Prologue
Peter stumbled into his old neighborhood, Front Street, exhausted from his from his adventures in London, without any recollection of the last three years of his life. His name, his friends, his history, even his knowledge of how inhuman he was, all lost in the dark abyss that was his mind. A crowd of neighbor kids was playing in the street. He looked over to his left and saw a house, or rather the burnt remains of one. All it was now was a charred pile of ash. Must've been a huge fire, he thought. Suddenly, he was struck with a blinding white flash. When the wave light passed, images came over him and he saw three people pinned to a wall, one boy and two girls. One man, teenager by the look of him, was sprawled on the floor, looking up at him in horror. Then he was tackled and he was once again hit with the light and he came back to the now quiet neighborhood.
The kids had returned to their homes and the sun had set. Peter rubbed his eyes, his vision regaining focus and his balance replenishing. His mind racing, he walked on, wandering to the nearest airport. He turned out his pockets and, luckily, found some cash…three hundred dollars to be precise. He didn't know how it got there, but he was grateful. Looking down the flight list, and saw that the only flight that was not either delayed or had already taken off was the flight to Raccoon City.
There was no other decision. The choice was inevitable. "Raccoon City it is then.", Peter said to himself.