September 28th. Raccoon City. 4:45 P.M.
The silence that followed the collapse of the last Licker was heavier than the roar of the slaughter. John was gasping, the hot, spasmodic breaths cutting through the stale air. He dropped the MP5 and the suppressed pistol, letting them fall with a dull thump; the metal resonated against the bloodied floor. His usually pristine ballistic suit was torn where the Licker's claw had narrowly missed, a deep slash that had barely caught the fabric, but was a physical reminder of how close he'd come to a brutal end.
Six creatures. Fourteen survivors. On the ground floor, only he remained. And a pile of viscera.
John stood motionless, observing the carnage. His eyes, accustomed to violence, still registered the scene with a shudder. Only minutes ago, this place had been full of life. Ten minutes. That was all it had taken for the silence to fall. An ephemeral camaraderie, forced by the common threat, had evaporated like steam. There had been enough people to resist many hordes of infected, and John had even felt a fleeting sense of tactical kinship. Now, there was only torn flesh, coagulated blood, bone fragments, and limbs at impossible angles. The metallic smell of fresh blood filled his nostrils, a stench the gunpowder failed to mask. The sheer horror was overwhelming, the beasts' efficiency, terrifying.
It was then that a sound shattered the tomb.
Clack. Clack.
Slow, heavy footsteps descended the dusty wooden staircase leading to the second floor, the wood groaning under the weight. John turned his head in a robotic motion, his hand, by pure instinct, reaching for the grip of his suppressed pistol. He couldn't risk another surprise encounter, not with a creature, nor with a panicked survivor.
A tall, robust man emerged from the gloom of the stairwell: Robert Kendo. The gun shop owner, with his thick mustache and weathered face, stared at the pandemonium that had been his business. Shock paralyzed his expression. His tightly held shotgun slowly lowered as he processed the scene: the blood, the unrecognizable bodies, and, above all, the grotesque, mutated carcasses of the beasts.
"What... what the hell happened down here?" Kendo's voice was hoarse, filled with disbelief and terror. It wasn't a question, but an exclamation of despair. Kendo had just lost all his companions.
John didn't answer immediately, granting himself a second to regain control of his body. His mind, however, was already back to work. He pointed his chin toward the corpse of a Licker, one of the closest and most visible creatures, its exposed brain gleaming horribly under the dim lights. His breathing was still ragged, each inhale an effort.
"They... this... was the noise," John managed to articulate, his voice hoarse from the exertion and smoke. "Blind beasts. They hunted by sound. The assault rifle is useless if it gives you away."
Kendo took two more steps, looking at the bodies and the massacre, and pain settled on his face before full panic struck.
"Leo! Where is Leo?" John asked urgently, the agitation in his voice a strange sound for him, revealing the crack in his armor. It was the only question that mattered to him.
Kendo stopped, his gaze returning to the staircase as if the upstairs was now the only sanctuary. "He's... he's upstairs. With Evelyn," Kendo replied, his own voice trembling for the first time. "My daughter. I took them upstairs when I heard the first shots and stayed to protect them in the back room."
John nodded slowly, an invisible weight lifting from his shoulders. The certainty that the boy was alive allowed him to return to the routine of survival. He knelt down beside his weapons and methodically began to reload his suppressed pistol, then the MP5, and finally, the assault rifle, topping off every empty magazine. Each metallic click was a step toward regaining mental control.
With calm restored by action, he slumped onto an intact stack of sandbags, observing the devastation. Kendo, mimicking his action, sat heavily on an overturned crate of ammunition, his gaze lost among the corpses of his friends and acquaintances. The silence they shared was a mutual acknowledgment of the horror and loss.
"What were those beasts, John?" Kendo asked, his voice now barely a whisper that mixed with the smell of guts. "I've never seen anything like it. Not even the normal infected moved like that. They seemed... hunters."
John looked at him, his face a mask of weariness. "I'm the same. I haven't seen them before." He took a second to rub his eyes under the throbbing headache. "But I can assure you one thing," he said, closing the rifle's magazine with an authoritative click. "They must be some kind of Umbrella experiment. Only that corporation has the resources and the malice to create something so efficient."
Hearing the name, Kendo raised his head, curiosity and rage momentarily overcoming his grief. "When you arrived with the boy you also said this whole situation was Umbrella's fault... is that really true? Is that pharmaceutical company doing this to us?" Kendo waited for the answer, the last spark of hope seeking a rational explanation for the hell.
John was about to answer, ready to unleash the icy truth about the Corporation's conspiracy and power, when a sharp, youthful scream came from upstairs. It was an instant sound, a cry of pure terror that was brutally cut short, like a taut cable snapping, followed immediately by the unmistakable sound of breaking glass and the crash of furniture overturning.
Kendo and John stared at each other in shock, their eyes widening with the same horrible thought. The safe haven had turned into a trap. There was a monster. Another monster they hadn't seen, and it had attacked upstairs.
John, his voice rough and full of distress he rarely showed, addressed Kendo: "Didn't you say the kids were upstairs?"
Kendo could only nod, the nervousness making his mustache tremble. "Yes. In the back room... with Evelyn."
John cursed under his breath, a guttural, cold word. He no longer cared about caution. He no longer cared about sound. If the creature hunted by noise, he would give it a concert. In a burst of action, he raised his assault rifle and emptied an entire magazine at the ceiling and the remains of shelves, firing blindly across the ground floor, making as much noise as possible.
His plan was simple and brutally effective: If the beast upstairs was blind and relied on sound like the Lickers, the explosion of gunfire below would be irresistible. It would draw the monster toward him, and away from Leo and Evelyn.
Moments Before - Leo's Perspective
Terror was a constant taste in Leo's mouth, metallic and bitter. He had felt it when Mr. Wick dragged him out of the bathroom, when the big-mustachioed man, Kendo, brought him and his daughter up the wooden stairs and put them in a small back room. It was a dusty room, filled with boxes and tools, but with a single, small window that now showed the orange and purple-tinged sky of the imminent sunset.
Kendo, shotgun pressed against his chest, had stayed right at the entrance, looking toward the stairwell. "Everything's going to be fine, kids," Kendo repeated, but his voice was too strained, his eyes too wide to sound convincing.
The chaos downstairs was a sonic monster. Shots were heard—the dry, controlled sound of Mr. Wick's weapon, and then the chaotic bursts of the other people—followed by screams. Cries of pain. Cries of pure fear. The sound of bones breaking and the crash of entire shelves falling were like a nightmare orchestra. Leo curled up against a pile of old rags. It wasn't a fight; it was a slaughter.
Mom.
The thought of his mother, her warm smile, and the smell of soap and cleanliness that always surrounded her, hit Leo with the force of a punch. She had always been there to comfort him. Where was she now? A silent tear slipped down his cheek, the warm trail cutting through the dust covering his face. He was shaking, not from the cold, but because the floor was shaking with every impact.
It was then he felt a touch. Soft, small.
A girl, Evelyn, was looking at him. She had large brown eyes and looked almost as scared as he was, but there was something steady about her expression. Instinctively, Evelyn, who looked about ten years old, touched his hand, her own trembling easing Leo's a little.
Leo looked at her sideways. The tears were still coming, but he didn't cry out. The shame of his weakness made him feel small.
"Don't worry," Evelyn said in a surprisingly sure whisper, despite the thunder downstairs. "Everything will be fine. My dad will protect us from those monsters."
Leo felt his nervousness calm a bit, but the contact was too much. With a bit of shyness, he murmured: "You can let go, please."
Evelyn quickly withdrew her hand, her cheeks flushed. "Oh, yes, of course! I'm sorry." Then, with an enthusiasm that defied the chaos, she asked: "What's your name?"
"Leo."
"I'm Evelyn Kendo," she introduced herself. There was a small, sincere smile on her face. "I hope we can be friends from now on."
Leo felt a little surprised by Evelyn's energy. Despite the guttural sounds of death coming from the lower floor, she seemed genuinely optimistic. He hesitated for a moment, looked toward the door, and then nodded shyly. "I... I want to be your friend too."
Evelyn started talking about trivial things, about a teddy bear she had and how she liked to draw at school. While she chatted animatedly, Leo nodded and replied, but his mind and ears were anchored to the hell downstairs.
"And that's why I think purple is better than pink. What do you think, Leo? Which one do you like more?" Evelyn asked.
"Green... green. Yeah," Leo said, though he hadn't really heard the question.
Evelyn frowned in a gesture of feigned annoyance. "You're not listening to me, Leo!"
"Yes, I'm sorry. It's just that..." Leo trailed off, feeling the chill on his back from the new, horrible sounds of the carnage. "How are you not scared of what's happening downstairs? I hear everything."
Evelyn shrugged with a maturity that didn't fit her age. "Sometimes ignoring what's happening is better so you don't get scared. Talking to my bear has helped me when I'm scared at night."
The conversation continued for a moment longer, Evelyn deliberately ignoring the chaos, and Leo, with his attention divided, felt how the simple act of talking to her and focusing on purple or pink, helped him stop shaking. The chaos had become background noise that, incredibly, he was starting to ignore.
"How old are you, Leo?" Evelyn asked, leaning in a bit, her gaze curious and bright.
"Nine. And you?" Leo responded, his voice still a little weak.
"I'm ten! I'm a year older than you. Cool," Evelyn said, giving a small, silent jump. Then, her face softened. "And where is your mom? Is she with the man in black?"
The question hit Leo right in the chest, and his lower lip began to tremble. The memory of Sofia, her body using him as a shield at the barricade, was too fresh.
"My mom..." he whispered, and another warm tear slid down. "She went to heaven."
Evelyn looked at him, her enthusiasm halting, replaced by an expression of understanding.
"Oh," Evelyn said, still looking at him. Then, with surprising calm, she continued: "Well, I never met mine. My dad says she went far away before I was born. At least you got a chance to know yours. Mine has always just been my dad."
Leo raised his head. He looked at Evelyn, surprised. How could she see the bright side of that? He had complained about loss, and she, who hadn't had anything, saw it as a missed opportunity, not a constant pain. He mentally put himself in her situation: if he had never been able to know his mom, that would be much worse. Hearing Evelyn's words was like a tiny weight lifting off his back. It gave him a grim, but honest, perspective on loss.
"What else do you like to draw?" Leo asked, forcing a tiny smile.
Evelyn smiled widely, noticing the change in Leo's mood. "I like to draw dinosaurs! They're great. Though my dad says he laughs at my T-Rexes because they look like big chickens."
"Big... chickens?" Leo asked, and for the first time in hours, he felt a little laugh bubble up in his throat.
"Yes, look!" Evelyn moved a toolbox, grabbed a crumpled piece of paper she had in her pocket and a broken crayon. As she quickly scribbled, Leo refocused on the conversation, forgetting the smell of gunpowder and the growls for a moment.
Suddenly, the great noise stopped. The shots, the screams, the crashes... everything disappeared, replaced by an immediate, thick silence.
Kendo turned toward them, his face still pale, but with a faint expression of relief. "It looks like it's over," he whispered. "I'm going downstairs to see if everything's okay. You two stay here. Don't move from this room!"
Leo was surprised. Was it over? Mr. Wick had done it. For a moment, he felt a wave of relief.
Evelyn, cheered up, turned to him. "See? I told you! Now, should I tell you about my bear?"
It was in that moment of relaxation, of premature hope, that it happened.
A creak. A viscous sound, as if a mass of wet flesh was scraping against the brick and climbing. It wasn't the normal creaking of old wood, but a tense moan from the foundations. The smell of dampness and coagulated blood began to seep through the cracks in the ceiling. Leo's eyes fixed on the outer wooden wall, right next to the small window. The ceiling creaked under an unnatural weight, slowly advancing.
Evelyn stopped mid-scribble. Her enthusiasm was extinguished in an instant. The silence that settled between them was more terrifying than any scream. Both children stood still, their brown eyes glued to the same spot on the wall.
They listened as the slow, heavy, dragging steps approached the back room's only light source. Finally, the silhouette became visible at the edge of the window: red, completely flayed skin, and a mass of twisted muscles sticking to the dirty glass. A Licker. Its figure was a demonic silhouette against the orange sky.
Leo held his breath. His lungs burned, but he didn't dare exhale. It has to be blind, it has to be blind, he repeated in his mind, remembering the slaughter downstairs.
Evelyn, however, couldn't process the terror in silence. Her nervousness was evident in the trembling that ran through her entire body. Her face was drenched in silent panic. She looked at Leo and began to whisper questions in a desperate, broken voice, as if continuing the conversation about colors and dinosaurs was the only thing keeping her anchored to sanity.
"D-do you think my bear would like green?" Evelyn whispered, her eyes filled with tears that didn't dare to fall. "Is it b-better than purple? W-what would you give him, Leo?"
Leo understood. Evelyn was using her defense mechanism, a meaningless dialogue to avoid facing reality. But her whispers were the biggest mistake, the subtle noise that drew it in. The Licker, with its super-sharp hearing, twitched slightly, sticking out its long, muscular forked tongue, which scraped against the dirty glass.
"Shh. Evelyn, please, be quiet," Leo hissed, feeling the cold sweat. His voice was barely a breath of fear.
"But, L-Leo! Is it... is it ugly, right? Is it ugly like a big chicken? Why is it just standing there?" Evelyn continued, her hysterical voice about to break. Her body was shaking uncontrollably.
Leo felt the panic suffocating him, but the need to silence Evelyn was stronger than his own fear. He stared at the girl and replied, whispering with a terrified urgency: "Yes, it's... it's the ugliest. Let's not talk about green. Let's talk about..."
But the Licker was already convinced enough. It had detected the source of the vibrations, the subtle alteration of the air. Without hesitation, it lunged.
The sound of shattering glass was deafening, a violent explosion of fear. The Licker burst into the back room in a torrent of splintered glass, the creature tumbling onto the pile of boxes with a brutally wet crash. Fear invaded Evelyn's mind. She couldn't hold it in anymore and screamed in terror, a sharp, high-pitched sound.
The Licker, confirming the origin of the sound, quickly headed for the scream. Instinctively, Leo, overcoming his paralysis in a millisecond, didn't think to run, only to pull her away from the threat. He yanked Evelyn by the shirt with all his strength and pushed her backward against the boxes.
The creature slammed into the floor where Evelyn had been a second earlier, its long, curved claws scratching the wood with a gruesome sound. Evelyn fell silent, motionless, terror invading her mind to the point of shock. Leo, who had saved her by pure instinct, was the same.
It was then that, from the ground floor, a rapid succession of shots, deafening and quick, filled the air. It was the brutal roar of an assault weapon being emptied without pause. John Wick was drawing the beast in.
The Licker, sensing the much louder, steadier, and more tempting vibration and din, stopped its attack. Its tongue retracted, and in an instant, it propelled itself out of the window hole, disappearing from the room in the direction of the noise source.
Leo and Evelyn remained motionless, their hearts pounding with desperate fury, the dust of the back room floating in the air.
John Wick's Perspective
The crash of the MP5 against the shelves of canned goods was still echoing when John heard the sharp scream from the second floor, immediately followed by a guttural, briefly choked cry. Kendo's scream.
"Don't move! Shut up! Stay where you are, Kendo!" John hissed, his voice low and icy, cutting through the gunpowder-laden air. He lunged behind a solid wooden counter, mechanically reloading the MP5's magazine.
Kendo, petrified by his daughter's scream and the subsequent attack, was standing near the stairs, gripping the shotgun. He was looking up, toward where he had heard the chaos.
"My... daughter?" Kendo stammered, his face pale.
"They're fine, but don't make a sound!" John snapped, without even looking at him. His eyes were fixed on the stairwell opening, waiting. "Those things hunt by sound! They're blind! When it arrives, don't move. If you have a clean shot, only to the head, shoot."
Kendo, startled by John's coldness and speed, could only nod. His body tensed, the shotgun raised slightly, and silence settled back onto the ground floor, only broken by the dripping of blood on the floor.
The response came in an instant. A dry thud on the ceiling above the stairs, a creak of wood, and an incredibly fast descent. The Licker, drawn by the brutal noise of John's assault, launched itself from the second floor. Its landing was a whirlwind of claws and tongue, a mass of red flesh that rolled and stuck to the nearest wall.
John moved. He raised the MP5. No time for the suppressed pistol.
The Licker was a nightmare of speed. It bounced from wall to shelf, not following a straight line, making it almost impossible for John to get a clean shot at the head. John fired two short bursts, seeking that vulnerable spot. He missed the head by millimeters, but one burst impacted the creature's exposed shoulder.
The Licker let out a sharp shriek of pain and slightly diverted its trajectory. The pain had interrupted its movement, but hadn't stopped it.
Too fast. John cursed mentally. He had wasted too many bullets attempting the finish.
The Licker, now aware of John's position, used its long tongue to scrape the floor, measuring the distance. It propelled itself, a leap that would cover the distance in a blink, directly toward John's torso.
John raised his weapon to block, knowing he wouldn't have time to line up the shot. Time seemed to stretch. He could feel the creature's heat approaching, the claws ready to tear.
BOOOM!
The roar was deafening, surpassing any previous shot. It wasn't the quick sound of John's MP5. It was the low, brutal roar of a 12-gauge shotgun.
Kendo, the man who only seconds ago was trembling and stammering, had held the silence and the position. The Licker, mid-jump, had become a static target. Kendo, at point-blank range, had emptied his shotgun barrel directly into the creature's side. The blast of buckshot shredded the red flesh. The Licker fell heavily, less than a foot from John, its body convulsing, blood splashing onto John's impassive face.
The monster, though incapacitated, was still twitching.
John didn't hesitate. Without a word, he raised the suppressed pistol that had been in his left hand. A single, dry, and definitive sound of the silenced bullet resonated in the air. The bullet traced a clean line through the air and embedded itself in the Licker's exposed skull. The body stopped. The silence returned, total and absolute.
John rose from behind the counter. He looked at Kendo, who was motionless, his face bathed in a mixture of horror, adrenaline, and pride.
"Good shot," John said, his voice rough, as he tucked the pistol into his belt. There was a new layer of blood on the floor, and this time, the Licker had shed it.
Kendo, his breathing ragged and his eyes still fixed on the dead monster, took a second to react to the compliment. But the silence brought back the memory of the second floor, the sound that had preceded the Licker's arrival.
"Evelyn!" Kendo exclaimed, his face paling even more.
He dropped the shotgun and ran toward the wooden staircase. John, with a fluid movement, finished reloading the MP5's magazine with one hand while following Kendo, keeping one step away.
"I go first," John ordered, gently pushing Kendo aside before reaching the landing.
John didn't touch the knob. With the MP5 ready, he kicked the back room door hard. The old wood yielded with a dry blow. John burst in, sweeping the small room with his weapon's barrel.
The back room was silent, only the cold coming through the jagged hole of the window was felt. There was no immediate danger. John slowly lowered the weapon, observing the scene: Evelyn was curled up, her arms clutching Leo's neck. Silent tears slid down her cheeks as she whispered a trembling "thank you."
Kendo entered behind John, his frame shaking. Seeing his daughter unharmed, he collapsed to his knees beside them.
"Evelyn! Evelyn, my girl! Are you okay? What happened here? Did they hurt you?" Kendo hugged his daughter with desperate ferocity. Then he turned to Leo. "And you, boy? What was that noise? Did you see anything?"
Evelyn pulled away slightly from her father, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. She looked at Leo, and her big brown eyes shone with boundless admiration.
"Dad, Leo saved me," Evelyn said with a firm whisper. "The monster came through the window and I screamed, but Leo pushed me back just in time. It was... it was very brave."
John, with his tall, inexpressive figure, watched the reunion. Kendo's hand on Leo's shoulder, the way Evelyn curled up against the boy despite the presence of her own father. A strange image of an impromptu family united by trauma. Leo, who had just lost his mother, had found the courage to protect someone else.
John approached in silence. He extended his hand and gave Leo a firm, singular pat on the shoulder.
"Well done, kid," John said, his voice so low that only Leo could hear the rare approval. It was an honest recognition, the tribute of a man of action to a boy who had acted.
The Subway Route
Minutes later, Kendo and John met downstairs, leaving the children in the back room. Kendo was leaning against the shattered counter, his face drawn.
"Ten people, John," Kendo said, staring at the coagulated mass of the last Licker. "Ten people died because of the noise. Because of those... those blind demons. This isn't normal. The city, John, it's not safe."
John nodded slowly, running a microfiber cloth over the surface of his MP5. "The beasts didn't come from nowhere. Someone brought them. Or something. The question isn't how they got here, but how far the infection has spread."
"Do you think there are more?"
"There's always more, Kendo. And believe me, there are worse things than these creatures. You need to get Evelyn and the boy out of here," John said. His eyes lifted, meeting Kendo's with unwavering seriousness. "It's not safe to stay. You can't protect them if the whole city is infected."
Kendo swallowed, his eyes oscillating between the bloodied floor and John's face. "And you? You're not coming with us?"
John shook his head, his expression stone. "I have something to do here." It was a declaration of duty, a debt only he knew. "The best way to escape Raccoon City is the subway."
Kendo frowned. "The subway? Won't it be full of...?"
"It's underground. It's fast if we find an operational train, and it's the route that will give us the least exposure to the infected on the surface," John cut in with efficiency. "Get the important things ready. The indispensable. Water, non-perishable food, the shotguns. We won't be long. We leave in ten minutes."
Kendo nodded, the decision made by the force of John's will. He turned and shouted toward the stairwell opening.
"Evelyn! Honey, come out here! You and Leo, let's pack!"
Evelyn quickly left the room, with Leo following closely. Kendo told his daughter, in a strained but firm voice, to pack her things, that they were leaving. Evelyn nodded enthusiastically, knowing her dad was taking action. Leo, despite having nothing to pack beyond the clothes he was wearing, diligently started helping Evelyn, looking for a small backpack for her to store her crayons and her teddy bear.