A/N: I do not own Subway, the Olympics, Taco Bell, Mr. Wizard, Trekkies, Men in Black, Claritin, IGN, Chiken of the Sea, The X-Files or Blockbuster…forgot about those…



Not too far from Wesker…we find another survivor…

Ok, there were scary things on the streets, but the young man felt invincible…I mean after all, he had his trusty Blockbuster card in his hand. The man was rake thin, with long black hair, dull gray eyes, and wearing newly bought sunglasses. He moved carefully, and rather fearfully, down the zombie/monster infested street. Then, without warning, he heard footsteps behind him so he did what anyone of us in his precarious position might do...he broke into a run that would make an Olympic sprinter proud.

Suddenly, he was knocked to the ground…after a few brief seconds he regained consciousness long enough to realize his sunglasses had been stolen.

"What the Hell?" he yelled, spotting a running figure in the distance.

Summoning what little courage he had, he quickly followed. Almost immediately he noticed his assailant was dropping breadsticks on the ground.

"3 Second Rule!"

He quickly ran, picked one up, and munched on it while still pursuing the perpetrator...

Meanwhile…

Wesker examined his newly acquired sunglasses with pride, and a wee bit of envy. I mean there was no way he could afford Ralph Lauren, polarized, matrix rip-off sunglasses on his HCF salary. He slipped them on, already feeling much more evil. It helped that he'd ran down some poor shmuck to steal them.

"However I did break my 3 evil acts a day rule. Oh well my evilness knows no bounds apparently."

And so he skipped onward, finally running into McDonalds near the mall. Three seconds later someone ran into him...literally. Wesker turned and looked down to see the kid whose glasses he'd pilfered laying in the middle of the street, munching on a breadstick...and not just any breadstick, but one of the breadsticks he'd been dropping since Jill's ill-timed pulling of the conveniently placed lever.

"Ok, that's just sick and wrong right there."

"My Bread stick…not yours.. MINE!" The little Spastic retard yelled.

This produced a strange look from McDonalds while Wesker looked like he was trying not to hurl. Then, without warning, Spastic jumped to his feet.

"I need some sauce…my new mission...Find Sauce For the Breadstick!"

And he was off…leaving Wesker and McDonalds to wonder if indeed Fate had a sense of humor. So while Wesker and McDonalds pondered the mysteries of Fate, Spastic headed for the nearest convenience store, looking for sauce. Indeed the little moron was now completely unaware of the dangers this course of action presented. Can you say…one track mind? Still, he had his Blockbuster card and surely no one would try anything on him, not with nine overdue late fees. This theory would be tested in exactly five seconds, as six hungry zombies crossed paths with our little breadstick eating moron.

"HA! I have the all mighty blockbuster card!"

Spastic struck a heroic pose, or at least some fare facsimile thereof, and threw the card at the lead zombie…to which the zombie replied…

"Ouch…"

However the card did not seem to slow the oncoming hoard. Left with no other options…Spastic ran for his life, and for the second time that night, he ran into Wesker. Wesker looked down and picked Spastic up off the ground by the back of the shirt, with one hand I might add.

"Will you please stop running into me!" he yelled, giving Spastic a good shake.

"But there was a zombie!!" he whimpered.

"So little burger flipper, which way now?" Wesker asked McDonalds, dropping Spastic.

"PIGGY BACK RIDE…YEEHAW !" Spastic yelled…um…err…spastically, jumping on Wesker's back

Either Wesker was utterly stunned by this display of idiocy or he was just having an off day. Either way, it took him a full minute to react. He grabbed Spastic by the shirt, and gave him a toss. Spastic flew a good ten feet through the air, before landing in a pile of styrofoam. Then with the boundless energy, only the truly stupid possess, Spastic jumped to his feet and looked around for another bread stick.

"We must hurry to the mall!"

"Yes, to the mall!" Replied Wesker.

"TO THE MALL!!!" Yelled Spastic, like he was running through Stalingrad in 1942.

They ran…and ran...then ran some more…after ten minutes of that they realized they were running on treadmills. They stepped off and ran for the mall. Suddenly, a thing appeared blocking their way .

"Oh cool, a G-Type parasite monster!" Wesker yelled, consulting a small cardboard…thingy. "Alright!! Only three more and I win Monster Infested City Bingo!"

While Wesker was busy with his bingo game the monster spit these, little annoying parasite things at McDonalds. Then with more speed and agility than he had any right to display, McDonalds did these weird moves, and dodged them all. Unfortunately, one hit Spastic in the head. In a display of stupidity, he started chewing on it, proclaiming how much tastier it was than the breadstick. The commotion finally pulled Wesker away from his bingo game long enough to dispose of the problem. He ran up to the monster and gave it an uppercut, sending it flying a good 300 meters away.

"JESUS CHRIST!" McDonalds commented, looking stunned. "Have you ever tried professional boxing??"

"No." Wesker put away his bingo card, and cracked his knuckles. "Back to the mission."

"Sauce for breadsticks?" Spastic was still munching on the remains of the baby parasite.

Wesker stared at him for a few seconds, before bopping him on the head with a rolled up magazine. With the G-Type threat averted, and Spastic properly scolded, they set out in their search for the mall once more. Halfway there, McDonald's ADD kicked in. Apparently he couldn't remember why they were heading to the mall in search of the Key Maker. Maybe to find a plot to this story or possibly to find the truth.

Because you know, the truth is out there…

"ALRIGHT! Who's thinking of the X-Files?! I know you are! I can hear that tune in my head! Well, I tell you now, there is NO conspiracy to what happened to Raccoon City." Yelled Wesker looking around nervously.

McDonalds quickly changed his thoughts to finding a plot.

10mins later...and still no answers…

"This is boring," whined Spastic.

"Sure is," Wesker yawned.

So they started walking...again. Then McDonalds suddenly found himself walking alone. He backtracked and found Spastic and Wesker trying to break into a porno store. McDonalds had always wanted to check one of these places out from the inside, not just the posters that blocked out all the good stuff. Good thing he knew a thing or two about lock-picking.

"And it goes like this..." McDonalds said as he opened the door.

"Oh shit, I always fell for that!" Said Wesker.

They then found themselves in a secret laboratory, with Umbrella logos and stickers all over the place. Then, a man walked up to them…a Russian man…with a name tag that said Nicholai…

"Who are you?" McDonald's asked, although the name tag made it fairly obvious who the guy was.

"I...am your father," He replied.

Wesker was completely ignoring the conversation, and was instead inspecting their new surroundings. He had exactly zero clue as to how they managed to find an Umbrella lab at the mall. Then he remembered that this lab was working on the secret of McDonald's secret sauce. That and the stuff that goes into Taco Bell meat. Apparently Umbrella thought it might make a good bio-weapon.

"I am your father." Nicholai stated once more, waving a hand in front of Wesker's face.

"My father?" Wesker asked, now sporting a rather dumb look.

"Sure, why the hell not. Or I could be lying...hehe..."

"Are you the key maker?" The McDonalds kid asked, finally remembering just why we were here.

"I am. Or I could be lying...hehehe"

"Ok, that's just getting on my nerves now." Wesker was seconds away from belting this guy…father or not…

''This is sooooooooooooooooooooooo boooooooring..'' Spastic moaned.

So he ran around with his lips out and tongue flying everywhere, just like his hero Sponge Bob does. Who were you were you expecting his hero to be…Gandhi?

''JELLY FISHING!"

Luckily this mind numbing display was ended almost as soon as it began. Spastic tripped and fell into a box of tuna.

''Wesker, is this chicken or tuna? I mean, I know its tuna. But it says Chicken of the Sea.''

"Ugh, he won't make the sequel," said Nicholai looking at Spastic.

"Are you the key maker?!" Wesker asked angrily.

"Yes. I know of this key that you need. Let me set it up."

Nicholai started up his machine and after 3 minutes he was done. It had a sword engraving on it.

"Hey, what the fu..."

Nicholai cut off Wesker. "This key can bring you back in time! And its really neat, check out the detail."

He handed the key to McDonalds and pointed to a large door with a keyhole in it. McDonalds unlocked the door and opened it. They all went through and the door closed behind them.

"Why did you come?" McDonalds had finally realized Nicholai was following them.

"Well, I've been having problems with Nemesis and he's been bashing me about for too long, plus I ran out of ammo. I plan on making a path and hiding weapons for when the outbreak happens again." He replied.

"Oh. Ok."

Another door opened and our intrepid survivors, plus Nicholai, now find themselves in a large ornate lobby of some kind. Suddenly the main doors flew open and Wesker, Jill, Barry, and Chris ran in.

"Who the hell are you people?" asked Wesker…the other Wesker…you know the not bio-genetically enhanced one…

Our Wesker couldn't help but admire himself just a bit. Man, did I always look that good in a S.T.A.R.S. uniform? He then glanced at Chris, and had to suppress the sudden urge to maim the little idiot.

"Uh...we're...uh...tourists. Ya, tourists." Our Wesker attempted to look perky, but failed miserably at it.

"Tourists? That's the best you could come up with?" McDonalds whispered. "Why not tell the truth?"

"Don't you ever watch time travel movies?" Wesker sighed heavily, adjusting his sunglasses. "You can't reveal you're from the future to your past self. I screws up the space time continuum or something."

"Thank you Mr. Wizard." Nicholai mumbled.

"What'd you say?!!!!" Wesker replied, angrily. "So what if I'm a trekkie?! Got a problem?!"

"Uh no.. I can get us out of this mess!" Nicholai replied as he grabbed a key and opened up the door.

"Hey, there are dogs and chicken shit out there!" Yelled Barry.

"I'm sure there is, Barry. Hey uh, look at the red thingy," Wesker said as he held up one of those memory erasers like off Men in Black.

McDonalds ran through the door and so did Nicholai. Wesker eventually followed with the Spastic close by. They were in a warehouse.

"I got to go piss, eh?" McDonalds said as he found a toilet.

Just as he finished and zipped up, he heard a gunshot. He ran out to see what it was. Wesker was lying in a puddle of blood, Spastic was choking on a breadstick, and Nicholai was no where to be found.. But he found a note left by him.

I have all the ammo I need. Right now, we are in the middle of the outbreak, Carlos is dead, and I'm going to get it on with that chick Jill. Thanks for your help, I left you something.

McDonalds looked around and found a vial of a familiar substance. It was the McDonalds secret sauce! It all made perfect since now!

"Wesker! Wesker! Wake up!" McDonalds yelled, slamming Wesker into a wall to snap him out of it.

"Last time I ever...play Russian Roulette with a Russian," mumbled Wesker.

"The McDonalds secret sauce caused the outbreak! I always thought that people who ate our food were throwing up and eating the person next to them because it tasted like crap! Oh my god! I think I had one of these burgers! AHHH!!!"

"Wow, very good. You've found out how the virus was spread. Yes, I spread it in Raccoon City…well, according to IGN I did. I do know of an antidote, it is the Subway secret sauce."

"I hate subway. They taste like crap."

"Oh well, medicine never tastes good. I still haven't gotten used to my Claritin tablets."

"Guguggblaahaagahhh..."

Oh shit…they forgot about Spastic, who promptly keeled over dead.

"You were like a son to me!!! DON'T YOU DIE!!! NOOO!!!!"

Wesker than did something so out of character that it could only happen in a fan fic such as this one…he jumped to his feet and began running around the warehouse like a crazed idiot while crying…

"AHHHHHH!"

McDonald's then slapped him across the face, with a conveniently placed flounder, and he got control of himself.

"Alright, I am an evil scientific bastard. I should be able to think of something."

"Ah, dude, who gives a damn?"

Wesker grabbed McDonalds by the throat, lifting him off the floor.

"I'm going to groom him into a top HCF employee!!"

"Wait, the freak?! You really are out of your mind!"

Wesker gave him a good shake, then dropped him on the floor.

"I did not want to use my one ace, but it appears that it will have to be done to save my precious little protégé."

And from his pocket Wesker pullet a small black box. McDonalds stood up and read the disclaimer out loud.

"Do not open unless the plot has become so befuddled that no one will even attempt to try and understand what is going on. Either that or if the voice acting is really poor. Or if you need to get to the bathroom and don't feel like hunting down seven keys, four crests, and two blue gems. What the hell is it?"

"This is how the Bravo chopper crashed. How sweet little Rebecca became such a wuss after the whole training facility thing. Why there is confusion as to the name of the Bravo chopper pilot."

Wesker then opened the box, and lifted out a small black disk. He pulled it open until it was as tall as himself, then left it suspended in mid air.

"This is a Resident Evil plot hole."

Wesker jumped through, and a few seconds later reappeared carrying a very healthy Spastic. He then threw the dead one back through the hole and the hole then disappeared.

"There, now we can go to subway." Wesker actually sounded perky for once.

No really he did…


A/N: Can our intrepid heroes find the anti-virus needed to save poor McDonalds? Will anyone really care if they fail? Only time and our next installments can tell…