AN: Well, here's my first ever take on an RE humor fic. Hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: Resident Evil and all its affiliates are property of Capcom and not moi.
Residual Meany 4 'The NEW one'
Chapter the first: They Speak Spanish!
Leon was bored. In fact, there wasn't a word that could describe how bored he was. As he stared out the window at the passing fog and countless miles of uneventful scenery, he wondered why in god's name he hadn't brought SOMETHING to keep him occupied. To stave off the madness, Leon would fidget uncontrollably and shift in his seat non-stop. Occasionally he would try to sleep but being an overly macho hero type, Leon refused to wear a seatbelt. As a result, just as he was about to drift into sleepy world, a sudden jolt in the vehicle would send his head cracking into the passenger window.
The two Spanish cops would laugh hysterically at this, not noticing that Leon had opened a gash in his head and was passing out from blood loss.
At one point, the driver had put some sort of nonsensical Spanish crap on the radio. Leon actually didn't mind Latin music, but the garbage that bleated from the speakers in a constant stream of la laa lo laa la lala just drove him up the wall. To refrain from shooting himself, Leon asked the driver to change the station, who almost immediately refused. In fury, Leon stuck his foot out between the two drivers seats and smashed the radio into oblivion with the heel of his powerful boot.
A long argument ensued until the drivers decided to make Leon feel bad by not talking to him for the rest of the trip. Leon was fine with this. He just sat in the back and pouted to himself in endless mumbles and sniffs.
When the car finally ground to halt after crossing a rickety bridge, Leon hopped out and made his way into the misty fog in front of him, but not before stretching dramatically.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa….FUCK!" He yelled.
One of the cops stuck his head out the window of the car. "Did you say something?"
Leon glared at him. "Oh ho, so now we're talking again are we? I thought you were mad at me."
The cop blinked, at a loss of words, then he just grumbled and winded the window up.
"Idiots…" Leon muttered and proceeded with his mission.
He made to continue walking but a certain thought invaded his mind. Just what was his mission to begin with? Leon got into a thinking pose and pondered hard. Something about the president? A rescue mission involving his daughter Ashley...something like that. Then he snapped his fingers, finally figuring out what he was doing there in the first place. He was there to rescue the president from the US government and return him to his daughter who lived in a desolate part of Europe. Yeah that had to be it. Leon's memory rarely failed him anyway. After all, he was, as he liked to call himself, the best mankind had to offer in looks and cheesy dialogue.
After a few seconds of walking, Leon whipped out his pistol for no apparent reason and proceeded to a dilapidated house resting in front of him.
Unbeknownst to Leon, however, the camera had panned into a view inside the house, showing the shadow of someone watching him from the window. The male figure makes to ominously leave the camera angle but ends up smashing his face into the lens and cracking it and his skull in equal measures.
Leon stops in front of the house when a string of Spanish curses roars out from inside. "LA PUTA QUE LO PARIO MALDITO!" (Damn Fucking Bitch!)
He shrugs and steps up onto the balcony to enter the house without permission. However, an object catches his eyes and almost makes him cream his pants right there and then.
It was a window…a peerless glass window with perfect half inch pinewood panelling.
"Oh…my…GOD!" He drooled and without a further moments pause, took a running leap and smashed right through it spectacularly. Shards of glass rained down all around him as he rolled to a perfect stop inside the musty interiors of the cottage.
He could never help it. An addiction, it was. Ever since back in third grade, he had taken pride in his unbelievable window jumping. What was more amazing was the fact that none of these jumps netted him even the smallest of cuts. On a side note, Leon Kennedy's enrolment into the school saw the bill of window repairs rise to about four-hundred times the original quota.
Amused that his abilities hadn't faltered over the years, Leon wipes the glass clean from his kickass brown leather jacket and struts onwards into the cottage without even the slightest inkling that he just might not be welcome there.
Turning a corner, he spots some dishevelled looking guy over by a lively fireplace. The guy has his back to him and is busy poking the flames whilst he giggled in such a manner that resembled Santa Claus having an orgasm.
Leon didn't bother to make his presence known. Instead, he waltzes right up to the guy and slaps him sharply on the back of the head.
"Oi, I'm looking for someone!" Leon almost screams at him. The guy whirls around, confused, and stares at him indifferently. Leon removes a photo from his back pocket and shoves it in the guy's face. "Do you recognize the person in this photograph?"
The guy stares at the photo for a moment. On it was a scene depicting a rather 'intimate' scenario involving Leon and the president's 23-year-old wife.
"Unh." He grunts in response and points at Leon.
Leon smirks and shakes his head in pity. "Well it seems I'm wasting my fucking time." With that, he turned on his heel and left to look for another window to exit by. What he didn't see was the guy reach for something from beside the fireplace and stalk over to him. In reflex, Leon whips around to see the guy swinging a rusty axe right at his head in a furious swipe.
"FUCK!" He roars and rolls away, whipping up his pistol at the assailant in the process. Without hesitation, he fires a shot right between the guy's eyebrows. The round connects in a gout of thick blood and even more Spanish swearing. It wasn't the effect Leon had hoped for, as normally the hundreds if not thousands of times he had done that previously would consequence in the instantaneous death of his target. Which is why he was surprised that the Spanish guy persisted in flailing about madly whilst he held a hand to the bloody bullet wound to the head.
"Jesus!" Leon chuckled. "Maybe it would've been better if you died from that."
The Spanish guy quit his pussy wailing and threw his axe at Leon. The sharp object cut through the air and missed woefully. So badly, in fact, that somehow the axe happened to lodge firmly into the back of the Spanish guy's head. After a final sigh of resignation, the guy toppled to the floor and fell silent.
Before Leon could start dancing over his victory, several more shouts and the roaring of a truck engine could be heard from outside. After stealing the guy's wallet, Leon stepped over the body and ran upstairs, ignoring the handgun rounds and jumping out of the window up there. He sailed through the air but happened to forget he had jumped from two-storey's up. He landed on the dusty road painfully and came to a stop, face down and groaning. Soon after, the truck meant to ram the two cops further down, rumbled over Leon's prone body, drowning out his girlish shrieks of protest.
The Ganado's that had previously been ordered to attack the agent from outside the cottage stared at the mangled body of the American. His arms and legs were twisted at grimacing angles, almost representing the most lethal Karma Sutra technique in history: 'The Breakeverythingthus for sexus'.
With their original meaning gone, the Ganado's sat themselves down in a circle and began playing Las Plagas Poker, ignoring Leon's corpse.
After a few minutes, Leon managed to stand himself up, albeit on his good leg; his other limbs all pointed at impossible angles. With a series of seethingly painful cracks, he finally popped his bones back into place.
The three Ganado's playing poker nearby ignored him still. Two of them were cheering and pulling large mounds of gold coins towards them as the other sobbed miserably.
Leon chose not to bother with them and went on his merry way.
Meanwhile, back at the car, the two cops had begun listening to a techno remix of the crap song from before. They jumped up and down in their seats to the rhythm, screaming and high-fiving one another at random intervals. Which was why they didn't notice the beat-up old truck careering right towards them at speed.
The truck smashed into the front bonnet of the car and sent both of them tumbling down the sheer cliff and smashing spectacularly into the river below. A large explosion took place in the ravine but the crap music continued, as did the idiotic behaviour of the two mangled cops.
"YEAAAAAH, MAN! THIS BEAT'S A-PUMPING!" One of the cops yelled, his head jammed beneath the dashboard in a very painful manner.
The other danced in his seat, whipping his head side-to-side and playing imaginary drums with his literally flaming hands. "DON'T STOP THE BEAT! DON'T STOP THE…..FUCK I'M ON FIRE!"
His colleague, not interpreting the statement properly just screamed: 'YEAHHHHHH, BOI!"
Seconds later, a pair of Ganado's drift by on a boat to see the flaming car swinging back and forth on its roof. From within, they can hear one of the cops yelling: "YEAH, DO IT! DON'T STOP!"
The Ganado's exchange horrified glances before rowing away very very quickly.
TO BE CONTINUED
AN: Yeah, hope you liked. Please review!