Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil, "The cake is a lie", Michael Jackson, The Thriller
Author's Note: Yeah, it's been a while. And I hope you people got fangasms when you saw that I updated. My notes were and are disorganized, and I've no idea of what I said I'd be doing. But, here.
Wesker, Krauser, Chris, Claire, Leon, Jill, and Julie and I were walking past a church when we heard muttering coming from inside. We all stopped, and Leon rolled his eyes.
"I swear, every time a town gets run down by zombies, there's some sort of cult" he said, exasperated.
"We, let's check it out," Claire suggested.
"No. We keep going," Wesker said.
"You keep moving. I'm going in."
"What if there's zombies?" I shrieked. But Claire had already opened the door. Inside the church, on the opposite wall, was a wooden Jesus on a cross. Only where it's face should have been, there was a picture of Wesker's face taped over it. Kneeling in front of it was a girl, who stood up and turned around when she heard the door open. She was rather short and chubby, with brown hair and brown eyes. She had a rifle strapped across her back, and her shirt read "#1 Wesker Fan."
"Your shirt is a lie!" I shouted, jumping on one of the pews and pointing an accusatory finger. Wesker was just outside, out of sight.
"Your cake is a lie!" the girl shouted.
"My...what?"
"Yeah. I don't know. What's wrong with my shirt? It's right. Or did you not just see me worship my messiah."
"Your messiah?"
"Yep." She stepped forward and shook my hand. "Charlotte Hill's the name, pain and chocolate is my game. That, and when I pretend my dog's Wesker and stick a banana-"
"What." Everybody else filed inside. The girl fainted when she saw Wesker.
"Can we leave now?" Jill asked.
"Uh. Sure. That was weird," I said. Wesker just shook his head and left. Everybody else followed.
"So, Wesker, popular with the ladies, I see," Chris commented. "So am I."
"Drag queens don't count!" Leon shouted from where he was bringing up the rear.
"I wasn't-"
"One-breasted girls don't count, either."
"...Oh."
"Quiet!" Julie hollered. "Listen."
"I don't...what's that?" Krauser asked.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," I swore. A zombie stumbled out of an ally a few yards ahead. "What, is that-"
"Michael Jackson?" Jill finished. The zombie looked up at us. He was a pasty white with jaw-length black hair, and was wearing a red jumpsuit and moonboots. His nose was completely gone (not that he had much of a nose when he was living)
"I got this," Julie assured, and pulled two sawblades out of the shadows of her jacket. Michael Jackson looked up, and started towards us just as Julie threw the blades. They cut clean through his knees, cutting the bottom portions of his legs ogg.
"Nice aim," Leon complimented.
"Thanks."
The zombie moaned and started pushing himself up with his arms. Somehow is managed to balance on his stubs of legs, and started running at us. Every time one of his "legs" hit the ground, he made a "huh" sound. "HUH, HUH, HUH!"
"Oh my god!" I screamed as everybody started sprinting away. Everybody but Wesker. "Let's go!" I urged, pulling him by the arm. "MICHAEL JACKSON IS CHASING US ON HIS NUBS!"
Wesker moved, rolling his eyes.
"HUH, HUH, HUH!"
We took a few turns, and eventually hit a deadend.
"Why the hell is there this conveniently placed brick wall?" Chris shouted.
"HUH, HUH, HUH!"
We heard it, but we didn't see it. Then is stopped, and music started playing out of nowhere. we were all backed against the wall. (except for Wesker, who probably couldn't have cared less)
Zombie Michael Jackson appeared, walking on his nubs. And he wasn't alone. There were at least a dozen other zombies shuffling along behind him.
"How the hell did that happen?" Chris exclaimed.
"Stop questioning everything," Julie said, mildly annoyed. "They probably heard it and followed."
Then the zombies started doing something odd. Their shoulders were twitching, and every so often their heads would jerk to the side. And then they started dancing.
INSERT THRILLER DIALOGUE
"Wait, that's..." Leon started with a confused look.
"Let's just go," Wesker said, and shot all of the zombies in the head is a span of 30 seconds.
"How did you do that?" I wondered out loud.
"It wouldn't have taken so long if I hadn't had to reload," Wesker scoffed. "And it's a lot easier to do things without you sticking a needle full of sedatives up my ass all the time. And make no mistake, I will get you back for that."
"Are you going to stick something up my-"
"Don't get your hopes up."
"Awkward conversation," Krauser interrupted, shuddering. "Let's get going."
Afternote: Reviews keep me going
