As Lester stood in the dim light of his living room, the weight of the world outside pressed heavily on his shoulders. He knew he had to make a decision, but uncertainty gnawed at him. Just as he started to gather his thoughts, his phone buzzed in his pocket. The screen lit up with his father's name.
"Hi, Dad!" Lester answered, relief washing over him.
"Hey, son. You okay?" Chris's voice was calm, grounding Lester amidst the chaos.
Lester sighed, his heart racing. "Not really. The Army called me back in. They want us to eliminate anyone who's infected. I don't know what to do."
"Lester, you need to follow orders," Chris replied, his tone steady. "But remember to keep your humanity. Don't lose sight of who you are. There are still people out there who need help—people who haven't lost their way."
Lester felt the weight of his father's words, each one resonating within him. "But what if... what if I have to hurt someone who was once a friend? Or a neighbor?"
"Then you do what you have to do, but you also do what's right," Chris urged. "You were raised to help others, son. Never forget that. It's about making the right choices, even in the worst situations."
"Dad... I don't want to lose myself in this," Lester confessed, anxiety creeping into his voice.
"I know," Chris replied softly. "But it's important to do your duty. Just remember, son, it was hard for me at the start. I had to make tough choices too."
Before Lester could respond, Chris added, "Just stay true to yourself and help those in need. I'll always be proud of you." With that, Chris hung up, leaving Lester in stunned silence.
As the call ended, Lester stood there, phone still pressed to his ear, replaying his father's final words. "It was hard for me at the start." What did that truly mean? Did Chris struggle with his own choices? Was there regret behind the bravery his father had always shown?
Lester felt a mix of pride and uncertainty swell within him. His father had faced challenges that shaped him into the soldier he was, and now Lester had to navigate his own path. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the chaos outside. He had a mission to fulfill—not just for the Army, but for his own humanity.
As Lester hung up the phone, his father's words lingered in his mind, echoing louder with each passing moment. "It was hard for me at the start." Those words weighed on him, but they also gave him clarity. Whatever his father had faced, he had managed to hold on to his humanity. And now, Lester had to do the same.
His choice was clear. He couldn't save everyone, but he could still save those who hadn't been lost to the infection. He had to act.
Lester tightened his grip on the handgun at his side and moved toward the door. The frantic scratching and muffled growling from the infected creature on the other side reminded him of the horror that awaited beyond. With a deep breath, he unlocked the door and yanked it open.
The creature, once human, snarled and lunged at him, bloodshot eyes filled with madness. Without hesitation, Lester raised his gun and fired. The bullet struck it square in the head, dropping it instantly. The body crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
He stared down at the corpse for a moment, heart pounding. This was the first infected he had killed, but it wouldn't be the last. He couldn't dwell on it now. There were still people who needed help, and every second counted.
Lester quickly stepped over the body and ran to his car, parked a short distance away. The streets were chaotic—people screamed, others fled, and more infected roamed, their twisted forms hunting for their next victims. Lester's heart raced, but his mind was clear. He had chosen his path.
Reaching his car, he slid into the driver's seat, slamming the door behind him. He gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white. As he started the engine, his father's words echoed once again: "It was hard for me at the start."
Lester couldn't shake the feeling that his father had faced something similar, perhaps not with infected creatures, but with choices that tested the very core of his humanity. It was up to Lester now to make his own choices, even in the face of unimaginable horrors.
With that, he drove off into the chaos, determined to save those who hadn't yet fallen.
As Lester slid into the driver's seat, slamming the door behind him, he took a deep breath. The adrenaline surged through his veins, but he had no time to process what had just happened. His heart was still pounding from the moment he shot the infected creature at his doorstep.
Suddenly, a low growl pierced through the chaos outside, followed by the frenzied shuffling of feet. Lester's stomach dropped as he glanced into the rearview mirror. The gunshot had drawn more of them. A group of infected, their twisted bodies barely resembling humans anymore, was stumbling toward the car, eyes locked onto him.
They moved with terrifying speed, their snarls growing louder as they closed in.
Lester's hands shook slightly as he fumbled with the keys, finally turning the ignition. The engine roared to life, but the creatures were almost upon him, pounding on the sides of the car with bone-chilling force. Cracks started to form on the windows as they clawed at the glass, their disfigured faces snarling hungrily.
Just before one of them could smash through the driver's side window, Lester slammed the car into gear and floored the gas pedal. The tires screeched as the car shot forward, leaving the creatures in the dust. He swerved around abandoned cars and debris, pushing the vehicle as fast as it would go. His breath came in shallow bursts, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.
As he sped down the road, the screams and howls of the infected faded into the distance. For a moment, the only sound was the hum of the engine and the thudding of Lester's own heartbeat in his ears.
He glanced in the rearview mirror again, making sure he had left the creatures behind. They were nowhere in sight. But the terror still lingered, a reminder of just how close he had come to being their next victim.
Lester took a shaky breath, forcing himself to focus on the road ahead. He had made it out of the immediate danger, but he knew this was only the beginning. The world outside had become a battlefield, and he was now a soldier in a war for survival—against enemies far more terrifying than anything he had ever faced.
After what felt like an eternity, Lester finally reached the military base. His heart still raced from the harrowing escape, but relief washed over him as the fortified gates came into view. The place, once a bustling hub of military activity, now looked eerily quiet. The usual lines of soldiers and vehicles were nowhere to be seen.
As he drove through the entrance, Lester noticed a few scattered personnel moving about, their faces grim and weary. But what caught his attention immediately were the uniforms—distinct from the regular military fatigues. A small group of men and women stood near one of the barracks, wearing gear with the emblem of the BSAA—the Bioterrorism Security Assessment Alliance.
Lester's pulse quickened. The BSAA? Here? Why were they involved?
He parked his car and stepped out, still gripping his handgun tightly, unsure of what to expect. As he approached the group, a sense of unease gnawed at him. The BSAA was only deployed in extreme cases—situations where biological threats were involved. Was this virus more than just an infection?
A few of the soldiers noticed him, but no one said a word. Their expressions were hard, emotionless, and uninviting. Lester, not one to hesitate, stepped forward, addressing the first soldier he could.
"What the hell is going on here? Why is the BSAA involved?" Lester demanded, his voice firm but laced with confusion.
The soldier, barely acknowledging him, continued sorting through equipment. Another nearby BSAA officer gave him a quick glance, then turned away, offering no response.
Frustrated, Lester moved to another soldier, this time one of his fellow military personnel. "Hey, can someone explain what's happening? What's with the BSAA? What's really going on with this virus?"
The soldier looked up, meeting his eyes briefly before shaking his head. "I don't know, man. All I know is the situation's worse than we thought. Way worse."
Lester's frustration deepened. "Worse how? What aren't they telling us?"
Again, no answer. The soldier averted his gaze, as if afraid to say anything more.
Lester clenched his fists, his mind racing. This virus wasn't just a natural outbreak—there was something bigger, something darker at play. The presence of the BSAA confirmed it. But why was no one talking? What were they hiding?
Feeling the weight of his unanswered questions, Lester scanned the base, searching for someone—anyone—who could tell him the truth. But all he saw were faces hardened by fear and uncertainty. And in that moment, Lester realized that whatever was happening, it was far beyond anything he had prepared for.
Just as Lester's frustration reached its peak, the BSAA soldiers emerged from the barracks, each carrying sleek, transparent devices that looked like futuristic smartphones. They walked up to the small group of soldiers, handing one to each person. When it was Lester's turn, he hesitated for a moment, eyeing the strange device warily before taking it.
The glass felt cool in his hand, and despite its fragile appearance, it seemed unnervingly advanced. Lester turned it over, searching for any buttons or instructions, but there were none. It was just a clear, smooth pane of glass.
"What is this?" he muttered under his breath, the frustration from before boiling up again. "This isn't what we need! We need answers, not—"
Before he could finish, the device suddenly lit up in his hands. The transparent screen displayed an image of a bronze-skinned man with sharp features and piercing eyes, dressed in tactical gear. The man's image appeared lifelike, as though he were standing right in front of him.
Lester froze in place, his frustration replaced by shock as the figure spoke.
"Lester Redfield," the man's deep voice began, his tone calm but authoritative. "Son of Chris Redfield."
Hearing his full name—and his father's—sent a jolt through Lester's body. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. How did this man know so much about him?
"My name is Ray," the figure continued, his bronze complexion shimmering slightly on the screen. "I've been tasked with guiding you. You have been selected to follow in your father's footsteps."
Lester's brow furrowed. "Follow in my father's footsteps? What are you talking about?"
Ray's image remained steady, his voice unwavering. "The situation you're facing is not an ordinary virus outbreak. This is a bioterrorist threat of unprecedented scale. Your father has faced such threats before, and now it's your turn. You've been chosen to lead a team—a team that has already been handpicked for this mission."
Lester's mind raced, his frustration turning into disbelief. "Lead a team? I'm not here to lead anyone—I'm here to survive, to get through this mess!"
Ray's expression softened slightly, though his tone remained firm. "Surviving is part of it, yes. But your mission is greater than that. You need to gather as much information as possible about this virus and its origins. This outbreak is just the beginning, and the data you collect will determine the course of action for stopping it."
Lester clenched his jaw, gripping the device tightly. The weight of responsibility was suddenly crushing him. "Why me? Why not someone else?"
Ray's gaze met his through the screen. "Because, Lester, your father was one of the few who stood against these threats. He made a difference, and now it's your turn. The team is waiting, and they need you to lead them."
Lester took a deep breath, his mind swirling. His father had always been a hero in his eyes, facing unimaginable dangers to protect others. But Lester had never expected to be thrust into the same kind of role.
"And what if I don't accept this?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Ray's expression didn't change. "Then many will die, and the virus will spread unchecked. But if you accept, you can make a difference. You can stop this."
Lester stood there, staring at the glass device, Ray's words echoing in his mind. He glanced around at the few soldiers still standing nearby, each one with the same device in their hands. They seemed equally bewildered, waiting for someone to take the lead.
The weight of his decision pressed down on him, but deep down, Lester knew there was only one choice he could make.
He nodded slowly. "Alright. I'll do it."
Ray gave a slight nod in return. "Good. Your mission starts now. Get ready to meet your team."
With that, the image of Ray flickered out, leaving the glass device dark and silent once again.
Lester's grip on the device tightened as he realized the enormity of what lay ahead. He had no idea where this path would take him, but one thing was clear: he was about to follow in his father's footsteps, whether he was ready or not.