Hello, this is a rewrite from the original Resident Evil fan fiction that I had started many months back. I realized I did not like the first idea I came up with, so I completely revamped the story to try to fit it to my liking. The original idea had a lot of useless plot holes and devices being used, so I rewrote the idea to something that would fit more to my liking, and hence why I decided to try to attempt writing this story again. Please provide me with feedback and I'll do my best to iterate from the ideas given in the future.

Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil, this work is purely work of fandom.

Prologue

It was dark. Cold. Damp.

Worst of all, chilling.

What felt like only hours felt like an eternity. Inside the desolate, dimly lit room with signs of age deterioration, no one with the right state of mind would dare to stay in for a full minute, let alone even a handful of seconds. There were only two things to interact with; a hanging light bulb on top of the ceiling, and a single chair sitting at the centre of the room. What made matters worse was the dripping liquid coming from the ceiling, clearly a sign that not many took good care of the building inside. Despite the dim lights, the walls were clearly visible, with the paint starting to show signs of falling off and rusting across the adjacent walls.

Inside the room was a man, who had been tied into the chair for what seemed like an eternity. He was rudely awakened and suddenly brought to the predicament that he ended up in. His arms were tied thoroughly on to the chair legs, while his ankles also tied together and bound on to the chair legs. Only his facial features felt movable, and the occasional breathing he made across his torso.

Despite the gravity of the situation, he was rather calm. It felt like there wasn't much to fear anymore.

A sudden sound of the door just mere meters in front of him had his head move up just a little bit. He knew someone was coming in, but he paid no attention. He didn't feel the need to guess, and his intuition was confirmed when he heard the voice of the new party that entered.

"Patient Interview… January 28th, 2004. Session #12."

His captor held a tape audio recorder and kept holding on to it with his hand. He looked down at the captive, in which the latter did not even bother to look up. The captor simply smirked.

"Good morning." He gave a slight pause, "I believe it is manners for you to look people in the eye when they greet you?"

The captive said nothing. He just kept looking down.

"You have indeed changed since the last time we met… which I believe was…" The captor said, trying to calculate an estimate in his head, "…almost a year ago?"

Still no response. The captor knew though, he didn't want to give him the benefit of the response. He was not going to be lured into a trap of playing fire with fire, not when his physical wellbeing was at stake.

"I believe it's time you moved on. Can't let your predicament cloud your judge of character, am I wrong?" The captor smirked, feeling only a slight disappointment that he only had a tape recorder, and not a camcorder.

That disappointment was soon altered to satisfaction however. It wasn't much, but it was something.

"I got nothing else to say to you." The captive sneered, still not wanting to look at his captor in the eye.

"Oh? I think I beg to differ." The predator knew the position of authority he was in, and he will use that to his full potential. He stepped about two steps closer than he was to the captive, smiling a wicked smile. Maybe this was why his prey was not looking at him; it may have been a simple act of defiance, but it could also be hiding any signs of fear.

"I'm sure you have more to say. Why bottle up such feelings after all this time?" The captor forced the captive to look at him straight in the eye. The latter was unfazed, keeping the same, emotionless demeanour he tried to keep ever since he came in.

"I'd rather just be dead. Why don't you just kill me and get things over with?"

The captive was saying this right in front of his face. There was nothing implicit about his words; he would rather choose death than to stay in this predicament much longer. However, the captor clearly had other plans, knowing full well that killing him would be of no use and a simple waste of time. Besides, this was most definitely not the first time he heard him ask for death, neither.

"I grow tired of you asking such meaningless request…" At this point, the captor took his hand off, turning around and facing the door, "Have you ever considered, if I wanted to kill you, I would've done it… the first moment I laid eyes on you?"

The captor wasn't annoyed, if anything he was enjoying this. He was torturing him, and he wanted to see how much willpower he was going to break until the guy would lose it. Pushing people to their limits was not just a hobby, it was a passion he held dearly.

"Like I said, I have nothing else to say to you. How about you just fuck off and –"

BANG.

Afterwards, there were no more voices. The captor merely smirked, as he left the room with no shame. He brought the tape recorder closer to his mouth and spoke to it.

"Ending log."

To be continued…