We crossed the hall again in tense silence, my senses still on high alert. When we reached the secured door, I pulled out Jeff's access card and passed it in front of the reader. A sharp beep sounded, followed by a mechanical click. The West Wing door slowly unlocked, revealing a completely different environment beyond it.
Leon went in first, moving cautiously. The moment I crossed the threshold behind him, I immediately understood what he was feeling. This place had nothing to do with an ordinary hospital. The polished marble floor reflected the dim lighting, thick carpets muffled footsteps, and the walls were decorated with elegant wood paneling, antique paintings, and sophisticated molding. The atmosphere strongly resembled Spencer Mansion… too luxurious, too refined to be innocent. But thinking about it, it made sense. A private institute. A place where money erased scruples.
The corridor split into two directions. On the right stood a massive reinforced locked door. Leon glanced at it briefly, ready to intervene, but I gestured for him to drop the idea.
"No point. If we force that thing open, we'll attract everything lurking around here."
He nodded without arguing, and we headed left instead. The hallway was lined with large windows… but all of them were hidden behind thick curtains. When I pulled one aside slightly, I noticed bars fixed over every opening.
"What do we do, Gérald?" Leon asked quietly. "Do we break the bars and get Grace, Emily, and Jeff out?"
I slowly shook my head."No. The office is safer for now. If I find more useful people, I'll strengthen their protection. But I can't afford to lose track of Grace." I paused briefly before adding with a trace of irony, "She's literally my key to getting my power back… and surviving whatever the System has planned."
"Understood," he answered simply.
He stopped for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly."I hear something farther ahead."
Without waiting, he resumed moving forward with that deceptive casualness that always defined him. I followed about three meters behind, analyzing every corner, every shadow.
That's when everything went wrong.
A sudden movement.A metallic flash.
Leon didn't even have time to react.
A cleaver slammed violently into his shoulder with a wet, brutal sound. The impact threw him slightly forward before a massive hand clamped around his throat, nearly lifting him off the ground. In a single second, he was dragged out of my sight, disappearing around the corridor corner.
I froze instantly, my body reacting before my mind could catch up. I slipped behind a curtain, blending into the shadows, holding my breath. Heavy footsteps moved away, accompanied by the scraping sound of Leon's body dragged across the floor.
Then a door slammed shut violently.
Silence.
A few seconds passed before I dared move.
I peeked carefully around the corner.
The corridor was empty.
I slowly stepped out of hiding, my vines already prepared to react, and advanced toward a pair of half-open swinging doors. Leaning slightly, I looked inside.
Leon was there.
Thrown onto the floor like a sack.
Facing him stood a colossus.
A massive, deformed man holding an enormous cleaver still dripping with blood. His imposing silhouette nearly filled the room, his movements heavy but precise. He held Leon by the throat, restraining him effortlessly.
"Listen… buddy… we can talk about this… I'm full of ner— AAAAARRR!" Leon screamed as another cleaver strike crashed violently into him.
I gritted my teeth slightly.
No time to think.
I scanned the room quickly and spotted a large pot nearby, filled with a dark substance… a thick, organic mold with an acidic smell.
Perfect.
My dorsal vines deployed silently, slithering toward the object without making a sound. I gripped it firmly… then, with a sharp motion, hurled it directly at the colossus's head.
The impact was brutal.
The pot slammed onto his skull, the infected substance splashing across his face and instantly blinding him.
He released Leon with a furious growl, bringing his hands to his head.
I didn't give him time to react.
My vines contracted violently, crushing the base of the pot to permanently jam it around his skull, turning the object into a sort of improvised helmet. Deprived of vision and disoriented, he swung his cleaver wildly… which I immediately tore from his grasp.
Leon, already recovering, got back to his feet with heavy breaths. His wounds were closing before my eyes, his breathing stabilizing rapidly.
Without a word, he moved.
He positioned himself behind the colossus and, with one sharp movement, shattered both of his legs. A sickening crack echoed as the giant collapsed heavily onto the floor.
I rushed forward immediately to restrain the upper body, my vines completely immobilizing his arms and torso.
The fight was over.
The monster still struggled… but without coordination, without sight.
Perfectly subdued.
I let out a quiet breath.
"This one… I'm keeping."
A System message immediately imposed itself in my mind, clear and absolute:
Special zombie detected and recovered. Cognitive functions partially altered by the T-virus — Gideon model. You may now instantly capture any zombie infected by this strain.
I paused for a fraction of a second to process the information… then the colossus suddenly vanished, swallowed into my internal space before reappearing in front of me with an almost imperceptible sound. His body was intact, without a trace of injury, and the "pot" serving as his helmet had simply disappeared, as if it had never existed.
Without wasting time, I pulled out a modified G-Plagas and forced him to swallow it with practiced precision. The transformation resumed immediately, but this time it was controlled, directed. His muscles contracted, swelling slightly, veins standing out beneath his skin as he grew another twenty centimeters taller. His already imposing frame became outright monstrous, every movement radiating a raw power far more stable than it had been seconds earlier.
Beside me, Leon let out a deep breath, running a hand over his shoulder still soaked in dried blood.
"Gérald… thanks. Honestly, I really didn't want to test the limits of my regeneration today…"
I shot him a sideways glance, observing the state of his clothes—torn apart, darkened with blood.
"Ever since I enhanced you, I think you've become a little too reckless…" I said calmly, though a hint of reproach slipped into my voice.
Behind me, the "chef" continued evolving under the Plagas' influence, his shoulders broadening, his posture becoming straighter, steadier. I let out a faint smile.
"Perfect… a strength-type profile. That's definitely going to help me subdue others… especially the giant one, if she's still alive."
At the same time, data flooded through my mind, the parasite's feedback already structuring itself into exploitable patterns. I now had a much clearer understanding of the facility's layout, since Mister Chef had access to far more areas than Jeff ever did.
Leon, meanwhile, looked away slightly, visibly uncomfortable.
"Listen… I'm sorry. It's true that with abilities like this, I've started to feel like I lost part of my survival instinct."
I raised an eyebrow.
He sighed.
"Okay… I admit it. I'm reckless."
He bent down to retrieve his improvised iron rod, quickly testing his grip as if reassuring himself. But despite himself, his gaze drifted toward the colossus, who had now fully risen to his feet.
The chef, now stabilized, picked up his cleaver with an almost unsettling calm. He positioned himself slightly behind us… but close enough that his presence was impossible to ignore.
Leon froze for a fraction of a second.
"…Can you tell him to stand farther away from me?"
I let out a quiet laugh.
"Relax. He's with us now."
The colossus tilted his head slightly, as if confirming my words.
As we crossed the kitchen, the rancid, damp smell hit me immediately—a mixture of spoiled food and living mold. The fluorescent lights crackled overhead, some already dead, plunging entire sections of the room into unsettling darkness. We had barely taken a few steps when movement caught my attention: a zombie crouched near an electrical panel, amusing itself by turning the lights off and on like a child discovering a new toy. Without even slowing down, I extended my hand and captured it instantly. Its body vanished in a faint rush of air, absorbed into my internal space. I'd keep it for later… a mass enhancement would be more efficient.
We continued to the left despite what looked like a dead end. There, an even more disturbing scene unfolded before us. An infected woman, dressed in a torn service uniform, stood facing a cracked mirror. She rubbed her face frantically, then the glass, then her face again, trapped in an obsessive cycle.
"Why is it dirty… why is it dirty…" she repeated in a hysterical voice, clawing at the already damaged surface.
I turned my head slightly toward Leon.
"Leon, bring her to me."
He reacted immediately, without asking questions. This time, his movements were different. Smoother. Cleaner. He didn't rush in recklessly. He circled the target slightly, anticipated her reaction, then moved at the perfect moment. In one sharp motion, he jammed his metal rod into the woman's back, locking her arms with leverage before forcing her down, restraining her effortlessly. She struggled and screamed, but without any real coordination.
He dragged her over to me.
I captured her instantly.
Leon frowned slightly.
"Why did you ask me to bring her if you could've just taken her instantly?"
I shrugged lightly.
"I wanted to see if I could leave you alone with Grace or not."
He stared at me.
I continued calmly.
"But it seems you can still fight properly. Your movements are cleaner. Once you fully assimilate your combat techniques… you'll be dangerous."
He looked away, visibly dissatisfied.
"Come on, Leon… I'm not putting you down," I added with a faint smile. "But out of everyone I could've chosen… you weren't my first pick."
He turned sharply toward me.
I raised a hand to stop him.
"In pure survival, you're number one. No debate. But right now, I need muscle. Thankfully…" I said, glancing at the colossus behind us, "…this guy perfectly fits my criteria."
A silence followed.
Then Leon sighed in irritation.
"You're an asshole, Gérald…"
I smiled even more.
"I would've preferred staying with Claire too…" he continued, tightening his grip on the metal rod. "Especially since we were this close to…"
He stopped abruptly.
I raised an amused eyebrow.
He stammered slightly.
I let out a laugh.
"Yeah… you were finally about to fulfill Chris's dream of continuing the Redfield bloodline."
"Shut up."
But despite his tone, I could see his ears turning slightly red.
I kept walking, still smiling.
Teasing him… it was almost too easy, and surprisingly… it relaxed me.
When we reached a large room, I instinctively slowed down, sweeping my gaze across the area. The place looked like an old private dining hall, with a long solid-wood table still fully set, abandoned plates, and rotting leftovers. The smell was suffocating—a mix of decay and spoiled flesh. Two zombies were hunched over the table, busy devouring what remained of a body, their jaws snapping with wet crunching sounds.
I made a simple gesture with my hand.
The chef reacted immediately. He stepped forward with heavy but quick strides, grabbed each zombie by the throat with unsettling ease, and lifted them off the ground. Their legs kicked uselessly in the air as they struggled weakly.
I calmly approached from behind.
In a fraction of a second, I absorbed both of them into the factory.
"Hey Leon, look… there's a handgun on the floor," I said, pointing toward a weapon partially hidden beneath an overturned chair.
He approached cautiously, crouched down, and picked up the gun, checking it with mechanical gestures deeply ingrained in his memory. He pulled the slide back, glanced at the magazine… then shook his head slightly.
"Empty."
The moment the word left his mouth, a hand shot out from beneath the table and grabbed his ankle with surprising strength.
Instant reflex.
Leon spun on himself and violently slammed his heel down onto the zombie's wrist, shattering the joint with a sharp crack. The grip released instantly. Without wasting a second, he grabbed the creature—a partially decomposed woman—by the hair and dragged her out from under the table.
I stepped forward and captured her immediately.
"We're in the United States… bullets shouldn't be that rare, right?" I said with a faint smile while taking the pistol he handed me.
I kept it for the moment without loading it, still assessing the situation.
We continued moving deeper into the wing. On the left, a room caught my attention: locker rooms. Leon and I entered, quickly inspecting the metal lockers, some open, others forced apart.
After a few moments of searching, I found a small forgotten ammo box in one of the lockers at the back.
About twenty rounds.
Perfect.
I calmly reloaded the pistol, each click echoing through the tense silence of the room. Once finished, I turned to Leon and handed him the weapon.
"Trade."
He gave me his iron bar without argument, immediately testing the weight of the pistol in his hand. His expression shifted slightly.
Inside the locker room was a locked door with a magnetic seal. We'd either have to force it open or recover the access key, but for now, I preferred focusing on fast and discreet exploration.
"We'll leave that for later."
Leon nodded.
We moved forward quickly, our footsteps echoing faintly against the cold tiles, while the chef walked behind us like a heavy, silent shadow. When we reached the foot of a wide marble staircase, I immediately spotted a zombie in a suit, probably a former staff member or privileged patient. Before he could even react, I captured him instantly, his body vanishing without a sound. We then climbed to the first floor, where a large map of the wing hung crookedly on the wall.
I glanced over it quickly, comparing it with the freshly acquired memories from the chef. To the left: the lounge bar. Straight ahead: administrative offices and the archives room. A potentially interesting area… but inaccessible for now.
The door in front of us was locked.
I listened carefully.
A sound.A voice.
Someone… was humming.
I raised a hand to signal Leon to slow down. He understood immediately and positioned himself slightly behind me, quieter, more attentive. The chef stayed back near the staircase, ready to intervene but out of sight.
We slowly advanced toward the entrance of the lounge bar.
The room opened before us in an almost unreal contrast.
The floor was impeccably maintained, a polished black-and-white checkerboard reflecting the warm glow of the scattered lamps around the room. Large arches supported the ceiling, giving the place an almost aristocratic atmosphere, like a luxurious salon lost in the middle of a nightmare. On the right, a grand piano rested silently in the corner, while an elegant bar occupied the back of the room, surrounded by leather armchairs and small coffee tables. A few decorative plants, still green, added a strange touch of life to this environment frozen in time.
And in the center…
A woman.
She wore a white dress, once elegant, now slightly stained but still graceful in appearance. She slowly spun in circles, humming a soft melody, almost soothing… too soothing for a place like this. Her movements were fluid, almost graceful, as if she were dancing alone in an invisible ballroom.
Around her, two zombies wandered aimlessly, their disorganized movements clashing with the woman's strangely… composed presence.
I narrowed my eyes slightly.
Something was wrong.
"You seeing this…?" Leon whispered quietly behind me.
I didn't answer immediately.
My gaze remained fixed on her.
She wasn't just a zombie.
There was… something else.
A detail.
An invisible tension in the air.
A deep, instinctive sense of dread.
I stepped slightly to the side, moving myself out of her direct line.
"Yeah…" I finally muttered. "And I really don't like it."
(Author's note: That's all for today ^^)