They moved through the ruined streets four abreast, weapons up, keeping close to the buildings. Ryan took point without discussion, setting the pace, reading each intersection before they reached it and steering them around trouble. Carlos watched him work and understood quickly: whatever this group was, Ryan ran it.
The subway station entrance came into view sooner than expected, reinforced with U.B.C.S. barricades. Two mercenaries on guard duty clocked Carlos and stood down, pulling the barrier aside to let them through.
Inside, the air was stale with gunpowder and damp concrete. Civilians huddled in the corners, faces tight with the particular fear of people who'd stopped expecting rescue. A handful of U.B.C.S. soldiers held their posts around the hall, running on fumes but holding. Brad leaned against the far wall, still pale from the earlier attack, not yet back to full strength.
Mikhail Viktor crossed the floor to meet them. He moved carefully, carrying a light wound somewhere under his jacket, but his face was composed. Carlos stepped forward and made the introductions.
"Captain, this is Jill, S.T.A.R.S. This is Ryan, he's been running with us. And Brad, also S.T.A.R.S."
Mikhail extended his hand to Ryan first, then Jill. "Mikhail. U.B.C.S. squad captain. Glad you're here. We're going to need everyone."
The formality of it settled something. The wariness that had hung over the group since Carlos walked through that door didn't disappear, but it eased.
Mikhail let the pleasantries go quickly. His expression shifted, and he got to it. "The whole city's dark. No power means the subway control systems are dead. Nobody goes anywhere until someone gets to the power substation and restores the grid."
"I'll go," Carlos said.
"No." Mikhail didn't soften it. "The civilians here need protection. You're the backbone of this position. You stay."
Ryan looked at Mikhail without suspicion. He'd read the situation correctly from the moment they arrived. Mikhail and his men weren't killers. They'd come to pull people out, and in the middle of a city that had eaten everyone else, they were still doing it. That counted for something.
"I'll go alone," Ryan said.
Jill turned on him immediately. "No."
"Larger group draws more zombies. Less flexibility." His voice was even. "Solo I can move faster, stay quieter."
"That's exactly why you can't go alone." No give in her voice at all. "Zombies are the least of what's out there. However good you are, you can't cover every angle by yourself."
She held his gaze. The worry on her face wasn't something she tried to hide.
They'd been through too much for that.
"I'm coming with you."
Ryan looked at her for a moment, then let it go. Once Jill made up her mind, the argument was already over.
"Someone needs to stay with the station," he said.
"Mikhail, Carlos, and Brad." She glanced at Brad. "You're not up for a run yet. Stay here, hold the entrance, keep the civilians safe until we're back."
Brad considered arguing for about half a second. "Yeah. Alright." He nodded. "Watch yourselves out there."
Mikhail looked between the two of them. "Carlos and I hold the rear. You two cover each other and get back fast."
"Station's in good hands," Carlos added, and meant it.
Ryan nodded. "Then let's move."
They checked their ammunition, confirmed their gear. Mikhail watched them go. "Come back alive," he said quietly.
Ryan led them out. Jill fell in at his shoulder without hesitation.
The street outside was dead in every sense. Abandoned cars sat at odd angles along the curb. Glass and debris covered the asphalt. Wind moved through the emptiness and picked up the smell that was everywhere in Raccoon City now, that particular rot, sweet and wrong.
Ryan drifted to the outside without thinking, putting himself between Jill and the open road. He scanned rooftops, doorways, parked cars, the dark spaces between buildings. When he sensed movement ahead he adjusted their route before she saw it, steering them away from the heaviest clusters.
Jill kept pace beside him and said, quietly, "Were you actually going to go by yourself?"
He glanced at her. "I just didn't want you out here."
"I know." She wrapped her fingers around his wrist for a moment. "That's why I'm scared of you going alone."
Something in his shoulders dropped. He took her hand properly. "I've got you."
They walked and talked in low voices, nothing forced about it, just two people who knew each other well enough not to fill the silence with noise. Their footsteps were light and deliberate, moving steadily toward the substation.
The main road ahead was blocked. A dense pack of zombies filled the intersection, lurching and calling to each other in that low, awful way. No getting through that.
Ryan looked left. A side alley ran parallel to their route, but fire had taken hold of it, flames climbing the walls, smoke pouring out in thick black rolls.
"We need to kill it," Ryan said, and found the fire hose coiled against the wall.
They worked the coupling together, no wasted motion between them. Water hammered through the hose and beat the fire back, section by section, until the alley was dark and wet and passable.
On the other side was a garage. Abandoned, lights out, the kind of place nobody would stop unless they had to.
A sound reached them from inside. Low, strained. Someone in pain.
A soldier slumped against the far wall, one leg bent wrong under him, face the color of old chalk. He flinched when he saw them, then urgency overrode caution.
"U.B.C.S., Murphy, my name's Murphy... I'm not infected, I took something on the leg, just blunt trauma, I swear..." He looked between them. "Are you friendlies?"
Jill started to answer.
A figure stepped out of the shadows.
White hair. Cold eyes that missed nothing and cared about none of it.
Ryan recognized him before he spoke. Nikolai Zinoviev. He'd spent enough hours with the game to know exactly what kind of man this was, what he was capable of, what he'd done and would do again without losing a minute's sleep. Seeing him in the flesh didn't change the math. It only confirmed it.
Nikolai raised his sidearm. Aimed at Murphy. His finger was already moving.
Jill's voice cracked sharp across the room.
Nikolai didn't blink.
Ryan's arm came up.
The shot was flat and clean in the enclosed space.
The bullet caught Nikolai's right wrist. Blood sprayed. The gun tumbled out of his hand and skipped across the concrete floor. He grabbed at his wrist with his other hand, teeth bared, and turned the full weight of his stare on Ryan.
"You'll pay for that..." The voice had gone ragged, more snarl than speech. "I'll take you apart. You and your woman, I'll leave you somewhere no one finds you, and you'll have time to regret this before the end."
Even wounded, hand streaming blood, he smiled. The threat wasn't bluster. It was a promise he expected to keep.
Ryan looked at him and felt nothing that resembled mercy.
Men like this didn't change. You didn't negotiate with them, didn't wound them and walk away. They simply kept going until someone stopped them permanently.
He raised the gun.
"You wouldn't dare..." Nikolai's eyes went wide. Something in them that might have been, for just a second, fear.
The second shot landed between his eyes.
Nikolai went rigid and fell straight back, hitting the floor hard. The garage went quiet.
Ryan lowered the Desert Eagle.
Jill looked at him. No shock on her face. No hesitation. Just the steady certainty of someone who understood the decision without needing it explained.
On the floor, Murphy stared at the body for a long moment. His hands were shaking when he finally looked up. "Thank... thank you."
Ryan crouched beside him and checked the leg. Not infected. The wound was bad but manageable. He pulled a first aid kit and a few extra supplies from his pack and set them next to Murphy's hand.
"We have to keep moving. We can't take you with us." He unclipped his radio. "This is Ryan. I've got a wounded U.B.C.S. soldier at the garage, Murphy, secured location. Nikolai's been handled. He won't be a problem. Need someone to come get Murphy."
Silence on the other end.
Then Carlos, voice clipped and serious. "Copy that. On my way."
Ryan pocketed the radio. "Help's coming. Sit tight."
Murphy nodded hard, too grateful for words.
Ryan got to his feet and took Jill's hand. "Ready?"
She nodded and held on.
They walked back out into the street, shoulder to shoulder. Ryan slowed after a few paces and turned toward her. He started to say something about Nikolai, about why he hadn't hesitated, about what kind of man he was and what leaving him alive would have meant.
"Jill, I..."
She stepped in close before he could get there. Her arms went around the back of his neck, and she rose onto her toes and kissed him, soft and unhurried, warm in the middle of all that cold.
When she pulled back, her forehead rested against his. Her eyes were steady.
"I don't need an explanation," she said. "I trust you."
Ryan brushed the dust from her cheek with his thumb. Then he took her hand again, and they turned toward the far end of the street.
The substation's outline waited in the distance.
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