Raccoon City. Kenji looked at the police uniform on his body and allowed himself a faint smile. Ten years had passed since he crossed over into this world, and reaching his current rank had been no easy feat.
This was the perilous world of Resident Evil. When he first arrived, he came equipped with a system, but when he tried to use it, he found it was locked in an unactivated state. In the moment, he'd cursed out loud—he'd never encountered such a lousy deal before.
Over the past decade, using nothing but his wits, Kenji had swindled and conned his way to everything he desired. He'd bribed his way into a Patrol position, made money by colluding with local gangs. The chaos here was far worse than he'd ever imagined. In a place like this, without money or power, you had no respect—if you wanted to get anywhere, you needed true skill.
Staring at the dull gray interface of the system, Kenji still couldn't figure out how on earth he was supposed to activate it.
As the car shifted, a young man got into the passenger seat. "Hey, Kenji, mind giving me a lift? Baker Street."
It was Chris. Chris Redfield—the Special Forces team member at the Raccoon City Police Department. The full title was something grand: Special Tactics and Rescue Team. The name alone was impressive—it was clear, this squad was anything but ordinary.
This squad had only been reformed last month, with open recruitment throughout the whole police department, backed by funding from the Umbrella Corporation, and boasting excellent benefits. Single dorms, meals and lodging included, and the pay was generous.
"Of course, I have nothing going on right now anyway." Kenji smiled. He knew Chris well, and they got along, but rarely partnered on missions. It wasn't for lack of camaraderie—Chris was infamous for his 'Friendly Fire' reputation. Kenji valued his life and preferred to keep a safe distance.
At that moment, the car door opened again, and a whiff of perfume drifted in. A charming female officer with short hair slid into the back seat. Her beautiful, refined features and poised, practical elegance made her instantly memorable—a woman who exuded intelligence and capability.
"Hey, Jill . Good to see you again—still as stunning as ever," Kenji greeted with a smile. He felt himself stiffen at the sight of Jill Valentine; his crotch tightened, a testament to his pent-up desire.
Jill caught his arousal with a flicker of her eyes—a touch of pride, a hint of contempt. "Yeah, we're tracking a case. Mind if we hitch a ride?"
"Of course. And if you clear the case, let's have dinner tonight—it's been ages since I ate with the Major Crime Unit." Kenji replied amiably; he knew how to work a crowd. None of his money came from honest business—decent people never make real money, especially not someone with his background.
Even though his system still wasn't activated, Kenji was a master of relationships. He was known for treating colleagues to dinner. At first, everyone thought he was a sucker, but later, those at the department changed their tune. After all, nobody bites the hand that feeds them. People turned a blind eye to his dealings, and his social web grew strong.
"Sure, a free meal is always welcome." Chris smiled, never one to discriminate against Kenji.
Jill's eyes narrowed in amusement. "Sounds good."
With a tap on the gas, Kenji accelerated the patrol car, weaving through city traffic until they reached Baker Street. The area was a slum—not exactly the best side of town.
"Good luck out there. I have some business to take care of—call me if you need anything." Kenji mimed a call with his hand.
"Got it." Chris and Jill got out, meeting up with the rest of their unit, and together they headed toward an old factory.
Kenji made his way to a bar on the edge of the slums, near the junction with the residential blocks. The security here was middling at best.
The bar was under Kenji's control, with an underground casino out back, and contraband for sale. If you had the cash, you could get your hands on restricted firearms, or anything else your heart desired.
Kenji, a Japanese national, hadn't become a Raccoon City Patrol officer on looks or superstar charisma—it was cold, hard cash that paved the way.
"What happened at the West Street warehouse?" Kenji sat at a table, setting down a whiskey glass in front of a woman.
She was a blonde beauty in a tailored red suit, soft golden hair draping over one eye, adding an air of mystery. Her fair, delicate face and steady, determined eyes left no doubt—she was sharp and seasoned.
"How should I know? Aren't you the Patrol officer?" Alyssa replied without looking up as she worked on her article. The two of them were clearly familiar.
Kenji knew her well. She wasn't some obscure character—Alyssa was a known figure from the Resident Evil series, a hidden gem for veteran fans. She was a selectable character in the spin-off, an everyman survivor. In fact, she'd survived Raccoon City and even made appearances as far as the seventh game in the franchise.
That was enough for Kenji to keep an eye on her. Alyssa didn't like him—he was, after all, crooked, a lawbreaker and gangster. But the two had a working arrangement: Kenji provided her with dirt on rival gangs and some inside info about Raccoon City, giving her enough to publish scathing exposés.
In return, Alyssa shared her own intel. Their partnership was mutually beneficial—her reports helped Kenji bring down the competition, while he gave her the stories she wanted. Their collaboration was seamless.
"I'm asking because I don't know. Also, you should stay put here for a few days. Buckhu is gunning for you. You'll be safer here," Kenji said quietly, partly revealing his real reason for coming. Every average man dreams of a harem, but to make that happen from the start is unrealistic—especially with the system still dormant. He had to rely on old-fashioned emotional manipulation.
"I'm not afraid of them," Alyssa huffed. She was a war correspondent; making enemies came with the territory—fame and infamy often go hand in hand.
"You may not be scared, but I am. I'd hate for something to happen to you—keeping you safe is my responsibility." Kenji said with a gentle smile, meeting her gaze sincerely.
Alyssa wasn't naive. She gave Kenji a sidelong glance. "Thanks for your concern."
"I mean it. Just this once—listen to me. This is serious." Kenji raised a hand to cut her off, captivated by her striking features. "I like you. That's why I want to protect you."