CHAPTER 3
Titty Clubs, Night Assaults, and Suicidal Temptation
Oliver was still wearing his smirk as he came up to the strip bar.
The sign read, "Titty Kitty". Sounded almost like a bar Oliver could like.
So far, the streets had been empty. A few cars, empty. No one else. The only person he'd run into was Michael.
There was no blood, no nothing. It was an entire ghost town. Or whatever it was. But, when Oliver nervously opened
the door, he found it wasn't a ghost town at all....
The walls were smeared in blood. The bodies were piled in the middle.
They were drained. Intestinally, that is. Their muscle and veins were still there. But their skins weren't. A group of about
10 strippers in the middle of the strip club, all laying accross the center platform, blood all over that portion, having been
absorbed in the carpet & floor areas, leaving a blood stain look.
Sickly, some of the strippers were still twitching here and there. And visibly, some had been aroused just as they had
been killed. Their hair either ripped or bloodied to wetness, they were just drenched. It was immensely disturbing to see a
sight like that again. It'd been about 30 years, but it was still just absolutely disgusting to look at.
Their intestines still were strangely intact. Flies buzzing around the corpses, a few mosquitoes going and grabbing blood
from the bodies. Their eyes....the lack of eyelids made them seem emotionless, like they were just dead flesh...
...exactly what they were.
The air smelled of death, clouding the smell of sweat and sex, overpowering it. As Oliver walked around, looking at the bar,
the tables, the platforms....he didn't see any of those creatures. He even fired some spare shots into the air, testing for
those cloaking ones again. He shrugged and just headed to the bar, looking behind it to see nothing. Not even a bartender
or anything. Everything was silent except for his footsteps, giving the place an entirely dead prescence.
Frustrated, and puzzled, Oliver started back towards the door. Then, he heard a whooping sound. One he'd heard too
many times in `Nam. A helicopter....
*****
"We have to send in troops, sirs!" Jeff Landers roared at the board of directors.
They all were shouraded in darkness, the only light being from the large monitor, which showed night-vision camera
footage from a warehouse. There were bodies everywhere, what looked like a gang fight that had been interuptted by
the MA-762s. Intestines missing from some of the opened bodies, heads missing occasionally, brains drying on the
pavement. It was obviously night, a few burning areas showing this. The fires had probably been from molotov cocktails,
as there seemed to be some in some of the gang members' hands.
Jeff had been pressing the issue eversince he heard that not only had one of the two survived, but the MA series
creatures were going all over the fucking place. They hunted everything, turning a good chunk of the area into nothing
but a death surrounded hunting ground. The board of directors were being stubborn, Jeff having showed what the
creatures did to humans, footage of what they'd done so far, and some photos of Oliver - and his experience.
Tsuk, one of them, looked at Jeff, his glasses reflectting the light of the monitor.
His hands were groupped together, his face showing a questionary look. "How long will it take for them to wipe out the
city of San Francisco, Mr. Landers?" Jeff wiped some sweat off his forehead. "Judging by the amount that were released,
they can't take out that place. But, they have enough on them to point the finger at us." This got a bunch of mumbling,
murmuring, and grumbling from the board of directors. The President wiped his face off, rubbing his eye afterwards.
"All of those for sending in a Countermeasures Service team....?"
The board of directors, as well as the President of Umbrella Inc., rose their hand.
*****
As Oliver rushed outside, he felt himself slowly sink as he opened the door, as if events started moving slower and slower,
like a John Woo movie. A blinding light hit the side of the strip-club's exterior, blinding Oliver a bit, making him close his
eyes and hold up his shotgun. A booming voice on a loudspeaker yelled, "DROP THE WEAPON! DROP IT NOW!"
There was the loud whupping sound of the helicopter which blew wind in all directions in it's landing spot.
The soldiers were at their ready, sub machine guns aimed. Oliver couldn't see it, but he knew they were aimed at him,
and that they WOULD exterminate him. But, he complied, ready to be full of holes, rather than ripped apart alive. But, as
soon as the shotgun was half-way down, there was a loud scream from one of the soldiers, and suddenly, the lights on
the helicopter suddenly turned towards another spot in the area. It shined on what looked like 40 of those green things coming down the street.
They all ran and screeched at the soldiers, being fired upon by the machine guns on the helicopter as the rotors started
to slowly die down. Oliver was now in the dark, and he made a run for it, holding onto his shotgun tightly.
He quickly headed back the way he came, running around the corner and disappearing without a trace.
Meanwhile, two of the soldiers pulled out a grenade in each hand, flipped the pin, and tosed them at the group of the
creatures, then ran like hell back to the helicopter to get weapons. Behind them, they heard the blast, and stupidly didn't
take into factor the idea of shrapnel. A few tiny, but fatal, pieces of metal went straight through their bodies, chewing up
their intestines, and spurting blood on the dark, flame-glowed pavement.
The Captain, Henderson, was laughing manaically as he pulled out his Desert Eagle, and began firing madly, just as one of
the creatures leaped at him, swinging it's claw at him, and cutting Henderson's head right off, letting it fall and roll on the
street. But, Henderson's gun kept on firing the last of its shots, hitting one of the green creatures, but blasting two
soldiers in the stomach and head as well. The body then fell down and blood oozed out of the open wound where it's head
was like squeezing the juice out of a steak, pooling massively as a group of the creatures circled and commenced eating him.
The soldiers who were able to start firing went down fighting, most of them getting a few of the creatures before being
sliced apart. Body parts and blood started packing the streets, making it look incredibly cluttered. In the cabin of the
helicopter, the pilot was starting the helicopter, wanting to get the hell out of there as soon as possible, but suddenly,
he saw one of the creatures in front of him on the windshield. It grinned an evil, maniacal grin of insanity and instinct.
It screeched and suddenly smashed it's claw through the thick glass, shattering it everywhere, and began ripping the
barrier open, as the pilot whimpered in fear, seeing his life flash before his eyes. The last thing he saw, was the firey
glow of the explosion.
Something had happened with the fuel and a spark.
This caused the entire helicopter to explode into metallic parts and a hellfire of immense proportions.
The creatures screeched in pain as the fire suddenly singed their bodies, some of them being disintergrated into nothing,
some being engulfed in flames as they ran around, screeching and howling madly. Others that didn't get burned were sliced
apart by shrapnel and huge metallic chunks of the helicopter. Only 2 of the 40 creatures survived.
*****
I need to get into a retirement home after this. I'm too old for this shit.
Oliver was annoyed. He was about to be killed nicely, a soldier's death, but noooooo, those creatures had to ambush
those strange-uniformed soldiers in the black. He'd run for awhile, and had come accross an underground rave club,
where he had fixed himself a drink, while techno music blared in the back. The entire place was empty, but the music
fooled Oliver. Maybe he was going crazy, he thought. But, those who go crazy don't know they are. Lucky bastards.
The shotgun was right in front of him, and the M8000S was in his other hand as he drank his screwdriver.
He sighed to himself, taking another sip. He'd thought of killing himself, but it didn't seem right. Wasn't his style.
But, then again, killing monsters isn't your style either.
He slowly turned and looked at the M8000S, it's nickel finish, it's safety switch, it's clip-release button, it's trigger-guard,
it's trigger. He put his finger on the trigger, and slowly raised it to the side of his head. He smiled, thinking of his wife who
was probably waiting at home for him to return...
Titty Clubs, Night Assaults, and Suicidal Temptation
Oliver was still wearing his smirk as he came up to the strip bar.
The sign read, "Titty Kitty". Sounded almost like a bar Oliver could like.
So far, the streets had been empty. A few cars, empty. No one else. The only person he'd run into was Michael.
There was no blood, no nothing. It was an entire ghost town. Or whatever it was. But, when Oliver nervously opened
the door, he found it wasn't a ghost town at all....
The walls were smeared in blood. The bodies were piled in the middle.
They were drained. Intestinally, that is. Their muscle and veins were still there. But their skins weren't. A group of about
10 strippers in the middle of the strip club, all laying accross the center platform, blood all over that portion, having been
absorbed in the carpet & floor areas, leaving a blood stain look.
Sickly, some of the strippers were still twitching here and there. And visibly, some had been aroused just as they had
been killed. Their hair either ripped or bloodied to wetness, they were just drenched. It was immensely disturbing to see a
sight like that again. It'd been about 30 years, but it was still just absolutely disgusting to look at.
Their intestines still were strangely intact. Flies buzzing around the corpses, a few mosquitoes going and grabbing blood
from the bodies. Their eyes....the lack of eyelids made them seem emotionless, like they were just dead flesh...
...exactly what they were.
The air smelled of death, clouding the smell of sweat and sex, overpowering it. As Oliver walked around, looking at the bar,
the tables, the platforms....he didn't see any of those creatures. He even fired some spare shots into the air, testing for
those cloaking ones again. He shrugged and just headed to the bar, looking behind it to see nothing. Not even a bartender
or anything. Everything was silent except for his footsteps, giving the place an entirely dead prescence.
Frustrated, and puzzled, Oliver started back towards the door. Then, he heard a whooping sound. One he'd heard too
many times in `Nam. A helicopter....
*****
"We have to send in troops, sirs!" Jeff Landers roared at the board of directors.
They all were shouraded in darkness, the only light being from the large monitor, which showed night-vision camera
footage from a warehouse. There were bodies everywhere, what looked like a gang fight that had been interuptted by
the MA-762s. Intestines missing from some of the opened bodies, heads missing occasionally, brains drying on the
pavement. It was obviously night, a few burning areas showing this. The fires had probably been from molotov cocktails,
as there seemed to be some in some of the gang members' hands.
Jeff had been pressing the issue eversince he heard that not only had one of the two survived, but the MA series
creatures were going all over the fucking place. They hunted everything, turning a good chunk of the area into nothing
but a death surrounded hunting ground. The board of directors were being stubborn, Jeff having showed what the
creatures did to humans, footage of what they'd done so far, and some photos of Oliver - and his experience.
Tsuk, one of them, looked at Jeff, his glasses reflectting the light of the monitor.
His hands were groupped together, his face showing a questionary look. "How long will it take for them to wipe out the
city of San Francisco, Mr. Landers?" Jeff wiped some sweat off his forehead. "Judging by the amount that were released,
they can't take out that place. But, they have enough on them to point the finger at us." This got a bunch of mumbling,
murmuring, and grumbling from the board of directors. The President wiped his face off, rubbing his eye afterwards.
"All of those for sending in a Countermeasures Service team....?"
The board of directors, as well as the President of Umbrella Inc., rose their hand.
*****
As Oliver rushed outside, he felt himself slowly sink as he opened the door, as if events started moving slower and slower,
like a John Woo movie. A blinding light hit the side of the strip-club's exterior, blinding Oliver a bit, making him close his
eyes and hold up his shotgun. A booming voice on a loudspeaker yelled, "DROP THE WEAPON! DROP IT NOW!"
There was the loud whupping sound of the helicopter which blew wind in all directions in it's landing spot.
The soldiers were at their ready, sub machine guns aimed. Oliver couldn't see it, but he knew they were aimed at him,
and that they WOULD exterminate him. But, he complied, ready to be full of holes, rather than ripped apart alive. But, as
soon as the shotgun was half-way down, there was a loud scream from one of the soldiers, and suddenly, the lights on
the helicopter suddenly turned towards another spot in the area. It shined on what looked like 40 of those green things coming down the street.
They all ran and screeched at the soldiers, being fired upon by the machine guns on the helicopter as the rotors started
to slowly die down. Oliver was now in the dark, and he made a run for it, holding onto his shotgun tightly.
He quickly headed back the way he came, running around the corner and disappearing without a trace.
Meanwhile, two of the soldiers pulled out a grenade in each hand, flipped the pin, and tosed them at the group of the
creatures, then ran like hell back to the helicopter to get weapons. Behind them, they heard the blast, and stupidly didn't
take into factor the idea of shrapnel. A few tiny, but fatal, pieces of metal went straight through their bodies, chewing up
their intestines, and spurting blood on the dark, flame-glowed pavement.
The Captain, Henderson, was laughing manaically as he pulled out his Desert Eagle, and began firing madly, just as one of
the creatures leaped at him, swinging it's claw at him, and cutting Henderson's head right off, letting it fall and roll on the
street. But, Henderson's gun kept on firing the last of its shots, hitting one of the green creatures, but blasting two
soldiers in the stomach and head as well. The body then fell down and blood oozed out of the open wound where it's head
was like squeezing the juice out of a steak, pooling massively as a group of the creatures circled and commenced eating him.
The soldiers who were able to start firing went down fighting, most of them getting a few of the creatures before being
sliced apart. Body parts and blood started packing the streets, making it look incredibly cluttered. In the cabin of the
helicopter, the pilot was starting the helicopter, wanting to get the hell out of there as soon as possible, but suddenly,
he saw one of the creatures in front of him on the windshield. It grinned an evil, maniacal grin of insanity and instinct.
It screeched and suddenly smashed it's claw through the thick glass, shattering it everywhere, and began ripping the
barrier open, as the pilot whimpered in fear, seeing his life flash before his eyes. The last thing he saw, was the firey
glow of the explosion.
Something had happened with the fuel and a spark.
This caused the entire helicopter to explode into metallic parts and a hellfire of immense proportions.
The creatures screeched in pain as the fire suddenly singed their bodies, some of them being disintergrated into nothing,
some being engulfed in flames as they ran around, screeching and howling madly. Others that didn't get burned were sliced
apart by shrapnel and huge metallic chunks of the helicopter. Only 2 of the 40 creatures survived.
*****
I need to get into a retirement home after this. I'm too old for this shit.
Oliver was annoyed. He was about to be killed nicely, a soldier's death, but noooooo, those creatures had to ambush
those strange-uniformed soldiers in the black. He'd run for awhile, and had come accross an underground rave club,
where he had fixed himself a drink, while techno music blared in the back. The entire place was empty, but the music
fooled Oliver. Maybe he was going crazy, he thought. But, those who go crazy don't know they are. Lucky bastards.
The shotgun was right in front of him, and the M8000S was in his other hand as he drank his screwdriver.
He sighed to himself, taking another sip. He'd thought of killing himself, but it didn't seem right. Wasn't his style.
But, then again, killing monsters isn't your style either.
He slowly turned and looked at the M8000S, it's nickel finish, it's safety switch, it's clip-release button, it's trigger-guard,
it's trigger. He put his finger on the trigger, and slowly raised it to the side of his head. He smiled, thinking of his wife who
was probably waiting at home for him to return...