On September 24th, the Raccoon City Police Department Main Hall had already returned to its usual daily bustle. Lear stood before the bulletin board, checking today's patrol schedule—his partner was Elliot Edward.
Colleagues bustled about as the sounds of ringing telephones, conversations, and clacking keyboards intertwined; to all appearances, it was no different from any other day. Lear scanned the room discreetly, knowing full well that most of the officers in the Raccoon City Police Department were decent, responsible ordinary people with good hearts.
At the first moment the Resident Evil outbreak began, they would try to quell the "riots," and even after the hospital stopped accepting patients, they would transport the wounded to the Police Station. They knew nothing of viruses, nothing of biological monsters, and certainly nothing of the fact that this city was about to descend into hell.
They only had a faint inkling that lately, everything felt wrong.
"But this city no longer has a future," Lear whispered to himself before walking straight toward Lieutenant Marvin Branagh.
Marvin was leaning against the front desk flipping through documents, his brow furrowed and his expression exhausted. Day after day of bizarre assaults, missing persons cases, and dispatch records forcibly suppressed by the higher-ups... it felt like a heavy stone weighing on his heart. He couldn't put his finger on what exactly was wrong, but through years of police intuition, he sensed an extremely dangerous atmosphere.
"Lieutenant Marvin," Lear approached, keeping his voice very low so only the two of them could hear.
Marvin looked up. He already had a favorable impression of this steady, reliable new Patrol Officer.
"Lear, what is it?"
"While patrolling the East District Alley yesterday, I found some traces at a scene," Lear said calmly. "The bloodstains were strange, the bite marks were deep, and there were no signs of a struggle or stolen property. It looked more like... an indiscriminate attack."
He paused, offering a cryptic warning:
"Similar cases are becoming more frequent lately. If we let this continue, I'm afraid major chaos will break out. We need to be vigilant and prepare our response in advance."
Lear knew in his heart that no one would believe him yet, so he didn't mention words like zombie or monster, nor did he touch upon anything regarding a virus.
Furthermore, he looked up toward the second floor, shifting his gaze into the shadows where a short, stout figure was watching them coldly.
These few sentences were merely a Patrol Officer's normal assessment of an unusual case. Yet, it was precisely this objective description that instantly struck Marvin's most tightly wound nerve.
He remained silent for several seconds. His gaze grew visibly grave, and he looked at Lear with a newfound layer of approval.
This young man before him had powers of observation sharper than the veterans, and he spoke with a steady composure. He was far more reliable than those who merely went through the motions of reporting.
"I understand." Marvin nodded slightly, his voice kept low. "Stay alert while you're out on patrol. If you see anything strange, forget the bureaucratic red tape—tell me privately and directly." The phrase "tell me privately" was the highest level of trust Marvin could grant under such high-pressure conditions.
"Yes, Lieutenant."
Lear nodded slightly and turned to leave.
The hint had been delivered, the seeds of trust sown; all that remained was to prepare in silence.
Returning to the center of the Main Hall, Elliot Edward was waiting anxiously where he had been left. His uniform was still a bit disheveled, and he couldn't hide the timidity in his eyes.
"L-Lear... can we head out now?"
"We can." Lear nodded, his tone calm. "Check your gear first. Magazines, radio, baton—make sure everything is accounted for before we leave. Things aren't right lately; we can't afford a gear failure."
"R-Right!"
Elliot hurriedly began fumbling with his equipment. Lear watched him, recalling what he knew: Elliot was timid, hesitant, and lacked initiative, but he wasn't a bad person at heart and possessed a basic survival instinct in a crisis.
He cast a fleeting glance at the other officers in the office area.
The veteran patrol officer Brown, the front desk clerk Rita, Karl Weber in the equipment room... they were all ordinary people who felt the recent cases were eerie, but none realized that danger was already at their doorstep. Lear didn't have the energy to reach out to everyone individually. He simply made a mental note: help them if possible.
"Let's go."
Lear took the lead toward the exit, and Elliot scrambled to follow.
The patrol car cruised smoothly onto the streets. The morning sun was soft, and the city remained peaceful, yet the invisible tension in the air grew heavier by the day. Elliot was restless throughout the drive, repeatedly muttering about the strange occurrences in the city, his voice full of unease.
"I heard from other colleagues that the wounds on several of the injured are infecting incredibly fast. The hospital side is being all secretive about it..."
Lear didn't offer much of an explanation, simply stating calmly:
"Don't speculate, and don't wander off. Remember one thing—no matter what strange people or things you encounter, ensure your own safety first."
Elliot nodded, only half-understanding, and looked at his unusually calm partner. For some reason, even though Lear was a newcomer who had only been on the job for six months, he felt a strange sense of reassurance.
Throughout their patrol, Lear wasted no time.
Secluded alleys, emergency exits, pharmacies, convenience stores, defensible buildings, intersections that were easy to hold but hard to attack... he discreetly committed every piece of information useful for survival to memory. Once the outbreak began, the officers in the Police Station who still had a conscience would try to establish a defensive line to hold back the so-called "rioters" and rescue trapped citizens. It was best to scout ahead now and find escape routes, at least to avoid being surrounded by zombies as in the game's lore.
While returning to the Police Station mid-shift to resupply, Lear encountered Deputy Chief Raymond Douglas in the corridor.
Raymond had a steady temperament and was a man of few words. He was one of the few high-ranking officials in the Police Station who was still taking the abnormal cases seriously.
He saw Lear and paused slightly, his tone flat but earnest:
"Marvin mentioned you to me. Said you're observant and steady."
The Deputy Chief's eyes were filled with exhaustion. He paused, offering no further pleasantries, only a most practical reminder:
"Things are exceptional lately. Prioritize safety on patrol. If you encounter a situation that gets out of control... prioritize staying alive yourself before you try to find a way to save others."
"Understood, Deputy Chief," Lear replied solemnly.
Raymond nodded slightly and turned to walk away. Lear watched his retreating figure, silently recalling his background.
This Deputy Chief was a veteran who joined the Raccoon City Police Department after his discharge, rising to his current rank through steady competence. He had long suspected Umbrella of manipulating the city administration and had been secretly gathering clues regarding the company's illegal experiments. After the cataclysm broke out, he would command the defense and reinforce the lines. To cover the evacuation of officers and civilians, he would eventually detonate the reserve ammunition, perishing along with the encroaching zombies.
As dusk fell, the two finished their patrol and returned to the Police Station.
Marvin walked straight up to Lear, skipping the pleasantries. His tone was brisk and direct:
"Starting tomorrow, you're with me. You'll have priority on gear requisitions. I'll handle the patrol routes. Everything will be geared toward responding to emergencies."
"Yes, Lieutenant."
Marvin looked at him, his gaze darkening as he lowered his voice:
"The things happening lately... it's all too wrong. I have a bad feeling. We have to prepare in advance."
He still didn't know exactly what he was about to face. But his instincts had already sensed the danger.
Lear nodded silently.
No one knew what kind of living hell Raccoon City was about to become. Currently, the city was like a massive pressure cooker waiting for someone to lift the lid—and the protagonist would be arriving soon.
Lear walked out of the Police Station and looked up at the sky, which had been completely swallowed by the twilight. The evening breeze was cool, yet it already carried a faint, lingering scent of blood. There were only three days left until the outbreak.
(Translated by yourtl.app)