Raccoon City: Demon's Gate
Chapter 1
Raccoon Today
September 16, 1998
DAYLIGHT SLAYING? CLOUDS LOOM OVER RACCOON CITY
R.P.D announced it will set up a special join investigation HQ for a serial murder case in which over 30 murders have already occurred.
While there is no connection between suspects, the methods in which the victims were slain are all similar. Ordering a joint investigation into the serial murders was the rational thing to do. The scale and the detail of the investigation has not yet been made public.
The authorities have been avoiding announcing any details of the cases. They are sticking with that stance to prevent any copycat crimes from occurring.
Rumor has it that a certain member of the press has obtained some information. The suspect was temporarily insane at the time of the incident.
Authorities continued to take a "no comment" stance on the factuality of those rumors. The case seems quite problematic.
Raccoon Today
September 24, 1998
AN EERIE VOICE FROM UNDERGROUND
Recently there is spooky talk around South Campbell street. It is said that groans can be heard from the drainage system at night.
It is easy to dismiss it as a ghost story that middle school students love to talk about on camping nights. But the amount of missing people has increased rapidly at this locale for the past month.
8 people have gone missing. Strangely, the missing people have a lot in common: They are all single white females aged 18 to 23 with beautiful blonde hair.
The street was wrapped in a dense fog the day after they went missing. From the sewer drain, which runs north-south along the street, a woman's constrained voice could be heard for several hours.
Of course, the drainage sewers have been thoroughly investigated. But neither the missing person nor any traces have been found..
The Police Department has so far denied the relationship with the bizarre incidents that have rapidly increased after the mansion incident. However, the events must be related.
...Ba-bump...Ba-bump...
September 25, 1998
8:30 A.M.
To many, today was nothing more than another day to wake up to and enjoy or, with some, to hate. Cars that seemed to be absent in the early hours of the morning were making haste along the crowded roads now, only a few hours after dawn had passed and the sun rose to try and reach for its zenith in the mid-autumn sky. The brightening rays of that glaring sun reached down to touch the yellowing and reddening leaves of trees and the quickly drying dew that formed along the tips of the blades of grass. The breeze that accompanied the sun was also signaling the coming of winter, as it brought with it a nip that could snap nearly anyone to attention.
That cold early morning nip was probably the only thing that kept young Rowan Naton from falling asleep on her bus ride to school. Some polar bear in the front of the bus had decided to open his or her window, and the chills that had been sent across and all over her body had still lingered all through the first few minutes of school. It had faded slightly as 8:00 came and went, but now left a numb warm feeling over her body, and because of this she was finding it increasingly difficult to keep her eyes, feeling like lead paperweights, open.
Then again, her mornings had been like this for the past two days, courtesy to the game designed and created by Konami that she had been able to snag with her horror-hungry mind and the $25 she happened to have in her pocket the day she and her family went to the mall a week ago. Since then, one of the nearly famous horror games titled Silent Hill had terrorized her sleep with memories of the dead and the monsters that she encountered in that bloody game. If that was bad, what happened for the past few days was even worse, seeing as how the nightmares seemed to intensify with each passing day, strangely in sinc with her fear of what was happening around Raccoon City in the present. The morbidity of the murders that occurred throughout the city for the past month and the disappearances, blended with the memories of murderous, festering ghouls and beasties of Silent Hill seemed to run alongside each other in her mind. This morning she had woken up two hours earlier than her wake-up call from the alarm clock thanks to a nightmare in which Cybil, turned demon, lurched towards her with a demon nurse and five of the hooked creatures she met in the sewers of the game, screeching and clawing towards her.
So she had been awake since three in the morning with the bedroom light turned on.
"What is the pH of a base?" That was her science teacher, Mr. Korallin. She rose her eyes to watch him point out to a child in the front row.
"Anything above seven," answered the child.
"Good. The color of the pH paper?" He pointed to another.
"Green."
"Correct. The pH of an acid?"
"Anything below seven."
"And the color?"
"Red."
"Very good. How about a neutral?"
There was total and complete silence in the room. The teacher cleared his throat, and Rowan blinked, looking up to find the finger of the man pointing in her direction.
"Rowan, the pH of neutral?"
"Ahh...seven." The words barely made it through her mouth, so she had been somewhat amazed that Mr. Koralling had even heard her speak.
The man nodded, but there was no approving smile on his icy cold face, nor any sign of happiness for his question being answered. Instead, his mouth was set in a thin line. "Correct, but you had better start waking up, Ms. Naton. You've been falling slightly behind for the latter half of the week."
Something within her jerked at the small reprimand, and for a moment she showed her discomfort and nodded. As soon as the teacher turned away to ask another student what color the pH paper showed when in contact with a neutral liquid was, somebody snickered behind her, whispering.
"Poor Rowan's all tired out from having late night visitors. Tell me, who's been keeping you up all night?"
Rowan turned narrowed hazel eyes to face the one behind her. Her mouth lowered into a deeply annoyed frown as they locked onto the green eyes of Mark, the 16 year old punk that had always been noted as one of the meanest children in the school. From the moment she entered the middle school years ago, she had become one of his top targets and was always finding ways to get under her skin. Mark brushed his hand over his forehead to push back the long black bangs, and sneered down at her. He was only a year older than she, but seemed so much taller.
"The only thing that's been keeping me up at night," Rowan responded in a low voice and a dark look in her eyes, "are some ideas for me to kick your ass."
Mark chuckled, then ducked his head to avoid the icy glare of Mr. Korallin who turned in time to see Mark's mouth move to get ready to speak. The man lowered his face to look down at the boy. "I don't think you need to be held back another year, do you, Mark? If you don't wish to be in eight grade for another year, I suggest you keep your mouth shut and your ears open. There will be a test-" he paused for a moment to let the sudden moans that erupted from the students around him silence themselves "-in the coming week, so I suggest you take all the information your cranium can hold and memorize it. Especially you, Mr. Vilon," his eyes fastened on Mark, ", unless you wish to be in your thirties by the time you enter college."
Mark took the insult/reprimand with a blank look upon his face. He opened his mouth to retaliate, but shut it quickly as he seemed to freeze from the glare that was being delivered from the teacher. Rowan couldn't help but snicker, snapped up her pen and pressed it against the paper, taking notes on things that have been repeated for the last few weeks. School had only just begun, but Mr. Korallin...oh no, he wasn't the one to hold off on giving information to the hungry minds of children, which were, at the moment, dozing off into the world of imagination.
So much for notes...
About four hours later, Rowan was staring down at the paper she was writing on during her science class, which she somehow meshed into her math workbook. Looking it over, she wondered if she would be able to get a single drop of information from the wretched sheet that was before her. All that was on there now, cursed by her wandering mind, were doodles and some words of what had been said by the teacher. If only she had known that the test would be on the upcoming Monday, which he told the class at the last minute, she would have written more... Rowan shrugged, shoved the paper in the workbook, and shook her head. No worries...these sort of things happened in her life all the time. She would pull through - she always did before. It was a little talent she had - remembering what was important without studying, unless the things had too much information.
For now, however, tests were of little concern to her. Her stomach began to ache, and she yawned, taking a deep breath of the air in time to catch the sweet, tasty aroma of pizza in the cafeteria. Her stomach gave a lurch and so did her steps, suddenly quickening without her recognizing, and she found herself allured down the hallway.
Rowan shoved her hand into her pocket to absently count the change she had, although she knew by heart there was enough. $1.50 in quarters, and plenty enough to fill her hungry stomach. She grabbed at the money and started to turn to the left to continue her trek, and recoiled slightly as a purse made its mark on her stomach. She blinked and growled, watching the girl pass by, then shrugged. She wasn't really one for purses, having brought one to school for a week and finding it exceedingly awkward carrying it around. Sure, it was useful for some occasions, but it got in the way.
Rowan took the left, went down this hallway while pushing her way through the traffic of seventh graders making their way back to class and the eight graders heading to the cafeteria for the same reason she was. She turned left again, down the stairs, and into the cafeteria, the sanctuary for her stomach.
The cafeteria was split into four sections - A, B, C, and D - and held a stage in the front of the large room., There were black curtains tied to the sides of the stage, able to be released on certain occasions, such as concerts, plays, and presentations. In the center of the black-painted stage was a podium with a stool before it, and that was where the Guidance Counselor for most of the students at the school sat - Mrs. Graylee. Rowan looked around and stuck her tongue out at one thought, the sad part of the cafeteria. This place was the meeting place for wrestlers, and this was the area where they tumbled, rolled, and attempted to dominate the other. Thankfully, the aroma of food was enough to wear down any scent of the sickening smell of human sweat.
Even though the school was large, having three stories and designed in the shape of a 'U', with multiple trailers in the back of the school for foreign language classes and two fields for the sports, it seemed to be smaller than it actually appeared.
First things first, Rowan made her way to the left and to the tables closest to the stage, and to the one she normally occupied with her friends. She eyed it with slight confusion, because normally her friends would have appeared before she could, and sat her books on the table. She then swung around and headed towards the already thickening twin lines that held her off from her delicious pizza. There were two doors before them, side by side, each leading to the kitchen which conveniently held two cashiers, one to the left and the other to the right, both equipped with cooks and the plates of food.
After pulling out a pint of chocolate milk from the ice box and a slice of cheese pizza with Italian bread as its base, then paying the cashier what was due (a grand total of forty cents, thanks to reduced lunch), she made her way back to the table marked with her books and, now, her three only true friends in the school. She plopped her tray down and blinked as one of her fries were snatched away before she could even sit down.
That would have been Sarah Tantel, the universal fry-snatcher...well, the universal fry snatcher of their table. She was the shorter one of them all, complete with long black hair tied into a ponytail and bright blue eyes. The small silver necklace of a heart she wore was outlined by the white tee that accompanied the denim jeans. The young girl grinned, shoving the fry in her mouth and snatching up another in the process. Rowan thought about gobbling up as many of the fries as she could, but decided against it. It would be a futile battle.
Victoria Smith, to her right, suppressed a laugh and took a bite of her own pizza. Rowan blinked at that, then shrugged. They were probably on the opposite line she was on at the kitchen, so she wouldn't have seen them. "Sarah's on a fry high today...sort of, anyway." Victoria revealed her lunch tray to Rowan and the others, completely cleaned of any trace of fries. Victoria gave a sigh and placed her meal on the table, brushing back her chestnut brown hair back so that she could see, although most of her hair was tied in the tight little bun resting on the back of her skull.
Rowan grinned, nudging Sarah lightly in the ribs with a light-hearted chortle. "I'm not surprised. It always seems that you're hungry, no matter how many fried you eat, pizzas you nab from us, or the fruit juice things that we all get and wind up watching you chug 'em down." She rose a brow. "You're getting a bit too much like me with that empty gut."
"Least I don't have that big of a gut, right Kristin?" Sarah questioned, looking across the table to the girl with curly brunette hair. Kristin, who had been rubbing lotion on her hands like she did every day of the week, looked at her with a glint of pure malice at that. A yellow projectile, loaded with grease and fat like the rest of its kind, went flying from Kristin's direction and smacked Sarah in the forehead. As the object fell to the table, Sarah scooped it up and shoved it in her mouth without a second of waiting. "Thanks much."
Kristin's eyes flashed with a light ray of anger, but underlining the fierce facade was dry humor. A smile cracked on the brunettes face as she put the lotion in her purse and took a sip of the optional fruit juice you could get at the cafeteria. That was a slight reminder for Rowan, and she scooped up the grape juice she snagged while on line and handed it to her larger friend like she did for the past few weeks. It was more tradition than habit...Kristin was as addicted to the juice (she refused to drink the milk) as Sarah was to fries.
"Keep it up Sarah," Rowan countered on Kristin's part, "and you'll be getting a big gut soon. You know how loaded in grease those things are? If you don't get fat from them, you'll break out like all Hell."
"Then why are you giving them to me?"
"I wanna be one of the first to die laughing when you're face looks like pepperoni pizza." And with that, Rowan took a bite of her...pepperoni pizza.
Sarah stuck her tongue out. "Meanie," she pouted, twirling a fry in her right hand while using the other to sip at her milk. After taking a mouthful she looked to Rowan. "Alright, Ms. Smart-ass...Mebbe I won't invite you." But the corner of her mouth turned upwards, showing it was only a mock-threat.
"Invite?" Kristin asked before Rowan could swallow the pizza. "Where? You gonna leave us out of it?"
Sarah smirked slightly. "To the mall, of course. Tomorrow's Saturday, and I don't have anything to do. Mom and Dad's going down to New Jersey for a little bit, going to a funeral of someone I don't know about. They're leaving me home - with a babysitter."
"Well if you've got a babysitter, you're not going anywhere," Victoria commented, swabbing her mouth with a knapkin. "Sneak out and she'll probably call the police."
"I'm not done yet!" Sarah gave a light joke growl. "Kira - that's my sitter - called last night. Since Mom and Dad left yesterday, they don't know that she called in sick with a flu or something that dries up your skin. She said she wouldn't be able to come over, period." Sarah's grin was mischevious.
"Sounds bad," Rowan yawned. "So if you're parents weren't home today, why'd you come to school?"
"Number one - To tell you the good news about the mall. Number two - They're going to have the neighbors check in. And they have keys to the house - Dad really trusts them."
"It sounds good and all...," Kristin began. She rubbed her temples lightly. "But I don't think I'd go if my life depended on it right now. You heard the news."
"There're too many Vlad the Impalers out there right now," Victoria added.
The black-haired girl blinked and brushed a strand from her face. "Vlad the who?"
"...Nevermind."
"I'm not too happy about going out and getting eaten." Rowan brushed back her own brown hair and eyes the girl with hazel orbs. "You've heard the news. There're thirty people missing now, right?"
"Sixteen," Kristin corrected. "They found more bodies...yummy." Her eyes rolled and her tongue stuck out in disgust.
"Whatever. They're getting more rapid, like the dogs. One went after me the other day, almost bit me." She brushed her hand. "Don't know what the hell was wrong with that thing."
"Nana's been acting wierd, by the way," Kristin finally cut in. Nana was her Russel Terrier, and not very old - only about two years. And the dog was usually in tip-top shape because of her tendency to run around the house nonstop for a good half-hour, not seeming to wear out unless her bladder was full or her stomach was empty.
"Even the dog's know something's up," the chestnut-haired Victoria noted.
"Relax!" Sarah waved her arms in the air to silence them. The conversation's been drifting off for too long without her saying anything. "We'll be in a group, for one thing, and nobody'll mess with anybody in a group. I doubt their that stupid. And the mall is packed with people - if anything happens, others will see and help, am I right?"
"...Ah..."
"I'll take that as a yes," Sarah frowned, eyeing all of her friends, who all seemed to give the same response at the same time. "C'mon...what's life without risks? Victoria, there's a silk dress at the mall with you're name on it!"
Victoria paused in her eating and looked up with a slice of pizza dangling from her mouth. She blinked a little and swallowed her food quickly, swabbed her mouth, and grinned. "What time?"
"Vic-" Rowan began.
"She's right. We'd be safe in a group."
Kristin, who had been sitting back, saying nothing, rose her eyes to look at them all. "Well...I don't want to stay home all weekend. My parents wouldn't drive me to anywhere I want to go anyway..."
Rowan rolled her eyes and gave a deep, aggrivated sigh. She buried her forehead in the crook of one arm, and her voice, disdained and somewhat annoyed, reached them all. "Fine... What time?"
...Ba-bump...Ba-bump...
"I'll be honest...fellas. But...I could've used a little more cowbell."
Rowan cocked an eyebrow in wry amusement as she watched Christopher Walken perform on the hit comedy show Saturday Night Live, bored by the fact that it was a rerun but amused by the simple hilarity that came from it. Still, all the humor in the world couldn't really lift her spirits at the moment, mainly because of the tension that took hold of every muscle in her body, and the fear that made her shiver even when her room was warm.
Her parents hadn't been too happy when they heard about Sarah's invitation to go to the mall with her, permission granted to her by her 'babysitter'. They clung to the news reports and the recent attacks of cannibalism like it was the only thing they could believe in life, and in truth she agreed completely with them. As much as she yearned for independence like any teenager would, she didn't want to get killed doing something this simple and normal. Of course, people died every day, but not this rapidly.
The fact that another body, this time one of a young teenager no older than 18, turned up along Main Street, only a good ten minutes walking distance from their house, didn't make things any easier for any of them.
Eventually, Rowan's parents, her mother and her stepfather, since her mother had divorced Rowan's father many years back due to abuse, relented, but from aggravation. There was fear and anxiety in the pit of her stomach, and every inch of her heart seemed to be lined with guilt. What if they were right, that the killings could probably happen to anyone, even her? What if being in a group didn't matter when some sadistic serial killer came after you?
As Rowan flipped off the television and pushed herself into bed, giving a small goodnight kiss on the forehead of the kitten that slept beside her, her mind was so busy that she was amazed to find herself able to sleep. But it wasn't one that would be refreshing, and if anything it put more on her mind. Every segment of her dreams contained every last drop of information that had been aired on the television news stations, starting from the first cannibal attacks in July that ended abruptly after the S.T.A.R.S. had supposably blew up the Spencer Estate deep within the woods.
And then her dreams began to drift to the current murders, the current missing people. Photographs generated by her imagination more than her own memory, since they never showed the mutilated bodies in the papers, appeared before her.
Before she woke up in a cold sweat just before dawn, she had seen in her dreams the ripped and torn body of her own, drenched in blood from head to toe, eyes glazed, mouth agape in terror, and numerous marks all across her body, the most noticeable being the enormous bite marks and areas that seemed gored by claws. And then she saw Victoria's...Sarah's...Kristin's...
Her mother's...Her stepfather's...
So she had been grateful to wake up in that cold sweat, torn from that B-rated horror movie of a dream and back into a reality that seemed no better. The kitten, Max, gave a light mew in alarm at the sudden jolt from beside him, and the cat took off out of the room through the door left ajar. Out of the window to her side of her bed was complete darkness, even though the alarm clock on the end table before her read 5:45 AM. Sighing in both relief and fatigue, she lay back down and stared at the ceiling.
Last of all she wondered if choosing to go with Victoria, Sarah, and Kristin had been the right choice.
...Ba-bump...Ba-bump...Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep...
Fin, sort of. I've finished the first REmake of Raccoon City: Demon's Gate. Well, the first chapter, actually. Time to change things around, make it longer. I'm trying to make Rowan's story somewhat more drifted from RE3, and not completely interacting with it, although some of the main events will still occur. (Yes, Brad, the dear favorite chickenheart, will still live!)
Anyway.....I'll update again in about two weeks, provided school doesn't end me before I can.
Oh, and the ...Ba-bump... things are the intervals between each part, since for some reason doesn't allow my usualy line breaker things. The one with the Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep means the end of the story to the Author's comments.