BOOM...
CRASH!!!
The helicopter slammed into the forest floor.
Dirt, rocks, and shattered branches sprayed into the air as the skids tore a deep gouge through the earth. The violent impact nearly threw everyone from their seats, but they white-knuckled the grab handles, holding on for dear life.
Finally, after a terrifying slide, the metal beast came to a halt.
The rotors groaned one last time and stopped.
The front of the helicopter was crumpled like a soda can. The windshield was gone. It looked like a fatal wreck, yet miraculously, no one was seriously injured.
"Everyone out! Move! It might blow!" Captain Enrico shouted.
Bravo Team scrambled out of the wreckage, boots hitting the soft mud of the Arklay Mountains.
They were deep in the forest now. The canopy blocked out the moon, leaving them in near-total darkness. The only light came from their tactical flashlights, cutting weak beams through the gloom.
The air was filled with the sound of insects—not the pleasant chirp of crickets, but a low, grinding buzz that set teeth on edge. In the distance, strange howls echoed through the trees.
"Captain," Richard Aiken called out, fiddling with the radio pack on his back. "We've got a problem."
"The radio is dead. Static. I can't reach R.P.D. Headquarters. The interference in these mountains is too strong, or the crash damaged the transmitter. We need to find high ground to get a signal."
Enrico frowned. Standard survival horror opening: stranded, no comms, surrounded by darkness.
"Finding high ground will take too long," Enrico decided. "We stick to the mission. Alpha Team is behind us; they'll spot the smoke or pick up our emergency beacon eventually. We proceed as planned."
He turned to the group.
"Havel, Rebecca. You two head for the Ecliptic Express. The tracks should be nearby. Your priority is search and rescue. Keep your walkie-talkies on—short-range comms should still work between us."
"The rest of you, with me. We're combing the forest for the mansion and the source of these murders."
As the team prepared to move out, Havel felt a pang of conscience. He looked at his doomed teammates—Kenneth, Forest, Richard. They were walking into a death trap armed with handguns.
"Captain," Havel interrupted. "Wait."
He swung his massive backpack off his shoulders and unclipped the main flap.
"I have extra ammo. Shotgun shells, magnum rounds, 9mm... even some grenades. You guys should take some. Just in case."
He pulled the bag open. On top were medical kits and rations. Below that, boxes of ammunition.
And tucked into the side pocket, Enrico spotted something green. A long, tube-like object. Next to it was a familiar-looking trigger assembly.
Enrico's eyes bulged.
It was a disassembled RPG-7 rocket launcher.
"Good God," Enrico whispered. "Havel... did you rob the National Guard? You brought a rocket launcher to a police investigation?"
"It's for... bears, Sir."
"Enough!" Enrico snapped, his face flushing with embarrassment. "Put that away! We are S.T.A.R.S. officers, not mercenaries! Carrying that much weight will only slow us down. If you want to play Rambo, do it on your own time. Don't embarrass the unit!"
The other members of Bravo Team looked at Havel with a mix of amusement and pity. They thought he was cracking under the pressure, overcompensating with heavy weapons.
Havel sighed and zipped the bag shut.
I tried, he thought. I really tried to save you guys. But if you won't take the firepower, I can't help you.
As a sufferer of "Firepower Deficiency Anxiety," he was actually relieved they didn't take anything. He might need every single round for himself.
"Understood, Sir," Havel said, saluting. "Rebecca and I will head for the train. Good luck, Captain. And... seriously. If you see anything moving out there that isn't human... don't hesitate. Shoot to kill."
He gave them one last, meaningful look, then grabbed Rebecca by the arm.
"Let's go, rookie."
They disappeared into the brush, heading toward the train tracks.
Enrico watched them go, shaking his head. "That kid is a handful. Alright, team! Let's move!"
Havel and Rebecca trudged through the undergrowth, their flashlight beams dancing over the twisted roots.
"Hey, Havel," Rebecca whispered, breaking the silence. "Why did you bring so much stuff? Do you really think there are that many dangerous animals out here?"
"Animals?" Havel chuckled darkly. "Oh, there are animals. And they're ugly. Rebecca, listen to me. Whatever we find... don't freeze. Just shoot."
"You're trying to scare me again," she huffed.
Just then—
DING!
A sound rang out, but not in the forest. It echoed directly inside Havel's skull.
A translucent blue screen materialized in his vision.
[SYSTEM ACTIVATED]
[Current Scenario: Resident Evil 0]
[Main Mission: Survive the Ecliptic Express Incident]
[Side Quests Updated:]
Zombie Slayer: Eliminate zombies in the Arklay Mountains.Reward: 1 Point per Zombie / 1 Point per Leech / 2 Points per Zombie Dog.Train Cleaner: Clear all hostiles on the Ecliptic Express and reach the Training Facility.Tyrant Hunter: Defeat the Proto-Tyrant in the Underground Laboratory.Reward: 20 Points.Queen Slayer: Defeat the Queen Leech / James Marcus.Reward: 100 Points.Hidden Objective: Acquire a sample of the T-Virus (Leech Strain).Reward: 80 Points.
[Note: The "Merchant Store" will unlock upon completion of the Resident Evil 0 scenario.]
Havel didn't stop walking, but a grin spread beneath his gas mask.
Finally.
He knew it. No transmigrator got sent to Resident Evil without a cheat. A Merchant System. Perfect.
In this world, relying on finding random vials of virus to power up was suicide. Most strains—Progenitor, T, G, Veronica—were lethal or turned you into a monster. A System Store would allow him to buy optimized, safe enhancements.
He needed those points.
If Leon could channel his inner Dante and knife-fight bosses, Havel needed to reach that level. He couldn't rely on carrying an RPG forever.
"Alright," Havel muttered to himself, gripping his shotgun. "Time to farm some XP."