So this is scenic Spain, Leon thought ruefully as he gazed out the window of what had turned out not to be a Range Rover at all, but a cheap European knockoff with seats as comfortable as a slab of concrete and a suspicious smell that reminded Leon of tuna fish and wet dog. He didn't want to know any more. Looks more like…unscenic Spain… He silently congratulated himself for his amazingly witty joke and continued pouting about the passing scenery.
Apparently, someone had left Spain out in the sun for too long. The passing forest outside was completely devoid of any color other than shades of gray and brown. Not surprisingly, it was kind of a dreary place. To make things even better, it looked like rain. Just because it could. The only color lay in bright neon signs posted randomly along the road Leon and these two Standard Issue Spanish Cops had been bumping down for the last hour and a half. These signs said everything from "Welcome to Los Illuminados: Spain Division – Home of the Deranged Villagers" to "Turn back now; there's only more of the same ahead" and "Buckle Up; It's the Law!"
"At least there are no zombies," Leon thought to himself.
At that point, Standard Issue Spanish Cop #1 chose to veer sharply off course and take the pseudo-Range Rover over a barbed wire fence that happened to be randomly stretched across the road. Leon looked back at the fence and saw a huge five-foot sign in neon lights that read: "Do not come here! We have not kidnapped any American president's daughters and we are definitely not injecting her with some creepy parasite! Why would you ever think that! Please check in with guard at the visitor's center and get a parking permit!" A chill ran down Leon's spine with the eerie preciseness of the sign.
"Hey you Spanish-type fellows," he said, "I think we should've turned off back there. The sign said something about a parking permit…"
"What's the matter, cowboy?" Standard Issue Spanish Cop #2 leered into the backseat, "You scared?"
"Wh…what? Hell no!" Leon snapped, puffing himself up to his maximum manliness factor. "Oh, hell no," he repeated, his voice several notes deeper, "Because I…am a man!"
The cops stared blankly at him and then erupted into laughter. SI Spanish Cop #1, who was driving, nearly drove the car off a cliff, he was laughing so hard. Leon scowled at them and fingered the trigger of his wussy gun.
"Okay, Barbie," SI Cop #1 finally managed to say, "Whatever you say. Parking permits are for touristy Americans with snappy bomber jackets."
"So they sent you out here all alone, eh?" SI Cop #2 said, "You gonna take on the zombies all by yourself, eh, Superman?"
"You know, I have a name," Leon bristled, and what are…" He froze. "Zombies?"
"You think you can handle yourself out here, Roy Rogers?" SI Cop #2 continued.
"No, you said something about zombies. What about zombies?"
"Because it can get pretty loco como infierno out here, John Wayne," SI Cop #1 added, "You never know…"
"Why did you say zombies?" Why are there zombies? They told me there wouldn't be any zombies! You guys have to help me with the zombies!"
"Here we are," SI Cop #1 ignored Leon's hysterical screaming and grinned maliciously at the blonde American in the snappy bomber jacket, "Good luck, Mickey Mouse."
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Leon cried, digging his fingers into the car seat, "Don't make me! Mommy!" SI Cop #2 sighed and, whipping out his Standard Issue Spanish Crowbar from the glove compartment, he pried the howling Leon from the car.
"Get moving, Buck Rogers," SI Cop #1 growled from the car window, "The zombies are waiting…"
Whimpering, Leon walked toward a nearby farmhouse, wishing dearly that Mr. Binky, his stuffed teddy bear, was here with him, "You can do this," Leon told himself, "Nothing to be afraid of. Oh, Mr. Binky! Where are you when I need you?"
Leon pushed open the front door to the house and stepped in. The house was just as lovely on the inside as its exterior, which is to say it was not exactly the Ritz Carlton. That same smell from the car was here too, except added to the dreariness were about twenty million pounds of dirt and spiderwebs. Leon pushed on through the wall o' stench and found himself in the company of a man who, by some miracle, was not a zombie. Leon breathed a sigh of relief and stepped toward the man.
"Uh, bonjour, sir," Leon said, completely forgetting what country he was in, "Hey, I'm looking for this girl, umm…cette fille, in this…shit." He patted his pockets, frantically searching for the picture the president had given him. Little did he know that the president had never given him a picture. Moo ha ha! "Dammit," Leon cursed his luck, "Well anyway, I'm looking for this chick, blonde hair, okay face, preppy look, supposedly nice ass…"
"Why, of course I've seen her!" the man said genially, "Please partake in a cup of tea before I take you to the dear girl. Would you excuse me for a moment? I fear I must go chop some more wood for the fire."
Unfortunately for this man, Leon had taken French in high school. As the man reached for his axe, Leon shrieked, "OMFG ZOMBIE!" and in a flash, he emptied an entire clip of bullets into the poor gentleman.
At that moment, several things happened. First, the ominous music kicked in. Leon, however, was not perturbed the music, as this happened all the time to him. He had his own theme music, after all. Second, a truck bearing the words Los Illuminados Parking Service came barreling down the road in front of the house, smashed into the cop Range Rover and kept going into a nearby ravine. Thirdly, Leon stole the dead guy's wallet.
"Dude! 260 pesetas!" Leon said, astounded, "This guy was completely loaded!" He slipped the cash and the man's credit cards into his own wallet and headed for the door. The door wouldn't open. After about half an hour of pushing on the door, Leon finally noticed a small sign on the door that read "Pull" in English. Leon, however, couldn't read. He shrugged and catapulted himself out the nearest second story window. Just because, you know, he could.
"Ahi esta!" a voice from the front of the house called. Immediately, Leon's gun was pointed in the opposite direction of the voice. Leon had some pretty severe issues, in case you haven't noticed.
Three men came along the side of the house. "There you are!" one said in Spanish, "Welcome to our humble village, O exalted visitor!"
"Please come with us to the village!" the man with the dull pitchfork said, "We have gourmet American-type food, hot German sports cars and hot tubs filled with beautiful women!"
"ZOMBIES!" Leon cried, whipping his gun around to face the men. Five minutes later, Leon was prancing in a relatively manly way down the scary gray-and-brown woodland path, his pockets jingling with 526 pesetas and three more driver's licenses. He twirled the gun around his finger and jauntily whistled the theme song from Goldfinger.
Suddenly, his walkie-talkie crackled. Leon held it up and, thanks to the new technology, he was treated to a live video feed of a member of the female gender. "Well, hey, baby," Leon greeted this new woman with a cheesy grin, "I don't know how you got my number, but I'm sure glad you did."
The woman raised one eyebrow dubiously. Then she spoke. "First of all, this is a walkie-talkie. You don't need a phone number for a walkie-talkie. Second, my name is Ingrid Hunnigan, not any of the following: baby, sweetie, sweet cheeks, honey, angel, hot stuff, or any variation thereof. I am your support on this mission and…"
"Hey, buttercup, all I need is your face and that's enough support for me. Wanna go get some drinks after this?"
"…And! I already hate you. This mission is going to suck. Basically, my job is to give you useless information and to state the obvious. I'm calling now to tel you that you should walk down this path and look for Ashley."
"Who?"
Hunnigan sighed, "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that. Hunnigan out."
The walkie-talkie crackled silent and Leon grinned, "She digs me. It's gotta be the gun. Chicks dig guns."
"Ahi esta!"
Leon tensed like a cat, his entire body ready for some ass-kicking. Two men were on the path up ahead. They were running toward him and were carrying sharp farming implements. "Hey, stranger!" one shouted, "I would like to offer you some peccadillo!"
Blam! Blam!
Leon continued down the path, still musing about Hunnigan and that other chick he was supposed to save. Jennifer? Tina? Ah, whatever. He ducked into a shed to look for some more cash and stopped dead in his tracks. There, on the wall was a woman with a pitchfork through her face.
"Well hello," Leon purred, sidling up to the woman, "Where have you been all my life, sweet cheeks?"
The woman didn't answer, for obvious reasons.
"Oh, shy," Leon chuckled, "My name's Leon. I'm a secret agent. Whatcha think about that? Wanna see my gun?"
Silence.
"Okay, I'm going to be straight with you," Leon said, "D'you wanna date?"
The woman was silent. Leon shrugged and continued down the path until he came to a village. Still on the alert for killer zombies, Leon ducked behind a tree and stealthily spied on the village using his high-tech binoculars.
"Okay, here we go," Leon said out loud," We got chicken, chicken, cow, chicken. Zombie man pushing a wheelbarrow, girl…ooh! Hmm...nah, not my type. Ooh! Or there's that other girl… Chicken, zombie man, HOLY SHIT!"
The sight that evoked such a profanity from Leon was Standard Issue Spanish Cop #1 dangling over a fire with a hook through his chest. Leon hoped he was okay, or at least had the car keys.
Because Leon had been speaking out loud, his cry of HOLY SHIT! had alerted the villagers in Pueblo Town to his whereabouts. Immediately, they all dropped whatever they were doing and began to rush over to greet their new visitor. "Yay, a stranger!" they cried, "Let's show him a good time! Come on, Mr. American-type Man! Come on in and play some pinball in our new arcade!"
"HOLY…ZOMBIES AWAY!" Leon jumped up and chucked his binoculars into the woods behind him. They would do him no good here. Using his awe-inspiring secret agent moves, Leon ran screaming into the village and ran into the nearest house he could find.
"But Mr. American-type Man!" the villagers cried after him, "We just want to be your friend!"
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Leon shouted. He dashed up the stairs and thankfully found a shotgun on the wall. Underneath the shotgun was a plaque with the words, "Grandpa's Crappy Shotgun. May he rest in peace." Unfortunately, Leon couldn't read.
Also on the second floor was a window. Leon's eyes gleamed. He couldn't go out the door anymore; it was already closed. Maybe…just maybe…it was a wild idea, but it just might work! Leon took a running start and flung himself out the window.
The villagers watched in awe as the American-type man flew out the window and landed on the dirt just beyond their welcoming committee. "I bet you could use a drink after a stunt like that," one of them said as he held out a martini to Leon, "It's shaken, not stirred, just the way you Americans like it."
"DIE ZOMBIES!" Leon cocked the shotgun and began blasting holes in the villagers. Olives flew everywhere as the peaceful-minded villagers fell to their gruesome deaths at the hands of the crazed blonde man in a snappy bomber jacket.
All of a sudden, there was the sound of a bell ringing. Every single villager froze and turned toward the sound. "It's the bell," one man said.
"It's time for our mid-morning massages," another man said, "We have to go."
As Leon watched in awe, every single villager in Pueblo Town dropped their farming utensils and plodded toward a building with a large sign over the door. The sign read: "Secret Passage. There is no Bingo in this direction" in plain English.
"Where's everyone going?" Leon asked, "Bingo?"
OVoD: I would like if I may, to take you on a strange journey. A journey called…Resident Evil…FOUR! (cue logo)
Leon heard the voice of the Omnipotent Voice of Doom coming from somewhere overhead, but he just ignored it. After all, this sort of thing happened to him all the time.
A/N: Chapter One up and running! This is going to be quite a long story; I'm not going to be breaking it up at chapter endings, because quite frankly, I don't remember when they were. I'm doing most of this by memory, so if I forget something, just let me know. Merci beaucoup!