On the morning of September 25th, Raccoon City was shrouded in a cold, grim mist, and a faint, metallic scent of blood hung in the air. As dawn barely broke and the city had yet to fully awaken, disaster had already descended in full force, silent and stealthy.
Lear stood up and organized his gear. He checked his pistol, magazines, first-aid kit, and radio one by one, his movements crisp and efficient without a hint of hesitation. Piercing sirens suddenly echoed through the Police Station building, followed immediately by the internal PA system. Marvin Branagh's voice came through, steady yet carrying an undeniable weight of gravity.
"All officers on duty, deploy immediately! Large-scale violent assaults are occurring simultaneously in the East, West District, and South District. Reports of cannibalism and mauling on-site are confirmed! Prioritize civilian evacuation. You are authorized to use lethal force if your life is threatened!"
As soon as the broadcast ended, the previously orderly Police Station lapsed into instant chaos. Officers rushed toward the equipment room with panicked expressions; the cacophony of shouting, heavy footsteps, and clattering gear intermingled as fear spread rapidly through the air. Everyone realized that something horrific, beyond their wildest imagination, was happening to the city.
Just as Lear stepped out of the dormitory corridor, a pale-faced Elliot came stumbling toward him. His hands were shaking uncontrollably, and his voice carried a distinct tremor. "Lear, I finally found you. Lieutenant Marvin has assigned us to support the West District intersection. Things have completely spiraled out of control over there."
"Check your gear. Follow me," Lear said shortly. He offered no superfluous comfort, instead providing Elliot with his only pillar of support through direct action.
Elliot nodded, fumbling to confirm his baton and radio were on his belt as he struggled to suppress the surging terror within him.
The two quickly boarded a patrol car, sirens wailing as they sped toward the West District. The closer they got to the incident zone, the more gruesome the street scenes became. Overturned cars lay across the middle of the road, shop windows were completely shattered, and clothes, backpacks, and debris were strewn everywhere. Disheveled citizens ran screaming, their cries of despair tearing through the morning silence.
"Stop the car," Lear ordered quietly.
The vehicle came to a steady halt at the curb. The scene at the intersection ahead was enough to make one's skin crawl. A man in a jacket had tackled a pedestrian and was hunched over, biting them in a frenzy. His movements were stiff and mechanical, devoid of human emotion or reason, driven only by the most primal instinct to feed. Blood spread slowly across the pavement, and a pungent stench of gore wafted toward them.
Elliot immediately covered his mouth, his body shaking uncontrollably as he fought the urge to vomit. Lear pushed open the car door, drew his pistol, and walked forward with steady steps. Sensing the movement, the Infected slowly raised its blood-stained face. Its clouded, grayish-white eyes locked onto the pair, and a low, guttural growl escaped its throat before it lunged forward with a staggering gait.
Lear held his breath and focused, his muzzle aimed steadily at the creature's head. His finger pulled the trigger with a smooth motion. A crisp gunshot rang through the air, and the Infected fell straight to the ground. After a few twitches, it went completely still.
"They won't stay down unless you hit the head." Lear holstered his pistol, his voice calm and level, though his fingers were trembling slightly. "This area will be surrounded soon. Get the civilians back to the Police Station immediately." Elliot suppressed his terror and stepped forward to help the two civilians, who were paralyzed with fear in the corner, up onto their feet. The group quickly scrambled into the vehicle, and the police car spun around, racing back toward the Police Station at full speed. As the police car pulled away, the passerby who had been mauled earlier stood up from the ground in an eerie, contorted posture. Elliot caught a glimpse of the fallen Infected slowly crawling back up in the rearview mirror; his face turned deathly pale in an instant, and he gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles whitened, unable to utter a single word in his shock.
Lear turned his head to look at the rearview mirror, whispering, "So soon...?"
On the way back to the Police Station, Lear immediately detoured to the Kendo Gun Shop. He pounded hard on the door, and a tense shout came from inside at once.
"Who is it?!"
"It's me, Lear! Open up! The rioters outside have lost control!"
The shop door was pulled open quickly. Kendo stood there, face pale, clutching a gun in one hand while shielding his daughter tightly behind him.
"Lear? What the hell is happening out there?"
"Large groups of rioters are biting people everywhere. It's not safe to stay here; come back to the Police Station with me!" Lear spoke with rapid-fire speed.
Kendo didn't ask any more questions. Gritting his teeth, he began hauling out pistols, shotguns, and crates of ammunition from the cabinets. "Take all of it! Let the officers use them!"
Lear and Elliot helped load the car, then assisted the father and daughter inside, speeding all the way back to the Police Station.
Upon returning to the Police Station, he immediately distributed the weapons and ammunition to everyone. Because Irons had long been embezzling the budget for police equipment, their original stock of firearms and ammo was severely lacking; many officers had been forced to do their duty with aged, outdated weapons.
When the crates of brand-new firearms and ample ammunition were brought in, everyone's eyes lit up. Their tense expressions relaxed instantly, and morale surged, thoroughly stabilizing the previously chaotic and uneasy atmosphere. After settling Kendo and his daughter, Lear entered the Police Station Lobby.
By now, the police station main gate was a scene of total chaos. A massive influx of injured and terrified civilians was pouring in. Officers were scrambling to receive and direct the crowd, while some squads were preparing to force their way out on calls. The entire scene was boiling over with anxiety.
Marvin stood near the entrance directing the flow. Seeing Lear return safely with the others, he quickly stepped forward, asking with a solemn expression, "What's the situation in the West District? Can we still organize a containment?"
"It's completely out of control." Lear was blunt, handing the civilians over to a nearby colleague before lowering his voice to report the critical information to Marvin. "The attackers aren't ordinary rioters; they are more like Infected suffering from some form of rabies. They're mauling passersby everywhere. Anyone bitten or scratched will transform in a short amount of time, becoming the same kind of monster. It's extremely contagious."
At that moment, Elliot seemed to finally regain his senses. "Yes, Lieutenant... I, I... I saw it with my own eyes! That... that dead man crawled right back up from the ground!" Elliot's face was white, his voice stammering as his entire body shook.
Lear paused for a moment, his tone becoming serious and firm. "We must notify all officers immediately. During rescues, they must strictly distinguish between ordinary casualties and the Infected. They must prevent themselves from being bitten or having their skin broken at all costs. Anyone found to be bitten must be quarantined immediately; they cannot be left among the crowd."
Marvin's pupils shrank, his face a mask of shock and doubt. In all his years on the force, he had never heard of anything so contrary to common sense; the description provided by Lear and the others exceeded the boundaries of normal understanding. "Are you sure? Even with an acute infectious disease like rabies, things wouldn't happen this fast." Lear met Marvin's gaze, his expression remaining calm and his eyes clear, speaking only with a firm tone. "Lieutenant, there is no time to explain. Every minute we delay, more of our colleagues could be sacrificed. Please, trust me."
The short sentence carried immense weight. Marvin looked at the young man before him, remembering his alertness regarding the unusual cases from a few days ago, then listened to the constant cries and calls for help over the radio. In reality, there was no time left for hesitation. He took a deep breath, and the doubt in his eyes was replaced by resolve.
Marvin stopped questioning. Instead, he immediately turned and picked up the walkie-talkie on the desk, issuing orders to the reachable officers in a steady, powerful voice. "All units, be advised! The rioters are infectious—avoid being bitten or scratched at all costs! Confirm the target's status before attempting rescue; any bitten personnel are to be quarantined immediately! If..." Marvin looked up at Lear and Elliot, "if any rioters attempt to bite officers, you are authorized to use lethal force. Priority is given to the survival of active personnel."
"Go for the head. Only a shot to the head will ensure the target is incapacitated," Lear added. Marvin gripped the walkie-talkie, his voice steady and forceful: "All units, I repeat—lethal force is authorized. Aim for the head!"
The orders were relayed quickly. The panicked officers suddenly had a clear direction to follow, and the chaotic scene was brought under preliminary control. Lear nodded slightly, turned back to Marvin, and continued proposing key deployments. "Reinforce the police station main gate, take inventory of weapons, ammo, and medical supplies, and designate a specific quarantine area. We need to prepare for a long-term holdout."
"Come with me now to see Chief Raymond. He needs to know what you just told me." Marvin turned to Lear, and Lear nodded. Both men tacitly avoided mentioning Irons. Lear looked up toward the second floor; that madman of a chief was likely sweating bullets right now, taking orders from his masters and trying desperately to suppress the situation.
Lear tightened his grip on his pistol, his gaze sharp and determined. He had already adapted to firing a gun, moving past the initial discomfort of shooting his first Infected. Instead, a surge of adrenaline began to course through him.
The Police Station would be the first hurdle in helping him fully integrate into this world of lurking peril.
(Translated by yourtl.app)