We casually exit the cell, the atmosphere relaxed despite what we just experienced. Chris, true to form, can't resist slipping in a sarcastic remark as he walks past the destroyed door.
"So, boss, want me to keep a piece of the door as a souvenir? It'd make a nice paperweight."
Joseph shook his head, smiling. "Seriously, Chris, you're still on that?"
I rolled my eyes. "Focus, Chris. If you want a souvenir, we'll grab a mug from the gift shop—if they have one."
We continue moving through the dark, winding corridors of the base, gradually ascending toward the surface. The air grows fresher, and faint natural light begins to filter through cracks in the walls.
But as soon as we reach the surface, we come to an abrupt halt. About fifteen guards are waiting for us, forming a tight line with their weapons aimed directly at us. The sound of rifles being cocked echoes in the air.
Chris lets out a long whistle. "Well, that's quite the welcoming committee. Hope they've got a buffet somewhere."
Joseph groaned. "Chris, seriously? This is not the time for jokes."
"What? They look ready to turn us into Swiss cheese. Might as well go out on a good note."
I cut them off. "Okay, not the time for debates. Strategic retreat, now!"
We turn abruptly and run back into the corridors, the sound of bullets ricocheting off the walls behind us. The shots come dangerously close, and I feel a wave of frustration building.
Chris, running beside me, throws out another comment. "Hey, boss, you think they trained at a carnival shooting range? They're missing everything!"
Joseph, panting, fires back. "If one of them hits you, I bet you'll change your tune."
I reach into my inventory and pull out a flash grenade. "Enough chatter. Time to handle this my way."
Chris glances over his shoulder. "Oh, I know that tone. This is gonna hurt."
I unpin the grenade with a smooth motion and toss it back toward the guards. A second later, a blinding flash erupts, accompanied by a deafening bang. The guards, disoriented, stumble around, some even dropping their weapons.
"Alright, guys, let's move in!" I command as I advance swiftly.
We charge in perfect synchronization, disarming and neutralizing the guards one by one. Chris tackles two soldiers at once, sending them sprawling to the ground effortlessly. "That's two down!"
Joseph, more precise, uses quick, calculated movements to take out a guard with a well-placed strike to the solar plexus before grabbing another by the collar and slamming him into the ground. "Seriously, they should've invested in better training."
I handle three guards at once, using calculated moves to disarm them before rendering them unconscious. "No fatalities, guys. We don't need more bodies."
Chris, propping an unconscious guard against a wall, laughs. "Seriously, boss? They wanted to turn us into Swiss cheese, and you want to play the good guy?"
We calmly exit the cell, the atmosphere relaxed despite what we just went through. Chris, true to form, doesn't miss the opportunity to slip in a sarcastic remark as he walks past the shattered door.
"So, boss, want me to keep a piece of the door as a souvenir? It'd make a nice paperweight."
Joseph shook his head, smiling. "Seriously, Chris, you're still stuck on that?"
I rolled my eyes. "Focus, Chris. If you want a souvenir, we'll grab a mug from the gift shop—if they even have one."
We proceed down the dark, damp corridors of the base, the walls slightly glistening with moisture. The smell of stale air and rusted metal is omnipresent. Flickering lights overhead add a sinister atmosphere, barely illuminating the iron cages lining the walls.
As we reach the cell block, we find three prisoners, all in a sorry state. One of them immediately catches my attention: a young man with disheveled hair and a face marked by exhaustion and malnutrition. He stands near the bars, his gaze alert despite his condition.
I stop in front of him, studying him for a moment. "Chris, Joseph, each of you interrogate one of the other prisoners. I'll handle this one."
They nod and head toward the other cells. I unlock the young man's cell and slowly guide him out. He stumbles slightly but straightens himself with determination, his eyes fixed on me.
"What's your name?" I ask, my tone neutral but firm.
He hesitates for a moment, as if evaluating whether I can be trusted. Finally, he answers, "Steve. Steve Burnside."
I nod and lead him to a small adjoining room for questioning. Once seated, he crosses his arms, adopting a defensive posture.
"Alright, Steve, start by telling me what you're doing here."
He scoffs bitterly, his eyes burning with anger. "What I'm doing here? Good question. Two years ago, my dad and I were arrested by Umbrella. He stole something, and they threw us here like dogs." He clenches his fists, his voice trembling with suppressed rage. "They killed him, you know? And I've been stuck in this hell ever since."
I remain silent for a moment, letting him continue.
"At first, it was already horrible, but things got worse when that blonde woman showed up..." He frowns, his eyes distant as he recalls the memory. "Alexia, I think her name is. She started taking prisoners for her experiments. Nobody ever came back. She plays queen of the island, but she's a psycho."
"How many prisoners are left here?" I ask calmly.
Steve shakes his head. "Not many. Maybe a handful, if you can even call them alive. Most ended up as test subjects or were turned into... things."
I fix him with a steady gaze, looking for any sign of deceit. "Why did they keep you alive?"
He shrugs, his expression hardening. "Good question. Maybe they were waiting for me to be a 'good' test subject. Or maybe they just liked watching me suffer. I don't know."
I sigh, crossing my arms. "Listen, Steve, I'm not here to judge you or leave you to rot. If you tell me everything you know about this island and Alexia, I promise to get you out of here. But I need to be sure I can trust you."
He looks me straight in the eye, a glimmer of hope mixed with suspicion. "You say that like it's so simple. What guarantees you won't just leave me behind like everyone else?"
I smile faintly. "Because I don't work for Umbrella. And because I have the means to make sure this kind of thing doesn't happen again. You want to get out of here alive? Then help me."
Steve takes a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Fine, I'll tell you everything I know. But I want one thing in return."
"I'm listening."
"When this is over, I want a normal life. None of this—no Umbrella, no monsters. I want to start over."
I briefly think about how Claire is currently training with Leon and Ada. It would've been interesting to see if Steve could have a romance with her like in the game. Shaking off the thought, I focus on him again.
"No problem, Steve. Besides, Umbrella doesn't exist anymore. I'm now the director of King Pharmaceuticals, and trust me, places like this are living on borrowed time." I offer him a reassuring smile, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Let's see what my men got from your fellow prisoners. Then I'll make sure you're evacuated safely."
Steve nods, visibly relieved. The stress etched on his face begins to fade, and he finally seems able to breathe normally.
Chris and Joseph rejoin us after interrogating the other two prisoners. Joseph shakes his head, his expression grim. "Nothing much different from what your protégé told us. They all have the same blood type, and they were being kept for the end."
Chris growls, "Psychopaths. Always looking for new ways to play God."
I nod. "Alright. We're getting them out of here."
As we head back to the surface, I stop upon seeing Rodrigo observing the scene with a mix of apprehension and resignation. I approach him slowly, my hands clasped behind my back, a cold smile on my face.
"Rodrigo, it's time to make a choice." My voice is calm but firm, carrying an air of authority. "You can keep playing the good soldier for an empire that no longer exists, or you can leave now with the prisoners."
He furrows his brows, clearly torn. "And if I do that? What guarantees me that I won't end up in prison? Or worse, hunted for treason?"
I cross my arms, locking eyes with him. "If you follow this order, I give you my word: there will be no charges, no problems. You and the prisoners will be evacuated safely. But if you stay on this path... trust me, Rodrigo, this manor will become your tomb. And not because of me."
Rodrigo remains silent for a moment, weighing his options. Finally, he sighs, lowering his head slightly. "Fine. I'll go with them. But if this is a trap..."
I raise a hand to cut him off. "It's not a trap. I keep my word. And trust me, this is your best chance to get out alive."
I gesture to Joseph. "Take Rodrigo and the prisoners. Get on the helicopter and leave immediately."
Joseph nods, a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. He turns to Rodrigo. "Alright, soldier. Time to show you can make the right choice."
Rodrigo hesitates for another moment before nodding. "Alright. I'm going."
As the group boards the helicopter, Joseph gives a quick salute to Chris and me before climbing inside. "Try not to blow everything up before I get back, alright?" he jokes as he shuts the door.
Chris bursts out laughing. "No promises, Joe."
The helicopter rises into the air, disappearing quickly into the sky. Once it's out of sight, I turn to Chris with a sly grin.
"Now that they're safe, we've got a self-proclaimed queen to deal with."
Chris adjusts his weapon, a sarcastic smile spreading across his face. "After you, Gerald. I love watching megalomaniacs get taken down a peg."
We walk calmly along the gravel path, the crunch of our footsteps breaking the oppressive silence. The air is dense, heavy with humidity and a tension that feels almost tangible. The manor looms in the distance, its imposing silhouette stark against a threatening sky.
Suddenly, a shrill alarm pierces the air. Sirens blare across the island, amplified by the echo of the surrounding cliffs. Chris and I exchange a look before stopping, our senses on high alert. Then the screams begin—brutal and piercing, coming from multiple directions. The soundscape devolves into chaos: cries of pain, shouted orders over radios, and scattered gunfire. The situation is spiraling fast.
In the distance, a group of panicked soldiers appears. They're running full tilt, firing wildly behind them. One of them shouts, "Oh God, it's a massacre!" just as a monstrously elongated arm lashes out from the shadows. The grotesque limb wraps around the torso of one of the soldiers, yanking him violently from the group. The man screams, his cries slicing through the night, before being dragged out of sight. A sickening sound of tearing flesh and crunching bones follows, cutting his agony short.
The remaining four soldiers sprint past us, their faces contorted in terror. They don't even glance our way, too focused on their escape. Chris watches them run, his expression shifting from shock to a blasé exasperation.
"Guess we're in for another 'fun' night," he mutters.
"Charming welcome, really. Couldn't those heroes have given us a heads-up?"
I sigh, focusing on the source of the sounds. A grotesque figure slowly emerges from the shadows, its shuffling gait making the ground tremble slightly. It's a Bandersnatch, a disfigured creature with an unnaturally elongated and disproportionate arm. Its gaping jaw and bloodshot eyes reflect uncontrolled fury.
"Long arms, huh?" Chris murmurs, raising his weapon with a nervous grin. "I'm guessing this is one of those things you wanted to warn me about?"
Before I can respond, another howl erupts to our left, followed by a sinister cracking sound. Another creature—perhaps a Cerberus or worse—is clearly nearby. The sirens continue blaring, and the screams of soldiers multiply, indicating that the creatures have been unleashed across the island.
"Well, looks like someone had fun pressing the wrong button," I mutter through gritted teeth, my eyes locked on the advancing Bandersnatch, its deformed arm dragging along the ground.
Chris shakes his head, readying his weapon. "Nothing like a good fight to warm up before the main course. So, are we frying it or chopping it up?"
I crack my knuckles, a determined smile on my face. "Why choose? Let's see what this long arm is made of."
We take our positions, preparing for the fight, as the entire island descends into chaos. The creatures' howls mingle with the alarms, creating a terrifying symphony of destruction and despair. The Bandersnatch roars, and I know this battle is only the first of many.
The Bandersnatch roars in rage, its jaw snapping with a dry, sinister clack. It lunges toward us, its grotesquely elongated arm whipping through the air in a brutal motion. But Chris is already moving, agile and precise. He dodges the blow with ease, pivoting his body with an almost supernatural grace.
"Seriously? Is that all you've got?" Chris quips with a smirk, his weapon already at the ready.
The Bandersnatch attempts another attack, its monstrous arm smashing into the ground with devastating force. The impact kicks up a cloud of dust and makes the ground tremble, but Chris is already behind the creature. In one fluid motion, he fires a burst of bullets into the joints of the giant arm. The shots land with surgical precision, tearing chunks of mutated flesh and eliciting a roar of pain.
The creature tries to turn, but Chris doesn't give it a moment's rest. He leaps forward, dodging a clumsy swing from the Bandersnatch's other atrophied arm. With a skillful roll, he positions himself beneath the beast, where its distorted abdomen is most vulnerable.
"You really should think about doing some crunches, monster," Chris mutters, pulling out a knife and driving it straight into the creature's soft belly.
The Bandersnatch howls, its body writhing in agony. It flails its elongated arm desperately, trying to grab Chris, but only worsens its own injuries. Chris, unfazed, steps back slightly and unloads another magazine of bullets directly into the creature's head. One of the bullets hits an eye, causing it to burst in a mess of blood and pus.
The monster staggers, its massive arm collapsing to the ground as its strength fades. It makes one last desperate attack, but Chris sidesteps it effortlessly. He takes advantage of the opening to deliver a powerful kick to the back of the Bandersnatch's knee joint. The creature collapses heavily, dropping to its knees, its movements now slow and disoriented.
"Alright, stay down, Long Arms," Chris says, wiping sweat from his brow, though it's clear he's not even winded.
I step forward calmly, observing the dying creature with an impassive gaze. "Not bad, Chris. You want a medal, or are applause enough?"
Chris chuckles lightly, stepping aside to let me through. "I'm just glad I'm still the best. Your turn to finish the job, boss."
I reach out toward the Bandersnatch, which weakly attempts to rise. But before it can make another move, I touch it, and its body disappears instantly in a brief flash, absorbed into my factory.
"Welcome to your new home, Long Arms," I murmur before turning to Chris, a satisfied smile on my face.
"Alright, one creature down. I hope they've got more interesting ones, because that was a walk in the park," Chris jokes, holstering his weapon.