Rapture

Even with the words coming out of Chris's mouth, Claire's head was still spinning. His words felt warped and echoey. In the few minutes she'd been in the truck with him driving to base, Chris gave her the rundown: Leon had been sent to do some recon on the village that morning; about eight hours later, he returned with little information to report, which was unlike him. Later, Tundra found "Leon" snooping through their documents, saying he was just trying to keep updated on what they'd found.

By the time anyone got the feeling he was acting odd, "Leon" had disappeared from base completely. Now they were on a convoy on their way to research whoever this imposter was.

"We don't know what this thing was planning to do to you, or how it even knew about you, but thank God we got there on time."

Claire shook her head in disbelief, "I-It looked just like him. Sounded just like him. He was acting a little odd, but..." She didn't have to explain. Chris knew about the tension between them well. "So, what the fuck? We come all this way to study some internet shit, and now it's Invasion of the Body Snatchers?"

"It's not like we were expecting to run into this shit either. I mean, the usual shit, yeah, but this?" He agreed.

Claire swallowed. She fiddled with her wedding ring. "...Do you think Leon's still alive?"

"Of course he is." Chris said, almost cutting her off. "It's Leon. It's just about where he is." He paused. "Until then, it's better if we keep you nearby." The truck stopped abruptly. "Shit. Now what?"

Claire began to worry if whatever was posing as Leonhad woken up, but it wasn't likely. With the thick, heavy snow, it was expected that the vehicles would run into some trouble.

Chris got up and slid the door open. "Let me go see what the problem is." He left Claire alone to collect her thoughts. She had to tell herself that her brother was right; Leon wouldn't perish that easily—if his mission in Spain didn't kill him, then this was nothing... right? For the last twelve years, ever since they met in Raccoon City, they've done nothing but survive. It was effortless at this point as long as they had each other's backs.

Claire was jolted out of her thoughts when the door opened, only it wasn't her brother. It was Tundra... but off duty, she was simply Jill. The familiar face of her sister-in-law was normally a comfort, but not tonight. Jill could sense her worry and sat down next to her.

"I'm sorry you had to see that. Even knowing it's not him, I can't imagine."

"I just want to find him. That's all that matters."

"Of course. And we will." Jill reassured. "I'm sorry we pulled you both into this mess."

Claire took a deep breath. "It's not like we were doing much better before."

Jill immediately switched to pep-talk mode, which was usually her default. "Claire, now's not the time to think about that. You've got to stay focused."

"Up until tonight, it's all I've been thinking about." Her tone and expression weren't ones of aggravation; they were of guilt and shame.

Jill pursed her lips, wondering if she should even reveal the reason why she came to speak with her besides to check on her. "I think we figured out how it knew about you." Claire turned towards her with a bewildered expression, but then Jill handed her a small Polaroid picture. Claire couldn't believe it.

"Someone took this of us the other day when we were on a tour." They looked so happy. They'd been given two copies; Claire had hers safely in her suitcase, but she'd never asked Leon where he put his. "He had this on him?"

"He's always got something to remind him of you." Jill snickered. "You know, tell your brother he needs to up his game. The wedding ring isn't enough."

That made Claire smile a little, but then it hit her: the horrifying conclusion that this thing not only had gotten its hands on Leon, but it had stolen this from him, too.

The truck slid forward slightly, startling them both. "Are we moving?" Claire asked. Jill wasn't so sure. Chris would've gotten back in by now. They listened closely and heard muffled voices outside. Jill knew she was needed.

"Stay here." She ordered.

Claire didn't even have time to object by the time Jill had hopped out into the cold. Claire reached into her coat pocket for her handgun and checked the magazine; it had become habit for her to keep it loaded at all times. She was hoping she wouldn't have to use it while they were there, but she was prepared if she needed to.

The truck was then struck again, and Claire almost fell over. She stopped herself from falling by catching herself against the door. She heard gunshots, and the truck shook violently again. Claire inched the door open to try and see what was happening, but by the time she did, something large, fast, and an inch away from her face rushed past her and made her lose balance.

When she tried to stand up, she found she couldn't; the end of the truck was being pushed up by something. The truck behind them? It couldn't be—they weren't big enough to lift the thing near vertical. Going down the mountain wasn't her first concern—being trapped inside was. She tried to reach her way over to the door and crawl out, but something hit the vehicle from the other side, and the last thing Claire remembered was her head flying towards the wall at full speed.

...

Claire awoke screaming bloody murder, engulfed in pitch black darkness, twisted in blankets.

A familiar voice was beckoning her as her cries became deep, panic-stricken breaths. "Claire, Claire, hey! I've got you." She was in the embrace of someone she loved, his hand pressing her head against his chest. "You're okay." He sounded a little shaken himself, having been woken up abruptly by the most horrible noise he could imagine.

Claire realized where she was and began to settle. Her bangs were stuck to her forehead from sweat.

"You're okay." He whispered. This had become routine. As he started to lie back down, she stayed right where she was against his chest. He ran his fingers through her hair.

"I was back at the hospital." Claire explained. Her heart was still pounding.

He said nothing at first; he knew what that meant. He kissed the top of her head. "It was only a dream."

"It feels real every time." She shuddered. She scooted off her husband's chest so they could look at each other. "It feels like it's never gonna go away."

"It's only been a month... give it time." He tried to reassure her with the optimism his younger self once had. Claire wished she could share that attitude. She doubted he even believed himself. "It's four in the morning, try to go back to sleep."

"I don't think I can."

"Just try." He said, rubbing her arm. "I'm right here."

Claire nodded and rolled back over. About half an hour later, she was still awake, trying not to wake Leon back up with her sobbing.

...

Someone's phone was ringing... and it kept ringing. Why wouldn't someone get the damn phone? Claire drifted in and out of consciousness with these thoughts until finally she fully came to with the worst headache she'd ever felt. Once she reached full awareness, she instantly winced and clutched her forehead with both hands, letting out a groan of pain. She was still in the truck, but she could tell it wasn't sitting upright. Peering out the door, which was now busted in, she saw it was only a small drop to the ground.

With all the damage, it took her a moment to force it open far enough so she could slide out and land on all fours. Once she did, she found out what peak freezing temperatures in the Carpathians were like. Immediately, she began to aggressively shiver.

That damn phone was still ringing. Claire could hear it was close. Still too woozy to stand, she crawled towards the lost smartphone. She was still new to these things. Okay, slide to answer.

A harsh voice answered, "What the Hell's the hold up? Any updates or not?"

"Hello?"

"What the– who's this?"

"This is Claire... Chris Redfield's sister."

The person on the other end paused. It had to be with someone from BSAA. Surely they could be trusted. "Well, where the Hell's your brother? Put him or someone from the team on the phone!" He said urgently.

"Listen, there's been an accident during transportation. I don't even know where I am."

"What kind of accident?"

"I don't know!" She looked to find that her vehicle had slid down the hill and was only stopped by some trees blocking the way. "Something attacked our convoy."

He sighed. Claire didn't know who was more exasperated, him or her. "Can you please canvas the area and give me an idea of where you are?"

That was a pretty steep hill... Claire had on decent walking boots, but she still didn't feel perfectly steady. "I can try..." Without hanging up, Claire put the phone in her coat pocket—somewhere in the scuffle, her gun had been lost. It was too steep to walk, but maybe climbing would be a little easier.

The slippery and wet snow had another idea; it took almost a full minute for Claire to make it back up. There, she saw all the carnage. "Oh my God..." She gasped.

"Well, what do you see?" She heard from her pocket. Claire had almost forgotten about that.

"Everything's destroyed."

"What?"

"Something tore the cars apart, I–I don't see anyone alive!"

"Do you have any idea what your coordinates might be?"

"No."

"Okay..." The man began to sound a little more like he cared about her situation. "Listen, if you stay put, I can try to ping your location and—" There was a clicking noise.

"Hello?" Claire looked down to see a battery symbol on the screen. No matter how much she clicked the home button, nothing happened. Claire growled, "Why does no one keep their phones charged?" The thing was useless now; she dropped it. Taking a closer look, she peered into the very last truck of the convoy, which was toppled over. The person driving had perished, and he was covered in some strange, sticky, black substance. What made it so noticeable was how much snow had fallen on top of it.

What the Hell was all that about? Did oil spill on him or something? That wasn't even what she was dreading to find out. Anxiously, Claire knelt and looked into the toppled cargo van where they'd been keeping... "Leon." Nothing was there, but the inside was covered in that same slick black substance. It covered the walls with tendril-like fingers—growing on everything it touched like kudzu.

"What. The. Fuck?" Claire mouthed. She looked down at the body; she noticed his gun was still in its holster. "Sorry." She whispered as she took it and checked the magazine. Full. It would do. She then took his flashlight.

"Chris? Jill?" She called out to no answer. Admittedly, she didn't raise her voice as high as she should've if she wanted to reach anyone... she was more frightened of something else hearing her besides her family. She walked ahead in slow, freezing, petrified steps. Claire thought that after Raccoon City, nothing could scare her, but this felt worlds different.

"I'm all alone at night in a country known for vampire stories. Might as well just send the carriage to me now, Renfield." She said to herself sarcastically. She was trying to make herself laugh, but it only added an extra layer to her paranoia. Was it Renfield who sent the carriage? Or did he ride it? Claire had never even read the damn book. She'd seen bits of the Bela Lugosi film here and there. Based on that, all she'd have to do is drive a stake into his heart, right?

Stop being stupid. She chided herself as she went deeper into the thick fog and tree branches. She ducked down to get through. Zombies? Okay, sure. But there's still no such thing as—

Something big ran out from the forest and ahead of her, making a loud snarling noise as it landed.

...Vampires?

Claire shook her head. For fuck's sake, she'd been through worse. Granted, worse didn't necessarily mean a more realistic predator, like wolves or mountain lions, would be any easier to fight off. Especially if she couldn't see anything. She had to stay rational and alert.

The fog wasn't clearing up, but the sky was getting brighter, thank God. So it must be early in the morning... had she been out that long? Where was the rest of the team that they hadn't gone looking for her in all this time then?

It couldn't be far, wherever they were. Maybe if she kept going, she'd run into them, or at least some sort of friendly face... Granted, anyone living out here might not be very friendly. If someone lives alone out in the mountains by choice, it's usually not for a good reason. Her brother knew that firsthand.

She bumped her head on what she thought was a branch, but the thing swayed back and forth. Lifting her flashlight, she saw a crow. She shuddered and backed away. Someone had taken a crow and strung it upside down.

In fact... There was a second one. Then a third. Then a fourth. It didn't stop.

"What is this? Some kind of cult?" Great. A cult to contend with. Suddenly, the vampire didn't sound that challenging. Maybe it was some sort of old pagan ritual that was meant to ward off bad spirits? Or was it a warning to outsiders? She hoped it was the former. After all, if they let her pass, then she couldn't be a bad spirit!

Taking care not to run into more, she came across a rotted, wooden fence. A few feet behind it was a shack. Even if no one was home, at least she had some shelter. Claire approached and pushed gently on the front door to find it opened with ease. "Hello?" She said in a hushed voice. "Is anyone here?" She took a chance and shined her flashlight in. No answer. "I'm not dangerous, I promise. Just... lost." She began to wonder what the chances of anyone this isolated out here spoke English. One had to be in the touristy spots for that.

When she got no response once again, she stepped inside. Finally, some warmth. Her hands felt tingly as she started to feel her blood circulating again. It dawned on her that this could be the home of the person who set up those crows. Oh God, what if she searched the place and found more dead animals, or worse? They could be hiding somewhere, waiting to strike and make her a sacrifice or something. Claire reached into her coat pocket and placed her hand on her pistol before continuing on. Opening every cupboard and door, Claire would point her gun ahead of her in case she needed to fire, but so far, all she found was a normal, if abandoned, shack.

There were even some clothes hanging in the closet that looked freshly washed and dried. Maybe they're out... really early? There was a basement. If there was anything horror movies taught Claire, it's that terrible things always happen in basements. Taking her sweet time with each step, she made it downstairs and began to canvas the room.

Besides some taxidermy models of a fox and a raccoon, nothing out of the ordinary. It looked like it was a place for storing firewood and doing other woodwork. So... where the Hell was the owner?

A loud ruckus upstairs made Claire almost drop her flashlight and she instinctively turned towards the stairs and aimed her gun. She waited... waited... waited... nothing else happened and she loosened her grip. She didn't hear anyone speaking, and whatever had made that noise was too large to be just a person. Retracing her steps, Claire saw that almost everything had been toppled—like something had made a mess passing through the house. And pass through it did; there was now a large hole in the wall.

She could either wait for it to come back or get the Hell out of there. Claire chose the latter. When she made it outside, she saw the line in the snow of something being dragged into the brush. Of course, it was leading to where she was about to go. Claire swallowed and continued with more resolve. The sky was getting brighter and the air clearer.

A noise rang through the air that caught her off guard, but it was a welcome one. It was a church bell.

A church meant people! Friendly people who would want to help, she hoped. Picking up the pace, she pushed past more of the bald tree branches and saw something coming into her line of view. Once she reached the clearing, she found she was at the top of the hill and looking upon a desolate, ancient village... only looming over it was a stupendous Baroque-era castle. It looked like the Peleș Castle Claire had only seen in photos.

It couldn't be that, though.

Was this the village they'd been talking about? Satul Umbrelor? Or was it just another one of those isolated settlements? That castle suggested otherwise.

As the final toll of the bell echoed through the mountain valley, Claire told herself she didn't have time to marvel at the sight and had to work her way down the hill. Intriguingly, a path had been made. It made sense—they would need to trade with somebody for resources. As she trekked on, she saw smoke rising in the distance, but not from fire... It was hard to see, but there was some sort of factory— "Oh no." She moaned aloud. "Don't tell me that's the factory from the video." If she found out that was the very place that brought them all here, she was burning it down by the end of the day. Full Story:

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Prologue

When you hear the word 'Romania,' what comes to mind? Several things, right? It's amazing how one simple word evokes so many different ideas. But what comes to mind first? Some of us think of Vlad the Impaler, who defended the country's borders from invaders. Or, perhaps, some are reminded of the communist era, as the architecture of such is still visible today in the nation's capital, Bucharest. Of course, as I'm inclined to believe, most of us probably think of the Count himself, Dracula. After all, our most popular tourist attraction is in fact, the famous Bran Castle. When you walk the streets of the old fortified Saxon villages, it's hard not to imagine what this now-bustling country was once like, as so much of our history has been preserved for visitors and citizens alike to enjoy and learn from.

Many villagers are open to visitors, where they can stay in Air B&B rentals, enjoy authentic Romanian cuisine, and participate in traditional folk activities. Yes, we Romanians are proud people and love to share our culture with all of you.

But what if I told you that there are still some parts of the country that haven't been touched, at least, not for decades? Deep in the heart of the Carpathians, there are several scattered settlements of villages built by devout groups of Orthodox who shunned modern living. They ask to be left alone, and since the properties are considered historic by the government, they cannot be removed from the isolated places they have long-called home.

Some hikers and tourists have gotten lost on their journeys and stumbled upon these settlements, but the locals will not allow them to take any photographs and will usually send them on their way. Others, however, have run into some of the more dangerous folk who really don't appreciate strangers trying to interfere with their lifestyle.

While this has never been a major issue overall, a new phenomenon threatens the long-standing peace we've had with these villagers: "urban explorers." This new term refers to people who record themselves visiting abandoned or unauthorized properties to later post their findings on the internet. Typically, these are limited to abandoned or condemned buildings mostly in cities and neighborhoods; certainly not historical villages out in the mountains. Many, of course, whether for internet fame or simple curiosity, have found themselves in trouble with both village locals and the government who have given repeated warnings not to go into these areas.

What brought attention to this issue was one viral video that led to an entire investigation into our most isolated, most mysterious settlement: Satul Umbrelor.

Chapter 1: It Was a Mistake to Come Here

Claire Kennedy watched in boredom as the television screen switched from the show's host to the alleged 'viral clip.' It was filmed on some shoddy GoPro, so the footage was shaky and dark. A couple of locals living in the nearby city decided to investigate the supposed 'abandoned' mining factory near the village. Most brushed it off as a staged encounter, and with how much technology and special effects were advancing, it was easy to fake inanimate objects moving around on camera or shadows appearing, all the horror movie tropes.

If Claire hadn't already experienced her hometown being ravaged by a virus that turned people into the walking dead—and other strange ordeals—she'd be more of a skeptic. But this clip was still enough to get the attention of the BSAA, who admitted this wasn't their first time hearing about things like this from this village. With the explosion of social media and more public attention on this place, it was better to be safe than sorry. So, her brother, Chris, and the rest of his team were to be stationed out in Romania while investigations went underway... covertly, of course. They couldn't risk more casualties.

Truthfully, the only reason Claire was even watching the program was because it was the only thing she could find in English. She'd taken some Spanish in high school, but that was about fifteen years ago and Romanian was an entirely different beast. The name of the village did make her ears perk up a bit, if ironically. "Satul Umbrelor?" She snorted. Maybe it's fate. Claire didn't care to see the rest of the program and she switched the television off. She just wanted to curl up with some wine until she fell asleep.

Claire didn't really want to be in Romania—she'd given up active fighting a long time ago after Terra Save's fall from grace. It was mostly at Chris's insistence, as well as her sister-in-law's, and especially her husband's.

Leon was desperate to get her away from home for a while. He didn't care where it was. He said it could be a cabin in the middle of Colorado for all he cared, but the two of them needed some quality time together.

The last six months of their marriage had been miserable; the two were constantly on edge, with Claire being snappy and irritable and Leon distant and hard to read. Everything had been paradise up until that point, the only solace they had in a world full of death... and now all Claire wanted to do was indulge in her misery. This trip wasn't doing anything at all—in fact, it ended up being counterproductive, as Chris wound up recruiting Leon for some extra artillery. Leon was hesitant to even accept, but he knew he and Claire were getting nowhere. Maybe a break from each other would help them both; absence makes the heart fonder, or something like that.

What didn't help was the big blow up the two had the morning he left to go with Chris's team. It still weighed heavy on Claire's mind. It had been about two days now, and the tension was still lingering in the small rental home Chris found for them. Admittedly, the two put effort into making the place feel like a home since they'd be out there for who knows how many weeks. The closets were filled with their clothes, the kitchen already had dirty dishes in it, and Claire's makeup was littered all over the bathroom counter. Their first day, Leon and Claire made an attempt to enjoy the scenery despite the circumstances of their visit.

The Carpathians were magnificent—they put the Arklay Mountains to shame. Despite being known for its castles, Claire and Leon hadn't visited one yet—instead, they toured the small town they were staying in; the residents offered them local wine and gave them a recipe for chicken paprikash, which they tried to make at home that very evening. It was actually an incredibly pleasant first day, which made the fact that it turned sour so quickly that much more troubling.

Claire would probably have to ask for another bottle of wine soon; she was never much of a drinker, but something about this particular brand was addicting. Either that, or she was that depressed. Not even a quasi second honeymoon could change it.

With nothing else to do, she walked into the bedroom and opened up her laptop. She'd been trying to keep a journal, but honestly, writing down her thoughts did nothing for her. If she didn't have to go over her entries with a therapist, she wouldn't bother at all.

What would she even write today? Dear Diary, another boring fucking day of drinking alcohol and probably crying myself to sleep again. What little sleep I get anyway. My husband and I come here to 'reconnect,' and then he leaves me here anyway. I shouldn't have listened to Chris. It was a mistake to come here.

No, none of that. Instead, Claire opened up her browser and decided to google this mysterious village. What popped up was a series of articles discussing the video in question, conspiracy theory threads, and some links to books on the area's history. She clicked the first interesting link that she saw; it read like something out of a storybook. It talked of four giant statues that mark an ancient civilization unknown to history. Can't be that unknown if you're on the internet talking about it. Claire thought, taking another swig. The founders were almost mythical; Four Lords by the names of Nichola, Berengario, Guglielmo, and Cesare. No archeological evidence that they existed has been found yet, but they have been mentioned in some fifteenth century books referenced in the article she was reading. They existed before Orthodoxy became the prominent religion of the area, and so the lords sought refuge for their Pagan beliefs.

It was implied that the village wound up finding religion anyway, with Orthodox iconography being prevalent in the area surrounding it, leading the public to believe the inhabitants converted and have lived in isolation by choice despite the widespread acceptance of Christianity by then. Apparently, according to theories by various scholars, the lords lost their influence overtime, with most descendants dying out or disappearing by the seventeenth century.

Claire sighed, agitated, "We're just wasting our time here, aren't we?" She wanted to close out, but she kept reading; she'd committed this far, after all.

Overtime, something known as the Black God laid waste to the region, according to personal records of alleged descendants of the village residents. What this Black God refers to is unknown. Many speculate they are referring to either Black Death, or the Spanish flu of the early twentieth century.

Claire shuddered. She didn't know if it was the wine or not, but when she read 'Black God,' her stomach felt queasy. Time to put down the glass and go to sleep... At least she thought. She heard the front door of the house open slowly and shut quietly. Chris secretly made a copy of the key in case he needed to reach her in an emergency... but he'd let her know he was coming by first.

Claire wasn't usually easy to scare, but she froze. "Hello?"

No response. Of all the nights to be drinking. She looked across the room where her coat was hanging on the bedroom door. She'd left her handgun in there. Okay, relax. The only other person besides her and Chris to have a key to the house was— "Leon."

"There you are." He said.

Claire sighed with relief. "I didn't think you'd be home tonight."

"Why wouldn't I be?" He answered. He acted as if he hadn't been gone for two days.

"You kind of freaked me out. Opening the door all spooky like that."

Leon started to remove his coat, revealing another long-sleeve shirt underneath; it must be at least negative fifteen out there. "Sorry." He seemed curt, but not out of rudeness. Almost like he didn't know what to say. Even after forty-eight plus hours, the fight they had must be lingering. Claire began feeling bad, it's not like she'd been the best conversationalist since they'd arrived either.

"I was about to go to bed, but... maybe you'd want to stay up for a bit? Spend some time together?"

"What'd you have in mind?"

Claire couldn't shake the feeling something was off, but she was certain it was nerves... but why would her own husband make her nervous? "You know what? I guess it's pretty late, so–"

"No, no, you're right. I've been gone a while, maybe some coffee? I know it's late, but..."

"We've got decaf." Claire grinned.

"Great." They both stood awkwardly for a moment; it seemed Leon was waiting for her to walk ahead of him. She left for the kitchen and he followed. Claire switched on the Keurig and it began to heat up the water. He grinned at her, soft, but tense. Claire did the same.

"I guess... You're still upset with me, huh?"

Leon winced, "Upset?"

"Yeah. You know... after the things I said."

"Oh." It seemed like he'd already forgotten. "You know what, it's not a big deal."

Claire was taken aback. "Not a big deal? You stormed out and didn't even say bye to me after everything. Now you're acting like nothing happened—"

He cut her off, "Maybe we should save this for the morning." He walked over to the table, noticing the wine bottle. "You saved some for me, right?"

Claire paused. Her confusion and anger was now replaced with that same queasy feeling from just a few moments ago.

Leon looked puzzled at her lack of an answer, "Guess I'll have to see for myself." He pulled the cork off and took a swig. "This has been around for ages, you know."

"Leon?"

He looked at her.

"Since when do you drink wine?"

He said nothing. He stared like a frozen deer.

Claire's heart was caught in her throat. She went to speak again—glass shattered next to her head and her yelp of surprise broke the silence. She looked around wildly to see what had just happened, only to see that the coffee mugs next to her had seemingly exploded. "What the fuck?" She looked back at Leon, who was looking down at his shoulder.

Something had just barely skimmed it and red was washing down his arm. He reacted to it as if it were nothing more than a mosquito bite—an annoyance.

"Oh my God, Leon—"

Another loud bang and the lights went out. Even that startled Leon. Then Claire couldn't hear anything more than the sound of glass shattering, deafening bullets flying over her head, and someone's body hit the floor.

Claire couldn't see—as her eyes were adjusting to the darkness. Everything in that beautiful home was destroyed. Her ears were ringing. She'd fallen to the floor in an attempt to duck from the attack, her breathing was rapid and shaky. She could see something in front of her feebly moving in apparent agony.

Like a feral animal, Claire crawled over to see her husband littered with blood and bullet wounds. "Leon? Leon!" Every time she touched him, more of his blood stained her hands. A shriek of horror was trapped in her throat. In that moment, the door burst open and the familiar uniforms of the Hound Wolf Squad besieged her.

"Get away!" Cried Canine, the team's dog handler. He grabbed Claire and roughly threw her aside; he and the other members had their rifles aimed at Leon. Her husband. Their companion.

"What are you doing?" Claire bolted to her feet and tried to fight past him, but she was held back by their sniper, Lobo. "Answer me now! Where's my brother?" Hot, raging tears were pouring from her eyes.

"Claire!" With a forceful tug of her shoulder, her question was answered. Chris, with a rather foreboding look, held her arm tightly to keep her from interfering.

"Are you insane?" Claire shrieked as she fought him. She punched his arm in an attempt to get free; he barely felt it. He pulled out his phone from his pocket with his free hand. "How can you do this? You killed your own family! I can't believe you could do something like..."

On the screen, in large text, the message read: That's not Leon. Keep quiet.

Claire's head spun. She was struck dumb, and the shock of it all wasn't making the message easier to digest. "W-wha–?"

"–Get your coat, we need to go." He instructed. It was their long-standing trust that made her obey. In an almost robotic manner, Claire returned to the darkened bedroom and felt around for the coat with the handgun, as well as her scarf and gloves. When she returned, Chris was already at the door waiting. In a daze, she followed, but then she heard a gurgling moan from the floor. Her head immediately turned to "Leon" on the floor, who was coming to.

Even with this information, inexplicable as it was, she still had the image of her husband bleeding helplessly on the floor with her forever now. "Leon" looked at her, trying to say something. Claire couldn't help it; she stopped. He reached his hand out to her, and Canine opened fire again, silencing him for good.

Claire cried out in horror again. Chris had to grab her and escort her out himself. Out of the little rental home in the middle of nowhere in a foreign country.

It was a mistake to come here.

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