Before I leave the table, Chris grabs my arm, stopping me."If you want to join the unit, you have to take on a little challenge with the guys. Sit down—we're having an arm-wrestling tournament," he says, as almost all the men in the cafeteria gather around the table.
I notice Jill walking away, giving me a small, knowing smile.
"Let the show begin," I say, taking a seat and placing my right arm on the table. It's become muscular, but still lean.The first to face me is Chris himself. As I grip his hand, I feel a slight push from him. I keep my smile to myself, playing along without using too much strength.The same pattern follows with Barry, Joseph, Brad, Forest, Kenneth, Edward, and Kevin, until finally Wesker steps forward for the last round.
"I hope you'll be able to join STARS—if only for your physical performance," he says, taking his seat.
"I hope so," I answer confidently, though I know he carries the Progenitor Virus and hasn't yet merged with the T-Virus, which makes his real strength uncertain.
Barry gives the starting signal. A powerful surge comes from Wesker, almost bending my arm instantly. I hold back my strength, but I feel a sharp pain building. We're nearly equal, though I detect a trace of amusement in this intense match. After a few minutes of struggle, I finally let him win.I hide the pain by massaging my arm slightly, realizing that even without winning, I've earned the team's respect.
The host has suffered 150 kg of muscular pressure due to prolonged exertion.
"I've never seen anyone last that long against you, Captain," Chris says, as Wesker looks at me with a smile.
"Put some ice on it. Your test will be moved up an hour to let you rest. I really want you to join the unit. Jill told me you're excellent in hand-to-hand combat, so we'll include that, along with rapid fire and accuracy. See you later, Gerald," he says before leaving with most of the team. Rebecca and Chris stay with me to get some ice.
Since he's dropped his prejudices, Chris has become a lot friendlier. While we head to the infirmary, I feel my arm slowly healing. I take the ice and press it against my arm to play along. After 25 minutes, I tell them I'm fine, and we head out.They take me to another training room—this one covered with tatami mats and surrounded by mirrors.
"I see you're doing better, Gerald," Wesker says as he enters the room, followed by other STARS members."You'll do a few basic sparring matches so we can assess your technique. The fight ends if one of you successfully restrains the other or forces them to yield. You'll start with Chris. If I may offer advice—Chris is the aggressive type."
Chris and I move to the center of the room. I can feel him ready to pounce.Barry gives the signal, and Chris charges with a flurry of direct punches. I dodge easily, circling around him. As he throws an elbow, I duck under it and sweep his legs hard enough to bring him down. I trap his right arm, pin it behind his back, and catch his free hand, locking him down.He struggles briefly but taps out when he sees the hold won't break.
"Now that we've seen you can subdue a suspect, let's test your reflexes against multiple opponents. This time, we'll do things differently," Wesker continues."Chris, Barry, Joseph, Jill—and you too, Gerald—put some powder on your fists. Your goal is to leave a mark on your opponent's temple. You don't need to hit hard; as long as the paint shows contact, it counts. Begin."
Each of us gets a different color: I have blue, Joseph green, Jill red, Chris white, and Barry black.
Barely on the mat, the fight begins. Chris charges first, Joseph right behind. Jill and Barry flank me.I fake a punch to Chris' face, which he blocks with both arms, then tap his temple with my other fist. I immediately pivot, dodging Jill's strike and lunging toward Joseph. Barry hits me hard in the ribs, but I push through, feint left, then slip right to tap Joseph's temple.
The host suffered 125 kg/cm² from Barry Burton. No modifier applied for torso impact.
That exchange didn't even last ten seconds, yet my heart is racing with excitement.
"Chris, Joseph, out. Richard and Kenneth, get ready," Wesker announces, just as Barry rushes me again.I block his headshot with my arm, dodge Jill's attack from behind, then kick toward Barry's stomach to throw him off. He's launched a meter back.
Jill lunges at me just as the new opponents take position. But then, I feel a searing pain in my kidney as I hit the ground, clutching my side.The room falls silent. I spot Barry in the back, giving me a strange look.
The host suffered 210 kg/cm² from Barry Burton. No modifier applied for torso impact.
"BARRY, what the hell was that?" Wesker demands.
"You just have to ask him, Chief. That kick of his nearly broke my ribs. This is just a training session—if he can't control his strength, he's dangerous."
"Barry, show me where he hit you," Wesker says. Barry complies, lifting his jacket with a grimace. A large black-purple bruise marks the spot I kicked.
I quickly approach him, leaning forward."Sorry, Barry. I wasn't careful enough."
"It's okay this time. I hit you dirty too—and I don't like that. Be more careful next time. Also, you owe me lunch," he says with a smile despite the pain.
"No problem. I'm looking forward to it," I reply, bumping fists with him.
"Rebecca, take Barry to the infirmary and check that nothing's broken. Gerald, you made a mistake—don't let it happen again, especially when training with teammates. That said, based on what you've shown today, you're fit to join STARS. We'll head to the weight room to record your stats, then to the basement for a shooting evaluation."
After the formalities, I officially join the Raccoon City police squad.I only displayed the physical capabilities of a well-trained soldier. Luckily for me, aiming works just like in the game—I even get a reticle when holding a weapon. I don't need to factor in external elements like wind or recoil.
I also met the infamous Chief Irons during my induction. Barry's doing better—nothing broken. Still, I need to work on controlling my strength. Otherwise, once I get stronger, it's going to be a problem.
The system has detected that the host would like a limiter for strength in non-combat situations. Is this correct?
The system can provide such a limiter. The host can activate/deactivate it via mental command: ON/OFF.
In the case of life-threatening combat, it will automatically switch to ON.
Training will not trigger ON mode.
A new tab has been added to the [Body] window.
Body: ON/OFF
Strength: 150 kg / 80 kg
Speed: 13.4 m/s / 10 m/s
Resistance: 200 kg/cm² / 200 kg/cm²
I head to the shower with the rest of the team.
Conversations flow—jokes, anecdotes from the day. As we undress to wash up, I draw several curious glances from my teammates.
Then, surprise hits the room like a shockwave.
Chris, usually quiet, lets out, "Wow, man… are you hiding treasure in there?"Joseph's eyes nearly pop out. "That's gotta be a genetic mutation or something!"
I look at him, puzzled. How would you know that?
Brad, normally sarcastic, is speechless—which says a lot.
Forest grins. "Surprised you don't need a wheelbarrow for that thing, buddy!"
"Let's not exaggerate," I laugh.
Edward, the pragmatic one, exclaims, "Damn, man. You hit the genetic jackpot!"
Kevin just shakes his head, visibly impressed. "You've got a secret weapon, Gerald!"
As the comments fly, I laugh with them, quickly changing the subject. Still, as expected, the conversation drifts toward romantic or sexual conquests. I stay quiet—I know the women's locker room is just across the wall.
After this little interlude, I reflect on the system's flexibility. It's not rigid—it adapts.
Perfect. Everything's reduced except for defense. Beautiful.OFF, I think, before heading home in clean clothes, my new uniform packed in my bag.
Might as well get back into a healthy training routine. Once home, I start sorting through the equipment I have. A few military knives from my service days—poorly maintained, thanks to old Gerald. No firearms, except for the Glock I took from the robber earlier.
Barry said Jill would take me to Kendo tomorrow to get a handgun, courtesy of the police department.At least I found a watch—I won't lose track of time anymore.
It's already 8 p.m., but I don't feel tired. I start a round of push-ups, sit-ups, then squats—repeating the circuit. I go through five cycles of 100 reps each, and I'm still not tired.
Time to stop and get ready for tomorrow.
I wake up early, not because of sleep—I didn't even fall asleep.I need to be at the station by 7 a.m. I hear Jill's alarm through the wall, followed by a loud thud—probably her falling out of bed. I chuckle.
It takes me less than 20 minutes to get ready. But something feels off.My hunger is unbearable—it's as if my stomach's turning inside out.
I scarf down whatever I can find—bread, jam, coffee—but I'm still starving. I rush out and head to the bakery for some pastries, finally feeling full.
Yes, it's cliché—I just became a cop and all they had were donuts.I miss the variety of French pastries from when I used to visit the bakery.
I finish my lunch, which cost me no less than 20 dollars, and return to the hallway of the building before knocking on Jill's door.
"I'm almost ready, Gerald. Five more minutes," she says through the door.
Might as well pass the time.Body, I thought.
Body: ON/OFF
Strength: 180 kg / 80 kg
Speed: 15 m/s / 10 m/s
Resistance: 220 kg/cm² / 220 kg/cm²
Probably thanks to last night's training. I write my new stats down in my notebook. I still have time before worrying about my resistance since the events of Resident Evil 0 only begin on July 23, 1998.
But I must not slack off on my training. Let's see—what event do I remember that I could act on?That's right—the orphanage. I have to try and save some of the kids from those damn researchers.For that, I'll need money and a bigger place if I want to adopt them.
I also need to find a way to take down Iron before he starts interfering.
I come back to myself as I see the door open. Jill steps out in her uniform, wearing her little beret.She's so cute I almost want to kiss her. She smiles at me before heading toward the building's exit.
"Why did you smile when you looked at me, Jill?" I asked after catching up with her.
"I was thinking that the uniform really suits you, Gerald.Anyway, before we head to the station, we need to stop at Kendo's. You'll get to choose a handgun, and you'll also receive an alloy knife with the STARS logo.If you want anything else, you'll have to pay for it yourself," she said before reassuring me, "Ammo and maintenance are covered by the department."
We arrive quickly in front of the gun store. There's no construction site in the road yet—that'll only appear in September.Inside the shop, I see Kendo with his familiar style from the Resident Evil 2 and 3 remakes. He smiles warmly as he spots Jill and me.
"What can I do for you two? Jill, I hope you haven't chipped your knife again?"Looking to the side, I notice Jill blushing slightly and lowering her head.
"No. Today, I'm here to introduce your new customer—and the newest STARS member," she says, extending both arms toward me as if I'm a prize to be presented."Gerald King," she finishes, laughing.This time, I'm the one blushing in embarrassment at her introduction.
Kendo laughs heartily at her joke before calming down.
"So, a new colleague. You think he can handle a magnum, or should we stick to a Glock like yours?" Kendo asked Jill.
"I think he'll be fine with a magnum. Don't worry—he's also an expert in hand-to-hand combat."
"Hello," I greeted. "As my colleague said, I think I can handle the magnum. By the way, do you sell batons or other blunt weapons?"
"I see you're straight to the point, young man. I've got standard batons with fixed grips or telescopic ones for discretion.The first ones are $50 each, and the telescopic ones are $30.Here's your magnum with 50 rounds and your special STARS knife," he said, handing me the weapon and a large ammo box.From what I could tell, it was a classic six-shot magnum.
"I'll take two fixed-grip tonfa batons and one telescopic baton," I said, discreetly pulling $230 from my inventory.
"Jill, I see what you meant—he clearly prefers close combat. I'll get them for you right away, Gerald. And feel free to call me Kendo," he said before heading to the back of the shop.
Jill had been giving me a strange look since Kendo left, but I couldn't figure it out.
"Jill, is there something on my face?" I asked, staring back at her. A flush appeared on her cheeks before she recovered.
"Like there'd be anything interesting on your face," she retorted. "I was just wondering why you wanted so many batons. It's not like you'll break or lose them easily."
That little jab—that teasing tone she also had in the games.
"I wanted to spar with the others, but instead of using fists or knives, I think batons are safer."Seeing her raise an eyebrow, I added, "I'd just dodge or counter until I can control my strength better."
She smiled at me after that.
"I'll be one of your sparring partners—but don't expect me to go easy on you.That said, we operate during the day, so we'll train depending on whether the day is eventful.Oh—looks like Kendo's coming back," she said, looking toward the shop.
"I found a bag big enough for everything. If you could bring it back to me later, I'd appreciate it—it belonged to my grandfather," he said, handing me the bag.
"Don't worry, Kendo. I'll put the batons away at the station and bring the bag back before the lunch break, I promise," I said, smiling as I took the bag carefully.It was a brown leather bag with an embroidered label: G.K.—which threw me off slightly, since those are also my initials.
"My grandfather's name was Genryûsai Kendo," he said, seeing me staring at the label.
"Is there a connection between your grandfather's name and the Shinigami?" I asked without thinking, only to find both Kendo and Jill staring at me in surprise.
"HAHAHA! Looks like the small-town police department has a cultured man in its ranks," Kendo laughed, holding his stomach, while Jill looked at him curiously.
"Kendo, that's not nice—say it like that. Can you at least explain it to Gerald? I don't even know what a Shinigami is," she said, pouting adorably.I had to restrain myself not to hug her on the spot.
"Before I answer, a quick question for you, Gerald—just to help Jill out too. Do you know what a Shinigami is?" Kendo asked, suddenly serious again.
"From what I heard from a teammate, a Shinigami is a god of death who brings the souls of the dead to the afterlife and hunts evil spirits that try to devour them."
"You're absolutely right.The name Genryûsai was that of a general during the age of warring states.It's said that, after his death, he was recruited by the Shinigami for his martial and strategic talent.And, well… he also happens to be my grandfather," Kendo finished.
Just then, the store door opened, revealing two police officers.
"We'll leave you, Kendo. I'll come back later," he said, saluting his colleagues before jogging with Jill toward the police station parking lot.
We arrived at the entrance—gate open—and headed down calmly before Jill turned to me.
"We're going to the lockers next to the offices. Then I'll show you around the station so you can get your bearings.This afternoon, we'll formally introduce you to the rest of the team.After that, we'll go on a routine patrol and see if we can get you into a few different situations."