Chapter 029: Sin, Chaos, Carnival

September 25, 1998.

Evening.

"Mom, huff... huff... Mama, I can't run anymore!"

Through the rain, two figures—one tall, one short—stumbled desperately from the completely blocked Raccoon Street into the outer city's Arklay Scenic Boulevard. Drenched by rain, stepping through muddy sidewalks, they struggled to run forward.

"Not yet, hurry, sweetheart, faster! You can do it—we have to get away from here as quickly as possible!"

The smaller figure stumbled several times, nearly falling, but was helped up each time by her mother. Wet blonde hair stuck to the woman's cheeks, rainwater sliding down her face. She gasped for breath, soaked through, looking back at Raccoon City—now just a gray blur with scattered lights—her face filled with deep terror.

"They've all gone crazy! Everyone's gone crazy!"

Over there, under the rain, twisted lights and stacked shadows swayed, with bone-chilling moans faintly audible.

The woman gripped her daughter's hand tightly and continued running, inevitably slowing down. In the dark rain, the mother and daughter seemed so small, as if they could be swallowed by the storm at any moment.

Finally, a small puddle caused the girl to fall. The mother had to stop to help her up and carry her, but the hypothermia from being soaked through, combined with escaping the city having nearly exhausted her strength, made her breathing increasingly labored.

"Roar." Just then, that spine-chilling howl came from behind them again.

From far to near, a bloodied figure burst into the mother and daughter's view. It stretched out pale hands, opening its bloody maw as it lunged toward them. "God help us." The mother showed despair but still instinctively shielded her child.

Suddenly—

Bang!

Gunfire bloomed through the rain, blood and flesh scattered.

Click.

A powerful flashlight.

Seeming to see the mother and daughter clearly, the light quickly adjusted to become gentler. Only then did the mother see clearly—the tall figure approaching wore blue-purple fluorescent arm bands, dark full-coverage combat gear, combat boots, plate-carrier heavy bulletproof vest, breathing filter mask, fully enclosed helmet, and single-lens tri-ocular night vision goggles.

He set down that massive steel gun and crouched halfway, extending his hand to the mother and daughter.

The little girl stared blankly at the U.S.F. fluorescent letters on the figure's chest.

Carrying the girl with one arm, he helped up the woman—whose face showed relief and gratitude—and moved them to a small roadside service shop fifty meters away.

"Sorry, the inspection is necessary. Have you been bitten or scratched?"

The U.S.F. soldier welcomed them under a temporarily erected rain shelter. After carefully checking the mother and daughter's limbs, neck, and torso with his flashlight and confirming no wounds, he immediately wrapped them in emergency polyester thermal blankets.

Only then did the woman see clearly that this small roadside service shop was surrounded by seven large heavy-duty multi-purpose transport vehicles. Some cargo bays had already been deployed, forming temporary bases like RVs.

Several people wrapped in thermal blankets like her sat against the wall with vacant stares.

A group of fully armed personnel moved up and down, carrying, assembling, and debugging monitors, mainframes, medical kits, ammunition boxes, M2 heavy machine guns, M134 Gatlings, cannons, multi-tube rocket launchers, and various other heavy firepower, plus items she couldn't identify.

Crisp gunshots rang out intermittently.

On the vehicle rooftops, U.S.F. guards had already set up suppressed precision sniper rifles and pulled triggers, methodically eliminating wandering zombies within their sight.

"Umbrella guards, but what's this symbol?"

As a Raccoon City resident, she couldn't avoid contact with Umbrella.

This group was undoubtedly Umbrella's—they all bore the red and white umbrella logo on their chests—but what was that yellow-on-black square patch on their shoulder armor? MILITECH...

"MILITECH?"

She whispered.

But she quickly pushed these unnecessary thoughts aside and hugged her child tightly. She... had already lost her husband. He had chosen to stay behind to protect them and been overwhelmed by those "cannibalism disease" patients. Now she only wanted to protect her child's safety.

"The National Guard is expected to arrive within 12 to 24 hours. Then you'll be able to evacuate safely."

A U.S.F. soldier responsible for watching the survivors handed over water and food.

"Thank you."

Standing far away at the entrance to Raccoon Boulevard, Chris took everything in. Under his helmet, his expression was complex as he turned his head. "Those who truly need to pay for Umbrella's crimes aren't the rank and file, but high-level people like William Birkin."

"He should naturally bear the guilt—it was his arrogance and stubbornness that ruined everything."

Vera's voice came through his earpiece.

"..." Not picking up this topic, Chris looked toward the closed display monitor embedded in the side of a nearby transport vehicle. On it, Vera appeared with her hands naturally placed on a desk, her clean, neat, stunning figure on screen.

"Things have gotten serious to this degree—you should believe it now?"

Chris said.

"I believe it. The promise takes effect. When you bring evidence out of Raccoon City, I'll publicly announce my withdrawal from Umbrella, leading California's branch and the USA region to break away from Paris headquarters' control."

"I'll also publicly denounce Spencer and William Birkin's crimes in Congress. They concealed the company's history and deceived me—I'll make them pay the price. So, good luck to you."

"Hopefully."

Chris left the camera's range. The evacuation point was set up. He went to the front of the vehicle, waved to the U.S.F. driver in the cab, then began picking up speed, walking into Raccoon Boulevard, which was completely blocked by abandoned vehicles.

Around him, U.S.F. soldiers clearing scattered zombies immediately moved toward Chris, using him as the spearhead in tight coordination, rapidly advancing toward Raccoon City's interior.

As the support team, the U.S.F. driver positioned the vehicle crosswise at the intersection and deployed stabilizing supports.

Whirr... whirr...

Under the drone operator's control, small waterproof reconnaissance drones were released by U.S.F. soldiers one after another. Inside the cargo bay, firing ports opened, and multiple M2 heavy machine gunners chambered rounds. Support teams successively moved to high ground, methodically beginning to set up fire points.

...

San Francisco Umbrella Industrial Park, Director's Office.

Massive split screens unfolded before Vera. Raccoon City's overhead map occupied the central screen, with moving green dots and miniaturized vehicle outlines representing the U.S.F. mobile units she'd deployed.

Though it was a monkey model [downgraded export version] several generations behind, and the supporting technology would take time to implement—plus the timing wasn't quite right—the personal tactical terminal system was at least equipped to individuals, sufficient for Vera to sit safely thousands of kilometers away conducting real-time surveillance and command.

It also let her experience Arasaka-style surveillance combat through Umbrella.

After all, she couldn't and wouldn't personally go to Raccoon City.

A gentleman doesn't stand under a crumbling wall.

She was a director, not a grunt. A whole group of people depended on her for their livelihood. Take those U.S.F. soldiers—if they died, their death benefits and families would need Vera's care. They probably wouldn't want Vera risking herself in that hell called Raccoon City either.

Most importantly, Vera was afraid of death.

William Birkin, transformed into a G-monster, was still roaming Raccoon City. Vera was afraid he might go crazy if he suddenly spotted her.

Vera had great self-awareness—over these years, she'd habitually confronted William, constantly provoking him.

William probably hated her to death.

Looking at it this way, after Washington investigates William Birkin's corruption, they might pin part of the blame on me too...

Laughing despite herself, Vera shook her head and refocused on the U.S.F. she'd built.

"Too bad the feedback speed is too slow, marking has errors, no clear first-person soldier perspective... If only the vehicle factory were in production. Without aerial vehicles and mech units, the weapons are lacking too. This 'Trauma Team' isn't traumatic at all..."

Though seeing an M2 among so many Arasaka, MILITECH, and even old Nocturne models was jarring—especially being used by the "Trauma Team"—whatever.

Vera couldn't manufacture smart weapons and personal electromagnetic weapons right now, so she'd make do with what worked.

The M2 heavy machine gun being the U.S. military's heirloom wasn't without reason.

"Have the publicity department package these live Raccoon City footage segments."

After glancing a few more times at the delayed-transmission footage of U.S.F. mobile units rescuing and receiving survivors on Raccoon City's west side, Vera picked up the microphone to give instructions to her office secretariat.

"This segment—the last-second rescue of the surviving mother and daughter from bloodthirsty zombies is good. The angle, lighting... and that little girl's upward gaze, perfect."

Since she'd already decided to break away from Umbrella and go solo, she naturally needed to show how California's new Umbrella differed from old Umbrella—promises, integrity, honesty. Old Umbrella had none of these, but my Umbrella has all three!

Even a little bit counts.

"Director, drones have spotted multiple transport helicopters from European headquarters. Headquarters personnel have intervened in Raccoon City."

Just as Vera was distracted reviewing U.S.F. footage of survivor rescues, Team 4 Captain Andrelov's voice pulled her attention back to center. Under frontline personnel operation, the drone-captured footage was moving.

Through the fine rain, several transport helicopters bearing the umbrella logo hovered above a building rooftop in Raccoon City. They seemed to have unloaded something and were ascending to depart.

"Nemesis, Tyrant? Or other forces? The timing's moved up, and the scale is so large? That old bastard Spencer must know about my moves."

Vera pondered briefly, picked up the microphone, adjusted the channel, and said: "Maintain high alert. High probability these are B.O.W.s researched by Paris headquarters. We're now in a hostile relationship with Paris headquarters. Repeat, hostile relationship."

Then she paused.

"Mr. Redfield, your partner may be under mortal threat."

...

A few minutes earlier.

"Umbrella dogs!"

Jill Valentine's voice shot through the quiet apartment building along with 12-gauge buckshot.

With a scream, the unlucky bastard picking the lock and entering first jerked backward, taking lead pellets to the face at close range. Blood exploded from his body as he fell, his finger unconsciously squeezing the trigger, bullets flying wildly.

"Fuck! Take cover!"

"That S.T.A.R.S. bitch is inside!"

The others behind cursed angrily. Simultaneously, Umbrella's U.U.T.U (Undertaker units responsible for cleanup) soldiers wove a dense web of firepower with submachine guns and rifles, instantly covering the narrow space within the doorway.

Tables, chairs, beds, and cabinets in the room were immediately shredded, wood chips and cotton stuffing flying.

After firing her first shot, Jill executed a tactical roll, taking cover behind a load-bearing wall. She instinctively tightened her backpack straps—Chris had said on the phone that Umbrella was here to destroy evidence. She had to protect...

As she thought this, from the corner of her eye, Jill saw two Umbrella soldiers lean out sideways. Two round objects were thrown in by them. With no time to think, she dove toward the half-open bathroom.

BOOM!

The instant the grenades exploded, shrapnel flew. Jill curled up behind the door using hands and feet, ignoring the uncomfortable ringing in her ears. She took two flashbangs from her tactical belt, pulled the pins, threw one outside first, then stood up and rolled out of the bathroom immediately after the flashbang detonated.

Bang! Bang bang!

Someone screamed, unable to dodge in time.

Using her shotgun's spread to continue blocking the door with one hand, Jill released the spoon on her remaining flashbang with the other hand, threw it toward the door, then without any intention of prolonged engagement, kicked open the living room window and jumped onto the building's external metal fire escape.

"Damn it, she's escaping! Chase her!"

Rat-tat-tat—

Rat-tat-tat—

Bullets struck the old, rusted fire escape steps, sparks flying. Jill had no time to catch her breath and could only leap down toward the shooting blind spot directly below the wall.

Thud.

Using the garbage pile as cushioning, Jill rolled forward to absorb the impact.

She was practically a war goddess.

"Cough... ptui!" The friction pain at her shoulder blade made her involuntarily grunt. Fighting the nausea from the corpse stench permeating the air, she dove into the alley.

Coming toward her—"Roar!"

In the alley, a middle-aged female zombie attracted by the explosive noise and gunfire commotion had been moving sluggishly, but immediately perked up upon smelling fresh blood and lunged at Jill.

Bang!

Jill sidestepped the lunging zombie, first kicked it down with her foot, then blew its head apart with one shot.

For her, mindless zombies were far easier to deal with than the evil in human hearts.

"She's in the alley!"

Damn it!

The shouts from behind made Jill's expression particularly ugly. Even in this hell, Umbrella still wanted to eliminate her. And across the alley on the street, seven or eight zombies were closing in on her step by step.

Just as Jill found herself caught between a rock and a hard place, click—"Over here!" A side door opened, and a disheveled man pulled Jill inside.

Slam! The door closed.

"Than—" Jill was about to apologize when she suddenly saw the umbrella logo on the person's shoulder and shouted harshly: "Umbrella bastard!"

"Hey hey, calm down—I just saved you."

A man dressed like a mercenary—definitely not regular military—quickly raised his hands. "I'm Carlos from U.B.C.S."

"What's the difference?"

"At least I'm not with them. We were deployed here to save civilians." Carlos shrugged. "Didn't expect the situation would be this bad though. Too chaotic..."

Bang bang! Door pounding started.

The man quickly gestured, "This isn't the time for conversation. Let's get out of here first. I also accidentally noticed them sneaking this way, so I followed out of curiosity. Didn't expect them to be here to kill you. Beautiful lady, what terrible thing did you do?"

As they moved, he spoke.

"Don't joke around!"

Jill said unhappily, "If we're talking about terrible things, it should be you Umbrella people!"

"I don't understand that stuff—I'm just a mercenary."

Carlos jogged in short steps, saying with self-deprecation and helplessness: "How would a master explain to a dog why it should fetch a frisbee?"

"..."

Jill was speechless. After much consideration, remembering Chris said he was also with one of Umbrella's units, she spoke up: "Want to leave here with me? Go to the west side—Umbrella forces will come to support me."

"Huh?"

Carlos was momentarily confused.

What kind of play was this?

Weren't Umbrella's secret forces just trying to eliminate you? You don't trust me, a U.B.C.S. from Umbrella, and I haven't received orders either. Now you're saying Umbrella forces on the west side will support you?

Wait, let me think—this is confusing.

Umbrella infighting?

Step step~

While thinking, Carlos quickly ran to the building's end and opened the door. "Oh no!" Following behind, before Jill could react, Carlos tackled her down. Just as they fell, a rocket suddenly flew over their heads.

BOOM!

The interior displays were blown to pieces, scorching smoke filled the air, and wall debris and rubble cascaded down.

"Cough cough cough, what the hell is that thing?"

Carlos rolled over and looked up, his face full of shock.

Outside the door, on the other side of the street, a tall monster in a black robe lowered the rocket launcher in its hands. Its face wrapped in dark bandages—faceless and eyeless—was looking at him, or rather at Jill beside him.

THUD!

Another tremendous crash—another tall monster in a black robe jumped down from a rooftop, crushing a small car to pieces and letting out a fierce roar with garbled, distorted words.

"S.T.A.R.S... evidence... destroy..."

Thump thump

Heavy footfalls hit the ground. Responding to the sound, that tall monster moved, beginning to run like a heavy tank, roaring as it charged forward.

"My God, lady, what exactly did you do?"

"Shit, don't just stand there! Umbrella bio-weapon—run!"

Jill took off running. Looking back, she could even see the monster's face with heart-like thick blood vessels writhing. Huh?! What was that?

Suddenly, Jill saw a small flying object with propellers drop directly onto the monster. Then—BOOM!

Explosive flames, air instantly compressed then expanding at incredible speed. Burning clothing fragments flew through the air. Even Jill was staggered by the shock wave from outside the door, her eyes wide with amazement.

Then another small flying object descended and hovered outside the door, actually making sounds.

"Jill? Is that you, Jill?"

"Chris?!"