Recommended BGM:

1. Resident Evil 3: Nemesis (1999) - Carlos' Theme

2. Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War - Bell's Theme

3. Resident Evil 3: Nemesis (1999) - Nicholai's Theme

Bonus Track: Resident Evil 3: Nemesis (1999) & (Remake) - The City of Ruin


Chapter 4

Mitch Hirami was killed alongside Sean Olson, shot to death by an unknown enemy force. Others died because of the huge waves of incoming zombies: Deets, Bjorklund, Suarez, Tommy, their medic, Carmichael, and even the imposing gruff Ignatius.

Maybe if he had been fast enough to save at least a couple of them, Carlos wouldn't have to be remembering even the most minor quirks that the guys used to have, like Ignatius cracking his knuckles to look more intimidating every time he felt nervous or Tommy cracking jokes in the midst of a terrible situation, grinning as if there was nothing that could make him lose his sense of humor…

Shut up! You can't change the past! Right now, you need to get yourself and Murphy out of here.

The herd had fallen into a faint distant echo, enough for Carlos to feel they could now stop and rest for a minute, feeling like they had just run a marathon for hours or even days. After the chaos they went through, Murphy had been bleeding from his hairline underneath his green beanie. The gunshot wound on his leg hadn't been helping either as he'd been bleeding through the bandages so much, to the point that he was now in need of an actual hospital, or else he could either lose half of his whole leg or die of blood loss. Carlos had never felt this panicked before. He really needed a whole minute to catch his breath and desperately think of something…

about how they all died, about how that woman bit into Carmichael's throat and Ignatius sacrificing himself in vain to try and save Suarez, who had been laughing wildly as he dropped his gun and offered himself to them, and Deets screaming prayers to a dark sky that never answered back…

Shut up!

As soon as Carlos ensured there was no immediate danger around their fenced space, he leaned back against a convenience store's back wall, watching Murphy drinking water out of a drinking fountain before joining up with him, slowly sliding into a sitting position. Carlos thought of having a drink himself, but as of right now, he was feeling too tired to move anywhere, let alone stop thinking about everything that's happened up to this point. As Murphy pulled out his boot and rolled up his pants on his right leg, Carlos forced himself not to look at his wound further than he liked. It wasn't because he was entirely grossed by it but because it reminded him of his failures in saving the rest of their team.

He and Murphy were the only ones that made it, and just barely. Their survival already seemed like some impossible dream come true in the form of a terrible manifested nightmare.

It was only after the rest of their team had been wiped out that there were at least more than eight of the cannibal monsters coming after him and Murphy. Carlos had fired repeatedly, feeling even more vulnerable with each backing step since the shooters from earlier could've followed them and finished what the zombies couldn't do. He'd been so preoccupied with shooting them one by one, so busy smelling the combined stench of burning gunpowder, blood, and rot, so dizzy and disoriented with adrenaline-driven horror, he hadn't realized Murphy had tripped and fallen to the ground until he heard the loud thud of his forehead hitting the pavement hard enough to leave him entirely dazed. The impact was even louder than the combined cries of the undead that kept following them relentlessly.

A crawling undead woman had managed to grab Murphy by his ankle, but not before being shot in the head with her brains spilled over the pavement, not by Carlos or Murphy, but by someone else entirely, hidden under the shadows from somewhere nearby. They had barely missed Carlos when he'd crouched to try and shoot the zombie off of Murphy with his sidearm. As he turned to look over a corner near a parked car, he saw the silhouette of a man in a hood, still aiming at him with a handgun. With unknown reflexes born out of survival instinct, he rolled over to the side, dodging another bullet that had almost managed to hit him in the hip, and shot the man twice in the chest, killing him instantly. One of the zombies behind Carlos had started moaning louder with full eagerness to chomp the back of his neck, feeling the icy cold fingers groping at his bare skin, and he immediately threw himself away from it, scooping up the half-conscious Murphy with strength he did not know he possessed. It would've proven to be the end of them if he'd stopped and checked up on the shooter's dead body to identify who or what they were dealing with besides the cannibal beings.

In the end, all Carlos had been focused on was to keep dragging his injured comrade out of there, away from the slaughter, his thoughts whirling as a restless storm. It had him afraid, terrified, and lost in a state of insanity, unable to comprehend what had happened, what was still happening…

"Jesus… is this it?"

Carlos turned his head to look down at Murphy, his slurred words low and defeated, and saw the bandaged bullet wound stained in thick blood, oozing out almost steadily, his sock and the inside of his boot drenched with it.

"The walking dead, and… who were those people anyway? Why were they trying to kill us? Are they… are they responsible for… all of this?" Murphy looked up to Carlos, connecting his tired gaze at him, his eyes telling him that he was in so much physical and emotional pain, bad enough that Murphy could barely focus on anything.

It was probably the concussion he got after the fall, but whatever it was, Murphy still needed a medic, a doctor - a hospital. Shaking his head, Carlos crouched next to him, feeling as though he'd already reached his limit, his mind broken apart by the insanity around them as he tried crafting an additional makeshift bandage with a piece of Murphy's shirt, folding it into a compress.

We're screwed. No cops, no firefighters, no paramedics, and we've got the living trying to mow us all down without a second thought. This city is dying or completely dead. We're all alone with no backup, and Murphy's in no position to fight.

"This might sting a little, carnal. We've got to stop the bleeding, or you won't survive another hour out here," said Carlos, not wanting to sound too worried or nervous in front of him as he pressed the folded material against his wounded leg. A mental breakdown won't help anybody, and certainly not Murphy, who now needed his help and full support however possible. "Keep it tight, alright?"

Murphy clenched his jaw, shaking momentarily as the surge of pain rushed all over him, but at least he did as Carlos asked and held the soft material in place.

Carlos switched his gaze elsewhere toward the front gate, hearing heavy footsteps coming to their location.

Damn! Must've tracked us down if they're coming here to try and get us one last time…

He quickly aimed his M4 at the gate from which they'd come, not wanting to have any further surprises from the unknown assailants that had taken over the city for themselves. His finger was already on the trigger, his face hot and sweaty, his heart pumping as if it were fast-forwarding…

…and a humanoid figure stepped into view, a man dressed in green and gray fatigues, but Carlos didn't think much of it when he had already pulled the trigger, firing a few rounds before the unknown man could even have the chance to see what was happening around him.

"Who the hell are you?!" Carlos yelled fearlessly at them as soon as they had escaped the hail of bullets by swiftly moving behind the walls of the convenience store. "What do you want?!"

There was no response from them, and for a moment, Carlos had second thoughts about the man simply being a civilian who may needed saving. However, after what had happened previously, he wouldn't be risking it if it meant that those same civilians they were sent to save were the same people trying to kill them.

Carlos slowly approached the gate with his M4 still raised, feeling tense but still keeping his fierce tone in control without letting out signs of fear be apparent to the unknown person.

"Final warning, amigo! Tell me who you are and who you are working for!"

The man slowly came out of the shadows, his hands raised as his rifle was slung over his shoulder, looking neither worried nor content. As each of them connected their gaze, Carlos quickly noticed he wasn't an immediate threat, his uniform showing he was in the same payroll as he was.

"Name's Sgt. Mike Cryan, UBCS, Squad Charlie leader, Platoon Delta," he said with a stern look over the old battle scars he bore before slowly putting up a more friendly smile that Carlos had remembered seeing before being transported to the hellish realm that was Raccoon. "Guessing you're also not one of them, are you?"

"No," he responded before sighing with immense relief washing over him as he realized that not all of the UBCS had been entirely wiped out. Finally, putting away his rifle, he reached for the gate and opened it for Cryan. The guy was old enough to be a battle-hardened soldier in his late fifties or early sixties, but with how he looked, he seemed like he'd fought almost every battle in his life in just one single night. "Cpl. Carlos Oliveira, UBCS, Squad Alpha, Platoon Delta. Glad to see another friendly around. Murphy over here isn't doing so well with his gunshot wound. Our squad leader and one of our squadmates were shot to death just before the rest of the team got overwhelmed by those things out there. Was about to give up hope."

"Hirami was your squad leader, wasn't he?" Asked Cryan, and Carlos gave him a silent nod. Immediately, the Charlie leader sighed deeply. "Same thing happened to us. Waller got shot in the face. Morton got hit in the midriff. Next thing we knew, one of those undead freaks came out of nowhere and chomped on one of our guys' shoulders from behind. We tried to camp it out in a nearby storage cellar, but…"

Cryan didn't seem like he wanted to go into detail about the events after, which Carlos couldn't blame him, considering just how much they've all been through. Nothing in their military or criminal careers could have ever prepared them for something like this at a massive scale, especially with people rising from the dead.

The Charlie leader continued to walk toward Murphy, looking closer at him.

"Murphy, right? How's that leg treating you?"

Murphy had been squinting from the pain he was feeling, already drenched in sweat, as he looked back up at Cryan and frowned.

"I'll feel better once we get out of this hellish town," he responded lowly. "Just wanna go home and rest…"

Cryan put up a hand over his left shoulder, patting him lightly. "Soon, son. Just hang in there for a bit longer. Can you do that for us?" - Murphy gave him a slow nod, still pressing the makeshift bandage over his wound, wincing in pain - "We'll be up and running in a few, so rest up while you can."

As Cryan stood up while still staring at Murphy, he called out to Carlos in a small whisper before walking past the corner to the side of the store. "Com'ere for a sec."

Carlos did as he was told, not knowing what Cryan wanted to tell him other than thinking that Murphy may not make it out in time to seek proper treatment with a doctor.

He'll make it. He has to.

A small gap between the store's wall and the fence facing a thick brick wall separated them from an alley nearby, enough coverage to provide for a private conversation in which Carlos was afraid of hearing even more bad news than he could handle.

"Yes, Sergeant?" he said, trying not to sound overwhelmed by a twisted knot of trepidation.

Cryan moved closer to Carlos, looking past his shoulder as he nudged his head forward and began to mutter something in his left ear, his voice low and clear.

"Two blocks. Southwest to the store. Motel Dere building. Fourth floor. We're being watched."

Carlos took a step back, feeling aghast by this sudden information as he looked at him in a somewhat confused state. "How—how do you know?"

Cryan kept a grim look as he proceeded to explain. "Saw movement up there before I got here. They could've quickly taken us out long ago, but for whatever reason, they're choosing not to." - Cryan began shaking his head - "This is way bigger than anything we've ever imagined. Something's definitely going on here behind the scenes, that's for sure."

Carlos nodded. "Yeah, you could say that, but how do we get out of here anyway? Do you even have any clue who's behind all this?"

Cryan shrugged at him. "Got nothing. Checked one of the guys my team managed to take out, and they had no insignia or anything that could tell us who they all are. My team and I are supposed to rendezvous at a newspaper office building nearby. We'll plan our escape there as soon as we know the area's clear. Staying here any longer will only get us killed. Hopefully, anyone from Charlie made it there safely. "

Carlos nodded again and followed Cryan out of there, joining Murphy once more, finally feeling a bit hopeful that they would be one step closer to getting out of there.

Still, the fact that some of the living are hunting them all down didn't help matters much, but if they're able to secure a building, capture, and interrogate one of the bad guys, they could at least learn who or what they're dealing with, and if possible, learn of a way to getting out of the city as soon as possible.

As Carlos and Cryan helped Murphy up, Carlos quickly thought about all the wrecked cars they'd run past, the piles of brick, broken wood, and furniture all hazily piled up, littering the streets as precipitously made blockades. Even if they were to find any car with keys already in the ignition, there was no way they could pass through most of the blockades anyway. Carlos didn't have a pilot's license, and even if Cryan didn't possess one due to his dark and cryptic history with the US government, Carlos was still willing to step up to the challenge as he had flown a chopper before a few times. An airport with a spare plane or helicopter would be the greatest miracle.

We'll never make it out of here on foot, though. Even if Murphy was in fine shape, none of us could deal with an all-out war against a group of assassins with a legion of the undead. There's gotta be hundreds, maybe thousands of them out here.

If only they could find any potential allies out there, maybe a small group of sane people who don't kill on sight… but having to track and locate anyone willing to cooperate in this nightmare would be a nightmare all of its own. Carlos immediately thought of the restaurant Trent had told him about for a brief moment but quickly ignored it.

To hell with Trent and to hell with his restaurant. We are getting out of here, one way or another.

His mind quickly shifted to finding a radio somewhere that he could use to call for help from the outside world, but he instantly decided against it. What if those bellicose combatants cut off communication from the outside world or have their location pinpointed wherever they decided to go somehow?

"I don't feel too good," blurted Murphy, almost in an inaudible voice that Carlos and Cryan could barely hear, his words continuing to be slurred. "Feeling… hot and tired."

"You've taken a good beating. Just hang in there, bud," said Cryan. "We'll find you help."

"You're gonna make it, bro," Carlos followed after. "We're getting us out of here."

Carlos and Cryan sounded confident enough themselves, but Carlos only wished he felt just as confident as they sounded.


Almost a week back, the firefight between them and the USS had been quite fierce. Casualties rose to a peak on both sides, enough to also bring unnecessary attention to the mutated William Birkin, who must've injected himself with a hidden dose of the G-Virus he had in his possession. After the t-Virus samples had been broken and released into the water supply, the G-Virus samples stayed intact. However, the Birkin mutant took an interest in the G samples, ingesting every drop within the vials. Their commander had them escorted back into one of Umbrella's hidden underground offices within the sewers after most of the USS had either been killed or fallen victim to the G creature; their mission objective turned to a failure, with most of their team dead along with them.

Even after failing to deliver the samples to their commander, he didn't seem all too unhappy about it either. Instead, he seemed more hopeful about their situation, almost as if he'd planned it from the start. The t-Virus outbreak may have been their undoing, but it also created a crack within the West's pathetic comfort zone. Everyone thought that the end of the Cold War with the Soviet Union's collapse meant the invincibility of the American dream, but Perseus was and has always been one step ahead within the shadows. Not even the US government knew of their actions within the ruined town of Raccoon City, at least for now.

Obolensky smiled at this, knowing he would finally exact his revenge against the country that had used him for their own gain despite helping them with Perseus' previous mistakes that could've cost them the entire world as they knew it. He couldn't fully admit it, but deep down, he initially doubted the steps Perseus would take to shift the balance in the Soviet Union's favor. Obolensky's brief betrayal was only meant to save the world, while the rest of those previous months he spent with the CIA were all due to being brainwashed by Russell Adler, his lapdog, Lawrence Sims, and his MI6 partner, Helen Park.

Those fools never knew who they were up against, regardless. Probably not even to this day…

Out of the whole team at the time, only Alex Mason looked at him with genuine concern in his eyes on various occasions, and he could've sworn Frank Woods had also done the same at least once or twice. It was ridiculous to think he used to admire those two under those horrible delusions that Adler had managed to form inside his mind. However, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that the brotherhood pair was the least involved in his rigorous torture and brainwashing sessions. Maybe, in truth, they weren't half as bad as…

Fuck off with the sentiments, Konstatin. They used you just as much as Adler and his other dogs did.

At least being back with Perseus has proven to be his right choice. Even after returning to them, he was still welcomed with open arms. After all, he had been the most trusted right-hand of one of their previous leaders, and their current commander had put his loyalty to the test more times than he could count. To this day, he still doesn't know if the commander fully trusts him, but regardless, he still has a mission to do, and that is to identify any and all UBCS personnel to hunt down possible spies that could've been sent from either the US government or Umbrella themselves. They could not allow evidence of their involvement to escape Raccoon City. They must ensure that the truth stays and dies along with the city itself, even if it involves killing any survivors, no matter who they are.

Can't make an omelet without cracking a few eggs.

"Psst… Obolensky!" his partner called out in a low voice as he entered the rooftop through the only iron door on top, walking past him to the other side of the area.

Obolensky pulled his sight off the scope of his sniper rifle as he had just finished sweeping the littered street across from him, filled with wrecked cars and a few wandering zombies that shambled aimlessly over the pavement. There was almost no sound within the subtle breeze of rot around them; the gunfire echoes had died out several minutes ago. The only things that were audible now were the distant cries of the undead and the small bonfire near the building they were standing in.

"Yeah?" he responded, and his partner gestured to come to his location silently. Obolensky hurried closer to the other edge of the rooftop, crouching next to him. "What is it?"

His partner pointed at the back of a convenience store's fenced area at least two blocks from their location. "Take a look over there and tell me one of'em eejits don look familiar to you."

Obolensky mounted his sniper rifle in a prone position next to his partner and proceeded to zoom in on the scope, seeing at least two UBCS members walking to the other side of the store, leaving an injured one sitting upright as he held onto some sort of material over his wounded leg. The wounded man looked nothing familiar, and when he tried to focus on the other two, only one of them was facing him, and once again, they looked unfamiliar to him. The guy seemed Hispanic, muscular with an athletic build, while the one that wasn't facing him looked similar in size, though slightly taller than the young soldier.

"None of them look familiar," Obolensky said simply. "But I can't get a clear view of the taller one."

"Wait 'til you do," his partner told him. "Keep a fierce sight on them, yeah?"

Obolensky continued monitoring them through the sniper's scope, the two mercenaries seemingly still talking to one another to avoid the injured one from listening to their conversation. After a couple of uneventful minutes, the duo finally walked around the edge of the store, yet the taller one still somehow hid their face from him, almost as though he knew they were being watched.

"We've got a keen eye with this one, eh?" said Obolensky in a matter-of-fact tone. "They know they're being watched."

"How could you tell?" his partner inquired, who was now looking in the same direction with his own sniper scope.

"Trust me, Gray - I know," he said dryly as he saw the standing duo helping out the injured one getting up, and he slowly pulled off his sight of the scope. "I wasn't hired just for my looks."

Gray chuckled. "Sure you did, bud." - he nudged his head to the store ahead - "That tall langer over there looks 'lot like one of the subjects we had back in Verdansk long ago. 'Least I think so. Might've known who we are, too."

Obolensky glowered at him, feeling a quick surge of fury rising within.

"Why didn't you take the shot if you knew they were a threat to our involvement?"

"'Cause I reckoned you'd want to take him out personally instead," Gray countered. "It's best for you to find out yourself once we—"

Their radio beeped to life, and their commander interrupted their brief conversation almost immediately.

"Knight. Marauder."

Obolensky picked up the radio the fastest and was the first to respond. "Go ahead, commander."

"Jill Valentine, STARS Alpha, is most likely heading to the station as we speak. I need you and Knight to pack your things and observe her movements. If the Nemesis Prototype gets to her first, record everything you see. Do not interfere, even if she escapes alive. If she comes into contact with any other survivor before the T-103 could deal with her, kill them. We cannot afford any risks to our operation."

"Wilco, commander," Obolensky acknowledged. "Heading our way to the RPD's front quadrant."

"Commander," Gray began. "We've got a possible ID on a subject from Verdansk within the UBCS. You don't think it's…"

"The UBCS is no longer your priority!" he interjected fiercely. "Find Miss Valentine at all costs! That's an order! None shall know the truth. No survivors."

With that, Obolensky finally put his radio away, still thinking about who exactly the man that Gray was referring to and if their commander knew them as well. Ever since Gray brought it up, it kept his mind whirling restlessly. He was going to try and ask him one more time, tired of playing games ever since he'd been treated as a mere puppet for the CIA.

"Who do you think that UBCS guy is?" he insisted. "Which one of the subjects from Verdansk do you think he is?"

Gray looked back at the convenience store, no longer seeing anyone there anymore, and looked back at Obolensky before sighing.

"Let's just track down this Valentine girl," he said bluntly before getting up and walking away. "Let the others take care of what's left of the UBCS."

Obolensky opened his mouth to say something in return, but Gray was already gone.

Turning his head to look back at the convenience store's fenced yard, he saw nothing but a few zombies roaming around it, probably following the three soldiers that'd left the place not long ago. He thought about tracking them, curious to know the true identity of the taller man of the trio. If it were someone he knew who was partially responsible for his capture back in eighty-one, he could somehow tail their movements and interrogate them after killing the other two who'd only get in his way.

But I have orders. I've got a job to do.

His vision suddenly blurred, bringing false memories of his "Vietnam days with Adler, something he grew tired of having dreams and nightmares about. For the past seventeen years after Adler had let him go and given him a fresh new identity to use, he could never have a good night's rest. Sometimes, he saw himself alongside Adler and his lapdog, Lawrence Sims, fighting against the Viet Cong. Other times, he'd be alone, surviving in the harsh wilderness of the Vietnam jungles, all while being hunted down by Adler himself, calling him by the codename he thought he'd long left behind: Bell.

He hated that name, hated it with every fiber of his being, as it was a painful reminder of the Americans using him for their own personal gain, even if it benefitted the rest of the world.

In those dreams, Adler's voice echoed like a ringing bell, and a twisted, distorted illusion would reappear on any reflective surface in the form of his past mentor, the only man who had ever understood him, turned against him. The words coming out of him were like a deep poison eating up his remaining sanity, a sort of rust that would eventually consume him entirely. He didn't want to admit it, but he knew he wouldn't last more than a few years at most; knew that his mind would liquefy with all the side effects of the mental damage Adler and his team had caused him to experience for the rest of his life.

But I am still Perseus. I have been and always will be Perseus. Not CIA. Not an American puppet. Not a fucking kid to be looked down upon!

I am still myself.

I. Am. Still. Konstantin Obolensky!

There was a distant echo from a squealing car somewhere in the city, and as he turned back to take one last look at the streets around him, there was nothing to indicate there'd been anybody traveling through by vehicle, and even if they had, they wouldn't get far anyway.

With a growing smile, he made his way toward the only exit of the rooftop, feeling an immense wave of elation hitting him, letting every step of the way be a reminder that everything happening right now is a step closer to the West's downfall.


The corpse of Officer Ted Martin, Personal and Political Liaison to the Chief of Police, had been lying in a small pool of his own blood, shot to death at least several times in the head.

Nikolai could not find any evidence of whether or not this was Bell's doing or if he'd been put down after contracting the virus. Not that it mattered to him anyway, as long as he had time saved by a huge amount. He'd been dreading the fact that it would've taken a while to track him down throughout the station, all while risking having a T-103 paint a target on his back just by being inside the RPD itself.

"Most kind of you," said Nikolai coldly, his lips curling into a smile as he stared down at the very dead Watchdog. What was even better to him was that he was considerate enough to die precisely where he needed to be in the detective's office of the station's east wing.

Guessing I should give my thanks to Kravchenko and his loose dogs. Even if it wasn't them, it only means I'm at a great start to my little adventure. Quite a short night it will be, no doubt.

Nikolai skipped over the body and crouched next to the safe in the corner of the ground, quickly using the code given to him, courtesy of the Perseus dogs: two-two-three-six. A satisfying click made the steel door swing open mid-way, revealing a relatively good amount of items: a copy of the RPD's map, a box of shotgun shells, and what would become Nikolai's most useful item until his departure from the city, a state-of-the-art modern laptop. This specific laptop was designed to be used only by agents working directly for Spencer and the USS while still under the guise of looking and even performing worse than the average computer should anyone else in the building ever decide to use it without the proper credentials. As a Watchdog, Nikolai could not use it to its full potential. This, however, was no longer a problem as Kravchenko had leaked the credentials to him, and with this in hand, he'd be able to retrieve just about any information that Umbrella would normally not allow him to see.

His trip to the RPD was primarily uneventful, except for the occasional zombie he'd dispatched point-blank to avoid too much noise and attention. Surprisingly, they were a lot easier to kill than he'd anticipated. As long as one paid close attention to one's surroundings, there was nothing much they could do. He still had not encountered any of Umbrella's more dangerous creations that he'd been expecting to face, like the hunters and lickers. However, there had been a nest of those creepy crawlers he'd seen not far from where he traveled, nicknamed "Drain Deimos," mutated fleas that had grown murderous claws with the ability to inject individuals with parasitic embryos.

One thing at a time, now. First, you need information.

Using those same credentials on a similar computer before being transported inside the city, he'd already memorized each of the names and faces of his victims, having already created a general idea where each of them is supposed to make contact, if not around when exactly as well. Most, if not all, Watchdogs were on a fixed schedule to submit their reports. Of course, each time frame was subject to change, but all were primarily accurate nonetheless.

"Let's see if you succeeded, Officer Martin," said Nikolai almost unconsciously, quickly inputting the required codes and credentials to access Umbrella's central database to review the updated progress reports.

"Martin … Martin … ah, there you are!"

The cop had missed his last two assigned windows to report, suggesting he'd been dead for quite a while now. There was nothing to collect there, but as he continued scrolling down to reveal the numbers on the other Watchdogs, he began to feel very pleased. Three of them had failed to submit their last assigned reports - one of the scientists, one Umbrella pencil pusher, and the woman who worked for the city's water department. It was safe to say they had all perished, and Nikolai was willing to bet they were now dead, leaving only five more Watchdogs to go.

Two soldiers, two scientists, and the other Umbrella moron.

His smile faded once he realized the ones left had all been sporadically located across the city. The Umbrella worker was to report in from an allegedly abandoned water treatment facility, which had been secretly turned into an incineration disposal plant. One scientist, Janice Thomlinson, would be near the hidden passageways leading to the NEST, and the other, Dr. Nathaniel Bard, would be at the hospital near Raccoon Park, who had been mainly responsible for leading t-Virus research on one of Umbrella's most valuable test subjects.

Nikolai didn't see much problem finding them personally, but as for the two other soldier Watchdogs, that was probably going to be the complete opposite.

"Where are you all going to be…?" he said absently, tapping on the keys as his frustration grew by the second.

From the last time he'd checked the night before, both of them had been assigned to report from the St. Michael Clock Tower…

Damn!

Their names finally appeared on the screen just above his, but next to their names was an indication that they'd been now categorized as portable status, just like him.

Those categorized as such had the freedom to report to Umbrella from any device that would be the most convenient, only requiring to file at least once per day - which meant they could be virtually anywhere in Raccoon City.

His veins started to sear in anger, his vision becoming overwhelmed in a haze of red, tearing at him. For a passing moment, he lost the ability to think, and Nikolai charged across the office, kicking Martin's body in the process as though he were a heavy but motionless football, venting his rage as he felt the satisfaction of wet crunching noises his boot made, the corpse's cracked ribs giving away inside the decomposing body…

…and then it was over. Nikolai felt like he was himself again, still frustrated but in control. He exhaled deeply, moving back to the desk as he decided to make some unforeseen changes to his plans.

One thing that kept his nerves down was that it would take a bit more time to find them, nothing else. It wasn't as if a T-103 had suddenly made its introduction and he had to deal with it himself or that Perseus was no longer cooperating with him. If anything, all his targets would somehow fail to report in and conveniently die at their original designated places, exactly as Martin and the other three had done.

It was just faith and hope at this point, but he knew he simply couldn't rely on it. Something that was a guarantee, however, was his perseverance and skill. That was something he could count on.

Umbrella's extraction had been slated to arrive within almost a week - the longest they believed they could keep the outbreak contained - unless all of the Watchdogs called in with complete reports and results, unlikely at best anyway. Six days left to find five people, maybe three if Kravchenko wasn't feeling in the best mood either; this didn't seem an impossibility in itself. With how things had been working out so far in his favor, Nikolai was confident he'd be the only one left standing.

"Five people? Hmph. Not as bad as finding nine in three days," he muttered to himself as he nodded firmly at Martin's sprawled corpse. "I might not even need three days. What do you think, Officer Martin?"

With the body still silent and unmoving, he turned away and put the laptop in a bag he found inside the safe, feeling more content.


Jill hadn't been able to find any shells for the old pump action shotgun, but it wasn't a huge dealbreaker. The weapon was heavy and thick enough to be used as a club, hard enough to break just about any atrophied walking corpse, and still useful enough to defend herself against someone like Kravchenko if worse comes to worst.

The creature that had entered the bar seemed just as ferocious as one of the crimson beasts from the Spencer Mansion, except that it could jump and cling to the ceiling with a large tongue to use as a weapon. The strange creature's talons and incredible jumping ability reminded her of the Hunter she, Barry, and Alex had first encountered in the damp underground mine, her stomach turning in knots, remembering…

hunched over so that its impossibly long arms almost touched the ground, its entire limbs tipped with brutal claws, the light-colored eyes staring back at our souls, the murderous instinct taken over as their high-pitched screech echoed everywhere in the tunnels…

They'd killed it, but it took a massive amount of ammo, even after Alex had shot almost an entire magazine at it when she and Barry arrived just in time to save him from a terrible fate. It wasn't until much later, after confronting Barry about leaving her behind, that she and Frank stumbled upon Umbrella's lab when they found out that they were referred to as "Hunters", one of many of Umbrella's bio-organic weapons. There had been other kinds on the estate, many of which had been encountered by her other STARS teammates, namely the giant snake that lived in the mansion's attic, which Frank barely managed to kill, the large flesh-eating plant that Chris, Richard, and Rebecca helped destroy. There were also spiders the size of small cattle, one of which had been nicknamed Black Tiger, which Alex had been forced by Wesker to fight against, and the black insect mutant things, the Chimeras, that resided inside the estate's boiler room where Chris had discovered them.

And the Tyrant, somehow the worst because you could've easily told it had once been human, a man who happened to have been under Frank's care once as well…

So it wasn't simply just the t-Virus loose in Raccoon. It wasn't surprising, but it didn't make it any better to stomach the awful realization. Umbrella did not care about what they were messing around with, playing as some aberrant god with no real knowledge of consequences. They even had a secret Nazi-like underground spy ring organization as their principal patron, doing whatever it took to thrive in the bioweapon black market. To make matters worse, the US government probably knew all about this but did not care in the slightest.

Unless… unless they did this intentionally to give some twisted example of the t-Virus' capabilities.

No. If they had, wouldn't Umbrella have evacuated their own people long ago?

The question kept haunting her on her journey to the police station. After witnessing the strange creature attacking Kravchenko, she was determined enough to continue making her way to the station. If she were lucky, the Perseus leader would finally meet his fate in the most poetic way possible. Considering he'd survived for this long, however, assuming he'd been in the city even before the outbreak began, she continued to think otherwise.

If his people are in this city, trying to hunt me down however they can, I'll be ready for them.

She'd just finished deciding to climb over one of the western blockades when she suddenly stopped herself in front of a horrible scene she thought she would've grown accustomed to through her travels in the city of ruin. In front of her were the lifeless bodies of a family sprawled across the cracked and bloodstained pavement. The man, who lay just inches next to a woman, had his face frozen in a look of terror, his lifeless eyes staring wide with fear and sorrow. The worst part was seeing the dead woman slumped over the lifeless form of a child, a toddler, dressed in tattered and torn clothing.

Oh, God…

Jill's hands trembled as she took in the sight, her mind still struggling to comprehend the magnitude of the tragedy that had befallen Raccoon City. There were no words to describe anything like it; her tightened throat blocked any attempt to utter anything in response.

Guilt began to gnaw at her soul like a ravenous beast, unable to overcome the thoughts of continuous failures to save families like the one she'd been looking at. Since the bizarre incidents in May and the following months, nothing has been done to prevent a widespread disaster like this. No one from STARS was even prepared to deal with such incidents, not even people like Frank and Alex, with one already dead and the other gone missing.

And now two more of my teammates are being hunted down by a creature, a BOW, an abomination from Umbrella and Perseus, like the Tyrant at the mansion grounds…

Tears welled up in Jill's eyes. The thought of families being ripped apart from loved ones, her STARS team almost entirely dead, a secret ex-Soviet organization lending a hand to an American giant to brew up biological death machines…

…she could not allow herself to cry any longer. Even if she wanted to, there were almost no more tears left to shed, her eyes too dried up since her last failed attempt to save those poor people from the high school gym. She knew she had to be strong. She had to keep moving and survive for the sake of all those who suffered and died since the horrifying disasters began.

But immediately, her mind shifted to those responsible for all this mess, reminding herself of Umbrella's wrongdoings, of Wesker's betrayal, of Frank and Alex's history with Kravchenko, the things they'd all done against them, the things they'd helped create to destroy her city, her life, her home…

Enough!

Just keep moving. Nothing you can do about it unless you get out of this city alive first.

After climbing over the old barricade, she began making plans to stock up on more ammo and supplies after arriving at the STARS office. She knew the armory itself would be empty by now, but this didn't deter her from planning to scavenge anything that may have been overlooked. Not that it mattered since she always had the combination to Barry's old safe in case she needed some parts or cleaning tools for her weapons. Best case scenario, she'd be able to pick up one of his old revolvers along the way.

At least now, the station wasn't too far away, and she'd been trying to stick to the shadows more often than not, realizing any of Kravchenko's men could be watching her every move after her initial encounter with him. If she learned anything from her father, a career criminal, the cover of darkness always protected you from being followed unless they had night vision to help them out, which she was afraid that any of them did in this case. The occasional zombies tried getting close to her, but none had any chance of success as their decomposition was simply too much for them to move faster than a slow walk.

One of the gates she had to get through to get to the station had been heavily roped and knotted, possibly to prevent more of the infected from breaching the barricade, which looked like it had all been in vain. It had been drenched in gasoline, most likely from the family who may have tried getting through there but never had the chance to light it on fire. She had decided against making a spark with a gunshot as the noise and the resulting fire would've attracted the attention of nearby zombies, and Kravchenko and his minions were possibly still wandering around the vicinity, searching for her. She had cursed at herself for having forgotten to bring a knife with her, but fortunately, she had managed to craft a makeshift knife using some of the material from the nearby barricade, which included a piece of thick wood, some wires, and a metal shard with a sharp edge, cutting through the tightened gasoline-drenched rope with ease. She had been lucky enough that the added friction did not cause her to incinerate it by accident somehow.

Once she'd gone through next to one of Umbrella's medical sales offices, she thought about putting the flames out from a burning wreckage that blocked the way on a winding path. She guessed it must've been from the earlier riots, but it seemed it was slowly dwindling away since the alleyway had been made entirely of brick and cement, preventing the fire from spreading further. Having shrugged at herself, she proceeded to make her way to the place she was now standing on, in the street leading directly to the front gates of the RPD building's courtyard.

The rioting had taken a significant toll on the streets around the RPD. Trashed cars, broken barricades, yellow caution tapes, and orange emergency cones littered the area, though no bodies were amongst the rubble. A fire hydrant nearby spewed a fountain of hissing water into the air, creating a large but dark puddle around it. The sound of rushing water could've been another indication of a pleasant sign under entirely different circumstances - a clear summer day, children laughing and playing, parents and older siblings supervising while making BBQs and picnics. The thought of no fireman or city worker coming to fix the broken hydrant made her gut ache and brought an unbearable headache once again; the sudden thought of children… was simply too much.

She blocked it all out, fully determined to stop herself from wailing and falling back into the dark abyss of guilt and grief, of things she could no longer fix. There were enough things to worry about, including her very own survival.

Like grabbing as many supplies as possible to help you survive … so what are you waiting for? A meet and greet?

Jill took a deep breath and pushed the gates open, wincing at the squeal of the rusty metal. Giving a quick glance at her surroundings, she noticed a few dead cops had littered the fenced yard inside, but other than that, it was devoid of any monsters altogether. She lowered her weapon, relaxing her muscles as she carefully closed the gates behind her before moving towards the heavy doors of the RPD building. She was reassured that many of the cops had died out in the streets, which meant that her journey inside the station would be easier for her than she would've initially thought, as terrible as that was.

As Jill began to advance, she couldn't shake the feeling of being watched or pursued by some unknown force. Reflexively, her finger settled on the trigger of her Samurai Edge, her senses slowly becoming overcome by trepidation, ready for any sign of danger. Her mind quickly jumped to the conclusion that Perseus may have this place monitored, a trap she may unknowingly be entering…

…and the air was suddenly pierced by screeching tires, the sickening sound of metal grinding against the pavement just outside of the RPD's front courtyard. By instinct, Jill jumped over the railing that led downstairs just below the main entrance to the police station, dropping to a crouch as she kept her weapon tight with both hands, ready to strike at whoever may have been following her movements.

Peeking back up close to the surface below the railing, she saw the source of the commotion was a vehicle that had careened into view, skidding to a halt not far from the gates from which she'd come. The dust and debris cleared enough to see three figures coming in her direction, and immediately, she put her head down, keeping herself still and as quiet as she possibly could, her ears trying to focus on some of the voices that began to erupt.

"A-are you sure he's not here yet?" one of them said, and Jill could tell they were half-scared to death just by the sound of their shaky tone itself.

"I ain't betting on shit until we find anyone alive inside the station — let's fucking go!" another voice said, and this one seemed familiar, too familiar that Jill could've sworn they almost sounded like…

No. Can't be him. He's dead, remember?

Jill's immediate thoughts ceased to linger once the entire ground shook violently, and a bone-chilling howl of fury erupted without warning, massive steps now rumbling the ground relentlessly.

"SSTAARRSS!" it clearly said, the word uttered beneath a nightmarish snarl of unwavering terror.

What?!

Jill heard someone scream, a young female's horrified scream, and by the time Jill decided to emerge back to the surface to see what was happening, a massive wall of black was now between her and the three figures she could barely make out who they were…

…but one of them suddenly pushed back, running away from the group as they screamed in a blind panic, someone Jill thought she'd never see again inside Raccoon. The yellow vest, dark green camo pants, messy spiked hair…

What's he doing here? I thought he…

"Brad!" Jill screamed out, feeling a mix of intense emotions, so focused on him that she paid little to no attention to the other two figures across from her, who seemed to be exchanging looks between her and the tall abomination that was closing in on Brad's location, forcing him to a corner he could no longer escape from.

Without seeing the towering creature's face, Jill knew what it was, knew it like she knew her own dreams and nightmares alike.

Tyrant.

"H-HELP!" shrieked Brad desperately as he fell backward, shaking his head as if to deny the approaching creature, staggering in a half-circle before stumbling against a brick wall. In the split-second before it managed to reach him, Jill felt time itself had stopped in that instant, allowing her to see in full profile the monstrosity that Kravchenko must've told her about, to see it wasn't the same Tyrant from her nightmares, but no less horrible for that; in fact, it was much worse.

It was still humanoid shaped between what seemed to be over seven or eight feet tall, its shoulders impossibly broad. However, only its hands and part of its face were visible, the rest of it covered in a strange black fire-retardant fabric, save for the fact that there were what seemed to be tentacles protruding over its flesh, pulsing ropes of organic matter that had been roughly half-tucked underneath its collar, their points of origin unknown. Parts of its skin were exposed, the hairless organ colored and textured as some poorly healed scar tissue, and underneath its half-hidden face were the same teeth and lipless grin from the same Tyrant they'd encountered two months ago, the dark red gums surrounded by a surgical thin layer of torn leather that appeared to be lazily patched over its hidden rudimentary skull.

Time started again once her heart jolted in another paralyzing revelation when she realized the familiar gruff voice had been calling for her attention before they suddenly screamed out something else in particular as they started shooting at the abomination in front of them.

"Gwen! Run! Get inside! NOW!"

Jill turned to finally look the other way, noticing a relatively young girl rushing past her to enter the doors to the station's main hall. As she glanced at the front of the RPD's gates, she discovered that her earlier suspicions were somehow true to their word, unable to believe or digest anything she was seeing or hearing any longer.

It can't be. He… I saw him die!

Before she could even begin to process what was going on anymore, the creature had already reached out and covered Brad's entire face with one hand, still growling as Brad tried hopelessly to say something, panting in high wheezing gasps, his broad, terrified eyes still being able to be seen in between the gaps of the creature's giant fingers…

…and there was an awful, wet squishing sound, like someone forcefully stabbing a piece of meat through the bone and out into a slice of slick muscle.

Jill became numb and paralyzed, her mind back into the horrors of the deep forest in the Arklay Mountains, triggering visions of the deaths of each of her teammates she saw die at the Spencer Mansion grounds: the violence, the failures, the screams, the betrayals, the manifested nightmares, all coming back to haunt her relentlessly. As she fought for the ability to see through the forming tears in her eyes, it was already too late. With the sight of a flesh tentacle sticking out from the back of Brad's neck, similar to what she'd seen on Lisa Trevor before, she had a clear understanding that he was dead. If the impalement didn't kill him immediately, he'd bleed out in seconds.

The ropelike appendage swung back inside the palm of the creature, like a parasitic worm showered in the blood of its prey, splashing droplets over the ground as it did so. The Tyrant thing continued to grasp Brad's skull, lifting the dead pilot in the air before tossing him aside as if it were just another body count to the creature's need to kill.

Brad…

"Hey, hey! Valentine! Look at me!" said the person she thought had been dead after all this time, quickly trying to get her attention as he grabbed her arms with both hands to turn and force her to look at him face to face. It seemed so surreal that she began to think he was an amalgamation of her mind trying to cope with the loss of her dead teammates. "It's really me in the flesh! I'm not dead! We gotta get inside!"

"Sstaarrss," the thing said again, this time in a satisfied low growl, now turning back to face its new targets.

Jill felt unresponsive as fear began to overwhelm her at levels she'd never felt or known before in her life. Her mind was now entirely blocked again from understanding how it could all happen, why it was even happening…

"JILL!"

Somehow, the unbelievable amalgamation calling out to her by her first name helped awaken some of her senses, and in an instant, she quickly nodded shakily, turning and sprinting after him as he barreled through the doors to the RPD, and she threw herself to the cold ground of the RPD's main hall, hearing the doors slam shut and dead-bolting behind her. She was simply too frightened to think of anything right now, too frightened to do anything but stand up and back away as she put an arm over the young girl out of protective instinct, their weapons aimed at the doubled doors as the monster slammed into them, rattling them on their hinges.

They held. All three of them were as still as possible, and all Jill could hear was her blood pounding heavily in her ears, waiting for the next blow to happen. Long seconds dragged by, and nothing happened. Entire minutes passed by, and Jill finally shook herself from her overwhelmed sense of danger before even realizing that the miraculously alive Frank Woods, who was standing next to her and the teenager behind her, was very real, but as much as she wanted to relish his return, the moment brought her little relief.

Kravchenko had been right. The creature was the real deal, and now that Brad was dead and Frank was brought back from the dead somehow, it would be coming for them next.

"A-are we… are we safe?" the girl shuddered, slowly backing away from the main lobby entrance, the gun shaking in her hands as she dropped her aim.

"Doors are made out of the toughest materials," said Frank, still keeping his eye on the doors to be entirely sure about his own statement. "I'm sure we're safe for now, but we gotta keep moving - look for a way out of this shithole."

Finally, he turned back around, and for the first time since they arrived, Jill connected her eyes with his unwavering gaze, still unable to believe it was really Frank. His eyes were almost entirely impossible to replicate, seeing the same look of determination she'd seen on him in what felt like a lifetime ago, the same determined look even after being injured by the Tyrant back at the mansion's heliport.

"Hey, Valentine," he muttered smoothly as he grew a soft smile at her before suddenly frowning. "I uh… I'm sorry about Vickers."

Jill's throat was still swollen from the last time she saw Brad, who mysteriously returned to the city, only for him to die right in front of her, feeling entirely helpless. She walked forward, her legs working subconsciously on their own as she continued to stare at the old man she thought was dead, still struggling to digest everything that had happened over the past several minutes. It was impossible. She'd seen him die at the hospital. Chris and Alex were there with her when he flatlined - when his heart stopped abruptly - when the doctors could not bring him back to the world of the living…

…and Jill put up a hand over one cheek, suddenly putting away her weapon as she laid her right hand over the other, gently tapping on his face and over his graying rough stubble as though he were a life-size replica that mimicked a living person to the last atom, and as much as she tried keeping her emotions in check, tears began to swell and shed as miniature waterfalls.

It really is him!

Without a single thought of hesitation, she instinctively hugged him tightly, catching Frank slightly off-guard by her sudden reaction before returning the hug, feeling the warm embrace of someone she thought she'd never get to experience, making sure to enjoy the unexpected reunion of a friend thought to have been lost forever, stolen by the grasp of that terrible night that got half of her entire STARS team killed.

"Oh, Frank…" she sobbed softly with her head resting on the side just underneath his right shoulder, trying not to let her emotions have control over her but still welcoming her feelings of joy and relief despite the monster from earlier possibly looking for a way inside the station elsewhere in the meantime. "I thought you were dead; Alex, Chris, Barry… - we all thought you were! You should've seen Alex; he was affected the hardest - wasn't the same person ever again after— Oh, it's just so great to have you back!"

Jill felt her back being patted by him as gently as possible, feeling the rumble of his heavy, gruff voice suddenly uttering softly at her. "Glad to see you too, kid."

Neither of them broke their hug for a long moment until the young girl suddenly broke the silence between them, looking directly at their surroundings inside the station's main lobby.

"God, look at this place…" she stated in awe, walking past a set of abandoned bloodstained gurneys. "Two weeks ago, it was teeming with people the last time I was here, but now…"

Jill and Frank's smiles dwindled away once they began to take in their surroundings for the first time without focusing too much on their brief emotional reunion and the monster that had recently murdered their Alpha pilot.

"The station was meant to be one of many places for people to go to while the city was barely under quarantine before…"

Jill stopped abruptly, not wanting to recall the earlier events that led to the widespread outbreak that Umbrella had allowed to happen from the beginning. Even after trying to help as many people as she could, none of them were willing to listen to her for the most part, claiming that she, along with the rest of STARS, was somehow responsible for the mess that began to unravel over the past week, and it was only when she gathered up a group of survivors inside the high school gym that they began to finally listen to her, merely being happy to see someone else left alive before…

before everyone inside died because of my own carelessness, thinking everybody was safe when, in reality, I trapped them inside, unknowingly sending them to their inevitable deaths.

"You feeling alright?"

Frank's concerned voice suddenly brought her back to reality as it pierced through her guilt and inside her logical reasoning, mentally trying to shake off any negative thoughts.

"Yeah, I err… Let's just get to the STARS office first," she asserted firmly before taking a deep breath. "We'll talk more about everything once we get there."

"Wait, but we still need to go look for my father," the teenager said worriedly, exchanging her gaze between the last two former STARS members left. "He shouldn't be far as we got separated just a few blocks away from here. And…"

"We will," said Frank reassuringly. "But we need to be prepared first in case that fucker comes back to finish the job against us."

Jill took a few steps closer to the young girl, feeling glad that a youth like her was willing to trust them, considering their ruined reputation after what Umbrella had pulled through in the past.

"Gwen, right?" - the teenager nodded at Jill silently - "I'm Jill Valentine - former STARS member of Alpha team. I know hanging around with a pair of cops who are being targeted by a giant monster doesn't sound any safer than going out there alone, but it's the best chance you've got for surviving a place filled with terrible creatures that aren't just zombies, and as Frank said, we need to prepare ourselves before heading out further into the city. What's your dad's name?"

"Dario," she stated. "His name is Dario Rosso."

Jill's eyes widened slightly with recognition at the mention of her father's name. She couldn't believe she finally found Dario's daughter by chance, especially by finding her with the last person she'd expected to come across. However, remembering how Dario wasn't willing to look for her due to his fear of zombies eating him being more prevalent than his love for his own daughter, she simply decided not to tell her the whole truth about her father's apparent feelings for her.

"So you're really his daughter, then?" Jill said gently. "He… he was worried about you when I found him at this abandoned warehouse I came across earlier."

Gwen's eyes suddenly welled up in small tears, and she walked a few steps closer to Jill as she looked at her with pleading eyes, clutching her own chest as though trying to contain her intense emotions.

"Is he okay? He's not hurt, is he?!"

Jill sighed, trying to gather some of her thoughts for a moment. She didn't want to alarm her as much as she already was, so she kept it simple, hoping that Dario would still be at the warehouse and not do anything dumb to get himself killed without a weapon to defend himself with.

"We'll do our best to find him as soon as we're ready," she promised with a warm smile. "I made the same promise to him to bring you back together if I were to find you. I'm sure he's missing you right now as we speak."

"Alright, ladies," blurted Frank as he walked past the young women and onto one of the ramps that led further into the station's main lobby before heading upstairs. "Let's save the catch-up game for later. We don't have much time before our STARS friend comes back again."

As both of the girls nodded at him, they followed him on the left staircase at the back of the lobby, with Jill losing herself inside so many mixed emotions clashing violently against her guts altogether. With Brad killed, Frank returned from the dead, and Dario's daughter found alive and well, she tried her best to silently cope with it all, knowing she needed to be mentally strong if she wanted to keep herself and others alive throughout this entire disaster.


Author's Note: Alright, let's make a brief summary.

Carlos and Murphy are now with Cryan, Bell is struggling with his own sanity after the effects of the brainwashing he endured in the early eighties, and Jill witnesses Brad being killed while finally being reunited with Woods and finds out that Dario's daughter is with him.

Just a quick question for all my readers to consider: Do you blame Bell for returning to Perseus after what the CIA had done to him, even if he knew it meant saving the world from the brink of war and chaos after finally gaining his memories back?

There's a lot that will be uncovered later in the plot, so look forward to it!

Oh, and I brought a Warsaw Pact operator into the fray from Black Ops Cold War, Knight. He's apparently Irish, and I haven't played enough to hear all of his voice lines, but to me, he mostly sounds like an Irish version of Crowley from Supernatural (since it is the same actor hahaha). There will be more CoD characters coming up next in the upcoming chapters, but I think most of you know who they are anyway, that is, if you already caught on some of the hints previously mentioned.

Review Responses:

OldGlory - Glad you enjoyed that brief conversation. As you said before, this is almost pretty much the pinnacle of the crossover hahaha. And you're too kind lol.

x-x-TheBurnedMan-x-x - Never heard of the series, but hey. I'm glad you took another reference out of it when it was meant to be one from the first RE live-action movie. XD And welcome back, dude!

See you all next chapter!