The Militech soldiers bearing the red Rod of Asclepius insignia approached Jill and the others warily. Just as they were about to confirm Jill's identity, they spotted Chris being carried by two BSAA agents.
"MaxTac TT-133 Prototype Trauma Team calling command center. Target is critically wounded and in mortal danger. Our unit is commencing rescue immediately."
"Put him down. Step back five paces and clear a safe treatment distance."
Two Militech medics immediately took over from the BSAA agents.
One operated specialized hemostatic clamps and muscle tissue suturers, while the other cut open Chris's clothing at the chest with scissors and saline spray. After basic cleaning, he took the newly released pneumatic rescue device from the first-aid case and pressed it against Chris's chest.
"Patient Chris Redfield's injuries are critical, but stable and manageable..."
"Bleeding stopped. Cardiotonic injected. Dopamine, 70 milligrams. Norepinephrine, 110. Blood fibrinogen, 1100... Diagnosis: the patient urgently requires a transfusion..."
Chris was quickly carried aboard the futuristic new helicopter, which had landed vertically. Though Jill was still uneasy, the reputation of the Militech logo on their chests quickly steadied her nerves.
Meanwhile, in downtown San Francisco, North America—the former Umbrella California Branch building, now Militech Headquarters.
CEO's Office.
"Huh?"
Vera, who had been closely monitoring the situation of the BSAA squad led by Chris and was preparing to capitalize on the opportunity to wipe out Umbrella and seize its remaining assets, froze for a moment. She held the receiver with a surprised expression.
"Mm, understood. Do everything you can to save Mr. Redfield."
After hanging up and setting down the receiver, Vera adjusted into a comfortable sitting position and gazed thoughtfully at the holographic projection of the Caucasus Region before her desk.
"Chris Silverhand? No, better give him a black hand instead."
Vera: Spencer! Vladimir! Where