Okafor roared, the sound a hideous fusion of human agony and monstrous rage. His massive frame surged upward, towering over Jack. Black veins crawled across bulging muscles, skin stretched tight and torn in places, oozing dark ichor. His claws slashed down, carving a trench through the concrete floor where Jack had been standing a heartbeat earlier.
Jack dove aside, Beretta snapping up.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Rounds tore into Okafor's chest and skull, spraying dark blood—but the hulking Marine barely staggered. With terrifying speed, Okafor swung an arm wide. The impact caught Jack across the chest, sending him sprawling. His pistol skidded across the floor, clattering into the shadows.
The VSS flickered into Jack's vision:
[VIRAL SURVIVAL SYSTEM]
[Enhanced Recovery (Tier 1): Active]
Minor wounds stabilizing.
"Not fast enough," Jack hissed, dragging air into burning lungs.
He scrambled toward a fallen hunting knife glinting near the wreckage. Okafor's shadow loomed over him, claws ready to split him in two. Jack rolled, snatched the blade, and drove it into Okafor's ribcage. The edge sank deep with a wet crunch.
Okafor didn't even flinch. His huge hand clamped around Jack's shoulder and hurled him like a ragdoll. Jack slammed into a steel rack, pain exploding down his spine. Sparks rained as guns and magazines clattered to the floor.
Jack staggered upright, knife still in hand. His grip trembled. His mind screamed at him to run, but his heart clenched at the broken words spilling from his brother-in-arms:
"...Please… kill me…"
"Goddamn it, Henry…" Jack whispered, raising the blade again.
Okafor lunged. Jack rolled, claws gouging deep furrows into the floor. His fingers brushed a flashbang grenade among the scattered gear. He yanked the pin and hurled it forward.
FLASH!
Blinding white light filled the chamber. Okafor shrieked, clutching his face, stumbling backward.
Jack's heart pounded. His body screamed at him to collapse. But something else surged inside him. The VSS blared:
[VIRAL SURVIVAL SYSTEM]
Warning: Extreme stress detected.
Forced Mutation Triggered.
New Branch Unlocked – Viral Path
Adaptation Acquired: Viral Instincts (Bullet Time) – Active Skill
Effect: Temporarily slows perception of time.
Cost: +0.10% viral infection per second.
Risk: Prolonged use may result in loss of control.
Jack gasped—and the world warped.
Time stretched thin. The overhead strobes slowed into a steady pulse. Okafor's guttural roar became a drawn-out, haunting echo. Every detail sharpened—the twitch in Okafor's ruined muscles, the exact arc of his claws, the shift of his weight before the strike.
A shard of glass on the floor caught Jack's reflection.
His familiar blue eyes had bled crimson, glowing like a predator's gaze. Black veins webbed from the sockets, jagged and unnatural. His face looked alien. Monstrous. Like the very thing he was fighting.
Jack gritted his teeth, terror mixing with exhilaration.
"Goddamn it… what the hell have you done to me, Weiss?"
He lunged toward a discarded SMG, sliding across the floor. His hand closed around it as Okafor charged. Jack rolled onto one knee, sights snapping up with unnatural precision.
BRRRRRRRRT!
The submachine gun roared, spraying lead in a relentless stream. Bullets shredded Okafor's chest and shoulders, black ichor painting the walls. The hulking Marine staggered, chunks of flesh tearing away—but he still advanced.
Red alerts pulsed in the corner of Jack's vision.
[Viral Infection: +0.3%… +0.4%...]
Jack snarled and held down the trigger, refusing to let go. He kept firing until the magazine clicked empty.
Okafor swayed, ichor gushing from gaping wounds. His monstrous form sagged to one knee, breath rattling like a dying engine.
For the first time since the fight began, his voice softened. Broken. Familiar.
"...Tha…n…k… you…"
His pale eyes flickered clear for just an instant.
"...For… ending… it…"
Okafor collapsed, the floor trembling under his massive body. He didn't rise again.
Jack stood frozen, chest heaving, the SMG hanging limp in his hands. His reflection flickered again in the glass shards—red eyes glowing, black veins spidering across his face—before they slowly receded back to normal.
He clenched his fists, jaw tight, and whispered a prayer.
"Rest in peace, Henry Okafor… may you enter the heavenly gates."
The armory was silent now, save for Jack's ragged breathing. Weapons and ammunition lay scattered across the floor—tools for survival.
But all he could see was Okafor's broken body.
Another brother. Another ghost. Another weight to carry.
Observation Chamber – Sublevel A
A bank of monitors flickered, displaying feeds from cameras embedded across Sublevel C. One screen showed Jack kneeling in the wreckage of the armory, Okafor's hulking corpse sprawled across the floor.
Dr. Gregor Weiss leaned forward in his chair, fingers steepled, eyes narrowing behind his wire-rimmed glasses. The faint glow of the screens reflected in his lenses.
"Fascinating…"
He rewound the footage, isolating the moment when Jack's irises flared red, when black veins spiderwebbed across his face. He zoomed in, frame by frame.
"Subject #199 demonstrates controlled viral activation under extreme duress," Weiss dictated into his recorder, voice cold and precise. "Unlike previous test subjects, he maintains cognitive stability during heightened viral states. Infection spread is localized and recedes post-activation."
He tapped a key, pulling up Okafor's medical file, then glanced back at the slowed footage of Jack's attacks—unnatural precision, heightened reflexes, efficient strikes.
"Bullet-time perception. Accelerated motor coordination. No neural collapse. Remarkable." Weiss's lips curved faintly, but it wasn't admiration—it was possession.
Still, his eyes hardened. "Control is tenuous. Risk of full viral dominance remains high."
His cane tapped sharply against the floor. "Harnessed properly, Subject #199 could become the prototype for Aegis refinement. But if left unchecked…" Weiss's voice dropped into a cruel whisper. "…he'll be disposed of like the rest."
A warning light blinked across the console. Another monitor came alive, showing grainy footage from Sublevel D – Cryogenics Vault. The red glow of emergency strobes painted the corridor in pulses.
A lone figure moved with poise, her silhouette unmistakable.
A red dress.
Weiss's brows furrowed. He leaned closer. "…Well, well." His finger tapped the glass of the monitor. "That isn't one of mine."
The system overlay identified her briefly: Unregistered intruder detected.
Weiss's smile sharpened. "Not only does Subject #199 reveal new potential… but a thief prowls my vault."
He rose, cane clicking as he stood, eyes flicking between the monitors—Jack staggering deeper into Sublevel C, and Ada Wong striding with practiced grace toward Sublevel D.
One of the guards stepped forward. "Should we go after Subject #199, sir?"
Dr. Weiss studied the monitor before answering, his tone clipped. "Let him be. He's demonstrated better survival instincts than any of you. But the thief—she is to be captured alive. I want answers."
He turned toward a figure standing in the shadows. A Marine uniform, worn but well-kept. A lean frame. Dark hair cut high and tight—the standard military crop.
Corporal Deniel Ross.
Weiss's smile widened. "Tell me, Corporal Ross… how does it feel, betraying your team in the name of evolution?"
Ross's jaw tightened. His eyes, sharp and intense, glinted with conviction rather than shame. "It doesn't matter what I feel. The world needs to evolve—not waste itself on petty wars, squabbling over resources, or clinging to outdated notions of loyalty. Humanity is weak. All I want…" His voice steadied, cold and resolute. "…is to see the world reformed. Made new."