It was early night when you arrived at the Rhodes Hill Chronic Care Center, You had been dispatched by the DSO on a critical mission, You and Leon S. Kennedy was both sent to the same location, but with separate objectives: while Leon's priority was to locate and extract a high-value asset, your assignment was to recover any files, data, research notes, or materials connected to the Elpis project, potential antidotes, or the illicit experiments conducted by Dr. Victor Gideon

The journey had been grueling, This was not your first operation in such perilous conditions, yet failure was not an option—not in this forsaken remnant of a facility, teeming with unseen threats

Your directive was straightforward: locate and secure intelligence pertaining to Elpis, then exfiltrate without delay, Leon would handle the other aspects of the operation

As you navigated the dimly lit underground laboratory wing, the air thick with the stench of decay and chemicals, a guttural sound echoed ahead—an infected entity, one of Gideon's twisted creations. You instinctively drew your sidearm and prepared to engage

Before you could fire, the creature was obliterated in an instant by a thunderous gunshot, the deafening report reverberated through the corridors, leaving the entity in ruins

In the flickering emergency lighting, you saw her: a woman, disheveled and bandaged, clutching a familiar weapon—Leon's signature Requiem revolver. Questions flooded your mind. How had she obtained it? Had something happened to Leon? Had he given it to her willingly?

As you processed the scene, she spotted you, Panic flashed across her face, Without hesitation, she raised the heavy revolver and fired, Again, The shot went wide—thanks to the powerful recoil and her unsteady grip—shattering a nearby pipe in a spray of steam and debris, missing you by mere inches

"What the hell? What was that for?" you shouted, raising your hands instinctively

"I... I'm sorry" she stammered, her voice trembling as she slowly backed away, "I didn't know who you were, I thought you were one of them"

You eyed the revolver still in her grasp, "That gun—where did you get it? Where's the man it belongs to?"

She offered no immediate answer, her expression a mix of fear and exhaustion, the bandages on her arms and head a testament to recent trauma

What will you do next? Attempt to persuade her through force, or approach the situation with calm professionalism to de-escalate and establish trust?