***3rd POV***

There was one more thing Wesker needed to do before he could leave. He needed to take of Dr. Rodriquez. Wesker already knew that she was well aware of his presence and that she's still here. Inside the hospital. He spotted her following him down the hallway earlier, but he didn't want to give it away. Not yet at least.

Wesker turned left down the pristine, dimly lit, hallway. Proceeding to track down Dr. Rodriquez's by following her scent. Relying on his inhuman sense of smell and hearing to pinpoint her location within the facility.

"It didn't take me long to realize how much in danger all of us were in. Including Laura and rest of the patients on the floor. So I knew right away that I needed to get help. And fast."

While he was closing in on her, Isabelle was darting down the hallway. Heading straight for the security office, located in the east wing of the fifth floor. While the doctor running for her life, she dug her cellphone out of her pocket. Isabelle began dialing 911, but the call didn't go through for some reason. She glanced down at the screen—noticing that there's no cell service in the area at all.

Isabelle cursed under her breath at the inconvenience, and shoved her phone back inside her pocket. "¡Mierda!"

"When I found out that there was cell service in the area, I did the next best thing."

The moment she reached the office, Isabelle opened the door and silently closed it behind her. Locking it in the process. Turning around, Isabelle spotted Mike. One of the security guards—snoring and sleeping peacefully on a top of the keyboard on the desk. With drool trickling down his chin from the side of his mouth.

His body was slumped against the table, while sitting comfortably on the chair. Next to him on the floor, laid his shattered Patriots mug. With coffee spilled all over the navy blue carpet. Leaving numerous dark and queer alcoholic scented stains on the floor beneath him. Right next to the keyboard on the desk, was a small bottle of Jim Beam's. More than half of it was empty. Isabelle rushed over to the large man—shaking his shoulder in an attempt to wake him up.

"Mike. Mike! Wake up!" She quietly yelled at him. "¡Despierta tu estúpido!"

No matter how hard she tried, the drunk security guard was out like a light. It was gonna be a long awhile before the guard would wake up. 'Seriously Mike!? Couldn't you have chosen a better time than now to drink on the job!'

Her thoughts were cut short when she heard the sounds of large deliberate footsteps. Treading and echoing out in the hallway. Becoming more and more audible the by second, with each step he took. '¡Mierda! He's coming. I have to hide quickly before he finds me!' Isabelle thought to herself, as she glanced down at Mike's utility belt. Eyeing the firearm in his holster in particular.

Quickly, she quietly grabbed the metallic weapon out of the holster. Being very carefully to not pull the trigger and easily give away her location. The young doctor had no idea how to properly use one. Let alone how to fire it. Just the feeling of the gun in her hands sent a shiver down her spine. But how else was she going to defend herself?

Then, Isabelle silently walked across the room over towards the built-in closet. Cautiously sliding the door open, and closing it quietly behind her. Once inside, she's surrounded by nothing but darkness, as she backed herself up against the wall. Her grip around the handle of the gun tightened, as heart began beating faster and pounding loudly against her chest.

Isabelle's breath hitched in her throat when she heard the sound of the doorknob being rattled for a few moments. As she listened in quietly and carefully, a loud click resonated throughout the office—sending a chill down her spine as the door to the office opened then closed. The floorboards creaking with each step the man took, as he walked around the office. Isabelle held her breath—covering her mouth using her other hand. Doing what ever it took to remain silent and hidden within the closet.

"You have no idea how scared I was. It practically felt like I was stuck in a horror movie."

The moment Isabelle heard him walk closer toward the closet, she immediately froze in place. Her body began to slightly quiver in fear—trembling involuntarily when the room fell completely silent. Nothing but the sound of her own heartbeat could be heard throughout the entire room.

Then she heard the door to the office being opened and closed once again. Causing the hispanic woman to sigh out in relief. 'He's gone. For now...'

After waiting a couple of minutes to make sure that the room's all clear, Isabelle slowly opened the closet door. With the handgun held high, she glanced all over the room for the mysterious blonde. He was no where in sight.

The instant Isabelle shut the closet door behind her, she rushed over towards the desk. Heedlessly placing the weapon down the desktop beside the monitor, and began checking the surveillance cameras that were monitoring the whole fifth floor. Searching for any signs of the tall intruder.

Suddenly, the computer started to malfunction. The screen went all sticky for a few seconds. It instantly turned bright blue, before shutting itself off automatically. Isabelle tried turning it back on, but it didn't work. She did everything she could think of to get the computer to get work again, but nothing worked. Seconds later, Isabelle heard the sound of a gun being cocked behind her. She instantly froze.

"Turn around." It wasn't a request, it was a command.

Steadily, Isabelle held her hands up and turned around from the computer. Her eyes widened, as she came face to face with the perpetrator himself. Wesker's usual bleak expression held no emotion, easily masked by his one of a kind sunglasses. He aimed the gun that the doctor recently set down on the desk right at her. A rash decision on her part. Isabelle closed her eyes—waiting for the blonde to pull the trigger and end her.

When I was held at gunpoint, I was so sure that it would be the end of me.

At that moment, Isabelle was certain that she wasn't gonna live to see tomorrow. That he was gonna pull the trigger, and end this little game of cat and mouse between them. Yet, he didn't. Not yet at least. Which confused Isabelle. Wesker just had the handgun trained on her, with his gloved finger hovering over the trigger. She slowly opened her eyes—staring at the gentleman in front of her.

"Well, aren't you going to kill me?" She questioned the man, her heavy Spanish evident in her tone.

"I could end you right now, by measly putting a bullet in your skull. And make it appear like you committed suicide. But that would be too easy though." The blonde adjusted his sunglasses for a moment. "As improbable as it sounds Ms. Rodriquez, you're more useful to me alive than dead and rotting in the ground."

I was shocked to hear those words. I didn't have a clue at that moment why he needed me alive. That entire situation felt so surreal to me.

Isabelle raised an eyebrow at this—being confused by his statement. "What do you mean?"

"If you want to know Ms. Rodriquez, then I suggest that we have this conversation some place more private." Wesker walked over to the door. Turning the doorknob and opening it with one hand, while using the other to aim the gun at Isabelle.

Getting the hint, the short Hispanic woman began walking towards the door. Heading out of the security office, as Wesker kept the gun trained on her—closing the door behind him.

***

Once the two of them reach her office, Isabelle opened the door for them. They treaded inside room, as Isabelle spotted his briefcase sitting on top of her desk. 'Did he plan all of this right very the start?' She thought to herself, as she sat down in her brown leather chair, positioned next to her oak desk. Wesker shut the door behind them. Locking it as well, then sat himself down at the opposite end of her. With the handgun held high and aimed right at her. A reminder of who's in control of the situation.

However, there's still one thing that Isabelle couldn't understand though. Why didn't he just kill her to begin with? Isabelle's the only known witness in the building who had become aware of his ghostly presence, but not his true motives. The doctor knew that this whole predicament had something to do with Laura, but everything wasn't adding up. It didn't make any sense, at least for her.

"What is it that you want from me?" Isabelle inquired.

"It's rather simple Ms. Rodriquez," Wesker stored the gun away within his coat pocket and grabbed ahold of his briefcase. Placing it down on top of his lap. He opened it for a brief moment—pulling out a file containing a variety of documents. Isabelle eyed the file with a small amount of interest.

"You are not to tell a living soul about this little incident. Not even Laura. As far as I'm concerned, it never happened at all," Wesker double checked all of the paperwork inside the folder, before handing it to the hispanic woman. The moment she received the file, Isabelle set it down on her desk top. Opening it up and going through all of the paperwork inside. Containing information about Laura's supposed blood donor.

"If your director becomes curious about where the blood came from, simply hand him that file. As long as you do as I say, nothing bad will happen to you. Simple as that." Wesker stood up from his seat and walked over towards the door, with his briefcase in hand.

The moment Wesker unlocked the door, he placed his gloved hand on doorknob. Turning it slowed, as he peered at Isabelle. With an emotionless formidable look on his face. "One more thing Ms. Rodriquez. If do find out that you slip up even in the slightest, I will be back... And I won't have any problem at all not sparing you the next time. So don't make me regret my decision." Wesker opened the door and instantaneously closed it behind him—leaving Isabelle agape and petrified with shock.

I immediately knew that if I didn't comply to his demands, he would find me again and he end me for sure. Without any hesitation or apathy.

***End of Flashback***

Chris's POV

"I didn't know what else to do, so I did what he told to do. I helped cover his tracks, while at the same time making sure that Laura made a full recovery."

"Did he ever tell you his name?" Leon questioned her.

She shook her head. "No, he never did."

'So this entire time, Wesker has been keeping tabs on Laura her whole life. That event just proves it.' I thought to myself. Leon and I exchanged a quick glance with one another.

"Ms. Rodriquez, have you told anyone else about this?" I asked her.

"No, just you guys. And I want to keep that way too," She stated.

"We appreciate you sharing this information with us. I know it's not an easy thing to do under your circumstances. So for the time being, you'll be under the protection of the U.S. government," Leon told her.

"Thank you, that's very kind of you," She thanked Leon. "There's also one more thing about Laura that I need to discuss with you two. It pertains to her current condition."

"What about her condition?" I inquired.

"She needs another blood transfusion, and soon since she lost so much blood. But the problem is that we don't any blood that matches her specific type. And if we don't get her the blood she needs soon, her body is gonna slowly start malfunctioning and eventually shut down—preventing her injuries from healing properly."

"What's Laura's blood type?" I questioned her.

"It's O-. Why do you ask?" 'I know who we need to call.'

"Leon and I know someone who can help. Someone who has the exact same blood type as Laura."

As the doctor was about to say something, her pager started to go off. She dug around her coat pocket—pulling out the beeping small device and turning it off. "Well if they can help, you need to get into contact with them as soon as possible. Now if you excuse, I need to get back to work," Dr. Rodriquez said, as she sat up from her desk and left the room with posthaste.

After Leon and I left the office and walked out into the hallway, I say to him,

"You should be the one to call him tomorrow."

"Are you sure Chris?"

"You and the kid have a better association than he and I do. He'll listen to you," I reasoned, as I remembered my last encounter with the young man. When he had me at gunpoint.

"Alright then, for now I think we should hit the hay," Leon said, as he stretched his arms outwards.

"I agree. Piers and I will take Emile and Tyler back with us to our hotel. Get them a room next to ours. Then all of us will meet back here tomorrow."

"Sounds like a plan," He stated, as we walked back to Laura's room.