Chapter 4: Fighting Crime

Since I joined STARS less than a month ago, my nights have become endless marathons. No sleep can quell my whirling thoughts, as if my mind refuses to surrender to rest.

I have engaged in non-stop training sessions until dawn, desperate to exhaust this devouring energy that animates my being. It is as if I have been imbued with a superhuman force, a power that rumbles within me, ready to explode at any moment.

Some days, I find myself thinking that it is perhaps similar to Naruto's Uzumaki blood, this inexhaustible reserve of endurance that pulses through my veins. But the similarities end there, because what inhabits me is darker, more mysterious.

The streets of the city, even under the dark veil of night, are never quiet. Regular patrols weren't enough to quell the constant whisper of crime creeping in the shadows. That's when I decided to step in, to become the silent guardian of the streets, hunting down criminals who dared to defy the law and sow chaos.

I started with the petty thugs, the cheapskate thieves, and the half-crazed junkies who roamed the dark alleys. But soon, my encounters escalated, turning into brutal confrontations with dealers armed to the teeth.

Bullets whizzed around me, dancing their macabre ballet, but they only spurred me on, fueling the adrenaline that pulsed through my veins.

Some fell under my blows, their bodies lying in the darkness, mute witnesses to my solitary crusade. I stripped them of their meager possessions, their money tainted by crime, before anonymously delivering the seized drugs to the police station.

A shadow among shadows, a faceless vigilante who slips through the streets like a shadow, leaving fear and mystery behind him.

To avoid arousing suspicion, I took care to hide my face behind a dark hood, hiding my identity from those who might seek to discover me. The darkness is my ally, my black coat a second skin that protects me from prying eyes.

Body: ON/OFF

- Strength: 1466 kg / 80 kg

- Speed: 55 m/s / 10m/s

- Resistance: 2300 kg/cm² /2300 kg/cm²

My physical abilities have become monstrous, it doesn't surprise me that Doctor Birkin in the game seems immortal after his infection, if he had had more time to mutate, I don't know if he would really be killed by the explosion on the train. I think I could easily master him in his first form.

I am able to jump up to 7 meters high and when I run at full speed, I can easily overtake cars, I am not yet at the same level as Wesker when it comes to dodging, for now, if I dodge at the maximum of my speed, I break my ankles.

I still have a month before the mansion and I am not yet strong enough to handle the various fully mutated animals. I think I will have to attack the different underworlds in order to continue training while eradicating the scum of this city and earning a little money in the process.

The darkness of the night is my domain, an endless training ground where I can push my body beyond its limits. My being vibrates with an inextinguishable energy, a raw force that only asks to be channeled, to be shaped by effort and discipline.

I did not join the ranks of STARS out of a sense of justice, but rather out of a desire for domination, a thirst to push my body to its limits and extract every ounce of its latent power.

The city streets are my playground, a battlefield where I can meet every challenge with unwavering determination.

Wielding an iron bar as an extension of my will, I charge into the narcotics' lair with feline agility, my heightened senses ready to anticipate my opponents' every move.

Bullets whizz around me, but I dodge them with acrobatic grace, my movements defying gravity as I engage in a deadly dance with death.

The narcotics are helpless against my unleashed fury, my muscles overloaded with power crushing any resistance in their path. In one fluid motion, I use my iron bar as an extension of my will, shattering my enemies' defenses with brutal efficiency.

Every fight is a lesson, an opportunity to hone my skills and sharpen my reflexes. I leap with superhuman agility, dodging enemy fire with disconcerting ease, my movements seeming almost prescient as I dance through bullets with insane grace.

When the chaos finally calms down, the defeated narcotics lie at my feet, silent witnesses to my overwhelming power. I struggle to put the drugs away in the space for the police station while taking the money and anything else I can use.

Mostly simple glocks and lots of ammunition, either loose in boxes or ready-to-use magazines. There is even rifle and submachine gun ammunition, but this one seems to be packaged to be sold, it seems.

The gloomy silence of the night is broken by the crash of firearms as I exit the narcotics' den, victorious but not unscathed. A shotgun blast tears through the air, and I feel the brutal impact in my back, an explosion of pain that threatens to overwhelm me.

The host has suffered 3000 kg/cm 2 per bullet to the back. No modifiers are applied.

I stagger, my body reeling in shock, but I refuse to give in to weakness. My fingers instinctively close around my iron bar, ready to strike back even in my apparent vulnerability. Stars dance before my eyes, but I fight against the darkness that threatens to engulf me.

I feel the warm blood running down my spine, a burning sensation that bites like fire. Shards of metal dig into my flesh, but instead of buckling in the pain, I focus on the healing that pulses within me, a mysterious force that refuses to accept defeat.

Bullet fragments begin to be expelled from my gaping wound, a macabre dance of metal and flesh that speaks to my resilience. The pain turns to a tingling sensation as my skin regenerates.

Meanwhile, the sole survivor of the attack stands frozen, his pale face marked with dread as he contemplates the impossible. Terror grips him as he realizes I am not a mere mortal, but something much darker, much more terrifying.

His urine spills onto the ground in a foul pool, a silent testament to his absolute terror at my apparent resurrection. His shotgun no longer gives him a sense of safety.

my body is still weak but the way i approach him is surely a horrifying sight because i can almost hear the frantic beating of his heart

I take on a voice from beyond the grave as I stand next to him. "Your soul is tainted, you will have to face judgment."

After hearing my words, the man drops his rifle as his eyes widen in pure terror.

He picks up a chain with a cross on it before falling to his knees, clutching it in his hands as he prays with his eyes closed

I feel my body returning to normal so I put my hands around his neck.

He looks into my eyes with a crazy look. I break his neck thus ending tonight's hunt

"Body," I say, irritated by the fact that my raincoat is completely useless.

Body: ON/OFF

- Strength: 1466 kg / 80 kg

- Speed: 55 m/s / 10m/s

- Resistance: 2534kg/cm² /2534 kg/cm²

The next day, I return to my unit without showing anything. Less than half an hour passes before a mission is assigned to us.

The atmosphere in Bravo Team is electric as we prepare for a critical mission. Enrico Marini, our charismatic leader, gives an update on the briefing, detailing the objectives with military precision.

Beside him, Forest Speyer and Richard Aiken, two seasoned veterans, exchange knowing glances, their unmatched tactical skills ready to be deployed at any moment.

Kenneth J. Sullivan and Edward Dewey, our team's pilots, take one last check of our helicopter, their flying skills crucial to the upcoming operation. Rebecca Chambers, our field medic expert, readies her medical equipment with quiet efficiency, ready to intervene if needed.

Kevin Dooley, the team's sniper, adjusts his rifle with intense concentration, his eyes scanning the horizon for any potential threat.

And then there's me, Gerald King, one of this elite unit, keeping my superhuman abilities carefully hidden behind a mask of normalcy.

The mission is simple on the surface: infiltrate the Central Bank of Racoon City, where thieves are holding employees hostage and threatening to blow up the building. As we race toward our objective, I feel a surge of excitement inside me, a feverish anticipation mixed with absolute confidence in my comrades' skills.

We enter the bank in perfect sync, our formation resembling a deadly dance as we advance toward our objective. The robbers are caught off guard, their arrogance quickly turning to panic as they realize the futility of their resistance in the face of our relentless determination.

In the chaos of the battle, I let my superhuman abilities shine through, my monstrous strength and lightning speed allowing me to eliminate threats with disconcerting ease.

But I make sure my colleagues don't notice anything out of the ordinary, hiding my exploits behind calculated gestures and precise movements. One of the robbers says in the direction of the hostages but I manage to deflect his bullet with my knife by reflex before shooting him in the head.

It's the only time my colleagues can see any semblance of abnormality coming from me.

Meanwhile, my comrades-in-arms demonstrate their own expertise, their tactical skills and their impressive composure making the difference in the most critical moments.

Enrico leads the assault with unquestionable authority, while Forest and Richard cover our rear with fearsome efficiency.

The pilots, Kenneth and Edward, have already taken down several thieves who tried to steal our helicopter. Rebecca stays back, ready to intervene in case of injuries, her reassuring presence providing vital support to our team.

As the dust settles and the thieves are subdued, the employees freed from their captivity gather in front of us, their faces marked by relief and gratitude. They express their thanks with emotion, praising us as savior heroes.

Enrico, still humble despite the praise, bows his head slightly in respect. "We are simply doing our duty, ma'am," he replies in a calm but firm tone.

Forest, with his typical humor, adds with a wry smile: "But if you want to buy us a coffee, we won't say no!"

Richard, nodding with a knowing wink, adds: "Or maybe a free meal? We're hungry after this little escapade."

I share a modest smile with my colleagues, grateful to these employees for their gratitude. "It was a well-coordinated team," I say, my words tinged with deep sincerity.

Rebecca, ever the pragmatist, interjects with a slight shrug. "Well, I guess I didn't do much this time," she says modestly, but her benevolent gaze betrays her indispensable contribution to our success.

We exchange a knowing look, acknowledging the teamwork that allowed us to triumph in this perilous mission. Proud but humble, we walk away from the central bank, ready to face the challenges ahead with the same unwavering determination that characterizes the Bravo team.

The best thing about starting with STARS is that apart from the usual paperwork, all the rest of the operation is entrusted to the colleague outside.

I resume my nightly activities after this day but a little more is added tonight.

In front of what seems to be a completely ordinary warehouse according to the various reports that have been made. Except that with the last dealer I killed, it seems that there is an underground passage that is not known to the staff at the back.

Let's check my equipment first. I have 20 Glocks and more than 500 bullets, a shotgun and almost 200 cartridges and my trusty iron bar, what's great is that similar weapons only take up one slot in my inventory and that the bars also stack in a slot. I have a metal bar for melee while avoiding tracing the batons. I think I'm ready.