It was a frontier city with complex terrain, strangled on three sides by towering mountains, leaving only a single artery connecting it to the outside world. In the 19th century, it had been a significant battleground in the Midwest during the Civil War. While the unique geography had historically stifled its development, this semi-isolated environment was perfect for the Umbrella Corporation. It met all their requirements for a secluded research hub.
Starting in the 1960s, Umbrella poured capital into the region, modernizing the infrastructure. A border town of barely tens of thousands leaped forward to become a fully equipped industrial city. With more than half the population on Umbrella's payroll, Raccoon City had effectively become the corporation's private fiefdom.
And yet, despite this, the citizens loved the city and the corporation. The benefits were excellent. It didn't matter whose private property Raccoon City really was; as long as the people got a slice of the pie, that was enough.
In the lore of transmigrators, Raccoon City was legendary—the "Infinite Novice Village." Nearly every "Infinite Flow" survival novel used Raccoon City as the training ground for new travelers. The reason was simple: the intensity of the threat here was perfectly calibrated for ordinary people just starting out.
Our protagonist, Havel, was no exception.
Havel had been deployed to this renowned novice village to grind for experience. Unfortunately, although his name was Havel, he wasn't the tanky brute from Dark Souls. Nor was our beloved Ada Wong anywhere to be seen.
Instead, there was just a noisy, mischievous rookie buzzing around him.
"Hey! Havel!"
"What are you spacing out for? Let's go... one more patrol lap and we can clock out. I just don't know what to eat later. I've been debating it all day. Hey! Are you even listening to me?"
Standing beside Havel was a petite young woman. Or rather... a little girl. She had a cute, doll-like face and short, deeply brown hair cut in a clean, boyish style. She wore a dark green short-sleeved shirt beneath a white tactical vest meant to stop bullets, paired with dark gray tactical trousers and boots. A handgun was strapped to her waist, and her face was practically glowing with a sunny, youthful smile.
She was chirping away like a sparrow.
This was the famous Rebecca Chambers. A key character in the Resident Evil series and one of the protagonists of Resident Evil 0.
Although her chest had the consistency of creamy jelly, the portion size was... lacking. Combined with her eighteen years of age and that baby face, it was understandable why Havel mentally categorized her as a 'loli.' For the time being, he couldn't muster any romantic interest in this little sister figure.
"I say..." Havel massaged his temples, trying to massage away the headache. "Rebecca, could you stop buzzing in my ear? We are the Raccoon City Special Tactics and Rescue Service, S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team. We should be vigilant in times of peace. Stop thinking about 'clocking out' every five minutes."
Havel reached out and placed a hand on the girl's head to stifle her bouncing. He was already annoyed enough about being sent to Raccoon City; couldn't this weak chicken let him have a moment of silence?
Havel.
The man standing there had short black hair reflecting his Asian heritage, a handsome but youthful face, and deep, brooding eyes. He wore a thin shirt under the standard issue S.T.A.R.S. tactical vest. Rumor had it he was a nineteen-year-old shooting prodigy, recruited into Bravo Team solely on the merit of his terrifying talent.
While his luck seemed terrible, his starting template wasn't bad. He was, objectively, slightly more handsome than that walking romance-machine, Leon Kennedy.
Ahem.
That definitely wasn't narcissism speaking.
Havel was a transmigrator—one of those lucky souls plucked from the ranks of American drifters, Japanese high school students, or Chinese web-novel readers. In his past life, he was a hardcore Resident Evil fan. Note: fan, not gamer. He was the type who loved the lore but played like trash—a love-hate relationship with the controller.
So, when he realized he had been dropped into this world, he wasn't excited. He was speechless.
Raccoon City might be called a "Novice Village," but the danger level was lethal. This location was ground zero for the storylines of Resident Evil 0, 1, 2, and 3. It was a narrative minefield.
That was why, upon meeting the adorable Rebecca, Havel didn't rush to flirt or "conquer" her. Instead, he wracked his brain to recall every scrap of plot armor he could find to keep himself alive.
The current timeline is April 1998, summer, he mused, staring down the street. That means... in May, the plot of Resident Evil 0 will officially kick off. The Arklay Mountains on the outskirts will see a spike in bizarre cannibalistic murders. And the most famous catalyst in history, the Ecliptic Express incident, is about to happen.
The cause: James Marcus. One of Umbrella's founders. He's back to take revenge on the two men who had him killed—Oswell E. Spencer and Edward Ashford—as well as his two 'filial' apprentices, William Birkin and Albert Wesker. He fused with his creation, the Queen Leech, and is about to unleash the T-Virus on the train and the mountains.
Spreading the Leech DNA and T-Virus to slaughter innocents, just to bait Umbrella personnel into a trap and wipe them out.
Recalling this, Havel felt a flicker of relief. His brain was still sharp. He had nearly a month before the real chaos started, and S.T.A.R.S. wouldn't begin their official investigation until July.
That was enough time to settle into this new body and memorize the layout of Raccoon City. He refused to be the guy who couldn't find the exit when the nukes started flying. That would be too embarrassing.
"Hmph..."
"You talk a big game, Havel... but those dead-fish eyes of yours aren't convincing anyone," Rebecca huffed, puffing out her cheeks. She grabbed his ear and gave it a vicious twist. "You're the laziest person in Bravo Team! You're the one who yells 'home time' all day long! You infected me with this bad habit!"
"Ow, ow—"
Havel scratched his head awkwardly as she let go. He hadn't realized the original owner of this body was even lazier than he was.
He looked around the quiet street. For now, Raccoon City was peaceful. People were living and working in contentment; it was a beautiful, prosperous town. There was absolutely no need for two members of S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team to intervene in anything. Their patrol was just for show.
So...
An idea sparked. Why not start slacking off properly?
"Hey, Rebecca."
"How about we head to the Raccoon City shooting range today? You wanted to see my shooting skills, right? I'll make an exception and show you."
Havel unholstered the Glock 22 from his waist and spun it casually in front of her.
The Glock 22.
A masterpiece from Glock Ges.m.b.H., highly favored by American law enforcement. Modeled after the pioneer Glock 17, it was simple, reliable, and practical. Matte black finish, firing the .40 S&W cartridge with a 15-round capacity. It had decent stopping power for mid-to-close range and was as easy to use as a revolver.
It was a cop's gun. But looking at the compact weapon, Havel—knowing the horrors waiting in the dark—felt a wave of disdain. This pea-shooter might stop a criminal, but against zombies? It was lackluster. Against B.O.W.s (Bio-Organic Weapons)? Useless.
If he had the chance, he would replace it immediately. He wouldn't feel safe until he was strapped with a Magnum. Only a hand-cannon capable of dropping large game would be enough to put down the monsters coming his way.
"Really?"
Rebecca's eyes lit up. She didn't hesitate to agree. Skipping work wasn't exactly a new phenomenon for them. More importantly, she was genuinely curious about Havel's skills. He had been recruited into S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team purely on the reputation of being a shooting prodigy.
S.T.A.R.S.
The Special Tactics and Rescue Service. Formed by the RPD to handle complex environmental hazards, terrorism, and extreme crime. Essentially, a police special forces unit. While they lacked the formal recognition of the military, their combat prowess was not to be underestimated.
And since S.T.A.R.S. was bankrolled by Umbrella... well, until the truth came out, they were unwittingly Umbrella's private clean-up crew.
Getting in was brutally difficult. Ordinary police need not apply. You had to pass rigorous exams. Havel, the mixed-race kid, had supposedly scored perfect marks in marksmanship to get his spot.
Rebecca stared at him. Perfect marks? Does he make bullets curve? Does he know Gun Kata?
Havel waved his hand dismissively, hiding his internal panic. He had no idea how strong his predecessor's muscle memory actually was. He just hoped he wouldn't embarrass himself at the range. If he missed the target completely, this little girl would mock him for a year.
S.T.A.R.S. was divided into two squads: Alpha and Bravo. Each had six members. Havel and Rebecca were in Bravo.
Because of Havel's inclusion, the original six-man Bravo Team had expanded to seven. Aside from Rebecca and Havel, the rest of the team led by Captain Enrico could be summarized in one word: Fodder.
Alpha Team, on the other hand...
That six-person squad had three members with blinding Protagonist Halos.
First, Chris Redfield. The "Oldest Brother" of the curse family. A true man. A hard-boiled tough guy. A central pillar of the franchise. His defining attribute: Teammate Repellent. If you don't have a Protagonist Halo of your own, stay the hell away from him or you will die a miserable death.
Second, Albert Wesker. The mastermind. The Matrix cosplayer who loved wearing sunglasses indoors. Alpha Team's Captain. A man who injected himself with the Progenitor Virus early on and later tried to use Uroboros to evolve humanity into a new species so he could become the God of the New World.
Unfortunately, villains die from monologuing. He eventually took two RPG rockets to the face and fell into a volcano. Fate unknown.
And finally, Jill Valentine. The grand beauty of Resident Evil. Impressive figure, iconic blue tube top, miniskirt, and legs that could make a man weep. She was the dream lover of countless fans.
Alpha Team was a dragon's den of heavy hitters.
Havel understood exactly why he had been shoved into Rebecca's Bravo Team. It was likely a balancing act. Alpha was overpowered; Bravo was a collection of weaklings (present company included).
But he was grateful.
Alpha Team had Wesker and Chris—two men whose names practically spelled "doom" for those around them. If his destiny wasn't written in the stars as a "Lone Star of Calamity," standing next to them would be suicide. Even with his knowledge of the plot, Havel didn't think he could tank the passive curse radiating off Chris and Wesker.
So...
Rebecca might be annoying and noisy, but at least she was safe. Right?