Several beams of bright light slowly shone from deep within the subway tunnel.
Lear raised a hand in a silent gesture, signaling everyone to take cover immediately. He himself slipped beside a weapon crate, merging into the shadows of the wall.
Four or five blurred figures gradually approached through the tunnel.
"How many waves has it been now? We're still constantly taking people in," one of them spoke.
"I don't know, but Victor ordered us to continue," the person beside him responded in a low voice.
"By the way, Carlos, you're on good terms with Victor. Can you ask him when we'll be able to get out of here?"
Someone in the squad cut in: "Should be soon. There are barely any survivors left to find out there. I think we're almost done."
The dark silhouettes grew clearer under the lights—five men in total, all armed with firearms, wearing tactical gear with Umbrella Corporation patches on their sleeves.
The man in the lead had a head of curly black hair and carried an Assault Rifle. He chatted casually with the Black soldier beside him as they walked forward step by step.
"Sigh, the old man is a good person, and his subordinates are all good people. After that battle at City Hall, our D Platoon took heavy losses. We have less than half our strength left," a man behind Carlos wearing a knit cap and carrying a Sniper Rifle sighed quietly.
The Black soldier beside Carlos looked down at his Handheld Computer, manipulating it as he spoke calmly: "Inaccurate. D Platoon's current remaining combat strength is twelve men, and that's excluding Nicholai."
He looked up, his lenses flashing in the dim light: "Nicholai's B Squad was almost completely wiped out. A Platoon was at the stadium; they were all killed in action. B Platoon—including me—has seven people left. C Platoon has nine."
He looked toward Carlos, his tone flat: "The current total effective strength of the UBCS is twenty-eight men, and that's if you exclude Nicholai, who's been acting like a ghost and God knows what the hell he's up to."
"Four platoons worth of men, and we can't even scrape together the numbers for a single platoon... what kind of bullshit is this!" the sniper in the knit cap cursed under his breath.
Just then, Carlos, who was walking at the front, suddenly stopped in his tracks, his eyes darkening.
"Stow it," he whispered, his voice tense with alertness. "We have company."
Before the words had even finished leaving his mouth, he snapped his gun up, aiming it behind the crates at the subway entrance: "Hey! Whoever you are, we're the Umbrella Rescue Squad. If you're still living, come out right now; otherwise, we treat you as Infected and clear you out!"
The five men instantly fanned out into a tactical formation, slowly closing in on the subway entrance.
Hiding in the shadows of the wall, Lear's heart tightened. The target they were surrounding was exactly where Sherry and Jill were hiding. In the scramble moments ago, the tip of Sherry's shoe had accidentally been exposed.
Jill held her breath, her finger slowly settling onto the trigger as she kept her eyes locked forward, clearly prepared to open fire at any second.
Just as the U.B.C.S. members were about to close in on Jill's hiding spot, Lear moved.
His speed was incredible, leaving behind little more than an afterimage.
The sniper was the first to suffer. Lear flashed behind him like a ghost and slammed a fist into the man's wrist, sending the sniper rifle flying instantly. Following up with a sweeping roundhouse kick, he sent the two assault troopers beside him tumbling through the air.
Lear immediately extended both hands, his left arm locking onto a Black soldier's neck in a death grip while his right hand, formed into a blade, chopped down toward the side of Carlos's neck.
The entire sequence looked complex, but it had taken less than three seconds.
Of the U.B.C.S. men, only Carlos managed to react. Sensing the attack coming from behind, he lunged forward.
Lear's hand-blade slammed heavily into his shoulder.
Carlos felt a surge of agony, as if he'd been struck by a wooden club; his entire shoulder went numb instantly, losing nearly all sensation.
Fighting through the pain, Carlos forced himself to his feet. Ignoring the throbbing in his shoulder, he drew his pistol in a reverse grip and aimed it at Lear.
At that moment, Jill immediately stood up from behind the crates and aimed her gun at Carlos; Brad quickly scooped up the sniper rifle from the ground and leveled it at the disarmed sniper.
The two sides remained in a standoff for a full thirty seconds, the tension in the air reaching a breaking point.
However, Carlos soon took stock of the situation and realized they were completely at a disadvantage.
"Hey, we don't mean any harm, okay?"
He slowly shifted his finger away from the trigger, letting the gun dangle and swing from his fingertip before raising both hands high to signal he wasn't a threat.
"I know you don't mean any harm. Otherwise, it wouldn't have ended like this."
Seeing Carlos take the initiative to lower his weapon, the oppressive aura surrounding Lear retracted slightly.
"Uh... could you... maybe loosen up a bit... I can't breathe..."
Only then did the Black soldier locked in Lear's left arm manage to squeeze out a few faint words.
Lear released his grip, and the soldier immediately collapsed to his knees, doubling over in a fit of violent coughing.
With his hands still raised, Carlos kept his tone as calm as possible. "Brother, I don't know who you are. We're an Umbrella relief force, responsible for evacuating survivors. There's no need for this much hostility, alright?"
"It's precisely because you're Umbrella that we're like this," Brad muttered.
Lear raised a hand to silence him and looked at Carlos. "Do you really not know that Raccoon City turned into this because of what Umbrella did?"
"What are you talking about?" Carlos looked genuinely confused.
"It's not surprising you don't know. Go ask your superiors and you'll understand. Umbrella threw you in here intending to use you as expendable fodder from the very start."
Just then, the two U.B.C.S. assault troopers Lear had kicked away shook their dazed heads and slowly pushed themselves up from the ground. Lear had clearly held back; otherwise, that single kick would have been enough to shatter their ribcages.
Seeing that his teammates were mostly unharmed, Carlos looked visibly relieved. "I don't know anything about the inside story you're talking about, but I can take you to see our commander. We've saved a lot of civilians; they're all staged at the station ahead."
The sniper, clutching his wrist and grimacing in pain, chimed in. "We've already cleared the Infected around the subway station and set up a temporary shelter."
Lear turned to look at Jill and the others. Jill remained silent for a moment before giving a slight nod. In the Raccoon City of today, the living were ultimately more reliable than the zombies, and based on the conversation she'd overheard in the tunnel, they really had saved many people and were still conducting search and rescue.
Only after receiving Jill's silent confirmation did Lear slowly nod to Carlos.
Seeing that Lear's group had agreed to go, the sniper wearing the knit cap walked up to Brad. He grinned and said in a relaxed tone, "Bud, your stance looks professional enough, but unfortunately, the safety's still on."
Brad looked down, his face turning bright red. The safety was indeed still engaged; he had completely overlooked it in his panic. He hurriedly handed the gun back.
The sniper took the rifle, skillfully dropping the magazine and cycling the bolt to check the chamber as he introduced himself. "Murphy Seeker. Formerly Marine Corps, now a sniper for D Platoon, U.B.C.S." He looked at Brad with a hint of kindness in his voice. "You look like someone who handles guns often, you're just too nervous. If we get a chance, I'll show you a few tricks."
The murderous atmosphere that had permeated the air finally began to soften under Murphy's easy banter.
(Translated by yourtl.app)