Chapter 15: Mansion

The prisoner truck crept along a rugged path flanked by dense woods. They'd left the arid outskirts of Raccoon Town behind, venturing into an altogether chillier territory. The sun hung low in the afternoon sky, casting a radiant glow while the forest's leaves rustled with grace. Ahead loomed a mansion, a towering structure with two stories, but those in the know understood it held more than met the eye.

Claire, sitting beside Ethan, couldn't help but whistle at the sight. "That's quite the mansion..."

The truck rolled through the property's gate. Ethan noticed the sheriff's son, whose name he didn't know yet, peering out the windows, his curiosity piqued by the forest's depths.

Less than a minute later, they arrived at the mansion's front yard. Parking directly before the imposing entrance, Barry, the driver, rapped on the divider between the driver's seat and the prisoner compartment, signaling them to get out.

And get out they did. One by one, they exited the rear of the truck. Jill was the first to open the back door, and soon, the entire group spilled out onto the front yard. Claire strode up to the front of the truck to assist Chris, while Barry unloaded supplies with Ethan's help, accompanied by the sheriff and the deputy.

"Listen," Barry suddenly addressed the two cops. "I know you don't plan on making this place your permanent home, but blending back into society without attracting the attention of our earlier attackers won't be easy."

"I know," the sheriff sighed, dropping a box near the entrance before taking a seat. "What's our move?"

"I might be able to help with that. We'll need to forge new identities for you," Barry said, crossing his arms. "But it'll take time. We'll have to go outside and create those new documents. Even then, it's not foolproof. Your best bet is to relocate to a nearby town where we can still help if you're tracked down."

"But then you'll be at risk too," Deputy Jim argued.

Barry shrugged. "Then we'll move again."

"What's the closest town?" the sheriff inquired.

"I think it's Freeford," Barry replied. "A couple of miles from here, if memory is correct."

Ethan let out a deep sigh as he deposited the last box from the truck. He gazed at the mansion, its appearance evoking thoughts of a haunted dwelling.

"Hey, Hunter!" someone called his name—it was Chris, seated on the stairs leading to the front door beside Claire. Ethan approached him, raising an eyebrow.

"What do you need?" Ethan asked.

"We need to clear the house first," Chris declared. "There could be corpses, maybe even some living monsters. Can you handle it?"

Ethan pondered for a moment, then turned to Claire. "Miss, can you manage?"

Claire was taken aback. "Me?"

"Her?" Chris frowned. "I'm asking you, Hunter, not her."

"She hasn't consumed anything. If she loses a hand, it's not growing back," Ethan pointed out.

"In other words, she's like a regular human being," Chris stated the obvious.

"It's better to be cautious," Ethan argued. "Do you want your sister safe and sound? It's better to use her new... abilities."

"Dammit," Chris muttered, clicking his tongue. "Alright, Claire, can you do it? No one's forcing you."

"I... Fine," Claire mumbled, standing up. "I have this tingling feeling in the back of my head to consume something anyway..."

Chris sighed. "Go for it."

"Okay," Claire cleared her throat, turning to Ethan. "Lead the way."

Ethan hummed, a faint smile on his lips, as he walked past Chris and toward the door, Claire following closely. He pushed the door, and it swung open; it was unlocked. As they entered, they were met with opulent decor that could rival a royal palace.

Claire responded with an almost casual demeanor. "You know, I think this is a reward," she remarked.

"A reward?" Ethan raised an eyebrow, puzzled.

"I mean, after what happened last night, we get to stay in a place like this? If there's a God, he's nice," she mused.

Ethan chuckled. "Haven't you heard your brother? This mansion is infested with monsters."

Claire smirked, crossing her arms. "Yeah, but we're about to clean the house, right?"

Ethan shook his head in amusement, closing the door behind them. "Alright, let's focus."

Claire wiped the smile off her face and surveyed the grand main hall. "What do I do?"

"Smell the air, feel your surroundings, focus on your senses," Ethan instructed. "Check for any heartbeats; if there aren't any, sense for biomass."

Claire closed her eyes, following Ethan's guidance. She sensed no heartbeat within the mansion except her own and Ethan's, but she detected an abundance of biomass scattered on the floor.

"I can sense it—the biomass," she murmured.

"Good," Ethan nodded. "Now, let your instincts guide you. I'll take the second floor; you handle the first. Don't go beyond that. We'll tackle the rest later."

"O-okay..."

With that, Claire was left alone, and Ethan ascended the staircase to the upper levels. The young woman swallowed hard, her inner voice growing louder.

It urged her to Consume. To devour.

It was eerie, but Claire didn't seem to mind. With her senses as her guide, she began to move, small tendrils extending from her fingers. It wasn't long before she reached the first lifeless body—a creature that had once been a dog, now grotesquely deformed with tumors, its life ended by bullets.

Claire watched as her tendrils slithered out to envelop the corpse, slowly consuming its biomass. A wave of ecstasy rushed over her, a sensation that startled her. She felt healthier, stronger, and more alert.

She smiled, perhaps a bit too widely, and as the biomass of the dog was fully consumed, she quickly moved on to the next, any doubts now vanished from her face.

—

Meanwhile, Ethan found himself on the second floor, his tendrils silently weaving through the surroundings. He'd executed this maneuver a few times before, and he possessed far greater prowess than Jill or Claire. His command over his biomass was superior, allowing him to remain stationary, perched at the top of the stairs, commencing his operation.

As the second floor was secured and pristine, Ethan couldn't escape the waves of nostalgia sweeping over him. Dr. Spencer's memories had become entwined with his own, rendering this place strangely familiar. After all, this mansion had once belonged to Spencer, a man whose legacy weighed on Ethan's head. A disquieting sensation settled in his mind, accompanied by echoes of screams, cries, and even unsettling moans. These auditory imprints seemed to blend with reality, emanating from below, where the Lab resided.

Ethan's brow furrowed deeply. This sensation was disturbingly captivating, a twisted sort of ecstasy. The sounds brought him an eerie form of satisfaction. It wasn't his own emotion; it belonged to Spencer, a reminder of the experiments conducted on innocent children for Project W. Ethan recoiled, feeling disgusted that this wasn't about some grand 'cause' after all, but rather the selfish desires of an old man residing alone in this mansion.

Turning his gaze to a portrait of the mansion's former owner, Spencer's stern countenance stared back at him. In response, Ethan spat at the painting before resuming his exploration of the second-floor rooms, seeking to assess their utility.