The armory's heavy iron door swung shut behind them, cutting off the snarls and the danger outside.
Green emergency lighting filled the room. Racks of firearms and ammunition lined the walls in neat rows, first aid kits and tactical gear stacked in the corners. Of every room in the station, this one came closest to safe.
Claire went straight to Sherry, guiding her to a bench and pressing water and rations into her hands. The girl was still shaking, small fingers clutched tight around the pendant at her throat, eyes fixed on Ryan with absolute trust.
Marvin leaned against the door frame, checking his gear. The wound on his left arm had stabilized. Leon counted ammunition nearby. After everything they'd survived together, neither man questioned Ryan's calls anymore.
Ryan settled Sherry in, then looked over the group.
Marvin spoke first, his expression grim. "The main entrance is done. Zombies have it completely sealed off. We'd be dead before we hit the sidewalk."
Ryan nodded. "We go through the underground parking garage. But before we leave, I need to hit the chief's office."
Claire's gaze snagged on a tactical equipment case in the corner. The lid sat half-open, showing a S.T.A.R.S. arm patch and a few bloodstained documents. She went still.
"These are S.T.A.R.S. gear?" she asked quietly.
Marvin followed her eyes and nodded. "Pulled them from the S.T.A.R.S. office after the outbreak. Their equipment's way better than standard issue. Seemed like a waste to leave it."
Claire stood and crossed to the case, crouching to sort through the files inside. She didn't find what she was looking for. Her fingertips brushed the blood-smeared paper, and something caught in her throat.
"My brother..." She paused. Her voice dropped. "Chris Redfield. He's S.T.A.R.S. After the outbreak, I couldn't reach him. I came all the way from outside the city looking for him, and I still haven't found a single trace."
She didn't turn around. It came out half to herself, half to no one. Since entering Raccoon City she'd seen more blood and death than she could process. People turning. People lunging at the living. Streets on fire. And through all of it, nothing. Not one word about Chris.
The armory went quiet for a few seconds.
Leon glanced at Ryan. He didn't know whether Ryan had any connection to Chris, but the man always seemed to know more than the rest of them.
Ryan hesitated, then looked at Claire. Her back was rigid, knuckles white around the document in her hand.
"He's alive."
Claire spun around.
"After the mansion incident, he rested two days, then left for Europe on his own to track down Umbrella." Ryan's voice was steady, certain. "Before he left, he met with Jill. Told her he wasn't going to let the truth stay buried."
Claire stared at him. Her eyes went red in an instant. Her mouth opened, closed, opened again, caught between wanting confirmation and fearing the opposite.
"How... how do you know that?"
"Jill told me herself." He met her gaze without flinching. "She's S.T.A.R.S. She's also my girlfriend."
Claire didn't move. She stared at him for a long moment, disbelief written across her face. He didn't just know people in S.T.A.R.S. He was dating Jill Valentine. The ace of S.T.A.R.S., the name Chris had mentioned a hundred times over the phone.
"You're really Jill's boyfriend?" A tremor ran through her voice.
Ryan nodded.
Claire sucked in a breath, held it, and forced the tears back down. She didn't press further. Just gave a firm nod. "...Thank you. For telling me."
"You're a lot like him," Ryan said. "Once you've decided on something, you don't look back."
Claire blinked. A small, crooked smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, and she said nothing more. She turned and placed the bloodstained document back in the case, her hands gentler now.
Marvin broke the silence, voice low. "Ryan, you said the chief's office. There's also a reporter locked up in the east detention block. Ben Bertolucci. He came to investigate Umbrella, and Irons had him thrown in a cell. Worth checking on your way through."
"Got it." Ryan turned to Leon and Claire. "Let's move."
The three slipped out of the armory and moved down the corridor without a sound. Emergency lights threw shifting shadows along the walls. Scattered zombies appeared in their path and dropped just as fast, each one put down by a precise shot from Ryan. Quick, clean, quiet. No Lickers drawn. No horde summoned.
They reached the chief's office in minutes. The place was trashed. Bottles and papers covered the floor, the air reeking of alcohol. The hidden room in the back stood open. Irons had torn through his own office before the end.
Ryan stopped in the doorway and swept the room. X-ray vision bloomed outward, cutting through walls, furniture, the false bottom beneath the floorboards. He walked straight to the desk. Behind the lowest drawer, a concealed compartment. Invisible to the naked eye, clear as glass to him.
No hesitation. He crouched, pulled the bottom drawer out. Empty.
But below it, the compartment held a thick document folder stamped with the Umbrella logo.
He flipped his pistol and cracked the false bottom open with the grip, then pulled the folder free. Two motions, nothing wasted.
Leon and Claire exchanged a look. They hadn't seen a thing, but Ryan had walked straight to a hidden compartment like he'd put it there himself, without searching or guessing.
Ryan ignored their stares and flipped through the contents. Transaction records between Irons and Umbrella. Transfer manifests for the children from St. Theresa's Orphanage. Correspondence detailing the cover-up of experimental evidence. He confirmed everything was there, folded the documents carefully, and tucked them inside his jacket.
"That's everything." He stood.
The entire building lurched.
Ceiling debris rained down. From somewhere deep in the west corridor came footsteps. Massive ones. Boom. Boom. Boom. Each impact shook the floor, a crushing pressure rolling through the structure like a wave.
Ryan's eyes narrowed.
That presence was closing fast, barreling down the western hallway, crushing everything in its path.
"Move!" His voice cut through the tremors. "We grab the reporter, then fall back to the armory!"
No one argued. All three broke into a dead sprint. Footfalls hammered the corridor, emergency lights smearing into streaks of green. Cold water dripped from overhead pipes and splashed against their shoulders.
Leon kept pace, jaw tight. "How far is that thing?"
Ryan didn't look back. Didn't explain. His pace only quickened. "Don't ask. Run."
Leon shut up and ran.
Three zombies lurched around the corner ahead, roused by the tremors. Leon started to raise his weapon. Ryan was already firing. Three shots, three heads, three bodies on the ground. Not a single wasted movement.
The east detention block appeared ahead of them.
A frantic voice erupted from behind the iron bars. "Help me! I'm Ben Bertolucci! I have evidence on Irons and Umbrella!"
The man was pressed against the cage, face wild with desperation, hair matted, clothes caked in dust.
Ryan walked up to the cell door, fished the chief's key from his pocket, and slid it into the lock.
Click.
The door swung open.
Ben gaped at him, frozen.
"No time to stand there. You want to live, you keep up." Ryan was already turning away.
Ben snapped out of it, stammering thanks as he fell in behind them. He was a reporter, not a fighter, but he understood one thing clearly enough: staying with these people was the only option that didn't end in a body bag.
The four of them tore back through the corridors and hit the armory at a run.
Marvin pulled the door open. His eyes landed on Ben and he paused, then gave a short nod. One more body, one more pair of hands.
Sherry spotted Ryan and rushed over, grabbing a fistful of his jacket.
"Got the files?" Marvin asked.
"Files and the reporter." Ryan nodded. "No time. We head for the underground garage now."
The tremors were coming faster. Somewhere close, the massive creature roared, the sound reverberating through the walls like it was right around the corner.
Six of them formed up. Ryan on point, Leon and Claire covering the flanks, Ben in the center, Marvin bringing up the rear with Sherry. They pushed into the passage leading to sublevel one at full speed.
Zombies poured from the side corridors, drawn by the commotion.
Ryan moved at the front, pistol up. Every shot found its mark. Headshot after headshot, metronomic, unhurried. Not a single zombie got within arm's reach of the group.
Gunfire echoed through the halls, sharp and rhythmic, the only music left in this corner of hell.
[Read 50+ chapters ahead on Patreon: patreon.com/NiaXD]