Chapter 62: Middle of Winter.

Bud looked up at Malrick, still holding him by the collar, and asked in amazement, "How… how did you do that?"

Malrick offered a faint smile but didn't answer. "Finally calmed down? Honestly, your scream just now was louder than when my brother once called for help. By at least three decibels."

"That was an accident! I'm not usually like that…" Director Bud muttered, wiping nonexistent sweat from his forehead in embarrassment.

He glanced down. Several zombies staggered through the darkened streets, their bodies half-decayed, jaws hanging loose. A dozen more clustered around the police station's front gate, pounding aimlessly on it.

"What now, uh… Mr. Savior?" Bud asked hesitantly.

"Just call me Malrick," he replied coolly. "Next step—get inside the police station."

He descended slowly, exhaling a breath so cold it crystallized the air.

A wave of frost erupted outward in a shockwave, coating the entire area.

Zombies—standing or crawling—froze solid, encased in shimmering ice. The frost spread over every surface, encasing the block in a 300-meter radius like a frozen kingdom.

Oddly, the ice only clung to the surface. Inside, street lamps still glowed faintly, casting a dreamlike shimmer through translucent frost.

"It's like the Ice God waved his scepter," Bud muttered in awe.

"Not the best metaphor," Malrick said, gently lowering him to the ground. "After all, I'm the one holding you."

Bud chuckled nervously. "Then I guess it's my honor to be your scepter."

Malrick just shook his head and strode toward the police station. Bud followed, constantly glancing back at the frozen zombies and the glowing ice.

To his surprise, the undead inside the ice weren't actually dead—just suspended. Trapped without oxygen, they were gradually losing activity. It wouldn't be long before they were permanently neutralized.

"Incredible…" Bud whispered, then hurried after Malrick. Behind them, Jarvis clanked forward steadily.

They reached the police station, where a reinforced iron gate still stood between them and the interior.

A dozen zombies had already been flash-frozen in place around the entrance. Malrick tapped a knuckle against the ice, and with a single knock, it all shattered—zombies and gate included.

Standing before the now-exposed doorway, Malrick activated the PA system in Jarvis's armor.

"Is anyone inside? The infected outside have been dealt with. Please open the door."

His calm voice echoed down the block, enough to wake the dead—let alone the living.

But the survivors inside were already awake. Malrick had seen them earlier using x-ray vision. They were in the main hall, alert and armed.

Old radio broadcasts about taking in survivors still played on a few car stereos scattered nearby.

If they didn't storm in, there wouldn't be a conflict.

Within minutes, the front door creaked open.

A tall, lean Black officer stepped cautiously into the open. His right hand hovered near the grip of his sidearm; in the other, he carried a flashlight. He scanned the area, then jogged to the gate.

Two more officers followed, eyes wide at the strange icy scene around them.

"Hold on! I'll let you in!" the first officer said, inspecting Malrick and Bud for wounds or weapons. Finding none, he reached for the bolt.

"What the hell happened here? It's September. Why does it look like the middle of winter out here?"

But when he tried to unlatch the gate, he found it frozen solid.

"Damn it… It's stuck. I'll grab a flamethrower. Stay put—at least the zombies can't move."

"No need, officer," Malrick called out before he turned.

In a single motion, he grabbed Bud's collar, leapt over the gate, and landed beside the officer.

"Sometimes the simplest methods are best," he said with a smirk.

The officer stepped back in awe. "Was that… kung fu? That's one hell of a move! And thanks—you saved me a trip."

He waved at the others. "Come on, let's head inside. Maybe I can find you both a coat or something. It's freezing out here."

"I'm good," Malrick said. "But my friend here needs to come inside too."

He snapped his fingers. "Jarvis, join us."

Outside, the roar of repulsors cut through the silence. Flames shot out as the armor lifted over the gate.

"Holy—!" the officer jumped, drawing his pistol. "What the hell is that!?"

"We'll talk once we're inside," Malrick said with a calm, unreadable smile.

He stepped through the entrance and turned to glance back. In the distance, on a nearby rooftop, a flash of red caught his eye.

A red skirt.

Someone was watching.

---

A Few Minutes Later – Raccoon City Police Department Lobby

"So… let me get this straight. He's the 'savior,' you're the director of the virus center, that's a mecha, the ice outside is his doing, and Umbrella is behind all of this?" the Black officer summarized after a few minutes of tense conversation.

Malrick and Bud had taken turns explaining the situation. The officers had been skeptical—until Malrick froze a table solid with a single breath.

That sealed the deal.

Trust was still thin, but it was forming.

"Alright," the officer nodded slowly. "We'll take your word for now."

He stood and extended a hand. "Name's Marvin."

He gestured to the other officers. "That's Elliot Edwards, and the big guy we all call Old Man."

"Just the three of you?" Bud asked, adjusting his lab coat, still trying to maintain an authoritative air.

Marvin nodded toward a curtained-off area in the back. "One more. But he's not doing so well. Mr. Bud, I think you'd better take a look."

Bud hesitated, then looked to Malrick.

Malrick gave him a nod.

"No problem," Bud said. "Show me."

The officers exchanged glances. They had no doubt now—Malrick was clearly the one in charge.

And that, more than anything else, convinced them the two were telling the truth.

---

He won't take that long in the 'Resident Evil' world.

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