Surprisingly, I left the police station in a completely unusual mood. It was like going out late at night for groceries: not very pleasant, and I would have to come back later than I left. I had a lot of things to do: deal with the police chief, gather more data, and, of course, find a weapon. There can never be too many guns and gunpowder, because the population of Raccoon City consists of a hundred thousand infected monsters craving human flesh. In the past, they were people, but in the past, mammoths also walked the earth. So, is it worth constantly remembering this?
— S.T.A.R.S.
The creepy voice served as an excellent motivation to quickly hide behind a car.
— The hunter's quarry comes running… — Jill commented in a whisper, catching the heavy footsteps of Nemesis, who was walking down the dangerous street near the police station. He hadn't noticed us yet; he was busy mocking the little zombies, making them mutate. Piercing their heads with his tentacles, he injected a monstrous dose of the virus into their bodies, after which they turned into even bigger freaks.
— What should we do? — Jill whispered the question, checking the submachine gun's magazine and getting ready to help. According to the plan, I was supposed to occupy the bruiser, but my partner was ready to help take him out. It's always easier to engage a monster that is out cold than one that is standing on two legs and fully ready to do something bad to its enemies; tentacles to the rescue…
— What I should do, — I clarified, shaking my head. — Go to the hospital; I'll deal with the friend of all scary women.
— A friend?
— Put three beautiful girlfriends next to him, and you'll get three lepers. I assure you, then your beauty will outshine even the sun. After all… Everything is learned by comparison? — Not a bad joke worked.
My partner smiled, then nodded and went to the hospital, obviously in a good mood. I, on the other hand, went to sadomasochism courses; otherwise, it's hard to explain my eagerness to fight the tentacle monster. An enemy not of my moral category, but for the salvation of all beauties… It's worth the risk.
— S.T.A.R.S.
— Were you sent to collect data? — I asked, taking two anti-zombie pistols out of their holsters. — I hope you will please me.
Aiming and continuing to walk towards the target, I decided to stuff a piece of rotten meat with spices from the Samurai Edge 2 bullets. Last time, I managed to take this creature down by carefully aiming at a vulnerable area on its head.
The mutant is not able to withstand the technique of accelerated firing, but…
This is no longer relevant.
Nemesis has acquired a good resistance to the previous method of neutralization. The bullets that hit his head did not cause him any harm; on the contrary, they angered the cerberus. He took advantage of my confusion and attacked. The speed of the tentacle was slightly higher than my acceleration. I didn't have time to dodge. The tentacle wrapped around my neck and lifted my body into the air.
— You'd make a good executioner, — I blurted out, instinctively strengthening my left arm to hit the creature with a powerful swing. The force applied was enough to stun the enemy. The creature lost control of its tentacle, and I was able to lean on its muzzle with my boot, pushing off it like a trampoline.
Flying several meters, I somehow got into a group and aimed at the zombies standing next to the creature. Even before I landed, the rest of the bullets in the magazines were used on them. Although they mutated, it doesn't always make the specimens better. In this case, the mutation damaged the skull, mixed the brain with biomass, and added gut sprouts that were sensitive to irritants. A bunch of vulnerabilities in exchange for the potential to evolve into something more dangerous.
— Grrr, — the creature growled, staggering back and making the most logical decision.
It covered itself with its elbow from the bullets and ran at me like a battering ram.
A bulletproof coat, I want one too…
Jumping sharply to the side, I instantly reloaded my weapon and returned it to its holsters. Taking out my knives, I assumed a "knifeman" stance, which allows me to move quickly and strike. My legs are shoulder-width apart, and my feet are turned at a slight angle. My arms are bent at the elbows and are in front of my body, with my fists clenched around the handles of the knives. The knives are held with the blades up, so it's convenient to deliver both chopping and cutting blows.
— I don't usually dance with scary monsters, but I'll make an exception for you, — throwing out a provocation, I instantly moved to him and jumped, immediately hitting him in the chin with my knee. Following this, I sharply stuck the knives into the place where the seams were located, which hid the parasite.
Las Plagas served as inspiration for Nemesis Alpha, so I wasn't in a hurry to get and absorb the samples. No matter how strong and dangerous the carrier of the alpha-parasite developed by Umbrella is, it is only a pathetic fake of the original. I don't like working with consumer goods.
Jumping back from the monster after inflicting several deep wounds on its vulnerable spots, I again took up a combat stance. And, I wasn't wrong; the creature's body changed slightly, adapting better to the new conditions. Additional tentacles about two meters long grew on the back of Nemesis's head, with ends resembling the blades of axes. Although they were made of bones, the mutation made them sharper than a razor.
Nemesis immediately attacked with his tentacles, intending to chop me into a salad with the sharp ends. Such prospects plunged me into melancholy, so I had to desperately fight off the attacks, leaving small nicks on my knives. The steel is frankly sucking; only zombie-swords are the trend of the new era. Ordinary steel does not allow me to fight off blades made of bones.
A resentment for our arms manufacturers pierced my soul. Or is it hatred?
— You're not bad, — I praised him before dodging another Nemesis attack, at the same time throwing a knife into his healthy eye. Getting rid of a weapon is not stupid if nicks cover half the blade. One block — and it can be thrown in the trash. And so, at least it will serve as a temporary blinding of the enemy.
— S.T.A.R.S.
The monster growled, tearing the knife out of its eye and… deciding to go to the gym.
Should I add more sarcasm? I'll probably wrap it in a second wrapper:
Oh, no, why did you decide to pick up that car right now? And why are you aiming? You're shifting your center of gravity, squatting down… You're throwing expensive foreign cars? What did they do to you? Oh, "tyrannical" sport requires sacrifice.
Ugh…
A sharp slide forward helped me avoid the fate of becoming a participant in a car accident without my own car. Instead of such a fate, I chose another one: to push off the ground and enter the zone for direct combat. I regretted it quickly; the creature's tentacles didn't go anywhere, and those on the back of its head still attacked with superhuman speed. They rushed at me like the wind. But I'm no slouch either; I ran around, constantly inflicting stinging blows to its head. Over time, the creature began to weaken due to the lack of biomass, and I, on the contrary, got used to this style of combat. It's a pity that one knife is too little for him.
— I'm in high demand today, — I noticed the unpleasant annoyance on the face of the zombie that grabbed me by the legs. If I had time to duck so my head wasn't cut off, then a moment of embarrassment arose. Nemesis's leg crashed into me at full speed; the Spartan kick knocked the air out of my lungs… And me out of the zombie's grasp. I flew like an arrow and plunged right into a car, pushing it back a couple of meters. — Oh… Trevor's mom get me, how I hate broken ribs…
Sighing heavily, I tried to put my thoughts in order.
Successfully, judging by my instantaneous reaction to the threat. The approaching Nemesis decided to step on my face… Ugh, I miraculously managed to perform a quick roll, getting a piece of a stone in my temple.
Jumping back five meters, I repeated it four more times, then took out my pistols again and engaged in long-range combat. In general, with new strength, I couldn't achieve success, almost not controlling them in real combat. There are not many alternatives; for now, I returned to traditional combat methods, where you need to act like a normal special forces employee. Don't rush in, keep your distance, constantly hide from the threat. I was also lucky that the creature doesn't have its own weapons…
A helicopter?
Is it going to drop a metal box with a weapon in it? If you look closely, inside it there are Umbrella mercenaries, probably a support group for the sample to collect data. They also have a container, a big and heavy box. They dropped it from the helicopter to arm their soldier with a new toy.
— S.T.A.R.S.
This time, the bruiser's voice sounded questioning, as I had done the most unexpected thing for him: I ran away. To the next building. A big skyscraper like that. And, for the first time, my supernatural speed came in handy to such an extent that without it there were no alternatives that would allow me to do one nasty thing… I used the stairs to quickly climb to the tenth floor of the tall building, and then at a mad speed I jumped out of a glass window to jump to the helicopter.
— Hello everyone, — I politely greeted the mercenaries as soon as I covered the distance from the window to the helicopter, getting into the cockpit. — And, good night, I suppose.
— Wait! — the panicking mercenary in a completely closed jumpsuit with a gas mask didn't have time to say anything or I didn't hear him. Instead, I grabbed him by the belt and sent him flying. If I couldn't fall, then at least someone could. Preferably, everyone could.
The second one is gone, the third one is gone…
The fourth one managed to shoot, but I was faster and dodged the bullet, approaching him to strike him right in the neck. There was a knife in my hand; now it's in the victim's neck. Well, I'm left without a cold weapon, which is sad, but not critical. Inside the helicopter, in one of the containers, there was a grenade launcher, created specifically for Nemesis. Heavy, ten-shot… you can feel the power of the explosion in it.
— A-a-a! — the pilot screamed hysterically, sharply pulling the helicopter to the side, barely avoiding a shot from the rocket launcher. It's clear; the enemy has already opened the container, getting a serious argument against his grenade launcher. That is… Our grenade launcher.
— Don't panic, — I asked in a calming tone, taking the Samurai Edge 2 in my left hand to say goodbye to the pilot. The helicopter began to storm, but I had some skills to level the course, directing the hulk directly at the enemy below. And without waiting for the collision, I managed to jump out of the helicopter, mocking my bones after a bad landing on a car.
I felt the pain right in my spinal cord when I tried to get away from the slight concussion due to the helicopter exploding nearby and, also, the pain in my back. Rolling over, I fell to the ground, slowly got up, walked, and sat down on the hood of a car.
— A huge grenade launcher? — I asked the bruiser, who was burning under the helicopter wreckage, with interest. He didn't answer. A modest guy. — Let's try to figure it out in practice.
It should be noted that mutations are unstable to explosions; the fire probably damages the cells, preventing them from calculating the damage. The flame from the helicopter went out, Nemesis rose and immediately received a projectile from the innovative weapon with a characteristic "boom." This took him out for eight minutes, after which I had to repeat the "boom" with the same result. My shoulders began to stiffen after an hour, and by the last salvo of the grenade launcher, they ached completely. For such exploits, I should, at the very least, get a massage. Ugh, I'll make Jill work it off, and first…
Accelerated metabolism and overexertion made themselves felt. I went to the nearest supermarket, right to the meat department. I never thought I'd have to massively devour raw meat, but there's nothing I can do. It's still better than becoming a cannibal. You can't rule what you eat. You don't rule food, do you? And I really dreamed of world domination by the best of people. A perfect race, free from disease, hunger, death… The virus can give this. The only question is, at what cost.
— S.T.A.R.S.
— Nemesis, buddy, I no longer dare to hold you up. Let's part as friends? — I suggested, leaving the meat department of the supermarket.
The creature was offended and came to take revenge… Where did he get a huge flamethrower from?