Nemesis lunged in our direction. Jill was the first to put two and two together—she dove off the bridge in a clean swallow dive somewhere to the right. The second girl followed suit, slipping out of the line of attack. But me—I hesitated… I confess!
"Wait, you idiot! We're both too—"
The bridge couldn't handle the weight of Nemesis closing in on me. It had already been sagging under each of us separately, the poor-quality planks creaking ominously. Two heavyweights in one spot were simply too much.
"—heavy, damn it!" I finished, tumbling through the air alongside Nemesis. Disoriented, we ended our fall in the river.
And then the real chaos began!
I don't know about Nemesis with his tentacles (black envy!), but the swift current in the middle of the river carried me off hard, sweeping me somewhere toward another part of the city. At least when, after about twenty minutes of floundering, I finally dragged myself out of the water, Nemesis was nowhere to be seen—neither downstream nor anywhere else. As for me, I found myself somewhere along an alley in Raccoon City.
And where exactly had I been thrown?
But all such questions flew out of my head when I noticed five red silhouettes moving across my field of vision! Running—sometimes hunched over as if afraid of something or avoiding gunfire—they were heading toward the entrance to the sewer system, the one leading either to the burned-out laboratory or out of the city.
Survivors?!
You've got to be kidding me! Now this was getting interesting.
A running start and a leap onto the roof of a building, a short dash—and I looked down at the group of survivors, trying to understand why they seemed familiar.
I had to do something. But what? I had only a couple of hours left—four at most—so I needed to act fast and decide even faster.
But the decision was made for me by their pursuer.
A large Tyrant was chasing the group, clearly in its second stage. Its skin was dark brown, almost with a corpse-like undertone. Well, well. A Black Tyrant. That was quite strange—and still oddly familiar!
Its right arm was gone, but the left was no smaller than Birkin's claw in his second form—minus the eye, at least. On the right(!) side of its chest was a cavity, and inside it the heart was visible. Also strange. But honestly, marveling at the heart being on the wrong side when the real marvel was that this monster existed at all—who was the strange one here?
What shocked me most was that the monster was wearing black swim trunks.
And, oddly enough, that was exactly how I recognized it.
Thanatos!
Well, well. So Resident Evil: Outbreak really did take place here—and was considered canon, even if officially it wasn't. I remembered playing it at a friend's place a long time ago. It had co-op mode, and we had a blast with it. Come to think of it, that game probably helped give birth to the whole wave of corporate team-based survival games.
Though I seemed to recall there being more survivors—eight, if memory served. On the other hand, who said they'd all made it this far? Or taken the same route and met up? I vaguely remembered someone of them even poking around the ruins of the Arklay Mansion—they might have slipped away from that side.
And now I was watching the next survivors—two Black men. One ran at the back, clearly covering the others. He was dressed in a security guard's uniform, and his age was already past thirty—perhaps even forty. He looked older, yet even now the military bearing was still evident. Or is it just Vector's skills helping me read that?
The second man, in contrast, was trying to surge ahead. Nimble fellow. Somewhat effeminate type, with short bleached hair. He was also in some kind of uniform, though I couldn't quite place what kind.
The remaining three were women.
One had light-colored hair cut short, with a small fringe on the right side of her face. She wore a red office outfit. Her skirt had been slightly torn—clearly to make running easier. Her shoes had lost their heels clearly for the same practical reason. Smart. And judging by a detail I only just noticed when she turned—a ballpoint pen clipped to the chest pocket strap of her jacket—she likely worked in accounting or something similar.
The next running woman looked more like a bartender or a casino croupier, judging by her outfit. Even her jacket followed the classic style—though now, covered in dust and grime, it looked fit only for the trash heap. Her hair was the same color as the previous woman's, tied back in a bun.
Definitely a croupier.
And the final item on today's program—a Japanese woman who somewhat reminded me of Yamata. Though from a distance, they all look alike. Fortunately my partner is spared from that sameness by her mixed blood. This one, however, was pure-blooded, and because of that she lagged behind the others in height. If I imagine us side by side, she'd barely be breathing at my navel. By eye, she was about 150–160 cm, while I stand at least five over two meters. A green sweater, trousers of indeterminate cut, and a backpack—most likely with supplies—completed her look.
Should I abandon them?
That felt somehow inhuman. And I preferred clinging to what scraps of humanity I had left, so I wouldn't eventually slide into someone like Wesker's mindset.
Help them escape? That would essentially be charity—also against my policy.
Kill them myself? Why? The DNA of civilians—even ones who'd survived this hell—wouldn't give me anything special. And they were ordinary people. I didn't need their knowledge or anything else.
So.
Back to option one—and the same answer.
What a vicious circle.
I couldn't just follow their race through the streets, could I? If I did, I'd definitely miss my meeting with the Four Eyes and Jill. They seemed to have headed off somewhere together.
(End of Chapter)
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