Chapter Text
Leon kept his eyes on Claire.
His wrists burned as he twisted against the plastic restraints.
The sharp edges bit deeper into his skin.
He barely noticed.
All he could think about was Sherry.
And Claire.
The look on her face after Irons took the little girl.
The helpless rage in her eyes.
He pulled harder.
Determined to break the restraints through sheer force if he had to.
—You're going to hurt yourself if you keep doing that.
Ada's calm voice broke the silence.
Leon looked up.
She was already kneeling beside him.
Without another word, she pulled out her knife.
The blade flashed once.
The plastic tie snapped cleanly in half.
Relief rushed through Leon's arms as his hands came free.
He immediately pushed himself to his feet.
—Thanks.
Then he looked at her.
—Really. You've helped us more than once tonight.
A faint smile touched Ada's lips.
Almost amused.
Almost arrogant.
—Don't mention it.
Leon glanced toward the door leading back to the cell block.
—What about that giant thing?
Ada brushed a bit of dust from her sleeve.
—I managed to lose him.
She paused.
—Barely.
For the first time that night, Leon wasn't entirely sure if she was joking.
Before he could answer, movement caught his attention.
Claire.
She had finally stepped away from the gate.
A thin streak of blood still lingered at the corner of her mouth.
The mark Irons had left behind.
Her expression was hard now.
Focused.
Determined.
She scanned the ground around the gate.
Searching.
Looking for something.
Then she saw it.
A small golden locket resting on the concrete floor.
Sherry's locket.
Claire immediately bent down and picked it up.
Her fingers closed carefully around it.
For a brief moment, she stared at the small piece of jewelry.
Then she looked up.
And started walking toward them.
Every trace of hesitation gone.
As she approached, she wiped the blood from her mouth with the back of her hand.
—We need to move.
Her voice was steady.
Cold.
—Every second we waste here gives that bastard more time to get away with Sherry.
She stopped in front of them.
Holding the locket tightly in her hand.
Ada studied her quietly.
Expression unreadable.
Leon nodded immediately.
—Yeah.
His jaw tightened.
—We've wasted enough time already.
—That isn't my problem.
Ada's voice cut cleanly through the tension.
Both Leon and Claire turned toward her.
Claire stared.
Almost as if she couldn't believe what she had just heard.
—Excuse me?
Ada didn't flinch.
—My mission is somewhere else.
—I can't afford to waste time chasing after Irons.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop instantly.
Claire took a step forward.
—Waste time?
Her voice rose.
—That's what this is to you?
—A waste of time?
Ada folded her arms.
Perfectly calm.
Perfectly composed.
—Running after him right now won't save her.
—It will get you killed.
Claire laughed.
A short, bitter laugh.
—Her.
Ada raised an eyebrow.
—What?
—You keep calling her "her."
Claire pointed toward the locket clenched in her hand.
—She has a name.
—It's Sherry.
—She's twelve years old.
—And she's terrified.
Claire took another step closer.
—So stop talking about her like she's a problem to solve.
For a moment, neither woman looked away.
Ada's expression barely changed.
But her eyes narrowed slightly.
—Fear doesn't change the situation.
—No.
Claire's voice sharpened immediately.
—But it should change you.
The silence that followed lasted only a second.
But it felt much longer.
Leon suddenly had the distinct feeling that neither of them had forgotten he was standing there.
They simply didn't care.
—You're letting your emotions make decisions for you.
Ada said it almost casually.
—And you're hiding behind your mission.
Claire fired back.
For the first time, Ada didn't answer immediately.
The hesitation lasted less than a second.
But Claire noticed it.
Leon noticed it too.
Then Ada's expression hardened again.
—Believe whatever you want.
—It doesn't change the facts.
—You have almost no ammunition.
—You're exhausted.
—And somewhere out there is a giant thing that can punch through concrete walls.
She glanced toward the cell block.
—Following Irons blindly is suicide.
Claire clenched her fists.
—Then maybe we'll die trying.
—But I'm not abandoning her.
Ada looked at her for several long seconds.
Studying her.
Evaluating her.
—You're stubborn.
—You're damn right I am.
Leon finally stepped between them.
—Okay.
—Enough.
Neither woman looked particularly interested in listening.
—Claire...
He looked toward her first.
—Ada's right about one thing.
Claire opened her mouth.
Leon raised a hand.
—Just hear me out.
Then he looked toward Ada.
—And Claire's right too.
That finally earned a reaction.
Ada sighed.
Almost annoyed.
—You're too soft, rookie.
Leon ignored the comment.
—We're finding Sherry.
His voice remained calm.
Firm.
Completely certain.
—The only question is how.
Ada held his gaze for a moment.
Then slowly looked away.
—Do whatever you want.
Her voice was quieter now.
Colder.
—Just don't say I didn't warn you.
The tension lingered long after the argument ended.
No one spoke for several seconds.
Claire still looked ready to throw Ada through the nearest wall.
Ada appeared completely unbothered by the possibility.
Leon rubbed the bridge of his nose.
Already exhausted.
—Okay.
—We're done arguing.
Neither woman looked particularly interested in following that suggestion.
—Sherry needs us.
—And standing around here isn't helping her.
Leon scanned the parking garage.
The security gate.
The control booth.
The route Irons had taken.
Then finally pointed toward a nearby corridor.
—He came through there.
—If there's a keycard, that's probably where we'll find it.
Without waiting for an answer, he started walking.
Ada and Claire exchanged one last look.
Then followed.
They soon reached a junction where two metal doors branched in different directions.
Ada immediately stopped.
Her eyes moved between both entrances.
Calculating.
Evaluating.
Planning.
—We should split up.
Leon frowned.
—I don't like that idea.
—It's the fastest option.
Ada pointed toward the door on the left.
—We cover more ground.
—We'll find the keycard faster.
Claire crossed her arms.
—Or we get separated and picked off one by one.
Ada glanced toward her.
Completely calm.
—Then don't get picked off.
Claire's eye twitched.
Leon immediately decided not to get involved.
Again.
Ada reached for the door handle.
Then paused.
A faint smile touched her lips.
—Besides...
She looked back over her shoulder.
—I work better alone.
Before either of them could answer, she opened the door.
Then disappeared into the darkness beyond.
The door closed behind her.
Silence followed.
Claire stared at it for a moment.
Then snorted.
—Of course she does.
Leon sighed.
—You're really not going to give her a chance, are you?
—Not even a little.
Claire answered immediately.
—She helped us.
—I'll give her that.
She tightened her grip around Sherry's locket.
—But every time I start thinking I understand her, she says something that makes me want to throw her through a wall.
To his surprise, Leon almost smiled.
Almost.
—Yeah.
—I know what you mean.
Claire blinked.
Clearly not expecting that answer.
Leon drew his pistol.
The moment passed.
—Come on.
—Let's find that keycard.
Claire's expression hardened again.
Her anger.
Her worry.
Her determination.
All focused on a single objective.
—And then we find Sherry.
Leon nodded.
—And then we find Sherry.
Together, they pushed through the remaining door and entered the corridor beyond.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
The argument with Ada still lingered in the air as they continued down the hallway.
A small office sat off to one side.
A simple desk.
Old newspapers scattered across its surface.
At the far end of the hallway stood an elevator.
Leon pressed the call button.
As they waited, he glanced toward Claire.
There was still a trace of blood at the corner of her mouth.
The mark Irons had left behind.
Claire didn't seem to notice.
She looked distant.
Lost somewhere inside her own thoughts.
—Claire?
She didn't respond immediately.
Leon hesitated.
Then spoke again.
—Are you okay?
His voice was softer this time.
Genuine concern beneath it.
Claire blinked.
As if suddenly remembering where she was.
She looked up and found Leon watching her.
—Sorry.
She forced a small smile.
—I got distracted for a second.
—What were you saying?
The elevator arrived with a metallic ding.
The doors slid open.
Leon stepped aside.
—After you.
Claire entered first.
Leon followed.
Inside, there was only a single button.
Claire pressed it.
The doors closed.
The elevator began its slow ascent.
—I asked if you were okay.
Leon kept his eyes on her.
—And I mean you.
Claire's smile faded.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then she sighed.
—I'm fine.
The answer came too quickly.
Too automatically.
Leon noticed.
But didn't call her out on it.
Claire looked down at Sherry's locket resting in her hand.
—I'm just angry.
Her voice was quieter now.
More tired.
—That animal took Sherry.
—And we couldn't stop him.
The elevator slowed.
The doors opened.
Neither of them moved immediately.
Leon gently rested a hand on her shoulder.
—We'll get her back.
His voice carried the same certainty it always did whenever someone needed reassurance.
—I promise.
Claire looked up at him.
Really looked at him.
At the exhaustion behind his eyes.
At the dried blood on his uniform.
At the way he kept carrying everyone else's burdens as if they were his own.
Even now.
After everything that had happened.
He was still trying to make her feel better.
The realization caught her completely off guard.
For a brief moment, the chaos around them seemed to fade.
And before she could stop herself from thinking it—
Why does he always look so good when he does that?
The thought appeared so suddenly that it almost made her blink.
Where the hell had that come from?
Leon removed his hand from her shoulder and looked toward the hallway ahead.
A carpeted corridor stretched beyond the elevator.
Unaware of the crisis that had just occurred inside Claire's head.
He stepped forward.
Claire followed a moment later.
They quickly reached the end of the corridor.
A single wooden door waited there.
Leon pushed it open.
Both of them stopped in the doorway.
For a moment, neither spoke.
The room beyond looked completely out of place.
It was spacious.
Elegant.
Almost luxurious.
Dark green wallpaper covered the walls.
Polished wood gleamed beneath the soft lighting.
A thick Persian rug stretched across most of the floor.
Mounted animal heads stared down from the walls.
A massive bison.
A deer with enormous antlers.
Several other trophies.
Their glass eyes seemed to follow them as they entered.
Leon slowly lowered his pistol.
Not out of comfort.
Out of confusion.
—This doesn't look like a police office.
Claire took a few cautious steps forward.
The furniture looked expensive.
Dark wood.
Leather chairs.
Custom shelves.
The air carried the scent of polished wood.
Cigar smoke.
Expensive cologne.
Everything about the room seemed designed to impress.
To project authority.
Power.
Status.
Yet somehow...
The place felt wrong.
Claire couldn't explain why.
But the longer she looked around, the more uncomfortable she became.
As if the office reflected the man who owned it.
Beautiful on the surface.
Rotten underneath.
—Looks more like a private hunting lodge.
Claire muttered.
She approached the large desk.
A green banker’s lamp sat near the center.
Several documents were scattered nearby.
And beside them rested a polished metal nameplate.
Claire leaned forward.
Her eyes narrowed.
Then she read the inscription.
Brian Irons
Chief of Police
Her stomach tightened.
—It's his office.
Leon looked over immediately.
Claire turned toward him.
—We're in Irons' office.
For a second, Leon simply stared at the room.
The trophies.
The luxury.
The excess.
Everything suddenly looked different.
Less impressive.
More disturbing.
—Of course it is.
The disgust in his voice was impossible to miss.
He scanned the room one more time.
Then tightened his grip on his pistol.
—Let's find that keycard.
Claire returned to searching through the desk drawers.
Documents.
Receipts.
Stacks of paperwork.
Nothing that looked remotely useful.
Across the office, Leon continued checking cabinets and shelves.
Then something caught his attention.
A second door stood partially open near the side wall.
Leon approached cautiously.
Using the barrel of his pistol, he pushed it open.
The door swung inward.
His eyebrows immediately rose.
—Claire...
He didn't take his eyes off the room.
—You need to see this.
Claire abandoned the desk and walked over.
The moment she stepped inside, she stopped.
Neither of them spoke.
The room felt less like part of a police station and more like a private museum.
Or a shrine.
At the center stood a massive taxidermied tiger.
Frozen mid-pounce.
Its jaws open.
Its claws extended.
The glass eyes seemed almost alive beneath the dim lighting.
Every wall was covered with trophies.
Deer.
Bears.
Wild boars.
Mounted heads stared down from every direction.
Ancient hunting rifles hung beside expensive oil paintings.
A fully stocked bar occupied one corner of the room.
Bottles worth more than most officers earned in a month.
The entire place radiated wealth.
Power.
Vanity.
And something else.
Something neither of them could quite put into words.
Claire slowly turned in a circle.
Uneasy.
—This is insane.
Her voice barely rose above a whisper.
—How does a police chief afford any of this?
Leon continued studying the room.
The trophies.
The displays.
The way every animal seemed carefully posed and presented.
Like prizes.
Like possessions.
—He doesn't.
Leon finally replied.
—Not on a police salary.
Claire shook her head.
Disgust written plainly across her face.
—Ben was right.
—Every word of it.
Her gaze drifted back toward the tiger.
The dead animal seemed almost proud.
Displayed for admiration.
Displayed for ownership.
A chill ran through her.
—You know what's really creepy?
Leon glanced toward her.
—What?
Claire folded her arms.
Still staring at the trophies.
—It's not the money.
—It's how much he wants people to see all of this.
Leon followed her gaze.
For the first time, he understood exactly what she meant.
This wasn't a collection.
It was a statement.
A monument to himself.
—Yeah.
His voice sounded colder now.
—That guy's sick.
Neither of them stayed much longer.
The room made their skin crawl.
And neither wanted to spend another second surrounded by Brian Irons' trophies.
They stepped back into the office.
The air somehow felt easier to breathe outside that room.
—Any luck?
Leon asked.
Claire shook her head.
—Nothing useful.
—Just documents.
She glanced back toward the trophy room.
—And enough taxidermy to keep a psychiatrist employed for years.
Leon let out a short snort.
—Yeah.
—That guy is seriously messed up.
Claire crossed her arms.
Her eyes drifting briefly toward Irons' desk.
Thinking.
Then something occurred to her.
—The STARS office.
Leon looked at her.
—What about it?
—Most of the STARS members had assigned vehicles.
—Some of them had access to patrol units too.
—If anyone in this building had access cards lying around is them
Leon considered it.
Then nodded.
—Makes sense.
Claire headed toward the door.
Leon followed.
Leon glanced around the office one final time.
—At this point, it's the best lead we've got.
Claire started toward the door.
—We'll need to go back through the Main Hall.
—The office is near the library.
—Sounds like a plan.
Leon replied.
For the first time since leaving the parking garage, Claire seemed a little calmer.
Still worried.
Still angry.
But focused again.
Leon quietly found himself relieved.
Together, they headed back toward the Main Hall.
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the station, Ada moved quietly through the dark corridors beneath the RPD.
Her search had yielded little.
The firing range had been a dead end.
Mostly.
She had found several scattered boxes of ammunition.
Most of it now rested safely inside her jacket.
One spare box remained tucked away separately.
For Leon.
And the stubborn girl.
Ada frowned slightly.
The thought annoyed her.
Why was she helping them?
None of this had anything to do with her mission.
She could have left them behind hours ago.
It would have been easier.
Cleaner.
Safer.
That was how she had always operated.
Alone.
Her expression hardened.
She immediately pushed the thought aside.
This was not the time for pointless introspection.
A soft buzz came from the communicator attached to her wrist.
Ada glanced down.
Then answered.
—Go ahead.
A calm male voice emerged from the speaker.
Controlled.
Authoritative.
Cold.
“Status?”
Ada continued walking.
—Complicated.
—The primary target is dead.
A brief silence followed.
When the voice returned, it sounded mildly interested.
Nothing more.
“And the sample?”
—Not yet.
—The situation is unstable.
—There are civilians involved.
“Civilians?”
The voice carried the faintest trace of amusement.
“That's unusual.”
“You normally don't let civilians become your problem.”
Ada's eyes narrowed slightly.
—They're not my problem.
—They're in the way.
“Mm.”
The response sounded unconvinced.
“Who are they?”
—A civilian.
—A child.
—And a rookie police officer who keeps making things more complicated than they need to be.
A quiet chuckle came through the communicator.
Humorless.
Predatory.
“The rookie.”
“Is he useful?”
Ada remained silent for a moment.
Just long enough to be noticed.
—More useful than most people I've met tonight.
Another pause followed.
Longer this time.
“Useful people have a habit of becoming liabilities.”
Ada said nothing.
“Try not to get attached.”
Her expression remained unreadable.
—I won't.
The voice ignored the answer.
“The G-Virus is the priority.”
“Everything else is expendable.”
“Including your new friends.”
Ada continued walking.
Her pace never changed.
—Understood.
“Good.”
The voice became colder.
Sharper.
“Do not disappoint me.”
“You know how much I dislike disappointment.”
The transmission ended.
Silence returned to the corridor.
Ada stared at the communicator for a moment.
Expression impossible to read.
Then she switched it off and slipped it beneath her sleeve.
—As always.
The words carried just enough irony to betray her irritation.
A moment later, she continued deeper into the darkness.
Leon and Claire made their way back into the Main Hall.
The place that had once been the heart of the Raccoon City Police Department now felt more like a tomb.
The vast chamber sat in oppressive silence.
Faint moonlight filtered through the towering windows above.
Weak.
Cold.
Dark storm clouds drifted across the sky outside.
Periodically swallowing what little light remained.
Barely enough to illuminate the dust drifting through the air.
The sound of their footsteps echoed across the marble floor.
Lonely.
Hollow.
Every desk they passed stood abandoned.
Every overturned chair.
Every darkened corner.
A reminder of how quickly everything had fallen apart.
Above them, the statue of the Goddess stood motionless at the center of the hall.
Silent.
Unchanging.
A witness to everything that had happened inside these walls.
Claire slowed her pace.
Her eyes wandered across the enormous chamber.
The reception desk.
The marble staircase.
The makeshift barricades survivors had desperately tried to build.
It felt impossible to believe how much had changed in a single night.
—And to think...
Her voice barely rose above a whisper.
—A few days ago there were people here.
She swallowed.
—Cops.
—Dispatchers.
—People coming and going.
Her gaze drifted toward the front entrance.
—Now there's only this.
Leon didn't answer immediately.
His expression had grown distant.
Tired.
Heavy.
He looked around the hall himself.
Trying to imagine what it must have looked like before the outbreak.
Before the blood.
Before the bodies.
Before the nightmare.
Instead, all he saw were ghosts.
Then they saw movement.
Near the base of the main staircase.
A lone figure stood there.
Swaying slightly.
Motionless one moment.
Unsteady the next.
Claire froze.
Leon did too.
The uniform looked familiar.
Painfully familiar.
For one brief second, hope flickered inside Claire's chest.
Marvin.
Then the figure slowly turned toward them.
And the hope died instantly.
The lieutenant's uniform was still recognizable.
So was the badge clipped to his chest.
But everything else was gone.
His skin had turned gray.
His eyes were empty.
A low guttural growl escaped his throat as he staggered toward them.
Claire felt her stomach drop.
—Marvin...
Her voice was barely a whisper.
She took an involuntary step forward.
—Marvin, it's us...
For one impossible second, she wanted to believe he was still in there.
That somehow he would recognize them.
That somehow he would answer.
Marvin staggered forward again.
One step.
Then another.
The growl deepened.
Claire's vision blurred.
Only then did the tears begin to form.
Her trembling hands slowly raised the revolver.
—I...
Her voice cracked.
—I'll do it.
Leon looked at Claire.
He saw the tears forming in her eyes.
The tremor in her hands.
The desperate attempt to stay strong.
Slowly, he stepped forward.
And gently placed a hand over the barrel of her revolver.
Lowering it.
—No.
His voice was soft.
Steady.
—Let me.
Claire looked at him.
For a moment, she wanted to argue.
But the words never came.
She lowered the revolver.
Then turned her face away.
Unable to watch.
Leon swallowed.
His eyes returned to Marvin.
The lieutenant staggered forward again.
One slow step.
Then another.
For a brief moment, Leon remembered the man sitting wounded in the East Office.
Still giving orders.
Still trying to protect everyone.
Still doing his job.
Even while dying.
A lump formed in his throat.
He raised the pistol.
Both hands gripping it.
Trying to hide the slight tremor in his fingers.
—I'm sorry, Marvin.
The words barely escaped him.
—And... thank you.
The shot echoed through the Main Hall.
Sharp.
Violent.
Final.
Marvin's body jerked once.
Then collapsed onto the marble floor.
Still.
At last.
Silence returned.
Only the distant sound of rain remained.
Leon didn't lower the pistol immediately.
He simply stood there.
Looking at Marvin.
Looking at what remained.
Another person he couldn't save.
Slowly, he lowered the weapon.
Then bowed his head.
Closing his eyes.
His lips moved quietly.
Almost soundlessly.
—Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord.
And let perpetual light shine upon him.
May he rest in peace.
Amen.
Claire wiped her cheeks and slowly stepped beside him.
Neither of them spoke.
For several seconds they simply stood there.
Facing Marvin.
Facing what was left of him.
Two survivors in a hall filled with ghosts.
Leon finally lowered his hands and opened his eyes.
He took a slow breath.
Then holstered his pistol.
His gaze lingered on Marvin's body.
—He was a good man.
His voice was quiet.
Heavy.
—He deserved better than this.
Claire nodded.
Her eyes never leaving Marvin.
—Yeah.
—He did.
Silence settled over the Main Hall once more.
Only the distant rain could be heard.
Then Claire noticed a folded white sheet resting atop an abandoned gurney near the wall.
Without a word, she walked toward it.
Leon understood immediately.
He followed.
Together, they carefully lifted the sheet.
Then gently draped it over Marvin's body.
Covering the uniform.
Covering the wound.
Covering the face.
A final act of dignity.
A final act of respect.
For a man who had never stopped protecting others.
They stepped back.
Neither of them spoke.
There was nothing left to say.
Leon stared at the covered figure for a moment longer.
—Rest easy, Marvin.
The words barely rose above a whisper.
Claire swallowed hard.
Then wiped away the last trace of tears.
—We should go.
Leon nodded.
He took one last look at the sheet-covered body.
Then turned away.
Together, they crossed the Main Hall.
Their footsteps echoed softly across the marble floor.
Growing fainter.
And fainter.
Until only the rain remained.
Behind them, Marvin rested beneath the white sheet.
Alone.
At peace at last.
They crossed the Library in silence.
Neither of them felt much like talking.
The events in the Main Hall still lingered between them.
Heavy.
Unspoken.
They passed through the lounge.
The statue stood exactly where they had left it.
Silent.
Watching.
Claire led the way down another corridor.
—It's this way.
Her voice barely rose above a whisper.
Leon nodded.
Following close behind.
One hand on his flashlight.
The other on his pistol.
They rounded a corner.
And stopped.
A long hallway stretched before them.
Dimly lit.
Empty.
At the far end stood a single door.
Dark blue.
Motionless beneath the flickering lights.
The gold lettering was still visible.
S.T.A.R.S.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then they started walking.
Their footsteps echoed softly through the corridor.
Each step bringing them closer.
Closer to answers.
Closer to Chris.
Closer to the truth.
Leon reached the door first.
He tightened his grip on the pistol.
Then slowly pushed it open.
The hinges creaked softly.
He entered first.
Weapon raised.
Flashlight sweeping across the room.
Desk.
Lockers.
Computers.
Walls covered in photographs.
No movement.
No growls.
No threats.
Only silence.
After a few seconds, Leon lowered the weapon.
Then glanced back toward the doorway.
—Clear.
Claire stepped inside.
And immediately stopped.
The room hit her like a punch to the chest.
A thousand memories at once.
Summer visits.
Phone calls.
Stories.
Photographs.
Chris.
Everywhere she looked...
Chris.
Claire slowly walked deeper into the office.
For a moment, the ruined police station disappeared.
The monsters.
The gunfire.
The blood.
All of it faded away.
She had been here before.
More than once.
Back when this room had been alive.
Back when Chris had still called Raccoon City home.
Her gaze drifted across the desks.
The lockers.
The photographs pinned to the walls.
The coffee mugs left behind.
Ghosts of another life.
A better life.
She stopped beside one of the desks.
A blue beret still rested there.
Untouched.
Waiting for someone who would never return.
Claire smiled faintly.
—Jill's.
Her fingers brushed the edge of the desk.
—She always looked so serious when she was working.
—Like she carried the entire team on her shoulders.
A soft laugh escaped her.
—But when she relaxed...
—She was actually fun.
—She treated me like a little sister.
—Taught me a few self-defense moves.
—Said Chris was way too protective.
Claire shook her head.
Still smiling.
—She wasn't wrong.
For the first time since entering the room, Leon saw genuine warmth in her eyes.
Not survival.
Not determination.
Just memory.
Claire glanced back at the beret.
Then smiled to herself.
—Chris has been in love with her forever.
Leon blinked.
—Really?
—Oh, absolutely.
Her smile widened.
—Everyone knew.
—Except Chris.
Leon couldn't help smiling.
Claire laughed quietly.
The sound felt strange inside a place like this.
Almost forbidden.
Then the smile slowly faded.
She moved toward another desk.
This one stopped her completely.
Chris.
Her fingers rested on the wooden surface.
As though touching it might somehow bring him back.
—I used to sit here while he worked.
Her voice had softened.
—He'd complain that I was distracting him.
—And I'd remind him that he was usually the one getting into trouble.
She picked up a framed photograph.
Two younger faces smiled back at her.
A brother.
A sister.
A lifetime ago.
The room suddenly felt much quieter.
Claire stared at the photograph.
Her eyes beginning to glisten.
—It's always been the two of us.
The words were barely above a whisper.
—Always.
She swallowed.
Hard.
—And now I don't even know where he is.
Leon remained silent.
Not because he didn't care.
But because some pain deserved silence.
Claire stood there for several seconds.
Looking at the photograph.
Holding on to the last piece of normality she had left.
Then she carefully placed it back exactly where she had found it.
Her fingers lingered on the frame for a moment.
Before finally letting go.
—We'll find him.
The words came quietly from behind her.
Claire closed her eyes.
Just for a second.
Then nodded.
When she turned around, the tears were gone.
The determination had returned.
—First we find that card.
—Then we find Sherry.
Leon nodded.
And together they began searching the office.
While Leon continued searching through the desks, Claire wandered toward the small armory at the back of the office.
She tried the handle.
To her surprise, it opened.
The small room beyond was dimly lit.
Metal lockers lined the walls.
Most stood empty.
But not all of them.
Claire's eyes widened slightly.
A pump-action shotgun rested inside one of the racks.
Several shells sat beside it.
Not many.
But enough.
She carefully lifted the weapon.
Its weight immediately settled into her arms.
Heavy.
Solid.
Powerful.
She smiled despite herself.
—Barry would've loved this.
The thought came instantly.
Barry Burton never seemed happier than when he was talking about guns.
Especially shotguns.
Claire could almost hear his voice.
Lecturing someone about stopping power.
Or reliability.
Or both.
A small laugh escaped her.
Then she turned toward the office.
—Leon.
He looked up from one of the desks.
—You might want to see this.
Leon walked over.
Claire extended the shotgun toward him.
—Barry always said a good shotgun was indispensable.
A faint smile touched her lips.
—I think he'd be personally offended if we left this behind.
Leon stared at the weapon.
Then at Claire.
—You sure?
Claire glanced down at the grenade launcher slung across her back.
Then raised an eyebrow.
—Pretty sure.
—This thing already tries to dislocate my shoulder every time I fire it.
—I don't need another weapon trying to kill me.
Leon laughed quietly.
The first genuine laugh either of them had managed in hours.
Then he accepted the shotgun.
The weight settled naturally into his hands.
Comfortably.
Almost instinctively.
He worked the action once.
The metallic sound echoed softly through the office.
Reliable.
Simple.
Effective.
Leon nodded with approval.
—Yeah.
A small smile appeared on his face.
—I can work with this.
He loaded the shells.
Stored the rest inside his tactical pouches.
Then secured the shotgun across his back.
For the first time since entering the station, he looked slightly better equipped for what waited ahead.
Claire continued searching the office while Leon examined a row of filing cabinets near the wall.
The private office in the back caught her attention.
A glass partition separated it from the rest of the room.
A nameplate sat neatly on the desk.
A. Wesker.
Claire frowned.
Even before Chris had started talking about S.T.A.R.S., Wesker had always seemed distant.
Cold.
Like someone who never truly relaxed.
She pushed the thought aside and began searching the desk.
One drawer.
Then another.
Nothing.
Then she opened the top drawer on the right.
Her eyes widened immediately.
—There it is.
She lifted a plastic card triumphantly.
—Garage access.
Leon looked up from across the room.
—Nice.
Claire smiled and started to close the drawer.
Then paused.
Something had caught her eye.
A photograph lay near the back.
Half hidden beneath a stack of papers.
Curious, she pulled it free.
Then blinked.
—Rebecca?
Leon looked over.
Claire studied the photograph.
A young woman sat on the ground with her legs crossed.
She wore a green-and-white R.P.D. athletic uniform.
A basketball rested between her knees.
Her hands were folded behind her head.
A shy smile brightened her face.
Young.
Carefree.
Happy.
Claire couldn't help smiling back.
—I remember her.
Leon walked closer.
—You knew her?
Claire nodded.
Still staring at the photograph.
—Only once.
—The last time I came to visit Chris.
Her smile widened slightly.
—She had just joined S.T.A.R.S.
—Honestly, she looked completely out of place.
Leon raised an eyebrow.
—How so?
Claire laughed softly.
—You had all these veteran officers.
—Chris.
—Jill.
—Barry.
—And then there was this eighteen-year-old kid who looked like she should've been studying for exams.
Leon smiled.
—And she wasn't?
—Not anymore.
Claire chuckled.
—She was already a college graduate.
—A complete genius.
—But she was also incredibly sweet.
—A little shy.
—A little nervous.
—Like she still couldn't quite believe she'd made it onto the team.
Claire looked down at the photograph again.
Her expression softened.
—I liked her.
—She reminded me a little of Jill.
—Just younger.
—And a lot less intimidating.
For a moment she remained silent.
Looking at the smiling girl in the photograph.
A snapshot from a world that no longer existed.
Then her expression slowly shifted.
Confusion replacing nostalgia.
She looked at the photograph.
Then at the nameplate.
A. Wesker.
Then back at the photograph again.
—...
—Okay.
Leon immediately recognized that tone.
—What?
Claire held up the picture.
—Why exactly does Wesker have a photograph of Rebecca in his desk?
Leon stared at the picture.
Then at the nameplate.
Then back at Claire.
—You know...
—That's actually a really good question.
RRRIIINNNGGGG.
The sound shattered the silence.
Both of them flinched instinctively.
The telephone sitting on Wesker's desk continued ringing.
Loud.
Sharp.
Almost aggressive.
Claire and Leon exchanged a quick glance.
Neither of them liked the timing.
Leon nodded once.
Claire reached for the receiver.
Then pressed the speaker button.
A mechanical click echoed through the office.
The line connected.
For a second, there was only static.
Then a familiar voice spoke.
—Well, well.
—Hello, Claire.
—Hello, Kennedy.
Brian Irons sounded almost amused.
As though he had been expecting this moment.
—How curious.
—Finding the two of you snooping around my station.
Leon immediately frowned.
—How do you know we're here?
A low chuckle came through the speaker.
—Cameras, Kennedy.
—I've spent years making sure everything stays under control in my department.
Claire stepped closer to the desk.
—Where's Sherry?
—If you've hurt her—
—Relax.
Irons cut her off immediately.
His voice remained calm.
Which somehow made it worse.
—The little girl is perfectly fine.
—For now.
Claire felt her stomach tighten.
Irons continued.
—I'm waiting for you at the orphanage.
—And I want the pendant she carries around her neck.
Leon and Claire exchanged a quick glance.
The pendant.
Neither of them had it.
—If you don't have it...
Irons sighed dramatically.
—Then you'd better find it.
Leon stepped closer to the phone.
His jaw tightening.
—You're the Chief of Police.
—You're supposed to protect people.
—Now you're kidnapping children?
—Do you actually think you're getting away with this?
For a moment there was silence.
Then Irons laughed.
Not loudly.
Not angrily.
Just amused.
—You still sound like a rookie.
—Like someone fresh out of the academy.
—The world isn't built on ideals, Kennedy.
—It's built on power.
—Money helps too.
—Umbrella pays very well.
Leon clenched his fists.
Irons didn't stop.
—You still think you're going to save everyone.
—That's adorable.
Then his attention shifted.
The change was immediate.
Subtle.
But unmistakable.
—And you...
—Claire Redfield.
A cold feeling settled in her stomach.
—The little sister.
—I've heard quite a lot about you.
Claire's expression darkened.
Irons' voice dropped lower.
Almost intimate.
Almost friendly.
Which somehow made it disgusting.
—I always wanted the opportunity to meet you properly.
—You're much more interesting than I expected.
Leon immediately stiffened.
Claire felt her skin crawl.
—When you arrive...
—Perhaps you and I can have a private conversation.
The office suddenly felt colder.
Claire's grip tightened around the receiver.
Leon took a step toward the desk.
His voice was low.
Dangerously low.
—If you touch Sherry...
—If you touch Claire...
—I'll kill you.
Silence.
Then another chuckle.
Irons sounded genuinely pleased.
—The orphanage.
—One hour.
—Bring the pendant.
—Or I'll start finding ways to entertain myself with the girl.
Clic.
The line went dead.
For several seconds, neither of them spoke.
The silence left behind by Irons felt heavier than before.
Claire continued staring at the telephone.
Her jaw clenched.
Her pulse still racing.
Beside her, Leon dragged a hand across his face and exhaled slowly.
—Son of a bitch.
Claire nodded.
Still furious.
Still disgusted.
Then something Irons had said resurfaced in her mind.
The pendant.
She reached into her pocket.
And pulled it out.
The small golden locket rested in her palm.
Elegant.
Simple.
Completely ordinary.
At least at first glance.
—Why does he care so much about this thing?
Leon stepped closer.
Claire carefully opened the locket.
Inside was a photograph.
Small enough to fit inside the tiny compartment.
Sherry stood between her parents.
William Birkin.
Annette Birkin.
All three smiling.
Happy.
Normal.
For a moment, Claire felt a knot form in her chest.
It was strange.
Looking at the picture.
Knowing that family no longer existed.
At least not in the way Sherry remembered it.
Leon studied the photograph over her shoulder.
—It's just a family picture.
His voice carried genuine confusion.
—Why would Irons care about that?
Claire slowly closed the locket.
Thinking.
Then shook her head.
—I don't know.
—Maybe it's more than a keepsake.
—Maybe there's something hidden inside it.
She tightened her grip around the pendant.
—Whatever the reason...
—If Irons wants it this badly, it matters.
Leon nodded.
He didn't like it either.
Too many people had already died over things that seemed insignificant.
Claire slipped the locket back into her pocket.
Then looked directly at Leon.
The anger was still there.
But now something else had joined it.
Determination.
—Then we're going to the orphanage.
—Now.
Leon didn't hesitate.
He slid the garage keycard into one of his vest pockets.
—Let's move.
The moment was over.
The memories.
The stories.
The ghosts of S.T.A.R.S.
All of it stayed behind as they headed for the door.
Leon exited first.
Shotgun across his back.
Pistol in hand.
Ready for whatever waited ahead.
The corridor was dimly lit.
Only the emergency lights remained.
Flickering weakly overhead.
Leon had barely taken two steps outside the S.T.A.R.S. office when he froze.
THUD.
THUD.
His stomach dropped instantly.
No.
Not again.
Behind him, Claire stepped out of the office.
She immediately noticed the tension in his posture.
Then she heard it too.
THUD.
THUD.
The same footsteps.
The same impossible weight behind them.
The same sound from the detention cells.
Both of them slowly turned toward the far end of the corridor.
And saw it.
The figure stepped around the corner.
Calmly.
Deliberately.
As though it already knew they had nowhere to run.
It filled the hallway.
Blocking the path ahead.
Over seven feet tall.
A long black trench coat.
A dark fedora shadowing its pale face.
Its expression never changed.
Its eyes locked onto them.
And never blinked.
Leon felt ice crawl down his spine.
—Oh, you've got to be kidding me...
THUD.
The creature took another step.
The floor vibrated beneath its boots.
THUD.
Another.
Closer.
Leon tightened his grip on the pistol.
Every instinct in his body screamed the same warning.
This isn't like the others.
Run.
It wasn't shambling.
It wasn't wandering.
It wasn't hunting blindly.
It was looking at them.
Choosing them.
Claire took an involuntary step backward.
—Leon...
—Yeah.
He never took his eyes off the creature.
—We're leaving.
—Now.
He grabbed Claire's hand.
Then turned and headed back the way they had come.
Fast.
Not running yet.
But close.
Behind them, the footsteps continued.
THUD.
THUD.
THUD.
Leon risked a glance over his shoulder.
The creature wasn't running.
Thank God.
But it didn't need to.
Its strides were enormous.
Relentless.
Steady.
Every step brought it closer.
And closer.
And closer.
Leon quickened his pace.
Almost dragging Claire behind him.
Neither of them dared look back.
Not yet.
They reached the corner.
Turned it.
And immediately stopped.
A barricade.
Desks.
Chairs.
Cabinets.
The entire corridor was blocked.
—No, no, no...
Claire's eyes darted around.
Then spotted a nearby door.
THUD.
THUD.
THUD.
The footsteps were getting closer.
Fast.
Too fast.
Claire grabbed the handle.
Tried it.
Nothing.
Locked.
—Shit!
Leon spun around.
Raised his pistol.
BANG.
BANG.
BANG.
The rounds slammed into the creature's chest.
The massive figure barely reacted.
Still walking.
Still coming.
Leon immediately raised his aim.
BANG.
The fedora flew off.
Revealing a bald, pale head underneath.
The creature stopped.
Just for a second.
Its eyes closed.
Then opened again.
Fixing themselves directly on Leon.
That was a mistake.
—The damn door's locked!
Claire shouted.
Leon turned.
Then drove his boot forward.
CRASH.
The door burst open.
THUD.
THUD.
The creature resumed walking.
Leon and Claire rushed inside.
The station bathroom.
—This is not good.
Claire kept moving.
Leon stopped briefly.
Turned.
Raised the pistol again.
BANG.
BANG.
BANG.
The giant raised a gloved hand.
Protecting its face.
The bullets barely slowed it.
Claire rounded the corner.
Then her eyes widened.
—Leon!
—This way!
A large hole had been blasted through the wall.
An escape route.
Leon didn't hesitate.
He turned and ran.
The two of them crossed through the showers.
Water dripped steadily from the pipes.
Steam drifted through the room.
Behind them...
THUD.
THUD.
THUD.
The footsteps never stopped.
Never slowed.
They climbed through the hole.
The creature turned the corner.
Leon glanced back one last time.
Then spotted the water heater.
BANG.
WHOOOOSSSHHH.
A massive cloud of steam erupted into the showers.
The creature recoiled.
Covering its face again.
For the first time, something had actually interrupted its advance.
—Go!
Leon shouted.
They sprinted out of the bathroom.
Emerging on the opposite side of the blocked corridor.
Claire immediately searched for a route.
Left.
Right.
Then spotted it.
—There!
She pointed toward a staircase.
Leading downward.
Neither of them questioned it.
They ran.
Taking the stairs two at a time.
Behind them...
THUD.
THUD.
THUD.
The footsteps had started again.
Relentless.
Patient.
Unstoppable.
Sherry curled up in the darkest corner of the room.
Her knees pressed tightly against her chest.
The room felt freezing.
The rain had stopped sometime earlier.
But water still dripped steadily from somewhere overhead.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The sound seemed impossibly loud in the silence.
A single dirty window near the ceiling allowed a faint beam of moonlight inside.
It barely illuminated the room.
Rows of old filing cabinets.
Dust-covered boxes.
Shelves overflowing with forgotten records.
Everything smelled damp.
Old paper.
Mold.
And something else.
Something metallic.
Something that reminded her of blood.
Sherry shivered.
She wrapped her arms tighter around her legs.
Trying to stop the trembling.
It didn't work.
Every time she closed her eyes, the images came back.
The zombies.
The streets.
The screaming.
Ben.
The sound of his head being crushed.
The blood splattering across the bars.
Sherry squeezed her eyes shut.
As if that could somehow make the memories disappear.
Mom...
Dad...
Where are you?
But no answer came.
Only the dripping water.
Then another face appeared in her thoughts.
Claire.
Claire always smiled.
Even when she was scared.
Even when things were going wrong.
She always found something encouraging to say.
Something hopeful.
Something warm.
And whenever danger appeared...
Claire always stepped in front of her.
Every single time.
Protecting her.
Telling her to stay behind.
Telling her everything would be okay.
Sherry swallowed hard.
Claire felt like the big sister she had always wanted.
Then she thought about Leon.
A small smile appeared despite herself.
Leon was different.
Quieter.
Calmer.
He never talked as much as Claire.
But somehow that made her trust him even more.
No matter how bad things became...
Leon never seemed to panic.
Not where she could see it.
He always looked like he was trying to protect everyone.
Even when he was exhausted.
Even when he was scared.
Sherry lowered her head.
Thinking about both of them.
Together.
They felt safe.
Like maybe...
Maybe everything wasn't hopeless yet.
Her fingers slowly tightened into fists.
I can be brave too.
Just a little longer.
Claire will come.
Leon will come.
I know they will.
Beyond the wall, she could barely hear Chief Irons speaking on the telephone.
His voice was low.
Relaxed.
Almost cheerful.
As if he were enjoying all of this.
Sherry hugged her knees tighter.
And waited.
Irons slowly lowered the receiver back onto its cradle.
A smile spread across his face.
Thin.
Ugly.
Like a crack spreading through old paint.
He leaned back into the leather chair and turned toward the wall of monitors he had installed throughout the station.
The cameras gave him a perfect view.
Corridors.
Offices.
Entrances.
Exits.
His kingdom.
And there they were.
Claire Redfield.
And the rookie.
Irons leaned forward slightly.
Resting his elbows on the desk.
Watching.
Studying.
Claire moved across the screen.
Determined.
Defiant.
Still fighting.
A low chuckle escaped him.
The little sister.
Chris Redfield's little sister.
That alone made her interesting.
He had heard plenty about Chris over the years.
The arrogance.
The stubbornness.
The constant need to do the right thing.
Irons hated people like that.
People who believed principles mattered.
People who still thought the world was fair.
His smile widened.
I wonder what Chris would do.
If he could see this.
The thought amused him more than it should have.
He watched Claire for another moment.
Noticing the fire in her eyes.
The refusal to submit.
The refusal to break.
That was the part he enjoyed most.
Not fear.
Not obedience.
The moment before both arrived.
Everyone resisted.
At first.
A quiet laugh escaped him.
—They always do.
He leaned back once more.
The chair creaked softly.
His fingers drummed against the armrest.
Impatient.
Waiting.
The pendant.
The girl.
Soon enough, both would be exactly where he wanted them.
His eyes shifted toward another monitor.
The rookie.
Kennedy.
Irons snorted.
Idealistic.
Predictable.
Disposable.
Just another young cop who still believed rules meant something.
Outside, thunder rumbled in the distance.
The orphanage groaned around him.
But Irons barely noticed.
His attention remained fixed on the screens.
Watching.
Waiting.
Smiling.
—Soon.
The word barely escaped his lips.
But the anticipation behind it was unmistakable.
Their legs felt like lead as they climbed the final staircase leading to the rooftop.
Every step felt heavier than the last.
A small victory.
A new punishment.
The rain had mostly stopped.
But the cold wind still cut across the building.
Sharp.
Merciless.
Leon climbed first.
His breathing ragged.
Uneven.
A dull ache pulsed through his lower back.
Every step sent another jolt of pain up his spine.
Too many falls.
Too many hits.
Too much running.
The shotgun hanging across his back suddenly felt twice as heavy.
But he kept moving.
One step.
Then another.
Behind him, Claire climbed in silence.
Her clothes were soaked.
Her hair stuck to her forehead.
Sweat mixed with rainwater across her face.
Yet the determination in her eyes hadn't faded.
Not even a little.
Sherry.
We have to get to Sherry.
No matter what.
Leon glanced back briefly.
Making sure she was still there.
Still moving.
Still fighting.
His chest tightened.
I can't fail them.
Not Claire.
Not Sherry.
I'll get them out of this city.
Whatever it takes.
At last, they reached the top.
The wind greeted them immediately.
Cold.
Violent.
Carrying the distant smell of smoke and burning metal.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Both bent forward.
Hands on their knees.
Trying to catch their breath.
Trying to force oxygen back into exhausted lungs.
Leon looked back toward the stairwell.
Listening.
Waiting.
No footsteps.
No crashes.
No fedora-wearing nightmare.
Just wind.
He exhaled slowly.
—I think...
He paused to catch another breath.
—I think we lost him.
Claire nodded.
But her expression remained tense.
Focused.
Determined.
—We can't stop now.
Her voice sounded rough.
Almost hoarse.
—Sherry's waiting for us.
—Couldn't agree more.
Leon took a deep breath and slowly straightened.
Immediately regretting it.
A sharp stab of pain shot through his back.
He winced.
Hard.
Claire noticed instantly.
—Are you okay?
The moment the question left her mouth, she already knew the answer.
Leon exhaled slowly.
Then looked at her.
That familiar half-smile appearing again.
—Yeah.
—Nothing a couple of painkillers and two beers can't fix.
Claire stared at him.
Then shook her head.
A small laugh escaping despite herself.
—You're an idiot.
—I've been called worse.
The smile never left his face.
Even though the pain clearly had.
Claire watched him for a moment.
Really watched him.
The bruises.
The exhaustion.
The way he occasionally shifted his weight to avoid putting pressure on his back.
He was hurting.
Far more than he was willing to admit.
And yet...
He kept moving.
He kept fighting.
He kept trying to make her smile.
Even now.
A strange warmth settled somewhere in Claire's chest.
Quiet.
Unexpected.
Growing a little more every hour she spent with him.
Leon turned toward the far side of the rooftop.
The door leading back inside.
—Come on.
—We've got to get to Sherry.
Without waiting for a response, he started walking.
Shotgun on his back.
Pistol still in hand.
Claire watched him go.
For just a second.
How do you keep doing that?
How do you keep getting back up?
The thought caught her off guard.
She quickly looked away.
Shaking her head.
No.
There would be time for thoughts later.
Right now, Leon was right.
Sherry needed them.
Claire adjusted her grip on the grenade launcher.
Then followed him across the rooftop.
Claire adjusted her grip on the grenade launcher.
Then followed Leon toward the door.
Leon pushed it open carefully.
Pistol raised.
The corridor beyond was filled with smoke.
Thick.
Acrid.
The metallic smell of burning fuel lingered in the air.
Claire stepped in behind him.
Both of them breathing harder than they wanted to admit.
They rounded the corner.
Then stopped.
The crashed helicopter still blocked the corridor.
Its twisted wreckage filled nearly the entire passage.
Smoke continued to drift from the ruined fuselage.
The rain had extinguished most of the flames.
But not all of them.
—Damn it.
Claire lowered the grenade launcher slightly.
—That thing is blocking everything.
Then the helicopter moved.
For a moment neither of them understood what they were seeing.
Metal groaned.
The entire wreck shifted.
Lifted.
Rising slowly from the floor.
SCREEEEEECH.
The sound of twisting steel echoed through the corridor.
Claire's eyes widened.
Leon froze.
Because there was only one thing underneath it.
Him.
That thing stood beneath the wreckage.
One arm extended upward.
Holding the helicopter over his head.
As if it weighed nothing.
As if it were a toy.
For a second nobody moved.
Nobody breathed.
Leon felt his stomach drop.
—You've got to be kidding me...
The creature's pale eyes locked onto them.
Unblinking.
Patient.
Hungry.
Then it casually tossed the helicopter aside.
CRAAAAASH.
The wreckage slammed into the wall.
Concrete exploded.
Sparks erupted from torn metal.
The entire corridor shook.
Claire stared.
Speechless.
That's impossible.
That's impossible.
Leon found his voice first.
—Run!
Neither of them argued.
They turned instantly.
Running back the way they had come.
Behind them...
THUD.
THUD.
THUD.
The footsteps followed.
Closer than ever.
They burst onto the rooftop.
The cold wind hit them immediately.
Leon grabbed the metal door.
And slammed it shut.
BANG.
For one second...
Silence.
Then:
BOOM.
The entire door buckled inward.
Both of them jumped.
BOOM.
Another impact.
The hinges screamed.
BOOM.
The steel tore free.
CRASH.
The door flew across the rooftop.
Skidding across the concrete.
The creature stepped through the opening.
Slowly.
Calmly.
The black trench coat billowed in the wind.
Rainwater dripped from the brimless head where the fedora had once been.
The creature never looked away from them.
Not for a second.
Leon and Claire instinctively backed away.
Neither of them willing to turn their backs on it.
Neither of them knowing what the hell they were supposed to do next.
—Run!
Leon grabbed Claire's arm and pulled her forward.
They sprinted across the rooftop.
Weaving between pipes.
Leaping over puddles.
The staircase leading down to the rear courtyard was already in sight.
Just a little farther.
Just a few more seconds.
Then came the sound.
Metal groaning.
Twisting.
Tearing free.
Leon looked back.
His eyes widened.
—Claire!
—Look out!
With a brutal motion, the creature ripped a massive air-conditioning unit from its foundation.
As if it weighed nothing.
As if it were made of cardboard.
For one impossible second, it held the machine over its shoulder.
Then it threw it.
WHOOOOSH.
The unit hurtled through the air.
Spinning.
Flying straight toward them.
Leon reacted on instinct.
He shoved Claire sideways.
The two of them crashed onto the wet concrete.
CRAAAAASH.
The air-conditioning unit slammed into the staircase.
The impact was catastrophic.
Concrete exploded.
Metal supports bent and snapped.
The entire structure groaned.
Then collapsed.
KRAAAK.
BOOM.
Chunks of concrete and twisted metal disappeared into the darkness below.
Completely blocking the only way down.
Leon slowly pushed himself up.
Claire did the same.
Both staring at the destruction.
Speechless.
—No...
Claire's voice barely escaped her.
The creature took another step forward.
THUD.
Rain dripped from its coat.
THUD.
Its expression never changed.
THUD.
Its eyes never left them.
Then it moved.
Fast.
Far faster than something that size should have been able to move.
Three long strides.
That was all it needed.
The distance vanished.
Its massive torso twisted.
One enormous arm swung outward.
A brutal horizontal punch.
The force behind it made the air whistle.
Leon barely had time to react.
He threw himself into Claire.
The two of them hit the ground.
CRAAASH.
The giant fist tore through a section of railing.
Steel twisted.
A nearby pipe burst apart.
Water sprayed into the air.
For a second neither survivor moved.
Both staring upward.
The creature slowly straightened.
Then looked down at them.
THUD.
One step forward.
Its enormous boot lifted from the ground.
Leon and Claire reacted immediately.
Rolling in opposite directions.
BOOM.
The stomp shattered the concrete where they had been lying.
Cracks spread across the rooftop.
Claire came up first.
Her revolver was already in her hand.
BANG.
BANG.
BANG.
Three shots.
All striking the creature's head.
The impacts forced it back a step.
Nothing more.
Leon ripped the shotgun from his shoulder.
Raised it.
Aimed.
BOOM.
The blast erupted at nearly point-blank range.
The creature's head snapped backward.
Fragments of flesh and bone vanished into the rain.
For the first time since they had encountered it...
The thing actually staggered.
Several steps backward.
A guttural growl escaped its throat.
Claire stared.
Unable to believe what she was seeing.
The wound moved.
Not healed.
Not yet.
But moving.
Shifting.
Trying to rebuild itself.
What the hell is this thing?
Leon didn't wait for an answer.
He grabbed Claire by the arm.
His voice firm.
Urgent.
—Let's go.
Leon didn't waste another second.
He grabbed Claire's arm.
And ran.
Behind them...
THUD.
THUD.
The creature lowered its hand from its ruined face.
The wound was still moving.
Still changing.
Its eyes never left Leon.
Not for a second.
They burst through the doorway.
Back into the station.
Back into the smoke-filled corridor.
The crashed helicopter no longer blocked the path.
The creature had cleared it.
Now there was nothing between them and escape.
Nothing except speed.
Leon and Claire ran as hard as they could.
Their lungs burned.
Their legs screamed in protest.
But neither slowed down.
Behind them...
THUD.
THUD.
THUD.
The footsteps continued.
Relentless.
Growing closer.
At the end of the corridor, the Chief's office appeared.
Leon pointed.
—There!
They crashed through the office.
Desks.
Furniture.
Broken glass.
Everything became a blur.
Then the small hallway.
And beyond it...
The elevator.
Claire's eyes widened.
—Go!
They practically threw themselves inside.
Leon slammed into one wall.
Claire into the other.
She immediately spun toward the control panel.
And hit the button.
BEEP.
Nothing.
She hit it again.
BEEP.
—Come on!
Again.
BEEP.
—Come on!
The elevator doors finally began to move.
Slowly.
Far too slowly.
Leon and Claire stared at the narrowing gap.
Neither blinking.
Neither breathing.
The footsteps were getting louder.
THUD.
THUD.
THUD.
Then it appeared.
The creature stepped into the hallway.
Its massive frame barely fit inside the confined space.
Its shoulders scraped against the walls.
Chunks of plaster fell to the floor.
Its eyes locked onto them immediately.
Claire felt her stomach knot.
The gap narrowed.
Smaller.
Smaller.
Smaller.
The creature took a step forward.
THUD.
Another.
THUD.
Another.
THUD.
For one terrible second, Leon thought it was going to make it.
Too slow.
We're too slow.
Then—
CLANG.
The elevator doors slammed shut.
Silence.
Neither of them moved.
Neither of them spoke.
The elevator began descending.
A soft mechanical hum filled the cabin.
Claire continued staring at the closed doors.
As if expecting them to explode inward at any moment.
Several seconds passed.
Nothing happened.
Only then did she finally exhale.
A long breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
Her knees nearly gave out.
She leaned back against the wall.
Closing her eyes.
—...
—We lost him.
The words sounded almost unreal.
Like she didn't quite believe them herself.
Leon dragged a trembling hand across his face.
Now that the adrenaline was fading, he felt everything.
The pain in his back.
The exhaustion in his legs.
The ache in his lungs.
He laughed once.
Breathlessly.
Disbelieving.
—Yeah.
He took a slow breath.
Then looked at the doors one last time.
—For now.
The elevator continued descending.
Carrying them farther and farther away from the rooftop.
Farther away from the creature.
At least for the moment.
DING.
The elevator stopped.
The doors slowly slid open.
Leon and Claire stepped out into the corridor.
Still breathing hard.
Still trying to recover.
The air felt heavy inside their lungs.
Their clothes were soaked.
Rain.
Sweat.
Blood.
At this point, neither of them could tell the difference anymore.
The silence of the hallway felt almost unreal after everything they had just survived.
No gunfire.
No screams.
No footsteps.
Just silence.
Claire took several unsteady steps forward.
Then slowly slid down the wall.
Sitting on the cold floor.
She leaned her head back and closed her eyes.
Just for a moment.
Just long enough to breathe.
Leon looked at her.
Then lowered himself beside her.
The movement clearly hurt.
A brief tightening of his jaw.
A small wince.
Gone almost immediately.
But Claire noticed.
She always seemed to notice.
Their shoulders brushed lightly.
Neither moved away.
Neither spoke.
Only the sound of their breathing filled the corridor.
Fast at first.
Then slower.
Steadier.
For one brief moment, the world seemed to stop.
No zombies.
No monsters.
No Irons.
No impossible creature chasing them through the station.
Just two exhausted survivors sitting on the floor.
Sharing the same silence.
The same fear.
The same determination.
Claire opened her eyes and turned her head slightly.
Looking at him.
Leon sat with his head resting against the wall.
Eyes closed.
Breathing slowly.
His face looked older than it had when she first met him.
Tired.
Worn down.
Yet somehow still stubborn enough to keep going.
A small warmth settled in her chest.
He was still here.
Still fighting.
Still refusing to give up.
Still protecting them.
Neither of them said a word.
None were needed.
Sometimes silence said enough.
Eventually Leon released a long breath.
Then pushed himself to his feet.
The moment he straightened, pain flashed across his face.
Sharp.
Unmistakable.
Gone a second later.
But not before Claire saw it.
She stood immediately.
Taking a step toward him.
—Leon.
Her voice had changed.
Softer.
More serious.
—You're hurt.
—Your back...
Leon shook his head almost automatically.
—I'm fine.
The answer came too quickly.
Too rehearsed.
He forced a tired half-smile.
—Just a little beat up.
—Nothing I can't handle.
Claire frowned immediately.
Completely unconvinced.
—Don't do that.
The smile faded.
—Don't tell me you're fine when you're obviously not.
Leon looked away for a moment.
Claire stepped closer.
—I've been watching you this whole time.
—Every staircase.
—Every time you stand up.
—Every time you think I'm not looking.
Her voice softened.
—You're hurting, Leon.
—A lot more than you're admitting.
For a moment neither spoke.
Then Leon sighed.
—Claire...
His voice remained calm.
Gentle.
But firm.
—Sherry needs us.
—We can't stop now.
—If we stop, Irons gets more time.
—And I can't let that happen.
Claire held his gaze.
Searching for weakness.
Looking for hesitation.
Finding neither.
Just the same stubborn determination that had carried him through the entire night.
She sighed.
Defeated.
At least for now.
—Fine.
She pointed a finger at him.
—But the second we get a chance, I'm looking at that back.
—And this isn't a suggestion.
For the first time in several minutes, Leon actually smiled.
A real smile.
Small.
Tired.
Almost grateful.
—Deal.
Together, they started moving again.
The corridor eventually opened into the underground parking garage.
Flickering lights.
Puddles scattered across the concrete.
The constant echo of dripping water.
The familiar sounds of the station.
Ada was waiting exactly where they had left her.
She leaned casually against the wall beside the massive security gate.
Arms crossed.
Patient.
Calm.
At least until she saw them.
Her eyes moved over Leon first.
Then Claire.
Both soaked.
Both filthy.
Both looking like they had barely survived a war.
For the briefest moment, genuine surprise crossed her face.
—Rough night?
Leon let out a tired laugh.
Claire simply stared at her.
—You have no idea.
Ada raised an eyebrow.
Then nodded toward Claire's hand.
—Did you get the card?
Claire lifted it immediately.
—We got it.
—Happy?
A faint smile appeared on Ada's lips.
—Actually, yes.
She pushed herself away from the wall.
—I wasn't completely useless either.
She gestured toward two open ammunition boxes nearby.
Handgun rounds.
Shotgun shells.
—It's not much.
—But I figured you'd need it more than I would.
Leon and Claire wasted no time.
Both immediately began reloading.
The familiar mechanical motions felt strangely comforting.
Something normal.
Something simple.
While Leon loaded the shotgun, Ada quietly stepped closer.
Her gaze lingered on him.
Long enough to notice the stiffness in his movements.
Long enough to notice the pain he was trying to hide.
—You're hurt.
Leon didn't even look up.
—I've been better.
—That's not what I asked.
He finally glanced at her.
Then shrugged.
—I'll survive.
Ada studied him for another second.
As if trying to decide whether she believed him.
Claire watched the exchange from the corner of her eye.
Saying nothing.
But noticing everything.
Eventually the weapons were loaded.
The ammunition boxes empty.
The gate waiting.
Claire approached the access panel.
Without hesitation, she inserted the card.
A red light flashed.
Then turned green.
BEEP.
CLUNK.
The massive gate slowly began to rise.
Metal grinding against metal.
The cold night air rushed inside immediately.
Fresh.
Sharp.
Real.
For the first time in hours, they were finally leaving the station.
Nobody spoke.
The three of them simply started walking.
Passing beneath the raised gate.
Leaving the R.P.D. behind.
Claire kept her eyes ahead.
Ada did the same.
Only Leon stopped.
Just for a moment.
He turned.
Looking back one last time.
The police station stood behind him.
Dark.
Silent.
Wounded.
Its windows broken.
Its halls haunted by the dead.
By Marvin.
By the officers who never made it out.
By the life he was supposed to begin there.
His first day.
His first assignment.
The future he had imagined.
Gone.
Consumed in a single night.
For a moment, he simply stood there.
Listening to the distant wind.
Then he looked away.
There would be time to mourn later.
Maybe.
Right now, someone still needed them.
—Come on.
His voice was quiet.
But steady.
—Sherry's waiting.
Claire nodded.
Ada adjusted her coat.
Together, the three disappeared into the darkness of Raccoon City.
Leaving behind the flickering lights.
The dripping water.
And the ghosts of the R.P.D.