Chapter 027: Raccoon City Carnival, Opening

Umbrella Industrial Park, California U.S.F. Security Forces Training Base.

"Ah, let go of me! This is kidnapping! I'm a police officer..."

A young woman in civilian clothes with a black hood obscuring her face—though her voice sounded quite young—was being forcibly escorted indoors by two Umbrella security guards in black suits, passing through multiple security checkpoints.

"Rebecca? Hey, let her go!"

The woman was pressed into a chair. She had been struggling constantly, but suddenly froze upon hearing that familiar voice, calling out with surprise and joy, "Chris? Is that you?" Just as she was about to continue asking, "Have you seen Director Russell..." a female voice interrupted her thoughts: "Alright, untie her and remove the hood."

Whoosh.

The black hood was removed and her vision returned to light.

"Phew—" Taking a heavy breath, Rebecca lifted her head, gradually adjusting to the light as her focusing pupils looked across the room.

"Rebecca."

Seeing Rebecca, who looked somewhat disheveled but hadn't suffered any real harm, Chris felt his worried heart ease slightly—though it quickly tensed up again.

"What's the meaning of this?"

"To our friends who've come from afar, I apologize for my subordinates' rough handling, but these are necessary security measures. How about some water first?"

Without directly answering Chris, Vera sat back against a workbench loaded with tactical equipment cases, wearing a formulaic smile as she picked up a bottle of water and gestured toward Rebecca before tossing it over.

Instinctively catching it, Rebecca looked at the blonde woman before her, dressed in an expensive dark uniform with a high-tech feel, then at the bodyguard beside her who stepped forward to unlock her handcuffs. She nodded dazedly, "Thank... thank you."

How adorable.

Rebecca Chambers.

Vera studied this 18-year-old girl, the youngest member of Raccoon City's S.T.A.R.S. team.

Rebecca had a petite figure with delicate curves, brown hair cut short like a tomboy's and meticulously styled, a fresh face with a hint of youthful innocence. Her small face was set with bright blue eyes that darted away like a startled deer under Vera's undisguised scrutiny.

Ah, that clear, innocent student vibe of someone who hasn't been in the real world very long.

"Let me introduce myself..."

"Vera Adelaide Russell, inventor, genius, pioneer in human bionics engineering, genius professional mechanical developer, youngest Umbrella executive and regional director, became the USA's youngest billionaire through authorized patents, selected for Washington's key innovative high-end talent pool, leading investments in smart control technology, high-end semiconductors and electronic information industries..."

Speaking at lightning speed like reciting scripture, Rebecca seamlessly picked up where Vera's self-introduction left off, rattling off Vera's biography and social accolades with an expression that seemed part fangirl, part obsessed fan.

"Russell-senpai, you've been my study subject and object of admiration at school."

Vera raised an eyebrow slightly, "You're from Berkeley..."

"No, I'm not a Berkeley student. I just happened to hear about your achievements and grades, so I voluntarily applied to Berkeley as an exchange student to audit classes for a while. Oh, my major is chemistry, with a minor in pharmacology..."

"Stop. Drink some water first, then let's discuss the real reason you chose to come find me."

Vera tapped the desk lightly, looking coolly at the excited Rebecca and steering the conversation back on track.

Now she had a rough idea of why Chris had come to her—it was the result of her previous "job-hopping" setup and genius persona, with Rebecca's influence possibly being one of the driving forces.

"Alright, Rebecca, this isn't some college party, and it's definitely not an Umbrella recruitment fair."

With a stern expression, Chris was utterly exasperated by the S.T.A.R.S. team's cheerful member's "star-chasing" behavior.

Talk about timing.

Chris completely recognized Rebecca's professional capabilities. Though fresh out of college, her outstanding chemistry grades had earned recognition from the police department and selection into S.T.A.R.S.—that showed real skill.

At the same time, due to her lack of combat experience and being essentially a pure, innocent college girl, she carried an academic air and would sometimes make bold, impulsive moves that gave Chris major headaches.

"Chris, if Russell-senpai is here... that means it worked?"

Not bothered in the least by her recent rough treatment, Rebecca quickly adjusted her mindset and asked.

Chris crossed his arms and nodded, "Pretty much."

"So when do we expose Umbrella's crimes in Raccoon City... uh, Russell-senpai, I'm talking about the old Umbrella in Raccoon City."

"I know." Vera leaned against the workbench, clicking the mouse to operate a projector that displayed the materials collected by the S.T.A.R.S. survivors throughout the room. Looking at those nauseating candid or actual photos, she said without turning around: "Because it's not enough yet."

"How can I be sure you're not part of some trap set by that middle-aged stubborn fool William Birkin? Should I just believe your one-sided story—some supposed distant relative I don't even know?"

William Birkin was definitely going to die, but Chris and the others didn't know that. This didn't stop Vera from using his name as a shield and excuse.

"This... then... we..."

Rebecca was getting anxious but found herself at a loss for words, not knowing how to explain.

"I'll bring back sufficient evidence. I hope you won't go back on your word."

Chris positioned himself protectively in front of Rebecca, his tone hard as stone, his resolve equally rock-solid.

"Naturally."

The exchange between Chris and Vera left Rebecca confused. "What does this mean? Chris, what are you going to do?"

"Return to Raccoon City to collect key evidence."

"Huh?" Rebecca's mouth fell open slightly. After a moment, having worked through the logic, she looked up with determination: "When do we leave? Let's go together..."

"No, you need to stay here with me."

Vera suddenly spoke up, turning to look sideways at Rebecca: "Just as he doesn't trust me, I don't trust you either. Call it a hostage, call it 'collateral'—interpret it however you like. What if you're playing me?"

On cue, thump thump!

Several fully armed, imposing figures moved closer to Rebecca, and Vera wasn't finished with her threats: "Mr. Redfield, you have a sister you depend on, don't you..."

"Fuck you! If you touch Claire, I swear I'll kill you!"

Bang! Furious, Chris kicked over a folding chair and lunged toward Vera, but the security personnel held him back and pinned him down. Click click click—dark gun barrels were cocked and raised, pressed against his head.

"Mr. Redfield, you know perfectly well that my demands and caution are reasonable. Once the evidence is obtained and you prove afterward that you're genuine survivors, victims of William Birkin's experiments, I'll compensate you—generously—and even offer you special recruitment into Umbrella..."

Speaking word by word, Vera stood and walked slowly toward Chris.

"No, if what you're saying is true, I'll personally bury that Umbrella with my own hands. I'll reorganize and establish a new company, with doors forever open to you."

Having finished speaking, Vera approached Chris and, under the extremely vigilant eyes of the security personnel, extended her hand.

"..."

His face dark, Chris couldn't help clenching his fists, but soon enough, he relaxed them.

"Hmph, I don't want your compensation. Just keep your word."

He understood clearly that the more cautious Vera was, the more it proved she would actually reveal the truth afterward. Conversely, if Vera had easily believed him, he would have been paranoid and suspicious that something was wrong.

Smiling lightly, Vera signaled for the security to withdraw and personally helped Chris to his feet.

"Then our formal partnership is established. Here's to a pleasant cooperation."

"..." Though surprised by Vera's strength, Chris didn't comment. "When do I leave?"

"No rush. William Birkin has created such a massive mess—the company's old factions and stubborn conservatives should make their move. I'll raise questions at the board meeting, and I need to prepare in advance on the Washington side to provide necessary cover for your operation."

This was an excuse.

At this point, Vera stopped walking, pointing first at Chris, then at the handgun and combat knife that security had confiscated from him. "Also, pick out some suitable equipment to take with you. The way you are now... I'm afraid I'll be accused of harboring murderous intentions afterward."

Vera's look was cutting.

But on this matter alone, Chris had no objections.

With such powerful logistical support and equipment guarantees being offered, he'd be a fool not to take it. Just look at Umbrella's California division U.S.F. security forces.

"Now, class is in session. As survivors with biochemical combat experience, teach my people how to effectively deal with the 'mess' William Birkin created. You judge the boundaries—the faster, the better."

Surrounded by black-suited bodyguards, Vera's stunning figure disappeared through the doorway. Then click—the room sealed shut. Rebecca blinked, first making eye contact with Chris, then looking around at the burly men throughout the room.

Only then did she realize that this place—like a luxury-plus version of S.T.A.R.S.' combat prep room—had projectors, flowcharts covered in notes, spread-out maps of Raccoon City...

And these Umbrella operatives all had notebooks in their hands or chest pockets, as if they'd been holding a tactical briefing before she was brought here.

"Class?"

"That's right, class. Rebecca, you came at the perfect time. Since we have combat experience from that damned mansion, and you're more detail-oriented than I am as a woman, help me fill in the points about dealing with those corpses."

The situation being what it was, they'd have to make the best of it.

Chris pulled Rebecca over to the whiteboard, pointing out the chart he'd compiled for her to see.

Though it was strange to be teaching Umbrella operatives his combat experience against bio-monsters, Chris didn't mind.

On the contrary, this better demonstrated Vera's responsible attitude toward her subordinates, rather than the Raccoon City approach of treating subordinates and even researchers as expendable resources. This earned his favor.

This imperious but also shrewd and capable woman, with her typical elite capitalist and Washington politician demeanor, was at least better than that bastard William Birkin.

"I'll repeat this once more: you absolutely must destroy their brain tissue. Shoot for the head, blow their heads apart. Don't take any chances..."

...

September 24, 1998

Morning.

Indoor shooting range.

Bang! Bang bang bang—

Wisps of white smoke rose from the assault rifle's muzzle.

Wearing Umbrella security training gear, Chris removed his ear protection and checked the chamber and magazine with textbook precision.

These past two days staying in Umbrella facilities, aside from organizing his experience into written form, he'd spent all his other time familiarizing himself with this batch of new guns that Umbrella hadn't yet released to market.

Since that woman Vera was providing everything anyway, he naturally used them freely.

"Amazing, Chris... aren't your arms tired?"

Clap clap. The alloy target returned on its pulley system for inspection. Looking at the battered target with holes concentrated mostly in the chest and head areas, Rebecca couldn't help applauding.

"Not too bad."

Setting down the unreleased assault rifle codenamed 'Ajax,' Chris put his ear protection back on and picked up a WMA submachine gun. Click—checking the chamber, loading, aiming. Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat—the target responded with crisp clanging sounds.

He then tried the WCAA assault shotgun that fired slugs, the WSA automatic pistol, the 'Wild Division,' the 'Jade Echo'...

"Whew..."

Arranging each tested firearm neatly to one side, Chris examined these killing machines crafted from special alloys or engineering plastics.

Honestly, objectively speaking, he had to admire Umbrella's exceptional craftsmanship—they truly were like works of art, with every detail showcasing superior manufacturing quality.

While Chris paused, even more intense gunfire erupted.

It was the Umbrella tactical unit's training ground over there. With the rising crescendo of explosive sounds, their full-firepower display made much more commotion than Chris's area—all heavy weaponry.

Chris stated with certainty: "They must all be ex-military."

Rebecca nodded, adding: "While you were busy familiarizing yourself with weapons, I chatted with them, and many of them fought in the Afghanistan War."

"Private military... though I know this kind of thing is common internationally, it's not a good thing."

Just as Chris and Rebecca fell into silence over this topic—

"Hey Chris, orders from the Director came down. We need to move out ASAP—there's trouble!"

With a heavy southern accent, a burly man in dark combat gear waved at them.

Sensing something, Chris rushed out of the shooting range. Upon entering the tactical prep room, he saw a group of Umbrella security personnel gathered around an LCD TV where urgent news from Raccoon City, Colorado was broadcasting:

"Just yesterday, an acute virulent infectious disease appeared to break out in Raccoon City's northern district. Large-scale incidents of 'cannibalism disease' causing violent coughing and blood spitting have begun appearing throughout the city. Patients seem to develop extreme cravings and impulses for blood, flesh, and raw food. The number of confirmed cases at the municipal hospital is rising rapidly. City residents are advised..."

On screen, the on-site reporter spoke extremely rapidly, appearing urgent. While the situation in other parts of Raccoon City was unclear, the background already showed scenes of rioting, looting, burning, and "zero-dollar shopping" in the northern district—the situation was obviously extremely dire.

"Protesters are pointing fingers at the city's largest company, Umbrella, claiming that Umbrella's biochemical pharmaceutical laboratory suffered a leak, causing this infectious disease outbreak..."

"Currently, Umbrella's chief researcher stationed in Raccoon City, Dr. William Birkin, is reportedly missing..."

"Fuck! This is that same damned virus from the mansion..." Pushing through the bear-like burly men around him, all wearing high-tech full tactical gear, Chris stared intently at the news on the monitor, muttering.

"...Jill, shit! Damn it... I need to see Russell. I have to leave right now!"

With that, Chris went to his temporary personal equipment case and began gathering gear and tactical protection—the special bite-proof, stab-resistant Umbrella combat suit with identification systems and fluorescent elements.

Just as Chris was gearing up, the prep room's speakers crackled to life with Vera's voice, sounding quite annoyed and seemingly frantic with anger.

"U.S.F. Security Mobile Units, Teams 4, 5, and 6—you're going with Mr. Redfield."

"That bastard William Birkin must be throwing a tantrum and flipping the table. He's lost his mind! Does he want to drag everyone down with him? And the board of directors—how much of my money have they embezzled behind my back?!"

This was a lie.

In her office, Vera grabbed the microphone, trying to make her voice sound as frantic as possible.

"Move out immediately! Before the board destroys the evidence, dig out Raccoon City's secrets for me. Now I can announce in advance that California and U.S. Umbrella will break away from the Paris headquarters. In emergency situations, use your discretion—mission first, no need to report back."

"Mr. Redfield, go do what you believe is right."