Chapter One partially revised for your reading pleasure as of 09/05/07
I do not own Resident Evil.
(WARNING: What comes next may cause you to vomit, rip out your eyeballs, run away from your computer screaming "MY EEEEYES!", or cause you to just hit the back button and pretend you have never read this story in your entire life. If you say "Srew the warning!" read on, and prepared to be scarred for life. Also make sure there are no innocent children in the room. If there are and they know how to read, just throw your socks at them, and they should go away. As always, Mizurio is not responsible for any mental, and/or physical injuries and/or death caused by sock related incidents. Let's move on…….)
"Look at me, I'm a stupid American! I wear brand name clothes, I own an air polluting car, have indoor plumbing, and just like most of America I don't vote!"
"U-Um, Lord Saddler?"
"What is it!"
"T-The American has made it to the island base." The faithful Ganado reported, ignoring what he had just walked in on.
"Kill him." The plaga lord simply said.
Leon cautiously walked down the halls of the island base, ready to blast anything with his riot gun that even remotely twitched. To be blunt, he was paranoid out of his pea-sized mind right now. After being attacked by a guy who burst out of a giant meat roaster screaming bloody murder, who wouldn't be?
Sure, blowing people's brains out was pretty amusing when he'd first gotten here. He had even made up a little rhyme to go with shooting down his enemies.
Two lead bullets to your head.
I sure hope Ashley's not dead.
But if she is, then I'll NEVER get enough money for a new jacket.
Sure, it wasn't anything special, but it reminded him why he was here in the first place. Yes, it was all for the jacket. He hadn't even owned it for a month, and it had been stolen from right under his nose.
Leon kicked open the door to the next room and took out all the Ganado that were in the room and those that were hiding down stairs. He reloaded his weapon, did a sexy hair flip (those bangs were quite hard to maintain in this humidity) and went up the stairs to the next room. He slowly opened the door.
Leon could feel his eardrums strain against the loud screech of Ashley's voice. Wait a second.
"Ashley!" Leon bolted to the end of the room and was greeted with a dozen security monitors and a control panel. The monitor showed that Ashley was being held in a storage room quite a ways from where he was. The brunette let out a sigh of relief. She was still alive, and he'd still get paid (maybe get a bonus, even!) and then he would be able to get a brand new jacket that wasn't made of pleather.
He looked back at the screen and saw one of the guards push the presidents daughter to the ground. The same guard looked up at the camera, and Leon felt like he was staring straight into his soul. That is one ugly mother fu—suddenly, the monitor went out and there was nothing left to be seen.
"Tch, amateurs. Just hang on Ashley, I'm coming for you"
As Leon walked to the exit wondering why he had to say such corny things to himself—
"Look at me, I'm Leeeoon!"
Said government agent stopped dead in his tracks upon hearing his name. He quickly went back over to the security monitors, but there was nothing but white noise coming form all of them. Save one that was in the middle of them all. Although it was still fuzzy and dark, he could make out a figure pacing back and forth in front of a mirror.
"What the hell?"
Leon began to press random buttons on the control panel until he finally had some color and some-what clearer picture, but he'd lost the sound. He sighed in frustration as he continued to press random buttons until he found one in the top right hand corner that was conveniently labeled 'SOUND'. The agent mumbled curses under his breath as he pressed the button.
"—I'm overworked, under paid, with a horrid taste in fashion and wear cheap imitation jackets that are five times then what they're really worth!"
Leon's eyes widened in horror. Pacing back and forth in front of a huge mirror was the leader of the insane cult, the Los Illuminados, Osumund Saddler. Who was wearing an outfit that was exactly like Leon's. Right down to the jacket. The insane man even had a hand gun just like his and was twirling it a round like a cheerleading baton.
The cult leader began to speak once again in a horrible imitation of Leons' voice. "I'm the sexiest guy around—" Saddler struck what only he must have thought was a 'sexy' pose. It only wanted to make Leon take out his knife and stab himself in the eyes repeatedly. "Sure, working for the president is a pain in the ass—" Leon had to agree to that. (If the president had never sent him here, he would have never have lost his jacket. It was partly Ashley's fault too, but this rant is for another time..)
He was starting to get blinded by the lights reflecting off Saddlers fat, bald head. Apparently, no matter what kind of twisted monsters Saddler could create from his science, creating hair for his pale, ugly noggin would never be one of them. But it was like trying to look away from a car wreck; which was damn near impossible.
"—But at least I get to nail his spoiled rotten daughter!" Saddler started to laugh manically, still walking back and forth in front of his mirror. Leon choked on that comment. HELL NO! This is all for the jacket, baby! Leon had to get out. This was just way to much information for his brain to take in all at once. Leon was about to get the hell out when he stopped and saw someone else walk in the room to join Saddler.
God. KILL. ME. NOW! Now standing right next to Saddler was a Ganado, wearing a skimpy green plaid skirt, a tacky orange sleeveless sweater with an even uglier one tied loosely around his neck. To get to the point, he was dressed like the presidents daughter from head to toe, with a platinum blonde wig top off the outfit.
"Oh, Leon!" The Ganado in drag squealed in a mock-up of the real Ashleys' voice, "You're sooo SEXY!" Again, 'Leon' did another 'sexy' pose, while the real Leon began to feel the bile in the back of his throat.
'Ashley' walked over to 'Leon'. They exchanged words that Leon couldn't really make out. For some odd reason or another, his poor brain had decided to torment him not just visually, and it was compiling under-budget background music that made what was on screen seem like a cheap porno.
"OOOH LEON! YOUR'RE MY HERO!" 'Ashley' jumped up and down in delight. (Or at least with as much delight as man could have while dressed up as a girl and being infected with a plaga…) the two characters on screen hugged, much to Leon's dismay. He watched as the two continued to hug.
"Leon, I love you sooo much!"
Leon pulled out his new best friend—
"And I just wanna sleep with you!"
–aimed it at Saddler's cue ball head—
—and pumped the monitor full of hot lead.
Stuffing the Chicago Typewriter back in his attaché case, he walked over to the desk nearby. He kicked the metal chair and sent it crashing into the wall. Leon thought for a moment. He could just crawl under the desk and cry himself to sleep, or…..He could get revenge. Leon smirked wickedly as he exited the room, pulling out his Chicago Type writer and preparing for what was ahead.
Just you wait, Saddler…that jacket's mine……And I guess I've gotta save that one blonde girl, too……damn, what was her name again?