Chapter 2: Secret Agent Man

The weather was starting to become overcast; there were more clouds in the sky than before I entered the garage. I like it when it rains. It started out because my mother hated the fact that I preferred to stay indoors and read, instead of playing with the kids that lived near us. She believed that I wouldn't be "socialized" enough.

In my defense, the other kids were assholes who harassed me on a regular basis. I'm talking about little monsters that chased me down, hit me, and tore my books apart. I tried to be nice, scouts honor. Unfortunately, I guess I just had a sort of unconscious neon sign that said, "Please make my life a living hell". The fact that they were a year older than me, and my mom dressed me like a complete social reject did not help. I am talking about the world's ugliest sweaters and overalls. Mom said that if I tried to be friends with them, they would stop. Two words: BULL SHIT. The little bastards got off on my pain and suffering.

When it rained, I didn't have to worry about Mom forcing me into the lion's den that was my neighborhood. Eventually, I escaped from the situation when those elementary school sadists broke my leg on the way to school one Monday. I'm serious; they pushed me in front of a bus when the teacher was looking. Mom and Dad got a wake up call and I got shipped to my grandfather's house. My parents couldn't or didn't want to deal with the fact that I was the neighborhood punching bag. They didn't see any point in "making waves".

Grandpa had been a wartime correspondent during World War Two and the Vietnam War. He had also been fairly unpopular for always pointing out when authority figures were corrupted or had made bad calls. He had been my inspiration for becoming a reporter in the first place.

Fabian West was a brick house of a man who had raised two sons, my father Eric and my uncle Francis. Only Francis had followed in his footsteps and became a freelance reporter. My father was a college professor who taught virology.

Grandpa helped me learn how to stand up for myself. He enrolled me in self-defense classes and taught me how to box. If Mom had known at the time, she would have had an aneurysm. According to my mother, violence under any circumstances was forbidden, even if someone was trying to do me bodily harm. She even had issues with me standing up to my grandmother's verbal abuse. Apparently, that's just how her mother always is so I just need to let it go.

He also let me dress myself, which meant tank tops, sundresses, and blue jeans. After Grandpa took me out to get new clothes with the help of one of his lady friends, we burned all of the ugly sweaters and overalls. Now that was a fun day.

In short, Grandpa was more of a parent to me than my actual parents. He actually listened to me about my problems and feelings, instead of treating me like an idiot and blowing me off. He took me to different parts of the world during the summers to show me other cultures and historical places. His hour-long rant on what was wrong with the Alamo was something to behold.

But enough reminiscing, I was on a mission in this town. I had told Bradley that I was on vacation. That was a lie. The part about my previous job being stressful was most definitely not. In fact, it was a major understatement.

I had been previously doing some freelance journalism about a civil war in the country of West Africa, which was next to Cameroon. I had accompanied my uncle Frank to get some more experience in the field. The Kijuju region of the country had been a relatively peaceful region of the country while still being close to the revolutionary action.

However, I had stumbled upon a lead that the government had been dealing with biological weapons manufacturers. The West African government had supposedly helped a pharmaceutical company force the Ndipiya tribe off of their homeland in return for a large kickback. After hearing that, I had started digging into the supposed dirty deeds. I also heard about a factory accident that had happened a couple of years ago that the government had hushed up, but hey. People are going to gossip, and there's always a shred of the truth in a lie. The trick is finding it.

My uncle Frank and I along with some other reporters had made our way into the marshlands on our way to talk to the Ndipiya tribe to find out why they had been forced out. Mainly, whether or not it was just a simple land grab or if they had had some local resource that the company had wanted.

That had been when all hell had broken loose. While we had been in our boat, someone had blown up the local dam. Our boat had capsized and many of us were thrown overboard. I had managed to get back in the boat quickly, but the others weren't so lucky. Crocodiles had attacked many of the people in the water, including my uncle. My Uncle Frank got away with just a broken leg. Some of the other reporters though, died from blood loss on the way to the hospital or were eaten by the beasts. I gained a healthy fear and hatred for green scaly river beasts whose names end in "dile" and "gator".

While we were in the hospital, dealing with our losses and injuries, we found out that the West African government had pulled our passports. We were deported back to our respective home countries almost immediately. I smelled the scent of a cover-up, but kept quiet about it. My uncle was in too much pain for me to push the issue. He needed medical care and fast. He couldn't get it if I got us thrown in West African prison.

After I had come home to the states, I had heard about the Raccoon City Incident. The official story was that a nuclear reactor had malfunctioned and had a meltdown. However, accounts from actual survivors including one of my oldest friends had indicated that there had been a viral outbreak of an experimental biological weapon. Reports stated it was a highly contagious infection that somehow brought the dead back to life. The infection could apparently be spread easily through a bite or a scratch.

Adding weight to the statements was the fact that in Raccoon City's neighboring Arklay Mountains there had been a string of missing person's cases. When the bodies were finally found, they were often half eaten or at the very least had some sort of bite marks. The media had gone into a frenzy and dubbed the event as "The Arklay Cannibal Killings". Two squads of Raccoon City's S.T.A.R.S. (Special Tactics And Rescue Service) unit were sent into the forest to investigate. They came back with many members presumed dead, and the survivors raving about walking corpses. One month later, the Raccoon City incident happened and a city with a population of over a hundred thousand was decimated.

What was the link between these two incidents and Morris' Point? The Umbrella Pharmaceutical Corporation was the company in West Africa that I had decided to investigate. In addition, Raccoon City had been a sleepy little Midwestern United States hamlet until the Umbrella Corporation had heavily industrialized it. Before the city had been destroyed, as much as forty percent of the population had held jobs with the pharmaceutical giant n one way or another. The company had heavily improved the infrastructure of the city at their personal expense including the subway system and the power plant.

Morris's Point was quite similar, but on a slightly smaller scale. The small town's population had increased by about thirty percent since Umbrella had moved in. The hospital, schools, and police force had been renovated and expanded due to Umbrella's funding.

So here I was, undercover as a tourist. My grandfather had actually taken me here for one summer to visit the amusement park on the pier. We had also visited the nature boat ride through the nature preserve, the candy store, and the town museum. From what I could see, the town hadn't changed too much. It still had that calm, down home, sort of feeling.

As I was walking, I noticed all the set up for the town festival that was going to happen tomorrow.

I found myself by the town's "World Famous" homemade candy store. I figured that I would make myself less conspicuous by doing the entire tourist experience. Also I had a sugar craving and wanted taffy.

I walked into the candy store and my mouth started watering. There was almost every type of saltwater taffy and fudge available. I grabbed a bag and started loading up on taffy.

Bubblegum Taffy…. yes

Grape…. yes

Banana…hell no, those taste like wax

Strawberry…. yes

Peach…maybe

Cotton Candy… Want

Root Beer Float… interesting but no

Blueberry… no

Mint Chip… scrumptious, yes

Pumpkin Pie… maybe a few, nah

Green Apple… definitely

Licorice… do not want, ever

Blue Rasp- "Ooof!"

I looked up from the floor through my bangs up at the guy who had knocked me over. He had to be at least six feet tall. He had slicked back blonde hair and oddly enough, looked like David Bowie. He was wearing a dark brown trench coat over black slacks and a dark blue dress shirt. However the most obvious thing about him was his black sunglasses. They completely covered his eyes yet he gave the impression that he was looking curiously at me.

I shifted my body to get up and he extended his hand to me. I took it and pulled myself up off the ground. I dusted myself off and bent down to pick up my bag of taffy.

" I must apologize for that. I am not usually so clumsy."

Holy foxtrot! The guy had a voice like imported dark chocolate, dark, rich, and absolutely sinful. He had a sort of cultured accent I had heard in a movie once, half British and half American.

Mama like. He is still very creepy though.

"It's alright. It happens every now and then. Don't sweat it"

I turned to go check out the other sugary treats on display. There were some jars filled with different flavors of stick candy, a display case filled with several kinds of fudge, and a stand filled with "gourmet" lollipops. I heard footsteps following behind me on my way to check out the lollipops. I turned around and faced the person following me?

Oh, it's glasses guy. What's his deal?

"Please, I must insist that you allow me to make it up to you. Perhaps, let me accompany you around town"?

That would be a very bad idea, mainly because I was going to try to break into an Umbrella lab tonight. At least that was the plan before my car broke down. Also, I was getting serious "do not trust" feelings from him.

I frowned slightly.

" I'm sorry. I'm not really interested in company. I just came to this town for a vacation."

"As a matter of fact so did I, why don't we take in the sights together? I'll pay, of course. Consider it my way of making it up to you."

Then it struck me. Glasses guy would probably help make me stand out less. If I was part of a group, no matter how small, I wouldn't be as suspicious as I would be by myself.

Authors Note: Since the country in Resident Evil 5 is never mentioned, I decided to refer to it as West Africa. For those people wondering, Wesker does have an angle to joining up with Canary. Hint: the same one she has for joining up with him.

Updated 11/3/15