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Even from several miles away, it still feels like an impossible dream.
What was once a sprawling metropolis nestled within the mountains is now cleansed of life in a thermobaric explosion.
And some of the lucky few that managed to escape are witnessing the twilight of said metropolis on the highway overpass.
Linda Baldwin lets out a heavy sigh of relief, not only at having barely survived getting shot earlier but also being here to see this.
Her leg is still tender from her healing gunshot wound, freshly bandaged thanks to that waitress girl that managed to escape with her along with David, the stranger in question off to the side with his thoughts all to himself.
He also helped in saving her life today.
Off to the side, Captain Rodriguez exhales sharply.
“Shit… I didn’t think we’d make it out.”
Linda looks in his direction and laughs rather bitterly. “Same here. I got knocked out by a Tyrant, got shot at from an unknown sniper, and only just barely got out.”
Rodriguez scratches the back of his head. “Listen… I’m sorry I didn’t wait for you. Believe me, I wanted to. But then they called in the order to sterilize RC and…”
Linda shakes her own head, reaching for the ID card still miraculously clipped to her uniform. “What’s done is done, we can’t take it back.”
She holds the ID in her hand, visibly shaking from the multitude of near-death experiences she had to endure in just one night. The Hunters, the Tyrant, Carter’s death, the gunshot, and even that strange blob thing that was released from the crate that Rodriguez’s chopper had been transporting before it got shot down…
All things considered, she shouldn’t be alive right now. She should be dead, along with the rest of Raccoon that didn’t make it out.
And yet, she’s still breathing. And she’s filled with more than just a deep and overwhelming sense of loss.
There’s more inside, now that the smoke has cleared.
Anger. Sorrow. Guilt. All of which stem from being in league with the very corporation that dragged Raccoon City to the depths of hell.
But there’s still one last thing.
Hope.
She still has the formula memorized. Despite the capsule being destroyed, she still has that knowledge. And she can share it, pass it on, even have it utilized in case another incident like this happens again.
But first and foremost, she has to make sure that it doesn’t.
“So…” Linda asks Rodriguez, “What are you planning to do from here on?”
The man in sunglasses shrugs. “Honestly, I dunno. Umbrella might want my head for letting something like that cargo get lost. They might even want me dead just for surviving what happened. I don’t even know if I can go back to what my life was like.”
“True.”
She then clasps the ID in her hand, tightening it in her grip. “However, we may be able to start again from the beginning.”
Linda then arcs her arm back and throws the ID into the trees below. She’s done causing harm.
“That’s the one gift we humans have: we can rebuild.”
Rodriguez chuckles. “I like the way you think. And how do you plan to do that?”
She stares at him, eye to eye despite the shades. “I’m gonna do what those bastards would never do. I’m going to take responsibility. I’ll testify, tell them what I’ve done and hopefully in the process my story will help in making sure Umbrella folds.”
“You know that won’t be easy, not by a long shot.”
Linda nods. “I know. But someone has to.”
At that point, she hears unfamiliar footsteps approaching her. She turns around and sees two more women. One of them is blonde, wearing a red suit that’s definitely seen a lot of wear and tear, the jacket having lost one of its sleeves. The other is of Japanese descent, with black hair and an equally disheveled appearance, her backpack hanging off of one green-jacketed arm.
“If you’re going to testify, mind if I get a few words from you?” The blonde woman wastes no time in being direct, already pulling out a notepad and pencil.
Linda is taken aback by such a force of personality. Judging by her demeanor, she must be some sort of investigator, maybe even a reporter—
Oh.
The realization jolts her like an electric shock.
She’s Alyssa Ashcroft of the Raccoon Times.
It’s honestly a positive coincidence that someone of her reputation had also managed to survive.
“Hmph, direct as always, huh, Alyssa?” The black-haired woman says softly, with a tired but gentle smile on her face.
Ashcroft returns the smile. “My workplace may be dust, but I’m still a journalist through and through.”
The other woman bows in Linda’s direction. “My name is Yoko Suzuki. And… judging by her clothes, you’re also a… former scientist working for Umbrella?”
Linda furrows her brow.
“Yoko Suzuki”… that name sounds familiar to her.
Oh, that’s right. She was one of Birkin’s former subordinates at NEST.
“That’s right. And… I’m assuming you’re going to share your story as well?”
Yoko nods.
That feeling of hope is growing slightly bigger in Linda’s heart.
Suddenly, deciding to take responsibility feels good.
It feels very good to actually have a conscience.