Morning Run
Jasen Smith set out on his morning jog under the gray December dawn. His breath puffed white in the chill as he kept a steady pace along Raccoon City's quiet residential streets. His old habits died hard – sunrise runs kept his body ready and his mind sharp. As he turned a corner near Warren Street, he spotted three familiar figures up ahead on the sidewalk.
Jill Valentine's brown ponytail was unmistakable as she ran alongside Chris and Rebecca. Jasen allowed himself a small grin; he knew them as his neighbor and members of RPD's elite S.T.A.R.S. unit. Increasing his speed, he closed the gap. "Mind if I tag along?" he called out lightly, matching their stride. Jill glanced over and flashed a welcoming smile. Chris gave an easy nod. Rebecca, the youngest of the trio, offered a friendly wave.
They fell into a comfortable rhythm together. Jill and Rebecca ran just behind the two men, chatting between breaths. Jasen found himself at ease in their company – these were good people, capable and brave. Still, a competitive spark flared when he noticed Chris picking up the pace. Jasen arched a brow at the tall marksman. "You trying to race, Redfield?" he teased. Chris shot back a grin. "Only if you think you can keep up."
That was all the encouragement Jasen needed. He lengthened his stride, muscles warming to the challenge. Chris took off and Jasen answered, the two breaking into an all-out sprint down the block. Instead of the short loop around the corner, Chris veered left to take the long way around the block – turning this into a real race. Jasen's heart pounded as his shoes hammered the pavement. The cold air stung his lungs, but he pushed harder. Street lamps blurred past in his peripheral vision. He drew abreast of Chris as they rounded the last turn, neither willing to yield an inch.
Ahead, Jill and Rebecca slowed to a stop near an empty bus bench, ready to judge the finish. Jasen pumped his arms, summoning a final burst of speed. For a second, he thought he had Chris beat – but Chris lunged forward with one last step. They crossed the informal finish line nearly shoulder to shoulder.
Both men skidded to a halt, doubled over and gulping air. Sweat beaded on Jasen's brow despite the winter cold. "Damn," he panted, looking over at Chris, "you still got me by an inch." Chris, hands on his knees, chuckled between breaths. "Marine or not, you're not half bad, Smith." There was a glint of respect in his eyes. Jasen felt a burn in his legs, but also a sense of camaraderie – he'd come within a hair of beating one of S.T.A.R.S.' best.
Jill jogged up, Rebecca right behind her, both clapping in mock applause. "Congratulations, you two, you've successfully out-sprinted everyone on this deserted street," Jill quipped. Rebecca giggled, cheeks flushed from the run. "That was ridiculously close. I couldn't even tell who won until Chris nearly crashed into that trash can." Jasen straightened, trading a grin with Chris. The friendly competition felt good – a brief moment of normalcy and warmth, far removed from the lurking dangers Jasen knew were coming.
Chris wasn't about to let the contest end there. He jutted a thumb toward a nearby park at the end of the street. Its old jungle gym had a sturdy pull-up bar. "Alright, hotshot. How about a round two?" he said. Jasen followed his gaze and cracked his knuckles. His arms were still loose from the run, adrenaline buzzing in his veins. "Name it."
Minutes later, Jasen found himself hanging from the cold metal bar next to Chris. Jill and Rebecca stood by as referees, amusement dancing in Jill's blue eyes. "First one to tap out buys breakfast," Jill announced. "Go!"
The two men began churning out pull-ups in near unison. Jasen focused on his form, breathing steady. One, two, three... The number climbed quickly. By fifteen reps, his shoulders burned, but Chris kept pace effortlessly – his biceps bulged as he powered upward again and again. At twenty, Rebecca's eyes widened. "Do they even know when to quit?" she whispered to Jill. Jill just shook her head, though a faint smile curved her lips.
By twenty-five, sweat trickled into Jasen's eyes. Chris let out a grunt of effort. Both men's arms trembled. Jasen grit his teeth and managed one more rep – twenty-six – before his grip finally slipped. Chris dropped down a split-second later, unable to continue. Collapsing onto the grass, they were both exhausted, gasping for breath and rubbing sore arms.
Rebecca clapped her hands in delight. "Jasen wins! By one," she declared. Chris groaned and flopped onto his back dramatically. "I demand a rematch when my arms aren't on fire," he joked. Jasen laughed hoarsely and extended a hand to help Chris up. "Deal. Maybe after you've had your protein shake." The two exchanged a firm handshake instead of any hard feelings – mutual respect earned rep by rep.
Jill tossed a towel at Chris, her eyes shining with mirth. "Good effort, boys. That was almost as entertaining as an actual S.T.A.R.S. training session." She nudged Jasen's arm lightly with her elbow. "I guess the Corps taught you a thing or two." Jasen wiped sweat from his forehead. "A couple things, yeah," he replied, "though if you really want to see training, I could show you how we do it in the Corps sometime."
Jill raised an eyebrow playfully. "Careful, or I might take you up on that, sir." There was a warmth in her tone that made Jasen's chest stir. He found himself smiling like an idiot for half a second before he coughed and gestured down the road. "We should cool down. I'll jog you guys back. You all headed to the station?"
Rebecca grabbed her water bottle from a bench. "I've got to swing by the hospital actually – paperwork for a training course," she said, referring to her role as the team's medic. Chris checked his watch and winced. "And I've got an early meeting with the Captain. I'll catch you later." With a casual salute, he jogged off in the direction of the police station, Rebecca splitting off with a wave moments later.
That left Jasen and Jill to jog the last few blocks home together, just the two of them. They set out at a relaxed pace. The sun had risen a bit higher now, casting a weak golden light through the bare trees lining the sidewalk. As they ran, their breath and footsteps fell in sync. It felt easy, comfortable.
"So," Jill began between breaths, "you really gave Chris a run for his money. Not many can say that."
Jasen chuckled. "He's damn fast. And strong. I think my arms will be sore for days." He flexed one arm and pretended to wince, drawing a laugh from Jill.
"He'll be talking about this all day at work, you know," she said. "Chris isn't used to losing – or almost losing. His ego might be bruised."
They slowed to cross an intersection. Jasen shot her a sidelong glance. "You calling me a sore winner, Valentine?"
"Not at all," she replied, flashing a grin. "Honestly, it's nice seeing him challenged. And it's good for you too. You've been in Raccoon City what, a couple months now? It's good to have friends to push you."
Friends. Jasen felt a slight pang at that word, though he kept his smile. If only she knew how much he was hiding – how much weight he carried knowing what fate would befall this city in less than a year. Still, he played along. "True. I appreciate you all letting me crash your run. I figure if I can keep up with S.T.A.R.S. legends like you and Chris, I must be doing something right."
Jill rolled her eyes. "Flattery will get you nowhere. And we're hardly legends… though Rebecca might be one someday. She's the youngest S.T.A.R.S. member ever, did you know that?"
"Really? She can't be older than twenty," Jasen said, feigning only casual interest. In truth, he knew exactly how special Rebecca was – a prodigy medic and biochemist. But hearing Jill talk about her gave him a warm insight into how the team saw their rookie.
"Eighteen, going on nineteen," Jill confirmed. "Straight out of the academy. She's a little shy, but brilliant. We're lucky to have her." Jill's voice held a note of pride for the younger woman, like an older sister might.
Jasen nodded. "That's impressive. At eighteen I was still figuring out how to shine my boots properly." That earned another laugh from Jill. They continued on, making light conversation about the city's best takeout spots and the winter weather. The banter came easy. Jasen found himself stealing quick glances at Jill – the way her cheeks reddened in the cold, the determined set of her jaw, and the easy confidence in her stride. There was no denying she was attractive, but it was more than that. In her, Jasen saw a genuine person, a capable fighter, and maybe a reason to hope he could have a normal life here despite everything.
All too soon, they reached the front of their apartment building. The old brick complex loomed above, and Jill slowed to a stop at the steps. She brushed a few loose strands of hair behind her ear. "Thanks for the run. That was fun," she said, a bit of morning light catching her smile.
"Anytime," Jasen replied, meaning it. They lingered for a moment, neither seeming to want to head inside just yet. Jill broke the silence first. "I've got to get ready for work – another exciting day serving and protecting."
"Stay safe out there," Jasen said. It came out softer than he intended. Jill tilted her head, studying him for a second. "Always. You too, whatever you're up to today." She hesitated, as if weighing something, then added, "Maybe we can grab a coffee later this week? I'd like to hear more about your Military days." It was a simple invitation, but her tone made it feel like more.
Jasen's heart gave a small unexpected thump. "Yeah, I'd like that," he answered, keeping his voice steady. "After all, I owe you guys a breakfast, remember? Loser's treat." He winked, and Jill laughed.
"Alright, it's a date. See you later, Jasen." With a final wave, she headed inside to her apartment. Jasen watched her disappear through the doorway, a slight grin still on his face. He took a deep breath of the crisp air, letting it cool the inexplicable warmth in his chest. For a moment, he allowed himself to savor that sliver of normal human connection.
Then his mind drifted back to the mission he'd set for himself in this city – and how much work there was to do.
Kendo's Gun Shop
After a quick shower and a change into jeans and a worn leather jacket, Jasen set out across town. The morning rush hour was in full swing now, cars crawling through intersections and commuters bundled up against the chill. Jasen navigated the familiar streets toward one of his regular stops: Kendo's Gun Shop on Flower Street.
The bell over the door jingled as he stepped inside the shop. The smell of gun oil and aging paper targets greeted him. Racks of rifles and display cases of handguns lined the walls, illuminated by buzzing fluorescent lights. Robert Kendo looked up from behind the counter where he was carefully reassembling a pistol. The burly gunsmith broke into a grin. "If it isn't my favorite early-bird customer. Morning, Jasen."
"Morning, Robert," Jasen replied, returning the smile. He nodded at the custom gun parts spread across the counter. "That my order, or are you putting together something fancy for S.T.A.R.S.?"
Kendo chuckled, sliding a freshly oiled slide onto a frame. "This here is one of the Samurai Edge Berettas for the S.T.A.R.S. boys and girls – you know, their standard-issue with my special touch. But yours is ready to go." He thumbed toward a foam-lined case on the counter. "Go on, take a look."
Jasen popped open the case. Inside lay two modified handguns, sleek and deadly. They were custom M1911 pistols he'd commissioned – matte black with ported barrels, extended magazines, and upgraded sights. Kendo had even etched Jasen's initials "J.S." near the hammers. Next to them sat a large survival knife with a serrated back edge and a new sheath. Jasen whistled appreciatively. "Beautiful work, Robert."
The gunsmith beamed like a proud father. "Figured a vet like you knows his way around a .45. These will punch holes in just about anything. And that knife's the one you asked for – carbon steel, full tang, nearly indestructible. You planning on wrestling grizzly bears out there?" He said it jokingly, but Jasen caught the curiosity in his tone. He knew Jasen wasn't RPD or a hunter, yet here he was, stocking up on serious gear.
"Something like that," Jasen replied vaguely, lifting one pistol to check the weight. He couldn't exactly explain he was arming himself for a viral zombie apocalypse and mutant bioweapons. Kendo was a friend, but even friends would think he was crazy. "I just like to be prepared."
Robert nodded slowly. "Nothing wrong with that. City's gotten a bit odd lately. Folks going missing in the Arklay Mountains, weird stories in the tabloids…" He trailed off and shrugged. "Anyway, your gear's all set. I also threw in a couple boxes of .45 ACP hollow-points on the house." He tapped a cardboard box in the case.
Jasen gave him a grateful look. "Thanks, really. What do I owe you for the custom work?" He pulled out his wallet, already knowing it was worth every penny of the price.
Kendo waved a hand. "No what you gave was enough. Actually, if you're not in a rush, I could use a quick favor."
"Name it," Jasen said, surprised. Robert Kendo was the type to offer help more than ask for it.
The older man wiped his hands on a rag, looking equal parts apologetic and hopeful. "My girl was supposed to get a ride to school from her mom this morning, but my wife's come down with a nasty flu. I've got a supplier coming in any minute, so I'm stuck here. Any chance you could drive Emma to her school for me? It's just ten minutes away."
Jasen didn't hesitate. "Of course. I'd be happy to." He remembered Emma – a sweet kid around 10 years old with her dad's dark eyes and a shy smile. She appeared from the back room on cue, backpack slung over her shoulder. "Morning, Mr. Jasen," she mumbled politely.
"Hey, Emma. Ready for school?" he asked with an easy grin. She nodded. Kendo shot Jasen a look of pure gratitude. "Thank you. I owe you one."
Jasen shook his head, closing the gun case and hefting it under one arm. "Don't mention it, Robert. I'll be back with your receipt from the school drop-off," he joked.
A few minutes later, Jasen's Jeep pulled up in front of the shop. Emma climbed into the passenger seat, and Jasen cranked up the heater to ward off the chill. As he drove her through the morning traffic, he chatted to put her at ease. Emma was quiet at first, fiddling with the strap of her backpack, but eventually she warmed up. They talked about her classes, her favorite bands, and how she thought her dad fussed too much about safety.
Jasen listened with a gentle smile, but her last comment struck a chord. "Your dad just cares about you," he said. "He wants to make sure you're okay." The girl shrugged in that way pre-teens do. In the rearview mirror, Jasen caught a glimpse of her innocent eyes and couldn't help picturing a different scenario – one from the not-so-distant future that he was determined to prevent.
In his mind's eye he saw the city in chaos, streets overrun with the undead. He remembered the fate of Robert Kendo and his family in that other timeline – a memory from another life or perhaps just a nightmare of things yet to come. Emma's small figure, huddled and scared, flashed through his memory. In that horrific future she never got to grow up.
Jasen's grip tightened on the steering wheel. Not this time, he vowed silently. If he had to move heaven and earth, he would make sure this child – and as many others as possible – survived what was coming. No more innocent lives lost because of Umbrella's monsters. Especially not children.
They pulled up to the school's curb. "Here we are, safe and sound," Jasen announced, masking his inner turmoil with a bright tone. Emma gave him a shy smile as she unbuckled. "Thanks for the ride, Mr. Jasen."
"Anytime, kiddo. Have a great day, and ace that math test, alright?" He gently ruffled her hair, which earned an eye-roll and a laugh. She hopped out, waved, and hurried off toward the school entrance, disappearing into the throng of students.
Jasen watched until she was safely inside, then released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Dropping Emma off wasn't some grand heroic act, but it felt significant in a small way. One morning safely done. One tiny piece of normalcy preserved. I will save them, he promised himself again. The Kendos, Jill and her team, as many people as he could. Foreknowledge was a double-edged sword, but he intended to use it to change the tragic script he knew by heart.
Plans and Intel
By late morning, Jasen was back in his apartment. He carefully stored the new pistols and knife in a locked footlocker hidden beneath a false bottom in his closet. The weapons joined an arsenal he'd been amassing over the past two years: shotguns, a modified rifle, boxes of ammunition, survival supplies, and a few grenades acquired through less-than-legal channels. It was a paranoid stockpile for anyone who didn't know what he did. For Jasen, it was basic preparation.
After locking up, he moved to the small desk in the corner of his living room. The wall above it was plastered with a map of Raccoon City and notes pinned haphazardly – a crude information web. He had strung threads of yarn between key locations: the Spencer Memorial Hospital, the RPD building, the abandoned Umbrella-owned factory on the outskirts of town, even the sewer system tunnels marked in red. Newspaper clippings and blurry photocopies of documents were taped up, detailing everything from reports of unusual animal attacks in the Arklay Mountains to a list of city officials on Umbrella's payroll. Chief Brian Irons's name was circled in bold marker.
Jasen sat down with a grim frown, rifling through a stack of files he'd compiled. This was his real work in Raccoon City – digging up every bit of intel on Umbrella's operations and the key players involved. Umbrella, the pharmaceutical giant, was the source of the T-virus nightmare that would eventually engulf the city. They had labs hidden beneath the streets and around the Arklay region, and countless officials and police officers in their pocket.
He flipped through a dossier on one Dr. William Birkin – a genius scientist rumored to be developing some new bioweapon beneath Raccoon City – and set it aside. Too early to act on Birkin; that situation would come to a head later. Instead, he picked up a typed report on Chief Irons. The police chief had a laundry list of rumors trailing him: accusations of brutality, hush-hush ties to Umbrella, even whispers of something darker – the man had an obsession with taxidermy that went beyond hunting, if the missing persons reports were true. Jasen's jaw tightened. Irons put on a veneer of respectability, but Jasen knew the truth: after the coming mansion incident, Irons would grow even more erratic and dangerous, likely compromising any chance to save this city from the inside.
He pulled a notepad from the desk drawer and clicked open a pen. At the top he scribbled "PRIORITY – Monitor/Eliminate:" This was the kill-or-watch list he updated constantly. Without hesitation, Jasen added two names:
Albert Wesker – Captain of S.T.A.R.S., secret Umbrella mole. If anyone posed an immediate threat, it was Wesker. Jasen underlined the name twice. Wesker would betray his own team when the time came; Jasen had to be ready to stop him, permanently if necessary. Brian Irons – RPD Chief, corrupt and unstable. A wildcard. If Jasen couldn't find solid evidence to oust Irons before things went to hell, he wouldn't hesitate to put the man down when the city fell into chaos.
He stared at the two names, a heavy weight settling in his chest. Planning someone's death – even scum like these – was not something he took lightly. But he'd seen what came of leaving them unchecked. The memory of dozens of body bags and a ruined city fueled his resolve.
Jasen leaned back, pinching the bridge of his nose. The apartment was silent except for the hum of the heater. Outside, a siren wailed faintly – just a routine emergency in a city blissfully unaware of the ticking time bomb beneath its streets. Jasen knew he couldn't do this alone. Despite all his training and knowledge, one man against Umbrella's resources and whatever horrors they cooked up was suicide. He needed allies, both inside the city and beyond. He had already ingratiated himself with some of the S.T.A.R.S. officers like Jill and Chris, but that only covered one front.
His mind drifted back to Kendo's earlier words: weird stories in the tabloids. He recalled one article from a month ago that mentioned a "demon hunter" in a nearby city taking down supposed monsters – a fringe piece most would laugh off. But Jasen hadn't laughed. He'd cut it out and filed it with his other leads. If Umbrella's virus was one nightmare made real, what if other nightmares lurked out there too?
He swiveled in his chair and opened a drawer, pulling out a business card. Kendo had given it to him a while back after a late-night conversation about heavy artillery and off-the-record jobs. On it was a name and number: Enzo Ferino – Fixer & Information Broker. Supposedly, this Enzo could find people who handled "special situations." At the time, Jasen had pocketed the card unsure if he'd ever use it. Now, thinking of Umbrella's monstrous Bio-Organic Weapons and worse, he realized he might need a monster hunter every bit as much as more conventional allies.
Jasen picked up the phone on his desk and dialed the number, heart thumping with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. It rang twice before a gruff male voice answered, laced with a thick Bronx accent. "Enzo here. If you've got the cash, I've got the info. Who's this?"
"Name's J.S. I got your number from a mutual friend," Jasen answered carefully. He wasn't about to drop Kendo's name casually. "I hear you can connect me with… specialists. The kind who deal with unusual problems."
There was a pause, then a shrewd chuckle. "Heh, you hear right. Depends what kind of problems you have. Ghouls, ghosts, little green men?" Enzo's tone was half joking, half testing.
Jasen swallowed, thinking of how to phrase it. "Let's say something like… biological nightmares. Mutants. I need someone who can take on the toughest targets – no questions asked."
Another pause. Jasen could picture Enzo on the other end, perhaps raising an eyebrow. "I might know a guy. But he ain't cheap and he ain't exactly local. Goes by the handle Tony Redgrave. Ring any bells?"
Though Jasen remained outwardly calm, his eyes widened. He gripped the phone tighter. Tony Redgrave – he knew that name. In his original world, it was practically a legend whispered in certain circles. An alias of Dante, the devil hunter. If Enzo was talking about that Tony Redgrave, it meant Dante was real. Which meant witches, angels, demons – even gods – all of it might be real in this world, just like Umbrella's monsters.
Jasen forced his voice to stay even. "Tony Redgrave will do just fine. I can offer $15,000 upfront, and another $20,000 upon completion of the job. The job being: assist in protecting a city from an impending biological disaster and neutralize high-value hostile targets, including bio-weapons and 'Tyrant'-class creatures." It felt surreal to say out loud, but Enzo didn't balk.
"Thirty-five grand, high risk monster hunting… You weren't kidding about unusual problems," Enzo muttered. Jasen heard the scratch of pen on paper as the broker took notes. "I'll have to reach out to Mr. Redgrave, see if he's interested. He's… picky with jobs. But money talks. Where can I contact you?"
Jasen gave him a secure P.O. box address and a pager number he used for clandestine matters. "I appreciate it, Enzo."
"Sure thing, pal. I'll be in touch if he bites. And hey –" the broker's voice turned wry "– if your nightmare fuel starts popping up sooner, you give ol' Enzo a call. I got other contractors too, y'know."
"Will do," Jasen promised, then hung up. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. His reflection stared back from the blank black TV screen across the room – a young man in over his head, or a man determined to change fate? Sometimes he felt like both.
The revelation that Dante could exist in this reality opened a floodgate of possibilities – and dangers. If a devil hunter was out there, so might real devils. But that was a crisis for another day. One apocalypse at a time, he thought wryly.
For now, he felt a flicker of hope. Help might be on the way, from unexpected places. He pushed himself up from the chair and began straightening the piles of intel on his desk. As he did, he couldn't help but glance again at the list with Wesker and Irons. Two names for two dead men walking, if Jasen had any say. And he was just getting started.
The Invitation
That afternoon, Jasen was reviewing a city sewage maintenance report (looking for hidden Umbrella routes into town) when a knock came at his apartment door. He instantly tensed – few people ever visited him unannounced. He slid his sidearm from its holster on the desk and approached the door cautiously.
"Jasen? It's Jill," called a familiar voice from the other side. Jasen exhaled and quickly safetied the pistol, tucking it out of sight at the small of his back. He cracked the door open.
Jill Valentine stood there in her RPD uniform — navy-blue tactical pants, boots, and a light jacket with the S.T.A.R.S. insignia on the shoulder. She offered a friendly smile. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything?"
Jasen shook his head and opened the door wider, motioning her in. "Not at all. Come in." He did a rapid mental sweep of his apartment's interior – the last thing he needed was Jill spotting his conspiracy wall of Umbrella secrets. Thankfully, the desk and map were around a corner out of direct view from the entryway.
Jill stepped inside. She carried the faint scent of coffee and winter air with her. Jasen noticed she had her beret tucked under one arm and a manila folder in hand. Her brown hair was neatly combed now, a contrast to the windblown look from their morning run. "Nice place," she commented, glancing around the tidy, if spartan, living room. "I won't stay long. I just came by to ask you something."
Jasen nodded, leaning against the back of his couch to hide any residual nerves. "Sure, what's up?"
Jill held up the folder slightly. "I mentioned you to my captain this morning, and… well, have you ever considered law enforcement? The RPD is always looking for good people, and S.T.A.R.S. has an opening for someone with a military background. I know you're doing your own thing, but… I thought maybe you'd be interested."
Jasen's eyebrows rose in genuine surprise. This was unexpected. "You're recruiting me?" he asked with a half-smile.
Jill shrugged, a bit sheepish. "Maybe. I mean, I don't have the authority to hire, obviously. But I can get you an interview. You're trained, you know how to handle yourself, and we could use someone who doesn't flinch under pressure. After seeing you keep up with Chris this morning, I'm convinced you'd fit right in."
A mix of emotions swirled in Jasen's chest. On one hand, getting closer to S.T.A.R.S. could be exactly what he needed – access to their resources, a heads-up on their missions (including the impending Spencer Mansion incident), and a legitimate reason to snoop around the police station and Chief Irons's office. On the other hand, embedding himself with them meant playing along with events he knew could turn deadly. Could he alter things from the inside without blowing his cover as just an ordinary ex-Marine? It was a risk, but one worth taking.
Jasen realized Jill was watching him expectantly for an answer. He flashed a lopsided grin to cover his heavy thoughts. "I'm flattered. Honestly, I have thought about it. Haven't sent in an application because I figured the line was long."
Jill laughed. "Not as long as you'd think. And you have people on the inside vouching for you."
"True. Hard to turn down an endorsement from Jill Valentine." He crossed his arms, pretending to deliberate another moment. "Alright, count me in. What's the next step?"
Jill's face lit up in a smile. She handed him the folder. "Fill this out and bring it by the RPD this week. It's the formal application and some waiver forms. I can introduce you to the rest of the S.T.A.R.S. team once your paperwork's in. Maybe even give you a tour of the station – unofficially, of course."
Jasen took the folder, feeling the weight of it. "Sounds good. And Jill… thanks. It means a lot that you'd go out on a limb for me."
She waved a hand. "You're a good guy, Jasen. I can tell. And frankly, I'd feel better knowing someone like you had my back out there."
Their eyes met for a moment. There it was again – that subtle spark of connection that had been growing ever since they started talking as neighbors weeks ago. Jasen cleared his throat softly. "I'll do my best not to let you down."
Jill moved toward the door, and Jasen walked her out. Before she left, she turned to him with a more serious expression. "Oh, one more thing. Off the record… why did you choose Raccoon City, anyway? You mentioned being from out of state. Most people don't come here unless they grew up here or they're working for Umbrella. And you're clearly not the latter." There was genuine curiosity in her voice, and maybe a hint of concern.
Jasen was prepared for a question like this. He had an answer ready – a half-truth, which was often the best lie. "I had a buddy in my unit from Raccoon City," he said smoothly. "He used to go on about how peaceful it was, how the mountains were beautiful. After I left the Marines, I wanted a quiet place to settle for a bit, maybe enroll in college. Raccoon just felt right. Small-town vibe, good people… and I won't lie, the cost of living is decent." He gave a self-deprecating smile.
Jill listened, then nodded. "Fair enough. I get it. Sometimes I forget Raccoon City can seem charming to newcomers. I guess I've seen the uglier side of it on the force."
"Every city's got its dark side," Jasen said, the irony not lost on him. "But I like it here so far. Present company definitely helps."
He offered her a warm look and was rewarded by a slight blush on Jill's cheeks before she laughed it off. "Alright, charmer. I'll let you get back to your day. See you soon, neighbor – and future coworker, maybe."
She gave a mock salute, which Jasen returned smartly, and then she headed down the hall. Jasen closed his door, the smile lingering on his face.
As he stood alone in his apartment, Jasen's gaze drifted to the concealed cache of weapons and the clutter of intel on his desk. Jill's visit had been a bright spot, a human connection that made him feel almost normal. In truth, she was no longer just a neighbor in his eyes; Jill was quickly becoming someone he genuinely cared about – perhaps more than a friend, if he ever dared allow it. But the gravity of his mission pressed in once more. By drawing closer to S.T.A.R.S. and the RPD, he was entangling himself further in the events to come. It was exactly where he needed to be – and yet it meant that when things went down, he would have even more to lose.
He thought of Jill's smile, of little Emma's wave at the school, of Chris's competitive smirk, and Rebecca's bright curiosity. These were people worth protecting, worth fighting for. Jasen inhaled deeply, steeling himself. The deeper I get, the more names I add to the list of people I have to save… and the list of those I'll have to deal with when the time comes.
His eyes fell again on the faint outline of the map through the doorway. Wesker. Irons. And now perhaps new threats and allies from beyond the world he knew. Jasen didn't know exactly what the future held, only that he would meet it head-on.
He sat down at his desk and pulled the RPD application forms toward him. This was a step deeper into Raccoon City's coming storm, but also a chance to protect the people he cared about. Jasen was ready to face whatever came next – to fight for a better ending to this city's story than the one he remembered. He'd save who he could save, eliminate who he had to, and do everything in his power to rewrite Raccoon City's fate with his own two hands.