December came to Raccoon City with a dusting of snow and festive lights. In the weeks since I'd arrived, I'd gotten to know the streets by heart. Each morning I jogged through new neighborhoods, mentally mapping alleys and shortcuts, marking strategic points on a city map. Diners, bars, the police station, Umbrella's offices—I noted them all. Laying low didn't mean idle; it meant preparing for whatever was coming.
By evening, I blended in with the locals at diners and dive bars, listening for rumors and earning the trust of my neighbors. I picked up odd jobs—fixing a leaky sink here, walking a shop clerk home there. Before long, I'd built a quiet reputation as the helpful new guy on the block. It felt good to be useful, and it kept me under the radar.
One afternoon, I stepped into Kendo's Gun Shop with a proposition. Robert Kendo eyed me warily as I introduced myself: "Jasen Smith. A friend of mine, Leon Kennedy, said I should pay you a visit." That name dropped his guard; Robert broke into a grin and offered a hearty handshake. I told him I was looking to get my firearms customized and needed advice on securing open and concealed carry permits in town. Offering 1,500 and, I offered to help around his shop in exchange.
Kendo liked my honesty. "Not often someone offers elbow grease and cash," he chuckled. He agreed to tune up my trusty M1911 and help with the permit paperwork. In return, I spent the rest of the day cleaning and organizing his cluttered backroom. By closing time, I'd earned a few boxes of ammo and his respect.
As I wiped down the counter, a photo on the wall caught my eye—Robert standing beside a grinning older woman with cropped silver hair. I froze. I recognized her instantly: Nell Goldstein. I kept my voice steady as I asked, "Is that Nell Goldstein?" He nodded, eyes lighting up. "The one and only. She taught me a lot back in the day. Incredible gunsmith. She's out of town now, though."
I murmured polite admiration, but inside my mind churned. Nell Goldstein was a name I knew from a completely different reality—the gunsmith who forged "Ebony & Ivory" in the Devil May Cry stories. That shop didn't even exist yet here in 1997. If Nell was real in this world, what else was lurking out there? The thought made my skin prickle. This universe might be far bigger—and more dangerous—than just Umbrella's zombies.
Before leaving, I pressed a generous payment into Robert's hand for his help. He tried to refuse, but I insisted—consider it an early Christmas gift. With a final wave, I stepped back out into the cold.
As December wore on, I made a habit of stopping by Jack's Bar, the local watering hole favored by RPD officers and STARS members. I'd sit in a corner with some tequila, quietly observing. Over time, my presence became familiar to the regulars. I wasn't looking to make friends, but in a place like Raccoon City, you can't stay a stranger for long.
One snowy night, a large man with a friendly face approached my table—the bushy mustache gave him away as Barry Burton. "Mind if I join you?" he asked, already sliding into the opposite seat with his scotch. I nodded, and he signaled the bartender to bring me another drink.
"I've seen you around. Name's Barry," he said, extending a hand. We shook. "Jasen," I replied. It didn't take long for him to peg me as prior military. That common ground broke the ice. After a bit of easy conversation—Marine Corps tales from me, Air Force stories from him—Barry waved over his teammates. Soon I was shaking hands with Chris Redfield, Rebecca Chambers, and Jill Valentine and others. I noticed one member of their team was absent—Captain Wesker—but Barry shrugged it off, saying the boss rarely joined their nights out. They were curious about the newcomer, but welcoming. I made sure to come off as an easygoing drifter looking for a fresh start—which, in a way, I was.
Any nerves I had faded as we talked. They were an easy bunch to like. We swapped a few stories (carefully edited on my part) and shared some laughs. I must have made a good first impression, because before the night was out Barry invited me to a weekend gathering with the STARS team. "Just a little pre-Christmas get-together," he said. I readily agreed.
As we chatted, Jill and I discovered we lived in the same apartment building—same floor, even. "No way, I'm 4F," she laughed when I mentioned my address. "I'm just down the hall," I said, equally surprised. The others exchanged amused looks at that coincidence. Jill and I shared a shy smile; there was a spark of something between us, subtle but warm, that we both felt.
Closing time came, and we all stepped out into the frigid night. Snow swirled under the streetlights as the group dispersed. Jill had walked to the bar, so I offered her a ride home since we were headed to the same place. She accepted gratefully. "Take good care of her," Chris and Rebecca teased as we walked to my Truck. "If we don't hear from Jill in the morning, we'll come looking." Jill swatted away their remarks with a good-natured eye roll, and I chuckled. "I'll have her home safe, promise."
The drive was short and comfortable. We kept the conversation light—favorite spots in town, the chances of a white Christmas—normal talk that felt refreshing. Before long, I pulled up in front of our apartment building. We climbed the stairs to the fourth floor, where Jill dug out a pen and an old receipt. "Here," she said, scribbling her number and handing it to me. "In case you need anything... or want to hang out." I smiled and gave her mine in return.
I walked her to her door. "Good night, Jasen," she said softly. "And thanks—for the ride and... everything." I nodded, holding her gaze for a moment. "Good night, Jill." She slipped inside, and I waited for the quiet click of her lock before heading to my own apartment next door.
Back in my apartment, I let out a long breath. Only weeks ago I'd been an outsider in this city, a man with a map and a mission, preparing alone for the horrors I knew were coming. Now I had names and faces to fight for. My life was threading itself into Raccoon City's fabric faster than I expected. And with that comfort came a new edge of concern. If this world was larger than just Umbrella—if it held the kind of demons and devils I once thought existed only in games—then the dangers ahead were beyond anything the locals could imagine. Vampires, demons, Umbrella... whatever lurked under the surface of normal life, I was going to be ready for it. I rested my hand on my holstered sidearm and looked out at the quietly snowing city. For the first time since I found myself here, I felt I wasn't alone—and that made me more determined than ever to protect this place and the people within it.