September 26, 1998, 10:15 PM, Jack's Bar
"Ma'am, here's the beer you ordered." A sweet-voiced waitress, Cindy Lennox, approached Alyssa Ashcroft, setting the mug on her table.
"Thanks." Alyssa nodded without lifting her eyes from her notebook.
CRASH.
The bar's door burst open, slamming against the wall. Eddie staggered inside—not drunk, but like a man struggling to stay on his feet. He was pale, a cold sweat beading on his forehead, his eyes fever-bright and predatory. Every sound in the bar—the clink of glasses, the crude laughter, the jukebox music—was amplified, an assault on his heightened senses.
Jill was the first to rise, running toward him. "Eddie, are you okay? You're white as a sheet." Her voice mixed concern with alarm.
He shook his head, leaning on her for a moment. Her scent, her warmth, was an anchor in a storm of chaotic stimuli. "No. I'm just… starving."
He straightened, his gaze snapping toward the counter. "Miss," he called out, his voice louder than necessary, drawing every eye. "Bring me one portion of every dish on your menu. And put all the beers Jill's friends are drinking on my tab." A taut, almost feral smile crossed his face.
"Hey, Eddie, just in time for dinner, huh? Hahaha." Kevin greeted him with a laugh, though his eyes stayed sharp, analytical.
"Thanks for the round, Doc." Mark raised his glass appreciatively.
Jill gave a faint smile at her man's generosity, but unease gnawed at her. Since that night, he had changed. Stronger, sharper. And at times… more dangerous.
Across the room, Alyssa Ashcroft finally looked up from her notebook. Pain stabbed her temple, sudden and searing. A vision flashed—white corridors, the stench of disinfectant, a computer file labeled CAI, EDDIE. Then it vanished, leaving her gasping. Who is this man? Why do I feel like I know him? Her heart pounded, not with attraction, but with an old, buried fear.
The bar menu was nothing but canned goods and greasy fry-ups, but to Eddie it was a banquet. He devoured it all with near-animal ferocity, not tasting, only fueling. His body converted calories into raw energy with terrifying efficiency. When at last he finished—nearly draining the bar's stock—he leaned back, satisfied at last.
"How do you feel?" Jill whispered, worried.
Eddie smiled at her, more genuine now. "Much better." He rubbed his face. "I tested a new… supplement for research. Unexpected side effect. Accelerated metabolism." Half a truth, but plausible enough to soothe her fears.
"Just… be more careful next time," she murmured, unconvinced.
"Don't worry about him, Jill," Kevin cut in, stepping closer. "I doubt this man will die so easily." He raised his mug. "Almost every Umbrella employee is reckless like him, hahaha."
In a shadowed corner, Chris Redfield drained yet another beer. He had planned to confess his feelings to Jill tonight. Instead, he had watched her rush into another man's arms. A man who now lived with her. The beer tasted bitter. Bitter as his heart.
"Love is endless suffering…" he muttered, eyes red with drink.
Eddie leaned close to Jill, his voice a whisper just for her. "My new research is finished. A health product. I can't tell you what it is—confidentiality agreement." He meant the modified serum. After analyzing Mueller's data, he understood. He didn't need to fight the virus. He needed to feed it. The anti-virus wasn't a cure, but a model. A model for an agent that stabilized—a symbiont to pacify the beast without killing it. He had synthesized it and injected it just hours before. The hunger was proof the fusion had worked. And the rage… the rage was still there, but now it was a dog on a leash, no longer a wild animal. Perfect. And soon, he would make one for her.
"Sir, do you work for Umbrella? Have you also developed specific medicines?"
Alyssa Ashcroft was standing beside their table.
"Yes. Why do you ask, miss?" Eddie replied.
"Simple curiosity. By the way, if you'd ever like to give an interview, you can reach me." She handed him a business card. "I could even run a dedicated feature. Sorry to bother you."
"No problem. If I find the time, I'll call." Eddie accepted the card, his eyes narrowing. Alyssa Ashcroft. Survivor of the Raccoon City Incident. Her Arklay investigation with one Kurt… had ended badly for her partner. A cold, brilliant idea sparked in his mind.
"Alright, break's over. I need to go." He stood abruptly.
Jill didn't ask why. She knew he always had something important waiting. "I'll walk you home." She took his hand, her smile the only warmth in that cold room.
"Wait!" Cindy, the waitress, hurried up. "Sir, you forgot your credit card."
"Uh… thanks." Eddie slipped it into his pocket and left with Jill into the night, leaving behind a bar full of ghosts—and a future on the verge of detonation.