PROLOGUE: CLUB GRYMM
Norton Peterson stood among the crowds of alcohol induced, chain smoking, psychopaths as they all shouted for death at the screens lining the walls and ceilings of the club. Industrial Metal blared over the speakers, members of the crowd broke out into fights, strippers hung from cages. "Excellent double kill by Cain, which you'll see again in a second.." One personality commented as Cain ran through a hail of Flak Cannon fire. The flechette ricocheted off of the adjacent wall, tearing up most of his left leg. "Ouch, that had to hurt.." Another commenter jokingly said. The screen swiped into an instant replay of Cain firing three grenades from his Rocket Launcher. "Watch as he dodges to the left here-" Norton took a sip of the beer that he was holding in his left hand, and gazed down at a piece of paper he was holding in the other. 14,062 the paper read, with a large bar-code printed under the number. "And that's it for tonight's match." He glanced up at the female host smiling brightly on screen. "See you tomorrow for another six rounds of pain. In beautiful.." White lettering appears. "Strident." A robotic female voice had said. "Back to you, Quinn." The screen had switched back to two Anchormen sitting behind a desk, with a large audience celebrating and cheering in the foreground. "Wow, what a great match." The Anchorman on the left had smiled. "You could say that again.. I mean the amount of bloodshed we've seen here tonight for just thirty kills. I feel sorry for the guys who have to clean that up.." The second anchorman joked, a fan in the audience waves to the camera. "Let's take a look at these amazing replays from Cain and Kragoth-"
"Fuck the replays! Show us the goddamn numbers!" Norton shouted to the screen. "You don't think you're gonna win do you?" A man standing next to him downed his drink and smashed it on the ground. "This guy thinks he's actually gonna win!" He shouted to others passing by. "Fuck you, asshole." Norton scoffed at the man, and looked back toward the screen. "What'd you say to me?" The man shoved Norton, spilling his beer on a woman next to him, who gasped and shortly after, slapped him. Norton looked at his nearly empty beer and smashed it over the man's head, who toppled over, causing a few members of the crowd to step aside. A woman laughed as her and the man she was with walked past the man's unconcious body, Norton looked at the blood dripping from his hand. "Hey, looking for a good time?" A stranger threw her arms around Norton, who broke free and waved her away. "And here's the numbers for this years very first, special new contest for you to compete in, the Unreal Tournament.." The lights and music had dimmed low, and the crowds fell silent. "14. 0. 6.. 3!" The crowd began it's banter again, and Norton looked at his paper. "Fucking shit!" He clapped his hands on the sides of his head and felt the sting of the broken glass digging into his palm. "Fuck!" The numbers still flashed on screen as he head for the doors.
"And where do you think you're going?" A large bald man dressed in all black said to Norton. "Hey.. Wesker.. I was just on my way to get that money." Norton backed away from him. "I don't think so.." Wesker closed in on Norton causing him to bump into a group of thugs behind him. "I think you're gonna try hiding from me for a couple months like you did the last time.." Norton turned to look at the thugs. "Come on, I wouldn't do that.. Again." Norton said assuringly, then looked over at Wesker. Wesker punched him in the stomach, and Norton fell to his knee's. Wesker bent down and spoke into Norton's ear. "Keys.." Norton held his stomach with one hand and his keys with the other. "Here." He dropped his keys into Wesker's hand and the thugs dispersed as Wesker began to walk away. "Maybe next time, I'll take that pretty little slice of ass you have waiting at home.." Wesker looked back and smiled. "Come back soon." He laughed with his group of thugs, that were armed with both guns and women.
He walked to his sub-urban home in the rain, to find his girlfriend waiting on his doorstep. She stood up, as he realized it was her. "You're late.." Her arms were crossed as clouds of cigarette smoke plumed from her mouth. "And where's your car?" She pointed at the empty space on the street. "You lost it again, didn't you? For that stupid, fucking Tournament!" She shook her head and looked off to the distance. "No wonder why she left you." She outed her cigarette on the hand railing and stormed inside. Norton stood in the front walkway of his home for a few seconds, and then slowly made his way in.
He sat in his empty home staring blankly at the wall panel screen, which was playing highlights of the nights match. He took a sip of his drink that he was holding in his left hand, then gazed down at the crumpled piece of paper in the other. "You coming to bed?" His girlfriend stumbled in and threw her bra on the floor, a cigarette hanging from her lipstick coated mouth. "..Yeah. In a second." The reflecting light of the screen had turned Norton's face pale blue as he stood up with furrowed brows, staring at the picture of his ex-wife and daughter, gripping the glass.