September 28. Raccoon City. 5:00 P.M.
The Hummer H1 made its way through the shattered streets of Raccoon City. The outside world was hell. John, with his impassive face, drove in silence, navigating around overturned cars and debris. The vehicle's radio emitted a constant crackle of static, occasionally broken by distorted emergency broadcasts. John felt like a ghost in his own city. He was no longer John Wick, the man who was once the top assassin of the underworld. Now he was John, a man with a child beside him. The chaos was total. The city's buildings were on fire, their facades blackened by smoke, their windows broken like empty eyes. Screams mixed with the sound of gunfire, and the infected, their bodies twisted and their jaws bloody, roamed the streets.
Leo, huddled in the back seat, sobbed. The choked sob in his throat was what broke the silence of the cabin. John looked in the rearview mirror and saw the boy, his eyes full of tears and terror.
"Are you okay, Leo?" John asked, his voice a soft exhale.
The boy didn't answer. He just sobbed harder. John stopped the Hummer. He turned in his seat to look him in the eyes.
"I know you're scared," John said, his voice a low whisper. "And it's okay to be scared. But your mother was brave. She protected you. She protected you so you could live."
"No... I don't want to be here. I want my mom," Leo sobbed. "I want my mom."
"I know. And she would be proud of how brave you are. She gave you the chance to keep living. Now we have to be brave. For her."
The boy, not knowing what to say, huddled up and fell silent.
"Who are you?" the boy asked him.
John was silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on the road. "I'm the man who will save you, Leo," he said with a voice full of weariness, but with a promise.
The boy, not knowing what to say, huddled up and fell silent.
John continued driving, his mind focused on a single objective: to get to Kendo's gun shop. He made his way through the chaotic city, the Hummer's engine roaring as it ran over the infected that got in its way. The bodies collapsed under the wheels like sacks of bones, a sickening sound that added to the chorus of desperation.
When they finally arrived, Kendo's gun shop looked like a refuge in the middle of the storm. It was boarded up with wooden boxes and old furniture. The main metal door was sealed with an iron beam. John stopped the Hummer a few meters from the entrance, with the engine on.
"Stay here, Leo," John said, his voice calm. "I'm going to check."
The boy, with a nervous look, nodded. John, calmly, got out of the vehicle, his hand on the MP5. The Hummer moved a little, and John observed the empty street. Everything seemed to be calm, but John knew it was just the calm before the storm. He approached the door of the shop, his senses on maximum alert.
Just as he was about to look closer, a voice echoed from the other side of the door.
"Who's there?" the voice was harsh, charged with tension.
"I'm John," John said, calmly. "I need ammo and I have a child with me."
Silence was the only answer, and John felt that the person on the other side was talking to someone. Suddenly, the voice, now calmer, told him he could come in. John went to the Hummer, opened the door and took Leo by the hand.
"It's safe to get down," John told him.
Leo, a little nervous, got out of the Hummer and followed John, his small hand trembling. John crouched down and took his assault rifle, slinging it over his back, as he assumed he would have to face a horde of infected sooner or later, and would need all the ammo he could get. With Leo in his hand, they both headed towards the gun shop door.
When they reached the door, John spoke again: "I'm here. You can let me in."
There was a loud creak, as if they were moving something very heavy, and the door slowly opened, showing a group of people with weapons in their hands. Most were pistols, but a couple of them carried shotguns and a rifle. They looked tired, dirty, and scared, but their eyes were filled with a grim determination.
John, taking the first step to enter, was interrupted. A tall, robust man, about fifty years old, with a face weathered by life and a thick mustache, approached him. It was Robert Kendo.
"Mr. Wick?" Kendo said, his voice filled with surprise and distrust.
But before John could answer, another voice, that of a thin and pale young man, interrupted him. The young man looked scared as he said, "Isn't he the man from the news? The one who massacred those kids at the school?"
When those words fell, the entire store entered a palpable tension. The survivors looked at John with curiosity and then seemed to find the truth. Fury and horror were reflected in their eyes. Men and women, without hesitation, took their weapons more tightly, while they looked at John with tremendous fury. John, calmly, moved his hand near the MP5, his finger near the trigger, and with the other hand he put Leo behind him.
Another voice interrupted with fury, that of a woman, as she shouted: "You damn monster! You killed those children, you murderer!". Following that, all the survivors, about fourteen in total, pointed their weapons directly at John.
John was in a bind. He knew that if he were alone, he could manage to get out of this situation and fight back, but he felt Leo's trembling hand, and he knew immediately that a shootout could end very badly if the boy was near him. So this time, he decided to talk.
With a loud voice so that everyone could hear him, he said: "I didn't kill those children, I shot the person responsible for the massacre. I was framed to look like the culprit of everything."
The survivors were not moved by this, they still had their weapons raised, so John spoke again: "Umbrella is the culprit of everything that is happening. Their soldiers killed a group of survivors and left the child I have here an orphan."
The survivors, upon hearing Umbrella, seemed a little incredulous, but they saw the child behind John with his hand gripping the fabric of his suit, while he seemed to tremble with fear.
While the situation entered a stalemate, a voice interrupted all this. It was Robert Kendo, who with an authoritative voice, said: "Put down your weapons, you idiots. Do you want to start a shootout with a child who could get hurt?"
After that, everyone seemed to slowly lower their weapons, while Kendo continued to speak: "Mr. Wick, I don't know if what you said is true or not, but tell me one thing and look me in the eyes, did you kill all those children?"
John, who heard the question, looked Kendo in the eyes and with a completely serious look told him: "No, I did not murder the children in that school."
Robert Kendo, staring intently at John for a minute, said: "Okay, I believe you, Mr. Wick, not because I know you, but because you have the look of someone who knows his limits."
After he said that, all the survivors, although little convinced, seemed to calm down a bit. John relaxed his posture, as he walked towards Robert Kendo. John quickly said to him: "What is the current situation? As for ammunition?"
"There's still enough," Kendo said. "But if we stay here for too long, they would start to run low."
"Okay. What's the plan now?" John asked, his voice calm, but with a hint of impatience.
"We have to wait for the night," Kendo said. "It's safer to move in the dark, and we can look for the RPD police station. There are still survivors and they may have a plan."
John, nodding, was about to ask something else, but he felt Leo's hand pulling the fabric of his suit, and he said: "Sir, I want to go to the bathroom."
John and Kendo, upon hearing this, sighed. Kendo crouched down to be at Leo's height. "Come on, champ," he said with a surprisingly soft voice. "The bathroom is over here. Don't worry, I'll go with you."
Leo, looking at John for confirmation, let go of John's suit and took Kendo's hand. "Thank you, sir," the boy whispered, his voice trembling.
"You're welcome," Kendo replied with a tired smile. "Now let's go, before someone gets upset about the wait." Kendo guided the boy towards the store's bathroom. While that was happening, John stayed in the store, while he took some pistol, MP5 and assault rifle ammunition.
While doing this, he could feel the hostile gaze of every person inside the store, as he listened to them reloading their weapons.
While John was taking ammunition, he could see the silhouette of four men approaching him. The first, a tall man, with a sleeveless shirt, showing his tattooed arms and battle scars, a man of rough life.
It was Mateo. By his side, Ricardo, a man in his forties, with a disheveled beard, a hard look and a robust body. The other two were Carlos and Pedro, young men with anger in their eyes, filled with a rage that didn't allow them to think clearly.
Mateo stood between John and the other three, surrounding him. He said to him: "So you killed those kids, huh? Even if old Kendo believes you, it doesn't mean I do too."
Pedro spoke: "He no longer has the child with him, it wouldn't be a problem if we shot you, right?"
John, with a cold look, took out his pistol and raised it calmly. In a gesture he placed it on the table next to him, along with the MP5 and the rifle. After that John said: "If you're tough enough with a weapon in your hands, you would also be without them, right?"
That man, Mateo, let out a guttural laugh, a harsh sound that resonated in the tense stillness of the store. With a loud bravado, he dropped the shotgun on the table with a dull thud, the metal resounding against the wood. His gaze, a mixture of disdain and confidence, was fixed on John, measuring his reaction.
"The three of you too," John's voice was a frosty whisper, but sharp as a knife. There was no defiance or emotion in his words, just a simple and brutal affirmation that left the other men frozen. John's calmness was an insult to their rage, a challenge that burned in their throats.
The other men stopped dead in their tracks, their faces contorted with anger, their jaws clenched. John's provocation, so subtle and yet so arrogant, had hit them in the deepest part of their male pride. "You think you can take on all of us, huh?!" Carlos spat out, his voice full of mockery and fury. "You underestimate us, you idiot!" Pedro nodded vehemently, his eyes bloodshot. The silence of the other survivors was an echo of their contained rage. The entire store felt like a pot about to explode, with John in the center of the boiling.
The three remaining, with their fists clenched, exchanged a look of understanding. It was a challenge they couldn't ignore without losing their dignity in front of the others. They approached the table. One by one, they dropped their weapons with a dry thud, the sound of each one marking the point of no return of the confrontation.
Ricardo stepped forward, his eyes, cold and calculating, fixed on John. He stopped a meter from him, his breath was a raspy sound. "You'll regret this, Wick," he hissed, with a promise of violence in every syllable. "I swear on my life, I promise you'll wish you hadn't set foot here." His hands moved with impatience, eager to feel the contact of John's body and unload all his accumulated fury.
The other survivors, who were in the store, just watched the situation, unmoved, clearly they agreed that they should beat up John.
After everyone seemed to be disarmed, John took a simple stance, while with his palm he signaled them to come. "Come." The four, seeing the provocation, lunged at him.
Mateo, with his street experience, threw the first punch, a direct hit to John's face, but John dodged it with a movement of his head and turned his body, using the inertia of Mateo's punch to knock him to the ground. Ricardo, without hesitation, tried a right hook, but John, with a quick movement, blocked it with his forearm and gave him a kick to the knee, causing Ricardo to let out a cry of pain.
The other two men, Carlos and Pedro, looked at each other and lunged at the same time. Carlos tried a kick to the head, but John blocked it with his hand and deflected it, while with a movement of his body, he dodged Pedro's punch. John, in a single movement, gave Carlos a punch in the face, and an elbow to the stomach to Pedro, causing both to fall to the ground, in pain.
Mateo and Ricardo, who had gotten up, looked at each other and decided to attack him at the same time, but John, with a supernatural agility and speed, moved with ease. John turned his body to dodge the punches of Mateo and Ricardo, and then gave Ricardo a blow to the head with his hand, making him lose his balance. John, with his body, hit Mateo in the chest, and then turned on his own axis to knock him down. After that, John lunged at Ricardo, taking him by the neck and punching him in the face with his fist.
John, in less than 20 seconds, had easily knocked down the four men, without fracturing anything, only with the pain of his blows. The four men writhed in pain on the floor, their faces a mask of astonishment and fury.
The other survivors, who were watching the situation, remained silent, unable to believe what they had seen. John, calmly, approached the table, took his ammunition and his weapons, and slung them over his back.
It was then when one of the survivors who was paying attention to the surroundings of the store, observed how a rather large group of infected were approaching the store. So he urgently said: "Guys, more infected are coming, get ready!"
The alarm cry shook the store. The tense calm was broken, replaced by the metallic sound of weapons being reloaded. An authoritative voice took command.
"To the windows! Don't let the barricade fall! Shoot those damn things!" that man shouted.
The survivors scattered, taking positions. John approached the door and looked through a crack, with his assault rifle ready.
"It's not enough," he whispered to himself.
Then, with a louder voice that resonated in the place, John shouted: "Listen! Aim for the head! That takes them down with a single shot! Look how much ammo you save!"
John's words echoed in the store. The survivors, despite their distrust, followed his advice.
"Incredible!" one of the survivors shouted. "They fall much easier like that!"
The result was immediate and amazing. The infected fell like flies with each shot, their bodies collapsing with a dry thud. The rhythm of the shots decreased, and the ammunition felt heavier.
A feeling of euphoria spread through the store, a relief they hadn't felt since the chaos had started.
But the euphoria dissipated as quickly as it came. The noise of the horde, the growls and groans, faded, replaced by an unsettling silence. A silence that did not belong to death, but to waiting. A shiver ran down John's spine. It was not the tactic of a simple group of infected.
Suddenly, a high-pitched, chilling voice ripped through the silence. A sound that seemed like a cry of agony and a roar of rage at the same time. The sound came from the rooftops, and it was not familiar to John. It was the sound of a Licker.
"What was that?" a survivor whispered, his voice filled with terror.
"My God, what the hell is that! It doesn't look like a normal infected!" another shouted, his voice high with panic.
John, with a frown, analyzed the situation instantly. It wasn't a simple zombie. The sound of the whimper came from the rooftops. It was a predator. The creature moved with an unnatural speed. John noticed the atrophied eyes and the exposed brain. It moved by sound. The strategy of aiming for the head was no longer enough; he needed a new one.
But before anyone could answer, the glass of the store's windows shattered, and a creature with an exposed brain, atrophied eyes, and a long, sharp tongue, lunged at the survivor. Six grotesque creatures, a purplish red color and with torn skin, followed, with exposed muscles and pulsating brains.
They were the Lickers. A horror that defied all logic. The massacre began instantly, a symphony of screams, missed shots and the grotesque dance of the monsters. The Licker, with a movement of its tongue, cut its victim's throat in an instant. A stream of blood spread across the place, staining the floor red.
Another Licker lunged at a survivor, its sharp claws plunged into his chest, and it dismembered him with a chilling ease. A third Licker, with its supernatural speed, jumped to the center of the store and, with its tongue, ripped the head off another survivor.
Chaos took over the store. The panic was palpable, and the sound of screams and shots mixed with the sounds of the Lickers. The survivors, their faces a mask of horror, tried to shoot, but the Lickers were too fast, their movement was almost a blur.
John, with his assault rifle, moved with a icy precision. He raised the weapon and, without hesitation, fired a controlled burst that shattered the head of the Licker that was closest. The creature instantly collapsed in a violent spasm. The shot, deafening in the enclosed space, resonated like a bell for the remaining beasts, but John was not fazed. He remained silent, observing from his covered position, his mind analyzing the situation.
It was the first time he had seen these abominations. Their eyes, atrophied, were empty sockets. The sound of breaking bones, of claws tearing skin, was nauseating. He watched as the other Lickers mercilessly massacred the other survivors, tearing flesh and devouring the bodies with a brutality that surpassed everything he had seen until then. He saw a creature rip a man's arm off with its tongue, another slice a woman's throat with a claw. The store had become a slaughterhouse.
A Licker crawled along the wall, its sharp claws tearing the plaster with a metallic sound. It moved with a premeditated slowness towards John's position, as if it knew something was there. John prepared to shoot again, but a desperate scream from another survivor, who had cut his leg on a piece of glass, broke the tense silence. The Licker, like an arrow, instantly changed course and lunged at the source of the sound. John was speechless. That creature had not reacted to his presence, but to the scream. Now he understood everything. They were blind, they were guided by sound. A perfect predator, designed to hunt in the dark and silence. "The assault rifle doesn't work against these beasts," he thought, "its noise is a bell that attracts them."
Beside him, a woman, the same one who had yelled that he was a "murderer" when he entered, looked at him with eyes full of panic. John took out his silenced pistol. He made a sign to her, touching his lips with a finger.
"Silence," he whispered. She nodded, her body trembling. Fear had replaced contempt.
John moved with the caution of a ghost. Every step was measured, every breath controlled. He approached a Licker that was distracted, devouring a victim in the hallway. He bent down, the pistol firm in his hand. He aimed for the exposed brain, the only weak point of these creatures.
With a single shot, the bullet pierced the Licker's skull. The animal collapsed to the ground, dead. Now only three Lickers remained.
Suddenly, a crunch of broken glass resonated in the store. The woman John had asked to be silent, in her desperation to move, had stepped on a fragment. The three Lickers lunged at the source of the sound, their bodies moving like a gust of wind.
"No!" the woman shouted, her voice a thread of panic.
She shot at the first Licker but missed. The other survivors also shot blindly, but their bullets only ricocheted off the walls. The Licker lunged at her and, with a sharp claw, pierced her skull. The woman fell lifeless, with her eyes open in perpetual terror.
"Sofia!" a man shouted, his voice a mixture of fury and pain. Possibly in love with her, he lunged at the Licker that was devouring the woman's body, emptying his magazine into the creature until he killed it. The other two Lickers, seeing their dead companion, lunged at him and brutally killed him.
John, who was in a strategic position, tried to shoot, but his bullet crashed into a bottle that was next to a survivor.
The Licker that was not eating went to the source of the sound, and that man, unable to bear the fear, shot without thinking, the bullets hit the body of the licker, however they were not enough to kill it, the licker mercilessly killed that guy.
John, tired of his shots missing, felt his patience wearing thin. He decided to reveal his position. He raised his assault rifle and gave a full round to the Licker that had just killed the man, killing it instantly.
Now only one Licker remained. The creature lunged at John with inhuman speed. John tried to shoot, but the Licker was moving all over the place, climbing the walls and shelves.
"Damn it," John cursed, his voice in a frosty whisper.
In a desperate move, he dropped the assault rifle, pulling out an MP5 with one hand and his silenced pistol in the other. The Licker moved too fast. John narrowly dodged a claw, feeling the sharp bone tear his suit.
Without hesitation, he emptied the full magazine of both weapons, shooting at point-blank range. The bullets impacted the creature's body again and again, and the Licker finally collapsed to the floor, dead. The scene was left in a deathly silence, only broken by John's agitated breathing.