The Apple Inn

September 23rd, 1998
6: 31 PM . . .
O'Hare International Airport
Chicago, Illinois . . .


As soon as she stepped off the plane, Olivia Lauren knew she was going to be in a world of hurt. With her passports being double checked, her bags checked for what felt like the eighth time since JFK in New York, the abroad reporter was tired, hungry... mostly tired. "Okay... you can get through this Liv... you got this..." She says, perking up in front of the airport security who asked for her name.

"Olivia Lauren."

---

September 23rd, 1998
8: 35 PM . . .
Chicago Union Station
Chicago, Illinois . . .


Getting to the train station took more time than she initially thought... and waiting for the train to arrive was its own special kind of hell. She was being informed her rental car would be waiting for her outside Raccoon Central Station, and one of the Apple Inn's staff was going to be there to ensure she got to her room safely. "Aw, thank you, that's absolutely lovely!" She says cheerily through the phone, but as soon as she heard her train being announced for arrival, she hung up the payphone before the clerk could finish, and hurriedly grabbed her bags and sped off to the terminal! "No, no no!! Don't leave without me!!!" She screamed in a panic, rushing with her bags in each of her hands!


When she got in her seat, she let out a sigh of relief. "Bloody hell..." she groaned, before blinking down at her shirt. "Huh...?" She blinked again. "Bugger... damn button." she commented, noting she was now missing a button on her blouse. She closed her eyes for now, and would worry about it later...

---

September 23rd, 1998
11: 00 PM . . .
Raccoon Central Station
Raccoon City, Illinois . . .


The train finally stopped at her destination, at 10:00 in the evening... by this point, Liv's jet lag had gone full circle and she was almost fully asleep in her chair:



"Unnnh...." she moaned, half salivating as she leaned back into the seat and half drifted into sleep.

A rail station attendant, someone of little circumstance who was thinking he'd never leave began checking the cars, and saw the sleeping woman still in her seat. He glances her over and smirks. "Damn, that is a fine... fine woman. Curves an' everythang..." he says softly to himself, flustered a little, but he's a good man and a hero in his own right, not that he knows it yet- as fate has yet to draw him to his calling. He walks over to her, trying his best not to admire the... view.


"Excuse me, Ms... Lauren? You've arrived at your terminus..." Spoke the gentle voice, which caused the woman to stir.

She read the name... "J.Chapman":

She read the name... "J. Chapman" off the railway attendant's badge, and she blinked up at him. "Huh...?" She groggily questioned with a yawn. The young African American man smirked. "You're at your stop?" he says, overlooking her ticket. "One, Olivia Lauren. One way ticket from Chicago, Illinois to, our lovely shithole," he says, waving his hat to emphasize they were in Raccoon, revealing a head of dyed blond hair. "-Raccoon City, Illinois." he says, and then whimsically planted the hat back atop his head.

Olive smirked, still groggy as she nodded. "Ah, yes, finally here..." she yawned. Her accent threw him off, and he raised a brow. "Here for business or pleasure? I sure as hell know you ain't here for the big football game," he paused. "Er, when I mean, like-"

She laughed. "Hah, I get you... yes... rugby but less fun to watch," she joked. "I kid, yeah, NFL and all that..." she says as she stood up, stretching her arms, losing another button in the process without realizing it. Jim was about to say something, but... decided to look away instead. "It's more business than pleasure I'm afraid... ughh... so bloody tired..."

"Ah, well" he began, glancing back then remembered. "wait, Olivia Lauren... you the one who called ahead for a rental car? And a reservation for the Apple Inn?" He asked.

She glanced over to him. "Yes..." she began, feeling a little dread. "What about it?"

Jim frowned. "The guy who was supposed to drive ya over? He bailed, an hour ago. Gave me the keys." he says, handing them to her. "...you gonna be all right? I mean, I'm off shift and I can take you over. I mean I totally understand and all-"

"-sure." She says with lidded eyes. "Sounds good... I aven't a bloody idea what an Apple Inn looks like at this hour of the night, and I'm in no condition to drive.." she yawned.

Jim was surprised by this, but considering he was heading into West Raccoon to his apartment anyway, he may as well do a good deed while he was at it. Said so in his horoscope- one good action begets another, fortune smiles upon thee etc etc bull shit mumbojumbo. Besides, Kiteway Bros would have a field day if a foreign reporter ended up lost because one of its staffers couldn't go beyond and see to it their passengers got to their final destinations safely.

He smiles. "Okay then, lemme help you with your bags." he offered.

---

Jim got the bags into the rental vehicle, before correcting the jet lagged, tired Olivia into sitting in the passenger seat. By the time he was finished shifting her bags into the trunk and slipped into the driver's side door, the woman was asleep again:



He blinked at her and then looked into the street ahead. "Wish I was able to get that much beauty sleep, shiit." he half chuckles, turning the headlights on-

-and saw several rats scurrying in the street! "Shit, those motherfuckers are huge!" He says, then covered his mouth, and glanced over to Olive, who blinked at him. "Course they are..." she sleepishly started. She grabbed them, lifted them up and let the drop. "...I'mma E-Cup, motha fuckaaaaahh....." she yawned in her playful 'motherfucker' and then fell back to sleep:



He blinked, and looked ahead. "Di-did that? Shit man, foreigners be crazy shameless." he says to himself, and started the car.

They left soon after. Neither knowing... what was brewing, not too far beneath their feet...

(The Outbreak Event)

---

September 23rd, 1998
11: 34 PM . . .
Apple Inn, Room 301


Olive thanked Jim with helping with her bags up three flights of stairs, and gave him a $100 bill from her purse. "Keep the change, luv... thanks..." she said sheepishly. He smiled, and nodded. "Anytime. Enjoy your stay in Raccoon, hook me u-"

She waddled her way over to the door, and used her key to unlock the door, noting how unbearably hot it was getting in the hotel...



She entered the doorway, whilst removing her heels, dragging her bags inside before tossing her high heels by the wardrobe. "Bloody hell its like an oven in here..." she gasped, and took notice of her missing button:



"Damn it... ugh..." she sighed. She loved this silk blouse... well, it couldn't be helped now...

---

She plopped down, face first into the fresh sheets and fluffy pillows in nothing but her lace bra and panties given the heat of the hotel room. She didn't even give the place a proper look over, but didn't care... "Sleep... sleep..." She grumbled, squeezing the pillows tightly into her face.


September 23rd, 1998
11: 55 PM . . .
Apple Inn, Room 301


"Bugger..." she stirred, reaching back, struggling for the annoying clasp digging into her spine. "I've... done this... a thousand... times... just... undo-" she states, as the clasp undid her support strap and let her girls be at ease. "-ahhh.....zzzzzzzzz.." Olive went back to sleep.

---

September 24th, 1998
9: 00 AM. . .
Apple Inn, Room 301

"Hrnnnng...." Olivia was a zombie, dark rings under her eyes, barely dressed, save the simple red bathrobe around her body, the black satin and lace slip and panties underneath and red fuzzy slippers. She walked about with her Manchester United mug, groggily. She glared down at the 'swill' in her mug and glanced back to the coffee pot. "You call this... 'coffee'?" she asked herself out loud:


The creepy manager was... giving her lewd glances and she promptly flipped him off before heading back up to her room, taking a sip from the mug before quickly regretting it, making a grimace as she ascended the stairwell.

---

Back to her room, after a her morning workout of climbing those bloody stairs, Liv was able to finally have a look at her 'view'. Said 'view' consisted of a malicious looking Raccoon on the billboard of the neighboring building- she'd seen traffic safety mascots more cute in Seoul, where her mother was from:



She shook her head side to side in disgust. Other than that, she got a view of a park in the distance, and towards the front of the building she could juuust make out parts of Warren Stadium. Something big was going on over there, sounded like a riot. "Oh right, American's and their ''football'', right..." she sipped the coffee with remorse, and closed her window. The room... was now frigid, and she shivered as she glanced over to the map on the pamphlet she was handed the night before:



"Ah, I see our garish little friend is here too... why choose such a ghastly looking thing with beady black eyes... I'd have preferred a squirrel or something. A fox, maybe. I suppose then it wouldn't be 'Raccoon City' then, would it? No. No it wouldn't..." she sighed, and headed over to the bathroom.

---

^{Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh~
Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh~
Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh~
Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.....~}



The hot water rains down on Olivia's titillating, curvy body. She closed her eyes as she ran the soap across her plush body, kneading it like soft dough in her hands as she washed away the grime of a long flight, train ride, and the night she spent in the humid boilers of hell which was this damn hotel. Apple Inn... going to be a hot Apple Pie if I stay here for much longer... I know it came recommended, but there's gotta be a better place to set up shop where I'm not sweating buckets every damn minute... She thought, as she began to rinse off the foamy suds that clung to her plush figure:



She could hear loud noises outside... fireworks? "Welcome to the U.S. of A... wouldn't be surprised they start shooting off guns in the air like the O.K. Corral or John Wayne... ugh..." she groaned. She knew there was a scoop in town, something that could potentially bring to light the situation which occurred months ago...

July 24, 1998, the exclusive Umbrella Retreat for executive members of Umbrella Inc, aka the Spencer Mansion, exploded and caused a large forest fire which destroyed an area of forest equal to 750 acres (304 ha; 1.172 sq mi). The Raccoon City Fire Department found itself under-equipped and the National Guard was brought in to assist. Following their return, the R.P.D.'s special task force 'S.T.A.R.S.' (Special Tactics and Rescue Service) called for an immediate investigation into Umbrella's affairs, but the unit was disbanded by the Chief of Police, Brian Irons for 'gross negligence of duty resulting in property damage and ultimately police and civilian lives'. While the public at large became aware of the incident and the Umbrella connection, little was said. The Raccoon City Police Department later started an investigation in August, that ultimately condemned members of the S.T.A.R.S. who survived the resulting explosion. What happened to said operatives? She wasn't sure. No one was. Save for Jill Valentine and Brad Vickers- Barry Burton, Chris Redfield, Rebecca Chambers have all went missing. Jill Valentine has refused to comment to journalists and is in the city, whilst Brad works at the RPD still, as a liaison for the newly created S.W.A.T. Team, lead by Captain Joe Cahill from the Chicago SWAT, the newly appointed (and handsomely youngest) Lieutenant in the R.P.D., Damian Handy, and (equally dashing expat) Sargent Ben Winters:



The newly formed unit started its operations in August, and have heavy boots to fill, but many of the boys in blue of the RPD welcome the newly formed unit with open arms. Still, its none of them I'm curious about... even if the two are... well, devilishly handsome~



Liv moaned softly as she... scrubbed other 'sensitive areas'...

---

Upon exiting the bath, the room became an oven again... "This room is fucking bonkers..." she sighed, drying herself off with a towel, and could still hear what sounded like a riot outside, sirens and the like. "Ugh... its like any pub in Manchester during the..." she yawned. She stared at the clock. It was 10 AM, but she was still tired. "Ugh... I have nothing better to do today, may as well sleep it off Liv." she tells herself, and slips into another satin and lace slip. She opens the window, and then slides herself back beneath the covers, the sounds of sirens drifting away into her dreams...

---

September 24th, 1998
8: 00 PM. . . PRESENT
Apple Inn, Room 301


BZZ-BZZ-BZZ-BZZ-BZZ-BZZ-BZZ-BZZ-BZZ-BZZ-BZZ-BZZ-BZZ-BZZ-BZZ-BZZ-BZZ-BZZ-BZZ-BZZ-BZZ-BZZ-BZZ-BZZ-BZZ-BZZ-BZZ-BZZ-!

"HA!" Shot up Olivia, blinking, "I'mawake...!" She gasped, the reporter was alarmed as the table alarmclock buzzed annoyingly beside her!



She glanced at the clock, and didn't remember setting the alarm, reaching over and banging on the buttons to silence the buzzing and explosive noises-

-save, those noises weren't coming from her clock...

"What the..?" She yawned, sliding her jiggly thighs from the side of the bed, and walked over to her window.

She looked out, and can just barely see... an officer shooting his firearm towards some sort of pub?



She quickly pulled her head back into her room, and pulled the window down and latched it tight! "The hell is going on out there?!" She gulped, and went to her things. She threw her press ID around her neck, and began to dress; slipping on her hose over her lace panties, a black satin and lace bra, the short, silky pencil skirt, her glossy heels which she fastened around her ankles, and then she grabbed her silk shirt. Upon buttoning it up, she realized it was the damaged button down from the night before- but it got... worse!:



"Bugger all-!" She began to curse when she not only heard, but FELT the building shake! "Sh-shit! I'm not going to stick around here any longer!" She spat, and regardless of her wardrobe, began to exit her room with her keys in hand. She entered the hallway, feeling the walls shake and the temperature... rise? "Jesus H. Roosevelt CHRIST!" She screamed as she hurried her way down to the lobby!

---

Front Lobby...



Liv found herself, in a room full of other... surprised individuals. Some were bloody, some were not... a lot had bite marks... She blinked her long, dark lashes... and simply observed them. Pain, sorrow, fear... "Bloody hell... what happened here...?" She mumbled out loud...

The owner of the Inn raised his hands. "Okay, okay, listen up everyone. Due to the rise of violence outside, I must recommend those who currently have rooms return to them, till further notice or till the RPD evacuation arrives." He explained, to which there was an uproar of conflicted responses. "What are we to do man?! Those things just took a bite out of my fucking arm and you're just gonna sit here?! Doesn't this place have a security guard?!"

The owner gulped, sliding what was left of his combover against his balding head. "L-listen... Tom isn't here," there was another uproar. "-TOM ISN'T HERE, DAMN IT! Okay? But the doors are secure, the windows locked, there is nothing, short of a tank, coming through these goddamn walls so get off my fucking case or I can have you escorted from the premises!" The man panicked and there was more strife. "Yeah, you and what army baldy?!" Screamed one of the injured, and the Owner began to cower away. "Look, I didn't mean that, just... God damn it, there's nothing we CAN do but wait for the RPD to continue its evacuation! If you're not going to be assholes about it, feel free to 'check in' stay, and wait it out, if not get the fuck out and don't come back!"

Random NPCs wrote: The owner of the Inn raised his hands. "Okay, okay, listen up everyone. Due to the rise of violence outside, I must recommend those who currently have rooms return to them, till further notice or till the RPD evacuation arrives." He explained, to which there was an uproar of conflicted responses. "What are we to do man?! Those things just took a bite out of my fucking arm and you're just gonna sit here?! Doesn't this place have a security guard?!"

The owner gulped, sliding what was left of his combover against his balding head. "L-listen... Tom isn't here," there was another uproar. "-TOM ISN'T HERE, DAMN IT! Okay? But the doors are secure, the windows locked, there is nothing, short of a tank, coming through these goddamn walls so get off my fucking case or I can have you escorted from the premises!" The man panicked and there was more strife. "Yeah, you and what army baldy?!" Screamed one of the injured, and the Owner began to cower away. "Look, I didn't mean that, just... God damn it, there's nothing we CAN do but wait for the RPD to continue its evacuation! If you're not going to be assholes about it, feel free to 'check in' stay, and wait it out, if not get the fuck out and don't come back!"

Seems like diplomacy and negotiations are out the window... this owner better get himself barricaded, or this crowd will eat him up... Olive thought on the dwindling morale from observing the situation. She had no idea how literal that remark was. But she was soon to find out.

"So, can someone in this room tell me what the bloody hell is going on??" She shouted, glancing around the room, being heard by all by this point. "I just got here this morning, I've been suffering a migraine and jet lag, so please do not fucking test me...!" She cursed, and turned to the injured. "What's happend to them?" She then turned to the door to the outside. "What's going on outside?" She then turned to the owner. "And what do you mean by an RPD evacuation?!" Liv barked.

Olivia Lauren wrote:

Random NPCs wrote: The owner of the Inn raised his hands. "Okay, okay, listen up everyone. Due to the rise of violence outside, I must recommend those who currently have rooms return to them, till further notice or till the RPD evacuation arrives." He explained, to which there was an uproar of conflicted responses. "What are we to do man?! Those things just took a bite out of my fucking arm and you're just gonna sit here?! Doesn't this place have a security guard?!"

The owner gulped, sliding what was left of his combover against his balding head. "L-listen... Tom isn't here," there was another uproar. "-TOM ISN'T HERE, DAMN IT! Okay? But the doors are secure, the windows locked, there is nothing, short of a tank, coming through these goddamn walls so get off my fucking case or I can have you escorted from the premises!" The man panicked and there was more strife. "Yeah, you and what army baldy?!" Screamed one of the injured, and the Owner began to cower away. "Look, I didn't mean that, just... God damn it, there's nothing we CAN do but wait for the RPD to continue its evacuation! If you're not going to be assholes about it, feel free to 'check in' stay, and wait it out, if not get the fuck out and don't come back!"

Seems like diplomacy and negotiations are out the window... this owner better get himself barricaded, or this crowd will eat him up... Olive thought on the dwindling morale from observing the situation. She had no idea how literal that remark was. But she was soon to find out.

"So, can someone in this room tell me what the bloody hell is going on??" She shouted, glancing around the room, being heard by all by this point. "I just got here this morning, I've been suffering a migraine and jet lag, so please do not fucking test me...!" She cursed, and turned to the injured. "What's happend to them?" She then turned to the door to the outside. "What's going on outside?" She then turned to the owner. "And what do you mean by an RPD evacuation?!" Liv barked.

Some of the crowd looked at her with suspicion, others simply didn't look up at the foreigner. "Have you looked outside lady?" Someone spoke up, approaching her. He was African American, injured, blood running down his forearm, his sleeve removed and used to patch the bite wound. "Its a warzone out there! People are eating each other, hell, even dogs are acting strange!" He continued.

"I seen crows attacking people too!" Said an elderly woman in the back, tending to the injured.

"The whole city's gone crazy... people, people are acting like..." A man, splattered with blood holding a bloody pipe in his hands said as he was slumped down in the corner of the lobby.

The mood got grim, and most of the noise died down, giving the owner the opportunity to speak: "Miss... the Police Department are evacuating civilians from the street due to the nature of the riots and the... perpetrators-"

"Perpetrators?!" screamed a man in the back, stepping towards the lobby desk aggressively. He had wounds all over, and was also splattered with blood. "Perpetrators?! Are you kidding me? My wife tore my children apart!" He grabbed the owner by his shirt collar and nearly pulled him over the desk! "She was fine one minute, next she was chewing our son... my baby boy's face off!!" He screamed, tears in his eyes.

"My brother turned, into one of those... 'things'." screamed someone else.

"C'mon lets just call it for what it is, they're fuckin' zombies!" Someone else screamed. "Its fucking night of the living dead out there, we need some guns, food, and a car to get us the fuck away from this shithole!"

The owner pushed the man away and backed himself to the wall. "Look, we're safe here. The door's reinforced, the rooms need keycards for access, those 'things' those 'zombies' can't get in! So stay, take shelter, have some of our Inn's famous cookies- just make room and make do with what we have and you're welcome to wait it out in here. I-" he paused, when Tom entered the building. He was strapped with two Beretta's, a SPAS-12 in one hand, another one slung on his back. "It's a damn warzone out there!" He spat, walking up to the desk. His jacket read 'Scutum Security Services' on the patches, and he looked at everyone as they began to clammer up again. He said something to the Owner, before heading deeper into the building.

"Everyone, stay calm, the situation is improving-" he continued, unable to fully sway the civilians within the Inn...

Random NPCs wrote:

Olivia Lauren wrote:

Random NPCs wrote: The owner of the Inn raised his hands. "Okay, okay, listen up everyone. Due to the rise of violence outside, I must recommend those who currently have rooms return to them, till further notice or till the RPD evacuation arrives." He explained, to which there was an uproar of conflicted responses. "What are we to do man?! Those things just took a bite out of my fucking arm and you're just gonna sit here?! Doesn't this place have a security guard?!"

The owner gulped, sliding what was left of his combover against his balding head. "L-listen... Tom isn't here," there was another uproar. "-TOM ISN'T HERE, DAMN IT! Okay? But the doors are secure, the windows locked, there is nothing, short of a tank, coming through these goddamn walls so get off my fucking case or I can have you escorted from the premises!" The man panicked and there was more strife. "Yeah, you and what army baldy?!" Screamed one of the injured, and the Owner began to cower away. "Look, I didn't mean that, just... God damn it, there's nothing we CAN do but wait for the RPD to continue its evacuation! If you're not going to be assholes about it, feel free to 'check in' stay, and wait it out, if not get the fuck out and don't come back!"

Seems like diplomacy and negotiations are out the window... this owner better get himself barricaded, or this crowd will eat him up... Olive thought on the dwindling morale from observing the situation. She had no idea how literal that remark was. But she was soon to find out.

"So, can someone in this room tell me what the bloody hell is going on??" She shouted, glancing around the room, being heard by all by this point. "I just got here this morning, I've been suffering a migraine and jet lag, so please do not fucking test me...!" She cursed, and turned to the injured. "What's happend to them?" She then turned to the door to the outside. "What's going on outside?" She then turned to the owner. "And what do you mean by an RPD evacuation?!" Liv barked.

Some of the crowd looked at her with suspicion, others simply didn't look up at the foreigner. "Have you looked outside lady?" Someone spoke up, approaching her. He was African American, injured, blood running down his forearm, his sleeve removed and used to patch the bite wound. "Its a warzone out there! People are eating each other, hell, even dogs are acting strange!" He continued.

"I seen crows attacking people too!" Said an elderly woman in the back, tending to the injured.

"The whole city's gone crazy... people, people are acting like..." A man, splattered with blood holding a bloody pipe in his hands said as he was slumped down in the corner of the lobby.

The mood got grim, and most of the noise died down, giving the owner the opportunity to speak: "Miss... the Police Department are evacuating civilians from the street due to the nature of the riots and the... perpetrators-"

"Perpetrators?!" screamed a man in the back, stepping towards the lobby desk aggressively. He had wounds all over, and was also splattered with blood. "Perpetrators?! Are you kidding me? My wife tore my children apart!" He grabbed the owner by his shirt collar and nearly pulled him over the desk! "She was fine one minute, next she was chewing our son... my baby boy's face off!!" He screamed, tears in his eyes.

"My brother turned, into one of those... 'things'." screamed someone else.

"C'mon lets just call it for what it is, they're fuckin' zombies!" Someone else screamed. "Its fucking night of the living dead out there, we need some guns, food, and a car to get us the fuck away from this shithole!"

The owner pushed the man away and backed himself to the wall. "Look, we're safe here. The door's reinforced, the rooms need keycards for access, those 'things' those 'zombies' can't get in! So stay, take shelter, have some of our Inn's famous cookies- just make room and make do with what we have and you're welcome to wait it out in here. I-" he paused, when Tom entered the building. He was strapped with two Beretta's, a SPAS-12 in one hand, another one slung on his back. "It's a damn warzone out there!" He spat, walking up to the desk. His jacket read 'Scutum Security Services' on the patches, and he looked at everyone as they began to clammer up again. He said something to the Owner, before heading deeper into the building.

"Everyone, stay calm, the situation is improving-" he continued, unable to fully sway the civilians within the Inn...

All of this was... a lot to take in. If it wasn't for the blood, the overly equipped security guard and the wounds which resembled bites... she'd have pinned it on mass hysteria. She was hearing about animal attacks and the 'Z' word being tossed about, but ignored it; however the bite marks reminded her of the articles written by the investigative reporter Ben Bertolucci's concerning the cannibal murders taking place in the city months ago.

My instincts are screaming for me to leave... something doesn't sit right with me and this hotel from hell. Between the rumors, the rising temperature both politically and physically... even though I do not doubt the owner's claim that the building is a secure refuge, I'm burning to find out whats going on outside for myself. If what everyone says is true, then I have no choice but to figure it out for myself. The police department should be a good place to start, but damn it I don't know how far away that is- wait, the map! She thought, and remembered the map, and swiftly returned to her room while the chaos ensued.

---

Room 301...

Having returned to her room, she decided to take what she thought might be useful. Among the things she collected was the aforementioned map, her tape recorder, a pen and notepad, her small penlight, a cheap plastic lighter with 'Apple Inn' printed on it. She slipped the things into her purse, along with her trusty friend. "Haven't used you in a while," said the short stacked reporter as she checked the leather bound wallet of sorts which contained a whole set of professional grade lockpicks. Sometimes it pays off to be nosy~ She thought, before dropping it in. Now... considering the sate of things, she figured she may as well arm herself... with something. "Hmm..." she hummed, and began tearing apart the humid room, sweat rolling off her curves. In the end, all she could find was a can of aerosol bug spray. She shrugged, it was better than nothing. Slipping that into the purse, she grabbed her rental keys and headed back down the three flights of stairs back to the ground floor.

---

Front Lobby and Park Street

Returning to the lobby, Olivia noted the growing number of refugees- all looking worse than the last. "Bloody hell..." she mumbled under her breath, looking about, her purse slung over her shoulder as she exited the Inn.

Out on the main stretch, 'Park Street' was cooler than the building she had just exited, and she could see people trying to build barricades, some carrying guns! Perhaps this wasn't the keenest idea... She sighed inwardly, and pressed on regardless. She made her way to the rental car, a standard sedan of a tan color. She fumbled with her keys to unlock the thing, when she felt someone's hand upon her shoulder. She turned around, and saw the taller, Asian woman standing before her. She was pretty, a mole under her left, lidded eye. She stood about 5'8, had long brown hair in a ponytail and wore an office standard suit with an Umbrella pin on her lapel, and an ID badge hanging off her breast pocket that read: "Reika Sugimoto."



"Excuse me," she began politely, devoid of accent. "Would you mind running me over to the Umbrella Head Quarters? There isn't much time, and it will be worth your time." she explained, before noting Olivia's press ID. She made a weird look, before continuing: "I'm an Umbrella Representative for their Pharmaceutical Division, Director Reika Sugimoto." She introduced.

Olive blinked at this, but the voice in the back of her head said run with it. "S-sure, but I'm not too familiar with this city's streets." she began, but Reika interjected. "That's fine. I can give you directions."

"Well..." she drawled on. "I suppose-"

"-Good." Reika interrupted again, and made her way over to the passenger side.

Liv turned around, tracking Reika's movements before she stood beside the door. Sighing, the reporter opened the door and leaned over to unlock the side door for Reika before getting settled in the driver's seat.

(continued here)