Spencer's Mansion – Abandoned Music Room
Jack slumped against the cold stone wall, lungs dragging for air like he'd just run a marathon. His stomach twisted with a hunger so sharp it made him feel sick. His arms shook, not from pain, but from being drained.
The VSS flickered in front of his eyes:
[VSS]
Viral Infection: 10.7%
Four minutes. That was all it had taken to push him past the edge. Four minutes of tearing into that monster like an animal—four minutes of not knowing if he'd come back from it.
A small hand pressed against his wrist. Rebecca was suddenly there, crouched beside him, her eyes scanning his face, his pulse, the tremor in his hands.
"Your body's crashing," she said, voice clipped and professional despite the fear in her eyes. "Adrenaline spike, glucose bottomed out—you pushed way past safe."
Jack tried to laugh, but it came out hoarse. "Safe's not really in the job description."
"Don't joke," she snapped, digging into her kit. She pulled out a ration bar and shoved it into his hand. "Eat. Now. You need calories before your body eats itself."
Jack tore the wrapper with unsteady fingers and bit down. The chalky taste was awful, but his body latched onto it like salvation. Each chew dulled the hunger just a little, Rebecca never taking her eyes off him.
Barry's voice cut in, hard and sharp.
"You call that saving us?"
Jack looked up. Barry stood by the doorway, revolver low at his side, but his stare was worse than the weapon.
"I don't care if you slowed it down," Barry said flatly. "What I saw back there wasn't human. You went feral. And if it happens again, I won't hesitate. Jill and Rebecca come first."
Jack swallowed the last of the ration, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and forced himself to his feet. His legs wobbled, but his blue eyes stayed steady on Barry.
"You think I lost control? If I had, none of us would've walked out of that hallway alive."
Barry's jaw tightened. "That's supposed to make me feel better?"
Rebecca rose quickly, planting herself between them. "Enough! That thing would've torn us apart if Jack hadn't taken the risk. You don't have to like it, but don't twist what he did. He bought us time to live."
Barry didn't argue. He holstered his revolver with a clipped motion and moved to check the next door, though his eyes never left Jack.
Jack finally took in the room they'd entered: a long, lavish music chamber. Chandeliers hung low, their crystals dulled with dust. Sheet music lay scattered across the floor like fallen leaves. At the far end stood a grand piano, its black lacquer dulled by years of neglect.
Rebecca drifted toward it, pausing at the bench. A sheet of music lay open across the stand. She traced the notes with her eyes.
"Moonlight Sonata…" she murmured. "I know this one."
Barry locked the door behind them, posture squared like a watchdog, his revolver steady—and still throwing side glances at Jack. He muttered under his breath, almost too low to hear.
"Wesker… what kind of monstrosity did Umbrella make?"
Rebecca sat on the bench. Her fingers hovered over the keys, trembling from exhaustion and nerves. Not because of the music—but because in this mansion, even something as simple as a song felt like life or death.
Still, she began to play. The sonata's mournful melody echoed through the room, filling the cracked plaster walls and cobweb-laden chandeliers. Dust sifted from the rafters with every deep note. Somewhere behind the walls, something shifted—faint grinding, gears turning for the first time in decades.
Rebecca didn't falter. She carried the song to its end, finishing with the final chord.
A low groan rumbled through the chamber. Across the far wall, a bookcase shuddered. Dust fell in curtains as it slid aside, revealing a hidden alcove.
Jill moved quickly, pistol raised, sweeping the shadows before motioning clear. On a small pedestal inside rested another stone mask—its nose hollowed away, leaving only a smooth cavity where it should have been.
The group raised their weapons instinctively, scanning the corners, but nothing stirred. Jill stepped forward and lifted the mask with careful hands.
"Three down," she muttered. "One more to go."
Jack pushed himself off the wall, still pale from the burn of his viral abilities. He could feel Barry's eyes on him, but he straightened his posture, forcing himself to stand tall, soldier-like, ignoring the weight of suspicion.
Then his chest tightened. His Viral Sense flared, lighting up the back of his skull like an alarm. Something massive was closing in—deliberate, powerful, a presence that made the air feel heavier.
Jack stiffened, his voice cutting through the silence.
"That giant monstrosity that's been hunting us—it's heading this way. I can feel it."
Rebecca's gaze snapped to Richard, still too injured to move quickly. Her face paled with worry.
Barry turned sharply toward Jack, suspicion written plain across his features.
"And how the hell do you know that?"
Before Jack could answer, Jill stepped forward. She didn't look at Barry, only at Jack, her pistol already steady in her grip.
"Because he's been right every time."
Barry's jaw clenched. He looked at her like he didn't recognize her for a moment, but Jill didn't waver. Her expression was conflicted, yes—but her voice carried the weight of a decision already made.
The floor trembled again.
Thud… Thud… Thud…
Jack gripped his pistol tightly, jaw set. "I'm going to draw its attention away from you. Buy you time to move Richard someplace safe."
Rebecca's eyes widened. "Jack, no—"
Jill cut her off. "Then he's not going alone."
Jack blinked at her, surprise flickering across his face.
Barry's head snapped toward her. "Jill… don't. You can't trust him. You saw what he turned into back there." His voice wasn't anger, it was raw concern — the voice of a man who'd spent years watching her back.
Jill hesitated, her pistol steady but her throat tight. She respected Barry. She always had. But something in her gut told her Jack was right — and she couldn't shake it.
"If he loses it, I'll be there to stop him," she said firmly. "But I'm not letting him face this alone."
Barry stepped closer, lowering his voice, almost pleading. "You don't need to do this. Let him go if that's what he wants."
Jill shook her head once, firmly. "No. I'm putting it in mine. This is my call to make."
For a moment, the two locked eyes — years of trust between them straining under the weight of this mansion. Then Barry exhaled through his nose, shoulders heavy. He didn't agree. But he couldn't stop her either.
The floor shook again.
Thud… Thud… Thud…
This time the sound didn't fade. It grew louder. Closer.
Jack and Jill both turned toward the open doorway as the shadows in the hall lengthened.
A massive silhouette filled the corridor, shoulders nearly scraping the walls. Its pale skin gleamed in the dim light, black veins pulsing beneath the surface. Two crimson eyes cut through the darkness—steady, unblinking, locking directly onto them.
The T-Aegis Tyrant had found its prey again.