Sublevel D – Outer Corridor
The steel door opened. The air shifted instantly. Gone was the stench of gore and blood, the distant howls of the infected, the pounding of Umbrella's Proto-Tyrant. Here, the silence was so complete it felt wrong—like stepping into a freezer.
Jack lowered his rifle slightly and listened. Nothing. Not even the hum of ventilation above.
He steadied his breathing, muzzle sweeping across the corridor. The place looked untouched by the nightmare above. Sterile white tiles gleamed under bright fluorescent strips. His very presence felt like contamination.
The cold stung his nose. Every sound carried too far—the squeak of his boots, the rattle of his gear, the faint hum of the lights overhead.
Dead Umbrella scientists lined the walls. Their deaths were clean, precise—execution shots to the head. Umbrella wasn't just covering its tracks; it was erasing them.
Jack pried a keycard from one corpse and moved on. Terminals blinked weakly in the gloom, frozen messages looping across their screens:
CRYOGENIC VAULT ACCESS: RESTRICTED. LEVEL-4 CLEARANCE ONLY.
The corridors funneled into a reinforced chamber. At its heart stood a towering steel vault, Umbrella's insignia stamped into the alloy. Security cameras tracked him as he approached, little red eyes unblinking.
He swiped the keycard. Locks disengaged one after another, lights racing along the vault's edges until the massive door split open. A hiss of chilled fog spilled out, washing over him with an icy breath.
Inside, rows of cryogenic cases glowed faint blue. Most were empty. Some shattered. But one remained intact.
Jack approached and lifted the case from its pedestal. Inside, a vial of swirling fluid pulsed faintly in the green glow.
"The last one… Why destroy the rest but leave this?" he muttered, voice low in the frozen silence.
He tapped his radio.
"Ada. I've got the sample."
Her voice came back cool, almost too calm.
"Good. Head to Sublevel A—the helipad. I've arranged transport."
Jack opened his mouth to ask about his team, but the radio hissed back with static. She had already cut the line.
He slung the case over his shoulder and glanced back at the terminal. A new line of text scrolled across the monitor:
SAMPLE-2: STATUS – REMOVED
SAMPLE-3: STATUS – IN TRANSIT (DR. H. WIESS)
Jack cursed under his breath. He wasn't the only one who had made it this far.
All of a sudden, the intercom crackled to life:
"Self-destruct will be engaged in 30 minutes. Please evacuate the facility."
"You gotta be kidding me…" Jack muttered.
He ran, following the signs through the sterile corridors until they opened into a yawning steel shaft. A massive service elevator waited in the center, its grated platform big enough to carry vehicles, suspended by chains that disappeared into the darkness above.
He set the case down carefully, wiped the sweat from his brow, and swiped the keycard. The elevator groaned to life, gears clanking as the platform shuddered and began its slow ascent.
The ride was quiet at first—too quiet. Jack leaned against the railing, rifle ready, every nerve on edge.
Clang.
The elevator lurched. Jack's head snapped up, eyes narrowing into the shadows overhead. Chains rattled. Dust rained down. Something was coming.
The platform shook as a massive figure dropped onto it, knees buckling the steel grating. Jack staggered, rifle snapping up.
His stomach dropped.
The thing stood taller than any man should. Its skin stretched over swollen muscle, patches of viral growth tearing through the flesh. One arm had fused into a grotesque claw, the other hung swollen and twisted.
But the face—part of it still human—was enough for Jack to recognize.
"…Sgt. Ortiz."
The monster's chest heaved, a warped breath rattling through its lungs. Its lips peeled back, mangled words spilling out, almost a roar, almost a plea.
"Jaaaaack…"
The rest was lost in a guttural howl. Ortiz lunged, the clawed arm smashing down where Jack had stood a second before. Steel groaned under the impact.
Jack rolled aside, firing in short bursts. Bullets sparked against mutated flesh, some biting deep, but Ortiz kept coming, each swing rocking the platform, threatening to tear the elevator apart.
Jack ducked behind a support beam, heart pounding. Fighting him here was suicide—too cramped, nowhere to run.
Then the elevator screeched again, like it was crying for help, but it kept climbing. The gates above groaned open.
Another figure dropped down from the maintenance catwalk. Slimmer, faster, movements twitching with unnatural energy. Jack's gut twisted.
Thomas Gallagher.
His body had been stretched, warped, bones elongated into slashing limbs. His eyes glowed milky white, his mouth peeled into a predator's snarl. He scuttled up the railing like an insect, dropping down on all fours with a screech.
Jack was surrounded in the center of the platform, caught between them. Ortiz—towering and relentless. Gallagher—fast and unpredictable.
The elevator groaned in protest as sparks rained from the cables and the platform swayed under their combined weight. Jack gritted his teeth, tightening his grip on the rifle.
"Goddamn it…" he muttered, sadness and bitter defeat creeping into his voice. "You too…"
Ortiz roared and swung his clawed arm in a wide arc. Jack ducked, the strike smashing through the support beam and showering the platform in sparks. The whole elevator shuddered as the cables above groaned under the strain.
Gallagher screeched and darted low, skittering across the grated floor like an animal. Jack caught the blur in his sights and fired—two rounds hit, sending the creature tumbling sideways, but Gallagher rolled back to his feet with unnatural agility, pale eyes burning.
"Shit!" Jack hissed, backing toward the center of the platform. He had nowhere to retreat.
Ortiz came again, heavy and deliberate, each blow capable of snapping Jack in half. Gallagher countered from the opposite side, quick feints and slashing claws. Together, they pressed him from both sides, relentless.
Jack dropped low, sliding between Ortiz's legs. The monster howled, swiping clumsily as Jack spun and unloaded into its back. Bullets chewed through muscle, drawing a spray of dark fluid—but Ortiz didn't stop.
Gallagher was already on him. The rookie's twisted limbs slammed Jack against the railing, claws raking across his plated vest. Metal screeched as Jack shoved the barrel of his rifle into Gallagher's chest and squeezed the trigger. The burst knocked him back, but not down.
The elevator jolted upward another level, alarms blaring as red lights flickered through the shaft. The countdown was ticking.
Jack gritted his teeth, shifting position. He couldn't take them both head-on. He had to use the elevator itself.
Ortiz charged again, claw smashing downward. Jack sidestepped, letting the strike crash into the grating. The floor buckled, opening a jagged hole that revealed the black void of the shaft below. Cables whipped and sparked.
Jack turned his rifle on Gallagher, forcing the smaller monstrosity back toward the hole. Gallagher hissed, darting side to side, claws scraping steel.
"Come on, you little bastard…" Jack muttered, squeezing off controlled bursts.
One round hit Gallagher's leg, staggering him just enough. Jack lunged forward, driving his boot into the creature's chest. Gallagher shrieked as he toppled, claws thrashing at the edge before his grip slipped. He plummeted into the dark below, his screams fading into silence.
Jack spun back just in time for Ortiz to slam him against the railing. The metal groaned, nearly giving way under Jack's weight. Ortiz's massive claw pressed down, inch by inch, threatening to crush his skull.
Jack strained, teeth clenched, rifle jammed between them. With a desperate growl, he yanked his sidearm free and fired point-blank into Ortiz's half-human face.
The monster recoiled, bellowing, black fluid spilling across the grating. Jack seized the moment, shoving the bulk aside. Ortiz staggered, claw arm smashing through another section of the floor. The elevator groaned violently.
Jack steadied his pistol, breath ragged. "Sorry, Sgt. Ortiz…"
He fired again—three clean shots. The final round struck deep into Ortiz's head. The giant swayed, body trembling, before tipping backward through the hole he had made. The platform rocked violently as his bulk fell into the abyss, crashing down the shaft with a fading, echoing roar.
Silence returned, broken only by the grinding of chains as the elevator continued its climb. Sparks rained down, and Jack slumped against the railing, chest heaving.
Then, all of a sudden, it came—like a pulse beneath his skin. A deep thrum spread through muscle and bone, heavy but controlled. He froze, gripping the railing as the sensation washed over him.
The VSS flickered to life, showing him his new milestone:
[VSS]
[Milestone Reached: Weight of the Fallen]
[New Adaptation Acquired: Muscle Density (Tier 1)]
Strength increased slightly. Recoil control improved. Heavy weapons feel lighter in your hands. Melee strikes hit with more force.
Jack ignored the display, his eyes fixed on the dark void below the elevator—where his fallen teammates had disappeared.
Both of them—gone. No Purple Heart. No medal. Just test subjects turned into monsters. Umbrella had taken everything.
Jack reloaded with shaking hands, forcing himself upright. The case with the sample still sat where he'd left it, glowing faintly. He grabbed it, jaw tight, eyes burning with exhaustion and fury.
Above, the alarm blared again:
"Warning: Self-destruct sequence engaged. Twenty minutes until detonation."
The elevator groaned as it neared Sublevel A. Jack squared his shoulders, rifle ready. Whatever waited topside, he'd be ready to meet it.