Diana leans against the wall, breathing hard and her vision swimming. Can't stop. Can't stop moving. Her hands shake as she ejects the empty magazine, fumbles for a fresh one. Red drips from her elbow onto the floor next to the body of the Hunter she just turned into a statistic pile of reptilian meat.

A supply crate sits near the junction—military green, Umbrella logo stenciled on the side. She pries it open to see a green herb inside, bundled neatly as if it was placed there on purpose. Though she had no time for questioning it right now.

Diana doesn't hesitate this time, simply shoving the leaves in her mouth and chewed until the pain dulls, wounds closed slightly, bleeding slowing. Jesus, it actually works.

The intercom on the wall crackles.

"Diana—Diana, are you there?" Rodger's voice cuts through the silence, tight with panic. "are you hurt?"

Relief floods through her, she's not alone. "I'm fine." Her voice is steadier than she feels.

"Jesus Christ—those things—I didn't think they'd—" He exhales shakily, and she hears the fear in it. "Okay. Okay. Listen, the facility's losing power. Backup generator in the boiler room needs manual restart. I'll guide you there."

"Where?" Diana reloads her Beretta and checks her knife.

"Two corridors ahead, take the stairwell down. I'll unlock the door remotely."

"On my way."

She moves through the corridors, following his directions. The flood lights flicker worse here, entire sections plunged into darkness. Every doorway could hide another Hunter, or a zombie. Every vent could drop something worse.

Rodger's watching. He'll warn me if something's coming. The thought steadies her more than it should.

The stairwell descends into heat and darkness, emergency lighting casting everything in sickly red. The air thickens, humid and oppressive. Sweat beads on her forehead. At the bottom, a heavy steel door marked BOILER ROOM - AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.