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At dawn the next day, the sun slowly rose over the horizon, spilling light across the ruined land.
Raccoon City, leveled by a nuclear strike, was nothing but a wasteland now. No signs of life, just endless silence—like the earth itself had died.
In one corner of the rubble, the ground began to shift and rise.
Boom!
With a sudden explosion, the ground split apart, and Venom leapt out, landing heavily on the surface.
He stretched, working the stiffness from his body.
When the bomb had gone off, the blast swallowed him whole and buried him deep underground for hours. Luckily, his endurance and insane healing factor had kept him alive—shielding him from the force of the blast and even the radiation.
Otherwise, he'd be nothing but ash by now.
Once his muscles loosened up, he got his bearings and charged off in the direction of his target, sprinting on all fours until his figure disappeared into the distance. Nobody knew where he was headed.
The T-virus had consumed all of America in just a few weeks.
A few months later, the entire world was infected.
The virus drained the life out of people, dried up rivers and seas, turned forests into wastelands. Whole continents became barren deserts.
Slowly, the Earth itself began to collapse, inching toward destruction.
The handful of survivors that remained learned to keep moving, avoiding the major cities.
Stay in one place too long, and the zombie hordes would come—more and more, until the flood of them stretched farther than the eye could see.
For survivors, running seemed to be the only way to stay alive.
In the scorching desert, a lone figure staggered closer. Looking carefully, it was none other than Venom.
Since leaving Raccoon City months ago, he had wandered through several once-luxurious cities. Each time he left, the virus erupted in full force behind him.
Now, he had reached the last destination on his list: the tropical desert.
His goal was simple—find the hidden Umbrella facility buried beneath the sand and retrieve the White Queen's mainframe.
He already had the Red Queen's system. No way was he leaving without the White Queen too.
But deserts were brutal for him. The blazing sun and suffocating heat made his body feel sluggish, uncomfortable.
Still, it wasn't enough to stop him—just enough to make every step miserable.
He trudged through the sand until he came across a small town. Or rather, it was more like a rest stop than a real town.
Venom walked up to the convenience store at the center and kicked the door clean off its hinges.
Crash!
The door slammed down with a deafening bang—followed instantly by a guttural zombie roar.
Venom glanced inside and grinned. He hadn't expected that little stunt to flatten a zombie.
The creature was pinned under the fallen door, thrashing as it tried to crawl out. Venom stepped forward and stomped the door down hard, holding it in place.
As the zombie squirmed, Venom's arm morphed into a blade, and he drove it straight into its skull.
The body twitched once, then went still.
Pulling the blade free, Venom's arm shifted back, and he scanned the store.
It was a wreck. Shelves overturned, products scattered across the floor, all of it stained and dried into black smears.
Behind the counter, there was another room.
He strode over and yanked the door open.
A cloud of flies swarmed out, buzzing in every direction.
When they cleared, he saw the shriveled corpse of someone who had hanged themselves long ago.
Venom was about to leave when he noticed a notebook lying near the corpse's feet. He flicked out a strand of webbing from his wrist, snagged it, and pulled it into his hand.
He flipped through the pages while walking away. In just minutes, he'd memorized it all.
The notebook was crammed with maps, radio logs, and infection reports from different regions.
Useful to someone, maybe—but not to him.
After finishing, he set it down on the counter. Let fate decide who picked it up next.
Leaving the store, he searched the entire rest stop for water but found nothing.
He'd hoped to cool himself down, maybe wash off the heat clinging to his body, but that was clearly just wishful thinking.
Still, in the process, he stumbled across a car. Beaten up on the outside, sure—but intact enough to drive.
For Venom, having wheels in this heat was priceless. Running full speed under the desert sun wasn't an option for long.
He climbed into the driver's seat and twisted the key. The engine coughed, sputtered… but never started.
Frowning, he checked it over. Everything looked fine—except the gas tank was bone-dry.
At least there was a gas station here.
He headed over, searched around, and finally found half a barrel of fuel lying next to a corpse.
Venom drove the car down the empty desert highway.
"....."