A beam of light suddenly stabbed down from high above.
Countless ashes and dust suspended in the scorching air danced frantically and silently within the beam of light.
The surrounding burning ruins instantly lost their color, leaving only a deathly pallor reflected by this blindingly strong light.
The emptiness brought a fatal sense of exposure.
The four of them reacted almost at the same time, quickly darting into the shadows or behind cover.
"Whirrr—"
Accompanying the source of the beam and its piercing light was a faint but clear sound of mechanical rotation.
The sound seemed like the servo motor of some automatic turret, calibrating its angle to lock onto a target.
The shadow of death descended silently.
By the wall, Leon's right hand was already gripping the "desert eagle" at his waist, his thumb precisely flicking off the safety.
Ada's figure, like an elegant black cat, slid silently toward the shadows of a nearby truck wreckage.
Claire raised the mp5 submachine gun in her hands at the corner of the wall, its muzzle pointing steadily toward the source of the light beam.
In Noah's mind, a blurry yet crucial image flashed by.
A youth in flamboyant clothes, two golden Luger pistols, and this damn searchlight descending from the sky.
Steve Burnside.
Almost at the instant he recognized this potential threat, Noah had already reacted.
Without the slightest hesitation, he raised his arm.
"Bang!"
A dull and massive gunshot tore through the night sky.
It wasn't the crisp crack of Leon's "desert eagle," but came from the specially modified beretta pistol in Noah's hand.
A 9mm bullet, trailing an almost invisible trajectory, shot precisely toward the heights.
"Crash!"
The crisp sound of glass and lightbulb shattering simultaneously came from the location of the searchlight.
The beam of light flickered violently and then extinguished instantly.
The world was once again swallowed by dark red firelight and deep darkness.
After a brief, deathly silence.
A young male voice, clearly tinged with panic and childishness, drifted down from above, his voice even cracking slightly due to nervousness.
"Don't shoot!"
"Don't! I didn't mean it! I thought you were those monsters!"
As the voice faded, the sound of a metal ladder creaking underfoot could be heard.
(In the original game, he jumps down directly...)
Soon, a figure scrambled down a rust-stained fire escape from the shadows of a nearby building.
He looked to be only seventeen or eighteen years old.
He had messy brown hair, and his face still bore the lingering childishness characteristic of a youth.
He wore a denim jacket printed with flamboyant graffiti, a pair of baggy cargo pants, and unbranded basketball shoes on his feet.
This hip-hop style outfit seemed completely out of place on this island that resembled a living hell.
The youth jumped off the last rung of the ladder, stumbling slightly before finding his footing.
He looked at the four people before him, who exuded the cold aura of professional soldiers, and subconsciously swallowed hard, especially upon seeing the dark muzzles of their guns.
His gaze swept rapidly over the four of them.
There was no sign of Umbrella's loathsome red-and-white Umbrella logo.
"Hey!"
The youth seemed to have confirmed something, and the tension on his face was immediately replaced by a forced, casual excitement.
"You don't have Umbrella's logo on you. You're here to cause trouble, right?"
He looked at their equipment, which was so sophisticated it made him envious, and his eyes practically lit up.
His gaze lingered on Claire's Grenade Launcher for a full three seconds.
"No matter who you are, how about letting me join you?"
"I'm telling you, I'm really good!"
This youth, full of chuunibyou vibes, looked at their clearly professional gear with undisguised envy and longing.
Leon looked him up and down, his gaze like that of someone looking at a neighbor's kid who had skipped school to go to an internet cafe.
He subconsciously asked.
"Have you... graduated high school yet?"
The air seemed to freeze.
The eager look of anticipation on the youth's face froze instantly.
A second later, his face flushed bright red, as if he had been gravely insulted.
"Huh?!"
His voice suddenly jumped an octave, filled with the anger of being slighted.
"You actually look down on me?!"
"I'm telling you, you'll regret this! You'll definitely regret this!"
"I don't even want to team up with self-righteous guys like you! FK!"
The youth was practically jumping up and down as he finished shouting these words.
Then, without looking back, he turned and ran, quickly disappearing behind a pile of collapsed building ruins in the direction they had come from.
Leaving behind a stunned Leon and his three companions with varying expressions.
Leon blinked and spread his hands, looking at everyone with a face full of innocence.
"Did I... say something wrong?"
Ada crossed her arms and quietly watched the direction the youth had disappeared, her beautiful almond eyes as calm as a deep well.
In a cool tone of stating a fact, she said faintly:
"Adolescent boys value their self-esteem more than their lives."
This bizarre little interlude was quickly forgotten.
The surrounding roads were almost entirely blocked by massive ruins and raging fires caused by the explosions.
Beside them was a massive, heavy iron gate, likely the main gate of the prison area, with a circular indentation on it.
The only way out seemed to be the nearby Prison security staff dormitory building that the youth had just climbed down from.
It was a three-story, square concrete building.
The walls were riddled with bullet holes from machine-gun fire and blackened marks from explosions.
Most of the window glass had shattered, leaving only dark openings like silent mouths.
The four of them exchanged glances and, without further hesitation, entered the building that exuded an ominous aura.
Inside the building was a long, narrow corridor.
The air was thick with a nauseating smell even more complex than the one outside.
It was a unique scent of death formed by a mixture of sweat, cheap tobacco, moldy food, and dried blood.
On both sides of the corridor were rooms similar to collective dormitories.
Several bodies wearing Umbrella security uniforms were swaying aimlessly in the corridor.
Their skin was an unnatural grayish-white, their pupils dilated, and they emitted meaningless low growls from their mouths.
Upon seeing living people enter, their sluggish movements seemed to be injected with some evil stimulant, and they began twisting their stiff limbs as they closed in on the four.
Noah was about to step forward.
But Claire reached out and gently pulled his arm.
She stretched her neck and wrists, her joints letting out a series of crisp "clicks."
"That was your warm-up."
A confident and competitive curve rose at the corner of her mouth.
"Now, it's my turn."
Before she had even finished speaking.
Claire had already drawn the sharp tactical dagger strapped to her left shoulder harness, gripping it in a reverse hold.
Her figure turned into a swift red afterimage.
That afterimage wasn't as exaggeratedly fast as Noah's, which was impossible for the naked eye to track.
Yet it carried the elegance and lethality of a dancer.
She precisely cut into the midst of those slow-moving zombies.
No wasted motion.
Every turn, every swing of her arm, was accompanied by a silver cold flash and the slight muffled sound of a sharp blade slicing through flesh.
The entire process lasted only about two or three seconds.
When the red afterimage returned to its original spot.
The zombies that had been clawing and gnashing just a moment ago suddenly froze in place.
The next second.
Their heads slid off their necks in unison, falling to the ground with a series of thuds, like smashed watermelons.
The headless bodies took two steps forward by instinct before collapsing with a crash.
The cuts were smooth, like a mirror surface.
Leon's eyes went wide.
He couldn't help but let out a heartfelt exclamation of praise.
"Wow!"
"I finally saw this one clearly!"
"Claire, you're simply amazing! Just like... just like Wonder Woman!"
Noah also gave Claire a thumbs-up with a smile.
Having received the approval of her boyfriend and companion, a brilliant smile appeared on Claire's face.
But then, as if thinking of something, her beautiful blue eyes narrowed slightly, and she looked at Leon with a pout, saying in a tone tinged with a bit of a complaint:
"You can't see Noah's movements, but you can see mine..."
"Are you saying I'm much slower than him?"
The lively atmosphere suddenly went quiet, and the smile on Noah's face also stiffened.
The praise on Leon's face froze as well.
Collective silence.
Three pairs of eyes focused simultaneously on Leon.
Leon looked down at his toes, his face full of the regret and awkwardness of having done something wrong, wishing he could find a crack in the floor to crawl into.
Just then.
A slender, fair hand reached over.
Ada gently tapped Leon's head with two fingers.
Her voice remained cool and calm, yet carried a hint of a faint smile.
"The next time you speak."
"Remember to have your mouth and your head consult with each other first."