Chapter Text
~~~
Chris’s reaction to the building they pulled in front of was telling; he almost growled the moment he laid eyes on its massive white columns and tall, stained-glass windows.
"Shit… Why is something like that here, of all places?" he asked, his voice rising before he caught himself and lowered it to a whisper. "Do you really have to hold the meeting in there?"
"Don't be so prejudiced. It is an Edwardian structure, merely a museum."
"Yeah, well, to me it looks just like one of Umbrella’s favorite hideouts," Chris replied grimly. He eyed the two-story architectural relic tucked into the shadow of the surrounding skyscrapers, as if it attempted to leech onto a world clearly trying to leave it behind.
"Just stay focused on the perimeter; it won't take long," Wesker reminded him, stepping out of the car without waiting for a reply.
Ada was already there when he entered one of the museum’s halls. The array of early to mid-century medical equipment surrounding her looked imposing and somewhat familiar to both of them, but in different ways. To her, it was a silent testament to the pain and death it had caused in the past. To him, simply obsolete equipment.
"I suppose you feel right at home here?" Wesker jabbed, noticing the slight tension in her brow.
Ada turned to face him, offering a faint, careless shrug.
"Arklay was much more modern. Though I’ve seen a couple of places since then with similar setups," she said, gesturing casually at the showpieces.
"So, what do you have to say? Keep it brief."
The exhibit hall was surprisingly empty, save for the two of them, but Wesker wasn’t going to linger here more than necessary.
"I need to extract a valuable source from one of their private prisons."
Oh?
"How did they manage to get caught?" he inquired flatly.
"Too much digging into the corporation’s business."
"How shortsighted."
"My warnings fell on deaf ears."
"How much is known? About the corporation or you?"
"Enough for the company to feel threatened. And of me – only that I’ve known all along."
He noted her persistent vagueness.
"For someone seeking help, you're remarkably secretive about the whole affair."
"I'm still not sure you'll agree. There's no point in showing my hand if you'll just turn me down."
"I might as well do it now,” Wesker countered, his tone hardening a fraction. “So far, I haven't heard anything that justifies the time I've already wasted on you today."
Ada paused briefly, then turned her head slightly to look at him. "I’ll owe you one."
Now that was intriguing. Having someone like her in his debt was easily worth the effort. Besides, it gave him the perfect opportunity to dissect her true motives.
Still, he didn't let his interest show.
"I'm still waiting for the specifics,” Wesker stated coldly. “I'm not in the habit of signing a blank check."
Ada conceded with a quiet breath and finally nodded.
"It’s my contact back from the RC. He had been sniffing out the corporation for a couple of years, and they finally caught wind of it. You know they don’t let something like this go.”
“To put it mildly,” he nodded. “If he’s still alive, it means they have plans for him.”
“He is, but time is running out. He’s been missing for two days now. I was fortunate enough to find out where they took him. Those ‘plans’ you mentioned are exactly my reason to bust him out before it’s too late.”
Wesker glanced at her from behind his shades.
Ada had been on his payroll for years. Though she was a freelancer and their personal encounters were rare, he had mapped her psychological profile long ago. She was hardly the type to play the Good Samaritan. And since this “source” knew nothing that could compromise her...
That painted an intriguing picture.
"Where is your source being kept?" he asked, deciding to watch her a little longer.
"Here’s the address." Ada retrieved a folded slip of paper from her clutch, handing it over.
After looking at the contents briefly, Wesker flicked it back to her. The place was an old military base converted by Umbrella into a holding facility. No one ever stayed there for long. Ada was indeed on a tight schedule.
"What do you want from me?" Wesker asked.
"I need an extraction team."
"I’m not sending my people in there – don't even think about it." He had no intention of exposing even a single H.C.F. operative to the risk of capture and interrogation.
"They don't have to be your people,” Ada countered smoothly. “I just need those who won't sell us out at the first opportunity – someone capable of getting out on their own and hauling a wounded man with them if necessary."
"A couple of enforcers, a combat medic. Who else?"
"Someone familiar with the corporation's latest security measures; otherwise, it’s a one-way ticket."
"Reasonable." Wesker fell silent, letting the pause stretch while he calculated potential candidates.
Finally, he broke the silence. "You could have turned to other factions. Why choose me?" That was the truth, and they both knew it. Ada was resourceful and had connections all over the world. He was far from her only option.
He observed her carefully, but she remained collected and only waved her hand vaguely.
"Force of habit."
At that, Wesker merely scoffed.
Tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear in a flash of irritation, Ada relented.
"You have the right connections and resources, and I already know your style. Besides, a strike against the corporation is always in your best interest, isn't it?"
She was selling her point hard, surely. Maybe she even thought that it would distract him from her intriguing demeanor.
It wasn’t working, but he could play along – for now.
"You must understand that words alone won't get you anywhere," he replied dryly. "Any data stored on that facility's terminals, you will deliver straight to me."
"Agreed," she nodded immediately, clearly expecting something like this.
Too quickly for his liking.
Things were becoming increasingly interesting, but then, Ada had already given him enough clues.
"In that case,” Wesker replied instead, “I’ll take my leave. Don’t forget to report any critical information concerning the objective. You'll get the specifics and all the necessary contacts later."
He headed for the exit, pausing at the threshold to look back. She still maintained her mask of cool composure, but a subtle impatience was bleeding through her posture.
"This 'source' of yours must be highly valuable," he remarked, his tone laced with a barely audible mockery.
Ada withheld any reaction, merely tightening her lips. Yet, even that was telling.
Wesker smiled thinly and left the room.
She watched the man vanish through the exit, her lips pressing into a tight line, then turned away, her gaze drifting mindlessly over the antiquated medical equipment.
The chance that Albert Wesker knew the name already was too high for her liking – and it vexed Ada beyond measure.
Still, at least she could count on him to hold his end of the deal. All that she needed now was to make sure everything went smoothly. Then they would be gone without a trace.
~~~
"Facility in lockdown. I repeat! Code Three! Facility in lockdown. All staff: ensure patients are isolated – then return to your posts. I repeat–"
A static-filled distorted voice hammered at his temples before he had even managed to lift his head from the pillow. He honestly couldn't grasp what the message meant or why he was hearing it.
His head felt like a dead weight, so groaning, he pressed his palms against the mattress to hoist himself up a little. It was hard to make out his surroundings through the haze clouding his vision. He tried to blink it away, but gradually realized that sleep alone wouldn't cause such a dense fog. Sedatives were clearly at play here, evidenced by his bone-dry mouth and muscles that refused to cooperate.
Where the hell was he, and how had he gotten here? He honestly couldn't recall. The last thing he remembered was the end of his shift. Lieutenant Branagh had reminded him that he’d be better off going home to catch up on sleep this time, rather than loitering around places where he had no business being.
“Look out for yourself, kid, for crying out loud!"
What had he said in response? Something like, "I wasn't planning on going anywhere tonight, sir."
Which was a lie. Leon had actually planned to spend the night staking out the hospital. Nothing fancy – just arming himself with a good pair of binoculars, the night-vision goggles he’d ordered from Robert, and a camera with a decent zoom – and setting up on the roof of a nearby building overlooking Spencer Memorial.
Leon couldn't recall what happened next – not even if the fate of the entire world depended on it. He might have made it home, but after that – nothing, just a blank void.
Combined with the sensations he felt upon waking, this could mean only one thing: someone had found out about his investigation, decided enough was enough and sedated him into oblivion–
A wild scream echoing in the distance snapped him out of his thoughts. It was the sound of someone being torn apart, and Leon bolted up before he had even fully regained his senses. His mind immediately rebelled; his vision – still struggling to focus – went dark, and the surrounding sounds were replaced by a piercing, nauseating ringing.
With a gasp, Leon slumped back against the bed, trying to catch his breath and clear his vision.
The distant scream died away and didn't return; all that remained was the sound of wet thumps, like someone tenderizing meat. Not suspicious at all.
When his vision finally cleared, he looked around.
He was definitely not at home. Nor was he at the Raccoon City hospital – the place he’d visited frequently over the past two years, usually for work, though a couple of times for his own injuries.
But as for where he actually was...
The room where he had regained consciousness resembled a standard hospital ward, though decidedly archaic in its design. An old-fashioned porcelain sink sat in the corner, its brass fixtures stained and streaked with mineral crust. Light-gray walls and a floor tiled in a faded green honeycomb pattern met his gaze, smelling faintly of stale bleach. Finally, looking up, he noticed a couple of antiquated porcelain-enamel shaded lights hung from the ceiling far out of his reach, casting a dim, sickly glow.
The only window was concealed behind heavy, floor-length drapes of a dusty charcoal hue, completely cutting off the outside world and leaving him with no way to determine the time of day.
Yet, contrasting sharply with the dated interior, several sleek, state-of-the-art monitoring devices hummed softly beside the bed. It was a functional piece of equipment made up with stiff white linens, and as Leon glanced back at its edges, he finally noticed rough leather restraint straps dangling from them.
Apparently, patients here received some pretty radical treatment. Or else he’d ended up in a mental ward.
Taking a few slow, cautious steps to test his balance, Leon reached the door and peered through the small viewing window. He couldn't make out anything beyond the glass other than a dimly lit corridor; the room's door faced the wall directly opposite.
He found no lock or even a handle on the inside. Shit.
All that remained was to check the curtained window and confirm his suspicions: the frame lacked a handle, and the window itself was reinforced with heavy bars on the outside.
Parting the dusty charcoal drapes, he peered out into the nighttime stillness. A narrow pathway snaked past the building, bordered by low, dim lampposts that cast long, distorted shadows. Thick bushes pressed tight against the walls, while in the distance, only the sparse, dark silhouettes of trees loomed against the horizon. There wasn't a single sign of life.
At least he could see it was nighttime. Not that it helped him any.
"Just great..." Leon muttered aloud. "So I'm trapped – and something weird is going on out there."
A further search revealed – predictably – nothing resembling a weapon. He could have smashed one of the medical monitors to extract a sharp fragment, but that wouldn't have helped much, given that the door opened only from the outside.
Still, he tore a long strip of fabric from the sheet, fashioning it into a makeshift rope. Perhaps he could fight off whoever entered – or even tie them up. Provided, of course, that the person was unarmed.
In any case, all he could do now was wait.
~~~
He didn't have to wait long, however. First, a fire alarm blared throughout the building, only to fall silent shortly after; a few seconds later, the lights cut out, drowning everything in near-total darkness.
Then, a sharp mechanical beep sounded from the door, and it opened – just a crack, barely visible in the dim light from the window.
"Not the best invitation," Leon muttered under his breath, eyeing the slight gap suspiciously. Approaching slowly, he pulled the door toward him by its edge and cautiously peered out.
The corridor beyond was even darker; only dim red lights illuminated the space, but they were too few to give him any real sense of his surroundings.
He still remembered the scream he had heard earlier. Everything suggested that, wherever he was, something sinister was taking place.
But there was no point in sitting in the room waiting for someone to show up. Since he could look around now – well, "look" was a generous term – he had to seize the opportunity.
And perhaps find a way out.
Choosing a direction, Leon walked slowly, tracing the wall with his fingers to maintain his bearings. Every now and then, his hand brushed against another door – presumably leading to wards just like the one where he had woken up. There was no light inside any of them, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't discern if anyone was there.
After a while, he stopped and listened. A scraping sound drifted from up ahead – barely audible, like fingernails dragging across rough canvas.
It sounded wrong, deeply unsettling. And here he thought he’d outgrown that childish fear of hearing strange noises after a horror movie.
A faint red glow revealed that the corridor turned right – leading straight toward the source of the sound.
Maybe he should try a different direction.
But the light offered a glimpse of what lay ahead. So, cautiously, Leon moved forward.
Something lay at the end of the corridor, looking like a long, off-white bundle covered in dark stains. An overturned metal gurney nearby made it clear what had happened: someone had crashed into it while sprinting, tipping it over and dumping its load onto the floor.
The bundle shifted. Leon froze.
He waited just long enough to catch another slight movement of the fabric and that same scraping sound, then approached with cautious yet swift steps. If there was a person inside, they needed help.
"Hey," Leon whispered softly, crouching down beside the bundle. In the darkness, he couldn't see any knots or fasteners on the fabric, so he had to fumble around before finding an edge and hurriedly unwrapping it. "Don't be afraid. I want to help."
There was no response – which could mean anything – but he pressed on.
Finally, the fabric came completely undone; it was indeed a person. They were wearing a hospital gown stained with dark patches of dried blood and God knows what else. The body looked withered, as if the person had been starving for months – little more than a skeleton draped in shriveled, cold skin.
Had Leon not seen the fabric move with his own eyes, he would have assumed he was looking at a corpse. He touched the person's neck, feeling for a pulse.
It was there – a slow, sluggish heartbeat.
Leon nearly recoiled when he noticed the person's eyes opening – just a crack, reflecting the reddish glow of the emergency light overhead.
"Hey, it’s okay. Just... don't worry, I'll find help," he promised.
The man made a faint sound, as if fallen leaves were rustling in the wind. He might have been trying to say something, but it was impossible to make out the words.
Then Leon heard a dry rasp – as if the man’s throat had constricted, cutting off all air. The withered body convulsed once, then went completely limp. Frowning, Leon pressed his fingers against the man’s neck. Nothing.
"Damn it," he muttered, sadness and a pang of guilt filling his heart.
He had to move on. There was nothing left to do.
Finally, Leon stood up, but after a moment’s thought, he bent over the corpse again and covered it with the cloth it had been wrapped in – a small gesture, since he couldn’t help the poor soul in any other way.
Every door along the corridor was shut tight. But a wider opening lay ahead – possibly a lobby. As he drew closer, Leon made out the outline of a reception desk on the left, and – on the right – a seating area with armchairs, a sofa, and a coffee table.
And still, not a soul in sight, save for the one that had just passed away.
"What the hell is going on here?" he muttered. The emergency lighting was just enough for him to spot a door behind the desk. It was likely a staff room – and there, just maybe, he could find something useful.
The room he entered was lit enough to really see; the glow from a nearby streetlamp outside streamed in through a large window. Its cold beam illuminated glass shelving units filled with vials, bottles, and containers of various shapes and sizes. A desk against one wall was piled high with thick folders, while the remaining space was taken up by disorganized stacks of paper.
Rummaging through the desk drawers, Leon muttered a silent "thank God" as his fingers closed around a small metal flashlight deep inside one of them. When switched on, it cast only a weak, dim beam, but he wasn't complaining. Its cold casing reminded him of the one he’d used as a kid, when he and his friends used to explore an abandoned construction site – an activity that usually got him grounded.
There was nothing else to use, so he turned his attention to the papers lying on the desk.
Lists of therapeutic drugs – names he’d never encountered before, many of which he couldn't even pronounce.
Patient lists – not a single familiar name.
Supply replenishment requests.
All these documents were signed with one name or another, but on none of them did he see even a hint of the institution's identity. Still he tried to memorize as much as he could.
"So, basically, I don't know where I am, who dragged me here, and how to get out yet either. And there are people dying," Leon summed up, looking out the window. The darkness in the distance made it hard to make out his surroundings, but he was certain the building he was in wasn't in the city. It was more likely in the middle of nowhere, given the complete absence of other lights nearby.
Armed with the flashlight, Leon left the room and moved down the hallway, scanning his surroundings.
Where had everyone vanished to?
No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than a door he was going to check flew open. A figure in white slammed into him, then bounced off, stumbling aside in hysterical sobs. Leon’s flashlight beam cut through the dark, pinning a young woman in a disheveled nurse's uniform.
"Miss, calm down!" Leon said, raising his free hand palm out. "I won't hurt you, I’m a police officer. Can you tell me – what is going on here?"
"Y-you're a patient! You aren't allowed to–"
She didn't finish; the door flew open again, and a bloodied man staggered out into the hallway. Leon snapped his flashlight up, driving the beam straight into the intruder's clouded, crimson-filmed eyes, but the man didn't even blink.
Leon’s fingers brushed uselessly against his empty hip, and with no weapon to draw, he braced himself as the staggering figure lunged forward. Shoving the man hard in the chest, Leon sent his emaciated body crashing heavily to the floor.
"Oh God!" The nurse screamed, but Leon wrenched her up by the arm.
"Get up! Run!"
They bolted down the corridor where Leon had originally been planning to go in search of an exit.
"What’s going on here?" he shouted to her as they ran. "What kind of place is this? Do you know there was a dying man back in that hallway? And that one just now? What was wrong with him?"
"I-I’m not allowed to give patients any information," the nurse blurted out, glancing back over her shoulder. "We all signed non-disclosure agreements. Besides, you aren't even supposed to–"
“To hell with your NDA, lady! A man looking like he was starved to death died in my arms! And another one looked drugged to hell and tortured!” Leon snapped, his temper flaring finally. All this madness around them – and the only sane person he’d met was keeping her mouth shut. “This isn’t a hospital routine; it’s a crime scene! Are you really going to cover this up?”
"I-I don't know anything about that!" she snapped, her voice rising in panic as she jerked her arm away from him. "You’re in a psychiatric hospital! Do you have any idea how many times a day I hear stories like that? You aren't even allowed to leave your ward!"
"I don't give a damn what you call this place!" he exclaimed, gesturing broadly at their surroundings. "The point is, people are dying right in the corridors while others wander around bloody and insane – and you're helping cover it up!"
He was forced to cut his angry tirade short as a distinct noise echoed behind them – a heavy object being overturned with a sickening crash.
Leon cursed under his breath and quickened his pace, putting the interrogation on hold until they were further away.
They finally reached the end of the corridor – a set of double doors with a keypad lock that, despite the power outage, showed no signs of yielding, only blinking a warning red light at them.
The nurse stopped in front of the keypad, her lips set in a stubborn line. Leon shone his light on the panel, then on her face.
"Do you know the code, or are we stuck here?"
She shook her head, nervously clenching and unclenching her fists.
"I’m forbidden from taking patients out of the wing," she finally stated, trying to sound firm. Her eyes darted across the buttons, and she kept glancing back down the corridor. She clearly wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.
"Listen," Leon said. He didn't step any closer, so as not to unnecessarily alarm her, but held up his palms in a conciliatory gesture. "None of your rules matter right now. It’s dangerous here, and we need to get out and find help. Do you really want to stay trapped while all hell breaks loose?"
The nurse hesitated; her fingers twisted the folds of her white coat, betraying a nervous tremor. Then, she gave in.
"All right... But– " she trailed off. "There’s no way out. The whole building is in complete lockdown."
"What do you mean?" Leon asked, confused. Then he remembered the announcement that had woken him up. "Wait a minute... Code Three, right? What does that mean? Do all the doors just shut – and that’s it? It doesn't matter what’s happening inside?"
"Exactly," she nodded. "It’s an emergency measure to prevent high-risk patients from escaping. It’s never happened while I’ve been working here."
Something about her explanation didn't add up. Finally, he realized what was bothering him.
"But there’s no electricity! How do the locks work, then?"
"Backup power. You need a code or an electronic key to open each lock on the way to the exit. And the main door is blocked by a security gate," the nurse explained. "God, whenever I walked past there, I always thought it was excessive..." she muttered in despair. "So, no, there’s no way out."
"There has to be something," Leon countered stubbornly. He couldn't believe the situation was truly that hopeless. After all, there had to be other exits, windows, vents – anything! "The staff must have gone somewhere! I haven't seen a soul but you."
"If the alarm goes off, staff must secure all patients in their rooms, close the doors between wings, and remain at their posts," the nurse recited mechanically.
"Oh really? Then where is everyone?" Leon asked, a note of impatience in his voice. Whatever rules applied here, he couldn’t care less. He’d been dragged here by force, in violation of the law – he was one hundred percent certain of that.
A small, uncertain voice in the back of his mind immediately reminded him that he had absolutely no memory of the past twenty-four hours.
Okay, not one hundred percent. Ninety-nine.
The nurse didn't answer. She remained silent for a few more seconds, biting her lip. Another noise from the far end of the corridor made her flinch – at the very next second her hand darted to the keypad and began punching in a code.
A beep sounded, and the light on the panel shifted to a reassuring green.
"We could try waiting it out in one of the doctors' offices. It’s not far from here." Throwing open one of the double doors, she pointed to another door further down the hall.
"Is there a working phone in there?" Leon asked impatiently. He was desperate to speak to someone else. But it wasn't just about him anymore – he hated everything he’d already seen.
The nurse shook her head. "Communication is limited to the hospital itself. Personal devices are banned inside, and the only outside lines are in the director's office and the head of security's office."
That was better. He had no desire to sit locked up waiting for... whatever was coming. But summoning a few police squads? He was all for that.
"Fine. Let's go check that doctor's office out," he finally nodded, unwilling to reveal his thoughts. No matter how much he had initially wanted to help this woman, she was part of the staff that had kept him confined there and was clearly covering up something.
Fortunately, the door to the office was unlocked; the space was empty – which, according to the nurse, was strange. Leon was already getting used to the idea that "strange" was the new norm here.
Ignoring her protests, he searched every drawer and cabinet, finding a heap of papers and reports, endless vials of unknown medication – and a locked safe.
"I suppose you wouldn't happen to have the combination?" he asked knowingly, eliciting a scoff from the nurse.
"Dr. Shae never shared it with anyone – and why would he?" she replied indignantly.
"Makes sense. I wonder where the good doctor is now," Leon muttered.
The good thing was they could at least barricade themselves in here; the door lock was intact and looked pretty sturdy, as did the door itself – a solid panel of dark oak.
The trouble was, he wasn't sure help would come at all. And if it did – it wouldn't be for him. His gut told him as much, and he intended to listen to it.
"Right. Okay. Stay here. Lock the door, and only open it if you’re absolutely certain the person outside is someone you know – and they don’t sound strange or- something," he ordered before heading toward the door. The lack of a weapon weighed heavily on him, but there was nothing to be done about it.
"Wait! Where are you going?" the nurse asked incredulously, her voice trembling as she stared at him in shock. "You can't just wander out there–"
"Lady, just be quiet for a second!" Leon snapped irritably. He didn’t want to yell at her like that, but the situation was dire, and he was sick of being treated like a madman. "I’ll say it again: I’m not crazy, and I’m not sick. Just last night, I was at home after finishing my shift at the station. I have no idea how I ended up here! But I intend to find out," he said firmly, turning toward the door.
She called out to him. "Wait! You said... yesterday? That’s not true."
Leon stopped and looked back at her, his irritation deepening.
"What do you mean, 'not true'?"
"An ambulance brought you in three days ago," the young woman said quietly, with a helpless shrug. "You’ve been unconscious the entire time."
"That… can't be," Leon stared at her in disbelief. There had to be some mistake. He remembered it all so clearly–
Did he?
"Who signed me in?" he inquired, trying to make sense of his shattered memories.
"The ambulance crew,” she repeated. “Nothing out of the ordinary – just another patient with a nervous breakdown, hallucinations, and aggressive behavior. Dr. Shae said right away that you belonged here and that you’d get the help you needed," the nurse explained in a soothing tone.
Why didn't he remember any of it? A nervous breakdown? Aggression? When the hell did that even happen? And did it at all?
In any case, Leon wasn't about to just sit around. He needed answers.
"It doesn't matter. The main thing is finding help," Leon stated firmly. He intended to figure out the rest, too, but there was no point in dwelling on it.
"But there are too many locked doors ahead," the nurse reminded him. "You won't get through them without the codes or access cards."
Leon froze, grimacing in frustration. He clearly hadn't fully shaken off the effects of the sedative if such an obvious detail had slipped his mind.
Turning back to her, he raised an eyebrow.
"Will you give me the codes?"
"As if!" she snorted, pointedly taking a step back.
"But our survival might depend on it," he tried appealing to her logic, but she stood her ground.
"Oh, really? I’ll stay locked in here while you go look for a way out. How do I even know you won't just abandon me? Or once I give you the codes, you’ll just get rid of me because I’m no longer useful?"
Leon bristled. How could she even think like that?
"I would never do something like that! Look," he said, trying to compose himself. "I’m not lying, and I’m not hallucinating. I really am a police officer. Yes, I have absolutely no memory of how I got here. But under no circumstances would I ever harm anyone – unless it’s in self-defense or to protect others. So I really hope you believe me, because otherwise, we’re screwed."
She contemplated him for a moment or two in silence, doubt still distorting her features.
"I’m coming with you," the nurse declared firmly. "I’m not giving you the codes. If the administration found out I shared that kind of information with a patient, I’d be prosecuted."
Leon desperately wanted to point out that she might face prosecution anyway – just on completely different charges. But saying that now would be incredibly stupid; if he scared her or turned her against him, they’d truly be stuck here.
"It’s dangerous – you saw that for yourself," he said instead. "I have no idea what might lie ahead. And I don’t have any weapons, so it will be extremely difficult for me to protect you."
"You just said you were a cop," the young woman countered. "Your job is to protect and serve, isn't it? Or do you absolutely need a gun for that?"
"A gun would come in handy, actually, yeah!" he remarked sarcastically. "When a blood-soaked psycho who doesn't respond to verbal commands charges at you, a shot to the leg works a lot better than a chokehold!"
"Weapons are banned on hospital grounds anyway,” the nurse pointed out sternly, finally walking past Leon toward the door. “You'll have to come up with something else. Are we going or what? We could just stay here until morning, since you're so keen on chatting!"
She was starting to get on his nerves.
Muttering to himself, Leon stepped forward and cautiously peered out the hallway, sweeping his flashlight from side to side.
~~~
They spotted the first signs of the staff – and then the employees themselves – behind a keypad-locked door.
When the nurse entered the code and he cautiously shone his light through the opening, the beam revealed a pool of blood on the floor and a body, clad in a coat that had once been white. Judging by the wounds on the head and face, the man had been practically torn apart.
Leon couldn't recall anything like this from his time on the force, even though he hadn't been with the police department all that long. It looked more like the work of a wild animal, yet the signs pointed to human handiwork.
He closed the door and shook his head as he turned to his companion.
"Is there an alternate route?" he asked in a quick whisper, swallowing hard.
"Why? What's in there?" the young woman asked warily.
"You won't like it." He was reluctant to show her the gruesome sight, unsure of how she might react.
"Let me see."
"…Have it your way."
Opening the door again, Leon shone his flashlight into the room beyond. There wasn't just one corpse; several motionless, bloodied bodies lay scattered about.
She let out a soft gasp and immediately clamped a hand over her mouth, pulling the door shut. Her eyes were wide with shock, fixed in a glassy, unblinking stare.
"An alternate route?" he asked again, praying to all the saints that she would nod.
But Lady Luck was evidently furious with him; the nurse simply shook her head, breathing raggedly as she struggled to supress her fear.
Peachy.
Firmly pushing the trembling woman aside, Leon opened the door again – wider this time – and surveyed the area. It was a sort of intersection and another observation post – a spacious lobby with a reception desk on one side and two seating areas with upholstered furniture in the corners. In the wall opposite them and the one to his left were doors identical to the one they stood before.
There was no sound, no sign of movement. Perhaps the attackers had already moved on.
Or they were waiting in the shadows. The thought sent a shiver down his spine.
"Where do we go next?" he asked in a whisper, beckoning her to show him the way. "Which office is closer – the head of security's or the director's?"
"T-the head of security's," she stammered, struggling to get the words out. "Straight into the opposite corridor, then left and a few doors down. But you need a keycard to get in."
"And you don't have one, of course," he concluded grimly, not waiting for an answer. "Is it any easier to get to the director?"
"Not that much. His office is a whole suite. He usually sits in the inner rooms but there is a reception area where I have access. There’s a phone in there too."
"That's something, at least," Leon nodded. "How do we get there?"
Stepping a little closer to the doorway, the nurse pointed a trembling finger.
"The doors to the left. Past them, there's a staircase to the second floor, then the elevator. But right now it's..."
"Not working, got it. And which floor is his office on?"
Her silence dragged on, which he didn't like at all. Glancing at the young woman, Leon saw fear and doubt etched on her face.
"The fifth, in the tower," she finally admitted. "Dr. Dominic always brags that such a height lets the brain function at peak capacity – I don't know if he's joking or if he really believes it."
Leon shook his head and exhaled in exasperation.
"Yeah. Right."
He thought for a moment longer. Going any further unarmed was bordering on suicidal. They could rely on stealth alone only as long as everything was quiet. If something blocked their path, they were trapped.
"Your security guys must be armed with something," he finally said. "And don't tell me I'm a patient and shouldn't be given a weapon. Just look around – and tell me it's safe and that we can make it through empty-handed."
The nurse jerked her head and clenched her teeth, but relented.
"Every guard carries a baton and a Taser. If a patient gets violent, they’re shocked and put in a straitjacket."
It was better than nothing. He’d feel more at ease with a baton, and a stun gun sounded like a real improvement to their situation.
"So, we need to find a guard and politely ask them to share," he concluded. And, finally, he got a nod from his reluctant companion.
~~~
"It's too dark inside," the operative reported, not lowering his binoculars.
"Yeah, I see that,” she replied quietly. The building in the distance – a gloomy structure of pale gray stone with wings spreading wide in opposite directions – was deathly quiet and dark, as if abandoned years ago.
"Windows are barred, which makes sense. But those steel plates blocking the exits? That’s not normal. Looks like a loss of power isn't their only problem now."
Ada nodded grimly. “It’s the lockdown.”
She wanted nothing more than to break something or at least swear out loud, but she held back.
Nothing about this operation had gone according to plan. For starters, Leon hadn't been at the holding facility; they’d torn the place apart looking for him. It was only after she had hacked the warden's terminal and pulled the prisoner transfer logs that she discovered his destination.
That very day, while she was away in Hong Kong, he had been moved to Blackwood Clinical Research Hospital. It was a cold, bureaucratic postscript at the very end of his record that sent a sharp pang of unease through her: "Transferred for clinical evaluation."
Once she shared that discovery with Wesker, it turned out to be a name even he wasn’t familiar with. From there, their conversation went smoothly: he agreed to provide extra resources in exchange for all the intel she could extract from the mysterious Umbrella subsidiary.
But their team couldn’t make it any faster with the new parameters, arriving at the site only at the end of the fifth day.
Ever since her undercover stint at the Arklay Laboratory, Ada had known exactly what happened to test subjects in Umbrella facilities.
By all appearances, she was too late – and Leon had likely already met his fate.
All that was left was to break in – she was bound by her word, after all – retrieve the data, and, if luck was on her side, find out what had happened to that moron who had been too stubborn to retreat, despite her dozens of warnings.
"Look for a suitable entry point," she ordered, turning to the team.