I felt a laugh bubble up—maybe hysteria, maybe just the absurdity of it all. Here I was, rookie cop Leon Kennedy, covered in monster guts on what was supposed to be my first day of work, taking tactical advice who thought blowing up trucks and wrestling sewer monsters was just another Tuesday. "You know what? Sure. Smooth. Why not." I checked my shotgun, ejecting the spent shells and reloading by muscle memory. The weapon had proved more useful than my pistol against that thing's thick hide. "At least we're still breathing. That's more than most people in this city can say." "Rookie courage," I repeated with a strained laugh, my head falling back against the wall. "That's one way to put it. I was thinking more 'stupid cop instincts.'"