AN: Alright, this is my first fan fiction ever… this plot hardly makes any sense, and this fic will probably not be the best you have read. Worry not! It's just for fun. I'm a bit rusty at this, but please review and let me know if anything needs changing. And bear in mind that English isn't my first language, so be patient. I'll try to stay true to my personality as much as I can.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Resident Evil


…Just kidding.


Congratulations! YOU WON!

The letters blinked temptingly from the computer screen, with colors flashing around them. I drummed my fingers impatiently at the table, while sipping from my glass of milk. I wondered if I was going to get an epileptic seizure if I stared at them long enough.

No, I thought irritated, I haven't won anything, and you damned well know it. God,I hate spam. I'm going to find your creator and shove his head down the toilet.

I looked down the page to see if some new fan fictions had been written, or if old ones had been continued. My lips felt dry. I reached for the lip balm on the stool next to the computer table, and suddenly, in an uncontrolled twitch from my arm, the half-empty glass of milk was swept off in one fluent movement and hit the floor with a loud noise. The contents were no longer in the glass, attracting the attention from my cat, Kitty.


"Oh, no, you don't", I said, and dragged Kitty away from the pool. "Milk ain't good for you."

I hurried to the bathroom to get toilet paper, nearly tripping in the protective shoes I had left carelessly in the entrance a few hours earlier. Kitty was licking the white fluid enthusiastically. I went back to the living room with paper in both hands. Upon seeing Kitty, I opened my mouth to scold her, but then she seemed bored of the activity and walked towards the couch. After I was finished cleaning up the mess, the floor still carried the distinct smell of milk. I shrugged.

No one's going to sniff the floor anyway.

I sat back into the chair, continuing my search for interesting fan fictions. Yawning, I glanced affectionately at my impressive pile of videogames in the bookshelf. I smiled weakly at them and sighed deeply.

Man. Vacation is over. School tomorrow... I could use another week off. Or three.

I stretched my body and was about to exit the programs and shut the computer down, when I saw something interesting. A fan fiction with no title, and no summary, just a number. I tilted my head curiously.

People can do that? Cool. Doesn't seem very creative, though.

I shrugged and clicked on it. Suddenly, the screen went black. Perplexed, I hit Ctrl, Alt and Delete, only to have the blackness replaced by an angry man's face. He was dressed in what appeared to be an expensive suit. He stared straight at me, swiftly raising a condemning finger at me. My jaw dropped.

"MOM!" I yelled and stood up so fast I knocked the chair down with a loud noise. His finger was following my face, his eyes narrowed into small cracks.

"TEENAGER!" he roared, with a tone of disgust in his voice. "You… You! You play videogames!"

I blinked in disbelief.


"So? SO?!" he screamed furiously. "'So', she says! 'So'! Do you have any idea what that makes you? Huh? Do you?!

I did not answer. I could not answer. I had no idea why I had talked to him in the first place.

"MOMMY!" I shouted again. Then I remembered she went to the store to buy some groceries.

Blast it!

"Answer me!" the man demanded. He glared at me. We stared at each other for a long time. Taking deep breaths, I clenched my fists and considered to grab the laptop and throw it out the window. The easy internet access, and knowing that my mother would behead me if I did so, kept me from doing it. Instead, I reached out to close it, but a piercing shout of protest made me jump and pull back my hand. The stranger looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Do you have a complete lack of curiosity?" he asked, with a tone of disappointment in his voice, while seemingly starting to type at a keyboard I was unable to spot. "Aren't you going to ask me who I am and what I'm doing on your computer?"

"… Who are you and what are you doing on my computer?"

"My name is William Burke," he answered smugly, and brushed some of his long, blonde hair away from his face. He reminded me of a bishonen, somehow – and a damned scary one at that. "I'm a detective working for the FGIA."

"…What? FGIA?"

"Future Generation Improvement Agency," he smirked triumphantly. "A fine, secret organization that fights for a better society for all of us. We want to make sure that YOU, kiddos, stop being such screw-ups. Yeah, that's right. What are you doing, really, huh? You're wasting precious talents on stupid, violent, brain-killing videogames, stealing music from record companies, spending ridiculous amounts of money on fashion clothes and popular brands, partying and drinking until you can barely tell your legs from your arms! Huh! Why don't you go and do something good about your life, huh? Help elderly people? Help your parents around the house? Study something? Give money to the starving children in Africa? Make yourself useful?"

I stared at him with, what I guessed was, a comically bewildered look on my face. I felt an odd mixture of amusement, shock and insult. Mostly, I felt insulted.

"What? You're lecturing me? You've barely passed your teens, and you're lecturing me?"

"Actually, I'm thirty-seven years old," Burke answered, looking flattered. He traced his finger down his cheek and rested it at his chin. "You can't see it, can you? Oooh, the guy I go to is really good at what he does, huh? He's a bloody artist; He can shape anyone, no matter how lousy their starting point is, into the very… definition of beauty. Like they were made of clay. Yeah. He is a bloody artist. Don't you think?"

He eyeballed me with skepticism written all over his face. "Huh. Would you like me to give you his number?"

A couple of moments passed by before I managed to formulate a decent retort inside my head, but he waved me off before I got the chance to utter it.

"Well, our conversation seems to have drifted off a little. Now… are you going to start contributing to the society, and become a good, uh… German citizen?"

"I'm Norwegian!"

"Wrong answer!"

Burke raised his arm victoriously with his index finger pointing downwards. It looked like he was about to hit a key on the unseen keyboard. Then he hesitated. His eyes were moving back and forth, and his finger was waving a little helplessly in the air.

"Ah! There it is!"

His arm darted down. My apartment dissolved into white nothingness. I fell down, desperately trying to get a grip on something. I used all the air in my lungs to scream, and did not manage to take a new breath. There was an intense, burning sensation in my chest, and then the world went black…