Here's chapter eight friends! Hope you guys enjoy and are loving this as much as I do. ^_^
Chapter eight means plug-and the plug today is for…Resident Evil: The Insecurity of Evil! By Mr. Foulds *nods and bows * this dude's humor is just hilarious. He takes RE-and without turning it upside down and adding many random cameos- (coughs and directs attention away from Quality time with Shiny things) He makes it both funny-and amusing! Go forth and read. Ramen commands. Now-back to our regularly scheduled programming.
------------------
The manager stalked, the senior employee, (also called a "Chief") prowled-and Natalie and Sherry were right in the middle of it all.
"You know." Sherry said, being a proper two year old, "There are lots of other movies that we could be seeing down here."
"You mean you want to forgo Santa goes to Hollywood?" Natalie opened her eyes wide and pretended to fake a scream, "Say it isn't so Sherry! The plot lines! The dialogue-the-"
"Considering." Sherry said in the same voice her father would use when talking to employees who were about to suffer very painful deaths, "That The reader is most likely in the middle of March-we could forgo seeing a movie about Christmas."
Indeed-the patrons of that movie theater-forever stuck in the time warp that is fanfiction-were beginning to scream in abject and mortal terror. IF you really want to torture someone, write them into a story and stick them in a very unforgiving place and forget about them for about…oh…9 chapters. Stir well and see what occurs.
"YOU!" Nicole the senior employee reached the top of the stairs, "CHILDREN!" she hissed. Well she didn't really hiss-she inhaled sharply which coming from a human could sound like a hiss if their teeth are closed-
"GET BACK TO THE STORY!"
Ahem. Sherry and Natalie took one look at Nicole-who was beginning the transformation to bringer of pain mode- and bolted.
"Where-are-we-going?" Sherry was only two. Her legs were very small.
Natalie considered locking the kid inside one of the many doors they saw along the way but shook her head. Sherry was a plot device and a handy one at that. Plus-Natalie had heard rumors that there were a few people attached to her.
"Natalie!"
"Um…" Natalie frowned, "Lets go this way?" she pointed down another hallway in the endless labyrinth above the theater. Sherry bit her lip and followed.
---------------
Alan and Kyle found themselves outside.
The outside of a theater is nothing spectacular. A few dumpsters languished along one wall.
"Um…"
Kyle's eyes narrowed, "What?"
Alan pointed to the third dumpster.
It lay overturned on the side. Excellently rendered in pixilated graphics, it was covered with bloody handprints and splotches-providing a suitably gothic environment for the characters to interact in.
Kyle's eyes narrowed again then began to twitch uncontrollably, "Well-there's nothing new in that."
UHHHHHHHHHHHHHH…HHHHHHH
A zombie wearing a theater employee uniform rose out of the trash shakily. A second zombie, also wearing a theater uniform-climbed up as well. This was followed by a third zombie-that of a young male-who exuded an air of evil and darkness about him-besides the fact that his face was rotting off.
"Get behind me!" Kyle cried, "I'll fend them off!"
Alan, being young-nodded once before diving behind the older boy. Surprisingly-zombies did little to faze him. They were a regular part of the world that he lived in. His dad worked for mindless conglomerate bent on world domination and the death of all mankind. His mom listened to heavy metal-and once waited in line for three hours in the rain-in full costume-to see Star Wars.
And every once in a while, a mindless corpse would shamble down the street. No biggy.
"Um…"
The first zombie HISSED. And darted foreward. Kyle looked at Alan and Alan looked at Kyle.
"Zombies…"
"Don't…"
"DART!"
"RUN!" Kyle grabbed the boy's hand and bolted for another door across the parking lot.
"Why-didn't-you-run-for-the-oof-theater-door?"
"Dramatic tension!" Kyle smiled widely, "First rule of living in a horror story kid. NEVER go for the obvious solution."
Alan frowned, "why's that?"
"How else are you going to hold the audience's attention in between fan-service?"
Alan nodded, "Good point."
The zombies began to run-sprint-after the two living corpses.
"Hold it. Hold it." The first zombie stopped and put its hands on its knees-ignoring the flesh falling from its bones, "Stop for a second."
"What is it?" The non-theater employee zombie asked, "What the hell is slowing you down?"
"We're Resident Evil zombies Dumb-Ass." The second theater employee said, "We STAGGER. We do not RUN. Running zombies makes for bad press."
The non-theater zombie wrapped its arms around its chest, "Please." Its eyes narrowed-the sudden muscular movement pulling the skin down off its forehead, "You don't run. But BOWS run."
"Do we look like we're BOWS!"
"Okay-okay." The first zombie frowned, "What, you want more of a Dawn of the Dead setting?"
"No!" The theater employees chorused again, "WE WANT TO STICK TO THE RULES!"
"Don't start about that Resi-physics crap!" the theater zombie exploded, "What the hell do you think this is-a video game?"
Cars stopped in the street-an airplane stopped overhead and plummeted into the Raccoon City University-helpfully directing all the emergency personnel in the theater away from the area.
A Japanese man, wearing all black and glasses-walked past, shook his head-and continued on his way.
"Okay." The theater zombie muttered, "If this was accountable to the laws of Resi-physics then it would have had-"
Bright music, shiny lights, and doves (how they got them to fly in the dark a mystery) appeared out of nowhere. A cop car pulled up revealing
"Claire Redfield." The non-theater zombie muttered,"That's-just-fucking perfect."
Claire Redfield stepped out of the car, struck a pose holding her shotgun, and aimed carefully at the zombies.
"Leon!"
"Right behind you!" The Canadian national anthem began to play-
Claire paused, "What?"
The Canadian-
Claire shook her head; "No-no-Canada has no part in this. They are north of us. They don't have umbrella offices. They make syrup!"
"Canada exports more then that!" Leon cried, "They also export redwood trees! Culture! English civilization and French Civilization! Plus-Toronto is a great place to film movies!"
A gigantic billboard advertising the RESIDENT EVIL APOCALYPSE movie crashed down somewhere across the street.
"Uh-huh." Claire's eyes narrowed, "Still stupid."
Leon frowned, his face flushed, "Oh yeah? Well-well-you is ugly!"
"That doesn't make any sense!"
"PINK IS UGLY!"
"What was that?" Claire's eyes widened in surprise. She turned away from the zombie threat and face d him, "What was that about-PINK?"
"You." Leon folded his hands and stuck out his upper lip, "Heard me. Bitch."
Claire let loose with a string of explanatives. Somewhere, deep in the heart of the RPD building, Chris had a heart attack.
Alan frowned and peeked his head out from the video store door. The three zombies remained motionless-watching the gigantic blue and pink scuffle before them. He took a few cautious steps foreward before standing right next to the female zombie.
"Hey."
"Sup."
"Um…" Alan bit his lip, "What's going on?"
"Good guy spat." The female zombie pointed a finger at Leon-who had a large bloody scar running down one side of his face, "I guess cause this isn't anything offical they feel the need to-well-let it all out."
The words, "WELL AT LEAST I'M IN RE FOUR." Were yelled out, followed by, "ME TOO JACKASS!"
"So…I guess there's a certain advantage to being evil?" Alan said, frowning. He had always admired and respected the good guys. They wore cool uniforms and they were the main characters-and they LIVED which was a big bonus…
"Well." The non-theater zombie said, "Being Evil lets you know where you stand for one thing. I'm evil. I harassed thousands of decent-hard working authors and made people cry!"
"And now you're a sad little zombie with no life. Based upon a sad little dick with no life." The male theater zombie said, "Get used to it Peanut. You're gonna die a horrible violent death and burn in a flaming wreck of pain and misery."
The aforementioned, "Peanut" shook his head, "Yeah-well…well you're all going with me."
"I'm already in hell." The girl zombie muttered, "Life is a dark abyss of pain and sorrow-filled with the weeping blood of crows…"
Alan began to back away, "Goth…Goth…"
"And the shadows of the cross shall eat away at my vampire soul-and then…the sun shall come out and all the commercialism and fucking shall be made whole again…"
"GOTH!" Alan screamed, "GOTH! GOTH! RUN! HEAD FOR THE HILLS!" he bolted for the door he had come out of as fast as his legs could possibly carry him.
For there was nothing more terrifying then a Goth zombie…
--------------
Sherry and Natalie were in a large storage room.
"Look!" Natalie chorused joyfully, "A save room!"
Sherry frowned, "What does that mean?"
Natalie smiled, "It means that the powers of evil are negated the MINUTE that we step into this room." She smiled widely and sat down against a large stack of popcorn kernels, "We're safe."
"Ohh…"
Natalie grinned, "See that box?"
She pointed to a large brown box in the corner.
"That box is the KEY to the safe-room. It's a "Save" box. Magically, people can put things in it and get them later." She grinned, "I put a playboy magazine in their once and it came out in the girls bathroom at school!"
Sherry shook her head, "Don't get it."
Natalie sighed, "These boxes are mystical magic portals to another dimension! Discovered and cleverly marketed by Umbrella-these boxes provide the user with anything and everything that you put in them at any given locale and location!"
"Ooooh!"
That explained why daddy would go into HER room to get science notes that he'd said that he left at work. And why mommy would go into her room to get copies of Cosmo. In an effort to protect there offspring-the Birkins had installed one of these safe boxes in her room.
Which made in perpetually difficult to put clothes away…
Somehow, Sherry did not feel safe, even in a room like this.
----------------------
THE HOTEL LOBBY.
Mud was everywhere.
Violet Snowe was curled up on the floor in a fetal position. Annette Birkin was still staring in shock at the spot where the manager had been standing before. William was still in the midst of playing cards.
Clarice…
Clairice lay on the floor in a puddle. Her skin pale-eyes glassy. Her mouth hung open and she was babbling incessantly.
"Cheese…no…not…the cheese…no…no cheese…"
Wesker stared at his wife's immobile form.
"This." He said in a cold, icy, calculating voice, "Just. Got. Personal."
---------------------
A/N: Aha. Chapter eight! And EARLY! I said I was going to update on Friday! I lied! I'm only going to update everything ELSE on Friday! Okay, so I had some free time and decided to churn out another pile of useless drivel. ENJOY!
