[Spencer Memorial Hospital: 2nd Floor]
Arlo reached the top of the stairwell and paused.
The second floor was quiet. Too quiet. No shuffling. No groaning. Just fluorescent lights flickering like a dying boss's health bar. The main corridor stretched out in both directions, littered with tipped wheelchairs, overturned supply carts, and shattered light fixtures.
Still, Arlo didn't relax. Danger Intuition wasn't pinging, but jump-scare programming wasn't something it covered.
I swear, if a Licker drops out of a ceiling vent, I'm uninstalling reality, he thought, half-serious. He moved slowly down the corridor, eyes scanning doors and labels. His objective: find any room that might house recordings, logs, anything with Bard's voice. Everything else was optional.
First door: locked.
Second door: storage closet—empty.
Third door: roof access. Arlo cracked it open
Only one zombie up there, slumped against the railing. As soon as it twitched, Arlo put a slug in its head. The Pit Viper barked once, the corpse folded.
[EXP Gained: +100]
Nothing worth looting—just a burnt-out med drone and a pair of rusted defibrillator paddles. Arlo moved on. He opened the next room—a records office. Jackpot. No zombies inside, just dust and the smell of damp paperwork.
A quick sweep netted him three useful things: a box of 9mm handgun ammo, one green herb stuffed in a bio-waste container (gross but intact), and a blood-stained Nurse's Journal marked Sept. 27.
He skimmed it.
First patient brought in with high fever. Symptoms progressing fast. Bite wounds. Doctor Bard says to keep quiet.
Arlo closed the book, lips pressed tight."Beginning of the outbreak," he muttered. "Right under their noses." He left the journal but took the ammo and herb.Next stop: the staff room.
Door creaked open. Three corpses. Staff uniforms. No movement. Still—he didn't take chances.Three controlled shots. Three skulls punctured.
[EXP Gained: +300]
He ignored the popup. Stepped over the bodies. Looted the room with calculated efficiency.
Found: a dozen shotgun shells in a torn supply case under a desk. Jackpot. He reloaded immediately, sliding each shell into place like a ritual. The shotgun clicked with finality. He holstered the Pit Viper. Back to boomstick mode.
On the desk, he found another journal: Nurse's Log – Sept. 29.
"We're out of beds. Staff are disappearing. We're sealing off sections. I don't think anyone's coming for us."
Arlo didn't say anything this time. Just exhaled.It was all fun when it was just a game. Reading this stuff in a safe menu screen. But out here... He looked at the corpses on the floor again. People, not NPCs. This world is hell.
Still—he couldn't let it pull him down. He took a deep breath. Reset his mind. Mission comes first. Jill's still dying. Focus
.One last desk. Inside it: a folded memo from Hospital Administration.
Arlo unfolded it carefully. "Key to locker room missing. Last recorded user may have dropped it in the northwest courtyard."
Arlo blinked. Reached into his coat. Pulled out the brass key he'd picked up earlier. "Well, guess I don't need to backtrack after all." He left the staff room, crossed the hall, and unlocked the locker room door.
Inside: mostly quiet. One body near the sinks. No movement. Still—Arlo raised the shotgun, approached, and fired.
Boom!
[EXP Gained: +100]
He moved to the left row of lockers.Third locker from the end—unlocked.
Inside: a white plastic access card. Spencer Memorial Hospital ID.
"Finally," Arlo muttered. "Now we're talking." He scanned the room one more time. Nothing else of value.He reloaded the shotgun again—muscle memory now. Twelve shells ready. Pit Viper on standby. He opened the locker room door slowly, scanned the hallway.
Still clear. Let's hope Carlos had the same kind of luck. He moved back toward the stairs, careful not to rush. The ID card practically burned a hole in his pocket. Every step back down to the first floor felt heavier. Less about weight, more about time. He didn't check the journals again. Didn't look back at the corpses. Just forward.
***
As Arlo turned toward the hallway, ready to make his way back to Carlos, a sharp pulse hit behind his eyes. Not a headache—Danger Intuition. Sudden. Focused. Close. He froze.
A flicker of movement passed just beyond the doorway.
"...Shit." Arlo cursed himselfHe didn't wait.
Arlo shoved the staff room door open and fired—shotgun raised, barrel inches from a humanoid blur.
Boom!
Boom!
Two shells slammed into the thing's face. It staggered but didn't drop. It turned toward him with unnatural speed.
Arlo sidestepped fast, reaching for the threaded cane. In one fluid motion, he drew and drove it straight into the thing's skull. The steel cracked bone. The creature twitched, spasmed—then hit the floor hard. He backed off, breathing shallow and tight, shotgun raised in case it got cute. But it stayed down.
"Great," Arlo muttered. "Bullet sponge lizard."
Now that it was still, he took a better look. It wasn't like a normal zombie—not even close. Amphibian build. Scaled, damp-looking skin. Sharpened claws and a defined jawline that gave off serious apex predator vibes. It looked engineered. Not mutated—designed. He activated [Observe] to see the Status Window.
---
Hunter β
Race: Undead (T-Virus)
Level: 10
HP: 115/115
MP: 0/0
Stats:
Strength: 15
Dexterity: 17
Intelligence: 3
Charisma: -10
Luck: 0
Endurance: 13
Wisdom: 3
Skills:T-Virus Mutation LV: 7/10, Cannibal LV: 7/10, Infection LV: 6/10,
Status:Remark: A bioweapon designed for surgical strikes against surviving threats. Prototype refinement from earlier Hunter models.
Weakness:Brain Damage, Incinerations, Lack of Intelligence, Vulnerable to Environmental Hazards, Slowed Reflexes
Threat Level: Mid - High
---
Arlo exhaled. "Fucking Umbrella."
He nudged the corpse with his foot. It didn't move. It looked too clean for something this dangerous. No decay. No breakdown. Like it was grown yesterday. He remembered in his past life. Chris Redfield's crusade against Umbrella's bio-weapons. The missions. The obsession.
"Yeah," Arlo muttered. "I get it now, Chris. These things aren't science. This is what happen when people play god."
With the corridor clear again, he pushed forward and entered the Nurse Station. Two bodies slumped near the counter. Motionless. Arlo didn't waste time.
Boom! Boom!
[EXP Gained: +200]
Arlo stepped past the corpses and moved to the reception desk on the south wall. A blood-stained folder sat half-crushed beneath a coffee mug. He picked it up and flipped through the pages—handwritten notes from a nurse. Lots of complaints. Then, one line stood out: His research assistant took it. One of my patients saw Abbott remove something from a locker in the Nurses Station and walk toward the treatment room. I'll try to sneak in and look during the night shift. You just stay cool and keep doing your job.
There it was. Arlo raised an eyebrow. "So Bard's is just a bonified asshole below him."
The next page didn't change the impression. Arlo closed the file with a shake of his head. "Bonafide dick. But at least I've got a lead." He left the Nurse Station, reloaded his shotgun, and moved into the next hallway, toward the Linen Room.
Two zombies stumbled aimlessly between overturned hampers and body bags. Arlo moved fast—clean and efficient. Two more shells. Two more kills.
[EXP Gained: +200]
The Linen Room had nothing useful beyond a stack of biohazard bins and the same sour chemical smell that seemed baked into every hospital wall. He didn't linger.
Arlo stepped into the Treatment Room hallway.
...
Just as Arlo reached for the doorknob, his Danger Intuition hit like a cold knife behind the eyes. Not a vague warning—this was sharp, immediate. In the next second, a brief premonition flashed in his vision. Two shadows pacing near the door. Broad. Fast-moving. Reptilian.
"Hunter β," Arlo whispered under his breath. He took a half-step back, raised the shotgun, and let the adrenaline do the math.If he opened the door like normal, he'd be toast. No hesitation. No testing luck. He cracked the door slowly, inch by inch, muzzle up.
There it was—first Hunter β, four feet away, unaware. Arlo didn't wait.Boom.Boom.Boom.Boom.Four slugs, center mass and head. The thing staggered, gurgled, then dropped like a boulder.
[EXP Gained: +400 EXP]
He didn't get a chance to exhale.
The second Hunter β darted out from the right side like a predator on fast-forward. Arlo tried to swing, but it slammed into him before he could react. The impact sent him sprawling backwards, shotgun still in hand. He hit the tile hard. Wind knocked out.
The Hunter lunged, jaws snapping shut just inches from his face. Arlo jammed the shotgun horizontally into its mouth, stopping the bite. But that was it. His threaded cane was pinned under his hip. His knife was strapped too high on his thigh. He had nothing immediately usable."Damn it," he grunted, straining to keep the beast's teeth from closing.
Its breath was wet and rancid, like something had been rotting inside it for weeks. He scanned the floor. His eyes caught something—paper. A stack of thick printouts scattered from a crash cart.
An idea formed. Desperate, but worth a shot. He reached with one arm, grabbed a stack, and activated his [Paper dagger].
The pages stiffened, sharpened, humming faintly.Arlo stabbed the paper-shard into the side of the Hunter's head. Once. Twice. On the third jab, it pierced the eye socket.
The creature let out a garbled hiss and slumped forward, dead weight pressing down.
Arlo shoved the corpse off and rolled to the side, breathing heavy, blood spattered across his face and neck. He sat up and wiped his jaw. "Disgusting son of a—"
He didn't finish. Instead, he looked down at himself. His coat was soaked. Pants stained. Hands sticky. His whole body felt like he'd rolled through a blender of blood and sweat.
"This is gross. I'm gross." Arlo whispered.He reached into his inventory and pulled out a small white orb—simple, smooth. A [Cleaning Orb], one of those utility items he'd bought without thinking because the vendor said "it's what all the pioneer use." Arlo had laughed it off. Now? He got it.The orb's description came to mind: 'Cleans body, equipment, and clothing in one use. Crush to activate. Instant effect.'
He crushed it. A thin, white mist—almost watery—spread outward. It enveloped his body, clothes, and gear in a silent, swirling embrace.It wasn't cold. Just neutral. Like the sensation of standing inside a warm air dryer that also did your laundry.
The blood dissolved instantly. Sweat evaporated. His clothes unwrinkled, even his gloves restored to factory condition.When it cleared, Arlo stood clean. Not a stain. Not a speck of dust. "Well... that's cheating." He flexed his shoulders. No resistance. No grime. "This thing must be a godsend for field agents—and probably super popular with every female pioneer in the system."
Still, he didn't let the convenience distract him too long.He scanned the room again. Two dead Hunters. Floor wrecked. No further hostiles.He moved toward the far northeast corner—toward a hospital bed tray that hadn't been flipped or touched.
On it sat a single cassette tape, still inside a labeled case. [Dr. B Recording for HR]
Arlo exhaled. "Finally." He slid the tape into a protective pouch in his coat.The mission clock in his HUD ticked in the corner. Jill was still infected. Carlos was probably back at the lab entrance, waiting. No time to waste. He made one last sweep—no loot, no additional enemies. No signs of anyone else moving through the area. His boots echoed across the tiles as he made his way back toward the door. He stepped over the first Hunter's body, then the second, shotgun raised just in case. Danger Intuition stayed silent this time.Back out into the hallway.
The same path he'd cleared earlier.No new bodies. No new surprises. His thoughts locked in: Deliver the tape. Open the lab. Get the cure. Get out.
Fifteen seconds later, he reached the top of the stairs. One deep breath, one final gear check. He descended fast, boots thudding against steel steps.
First floor was waiting. Carlos was waiting. And Raccoon City wasn't done with them yet.
***
[Spencer Memorial Hospital: 1st Floor]
Arlo stepped off the stairwell and landed on the cracked tile of the first floor, boots echoing lightly. No gunshots, no screaming—just the low hum of dying lights and the occasional flicker from above. He turned the corner toward the emergency entrance and stopped for a second. Nine corpses. Zombies—riddled with clean bullet holes through the head or upper chest. The floor was streaked with coagulated blood, spent shell casings still scattered across the hallway.
"Damn," Arlo muttered. "Carlos must've gone full John Wick in here."
He weaved past the bodies, checking each one with a glance. None twitching. No groans. Carlos had done good work. Efficient.
Arlo moved down the hallway and pushed through the last set of double doors into the Laboratory Reception. Carlos stood near the sealed lab door, one hand on his rifle, the other holding a small tape player. His face perked up when he saw Arlo approach.
"Carlos," Arlo said, stepping into the light. "Find anything?"
Carlos exhaled like he'd been asked that five times already. "Tapes, yeah. But none with Bard's voice. Mostly admin logs, nurse check-ins, and one that sounded like someone talking to their dog."
"Useful," Arlo said flatly.Carlos grinned. "And you?"
Arlo answered by pulling a tape from his coat pocket and holding it up like it was a winning lottery ticket. "Found this in a treatment room on the second floor. Labeled 'Dr. B Recording for HR.'"
Carlos's eyes lit up. "You serious?"
Arlo handed it over. "Yeah. Took a few detours—some lockers, a couple locked doors, and two monsters that really didn't want me leaving."
Carlos flinched slightly at the word. "They're up there?"
"Were," Arlo replied. "One got paper-knifed in the eye. Long story. But they're dead now. Mostly."
Carlos inserted the tape into the player, his fingers a little too fast, like even he wanted this to be over. "Then let's see if Bard's big mouth can finally open this lab."
"Fingers crossed," Arlo muttered, watching the panel next to the lab door begin to pulse red, waiting for input.Carlos hit plays the tape. A woman's voice came through first. Irritated. "All I wanted to know was what the documents were doing in your office in the first place."Then Bard responded. Loud. Aggressively condescending. "Who do you think you're talking to? I'm goddamn Nathaniel Bard! I'm the best biologist you'll ever meet, you bedpan-changing waste of a nursing degree!"
There was a pause—both on the tape and between the two men.Arlo slowly turned his head to look at Carlos. No expression, just a single eyebrow raised.
"So... this is the guy we're relying on?" Arlo asked
Carlos exhaled like the entire situation was one giant migraine. "Yeah. Seems like we're saving the city with the help of the most arrogant scientist on the planet."
Arlo shrugged. "At least nurses had this record to his outbursts."
The lab door chimed.
[VOICE MATCH DETECTED. ACCESS GRANTED]
Metal locks clicked open one by one, and the heavy door slid open with a mechanical hiss. Cool air swept out from the lab like it hadn't been disturbed in days.
Carlos lowered the player. "Well... guess it worked."
"Guess being a raging asshole has its uses after all," Arlo muttered.
Carlos smirked, but didn't say anything. He stepped forward, rifle raised. Arlo followed, shotgun at the ready.