Lawrence Falls was no longer just collapsing.
It was mutating.
Leon moved through the narrow corridors of a medical facility on the outskirts of town, its walls smeared with dried blood and claw marks. Emergency lights flickered weakly, bathing the halls in a sickly red glow. This place had once been a refuge. Now, it was a tomb.
He felt it then—a sharp pain in his side.
Leon slowed, pressing a hand against his ribs. The fight in the plaza had taken more out of him than he'd admitted. At fifty, he could still fight, still think faster than most—but his body remembered every battle.
And it was keeping score.
A sudden screech pierced the air.
Leon raised his weapon just as something crawled across the ceiling—thin, elongated limbs gripping the concrete unnaturally. Its head snapped toward him, jaws splitting open in a wet, violent sound.
Requiem strain.
It dropped.
Leon fired, rolling backward as claws slashed where his head had been seconds before. He landed hard, pain exploding through his side. He gritted his teeth, forced himself up, and fired again.
The creature collapsed, twitching.
Leon leaned against the wall, breathing hard.
"Getting sloppy," he muttered.
A soft click echoed behind him.
"Or honest."
Leon turned slowly.
Ada stood in the doorway, weapon lowered but ready. Her expression was calm—but her eyes lingered on the blood soaking through his jacket.
"You're hurt," she said.
"I've been worse."
She stepped closer, uninvited, efficient hands already assessing the damage. "You don't bounce back like you used to."
Neither of them smiled.
"You shouldn't be here," Leon said quietly.
Ada met his gaze. "Neither should you."
The building groaned, metal twisting somewhere deep within its structure.
"This facility," Ada continued, "was experimenting on live subjects. Requiem isn't an outbreak—it's a trial."
Leon's jaw tightened. "Government?"
"Off the books," she replied. "Too many signatures. Too many ghosts."
Another screech echoed—closer this time.
Ada stepped back into the shadows. "This place won't hold much longer."
Leon straightened despite the pain. "Then let's move."
She paused, studying him.
"This doesn't end with Lawrence Falls," Ada said softly. "When this is over… they won't let you walk away."
Leon met her eyes, unwavering. "Then maybe this time, I don't ask permission."
For a brief moment, something unspoken passed between them—regret, resolve, and something dangerously close to hope.
Then the walls began to shake.
Ada vanished into the darkness once more.
Leon followed, knowing one thing for certain:
Requiem wasn't just testing humanity.
It was testing him.