Leon decided to go to start with the S.T.A.R.S. office. The little girl was long gone by now, so Claire had to get a head start to catch up. Unfortunately, the office was in shambles. All the desks of the S.T.A.R.S. members were littered with files and useless junk.
There was nothing left to use. Files and papers scattered the floor tiles, and there was bothing in the weapon lockers. One of the safest rooms in the city's safe zone, and it was empty of all life - a real false sense of security.
Next to the trophy cabinet behind the captain's desk was a large photo frame of all the serving S.T.A.R.S. members. It was a beautiful sight to see them standing in the back row with another row of them crouching in front. Leon flipped the frame over.
Back row: E. Dewey, F. Speyer, K. Sullivan, R. Aiken, A. Wesker, Z. Wesker, B. Burton and B. Vickers. Front row: K. Dooley, E. Marini, C. Redfield, J. Valentine, J. Frost and R. Chambers.
All wielded assault rifles, taking a stance for the photo. The signature of Chief Brian Irons was signed at the very bottom of the picture frame. Leon could really see himself amongst those men some day...
On the captain's desk was a layer of bloody bandages and medical supplies. The blood on the leather chair, desk and bandages were a day old. There were empty bottles of whiskey and vodka rattling around under the table, four of each in total. That much alcohol could kill a man twice over.
A S.T.A.R.S. file was on the desk by the captain's terminal, under an empty cigar case. The note was written with clear, bloody handwriting, top to bottom. It was quite readable.
September 26th, 1998.
This is Captain Zachary Wesker of the R.P.D. STARS Alpha Team Division. An experimental virus created by Umbrella Incorporated has contaminated the entire city, turning this thriving city into a biohazard. The Tyrant virus they created has infected Raccoon citizens by the thousands and continues at an alarming rate.
Raccoon's last line of defence against the infected horde at Johnson's National has failed, the R.P.D. has been wiped. I – the good Captain Wesker – sent an evacuation plea to the American military and waited for an immediate response. Alas, the reply from the military was negative; they quarantined and contained the city, leaving us to die alone. That was when I made the Police Department the registered safe zone.
This is a major catastrophe for us all, but judging the current state of the infection, I admit no one can risk it getting out of the city. Not me or the American government. It must never leave the city. It wasn't the best choice I know. Sacrificing a city to save a country, a planet even. Noble.
After everything the R.P.D. and I did for the city, the American government has the nerve to leave us to die. I investigated all my sources and found evacuations aren't a breach of their authority, they had the chance to save the survivors at the R.P.D., and they did nothing! No authority, my ass!
Umbrella is the enemy that lurks in the shadows, the real culprits behind everything. Do not listen to their lies. The people did, and they paid for it with their lives. Umbrella's greedy hands molested the good people of our community for generations, do not make the same mistakes they did.
My dearest Claire, I'm sorry for failing our city. I did my best, but it was only natural for me to succumb to the weight of the catastrophe. I did everything I could for our citizens, humanly possible. I even fought on the front lines back at the Johnson's National, along with the remaining R.P.D. and SWAT.
Not only did I nearly got torn apart by the zombie hordes, but soldiers from Umbrella also tried to kill me while I retreated! I wasn't good enough. They stalked me from the rooftops. Hordes of zombies kept wearing me down. I even witnessed some Tyrants walking the city streets.
I sit in my short-lived office trying to think of where to begin, of how to express the things I've witnessed in my life since we last spoke, and already I failed. Forgive the tangents of my pen; this isn't easy for me. Even as I write, I can feel every concept of my life slipping away.
Before I die, I have to tell you what's in my heart. The adrenaline and alcohol only delayed the inevitable, I am still infected, and there is no cure. I can only think of ending myself before passing the burden to others, but I have so much left to give.
I love you, Claire. Once my sad story is over, I'll be waiting for you on the other side. I pray you survive whatever nightmare that awaits you around every corner of this living hell.
One day we'll be reunited, in this life or the next.
This is Captain Wesker of the R.P.D. STARS. As a man cut down before his prime, serving this city and the people has been an honour. My only regret was not doing enough to protect and serve.
The last few words of the file were illegible; blood splatter obscured the very last few sentences. It was more of a suicide note. Zaac Wesker was dead. How could he break it to Claire? That her boyfriend has died? By his hand or someone else's.
Leon left the scrawled note at the desk and moved on. It was far too grim to let a beautiful woman like Claire read, only to break apart from depression of sorts. They sounded very close. He'd have to ease the truth bitterly and at the right time.