra Militarum has to offer. For many Cadians, becoming a Kasrkin is the highest honor attainable—one earned through pain, resolve, and countless trials. But the honor comes with high expectations: Kasrkin are regularly deployed into the fiercest battlefields, trusted to face the deadliest foes, and expected to go beyond the call of duty in service to the Emperor.
Expertise and Armament
Kasrkin are equipped with elite wargear and carry out operations with lethal efficiency. Their standard gear includes:
Hotshot Lasgun (Lucius Pattern) – A powerful laser weapon, also known as a Hellgun, typically reserved for elite troops and high-ranking officers due to its superior penetration power.
Frag & Krak Grenades – As Grenadiers, they are trained in the tactical deployment of explosive ordnance. Frag grenades serve as anti-personnel weapons; Krak grenades are used against armored targets.
Combat Knife, Plasma Guns, Meltaguns, Flamers, and Grenade Launchers—based on operational needs and individual specialization.
Kasrkin wear full-body Storm Trooper Carapace Armour, complete with sealed helmets for hostile environments. This armor offers vastly superior protection compared to the standard Flak Armour issued to most Guardsmen. They also receive minor biological augmentations, enhancing their endurance and mobility despite their heavy loadout.
Squad Sergeants are often issued with prestigious wargear such as Power Swords and Hotshot Laspistols, typically reserved for command officers.
Kasrkin Veterans
Among even the Kasrkin, some stand apart—warriors who have fought in countless engagements and emerged as living legends. These Kasrkin Veterans are highly sought after by Astra Militarum generals and high command officers for elite assignments or personal guard duty. However, the Cadian High Command only grants such requests when the objectives are deemed worthy.
Standard Equipment
Kasrkin carry full campaign kits optimized for long-term deployment in extreme environments, including:
4 Hotshot Power Packs
Backpack Power Generator
Standard-Issue Backpack
All-Weather Gear
2 Weeks' Rations, Mess Kit, Water Canteen
Blanket & Sleeping Bag
Personal Hygiene Kit
Identification Tags (Dog Tags)
Micro-Bead (short-range comms)
Respirator for toxic/biochemical environments
Imperial Infantryman's Uplifting Primer – A mandatory military manual covering survival, protocol, enemy identification, and doctrinal faith, still regarded as essential reading even among Kasrkin ranks.
Legacy and Identity
Unlike standard Storm Troopers—who are often resented by regular Guardsmen for their elite status—Kasrkin are admired and respected, especially among Cadian regiments. They embody the highest ideals of Cadian military culture: unbreakable discipline, relentless training, and ironclad loyalty.
Decades of generational warfare against the horrors of the Warp and champions of Chaos have made the Kasrkin psychologically regimented and culturally austere. They regard the lost traditions of Cadia not merely as nostalgia, but as mental armor against the insanity of the 41st Millennium.
They are the finest soldiers of the Astra Militarum, forged in the crucible of Cadia and forever marked by their world's fall. To be Kasrkin is to carry both glory and burden, and every true Cadian understands the truth of that role.