Hmm... I've been trying to think up a really good story for a RE fanfiction, and after reading my current faves and watching the trailor for Apocalypse, this is what I came up with.

Full Summary: Micheal, a cold, aloof sixteen-year-old becomes plagued with dreams of the dead walking. At first he chocks it up to his twisted, horrific imagination, but things that happen in his hometown of Raccoon City force him to realize that his imagination isn't the ONLY thing twisted and horrific. Based on Resident Evil: Apocalypse.

Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil. Capcom does. I wish I did, but I'm not a rich person.

"..." means speech.

'...' means thoughts.

---Chapter 1---

"Mr. Ashford, we need to tell you something. There's been an incident..." A man spoke. Two men, one with shining black hair, and the other with slightly curled red hair, stood before a blonde man confined to a wheelchair, looking ominous in their all black suits.

"How bad of one?" The crippled man asked.

"There's been a spill, down in the Hive. All the employees are dead." The other man replied, fearful eyes hidden behind black sunglasses.

"And the B.O.W's?"

"We don't know. The doors are still sealed shut." The black haired agent replied.

"Were there any survivors?" The disabled man inquired. He was getting more and more irritated. Not only could Umbrella and its shady operations be brought into light, he and his family could also be in danger.

"Two. A man and a woman. The man had already been infected through cuts on his right shoulder, so we had him put into the Nemesis program. There were no visible wounds on the woman, but she was sent to the Raccoon City facility and put under quarantine." The redhead replied. "We've been ordered to evacuate you and your family out of the city."

The man exhaled deeply in frustration, hands folded and mouth pressed against them. He lifted his head up, giving a severe look to both agents. "My daughter's not home. I'm NOT leaving without Angela."

"That's already being taken care of." The black haired man replied nervously. He was interrupted when a hand went up, gesturing for him to stop talking.

"So what is Umbrella going to do?" He interrupted.

Micheal shot straight up, drenched in a cold sweat and breathing heavily. It was another one of those weird dreams. Why did he keep having them? He felt like he was going crazy...well, crazier, since he was labeled as criminally disturbed by almost everyone in the city outside his home.

'Honestly, you call out a bomb threat and people call you this and that...' His subconscious said to him. Micheal glanced at the clock, it was six a.m. There was no point in going back to sleep even if he wanted to now. He threw off the sheets covering him and got out of bed. He stepped out of his room and into the bathroom to take a shower.

'Another useless school day...' He thought to himself. Even though he thought this way, he always found himself at school on time. 'I guess I'm unconsciously punctual...' He thought. He stepped into the shower, the lukewarm liquid soothing him. Micheal liked taking lukewarm showers better than having a really hot shower, he just like the feeling of something matching your own body temperature. He never knew why he liked the thought of that, but he did. It could have been because for his entire life, he was never showed any warmth. His parents were always working, and when they did come home, they'd be too tired to do anything. He lived his life in three rooms: the kitchen for food, the bathroom for hygienics, and his bedroom. That's all he ever needed. Such was the life of Micheal Drake, and he didn't know any other way to live.

(Raccoon City High School)

Micheal showed up exactly twenty minutes early, which meant that he had exactly twenty minutes to kill. He wandered the halls, every step as quiet as the last. He had perfected the art of silent travel so he could get around places without people knowing. It came in handy, especially when the jocks decide to beat the crap OUT of him. He was very much capable of taking them, but he just REALLY didn't like to fight, it was useless anyways. He made his way to his locker quietly, putting in his combination quickly and getting all the stuff he needed. He heard the telltale sound of someone coming up the stairs near his locker.

He heard the door click and a blonde haired, bespectacled girl made her way into the hallway. He held his breath, trying not to alert the girl of his presence. No luck. The girl turned her head, surprised to see somebody here so early. She turned her head, her cheeks turning an oh-so-rosy shade of pink. This perplexed Micheal. He had never seen this girl at school before, but she was obviously going to this school since she was wearing the school uniforn, so what did it matter that he was trying to make himself unnoticable to her? Suddenly the girl mouthed something and walked up to him.

"Umm...excuse me...uh...do you know where the main office is? I'm kind of new here, my name is Sara Hewitt..." She spoke, her voice having a distinct British accent. Her voice made his heart skip a beat. Micheal hid his...well, whatever emotion he was feeling by putting on a mask of indifference.

"It's downstairs on the main floor...by the guidance office..." He replied, trying not to look at her. Suddenly he felt a hand envelop his, and he looked up to see the blonde smiling at him. "Wh...what are you doing?" He asked coldly. Her smile didn't falter, and it was getting to him. His pale cheeks began to gain some colour, and his mask of indifference was breaking.

"Could you show me around? I'm really confused since I've never lived in America before." She asked.

Micheal was at a loss of words. Nobody had ever given him so much attention. He looked down at her smiling face, and he realized he couldn't bear to say no to her. He put on a cool face and nodded, acting as if he wasn't surprised by her holding onto his hand. He walked over to his locker and swung his backpack onto his shoulder and they were off. By the time they reached the office kids were pouring into the school, and Micheal didn't know why everyone was staring at them. Then he looked down to see Sara's hand still entwined with his.

"Hey, check it out, the freak is holding hands with that GEEK..." One voice joked. Sara heard what was said, looked down sheepishly and released Micheal's hand. Micheal had no idea why Sara was being so shy, but then remided himself that he shouldn't care, that he was just escorting her to the office and that was it. Once Sara was safely inside the office, he stood by the door. He didn't know why he was waiting for her, but he reasoned with himself that now that she was seen with him, she was labeled an easy target by bullies.

'Yeah, that's what I'm doing, I'm making sure she gets to class safely...' He told himself.

'Then that means that you're worried about her...' His subconscious said. He shook his head.

'No, I could care less. It's a man's obligation to...' He retorted.

"...take care of a woman's every need, blah blah blah. You're just too proud to admit to yourself that she's getting to you..." His subonscious interrupted. He was pulled out of his train of thought when Sara emerged from the office.

"Oh...you're still here...? I'm sorry I didn't catch your name..." She asked, flustered by her own ditzyness. Micheal cracked a half smile, and replied.

"I'm Micheal. Micheal Drake..."

Sara smiled. "Well, good to make your acquaintance, Mr. Micheal Drake." Sara replied, holding out her hand. Micheal chuckled slightly, shaking her hand. Suddenly the television monitors hanging on the walls turned on, and the correspondent for the school news program appeared. Sara was totally amazed by this, since her old school didn't have this kind of thing in their hallways.

"Good Morning Raccoon High! Today is Tuesday, Day 6 on the school day cycle, and the temperature outside is 79 degrees Farenheit1..." Micheal tuned it out, and asked Sara which class she was in.

"Umm...it says I have Biology three first thing, then after that English 3." She answered. "Why?" She inquired. Micheal was slightly surprised. She had the exact same classes as he did.

"Oh, well...I'll walk you there, I have those classes too..." He said.

"Oh, that would be great! I can't find my way out of a paper bag..." She exclaimed.

'This girl is fun...' He thought. They made their way to class, talking about this and that, and Micheal found himself enjoying the British girl's company far more than he imagined. They had even walked home together, joking and talking with each other.

He had dropped her off at her home, the condominium not really that small, but not really big either, really more on the cusp between medium sized and large. She waved at him before disappearing into her home, which signalled Micheal's release from his chivalrous ways. He made his way down the street, his house being only a few blocks away. He reached his street, and passed three houses before coming to a stop in front of his own two story home. He walked up the path, going up the steps to the front door. He fished his keys out from his pocket and unlocked the door.

He was surprised to see his parent's shoes neatly lined up in the foyer, which meant that they were home, and very likely sleeping. He shrugged, kicked his own shoes off, and made a beeline to the kitchen to make himself some noodles in a cup. He opened the cup, pouring some extremely hot water from their water boiler and replaced the paper top to let it steam for a few minutes. After about a minute, his noodles were exactly how he liked noodles: soft, yet still crunchy. He picked up a pair of chopsticks and carried them, along with his backpack into his room.

This was his sanctuary. His place to think. Flatscreen TV on the wall, bookshelf in the far right corner, bed, and a divan couch at the foot of his bed. Underneath the bookshelf was his desk and computer, along with his cordless phone which had it's own line, and various little pieces of artwork by Van Gogh, Dega, Dali, Munch, and Renoir. He did everything here, homework, sleep, kill time, and other things. If he ever left it was because he needed something from the corner store or to go to the bathroom. It really didn't matter how late it was, since his parents would be too tired to even notice he was gone. He flipped his television on, switching channels while spreading his binder, and his textbooks on his bed.

He took a seat on his bed, slurping the noodles into his mouth while studying. He picked up his click pencil, finally learning how to spin it around his thumb while thinking. After he had learned the trick, it had become a particularly soothing habit. Thank God he was ambidextrous, or he wouldn't be able to write out the answers to the math equations AND eat at the same time. At about ten after eleven, he heard his parents doors open and his mother peeked her head into the room.

"Hey honey, look, your father and I are being called down to work. I don't know when we'll be back. Are you going to be okay by yourself here?" The brown haired woman asked. Micheal let out a muffled sound of affirmation, which satisfied his mother. She left, and a few seconds afterwards he heard the door downstairs close. By ten-thirty he was finished all of his homework and really tired. He cleared off his bed, packing his binder and textbooks into his backpack for tomorrow. He turned off his television, put his computer in sleep mode, and changed into his sleeping clothes. After he was done, he switched the lights off and climbed into bed haphazardly.

After a minute of looking out his window from his bed, he realized that he hadn't closed it. He kicked the sheets off of him, and closed the window tight. Satisfied, he climbed back into bed and drifted off to sleep.

"Commencing re-opening of the Hive." A male voice buzzed. There were about six people in BioHazMat suits, standing in front of a massive metal door. Even in the darkness, the door looked ominous and terrifying. The people standing before it shook with fear, anticipating anything beyond that behemoth of an entrance, even something that may very well be the bringer of their deaths. There was a loud hiss, the hatches being opened, and they were met by complete darkness. The group entered the darkness cautiously, the darkness giving way to looming silhouettes and a low creeping mist. Underneath their own heavy breathing, they could hear low growling and a slimy, slippery sound and it was coming closer and closer.

"Sir, I think there's something here." The man spoke. Suddenly there was a low snarl, and the man was dragged away by an unkown creature, his screams filling the room. The others tried to run, but were stopped when more of those creatures emerged. One by one the team of scientific investigators were killed by the monsters in the shadows. One was left, and suddenly one of the monsters came into view. It seemed like it had been turned inside out, it's brain exposed along with sinewy muscle and sharp, bloodstained teeth. It's mouth opened, and a slimy, elongated tongue swished through the air. It turned to the last person, and dashed, lunging at it. The monster swung it's claw, the six inch claws slicing the man's chest to ribbons.

Micheal's eyes shot open, cold sweat running down his spine. He shot straight up, his hands feeling his chest to check for anything. He gasped and heaved, eyes looking around the room cautiously. Suddenly there was a large rumbling, and everything in his room shook and moved. Micheal got up and put himself at the doorway to wait out the shaking. After a few minutes the shaking stopped, and the startled and troubled boy was met with silence. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand, the digital readout telling him that it was once again six o clock. He had a really odd feeling about the dream he had.

'Come on Micheal. You're acting like you've NEVER thought of people being ruthlessly murdered before. You once fantasized about it...' His subconcious laughed at him.

He stepped under the stream of hot water, letting the heat sooth his muscles. 'I guess you're right...'

'Well, duh. I AM you after all. Calm down. Pretty sure Raccoon is on a fault line. Could have just been a really small quake.' His subconscious reasoned. Suddenly he got a cold chill down his spine, but soon after it went away.

'Maybe I'm just overthinking this. Dreams can mean ANYTHING.' He told himself. Then his mind suddenly flashed to Sara, and her happy smile. Then he realized that she could have been hurt during the quaking. He rushed his shower, getting dressed and ready. He picked up his phone, fishing through the pockets of the jeans he was wearing the day before for the small slip of paper with her phone number on it. He found it, and dialled her number. It took a few rings, but a groggy sounding Sara Hewitt picked up the phone.

"Hullo?" She yawned.

"Sara. Are you okay?" He asked urgently.

"Yeah...? Why wouldn't I be?" She replied in a confused tone.

"Did you feel that rumbling twenty minutes ago...?"

"Yeah, but it wasn't too bad or anything, I'm pretty sure Raccoon is on a faultline." She assured him.

"Well...uhh...I just hope you're okay..." Micheal said awkwardly, realizing that he was worrying a little too much for the bespectacled Brit.

"You were worried about me?" Sara asked, confused. Micheal paused, trying to think of something to say.

"Uhh...uhm...no, not really...I mean...yes...yeah I was kind of worried..." He gave up.

'Excellent distinction. Admit it, you're going soft on her.' His subconscious teased.

"Oh. Umm...Micheal. My mom was wondering if you could walk me to school today. She's afraid that I'll get injured if there's another one of those quakes. I tried telling her that I would be okay, but she insisted.

"Sure. I...just have to eat breakfast, okay?" He acquieced. They said their goodbyes, and both hung up the phone. Micheal picked up his backpack, swinging it onto his shoulders, and walked downstairs. He stopped at the top of the stairs, staring at nothing in particular, and wondered what the true meaning of his dreams were...

---End Chapter 1!---

1: I have no idea how the imperial temperature system works, so just humor me.

Hmm...I kind of like it. But then again I'm a huge RE fan. Rocks my socks! Hey! That rhymed! Anyways, I like reviews, but please...I'm only sixteen, flames hurt. And a word beforehand to Tabris Macbeth or whatever, regarding my Silent Hill fic. Maybe you should've put a little bit more thought into your review. I'm a total beginner. I've never played Silent Hill, alright? And I can name the town whatever the hell I want. I got the impression that the concept of the town of Silent Hill was a biblical thing, Purgatory, a place to look for forgiveness from God. So get off the high horse.

Ja ne!