Uptown: Business Back Street - Night
Arlo and Link stepped into the Business Back Street, the air heavy with the stench of decay. The street was wider than Arlo remembered from the original game. It wasn't just a narrow path lined with burning cars and scattered debris — it was broader, open enough for a small crowd to pass through. The widened space made Arlo uneasy. More room meant more angles for zombies to ambush him.
"Alright… keep it together," Arlo muttered to himself. His eyes darted from building to building, scanning for movement. He remembered this area well. In the original Resident Evil 3, there was a storage shed where the Benelli M3S shotgun could be found — a solid weapon that could clear rooms with ease. If that shotgun was still there, it could make a huge difference.
Arlo moved carefully, his threaded cane in his hip and his Pit Viper holstered for quick access. As he neared the metal door leading to the shed, a sinking feeling crawled down his spine. This was where Brad Vickers was supposed to appear — bloody, panicked, and desperate. Except... no one was here.
"Where the hell is Brad? He should be here" Arlo muttered. Something wasn't right. He turned to Link, who gave him an expectant look. "Guess we're on our own, huh?" Link wagged his tail once, seemingly unfazed.
Slowly, Arlo reached for the door handle and paused. He gave Link a subtle nod — the signal to get ready. Then, he pushed the door open.The second the door creaked open, five zombies exploded from the dark like a wave of rotting flesh. Their guttural groans filled the narrow space as decayed hands clawed at the air. Arlo barely had time to stumble back before Link reacted.
"Link, Rock Throw!" Arlo barked.
Link snarled, his fur bristling as jagged stones materialized in the air. With a sharp bark, the rocks shot forward like bullets, slamming into the zombies' chests. The force knocked two of them backward, sending them sprawling to the floor. Another zombie crashed against the doorframe, momentarily pinned by the impact.
"Nice!" Arlo muttered, stepping back and reaching for his Pit Viper.But two zombies were still standing and lurching forward. One of them had a gaping hole in its chest where Link's attack had struck, yet it kept moving — its jaw unhinged, teeth gnashing in mindless hunger.
Arlo fired. BANG!
The first shot struck clean — a bullet punched straight through the zombie's skull. It crumpled instantly.
[Headshot- 108 Critical Damage]
[EXP Gained: +100]
The second zombie lunged, arms outstretched. Arlo sidestepped, narrowly avoiding its grasp as its fingers clawed the air where his shoulder had been. He pivoted, swinging his threaded cane with brutal precision. The steel shaft cracked against the zombie's knee, sending it buckling to the floor.
BANG!
Another shot — the zombie's head snapped back, and it collapsed face-first.
[Headshot - 104 Critical Damage]
[EXP Gained: +100]
"Two down," Arlo muttered — but no time to breathe.
The two zombies Link had knocked over were already getting back up. One of them snarled as it crawled on all fours, half its face caved in from the earlier rock strike. Its shattered jaw hung loosely, sloshing blood and bile with every guttural snarl. The second zombie staggered upright, its ribs crushed but still moving forward with disturbing persistence.
"Link, Tackle!" Arlo ordered.
Link charged forward, slamming his small body into the crawling zombie's head with enough force to send its skull bouncing off the pavement like a dropped melon. Arlo seized the moment, stepping in and planting his boot on the creature's back.
BANG!
CLANG!
Before Arlo could react, Link leapt high, biting down on the zombie's exposed wrist with surprising force. The creature's arm jerked back, loosening its grip on Arlo's hand just enough for him to twist free.
Arlo stumbled back, gritting his teeth. "I hate these things…"
With his free arm, Arlo gripped his threaded cane and flicked his wrist. The steel whip snapped out with a sharp metallic hiss. He lashed the blade in a wide arc, the sharpened tip slicing deep across the zombie's throat. The creature gurgled, dark fluid spilling from the gash.
[Slash - 57 Damage]
"Not done yet," Arlo growled.
BANG!
[Headshot - 70 Critical Damage]
[EXP Gained: +100]
The final shot punched through its skull, dropping the last zombie like a sack of bricks.The alley was suddenly silent except for Arlo's heavy breathing. He stood still for a moment, waiting to see if any more undead would crawl from the shadows. Nothing moved.
Arlo let out a shaky breath, lowering his pistol. "Good boy, Link," he said, turning to the Rockruff. Link wagged his tail proudly, still on high alert."Looks like I owe you a treat," Arlo muttered, holstering his weapon.
"Too close…" Arlo muttered. He couldn't help but feel uneasy. Brad was still nowhere to be found — and he knew what that likely meant. He turned back to the shed and descended the metal staircase inside. The room was dimly lit, cluttered with empty crates and rusted tools. Arlo's eyes locked onto the corpse of a security officer slumped against the wall. The unmistakable shape of a shotgun rested across his lifeless arms — the Benelli M3S.
"There you are…" Arlo whispered. He approached cautiously, stepping over some shattered glass. The body didn't move — no twitch, no sudden lunge — still very much a corpse.
Arlo knelt beside the body and examined the shotgun. It felt solid in his hands, its weight comforting. He pumped the action to check for shells — six 12-gauge rounds loaded.
"Not bad," Arlo muttered, slinging the shotgun over his shoulder.He searched the nearby shelves for extra supplies. No spare shells, no herbs, no healing sprays — just empty boxes and dried blood smears.
"Figures," Arlo sighed. "Nothing's ever easy."
As Arlo climbed back up the stairs, he paused by the door. Something still felt... wrong. Brad's absence kept gnawing at him. He knew this place too well to ignore the signs — things weren't playing out like the game.
"Looks like I can't just rely on old memories," Arlo muttered. He glanced down at Link, who stood ready at his side. "Time to adapt." He reloaded his Pit Viper, secured his cane at his hip, and quietly opened the door, ready for whatever fresh nightmare awaited him on the streets of Raccoon City.
...
Arlo emerged from the storage shed, gripping the Benelli M3S tightly in his hands. The cold metal felt reassuring, but he knew better than to get too comfortable. The streets were too quiet — not a single groan or shuffle in the distance. That silence was worse than noise.
"Too quiet…" Arlo muttered under his breath. His fingers hovered over the shotgun's trigger as he moved deeper into the alley. He turned a corner and froze. Six zombies shuffled aimlessly in the narrow passage ahead. Their decayed faces twitched, their bloodied fingers dragging along the walls.
Arlo took a deep breath. He knew a firefight this close would get messy."Link," Arlo whispered, "Stay back for this one." He aimed the Benelli at the nearest zombie and squeezed the trigger.
BOOM!
[EXP Gained: +100]
The shotgun's blast roared through the alley like a cannon. The closest zombie's head practically vaporized, spraying bone fragments and rotten tissue against the wall. The others staggered but quickly turned toward the noise.
A notification appeared in his HUD but he ignored it and focused on shooting a perfect head shots at the zombies.
Arlo racked the shotgun's pump with a sharp CHK-CHK and fired again. The next blast tore a hole straight through two zombies, their torsos reduced to mangled, twitching pulp. They slumped to the ground in heaps of bone and gore.
"Three down..." Arlo muttered. His eyes shifted to the remaining undead. One of them — a gaunt figure missing half its face — lunged toward him faster than expected.
"Damn it!" Arlo grunted, barely sidestepping the attack. He rammed the shotgun's stock into the zombie's side, sending it sprawling. As it scrambled to rise, Arlo aimed down and fired — point-blank.
BOOM!
The zombie's head burst like a rotting melon. Arlo didn't have time to celebrate — two more were closing in.
"Link, Rock Throw!" Arlo barked.
Link leapt into action, summoning a volley of stones and hurling them forward. The rocks pelted one zombie in the chest, staggering it long enough for Arlo to fire another shot — this one turning the creature's head into mist.
The last zombie lunged — and this one was dangerously close.With no time to reload, Arlo shifted his grip on the shotgun and swung it like a club. The heavy steel barrel smashed into the zombie's jaw with a sickening crunch, shattering teeth and snapping its head sideways. The creature stumbled, giving Arlo just enough time to flip his threaded cane from his belt and crack it across the zombie's knee, dropping it to the pavement.
"Stay down…" Arlo growled, driving the blade of his cane through the back of the zombie's skull. The creature twitched, then went still.
Arlo stood there, breath heavy. The alley reeked of gunpowder and rot. He lowered his shotgun and checked the chamber — only two shells left.
[EXP Gained: +400]
"Well," Arlo muttered, "That escalated fast."
Link barked happily, wagging his tail like they'd just finished playing fetch. Arlo chuckled dryly. "Yeah, you earned that treat, buddy." He moved further down the street, scanning for anything useful. A faint glint caught his eye — two green herbs growing in a cracked flower pot outside a crumbling storefront.
"Jackpot," Arlo muttered. He knelt beside the herbs, carefully plucking the leaves and rolling them between his fingers. Just like in the games, the herbs had a distinct texture — dry yet oily.
"Good to know this works here too," Arlo mumbled. He crushed the herbs into a fine powder and tapped a portion into his palm. Tossing it into his mouth, he grimaced at the bitter taste. Moments later, the dull ache from his earlier bruises and cuts began to fade.
Arlo pocketed the remaining herbs and sighed. "Alright, Link,"he said, giving the rockruff a scratch behind the ears. "Time to move before something worse shows up." He shouldered the shotgun, cane hanging at his side, and quietly made his way toward the next street, feeling the ever-present dread of what horrors still awaited him in Raccoon City.
***
Uptown: Private Backyard - Night
The moment Arlo stepped into the Private Backyard, a flood of déjà vu hit him. Compared to the tight corridors of the original game, the space here was wider — wide enough for vehicles to pass through, not just claustrophobic alleys designed to funnel panic. The realism of it all was unnerving. The chipped walls, the scent of rot clinging to the air, the buzz of a flickering streetlight—it felt less like a game and more like a memory come to life.Near the steps, three zombies wandered aimlessly.
Arlo crouched low, his threaded cane in hand. "No sudden moves," he muttered to Link, who lowered his stance and stayed perfectly still. A firefight would draw in more undead. Stealth was survival here.
Quietly, Arlo sprinted forward, every footstep calculated. The first zombie didn't even groan before Arlo's threaded cane arced through the air and cleaved its head clean off.The second zombie noticed the motion, but too late. Arlo spun, twisting his wrist and driving the cane-blade upward into the undead's skull. The creature convulsed, then dropped with a dull thud.
Just as Arlo pulled the blade free, his danger intuition screamed in his mind—left side. Without hesitation, he pivoted and slashed low, severing the leg of a zombie attempting to ambush him. It fell hard, snarling as it reached for him. Arlo silenced it with a quick thrust through the temple.
[EXP Gained: +300]
Standing over the bodies, Arlo exhaled through his nose. "Still got it," he murmured, wiping the blade clean against a tattered sleeve of one corpse. He looked up at the rusted steel door nearby. If memory served, it led to Black Jack's Bar—an iconic location from the original Resident Evil 3. But that familiarity didn't bring comfort.
"This place should've had Brad," Arlo muttered. "Why's he missing?"
Cautiously, he closed his eyes and activated his danger intuition. A faint echo of tension fluttered at the edge of his senses. Something was in the bar, but it didn't feel like a horde—more like a single presence. Still, he wasn't going to take any chances. Arlo drew his Pit Viper, checked the magazine, and crept toward the door. With a slow breath, he twisted the knob and pushed.
The door creaked open—and the moment it did, a zombie lunged from behind the counter. Arlo didn't flinch. His finger squeezed the trigger and the Pit Viper barked once. The round struck between the creature's eyes, snapping its head back and sending it crumpling over the bar in silence.
[Headshot - 140 Critical Damage]
[EXP Gained: +100]
"Clear," Arlo said, stepping in and scanning. The bar was musty and dark, bottles shattered across the floor. Dust clung to the surfaces like soot. Despite the chaos, there were some useful items still intact. He found a box of 9mm rounds behind the counter—an old stash, but viable. Then on a table near the door, a familiar object caught his eye: the Clock Tower postcard.
"Just like in the game…" Arlo said aloud. He ran a hand across the postcard and pocketed it. But the silence gnawed at him. No Brad. No Jill. No signs of Nemesis. Something was changing the narrative. The timeline was drifting.
Arlo crossed the bar, kneeling beside a shelf stacked with cracked beer bottles. "Everything's matching the original layout," he muttered, "but the pieces are missing." He took a deep breath, looking toward the next street. "That means either Jill hasn't started her run yet… or this isn't her story anymore." He turned to Link, who was sniffing along a corner.
"We need more info," Arlo said. "And if there's one place that might have it…" He pulled up his map via the BrainLink HUD. "It's the Raccoon Police Department." Link gave a low bark of agreement.
Arlo holstered the Pit Viper, slung the shotgun over his shoulder, and stepped back into the night. The deeper he went, the more he felt it—the dissonance between his memory and the game. Something was familiar but different, it does sit well with him. And he intended to find out what makes this different.