Five minutes later…
Luke and Selene were walking along the sidewalk. The sound of distant gunfire and the occasional zombie moan echoing down the empty streets. Luke had his hands in his pockets, his face drawn in thought.
Since Raccoon City wasn't nuked to ashes yet, that meant they were smack in the middle of Resident Evil 2's movie plot. Not exactly the safest timeline to be sightseeing in.
He really wanted to know where in the plot they were. Timeline mattered more than anything right now.
If Umbrella was close to launching the nuke, then grinding EXP was pointless—there'd be no time to farm, no time to grow stronger. One moment of delay and boom—city gone, them gone, no second chances.
But… if he still had a window? If the nuke wasn't armed yet? Then maybe—just maybe—he could treat this nightmare like an old-school RPG and farm zombies until his stats skyrocketed.
Still, Luke wasn't stupid. He knew the stakes. This wasn't a game menu he could reload from—it was reality, and the endgame was a nuclear bomb.
The pinnacle of human weaponry. A single warhead could erase everything in an instant—blast wave, fireball, radiation—like pressing the ultimate reset button on a whole city.
That was exactly why he wasn't even thinking about searching for the Hive. He wasn't stupid. For one, he didn't even know the exact location—it was buried deep underground, practically a fortress beneath Raccoon City.
And even if, by some miracle, he stumbled across an entrance? Getting inside would be a whole other nightmare. The Hive wasn't some dungeon you could just stroll into; it was crawling with security, sealed doors, and bio-weapons waiting to be unleashed.
Worse, using his full power down there would be a disaster—the tunnels could collapse, burying him alive. There were too many risks, too many unknowns. Nope. The Hive was off the table.
---
Then Luke noticed a church up ahead, the front doors rattling under the pounding fists of dozens of zombies.
'…Wait a second. Is that the church? The one where Jill and the others were holed up?' he muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing as the scene from the movie replayed in his mind. He had definitely seen this before.
"Selene, we're going to that church," Luke said, nodding at the looming building.
The instant their footsteps echoed, the pounding at the doors halted. Dozens of rotting heads jerked in unison, empty eyes locking onto them.
Jaws sagged open, strings of drool dangling, and then the horde lurched forward with guttural moans—like starving wolves catching the scent of prey.
Luke didn't wait.
CRACK!—SHRRK!
Stone spikes ripped out of the street with violent force, impaling the zombies in a perfect row.
The wet crunch of bones snapping echoed through the square as the corpses dangled like grotesque ornaments, twitching before falling limp. Blood dripped steadily onto the cobblestones, steaming in the night air.
He strolled up to the heavy oak doors and gave them three polite knocks.
Silence.
Not even a breath from inside.
He glanced up at the stained-glass windows glowing faintly in the moonlight, colors casting eerie patterns across his face. "Figures," he sighed. "Windows it is."
---
Inside the church…
"So, does the Raccoon City Police Department have any comment on what those things are?" asked Terri Morales, her camera already raised, its little red light blinking. Apocalypse or not, her news-hound instincts refused to die.
Sergeant Peyton Wells sat slouched on a pew, gun resting across his lap. He leveled her with a tired, flat stare. "Seriously? At a time like this? What the hell do you expect to get out of this? "
"An Emmy," Terri shot back, flashing a grin far too tight to be casual. "If we make it out of this city alive."
Peyton groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Unbelievable."
Before he could add more, a sharp CRACK! split through the church like a gunshot. Glass rained down as one of the tall stained-glass windows shattered inward.
Everyone jerked to their feet.
Terri's camera whipped toward the sound, her breath caught in her throat.
Peyton already had his pistol up, jaw tight.
Jill Valentine herself—looking every bit the badass in her blue tank top and miniskirt, hand instinctively reaching for her pistol —and… well, The last guy in the group, some nameless extra tagging along, nearly dropped his weapon from shaking so hard. The way he looked around? Yeah, dead man walking.
Then—THUD. THUD.
Two heavy landings rattled the floorboards, dust scattering into the candlelit air.
"I can answer that question," a voice drawled from the shadows, smooth with just enough cockiness to annoy.
A figure stepped into the light—Luke, smirk plastered across his face like he owned the place.
Luke dusted off his jacket with exaggerated casualness. "What those things are? Zombies."
His eyes, however, drifted almost immediately to Jill. Blue eyes. Tight outfit. Guns strapped to her thighs. He blinked, his lips twitching into a grin. Well, don't blame him—beautiful woman spotted.
"Now," Luke said, spreading his arms with a half-bow, "how about some introductions before the choir outside joins us?"