Resident Evil: Into the Dark by slaagslingaa

A very good qualiry resident evil fic/live quest enjoy!!!!!

Link: https://fiction.live/stories/Resident-Evil-Into-the-Dark/E6iW7mPrdZziuMvBW/home

( That fateful night in the Arklay Mountains sees the presence of a new player in the game of horrors; you. Have fun!)

Synopsis

A random stranger in the wrong place at the wrong time could mean the difference between things being bad or becoming worse. Though some evils can't be smothered in its crib, the toll they take could be lessened somehow.

All it takes is enough courage to step forward... Into the Dark.

=X=X=X=X=X=

Hello again literary connoisseurs and fellow degenerates of Akun! I come again today bringing a new Quest!

A commission from a kind person who wishes to stay anonymous; it features a what-if scenario in the eponymous Resident Evil series where someone so happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

That person will be whom the players control, and they'll be charged with facing the bio-nightmares produced by Umbrella Corp's twisted geniuses.

This Quest will span from Resident Evil 0 through Raccoon City's destruction in Resident Evil 3, including the two month timeskip between 1 and 2/3. Don't worry, there'll be things to do in that timeskip; you won't just be sitting on your asses… unless you want to be caught unprepared when shit hits the fan.

Before we get to the zombie shooting and monster killing though, we'll need a character. Off to chargen!

=X=X=X=X=X=

Before the rise of bio-terrorism.

Before the fall of Umbrella.

Before the destruction of Raccoon City, and before the grisly events in the Spencer Mansion.

There was you.

An ordinary man in most respects, strong in body and mind but not in any excess of ordinary men.

You were born the only child of two loving parents, had a good childhood, grew up in a good adolescence, and eventually completed your mandatory education like any other young man in the United States of America.

You were… above average, if you had to be honest. You were no model, but neither were you too shabby either. You bagged a few girls in your time, and plenty were mutually interested in you too.

And you had a name to go with your decent-ish looks. Because who doesn't have a name to refer themselves with, after all.

What was your name?

Johnathan Ranger. Son of Abigail and Roger Ranger, an elementary school teacher and construction site foreman respectively.

They had they flaws and shortcomings, but you got over them as you grew up. You learned that they were not infallible at a young age, and you quickly learned to lower your expectations in some matters.

But that didn't change the fact that you loved them, and you wanted to do right by them despite all their imperfections.

So you studied even as you lived out your youth, making friends and mistakes and memories that you'd carry with you for the rest of your life; to look back upon in equal parts reminiscence and cringe.

And as you grew up and learned, you eventually settled into a starting career of sorts. A high-paying job that introduced you to the world of American employment, taxes, and the rigors of 'adulthood' that your parents didn't mention. Stuff like overtime work, time management, finance budgeting, and the subtle art of thinking before you speak.

That last part was useful in your beginner career, as it let you socialize and make connections and foster friendships.

You'd leave this career for one reason or another, but it let you get your feet under you, so to speak. With that in mind…

What was your background?

You were a doctor. Nothing as fancy as a heart surgeon or a virologist; you didn't have the steady hands to balance lives on a scalpel's edge.

Yours was the medicine, the check ups, the bandages and simple treatments. You were the kind of doctor average joes and worried parents and lazy students went to see, who greeted them with the sort of smile and patience that saints had.

And for a time, it was enough. It fulfilled you, doing good in a world where everything seemed so bleak and dark. It made you feel good, and gave you hope that maybe, just maybe, humanity wasn't beyond saving.

And then the USSR collapsed.

The rest of the world was happy, of course; the Red Bear had finally fallen silent and the threat of nuclear armageddon had been put to rest at last. You were among them as well, jubilant that an existential threat was gone.

But your heart went out to those in the lands that used to be Soviet territory. The common men and women who's only crime was being born in a country that was falling apart. Hearing the chaos that was happening, the civil wars…

You had to do something, and praying wouldn't help much at all.

So you packed up your things and registered as a field volunteer for Doctors Without Borders, boarding a plane to Chechnya with your fellow altruists to lend what help you can.

You learned very quickly that altruism wouldn't stop the nightmares.

The warzone there was horrible. People fought and died in a myriad of different ways; shot, stabbed, blown up, burned, beaten… And the violence didn't stop between the soldiers either.

Men. Women. Children. It didn't matter which side they were on, people died and died and died and you were there to see it all.

Oh, you helped where you could and lent aid when you can.

You stepped into the butcher's shop that were the Red Cross triage tents and field hospitals, doing what you could to stem the tide of dead and dying.

You went out into the cities with the field relief teams, dodging gunfire to deliver humanitarian aid to hospitals and evacuate stranded civilians.

You stepped forward first when your superiors asked for volunteers to help facilitate civilian movement from one safe zone to the next.

You experienced the hell of war up close; smelled the stink of burning meat, saw the human shields employed by both sides, and heard the despair when news of Russian 'intervention' was coming.

You were there during the Storming of Grozny. You still have nightmares of that horrible, horrible place.

Yet you still tried. You kept going. You pushed through the pain and exhaustion and despair; reasoning that all good things had to be replied in kind by some higher power. That good people doing good things wouldn't be in vain, and that there must have been some happy ending to all this misery.

In that, you found a mutual friend.

It was in the aftermath of yet another mortar volley. People were streaming in, in various states of injury.

Some were missing limbs, some had shrapnel, and some were already dead by the time they arrived on the backs of their friends and loved ones. You took your tools and did what you could, assuring the people in broken Russian as your sewed their injuries shut and stemming bleeding wounds.

In the chaos, you noticed a Russian military patrol rushing out from an alley and one of the more trigger happy troops damn near spraying the tent with lead. And he would've too, if his superior officer didn't step in and knock the rifle down.

They barked at him and, seeing how nobody was mad and that this was a humanitarian aid tent, ushered in their men. Some were wounded.

Nobody was able to go and greet them, so you washed your hands clean and walked over just as the officer took off their-- her, helmet.

"Help?" she asked, in broken English.

She was fully kitted up in military gear, no doubt tired from her patrol route with her squad. Her blonde hair was done up in a ponytail and dirt was smudged across her right cheek. She has bags under her eyes, and had the gaze of a woman who had seen too much yet still persevered because falling apart meant dealing with more mistakes.

You wondered for a moment how you'd look to her, tired and bloodied yourself.

"Sure." you nodded, answering in your own passable Russian. "Come inside. Weapons out."

"Thank you. I can tend to my own men if you can't spare the people." she nodded back in Russian, then took off her combat vest as she turned to her men. "Wounded inside! Weapons out!"

"Yes ma'am!" came the response. You blink at her.

"You're a medic?" you ask.

"No. But I have experience." she nods. One of the older soldiers chuckled as she walked off.

"Nurse of Death." they whispered, and you couldn't help but wonder why.

You were transferred off the front lines not long after, and coincidentally so was the woman and her squad.

Her squad often patrolled a route that went past the Red Cross tent you were stationed in. They'd sit down around a burning oil drum to rest, and she'd wander away to sit on her own in the quiet hours of the early dawn light. You'd be awake then, and you'd inevitably find yourself talking with her.

Nothing sensitive, certainly. Just some… light conversation. Asking how the day was, what things were like before Chechnya, and what she was looking forward to once she was rotated back home.

She introduced herself as Aleksandrevna Orlova, and you repaid that courtesy in kind with your own name.

"I am a peasant farmer's daughter and an older sister, with experience using bandages and field dressing. I lived in Russia, and spent my youth in Afghanistan as a field nurse." she explained. "I was stationed in the rear, but the rebels were crafty."

"So you picked up a gun and fought." you added. She nodded. "You had no choice; it was that or death… or whatever horrible fate awaited you in the Taliban's holding camps."

"Yes. The men I worked with eventually called me the Nurse of Death because I was apparently a good shot with a rifle." she smiled, sadly. "I suppose my father's hunting lessons were worthwhile in the end."

"I can see that." you smiled. "You miss your family?"

"I do. Doubtlessly any daughter would miss their family, especially one out in the battlefield like me." she sighed. "But this… certainly is not something that a woman should be doing."

"True. But I consider you being able to do things that are out of the ordinary to be charm points, rather than detractions." you laugh.

"You Americans are odd." she giggles. "But I suppose you must be, to have willingly step foot in this hellhole."

"Yeah…" you nod, and the two of you fall silent as you watch the night sky fade into blue. "I don't… I don't quite regret it, though."

"Quite optimistic of you." she nods.

You'd get to know Alexa more through the rest of your time in Chechnya. Together, you both found a steady anchor to vent and relax with as the horrors grew more and more common.

Until one day you had enough and requested permission to return home.

"You're leaving, then?"

"…yeah." you sigh. "The blood, the death… it's too much for me Alexa. I was just a doctor who signed up to do good and help people, and all I got was a front row seat to hell. I…" you tear up. "I can't take it anymore."

Your friend was quiet for a long moment, digesting your words. Then a slight sound, faint and fleeting, and she shifted forward.

"I-I will miss you." she sniffled. "This place… it is terrible. Very terrible. But I can't just walk away, not yet. I have a duty to my country a-and--"

You shift to the side and slowly pull her into a one-armed hug. She's stiff at first, but soon relaxes into your warmth.

"I know." you tell her. "It's hard, yes. But we both have responsibilities to deal with, you moreso. And I'm sorry I can't stay here through the end." you squeeze her shoulder. "But you're a tough woman, Alexa. You've seen hell twice over; here and in Afghanistan. You can take this, and you'll walk away stronger and better."

"…I hope so." she sniffles, and pulls away from your arm. "I'm… I'm sorry for being so inappropriate."

"Friends can be inappropriate with each other, no worries." you smile at her. "And… thank you. For keeping with me while I was stationed here. You helped more than you think."

"I could say the same to you, John." she smiled at you. "Thank you as well. I hope we can meet again some place less…" she snorts. "Messy."

"You and me both, Alexa." you laugh, and offer a fist. "To better times."

"Yes." she fist bumps you. "To better times."

Gain Skills

- The Red Cross (doubles HP recovered when healing or healed by allies)

- Green Thumb (can carry 3 herbs of either type in one item slot)

New Person of Note

- Aleksandrevna 'Alexa' Orlova

Your return home was not especially celebrated. You got a certificate and a grand speech from the heads of DWB thanking you for your efforts in the service of humanity, and praising your kind-heartedness is lending aid where people needed it.

You didn't pay much attention to it, too… tired as you were.

After that, you… well, you didn't quite suffer. You don't regret what you did and how it was all without any material recompense. You helped people, you saved lives, and that was a reward in and of itself.

or so you say

But you had nightmares. You had problems, though they weren't too bad.

You found work again and you settled in for the long grind once again. But it was different now. Harder.

You found work again and you settled in for the long grind once again. But it was different now. Harder.

You couldn't quite smile as wide as you used to, and the sight of blood no longer made you grit your teeth. Patients were a little put off by how you carried yourself, and all too soon you were moved from check-ups to backroom work; arranging supplies and moving equipment.

Your workplace colleagues agreed that you weren't all there after your overseas work, and all of them were also unnerved by the vacant stare you wore and your eerie lack of reaction to injuries. It was annoying, but they couldn't really fire you for your behaviour alone.

they could've at least say it to your face

Even your neighbors joined in on the thought too; unnerved and pitying you for your experiences in Chechnya. You ignored them; they didn't understand and you weren't in the mood to accept their pity.

But eventually, the whispers and looks became too much. You resigned from your workplace, packed up your things, and moved to the mid-west; to Raccoon City.

It was modestly sized and developing, with large population and heavy corporate presence. You learned from your past experience though, and elected not to move into the city; instead buying a nice pre-owned cabin in the woods just out of town.

It was farther away and you had a higher gas budget than before, but you managed. And after a few tries, you managed to find new work.

What was your current job?

With what money had still had, you enrolled into police school and graduated with flying colors in your class. A mishap in paperwork somehow put you in the accelerated class, which is another mark in your favor.

Your skills and apparent talent for law enforcement got the police chief to assign you to one of the more… 'capable' members of the force as a partner. Whom you learned was actually a pretty swell guy and great officer in his own capacity...

Provided he wasn't half-drunk most of the time.

"Kevin-- for god's sake, again?" you protest as your partner, Kevin Ryman, snoozed at his desk. "Why hasn't the Chief fired you yet?"

There wasn't a pic of Kevin asleep at his desk, deal with it

He grumbled a reply and you groaned in annoyance as you tugged his paperwork out from under his arms and started filling them out yourself.

"Hah! Kev' be sleepin' on ya' again, John?"

"Go fuck yourself Katelyn."

"Aww, c'mon! Can't a girl say 'ello to 'er favorite boy in the station?"

"You're fishing for a drink, I know you." you huff. "Go away. Where's Rita, isn't she supposed to be your minder?"

"Tha' girl's new and it's not tha' 'ard to give her slip." the busty whisky drinker that was Katelyn Burke pulls up a chair and plops down into it. "So, you two free tonight?"

"I knew it." you grumble-sigh. "Yes, we're free tonight. We'll go to Jack's for a drink, like always."

"I knew I could count on ya'!" Katelyn giggles, pulling you into a hug and very deliberately pushing her tits on your arm. "I'm gettin' off at 5, meet'cha at the parking lot like always!"

"Yeah, yeah whatever." you huff, gently pulling away as you hear approaching footsteps. "Hey Rita."

"Hi John." the younger officer greets from behind Katelyn, voice a little out of breath. "Knew I'd find her with you."

"Aww, ya' kno' me tha' well deary?" Katelyn giggles, getting up. "Well, nothin' to it; lets get goin' to the juvie class and see what I can do to curb 'em early."

"Sure thing. By the way, where's your vest…?"

You listen to them walk away, already mentally preparing for the drunken ditties she and Kevin would be singing after work when another set of footsteps stop at your desk.

"Hello John." Rebecca smiles. "Those guys at it again?"

"Eh, it wasn't too bad this time." you allow. "What's up?"

"I was hoping if you had any ideas that I can use for field work. I've been assigned as Bravo Team's medic, and I'm still new so I'm… well, nervous is one way to describe the butterflies." she laughs. You smile at her.

"Well, why don't we talk about it over lunch?" you suggest. "I'm just about done with these reports here and my partner's too out of it to stop me."

"Mmm, sure." she giggles. "Sorry Kevin."

"He'll be more pissed that I talked to a STARS member and not fish your unit's recruitment details than leaving him here." you snort. "C'mon."

Gain Skill

- Bullet Frugal (total AMMO use is halved after each ending a combat round)

New People of Note

- Kevin Ryman

- Katelyn Burke

- Rita Phillips

- Rebecca Chambers

Work is mostly quiet for you and Kevin; made up of you and him (but mainly you) driving around looking for trouble to stop or interfere in.

Given how the the city's been spooked by the recent Cannibal Killer news, RCPD's been pushing for more police presence in the city, if only to calm the resident and make sure nobody does anything stupid. More than once have you caught kids trying to scare people with rubber knives and hockey masks, and dropped them at the station for Katelyn to handle. Really, why did they even think that was a good idea?

Your patrol ends two hours later and you haul Kevin to clock out and change.

By some quirk of drunkard physiology, your partner sobers up just as you reach the doors and step out to find Katelyn and Rita waiting for you.

"There ya' are! Kept us gal waitin' ya did!" she laughs.

"Aww, c'mon Kate; we're allowed to be fashionably late aren't we?" Kevin grins. "Back me up here John."

"I will kick both of your asses, I swear to god." you grunt. "C'mon, lets go. Rita, you've got Kate."

"As always." the younger officer giggles.

"Why'd ya' say tha' like I'm a threat? I don't need no 'sitter!" she pouts.

"I'll trust you to look after yourself when you learn not to be such a wild-child." you snort. "Move your ass, Kev. I'm driving."

"Shotgun!" Katelyn shouts.

"Shotgun!" Kevin cries.

They blink at each other and start arguing. You and Rita don't wait for them to finish and just push them into the backseat, leaving Rita to claim shotgun.

With a disgruntled sigh and two adult-sized toddlers arguing in the backseat, you drive the pair to J's; your usual spot for drinks and after-work (or even mid-work we Kevin) relaxation.

It's a nice, comfy place with an array of usual patrons. The manager's a decent man, and the bartenders are very welcoming of you and your group.

Well, one of them at least.

"Ciiiiiiiiiiindyyyyyy!" Katelyn sings. "We're back!"

"Get us our usual, babe!" Kevin laughs.

The blonde sighs and shares a commiserating look with you.

"The usual?" she asks, referring to your standard order of Irish Coffee.

"You know it." you smiles. "Thanks Cindy."

New Person of Note

- Cindy Lennox

From there, the four of you settle into your usual table and… relax. In your own ways, of course.

Rita's way had her giggling at Katelyn and Kevin as they start talking about empty things and bragging about something or other.

That bragging almost always leads to them getting into some kind of contest. It didn't matter what it was; dart throwing, drinking, singing, diss-talking, hell even weight lifting with Cindy and Rita acting as the weights.

That last one got Kate and Kevin slapped of course. You don't make fun of a woman's weight without catching hands.

As for you, well… someone had to plat the responsible adult to the two adult-sized kids. You didn't mind it too much, and watching them make fools of themselves if plenty fun and relaxing in itself. You just stepped in if things look like they're about to get too rowdy.

"Yeesh, another Irish Coffee John?" your partner heckles. "Don't you order anything else, man?"

"It's strong enough to get me through whatever bullshit you and Kate pull, and that's worth every cent." you snort back.

"Fair. Too bad you don't have any Irish cream to add." he turns and leers at Katelyn. "Care to volunteer, Kate?"

"Eat a dick, why don't'cha?" the wild-child snorts, flipping your partner off. Then she meets your gaze and grins mischievously. "Don't have a wee tot a' me own, but if ya' ask nicely you can giv' it the ol'd tug and try?"

You don't fall for the bait, and instead keep your eyes firmly on her face even as Rita groans through her blush and Kevin spits out his drink, drawing an angry sound from Cindy.

"A little too vulgar for you, Kate. had a little too much already?" you ask. The busty blond laughs.

"Kate, you can't say that!" Rita protests, shooting Cindy an apologetic look as she walks past with a mop and bucket. "People might get the wrong idea!"

"Psshh, poppycock." Kate laughs, gesturing at you. "Tha' right there Rits is hope for gals like you an' me; a catch if there if ever was one. When one looks here," she points at her eyes. "An' not here." she points as her chest. "All the bloody time."

"I'm flattered." you flatly reply.

"Not that I don't appreciate that bit of worldly wisdom," Cindy says. "But could you please not get Kevin to spit out his drink?"

"Yeah Kate, what the hell?" Kevin asks. "Never expected to hear that outta you!"

"Bah, pussies." she scoffs.

You just shake your head and give Cindy a $20 dollar tip. She accepts with a sigh and finished up her mopping.

Not too long after, the TV switches to the news.

"In latest news, another family was attacked today in the Arklay Forest area by individuals thought to be involved in the recent spree of grisly Cannibal Killings." the news anchor announces. "The family of five was attacked on a hike along the Arklay Forest trail, but miraculously suffered no injuries. RCPD is currently working with Arklay Forest Ranger to track down this attacker.."

"That's the third incident this month." Cindy says. "They're becoming more frequent."

"Yeah. The Arklay Forest isn't too far from town. Before you know it there'll be homicides in Raccoon proper." Jack, the bar owner, adds. "You sure your pals in RCPD are doing their jobs, Kevin?"

"The heck's that supposed to mean?" your partner turns.

"Yeah, we're doin' our best 'ere!" Katelyn adds. "We only have so many people Jackie; can't be everywhere at once!"

"O-Okay, okay! I was just asking…" the bartender raises his hands.

"Can it, both of you." you grunt. "Sit. No use riling things when you're not involved."

"But--!" Kevin starts.

"Johnny--!" Kate says.

"No. Sit, and drink your booze. Relax." you cut-in. "We're off the clock anyway. Can't do anything regardless."

They settle down.

"Hey, don't you live in the forest too John?" Cindy asks. "Aren't you worried about yourself becoming another victim?"

"Bah, he'll be fine! Those attacks are happening on the far side of the city anyway; nowhere near his place." Katelyn snorts. "It's not like those fuckers could hurt him anyway."

"Yeah, I should know; taught everything I knew about shooting." your partner brags. "You wouldn't believe how bad of a shot he was when he came to RCPD. Couldn't even hit a target ten feet away!"

You don't bother correcting him; he and Kate need something else to talk about after you shut them down earlier and you don't particularly care about any jibs about your accuracy. Besides, he's not entirely wrong either. Police academy taught you how to be a good police officer and only covered the basics on shooting a gun. Your partner taught you the rest.

Admittedly, there wasn't much for him to teach; just coach you through shortcuts and quick reloads.

"Hah! I remember that'. Poor Johnny looked so lost tha' day at the range." Katelyn laughs. "You're passable with a gun now though! Could even hit somebody if they were close enough!"

"Ooh, maybe he could even bag the Cannibal Killer?" Kevin brings up, and both he and Katelyn laugh. "That might even get shortlisted for STARS!"

He pauses.

"Hey, you'd put in a good word for your partner if that happens, right?" Kevin asks. You ignore him. "Right buddy? Right?"

"You can practically smell the desperation." Cindy giggles.

"Eh, you get used to it." you shrug. "I'm not all that worried about any Cannibal Killers though. Like Kate said, my place is on the other side of the city where the incidents are happening. I'll be fine."

"I hope so. Wouldn't want to see you hurt, John." she slants a look at the two drunkards. "Unlike these two, I actually like having you around."

"'Ey, what about Rita? She's sweetheart, ain't she?" Kate reaches across the table and pulls her partner into a one-armed hug. "You like 'er too don't'cha Cindy? Look how cute she is!"

"J-John, help!" the younger officer pleads and Kevin laughs.

"Thank god I'm taking a week off soon. God knows I need some time away from you shits." you sigh, moving to separate Kate and Rita. "C'mon Kate let her go; the table's digging into the hip there…"

The merry-making and drinking carries on for the next two hours, until both Kevin and Katelyn are too drunk to keep going. You and Rita, a little buzzed but still functional, drag your partners out of J's and stuff them into your car.

You'd drop off Katelyn at her place and help Rita haul the drunk to her apartment. Then you'd do the same for Kevin before dropping Rita at her place. Tomorrow you had an evening shift, so you could afford to sleep in late tonight.

You close the door and stand back, exhaling into the cool Raccoon night as you walked to the driver's seat.

"You put in vacation time, John?" Rita asks as you and her take your seats.

"Yeah. I'd like some time to myself for a little bit. Maybe relax and clean up my place." you shrug. "I got a new hunting rifle the other day, so I thought about taking it out for a test run."

"With the Cannibal Killer thing happening?" Rita blinks.

"I'm reasonably sure I can look after myself." you smoothly reply. "I've got firearms training and my own past experience. I'll be fine."

"I hope so. Wouldn't want you to be hurt is all." Rita says.

"…you know, Kate was right about you being a sweetheart." you grin. Rita blushes and smacks your arm. "C'mon, you can take some praise."

"I-It's still embarrassing!" she protests. "And those two might hear and tease us for days!" she pauses. "Well, me anyway. You don't seem to care much."

"When you've survived worse, there's little that can get to you." you answer. "But that's just me. You don't have to let what they say get to you, you know?"

"It's hard to when they're talking at my face." she pouts. You laugh.

"You'll get used to it." you grin. "So, how's Marvin?"

"John!" Rita cries, blushing red and smacking your arm again. You just laugh.

All in all, this was a good night. A perfect way prelude to your week of quiet solitude; where you can kick back, relax, and enjoy some nice alone time. And if any trouble does come knocking, you had guns to deal with it.

What's the worst that could happen?