Researcher Sleeping Quarters, Lounge and Cantina

-The Sleeping Quarters-





Bzzzt... Bzzzt...Bzzzt---!

"Hngaah?! Ha?" Gasped awake the still delirious Dr. Victor G. Sykes, Umbrella Researcher working under Dr. Braun and Dr. Birkin in NEST-I. He shot his head up, then felt immediate pain as he fell back onto the mattress without a clue as to why. "Wha-what...?" he blinked, looking around the tightly packed cubicle, a literal coffin carved into the wall with a shutter to his left. He hit his head on the roof of the chamber. He lay there, still in his clothes from the day before, blinking up at the ceiling of his chamber. "Oh... right... I got sick last night... while visiting NEST-III..." he muttered under his breath. He reached for the panel that would release him from the 'tin can' like a sardine, and when it didn't immediately roll up sighed. "Blasted... fuckers... gotta... do shit... myself..." He groaned. He was so hungry... so thirsty... so tired...

He felt around for the manual release, and grasped the handle like recess in the shutter before rolling it upward with a mechanical 'hiss'. Light flooded his vision and the man winced, covering his eyes. "Shit...man...!" He grumbled, before rolling out of the bunk, thinking he was on the lower one when-!

"OOF!" groaned the 32-year-old scientist, hitting the green tiled floor on his chest a couple of feet off the ground! "Ouch...man... fuck...." he groaned. He was a tall specimen. 6'1, slender as a plank with unkempt hair in a loose ponytail and draping bangs splayed across his face. He winked open his eyes, laying there on his chin, his chest- arms flat against the ground at his sides. He blinked his large blue eyes, and looked around the blurry room. He could see the personal computer in the corner, someone left DOOM running and he watched the small man in the bottom of the HUD look about anxiously:



"Fidgety little... guy aren't ya...?" he says to the screen blankly, blinking his fuzzy eyes as he tried to recall the night before. Okay... came by to visit Dr. Kamura San, and... then I had some food with her. God she's so... eloquent! A real cutie... huh. What happened after? he blinked then winced as his stomach grunted like a muffled kazoo. "Oh right... I'm not good with shellfish... maybe I'm allergic...?" he grunted out loud, sweat rolling down his forehead as he slowly picked himself off the floor.

His blue button down was askew, but he left it like that. He apparently wore his labcoat to bed, as well as his watch, workboots... only his glasses were missing. "Where the devil...? Aha... there you are." he sighed, reaching up into the alcove past the 'head rest' of the upper bed chamber, where he set his silver round eyed glasses on the ledge. He took them, sliding them on with a yawn, using his middle finger to push them up, causing the lenses to glint in the glow of the computer screen.

He looked about, hands through his labcoat, into his slack's pockets as he looked at the state of the dimly lit room. Most of the shutters were down, and digital clock on the shelf read-



He winked his eyes at that, and shook his head. "Clock's gotta... be wrong. No way its that fucking late..." he groaned. He should have been due back at NEST-I over 12 hours ago! "Did I really sleep off an entire day again...? Shit... haven't done that since college... ah well..." he yawned into his open palm, checking his own digital watch to find out the time was indeed correct. "Bummer... welp, their fault for not trying to reach me. God... I must have a full inbox. Birkin's such a prick, and Braun's easy on the eyes but a serious bitch..." he sighed, craning his neck to the right, cracking it. The compact 'tuna tins' they call 'bunks' in the Nest were killer on his tall frame's body- especially the neck and spine. "God, I'm gonna get scoliosis from sleeping inside these death traps..." he grumbled.

Bang Bang Bang!

The metallic thudding from one of the shutters to his right gave him pause, before he recalled it was past 10 PM. He could hear that person moaning, as if disturbed from sleep. Vic took the hint. Someone on Dr. Kamura's shift, a number of staff must be sleeping while others burn the late night oil. "Ah, sheesh, sorry man... I'll be more quiet..." He yawned, and began to make his exit. "Oh, wait, want anything from the Cantina?" He asked, glancing back over his shoulder at the closed shutter.

"Mrrrrrrraaaaaah!!!" Came a loud groan of defiance followed by more pounding on the closed privacy shutter. It was as if the guy was fumbling for the handle to pull himself out! He sounded pissed! "Sheesh, sorry! I'm leaving, just trying to be generous, prick." He said the last bit under his breath as he left the room.

The sliding door closed behind him as he entered the hall. The track lighting along the floor tiles and the dimly lit atmosphere suggested it was indeed night, in case there was some big prank being put on by Dr. Kamura... she did that often enough to be a legit concern. He wouldn't have put it past her to reset his watch and the staff sleeping quarters clocks to make some, overly grandiose joke that only she would in the end find hilarious. He yawned, hands in his pockets as he began to walk his way to the Cantina...

---

-The Halls-



As the lethargic Dr. Sykes continued his way down the cold, dimly lit corridor, it was clear he was in such a state that everything before him had become oblivious and ignored. He passed several labs, with windows looking inside the chambers where amber lights rotated upon the ceiling- indicating an alarm was going off. However, something with the building's security system prevented it from switching to 'Red Alert' which red lights would be cycling instead. All amber meant was maintenance was occurring and some of the other systems may be offline. Victor yawned, passing these labs, unaware some were splashed with crimson ichor or that bodies lay in the middle of the formerly white tiled rooms. He past crawling and shambling zombies, moaning- but muffled behind layers of bullet resistant glass and thick steel panels. Some spotted him, pounding on the glass as he nonchalantly walked by; their beating fists were simply ignored as the lucky bastard walked past the naturally sound proofed laboratories.



The door leading into the Lounge slid open thanks to the sensor reading his wristband ID. His pace didn't end, thanks to the automated doors, so he soldiered on, barely taking into account that there were dead scientists sitting in the chairs or laying on their sides in pools of blood. He yawned as he shambled through, ignoring how dark it was as well. Given the flickering amber lights, he assumed the lights being out were part of the system maintenance. He could see a fellow scientist stretching his arms out in the hall way, and Vic made a friendly 'nod' with his head to the zombie-

"Heya Frank, no time to chat, I haven't had my coffee. Want a cup of Joe? I'll get ya a cup o'joe..." Vic briefly spoke to 'Frank' who was obscured by the shadows, stretching his arms out towards Victor's back as he turned the corner- the light flickering above them revealed that Frank had lost his lower jaw mostly, his white eyes glaring at Victor's neck as he tried to keep up, his stiff movement caused by rigor mortis and thus prevented him from keeping pace with Vic, who turned around just as the light faded back to black, obscuring Frank once again!

"Hm? Sit tight buddy, tell me all about it when I get back..." he yawned. "God, did I really sleep through an entire day of work? Shit... I'm gonna get chewed out for sure..." he grumbled. He didn't see the blood on the floor in the dimly lit corridor ahead, the lights above completely out as he felt his lanky body slide a little! "W-woaah!" Vic, however, managed to keep himself from sliding and falling onto his back, and continued on walking. "Watch your step man," he called back to Frank, missing the man's face in the flickering light twice now as another zombified scientist down the hall was drawn to the sound of Vic's voice. The fool was so oblivious to the real danger which surrounded him, it would have likely tickled Dr. Kamura pink!

"Wait there! Tiles are slick as fuck, dude! That Mike reaaally needs to ring out his fucking mop! Sit tight, wouldn't want to break your neck on these tiles!" He explained, head turned to Frank, unaware as he past the open Janitor's closet that said janitor, Mike, was laying on the ground, back slumped to the wall of the maintenance closet. Four zombies tearing his innards out as he stared into the hall where Vic walked past him, his glassy eyes simply staring into oblivion as he was eaten without notice. "Damn it, now my shoes are squeaking... fucking bullshit... next time I see Mike, he's dead man..." he mumbled this unaware and disturbing irony to himself, the sound of his squeaky shoes drowning out the sounds of the infected devouring the hapless, long dead maintenance worker...

---

-Cafeteria/Cantina-



Victor found himself walking through the doorway of the dimly lit cafeteria soon after. It looked like it was in a bit of a disarray, with many of the leather backed chairs and tables moved aside and someone apparently spilled a fuck ton of 'ketchup' (or is it 'Catsup'?). "Sheesh... looks like someone blew an artery all over the place in here! Where the fuck is Mike??" Spat the indolent Victor, as he made his way over to the coffee machine, grabbing a pair of Styrofoam cups, one for Frank and the other himself. "Hey Pam," He called out to the woman working behind the dark kitchen window. He could hear her scuffling about inside the kitchen. "...the coffee hot?" He asked, pouring himself a cup to test. He couldn't see anything due to the dark, but he thought his eyes would gradually adjust.

When she didn't answer, he brought the cup to his lips and then immediately spat the substance out! "Sheesh, phwa, for fucks sake! Did you brew this pot, this morning?? Shit, fucking indolence Pam!" Vic complained, tossing the cup into the trash. 'Nothing like a rude fuckin' awakening than drinking Folgers that's been sitting cold all day!' is what Vic thought as he made his way over to the vending machine instead:



It wasn't Colombian, but caffeine was caffeine. The man purchased a can of 'First Aid' Ginger-Citrus Energy Drink from the machine and bent over to grab it when a bloodied arm reached out from the kitchen window to grab the ducking Dr. Sykes! However, the infected Pam missed and slipped back into the thick shadows before Victor raised his head and popped the can with a loud hiss.



"Jesus, ya'll better get your fucking acts together! Aren't we fuckin' professionals? God, I'm surprised we don't have fuckin' bugs..." he stammered, walking the way he came. He took a sip of the energy drink, 'First Aid' and nodded. "Nice."

Vic made his way back to the Sleeping Quarters, to at least report in, to his superiors. He missed Mike's display of carnage, as the door had swung closed when the zombies eating the Janitor had turned around and unintentionally dislodged the door stop wedging the maintenance door open. Vic continued past without notice, and weaved past Frank who stood stupidly in the darkness, Vic brushed against his shoulder and half turned to the 'man'.

"Don't drink the coffee man, its cold as a Witch's tit! Fucking shit will kill ya!" he explained whilst back walking, never wasting a single moment as he walked through. Frank groaned, (in hunger), and Vic took it as a sigh of disapproval as well. "Yeah, fucking corporate finds out, there's gonna be a lotta rolling heads buddy! Sorry, I'd get ya one," he says holding up the can of 'First Aid' shaking it slightly side to side. "But I only had enough cash for one. I'll buy ya breakfast tom'arra instead, kay? Night dude." He then turned on the balls of his feet, ignoring the shambling undead down the hall heading to the Entrance Lobby, and continued his way back to the sleeping quarters.
Upon reaching the threshold, the door slid closed behind him- the infected soon forgetting about Victor who was simply too wispy and swift compared to their tense, rigor mortis tendons....  

---

-The Sleeping Quarters (again)-

Vic stared at the computer screen blankly, and thought about his next decision... carefully. "Fuck it... I'm fucked either way. May as well, its up already."



-20 minutes pass-

September 24th, 1998...
NEST-III Sleeping Quarters...

11:00 PM

Vic made use of the videogame still on the screen, ignoring his duties for another twenty or so minutes. He knew he shouldn't have, but... again, he was fucked anyways. Besides, it was 11:00 PM on a Thursday night, what the fuck was there to do at NEST-I other than get his ass chewed off by his hot boss and his not so hot grumpy egotistical boss, Birkin? I wish I didn't get fired from that University Job... you slip on an oil patch and fondle the Dean and get labeled as a 'Sex Offender' sheesh, fucking rotten luck... The man paraphrased the event. It truly was an accident, but it went beyond him fondling that woman- she also got cooking oil splattered all across her blouse and things just... just looked too awkward. Umbrella cleared things up, criminal records wise, when he joined up. That was back in Tall Oaks' Ivy University. I was a damn good Biology Professor too... I wonder if Blake could take me into Tall Oaks PD as an M.E. or Forensics guy? Eh... maybe not, Rachel's up his ass about hanging out with me yet. We all used to be such great friends too. Fuck. Vic internally lamented when his character died.



"Oh shit, is this modified? How'd they get the 3DO sprites in this version?!" Vic gasped, somewhat alarmed out of his self-mulling. He sighed, slumping back into the computer chair, unaware that one of the shutters to one of the beds began to slide open behind him, a gnarled hand lifting up the shutter...

Vic rubbed the back of his sore neck, glasses glinting in the glow of the computer's screen. He closed his eyes, and then closed the application. He was soon presented with the desktop, as a display popped up like usual:



Welp... time to face the music I suppose. Dad always said, 'take it like a man', and Zas Sykes knows whats up- Vic paused his own inner rambling when his blue eyes fell upon the window when he dragged the mouse over it- it changed, the screen stuttering for a moment before lines of crimson dialogue appeared:



Vic lifted his glasses, wiping his tired eyes and then readjusted them again. Leaning closer to the screen, he read the display out loud under his breath:

"Warning...System wide alert... multiple breaches detected- what breaches?" He mumbled, as he began reading down the list. "Code Black, security breach?! Virus Leak? Code Red? Oh shit, the place has gone viral?!-" It was at this moment, where Dr. Sykes was in complete realization of what was truly happening around him that he felt the cold, forceful grip of something tugging on his right shoulder!



Victor's eyes went from large to small, his wavering vision behind the glint of his glasses was a man in shock as the bandaid was truly ripped away with violent abandon! Before him, Dr. DJ Yates, a great Biochemical Engineer, gripped him tightly on the shoulder. His clothes were illuminated in the cold blue light of the computer's screen, he could see ragged gashes throughout ebony flesh, blood staining his labcoat and underclothes. The man's eyes were unbelievably white, and his jaw was agape, blood dribbling out from his gnarly teeth!  



"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!" Screamed Victor, who grasped the closest thing he could find- the keyboard, and whilst ripping it from in front of the monitor and snapping the cord which connected to the computer tower under the desk, slammed it repeatedly against the side of the infected scientist's head! "FUCK-FUCK-FUCK-FUCK-!" he spat, hitting the man over and over till he let go before pushing him back!

"OOooooh!" The zombie moaned, hitting the green tiled floor on his back...! But slowly began to raise up again!

"Shit shit shit-!" Vic stammered, his head looking frantically side to side. A weapon, I need a godamn weapon...! He thought, before saying 'fuck it' and grabbed the computer monitor by the sides! The zombified Yates got back to his feet, shambling with one arm ahead of him, moaning hungrily for Victor's flesh as the lanky man struggled with the heavy, bulky, CRT monitor! "MUTHERFUCKN'HELL!" he grunted, in his adrenaline rush he popped the screws which bolted it down to the desk, and stumbled back bow-legged as the screen flickered, then the room went dark after a quick series of flashes!

"UHHHHHHNNN!!!-"

SMASH-SMASH-SPLASH-SMASH-SPLASH!!

"AhhhRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!"

SMASH-SMASH-SPLASH-SMASH-SPLASH!!

---

The light overhead flickered on...



...Victor standing over the twitching corpse of the reanimated Dr. Yates. Victor quietly quivered... taking out his father's GOLD lighter, and shakily lighting up a cigarette and inhaling... before coughing hoarsely. "My goodness... what the hell? Yates... God, you didn't deserve this man..." Shakily Victor said, thinking back to the time he had been molested by his father's maid in their country villa in Rome. That day... changed him. He never brought it up, but... damn, he was also reminded when his father beat that Mafioso asshat to a bloody pulp when he was like, six. "Shit man, all the memories flooding in..." he shivered, shakily continuing to drag from the lit cigarette.

He supposed, all employees of Umbrella, deep down... were fucked up, and severely mistreated or misunderstood people. Its why you could easily bond with the bastards you walked beside. Everyone has their own darkness, and darkness is what they were doing, if you think about it. Making monsters... monsters, unintentionally like Yates here, bleeding out on the green tile. The realization he hadn't ran away from those issues he left behind in Rome, and the fact that he was also surrounded by scores of the living dead or may even be infected himself? It hit hard...

He checked his vitals, his heart rate with the company ECG, checking it three times to see if there were any changes or fluctuations with his pulse, taking into account he was absolutely fucking 'lit' with adrenaline:



"...everything seems fine. For now." he sighed, pulling away the black stickers from his chest, and buttoned his bloody blue shirt back up. He couldn't bring the so called 'portable ECG' monitor with him to continue checking his vitals. "There's a 10% chance I'm actually immune to the T-Virus... but that depends on the strain. As of yet, no one is fully immune to all the mutant strains, at least not that I know of." he muttered to himself, as he turned to the cabinets on the wall and began rummaging through them for supplies.



He found a packet of antiretroviral medication handed out in the event of a contamination scenario. They began to supply them heavily after Arklay fell... and God, was he lucky not to have been there. "To think, I narrowly escaped becoming a zombie in the first place, only to become one two months later. Fuck me man. I should have fucking quit..." he sighed, swallowing a caplet with the 'First Aid' energy drink, unsure if it would worsen the effect or not, he didn't fucking care. He was dead. Or will be. "Why fight it... I'm good as dead." he sighed, taking a seat at the computer chair, his head banging from the constant noise of the shutter to his right- likely containing a zombie than some irritated researcher. Or... is it a headache from the symptoms? Headache... flu like symptoms, weakness in the limbs... arrythmia, loss of cognitive and motor functions, death... then rebirth. He winced as the pounding headache got worse by the incessant knocking on the shutter door! "RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!! SHUT THE FUCK UP!!" screamed the man, kicking the shutter with his boot!

There was a brief pause, before the shutter rattled even more intensely! The sound of the moaning, hungry beast behind the coffin like bed continued. Victor grabbed his cig from the ashtray, taking in a deep drag when his eyes spotted something in the top shelf of a neighboring bunk...



He grabbed the sleek, sub-compact handgun from the shelf, the limp cig hanging from his lips as his lidded, dead gaze fell upon the weapon's muted grey frame and slide. It was a company issue, P228. Some of the labrats like him got to be issued such, but... he really never cared for guns in spite of the training he gotten from his buddy Blake and from the company when he signed on. He ejected the magazine, which was fully loaded- 12 bullets give or take one. He then slid it back into the mag well, and racked the short slide back, the previously chambered 9x19mm cartridge ejecting and bounced across the floor somewhere. "Welp, there goes one round I could have used to kill myself with... or a zombie." he says, somewhat muffled by the sad cigarette between his tired lips.

He stuffed the weapon in his labcoat's pocket, then looked around finding a spare, fully loaded magazine and box of about 20 more shells. "45 rounds... if I can hit them in the head on the first try, I'd be able to handle exactly 45 of them..." he says with a deadpan tone, whilst the zombie trapped in his bedding continued to anger him. He wasn't going to get on his hands and knees to find the missing bullet, as he wanted to at least try and make it out of the NEST-III Lab alive. Aside from Virus Carriers, I've got this 'Code Black' to worry about as well. Intruders... maybe even Umbrella's own hit squads? Or the police... the army. An enemy corporation. Number of organizations and groups it could potentially be. I got to be careful not to get shot. Protocol may indicate, Umbrella... may be sending their Security Services to clean up the mess. They wouldn't want another Arklay scenario. The Lab may already be locked down. Still, best to try the tram. I can't walk 15 miles of track... He thought and for a moment, considered simply putting the barrel of the gun into his mouth...

Pussy...!

He could hear his father screaming at him, and quickly shut down the thought. "Damn... I'm truly fucked, aren't I, Yates?" He asked the twitching creature who lay face down, monitor crushed against its flattened skull. He thought about the Sparkshot, an Umbrella weapon designed to handle the B.O.W.s. Nah, I'm not risking my life to grab a weapon that may not be there. Not when I'm so close to the tram. He reasoned. True, it was a matter of heading back out into the hall he already walked through, taking a left instead of right, passing through the entrance lobby where there was even a security room and from there the tram station which would lead him to the HIVE, the central hub for all of the NEST's in Raccoon City.

"Okay, we got more of a reasonable plan then." He remarked, as he snuffed out the cig and coughed hoarsely, taking his inhaler and puffing up before shaking his head vigorously. "Okay... alright." he slid the medicine back into his pocket, took out the small black flashlight and stepped back out into the hallway...

(Its gone on long enough, to next area where I'll continue this part from there )