A bunch of confusing text...
Although Javier knew these were clues for a puzzle, with his tiny, "rat-shit-sized" brain capacity, he had no idea what they meant. He was too lazy to think about it; he'd just try things out later. After getting the Cursed Book and the diamond-shaped golden key, Javier was about to call Rebecca to leave the oppressive basement.
But looking up at the struggling, rattling coffin, he had an idea. He told Rebecca to stand back near the entrance to the tunnel. Javier pulled out the M500 revolver he had tucked into his pants and aimed its massive barrel at the chain above, then pulled the trigger.
"Boom—boom—!!!"
Two gunshots rang out. The immense flash of the shots filled the dim basement. The thumb-sized bullets, spinning at high speed, were not to be underestimated. With a loud "pop," they hit the coffin, and the sheer force sent the giant metal box flying against the ceiling, where it struck with a shower of sparks. But even so, the coffin was completely undented, with only faint bullet marks left on its surface. The material was clearly not ordinary steel, and a violent approach was impossible. The chain was as thick as an arm, and a handgun bullet wouldn't be enough to break it.
Javier gave up with a sigh. He was about to tell Rebecca to leave the place with him. They'd have to wait until they found the four Cursed Masks to solve this puzzle.
But at that moment, a scream echoed through the mansion:
"Barry! Help me! I'm trapped in this room! I can't open the door—!!!"
The voice was familiar. It was Jill's cry for help.
"Rumble..."
At the same time, a mechanism was triggered in the mansion. A booming sound and violent shaking swept through the building. Hearing Jill's cry, Javier and Rebecca didn't hesitate. They quickly left the oppressive basement and rushed toward the source of the sound.
A "Jill Sandwich"
Inside one of the mansion's rooms, Jill, while searching for items, had accidentally triggered a trap. The ceiling began to slowly descend, and the walls started to close in. The only way out was through the door, but it was locked. As the ceiling got closer and dust rained down, Jill felt a wave of panic. She could only scream for help. If the trap activated, she would become a "Jill Sandwich."
"Thump thump thump...!!!"
"Thump thump thump...!!!"
Hearing her shouts, Barry, Javier, and Rebecca quickly arrived outside the room. Chris and Wesker were too far away; Wesker was trying to lure Chris to the Tyrant's laboratory to see if he could single-handedly take on a zombie.
"Hey!"
"Jill, are you trapped in there?!"
Barry, Javier, and Rebecca met and gave each other a quick nod. Without any wasted words, they started the rescue. From inside, Jill shouted back:
"Yes! I'm in here! The trap is closing, there's not much time left! Can you open the door and get me out?! I don't want to die here!"
She had already tried to shoot the lock with her 9mm pistol, but it was no use. The bullets had just jammed the lock even more. Her only hope was Barry's Colt .44 revolver.
"Alright!"
"But you need to back up a little..."
After confirming Jill was trapped, Barry pulled out his trusty Colt .44. The gun was beautiful, but Javier wasn't impressed. Looks can't save you; a big gun that works is what's important.
"I'll help, too. I have a large-caliber handgun. We can break down the door faster."
Javier then pulled a "big stick" from his pants... No, wait! It was the M500 revolver from before. The silver body, long barrel, and a muzzle brake only seen on rifles made the handgun look odd. But when it came to power and practicality, few handguns could compare. This thing was thick, big, long, and hard. The silver color was a trendy, modern look, much better than the "black political correctness" of the black RPG. The M500 was beloved by female gamers everywhere. The power was not to be underestimated. While other handguns might have a .50 caliber, the M500 was on another level due to its design. And if it was left unused for too long, it could be a "self-defense stick," a perfect tool for "ramming" into a zombie. And if you didn't like it cold, you could always fire a few shots to heat up the barrel. After all, who would say no to a warm self-defense stick?
"..."
"That's a big one!"
Barry looked at the "behemoth" Javier had pulled out, then at his own gun, and was completely outmatched. He couldn't help but sigh, "Looks like I'm getting old, can't keep up with the young ones."
Rebecca: "..."
I suspect these two, old and young, are being perverted, and their words are rolling right over me, but I have no evidence!
But joking aside, Jill didn't have time for their crude humor. She just wanted to escape before she became a sandwich.
"Click!"
"Bang—bang—bang—!!!"
"Click!"
"Boom—boom—boom—!!!"
The triggers were pulled, and the deafening roar of gunshots filled the air. Fiery muzzle flashes erupted, and bullets tore into the wooden door like a broken-down slut in the street. The door was beaten to a pulp, and the lock was easily ripped out. Sawdust flew everywhere. Barry and Javier quickly pulled the door open, and Jill, who had been pinned down by the falling ceiling, scrambled out. She was just a few feet away from being crushed. Thanks to Barry and Javier's powerful handguns, she had escaped.
"Pant... pant..."
"That was too close. Thank you all, you saved my life again!"
Jill, still out of breath, thanked Barry, Javier, and Rebecca before collapsing to the floor. She was completely exhausted. Her chest rose and fell as she took deep breaths, a sight that Javier enjoyed. Jill didn't care about the gawking; she was just relieved to be alive. After the shock of the "smiling zombie" and now this trap, she was mentally and physically drained and just wanted to rest.
A Clash of Ideologies
Meanwhile...
Chris and Wesker, two destined rivals, walked in silence down a corridor. They walked side by side without a word, to the point that a stranger would think they didn't know each other.
The truth was more complicated. As the cold and aloof captain, Wesker maintained his mystique with his black sunglasses and silence. It was his signature look, and he couldn't just throw out a crude joke like Javier.
Chris was also at a loss for words. Wesker had a reputation for being cold and difficult to get along with, which Chris disliked. He also had a strange feeling about Wesker. Throughout their mission, Wesker had shown no reaction to the zombies, dogs, or even the grand secrets of the Umbrella Corporation. It was as if he had known everything beforehand. If this were just "calmness," it was an unnatural level of composure for a normal person. A normal person would show some concern or curiosity about Umbrella's crimes, but Wesker was completely apathetic. This wasn't the behavior of a S.T.A.R.S. captain. Chris was deeply suspicious and felt a growing sense of dislike for Wesker.
So, the naive Chris chose his old method: confronting his superior. There was no rule that said a subordinate couldn't talk back to a superior. In the air force, his youthful brashness had gotten him kicked out, which was how he ended up in Raccoon City as a S.T.A.R.S. member. Now, he was doing it again. He believed that if something was wrong, it was wrong, and no excuse could change that.
"Captain Wesker..."
"Don't you feel anything about what the Umbrella Corporation has done? Or... did you already know about their evil deeds, so this isn't surprising to you?"
Chris's words were direct. He stopped and looked at Wesker, his eyes filled with righteous determination. His youthful, heroic aura was so bright it almost blinded Wesker through his sunglasses. Wesker's sunglasses were his signature accessory; they concealed his emotions and created an intimidating presence. But now, he was being challenged by a subordinate.
"How can someone get under my skin?! I'm a supervillain! How could I be intimidated by a mere subordinate?!"
Wesker abruptly stopped, standing stiffly like a statue. The cold aura he emitted made Chris flinch. Was his captain finally going to reveal his true colors?
"Chris..."
"Do you know what you're doing right now? Were you strictly trained in discipline? What you're doing is confronting a superior... Do you understand?! I heard you were kicked out of the military for confronting a superior. It seems that was true."
"And do you need to question the Umbrella Corporation's actions? Who are you? A mere S.T.A.R.S. member. You don't need to pass judgment on their crimes. Just shut up, find the evidence, and hand it over to the government. You don't need to think or worry about anything else. Your thoughts are useless. You are just an insignificant bit player!"
"An insignificant S.T.A.R.S. member... where do you get the confidence to save innocent civilians and stand up to a corporate giant like Umbrella? With that pitiful sense of justice?"
Wesker slowly turned his head. His face was emotionless, and a chilling light emanated from behind his black sunglasses. He was like a cold iceberg, his words a freezing reprimand.
Wesker had used his "Intimidation" skill. The naive Chris was frozen, questioning his own judgment. The "Intimidation" skill was a complete success!