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The biting chill of shock finally receded, replaced by a strange, buzzing warmth that pulled Leon back from the dark.
He opened his eyes to a world that felt like it had been steeped in lukewarm water. His back, once a map of searing agony, now only carried a faint, persistent itch—the sensation of a thousand tiny ants stitching his skin back together. He propped himself up on his elbows, marveling at how light his body felt. The heavy, leaden shackles of pain were gone.
Leon turned his head, intending to thank his savior, but the scene in the corner stopped him.
Noah was slumped against the cold metal wall, his head tilted back in a shallow, exhausted sleep. Claire was curled into his side, her head heavy on his shoulder, her long eyelashes casting quiet shadows in the amber glow of the emergency lamp. And in Claire's lap, little Sherry was nestled like a frightened kitten, completely buried under a velvet cloth save for the top of her blonde head.
In the middle of a literal hellscape, the three of them formed a picture of warmth so striking it made Leon's chest ache. He checked his tactical watch.
03:30 AM. The dead of night.
Noah's eyes snapped open. There was no grogginess, no transition; one second he was asleep, and the next, his gaze was sharp and scanning the room. Seeing Leon sitting up, a wave of genuine relief softened Noah's features.
He didn't say a word. He reached down and gently squeezed Claire's shoulder, his touch as light as a whisper.
"Claire. Time to move."
"Mm..." Claire stirred, rubbing her face against Noah's shoulder before blinking her eyes open. Seeing Leon, she flushed slightly and sat up, smoothing her hair. "Leon! How are you feeling?"
"Like a new man," Leon said, rotating his shoulder. There was a slight tugging sensation, but the bone-deep throb was gone. "I don't know what was in that paste, Noah, but remind me to invest in your clinic one day."
Claire stood up and slung the heavy M79 across her chest. She bent down, carefully hoisting the sleeping Sherry onto her back, securing the girl's arms around her neck.
"Let's find that train," Claire said, her voice dropping into a determined, low register. "We're running out of moonlight."
The trek toward the platform was a silent, claustrophobic crawl through the facility's lower arteries. The scale of the place was staggering—a subterranean kingdom of steel and shadows.
They were rounding a wide junction when a wet, rhythmic tearing sound echoed from the darkness ahead. Noah raised a hand, and the group froze against the wall.
Leon peered around the corner. Three Lickers were hunched over a pile of zombie remains, their flayed bodies glistening under a flickering light. Their needle-sharp tongues lashed out, stripping meat from bone with surgical efficiency.
Noah gestured toward a series of massive crates and ventilation pipes. They moved like ghosts, their boots barely touching the metal grating. The Lickers, preoccupied by their feast, never turned their blind, brain-exposed heads. It wasn't until they were two corridors away that Leon finally let out the breath he'd been holding.
The tunnel finally opened into a massive, industrial cavern. A vaulted ceiling loomed overhead, supported by thick concrete pillars. And there, sitting on a track of gleaming steel, was a silver-white transport train.
A splash of red caught their eyes near the front console.
"Ada!" Leon called out, his voice a mix of shock and desperate relief.
Ada Wong turned, her hands frozen over a series of switches. For a fraction of a second, a look of pure astonishment crossed her face—a rare crack in the porcelain mask. She recovered instantly, her features settling into their usual cool, detached elegance.
"Leon?" she asked, her voice steady but carrying a new, subtle warmth. "You're walking. I... thank you for what you did back there."
Claire's eyes darted between the two of them, her brow arching. She nudged Noah, a "tell-me-everything-later" look on her face.
"I had help," Leon said, gesturing to Noah. "This is Noah. He's the reason I'm not currently a permanent resident of that break room."
Ada's gaze drifted to Noah. She didn't offer a polite smile. Instead, she scrutinized him with the intensity of a cold-case detective. Noah met her gaze with an all-seeing calmness that clearly unsettled her. It was the look of a man who had already read the end of her book.
The tension was snapped by a sharp, terrified cry.
"Noah! Look at Sherry!"
Claire had lowered the girl to the floor. Sherry was burning. Her face was flushed a deep, sickly crimson, and her breathing was a series of hot, shallow gasps. But the most terrifying detail was her right eye.
Purplish-blue veins were bulging and twisting beneath the skin of her socket like nests of angry worms trying to burrow out.
Noah was on the ground in a heartbeat. He touched her forehead and recoiled; the heat was palpable even through his gloves.
"High fever," Noah muttered, his face hardening. He forced an antipyretic pill into her mouth and helped her swallow a few drops of water. He soaked a bandage in medical alcohol and began swabbing her neck and temples, trying to pull the heat away before it cooked her brain.
"Noah, will she be okay?" Claire's voice was trembling.
"The infection is accelerating," Noah said grimly. "We have to reach the main lab. There's no more time for stealth. We get to the heart of Umbrella, or we lose her."
Beep-beep.
"The system is live," Ada announced, her voice tight. "Get her inside. Now."
Noah scooped the girl up, and they bolted into the silver carriage. Ada slammed the departure sequence. The doors hissed shut, and the train let out a heavy, metallic groan as it pulled away from the platform, accelerating into the black throat of the tunnel.
Inside the car, the silence was deafening. Claire knelt by Sherry, continuously wiping her brow. Leon watched Ada, who was staring out the window at the passing rock walls, lost in a thought she wasn't sharing.
Noah's mind was racing. He knew the G-Virus was a self-evolving nightmare. A fever this high meant the virus was rewrite her cellular structure. If they didn't find the vaccine in the next hour, Sherry Birkin wouldn't be a little girl anymore.
THUMP.
The sound was a heavy, metallic boom that vibrated through the roof of the train. The entire carriage shuddered, the wheels screaming against the tracks as something massive slammed onto the ceiling.
Noah and Leon were on their feet in an instant, weapons leveled at the roof.
"What was that?" Claire gasped, shielding Sherry.
Ada drew her pistol, her eyes locked on the ceiling.
SCREECH—!
The sound of shearing metal tore through the air. A massive, grey claw, covered in thick keratin plates and ending in four razor-sharp daggers, punched through the steel roof of the train. It twisted, ripping the iron sheet away like it was wet cardboard.
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