Resident Evil: Unloved [ENG]

Chapter 1

About half an hour earlier

The noise of the wall getting hit kept echoing and echoing from one of the flat complexes facing the corner on a Davies Street alley, so loud it could even be heard by some passers-by with or without an umbrella.
Inside a slightly disorganized apartment, portrayed by a rock tune as background music, the bedroom wall slightly bent under the knuckles of its owner: a young man with long, unkempt hair held in a bowl cut, wide bangs on his eyes and a visible mole next to his then full of rage green eyes; he wore a white, crumpled tanktop and some tight jeans, a fancy silver cross hanging from his neck.
He was barefoot, since the first thing he did once he was home was throwing his shoes against the entranceway wall, angry as he was.
He couldn't even eat despite being supper time:
All he did was slipping in the shower and hoping for annoyance to go its way...
However, instead of going away, it got worse and worse.
For the first time in his life, he was feeling mocked.
"Freaking bastard! Think you're gonna get away with this again?! No way!" He mumbled as he punched the wall over and over.
"Are you done?! People are trying to eat here, Vince! Keep it up and I'll call the cops!" A voice blasted on the other side of the wall.
The young man named Vince grinded his teeth:
On the other side of the wall lived the one he would have called just a pompous white collar worker, just because he was employed by Umbrella Corp....
And unfortunately for the rebellious youth in the flat, they were pretty much the city's law enforcers due to their economic influence.
"Fuck you, Norris! You're breaking my balls!" Vince refuted; "For starters, I pay my rent regularly!"
"Yeah, and you're going to pay quite the fine if you don't quit it now!"
After that, Vince Archer tried to contain his desire to break through the wall and beat his neighbour up, but the notion of a cop paying him a visit was enough to keep his instincts at bay.
Vince hadn't lived in Raccoon City for long.
When he was just seventeen, he decided to leave the monotonous life he had to put up with his 'dear' parents in Anchorage, Alaska, behind.
Not like mommy and daddy ever missed the one they claimed to be a degenerate, irresponsible, rebellious and stubborn offspring, but Vince had no reason whatsoever to inherit his father's job in some fishing-related industry.
He loved to travel, to feel free, to taste a warmer climate than Alaska's, so it didn't take long for him to adjust to life in Raccoon City.
It was almost perfect for someone like him, who hated the big American cities' traffic and the people living there.
Given his skills as a mechanic, he was quickly hired at the workshop at the end of Fox Street, supervised by his employer, Miles Turner himself.
Of course, his being rebellious made his life there a double-edged blade: he soon became infamous as a troublemaker to police and the locals, given his misunderstood love for dashing across the streets while riding his beloved Harley Davidson, that and his hanging around Robert Kendo's weapon store in Flower Street and nighttimes visits at Jack's Bar didn't make befriending the rest of the county easy.

Prolly, aside from some exceptions, many people would love me to get out of the town ASAP.

As if it wasn't enough, after about one month since he was hired, that bastard Turner started taking advantage of the situation to cut his pay whenever he made the simplest mistake, even when off duty.
He called it disciplining him to show him how a workplace goes.
But Vince saw it just fine after he stalked him one night.
The asshole hanged out with whores at the drop of a hat, taking advantage of the money share he was supposed to get.
HE, not his pervert employer!

What kind of discipline is such a guy gonna teach me?! He's just a smartass! He's fucking with me, that's it!

Before he went home that night, Turner dared hit a nerve around Vince:
When the young man went in his office to ask the raise he deserved since the last month, Miles didn't simply kick him out, but threatened him to lower his monthly pay even more if he dared assuming what he claimed to be 'unfounded accusations' ever again.
Appalled and enraged, Vince stood staring at the wall he punched over and over, taking deep breaths to calm himself down...
But his eyes went elsewhere:
He approached a cabinet that was locked, and slipped a key in to unlock it.
He opened it wide and took a deep sigh;
Within, there were some nice weapons his good pal Robert Kendo got him for a nice price, given his 'innate skills' with target practice.

Bless you for not turning your back to me, Robert.

He grabbed one of the guns within, a Glock .17, looked at it one moment and, as a final approach, slipped an eighteen 9mm bullets magazine right in the gun's stock.
When he heard the last clicking sound, he put a shell in the barrel and turned the weapon's safety on.
The gun's material perception was so pleasant to make him smile:
Vince loved weapons, despite not being a psycho willing to slaughter once the chance presents, and his passion for guns drew the attentions from one of Robert Kendo's other friends:
A man in his late thirties with reddish hair and a shaggy beard.
He met that guy at the target practice a couple times, between July and August, and often ended up competing against him to see whoever had the top accuracy.
Vince could never beat him, that's why he respected such a man, but he hadn't shown his face since several weeks.
When the young man asked Robert why, he simply shrugged.
"That's Barry for you. On the top of that, he's a family man. Can't always focus on his hobby." He said.

Barry Burton... wonder if we'll meet again. We still have a last win to settle, be sure not to forget it.

Mumbling something under his breath, Vince wore a gun holster around his chest and put the Glock in, taking the other extra magazines, which he promptly hid in his pocket.
He then walked to the flat entranceway, turned the radio and the lighting off...
And wore a pair of black, fancy shoes and a biker-style black leather jacket and fingerless gloves, clothing he hardly ever walked around without.
He quickly walked out of the flat and, walking down the complex stairs, quickly stepped into the underground parking lot.
In a corner, a beautiful Harley Davidson motorbike was parked, eagerly waiting for her owner.
He leapt on it and started it up with a loud engine rumbling.


Meanwhile

The city's night lights weren't something she was used to see, and the rain pouring down that morning made the air outside the car windows even creepier than usual.
Were it the only problem she had, it would have gone smoothly, but the girl sitting next to the driver knew it wasn't the case.
While the veihcle, parked by a flat complex right in the middle of Ennerdale Street, on the city's eastern side, was enveloped by the down pour, the young woman fixed her long, copper-colored hair in a loose ponytail, all while fixing the sleeve for her white dress shirt, which was part of the Raccoon High School uniform.

Still can't believe it... I don't even want to believe it's happening, but I couldn't take it anymore.

Once she was done fixing her hair, the girl placed a hand on her forehead, sighing heavily and telling herself it would have gone well:
SHE couldn't find her there so soon, and she would have had enough free time for herself.
"But how much time...?" she wondered; "How long can I stay away from that home...? That... life?"
Her eyes went to her tights, slightly revealed by the blackish short skirt, and shook her head over and over, almost dropping the slim pair of glasses she was wearing.

Stop it! Don't think about it! I just want to rest and don't think about anything.

At least that's what she planned, until her classmate she asked to take her in didn't decide to invite her over to drink with those he claimed to be his 'friends'.
And friends was quite a nice word to them.
If not for him, however, she would have wandered around the street with old drunkards or some pervert who's into high school kids...
Or she could be unlucky enough to face one of the so-feared 'serial aggressors' who had been wandering around the Arklay Mountain Range for a few months.
The thought of becoming one of those corpses the Police found in parks or mountain paths made the girl gulp as she fixed her glasses with two fingers...
That's when the driver's door opened, and a handsome boy with short brown hair came in, all dressed up for a party.
"Yo, Meg! Sorry for being late, couldn't find the right jacket." The newcomer greeted her and waved his hand, using the other to start the car up.
The headlights lightened the road ahead, and before they could even talk, the young man was speeding up to the left, leaving the parking lot.
The gesture surprised the girl, Meg, who was still fastening her seat belts.
"Tyler! Watch out, yeesh!" She harped; "Do we want to get to your friends in pieces or something?!"
The boy, Tyler Griffin, replied with an annoying grunt.
"What? Did that time arrive earlier this month?"
"Does it sound like a smart line? Just focus on driving!"
"My, my, miss Megan... you have zero sense of humor."
Megan puffed and looked out at the Ennerdale Street night scenery, with all of its streetlights...
Something she could have never experience in her age.
"Still thinking about our douchy teach?" Tyler suddenly asked, his driving speed moderate to make that 'grumpy passenger' less paranoid.
"No..."
"Man she ticks me off... I mean, I'm cool with you giving me straight Fs, but stop remarking everything wrong about me!"
"That's how she is..." Meg mumbled, her cheek rested on her hand.
"Yep... but let's not talk about it, let's have fun! We're drinking tonight!" Tyler replied energetically as he turned to Fisson Street...
Until he was forced to make an abrupt braking after noticing a flash a few inches from the car's front
A motorbike to downtown suddenly popped in front of him, and didn't seem like planning to brake.
"Wh... you dunce! Sunnova-!"
"Tyler, language." Meg scolte him as she fixed her glasses due to the abrupt braking.
"Don't 'language' me! He was about to scratch my baby!"
Meg made a slight pout.
"Just be grateful we're fine and drive, rather than worry about the car! What if we accidentally hit them and caused them to fall?!"
"Tough luck. I could get off and finish them off not to pay any extra medical bill!"
After that, Tyler resumed driving, still cussing against whoever passed on the bike, and he finally entered Jack Street, looking around to find a place where to park around there.
"The hell! Now let's go at Jack's so I can have a drink with the others!"
"Right... What if you get drunk? What about me? Do I have to drag you to the hospital to have your stomach pumped?" Meg asked, her arms crossed; "I just wanted to have a quiet night out."
"Look, Meg... don't be a pain in the ass, will you?" Tyler replied, a finger pointed at her; "And once we're in, leave Dick and the others alone. Keep your mouth shut and don't remark about them."
"If you do force me to drink anything, I'm leaving!" she replied; "I don't want nasty surprises tomorrow, like waking up naked in an unknown bed."
"Tell me the truth... you don't trust them do you?"
"Not one bit. I hope they can keep their hands to themselves."
Tyler made a funny angry noise and jumped on the seat.
"You sure are obsessed with raping! We are not all horny pigs."
"I know you're not, but I don't know THEM." Meg replied as she pointed to a free space where to park their car.
When the middle lights turned off with the engine, the girl unfastened the seat belt with a dull clicking sound, her left hand going to the car's untidy backside, looking for an umbrella.
It was raining like crazy, and she didn't want her dress shirt to get wet alongside with the rest of her uniform:
She would have become a peeper magnet, not to mention risking to get an accident of sorts.
"Meg..."
Tyler called her for a second, this time in a meeker way, and she turned around to face him.
"What...?"
"Look... I'm doing this so you won't think about the mess your life was so far. I'm trying to make you have fun. Just cooperate a bit, I'm not asking much... and if you're unwell, I'll take you back to the flat, okay?"
The girl, Megan Nash, lowered her gaze for a second, her lips shut...
Just to slowly nod to him.
"Sorry, Tyler..."
"Don't be! C'mon, let's go and don't think!"
With those words, the young man opened the car door, Meg doing the same, ready to enter in Raccoon City's infamous night world.