Orsaga paid no attention to what the other Purgators were doing.
After stepping out of the hotel, he casually strolled away, aimlessly wandering the streets like someone out shopping, without the slightest trace of tension or urgency.
After all, he was just an "ordinary person" who didn't know the plot.
The memories from his previous life offered only vague fragments about this world. He knew that in the first film, something called the T-virus leaked from a secret underground facility, which led to an outbreak—zombies and mutated monsters running rampant.
He also remembered that this setting was practically a required first stop in most "infinite flow" worlds.
That was why he had chosen this one for his tutorial mission.
As for what Umbrella Corporation really was, or who Alice actually was—he had absolutely no clue.
Even the "Raccoon City" mentioned in the mission brief? He wasn't entirely sure what or where that was. But judging from the "Resident" part of his assigned identity, he could at least assume that this city was it.
So the question became:
When does the nuke drop?
Orsaga scratched his chin thoughtfully.
"Yeah... That's a problem."
Just as he was pondering such trivialities—
WEE-OOO! WEE-OOO!
THWUP-THWUP-THWUP—
A line of police cars screamed past him, while an armed helicopter buzzed overhead and quickly sped off.
Moments later, a shrill emergency siren began echoing across the entire city. Official announcements rolled through the speakers, advising civilians to stay indoors.
Though he still didn't know exactly what was going on, Orsaga had seen enough Hollywood movies to recognize the signs.
"Ah, so the plot's probably about to start."
He casually picked up a piece of wire from the ground, then swung a leg over a nearby parked scooter.
"?"
The scooter's owner, just stepping out of a fast-food shop for a soda, blinked in confusion.
Without hesitation, Orsaga jabbed the wire into the ignition lock and gave it a gentle twist.
Click-click-click...
The engine started.
Then he gently twisted the throttle and drove off like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"!"
The owner's face went pale.
"He… he just stole my scooter?!"
In broad daylight?! Right in the middle of a busy street?!
That thing had cost him two months of hard-earned savings!
Outraged, he bellowed, "SOMEONE STOLE MY SCOOTER!!"
Then he bolted after Orsaga with all the determination of a man possessed.
Fueled by rage and desperation, he sprinted like he was channeling the spirit of Usain Bolt. But the scooter quickly pulled ahead, and with every second, it shrank into the distance.
Despair settled in. Even the scorching sun couldn't compete with the chill in his heart.
Meanwhile, Jill Valentine—Raccoon City's very own police beauty—had just suited up and was locking her apartment door, preparing to head to the station.
That's when she heard the panicked shouting echo from down the street.
Turning her head, she saw a sharply dressed man riding off on a scooter, followed closely by a breathless man flailing after him.
"?"
She caught the word "stolen" in the frantic yelling, and when she looked closer at Orsaga's tailored outfit, she couldn't quite believe he was a thief.
The value of his clothes alone could probably buy dozens of scooters.
Still, her instincts as an officer kicked in. Duty before doubt.
She stepped forward and called out sharply:
"HEY! PULL OVER, NOW!"
She hoped to stop him for questioning and figure out what was going on.
But Orsaga didn't even blink—let alone slow down.
He just cruised past her, totally unfazed.
Jill's eyes narrowed. Something about this guy was definitely off.
As Orsaga approached, she spun and launched a whip-like roundhouse kick—meant to show him what Raccoon City's finest were made of.
Behind him, the scooter's rightful owner lit up with hope.
'Justice! Finally!'
He recognized Jill—she'd hauled him in multiple times for petty weed dealing when he was scraping together money to buy that scooter in the first place.
But in that moment, all past grudges were forgotten. Jill was the shining beacon of justice he so desperately needed.
He yelled, breathless, "Get him, Officer! Don't let him get away!"
But Orsaga merely tilted his body slightly—dodging the kick at an impossible angle—then smoothly accelerated past without missing a beat.
He even tossed over his shoulder, in a low, mocking tone:
"Pathetic."
The smirk on his face. The way he didn't even look back.
Jill's chest tightened with disbelief and burning humiliation.
She gritted her teeth and took off in pursuit, muttering under her breath,
"You bastard... if I catch you, I swear I'll make you pay!"
And so the scene became one of chaotic farce:
One man leisurely riding a scooter, trailed by two furious pursuers.
To keep things "fair," Orsaga even adjusted his speed now and then—letting them almost catch up, only to pull away again at the last second.
The sheer frustration on their faces was delicious.
This was what Orsaga called simple joy.
His happiness often came from something as basic as watching other people suffer.
"Keh-heh-heh-hehhh~"
Eventually, as the two behind him gasped for air, completely out of strength, Orsaga laughed like a comic-book villain and sped off down the road.
Behind him, Jill and the scooter's original owner collapsed to the ground, panting like two dogs who'd just lost a chase.
(:з」∠)
↑ That's how they flopped down.
Tears slipped from the scooter owner's eyes. He could only weep for a city where even a humble scooter couldn't be protected.
(:D)∠)
↑ Still flopped.
Jill, meanwhile, was so furious she could hardly breathe. Her liver ached from the effort.
In all her years on the force, she had never encountered a thief so smug.
That look on his face—"You wish you could kill me, but you can't."
She'd very nearly drawn her gun right then and there.
After finally losing them, Orsaga drove for a while longer before parking near the back entrance of a large supermarket.
Thanks to the city-wide lockdown, the place had closed early.
The employees had all happily gone home—rolling down the steel shutters behind them.
But did any of that matter to Orsaga?
Of course not.
He took the same wire from before, slid it into the shutter's lock, twisted twice—and click—the door popped open like magic.
He stepped inside, then rolled the shutter closed behind him.
Time to do some "shopping."
___
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