# Act 3 – The Spencer Mansion Incident - Chapter 1: The Missing Team

The helicopter rotors sliced through the mountain air, their sound echoing off the gothic stone walls of the Spencer Estate. Chris pressed himself against the corridor wall, his heart hammering beneath the purple turtleneck he'd borrowed from Claire's closet. He could hear boots hitting the ground outside, voices calling out orders, the distinctive click of weapons being chambered.

S.T.A.R.S.

He'd read about them in Claire's files. Raccoon City's elite tactical unit, funded in part by Umbrella itself. The irony wasn't lost on him—the very corporation that created this nightmare had helped equip the people sent to investigate it.

Chris took a breath, adjusted the silicone padding beneath his bra, and smoothed down the leather jacket. He'd spent weeks perfecting Claire's walk, her voice, her mannerisms. Now he needed to sell it to trained professionals.

He stepped into the main foyer just as they filed through the massive oak doors.

There were four of them, moving with practiced precision. A tall man with graying hair and a commanding presence—Captain Wesker had mentioned him in the files, Albert Wesker, the team leader. A younger man with a headband and an eager expression. A quiet figure in the back, dark-haired and watchful.

And then there was her.

She moved like she owned the space, even in a crisis. Dark hair pulled back, a beret perched at a jaunty angle. Her blue top hugged her frame, and the way she held her sidearm suggested she knew exactly how to use it. Her eyes swept the room with sharp intelligence, landing on him—on Claire—with immediate suspicion.

"Whoa," the younger man said, raising his pistol. "Civilian. Identify yourself."

Chris raised his hands, careful to keep his movements soft, feminine. "Claire Redfield. I'm an engineer with Umbrella. I got locked in when the security system went haywire."

The woman—Chris caught the name patch on her vest: Valentine, J.—lowered her weapon but kept her hand near the holster. "You're alone?"

"I was. Until I heard your helicopter." Chris let his voice carry Claire's characteristic edge, that blend of intelligence and defiance he'd practiced in the mirror for weeks. "There are things in here. Infected. Animals, maybe. I saw one—it was like a person, but wrong."

"Infected with what?" Captain Wesker stepped forward, his glasses glinting in the dim chandelier light.

Chris met his …