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Jack tilted his head back, staring at the golden sunlight spilling across the rooftops of Raccoon City. The air carried a faint breeze, brushing his cheeks like a whisper, but his expression was distant, his thoughts elsewhere.
"Is this really… the Resident Evil world?" he muttered. "Zombies? Lickers? Tyrants? All kinds of monsters?"
The contradiction unsettled him. Around him, the city looked normal. Families strolled with their pets. Street vendors shouted out prices of roasted chestnuts. Lovers held hands, chatting idly about the weather. There was no chaos—only harmony.
That's when it came.
A cold, mechanical voice reverberated in his skull:
"Quest issued: Obtain 300,000 Villain Points. Failure will result in cancellation."
Jack's lips twitched. "Three hundred thousand?" He let out a half-laugh, half-sneer. "If this were across the entire Resident Evil film series, sure, maybe I could manage. But here? In this single arc? That's insane."
He knew the truth: Villain Points weren't easy to earn. Every decision mattered. Every casualty, every twist in the plot could give him points—but only if executed perfectly. In a city about to collapse into a nightmare, nothing came easy.
Bang!
The sound of a violent collision shattered the peace. Jack spun toward the noise and saw a cargo train slam into a black sedan. Metal shrieked, sparks danced, and the car was flung into the air. It rolled twice before crashing upside down onto the pavement.
Two men in black suits lay lifeless, broken like discarded dolls. Inside the wreck, a schoolgirl in uniform dangled unconscious from her seatbelt. Blood dripped slowly down her forehead.
Jack narrowed his eyes. Recognition struck instantly.
"Ah… I see. This is the beginning of Resident Evil 2. That girl is the daughter of the professor who developed the T-Virus."
He smirked darkly. "Right now, the T-Virus hasn't been released. Once Umbrella opens the Hive, in just a few hours, this entire city will rot from the inside out. Which means… the Hive storyline won't even matter. The infection will spread too fast."
He walked past the wreck without hesitation. The girl was important, a fixed pillar of the story. Interfering now would only break the script.
Soon, Jack arrived in the city's main square. A massive digital billboard flickered to life above him. On screen, a perfectly groomed anchorwoman smiled as she read the evening weather.
"This is Raccoon City Channel 7 with your forecast. Today's skies will remain clear and bright, with light breezes from the west. Perfect weather for outdoor activities."
Jack chuckled to himself. "Teri Morales… I remember you. Later, you'll join Jill on that ill-fated search for the professor at the junior high. Only to be devoured by zombified students." He clutched his stomach in mock agony. "What a waste. Such a beautiful flower, trampled into the dirt. But don't worry, darling—now that I'm here, maybe I'll save you. After all, I'm supposed to be a good guy, right?"
He tilted his head back and inhaled deeply. The air was crisp, refreshing. "Enjoy it while you can, people. In just a few hours, you'll choke on screams and gunpowder."
Alice wasn't awake yet in Umbrella's Raccoon City branch. That meant she was out of the picture—for now. Which left one goal.
"No need to waste time," Jack muttered. "I need to find Jill Valentine."
Just thinking of her stirred heat in his chest. Jill—the confident, sexy beauty with that commanding aura. His grin turned shameless.
"Cough, cough… why am I focusing on her butt? Still… that butt is unforgettable."
---
The hours ticked away.
By nightfall, Raccoon City had fallen. Sirens wailed, screams echoed from every corner, and the air was filled with the smell of blood and smoke. Shadows twitched unnaturally—corpses jerking back to life, moaning as they staggered forward.
Inside the police station, chaos boiled over. Officers wrestled with suspects who had gone feral in their cells.
"Help! He's biting!" one officer cried.
Another shoved a desk across the floor as a crazed prisoner lunged at his throat.
Bang!
The station doors flew open.
She entered like a storm. A short black skirt, a blue tube top with a white sash, boots that clicked against the floor. A pistol gleamed in her hand.
Without hesitation, she fired. A single bullet tore through a zombie's skull. The creature dropped instantly.
Every officer froze. Their eyes widened in recognition.
"Hold your fire—it's Valentine!" an older cop barked.
"These people are infected," Jill said coldly. Her voice was steady, calm, without a trace of fear. She reloaded smoothly, eyes locked on the threat. "Aim for the head. That's the only way."
A cuffed prisoner screamed. "Somebody get this thing off me! She's trying to bite me!" The female zombie snarled, teeth snapping inches from his face.
Bang!
Jill's bullet ripped through the zombie's skull. She swung her aim toward the man. His eyes widened in terror.
"No! Don't shoot me!"
Bang!
The bullet shattered his handcuffs instead. He froze, stunned, staring at his freed wrists.
"I'm leaving this city," Jill said sharply. "If you want to live, you'd better do the same." Without waiting for thanks, she holstered her weapon and walked out.
---
By midnight, the city had become hell.
The Raven's Gate Bridge was crammed with survivors, all clawing for escape. Floodlights lit up the bridge like daylight. Loudspeakers blared endlessly:
"Please proceed in an orderly fashion! All residents must pass through the security checkpoint! Families, stay together!"
But panic drowned the order.
Umbrella's private soldiers stood in formation at the barricade, rifles gleaming. Their blank helmets scanned the crowds like hunting dogs.
Through the chaos, Jill pushed forward. A familiar voice shouted from the barricade.
"Valentine! Over here!"
It was Peyton. He waved frantically, motioning the guards to let her through. Relief spread across his face.
"Thank god you're here. With your skills, maybe we stand a chance."
Before Jill could answer, a man in the crowd collapsed. His body jerked violently, spasms twisting his limbs.
"Father! Father!" a young girl cried, clinging to him.
"Back up! Move him away!" Peyton shouted, rushing forward.
The man's eyes glazed white. With a guttural snarl, he lunged, biting deep into Peyton's arm.
"Ahhh!" Peyton screamed. "Get him off me!"
Bang!
A gunshot cracked. The infected man collapsed, blood pouring onto the asphalt.
Jill spun around, expecting to see who fired—but the shot hadn't come from her.
From the crowd, a young man lowered his weapon. His movements were deliberate, calm, as if he'd been waiting for this moment. His eyes locked with hers, steady and unreadable.
For the first time that night, Jill Valentine's expression faltered.
Jack tilted his head, lips curving into the faintest smile. The game had finally begun.