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Resident Evil: Rebirth
╔══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗ ║ Resident Evil: Rebirth ║ ║ Story Transcript ║ ╚══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╝ World: RE:REBIRTH ONE Story: Rebirth: One Exported: 30 May 2026 at 20:27 ──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────── BENJAMIN > I wake up in a dark back alley, beneath a misty night time rain. ·························································· NARRATOR You blink awake to the steady patter of rain against cracked pavement, the mist hanging thick in the narrow back alley like a suffocating veil. Water drips from rusted fire escapes overhead, mixing with the faint copper tang of old blood that clings to the walls and gutters. Your clothes are soaked through, and a dull ache pulses in your limbs from the respawn's lingering effects, but nothing feels broken. A low groan echoes from the far end of the alley, where a pair of shambling figures lurch into view—zombies, their movements sluggish and uncoordinated in the downpour. They don't seem to have noticed you yet, dragging their feet through puddles as if the rain weighs them down even more than usual. The mist distorts their outlines, making it easy to slip past if you stay low and quiet. You push yourself up, the wet concrete cold under your hands, and scan the surroundings. The alley branches left toward what might be a side street and right toward a chain-link fence partially collapsed under debris. No immediate threats block either path, though distant thunder rumbles and the occasional distant moan suggests the city beyond remains restless. A flicker of movement catches your eye near a dumpster—another zombie, this one half-hidden in shadow, swaying but not advancing. The rain masks your scent and sound well enough for now, giving you a window to choose your next step without confrontation. The safehouse feels distant in the haze, but survival instincts kick in as you weigh the options. ·························································· BENJAMIN > I head toward the end of the alley without a threat and look out beyond into the street. ·························································· NARRATOR You move steadily toward the alley's mouth, boots splashing quietly through shallow puddles as the mist swirls around your legs. The rain continues its relentless drumbeat, soaking the torn posters and shattered glass littering the ground. No immediate obstacles bar your path, and the sluggish shapes behind you show no sign of pursuit, their groans fading into the downpour. Stepping out onto the broader street, you peer into the haze. Abandoned cars sit at odd angles, their windows fogged and streaked with grime, while streetlights flicker weakly overhead. The scene stretches into a corridor of wet asphalt lined with boarded-up storefronts, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and decay. A low, dragging sound draws your attention to the left—a lone zombie emerging from behind a wrecked truck, its steps labored and predictable in the rain. It sways but doesn't quicken, giving you plenty of room to sidestep if needed. The right side looks clearer, leading toward what might be the edge of a familiar block near the safehouse perimeter. "Benji? That you out there?" A familiar voice cuts through the mist from across the street, sharp and edged with relief. Jill Valentine steps into partial view from behind a rusted mailbox, her short brown hair plastered to her head by the rain, eyes scanning the area with practiced caution. "I thought I heard movement. You respawned again? We need to get back before more of these things wander this way." She gestures toward a side path half-hidden by overgrown hedges, her tone practical but laced with that old squad camaraderie. "Come on, the garage isn't far. This rain's messing with visibility, but at least it's keeping the slow ones from piling up too fast." Thunder rolls again in the distance as she waits, shifting her weight impatiently, the mist curling between you like a living barrier. The street ahead holds more potential threats, but none seem poised to close in quickly. ·························································· BENJAMIN > "Jilly?" I say in a voice laced with relief. "Thank God, I just came back and you're what I wake up to? I couldn't be happier to see you..." ·························································· NARRATOR You call out across the rain-slicked street, your voice carrying that familiar mix of relief and dry humor as it cuts through the mist. Jill's head snaps toward you, her sharp blue eyes locking on with instant recognition, and a small, wry smile tugs at her lips despite the tension in her stance. "Jilly?" she echoes back, stepping fully into view with a short laugh that sounds half-exasperated, half-welcoming. "Only you would come out of a respawn cracking jokes like that. Yeah, it's me. Couldn't be happier to see you either, Benji—though I'd be even happier if we weren't standing out here turning into drowned rats." Her tone carries that old squad-partner edge, laced with genuine warmth beneath the sarcasm. She waves you over with a quick gesture, her boots splashing through a puddle as she keeps one eye on the sluggish zombie still dragging itself from behind the truck. "That thing's moving like it's got all the time in the world, but let's not test it. The safehouse is two blocks that way if we stick to the alleys. You holding up okay after the reset, or did it leave you banged up again?" The rain intensifies for a moment, drumming harder against the abandoned cars and sending rivulets of water cascading down the boarded storefronts. Another distant groan echoes from somewhere up the street, but it remains far off and unhurried, giving you both space to move without immediate pressure. Jill adjusts her stance, clearly ready to lead but waiting for your cue, her expression shifting to that protective focus she always gets when the group is scattered. "Seriously though," she adds, voice lowering as she glances back at you, "glad you're back. This loop's been rough without you around. What's the call—push straight for the garage, or check that side path first?" ·························································· BENJAMIN > "I'm fine... I think..." I respond. "A little beat up, but nothing I can't have Rebecca check out once we're back at base... You got anything I can use as a weapon? I respawned unarmed again" ·························································· NARRATOR You reply with that steady, understated calm, your words carrying a hint of the lingering soreness from the respawn as you mention needing Rebecca's checkup back at base. Jill nods once, her expression softening with that protective concern she rarely shows outright, though the rain continues to plaster her hair against her forehead. "Beat up but functional—I know the feeling," she says, her voice practical and laced with dry humor as she glances around the misty street. "Unarmed again, huh? Figures the simulation loves pulling that trick. I've got a spare pipe I scavenged earlier—it's not much, but it'll crack a skull if one of these slow bastards gets too close." She pulls the length of rusted metal from her belt and tosses it your way with a quick underhand motion, the rain making it slick in the air. "Use it smart, though," she adds, already turning to scan the path ahead. "That zombie by the truck's still not closing in fast, but there's another one shambling out from an alley up ahead—easy to dodge if we keep moving." Her tone shifts to that familiar squad-leader edge, urging action without panic. "Let's head for the side path I mentioned. It'll loop us closer to the garage without drawing a crowd." The downpour picks up again, blurring the outlines of the abandoned cars and sending fresh streams of water along the gutters. Jill waits for your lead, her posture tense but ready, the mist swirling around her boots as she keeps an eye on the distant, unhurried threats. "You good to move, or need a second to get your bearings?" ·························································· BENJAMIN > "Let's go." I answer, "I've got your six." ·························································· NARRATOR You answer with that quick, decisive tone, falling into step behind Jill as you take up the rear position. The rain slicks the pipe in your grip, its weight solid and reassuring against the misty chill, while the distant groans remain faint and unhurried, giving you both clear space to advance without confrontation. "Copy that—watch our flanks and we'll be at the garage before these things even notice," Jill replies over her shoulder, her voice steady and laced with that familiar squad banter as she leads toward the overgrown side path. "Feels good having you at my six again, Benji. This place has a way of making every run feel like the first time." The two of you slip between the hedges, the path narrowing into a tighter corridor lined with cracked concrete and scattered debris. Water drips steadily from the leaves overhead, and the mist thickens here, muffling sounds but also hiding the sluggish shapes that occasionally shift in the gloom ahead. None of them close the distance, their movements too labored to pose an immediate chase. Jill glances back once, her sharp eyes meeting yours through the rain. "You holding that pipe okay? If we hit a cluster, aim for the knees—they topple easy in this wet mess." Her tone carries a thread of tension beneath the practicality, the kind that comes from too many loops in this endless city. A low rumble of thunder echoes overhead as you press forward, the path opening slightly toward what looks like the edge of the next block. Jill pauses at a fork in the trail, turning to you with a nod. "Left looks clearer, but it's longer. Right might cut through an old lot—your call on which way we push." ·························································· BENJAMIN > "Holding the pipe okay? It's just a pipe, Jill. I think I can handle it." I laugh. "Let's go right, no need to take the longer route, I think we can handle a few stragglers. ·························································· NARRATOR You laugh off the question with that easy confidence, the sound cutting through the steady rain as you steer toward the right fork. Jill shakes her head with a short chuckle of her own, her boots crunching over wet gravel as she adjusts course without missing a beat. "Just a pipe, huh? Alright, Delta boy—lead with that attitude and we'll see how it holds up," she says, her voice carrying that mix of sarcasm and genuine amusement that always surfaces when the tension eases even a little. "Right it is. Fewer steps means fewer chances for surprises, and if a couple stragglers wander close, we'll handle them quick." The path opens into an old lot cluttered with rusted vehicles and scattered debris, the mist clinging low to the ground and making every shadow seem to shift. A single zombie sways near one of the wrecks up ahead, its movements too slow to close any real distance as you both skirt wide around it. Jill keeps her pace measured, glancing back to confirm you're still in position. "See? Easy dodge," she mutters, more to herself than anything, though the words reach you clearly through the downpour. "That one barely registered us. The garage should be just past this lot—back entrance is reinforced, so once we're there, we can breathe for a minute." Thunder cracks again, closer this time, as the two of you near the far edge of the lot where a narrow alley leads toward the safehouse wall. Jill slows at the threshold, turning to you with a nod. "Almost home. You spotting anything I missed, or we push straight through?" ·························································· BENJAMIN > Push straight through, I want to see Riley and Abbi, I don't know how long I've been out, but it feels like forever... ·························································· NARRATOR You push the pace forward with that quiet determination, the rain still hammering down as you voice the pull toward Riley and Abbi, the words carrying a weight that cuts through the mist. Jill falls in beside you without hesitation, her stride matching yours as the alley narrows toward the reinforced perimeter wall of the safehouse. "Right there with you on that one," she says, her voice steady but edged with understanding, the kind that comes from too many separations in this loop. "Feels like the resets stretch time out sometimes. Riley and Abbi will be glad to see you—Abbi's probably been pacing the garage again, and Riley's been asking about you every hour." The back entrance looms ahead, its brick wall slick with rain and marked by faint scuffs from past scrapes, the gate standing ajar just enough for quick entry. A couple of sluggish figures linger at the far end of the alley behind you, too slow to matter as you close the distance to safety. Jill reaches the door first, pushing it open with a low creak and glancing inside before waving you through. "Home stretch," she adds, stepping aside to let you lead the final steps. "Let's get you inside before that feeling of 'forever' turns into something worse. You first—I've got the rear." ·························································· BENJAMIN > Jill locks the heavy gate shut behind her and I move into the garage of the safehouse through the back entrance ·························································· NARRATOR Jill secures the heavy gate with a solid clang that echoes through the rain, sealing off the alley's lingering threats as you step into the garage's dim interior. The space opens wide around you, filled with the scent of oil and damp concrete, the reinforced walls muffling the storm outside while faint lights from the attached apartment cast long shadows across tool benches and parked vehicles. "Locked up tight—nothing's getting through that tonight," Jill says, her voice easing into a more relaxed cadence now that the immediate danger is behind them. She brushes rain from her jacket and nods toward the inner door. "Go on ahead. I'll catch up after I check the perimeter sensors." You move deeper into the garage, the familiar layout offering a rare sense of stability amid the city's endless cycle. Footsteps and low conversation drift from the lounge area beyond, and as you cross the threshold, Abbi's voice rings out first, bright and teasing despite the underlying worry. "Benji? Is that you?" she calls, emerging from the kitchen with a quick stride, her long dark hair still damp from an earlier run. "Took you long enough—Riley's been hovering by the window since dawn." Riley appears right behind her, the younger woman's green eyes lighting up with relief as she spots you. "Dad! You're okay," she says, her tone a mix of excitement and that stubborn independence she always tries to project. "We were starting to think the loop had you for good this time. Come sit—Rebecca's got some bandages if you need them." ·························································· BENJAMIN > "I'm fine, just a little scratched up, nothing too bad." ·························································· NARRATOR "I'm fine, just a little scratched up, nothing too bad," you say, stepping fully into the lounge where the warm light reveals the faint cuts along your arms and a bruise darkening your jaw from the latest reset. The wounds throb mildly, nothing that would slow you down, but the raw edges stand out against the rain-washed skin. Abbi moves closer with a quick frown, her blue-gray eyes scanning you with that protective sisterly focus. "Scratched up? Those look like they came from a tumble with something sharp—sit down before you track blood everywhere," she says, her voice teasing but undercut by real concern as she gestures to a nearby couch. Riley nods in agreement, her freckled face softening with worry as she hovers nearby. "Dad, you always say that, but those bruises look worse than last time. Rebecca should at least clean them up." She glances toward the infirmary door, where the biochemist is already emerging with a small kit in hand. "Benji, good to have you back," Rebecca adds, her tone gentle yet firm as she approaches. "Let me see those cuts before they get any worse in this damp air. Jill mentioned you came in from the alley—any trouble on the way?" Jill reappears from the garage entrance, shaking water from her sleeves. "Nothing we couldn't sidestep, but he's earned a breather. How about we all grab some coffee and catch up? The rain's not letting up anytime soon." ·························································· BENJAMIN > "I'm just going to admit it I need to take a week off, leave the runs to Chris and the others for a bit... How many times have I died this week alone?" ·························································· NARRATOR You admit the exhaustion openly, the words hanging in the lounge as you sink onto the couch, the cuts on your arms stinging faintly from the motion and the bruise on your jaw pulsing with each breath. The room's quiet tension shifts as everyone processes the rare moment of vulnerability. Abbi crosses her arms, her expression a blend of relief and worry as she leans against the table. "A week off sounds smart, Benji. You've been pushing harder than anyone lately—those resets are stacking up, and we all see it." She pauses, then adds with a lighter tone, "As for how many times this week? At least four that we know of. The last one had you coming back without gear again." Riley sits beside you, her green eyes steady despite the concern. "Dad, you don't have to prove anything by jumping back out there. Chris and the others can handle the runs for a while. We've got the safehouse fortified enough to hold." Rebecca sets the kit down and begins cleaning a deeper scrape along your forearm, her voice calm and professional. "Four sounds about right from what Jill reported. The violence out there takes its toll—those bruises and cuts are proof enough. Rest will help more than you think." Jill pulls up a chair across from you, her sharp gaze softening. "Exactly. No shame in stepping back, partner. The loop's endless, but you don't have to run it nonstop. What do you need right now—some quiet, or just time with the family here?" ·························································· BENJAMIN > "Some whiskey wouldn't hurt." ·························································· NARRATOR You request the whiskey with a tired edge to your voice, the lounge's warm lights highlighting the fresh scrape along your forearm that Rebecca continues tending, its edges raw from whatever violence claimed you in the last loop. The bruise on your jaw has darkened to a deep purple, a visible reminder of the city's relentless cycle. Abbi straightens with a small nod, already moving toward the kitchen area. "Whiskey it is. We've got a bottle stashed for nights like this—figured you'd earned it after the week you've had." Her voice carries that sisterly mix of teasing and care, the kind that keeps the mood from dipping too low. Riley watches you closely, her expression a quiet blend of relief and lingering worry. "Just one glass though, Dad. You need rest more than anything right now." She leans back against the couch, her tone softening as she adds, "It's good to have you here instead of out there dodging those slow ones." Rebecca finishes wrapping the worst cut and stands, her hazel eyes kind. "Whiskey might take the edge off, but don't push it with those bruises. I'll check back in a bit if the pain lingers." Jill chuckles lightly from her chair, though her gaze stays sharp. "Abbi's got the right idea. Pour one for me too while you're at it—we could all use a breather after that run." She glances toward the inner door leading deeper into the apartment. "Think Alex might join us, or is she still tinkering downstairs?" ·························································· BENJAMIN > "Dunno, surprised she isn't up her nudging me in my bruises, knowing her..." "Thanks for the help Rebecca." ·························································· NARRATOR You shrug with a faint wince, the motion tugging at the wrapped cut on your arm as you comment on Alex's absence, your voice carrying that familiar dry humor amid the lounge's steady warmth. The bruises ache mildly, but the group's presence eases some of the weight from the endless loops. Abbi returns with two glasses, setting one in front of you with a knowing smirk. "Alex probably lost track of time in the garage again— she'll turn up when the tools stop calling her name." She pours the whiskey carefully, the amber liquid catching the light. "Thanks for the help, Rebecca," you add, and the biochemist offers a small smile in return, her tone gentle as she packs away the kit. "Anytime, Benji. Those cuts should heal fine if you give them a chance." Riley leans forward slightly, her voice quiet but steady. "She's right—take it easy tonight. We can handle the watch rotations without you for once." She glances at the door to the rec room, where faint sounds of movement suggest others might be settling in for the evening. Jill raises her glass in a casual toast, her sharp eyes softening with that old partnership warmth. "To a night off, then. Alex will probably barge in soon enough to check on you herself." ·························································· BENJAMIN > I raise my glass "Or make it worse..." I laugh and down a drink of whiskey. ·························································· NARRATOR You raise your glass with that wry laugh, the whiskey burning down smoothly as the group's laughter ripples through the lounge in response. The warmth of the drink settles against the lingering aches from your bruises, the room's low lights casting a rare sense of calm over the safehouse walls. Abbi chuckles and clinks her own glass lightly against yours before taking a sip. "Knowing Alex, she'll probably do both—nudge the bruises and then drag you into some ridiculous project downstairs. Here's to surviving her version of 'rest.'" Riley smiles at the exchange, her tone lighter now as she watches you. "At least the whiskey's helping already. You look less like you just crawled out of another alley fight." Jill nods in agreement from across the table, her voice carrying that familiar mix of sarcasm and support. "To making it worse in the best way possible. The rain's still pounding out there, but in here we've got a solid night ahead." Rebecca settles into a nearby chair, her expression thoughtful. "Just don't overdo it with the drinks—those cuts need time without any extra strain." ·························································· BENJAMIN > "Well... A shower would definitely help. Waking up from death in a back alley isn't exactly flowers and perfume." ·························································· NARRATOR You mention the need for a shower with that understated humor, the words drawing a few nods around the lounge as the rain continues its steady patter against the outer walls. The safehouse feels solid and secure, its reinforced doors standing open to the connected rooms without any barriers. Abbi sets her glass down and gestures toward the hallway leading to the apartments. "Shower's all yours. The hot water's still holding up from the generator, so take your time washing off that alley grime." Riley leans back with a small smile, her voice carrying quiet relief. "Yeah, Dad. You'll feel like a new person after. We can save the rest of the whiskey for when you're back." Jill raises an eyebrow but keeps her tone light and practical. "Good call. Nothing like rinsing off a reset to clear the head. Rebecca and I will keep an eye on things out here." Rebecca nods in agreement, already gathering her kit. "The cuts should be fine as long as you keep them dry afterward. Holler if you need anything else." ·························································· BENJAMIN > I leave everyone in the lounge and head to my apartment to shower. ·························································· NARRATOR You push up from the couch and make your way out of the lounge, the soft murmur of conversation fading behind you as you cross into the hallway connecting the garage to the apartment units. The safehouse walls feel solid under the low lights, the rain's steady rhythm muffled but still audible through the reinforced structure. As you reach the door to your apartment, Abbi's voice calls after you from the lounge. "Don't take forever in there—dinner's probably going to be whatever Rebecca throws together tonight." Riley adds from her spot on the couch, her tone light but caring. "And save some hot water if you can. The generator's been running smooth, but you never know." The apartment door stands open as you step inside, the familiar space offering a quiet reprieve with its simple furnishings and the faint scent of clean linens. The bathroom awaits just ahead, its door unlatched and inviting after the long stretch outside. ──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────── End of transcript · Generated by Resident Evil: Rebirth