Snow...
Howl! Howl...
A wolf's howl echoed eerily, like wind whistling through its throat.
Shu shu shu, poof, poof, poof
Three quiet gunshots interrupted the howl.
The next sound was a heavy object hitting the snow and rolling forward with a soft thud.
Then, through the mask, a deep voice echoed in the snow-covered mountain path.
"Clear."
Multiple figures emerged from the wooded path, their heavy military boots crunching in the soft snow, making a creak, creak sound as they moved.
A group of special operatives, wearing snow camouflage parkas and Kevlar bulletproof vests, with modular backpacks and suppressed firearms, carefully moved toward the three dead Siberian gray wolves.
On their chests, the BSAA (Bioterrorism Security Assessment Alliance) logo silently declared their identity.
The BSAA, founded in late 1998 after the Raccoon City bio-crisis, had been advocated by the hero Chris Redfield, who received the U.S. Public Safety Medal for his bravery.
From its inception, the BSAA received special support from Washington and was backed by a forward-looking stock market with high praise. It quickly became a world leader in high-tech, virtual networks, and industrial sectors—thanks to the sponsorship of military technology giants.
"...Familiar stench of death. Fuck, dealing with corpses every day... I'm losing my mind." A woman, her slim frame slightly shorter than the muscular men of the team, crouched down while tightening her mask.
"It's T-virus infection, leading to systemic inflammation and sepsis. The blood clots are brown. These two wolves were infected anywhere from a few weeks to a month ago."
She examined the decayed and shed muscle and fur of the wolves. Bullet holes punctured the heads, with blood clots and black-brown brain matter splattered nearby.
"Infected animals in the deep mountains..."
The woman furrowed her brow, realizing something, and suddenly cursed aloud.
"This is the fifth batch we've found. The infection's progression is worsening. This isn't an accidental leak from BOW weapons on the black market. Fuck! Chris, looks like we were right. Umbrella's dogs are hiding here. Do they want a second Raccoon City incident?"
Hearing her words, a large man with tactical goggles, his head covered by a Russian-style winter hat and a communication headset inside, replaced the magazine on his rifle with practiced ease.
"Jill, calm down," he said sternly, giving a serious nod to his teammate.
"So this time, we stop them."
"Just us?"
As they discussed, Jill pulled out a T-virus suppressant spray with a black and yellow MILITECH logo. She waved it, asking, "What's the headquarters say?"
While the team stacked the three wolf bodies by the side of the path, shoveling out an area and tossing a thermite grenade to set the carcasses on fire, Chris' now-hardened, muscular face was illuminated by the flames. He spoke in a low tone, "We can't get the Middle East troops directly involved. Let's send a small team in to gather evidence first."
"This is the Caucasus. The geopolitical situation is too complicated. Washington has reservations."
The Caucasus region—Georgia, Azerbaijan, Armenia, Chechnya, and Russia—were all former CCCP republics. Though they had once been allies, the split had led to brutal conflicts, with the Second Chechen War erupting less than a year ago.
At this point in time, the U.S. wasn't keen on getting involved here.
A weakened camel is still bigger than a horse—what if the Russians get triggered?
Being officially absorbed by the system had its benefits, but also its downsides.
Since the BSAA in this timeline was founded under Vela's guidance, its nature differed significantly from the original pharmaceutical alliance and United Nations oversight.
In this world, the BSAA was initially set up by the U.S. government, with pharmaceutical alliances providing funding and advisory teams. Then, as their defensive operations expanded, they created a joint coordination committee with the United Nations.
There was no doubt that the U.S. military influence was much stronger, and Washington had a more profound impact.
The Russian side was unlikely to allow U.S. military forces—disguised as a new iteration of Umbrella's military arm—to enter the Caucasus region so freely.
Even if it was for bio-defense, it should be their own BSAA handling it.
This issue had now become a dispute over international influence.
"Damn it! Those Umbrella scum hiding in the sewers... they really know how to find a place!"
After piecing everything together, Jill vented her frustration. "At this point, I'm sure Umbrella has a secret lab here. But with just the few of us, if we don't wipe them out all at once, what happens if we alert them and let Umbrella's criminals slip away again?"
"There's another way. I requested support from Militech."
Chris said, "I used the personal business card Vela Adelheid gave me. Only once, maximum priority. Militech will respond immediately. With their military power and expanding global military contracting business, we'll have enough time." He glanced at Jill and added, "That CEO of Militech?"
Jill frowned slightly.
"You still used it." She then smirked, looking somewhat wistful. "Hmm... I remember she admired you a lot and wanted to recruit you into Militech's military contracting division... You've already owed her quite a big favor. Are you planning to retire from BSAA after hunting down Umbrella's remnants and join Militech?"
Chris didn't want to owe Vela any more favors. Jill knew this well, and Chris had repeatedly made it clear to his teammates in BSAA that he would never join Militech.
Since the White House ceremony on October 1, 1998, Chris had never actively contacted Vela again, except for necessary emails during holidays as a courtesy.
"It's not a solution to keep it in my pocket."
The rugged lines on Chris' face seemed to soften as he noticed the teasing glances of Jill and the nearby teammates. With a long sigh, he said, "It has to be used eventually."
To him, Vela hadn't actually owed him anything.
He had simply told her the truth about Raccoon City and Umbrella's history.
Instead, it was Vela who, with one act of delivering a simple message, had made Chris' White House honors, his family's financial stability, his sister Claire's successful entry into Ivy League universities, the establishment of BSAA, and even Militech's sponsorship of BSAA—all a reality.
Chris couldn't sit comfortably and enjoy it all.
Although every time BSAA and Militech drafted arms procurement contracts, Chris was forced by his superiors to attend, and while BSAA benefited and became better equipped to fight bioterrorism, Chris still wanted the dealings to stop.
He didn't want BSAA to continue spending more money on these contracts.
He seriously felt like he was being "sponsored".
The information asymmetry, while someone may have forgotten about it, still lingered in Chris' mind, troubling him. He looked at the finely crafted Militech SG submachine gun with a long suppressor in his hand and sighed.
"I'll thank her in person! And if she needs anything, I'll help—except for joining Militech!"
Jill couldn't help but laugh at Chris' awkwardness.
"Would you help if it was illegal too?" she teased.
Chris' face darkened.
He chose not to answer that question.
"Alright, alright, you two. Focus, we're on a mission here."
It was Barry Burton.
"Let's hope we can catch Umbrella's bastards this time."
The experienced cowboy, also a former S.T.A.R.S. member from Raccoon City, raised an eyebrow. As he held the same T-Virus suppressant spray as Jill, sweeping it over the tracks, he carefully holstered his well-maintained .44 caliber Magnum revolver.
In this timeline, many people's fates had been changed.
"Be careful, we can't let our guard down." It was Brad Vickers, another former S.T.A.R.S. teammate. This man, carrying a fully customized Nokota D5 Copperhead assault rifle and a military backpack, kept a wary watch on the edges of the group.
"This place reminds me of the Arklay Mountains. We absolutely cannot afford to lose anyone due to carelessness!"
"Hey, Brad... relax. You're familiar with the characteristics of zombies. There's nothing to be nervous about." Jill said, her voice calm.
She had already forgiven Brad for his temporary retreat during the Raccoon City incident.
Although Brad had been fearful, he had never betrayed his teammates. During the most dangerous moments of the Raccoon City crisis, he had returned to find her, and afterward, he had made the firm decision to join BSAA. For Jill, these actions were enough to see him as a reliable comrade.
"I know, but... from the Arklay Mountains to the Caucasus, it's too similar. I'm afraid Umbrella has another major secret lab here and may have developed new BOWs..."
Brad's words immediately made Chris' expression serious. He stopped chatting with Jill and patted Brad on the shoulder.
"Brad's right. Everyone stay alert."
Unlike other places around the globe, where BSAA could directly call in U.S. military forces for support in dealing with Umbrella remnants or destroying illegal BOW bio-weapons, the Caucasus region was off-limits.
Umbrella had certainly anticipated this, and it was highly likely that they had hidden a large illegal research facility in the snow-covered mountains.
Better to be overly cautious than to be caught off guard.
"Let's go. Continue forward and meet the informant."
With that, Chris waved to the team to start the vehicles. He walked to the wolf carcasses, which had been thoroughly burned, waiting for the flames to die down. Once the fire had subsided enough, he carefully sprayed a layer of T-Virus suppressant around the area. Then, he spread a special bitter agent to ensure no animals would feed on the bodies.
Prevention is always harder than destruction.
Especially when it comes to preventing biohazards.
Vroom... Vroom...
The sound of engines revving echoed as four snowmobiles, part of the convoy, arrived. "Chris," Jill called out.
"I'm here." Chris climbed onto the snowmobile Jill was riding.
Brad was the driver.
As the vehicles continued through the vast snowy mountains, Chris, out of habit, checked his personal gear again once he was on the snowmobile. Everything was Militech-issued, fully customized, with a M221 Saratoga submachine gun, a Carnage shotgun, and an M251s Ajax assault rifle—enough to handle most BOWs.
"Barry, check your 'big toys' inventory."
He tapped his headset. "If we run into Tyrants or other high-threat BOWs, don't waste Militech's ammunition. Did you bring enough RPGs?"
"Haha... don't worry, there's plenty for you to blow things up. Our firepower, except for no tanks or armored vehicles, is enough for a whole squad," came Barry's voice on the other end, joking. "Militech weapons are great, though a bit expensive... maybe you should go beg that world's wealthiest single woman for a little help."
"Barry, I swear..." Chris muttered, about to respond, but Jill's voice cut in over the team channel.
Chris sighed, shaking his head. Just as he pulled out the map of the Caucasus region to examine it, he heard his headset crackle. "This is the BSAA Middle East Division scout, from North America. Have you arrived? The coordinates... the village." The voice was unclear, like it was being interfered with, but the tone was urgent.
"This is Chris from the North American headquarters. Coordinates... If there's no heavy snow or snowdrifts, about 30 to 45 minutes away." Chris immediately responded.
Huff... Huff...
A heavy panting voice followed by a faint girl's cry? Then, background noise, shouting, gunfire...
"You better hurry up."
The voice continued.
"Following the directions from the locals, I found a logistics warehouse in a mountain village. It was built by foreign investors back in 1998-1999, very new. It was said to be a logistics warehouse for a large chemical plant hidden in the mountains. When I went to investigate, there was chaos at the warehouse. Something leaked—T-Virus and BOW!"
"My teammates were bitten to death... many people in the village have been infected... I'm holed up in a grain silo near the warehouse... there are many Umbrella surveillance cameras in the village. Be careful..."
As the message continued, the signal weakened until it was lost with a final beeping sound—beep beep beep—
Boom!
Chris slammed his fist into his seat, enraged. "Umbrella's damn scum!"
"Brad!"
"Don't rush me! We're in high-altitude snow, I'm pushing it as fast as I can!"
...
By the afternoon, 25 minutes had passed. Screech! A slight screech of the brakes, and the vehicles with snow chains on their wheels came to a stop. Clank! Climbing out from behind a small hill, Chris took out his binoculars and began observing the small village from a high vantage point.
It was a small village—so small, you could see the end with a glance.
Deathly quiet.
In the village, the large, new warehouse building stood out starkly. A quick scan of the streets, and Chris couldn't help but curse aloud, "Fuck!"
His vision fell on staggering, not tattered but clearly infected zombies.
Their bloodied necks and bodies showed that they had been infected recently, and such rapid infection clearly meant someone was intentionally releasing the virus!
"They know we're here."
Jill stepped forward, her face dark. Before she even finished speaking, she raised her silenced Nokota D5 Copperhead and whoosh!
Blood splattered.
One zombie, heading out of the village, had its head blown off.
She then looked at a tall L-shaped sign by the road, an iron post with a surveillance camera on top. Umbrella's scum. Jill raised her middle finger at the camera, then shot it with a single shot.
Having confirmed the location of the silo, Chris took a deep breath, put on his Militech tactical goggles and gas mask, and armed himself with a gun, activating the optical sight's ammo display. "Let's go."
Tat tat… tat tat…
Entering the village, they immediately heard the low growls and shuffling footsteps of zombies everywhere.
Chris, with his blue-gray eyes, stared through the Picatinny rail-mounted reflex sight, the red dot clear and precise, far superior to anything available commercially. He aimed at an approaching zombie and Bang!—headshot.
As he watched, his goggles and sight synced with the low-light UID display, the bullet count decreased by one, and the battery level was shown, still at 75%.
Bang!Bang bang!
Even when BOW Hunters, with their malformed reptilian scales, took hits, Militech's full-power rounds didn't require cavitation effects to tear them apart—they simply exploded like melons.
Bullet count: 0
Looking at the UID display, Chris quickly replaced the magazine, then flicked a switch on his scope—0→30.
He had heard that Militech's second-generation sights were about to be released. The next generation would not only display the bullet count but also backup rounds, grenades, and even sync in real-time with the magazine, eliminating the need to re-set after each reload.
But unfortunately, it was expensive… BSAA couldn't equip every operative with it.
Chris thought silently.
Tat tat tat tat, Bang! Bang bang!
The team, all experienced in dealing with zombies, passed through the streets effortlessly. They moved swiftly, headed straight for the silo in the village. The village was small, and it wasn't long before they arrived.
Chris and Jill exchanged a glance.
The unspoken understanding between them was clear—carefully and stealthily, they moved through the chaotic silo area, destroying surveillance cameras and searching rooms. Finally, when they reached a tightly locked room, they kicked it open!
"Ah—!"
A girl's scream echoed, and at the same time, Chris saw a body of a man sitting on the floor. His arm was bitten, holding a gun with a bullet wound to his head.
It was suicide. Having seen so many tragedies caused by bio-weapons, Chris immediately pieced together the events.
The girl looked at Chris, her eyes brimming with tears.
"It's alright. Jill, take her and fall back." Chris reassured, signaling Jill to take the girl and leave. He began searching through the fallen BSAA comrade's belongings for a camera roll and notebook.
After a quick glance, just as his anger was about to flare and he was preparing to investigate the logistics warehouse, he heard a rustling sound...
"Didn't think you'd really come. It wasn't in vain that I had him leak the message."
A rough male voice echoed from the silo's speakers.
"Should I call you foolish or brave? Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Sergei Vladimir, Director of Umbrella's Security Division. Welcome to your hell, BSAA."
"You wanted to investigate the new BOW trade? Well then, enjoy what I present as Umbrella's greatest masterpiece—"
"The Talos Tyrant."
Boom!!
In the deafening explosion, the concrete wall near Chris collapsed with a massive force. Bricks and rubble exploded into the air, the windows shattered and frames flew out, and smoke billowed into the sky.
With the thunderous sound of heavy footsteps, a huge figure, covered in metal armor, stepped out from the smoke.