Thinking of what Chris had just said—the Umbrella cleanup squad—Jill's eyes sharpened. She quietly chambered a round in her shotgun, slung her travel bag over her back, and crept toward the door.
Knock knock.
Knock knock.
The knocking continued. Perhaps they had confirmed she was asleep, or perhaps they wanted to make sure someone was inside. Then came the sound of the lock being pried open.
The door opened. Hidden to one side, Jill's focus reached its peak. The instant a gun barrel poked through the doorway first, Jill moved. "Umbrella dog bastards!" She raised her shotgun. Bang!
At the gunshot, she saw a figure in a black combat suit bearing a red-and-white umbrella logo collapse.
In an instant, gunfire erupted.
Meanwhile, west Raccoon City.
A convoy of heavy boxy multipurpose transport trucks tore through the rain and arrived at a gas station.
With an explosive crack, the upper body of a shambling figure squatting on the ground and gnawing on something dead was blasted to pieces, sending it flying before it hit the ground.
"Has it already spread this far?" After getting out of the car, fully armed Chris looked down at the mangled, half-eaten corpse at his feet, his expression grim. Then he put another bullet through its head.
He exchanged glances with the U.S.F. mobile unit members behind him, then put on his helmet.
"Attention. We have entered Raccoon City. The operation begins."
Crime, Chaos, Carnival
1998/9/25.
Evening.
"Mom, huff... huff... Mommy, I can't run anymore!"
In the curtain of rain, two bedraggled figures, one tall and one short, emerged from completely gridlocked Raccoon Avenue onto Acre Scenic Avenue in the outer city. Soaked to the bone, they ran with difficulty along the muddy roadside.
"Not yet. Faster, sweetheart, faster! You can do it. We have to get away from here as quickly as possible!"
The smaller figure staggered and nearly fell several times, only for her mother to pull her back up. Wet blonde hair clung to the woman's cheeks as rainwater streamed down her face. Panting heavily and drenched from head to toe, she looked back toward Raccoon City, a gray blur with only a few remaining lights. Her face was filled with deep fear.
"They've gone crazy. Everyone has gone crazy!"
Over there, beneath the rain, distorted lights and piled-up figures swayed. Chilling moans drifted faintly through the air.
The woman tightly gripped her daughter's hand and kept running, though their pace inevitably slowed. In the dark rainstorm, the mother and daughter looked so small, as though they could be swallowed by the wind and rain at any moment.
Finally, a small puddle made the girl fall. Her mother had to stop to help her up and carry her, but the cold brought by being soaked through and the exhaustion of fleeing the city had nearly drained all her strength. Her breathing grew more ragged.
"Roar." Then, behind them came that bloodcurdling roar again.
From far to near, a bloodied and mangled figure burst into the mother and daughter's view. It stretched out pale hands, opened its gaping bloody mouth, and lunged at them. "God bless us." Despair filled the mother's face, yet she instinctively shielded her child behind her.
Suddenly—
Muzzle flash bloomed in the rain, and flesh and blood sprayed everywhere.
A powerful flashlight.
Apparently seeing the mother and daughter clearly, the beam quickly adjusted and softened. Only then did the mother make out the tall figure approaching them: an arm marked with reflective strips, a dark full-coverage combat suit, combat boots, a heavy bulletproof vest fitted with armor plates, a fully enclosed helmet with a breathing filter mask, and a single-tube tri-lens night vision device.
He lowered the huge steel gun, crouched down, and extended a hand toward them.
The little girl stared blankly at the fluorescent U.S.F. letters on his chest.
With one arm, he picked up the girl, then helped the woman—her face filled with relief and gratitude—over to a small roadside service store fifty meters away.
"Sorry, but the inspection is necessary. Have you been bitten or scratched?"
The U.S.F. led the two beneath a hastily erected rain shelter. After carefully inspecting the mother and daughter's limbs, necks, and torsos with flashlights and confirming that there were no wounds, they draped thermal emergency blankets around them.
Only then did the woman realize that the small roadside service store had been surrounded by seven large heavy-duty boxy multipurpose transport trucks. Some of the truck compartments had unfolded, forming temporary bases similar to RVs.
Several people wrapped in thermal blankets like hers sat blankly in the corner.
A group of fully armed personnel moved back and forth, carrying, assembling, and calibrating monitors, mainframes, medical kits, ammunition crates, M2 Heavy Machine Guns, M134 Gatling guns, autocannons, multiple rocket launchers, and other heavy weapons, along with all sorts of things she could not name.
Sharp gunshots rang out from time to time.
Lying atop the vehicles with silenced high-powered sniper rifles already set up, U.S.F. guards pulled their triggers and precisely eliminated wandering Zombies within their sightlines.
"Umbrella guards... but what is that emblem?"
As a Raccoon City resident, there was no way she could have avoided Umbrella.
These people were undoubtedly Umbrella's. They all bore red-and-white umbrella logos on their chests, but what was that yellow-lined square against a black background on their shoulder armor? MILITECH...
"Militech?"
She murmured it aloud.
But she quickly cast aside those unnecessary thoughts and clutched her child tightly. She... had already lost her husband. To protect them, he had chosen to stay behind and had been dragged down by those Cannibal Disease patients. Now, she only wanted to keep her child safe.
"The National Guard is expected to arrive within twelve to twenty-four hours. When they do, you'll be able to evacuate safely."
A U.S.F. soldier assigned to guard the survivors handed her bottled water and food.
"Thank you."
Standing at the entrance to Raccoon Avenue, Chris took everything in. Beneath his helmet, he turned with a complicated expression. "The people Umbrella truly needs to answer for its crimes aren't the lower ranks, but executives like William Birkin."
"The blame naturally belongs to him. His arrogance and stubbornness ruined everything."
Vera's voice came through his earpiece.
"..." Not responding to that topic, Chris looked at the recessed closed display panel on the side of the transport truck beside him. On it, Vera sat with her hands naturally resting on the desk, her beautiful figure clean and neatly dressed.
"It's gotten this serious. You believe me now, don't you?"
Chris said.
"I do. The promise is in effect. When you bring the evidence out of Raccoon City, I will publicly announce my withdrawal from Umbrella and lead the California Division and Umbrella's USA region out from the control of the Paris headquarters."
"I'll also publicly denounce Spencer and William Birkin's crimes before Congress. They hid the company's history and deceived me. I'll make them pay. Now then, good luck."
"Let's hope so."
Chris stepped out of the camera's range. The evacuation point had been established. He went to the front of the vehicle and waved to the U.S.F. driver inside the cab, then picked up his pace and entered Raccoon Avenue on foot, where abandoned vehicles had completely clogged the road.
The U.S.F. soldiers clearing scattered Zombies nearby immediately closed in around Chris. With him as their spearhead, they coordinated tightly and advanced rapidly toward the interior of Raccoon City.
As the unit responsible for receiving survivors, the U.S.F. drivers directly positioned their vehicles sideways across the intersection and deployed stabilizing supports.
Buzz... buzz...
Under the drone operators' control, U.S.F. soldiers released small waterproof reconnaissance drones one after another. Firing ports opened along the truck compartments, and several M2 Heavy Machine Gun operators immediately chambered rounds. The support teams then headed for elevated positions, methodically setting up firing points.
Umbrella Industrial Park, San Francisco. Director's office.
A massive split-screen display unfolded before Vera. An aerial view of Raccoon City occupied the central screen, while the moving green dots and miniature vehicle outlines represented the U.S.F. mobile units she had dispatched.
Though it was a stripped-down version several generations behind and the necessary supporting technology still needed time to implement, not to mention that the timing was not quite right, the personal tactical terminal system had at least been issued to each individual. It was enough for Vera to sit securely thousands of kilometers away and monitor and command in real time.
It was also a chance for her to experience Arasaka-style surveillance warfare at Umbrella.
After all, she neither would nor could go to Raccoon City herself.
A wise man did not stand beneath a crumbling wall.
She was a director, not a grunt. A whole crowd of people depended on her for their livelihoods. Take those U.S.F. soldiers, for example. If they died, their pensions and family members would need Vera to look after them. They probably did not want Vera risking herself in that hell known as Raccoon City either.
Most importantly, Vera was afraid of dying.
William Birkin, transformed into a G-monster, was still wandering Raccoon City. Vera was afraid he would suddenly spot her and go berserk.
Vera knew herself well. Over the years, she had indeed made a habit of snapping at William and provoking him whenever she had the chance.
William probably hated her guts.
Looking at it this way, after Washington investigates, perhaps part of the blame for William Birkin's descent into darkness will end up on my head...
With a silent laugh, Vera shook her head and shifted her attention back to the U.S.F. she had built.
"What a pity the feedback is so slow. The markers have errors, and there's no clear first-person view from individual soldiers... If only the vehicle factory were already in production. Without aerial vehicles and mech units, the weapons are also somewhat lacking. This 'MaxTac' isn't very MaxTac at all..."
It was admittedly jarring to see antiques like the M2 appear among so many outdated weapons from Arasaka, Militech, and even Norco—and to have MaxTac using them, no less—but whatever.
Vera could not produce smart weapons or individual electromagnetic weapons yet, so she would make do with whatever worked best for now.
There was a reason the M2 Heavy Machine Gun was an heirloom of the U.S. military.
"Have the publicity department package these live Raccoon City clips."
After watching a few more delayed images of the U.S.F. mobile units rescuing and receiving survivors in western Raccoon City, Vera picked up the microphone and issued an order to her office secretarial team.
"This set is good—the footage of rescuing a mother and daughter from bloodthirsty Zombies at the critical moment. The angle, the lighting... and that little girl looking up. Perfect."
Since she had already decided to break away from Umbrella and go it alone, the new Umbrella in California naturally needed to show a different character from the old Umbrella: commitment, integrity, and righteousness. The old Umbrella had none of the three, but Vera's Umbrella had all three!
Even having a little still counted as having them.
"Director, the drones have spotted several transport helicopters from the European headquarters. Headquarters personnel have already entered Raccoon City."
Just as Vera was distracted by the U.S.F.'s footage of rescuing survivors, the voice of Andreyev, captain of U.S.F. Team Four, drew her attention back to the central screen. Under the frontline personnel's control, the drone footage was moving.
In the drizzle, several transport helicopters bearing umbrella logos hovered atop a building in Raccoon City. They seemed to have already unloaded something and were climbing to depart.
"Nemesis? Tyrants? Or another unit? The timing is early, and why is the scale so large? That old bastard Spencer must have noticed my moves."
Vera considered it for a moment, picked up the microphone, switched channels, and said, "Stay alert. There is a high probability that they are B.O.W.s developed by the Paris headquarters. We are now in a hostile state with the Paris headquarters. I repeat: hostile state."
Then she paused.
"Mr. Redfield, your partner may be facing a threat to her life."
A few minutes earlier.
"Umbrella dog bastards!"
Jill Valentine's voice, accompanied by twelve-gauge buckshot, tore through the silence of the Apartment building.
With a scream, the unlucky man leading the lock-picking entry jerked backward. Buckshot blasted his face at close range, blood bursting from his body. As he fell, his fingers unconsciously squeezed the trigger, sending bullets flying everywhere.
"Fuck! Find cover!"
"That S.T.A.R.S. bitch is inside!"
The people behind him cursed in low voices. At the same time, Umbrella U.U.T.U. soldiers—the unit responsible for cleaning up messes—used submachine guns and rifles to weave a dense net of fire that instantly covered the narrow space beyond the doorway.
The tables, chairs, bed, and cabinets inside the room were immediately shredded, splinters and stuffing flying everywhere.
After firing her first shot, Jill had performed a tactical roll behind a load-bearing wall. She instinctively tightened the straps of her backpack. Chris had told her over the phone that Umbrella had come to destroy evidence. She had to protect—
As she thought that, Jill caught sight of two Umbrella soldiers leaning out from the side. They threw two round objects inside. Without time to think, she dove toward the half-open bathroom.
The moment the grenades exploded, shrapnel sprayed everywhere. Jill curled up behind the door, using both hands and feet. Ignoring the pain of her ringing ears, she took two flashbangs from her tactical belt, pulled the safety pins out with her teeth, threw one outside first, then rose to her feet and rolled out of the bathroom the instant it detonated.
Bang! Bang bang!
Someone screamed because they had failed to evade in time.
Using the shotgun one-handed to keep the doorway blocked with a spray of pellets, Jill released the lever on the remaining flashbang with her other hand and threw it outside. Then, with no intention of getting entangled, she kicked open the living room window and jumped onto the building's external metal fire escape.
"She's escaping! Pursue!"
Rat-a-tat-tat—
Rat-a-tat-tat—
Before you continue