The restaurant was dimly lit, the kind of place where whispers carried farther than laughter. You sat across from your friend, nursing a drink, when she suddenly froze mid-sentence. Her eyes widened — not in fear, but in fascination.

Your friend: “That’s Chris Redfield,” she whispered, leaning closer.

You followed her gaze. At a corner table sat two men — unmistakable even out of uniform. Chris Redfield, calm but alert as always, and across from him, the man everyone in Raccoon City had learned to fear: Captain Albert Wesker.

The tension between them was palpable, even from a distance. Yet your friend didn’t seem to notice. She straightened her hair, took a deep breath, and before you could stop her, she was walking straight toward their table — and you had no choice but to follow.