Rae: This is my first Resident Evil fanfic. I'll do my best to keep the characters in character, but please let me know if I need to improve.

Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or the character. They belong to Capcom. I only own Amalia and Zion.

Chapter 1: The Nightmare begins

(normal pov)

Seven years. That's how long this nightmare has continued for her. How long she has been a test subject for Umbrella. How long she has ceased to think of herself as human. The only thing she could describe herself as besides an abomination was her name...Amalia.

Sitting in the back of the helicopter, handcuffed to the seat, the 22 year-old female stared out the window. Her white blonde hair just reached her ears, the ends cut jagged, like a pixies, bangs shading her gray blue eyes. Her skin was pale, showing the results of lack of sun. Her clothing consisted of a baby blue tank top, black jeans, black shoes, and a sapphire teardrop earring hanging from her left ear only.

Sighing, Amalia stared out at the dark clouded sky. She was being transported to a new labortory in Europe, in order to be prepared for some new virus that Umbrella was looking into. Her blood consisted of a strange genetic mutation that could be used to create a vaccine against both the T-virus and G-virus. They've recently discovered that her blood was also harmful to fully contaminated victims of the viruses.

Now, they wanted to see how her body would react to the new virus they were trying to get their hands on. All Amalia could do is let it happen to her. She had no where to go and no one to go to, so she saw no point in foolish attempts of escape. Yet, even now, she waited till the time was right.
If there was one thing Albert Wesker had taught Amalia, besides how to fight, it was patience. He knew she would try to escape, and he also knew she would wait till every obstacle was no longer in play.

He had trained her to try and force that free spirit out of her, but all it had done was make her stronger. She knew that this made the game all the more fun for Wesker, and hated that she was playing his game, but it couldn't be that way forever. Some annomaly would eventually make its way into this neverending game they played, and when it did, Amalia would strike.

Until then, she would play nice, even if it did press on her pride.

"Hey, how long till we get there. I'm starving." Amalia called out to her two watchdogs, the pilots.

"Shut yer trap, bitch." The copilot, or twidledum as she had named him in her head, growled out.

"Sheesh, sorry." Anyone could hear the sarcasm in her voice, as she rolled her bored gaze back to the sky.

Crossing her legs, Amalia rested her head on the palm of her uncuffed right hand. As she got bored, she started naming shapes she saw in the clouds.

"Dog, bunny, puddle of milk, puddle of milk, fish, bunny, puddle of milk, fish, fish, bun-"

The copilot banged his fist on his chair. "Shut up! If I hear one more word out of you then-"

Ignoring his rant, Amalia kept right on at it, till something caught her eyes. "Rocket missile, twelve o'clock." She stated in a 'I'm bored' tone.

Looking in his mirror, the pilot, or Twiddledummer as she called him, saw the same thing. "SHIT!"

He manuvered the helicopter to try and avoid the incoming missile, yet it still hit the tail of the copter. As the pilots panicked and tried to get the copter back under control as it started falling the the ground, Amalia merely crossed her legs and sat back, staring at the small suitcase in the seat next to the pilots.
She knew it held a small handgun, since it was hers. Wesker had given it too her as a twenty-second birthday gift, yet she had never used it. Apparantly, if something were to happen, he had said he would like her back unharmed, even if it meant giving her a weapon she could use against him. A rebellious cargo was better than dead cargo apparantly.

Looking out the window again, Amalia caught sight of a small village in a mountainous area. That was all she could make out before the helicopter came too close to earth for her to see the village, trees blocking her sight. She was jolted forward as the helicopter slammed into trees, and eventually, the ground.
Her handcuff was all that kept her from flying head first out of the helicopter's front window, but the two pilots weren't as lucky. They flew out the window and one was immediatly impaled by a branch, the other landed on the ground.

Amalia thought she had heard a snapping sound, and prayed it was the guy's neck. She really didn't need a survivor calling Wesker right now.
Carefully sitting up, Amalia rubbed her right temple, which had collided with the back of the copilot's chair.
Blood was slowly dripping from a small cut, but nothing too serious. Turning her attention to the lock, she pulled out her earring, and used the metal piece as a lock pick. Honestly, she would prefer a hairpin, but since her hair was too short to require one, it would seem pretty suspiscious.

After about five minutes, Amalia succeded in freeing her left wrist from the handcuff.
"Welcome to freedom, Amalia." Talking to herself did not make her crazy, but there wasn't anyone else to say it, so she took it upon herself to say the words.

Grabbing the suitcase, which had gotten stuck on of the joint sticks, Amalia opened it and grabbed the 9mm and box of bullets, equiping them onto her belt.

"Well now, the only question is, where the hell am I?" Looking around, Amalia only saw trees, trees, and more trees.

Remembering the village she had seen earlier, she set out in the general direction she remebered seeing it.
Afterall, she wasn't doing herself any favors by staring here.

There was the village. Amalia could see the smoke rising from the plaza of the small place.
Trying to think of what could cause such a huge column of smoke, she came to only one logical conclusion.

"Must be a festival." Her stomach growled, announcing its demands to be fed.
"Hope they aren't stingy. I'd take some bread at this point."

Thinking back to the pilots, she remembered a documentary Wesker had shown her, about a group of people stranded in the mountains,
who'd ended up feeding on the meat of the dead to survive.

"Maybe I should have eaten them before I left."

Lost in thought for a moment, she stared at the smoke, not really seeing it.

"Nah. The last thing I need is to be known as a canabalistic monster."

Resuming her walk to the village, she heard a church bell ringing. Curious, she sped up her pace, only making it in time to see a man close the door to a building.
"Must be some stricted religion." (a.n If only you knew, Amalia)

Shrugging it off, she turned in the direction of the fire...

...and felt the urge to throw up. In fact, if she had had anything in her stomach, she was sure she'd have lost it.

There, tied to a stake and impaled by a three pronged rake, was the body of a male human. He wore a strange blue outfit, which had the word 'Policia' on it.

"Oh, my gosh." Amalia wanted to help the man, but knew there wasn't anything she could do.

Her mind still stuck on the horrific fate of the man, Amalia didn't hear the soft footsteps come up behind her.

It was only when the sound of gun beinging cocked, and feeling it press against her head, did she snap to reality.
"Did you do this?" She asked. She wasn't the least bit worried about the fact that a gun was pointing at her, all she felt now was the rising fury for the dead man.

"You speak english?" It was a male voice, deep in tone.

Slowly, the gun was removed from her head, but Amalia would bet that it was still ready to be fired at her if she made the wrong move.

"No. I'm speaking french. It must be some other girl your hearing."

Turning slowly around, Amalia saw who it was that had gotten the drop on her. The man had to be in his mid or late 20s, with strawberry blonde hair and light blue eyes. He was wearing a black t-shirt that hugged his body, covered by a tan leather jacket hiding shoulder holsters. The outfit was complete with blue jeans with a holster belt for equipment.

He definitely wasn't someone Amalia wanted to mess with, since whe only had her hand-to-hand combat and a gun she had never used before, while he had a handgun, a shotgun, and who knows what else.

"And you are?" Might as well break the ice.

The man paused a moment before reholstering his gun. "Leon Kennedy. And you?"

"Amalia." Apparantly that wasn't going to cut it for him, since he just stood there with one eyebrow raised. "What?"

"There a last name to go with that?" Amalia shrugged. If there was, she couldn't remember it. She couldn't even really be sure Amalia was her original name.
It's what Wesker had always called her, and it was the only name she remembered being called. Whatever her last name was, Amalia knew it wouldn't do her any good to guess at it. Who knows how faulty her memory is. Having multiple experiments done to you can do that.

"Maybe, maybe not. Does it really matter?"

Without waiting for an answer, Amalia started walking in a direction.
Leon called out to her. "And where are you going?"

Amalia shrugged. "Anywhere but here. Hopefully somewhere normal. Wherever that is now-a-days."

Leon easily caught up with her, without running. "How'd you get here anyway?"

Amalia thought back to the helicopter crash. "You wouldn't believe me even if I told you." She stepped over a fallen post.
"I probably wouldn't believe myself, truth be told."

She opened a door, which led to some type of farm. Leon closed it after them. Looking around, Amalia saw a man with a pitch fork, moving some hay.
"Hey, mister! Could you help me with something?"

Amalia ran up to the farmer. Leon saw what she was doing and called out, panic in his voice.
"Amalia! Get away from him!"

Amalia turned around to stare at Leon. "What's your problem, Leon? I just want to ask where the exit is."

Spanish words came out as a growl behind her. A chill ran up the woman's spine as she slowly turned to face the 'farmer', his pitch fork held high and aimed right at her.
She started to back up slowly, hands out in front of her.

"Easy, big guy. I just wanted to ask a question. That's all, I swear."

The man said something, and Amalia would bet her earring that it wasn't a 'Sure, I'll help' that had been said.

"Duck!" Leon's voice called out. Amalia wasted no time in responding, rolling out of the way as Leon blasted the man's head off and the body fell.
Amalia watched in disgust and fasination as the body disintergrated right before her eyes.

"What...The...Hell..."

Standing, she turned to Leon. "What just happened? Who was that guy? Why'd he attack me? And where did his body go?"

Leon stared at her a moment, before he turned at the sound of spanish cries.
More enemies were coming.

"Come on. We got to get out of here."
Leon grabbed Amalia's hand and pulled her after him, running from the approaching villagers.

Rae: Well, that's chapter one. Please tell me what you think about it. Just hit the review button please. I will appreciate any constructive critiscism. Arigatou.