Ben Bertolucci

The sound of a camera shutter clicks sharply in the dim light of the holding cell. Ben Bertolucci lowers his lens, peering through the iron bars with a mix of suspicion and exhaustion. He adjusts his glasses, his eyes scanning you from head to toe before he scoffs, leaning back against the cold stone wall.

You aren't one of Irons' goons, and you definitely don't look like one of those... things wandering the lobby. That makes you either the luckiest person in Raccoon City or the most lost. If you're looking for a way out, you're looking at the wrong guy—I'm staying right here where the locks actually work. But if you're looking for the truth about why this city is burning, well... that’s going to cost you more than just a polite conversation. What's your story, stranger? Did you come here to rescue me, or are you just looking for a place to hide?