chapter 4

It only took her a couple of seconds to understand what was being said and laugh softly.

"Sure, I forgot something about that," she said, laughing. Then she stretched out her hand for a handshake. — Jill Valentine. As you already know, he is an officer of the star squad.

"Sergeant Castiel Matheson," he shook his companion's hand, trying to keep his face. "You can just Kas.

"Ah, you're the same sergeant who refused the welcome party. Marvin told me.

"I don't like parties, Officer Valentine. My graduation was enough for me for the rest of my life. Even for all lifetimes.

"You can just Jill, I don't really like officialdom. Did you go out too well after graduation?

"Not that we would have walked," I grimaced slightly, remembering that evening again. "After seven months of hell, we wanted to forget about everything at least for an evening. In the end, we drank everything or almost everything that was in the restaurant, and one was sent home under escort, since no one was sure that he would be able to get there on his own.

I went to the exit, and the officer followed me. Well, it is understandable – this is a chance to talk so that time passes faster, and to study a new person with whom you will have to work. Information can be obtained in different ways, this is taught almost in the first months of the academy. And I went to the exit, because at night you can smoke outside on a bench, although rarely anyone did this. Basically, they went to a special room or went down to the parking lot. We did not have very many smokers, and I myself mainly smoked in the morning, after work or when on call.

— You had an interesting party. Was it so hard to study?

"You see, of... ahem, Jill, I'm a homely person, I love tranquility. Basically, I spent all my time here, in Raccoon City, and then decided that I needed to change something, and went to study. Therefore, the training for me was very difficult, I would even say, on the verge. It's scary to imagine how many times I wanted to quit everything.

"But you're a sergeant now." As I heard, many police officers spend their entire service in this rank and do not rise higher, so they retire as officers.

"Heh. I think even a domestic man has some ambitions," I grinned, finishing my coffee and sending a glass to the trash.

Taking out an almost empty pack of cigarettes, I frowned slightly. There are three left, which means that we will have to make a small detour in the morning to buy more. And after the night shift, it's just too lazy to do it. Taking out one cigarette, he handed the pack to his interlocutor. The expression of struggle on her face amused me - both I wanted it and I didn't. So I imagined that she had an angel on one shoulder, and an imp on the other. And the latter clearly won, because, thanking me, she took a cigarette.

"Thank you," Valentine said, taking a puff and blowing out the smoke. — I rarely smoke at work. Basically, in the apartment, sitting over papers.

— Yes, I myself rarely poison myself like this at work. I used to practically not smoke at all, but how did I start working as a policeman... The work is already nervous, and people also like to get on their nerves even more. Especially drug addicts and alcoholics...

We talked for about ten minutes, having time to complain to each other. Stargazers, so to speak, are a replacement for SWAT fighters, so they are mostly sent on missions where the cops can't cope, or terrorists appear. Therefore, they also had to suffer at their jobs, sometimes even more than people like me.

"I think we'd better go back. Okay, but they can send the whole squad to look for you. In addition, it is worth checking whether my colleagues have fallen asleep there, while there is no supervision over them.

"You're right. I'm sure now they will torture me, why I went for coffee and disappeared for so long. They will also think that I went home for him.

— By the way, yes — why for coffee on the first floor? I thought you also had everything on the second one to withstand a couple of days of assault.

"The machine breaks down, they won't fix it until tomorrow," Valentine replied, frowning slightly. "Now I have to run back and forth. But you can call it race walking, and it helps to fight sleep. See you again, Cas.

Waving my hand, saying goodbye in return, I saw the girl off and was already on my way to the office when I stopped abruptly, looking around. What... Unpleasant feeling! As if they are simultaneously drilling me with a look and at the same time trying to gut and check with this very look. His hand reached for the holster, and his thoughts began to spin wildly.

Is someone following me? Then why didn't I notice how Jill came up to me from behind? Maybe it's because she didn't want to hurt me and wasn't angry? Then who is it?

The unpleasant feeling gradually began to disappear, and after a few seconds I did not feel anything. And only the goosebumps on my skin kept me from believing that nothing was happening. What the fuck was that even?!

On the way to the office, I checked on my colleagues. None of them slept, but if this continues, Fred will lose his last money. And I still have to live and live until my salary. Falling into a chair, I tiredly rubbed the bridge of my nose with my finger, collecting my thoughts.

Officer Valentine. Jill. It looks better in life than in the game (it's stupid to compare, of course), which is why I didn't recognize it right away. But I liked communicating with her. And since she got into S.T.A.R.S, that means she's an excellent fighter.

As far as I knew, she would survive and escape from Raccoon, so there was no need to worry there. And what's the point of worrying about someone who went through a mansion full of monsters and zombies? Although, it seems, something will happen to her after the events of the first part.

Damn, I wonder if many of these mercenaries like me get angry with themselves when they realize that they didn't do something in vain during their lifetime? In my case, I shouldn't have played. I wanted to ask Demetrius to rewind time and go back to that moment while I was alive. Just for a couple of hours to gather more information. Eh, okay. What has happened has passed. If, while I'm saving Kennedy and Redfield, we cross paths, I'll help. And then... we'll see what happens. You still have to survive by this point.

May was approaching. There was less and less time. But still, who was watching me? And why was it necessary? Though... I must have made this up for myself. It's just that my imagination ran wild, nothing more. Who the hell needs me? I'm an ordinary police officer of the city of Raccoon City, it's easier to get rid of them than to follow them. Do not bother yourself.

***

A little earlier.

Hmm. It seems that he noticed the surveillance. Interesting.

Watching a new police officer who was interacting with an elite squad operative was boring. And the officer himself turned out to be an ordinary person. However, something in him still stood out. Its constant tension. Not to say that the other officers were relaxed all the time, but this one did not relax completely even outside the station. And his almost imperceptible surveys of others were alarming. Also strange were his forays outside the city, where he was engaged in shooting, and he used pistols only at the shooting range, and outside the city - a rifle and a rifle. Another gun lover like Burton.

The sergeant was good at shooting, and some of his movements showed good skills in close combat, although he was still far from the Master. If he got into S.T.A.R.S, he would look quite impressive against the background of the new Chambers and Vickers.

When the sergeant suddenly stopped and looked around, the pursuer for the first time became more interested, for Castiel's eyes too often turned to the very spot where he stood in the darkness. It was lucky that at night the light in the station became dimmer - it could sneak unnoticed by shadows, although today it was almost detected. Maybe if they had continued to stare at the sergeant as intently, he could have at least begun to look for the place from which the surveillance was taking place, if not see him. Such people are almost impossible to find among ordinary police officers.

Interest flared up more and more. The sergeant was not a genius, but for what he called a domestic man, he was quite unusual. At the very least, the level of his adaptation to new conditions is very high, which does not happen to every person. This can be the case with the military or those who have already gone through at least one combat operation. And from what was known about him, the only serious operation of the sergeant was together with SWAT fighters.

When the policeman left, a man who had an S.T.A.R.S patch on his clothes came out of a dark corner and leaned on the railing. His eyes under his black glasses continued to look at the door through which the police sergeant had passed, and his lips curled slightly in a kind of anticipatory grin.

"Castiel Matheson," Albert Wesker said slowly. "It will be interesting to see what someone who walks under God's protection is capable of. I hope you don't disappoint.