Thread: Resident Evil 2: Redux (BlisteredBlood & Miss Macro)

Tuesday July 3rd, 1998 I had been working as a bouncer at one of those hotspots, known as Club Hell for about seven months now. Heh. They don't pay me enough to keep the riffraff out of the dump even if they tacked on Hazard Pay. Mostly, I just do enough damage to their face then send them on their merry little way. But lately, I've been taking notice of a few things in the place. Apparently, some of the people in there have been acting like complete and total fucking morons. I didn't think much of it, because personally, one asshole or dumb bitch is just the same as the other. I should really think about starting another career at this point. You know. Get some more excitement out of my dead-end life. You know. Go skydiving, mountain climbing. Ride the world's most dangerous bull, Bodacious. Anything that's better than this stupid shit I gotta put up with on a nightly basis. There was also something on the news I'd been paying attention to, as well. Apparently, I heard about the accident at that mansion up in the Arklay Mountains just a few hundred miles outside of Raccoon City from them and how there were grisly murders that showcased the most brutal deaths anyone has ever bared witness to several weeks prior. Bodies cannibalized by flesh-eating mutants of some kind, badly misshapen creatures coming to life under heir own power. When I saw this on the news, I only shook my head in disbelief. It was like something out of some fucked-up Wes Craven or Quentin Tarantino movie. I dunno about what one, but seriously. I had never seen anything like it before. Well, I suppose I'll end this rant for right now. I'm probably going to get sleep. Got another early night tomorrow night. Apparently they're needing me to pull for another guy's shift because he called out sick. Vincent Cooper, dressed in the usual sleeveless black shirt and back track pants with a vertical white stripe and white sneakers, had just come home after a difficult night at one of the local nightlife clubs in downtown Raccoon City, sighing to himself in moderate aggravation as he walked inside. Man! Of all the nerve of that one asshole! Why the hell did he have to act like an asshole if he knew the rule was if you fuck with the other customers, you're gonna get your ass tossed out!? He thought as he shook his head with the same amount of aggravation ever since he stepped inside the apartment. Along the way, the 6' 6, 320 pound - all of which was in muscle - man kicked his shoes off at the door, sighing with a small degree of comfort once his sock covered feet hit the wooden flooring then sauntered over to the kitchen, looking to get get himself something to eat. Along the way, though, he stopped by the living room to pick up the remote and fiddled with it for a moment to turn on the TV situated in the entertainment center in front of him. One of the channels he flipped to was the local news stations. On it, it had yet another crazy article about how another murder has sparked concerns of a serial killer or killers was possibly on the loose. The body looked relatively the same as it was with all of the others Cannibalized beyond all known recognition. Heh. Jeffrey Dahmer, eat your heart out. Vincent remarked then shook his head with a roll of his eyes as he then turned towards the kitchen once more and began to root around inside the refrigerator, illuminating the tattoos he had on his arms - one being a Samoan tribal wrap that circumnavigated the entire right bicep and reached up his shoulder and a pair of Japanese characters on his left. Roughly translated from kanji, the words appeared as Man-Monster - for something to munch on. Apparently, beating back the morons at Club Hell has really sparked an appetite he hadn't known he had in some time. Hohkay... He sighed to himself as he looked around in thought. What are we gonna have here...? He muttered afterward.