XX A/N XX
Depending on how often you skim the Resident Evil category, you may remember me doing a Resident Evil Outbreak novelization two years ago, which really was a project I did four years ago ported to this site. This a rewrite of that story.
It was my most popular work, but I've never been satisfied with it. Looking back, there were still a lot of problems with pacing and characterization. Hell, I gave the characters automatic weapons in the first five chapters and killed a lot of tension from that point on. I feel I failed my favorite game in the series and the series itself.
That said, this story will have some familiar elements, but a lot of differences in ways other than deviating from some aspects of the scenarios. This version is going to be more about the characters. There's going to be more talking and less shooting. There's going to be more emotion in it all. There's going to be more content inspired by both the Outbreak games (released content and unreleased) and the rest of the series.
I hope you enjoy this new version. They'll be a final note about the rewrite at the bottom.
X Thursday, September 24th, 1998 X
The American Midwest. The 'Breadbasket' of America, or so it was called. Agriculture was one of the main businesses that sustained the region. Even though industrialization had been growing in the area for the past decades and particularly the eastern states, the western half was still mostly rural- farms, small cities, and miles of wilderness.
There was one city that was an exception to that though: Raccoon City. It was definitely a modern city, one that would be more at home further east than nestled within the cover of a mountain range- The Arklay Mountains- and surrounded everywhere else by vast swaths of forest. Only 30 years ago it had been but a little mountain town built along a river, something much for fitting to the area.
Now, it was a modestly sized industrial city, boasting several dozen factories that produced various goods. This had given rise to other forms of business that sprung up not only to service and sustain the city, but also its population. As of the 1990 Census, the city had had a population of 79,687, and there was no doubt the number had risen since. Raccoon City was a unique city that had attracted people from all walks of life.
X
The north and eastern sections of Raccoon City were suburbs- middleclass housing where well over half the city's population lived. It was close enough to the more urban centers of the city to be convenient but close enough to the woods and mountains to seem idyllic.
It was the perfect blend to Mark Wilkins, one of the many citizens who resided in this particular suburb. The old, admittedly portly dark-skinned man had moved up here a well over a decade ago with his wife and son for the city's peaceful nature and prosperity, something that, while having slightly diminished, was still around. His family was in agreement.
At least, they were about the city peaceful nature.
"I still just don't see how they can threaten to fire you like that." His wife of 28 years was fuming.
"Sorry dear. I didn't think they'd pull my vacation time like that." Mark explained again, effortlessly picking up a set of bags and carrying them out front. "Everyone's asking for security guards now and the company's already signed the contracts. I am getting overtime pay."
"You can get overtime pay anytime. But this was the only time we could've gone on vacation." That was a subject that had filled the household for the past several times. His voice had organized a trip out east to visit some of her remaining family, and Mark had agreed to come along. Unfortunately, it just so happened to coincide with a time most of the other employees at his workplace were falling ill, necessitating the rest to pull double duty or lose their jobs. This had become apparent too late to change their plans.
Mark had insisted she and their son go anyway. They hadn't seen family for a couple of years now, and he didn't want to hold them back because he was a hard worker. She'd relented to his stubborn insistence and they were leaving this morning, although she was obviously still cross about it, insisting he let his bosses ask too much of him.
"Trust me, dear, I'm not happy about this either." Mark said in earnest as he loaded the bags into the car.
"Are you sure you'll be okay for a week?" She fretted about that the most actually. Mark wondered how he'd ever been so lucky to meet such a caring woman.
"Yeah." Mark nodded as he closed the trunk. "I can take the bus to and from work."
"But will you be safe?" She stressed. At her words, her husband glanced up and behind him at the trees and mountains that occupied the skyline.
1998 had been an ominous year for Raccoon City and the surrounding areas. There'd been a series of mysterious murders up in the mountains recently, and even after several months the police had not solved the mystery. September seemed to be worse, as similar murders and attacks had started to happen within the city as well. There'd been three incidents only yesterday. The police were insisting these weren't related to those in the mountain given how each instance was a different perpetrator caught or killed. They were blaming it on drugs and had vowed to crack down, but by now the citizens of Raccoon City were carrying themselves cautiously, not entirely convinced of their safety.
"I'll be fine." Mark nodded. "I've survived worse." His wife bit her lip as he said that. Mark turned as his teenage son came out of the house carrying his own bag. "Son." He stood up straight as Mark approached him and put his hands on his shoulders. "You'll keep your mother safe while you're gone?"
"Yes sir." He nodded firmly.
"Good." Mark nodded and gave him a pat on the back. "Have fun." He turned back to his wife. "You both should be going if you want to avoid traffic." She still looked less than pleased with things, but seeing her husband sound and look so sure reassured her as she gave him a hug.
"Stay safe." She told him again. "We love you."
"Love you too." Mark bid goodbye and they separated. They both waved at him as she started the car and Mark waved back as the car pulled out the driveway. He stood there a few moments longer, watching the car head down the street and around the corner. He shook his head and headed back inside his home to get ready for work. He really did regret having to do this; spending time with his family was a rare luxury, one he preferred to do while he was still young enough to move around. But he needed his job- he had bills and a mortgage to pay, and obviously support his family.
When he opened the closet in the bedroom he and his wife shared, he paused to look at the green uniform, old but pristine, hanging near the end of the line of clothes. It was his old Army dress uniform, the lieutenant colonel insignias on them still as shiny as the day he'd received them. It was hardly the first morning he'd ever paused to look at it. Mark Wilkins was very proud of his service, even two decades after the fact.
After he'd pulled on the black pants and jacket that his security uniform consisted of, he walked over his regular dresser where another memento to the past was- a framed picture showing a collection of US Army lieutenants minutes after they'd landed in South Vietnam. Mark Wilkin rarely looked at that picture. There were too many bad memories associated with it. Instead, he reached for the holster laying on top of the dresser.
Raccoon City was far from a dangerous city. Again, it was peaceful, out of the way, and had a stable job market- the Wilkins family had moved here for a reason. It was nice, but it had its underside. Crime and gangs had become more noticeable in recent years, and so the need for greater security- armed security- had come with it for some local businesses. The company Mark worked for, Scutum Security, was one of those providers.
It wasn't anything special, just a regular Beretta 92 handgun. 9mm with a 15 round capacity, it was a decent and well tested handgun that was actually fairly common in the city with private citizens and the police. Mark tucked it into his holster along with an extra magazine of ammunition and put it on. He'd never had to use it or even draw it in the 7 years he'd worked with the company, and while he was grateful for it, he never got complacent; a habit he'd carried home with him from the jungles of Asia.
He made sure to grab a few more things before locking up the house and heading out. The company had had him posted downtown for the past few weeks, somewhere the city bus service made frequent stops. A few warehouses had been burglarized earlier in the year, resulting in the loss of stocks of medicine and prompting the parent company to hire some security. It was an easy job, mostly sitting in a security office watching cameras while trucks came and went with cargo. He might be a little late getting home, but other than that, he expected it to be a perfectly routine day.
X
Raccoon City had a population of just above 100,000 people now. The Raccoon City Police Department was the force responsible for maintaining peace and order in the city and the surrounding areas, doing so with a force of approximately 389 uniformed officers. Included among this number were 42 officers that doubled as members of the Select Police Force (S.P.F), the city's equivalent of a SWAT team.
The organization was barely a few weeks old, having been hurriedly trained and organized after the city's previous special police unit had disbanded following a terrible incident that had killed most its members. But it had already made a name for itself with several very public operations designed to help restore the police department's image. The last few days in particular had had a fierce tempo to them as the police tried to clamp down on the 'drug wave' hitting the city.
Today was no exception. At the station in the middle of the city that served as the department's main hub, six members of the unit were climbing into the back of a riot van bearing the R.P.D's livery. Another two were climbing in the front cab. Each of them were wearing the padded dark-blue overalls and vest emblazoned with both the police insignia and that or their group, as well as helmets. Six members of the group carried MP5A1 submachine guns, while the other two carried Remington 870 shotguns. A M1911A pistol was secured in each of their leg holsters.
Once they were all situated, the van rolled out of the parking lot and onto the streets, preceded and followed by two squad cars from the patrol division. They were heading to the residential part of the downtown area of the city to carry out several search and arrest warrants that had been signed just that morning. There was no good single lead on the source of the recent crime wave, so they were still just rounding up persons of interest.
Once inside the van, a few of the officers decided to take off their helmets until they arrived. One of the officers centered in the middle pulled off his helmet to reveal long brunette hair that sharply contrasted with the orderly cuts or shaved heads of the other SWAT officers. What equally stood out was the way he casually leaned back in his seat, eyes closed with the seeming intention to catch a nap.
"Sleeping on the job? That's a new low for you, Ryman." The officer sitting across from the man commented. Kevin Ryman cracked an eye opened and grinned before sitting back up.
"Give me a break, Jackson. You guys want to do the same thing. It's been a busy week."
"You can say that again."
"No kidding." He got agreement from his fellow officers. The officer, Jackson, just shook his head, grinning.
"Yeah? Just don't let the brass catch you doing that." Kevin gave an unconcerned shrug.
"Hell, a suspension isn't sounding half bad right now. I wouldn't argue about getting next week off." He was joking, of course. He put in more hours than a lot of officers in the department; he just liked to have a joking façade.
"You got something planned?" Kevin gave a sly smile and reached into his pants pocket.
"Check it out." Kevin waved the two slips of paper. "Tickets the next week's Sharks game."
"Really?" The other officer eyed the football tickets with some envy. "Who you taking?"
"A new guy coming in from the Academy- Leon." While the previous special police unit had been recruited from outside people with prior experience, most of the S.P.F had been drawn from the R.P.D's patrol division. All those selected had been sent to an academy upstate for training. A second, smaller class of prospective officers had entered just before the first graduated. A few had already arrived and the rest were supposed to trickle in over the next week or two. "He seemed like a pretty cool guy. Thought I'd show him around once he got here."
"Show him the bars, you mean." Another officer down the row, Carson, corrected.
"That too." Kevin grinned. It was no secret he liked to drink- the several variations of liquor with his name on it in the break room fridge ensured that. But he wasn't going to apologize for being a fun guy.
The assembled officers stopped to listen when the radio in the front cab started blaring, the audio coming through the small window connecting it and the back area. The call was for an assault being reported near the St. Michael clock tower and for all available officers to respond. It was just one of many very similar calls that had taken up most police scanners the past several days,
"This shit is getting out of control." One of the S.P.F officers growled. Every member of the R.P.D was starting to feel frustrated with the lack of progress they were having in keeping their city safe. These killings and attacks weren't new, and it was only getting worse.
"I heard Valentine went to see Chief Irons about it." One of the officers up front commented. At the mention of one of the last member of the Special Rescue and Tactics Service (S.T.A.R.S), the organization that had preceded the S.P.F as the city's special police unit, most of the assembled SWAT officers snorted. The S.T.A.R.S unit had recruited mostly former military personnel from out of state, an elite pet project the city had done to improve its image. A lot of the police force had been less than welcoming to the unit, easing up only after most of its members had been tragically killed just a few months ago in the mountains investigating the violent crime wave that was now spreading to the city proper.
"Really? Any idea what she said?" Kevin asked neutrally. Before being picked as a founding member of the S.P.F, he'd been trying to apply for S.T.A.R.S. Aside from S.T.A.R.S being the guys who got to deal with the real bad criminals in town, the glamour and reputation had appealed to him, as did all the cool weaponry they'd had access too. But he'd been turned down on both applications. He wasn't lacking in qualifications, but apparently had 'character issues', or so the rejection letter had said. Not professional enough to be in S.T.A.R.S, but enough to be in the S.P.F. And despite that a part of him still hoped the unit would reform.
"Don't know." The officer shrugged. "But she left looking pretty pissed off."
"Huh." Kevin acknowledged. What had happened in the mountains and what had been going on was still a mystery even a few months later, and stayed so on the chief's orders. Kevin wasn't the first or the only officer to ask on the side, but even then none of the surviving members would say what happened. They'd apparently said something about monsters at first, but after the ridicule they were refusing to talk about it anymore. He'd seen some of the people brought in for the assaults here in the city. They looked like absolute shit, but they didn't look like monsters.
Ah, Kevin knew he was a sharp guy. The rest of the R.P.D weren't pushovers either Whatever this mess was, now that it had showed its face it the city, it was as good as gone.
"Alright, look alive!" The team leader called from the front cab. "We're about to reach our first suspect's location."
"Alright." Kevin grinned while he slipped his helmet back on. "Let's rock and roll!"
X
Raccoon City hadn't always looked how it did. A lot of the growth had only occurred in the past decade. Most of that was linked to the recession at the start of the decade, and the stimulus the city had given itself to get out of it. This program to improve Raccoon City up to and past the 21st Century had funded the building of numerous public facilities that had brought in thousands of new faces and new talents from around the country and even the world. But longtime residents could tell that wasn't the only thing that changed.
Cindy Lennox was one such resident who, having been born and having grown up in Raccoon City, could confirm. Her parents had moved to the city in 1971 as laborers for the extensive construction going on at the time and she'd been born only three years later. She'd loved growing up here. The city had had a close-knit community type feeling back then, when just as much of the residents lived in the mountains as they did the town and the local church had been the biggest building in town.
A lot of the building back then had been in the mountains, of what though most didn't know and the laborers weren't allowed to say. But eventually they'd started building into the city. It wasn't all bad. A zoo had been built and opened in 78, and Cindy had loved going there with the church group she was a part of. But then they'd started building factories and warehouses. Raccoon City suddenly found itself on the map, and the city really took off as more and more traffic came through and roads were built. Even then, it hadn't been so bad.
Then the recession happened. It had hit most of the residents hard. Being one of the few major industrial cities in the area, people from all over the Midwest had flocked to Raccoon in search of work. Those who couldn't find work turned to crime. The city had had less than 100 police officers then and had been ill-equipped to handle the sudden deterioration of safety. To a lot of longtime residents, it looked like Raccoon City was going to become another doomed rustbelt city.
Then there'd been relief. The 'Bright Racoon 21' plan was something the towns long residing mayor had come up with, funded by local and even international companies. The first half of the decade had seen extensive building and modernization in Raccoon City, expanding the municipal government, the emergency services, and public infrastructure. Even more housing and industrial areas had been constructed, and local businesses received tax cuts that had helped them to ride out the rough times. It had definitely saved the city, although at the cost of further removing that small town feeling the older residents so enjoyed.
Cindy's parents had retired and moved out in 93. Part of it was that lost feeling, and the rest had been mostly for their health and safety; industry created a lot of pollution and the city's crime rate hadn't completely disappeared. Cindy had decided to stay. She was still quite involved in the church here and had a lot of friends in the city. Before they'd left, they'd sold their house and used part of the proceeds to help her completely pay off a small apartment in the downtown area of the city.
She had other reasons for staying. Raccoon City was a major pharmaceutical production center. 40% of Raccoon City's economy was based on medicine and health in some way or another. Unsurprisingly, the city now held numerous schools and locations a person could learn about and obtain a career in medicine. A career helping people had appealed to the kind-hearted blond.
She'd always had an interest in Herbalism since she was a little girl. There were types of herbs that grew around the city that had surprisingly potent medical uses. A lot of that potency was used to make commercial medicine, but there were still people in the city who knew how to use only the herbs to heals wounds and even poison. They weren't limited to businesses either; a lot of homes and businesses kept some of the plants for decorations. Cindy had a few out on her apartment balcony that she took care of daily and had taught herself how to apply them medically. Despite that, she still hoped to take a professional course someday.
That wasn't a reality yet or in the foreseeable future. She'd had to work after graduating school to help support her parents when the recession had hit them hard, and even then she'd only found part time work. She had a full-time waitressing job in the evenings now, but still sent part of her income to her parents to help them with medical bills. But she still saved up whatever she had left at the end of a week in a so far meager prospective education fund.
It wasn't an easy or luxurious life, but she stayed positive every day, including today. Bundled in a light jacket, she was out on the balcony watering the several herbs there, humming a small tune to herself. Even in the fall, or any season for that water, the plants were sturdy enough to thrive.
When was done with that, she took a few moments to stand by the railing and look out at the city. There was always something strangely peaceful about looking at the outline of the top of the Arkley Mountains. In the fall when the leaves on the dense amount of trees covering the mountains started changing colors, the skyline was even more beautiful, especially if you saw it as the sun was setting or rising.
It would've been even more beautiful if there wasn't apartments and industrial smokestacks filling the sky too. She'd looked at the skyline so much growing up it was easy to imagine the view without those obstructions, just as easy as it was to ignore them because she'd seen them so much as well.
It was hard to not to be even the teensiest amount bothered by how much the city had changed over the past years. To have seen all the green fields eventually dug up to make room for building, to see all the old wooden homes be replaced by giant concrete blocks, to see the population change so much over so little time… It was the quickness of all the change that was the most unsettling.
But the town hadn't 'gone bad' in Cindy's mind. She was the type of person who made friends easily, and unlike a lot of the people who'd grown up here she'd tried to socialize with the people who moved to Raccoon City. They came from different walks of life with different expectations and ways of living, but many of them was nice people who just wanted to make a life for themselves.
Even if the traits of the town she loved had faded over the years, she'd found other things to appreciate. Raccoon City was unique in a lot of ways, and she never would've never had some of the experiences she'd had in her life so far if it wasn't for that.
Raccoon City was odd, but that was part of its charm. As long as you understood that, no matter how much the city changed, it really was a pleasant place to live.
X
While longtime residents watched the changes with some apprehension, the growth had been a good sign for a great many people that had moved to the city for the job opportunities the expansion had brought. Jim Chapman was one such person, a rather skinny man of 24 with bleached hair who'd moved to Raccoon City from the rust belt out east for work.
He'd found employment in the form of the Raccoon City subway system. The Kite Brothers Railway, as it was officially called, serviced about a dozen stops along nearly 10 miles of track that ran beneath the city. Not the most expansive subway system in the world, but it moved several thousand people a day and was the main reason the streets above avoided the congestion one would normally see it larger cities. It was a living, but not one he was particularly fond of.
The South Raccoon Street Station where he worked as an attendant was one of the older stations on the line, and the age showed. It was dark and dirty and just not a good place to have to spend your day. He didn't care much for the uniform either, a collection of blue that included a jacket, shirt, tie, pants, and cap. Employees were at liberty to pick whatever shoes they desired, but Jim was well known by his colleagues for bemoaning how dirty his expensive sneakers tended to get in the subway.
Still, it was a living. A man couldn't turn down what kept him fed and clothed, even if it had it's bad days.
Today turned into a shitty day before he even got into work. The police were swarming the subway entrance he usually used for some reason, making him walk all the way around to another. Always a man to show up right on time and never early, even a full panicked sprint hadn't saved him.
"Ain't my fault the cops were in the way. Shit…" He muttered to himself as he walked along the employee passage to what doubled as the break room and locker room. He just had to retrieve a few things from his locker before he could begin his shift.
Most of the shift workers should've been at their posts by then, so Jim was surprised to see someone else there when he stepped into the room. "Yo, Rick!" Jim waved at the man digging through his locker. The other man was one of the few people Jim got along with, mainly because he was willing to join him in complaining about work instead of being annoyed by it.
"Oh, hey Jim. Thought you weren't coming into work today." The other man glanced back briefly before turning to dig back in his locker.
"Nah, the cops were just all over the east entrance, so I had to come in through the west entrance. Supervisor wants to dock some of my pay, can you believe that shit?" He opened his own locker, picking out a few of the crossword and puzzle booklets he had stored there. They were good for passing the time when nothing else was going on, although he'd been chewed out for it before. He just wasn't going to sit around doing nothing though.
"Yeah, he's in a bad mood. Nearly a quarter of the shift called in sick today."
"No shit?" Jim asked, dreading that he'd have to pick up some of the slack. First it was the murders, then the crime wave, and now it looked like the common cold was spreading around. "Man, I need a vacation."
"You and me both." Rick grunted, digging a little more ferociously.
"What are you looking for?"
"Some medicine I bought for this damn…bite!" Rick started scratching the back of his neck. "Damn thing's gotten worse."
"Still?" His co-worker had been complaining about a bug bite for at least a week now. He'd been checking out the subway tunnels (something they couldn't pay Jim enough to do), and something had bit him from the dark. Rick had insisted it was a giant bug, one that came up to his waist. The others weren't buying it, Jim included, but the story freaked him out all the same. "Maybe you should get a doctor to check that out?" He suggested.
"Might have to." Rick found what he was looking for: a tube of medicine. He uncapped it and squeezed a small amount in his hand to rub on his neck. "You should get going, Jim. Don't want the supervisor getting on your case again."
"You right." Jim nodded. "See you later man, hope that bite heals up." The hobby pieces gathered, he closed his locker and headed out of the break room. He could hear his co-worker cursing about giant bugs and the tunnels on the way out.
At least he'd never have to go down there!
X
While Raccoon City had given a stable livelihood to many, illicit or legal, happiness was not guaranteed. For all the city offered, people still had to find that on their own. Not all succeeded.
The Raccoon General Hospital was one of the many buildings that had been born from the boom at the start of the decade, a modern four story building built specifically to cater to the population's medical needs that had at that point only been provided by small clinics scattered around the city and mountains. The city had made a significant effort to attract and hire medical professionals from all around the world to staff it.
George Hamilton had been one such professional, a well-educated middle-aged white surgeon from the east coast who'd been encouraged to take up a job in Raccoon City. The salary he'd been offered had been a great improvement over the one he'd had on the east coast. And despite living in civilization all his life, George had an appreciation for nature and was quite fond of outdoor activities like camping and hiking. Like a lot of people, Raccoon City had had a lot to offer to, so George and his wife had moved out west.
His wife… A woman he'd genuinely cared for and appreciated. George had settled into this new city well, quickly garnering a reputation as a modest, polite, dependable worker and taking advantage of the city's surroundings to indulge in his favorite hobbies. His wife, although George only realized it now looking back, hadn't done the same. In fact, it was painfully obvious now she'd regretted the move even after agreeing to it. George had noticed the signs, but when questioned she hadn't admitted any negative feelings and George didn't push the issue. Maybe if he hadn't been so mild and did, the issue wouldn't have festered and destroyed the bond he'd held with her for nearly half his life.
Ex-wife was the appropriate term now. There'd been plenty of signs leading up to it: the breakdown in communication, the frequent fights, and her complete disregard to his professional life. They'd been separated since the beginning of the year and now were married no more. The divorce had been finalized just three days ago. She hadn't even wanted anything from him, and was now just living in a local hotel till she could find a way back east.
That feeling of loneliness that had been building since their separation had finally hit him once the divorce proceedings began and was nearly overwhelming now that they'd concluded. He had a six-figure salary, a modest home and vehicle already completely paid off, and countless items that held physical value, such as his watch collection. All of it was nothing compared to what he lost.
With his private life destroyed, George had spent the last year throwing himself into the only valuable and meaningful thing he had left: his career. It was the only thing that gave him satisfaction anymore. The need for razor sharp focus helped him forget his own troubles for just a little while.
But even work had turned stressful. The types of injuries that he usually helped were to be expected for a city like this- industrial accidents, car crashes, and frequently outdoor injuries. He'd treated a rising number of gunshot and knife wounds over the past few years, but those surgeries were standard.
But this month had been bizarre. The first case George could recall had been only on the 15th- a woman who lived up in the mountains and had been attacked by her husband, according to the police, and rushed in. 'Attacked' was too tame a word. The poor woman had had chunks of her flesh bitten off. Despite the unfamiliarity of such wounds, George and the other staff on duty had managed to stabilize her, although she would require hospitalization for a little while longer.
It didn't stop there. For the entire last week, at least one person per day had been rushed to the hospital suffering bite wounds from a fellow human being. George had put all his skills to use, but two of the patients he'd been trying to save had not made it; their wounds simple would not stop bleeding long enough to be mended. Those failures, along with the sheer inhumanity of the wounds he was treating, was putting strain on his mind.
There was a change in the hospital, too, although what they weren't sure. An entire section of the 2nd floor had been cordoned off with police guard since the start of the month. There was talk about patients inflicted with some sort of 'cannibal disease', although details had been absent. That section of the hospital had been extremely busy for the past two days. A colleague who worked in that new section had briefly approached George to question him on his minor virologic knowledge, but had soon after left without explaining. Was the hospital holding cases of some new, undiscovered disease?
But despite how morbid his workplace had become, George continued to put himself headlong into his job. He had an obligation and a duty, one he took pride in fulfilling. It was the only worthwhile thing he could find for himself.
Unless something was scheduled, George spent most of his work days on standby in case someone was rushed to the emergency room, as had been the case the past week. His co-workers were placing their trust in him and his abilities to be the counter for this strange new phenomenon, and he felt no desire to let them down. So when the telltale sound of overlapping sirens from the outside breached the normally quiet sanctum of the hospital, George focused his mind.
He didn't dwell on lost love or his personal conflicts. He was a doctor, a healer, a savior. Cool, calmed, and collected. Whoever came in through those doors, he would do everything in his power to save them. It was his duty, it was his purpose, and he'd carry it out.
X
Raccoon City had a lot of the staples of any big city, an independent press among them. No less than five publications had customer bases in the city's population. They mainly covered local affairs and matters like the weather, although they did tend to dab into national news occasionally.
The Raccoon Press was the largest and most popular of the publications, owning its very own office building downtown where it also did its printing. In the paper's employ was a small cadre of reporters that provided the editor with all the information they needed to make an issue. The paper's success could even be directly contributed solely to them for establishing the paper's reputation for always delivering in depth and shocking news. The second floor where the reporters did their work was always busy, filled with the rapid typing of fingers against keyboards.
One of them, a female, seemed to typing away far more fiercely than any of the others. The blond woman's focus flashed quickly between a notepad beside her and the text document in the screen in front of her, the rest of the world blocked out. Her work station was filled with cut outs of the Raccoon Press' more reputed articles, all bearing her name: Alyssa Ashcroft.
The name of one of Raccoon's most revered (and feared) reporters had been well known since she arrived in town at the start of the decade along with the rest of the new generation of Raccoon residents and quickly became a blight to corrupt people everywhere. In just a few short years, she'd created a list of shamed officials too long to read. Police, city officials, business owners, it didn't matter. If there was corruption, she was determined to expose it. It wasn't much a stretch to say being arrested was the second worst thing that could happen to you in this city.
Unsurprisingly, the rate of corruption in the city had taken a dive in the past few years, and more and more she resorted to more conventional reporting to make her name. That was fine by her, being driven by an almost kleptomaniac desire for information than an actual sense of justice. Although she would privately admit to herself she preferred that feeling when possible.
The only subject worth reporting on now though was the crime wave hitting the city. It was the only thing people were willing to read about now. The police chief had been very quick to claim it was some sort of drug craze, like Los Angeles in the 80s, and they were cracking down on it without saying anything else.
The city's media had jumped on to their words like hungry sharks, publicly asking how they'd let their isolated little mountain city become a center for such things and gauging their response. Alyssa was no exception, although her focus was more on the Department's reckless spending practices. The R.P.D had to be the most well-equipped police force across the nearby states, so how come they couldn't fight this?
At least it was clear this wasn't related to the murders that had been happening in the mountains. For months that was the only thing people were talking and speculating about. Inexplicably, she got a massive headache any time the mountains were mentioned, so it she'd gotten sick of the subject quickly. Even if it wasn't good news per say, she was just glad everyone would talk about something else for once.
"Alyssa." One of her co-workers appeared behind her. She didn't care to remember names. As far as she was concerned, they were all competition for page space and the spotlight. She automatically assumed most men who approached her had ulterior motives anyway- she was drop dead gorgeous, after all!
She made a noncommittal sound in her throat to show she'd heard him, but continued focusing intently on the screen in front of her. "You hear what happened to Ben?" What he said next was enough to grab her attention. She leaned back and spun the chair around to face him. Noticing he had her attention, he went on. "Cops arrested him this morning in the subway. At least a dozen of them! Not sure what for, but he must've treaded wrong."
Ben Bertolucci was the only fellow reporter Alyssa chose to be familiar with, only because he was a threat. She always got the good scoops because she was willing to go that extra mile- not be intimidated, never let up, and occasionally resort to questionable. All of this to the end goal of exposing corrupt people. Ben was the same way, and more than once they'd both ended up racing each other to find someone else's dirty laundry, and creating a lucrative office betting pool. But now he looked like he'd bitten off more than he could chew.
Alyssa's lips curved upwards in the beginning of a smirk. "Too bad for him." She spun back around to resume her work.
"He said he was investigating corruption in the police department." Her nameless co-worker went on. Alyssa paused at that, her eyes darted up to the heading on her article. "They know he works here. Everyone's talking about treading lightly now. You probably should to." He left, thinking he'd left her with some useful and wise advice.
"As if." Alyssa snorted quietly to herself. It wasn't like she gave a damn; she'd treaded on plenty of feet before and wasn't afraid to keep doing it. She opened a separate text file and typed in a new header: CORRUPTION AT THE RPD? before saving and closing it. She still had the current events to report on, but she could come back to that later. What better way to show off against Ben than stealing his story?
X
Raccoon City had a lot going for it and most people appreciated it for the obvious reasons- the economy or the high standard of living. The seedier residents of the city liked it for much of the same reasons. But certain members of each group liked it for a reason few others tended to realize- it was out of the way.
Sure, there was a small town just on the other side of the mountains, but otherwise you could drive the roads for hours and not meet any similar hub of civilization. The state wasn't involved in the city much either. In fact, it was very likely the anyone outside of the city would never know it existed unless they met or were contacted by someone who lived there. There was a strong sense on anonymity to living in Raccoon City.
David King had come here for that exact reason. Despite his rugged appearance, scared face, and unkempt hair, he was one of the city's legitimately working and law-abiding citizens. He could thank Raccoon City's out of the way placement for that; A person's past actions would not follow them here, and people from their past would likely not find them here. Useful for a man like him.
A plumber wasn't a glamorous job, but it was what he had. It made good use of all the handyman know how he'd acquired on his own time. They paid the bills and it kept him from having to rely on others. A double win, as far as he was concerned. Working here did have it quirks though.
Maybe it was from how quickly the city was built and the mix of eras, but Raccoon City had some of the strangest architectural decisions he'd ever seen. He wasn't a man of fancy words, so the best he could describe it was by saying his work space was never dull. Even odder, the plumbing businesses were highly regulated in the city. If you wanted to work city contracts or even some of the local businesses, you needed extra clearances. Since that entailed a background check, he hadn't bothered. The small jobs were enough for a paycheck, so he stuck with them.
"I was just down here yesterday and they were fine! But this morning people kept calling in to say there was no water and when I came down to check they were completely destroyed!" The apartment building's owner, today's client, rambled on to him as she led him down the stairs into the basement. She'd been the first customer to call that day, urgently demanding someone be sent, and David had been the only employee ready at that point. He just nodded as she explained; he already knew how cheap some of the building in this city was.
"I already had the water company shut it off. I think the pipes just need replaced. You can do that, right?" She asked.
"…Yeah." David finally spoke, a hoarse voice that clearly either belonged to a smoker or didn't get used much.
The basement light showed the floor was wet and still littered with small puddles, but the rest of the water had been drained. "There." The landlady pointed to a back section of wall crisscrossed with pipes. She stayed on the stairs while David walked across the damp floor to look for himself.
As he did, something skittered across the floor nearby and the landlady shrieked behind him about the same time he felt something hit one of his boots. He looked down to see a rat angrily squeaking while trying and failing to assail the material with its teeth. It was a pretty damn big rat, too. "Hmph." He swung the foot out and sent the rodent flying a few feet before it landed in a puddle a few feet away.
"I bet those damn things are what caused the damage." The landlady fretted, standing a few steps further up now. David didn't doubt that. He'd had to deal with plenty of the little bastards before and knew the type of damage they could do to pipes- or a man.
He grew slightly skeptical when he reached the pipes though. Rats usually chewed through pipes that were copper or plastic. But these ones seemed to be made of good old solid iron and steel. He'd sure as hell never heard of a rat chewing through those. But the dozens of holes looked exactly like their handy work. He reached out and felt a mark on an unbroken segment of pipe. Feeling an indent not unlike a rat's teeth.
Speaking of rats, the one he'd knocked away earlier suddenly came back over, continuing its vain assault on his footwear. Quickly becoming annoyed, he pulled back his foot and outright punted the other creature across the room where in disappeared into the dark. Going by the noise though, it'd hit the wall.
The landlady made another frightened sound, drawing David's attention back to the stairs to see she was shaking and pointing at the wall. David turned around just in time to notice something moving along a horizontal length of pipe- right towards where his hand was still resting on the indent. He barely jerked it away before whatever it was reached him and jumped back a few feet.
It was a rat. Scratch that- it was the biggest damn rat he'd ever seen. Easily twice as big as his hand and looking odd straddling a relatively small pipe. It's fur was matted with what looked like blood. The ugly vermin stood its ground, squealing angrily at him from atop the pipe. Probably had rabies or something. David looked down and pulled off his glove, noting that there was no marks on his fingers. But there was a new tear in the gloves; that rat had been less than a second away from nailing his fingers.
Staring at the spot the teeth had nipped the fabric, David scowled and reached in one of the pockets on his overalls to pull out a pocket knife. He unfolded the three-inch blade while maintaining unflinching eye contact with the vermin in front of him as it stood up on its hind legs and continued trying to intimidate him.
Then in one swift movement his arm shot forward and the rat suddenly went quiet as the blade plunged into its neck, nearly taking its head clean off. Unconcerned with the mess he was making he pulled the knife out and let the body fall onto the floor.
"Yeah, it was rats." That much was obvious now, although David didn't really care as to why or how they were doing it.
"So…can you fix it?" She asked once the momentary danger in her eyes had passed.
"The replacement pipes are gonna cost you." David responded bluntly. Maybe this was all they had on hand when the apartment was built, but the it was hard to find anything but pvc pipes in the city now.
"Whatever it costs, as long as I can have the water back on tonight." She replied in exasperation.
"It will be." David confirmed. The material was odd, but the actual set up was cheaply made and thus easy to fix. He just had to go retrieve the right parts.
Tiny rapid pattering drew both adult's attention to another large rat scurrying across the damp floor towards him. This time, David didn't even give it a chance- he actively stalked towards it and crushed it underfoot, grinding it into the floor for good measure, much to the client's horror.
"You should hire an exterminator." He deadpanned as he walked past the landlady up the stairs, off to get the necessary tools and parts he needed.
X
Racoon City had all the makings of a normal industrial city once you were within the city limits. But there was more to it, something extremely obvious but at the same time hardly acknowledged. Raccoon City might've been the closest thing to a corporate-run city in the world.
The Umbrella Corporation, to be exact. This pharmaceutical giant that stretched across the entire world and had a worth in the billions had started in Raccoon City three decades ago. The first modern construction had been homes for the company's founder, and after that laboratories and housing in the mountains for research.
Almost all the city's growth could be traced back to those facilities and the hundreds of people Umbrella had brought in to the area. Even the city as it was now could be accredited to them- all but a few of the factories in the city were owned by them. The company donated to the local government, to the police department, and to a few local institutions. 80% of the money that the modernization plan at the start of the decade had used had come from Umbrella.
The city's economy today was dominated by the company. Be it manufacturing, transport, or goods and services, half of it all was inevitably run by Umbrella. Umbrella was Raccoon City. Without the company, there was no doubt the city would've even grown past being a modest village.
Of course, there was a lot of subsidiary companies that kept an illusion of diversity, but when you followed the corporate ladder upwards it always ended at Umbrella. If you weren't the half of the population that was employed one way or another by the company, you'd never notice this. If you were though, you never stopped seeing the company's hold over the city, or the menacing undertones.
Yoko Suzuki, even as a part time employee for the company, could see it clear as day. She was a data entry clerk for one of their offices, but even that position required having a company I.D to reach a secure workspace in the building. Umbrella was an extremely safely conscious corporation, using excessive power and resources to keep their businesses and workers secure. To know people like that held so much power in one place was unsettling to some, her included.
But she was fortunate enough to only deal with it some days, being only a part time job. Otherwise, she was a student at the city's college, Raccoon University. It was national renowned for its medical courses, but Yoko was only there to learn about computers. The machines that were really starting to dominate society were something that she excelled at, although she couldn't really remember where she got her fascination with the machines.
Actually, she couldn't entirely remember the circumstances of her coming to Raccoon City at all. She'd wrote her mother who was living in California about it, and apparently she'd gotten a job offer in this city not long after she finished High School and moved here. Yoko was only 20, approaching 21 next month, so that couldn't have been more than three years ago. She couldn't fathom herself traveling halfway across the country for an average job like the one she had.
There was just something hazy about the start of her adult life. Thinking back to it was always a source of confusion and lethargy for the next few hours, so she tried to avoid doing so. But then it just made her uneasy. The city did too, and not just because of the company that had a stake in it.
But for all the anxiousness Raccoon City caused, she couldn't bring herself to leave. The city was strange, but it had some sort of hold on her, something that she didn't want to leave but didn't know what. It nagged at her, and that's why she stayed; she wanted to find out. Until she did, she tried to live a normal life.
Despite being a Thursday, University classes were cancelled that day, brought on by an excessive number of staff members that had called in sick. So it was a free day for her, at least till her shift later tonight. It was a shame she had little to do or no one to hang out with. The only task she could really find any worth in was responding to a letter from her mother that had arrived just two days ago.
It was written in Japanese Kanji; Though she had Asian features, Yoko actually came from a mixed background. Her mother was Japanese and her Father American. Even after two decades in the states, her mother hadn't bothered to learn English. Yoko had offered more than once to teach her, but her mother hadn't pushed her own culture on her daughter and expected the same in return.
She did write often though, wondering how Yoko was doing. The problem was she never had anything substantial to respond with. The days just passed in either work or contemplation without any variation, often blurring together in long spans. Nothing about that had changed in the last two years. It was often she'd spend more than an hour trying to fathom a response to write, but nothing ever came. She didn't feel like sharing her the strange lost feeling either, thinking it was something for her to overcome herself.
Even though she was in contact with family, she still felt oddly alone, and the feeling was becoming more unbearable as the days went by. Although as it did, she felt resolve building. There was something strange about this city that she wasn't imagining. It had something to do with her too, she just knew. If she could find them, then maybe the city's hold would relent and she could do more with her life. It was that thought that hung in the back of her mind, pushing her forward through the otherwise monotonous days.
She'd find out, no matter how long it took.
XX A/N XX
The rewrite begins. I'm not sure what the endgame will be for this story. The first one was 127k words. I'm hoping this'll be at least twice that. I will warn now updates are gonna be sporadic at best, maybe once a month. But I fully intend to finish this just like I finished the first time around.
Thank you for reading, and please leave a review on your way out.