....
Missiles continued to rain down without pause, flattening large sections of the facility. Explosions tore through the complex, and several grotesque B.O.W.s—giant worms, massive cockroach-like creatures, and other abominations—were swallowed whole by fire and debris.
Watching the destruction unfold, Sergei felt a familiar thrill rise within him. The sight dragged his mind back to the countless battlefields of his past, to the chaos and bloodshed he had once lived for. A faint, twisted smile formed on his lips. He had missed this—real war.
While the military kept up their relentless assault on the factory and the underground transport routes used for Umbrella's secret operations, Albert Wesker moved swiftly through the shadows. He slipped past collapsing corridors and burning debris, searching for a secure location to hide—one where he could observe and record the combat data. Data like this was invaluable. Later, he would sell it to the Travis family for an exorbitant price.
But before he could reach his destination, his path was suddenly blocked.
"Heh… look at you now," Sergei sneered. "Reduced to a rat, scurrying around and hiding in the dark."
Wesker stopped and calmly adjusted his sunglasses. "Oh? I was wondering who it was," he replied coolly. "An old acquaintance. So tell me—how's that rotting old man doing? Is Spencer still in Raccoon City?"
The moment Spencer's name left Wesker's mouth, Sergei's expression hardened. Without hesitation, he raised his pistol and fired.
Bang!
Wesker vanished from the line of fire, moving so fast it was almost like teleportation.
"You're fast, rat," Sergei growled. "But not fast enough."
In an instant, Sergei closed the distance, matching Wesker's speed, and drove his fist straight into Wesker's face. The impact sent Wesker flying through the air. However, he twisted mid-flight, landing cleanly on his feet.
Wesker wiped the blood from his nose, a thin line of red staining his glove. He removed his damaged sunglasses and replaced them with a new pair, his expression as calm as ever.
Then he raised his weapon and fired back.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
"Heh," Sergei scoffed, deflecting the bullets with his bare hands. "Do you really think small caliber bullets can hurt me?"
Wesker clenched his jaw as he watched Sergei deflect the shots so easily. It irritated him—no, it frustrated him. As much as he hated to admit it, Sergei was still physically superior. In a direct confrontation, this fight was not in his favor.
'Tch… this is getting annoying.'
Wesker had no intention of continuing a pointless battle. His objective was data, not glory. He shifted his stance, preparing to disengage—but Sergei attacked again, closing the distance in a blur of raw power.
Wesker barely managed to evade, throwing himself into a roll across the floor.
BOOM!
Sergei's fist slammed into the concrete wall where Wesker had been standing just moments before, spiderweb cracks exploding across its surface.
"That was close," Wesker muttered as he pushed himself back to his feet.
Without hesitation, he flicked his wrist and hurled his sunglasses straight at Sergei.
A split second later—
FLASH!
The glasses detonated in a blinding burst of light and sound, transforming into a flashbang at point-blank range. Sergei snarled and instinctively covered his eyes, momentarily disoriented.
When his vision finally cleared, the corridor was empty.
Silence.
Sergei's expression twisted with fury as he realized what had happened.
"WESKERRRR!" Sergei roared.
His voice echoed violently through the ruined structure.
And somewhere in the shadows, already far from danger, Wesker simply smiled.
.....
Meanwhile, at the Clock Tower, the evacuation was finally underway. One by one, civilians were being escorted out by soldiers using military transport vehicles and support helicopters.
"Is there anyone here named Allen?" one of the soldiers asked loudly, moving through the crowd and questioning people one by one.
"I am. What is this about?" Allen replied, stepping forward with a calm but curious expression.
Those who knew Allen immediately grew uneasy, wondering why the military was suddenly looking for him.
The soldier walked up to Allen and reached toward him.
"You are a suspect in causing the infection that led to the Raccoon City outbreak. I advise you not to resist," the soldier said firmly, pulling out a pair of handcuffs, clearly intending to restrain and detain him.
But the moment the handcuffs came into view—
Click.
Click.
Click.
Multiple weapons were raised at once.
R.P.D. officers, U.B.C.S. mercenaries under Mikhail's command, and Allen's women—including Claire—all aimed their guns directly at the soldier.
The atmosphere instantly became razor-sharp, thick with tension as both sides found themselves in a standoff.
"Watch your words," Allen said coldly, not moving an inch. "You don't have the authority to arrest me on the spot like this. Show me an official arrest warrant issued by the House of Representatives first."
He took a step forward, his voice steady but laced with confidence.
"You know, for someone who pays hundreds of millions of dollars in taxes every year, you'd better come prepared with proper paperwork before trying something like this."
His words echoed through the area—sharp, arrogant, and undeniably provocative.
And just like that, they struck a nerve among many of the people standing there.
"Wait a second, mate—did you just say hundreds of millions, and that's just taxes?" Carlos said, stepping closer and whispering near Allen's ear, clearly stunned.
"Well, yeah."
"Then why the hell are you even working as a cop?" Carlos added, half-serious, half in disbelief.
"It's just a hobby, man," Allen whispered back, not even bothering to lower his voice much. "Besides, if you were filthy rich, you'd probably do random stuff like this too."
The exchange was quiet—but not quiet enough.
Around them, people started raising their eyebrows one by one.
Some R.P.D. officers paused.
A few U.B.C.S. mercenaries exchanged looks.
Even the soldier holding the handcuffs hesitated for a split second.
The tension didn't disappear—but now it was mixed with disbelief, confusion... and more than a little irritation.
Allen's girls were this close to laughing, their shoulders trembling as they struggled to hold it in. Even in a situation this tense, Allen still found time to joke around—and that alone felt unreal.
Before the soldier could respond, Mikhail stepped forward, planting himself squarely between Allen and the military unit. His expression hardened.
"Sorry, Corporal," Mikhail said firmly, "but I'm certain this man is not your suspect. He saved me and my men with the vaccine he developed. The same vaccine that's been used on the civilians here."
The murmurs spread instantly.
Civilians began speaking up, their voices overlapping.
"Yeah, don't accuse him without proof!"
"I was bitten—if not for that vaccine, I'd be dead!"
"He saved us!"
"See? That guy has a point," Allen sighed and casually added fuel to the fire. "By the way, Corporal, what's your name? And I happen to know a senator named Ron Davis. So you might want to tell me who gave you these orders and under whose authority you're acting."
At the same time, Rachel stepped forward, her expression cold and professional.
She pulled out her identification and held it up.
"I'm with the C.I.A.," she said flatly. "Now I'd also like to know who issued those orders."
That did it.
Sweat began to bead on the soldier's forehead. His grip on the handcuffs loosened slightly. The other troops shifted uneasily, suddenly aware that the situation had spiraled far beyond a routine detention. A powerful civilian, armed allies, rescued survivors, mercenaries backing him—and now a confirmed C.I.A. agent standing right in front of them.
The balance of power had shifted.
And everyone there could feel it.
"You'd better call your Captain immediately, Corporal," Allen said coldly. "Ask him who gave you these orders. Because if you're wrong, you'll be the one I sue after this—and we can settle it in court."
The Corporal swallowed hard.
"O-Orders?" he stammered. "Our Captain… he's currently deployed near the sewer district. J-just a moment, sir. We'll report this situation first."
He turned, clearly intending to retreat back to the armored vehicle.
Then—
The ground shuddered.
A deep, unnatural vibration rolled through the area, rattling the windows of the Clock Tower. Everyone froze. Birds scattered into the sky. The soldiers instinctively tightened their grips on their weapons.
And then—
BOOOOM!
One of the tanks was violently thrown nearly three meters into the air, crashing down with a deafening metallic roar. Shockwaves rippled outward as debris scattered across the plaza.
Before anyone could react, the ground collapsed.
A massive hole tore open in the earth, concrete and soil spiraling downward as if swallowed by something alive. From the darkness below came a wet, echoing roar.
Then it emerged.
A giant worm, easily seventy feet long, burst out of the ground, its grotesque body twisting as it let out a shrill, inhuman screech. Its armored flesh was scarred and mutated—clearly another B.O.W.
And it wasn't alone.
From the shattered tunnels beneath the city, more creatures poured out.
Mutated animals—elephants, big cats, and other savage beasts, their bodies grotesquely altered—charged forward in a frenzy. These were creatures from the Raccoon City Zoo… now twisted into living weapons.
Panic erupted instantly.
Soldiers shouted orders.
Civilians screamed.
Helicopters banked sharply in the sky as alarms blared.
The standoff was over.
This was no longer an arrest operation.
This was the opening phase of a full-scale war in broad daylight.
"Oh God—everyone, take cover!" Kevin shouted as chaos erupted around them.
"Allen! Allen, where are you?!" Claire screamed, her voice nearly drowned out by gunfire, explosions, and the deafening roars of the B.O.W.s.
Smoke filled the plaza. Civilians scattered in every direction, soldiers firing desperately as the massive worm thrashed through the ground, crushing cars like toys. In the confusion, Claire stumbled, momentarily losing sight of Allen and the other girls. Her heart skipped a beat as panic crept in—this wasn't something she could just shoot her way out of.
Then—
Her arm was suddenly yanked hard.
Before she could even gasp, Claire felt herself lifted clean off the ground. Strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her close as the world spun.
"Got you."
That voice.
"Allen—!" Claire let out a shaky breath as she instinctively grabbed onto him, burying her face against his shoulder. Almost immediately, the sound of debris slamming into the ground echoed just behind them.
Allen moved fast—too fast for a normal human. He dashed through the smoke and falling rubble, narrowly avoiding a collapsing streetlight and the snapping jaws of a mutated beast that lunged from the side. Bullets whizzed past as soldiers tried to hold the line.
In a single leap, Allen vaulted over a shattered barricade and slid into cover behind a reinforced military transport where the others had regrouped.
Only then did he set Claire down.
"You okay?" he asked calmly, as if he hadn't just charged through hell itself.
Claire nodded quickly, her hands still clutching his jacket. "Y-Yeah… thanks. I thought I lost you."
"Not happening," Allen replied.
Around them, the others exhaled in relief. The girls rushed closer, weapons raised, eyes sharp despite the fear. Kevin wiped sweat from his forehead, glancing back at the battlefield in disbelief.
The Clock Tower plaza had turned into a nightmare.
Explosions continued to rock the area as the military engaged the giant worm and the rampaging zoo B.O.W.s. Helicopters circled overhead, firing rockets, while screams and gunfire echoed endlessly.