....
"Allen, aren't you worried about letting her go alone?" Claire asked. Even though she tried to sound casual, there was a faint hint of jealousy in her voice after seeing the intimacy between Allen and Ada.
"Of course I'm worried," Allen replied honestly. "But I also have to trust her. Besides, Ada is wearing the same bracelet as you, so I can track her location and monitor her condition at any time," he added calmly.
Claire glanced down at the bracelet on her own wrist. "Yeah, this bracelet is actually pretty useful for self-protection, but I'm not really a fan of tight suits that cover my entire body," Claire admitted, acknowledging that she didn't really like the full-coverage combat outfit style.
"Well, you can customize the outfit model yourself into whatever style you want," Allen explained. "Of course, if you do that, it won't protect your body as perfectly as the full armor version."
"Really? If that's the case, can I choose the style I want? I still want to try it," Claire said, sounding genuinely interested now.
"Sure. Here, give me your arm for a moment," Allen said, gesturing for Claire to extend the arm where the bracelet was attached.
Claire did as he asked. Allen then placed his finger on the bracelet's sensor. "Wednesday, activate outfit feature."
"Access granted. Outfit feature has been unlocked," Wednesday responded.
The bracelet on Claire's wrist transformed into a smartphone with a touchscreen display. Claire raised one eyebrow in surprise as she stared at it. On the screen, she could see various outfit designs and styles.
"Allen, can this bracelet really turn into a phone?" Claire asked while scrolling through the options, searching for styles and colors she liked.
Allen nodded. "Yep, the bracelet can function as a smartphone, and it has a lot of other features too."
"Haha, it really looks like you packed a lot of weird features into this bracelet," Claire said with a small smile when she noticed that one of the available options on the screen was even a bikini model. Of course, there was no way she would choose something like that, especially not in a situation like this.
Eventually, she found a design she liked—a red jacket paired with jeans, almost identical to the clothes she was already wearing. Claire tapped the confirmation button. The smartphone-like device seemed to liquefy, slipping into the fabric of her clothes and merging seamlessly with them.
"Hey, isn't that outfit the same as the one you're already wearing?" Allen commented.
"Yeah, it is, and I chose it on purpose," Claire replied. "I'm more comfortable wearing clothes like this."
She moved her body slightly, testing her range of motion. Claire felt perfectly comfortable and didn't sense any noticeable change at all in the clothes she was wearing now.
"But wouldn't that make you less protected and more vulnerable now?" he said, a hint of worry in his voice.
"Hey… come on, Allen. Don't think of me as some girl who gets hurt easily," Claire replied stubbornly. "I can protect myself, okay?" she said firmly. Then she added, "Besides, if I really end up in a truly dangerous situation, you'll protect me, right?" She spoke as if she already expected Allen to say yes.
Allen blinked, one eye twitching slightly as a thought crossed his mind. Does Claire see me as some kind of tank whenever she's in danger? he wondered to himself. Still, he answered casually.
"Hmmm, yeah, yeah, sure," Allen replied in a slightly joking tone. "I'll protect you if you end up being a damsel in distress."
Meanwhile, Svetlana, who overheard their conversation, could only shake her head. The two of them looked far too relaxed, even though the situation around them was absolutely terrible and the city was still crawling with monsters. Still, she didn't voice any complaints. After all, right now she was here for one reason—to protect the man she cared about, and that included making sure nothing unexpected reached them.
"Oh, by the way, Svetlana… may I ask what your real job is?" Claire asked suddenly. She had been watching Svetlana closely for a while now, especially the way she handled her weapons with frightening precision, easily disabling any zombies that blocked their path. "I'm just curious," Claire added. "You're incredibly skilled in combat."
"Hmmm, I work as a hired mercenary," Svetlana replied calmly. Her voice was flat and casual, as if she were talking about something completely ordinary. Even as she answered, she raised her weapon and fired without hesitation, taking down a zombie dog that leaped out from the shadows and tried to ambush them. The creature collapsed to the ground instantly, motionless.
Claire blinked in surprise at how naturally Svetlana combined conversation and combat. Seeing that level of experience firsthand only made her realize that Svetlana wasn't just strong—she was someone who had clearly lived through countless deadly situations before.
Then Claire looked over at Allen and asked, "Then what about Ada? What does she do for a living?"
"Oh, Ada also works as a mercenary agent, similar to Svetlana," Allen replied honestly, not trying to hide anything from Claire. "But she's more focused on intelligence work and espionage. But she treats the job as if it were just a hobby for her."
"Ohhh, I see," Claire said softly, nodding in understanding. But before she could say anything else, her stomach suddenly growled loudly in the quiet street.
The sound immediately made her freeze, and her cheeks flushed red in embarrassment.
"Hahaha, alright then," Allen laughed lightly, clearly amused. "I think we should head into that burger shop over there and take a short break. Who knows, maybe there's still something inside we can eat."
Claire nodded quickly, still blushing, but clearly relieved at the suggestion. After everything they had been through, the idea of resting for a moment—and maybe finding some food—didn't sound bad at all.
Allen forcibly broke open the shop and immediately shot the zombies inside one by one. After making sure the place was finally safe and secure, he was about to head toward the kitchen area to start cooking something for them. However, Svetlana quickly stopped him.
"Let me handle the cooking," she said firmly, with a hint of concern in her voice. It wasn't that she doubted his intentions—she was more worried that Allen might accidentally turn whatever he cooked into something closer to poison than food.
"Okaaay, okay, geez," Allen replied with a dramatic sigh, raising his hands in surrender. He clearly got the message. Instead of arguing, he simply walked over and sat down next to Claire, leaning back against one of the tables.
Claire glanced at him and smiled faintly, relieved that at least for now they could rest without immediate danger. The quiet inside the burger shop felt strangely comforting, a sharp contrast to the chaos outside, while the smell of oil and old food lingered in the air as Svetlana began checking the kitchen for anything still usable.
"So, Allen... can you tell me what's really happening in this city now? And I need a real answer this time." Claire asked, her tone calm but firm, as if she had finally decided to demand the answers she had been holding back. From the determined look in her eyes, it was clear she wasn't going to let the matter go any longer.
Allen turned to look at her and let out a quiet breath. He knew there was no point in hiding it now. Claire had already seen too much, heard too many things, and experienced the horror firsthand. She deserved to know the truth. "Alright," he said slowly. "I guess it started a few months ago, with the first major incident involving hikers who visited the Arklay Mountains…"
He went on to explain how Umbrella had secretly developed the T-Virus more than ten years ago, originally created by Dr. James Marcus as part of their research into bio-organic weapons. He told her how Marcus was eventually betrayed and murdered by his own colleagues—Albert Wesker and Dr. William Birkin—under orders tied to Umbrella's internal power struggles. Allen then continued, explaining how Dr. Birkin later developed an even more dangerous virus, the G-Virus, which led to growing conflict between him and Oswell E. Spencer.
As Allen spoke, the pieces slowly came together. He explained that Birkin, cornered and desperate, ultimately chose to deliberately leak the T-Virus into the city's water disposal system. That single act was what pushed everything past the point of no return. The infection spread rapidly, authorities lost control, and Raccoon City fell into complete chaos almost overnight.
Claire listened in silence the entire time, her expression gradually shifting from confusion to shock and anger. By the time Allen finished, the truth felt heavier than anything she had imagined—this wasn't an accident or a natural disaster. It was the result of greed, betrayal, and human cruelty, and now an entire city was paying the price.
"How could they do something like this?" Claire said angrily, her voice shaking with emotion. "Didn't they ever think about all the innocent people who would get dragged into this because of their greed?"
She clenched her fists, clearly wanting to protest even more. What bothered her the most wasn't just Umbrella—it was the fact that Allen had known about this for so long. She turned to him sharply. "Allen, then why didn't you report all of this to the authorities if you already knew so much?"
Allen simply shook his head, his expression calm but heavy. "There isn't much I can actually report," he replied quietly. "And even if I tried, doing it now would be extremely difficult. This isn't just Umbrella acting alone—there are people within the government involved too. Powerful people."
He looked at Claire seriously. "That's why I need you to be careful with this information. If this secret gets out, it won't just put you in danger. Your brother could get dragged into it as well. Once you're marked, there's no easy way out."
Claire fell silent after that, the weight of his words sinking in. She finally understood why Allen had stayed quiet all this time—and how deep, and dangerous, this conspiracy really was.
Not long after that, Svetlana returned carrying the food she had finished preparing. "Here, eat this, Claire," she said as she handed her a portion, then glanced toward Allen with a faint smile on her face. It was clear that she had overheard their earlier conversation.
"Ah, yes, thank you, Svetlana," Claire said politely as she accepted the food, grateful despite everything that had happened.
Then she glanced at Allen and smiled faintly.
She had clearly overheard part of their conversation earlier. To be honest, she found the situation a little amusing—seeing another woman scold Allen like that was not something she witnessed every day.
...
After some time following the questioning and scolding from Claire, they finally began enjoying their meal. However, out of nowhere, a woman's desperate scream suddenly echoed from outside.
"Help! Someone, please—anyone, help me!" she cried out.
Her body was almost half-naked, her clothes torn as if they had been ripped apart by someone just moments earlier.
As she ran frantically down the street, six men chased after her, laughing loudly.
"Hahaha, it's useless for you to scream," one of the thugs shouted mockingly. "There's no one left who's going to help you here. You'd better just give up and do what we say. Otherwise, we might as well throw you out as bait for the zombies."
"No! Please, stop! Don't do this!" the woman screamed again, her voice shaking with fear and exhaustion as she stumbled forward.
Inside the restaurant, the noise outside immediately caught everyone's attention. Allen, Claire, and Svetlana exchanged glances, their expressions changing as they realized something was wrong. They quickly moved closer to the window and peeked outside to see what was happening.
The moment Allen saw the scene, his expression hardened. His eyes narrowed, and the relaxed atmosphere from earlier vanished completely.
He turned to Claire and Svetlana, his voice calm but carrying a dangerous edge.
"Hmm, you two should continue eating first," Allen said quietly. "I'll take care of what's going on outside."
Allen's hands felt itchy, his anger simmering just beneath the surface the moment he took in the scene before him. Seeing what was happening snapped something inside him.
"Are you sure?" Claire asked as she looked at Allen. She actually wanted to help as well, but Allen simply nodded, making it clear that he didn't need her assistance this time.
"Okay, but please be careful," Claire said worriedly.
"Okay."
Svetlana, on the other hand, only smiled faintly.
"Alright, get them, tiger."
Allen nodded once again, then stepped outside. He moved quickly toward the terrified woman and positioned himself between her and the gang, blocking their path without hesitation.
The gang members stopped and stared at him in surprise.
The leader scoffed, raising his weapon threateningly.
"Hey, get lost," he sneered. "Don't stick your nose into our business, or we'll kill you too. Hahaha."
Allen didn't answer. He didn't threaten them. He simply kept walking forward.
Seeing Allen continue walking toward them as if he intended to interfere in their business naturally irritated them. One of the gang members immediately raised his pistol and fired at Allen.
Bang!...
The bullet missed, not hitting Allen at all. He had simply avoided it by slightly shifting his head to the side.
'Well, now I feel like Wesker,' Allen thought.
The men froze in shock at what they had just seen, but they quickly tried to fire again.
Bang...! Bang...! Bang...!
Allen didn't slow down, effortlessly dodging the bullets being fired at him.
He closed the distance in an instant and punched the gunman straight in the face.
The impact was brutal. Teeth shattered and sprayed across the ground as the man was sent flying several meters backward, his body crashing onto the street lifelessly.
"Okay, who's next? I'm kind of in a hurry, and I don't have time to play around for seven minutes like Wesker did," Allen said calmly, clearly wanting to finish this situation as quickly as possible.
He lunged forward again, grabbing two of the men by their heads and slamming them down into the pavement with overwhelming force. A sickening crack echoed as their skulls fractured against the road, their bodies going limp immediately.
"S-shit! Die, you monster!" one of the remaining thugs shouted in terror.
The last three rushed him with machetes and blunt weapons, screaming wildly as they attacked. But it was pointless. Allen moved with cold precision—swift kicks knocked the weapons out of their hands, metal clattering uselessly across the ground. Before they could react, he picked up one of the dropped batons and struck.
Crack.
One leg snapped.
Crack.
Another scream as a second leg broke.
Crack.
The third man collapsed, all three now writhing on the ground, unable to stand.
"Ahhh! Please! Mercy!" one of them cried, sobbing uncontrollably. "We swear we'll never do this again!"
Allen paused. He dropped the baton onto the ground.
For a brief moment, hope flashed across the faces of the three remaining men.
Then Allen calmly drew his pistol.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
Three shots rang out in quick succession, each bullet piercing a skull with merciless accuracy. The street fell silent as the last of the gang went still, their bodies sprawled across the blood-soaked pavement.
Allen lowered his weapon, his expression unchanged.