The main hall of the Spencer Mansion was an antechamber to hell, cloaked in deceptive opulence. Massive portraits stared down from the high walls, the air was stale, and the oppressive silence, broken only by the distant, rhythmic ticking of a grandfather clock, was worse than the snarls of the dogs.
Leo Thorne, standing beside Jill Valentine, forced his breathing to remain steady, masking the seismic shifts happening within him. To Chris and Barry, he was the new tactical specialist, incredibly calm under fire. To Wesker, he was an unknown factor to be managed. To Leo himself, he was a gamer who had just stepped through the screen, armed with cheat codes he couldn't publicly use.
He scanned the immediate area. The fireplace was cold, the suits of armor menacingly still. The famous double doors leading to the dining room were just ahead.
"We need to assess the situation and establish communication with headquarters," Wesker commanded, his voice sharp. "Jill, Barry, check the dining room and kitchen. Chris, Thorne, you'll take the west wing—the save room, the stairs, and the library. Maintain radio silence unless absolutely necessary. We don't know who, or what, is listening."
This was the canonical split. The perfect setup for the first few scares.
"Understood," Jill said, her dark bob swaying slightly as she gave a crisp nod. She exchanged a meaningful glance with Leo, a silent acknowledgment of his near-superhuman action against the dogs. There was curiosity, and perhaps a flicker of trust, in her expression.
"Let's move, Chris," Leo said, his voice deep and authoritative.
As the teams split, the survival horror intensified. Every footfall on the polished wood floor echoed like a gunshot. Leo's peak human senses were a curse here; he could hear the faint, dragging sound of decaying limbs moving on the floor above, the dripping of water, and a low, disturbing groan coming from the adjacent dining room.
Jill and Barry, entering the dining room, quickly discovered the first gruesome puzzle: the famous blood stain near the overturned chair, a silent testament to the horror that had unfolded here.
The West Wing
Leo and Chris headed west, past the imposing staircase. The hallway was narrow, lined with dusty busts.
"You're fast, Thorne," Chris murmured, keeping his voice low as he gripped his Samurai Edge. "Faster than anyone I've ever seen. What's your background before joining S.T.A.R.S.?"
Leo was ready for this. "Black ops, retrieval specialist. Learned to fight dirty in places Raccoon City news doesn't cover. I rely on speed and decisive action. You saw what happened out there—hesitation gets you eaten." He spoke with the conviction of a man who had actually been there, thanks to the system's integration.
They found the door to the save room—the little maintenance room with the typewriter and the item box. It was locked.
"Locked," Chris stated, frustrated. "We need to secure a storage area, and those doors look sturdy."
"Later," Leo said, his focus already elsewhere. He knew what was next: the door leading to the first hallway, and the first zombie.
As they proceeded, they heard a muffled sound from the dining room—a wet, choked cry—followed by Barry's shotgun roaring, a sound of absolute finality.
"Barry! Jill!" Chris shouted into his radio.
Barry's voice crackled back, thick with shock. "Oh, my god! What is that? It's… eating him! It's eating Forest! It's alive!"
Leo knew. Kenneth Sullivan, Bravo Team's Point Man, now a feast for the first undead encounter. Barry, with his legendary quote, was now terrified.
Chris looked at Leo, his face etched with genuine horror. "What in God's name is going on?"
"We don't have time to process it," Leo urged, pushing Chris forward. "Whatever those things are, they're slow, but they're relentless. And there are more of them. We follow the plan—West Wing."
They moved into the first hallway. It was dark, the only light filtering in from high windows.
Leo spotted it instantly—the telltale shadow moving slowly at the end of the hall, lumbering towards the camera perspective. He knew this was the moment to demonstrate his skill, not his power.
"Incoming!" Leo whispered. "Dead man walking. Don't let it touch you. Target the head, Chris."
They both raised their Samurai Edges. The zombie, a man in a tattered blazer, turned his head slowly, revealing the milky eyes and bloody mouth.
BLAM! Chris fired first, hitting the zombie in the chest. It stumbled but kept coming.
BLAM! BLAM!
Leo fired twice. His rounds were perfectly placed, intersecting in the zombie's forehead. Thanks to his peak human precision, the 9mm rounds did maximum damage, forcing the creature to slump against the wall, its head partially ruined, before it slid to the floor, motionless.
"He's down," Chris said, his breathing ragged. "But it took too much." He looked at Leo's two shots, impressed by the quick kill. "You're a hell of a shot, Thorne."
"Focus," Leo said, reloading his clip with a fluid, blindingly fast motion that was subtly enhanced by his perfect body. "We clear the hall."
Jill and the Gold Standard
Meanwhile, in the dining room, Jill and Barry were now trapped. After Barry's terrifying encounter, they had been ordered by Wesker to move through the back hall—the Mirror Hallway—and clear the connecting corridors.
As they moved toward the notorious L-shaped hallway leading to the first stairwell, three zombies shuffled into view, attracted by the gunfire.
"Three of them!" Jill whispered, her eyes wide. "Wait, they're flanking us!"
Barry raised his shotgun, but the slow, heavy weapon was not ideal for a quick crowd-control maneuver in the narrow space.
"They're too close, Barry!"
Suddenly, a figure appeared, sprinting silently down the hall from the direction of the West Wing—Leo Thorne. He had used his knowledge and speed to circle back, anticipating the threat to Jill.
He didn't draw his Samurai Edge. This was the moment. The threat was immediate, and his skill needed to be unbelievable. He reached under his jacket, his hand snatching the first of his concealed treasures.
In a move that appeared to be impossible—a flash of light and speed—he drew one of his Gold-Plated Premium Desert Eagles.
The sound that followed was nothing like the crack of the 9mm. It was a thunderclap, a brutal, earth-shaking roar that swallowed the hallway.
BLAM-BLAM-BLAM!
Three shots. Three detonations of raw, high-caliber power. The .50 Action Express rounds didn't just kill the zombies; they obliterated their heads and upper torsos, spraying bone and viscera across the marble floor and antique wallpaper in a grotesque painting of gore.
The creatures dropped instantly, definitively dead.
The hallway was now filled with smoke, the metallic scent of gunpowder mixing with the foul reek of decay.
Jill and Barry stared, frozen. The gold gleam of the weapon, the sheer magnitude of the sound, and the absolute destruction wrought by the bullets defied all the established rules of engagement they knew.
Leo immediately holstered the weapon, stuffing it back under his jacket and pulling out his standard Samurai Edge in a transition so smooth it almost hid the fact he'd used a separate, illegal weapon.
"What in the hell was that, Thorne?" Barry gasped, his shotgun lowered, his professional calm shattered.
Jill was closer. She looked at the smoking hallway, then back at Leo's intense, focused face. Her eyes narrowed with an unnerving mix of fear and admiration.
"That's not S.T.A.R.S. issue, Leo," she stated, using his first name, the shared terror forging an intimate connection. The love and romance subplot hinged on this foundation of shared danger.
Leo met her gaze, his expression unreadable. He had to give them a plausible, skilled lie.
"A specialist sidearm," he said, keeping his voice low and firm. "Custom .50 caliber. Registered, but kept off the roster for operational security. It's meant for heavy targets. And if we don't start using heavy targets, we'll be shredded."
He stepped past them, his eyes already searching for the next threat, ignoring the pools of blood. "We keep moving. We don't stop, and we don't look back. That thing ends fights instantly, but the noise will attract everything in this building."
Barry, recovering, finally nodded. "I'll take the shotgun, then. Thanks, Thorne."
Jill, however, didn't move immediately. She watched Leo's retreating back, her expression thoughtful. That weapon, that precision, his speed… it was a secret, but it was a secret that had just saved her life. It was a secret she found dangerously, magnetically compelling. She was attracted to the overwhelming, controlled power he exhibited.
She quickly fell into step beside him. "If you've got power like that, Leo, you stick close to me," she said, her voice a determined whisper. "I need to know I have backup I can trust."
"Always," Leo promised, a genuine warmth briefly entering his intense gaze. His plan was working. He was close to the woman he needed to protect, and he was ready for the next horror the mansion had to offer.
They pushed onward, heading toward the first staircase, leaving behind the gruesome evidence of Leo Thorne's necessary, destructive, and deeply secret infinite power.