An interesting date: we sat in silence and peace for a couple of minutes, and then boom — out of the frying pan into the fire. In any case, we are no longer threatened by zombies in the restaurant. You have to look for the positives everywhere, and the negatives, especially in the person of Nemesis, can somehow be endured in an ambiguous place — the restroom.
I didn't think I would be alone with Jill so quickly, but it's better here than near trouble. They, by the way, mysteriously decided to walk through the coffee shop and also head to the top floor. The death growls of zombies were heard; the tyrant probably crushed them like rats getting in the way. And a minute later, heavy footsteps were heard again, getting on Jill's nerves. Fortunately, not for long. Soldiers quickly come to their senses, as soon as the threat to their lives comes out and continues the search for S.T.A.R.S.
— He's gone, — I confidently told the special forces soldier and my former subordinate.
— Oh, — she sighed, wiping the sweat from her forehead. — I never thought I'd be hiding in a toilet… In such company…
— We can fight him if you want, — I shrugged slightly, slowly pulling on an arrogant smirk.
— What's the catch?
— What catch? There's no catch. Except that the battle will end, and the winner will remain undefined, — I answered her in a calm manner, crossing my arms. — That creature will constantly mutate, acquiring new, more dangerous and forms adapted to the type of damage. It will get to the point where an incomprehensible creature from a movie about… Hmm, monsters from space? will be chasing us.
— And if we get cornered. Will we win? — She gave a good sign of our reconciliation for the sake of achieving a common goal. She's already talking about "we."
— If you bet on humanity, then I will be the winner, — arrogantly, as always, arrogantly. — I'll just have to sacrifice a lot for this, which is somewhat contrary to my plans. But this is not about that now. We need to get to weapons. It will be difficult without them.
— There are a lot of them among civilians, — Jill quickly reminded me, leaning against the wall, a little to my left. — But we need supplies. Few people have a whole warehouse of ammunition.
— Well said. Rummaging through all the houses is not an option. We'll find a couple of boxes and a few primitive guns, — I reasoned aloud, looking carefully at the face of my companion. A beautiful devil, it's strange that before the mansion, I wasn't really… into her. — We'll have to drop by work.
— You were posthumously fired, — what a prickly rose, but not particularly arguing.
We first left the restroom, and then went out into the big city.
There were few survivors, but they were met on the way, mostly running away from crowds of infected creatures. Looking at them, I still couldn't figure out: what's wrong with the biological weapon? It works, to put it mildly, to the point of a needle in the eye — wrong. Some infected people turned into zombies within predictable limits, while others transformed only tonight. And massively. Several ampoules with different concentrations of the virus? The virus, in theory, if it spread through the water… The water could have weakened the concentration, which at least explains why the main and most massive blow fell on this night. Zombies were there before… But… In some places, I saw biomass growths.
— Jill, — I addressed her seriously. — We have a problem. A big problem.
— Did you forget to turn off the stove? — she joked with a serious face, looking at the pulsating flesh on the wall of the high-rise building.
— Surprisingly, I might have forgotten to turn it off, — I frowned. — But what I haven't forgotten is the data about living flesh with a purple color. Be careful and don't contact the pulsating biomass if you don't want to know the taste of human flesh without consequences for your morals. Because you won't have any left.
— That serious?
— This substance is a by-product of a network of mutations that occur upon contact with the virus, a human, an insect, and fragments. In general, a whole chain of connections, and the stars must also align in the sky. But if the virus has reached this stage, when flesh is formed on inanimate objects, then, hmm, something like necromorphs from Dead Space may appear.
— Just don't touch it? — Jill asked with doubt, as if I was hiding something else.
— If a female mosquito lays eggs in this flesh… Believe me, a meter-long ruler will not be enough to measure T-mosquitos, — I slightly intimidated my partner, and not only her. Myself, too. I don't like mosquitoes that are too big. They're not so easy to swat.
Dogs are another matter. After three alleys, we came across a fence, very mediocre and held together by a word of honor. Any minute now, a pack of zombies will knock it down, sticking their dirty fingers through the metal grates. But it wasn't them that attracted our attention, like the best magicians. It's all about the dog standing nine meters away from us.
— Wesker, — Jill whispered, aiming her pistol at the opponent. — I guess you weren't lying about the mosquitoes. Do animals mutate too?
— This is a sample of an infected… — I couldn't act as a reference book because the dog noticed us. A mutated dog has a good sense of smell, can smell scents up to ten kilometers away, and hear noise up to fifty meters. However, there is a condition here… In the dark, like now, the hearing range increases to one hundred fifty meters. And we, clever us, just chattered right in front of its nose. Now we can't escape; it will chase us all over the city because of its developed sense of smell. Therefore, all that's left is to fight and nothing more.
The zombie dog rushed forward and, feeling the danger, dodged my partner's first shot, after which it pushed off the ground with its paws and flew straight at me. Rushing at a superhuman, infected with a special strain of the T-virus, is a mistake. Rushing at a superhuman named Wesker is a fatal mistake.
A lunge and an uppercut.
I aimed directly at the creature's head, and I was lucky; my clothes were almost untouched, only a couple of drops settled on my coat. The dog's muzzle was not so lucky; it was shattered to smithereens.
— Are their bodies made of cotton or did you sign up for a monster gym? — Jill looked at my hands, which hadn't changed at all since our last meeting.
The S.T.A.R.S. training was very tough physically; I personally developed and improved it as the captain of the "Alpha" team. I never had problems with physical strength, just like my subordinates. It's just that I used to not be able to blow up heads with my muscle mass.
— I was just sparing you, — I smirked. — When I went on unpaid leave. Hmm, I returned to my old workouts and became stronger.
— Uh-huh, and you healed a hole the size of half your chest. How convenient: everything is decided by workouts. Ha. And how is it? Is it good to do individual workouts on a special program, and one that no one even knows about? — Jill was sarcastic for herself and all her imaginary girlfriends.
After a little more talking, I warned at the end that the fence, according to my estimates, should fall any minute now along with a group of bloodthirsty zombies. My partner took the news to heart and agreed to speed up.
At a faster pace, the rest of the adventure was more fruitful; we came right to the road. More precisely, we stopped in a back alley, because further on there was a rare sight… a-hem, a crappy situation.
Abandoned cars, a growing fire, a couple of consequences of a traffic accident, crowds of walking dead, and right at the finish line — the closed gates of the police station. I have little weapon, and going back for another one to my apartment… I left it for the last resort, and the police station was closer anyway, and I should visit my former workplace.
The more information I can dig up, the stronger my position in society. It is not necessary to work for the Organization; as for me, it is better to cooperate. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. It sounds better than Albert Wesker — employee of the month with a bonus from the boss. No, thank you. The very thought: working for someone and limiting my own capabilities sounds incredibly crappy. And now, a chance to demonstrate independence.
— I suggest we find another way or do it the good old way, — Jill voiced an idea.
— I have one idea… Have you heard anything about the signature dash? — I chuckled merrily.
— Oh, no, — my partner winced.
— You'll get a ride with a breeze, — I added, taking the girl in my arms without further ado. She wasn't very happy about it, but she decided to trust a former traitor with a charming smile: kind and maximally unassailable. I showed a similar smile when I killed… Um, well, who remembers the past?
I accelerated enough not to injure my cargo, and calmly slipped over the cars directly to the fence. It all happened quickly: one moment, and my legs are already pushing off the last truck.
A beautiful sight underfoot: hordes of hungry dead, slowly turning their heads towards the noise. But there was no one there anymore. And no female squeals either; Jill is still a soldier, not a damsel in distress.
After landing, she gave me a complicated look.
Oh, is this love at first sight?
Judging by her tense elbow, I guessed a little wrong…
In order not to get a friendly elbow to the chin, I allowed her to get to her feet without outside help. She looked first at me, then at the iron gate with a lock. The border between the dead and the safe zone. To herself, she was probably thinking about life and death.
An hour earlier, hundreds of civilians flocked to the police station. In an attempt to take shelter and entrust their lives to professionals. But what's the result? The desperate citizens of Raccoon City stumbled upon a lock and, if they hadn't been bitten before, died a more terrible death.
— I wonder what happened to the survivors? — she asked with easily readable sadness in her intonation.
— You mean those who weren't eaten? They are trying to leave the city by train or by land transport, — I thought about this question. — If the city is poorly cordoned off, the survivors have a chance.
— We need to check, — I wanted to answer her suggestion with the exact opposite. — If the civilians need help, we must…
It's difficult; I need to appeal to her common sense. To say that since she was fired, she doesn't owe anything to anyone! It's a pity that the girl is for justice and correctness; such suggestions will only make me look bad.
Help altruistically? Waste time!
I need to get weapons and secret data as soon as possible, preferably a sample of the G-virus. Ugh, dreams, dreams. Everything at once, and maybe I'll even meet Sherry near the nearest trash can. Hmm, if I meet her and everything comes true, then… I want another billion dollars! A good laboratory would cost about that much, not an institutional fake made of stolen equipment that is not covered by a warranty… Stolen and not working; it will be a little difficult to get it back. Stolen. I can use that.
— Nemesis is hunting S.T.A.R.S. What do you think, if you go to help the civilians, who will you drag along with you? — I tried to raise an eyebrow questioningly. — You will steal people's chance to get out of this city. Remember, the road to hell is paved with good intentions…
She clicked her tongue, preventing me from continuing.
— Then let's go for guns. We'll kill that guy, — she said combatively and stupidly; Nemesis will die on his own after I collect the data. — You say he will get up after every fall, becoming stronger? We'll find something that will hit him with all its might, — Jill said optimistically.
Her fighting spirit is through the roof. But it slightly subsided when we heard gunshots. It seems the infected in the police station woke up right on schedule.