The corridor became a throat.
Concrete ribs closed around them as the creature forced its way forward, scraping the walls with limbs that didn't belong to any living anatomy. The caretaker's laughter faded behind the collapsing structure, replaced by the wet, furious breathing of Requiem made flesh.
"Stairs, left!" Ada shouted.
Leon didn't argue.
They ran.
The floor shook with every impact behind them. Doors burst open as infected shapes spilled into the hallway—half human, half experiment, all hunger.
Leon fired while moving, years of instinct guiding his hands.Head. Knees. Don't stop.
At fifty, he wasn't slow.
But the world was faster.
A claw tore through the wall beside him, missing his face by inches. Dust filled his lungs. Ada grabbed his jacket and pulled him through a maintenance door just as the corridor collapsed in a storm of concrete and screams.
Silence.
For a second.
Then the beast roared again, searching.
They were in a narrow service tunnel, lit by a single trembling bulb. Water dripped somewhere in the dark.
Leon leaned against the metal, breathing hard."Your friends really know how to host a party."
Ada checked the corridor behind them. "They're not my friends."
He looked at her. "They never are."
That landed.
She finally met his eyes, something unguarded slipping through."You could have walked away years ago."
"So could you."
A distant crash cut the moment short.
Ada knelt beside an old terminal and forced it awake. Schematics appeared—deep underground levels marked in red.
"This facility connects to the old hydro plant," she said. "That's where Vorn moved the core research."
Leon frowned. "Core of what?"
Ada hesitated.
"Requiem isn't meant to kill," she said quietly. "It's meant to choose."
The words hung heavy.
"Choose who lives," Leon finished.
"Choose what humanity becomes."
Another roar—closer now.
Leon reloaded, hands steady despite the ache in his bones."Then let's make sure it fails the test."
Ada allowed herself the faintest smile.
Together they stepped back into the dark, toward the heart of Lawrence Falls—and toward whatever version of themselves would survive it.