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"Garbage Sedimentation Area..."
Leon stood in the control room, staring at a yellowed structural map taped to the wall. The phrase sounded about as appetizing as a week-old corpse. According to the blueprints and the work logs, the only way to reach the trash heap was through a maintenance tunnel that was currently flooded waist-high with stagnant, foul-smelling sewage.
In the old days, a worker would have pushed a button to drain the tunnel before heading down. But the button wouldn't work without the silver Wolf Medallion—and the medallion was currently sitting in the trash at the far end of the flood.
A perfect, shitty Catch-22.
Leon felt the veins in his forehead throbbing. The idea of wading through that "soup" made his skin crawl. "Please tell me there's a pair of waders in here," he muttered, tearing through the tool cabinets.
Luck finally took pity on him. In the back of a dusty locker, he found a set of orange industrial sewage coveralls—a head-to-toe rubber suit designed for the worst jobs in the city. He shook it out, and the sharp, chemical scent of heavy rubber hit him. It was the best thing he'd smelled all night.
Squeezing into the suit was like trying to fit into a mobile sauna. It was tight, heavy, and airtight; within seconds, he was already sweating. He slung his shotgun across his back and strapped his tactical pouch over his chest, making sure his grenades were within reach.
He pulled the rubber hood over his head, took one last breath of relatively clean air, and climbed down the ladder.
The moment his boots hit the water, he felt the cold, slimy pressure of the sewage against the rubber. His stomach lurched. Every step was a battle against the viscous, dark water that fought to pull him down like a quagmire.
He clicked on the searchlight on his hood, the beam cutting through the damp air.
Rustle, rustle...
Leon snapped his head up. On the ceiling, barely three feet above him, several giant Wolf Spiders were clinging to the concrete. Their bodies were as large as coffee tables, their bristly legs hooked into the stone like iron claws. Their abdomens shimmered with a greasy, oily luster in the light.
Leon froze, his heart hammering against his ribs. He immediately killed the light, the darkness swallowing him whole. He stood perfectly still, his breath shallow, waiting for the pitter-patter of eight-legged nightmares.
They didn't move. They were blind, waiting for a vibration.
Hunched over, Leon fumbled forward in the pitch black, moving inch by agonizing inch. He felt like he'd been wading for a century by the time his boots hit the solid concrete of the far stairs. He scrambled up, pushed through an iron door, and collapsed on the other side, tearing the hood off his head.
"Whew... okay. Almost there."
He followed the corridor to the final door. The moment he pushed it open, a stench so powerful it felt like a physical blow hit him. It was a wall of rotting organic matter and chemical waste.
"Ugh... God..." He gagged, his eyes watering. "That is... that is something else."
Before him was a vast, cave-like chamber where a literal mountain of Raccoon City's trash had accumulated. A turbid waterfall of waste poured from a pipe above, creating a dull, rhythmic roar.
In a pile of refuse near the water's edge, something glinted.
The silver White Wolf Medallion.
It was sitting on a piece of broken plywood, just a few yards away. "Jackpot," Leon whispered. He started down the slope, his eyes fixed on the prize.
Then, the water erupted.
A sense of pure, biological dread spiked through his nervous system. Leon dived to the side, his body reacting before his brain could process the threat.
SPLASH—!!!
A maw the size of a doorway slammed shut exactly where he had been standing. Two rows of dagger-sized, bone-white teeth clicked together with a sound like a closing trap.
Leon scrambled back, his blood turning to ice as the behemoth emerged from the sludge.
It was a crocodile—but it was the size of a transit bus. Its dark green skin was a map of scars and prehistoric scales, looking more like jagged rock than flesh. The giant let out a roar that vibrated in Leon's marrow and began to haul its massive bulk out of the water, its claws tearing through the trash as it lunged for him.
"Dammit!"
Leon turned and bolted back into the narrow corridor.
The crocodile followed, but its sheer size worked against it. It scraped against the concrete walls, the friction slowing it down as it tore chunks of masonry loose in its frenzy to reach the "orange snack" running away.
Leon reached a bend and stopped. He saw the crocodile's mouth open wide—an abyss of rot and teeth—as it tried to squeeze through the narrow passage.
A flash of inspiration hit him. He reached into his chest pouch and pulled out two fragmentation grenades. He bit the pins and yanked them both at once, his thumbs pressing the spoons down.
Three... two...
"Have a nice snack, you oversized handbag!"
Leon hurled the "iron pineapples" straight into the back of the crocodile's throat.
The beast's jaws snapped shut by instinct.
BOOM—!!!BOOM—!!!
The muffled explosions rattled Leon's teeth. The crocodile's head didn't just break; it detonated from the inside. A storm of gore and bone fragments sprayed against the ceiling, and the headless mountain of meat collapsed into the sewage with a final, wet thud.
The hallway went silent, save for the sound of something metallic rolling across the floor.
Ting... ting... clatter.
The silver medallion, stained with dark blood, rolled to a stop at Leon's boots.
Leon picked it up, wiping the grime on his rubber suit. He looked at the half-crocodile and raised an eyebrow.
"Thanks for the delivery."
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