A delivery driver stood outside, holding a padded envelope.


After a moment, Graves opened the door.

"Package for Micheal Graves?"

"I ain't order nothin'..."

"Sign here."

Graves studied the envelope while the driver waited with his scanner extended.

No name or return address.

"You hear it tickin'?"

"Uh? No..."

Graves shook it beside his ear.

"Sir, I need a signature."

Graves signed with his finger.

"Don't sell that."

The driver was already walking away.

Graves tore open the envelope. Inside was a VHS tape and a folded piece of paper.

He turned the tape over.

A white sticker on the front read:




He unfolded the paper. An address was printed under a short handwritten message.

It's been long enough. Sean

"Well, look who remembered he's got a brother."

Twenty minutes later, Graves knelt in front of an old TV/VCR combo.

"Hope this fuckin' thing still works."

He pushed the tape into the slot, but the machine spat it back out.

So he pushed it in harder.

"Eat it!"

The VCR reluctantly accepted its meal as static rolled across the television, followed by Sean Graves sitting in a leather chair with a drink in hand.

Micheal leaned closer, watching as Sean looked past the camera.

"Is it recording?"

Several seconds passed before somebody answered.

"The recording is presently recording, sir."

Sean smiled as his attention turned to the lens.


"Micheal. Look at you. Universal Champion. Hall of Legends. A daughter who'll admit you're her father in front of people."

Sean raised his glass.

"Hell of a year, brother."

"Been enjoyin' the part where you weren't in it."

"I watched the induction. The whole thing. Figured if you could wait that long to get in, I could sit through the speech."

He chuckled into his drink.

"Got there before you."

"I'm fucking with you. You earned it. Took the scenic route, but you got there."

"And you took the scenic route around an apology."

"Found the camera while clearing out some old shit. Thought it'd be fun. Like cutting promos back in the day.

Besides, you would've hung up on me."

"Could still mail this back up your ass."

"I hear you're coming out this way for a show. Come over. Have a drink."

"Got somethin' else in mind."

"Look, I know. Last time we saw each other, things got a little out of hand."

"YOU SLIT MY FUCKIN' THROAT!"

Sean took another sip.

"Then come say your piece..."

A thin line of something dark ran from Sean's nose.

He wiped it with his thumb, looked at it, then reached out of frame.

The picture jumped.

Sean was sitting back again. His glass was once again full.

"Address is in the envelope.

Come see your brother."

He looked past the camera and nodded.

The television screen turned blue.

Graves waited.

"Motherfucker didn't even apologize."

He rubbed the old scar beneath his jaw as he 

stood and headed into the kitchen.

He opened the cutlery drawer and took out a carving knife, only to put it back and select a larger one.

He then wrapped it in a dish towel and stuffed it into his bag.

"Have a drink. Catch up. Slit your fuckin' throat.

See how much of a hurry you're in to put it behind us when you're lookin' at it from my end."


Graves hadn't passed another car in twenty minutes. His headlights stretched down an empty road, trees crowding both sides.


A narrow turnoff led him deeper into the woods. Branches scraped the car as his tires crunched over dirt and stone.


Graves pulled up outside the mansion and checked the address.

Then he looked at the house.

"Asshole can build this house, but not install a driveway?"


He killed the engine, grabbed his bag, and climbed the steps to his brother's front door.

A thin man in a black suit stood inside the doorway. His white gloves stained at the finger tips.

"Mr. Graves."

"Yeah. The other one. The one who has to knock. Where's my brother?"

The man stepped aside.

"Ah, you have arrived just in time for your arrival."

Graves stopped halfway through the doorway, getting a good look at the man's gaunt cheeks and sunken eyes.

"You alright?"

"It is a bug, sir. I have survived it upto this moment."

Graves looked him over again.

"Yeah? Well, keep fightin' it, pal... you look half past dead already."

Graves stepped into the entrance hall.


The butler reached for his bag.

"Allow me to relieve you."

"How about you buy me dinner first?"

"The relief I offered was luggage related, sir."

Graves pulled his bag in close.

"Yeah? Well, that stays with me."

The butler's hand remained extended as a door opened across the hall.

"Micheal! Holy shit. You actually came."

Sean approached with his arms spread. Micheal tightened his grip on the bag.

His brother stopped in front of him.

Same height. Same age.

Sean looked him up and down.

"What the fuck happened to you?"

"Traffic."

"Your face, asshole. We used to look identical."


"Ain't like I carry a picture of you around so the doctor knows where to put everything."

Sean laughed and patted his brother's stomach.

Micheal caught his wrist.

For a moment, neither would let go.

Then Sean's grin widened.

"Look at us. Five minutes together and you're already working a wristlock. Come on. Have a drink."

"We gotta talk first."

"We can do both. Big night. My brother finally comes to visit, and he's the Universal Champion. Hall of Legends, too. Fuck, I should've had a cake made."

"Already brought somethin' to cut it with."

Sean glanced down at the bag.

Then he slowly pulled his wrist free.

"Still can't take you anywhere."

He turned toward the study. Graves followed, leaving the butler standing beside the door with his hand still out.

"Your comfort is our most comfortable concern."

"Get that guy a fuckin' chair."

Inside the study, Sean poured two drinks. Micheal sat his bag beside a chair.

A framed photo sat on the desk of Sean holding a championship above his head.

Graves flipped it facedown.

"I saw that."

Sean offered him a glass.

"So. This Raccoon City thing. You're really doing it?"

"That's why I'm out here."

Sean lowered his glass.

"You know, for weeks it's been weird shit out this way.

Missing hikers. Attacks in the woods. Cannibal stories all around Arklay.

Then news starts coming out of Raccoon City.

Roads blocked. Phones dead. People biting each other. Dead people getting back up. Cops barricading themselves inside their station.

And... I've heard there's something big wandering around out there."

"Something big?"

"Couldn't tell ya. Nobody agrees on what the fuck they saw. You know how rumors go.

Could all be bullshit...

Regardless, you're volunteering to go find out."

"Gotta date."

Sean laughed under his breath.

"Of course you do.

Christ, Micheal. Normal people hear stories like that and start looking for somewhere else to be."

"You worried about me now?"

"Don't flatter yourself.

I'm wondering how much thought you've actually put into walking into a city where half the population is supposedly trying to eat the other half."

"I know what I'm goin' there for."

"Which is?"

"Charlie Nickles."

Sean shook his head.

"Of course THAT'S the reason."

"Don't ask if you're just gonna get offended."

"You know? I thought maybe you'd say something about getting out alive.

Winning.

Draft position.

Anything that doesn't involve chasing one asshole through a city full of bigger problems."

"Charlie's my only problem."

Sean took another drink.

"So everybody else is looking for the way out and you're going deeper in because Charlie Nickles pissed you off."

"Charlie put his hands on Emily. That shit didn't happen by accident. Didn't happen because she was standin' in his way either.

He beat the shit outta her because HE wanted ME to hear about it."

"And you did."

"Now I make him wish I hadn't."

"Which means he got exactly what he wanted."

Micheal considered that for a second.

"What are you gettin' at?"

Sean exhaled through his nose.

"You're really willing to give up a match over Charlie Nickles?"

"Didn't say I'm givin' it up.

Once Charlie's handled, I'll still get out."

Something knocked against the wall behind Sean.

Sean didn't flinch.

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

Another thump, from upstairs this time.

"That."

"It's an old house, Micheal. It makes noises."

"Bullshit."

Sean took another drink.

"Why'd you really ask me here?"

"I told you. It's been too long."

"Twenty fuckin' years."

"Exactly."

"Last time I saw you, you slit my throat. Left me for dead to run off with the Black Hand Circle Jerk. Now suddenly you're invitin' me out for drinks because we're gettin' old?"

"People change, Micheal. You should know that better than anyone."

Micheal reached down and unzipped the bag.

"Micheal—"

He crossed the room before Sean could finish and pressed the blade against his throat.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Your brother!"

"I know my brother. All of them. Try again."

Micheal pressed harder. A thin red line began to run under the blade.

"Me?"

Two arms wrapped around Micheal from behind.

The butler!

Graves didn't hesitate in driving the knife straight through the man's temple.

He went limp and Graves ripped the blade free as his corpse collapsed onto the carpet.

"Comfort that, motherfucker!"

The study door SLAMMED.

Micheal turned to find that Sean was gone.

"THE FUCK YOU ARE!"

He started for the door when something behind him began to snap, crackle, and POP!

Micheal slowly looked back.

The butler's elbows SNAPPED in the wrong direction. His spine CRACKLED until his chest lifted from the floor. Then four new limbs POPPED from his abdomen, making him look like some human insect hybrid.

Graves took a step back.

"Oh, what the fuck... SOMEBODY GET THE RAID!"

The butler's body bubbled and grew while his jaw opened so far that the skin tore at the corners as the lower half of his face split downward.

Then a slick black tail unfolded from inside him and slammed into a desk hard enough to split it in half.

The thing that had been the butler let out a death-squeal.

"Okay, yeah... fuck that."

He ran as the creature SCREAMED behind him.

Micheal blasted through the study door as the enormous monster crashed through the wall on his heels.

"SEAN! WHEN I FIND YOUR ASS, I'M KILLIN' YOU TWICE!"

Graves didn't make it far before something wrapped around his ankle and sent him flying through the air and crashing through a wall. Micheal rolled to his back and caught a glimpse of the creature towering over him.

"Wait—"

Its massive limb came down and everything went black.

















Micheal's eyes snapped open.























Restraints held him down on a medical table.

Micheal struggled against them.

"Oh, you gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me."

A man sat several feet away.

Late fifties. Expensive gray suit. Silver hair.


"Still remarkably quick to regain consciousness."

"Lemme loose and I'll show ya how quick I can put you to sleep."

The man finally looked at him.

"Director Elias Voss. DWR."

Micheal stopped pulling.

"DWR..."

"So you do remember us."

"I remember enough."

"We remember everything."

Voss walked toward the table.

"You were never supposed to survive outside the program this long, Micheal."

"Been disappointin' people my whole life."

"Quite the opposite."

Voss tapped the tablet.

Medical scans filled the screen.

"Your healing has slowed. Your endurance has declined.

And you weren't our only subject."

"The fuck's that supposed to mean?"

"Others were more obedient.

They became what they were designed to become.

Weapons."

"I ain't your fuckin' weapon."

"No. You were impossible to control. The conditioning never took.

Our successful subjects are deteriorating rapidly.

But you lasted decades longer than any of them."

"So you wanna know why?"

"Precisely."

"And Sean? Was that my brother?"

"Would it change anything if I said yes?"

"Yeah. I'd only kill him once."

"Perhaps you should ask him yourself."

"Where is he?"

"We'll have plenty of time for family matters later."

Two technicians entered pushing a cart covered with syringes, vials and surgical tools.

"Oh good. Arts and crafts."

"Blood. Tissue. Bone marrow. We need to understand why your deterioration has progressed differently."

One technician pressed a needle into his arm.

Micheal shifted his weight onto the thumb of his other hand.

"Whatever made you resistant to our conditioning may also be responsible for your longevity."

"So bein' fucked in the head saved my life?"

"In simplified terms."


"Finally. A medical opinion I can get behind!"

Micheal slipped his hand out of the restraints.

The technician barely had time to look up.

Micheal grabbed him by the back of the head and SMASHED his face into the metal cart.

Voss stumbled backward.

"SECURITY!"

"Little late for that!"

The second technician reached for an alarm.

Micheal grabbed a surgical tray and cracked it across his face.

He snatched a scalpel and cut through the restraint across his chest and other wrist.

Alarms erupted throughout the facility.

Micheal sat up and looked at Voss.

"Don't run."

Voss ran.

Micheal sliced through the restraints around his ankles and dropped from the table and stepped into the corridor.


A pair of security guards rounded the corner.

The first guard charged.

Micheal sidestepped him and drove his face into the wall.

The second caught a boot to the knee before Graves grabbed him by the back of the vest and launched him into the first guard.

Graves kept moving until a sign on the wall caught his attention.

HUMAN DEVELOPMENT ARCHIVES.

Another arrow pointed toward the EXIT in the opposite direction.

He considered heading to the archives for a moment.

Maybe he could find something on what they did to him.

Why this deterioration was happening.

How long he had...

But Charlie waited at the EXIT. So he chose the exit.

A voice crackled over the speakers.

"You don't want answers?"

Voss.

Micheal kept moving.

"Don't you want to know what we did to you? What you are?"

"Already know what I am."

"Do you?"

A steel door was lowering ahead.

Micheal broke into a full-sprint and dove under it as it crashed down behind him.

"Yeah."

Micheal turned the corner to find Sean standing at the end of the hallway.

Micheal stopped and the two brothers stared at each other.

There was black leaking from Sean's nose again.

He wiped it away with his sleeve.

"You look like shit."

"Been a rough visit."

"You gonna kill me now?"

Micheal started toward him, but Sean didn't flee.

Micheal grabbed the front of his shirt and slammed Sean against the wall, putting the scalpel to his neck.

"Tell me who you are."

"Sean Graves."

"Bullshit."

"Maybe."

Micheal pushed the blade tighter.

"You remember mom?"

"Yeah."

"Dad?"

"Yeah."

"The orphanage?"

"You used to crawl into my bed when it thundered."

"Fuck you. You crawled into mine."

"That's not how I remember it."

For a moment, they were eight years old again.

But then suddenly—they weren't.

Micheal stared into his brother's eyes.

Or something wearing them.

"I don't think I'll be killin' you today."

"No?"

"No... Mostly because I ain't sure who I'd be killin' or what you might turn into if I did."

The blade lowered.

Sean looked surprised.

"Twenty years of wanting revenge and you're walking away?"

"Don't try 'n make it sound healthy."

Micheal released him.

"Maybe you're Sean. Maybe you're some shit they grew in a fuckin' tank and filled up with his memories.

But I came here wanting to kill my brother.

Not whatever the hell you are."

"Well, don't let them say you haven't matured."

"Keep talkin'. I can still relapse."

Sean laughed exactly like Sean and that somehow made all this worse.

"What about Charlie? You can walk away from a twenty year grudge with blood, but you're going into Raccoon City looking for HIM?"

"You sound jealous. Our shit happened twenty years ago. Charlie put his hands on Emily NOW."

"No, I get that.

What I don't get is how DWR spent years trying to make you do what they wanted and couldn't...

But let Charlie Nickles hit your daughter once and suddenly he's got you marching exactly where he wants you."

"Charlie ain't controllin' shit."

"That's not the point, Micheal. DWR couldn't make you do what they wanted. They couldn't control you, then Charlie comes along and does it with one fucking attack."

"Fuck you."

"Tell me I'm wrong.

You were ready to walk into that city, forget everybody else in the match, and hunt him down because that's exactly what he knew you'd do."

"I didn't say forget everybody else."

"You said you didn't give a shit about getting out first."

"Winner gets to choose his draft position.

Couldn't care less."

"And that's why people keep gettin' your ass."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, don't fuckin' 'excuse me' me.

You know what I'm talkin' about.

Somebody pisses you off and—BOOM—that's it. Whatever the fuck you were doing before?

Fuck it.

Now it's all about them.

Gotta hit 'em. Gotta prove somethin'. Gotta make sure they know Micheal Graves ain't the guy to fuck with.

Meanwhile somebody else is actually winning the goddamn match."

"So what? I see Charlie, I'm supposed to just let him walk?"

"I didn't say that. Break his fucking jaw if you get the chance.

Just don't hand him the match while you're doing it."

"I ain't handin' him shit. If anything, I'm beating his ass while somebody else takes it!"

"You really think you're only fighting for a draft order?"

"Uh... yeah?"

"Alright, genius.

What about the people you're supposed to Captain?

You think they don't notice this shit?

Their Captain gets one chance to walk into Raccoon City and make everybody else chase HIM...

And instead he's off somewhere chasin' Charlie because Charlie knew exactly which nerve to hit."

"Don't call me genius like that."

"Then stop acting like a dummy!

You've had good Captains.

You've had shitty ones.

Don't sit there and tell me it felt the same."

"I fought hard either way."

"Yeah, because you're you.

But you know damn well there's a difference between showin' up because you're supposed to... and showin' up thinkin' the asshole beside you might actually know what he's doing."

"Oh, so now I gotta inspire people?"

"You're the Captain, it kinda comes with the job."

"Fuck."

"And this whole not caring about draft position thing?

Do you want scraps, or do you want warriors?"

"...warriors, duh."

"Then earn the advantage!

Walk into Raccoon City with Judd Hollow, Johnny Bacchus, Charlie Nickles and whatever the hell else is waiting in there...

And come out first, then when you point at somebody and tell them they're fighting for Micheal Graves, they know their Captain already did his fucking job."

"Okay—FUCK!

I get it.

Still knockin' Charlie's fuckin' teeth out if I see him."

"Nobody said you couldn't. I'm just saying Charlie isn't the match."

"No... he ain't."

"You've got a city full of problems to escape and Judd Hollow recently proved he knows how to escape. Found the keys to that room, then put Oz face-first through that cage and walked right out."

"Yeah, I'm aware of our Xtreme Champ, fought him once already."

"Beat him too."

"Yeah, and I'd love to say I had him figured out.

I looked at Judd and thought...

Fuckin' lamb.

Big one, sure, but still a lamb.

Then the bell rang and I found out I missed about every fuckin' clue there was."

"You still won."

"Barely."

"Barely counts."

"Yeah, yeah. Fuck you.

Ain't makin' that mistake twice.

One thing I did get right? Judd likes to hurt.

Raccoon City's supposed to be full of shit that wants to kill us.

So maybe I just need to give Judd somethin' more interesting to hurt.

Something big, mean, and hard to kill.

Shit! That sounds like me...

Eh?

I'll figure somethin' out.

Always do."

"And Johnny Bacchus, are you familiar?"

"I know enough to know that he's a different kinda problem.

I've seen that motherfucker put somebody through a table so hard he knocked his own ass out... still kept the belt because he happened to land on top of 'em and stay there long enough for someone to count to three.

That's an A-plus in survivin'!

But ain't no time for nappin'.

At some point, he's gotta get his ass up and find his way out before I do."

"Those are the guys trying to beat you, and Charlie's just the guy hoping you'll beat yourself."

"No, you made your point. I ain't watchin' Judd or Bacchus hit that exit because Charlie got me runnin' in circles."

"Good, you've spent your whole career bitching about people calling you impulsive, unreliable, easy to bait.

Stop giving 'em the evidence."

"Two-time Universal Champion. Hall of Legends. War Games Captain.

Think I changed a few minds."

"How long did that take?"

"Long fuckin' time."

"How long would it take to lose it?"

"..."

"Exactly."

"Know what the funny part is? Charlie's gonna be expectin' me."

"Of course he is."

"Nah, I mean expectin' me to start tearin' through that city screamin' his fuckin' name."

"You were just ready to do exactly that..."

"Yeah?

So let him think I still am.

Let him spend the whole night lookin' over his shoulder waitin' for Micheal Graves.

And if we do happen to cross paths, he finds out he was right to keep lookin'."

"That's restraint?"

"For me? That's practically fuckin' enlightenment."

"...Fair."

Micheal stepped through the exit. A ladder led up to a hatch.

"Micheal, you know they'll come looking for you again."

"Fuck 'em. They know where I live."

Micheal climbed.

Sean remained alone in the corridor.

Black goo ran from his nose again.

This time, he didn't wipe it away.


























An old country song played quietly through Micheal's speakers.


The mansion shrank in the rearview as Micheal drove, not knowing whether he just spared his brother...

Or if his brother was even alive.

The old country song played quietly through the speakers.

Then—




The music cut out.

"We interrupt this regularly scheduled programming for an emergency bulletin affecting Raccoon City and the surrounding Arklay County area."

"Ah, shit."

"Residents are advised to remain indoors. Several major routes into and out of Raccoon City have been clo—"

Static.

"—individuals displaying extreme aggression, confusion, or symptoms of serious illness."

"That's awfully fuckin' specific."

"If you encounter an injured individual who appears unresponsive, do not attempt to—"

Suddenly the signal broke apart and a different voice cut through that was less composed.

"—repeat, do NOT approach them. Several police checkpoints are no longer responding. There are unconfirmed reports of attacks near Raccoon General Hospital and the Raccoon Police Department—"

More static.

"Anyone still within city limits should shelter in place. Do not attempt to leave through blocked roadways. Do not stop for stranded motorists. Do not—"



The transmission died.



A few seconds later, the country song returned.



His headlights stretched across the empty highway—"Well... guess we're gonna find out first hand how much of it's bullshit..."—until they caught a road sign.