Hi out there! I'm TheDayYouSaidGoodnight and this is my first Resident Evil fanfiction. Please forgive me if I have some plot problems and inconsistencies with the movies. I always try my best to make my fics accurate, but not necessarily a perfect match with the events in the movies, with clear plotlines and clean in terms of spelling and grammar. Flames are very much welcome.

Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil, not its games, not its movies. This is under Republic Act 8293, or the Intellectual Property Code of the Philippines. (From Wikipedia)

Title: 600 Feet Under

Genre: Humor/General

Rating: T, but may go up

Warnings: crude humor, sexual innuendos and swearing

Full Summary: Movie-based, set in RE: Extinction Inside Umbrella's North American facility, all you think you'll ever see are Isaacs plotting, Wesker bossing around, Slater, misunderstanding a few remarks, and the White Queen giving information. See what humorous situations can happen, six hundred feet below the surface. A series of short stories which will make you laugh at the Umbrella Corporation.


Chapter 1: Laundry Night with Isaacs and Slater

"Dr. Isaacs, Chairman Wesker requests your presence in the briefing room," a gentle, British-accented voice told the doctor. "Tell him I'm coming." The malevolent human said, pulling on his white coat as he stared at the artificial intelligence computer staring right at him, her straight, dark hair falling on her shoulders and the eerily white nightgown which made her look more ghostly than human.

The doctor sighed as he stood up and ran his fingers through his messy tan hair. He walked briskly to the briefing room, brows knitted in slight annoyance. What is it this time? I met him three hours ago!

A tall, dark-haired man came beside him and said with a very sophisticated accent, "Good afternoon sir? Chairman Wesker called you?" "Yes, Captain Slater." "Well, I was called too. Mind if I go with you to the briefing room?" "No, I don't mind." He said as they walked the long, silver corridors leading to the place where the committee met.

Both were surprised to see only the holographic image of Chairman Wesker. "Uh, sir, where are the other members of the committee?" Captain Slater said. "I called you here for a personal meeting, just between the three of us," the head of the corporation blankly said, with a twinkle in his eyes hidden beneath those dark sunglasses.

"Well, the research is going-" Dr. Isaacs was cut off in mid-sentence when the chairman said, "We're not talking about the research. We have talked about that a while ago. I have another thing to discuss with both of you." He said, his words thoroughly not accepting any retorts or reactions. "Is it about the new supply of food to come? I miss those Vienna sausages you guys sent last last week." Captain Slater said, like an excited child.

"No, it's not about the Vienna sausages, Captain Slater. It's about your laundry." Chairman Wesker said, giving a smirk. Dr. Isaacs' eye twitched repetitively while Captain Slater didn't seem interested at all.

"Doctor, I know that you have run countless experiments and I believe that the facility has lost a considerable number of personnel. So, I am advising you that you should learn how to fix up, clean your office, do your laundry and hang it up on the surface, where it is sure to dry. Captain Slater has been used to doing that." Chairman Wesker said, holding back some laughter as he said it.

"So that's why you're always gone when I'm calling for you, bastard!" Isaacs told Slater. "I was only doing my laundry! I actually found out that I clean my clothes better than the assistants and the workers around here." Slater said. "You're gay," the doctor muttered. "You'd better start doing it today, Doctor, while you still have some people who can help you. When the undead have killed them, you'll have to do your chores alone. This meeting is adjourned." Wesker said, his holographic image fading to nothing.

"Damn Wesker and…just damn!" Isaacs muttered to himself as he stomped away from the room. Captain Slater just walked behind him, smiling to himself. "Slater, I'm going to do the laundry later at night, and please help me with that," the scientist said, facing the captain.

He said "please"? That's a first! I'd better write this down in my book of firsts! Alexander Slater made a mental note to himself. "Yeah, sure, I'll help." He said, slightly disturbed by the fact that the usually adamant and authoritative person said please.

That night…

Snickers and giggles would have been heard all throughout the Umbrella facility since Dr. Sam Isaacs, head researcher and respected biohazard scientist, walked around carrying a rather large basket containing blood-smeared overcoats, coffee-stained pajamas with hilarious designs on them, vintage shirts, well-worn ties and smelly socks. The load he carried wouldn't make anyone laugh but what he was wearing was sure to make anyone laugh.

He was wearing a striking yellow shirt paired with über-loose pants and slippers. He had a wild blue bandana on his head, protecting his hair from the chaotic stains which are to come, a frilly pink apron and yellow latex gloves. He cursed under his breath, walking bashfully to Captain Slater, who was at the end of that corridor, carrying a smaller load of laundry, but equally hilarious in appearance.

Captain Slater stood there by the door to the laundry room, seemingly used to wearing housemaid-like attire. His hair was under something which was a red bandana, and he wore a white plastic apron with the words "Kiss the Laundromat" over a regular white shirt and blue denims. He was wearing flip-flops, quite unusual in a world gone mad.

"So, are you ready for washing your dirty clothes?" Captain Slater said, a wide smile gracing his face. "I don't know." Isaacs said. Alexander led him to the laundry room of the facility, with two large washing machines and a dryer. "So, what should I do now?"

"Well, you separate the white and the colored items so that the dyes wouldn't run and ruin the color of the whites. And then, you just throw them into the washing machine, set the timer and the spin cycle, get it out, put it in a dryer, get it dried and then hang it up." He said, making it a seemingly easy thing to do.

The two Umbrella personnel used separate washing machines and washed the white items first. While Slater seemed to know how to work the thing, Isaacs was having trouble, which was a bit odd. "Slater, dammit! The whole machine is rocking and being so unstable! I think it's going to blow!" he said in a voice that sounded like someone running from zombies and screaming for help.

"You know what's wrong? You put the spin cycle on maximum. Don't do that. Turn it down a little bit." He said. Isaacs did as he was told and covered his eyes, anticipating disaster, but when he looked, the washing machine was spinning gently and noiselessly.

"This is weird. I can manipulate the structure of a virus, turn humans into zombies, and talk to an A.I. computer but I can't even do my laundry." the rather cruel man said. "It's a part of life, doctor. But, soon, you'll get used to it," Alexander said, in a reassuring tone.

Soon, the laundry was done. They took the elevator to the dilapidated cabin which gave them access to the surface, a seemingly dilapidated Nowhere, USA, enclosed by barbed wire fences, in order to deter the undead outside. Ordinary personnel were not permitted to go to the surface, unless they hung their laundry or they were on a mission or experiment.

On the surface…

"I don't exactly feel safe hanging my washed underwear and ties in a place where zombies are trying to reach through these fences," Isaacs said. "They won't raid your clothes. Trust me." Slater said. "Yeah, and if they raid my clothes, you're buying me new ones…or you'll haveto give me some of yours." "Fine, just go on."

They went on, walking on the desert sand, to a clothesline near the cabin, made out of slightly rusty metal poles with a braided rope. They hung their newly-washed clothes somewhere almost untouched by the sandstorms in the wilderness

"They'll be dry by tomorrow, considering how hot it can be here." Slater said, warily looking around at the zombies grabbing the fence. "Hey, look at that. Some black thing is flying over those undead creatures. Seems like an article of clothing." Isaacs said. "Yeah, it is." Slater said, and no sooner had he said this, the black object landed on Isaacs' face.

Alexander Slater was a serious man but seeing his superior with a pair of black boxers with yellow smileys smacked onto his face would have made him roll on the floor laughing but with restraint, he laughed but did not fall on the floor.

"Holy crap, where the hell did this come from?" the puzzled scientist asked, taking off the boxers from his face. "I don't know. It must belong to some survivor. I must say the guy has good taste in underwear." The young officer said, grinning as he looked at the incongruous design of the boxers.

As soon as he had said that, a pair of boxers hit Slater's face. He took it out of his face and his eye nervously twitched. "Another pair of boxers has hit us. Damn, I hate doing the laundry, especially this girly outfit!" Isaacs said. Slater took the underwear off his face and saw that it was also black, but red X's was the motif of this one.

"I think these boxers aren't owned by the same person. I think the smiley boxers are better." Slater said, eyeing the overly-depressing design of the second pair. "I like this one better. It protects the family jewels better because it's softer, and it has red on it, one of the colors in the Umbrella logo." Isaacs said.

"Okay…" Slater said, "Then, you have the boxers with the X's while I have the one with the smileys." "Let's try to find out who owns these. I don't want to wear these because maybe the person's got AIDS or some STD. But I like the design. Maybe I should buy myself one when the cure is done." Isaacs said. Slater had to agree, what if the owner did have some disease. Surely you wouldn't want to be sick in a world gone mad.

Meanwhile, somewhere else in the desert, by an abandoned and empty motel, survivors were braving the perils of living in the post-apocalyptic and arid wastelands. They made minimal noise so that they won't attract any unwanted attention, especially from the undead. But this time, some bickering could be heard.

"Olivera, you motherfucker, where the fuck are my smiley boxers?" a tall, dark-haired, dark-skinned man screamed as he saw an article of clothing missing from his makeshift clothesline outside his truck. Another man walked down from his truck, looking a bit pissed. He was tall, with tanned skin, black hair and heavily armed.

"LJ, I did not steal your damned smiley boxers! I never knew you had one of those!" he said, utterly surprised at the accusation. "I have only three boxers left since the world ended and you're stealing one of them? I can't sleep without those boxers, man! Damn. I'm searching your stuff, bastard." LJ said, stomping towards Carlos' truck. "Go search my stuff, just don't scatter it around the truck." Carlos said, shaking his head. You can't sleep without your smiley boxers? That's disgusting. I don't steal underwear, for Pete's sake, he thought.

LJ entered the back part of Carlos' vehicle, in frantic search for his "precious" smiley boxers. He rummaged through the neatly-piled clothes and other personal effects. "Gun magazines, ammo, pistols, holsters, walkie-talkie, more ammo, gun parts, M4A1 carbine, 9 mm clips, damn, this guy's armed and dangerous. Black shirt, black shirt, black shirt, black shirt, dark green tank top, black shirt, black pants, red shirt, black pants, camouflage pants, this guy's addicted to black! I'd better rummage through these CD's!" LJ said, seeing a bunch of scattered CD's.

"Iron Maiden, Green Day, My Chemical Romance, Timbaland, Maroon 5, Fall Out Boy, Slipknot, Black Eyed Peas, damn, he must have raided the CD rack in one of the shops we've been to a few weeks ago!" he exclaimed. He went on, looking for his boxers once again. He did not find them. He went out of the truck, with Carlos saying, "Did you find it?" "No, and man, for this time, you're not guilty of stealing them, but I'm keeping an eye on you." LJ said as his companion smirked. "I'll just get the clothes I dried," the truck's owner said, walking to a long wooden bench where he had left his clothing.

"There's something missing…" he said, getting all the dried clothing. "Shit, my black boxers with red X's on them are gone!" he said throwing all the clothes into the back of his truck and running off.

LJ was doodling on the sand with a stick. He saw Carlos with a slightly troubled look on his face. "Hey, what's up with you?" "My boxers are gone too." He said. "LJ Wayne, did you steal them?" he frankly asked. "No way! I wouldn't steal yours! Take a look at my stuff if you want to!" LJ retorted, as he opened the door of his vehicle to show his stuff.

"LJ, your truck is a nightmare." Carlos said, seeing cigarette butts, a lighter, porn magazines and nude posters all over the place, along with a few shirts, a few pants and some jackets and underwear. He crawled and picked up a few things just to look for his boxers. He cringed at the cigarette butts in one of LJ's boxers. Gross! I wonder if he'll do some spring cleaning.

Carlos looked on, still finding none of his boxers. He accidentally picked up a graphic T-shirt saying "LOOKING FOR A PORNSTAR? HIRE ME!" This is disgusting. And where the fuck is my boxers? If LJ didn't steal them, then who would? Chase, maybe? Claire? No! K-mart, oh, she's too young for that. Betty, I forgot, we lost her already to the crows. Mikey? Why would a computer genius want to steal someone else's underwear? Alice? Hell no, she wouldn't do that, but anyway, I DON'T KNOW! He thought, running his fingers through the whirlwind of items.

"Oh, a few CD's and DVD's are here. Paris Hilton scandal, uh, gross. Naked models, ugh. Stormy Daniels, oh no, all he's got here are pornographic materials. Pole dancing divas, bitch patrol, oh here's something not so pornographic but equally disturbing: Baywatch. He's got a Nelly CD, Black Eyed Peas, Akon and Nelly Furtado," he said, searching the CD's. Like LJ, it was a futile search.

"Found it?" LJ asked. "Nope, and I'm convinced that whoever robbed us both of our underwear is just one person. The question is, who? But since the wind is strong tonight, they could have been blown away. Who do you think stole them?" Carlos said.

"Mikey? Because I know one time, he was so scared, he pissed his pants!" LJ said. "No, Mikey seems too nice to do that. Do you think Chase did it?" Carlos said. "Hmm, he is a cowboy and he is damn tricky at times, but I don't think boxer shorts seem to grab his attention. God forbid, but maybe Claire stole them." LJ said.

"I know women shouldn't dabble with men's underwear unless they're ready to give something in return. But it's possible. God forbid too, but maybe K-mart got it." Carlos said. "What? She's too young to do those things. She's like, 14 or something." "Yeah, maybe, but who could have done that?" "Maybe Alice did it." LJ said. Carlos laughed hard. "She can't do that! Stealing underwear is not her thing!"

"But she's got the hots for you, motherfucker." LJ said, making his slightly tanned companion blush a deep red. "Whatever. We'll just ask if anybody found it, or stole it, for that matter." Carlos said, trying to say a few words, his face still red. LJ noticed this. "And I think you've got the hots for her too, bastard." LJ said good-humoredly. "Shut it, LJ. It's not funny." He said, smiling. "You're as red as a tomato, Olivera. Don't lie to me." LJ said as they walked to one of the campfires.

Back at the Umbrella Facility…

"Well, maybe doing laundry isn't so bad after all. I'll get used to it soon enough." Dr. Isaacs said, removing the incongruous bandana, apron and latex gloves. "Soon, you will. Don't forget to get the clothes from the surface. The next thing I'll teach you is how to iron them, well, that is, if your clothes will be heavily creased." Captain Slater said, walking away from Isaacs' laboratory-office. "And sir, please hold on to both of the boxers. I have an important thing to attend to." He added.

The tired doctor sat down on his chair, opening his laptop as he threw the boxers to his table. He took a few samples from both boxers and had them scanned on a biometric scanner. "White Queen!" He called. "Yes, Doctor?" she said. "Identify the owners of these boxers through the scanned DNA." "Yes sir, right away. I think it is peculiar for you to ask me to find out the owner of… boxer shorts." She said, and then disappeared. Meanwhile, Isaacs watched a video feed on Project Alice on his laptop.

He saw her with two men. One was tall, with dark skin and dark hair, with a goofy grin on his face, while the other one was slightly taller, with lighter skin and dark hair, heavily armed like a marine. Though he couldn't hear the dialogues, he could see that the project was surprised.

With the convoy…

"What boxers? I didn't know that you guys wore boxers!" a woman said. Her aquamarine eyes gave a surprised look. Her messy, dirty blonde hair flew with the wind and her scarlet lips were almost wide in shock.

"Alice, we're not holding you guilty of anything, for now. But we've asked everyone in the convoy already. Nobody has seen our boxers and we really need them." Carlos said. "Yeah, and if you see a black one with smileys, that's mine. If you see a black one with red X's, it belongs to this motherfucker beside me." LJ said. "I'll let you know if I saw them. By the way, I wouldn't steal your boxers." Alice said, a smirk playing on her face.

The two men walked away but LJ called out to Alice, "Hey, Alice, this guy has the hots--" but was cut off by a blow to the arm. "That hurts, bastard! I was just trying to tell her what you feel for her!" LJ said, in a voice audible to only him and Carlos. "Just shut up! I'll be the one to tell her!" "So, you really love her?" "I hate to admit it, but yeah." He said, going off to get a can of food.

At the Umbrella Facility…

"Hmm, interesting." Dr. Isaacs said, watching the feed. The White Queen appeared. "Doctor Isaacs, DNA identification is complete." "So, who owns them?" Isaacs said, turning his head to the girl in front of him who was just a computer. "The sample from the shorts with smileys has a DNA strand belonging to someone named Lloyd Jefferson Wayne." Isaacs just sneered. "Belongs to some nobody?" He said.

The White Queen went on to watch some feeds of Project Alice. "Excuse me, doctor. May I ask you something?" she said. "What is it?" "Who's the man with the project?" "He's an Umbrella traitor with the surname Olivera. Why did you ask?" he said, drinking some coffee from a lidded cup. "If you ask me, he's hot." The White Queen said, smiling.

Isaacs almost spat out the coffee. "What! White Queen, do you have a virus or something?" "No, I am in a perfectly normal state." "You think an Umbrella traitor is hot?" "I think so." "Oh, I forgot to ask you. Who owns the other pair?" Isaacs said, trying to recover from what the White Queen said.

"This might surprise you. It belongs to Carlos Olivera, ex-U.B.C.S commander, one of our best agents." The White Queen said. "Crap, I liked the design of the boxers of an Umbrella traitor!" Isaacs said, twitching. But after twitching, he suddenly had a plan in mind. "White Queen, track down both of them. They will be useful in capturing Project Alice." He said. I think I'll love doing laundry.

The next day, he informed Captain Slater of the owners of the boxers. Equally disgusted, Slater decided to just let the boxers fly in the wind, the way they found them. So with zombies around the fence, they cautiously let the articles of clothing go about, careful not to let the zombies get them.

"I can't believe you liked the design of an Umbrella traitor's boxers." Slater said. "It's good we got rid of the boxers." Isaacs said, cringing. "And the white queen said that Olivera was hot." He added. Slater felt sick. "I'm going to barf." He told the doctor, running off to a hole and vomited there.

With the convoy…

"Hey, something's flying in the wind!" K-mart said, tying her blonde hair as she looked at the sky. "K-mart, we don't have time for this!" a redhead said acridly, as she asked everyone to pack up as they were leaving. "But Claire, look!" she said. "Boxer shorts?" Claire said, raising an eyebrow. "LJ, Carlos, I think we found your boxers." Claire said, through a walkie-talkie. The two men rushed to Claire and K-mart as the wind died down, dropping the articles of clothing on the sand at their feet.

"My boxers!" both of them exclaimed. "I see you two value your underwear." K-mart said. "Hurry up. We have to go now." Claire said. "Well, the wind blew it. Nobody stole it. Besides, why would anyone want our underwear?" LJ said. "Maybe they want a piece of us…" Carlos said, grinning.

Back at the facility…

"So, Doctor Isaacs, how was your first shot at washing your own dirty clothes?" Chairman Wesker said. "It was fine, I guess." Isaacs said, again finding himself in the briefing room with only the chairman and Captain Slater with him. "Were there any happy accidents that happened?" the chairman asked, smiling. "Nothing bad happened, sir." Slater lied. "Keep up the good work. That's an order." Wesker said, grinning then fading out.

"What do you mean that nothing bad happened? We got the boxers of two people who can help us with Project Alice and now we can track them too! And one of the boxers was from a traitor! That's not good, you asshole!" Isaacs shouted at Slater, who just grinned. "I'll meet you at the laundry area at 7:00 p.m. every other day." Slater said, parting ways with the doctor. "Fine." Isaacs said. But something's telling me that more surprises will come as I learn how to do chores…he thought as he went back to his desk.


A bit disturbing, isn't it? Thanks for reviewing…if you will. Flames accepted. If something isn't clear in the story, PM me. I'll answer questions. I also do request fics, movie-based ones. Bye! I'll try to update soon.

-TheDayYouSaidGoodnight