Part one: The door

Chapter 1:

It was a usual Thursday afternoon at Hirugashi's Electronics store. It was empty save the underpaid overworked employees who manned the store. And the large colony of cockroaches in the basement that had been there for so long. They had not only developed intelligence, but their own form of central government. But never mind that.

Every employee for the past couple of hours had been walking around the store, searching for menial tasks to do…save one. Michael was watching the register. And by watching I mean sitting down with a bottle of coke and a gaming magazine reading up on the latest E3games. Just as he was getting to the article about some new game called
"Quit Hill" A large hand that would make fat Albert's thighs jealous at the sight of its massiveness slammed into the counter in front of him. Michael slowly lowered the magazine and came face to face with his employer. Mr. Hirugashi.

Now mister Hirugashi wasn't like most Asians, He could actually drive, he could open his eyes, and he was freakin huge. Like freakin Shaq huge. It was said that when he was born and the doctor slapped him, he turned around and gave the doctor a black eye. Anyway to get to the point, he was where the legends of Godzilla came from…and now he was towering over Michael with a twitch in his eye that spelt Trouble. Michael gulped slightly and said. "Hello mister Hirugashi, is there anything I can do for you?" stared at him with such intensity, he could hear the employee behind him screaming as he burst into flames. "Michael," The tall Asian (contradiction!) began slowly. "Why are you SITTING down DRINKING coke that's meant for the customers, and READING on the job?" Michael sighed mentally, his boss had only said three things, that meant that he didn't know about the half hour Michael spent In the bathroom with one of the miny TVs…hate to be the poor sucker who bought THAT one. Michael cleared his throat and began with his well rehearsed excuse. "Well sir, I was working until a few minutes ago, in fact. I still am. You see as I was walking about the store doing my duties I noticed that no one was watching the register. In fear of a customer trying to check out and becoming unsatisfied I took the risk of abandoning my usual post for the sake of the business. Now as I sat there attentively looking about for anyone needing customer service I began to get thirsty. Now I know that the water fountain is in the employees lounge but I just couldn't bear the thought of one of our valuable customers needing help, but alas my thirst was overpowering. Knowing what I had to do I reached over to the concession cooler and bravely took a drink knowing that I might have to fear your wrath and that it would come out of my paycheck. So you see i'm still on duty."

Michael finished his monologue and sat back down in his chair. He didn't remember when he stood up but it must have been recently. A few of his fellow employees were clapping. Mr. Hirugashi was nonplussed. In fact the only reaction Hirugashi had was the slight raising of his eyebrows. "So what about the book?" he asked. Michael looked up.

"Oh that….I was bored so I picked it up." Mr. Hirugashi just sighed and walked over to his office. Michael smiled at his back knowing that he had got off Scott free. As the Giga-Asian opened the door though, he yelled over his shoulder. "By the way Michael, you're closing tonight." And with that he closed the door.

Hirugashi smiled as he felt the door rattle from the excessively loud "GODDAMMIT!" that sounded through the store and the surrounding countryside, scattering birds and collapsing the capital city of the new cockroach empire, killing most of the inhabitants and scattering the few survivors. Yes it was good to be the boss.

Michael muttered incoherent obscenities as he swept the tiled floor. The store had closed about an hour before and even though their only customer had been a ninety-seven year old Judo champion who needed a VCR to relive her glory days, Mr. Hirugashi was adamant about sweeping the whole store. The bastard. Michael leaned on the broom, he was mostly done and it was getting late. His mind made up picked up the dustpan and walked over to the janitor's closet (which was odd considering that they didn't even have a janitor to begin with) and opened it to come face to face with a massive hoard of cat sized cockroaches. He blinked and they twitched their antenna. Michael put the cleaning supplies down and slowly backed up. He watched as one of the roaches climbed onto an overturned bucket and stood up, unfurled a small scroll, cleared its throat, and began reading. "Michael Adams." It began in a suprisingly deep voice. "You have been found guilty of crimes against the Holy Roach Empire. How do you plead?"…Michael stood there for a second. "ill be right back." He backed up, and slammed the door. The roaches remained there, and after a few seconds heard the sound of a car starting and the screech of tires. And that was the last they saw of Michael Adams.

After he had determined that he was a safe distance away from what he now determined was the freakiest thing that had ever happened to him, (so far) Michael decided to turn on the radio as he headed home. He flipped through channels till he found one that played something other than Justin Beiber. Eventually after checking even the AM Stations he found one that played some soft rock and he hummed along to what ever tune their was while thinking about his life, and how he got to be where he was.

The fact of the matter is that Michaels first memory was waking up in a hospital somewhere in north Carolina. He was told that an elderly couple had found him on the side of the road passed out and in rags. When the nurse had asked him what his name was he told her Michael. When she asked his last name he replied that he didn't know. They had done a background check on him. Fingerprints and everything, and nothing showed up. He had no memory, no family, and no past. At the ripe age of 17 he was a ghost.

Since he was so old he had no real hope of adoption, so he became a ward of the state until he was 18. They fed him, clothed him, and educated him. And on his 18th birthday they gave him Five-hundred Dollars and kicked him out. He had drifted from place to place, getting the odd job here and there trying to find a pleasant place to stay for a while.

And his current place wasn't the best aesthetically but it was decent, and it had central heating, so what if he heard gunshots nightly. None of them hit HIS apartment…still he had a 9mm just in case of such and emergency and he knew how to use it. Good thing its never come to that (once again so far)…

*KSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!*

"Huh?" He was broken out of his musings buy the change of his radio to static. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and looked around. By the conditions around him, he was at the slums and nearing his home. *KSHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!* The radio burst into static again almost as if to remind him that he needed to change the channel, and he did. But still static. Wondering if his radio was on the fritz again, he simply turned it off. Like his apartment his car wasn't in the best shape, to put it lightly…it was rust on wheels. but it got him where he needed to go, and when the weather got cold the rust at least added insulation.

Michael stopped in front of the massive chain link fence that surrounded the entire parking lot. Since this place wasn't so high up in the areas with property value grand theft auto wasn't so uncommon. To keep tenants from complaining (and certain ones from shooting) The landlord had put up the fence to keep non-tenants out. One needed a key to get in, and the only way to get a key was to be a tenant…though that little precaution didn't really keep cars from getting jacked. Where there's a will, there's a way, as they say. Honestly, Michael wasn't concerned. His attitude to his vehicle could be summed up in a few words. To quote 'Go ahead, take it. It's a piece of shit anyway.'

And if anyone was actually stupid enough to try to take his piece of shit, it would probably crap out on them after a few blocks. Jokes on you assholes.

He stepped out of his car, unlocked the gate, pulled in, and locked it back. Just cause he didn't care didn't mean that he had to be stupid about things. No one liked being mugged(…unless…you know…there in to that sort of thing) he parked and walked the up to the door, cause it was a sealed apartment, and walked into the warm lobby.

His landlord half glared at him from where he was lying behind his desk. With his hands behind his head and his legs up upon aforementioned desk. It seemed that he was taking a rather nice nap before Michael barged in. "your in late" he said with a heavy Russian accent. Michael just took off his coat and walked over to the desk, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. "Yeah yeah Dmitri, let it go. I've seen things tonight that you wouldn't believe." The Older Russian scoffed. "Please, in soviet Russia I saw things you could not even begin to imagine. And in capitalist America, I better start seeing some rent from you no?" After a bit of searching Michael finally found his money holder. It was an old leather wallet with the symbol of a star stitched on it. It was one of the few things that had been on him when he was found and he could just not bring himself to buy a new one…and looking at its contents he probably couldn't afford a new one either. Asides from the few moths that fluttered to freedom. He had all of $17.95 on him. His eyes slowly rose to meet Dmitri's. "Well?" Dmitri asked, his palm outstretched. Michael laughed nervously and scratched the back of his head. "Umm can you wait one more day? Just one. Tomorrow I get paid (not nearly enough) and I can have it for you then…"

Michael finished lamely. Dmitri just stared, and stared, and stared. Michael started to feel the sweat pool around his neck and he shrugged self-consciously. Finally his soviet landlord leaned back in his chair and half glared once again. "Fine, one day. One. More. Day. But if you don't have my money by then I swear upon my sweet mothers grave that you we be needing to find yourself a new place to live…and maybe a new pair of legs yes?" Michael just gulped nodded and headed up the stairs, leaving the elder Russian to chuckle to himself and catch up on his sleep…now where was he? Ahh yes the dream about his blonde beauty. Anya….

Michael trudged up the 5 sets of stairs up to his little apartment. Five sets of stairs, and at the end of the hall. Thank god for rooms-to-go movers otherwise he'd be sleeping on an air mattress and a suitcase.(which he had done before and could tell anyone it wasn't all it was cracked up to be.) Eventually he reached the door to the fifth floor and pushed it open into a dimly lit hallway with doors on either side. The green walls and red carpet were both a muted shade of yellow green and yellow red respectively due to the cheap lamps that hung from the ceiling that gave it just enough light to give one the illusion of sight. He readjusted his jacket on his shoulder and started the down the hallway, taking note of different doors as he passed. E-14 was smashed it, E-26 had so much graffiti that no one knew what its original color was, even Dmitri. He walked for a bit farther until he came to the end of the passage, his door. What once may have been a nice dark wood, was now a faded and scarred obstacle that required the use of a key and a decent amount of elbow grease to open. Michael soon applied both and stepped into his humble abode.

Tossing his keys onto his kitchenette counter, Michael proceeded to shed his horrendous work shirt (Godzilla eating a C.D…how original) and get himself a gratifying glass of the clear life-giving substance we call water. He reached into one of the many cabinets and pulled out a tall glass. Turning on the faucet he let it run for a bit before putting the glass under and waiting. While he was waiting for his H2O he stared at the mirror behind the sink that was there to give the apartment the illusion of more space.

His face was fair, he was no James dean or nothing but it was decent. Smooth jaw, okay cheekbones, medium length dark hair. Hell, the only real defining feature he had was his eye color and the short white scar above his left eye. It was probably from his past but hey, he didn't know much about that. He wasn't skinny but he wasn't fat, he was just large and if the sit-ups he did nightly were any indication. He didn't have much fat on him at all. While he was admiring himself he glanced to his peripherals to look out the window. Do to the rectangle shaped hole in the wall and the position of his bed and window. He usually could see out into the great beyond. Strangely enough something was obstructing his view of trash fires and street lights…something in the shape of a head. He turned off the tap and walked into the next room. Sitting on his bed was a girl with short black hair and a cream colored turtleneck sweater, staring out the window with a far away look in her eyes. Michael stood their dumbfounded for a moment. Then cleared his throat to get her attention. She whirled around to face him and they met eye to eye. The world seemed to freeze….

There you go! The first chapter of Silent Hill: Reborn. I will be posting authors notes at the end of every chapter soo ill be doing a Q&A here. By the way a cookie to all those who can guess who she is…(it isn't that hard…) Read and Review otherwise this might become abandoned, like you were at birth….oh wait, did I sat that outloud?

*FLAMES WILL BE SENT TO SPARKY! HE LIKES HOW THEY TASTE!*

** Plz don't anaon review plz unless you have no other choice