chapter 5

April 14.

It's been a little over a month since I returned to Raccoon City. I got into the working groove quite easily and already in early April four officers and two detectives were finally assigned to me. Now I have to (morally) kick them from time to time so that they are attentive, so that they do not mess up. Because if they make trouble, then the lieutenant will hold me accountable. Okay, Lieutenant, but if I have to listen to Irons, they'll all regret it. I have never complained about fantasy.

Nothing serious has happened yet. Once a week, some drunk will brawl especially hard, and teenagers will break windows somewhere or scratch a car. Once, however, there was an accident - the driver fell asleep at the wheel and crashed into a car standing by the side of the road. It was lucky that except for a few abrasions and fright, the culprit himself was not injured.

From time to time, I talked to Valentine. I can't say that every day, but two or three times a week we crossed paths, especially if the duty of her squad fell on my shift. With her help, I also met her partners, Barry Burton and Chris Redfield. Hearing the name of the second, I could hardly keep my stony face from happening. Redfield. This name appears in my assignment, and I had to ask Chris about him and his family little by little. Claire is his sister, as I found out, and she is now studying. So, for some reason, she would have to come to the city. How complicated everything is.

But, I must say, Chris and I got along quite well in communication. And also, I found a sparring partner in him. And it's stupid, to be honest, not to train with the fighters of the elite squad. But ...

"Damn it!"

"Oh, damn! I'm sorry, Cas, I forget sometimes.

"Redfield... I understand everything, but go to... your own corner. Why do normal people, when they get tired, hit slower and weaker, and you hit harder?

"Are you alive?" This is the voice of Valentine, who was watching my flight to the mat.

In response, I raised my fist with a raised thumb. Chris came up and stretched out his hand and helped me to my feet, although my head was spinning a little.

In sparring, I managed to get along with both Redfield and Valentine. I'd rather meet with the first one less often, or at least not have ten fights at a time. With Jill, we somehow get five on five. Our speed is about the same, but it is more agile, but I, as it turned out, have better reaction and a little more strength - thanks to the hand-to-hand combat coaches. Due to her dexterity, the girl sometimes won.

Redfield is stronger than me, but he's not as fast as Valentine. However, if it hits me, especially in the ribs... It's scary to imagine if you fight without gloves and protection. In general, the score with Chris - three to seven is not in my favor.

"You know, for an ordinary policeman, you hold yourself well," the co-pilot of the star squad praised, handing me a bottle of water. "Do they really teach you so well at the academy?"

"No, rather, I grabbed everything in order to train myself as best as possible. Hand-to-hand combat, possession of cold weapons. If it only helped, in the end, I still get hit in the ribs. It's good that it's not on the kidneys. Admit it, what do you eat like this?

In response, the guy looked guiltily at me, holding on to my ribs, although the pain was gradually relieving. After all, I did the right thing by choosing the health skill first. Thanks to it, I recover quickly.

Three of my wins came out just because of my skill. I don't know if he's pumped up or what, but if Chris and I fight for a long time, my stamina starts to recover. But it's a good thing I didn't fight Burton, that bull might knock me down so badly that they'll put me back together piece by piece.

I enjoyed spending time with them. Probably, we cannot be called friends, after all, we know each other for nothing, but we are quite comrades. At a level where you can tease each other. It's even strange that elite fighters communicate and train with such a simple policeman, but I'm very happy. Probably, the fact that we are about the same age also played a role.

"But you're making progress," Valentine said with a slight laugh, throwing towels at Redfield and me. "After you, Chris is now trying to think more often during training, inventing something new.

"If Chris starts thinking too, then my score of three to seven will turn into zero to ten. It will be a blow to my pride.

"Hey!" Why do I think you're making me look like a jerk? Redfield exclaimed, to which Valentine and I exchanged glances.

- It seems to you, Chris. But, just in case, cross yourself. They say that when it seems like it, you need to be baptized," he grinned, going to the shower.

No, after all, they built an excellent hall here, or rather, it was rebuilt from what was there. As a new project to improve people's health, the mayor allocated money for the construction of new sports facilities and the reconstruction of old ones. How much has changed here during my absence.

My body still ached a little from the sparring, but I had to admit, it felt good. Finally, there were people with whom you can not only talk, but also warm up, and at the same time let off steam. Still, the work of a police officer is quite nerve-wracking. And I think that another couple of months without such a load, and the muscles would begin to rust, which, taking into account the future hell, could become a big problem.

After the release, you could calmly go about your business. For example, go home and cook the spicy baked chicken that I have been dreaming about for a week and which has been marinating in the refrigerator for the second day. You can also bake potatoes with vegetables. Yum. I think I'm really hungry after sparring.

What? I like to cook! I ate fast food only on rare occasions, but I simply loved to eat tasty food. Besides, I lived alone and had to cook for myself, so I learned. And if I only ate pasta and omelettes, I wouldn't even live to see twenty-four. The only problem is the rice. I struggled with this product until I learned how to cook it without it boiling over and burning. And even now, when cooking, my eye twitches nervously.

When I got home, I started preparing dinner. After about an hour of manipulation, all the ingredients went to the oven. While everything was being prepared, I took a can of beer from the refrigerator and, lighting a cigarette, sat down on the sofa, opposite which my small hobby was lying on a small table. A TV was working in the background, which added to the atmosphere of tranquility. Oh, there would have been programs from my first life, but, unfortunately, here I faced two big problems. First of all, it's now ninety-eight, and almost all of my programs haven't even been released yet. And secondly, most of those programs were from a completely different country that does not exist in this world. Now, this is the SDG - Union of Friendly States. Although it is more often called simply the Commonwealth.

As for my hobby... Well, I can't say that this is something large-scale, just a small thing that helps you relax. Roughly speaking, now I was trying to make a chain mail shirt out of aluminum wire again.

And let's figure it out right away on the shore. Yes, it sounds beautiful - a chain mail shirt. But in fact, these are just rings of aluminum woven together, and my first attempts were so terrible that I am afraid to remember, and two of my fingers could go through each ring. Now I have already learned how to make these rings much smaller, but still it gave almost no protection. And I'm not a blacksmith, to be honest.

This chain mail will not save me from a shot or a direct stab with a knife, but it will protect me from a cutting blow or if the opponent is not super strong. And it will soften the blow slightly in close combat. This time I planned to make chain mail in segments and gradually adjust the size. It will only be necessary to sew it under the shirt and cover it with fabric so that it does not scratch the skin. Although I understand that this is mostly a pointless matter, at least there is something to occupy my hands and thoughts.

Besides, while I was doing this and waiting for dinner to be prepared, I was able to think about something. To be more precise, about what is happening around me at the moment. For example, about the small interest of several people from the S.T.A.R.S. squad.

I have already said it more than once and will not get tired of repeating it - I was a domestic person. I was not a hikikomori, or just a hickey, for I was not isolated from the world around me. I just liked calmness better. So I was not a completely naïve person and roughly guessed the reasons for this interest.

I don't think that part of the elite squad paid attention to me just like that. Simple communication, perhaps, I would also understand, but sparring or going to the shooting range is another level. Something looks like a test. I may be wrong, but I am eighty percent sure that in the future it is possible to recruit into the detachment.

But if this is so, then who approved this check? The star soldiers have two squads and, accordingly, two captains. Personally, I am more inclined to Captain Enrico Marini, since I have spoken to him at least a couple of times, albeit in passing. I personally bumped into Wesker only once, in an underground parking lot, and I didn't like him very much.

I was so lost in my thoughts that the ringing of the alarm clock made me shudder in fright, which made my heart beat faster. In his hands was an almost finished part of the chain mail, which would have to protect the stomach. Huh. Every time it turns out better and better.

All right. Stop going into yourself so much. Now I need to eat, and then, in the evening, go to the store. I need to buy some small things, and I'll need a new frying pan. The old one, unfortunately, has already left this sinful world. But to be honest, it would be better if I stayed at home.

***

April 16. Raccoon City Police Station. Lieutenant's office.

"Matheson." Explain to me, what the hell are you doing here?!

"I'm working, Lieutenant."

"Are you completely crazy?!" Not only did you run away from the hospital, but you also came to work! In your condition!

"I feel well enough to serve, sir.

"Yes?" Then raise your hand up.

Following the request, I raised my right hand up.

"No, Matheson. Left.

Diligently controlling my facial expressions, I began to raise my left hand, but almost immediately I shuddered sharply from the pain in my shoulder, unable to hold back a quiet hiss. The lieutenant was terribly angry at my trick, and in his eyes there was concern for my health. Although I must admit that now my shoulder really did not hurt so much, against the background of how it was two days ago. Iron health, of course, is not regeneration, but it is also a very good skill. I think a maximum of two weeks, and everything will get better.

But the reason for my condition was an evening walk to the store. The devil pulled me to go for a frying pan just then, it was not so urgent. The hike ended in a hospital. In addition, I had to throw away my windbreaker and T-shirt.

Having collected some products, I already began to choose a frying pan, and for a long time I could not choose between two, holding them in my hands. Both were inexpensive, the only difference was in size. On the one hand, I live alone, there are no guests, I don't need a big one. On the other hand, sometimes you want to cook more so that you don't have to do anything later. My thoughts were interrupted by loud screams, and when I turned my gaze towards the noise, I cursed in my mind.

"Everyone stop!" Hold still! Or I'll blow her brains out! A young man of about twenty shouted, holding the girl hostage and, firing a shot in the air, put a pistol to her temple.

Judging by the wide open running eyes, rapid breathing, and by the way the guy was inadequate, thin and clenched his teeth, as if from withdrawal, a drug addict came to the store. However, despite the withdrawal, he tried to control the entire store so that no one moved. At the same time, he demanded that the seller rake out the entire cash register.

I didn't like the situation very much. During my service, I met such people more than once and knew for sure that the girl would be in danger, even if he received money. Trying to negotiate with such people is a very difficult, almost impossible task. He can shoot at any time. In addition, I am sure that the station has already been called, and the cars on duty will be here within a couple of minutes. Negotiations will begin, and the chances of a good outcome will be even lower.