Disclaimer: We do not own Resident Evil. Or "End of the World," by Skeeter Davis.
SSW: YAY! The Albert Wesker Fanclub actually sent me a signed photo! Now I can add it to all my other Wesker paraphernalia!
(The real SSW: You damned liar! That's not me! The AWF doesn't read my mail anymore, fool! Something about "rambling," "drool-covered," and "not making sense". They aren't real fans, I tell you!)
So she had to make this signed photo herself. Either way she walks into her room of posters and the like. She places the photo on a pedestal at the center of the Wesker Shrine. Then she pauses to notice that all her lil' Wesker posters were noticeably altered. They all have PVC chaps, handlebar moustaches, and arrows pointing to the Nether regions that say "insert hamster here", along with other crude phrases. She nearly has a heart attack before turning to her signed photo to (Gasp) find it similarly defiled.
SB: What! I think black... and... hamsters... are both very becoming, if you're into that, I mean...
SSW, her eye twitching madly: This... is... blasphemy! How dare you defile His image, in His house, of all places! Oh, you'll get it now... You like hamsters? He'll give you hamsters. I sentence you to one thousand years in a small box with an army of virus-infected hamsters!
(Looks off to the side) What? We can't afford that? Okay, then, we'll have to settle for one zombie dog. Sic him, boy! (Zombie dog leaps out of nowhere right at SB's face)
SB: (Grins) Sit boy!
Inuyasha: OOOOOF!
SSW: Goddammit! Don't listen to the enemy, you useless mutt!That's it, I'm having you neutered!
Dog walks away with tail in between legs
SSW: Aaaanyway here's the setup:
In case you people forgot all of it in the span of a few days, I'll tell you what the gang is doing. Maybe I'll call them the Magic Eight. So, the Magic 8 go to The Palace, in Denneville, to meet each other and wait for the outbreak to happen. We'll meet a few other characters that might stick around while the Magic 8 goes through the Umbrella labs. We'll introduce them, so just read on.
Deja Vu Part I
On stage, an elegant-looking woman who was just reaching middle-age played the piano while she sang a sad love song. She was wearing opera gloves and a black, ankle-length dress with a slit in the side, and her long, brown hair was up in a bun, with a few tresses hanging down. Her eyes were green. She was Vanessa Abbott, one of the favorite performers here at The Palace.
"...She was last seen around these parts. She's about four feet tall, with short blond hair and blue eyes. Her name is Sherry Birkin," Mark said in his rumbling voice.
The old lady sitting at the next table shook her head and said, "I'm sorry, but I haven't seen anyone like that."
"It's alright. Thanks for your time," Mark answered. He turned back towards his plate of sesame chicken with a fake sigh. He resumed eating. "We're never gonna find that kid at this rate."
Jim just kept stuffing his face with chow mein noodles. He wasn't putting much effort into his cover, but Mark didn't think the man put much effort into anything.
"Hey Ken. Why don't you stop eating for a second and ask that woman behind you about Sherry?" Mark asked. They were using false names, too, of course. Jim was Kenneth Stark, and Mark was Michael Ryder.
"Huh?" Jim said through a mouthful of spicy beef. He turned around, and saw a black woman, about his age, sitting alone at the next table.
"Ask... her... about... Sherry...," Mark said, slowly.
Jim nodded and swallowed his food, then stood up. He walked up next to the woman.
"Excuse me, miss. I'm with the FBI, and we're looking for a missing child. Can I talk to you for a second?" he asked. Damn, she is fine, he thought, sitting in the seat across from her. She had a heart-shaped face and large eyes. Her wavy, black hair was thrown over her left shoulder. She was wearing a backless, gold-colored cocktail dress and her nails were manicured and jeweled. She wore some champagne-goldfish colored lipstick, and light green eyeshadow.
The woman downed a martini and looked at Jim. She seemed a bit drunk. "Yeah, whatever," she told Jim.
"What's your name?" Jim asked. He wasn't asking purely for his cover, either.
"Tori Sommers," she answered.
"I'm Kenneth Stark. By the way, you seem upset. What's the matter," Jim asked.
Tori sighed loudly. "My date stood me up."
"What an ass. I can't believe you have love problems," Jim said, smiling.
Tori raised an eyebrow. "Hitting on me seems a little unprofessional, Mr. Stark."
Jim shrugged and smiled again. "My boss isn't here to catch me."
"Well, I'm not really interested in getting hit on. And if you're going to ask me for a date, you can forget it, because I will not date another man until the fucking apocalypse. Just get on with your interrogation," Tori said, frowning.
Jim cringed at her choice of words. If Trent was right, there was going to be an apocalypse, for this town, anyway. "Alright then. Have you seen a Sherry Birkin? She's about four feet tall, with blue eyes and short blond hair."
"No, I haven't seen her, officer. Is that all?"
He sneered at Tori, angry that she was brushing him off. "Look, your date just stood you up, so can't you at least have a drink with me or something?"
Tori lifted a martini, gulped it, and put down the empty glass. "There, I've had a drink with you; now can you leave?"
&&&&&
Jeffery Cole held his fiancée's hand, smiling. He looked at her, her long, light brown hair, her hazel eyes, and her swollen belly. It was only three more months until he became a father. At this thought, he frowned and broke eye contact.
"What's wrong, honey?" Terry asked. He'd brought her to dinner, but he was behaving strangely.
"Terry, love... I... don't think you should have this baby," he said.
She gasped, and then frowned. "What- What are you saying?"
"I want you to have an abortion," he replied.
"What? Are you fucking depraved? I just ate, for fuck's sake! You really are an asshole!" Terry cried.
"Baby, I just thought--" he began, but Terry stood and poured her red wine onto his lap. Then she ran into the ladies room.
"Dammit, that woman's out of control," Jeff growled to himself. He wiped at the wine with his cloth napkin.
&&&&&
Carrie Harmond came out of her stall and washed her hands. She looked back, wondering about the sobbing coming from the next stall over. She walked to the door of the stall and knocked.
"Excuse me, miss? Are you alright in there?" she asked gently.
"Yes," the woman inside sniffed.
"What's wrong? Do you want someone to talk to?" Carrie asked.
There was silence for a moment. Then Terry said, "My fiancée wants me to have an abortion."
"Oh, that's terrible," Carrie said, putting her hand to her mouth. "Why does he want you to do that?"
"I'm not sure. Maybe he's not ready to be a father," Terry answered. She came out of the bathroom stall, wiping her eyes. She saw a woman with long blond hair put up into a ponytail, who was wearing jeans and a pale blue, long-sleeved shirt. Her brown eyes showed concern. She was perhaps twenty years old.
The woman smiled. "I'm Carrie Harmond. It's nice to meet you."
Terry smiled back and said, "My name's Terry Avery. Thanks for talking to me."
"No problem. Maybe we can talk some more sometime, or go shopping together or something."
"That'd be nice. Well, I guess I'll get back to Jeff. I hope to see you again."
&&&&&
Hernan grumbled while he scrubbed a cake pan. "Man, I hate this job. It sucks. But at least it'll help me upgrade my baby."
Hernan Andres Calderon looked at the photo above the industrial sink, of the blue Corvette that he had taken this job for. Hernan was a seventeen year old dishwasher, who was of average height, lean build, and Hispanic heritage. He had some stubble on his face, and a little muscle showing through his white t-shirt. His rugged yet boyish good looks failed to catch the attention of his fellow dishwasher, Tara. He tried to flirt with her from time to time, but always failed miserably, as she never seemed to see him as more than a friend.
Tara Burke was a beautiful young woman, the same age as him. She had medium-length red hair that curled in towards her face, bright green eyes, and creamy white skin. Hernan guessed she might be of Irish descent, but she had no accent.
A few minutes later, she came back from her break.
"Busy night, huh?" she joked, resuming her duties.
"Yeah," Hernan replied.
She was quiet for several seconds. Then she abruptly asked, "Hey, you wanna come over to my place tonight?"
Hernan blushed furiously and tried to duck his head down so she wouldn't see. "Yeah, that'd be cool," he answered, trying to sound non-chalant while he celebrated internally.
"Great," Tara said, sounding happy.
&&&&&
Dammit, why didn't you go to Broadway when you had the chance? You're never gonna be famous outside this stupid city if you stay here and think small-time, Vanessa thought to herself. Since hitting her forties, she'd been thinking a lot about her life, both present and future. She often berated herself mentally as a result.
"Why does the sun go on shining?
Why does the sea rush to shore?
Don't they know it's the end of the world,
'Cause you don't love me any more,"
she sang in a clear, strong voice. Some lawyer near the stage had requested "End of the World," by Skeeter Davis. She had a feeling that if she didn't get out soon, her world would end here too. She felt like she was killing herself by staying in Denneville. But she didn't let her thoughts interrupt her flawless singing, as she continued the song:
"I wake up in the morning and I wonder,
Why everything's the same as it was...
I can't understand, no- I can't understand,
How life goes on the way it does..."
&&&&&
Jeffrey waited outside the bathroom door for her. When he heard muffled talking between Terry and another woman, his head began to fill with insecurities and fears. What the hell are they talking about? She better not have said anything about-
"Oh, Jeff! Hi!", Terry said immediately as she opened the bathroom door, wiping the last tears, "Let's go back to our table before the lady asks about dessert-"
"Who is that you were talking to?" He questioned, grabbing her arm.
"Just some stranger I met in the bathroom. Now let go!" She said, trying to escape his grip.
In turn, he pinned her to the wall by her wrists. Through gritted teeth he said,
"Don't fuck with me! You know what happens!"
Terry winced, thinking about what he could do to her, and now the baby. He hadn't laid a finger on her since she'd become pregnant, and she'd assumed he had changed for the better, but tonight's events told her she had assumed wrong. She nodded, and he let her go, just in time for the bathroom door to open a second time, as Carrie stepped out.
They exchanged polite yet awkward greetings, and Carrie sensed some bad vibes coming from between the couple. She could just feel something was wrong, but she shrugged it off and headed back to her table.
&&&&&
Phillip Bower, as he was to be called for the duration of his mission, was extremely content. He was enjoying his meal thoroughly, anticipating the upcoming pandemonium. The songs of Vanessa Abbot were just an opening act to the circus that was no doubt about to commence. He chuckled to himself. He thought the song he requested was quite appropriate. It was going to be the end of the world, at least for these miserable wretches. One by one, they'd fall, and not only to the BOWs. Of course he'd have to take a life or two, if not to protect his identity, then to make sure his skills didn't get rusty. He took a sip from his glass of chardonnay, leaning back. He had no idea who anyone else was in the restaurant, but he didn't care. They'd all die soon anyway, and he'd enjoy it. All he had to do was wait...
&&&&&
Carrie poked at her steamed salmon, not feeling hungry. She didn't have much of an appetite after seeing that body earlier today. It was her first case out in the field, and it wasn't the best thing for a rookie cop to see. For a minute, she'd wished she'd been stuck with paperwork. But, what can you do? She knew that this was the job for her; it would just take some getting used to.
Still, those cannibal murders were very disturbing. Many on the force had never seen anything like it before, not in peaceful little Denneville. And they were increasing in number-
How the hell am I supposed to think with all that bickering over there? Carrie wondered to herself. She could catch a few words, and it sounded like an argument between husband and wife.
"Well, excuse me for wanting a motorcycle," the male grumbled.
"What the hell are you gonna do with a motorcycle!" the woman demanded, almost shouting. "We're practically broke as it is!"
"Oh, but you can go to the spa and get all that shit done twice a month!"
"Don't you dare bring that up! You know that's me time!"
"You time? What about me time and us time!" At this point, the couple was struggling to keep their voices down. Carrie leaned in closer to hear every word. She hated to be eavesdropping, but this was getting hard to ignore.
"What do you mean us time?" the woman asked.
"I mean... you know."
"We're in public, you ass!"
"Not here! I mean..."
"I know what you mean! Don't talk about that shit here!" the woman yelled.
Carrie giggled quietly to herself, catching on to what they were talking about.
&&&&&
Damn, this is too easy, Alyssa thought to herself. She didn't even have to lie - she just had to list off all the things that Kevin actually did wrong. Well, except for the problems with their sex life. She had to make those up, but besides that, pretending to be an estranged couple was easy as hell. However, she knew that the rest wouldn't be so easy. Not once the outbreak--
Alyssa snapped out of her musings when there was a loud thud behind Kevin.
"Er, are you alright?" he asked. Apparently, some woman had fallen out of her chair. Alyssa suppressed a chuckle.
"Um, yes. I dropped my... uhh... knife, and I, uh, fell when I leaned to pick it up," the woman replied quickly. She seemed quite embarrassed.
Kevin didn't see any knife, but he let it slide. He didn't think it was anything to worry about. That was, until he saw the vague impression of a handgun tucked into the back of the woman's pants, under her shirt. That caused him to worry. Perhaps she was the spy?
He wondered what he should do, and realized that he couldn't do anything. He didn't want to cause a panic before the outbreak, and so he couldn't confront the woman or try to take the gun by force. He decided to pretend he didn't see anything at all. If she was dangerous, he could always plug her when she presented a problem, before she could hurt anyone. He didn't look forward to it, but he knew he might have to do it. For the moment, though, he decided to turn back to his meal, and Alyssa's staged nagging.
&&&&&
George looked over at the girl who fell off her seat, then back at the people at his table. He gave a chuckle and said, "Guess she had a few too many!"
Cindy reached over and cupped his cheek in her hand. "She's not the only one, is she?" she said and met his lips to hers, quickly and a bit sloppily.
Yoko and David looked at each other a bit confusedly. Though still trying to keep up the mirage of their aliases, the look that they shared seemed to ask each other, 'Are we supposed to do that!' David didn't know what to do. Yoko had been living with him ever since the first incident in Raccoon City had ended and the rest of their group had gone their separate ways. He couldn't help but give her a place to stay. Her life had crumbled down around her in little more than a week, and she had no one to help her pick up the pieces. He knew he liked her in some shape and form, and yeah, she looked a lot... well... prettier, you could say, compared to back then. He just didn't know exactly what he felt for her. They'd never even held hands before, but now Trent expected them to act like they were engaged. He... just didn't know if he could make it convincing. Suddenly he was startled by Yoko resting her head on his arm. Looking up at him with tired eyes, she grabbed on to his arm softly. He stared down at her, wondering why she was so tired. It wasn't good to be sleepy considering what could happen any minute. In spite of his worries, he sorta smiled down at her.
"Never had wine before, huh?" he whispered.
"Does it do this to everybody?" she whispered back.
"Well, it may take more wine for some people, but yeah, this is normal," David replied. Part of him wanted to reach down and stroke her hair, but another part of him wanted to push her off of him. He compromised by doing neither.
But Yoko seemed to have other ideas. She grasped his arm and put it around her shoulders, nestling her head on his shoulder. David didn't know what to make of this. He felt like this was right, but also a bit uncomfortable, at the same time. He decided that the woman was getting drunk, and promptly took her wine glass from her. She mumbled sleepily in protest.
"I think you've had enough for now," David said, looking amused. "You know how you hate it when I drive."
Yoko nodded absently against his chest, drifting off to sleep.
&&&&&
"Awww, they're so cute," Cindy muttered to George.
"Yes, they seem unable to accept their feelings for each other. Especially David. But, they're getting there," George replied.
"Why does my heart go on beating?
Why do these eyes of mine cry?
Don't they know it's the end of the world?
It ended when you said: good bye," Vanessa finished. George and Cindy clapped enthusiastically with the rest of the diners.
End of Deja Vu Part I
