The streets of Raccoon City were no longer quiet.
Tension lingered in the air—like something foul and heavy clung to every shadow. People walked faster. Doors were locked tighter. The cops patrolled less. And those who still braved the streets kept their heads down.
But one man strode through like he owned the place.
Silver hair blowing in the wind, a leather jacket rippling with each step, and a guitar case slung over his back, the man walked like a ghost who didn't know he was supposed to be dead.
Tony Redgrave—Dante to those who mattered—grinned as he reached Jasen's apartment building.
He walked up to the door of Unit 4B and knocked. Once.
Nothing.
He knocked again.
Still silence.
"Alright," he muttered, stepping back. "Guess we're doing this the fun way."
With a swift kick, the door splintered inward, swinging open with a bang.
Tony stepped in like he owned the place.
The apartment was clean, minimalist, and tactical. The air still held Jasen's scent— cinnamon, vanilla and leather.
He walked past the couch, dropped the guitar case onto it, and made his way to the bedroom. He stepped inside, letting his eyes scan the space.
"Come on, come on... where would the Boy Scout hide his homework..."
Then he saw it: a worn duffle in the closet. Under it, a small flash button tucked into the closet frame.
Tony pressed it.
The floor panel clicked open.
Inside: a sealed folder. Labeled in red ink.
"TARGET LIST: HIGH PRIORITY."
He flipped it open.
Photos. Documents. Printed maps.
Umbrella mercenary groups: Wolfpack.
Private black-ops contractors. Bioweapon transport logs. Lab destruction protocols.
Notes in Jasen's sharp handwriting:
"If infected—eliminate on sight. Especially mutated animals. Tyrants. Enhanced."
Then he turned the page.
Photos of Leon Kennedy. Jill Valentine. Claire Redfield. A little girl—Sherry Birkin. All with the note:
"Protect at all costs."
Tony raised a brow. "Damn, you made this personal, huh?"
He heard it before he felt it.
The click of a pistol slide.
A low, cool voice behind him.
"Turn around. Slowly."
Tony smirked.
"You know, it's rude to sneak up on people with guns."
He turned.
Jill Valentine stood in the hallway, Glock raised.
"Who are you?"
"Name's Tony. Tony Redgrave. Your boyfriend sent for me."
Her eyes widened.
"Jasen... he's alive?"
Tony nodded. "Maybe I have no idea."
She narrowed her eyes. "Where is he?"
" Probably resting"
Jill blinked. "You're joking."
"Only about 20%."
She lowered the gun slightly, annoyed by his tone but curious.
"So, what are you, exactly? Another STARS reject?"
Tony opened his mouth to answer—
CRASH!
The wall behind Jill exploded inward in a shower of bricks and dust.
A deep, inhuman growl followed.
She whirled around, raising her Glock.
Through the rubble stepped a hulking beast. It stood over eight feet tall. Humanoid in shape, but its skin was thick, veined, and distorted. A mechanical brace covered part of its face. Tentacles shifted along its arms.
Jill's breath caught. "What the hell is that?"
Tony's smile vanished.
"That... is a problem."
The creature roared and lunged, grabbing Tony by the chest and hurling him through the living room wall.
BOOM!
Jill fired three times into the beast's face. It barely flinched.
She dove behind the couch, grabbing one of Jasen's shotguns from the case.
BOOM! BOOM!
The beast reeled, but kept coming.
Then a blur of motion returned from the rubble.
Tony.
Moving faster than human.
In one clean motion, he drew a gleaming blade from the guitar case.
With a single spinning strike, he leapt into the air and brought the blade down—
SHHHK!
—the Tyrant's head separated cleanly from its body.
The monster stumbled, spasmed, then collapsed in a twitching heap.
Jill stared, wide-eyed, lowering her weapon.
Tony landed with a soft thud, straightened his jacket, and flicked the blood from his sword.
"...Who or what the hell are you?" Jill asked.
Tony turned, grinning.
"Tony Redgrave. Devil hunter. Nice to meet ya."