AN : I'm back—so where are your power stones, guys?.
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September 29, 1998 — The Next Day
The following morning, on September 29, 1998, a young woman wearing a red jacket was riding her motorcycle along the long, desolate road leading toward Raccoon City. The roar of the engine cut through the quiet countryside as the city slowly drew closer with every passing mile. That woman was Claire Redfield, the younger sister of Chris Redfield.
Claire's reason for coming to Raccoon City was actually very simple—but deeply personal. She hadn't heard from Chris at all. After news of the Spencer Incident began spreading, Chris had gone completely silent. The only thing he had sent her was a short voice message, telling her not to contact him for a while because he was investigating an important case. More than that, he explicitly warned her not to come to Raccoon City, claiming that he wouldn't even be there.
That message alone had already made Claire uneasy.
Her worry only grew worse when, a few days earlier, she received a package at her doorstep. Inside was a bracelet—and tucked within it, a handwritten letter. She recognized the handwriting immediately. It was from Chris. In the letter, he assured her that he was fine and, once again, warned her not to come to Raccoon City under any circumstances.
Instead of calming her down, the letter only made her more frustrated.
Claire was annoyed by her brother's behavior. He knew she had been trying to reach him nonstop, yet instead of calling her directly, he chose to send a letter—as if everything was normal. To Claire, it felt distant, evasive, and unlike Chris. At the same time, her curiosity grew stronger. What exactly was Chris investigating? And what was so dangerous that he felt the need to keep her away from Raccoon City?
Those unanswered questions were exactly why she was on the road now.
After nearly six hours of riding, the day slowly began to drift into late afternoon. The weather, however, was taking a turn for the worse. The sky darkened unnaturally fast, thick clouds rolling in overhead as rain began to fall. The once-clear road became slick and reflective, illuminated only by her motorcycle's headlight.
The atmosphere felt heavy—almost oppressive.
The darkening sky and relentless rain seemed like a bad omen, as if nature itself was warning her that something was terribly wrong ahead. But despite the growing sense of dread in her chest, Claire tightened her grip on the handlebars and kept moving forward.
No matter what awaited her in Raccoon City, she needed answers.
A few miles from Raccoon City, Claire finally pulled over at a gas station to refuel her motorcycle, since the fuel in her tank was running low. Parked nearby, she noticed a police patrol car that also seemed to have stopped there, its presence oddly quiet and unmoving. Claire got off her bike, lifted the fuel nozzle, and began filling the tank, the steady sound of gasoline flowing briefly calming her nerves.
Once she was done, she walked over to a public phone booth to call one of her college friends. She inserted a coin and dialed the number.
"Hello, who is this?"
"Hey, it's me, Claire."
"Oh, Claire! Where are you right now? I've been looking for you all day, but you weren't at the dorm. Aren't you coming to the party tonight?"
"Well, sorry about that, but I think I'm going to skip the party this time," Claire replied. "I'm on my way to Raccoon City to look for Chris."
"What? Claire, didn't your brother specifically tell you not to go there? He said that place isn't safe right now."
"Haha, come on, Felisa. You know I'll be fine," Claire said lightly.
"Well… yeah, you probably will be," Felisa sighed. "Alright then, just make sure you come back safely, okay? I'm planning a barbecue party two days from now, and I don't want you to miss that."
"Okay, that sounds nice," Claire replied. "I'll come back after I find Chris."
"Alright then. Take care of yourself, and don't get into any trouble, okay? Bye-bye, Claire."
"I will. I've got to go," Claire said before hanging up the phone.
She stepped out of the phone booth and glanced around the gas station, the atmosphere feeling strangely empty and tense.
"Why does everyone think I'm going to get into trouble?" she muttered to herself in a low voice.
Crash!
Suddenly, she heard the sharp sound of something breaking nearby, echoing through the quiet station. Claire immediately turned her head toward the source of the noise.
"What the...?" her instincts telling her that something was very, very wrong.
She stepped inside cautiously, moving toward the source of the sound.
"Hello?" she called out while slowly pushing open the door of the gas station's convenience store.
The interior was dim, almost completely dark. The only light came from a flashlight lying abandoned on the floor, its beam flickering weakly. The silence inside felt unnatural, heavy, as if the air itself was holding its breath.
"Is anyone here?" she asked again.
There was no answer.
Clair bent down and picked up the flashlight, turning it toward the floor—and immediately froze. Several dark bloodstains were scattered across the tiles, smeared as if someone had been dragged. Shelves were knocked over, merchandise spilled everywhere, giving the place the appearance of having been hastily abandoned after a violent struggle.
"H-Hellooo…!" she called again, her voice stretching longer this time, betraying her growing unease.
She followed the trail of blood deeper into the store, her footsteps slow and careful. As she moved closer to the back, she could hear faint groaning sounds coming from the storage area. Her heart pounded harder with each step.
Near the entrance to the storage room, she saw a man collapsed against the wall. His neck was badly wounded, blood soaking through his clothes. Judging by his uniform, he appeared to be the gas station attendant.
"Oh my God… are you okay?" Claire asked urgently, rushing toward him.
The man's skin was pale—almost gray—and his breathing was shallow. He didn't answer her question. Instead, with trembling fingers, he weakly pointed toward the storage room door.
"Wait here," Claire said instinctively. "I'll—I'll check inside."
Without thinking twice, she stepped into the back storage area.
The moment she crossed the threshold—
SLAM!
The door behind her suddenly shut, and she heard the unmistakable sound of a lock clicking into place.
"Hey! What the hell—?!" Claire shouted, spinning around and slamming her fists against the locked door.
Panic surged through her as she realized she was trapped inside, alone in the darkness, with no idea what—or who—was on the other side.
Because the door was completely jammed and the person who had locked it no longer responded, Claire had no choice but to move deeper into the storage area, following the low, agonized groans echoing through the darkness. Every step felt heavier than the last, her heartbeat pounding loudly in her ears.
Then she heard another voice—strained, urgent.
"I told you… don't move!"
Claire instinctively raised the flashlight toward the source of the sound. Through the narrow gap between the shelves, she saw a police officer struggling to restrain someone who was thrashing violently, their movements unnatural and erratic.
"Excuse me," Claire said cautiously, her voice shaking. "Is everything okay?"
The officer glanced back at her briefly, sweat and panic clear on his face. "Step back, ma'am. I've got this under control."
But that single moment of distraction was enough.
The person he was holding suddenly twisted around with inhuman strength. In a flash, the creature lunged forward and sank its teeth deep into the officer's neck. Blood sprayed violently, splattering across the floor as the officer screamed in agony.
"Oh my God!" Claire cried out, frozen in shock.
"Help! Aaaah—!" the officer screamed, his voice quickly choking into gurgled desperation.
"No! Let him go!" Claire shouted, her voice cracking. "I said—LET HIM GO!"
But it was already too late.
With a sickening tear of flesh, the creature ripped into the officer's throat, tearing away chunks of meat until his body went limp. The officer collapsed lifelessly to the floor, eyes vacant, blood pooling beneath him.
Claire stood there trembling, her legs barely able to support her weight. Her mind screamed for her to run, but fear had locked her in place.
Slowly, the creature lifted its head. Blood dripped from its mouth as its clouded eyes focused on Claire. It straightened its posture, letting out a low, guttural moan before taking slow, deliberate steps toward her.
"No… don't come any closer," Claire whispered, backing away, her breath hitching with every step.
Her hand fumbled desperately at her jacket pocket until her fingers wrapped around cold metal. With shaking hands, she pulled out a revolver—an SLS 60. It was the same gun Chris had given her as a birthday gift last year, insisting she keep it "just in case."
She raised the weapon, arms trembling violently as she aimed it at the approaching monster.
"Please… don't make me do this," Claire whispered, tears welling in her eyes as her finger hovered over the trigger.
The groaning grew louder.
And the distance between them kept closing.
However, the zombie kept advancing toward her, its slow, uneven steps echoing in the cramped warehouse. Left with no other choice, Claire squeezed the trigger.
Bang!
The gunshot thundered through the storage room. The bullet struck the creature square in the chest, right where its heart should have been. The impact knocked it back a step, but to Claire's horror, it didn't fall. It merely staggered, then straightened again, letting out a low, guttural growl.
Claire's eyes widened in disbelief.
"No… don't come any closer," she pleaded, her voice shaking.
Bang!
Another shot rang out. The zombie lurched again, but it still refused to go down. Panic clawed at her chest as the impossible reality sank in—this thing wasn't dying.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Claire fired again and again, each recoil jarring her trembling arms. Bullets tore into the creature's torso, but it kept moving, relentless, uncaring, closing the distance step by step. Her breathing became ragged, her heart pounding so loudly it drowned out everything else.
With a desperate gasp, Claire forced herself to aim higher, remembering something—anything—Chris had once told her during target practice.
She raised the revolver, sighted the head, and pulled the trigger one last time.
Bang!
The shot hit true. The zombie's skull snapped back, and its body finally collapsed to the floor with a dull, lifeless thud.
For a few seconds, Claire kept pulling the trigger.
Click. Click. Click.
Only then did she realize the chamber was empty—and the monster wasn't moving anymore.
The adrenaline that had been keeping her upright vanished all at once. Her legs gave out, and she sank to the floor, landing hard on her knees before slumping into a sitting position. Her hands trembled uncontrollably, the revolver slipping slightly in her grip.
She stared at the corpse in front of her, her chest heaving as shock and terror washed over her in waves.
This was the first time she had ever killed someone.
After a moment passed, Claire suddenly thought about her brother, Chris—and for some reason, Allen's face surfaced in her mind again. She didn't know why, but in the middle of all this chaos, that name, Allen returned uninvited. Once she had calmed herself just enough, she forced her trembling legs to move and stood back up. Staying trapped inside this warehouse with two corpses was the last thing she wanted.
She tried the door, but it was locked. Swallowing hard, Claire began searching through the warehouse, carefully stepping around overturned crates and bloodstains. Not long after, she found what she was looking for—the key. Her heart leapt with brief relief.
However, the moment she opened the warehouse door, her relief vanished. Another zombie stood in her way, knocking over a metal rack that crashed down and blocked the exit leading outside.
"Shit," Claire muttered under her breath.
She quickly turned and ran in another direction, but the first person she encountered there was already changing—his body twisted unnaturally, eyes dull and lifeless, just like the others.
"What the hell is happening here?" Claire said in panic as she dodged grasping hands that tried to drag her down.
She managed to escape through another exit that wasn't yet blocked. But before she could fully breathe in relief, a zombie suddenly lunged from the side and grabbed her arm, pulling her close as it opened its mouth to bite.
"No—let go of me!" Claire screamed, terror filling her eyes as the creature leaned closer.
At that exact moment, the bracelet on her wrist reacted. Nano-particles rapidly spread from it, enveloping her entire body in seconds, forming a sleek black suit that sealed around her like a second skin.
Claire squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for the pain of the bite—but it never came.
When she opened her eyes, she froze in shock. Her body was completely covered by unfamiliar armor-like clothing, smooth, dark, and clearly not normal fabric.
"What the…?" she whispered.
She didn't have time to think. Gathering her strength, Claire shoved the zombie away with surprising force.
Crash!
The creature fell to the ground, and Claire immediately ran toward the exit again.
As she burst outside, her heart sank. Even more monsters were approaching the gas station, closing in from multiple directions and blocking the path to her motorcycle.
Then, from the side of the road, an engine roared.
A car came speeding in, slamming straight into the zombies, sending bodies flying. The vehicle spun sharply, tires screeching, and came to a stop near her. The passenger door flew open.
"Get in!" shouted the driver.
Without a second thought, Claire jumped inside. The door slammed shut, and the car accelerated away from the gas station, leaving the nightmare behind—at least for now.
...
Note : Oh, by the way, don't forget to check out my other fanfic—it just got updated: "Hollywood x Keeping Up with the Kardashians x Ginie & Georgia."
And if you want more chapters, you can always join p4r'on as usual :p