FlamingSquirrel's Resident Evil Fan ficton
this has some pretty gory stuff, so YE BE WARNED!
Alright, this is an alternate universe, wesker OWNS umbrella, S.T.A.R.S dosent exist, and HUNK works for "the corperatoin"
the video game thing is JUST A JOKE
I dont want you hating it just because you dont think it's funny that microsft & sony die, i'm not dissing the PS3 or XBOX360, so look past that
i'm adding more as it is written
Name: Jason Bale
Name: Eric Nickleson
Job: SWAT, Ex-Marine
BIO: He mainly has feeling for cats and Fish, but no one knows why.
“Eighth place, not bad” thought Jason, returning home from a Halo 3 tournament, his prize lying on the seat next to him, a brand new copy of “Unreal Tournament 2009”, a game scheduled for release in 3 months. Only Jason and 14 others would be the only ones to play the game this early, he was eager to try it out on his Nintendo Wii, the only current gen console on the market, ever since Sony's stock crashed when they switched everything to “blue ray” and link between “blue ray” and brain tumors was proved, and Microsoft was forced to discontinue the Xbox 360, due to bad sales in Japan, then developers leaving them, in favor of Nintendo.
Yes, 8th place was not bad at all, of course, 1st would have won him a new “home theater” system as well, but he was content.
As he continued down the highway, heading towards his hometown of Raccoon city, he noticed a lack of traffic “probably due to the fact that it’s 3AM, still” though Jason “you’d think there would be at least one car out here.” He continued trekking down the highway, and after a few minutes, he passed a sign saying “Raccoon City: 4 miles” in the distance, he noticed a car pulled over to the side of the road, engine still running, and hood open, it looked like some one was leaning over the front of it.
Jason decided to pull over, if only for his conscious but he’d lock his car, you never could be too careful with those “counter strikers”, they’d do anything to get their hands on his prize. As soon as he open his door, even before he could thumb the “lock” button, a horrible stench hit him, but before he could wonder what it was, right as his keys jingled into his pocket, he saw that the man wasn’t “leaning” over the car, but laying over the engine, apparently unconscious. Jason reached for his cell phone, but there was no answered on Raccoon cities 911 end. Suddenly the man groaned, and moved a little, revealing his face. Jason gasped as he saw that a line, strait down to the bone, had been cut into the mans face by the fan belt. The man groaned again and started to stand up. Tendrils of fear shot through Jason, and he dropped his cell phone as the man slowly started toward him. Jason’s senses suddenly rushed back to him, and he made a mad dash toward his car, fumbling with his keys, he noticed that the man had what appeared to be several bite wounds on his neck and upper body, just as the man hands slapped against the driver window, Jason’s car roared to life, as his foot hit the accelerator, and he left the man in the dust, Jason wondered what could have caused that.
He tried to put the matter out of mind, as he headed home, right into the heart of raccoon city….
As Jason pulled into the parking lot of his apartment complex, he decided that the best way to get that man out of his mind was to get drunk. He didn’t need to play his prize right away; after all, he had just participated in a 3 day, no sleep Halo 3 tournament. “I think a break from video games will be good, if only for a few hours,” thought Jason.
As he was placing his “prize” in a small fireproof box, along with his original copy of “biohazard: directors cut” and other various items of significance, he wondered if anybody else had seen the strange man, and decided to check out the newspaper, which would be delivered in a half hour or so.
In the spare time he had before the paper was delivered, he took a shower, and called the bar to see if it was open, however, there was no answered, so he looked it up online, and sure enough, it was open, “surely the paper has come by now” thought Jason, so he went outside to check it out, “nope, no paper.” “Well” thought Jason “ the bar should have a copy.” So Jason walked over to his car, but as he was walking, he heard screaming, but not normal screaming, a sort of whimpering scream, he decided to check it out, as he walked up the old rusty fire stairs, the sound suddenly stopped, as he reached the room where he thought the sound was coming from, he hesitated, dreading what might be on the other side. Gather up his courage, he slowly creaked the door open…
Eric was waiting at the Police Station. SWAT was out on a mission, but Eric couldn't go. He had to do some paper work for the last job they did. They were sent out to investigate a small warehouse near the outskirts of town, but they had not come back for 2 and half days. So now Eric was the one explain what happened, instead of being out in the field, where he was best.
Everyone left a few hours ago, so he decided to saddle up and go home. He got in a cruiser, just in case if there was a problem. He was headed home, glad for the break, but there were no cars on the road or the usual gangs and druggies running around.
He kept going thinking this was one of those legendary nights that were peaceful, but then he saw it. There was a bleeding man on the side of the road. As his duty he went and checked it out.
The man had several bite marks all over him. He checked the mans pulse, he was dead, or so he thought. He was about to take his hand off the body, but it gasped and clawed at his arm. He reached for knife and stabbed it right in the things arm. It jerked the blade out from its flesh, and struck again. Eric reached for his backup weapon, a small 9mil, and cleanly punched a hole through its chest. It was still alive. Eric ran, terror griping him, he had faced many enemies, terrorists, druggies, even out of control teenagers, but nothing he had faced could survive a 9 mil strait to the chest, and only flinch. He raced back to his car, and fumbled, trying to put it in gear, but he ended up in reverse, now panic stricken, there was no choice but to drive backwards. The creature ran at the car, and Eric got an idea, a car going 60 should take this monster out. He pushed the pedal as hard as he could. He it the monster head on, now it was laying on his back windshield, and still alive. Eric braked hard, and the creature slid off the back of the Police cruiser, Eric had enough of this bull. He grabbed a shotgun, kicked open the door, walked right up, and blasted the monster. It arms and head were now just chunky bits of flesh on the road. The monster was dead hopefully.
Eric was in shock, so he did what he always did when there was a problem; he went to the nearest place that had stuff to drink. This place happened to be the bar.
“Hit me" Eric said, "are you sure?" commented the old bar tender, "you have a 9 and a 8, I suggest you stay" Erick smartly replied "just hit me okay?" and the old wrinkly man complied, and handed Eric a 4 "very good Mr. Nickleson” “uh-huh” muttered Eric, downing his 5th shot of whiskey.” "That’s a 17 year old bottle,” commented the bartender,” I wouldn’t drink to much of that if I was you” Eric poured himself another shot. “If you where me, I would have to kill you so I could be me again!” the words tumbling out of his mouth.
“Turn on the TV” requested Eric,” sorry, all the stations are dead, it’s like that all over-“ but Eric did not find out where exactly this was happening, because someone was knocking, no, banging on the door, a slow methodical thump, thump, thump. “We’re closed,” said old man, but the shadowy figure continued his assault on the door, “WE’RE CLOSED” yelled the old man, but the noise continued. Flustered, the old bartender walked right up to the door, and opened it “WE ARE CLO-“ the man outside the door lunched forward, arms outstretched, like a hungry animal. “LOOK OUT!” Eric tried to warn him, but it was to late, as the creature that had previously thought to be a man, looking for a drink, bit down hard on the bartenders neck, Eric rushed forward, drawing his knife. As if to add to the confusion, the phone rang, it was ignored. As Eric reached the struggling pair, he plunged his knife right through the back of the attackers neck, and felt his bile rise as he heard and felt the crunch of his knife thought the creatures spine.
“Thanks” the old man muttered, as the attacker crumpled to the floor. “You should get to the emergency room,” said Eric, wiping off his blade. “Oh, I think I’ll be fine” replied the old man, open a cabinet marked “F-AID” “well, it’s your neck” Eric said, downing his last shot for the night, “your neck, heh, that’s funny” he thought to himself as he settled down for the night
Jason slowly creaked the door open, wondering what was making the whimpering noise. The stress was too much, however, and he decided to get it over with as quickly as possible. BANG! The door flew open and Jason burst in the room, ready for anything, but all he found was a TV playing an old video tape of “weeks of our lives” apparently, Tony had just broken up with Michele, who had killed Tony ‘s old girlfriend just so she could be with him, but now it was for nothing!
“I hate soap operas” Jason thought, however relived that it wasn’t anything worse, “still” thought Jason “I should be carefully, something just doesn’t feel right.” Putting the matter from his mind, he got into his car, slime still fresh on the windows from the mysterious man he encountered earlier. A surprise was waiting for him when he tried to start his car, the surprise being that it was dead. “Great,” thought Jason as he exited the vehicle, “’I’ll walk, it’s not that far to the bar.”
As he walked to the bar, Jason noticed that there where no people, and no driving cars, any cars he encountered where parked, and even they where parked at weird angles, and doors left open. “What in the world happened here?” pondered Jason, “I hope I can find out at the bar”
Finally, after what seemed like hours, he reached the bar, there were lights on, but the door was lock, he knocked loudly and shouted, trying to get someone’s attention, but ton no avail, as he turned around to leave, he came face to face with what he could only call one thing, a Zombie.
Eric Nickleson rarely had dreams, so when he did have one, he always tried to make it last as long as possible, in this dream, he was at an aquarium, with all kinds of fish in big tanks, he marveled at the sight of them, swimming around in great numbers, all so beautiful with there glimmering scales. And his cat was there, Dillan, he loved that cat, he was tired, and decided to take a nap in front of all the nice fish, so he laid down, his cat, Dillan, walked up and sat on his chest, pawing him, but he was pawing harder and harder, it started to hurt, like Dillan was drying to dig a hole in him!
He awoke with a start, to the sight of the old bartender clawing at his Kevlar vest, that he had not taken off yet. “Hey!” he shouted, “get off me!” but the bartender continued, he rolled to the side and got up, slowly walking backwards, the bartender followed, with that same “hungry animal” look, his skin was whitish orange, like a rotten peach, and he did not look human, just a blank expression, Eric glanced over and saw a chair, a blood stained chair, with the whiskey bottle he had been taking shots from last night, except now it was empty, laying in a pool of blood, he quickly rushed over to it, picked it up, and smashed it over the bartenders head, he fell to the ground, but was not dead, he groaned, in that hungry way, suddenly there was more banging on the door, and yelling, Eric had to get out, he ran for the back door, it was locked, he kick with all his strength, and it burst open, just as the bartender got up.
Eric slammed the door shut behind him, he was in a back alleyway, near a dumpster with a body hanging out of it. He needed to go somewhere safe, “the police station” thought Eric, and he started running.
Rat-tat-tat! A young zombie, no older than 15 hit the floor, 3 fresh bullet holes in it, two in the chest, one right between the eyes. “Nice grouping” commented a young man, standing next to HUNK. “Thanks” replied the man known as HUNK, clad in “black ops” gear, complete with gas mask. “Now where did you say that police station is?” watching HUNK, the young man answered “It’s about 20 block from here” As HUNK patted down the now lifeless body of the young boy, he found out that the creature he had riddled with bullets was once called Mark Thompson, HUNK also discovered $50. “Ooo! A bonus!” Not that he would need it, if he successfully completed his mission, he would have enough money to live 3 lifetimes in perfect comfort. Not that he needed that either, over the course of his career, he had amassed several fortunes, on this particular mission, he had been dispatched to Raccoon city by “The Organization” to retrieve something that, apparently had great value to the Russians, and the Russians ALWAYS paid well.
“Well” said the young man, standing next to him “we better get moving.” They started walking down the street at a brisk pace, alert for anything. “What was your name again?” asked HUNK “Jimmy, my name is Jimmy” “and are you married, Jimmy?” asked HUNK as he slung his custom TMP across his back. “Well, no, it’s kind of hard when you’re in this buisness…” HUNK slowed his pace, falling behind the young boy, no older than 23. “Well, that’s good” he said, gripping his side arm. “What do you mean?” HUNK pulled out his .45 side arm, and jammed it into the back of Jimmy’s head, the last thing Jimmy heard was the word “Then no one will miss you!” hissed through a gas mask before a sharp pain exploded through the back of his head. As HUNK wiped the blood off his gear, he looked down at his most recent kill. “Stupid moron, you shouldn’t have gotten bit!” he bent down to retrieve ammo, and pulled back Jimmy’s sleeve, sure enough, a bite mark that was turning yellow was waiting for him.