After reaching the end of the room and knocking out the lock on the closed door with a simple punch (I'm a perfect burglar—no lock, no problem), I jumped up to the ceiling, away from prying eyes and the main zombie horde. No, they didn't react to me, but why bother weaving through them, suffering and waiting for stronger varieties to attack, when it's much more convenient to stay on the ceiling? I don't know either—like I don't have anything else to do, why make my life harder?
Quickly moving my limbs, I crawled to the place where… some special forces in black were meeting with Nikolai Zinoviev! Now that was a twist! Interesting equipment, too—it seemed to jam thermal imaging, albeit not completely. So what's going on here? Did he betray his own people? He's really going all in, comrade. Though it's hardly my place to lecture him, considering I'd enjoyed watching the police being slaughtered by zombies earlier today and hadn't even thought about intervening—purely for the sake of an experiment. So which of us is the bigger degenerate is still up for debate. Still, this was a rather interesting group. I crept closer and listened to their conversation.
"Don't shoot. He's from U.B.C.S.," said the woman who appeared to be their leader.
And this… where exactly was he from? What did that abbreviation even mean?
"Nikolai Zinoviev, Delta Platoon, Section B," my compatriot introduced himself. Though I doubted that was quite the right way to put it anymore. Heh. Both sides were still pointing their guns at each other, but Nikolai was alone, while the squad he'd stumbled into consisted of six people. Let me count only two in the doorway with my normal vision, but my thermal sight through the walls showed exactly that many dim red silhouettes.
"Are you from the Umbrella Security Service? The bosses must be desperate to send you," Zinoviev said skeptically as he entered and lowered his rifle.
"That's none of your business. What are you doing here?" the woman leading the negotiations snapped. There was plenty of suspicion in her voice, despite her lowered weapon.
"My team was sent here to rescue civilians, but there's no time for that," Nikolai said with a smirk. Was he lying?
"There's chaos in City Hall. I'm just trying to find a safe zone."
"Oh, really?" This time, it was his interlocutor who sounded skeptical.
"Are you scared, you coward?" came a snide comment from another female voice.
"City Hall is full of infected and unidentified military personnel. The latter are clearly looking for something. But that's none of your business, right? So why are you here?"
At those words, I began to scan the surroundings more carefully. And yes—somewhere in the distance there were blurry red silhouettes, but they were, to put it mildly, quite far away. I suspected they'd only just arrived, meaning Nikolai might be the one in charge here. But that was just my guess, and the Umbrella squad had no way of verifying his words.
"Enough." This was a man's voice, and it sounded strange, as if he were speaking through a transmitterr, and the silhouette of the speaker is the hardest to make out. Is he wrapped up in their jumpsuit with his head covered?
"I suggest… eliminating him," Calmly, in short phrases, said this "overcautious person." And he even approached Nikolai from behind. .
Great. Take him out, and I'll have a bite to eat afterward—because, remembering Zinoviev's skills, I wouldn't stand a chance against him in a fair fight.
"That's not our business," their leader said, turning toward the exit.
I pressed myself even closer to the ceiling. It was so dark up there that it was obvious the building had serious lighting problems—just like the rest of the city. And they gathered in front of the stairs. Is it worth mentioning that thedistance between us was considerable: I'd crawled from the second floor up to the ceiling for safety, while they'd come up from below ground level (the sewer).
Just in case, I was ready to flee, though curiosity gnawed at me. Hmm. Maybe I should follow them? At the same time, I could kidnap someone at the right moment. As I'd already noted, I couldn't handle Zinoviev—maybe I could, but it would be fifty-fifty, and I didn't want to risk it. But snatching a mercenary who lagged behind the group and absorbing his knowledge? That would be a gift from heaven! Who knows—maybe I'd finally learn how to use a weapon, even if only in theory.
Let's see. If they don't notice me, I can carefully trail the group and let them clear the way. And they're definitely heading somewhere. All I can think of are Umbrella's laboratories, with their scientists and viruses.
Beautiful, in a word.
"Fine. Let the zombies deal with him. Good luck," the second speaker said as she headed for the exit. Oh—and she was blonde. And what an interesting mask she was wearing, something like a gas mask, only a newer model. It wasn't pulled over her head, but fastened with straps. Although, their commander's mask is something between this and a diving mask, with blue glass covering the entire face.
"Well, good luck with your mission," Zinoviev said, in a tone that sounded more like a curse than a wish.
He'd make a great actor.