Oakville, Canada

_"It will now be three months since these mysterious series of attacks began. First in Berlin, then in Helsinki, Prague and two days ago, in Madrid. The process remains the same: bombs had been hidden in several tourist places in the cities, and spread a kind of unknown and highly infectious gas. Thousands of people infected with this gas showed symptoms similar to rabies, completely losing their reason and indulging in uncontrollable violent outbursts. Faced with the inability of the health services to deal with the wave of chaos and to understand the origin of this new gas, the armed forces of the countries concerned have been forced to quarantine the affected cities. we have no idea of ​​the identity of the terrorist(s) responsible for his attacks and no claim has been known. The President of the United States has made a statement and says he is ready to come to the aid of Europe to face of this new crisis. I'm Alicia Vincent, live from the outskirts of Madrid, for CN News..."

As the reporter finished speaking, microphone in hand and stepping away, the camera showed what was happening behind her. Indeed, the outskirts of Madrid had been completely surrounded and blocked by kilometers of metal fences and chains, and constantly monitored by an impressive number of military and police forces. One or two helicopters could be seen in the distance hovering over Spain's capital, with several buildings in the grip of fires. In the screen, the camera showed the forms of several infected civilians suddenly surging against the gratings of the barriers, twitching with erratic spasms and behaving like beasts, howling and growling, their mad eyes bloodshot and their skins turned to a sickly pale, revealing tiny black veinlets. Men, women, and even a few children, all behaving like enrages, some vomiting a mixture of saliva and black blood from their mouths. The armed forces had to act immediately and, using electric batons, beat the infected through the holes in the fence in an attempt to repel them. But one of the infected children, a little girl, managed to bite one of the soldiers in the arm through the fence, tearing off a bloody piece of flesh. The wounded soldier let out a howl of pain as he backed up and clutched his arm, but was immediately shot in the head by one of his colleagues, who didn't hesitate for a second, as if knew what that entailed. These images of violence shown live provoked even more shock from the customers of the bar, and the bartender chose to turn off the television so as not to inflict this any longer on his customers.

In the modest downtown bar, where quiet rock-country music played softly, the few customers seated at the counter had watched the news from the small television hung in the corner. The reactions were varied, with some showing outrage and shock at the attacks, others nonchalantly shaking their heads in dismay, and still others choosing to ignore and continue drinking their drinks.

Sitting alone at the end of the counter, Karl Heisenberg remained silent, his gaze bent towards the bottle of beer he was holding in his hand. Always dressed in his trench coat, his hat and his dark glasses, his appearance attracted a lot of curious glances towards him, but he did not give a damn and it was enough for him to throw a glance towards the too curious for they prefer to look away and act as if nothing had happened. If only they knew what I'm capable of, he thought, laughing to himself within, they would all have fled the bar. His hammer, he didn't have it with him so as not to attract attention and had left it hidden in a large suitcase, at the little motel where he had been staying for several days. The bartender, a somewhat round and bald man, busy wiping a glass with a rag, came near him, and after observing the news about Madrid and the terrorist attacks, sighed heavily with annoyance.

_ "Poor Europe..." he said. "It's the same fucking nightmare repeating itself, like in Raccoon City."

_"Another one." asked Karl casually, who had finished his bottle of beer and pushed it back on the counter.

The bartender said nothing and went to get him another one from the row behind. Karl, arms leaning on the counter, had also vaguely watched the news, but he chose to give a damn and ignore it. If he had started this road trip around the world a year ago, it was to make the most of his freedom regained after the death of Miranda, and not yet hear about things like infections, mutations or monsters . Fortunately, his outward appearance as an ordinary-looking human allowed him to move about freely. Of course, for Dimitrescu and Moreau, it would have been more complicated, he sneered cynically in thought. He had a very brief thought for the other lords who remained in the valley in Transylvania. But that wasn't his problem anymore.

As requested, the bartender brought him a new bottle of beer, which Karl took and took a big sip, and then decided to pull out a map of Canada he had bought on the cheap and bent over it.

_"Okay ... Where can I go next?" he breathed softly.

But what Karl didn't know were other discreet looks on him. Seated face to face at a table in a corner towards the back of the bar, two men dressed as perfectly ordinary civilians, while pretending to discuss trivialities while drinking beers, kept glancing Heisenberg, as if recognizing him.

_ "Are you sure it's him, captain?" Canine asked discreetly.

Chris Redfield, also dressed in civilian clothes, took his private cell phone under the table, scrolling through the series of photos of the documents retrieved from the computer in Paris, until he found the one relating to Heisenberg, and compared looking again towards the person concerned, who was still leaning over his map to choose his next destination and suspected nothing.

_ "Yeah, that's him." confirmed Chris without being noticed. "Karl Heisenberg. One of the mutants spied on by the Connections. It remains to be seen what they want to do with him and these other lords, but that can't be a good thing."

_"Do you think it can have something to do with these attacks in Europe?" Canine then asked.

Chris lit a cigarette and blew a first puff, his gaze pensive and dark.

_"With these bastards, you have to expect anything. I also hope that the rest of the squad managed to find this Doctor Shepard in time."

But what the two agents in cover did not know was that they themselves were being observed without knowing it from another corner of the bar, by a solitary man, also dressed like any civilian, wearing a trucker's cap on his head and finishing his drink, paid the bartender and left the bar as if nothing had happened and without attracting the slightest suspicion. But once outside, in the street plunged into the night, making sure not to be seen, the man hastily walked down the small, dark, empty alley wedged between the bar and another building, and pulled out a walkie-talkie from under his jacket.

_"Grey Mole on report." the man on the phone said, dutifully looking around to make sure he wasn't being watched or overheard. "Target 'Iron Man' is spotted. But there's a problem: BSAA agents are here, and they've also identified the target."

_"Understood, Grey Mole. Keep an eye out. We'll be arriving shortly." answered a doctored voice in the walkie-talkie.

***********

Meanwhile...

Elsewhere in the town of Oakville, an entirely different kind of operation was being prepared. Following the attacks perpetrated in Europe, the famous multi-national humanitarian rights agency, TerraSave, which does not depend on any government, decided to act in order to come to the aid of all European citizens who had been forced to be evacuated from cities hit by the attacks and who had escaped contamination, but were now housed in camps supervised by the armies.

In order to send parcels of food, medicine and other products necessary for the well-being and to facilitate the life of the refugees in the camps, TerraSave had made an agreement with the mayor of Oakville and was able to rent the Oakville Community Social Center as a gathering place for all products intended to be sent to Europe. Throughout other cities in Canada and even in the United States, TerraSave had sent several aid groups. The agency also offered anyone who volunteers and would like to take part in the effort to come and lend a hand.

In the parking lot in front of the community social center, lit by the artificial light of the lampposts, a car came to park, and a young woman got out. Long red hair, green eyes, a fine and pretty face showing a serious and also determined expression. Warmly dressed in a black coat, and dressed in a black t-shirt, denim pants and black boots, she grabbed her cell phone, and her shoulder bag, in which was her nurse's outfit and where she put away also her nurse's badge which she hadn't taken the time to put away before.

Her name was Emily. Emily Shephard. Daughter of the famed biology expert Gleen Shepard, she was a bright young woman who had gone through extensive medical studies to finally achieve her dream of being able to help others. Having heard of the bioterrorist attacks in Europe like everyone else, Emily had been deeply touched by the fate of the thousands of people evacuated and put in the camps until the situation was brought under control. She had therefore volunteered to help TerraSave members prepare packages until very late at night. Luckily, she had a day off tomorrow so she could sleep.

Feeling a very light rain begin to fall from the overcast night sky, Emily hurriedly ran to the entrance of the center, and showed her volunteer badge to the guard posted outside the doors, who checked and then let her in safely. Emily then went up the large white stairs leading to the upper floor, walking through a small series of corridors until she finally arrived in a very versatile rectangular room, in which hundreds of people, TerraSave members and also volunteers were gathered. Rows of tables had been arranged to form a real network in the middle of which to move without hindrance. The activity was in full swing, people talking in all directions, giving each other the necessary instructions while preparing the boxes and boxes ready to be taken away or stored. Emily walked through the crowd, looking around as if trying to figure out where was the table she was assignated to.

_ "Emily! Hey, over here." a friendly female voice called out to her.

She looked to the right of the room, and smiled when she saw another young woman, also very pretty, beckoning her to come. She had blue eyes, long brown hair tied in a ponytail, and was dressed in a black t-shirt with a red leather jacket over it, denim pants, and sneakers. Thanks to this characteristic red jacket, Emily recognized her friend immediately. Claire Redfield, a very active and influential member of TerraSave. She and Emily had met two years ago in Toronto and had become friends, discovering this commonality of wanting to help others and wanting to make this world a fairer place for those who could not by their own means. Emily also knew that in the past, Claire had survived the very infamous Incident in Raccoon City, which had the entire city destroyed by a nuclear strike in order to stem the outbreak of the undead once and for all. Emily wanted to avoid questioning Claire too much on the subject, however, seeing that it made her rather uncomfortable.

Emily managed to push her way through the crowd and she and Claire, smiling and happy to see each other, hugged affectionately.

_ "Glad you could come." Claire added with sincerity.

_ "I couldn't miss that." Emily replied enthusiastically as she threw her coat over the back of her chair. "Besides, it's always better than spending yet another awkward evening with my father."

_ "Ah? Why? He is always immersed in his same research?" Claire asked, intrigued.

_ "If you only knew..." Emily sighed heavily. "He hasn't left his lab for weeks. He barely eats, he hardly sleeps and I can't even talk to him anymore, it's as if I no longer exist. And then... I don't know... He's been acting weird lately, he's nervous all the time and adamantly refuses to come out of the house, like he's scared."

Emily preferred not to continue on the subject, and Claire, seeing that her friend seemed touched, even saddened to talk about it, chose not to insist and patted her on the shoulder in support. In order to focus her mind on something else, Emily began her volunteer work, starting to store packs of water bottles in a cardboard box and destined to leave soon for Europe via one of the humanitarian convoys. Beside her, Claire also continued her work, finishing closing one of the boxes with sturdy tape and sticking a label on it and called another member of the agency to tell him to take the package.

Suddenly, Emily noticed that Claire was receiving a message on her cell phone, and out of curiosity, peeked discreetly. Claire smiled as she read the message she had just received, from a certain Leon S. Kennedy.

_"Who is this Leon? Your boyfriend?" Emily asked teasingly with a gentle nudge into her friend's arm.

_"Let's say a very good friend." replied Claire, who nevertheless blushed a little in embarrassment. "We survived Raccoon City together. I was looking for my brother Chris, and he was a young policeman transferred to the city police station. He saved my life when I was trying to escape from 'gas station not far from Raccoon City that had been overrun by zombies. Without him, I would probably be dead."

_ "He looks cool." Emily answered. "And what did he tell you in the message, without wanting to be indiscreet?"

_"He told me that he was in Spain at the moment, helping the local forces to maintain Madrid's quarantine. I told him to be careful, and he told me not to be worried and to be also careful. That's so him... Always wanting to play the valiant vigilante, but that's what makes him endearing and makes him a good and sincere person."

Emily smiled to see Claire talking about her friend like that, and even if she didn't know him, she hoped he would stay alive, so that he and Claire could see each other again. For her part, Emily had a thought for a friend of hers: Mathias Derune, a young French man whom she had known on social networks and who shared many passions in common, but also similar points of view on life and the society. But for a year now, Mathias had completely disappeared, having given no further news on any social network. The last time she had spoken with him by message, he was going through a very painful period because his mother had just died and he said he was going on a trip concerning a legacy from his family... And since then, nothing. She really hoped that nothing had happened to her, and with the crisis that was happening in Europe at the moment, her concern had increased.

_ "Emily? Are you okay?"

She was suddenly snapped out of her thoughts by Claire's voice.

_ "I...yes...sorry, I too was thinking about a friend living in Europe and hoping he was okay." Emily replied, focusing again on preparing the humanitarian packages. "By the way, you were talking about your brother, Chris. Have you found him since then?"

Claire saw that Emily was trying to change the subject, and out of respect, chose not to insist further.

_"To tell the truth, no..." confessed Claire a little sadly. "I know he's still alive because I often receive messages from him, but he flatly refuses to tell me where he is or what he's doing. He says it's to protect me. What a big jerk sometimes . He always takes me for his helpless little sister."

_ "Well, that's pretty normal of him." said Emily. "What kind of big brother wouldn't want to protect his little sister?"

Claire would have liked to retort, but also had to admit that her friend had a point. But in her mind, Claire was praying with all her might that she and Chris would one day finally be reunited, like a real family. What she didn't know was that on her side, Emily was also praying that such a thing could also happen with her father. What could he still be doing in his laboratory?

***********

Meanwhile...

In the quiet, sleepy suburb of Oakville, a plain-looking black van was parked on one of the sidewalks. But inside, equipped with all their military and tactical arsenal, the other members of the Hound Wolf Squad were stationed, waiting and observing in the greatest discretion towards a precise house. With the aid of advanced night-vision binoculars, Tundra peered through one of the tinted windows. In the back of the van, Umber Eyes, Night Howl, and Lobo sat, weapons drawn and ready to intervene at the slightest signal. Umber Eyes was busy listening to a call in his communicator and nodded before breaking off the conversation and turning to the others.

_"Good news guys. Alpha and Canine have spotted this mutant, Heisenberg. They will try to follow him to where he has settled and they will contact us afterwards depending on the situation."

_"Well, already a good starting point." Lobo whispered. "And you, Tundra, still nothing in Doctor Shepard's house?"

In the vision of the binoculars, she saw across the street, the restless form of an elderly man in his fifties, graying short hair, a square face and unshaven chin, who parted the curtains a little and seemed to be looking out both ways with a very nervous face, and quickly hurriedly closed the curtains.

_"Still nothing." Tundra explained to the others without looking away from the twins. "He keeps glancing outside since a while ago. He's really scared."

_ "Well, as the precious samples couldn't be delivered as agreed, he may be afraid of reprisals from his good "friends.'" Night Howl commented cynically.

_ "And we have to prevent something from happening to him." Umber Eyes affirmed to the others. "Remember, this guy is our only concrete lead. We need him alive at all costs. To avoid drawing too much attention to the neighborhood, we'll wait for him to fall asleep and then we take him away."

But suddenly, Tundra saw something that appeared from the end of the street and approached very slowly. Another black van, from another brand, and even if it also seemed completely ordinary, its instinct as an elite soldier tickled her with a very bad feeling.

_ "Oh shit..." she huffed under her commando mask. "Guys. We have company."

Immediately, the squad reacted and began to load their weapons and prepared to exit the van and intervene in case. Tundra continued to watch the suspicious van approach, ready to wave to the others when to act. The van stopped about thirty meters from theirs, cutting off its headlights and immediately several individuals, also masked and equipped with dark outfits, rushed out. One of them, without the slightest hesitation, pulled out what was a... Submachine gun with a silencer!

_"Get down!" warns Tundra right away, downing herself very quickly into the seats. The rest of the squad did the same, all throwing themselves to the ground as a flurry of gunfire began on their van, the bullets coming through the walls by the dozen and exploding the windshield and side windows.

***********

Chris and Canine had followed Karl Heisenberg undetected to a modest little motel not far from the bar. Hiding in the corner of a building near the parking lot, the two BSAA agents hiding in the shadows saw Karl, whistling happily and completely detached, climbing a small iron staircase leading him to an exterior hallway of bedroom doors, and opened one of them which he immediately closed once he entered.

_"So this is where he lives. Perfect. We can pick him up while he sleeps." Canine said confidently, but Chris held him back.

_"If the file is true about his abilities, we will need more people to master him. We can't risk him unleashing his abilities outside among civilians."

But as he spoke, Chris received a call on his walkie-talkie and took it. His heart jumped when he heard among the frenzied crackling, very recognizable sounds of gunfire, but also the loud and agitated voice of Tundra.

_"Captain! We are targeted! Multiple enemies! It's the Connections!"