Hu Tao hovered over Resident Evil's menu, her cursor flicking between options—difficulty set to easy, a yawn tugging at her as she bypassed harder modes, her choice settling on Jill Valentine, the game's lone female lead, a figure she'd steer into the unknown.
She clicked start, and July 1998 unfurled over Raccoon City—a STARS Alpha Team chopper buzzed through the night, hunting Bravo Team's lost souls, the opening cutscene weaving a grim tapestry of their mission's dire stakes.
Newsreels flashed—bizarre murders plagued the city, bodies marred by gnaw marks, a grotesque hint that sank into Hu Tao's gut, her suspicions firming: this was another horror gauntlet, Liam's latest trick to rattle her nerves.
"Another scare-fest? What's Liam plotting now?" she grumbled, her brow furrowing—Silent Hill had left her wary, a shudder still lurking from its fog, yet Resident Evil's title teased a fresh dread she couldn't quite shake off.
Curiosity won out—those odd killings piqued her too much to quit—so she leaned in, resolve steeled, determined to peek at this new nightmare, hoping it might spare her the chills she'd sworn off after her last haunt.
The cutscene rolled on—Alpha Team found Bravo's wrecked chopper in a shadowed wood, landing amid eerie stillness, a lone corpse sprawled in the debris, a silent call to scour the gloom for answers.
Footsteps crunched, then chaos erupted—Joseph screamed as zombie dogs lunged from the trees, skinless horrors with bloody muscle bared, their unnatural vigor a jolt that froze Hu Tao's breath mid-sip of her soda.
Jill raced to the gunfire, only to stumble on a nightmare—Joseph's body torn apart by those hounds, a sight that widened her eyes and curdled Hu Tao's stomach, the game's first scare landing harder than she'd braced for.
She sputtered, "Zombie dogs? That's not normal!"—their grotesque dance defied life, a pack of undead terrors chasing Jill and Chris through the brush, her fingers tightening on the controls as panic mirrored her avatar's flight.
The chopper's roar faded—its pilot bolting, abandoning them mid-crisis—a betrayal that nearly sprayed Hu Tao's drink across the screen, her outrage flaring at the cowardice, a teammate sold out in seconds flat.
Wesker swooped in, guns blazing, pulling Jill and Chris from the jaws of death—zombie dogs swarmed too thick to fight, driving them to a sprawling mansion, a refuge snatched from the forest's gnashing maw.
Inside, Chris vanished—Wesker, Jill, and Barry stood baffled, their search cut by a groan from a nearby door, a sound that prickled Hu Tao's nape as the trio split, her screen locking on Jill's solo trek.
Jill and Barry hit the dining room—blood smeared the floor, Barry kneeling to probe it—while Jill pressed on alone, Hu Tao's voice rising, "What? Solo already? That's a death flag!" her dismay spiking at the horror trope unfolding live.
"Barry, you're ditching me? Come on, uncle!" she pleaded, but the game's script held firm—Barry stayed put, deaf to her protests, leaving Hu Tao to steer Jill through the shadows, her irritation simmering at the forced split.
Then came the moment—a zombie, hunched over a corpse, turned slow and deliberate, its rotted face locking eyes with Jill, a grotesque grin in the dim light, the iconic Resident Evil look-back that seared into gaming lore.
Hu Tao yelped—Jill bolted, the zombie's bloodied leer a gut-punch of terror—and Barry's shots rang out, three bullets dropping it as they reunited, her heart hammering from a scare she hadn't signed up for this soon.
"That smile—nightmare fuel!" she gasped, her bravado shaken—the zombie's slow reveal outdid Silent Hill's fog, a raw fright that left her clutching her chest, cursing Liam's knack for unearthing dread in pixels.
Back in the hall, Wesker was gone—another vanishing act—and Hu Tao groaned, "Splitting again? Two's safer, you dolts!" her frustration boiling as Jill and Barry parted once more, the game's design a taunt she couldn't override.
A silver lining gleamed—Jill had a pistol, unlike Silent Hill's helpless haze—and Hu Tao gripped it tight, muttering, "Gun in hand, fear be damned," her courage bolstered by firepower, a shield against the creeping dark.
Jill's timid streak irked her—flinching at zombie dogs, fleeing that grin—yet Hu Tao pushed on, easy mode thinning the undead's hides, her ammo and herbs plentiful as she crept through the mansion's maze with care.
Corners birthed jump-scares—zombies lunged from blind spots, spiking her pulse—but she adapted, her shots steadying, the thrill of survival weaving with dread, a gameplay loop that hooked her despite the frights.
She roamed to the cemetery outside—a basement door locked tight, props missing—so she doubled back, snagging a golden arrow from the mansion, a key-hunt rhythm that clicked, her mind sinking into the puzzle's pull.
The basement yielded a door key, and Jill retraced to the mansion's bathroom—a zombie burst from the tub, Hu Tao jolting as Jill recoiled, its gnashing shame at her intrusion met with a kick that crushed its skull flat.
"Trampled it dead? You're tougher than you act, sister!" Hu Tao laughed, her tension easing—Jill's meek facade hid a fighter, a contradiction that charmed her, the game's blend of terror and triumph a brew she couldn't quit.
***
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