Chris found himself in a smallish bedroom in the mansion. The barely
lit room had papers and old clothes strewn about, most on the floor, some
on the unmade bed or cluttered desk. At this point in the living
nightmare, it came as a surprise to him that there was no blood anywhere in
the room. He supposed the inhabitant had been killed or infected
elsewhere. As he searched, he found pages of what seemed to be a journal,
but all were undated. He managed to find some sort of order between them.
Dear Journal,
The bosses down at the lab said today that I might be getting a raise soon. Martha will be so happy. I know I am. The first batch of MA-121's finished today. They're so cute. But I wish they didn't have such big claws. That could be dangerous. I've always said Umbrella should have stuck to pharmaceuticals or at least new zoo animals for the little kiddies. Oh well. Nothing I can do about it.
-Bob Gonzales.
Dear Journal,
Word came over from Point 42 yesterday that Neptune isn't feeling well. He hasn't eaten anything in a few days. I'm supposed to head over there in a few hours to see if I can lend a hand. What can I say? I'm just good at making friends. Even the animals love me.
-B.G.
Dear Journal,
Word's spreading today that there was a little spill of one of the viruses the lab guys were working on. T-something-or-other, I think. Oh well. Nothing I can do about it, eh? I'm going to be hanging with Jim tonight. He cooks better than I do, anyway.
Dear Journal,
Feel like crap. Jim's dead. He was shot running out of the mansion. Joe died too. MA-121 killed him. Little cutie.
Deer Jernal,
Feele sik. Kant think strait. Want new frend. Want to play.
Poor guy, Chris thought as he put the papers down. Finding nothing else, he moved onto another room.
Some time earlier
People had been yelling at him all day, and avoiding him. He thought they were saying his name. it sounded like Bongo. I'm Bongo? He tried to hug his friends, but they kicked him, so he bit them, but all in fun. That was a long time ago. Bongo wandered around the really big house. Finally, a new friend came to play. He screamed at Bongo, but that was okay. Bongo just wanted to play. He tried to shake hands with his new friend, but his friend's hand made a loud noise, and he felt himself stumble back. Did his friend not want to play? He would just think of a new game.
His friend smelled good. He smelled yummy. Bongo gave him a hug, and suddenly, the man started to shake and fell to the ground. Bongo tried to laugh at his funny friend, but could not since his throat was missing. He decided to take his friend's so they could laugh together.
Then pretty lady walked into the room. Bongo got up to give her a hug because she reminded him of Martha, but she started to run away. When Bongo followed her into the big room with the big table, another man made the loud noises with his hand, and Bongo fell down. The big man and pretty lady talked for a few moments before running into the room with the big stairs by the front door.
Dear Journal,
The bosses down at the lab said today that I might be getting a raise soon. Martha will be so happy. I know I am. The first batch of MA-121's finished today. They're so cute. But I wish they didn't have such big claws. That could be dangerous. I've always said Umbrella should have stuck to pharmaceuticals or at least new zoo animals for the little kiddies. Oh well. Nothing I can do about it.
-Bob Gonzales.
Dear Journal,
Word came over from Point 42 yesterday that Neptune isn't feeling well. He hasn't eaten anything in a few days. I'm supposed to head over there in a few hours to see if I can lend a hand. What can I say? I'm just good at making friends. Even the animals love me.
-B.G.
Dear Journal,
Word's spreading today that there was a little spill of one of the viruses the lab guys were working on. T-something-or-other, I think. Oh well. Nothing I can do about it, eh? I'm going to be hanging with Jim tonight. He cooks better than I do, anyway.
Dear Journal,
Feel like crap. Jim's dead. He was shot running out of the mansion. Joe died too. MA-121 killed him. Little cutie.
Deer Jernal,
Feele sik. Kant think strait. Want new frend. Want to play.
Poor guy, Chris thought as he put the papers down. Finding nothing else, he moved onto another room.
Some time earlier
People had been yelling at him all day, and avoiding him. He thought they were saying his name. it sounded like Bongo. I'm Bongo? He tried to hug his friends, but they kicked him, so he bit them, but all in fun. That was a long time ago. Bongo wandered around the really big house. Finally, a new friend came to play. He screamed at Bongo, but that was okay. Bongo just wanted to play. He tried to shake hands with his new friend, but his friend's hand made a loud noise, and he felt himself stumble back. Did his friend not want to play? He would just think of a new game.
His friend smelled good. He smelled yummy. Bongo gave him a hug, and suddenly, the man started to shake and fell to the ground. Bongo tried to laugh at his funny friend, but could not since his throat was missing. He decided to take his friend's so they could laugh together.
Then pretty lady walked into the room. Bongo got up to give her a hug because she reminded him of Martha, but she started to run away. When Bongo followed her into the big room with the big table, another man made the loud noises with his hand, and Bongo fell down. The big man and pretty lady talked for a few moments before running into the room with the big stairs by the front door.