Resident Evil: Project Lucifer

~ A fanfiction by the Hyperactive Hamster Of Doom ~

To Matthew, my husband, with unending love and devotion.

Summary: Who or what is Lucifer? And just who is behind the Lucifer Project? Set in the nightmarish world of Resident Evil, this is the story of Jack and Lisa, two teens who find themselves in the midst of disaster...

The Obligatory Disclaimer:

Before we begin, a brief caveat for legal reasons. The Resident Evil franchise is owned by Capcom, as are all associated products. Anything you happen to recognise from the games is their intellectual property. Any pop culture references you happen to spot aren't mine either. The rest, however, is entirely the product of my overheated imagination.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot. This story is rated PG-13. That means it contains gore, violence, swearing, and zombies. Lots of zombies.

You have now been duly warned. Enjoy!

1: At First Sight

Monday 22nd June, 1998

As places went, Raccoon City was pretty ordinary. It was an industrial town in the American Midwest, surrounded by forest, a few miles south of the Arklay mountain range. It had busy neighbourhoods, thriving businesses of all sizes, some fine old buildings and a population of one hundred thousand people. Although it wasn't exactly the kind of place that you'd go out of your way to visit, it was peaceful, prosperous, and generally considered to be a pleasant place in which to live.

Today was a bright and beautiful summer's day. The rays of morning sunlight peeking over the rooftops seemed to have transformed the town into a city of gold; steel shone, glass sparkled, and bricks and stone became things of beauty. Even people's moods seemed to have been brightened by the glorious weather.

In uptown Raccoon City, where the handsome old buildings were bathed in sunshine, people were happily going about their business as usual. It was quiet here, away from the frantic rush of downtown. An old woman was doing her shopping, a young couple strolled down the street hand in hand, and a cat was sitting near the edge of the sidewalk, basking in the sunshine.

And then the peace was suddenly shattered.

"Excuse me!"

The old woman jumped to one side with a screech of fright, dropping her shopping bag on the sidewalk.

"Watch out, kitty!"

The cat leapt up and ran away in alarm, not stopping to look back at what had disturbed its early morning nap. Shortly afterwards, the young couple were almost bowled over.

"Hey! Watch where you're going!" yelled the man, catching his girlfriend as she stumbled and almost fell.

"Sorry!" gasped the cause of the disruption, a petite teenage girl, but she didn't stop running or even slow down. Instead she kept running, even after she reached the end of the sidewalk, giving the side-street only the briefest glance as she checked for incoming traffic. It was hardly looking both ways before crossing the street, she knew, but she was already late and didn't have a single second to spare, not even for road safety.

Pushing her long hair out of her face and trying to ignore the dead weight of the backpack on her back, she kept running until she reached her destination - an old-fashioned brick building about three storeys high, set in a concrete yard, which itself was surrounded by trees and neatly-trimmed grass, with iron railings marking the boundaries of the school grounds. The sign beside the wrought-iron gates read:

RACCOON CITY HIGH SCHOOL

Automatically, the girl's eyes travelled up to the clock just above the main doors; as she feared, she was late.

She swore under her breath, then hurried across the yard and up the steps. She pushed open the doors, wincing as the old hinges creaked, and slipped inside the building. The doors slammed behind her.

The hallway was cool and dim - rather like the boys in her class, now that she came to think about it - and her eyes struggled to adjust to the gloom after the bright sunlight.

There was nobody here. The hall wasn't silent, as it was before and after school; instead there was a hush, with the faint murmurs of voices in the rooms beyond. That meant that everyone else was in class - and that she was very late.

"Oh, hell," moaned the girl. "She's going to kill me…"

"She" referred to the ninth-grade teacher, Mrs Bietelbaum. Mrs Bietelbaum was a sour-faced and rather grouchy woman who was approaching retirement age. Excuses, laziness, inattention in class, failure to hand in homework on time - Mrs Bietelbaum detested all these things, but what she hated most of all was lateness.

With growing apprehension, the girl passed the lockers that lined the hallway, turned left and went up the stairs as quickly as possible. Upstairs corridor, third door on the right… at the end of the school year, finding her classroom was almost second nature.

She listened for a moment at the door, then pushed the door open as quietly as possible.

As one, her classmates all looked up from their work as she came in. Mrs Bietelbaum, who was dressed in her usual outfit of floral skirt, über-fluffy cardigan and flat brown shoes, turned round from drawing a diagram on the chalkboard to glare at her.

"It's nine-fifteen, Lisa Hartley! You're late!" she barked.

Mumbling an apology, Lisa made her way to her usual desk. She dumped her backpack on the floor, pulled back her hard wooden chair and sat down. One by one, the others returned their attention to their work, disappointed that there hadn't been more of a scene.

Lisa turned her head to greet the girl next to her, as she always did, but gave a start when she saw that her usual neighbour had gone. Sitting in her place was a boy that she'd never seen before.

Compared to her impeccably groomed classmates, the new boy was shockingly scruffy. He was dressed in torn jeans, worn-out sneakers, a Marilyn Manson t-shirt, and a faded lumberjack shirt with half the buttons missing. His hair was blond and cut short except for his fringe, which was slightly too long, and he had bright, curious blue eyes.

"Hey," he said, smiling.

"Uh… hey," said Lisa, remembering to smile. "What happened to Charlotte?"

"Who?" said the boy, looking puzzled.

"Charlotte Lascelles. The girl who was sitting here last week," said Lisa.

The boy just shrugged.

"I dunt know," he said. "I no here last week. I just move here from Tijuana. Name's Jack Carpenter, by the way. How 'bout you?"

"Lisa. Lisa Hartley. Nice to meet you, Jack."

They reached over and shook hands.

"So… you're Mexican?" said Lisa. "I was wondering why I hadn't seen you round before. I guess that explains it."

"Actually, I be born in 'Frisco," explained Jack. "My mama, she an' her hermana be from Mexico, but me? Nuh-uh. Hell, I dunt even look like her. I take after my dad."

"San Francisco, huh? So how come you ended up in Tijuana?" said Lisa.

"My aunt Rosa, she live there," said the boy. "Or did, anyway. She hadda move here 'cause she get busted too many times for streetwalkin', so I hadda move too. I live with her, see."

"Why?" said Lisa, without thinking. "What happened to your parents?"

She immediately regretted asking the question. Jack's grin disappeared, and he lowered his head, staring down at his desk.

"I'm sorry," Lisa said quickly. "Forget I asked. It's none of my business anyway."

"No, dunt worry," said Jack, looking up again. "You dint say nothin' bad. Well, my dad be in jail right now an' my mama, she die ten years ago. So I go to Mexico to live with Aunt Rosa. An' sorry 'bout my English. It ain't so good, I know - I be outta practice. I speak English an' Spanish, but my aunt dunt speak much English, so when I go to live wit her in Mexico, I only speak Spanish, 'cept sometimes in school. This be the first time I speak English prop'ly in ten years."

"Ten years? Wow. So you haven't spoken English since kindergarten?"

"Nope. I gotta relearn a lot of it, 'cause I forget most of it. Dunt s'pose you speak Spanish, do you?" said Jack hopefully.

He looked disappointed when Lisa shook her head.

"No, but I've always wanted to learn it," she said.

Jack brightened again.

"Yeah? You want maybe I teach you some?" he said.

"Really? I'd like that. Thank you," said Lisa.

"You welcome," said Jack. "By the way, the teacher just ask you a question."

Lisa looked up, startled, and saw Mrs Bietelbaum looking straight at her.

"Well? What is apartheid, Miss Hartley?" she said impatiently.

"Oh! Oh, well, it's, uh… apartheid is… when… uh…" Lisa floundered, unable to remember the word's meaning even though she'd learned it and she knew what it was.

"It be when black people ain't allowed to sit with white people, an' they gotta use they own swimmin' pool an' shops an' stuff," said Jack under his breath.

Lisa looked at him gratefully, relieved that she'd been bailed out in a moment of need, and said:

"Uh, it's racial segregation, Mrs Bietelbaum."

"Correct, but I'd prefer you to actually listen instead of just hoping your neighbour will give you a hint," said Mrs Bietelbaum coldly. "Please pay more attention in future."

With that, the teacher returned to the front of the classroom and carried on talking.

"Thanks, Jack. You just saved my butt," said Lisa.

"Dunt worry 'bout it. You woulda done the same for me, right?" said Jack.

"Sure," said Lisa, and they both smiled.

The class continued. Morning gradually gave way to afternoon, and by the time the bell sounded at three o'clock, signifying the end of the school day, Lisa and Jack were well on the way to becoming best friends.

"All right," announced Mrs Bietelbaum. "I want that assignment in by Thursday. That's Thursday, Tyrone. This Thursday. Do I make myself clear? All right then. Off you go."

The door swung open, letting out a steady stream of students eager to leave the stuffy classroom and equally stuffy teacher behind. Glad that she was finally leaving the smell of chalk, floor wax and the lingering aroma of former class pets behind her, at least for another day, Lisa swung her backpack onto her back and made her way down the corridor at a quick pace.

Down the stairs, back down the hallway - now crowded with high-schoolers on their way out of classes - and then she stepped out of the doors and into the yard, blinking in the afternoon sunlight.

Jack drew level with her as she went down the steps, still standing out like a sore thumb in a crowd of boys with branded sweatshirts, designer jeans and five-hundred-dollar watches. Lisa smiled when she saw him. It was nice to see someone who didn't look exactly the same as everyone else.

"Bye, Jack," she called, raising her voice over the boys' loud conversation. "See you tomorrow!"

"Yeah, see you mañana," said Jack.

They left the school gates. Lisa turned left; glancing backwards, she saw Jack turn right, presumably heading towards downtown. She briefly wondered where he lived, then chided herself for being nosy. It was none of her business where he lived, and she had better things to do than follow him home to find out.

Lisa headed for home, settling into the familiar routine of the walk home. She let her feet do the tedious business of walking while her thoughts wandered free.

Somehow the world felt different today. It was as if something important was happening, or going to happen - something big that would change absolutely everything. Whether it was good or bad, she didn't know, but whatever it was, she got the distinct feeling that it was about to change her life forever…