The heavy door cut off Irons' screams. Even if the old bastard didn't die now, he wouldn't survive the nuclear blast destined for Raccoon City. If Lear hadn't been worried about complications arising from keeping Irons around for the next few days, he would have truly preferred to leave him for William, considering the disgusting things the man had done. Compared to being implanted with a G-Virus larva and having his chest burst open, this ending was a form of mercy; at least he wouldn't have to suffer.
Lear didn't linger, turning to head back to the Police Station Lobby. The moment he turned around, his pupils snapped shut—Deputy Chief Raymond was standing silently in the shadows of the garage exit, his heavy gaze fixed on him without a word.
After a brief moment of shock, Lear quickly reined in his emotions and regained his composure. He stepped forward to greet him, attempting to brush off what had just happened as nothing consequential.
But Raymond ignored his cover-up. He walked straight past him, casting a faint glance at him as he brushed by, and spoke in a low voice: "Well done, but not well enough. Look closely, kid. If I were you, this is how I'd do it."
With that, the veteran officer strode toward the iron door of the isolation room. He reached out and violently kicked over a gasoline drum sitting near a police car, sent the pungent fuel splashing across the floor. He then pulled out a glass container—which looked homemade—placed it beside the drum, and precisely hooked a thin thread to the door handle. If anyone tried to move the drum or open the door, the thread would snap instantly and tip the container.
Having finished, Raymond looked up at Lear, his voice flat as he spun the entire narrative: "This way, everything ends with Irons' death. Let's just say our Chief was worried about the status of the Infected and came down personally to check. Unfortunately, the quality of the drum was poor, a stray spark flew from somewhere, and the gasoline accidentally ignited. Our dear Chief Irons died in the line of duty. Everyone will remember him."
When he finished, he gave Lear a deep look filled with unspoken understanding, then turned and walked toward the exit of the garage.
Lear watched Raymond's sequence of actions in total shock. The man was a former professional soldier who had spent twenty years in the police force; his movements were clean, meticulous, and efficient, possessing a sense of professional beauty that felt almost absurd. Seeing Raymond about to leave the garage, he quickly caught up and asked in a hushed tone: "Chief Raymond... why? Why would you do this?"
Raymond didn't stop walking, his voice tinged with self-mockery: "You think I'm an idiot? Do you really believe I knew nothing about Irons' collusion with Umbrella? I knew everything. I knew Irons was covering things up for Umbrella, doing their dirty work."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the empty, dim garage, his voice dropping an octave: "Before, he was the Chief and had Umbrella backing him; there was nothing I could do. But now..."
Raymond stopped and looked Lear directly in the eye, each word clear and forceful: "He can conveniently 'die in the line of duty,' can't he? No one will investigate further, and they couldn't even if they wanted to. This city turning into this hellscape is inseparable from Umbrella. They're more afraid of the truth getting out than anyone, and they wouldn't dare lift the lid on this mess." Lear opened his mouth, wanting to press further, but Raymond raised a hand to gently stop him.
"I know what you want to ask," the old officer's voice was low. "Just consider it a late discovery of conscience by an old cop. For the sake of those still living, I have to do something. I originally came down here to grant relief to those infected citizens ahead of time. While reducing the danger, it counts as a final kindness—letting them die as human beings. If a good man like Marvin were tasked with this, he wouldn't be able to pull the trigger. But I'm different. I don't mind if these things stain my hands. Does someone like me, who has spent half a lifetime crawling through the mud, even care anymore? I've killed too many people over the decades."
Finishing his piece, he gave a self-deprecating smile and looked up at Lear again, his gaze instantly turning sharp. "You're different. You're not like Marvin, or Elliot, or any of the others.
"Elliot is timid and fearful; when things go south, he just hides. Marvin is full of justice, but he lacks a bit of... flexible wisdom. As for those S.T.A.R.S. kids, they're even worse. To put it kindly, they're honest and upright; to put it bluntly, they're just a bunch of hot-headed fools. They are all good people, but good people are destined to be used as tools by others. If it were them, they would never come down here to do something like this, would they?"
"But you... you have your own thoughts. You aren't afraid to get your hands dirty, and you don't care about the rules. I knew it from the first time I saw you shoot those infected without a second thought."
Raymond paused, his gaze lingering on Lear's face for a moment as if he wanted to say something more, but he simply shook his head slightly.
He looked at Lear and sighed softly. "Never mind, it's too early for this. I can see you have your own plans. If we make it out of Raccoon City alive... maybe I can still be of some help to you."
Lear looked at the old officer before him, suddenly feeling as though he was meeting the Deputy Chief of the Raccoon City Police Department for the first time.
In the past, his impression of Raymond had mostly come from his knowledge of the original Resident Evil lore. He had subjectively assumed that Raymond was merely an old cop who held the line with a strong sense of justice. The man's performance over the past few days, including his reckless behavior in rescuing citizens today, had only served to reinforce that judgment.
The Raymond standing here was far more complex than the simple, righteous Deputy Chief Lear remembered. Witnessing Raymond calmly set a trap and nonchalantly frame Irons' death as an accident made it clear he wasn't just a righteous officer charging the front lines against the infected. His decisiveness gave Lear an illusion, as if he were looking at Leon from the Resident Evil 6 era.
Lear suddenly realized he had made a grave mistake. He had been using game backgrounds and settings to guide his actions and judge everyone's stance, but that virtual world had now become reality. This realization served as a wake-up call: if he continued to act as if he were playing a game, he would eventually pay a heavy price.
The two left the garage and maintained their silence, walking wordlessly back to the Police Station Lobby. The chaotic crowds, scattered officers, and anxious survivors were still crammed everywhere; no one even noticed their return. Raymond gave Lear a slight nod, offering no further eye contact, and walked straight back to his office, gently closing the wooden door behind him. Lear stood in the center of the Main Hall, his expression natural, looking as though he had just completed an ordinary patrol.
Nearby officers had already begun pre-checking their firearms and ammunition and restocking their food and water. He tilted his head slightly, peering through the high glass windows of the Police Station at the outside world. The sky had long since turned pitch black; a thick, ink-like night shrouded the entirety of the fallen Raccoon City, without a single star in sight. There was very little time left before their planned evacuation.
(Translated by yourtl.app)
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Bonus chapter @100 powerstones, ty for your support