"We need to leave," Arlo said, voice hoarse but steady. "Let's find your friend Carlos. Get that cure. Now."
Jill nodded, standing up without argument this time. "You're right. We've wasted enough time."
Together with Link, they moved toward the plaza's outer gate—its chain-locked mechanism barely holding the rusted steel barrier up. Every step echoed with exhaustion, but also urgency. Arlo's Danger Intuition was still humming—not screaming, but enough to keep his hand near his weapon.
Then, like every B-movie horror trope Arlo had ever mocked, the "dead" thing behind them twitched.Jill noticed it first. "Wait—"
Too late. Nemesis surged to life with a monstrous roar and launched itself forward. Its mangled body dragged behind like a broken puppet on strings. One arm missing. Face caved in. And still, it grabbed Jill mid-sentence.
She didn't scream—more like a strained grunt as the claws locked around her waist. Arlo spun and fired his shotgun at the exposed arm.
BOOOMMM!!!
Shell hit. Flesh tore. But it didn't release her.
Boom—again. Click.
Empty.
"Shit!" Arlo hissed, yanking at the pump in frustration.
I thought we did enough damage to Nemesis until it recover and by that we should have been long gone. Arlo speaking in his mind.
Jill twisted in the monster's grip, saw a chain holding the sliding gate above. She raised her pistol and fired.
Bang. The shot rang out like a divine interruption.
The chain snapped. The heavy gate dropped like a guillotine, cleaving through Nemesis's remaining arm with a grotesque squelch.
It howled, releasing Jill—barely—before its tendril launched again.
Arlo didn't hesitate. He shoved Jill backward. He took the hit.
The tentacle slammed into his back like a truck made of blades. It knocked him forward, vision blurring. Alarms screamed in his HUD. Nemesis wasn't done—it slashed again, this time catching Jill's arm.She dropped with a gasp, convulsing immediately. Her skin paled, and black veins spread like cracked glass under her skin.
Arlo's stomach sank."Infection…" he muttered. "Fast-acting…"
Then his HUD chimed again.
[Warning: You have been infected. Immediately administer a cure}
[Status Effect Applied: T-Virus Contamination (4%) – Progressing]
"Fuck," Arlo muttered, stumbling. His head swam. He felt it—burning in his bloodstream like battery acid. His limbs got heavier. Everything tilted sideways.
"I should've… I should've been more careful…" He reached for his inventory—tapped at his screen, slurring the command mentally. "Inventory... Cure..."
One vial. Bright blue. [Cure Disease Potion ].
Arlo popped the cap and downed it in one motion. His throat burned. His vision pulsed once—then blackness overtook him before he could even confirm it worked.He hit the ground, face-first.
Link skidded to a stop next to Arlo's body. His eyes widened, ears flattening. The Rockruff nudged Arlo with his nose, then pawed his chest.
No response.
Link sat down beside him. Still. Guarded. Growling low.
A minute passed.Then came footsteps.From the shadows near the destroyed gate, a figure stepped forward—clean boots, clean coat. Too clean for this place.
Nikolai Zinoviev.
He looked at Jill first, unconscious and twitching from the infection, then at Arlo. Then his eyes landed on Link.
"Well, well..." he said with a smirk. "You've done me a big favor, Miss Valentine."
Link growled, baring his teeth.
Nikolai's gaze moved to Arlo's unconscious form. "And you... you're interesting. Very interesting."
The Rockruff stepped forward, baring fangs.
Nikolai paused, then simply chuckled. "Loyal, aren't you?" He turned away and walked into the smoke, footsteps calm. "Don't worry, little soldier. I'm not here to kill you. Not yet."
Link didn't move until he was gone. Then he returned to Arlo's side and curled beside him. Eyes wide. Vigilant. Guarding his trainer from the horrors of the night as Raccoon City closed in again.
...
[Clock Tower Plaza: Outside Gate]
Roughly half a day later, Arlo stirred. His vision came back in stages—white blur, pulsing light, then a familiar blue-and-brown shape bouncing in front of him. He groaned, throat dry as sandpaper. "Ugh… What hit me?"
Before he could sit up fully, Link launched into his face and started licking him like a rapid-fire healing spell.
"Alright, alright—I'm alive, damn it," Arlo muttered, a weak smirk cracking through the pain. He rubbed Link's head. "You stayed, huh? Good boy. Thanks for guarding me."
Link barked once, then wagged his tail with enough speed to register as a minor breeze. But Arlo noticed Link stomach which is growling."You're hungry." He asked
He reached into his inventory and pulled out a handful of Pokéblocks—compact, high-calorie treats flavored for Link's preferences. Link practically inhaled them the second they hit his paw."Yeah, same," Arlo said, pulling out his own dry ration pack. The bar was tasteless and the texture was chalk, but it restored enough energy to push the fog from his head.
He leaned against a wall and exhaled, taking stock. His body still ached, but the infection had cleared. Cure Disease Potion had worked. Perfectly the only problem it was the last.Then his stomach twisted as his eyes landed on Jill.She was still unconscious, breathing shallowly. But Arlo didn't need a med scanner to know what was happening. The black lines under her skin had spread. Her temperature was rising. The virus was gaining ground fast.
"Shit." Arlo cursed
He moved quickly. His left arm—partially bruised from the earlier hit—wrapped around Jill's legs. His right hand grasped her opposite arm and pulled her carefully into a carry.
"Link," he said, nodding forward. "Scout ahead. Bark once if it's clear, twice if someone's coming."
Link responded with a quick, sharp bark and took off, nose low, ears up.Arlo adjusted Jill's weight and began walking. Every few feet, he winced—shoulder bruised, legs aching—but he kept moving.
We're not dying here. Not like this. he thought
A few blocks down, Link barked twice—short, alert.Arlo immediately set Jill down against a wall, checking his cane and pistol.But instead of more undead, Carlos emerged from a nearby alley, rifle at the ready.
Carlos froze. "Jill?"
Arlo exhaled. "You're a damn good sight."
Carlos rushed forward, spotting Jill immediately. "What happened to her?"
"She got grabbed. Tentacle straight to the arm. She's infected," Arlo said flatly. "It's progressing fast."
Carlos clenched his jaw. "She needs the cure. Or she's not coming back.""Exactly." Arlo said
Carlos nodded, already snapping into action. "I'll take you to Spencer Memorial Hospital. It's in the midwest quadrant of the city. We were holding it down, barely."
Carlos pulled his radio. "Tyrell, do you copy?"
The static crackled for a second before a reply came. "Copy. What's going on?"
"Jill's been infected," Carlos said, voice clipped and urgent. "I'm taking her to the hospital. Maybe Dr. Bard can save her."
Tyrell didn't even hesitate. "Alright. Meet you there. Stay off the main roads. It's hell out there."
Carlos turned to Arlo. "Follow me. I know a safer route."
Arlo hoisted Jill back up, nodded. "Lead the way."
Link padded behind Carlos, occasionally darting off to sniff corners and scan alleys.
Carlos led them through abandoned side streets, broken storefronts, and collapsed intersections—avoiding every place that even looked like it could hold a corpse. Zombies roamed a few blocks over, but they didn't cross paths.Arlo's arms burned from carrying Jill. His coat was soaked in sweat, but he didn't slow down. Every time he felt her shift in his grip, he knew the clock was ticking.
Carlos looked back once. "You good?"
"Define good," Arlo muttered.
Carlos cracked a grin despite himself. "You've got the same energy as Jill. That's probably a problem."
...
They finally reached the shadow of the hospital. Spencer Memorial loomed like every survival horror medical facility ever—broken windows, flickering floodlights, and barricades at every entrance.
Carlos ran ahead, waving them toward the side.
"Here—rear access door. Tyrell should be prepping inside." Carlos said
Arlo nodded. "Link, stay close. Eyes up."
The Rockruff moved into formation at Arlo's flank, watching the shadows.
Carlos swiped his access card and opened the emergency door. Arlo carried Jill inside, her breathing now shallow and twitchy. Time was nearly up.
"Dr. Bard better be here," Arlo muttered.
Carlos didn't respond. He was already shouting for Tyrell. The door slammed shut behind them. But Arlo knew—the real fight was just beginning
***
[Spencer Memorial Hospital: 1st Floor]
Carlos led Arlo through a series of busted corridors, their boots echoing against cracked tiles. Fluorescent lights above flickered like they were short-circuiting under pressure. The air was heavy with antiseptic and mildew. A single generator hummed somewhere in the background—barely holding it all together.
"This way," Carlos said. "There's a makeshift sickroom it should be safe enough. We'll put her there."
Arlo followed without question, still carrying Jill. She shifted once in his arms—a faint movement, barely conscious.
Carlos helped open the door to a dim, private room. It had one bed, a couple of bloodied sheets, and a defunct heart monitor. Clean enough for now.
Arlo and Carlos carefully laid her onto the mattress. Jill groaned softly, black veins still crawling over her arm.
Carlos leaned down, brushing a bit of hair from her forehead. "Fight it, Jill," he said, voice low but firm. "I'm gonna get you that vaccine."
Arlo took a step back and turned to Carlos. "So what's the next move?" Carlos stood straight. His face was already steel. "We find Dr. Bard. He's the only one who knows where the vaccine is."
"Then lead the way," Arlo said, already kneeling beside Link. He looked the Rockruff in the eyes. "Guard her. You see anything move, bark. Twice if it's a problem."
Link gave a single, confident bark, then moved to the foot of the bed and sat like a trained sentry.Carlos opened the door. "Come on. Time's bleeding out." They stepped back into the main hallway.
Carlos grabbed his radio. "Tyrell, where's Bard now?"
The radio crackled. "Gotta be the lab in the back. Stay frosty. I'm on my way."
"Copy," Carlos said. "I'll go on ahead." He glanced at Arlo. "Let's move."
They exited the sickroom and moved through the hospital lobby—overturned chairs, shattered signage, dried blood like graffiti. Arlo scanned each corner with his cane drawn, ready for anything that hissed or moaned.
As they entered the reception area, Carlos looked at him. "Alright, I gotta ask—how the hell do you have a dog that hasn't turned into a flesh-eating gremlin?"
Arlo didn't miss a step. "Link's smarter than most dogs. He can distinguish infected from non-infected."
Carlos raised an eyebrow. "Could've used that skill a while ago."
They didn't get another word in before four corpses suddenly stood—snapping upright like puppets with cut strings reattached.
"Contact!" Arlo shouted.
Two were close.
Arlo raised his Pit Viper and fired. Two headshots. Precise. Dead center.
[EXP Gained: +200]
Carlos picked off the others near the desk with clean rifle bursts. Headshot. Headshot. Quiet.The air went still again, save for the stench of death.
Carlos reloaded and exhaled. "Not bad."
"I don't miss," Arlo said flatly, already walking toward the next corridor.
They followed signs leading toward "Laboratory Reception." Main corridor turned right, then split into a T-shaped hall. So far, it was quiet—too quiet. Arlo's HUD stayed flat, but that never meant much in Raccoon City.
Broken windows lined the hallway. A bloodied gurney sat tipped on its side. A wheelchair spun gently like it had been moved moments ago.
"I don't like this," Carlos said.
"Welcome to the club," Arlo muttered.
As they approached a corner, Arlo spotted something glinting on the ground—half-buried under broken glass near a planter in the northwest courtyard.He walked over, nudged it with his foot. A brass key, old but still intact.
Carlos turned. "What is it?"
"Could be important." Arlo picked it up and slipped it into his coat pocket. "In this place, every locked door hides something—usually worse than the door."
...
They arrived at the reinforced door labeled RESEARCH LABORATORY—cold steel, blood-streaked, with a control panel pulsing red.
Carlos stepped forward and shouted, "Dr. Bard! Are you there? I'm here to rescue you! Open the door!"
The panel crackled, then a calm, artificial female voice answered from a speaker embedded in the wall: "No voice match found."
Carlos frowned. "Voice match?" He looked at Arlo like the system had personally insulted him. "What kind of sci-fi bullshit is this?"
Arlo leaned closer to the terminal, eyeing the panel like he was mentally dismantling it. "It's voice recognition authentication. The system only opens if it hears Bard's specific vocal pattern—tone, frequency, even cadence."
Carlos stared at the panel. "So unless we get his voice, this place stays locked?"
"Pretty much," Arlo replied. "We need a recording of Bard saying the right access phrase. Probably something embedded in his official logs or messages."
Carlos cursed under his breath. "Fuck. And we don't even know where Bard is alive."
Arlo rubbed his temple, then his eyes narrowed. "Hold up. If Bard worked here, there has to be audio somewhere. A log. A message. Something with his voice on it. If we find the right recording, we could spoof the system."
Carlos looked at him, light bulb flickering. "You're saying find a voice recording, play it back, and trick the door?"
"Exactly." Arlo pointed.
Arlo moved to the reception desk nearby—papers scattered, terminals shattered. He rifled through the drawers until he pulled out a half-working tape player."No tape," he muttered.
Carlos kicked the desk. "Great. So now we're hunting tapes."
Arlo clicked the eject button twice, just in case. "Looks like it."
Carlos sighed. "Alright. How do we want to do this?"
"We split," Arlo said quickly. "Cover more ground. I'll check the second floor—admin offices, patient records, anything tied to Bard's communications. You stay on this floor, check treatment rooms, med stations. If you find a tape, bring it back here."
Carlos nodded. "We regroup here—Lab Reception. Ten minutes."
Arlo agreed. "And if one of us doesn't come back?"
Carlos looked him dead in the eye. "Then one of us is dead."
Arlo didn't flinch. "Right. Let's not let that happen." He turned and retraced their path, back to the corridor. Past the broken gurney, past the spinning wheelchair. His footsteps echoed faintly as he moved toward the stairwell at the hall's end—dim red lights illuminating each flight like a warning label.