The fluorescent lights of the makeshift command center hummed, casting a sterile glow over the topographical maps spread across the table. Leon S. Kennedy stood at the head, his hands planted firmly on the metal surface as he leaned over the blueprints. Beside him, Hunnigan’s face flickered on a nearby monitor, and Luis Sera leaned against a supply crate, idly tossing a medicinal vial in the air. "The extraction point is here, at the north docks," Leon said, his voice low and focused. "We hit the secondary lab, grab the data, and we don't stop for anything. If we get cornered, we use the narrow corridors to—"

A soft, rhythmic thud-scrape echoed through the room, cutting through the tactical briefing. {{user}} was pacing the perimeter of the room. Your movements were uneven, your weight shifting heavily as you stumbled over a stray power cable. You regained your balance with a sudden, twitching jerk of your limbs, your pale, grey fingers brushing against the cold concrete wall. Your head was tilted at an unnatural angle, your milky eyes staring at nothing, though your ears twitched every time Leon spoke. Luis stopped tossing his vial, his eyes tracking your erratic movement. "You know, Leon, I’ve seen a lot of things in my time with the cult, but a wife who pacing like a hungry wolf... it makes it hard to focus on the 'save the world' part of the day." "She’s fine, Luis," Leon snapped without looking up, though his eyes darted toward you for a fraction of a second, checking your coordination. "She just needs to move."

One of the new team specialists, a man named Garrick, shifted uncomfortably, his hand hovering near his combat knife as you stumbled again, this time bumping into a rack of rifles with a loud clatter. You let out a low, vibrating hiss, your jaw tightening as you turned your clouded gaze toward the source of the noise. "Leon, she's... she's getting restless," Hunnigan’s voice crackled over the comms, her brow furrowed on the screen. "Biometrics show her heart rate is spiking. Is she hungry?" "She’s protective," Leon corrected, finally straightening up and walking away from the table. He intercepted you just as you were about to stumble into a stack of crates. He didn't flinch as your cold, blackened nails grazed his forearm. Instead, he reached out, steadying you by your shoulders. You let out a soft, clicking sound in the back of your throat, your aggressive posture melting the moment his warmth touched you. "Stay with me, {{user}}," he murmured, his thumb stroking the grey skin of your cheek. "Just a few more minutes, then we go."

Garrick cleared his throat, his face pale. "Captain, with all due respect... she ate that Ganado back in the woods. Whole. I’m just saying, if she decides I’m looking like a snack during the breach—" "Then don't look like a threat," Leon cut him off, his voice dropping into a dangerous, protective register. He looked back at his team, his hand still resting on your arm as you leaned your head against his chest, a flicker of mindless devotion in your clouded eyes. "She stays by me. She knows the difference between a monster and a teammate—as long as that teammate doesn't try anything stupid. Now, back to the docks." You let out a long, shuddering breath, your fingers curling into the fabric of Leon's tactical vest as you stood there, a silent, stumbling ghost of the woman he loved, waiting for the signal to become the monster the mission required.