Early the next morning, a sharp shaft of sunlight cut through the window and illuminated the room, dispersing the heavy, charcoal-gray gloom that had settled the previous night. As the light crept across Noah's body and stung his eyes, he reluctantly stirred from his sleep and sat up.
Rubbing the grogginess from his face, his gaze immediately locked onto the clock hanging on the wall. The hour and minute hands were nearly overlapping at the twelve. It was noon. Noah finally rolled out of bed, grabbed a glass of water from the nightstand, and downed it in one parched gulp.
If anyone had asked why he'd slept until midday given his dire circumstances, Noah had his reasons ready.
First, he had spent the previous evening turning the apartment upside down. In a long-forgotten corner, he had finally unearthed a map of Raccoon City. The map clearly marked his current location, as well as critical landmarks like the Raccoon General Hospital and the R.P.D. station. It even noted the general locations of the infamous suburban mansion and the executive training facility—places that struck a chord of genuine fear in anyone who knew the lore.
With this map, Noah could mentally navigate the city's layout. He knew that if Robert Kendo didn't hire him, he'd have to scramble for other part-time work to build a survival fund. Talent meant nothing without resources; Noah understood this fundamental truth all too well. No matter how skilled you were, without money or food, you were just another walking corpse in waiting, destined to be butchered for a scrap of bread.
Second, having been thoroughly beaten down by the corporate grind in his previous life, Noah understood that his body was his only real capital. Only with proper rest would he have the strength to act. Only with strength would his mind remain sharp and his emotions stable. It was the only way to avoid the fatal mistakes born of panic or impulse.
So, despite the clock ticking toward the apocalypse, Noah had prioritized a solid, restorative night's sleep. And if one sleeps well, one must eat well.
He went to the fridge and pulled out two eggs and a cold sandwich. With practiced, efficient movements, he fired up the gas stove, drizzled a bit of olive oil into the pan, and fried the eggs while heating the bread. Nutritional balance was essential to maintaining his vitality. There weren't many eggs left, but Noah's philosophy was simple: as long as there were eggs, he was going to eat them. If he eventually ran into a zombie, he'd need every bit of stamina he could muster to run for his life.
While the eggs sizzled, Noah began drafting his fitness routine. In Resident Evil 2, Leon S. Kennedy had barely survived Raccoon City, and he was a top-tier graduate of the police academy. In later chapters of the saga, Leon became a one-man army capable of slaughtering entire legions, but that was only after five or six years of brutal, classified government training.
Since Noah didn't have a shadowy government agency to whip him into shape, he had to be his own drill sergeant. He committed to exercising every morning and night. Cardio first—stamina was king. Firearms and combat skills would follow as soon as he found the opportunity. He had a six-year window before the RE4 timeline; if he worked his ass off starting now, he might just stand a chance.
Noah ate his breakfast while jotting down these thoughts in a small black notebook he'd found the night before. He had labeled it his "LIVE Notebook." Every scrap of information or strategy deemed useful for survival went into those pages to tip the odds in his favor.
Once fed and hydrated, Noah stretched his limbs and headed for the closet. He stripped off the wrinkled white shirt and dress pants he'd slept in and tossed them aside. From the wardrobe, he pulled out a navy-black short-sleeved shirt, cargo pants with an abundance of pockets, and a pair of high-top combat boots.
The ensemble was a bit heavy for the summer heat, but it was purely functional. The boots were lightweight yet featured thick, rugged soles for sprinting and jumping, while the high-top design provided crucial ankle support during intense movement. The cargo pants were ideal for concealing small essentials—knives, pens, or tools that, while seemingly useless against a horde, were incredibly versatile for bypassing obstacles. Plus, the pockets were the perfect size for his "LIVE Notebook."
Furthermore, in his memory, most Resident Evil protagonists dressed this way. There was no harm in dressing the part. The shirt was mostly for comfort—it was July in the Northern Hemisphere, in a city bordering a desert; he wasn't about to wear a parka.
Fully geared up, Noah grabbed his key. Penniless—literally without a single cent to his name—he stepped out with a determined stride, heading toward Kendo Gun Shop.
"What the hell? Do they take siestas here?"
Noah squinted up at the sun, which was already beginning its descent toward the west. He had finished lunch and walked across town, so it had to be at least 2:00 or 3:00 PM by now. Yet, to his surprise, Kendo's was shuttered. In fact, many of the surrounding retail shops were closed as well.
With nowhere else to go, Noah resorted to squatting in front of the gun shop, baking in the afternoon heat as he waited for a sign of life. While he waited, he couldn't help but vent internally about his former life as a wage slave. Back in the "real world," he never had the luxury of a lunch break. He'd spend his noon hour queuing for food, shoveling it down, and collapsing on a cramped desk for a ten-minute nap before diving back into high-stress, high-intensity work.
But here? In Raccoon City, on the brink of total annihilation, the work culture was surprisingly humane. If it weren't for the impending biohazard, settling down here wouldn't have been half bad. At that moment, the threat of zombies felt almost secondary to the appeal of a decent work-life balance.
After venting his frustration and seeing no movement at the shop, Noah pulled out his "LIVE Notebook" again to analyze the timeline. He needed to get the dates straight.
Today was July 3rd.
The Ecliptic Express incident—the events of Resident Evil 0—wouldn't occur until July 23rd. While that event didn't trigger the citywide outbreak immediately, it was the spark that ignited the entire Resident Evil saga.
Currently, the waste disposal capacity of Umbrella's secret underground labs was reaching a breaking point. B.O.W. research was already leaking into the surrounding environment. The only silver lining was that a massive T-Virus breach hadn't happened yet. There were only scattered, terrifying reports of "cannibal murders" in the Arklay outskirts—incidents Umbrella was working overtime to cover up.
But Noah couldn't afford to be complacent. By the night of the 23rd, the "Queen Leech"—the resurrected James Marcus—would launch its vengeance. If Noah's presence caused even a ripple of change in the timeline, the virus could spread to the city ahead of schedule.
Looking at it that way, July 23rd was his absolute deadline. He had to be ready by then. And then, he had to find a way out.