Resident Evil:
Jormungand

By Death Jester

It was a simple, normal day. Like any day really. The sun was shining; large white clouds slowly meandered their way across the sky, cars drove by on the street outside my window. I was at work, you see, typing away at my desk. Data Entry Clerk was my official position, but I was commonly referred to as "The Gopher". I'd 'go-fer' this deliver and 'go-fer' that drop off. I had worked at this shipping firm now for eight years, starting in the sorting room and working my way up into this nice little 8 foot by 8 foot cubicle, taking people's orders for deliveries and sending the trucks out to pick the packages up.

It wasn't a bad job. Not at all. After eight years, I had accumulated an hourly rate of over $18.00 an hour and with my benefits I could get nearly everything done at company expense. Only things I had to buy were my allergy pills. Even my asthma meds were covered. I love this job. I had no wife or kids to speak of, so I lived in a small three-room house, the kind you see on the side of the road in a busy part of the city. I had a modest bank account built up by now, around $45,000.00 after my last purchase. I let the money sit in the bank and accumulate interest, and at a rate of 9.5 ever two weeks, I was really raking in the dough. $1300.00 of my paycheck went into my bank account and paid for my mortgage ($300), hydro ($80), heating ($40), cable ($50), phone ($30), internet ($80), insurance ($500), property taxes ($180) & water ($40) bills.

There was only one thing that could be called a weakness of mine. It was my love of all things medieval. I kept $500.00 of my pay check for myself, to spend as I saw fit. I called this my 'mad money' and with it, I had bought all manner of medieval weaponry, from English Great Bows to Japanese Katanas to European War Maces. I had nearly one of everything that you could think of. When my nephews came over, they always sat in my living room and stared at the walls. I had adorned them with all of my show pieces, dead-edged chrome-plated pieces of steel that looked good but weren't much good for anything else. My true weapons were stashed away in my room, the utmost care taken to secure them safely, each in their own case, oiled and buffed to a mirror shine. Of these 'true weapons', I had three.

One was a practical Katana, made by Master Japanese Sword Smith Sadatoshi Gassan, so sharp that it would make the air scream when I swung it. I had trained in the martial arts, just so I could use the sword correctly and not turn myself into a large gob of messy meat.
It had cost me $10,000.00

The second was a Viking styled Bearded War-axe, large and heavy with a cutting blade just over two feet long. I had labored over the blade myself, honing it and making it nearly razor sharp. It weighed around 45 pounds, and could split any piece of wood it came up against.
The axe cost me $8000.00

The third was a powerful Welsh Long Bow. It had been made from a single piece of yew wood, a process that had taken four years. It was over six and a half feet long and had a draw weight of 78 pounds per foot and had an effective range of about 180 meters. I had a quiver of around 40 arrows, each three feet long. I used them to hunt with. Each arrow was a four-bladed crosshead, razor sharp and had a titanium shaft with hawk-feathers for the fletching. I had downed a fully mature male hawk one day when I loosed an arrow too soon when I was out hunting geese, so I decided to make good use of the mistake I had made. I never paid for meat from the grocery store when it was out in the forest, on the hoof and free for the taking.
The bow had cost me $7000.00

I kept my weapons clean, oiled and polished and treated them with the utmost respect, just as a Kyudo student would, like the weapons had a living spirit. I kept them away from excessive heat or cold, kept them dry, kept them away from excesses of humidity or dryness and I carried them properly. I considered disrespectful to so much as touch my weaponry without my permission; it was tantamount to touching someone's spouse. One of my friends from work had actually gone into my room and picked up my axe from its velvet-lined case and took the sheath off the blade. I nearly hit the roof. He had left smudges all over the blade and the handle.

Okay, so I was a little anal about my weaponry.

It was a normal day alright. I left work, drove home, ate the last of my venison, and rolled over. As I lay there in bed thinking I smiled. I had it pretty good. Good job, good life, no real responsibilities to speak of, and I lived like a man, not some sniveling toady like most of the guys I knew. Not that I was some macho freak. I was just 'a guy'. Sure, my right arm was about 25 bigger then my left arm and I knew the forests around here like the back of my hand, but I didn't flaunt it or say anything about it. I kept it on the 'down-low' as a friend of mine would say, and that was the way I liked it.

As I drifted off into the land of Nod, I smiled once again. Yep, my life was pretty sweet. I had my routine down cold, and my life was on the right track. I was up for another promotion in two months, and then I'd be up to $22.00 an hour and be able to start thinking about finding someone to spend the rest of my life with. Yep, my life was pretty damn sweet.

The two men stood upon the dam that held the city's water supply. They looked out upon the city.

"Well Black, here goes nothing."
"Yes White, it is time for Operation Jormungand to commence!"

The two men dropped a small, purple coloured pill into the water supply.

"You're sure the scrubbers won't eliminate the strain this time White?"
"Positive Black. The strain has been modified. It will get to the intended hosts within the allotted time."

The two men nodded to one another and walked away. Neither of the men noticed the small, innocent Black Finch alight on the nearby tree during their conversation. Neither of them noticed the bird watching them intently. Neither of them noticed as the walked away as the little bird flew off of its little branch and took a sip of the water from the water supply. But even the little bird didn't notice as it flew away that the water now reflected a ruddy red colour, which soon faded to the normal midnight blue colour of nighttime water again.

Author's Note: Hi All! This damn site wont allow me to put lines in to break apart the story, so I've put a few spaces in until I can figure this problem out. When the part with White and Black talking on the dam comes up, that is the place where the story diverges from our 'hero'. This is my first foray into Resident Evil fan fiction writing, so please be nice! I got the idea for this after watching my fiancé play through Resident Evil 4 and it got me thinking. I hope you all enjoy this, and I will try to update this as soon as possible, so, until then, this is Death Jester, signing off!

Signed:

Your Friendly Neighborhood Death Jester.