The Alaskan wind howls as I step from the wreckage of my plane, the cold biting through my gear. Six months since Wesker shot me down, since he stole my power. I came here chasing a signal—Arcadia, a haven. But all I find are empty planes and a woman with wild eyes lunging at me with a knife.\n\nClaire. I recognize her now—after I destroy the spider-like device on her chest, she collapses, memory gone. Together, we track the signal to Los Angeles, to a prison surrounded by a sea of undead.\n\nLuther West meets us on the roof, gun raised. 'You’re not the first to come looking for salvation,' he says. 'But you might be the last.'\n\nInside, the walls tremble. Something’s digging from below. Wendell, a peeping tom with a death wish, tries to spy on me in the showers—until the infected break through.\n\nThey take him. Scream. Silence.\n\nWe’re running out of time. Chris Redfield claims he knows a way out. The Axeman is at the gate. And Arcadia… it’s not moving.\n\nI look at the flare in my hand. One shot. One choice. Do I signal for help—or set a trap?