chapter 3

March 19.

What is the Raccoon City Police Station? This is a three-story building with a clock tower and underground rooms, which was previously an art museum. The main entrance is on one of the busiest streets in the city, Ennerdale, and the entrance to the underground car park opens onto Flower Street.

As I said earlier, there was once a museum here that bought the newly formed RPD. Despite the reconstruction, there were still things from ≪museum≫ times, such as the statue in the main hall. In addition, there were works of art bought by Irons for who knows what sheesh. Because I personally do not believe that the salary of the chief of police allows you to buy this. But it's not worth digging under it right now. But that's not what I'm talking about.

The site is a real labyrinth for those who came here for the first time. On the ground floor there are many long corridors and service rooms, on the second floor there are even more elongated corridors and office space. I think for this reason people are always accompanied, because no one wants to look for visitors later.

What infuriated me most of all was that some doors were opened only with special keys, which were not always in place, thanks to Officer Stevenson. For him, these keys were like talismans, and he carried them with him, fortunately, he did not take them on trips. I'm sure that if someone seizes the site, he will wander here for weeks in ahuy. Until you find all these keys, until you find the right door... You also need not to get lost in the corridors. Horror.

The second floor is the headquarters of the starlists, and in the two weeks that I've been working here (I've adapted to the site itself for almost a week), I've managed to avoid meeting them, even though I knew Lieutenant Branagh was in contact with one of them. But I didn't want to yet. But I was lucky: on the second floor there were vending machines with drinks, coffee and snacks, like we had on the first floor, so there was no point in them leaving their floor.

Ochkosaurus, as I learned with roundabout questions, comes to work through the underground parking lot, arriving by car. This means that it will be difficult to catch it on the street, if only you follow it in your pickup truck. Why go into hand-to-hand combat with him, when a cartridge from a Mosin rifle in the head can calm any mortal? In addition, his death will not be canceled by the events of Raccoon City now, but I am sure that we will all be alerted for such an incident. I'm not sure about future events.

Also, from the very beginning of my studies at the academy, and even after, I learned something new, or improved what I already knew. As I learned from talking to Demetrius during my hiring, I am capable of learning a variety of skills while I am on my mission. They stay with me even after the end of the work, and then I can just study the more intensified ones. That is, being a good shooter now, I can use grace and become, for example, a master of shooting. I saw such a skill. So I tried to learn everything I could get my hands on and improve everything I already knew. Of course, in some matters I had to go at my own risk, however, at the moment I am able to resist poisons, albeit in small quantities.

Now I am a good shooter (although I would not call myself a great shooter), I am good at hand-to-hand combat and I have melee weapons. And let's not remember what it cost me - bruises, scratches and injuries were healed faster, but I don't like pain at all. I was too far from mastery, so I had to torture myself and exhaust myself. It is impossible to become a master in four years, unless you are a genius.

But, unfortunately, there was no one in Raccoon City with whom you could go for a sparring. I felt that the usual workouts and warm-ups, which I do every morning, were no longer enough for me.

I was glad that we had a shooting range in our precinct, where we could shoot in our free time. Even Lieutenant Branagh often came here to take his soul away after talking to Irons. I myself left an extra hour in the shooting range almost every evening, as, for example, today, and felt very good. If he wanted to practice shooting from a rifle or a shotgun, he went out of town.

Leaving the shooting range, I glanced at my watch and exhaled piteously. Today, unfortunately, is the most terrible night during the service of almost any policeman. Night duty. For every officer, night duty is akin to hell. Even here, but for a different reason.

Against the background of other cities, Raccoon City is a fairly calm city. At night, mostly drunks are driving or in the park, annoying people with their screams and songs. Those who had been working in the police for some time were on duty once every three days, but there were cases when newcomers arrived, or someone messed up at work. For example, although I am a sergeant, I was new here, so I immediately thundered into the night. But, still, against the background of the officers, it was easier for me. At least because I was higher in rank, which means I have more freedom, especially when there is no lieutenant.

Officers on night duty, as I said earlier, are divided for the most part into two categories: novices and fellows, and there are ten of them at night. They are divided by about half - six in three cars go on patrol, the other four stay in the station, doing paperwork. Also on shift there are two sergeants who monitor the situation, react first if something happens, and check that no one is sleeping. Today of the sergeants was me and Fred Davidson. Who will definitely fall asleep sitting on a chair, and we will be on duty until six in the morning. Hmm.

- Ay! What the... Cas! What are you doing?!

"I hit a fly," I answer in a calm voice, holding a rolled up newspaper in my hand, with which I hit my partner on the head. "You blended in so well with the area that they mistook you for part of the interior."

"Very funny," Fred said dissatisfied. "You know yourself that night duty is hell." Do nothing. Even the paperwork was completely done!

- Yeah, I already saw it. Well, you can go play cards with the others. Just not with money, like that time. I'll pretend I didn't see anything.

"No, thank you. The last time I picked them up, I lost almost a third of my salary. And I lost part of this money to you!

"Well, I bought you a beer later." And, by the way, it's your own fault if you didn't listen to my warnings.

Fred only snorted in response, sprawling back in his chair. It was mortal boredom. Should we give the officers the task of sorting out the archive? Although no, I think others will do it. I have a couple of especially smart beginners in mind, who, in addition to intelligence, also have a lot of nonsense. So they will work on the archive all night.

And, by the way, there is nothing wrong with the fact that I can give orders and set tasks. Rank system - a sergeant has several officers and detectives under his command (which, in fact, is the same position, the difference is only in a slightly higher salary). And the lieutenant already has several sergeants in command who help him. I planned to get this position and even began correspondence studies for higher education.

But, unfortunately, I will not have time to become a lieutenant. If only I had a couple of years to spare. I already got the position of sergeant, having passed through the lower boundary. Usually, for the title, you need to serve from three to five years, have a good reputation and recommendations. And I had all this, I even served for a minimum of three years. Oh, bad luck.

Meanwhile, the hands on the clock continued to move at the speed of a tired turtle. Fred had been asleep for two hours now, leaning back in his chair, and I... Let's put it this way, as my coach, who taught me knife fighting, told me that whatever a fighter does, the main thing is that he gets sick. So the officers will not be bored. And a small rearrangement in the offices will not hurt.

Carefully, so as not to wake Fred, I came closer to him, and barked loudly:

"Good morning, Lieutenant!"

The sergeant, almost rolling over from his chair, abruptly stood up and straightened up. With a disheveled, sleepy look, he stared at the wall for thirty seconds until he came to his senses and looked around.

"Fuck, Matheson!

"Stop sleeping. I've been listening to your snoring for two hours, you'd better go, please us with work," I say with a nasty grin, handing my partner a notebook with notes. He hypnotized the sheets for a minute until he realized what I had written here.

"Aren't you afraid that the whole department will hate you later?" For the first time in my memory, they want to arrange a reshuffle on the night shift.

"It's better this way than if something happens now, and all our people are asleep. So go, bring the good news of the authorities.

"And you?"

"And I'll be away for a while." I'll be back in half an hour.

Not far from the police station there was a small round-the-clock café where you could have a snack or take away food. And at night, most often the visitors were the police. That's why I went there to feed our entire small brigade, even if only sandwiches. But delicious.

In half an hour, I managed to do it. The eyes of the newcomers really did not burn with too much love for me, but they were instantly filled with gratitude when everyone received a late snack. Everyone went for drinks on their own, since the machines were nearby.

I went to the main hall, where my favorite machine gun stood. His favorite because he made very tasty coffee beans with milk. I don't know whether to thank the world for this, which makes me so happy, or the local care for the police, but here I can always treat myself to hot coffee. And if you also smoke now, it will be generally cool.

"God bless the man who came up with such a wonderful automaton!" I said, after standing for three minutes with my eyes closed, enjoying the drink.

"Amen," a voice came from behind me.

Hearing the stranger, I turned sharply, almost dropping the cup, and my other hand was near the holster, preparing to pull out my pistol. A lot of thoughts ran through my head, but I calmed down quickly. The girl, despite her relaxed posture, had a bearing like that of soldiers or special forces from SWAT. And judging by the slightly tired and sleepy appearance, star dealers are also people who can evade work. Especially at night.

"I apologize for scaring you," the girl began to apologize, but I interrupted her.

"It's not that I'm scared, but when a fighter from an elite star squad suddenly appears behind you, it's strange to say the least." Especially if in all two weeks of work I have not yet crossed paths with any of you.

Smiling slightly, he stepped aside, allowing the girl to go to the machine to also take a drink.

— How did you know that I was from S.T.A.R.S, if you've never seen us? What if I turned out to be a terrorist?

The girl clearly wanted to wake up, so she took herself a very strong coffee, without any additives. I shuddered. The last time I tried to drink this, I had to drink milk afterwards. I even remembered my worst experience with coffee - my mother made coffee with salt in a Turk, but I decided to drink it. I didn't like it and could have stopped, but I'm a fool and only made it worse - I added sugar. A lot of sugar. Try to imagine that UNFORGETTABLE TASTE! The coffee ended up going down the sink.

- Well, I didn't see you among the policemen and newcomers, but you somehow don't look like a person with schizophrenia and a God complex. Because only such a person would want to single-handedly attack a precinct that, in addition to regular police, also contains elite fighters. Besides, there is another reason why I immediately knew who you were.

- M? And what is the reason? — the girl asked, taking a sip of coffee. God, she doesn't like it herself, even if she added some sugar. But the facial expression that flashed for just a couple of seconds was familiar to me. I've had this happen when after drinking coffee I want to smoke.

- I am the owner of the third eye! I can see what no one else can see! — I began adding pathos to my voice, noting that my interlocutor's eyes almost popped out of her head. But I couldn't maintain this level of pathos for long. "I was able to see the patch on your shoulder, although two ordinary eyes would have been enough for me to see it."