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The three of them stood in silence for a moment. The weight of the truth they had just learned made even breathing feel difficult. Ultimately, it was Noah who took the first step forward.
They crossed the empty, deathly silent Elevator Platform and walked toward a massive gate in the distance that emitted a faint, cold light. The design was filled with Umbrella Corporation's characteristic clinical arrogance: a massive, stylized octagonal emblem was engraved on the heavy metal body of the door. As they approached, the red indicator lights turned a soft green.
Hum—
The massive isolation door rose upward with a slow, hydraulic groan. Behind it was a world completely different from the industrial grime of the sewers. A blast of dry, cold air mixed with disinfectant and refrigerant hit them, instantly dispersing the lingering smell of gunpowder and blood from their clothes.
Before them was a corridor so wide it was almost luxurious. The floor and walls were composed of a milky-white, seamless material—so clean there wasn't a speck of dust, yet so cold there wasn't a hint of life. The ghostly white emergency lights pulled three distorted, elongated shadows onto the mirror-like floor, making the space feel even more hollow.
"Is this... 'The Hive'?" Leon's voice was dry as he instinctively tightened his grip on the shotgun. The extreme order was, in itself, a suffocating form of pressure.
At a semi-open reception desk, Noah found a map. "This is a map of the first level," he said, spreading it flat.
The layout was clear. The B-level they were on was divided into East and West sectors.
West Sector: Researcher dormitories and Lounges.
East Sector: Culture Room and the Active Processing Room.
Security Room: Located near the entrance.
"Let's check the Security Room first," Leon decided. "We need to restock."
They found scattered ammunition in the metal lockers. Leon replenished his shotgun shells, while Claire swapped in a fresh magazine for her MP5. However, when they reached the Central Control Area, the main screen displayed a warning:
[Main Power System Offline: Fuse Unit Missing]
"Dammit," Leon muttered, slamming a fist against the console. "Without power, we're stuck. I'll check the East Sector—the Culture and Processing rooms might have a backup system or the fuse. You two take Sherry to the Lounge in the West Sector. She needs to rest."
"Be careful," Noah warned.
Leon gave a heavy nod and vanished into the darkness of the East Sector, his footsteps echoing until they faded.
The corridor leading to the West Sector was narrower. As Noah and Claire reached the midpoint, a massive wall-mounted display lit up with a piercing screech of static.
A haggard face appeared on the screen—blonde hair in a messy bun, a stained lab coat, and eyes filled with a near-manic paranoia.
Annette Birkin.
"Who are you!" Annette's voice was sharp and distorted. "What do you want with my daughter!? I'm warning you! Even if you use Sherry to threaten me, you'll never get the G-Virus!"
Claire's anger flared. "What the hell are you talking about!? Your daughter is sick! Her fever won't go down! If you're really her mother, get over here and look at her!"
"Sick?" Annette's expression flickered with a momentary conflict before the scientific paranoia returned. "No... I can't... William... he mutated... Sherry is William's most perfect continuation... I..."
"Shut up!" Claire roared. "Your daughter is dying, and you're thinking about your research? You don't deserve to be a mother at all!"
"A bastard mother..." Annette's face collapsed. She saw the abnormality in Sherry's right eye through the camera. "Sherry... she's been infected... I'll find a way... I will..."
With a snap, the screen went black.
"Calm down, Claire," Noah said, taking her cold hand. "She's already gone mad. Let's get to the lounge."
They reached the Lounge—a simple suite with a single bed. Claire placed Sherry gently on the mattress and tucked her in with her oversized jacket.
Sherry's eyelashes flickered, and she opened her sapphire eyes. "Claire... big sister..."
"I'm here, Sherry," Claire whispered, checking her forehead.
Sherry's eyes filled with tears. "Thank you... I've always been all alone. Daddy... Mommy... they were always in the lab. I was always alone."
Claire's own eyes grew moist, thinking of her childhood with Chris. Sherry looked at them both and managed a small, innocent smile through her tears. "But... now that I have you, I won't be lonely anymore."
She curled up and cried—a suppressed, desperate release of years of solitude. Noah knelt by the bed, pulling the sobbing Claire into a silent embrace while taking Sherry's small hand. "From now on," he said softly, "none of you will be alone anymore."
When Sherry finally fell back into a steady sleep, Noah stood up. "Claire, stay here with her. I'm going to check on Ada's situation and find out a few things."
Claire looked up, a hint of inquiry in her eyes. Noah leaned down and kissed her forehead. "She's an FBI agent, Claire. Getting on her good side might help us find Chris later."
Claire blushed, punching his chest playfully. "I trust you, jerk."
Noah smiled, but as he reached the door, he turned back. His expression was more serious than she had ever seen it.
"Claire," he said, his voice carrying a strange, solemn weight. "Remember, no matter what happens later, you must believe me."
"Okay," Claire promised, though she felt a sudden chill at the gravity of his words.
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