Lilly Corvo

Birds sing in the distance mingled in with the melodious sound of a nearby steam made from what's left of the dam and all of it's reserves make this place even more unearthly than it already is. Silhouettes of dead corpses once called buildings reach out to the heavens crying onto God over the pain and suffering seen it's once happy streets. Even some radio and cell phone towers stand although they are warped every so slightly, but they still work occasionally. Road blocks still hold back the timid although anyone with a map of the city could get in and out easily.

The areas closest to the blast zone like Wallace Street and French Street lay in such nuclear decay that even the bravest (probably also the dumbest) won't get too close to there let alone at the exact spot. These buildings are just rumble heaps on blacken ground where nothing dares to tread and strange moans resound every once and a while. For the longest time soldiers stood hovered around the whole damn place until the White House proclaimed that they was nothing of interest there.

People lived here, things were born and died here, things were built here, and everything that would happen in a mildly small town in the western part of the U.S.A. happened here. (Except for it's most defining moment which also happened to be it's downfall.)

I should know, I've been to this place so many times that many branded me a member of the macabre crowd who comes to do whatever the hell they feel like. Some come to remember, some come to disgrace and mock, some use it as a way to give the government the bird and then there's me and all those like me. I come to record and research I want to know what happened: not just the news told us. In this place I am looking for what really happened! Something foreshadowed this event, something pulled the strings and with my last dying breath I will reveal it.

Umbrella knew that the experiment had a very high chance of getting out of control but like all businesses it had to take some risks to get somewhere. Unfortunately for Raccoon City that meant that it's welfare meant noting to that damnable company.

What were they trying to create by making those creepy crawly bitches?! From the few scrapes of data I found it seems that Umbrella was attempting to make the perfect solider: which explains Albert Wesker's mission and the ending result. Then there were holes like who exactly would fund such a program? Who were the first victims? Did some of the virus components exist in nature or was it a completely new disease? So many questions and yet I could only find half the damn answers then some of the answers just gave birth to even harder questions.

Taking pictures was my major job then handing them over to my clients: scientists to protestors to artists. However, I used any excuse to be near that haunted place. I never lived in R.C. but I did get to visit when I was younger. On a field trip I actually meet the S.T.A.R.'s it was for my U.S. history and Science classes when I was like maybe ten or twelve. They weren't the same S.T.A.R.'s as the ones who faced the tragedy although I think one of them was if my research was even mildly accurate.

All of these ponderings made me think of my favorite fiery friend Claire Redfield… and of course, of her ex-lover Mr. Scott Kennedy. She had first contacted me back when I worked mostly with my husband as an assistant to his live-in psychology shit. That was one of the few things I can say that he did right! Stupid mother-fuc-

"HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!!!"

I jolted at the ridiculously loud laughter and spun around with my shotgun in hand. One thing you always bring when visiting this hellhole is a shotgun with an assload of ammo and of course a cell phone. Sadly, my phone has the creepiest ring tone ever so it scares the hell out of me constantly.

"Fuck, I need to change that," I muttered to myself as I pushed myself one-handily over the road block cursing myself for leaving the goddamn thing in my pimped-out Jeep.

"HA-HA-H!"

Sitting in the front cup holder inside of a week old cup of Joe I found it shaking and crackling madly. I thought I left it in the seat…

"Hello, this is Lil-"

"Lilly! How could I forget this voice?!"

Stunned for a second my mind raced trying to bring back the voice of this person that scratched at the door of my brain.

"Well, hell, speaking of the damned Devil! I never thought I'd hear your voice ever again!"

A sweet musical sound that spread a smile on my face for the first time in about three weeks she quickly changed her tone "Well, I was hoping that the everything would be ok with him now…"

"Him who?"

"Leo-"

Suddenly, flashes of the recent news that the Leon Scott Kennedy had fallen during a practice session gone wrong I gasped.

"Is he ok!?"

"Yeah, the news made it a lot worse than it really was."

"So what's wrong," I questioned frowning trying to see where this was going even though I knew where it was heading.

"We need someone to live with him, someone to comfort him. The trauma of losing his job made him get even worse. He won't eat except very tiny amount of food, becomes irrational mad over little shit, and well damnnit he's just not the same!"

Taking a deep breath I got ready to shot down her hopes in a beat of a heart. "Julian and me- I mean Julian and I, aren't working together anymore. Hell, we aren't even together anymore. I'm sorry but I can give you Julian's number-"

"What?! You guys have only married for like a couple years right?!"

"We were married for five years but things just got really difficult…"

"Oh, I'm really sorry to hear that," Claire spoke into my ear giving me a tiny warm feeling of sisterly compassion towards her. The girl had the ability to reach out to other's in a way only an angel could.

"But do you want his number-"

"You'll probably say no but would you both come? I think Leon would need a woman's touch as well."

My mouth turned into an 'o' at her request sputtering slightly at the thought of being in the same room as my future ex just pissed me off thinking about so I silently prayed to all the saints in their celestial seats that she woul-

"Besides, don't you owe me one? Both of you…"

Shit! I slammed my head against the dirty car window leaving a forehead smudge on it.

"I do believe so! It was for those good details for our article encouraging the start of TerraSave?"

Even though miles and a phone separated us I could see a Cheshire grin on her face as she chirped "Yup!"

"In that case I'll check with the dirty mofo and see what he's up to. If I can we'll be the-"

From what my experience in this city had taught me I heard at least a group of five undeads coming at me from the moans.

"Fuck! Ok, I'll check with him got to go! Bye!"

In almost a whole minute I had snapped the phone shut, shoved the keys into the ignition and climbed into the rust bucket. They thought they could get to interpret my conversation and get a good meal all in one day?! They are fucking mistaken.