Sublevel A – Helipad
The service elevator screeched to a halt, its gates rattling open on a rooftop drowned in red sirens. Floodlights cut through the stormy night, and the pounding of helicopter rotors churned the air into a frenzy.
Jack stepped out into the rain, rifle tight to his shoulder, the sample case hanging on his back like a lead weight. His lungs burned. His body screamed. But his eyes locked immediately on the two figures waiting for him.
Dr. Gregor Weiss stood tall near the waiting Umbrella helicopter, immaculate despite the chaos. In his hands, a sleek containment case glowed faintly.
And standing beside him—
Jack froze. His chest hollowed out.
"…Corporal Daniel Ross?"
Jack stared. The man he thought had been experimented on like the rest was here—normal, alive. His uniform was clean, only damp from the rain. His face was freshly shaven, untouched by the hell Jack had just crawled through.
Not twisted like Chu. Not butchered like Klein, Walker, Okafor, Ramirez, Gallagher… or Sgt. Ortiz.
Jack's voice broke with disbelief. "Ross… what the hell are you doing standing next to that madman?"
Ross's eyes flickered, unreadable in the floodlights. He didn't move closer. Just stood there at Weiss's side, like he belonged.
Weiss smiled, his voice carrying easily through the storm.
"Subject #199—or should I call you Private First Class Jack Hale. You've done something unthinkable since the creation of this virus. Truly remarkable."
Jack snapped his rifle higher. "What the hell is this? Why is Ross—"
"Alive?" Weiss finished for him. "Because he chose to be. Because he understood the bigger picture long before you did." He spread his hands, glasses flashing as thunder rolled overhead. "Humanity cannot survive as it is. But with this virus? We can evolve. We can endure. With your help, Jack, we can rebuild this broken species."
Jack shook his head, eyes still locked on Ross, anger boiling inside him. "You're saying he's with you?"
Ross finally spoke, his voice low, rough around the edges. "Jack… don't make this harder than it has to be."
Jack took a step forward, rain streaking down his face. "Harder? I had to put down almost all of our team—our brothers—like animals. Gave them mercy because Umbrella turned them into nightmares. And now you're standing here… next to him?" He jabbed his rifle toward Weiss. "Tell me this isn't real. Tell me you're not with him."
Ross's jaw tightened. He didn't answer.
Weiss stepped closer, calm as ever. "Return the sample, Jack. Come back to the only brother you have left. Come back to the side that will make all this sacrifice mean something. Think of it—no more wars. No more loss. No more death without purpose."
Jack's hands clenched on his rifle, voice shaking with fury.
"You call turning them into monsters 'purpose'? You call watching men scream as you inject them with this plague the betterment of humanity? You call that salvation?"
Weiss's smile never faltered. "I call it the future."
The helicopter's engines roared louder, its skids lifting an inch from the pad.
Jack's eyes burned with fury as he shouted at Ross. "Did you feel anything when you betrayed our team?"
Ross's face stayed hard, eyes cold. "No. Mankind needs to move forward—even if it means making sacrifices."
His hand moved to his belt. The silver glint of a syringe caught the floodlight.
Jack's stomach dropped.
"…No. Don't you do it."
Ross looked at him one last time, his voice steady.
"You've got your weight to carry, Jack… and I've got mine."
And then he drove the needle home.
Ross's scream tore through the storm as the syringe emptied into his veins. His body convulsed violently, knees slamming against the wet concrete. Black veins snaked across his skin, swelling and pulsing with each ragged heartbeat.
"Ross!" Jack shouted, moving forward—but it was already too late.
Ross's muscles ballooned, skin splitting as jagged bone pushed through. His uniform shredded in strips, replaced by plates of warped flesh and sinew. His jaw stretched, teeth snapping and elongating into something predatory. His scream twisted into a guttural roar that drowned out the storm.
The Aegis Virus was rewriting him.
Jack raised his rifle, teeth bared. But a shadow passed overhead—the helicopter's engines straining as it lifted higher.
Dr. Weiss was already stepping into the cabin, calm as ever, rain beading off his white lab coat. He glanced back at Jack, adjusting his glasses against the rotor wash.
"History will remember you as a man who chose failure," Weiss called. His voice was steady, unshaken even as Ross collapsed into his new form. "But me? I will be remembered as the one who saved humanity."
The Umbrella helicopter rose, its floodlights blinding Jack as it pulled away into the storm—carrying Weiss, the case, and the Aegis Virus sample.
"Damn it!" Jack snarled, firing a useless burst after the retreating bird. His rounds vanished into the night sky.
The rooftop shook.
Jack turned back just as Ross rose to his full height, no longer recognizable as the man he'd fought beside. His torso bulged with grotesque muscle, arms dragging like monstrous clubs, his face stretched into a mask of hate.
The Ross-thing bellowed and took a step forward.
Jack chambered his last mag, chest heaving. "Come on, then…"
But before Ross could charge, the helipad trembled again—heavier this time.
Something climbed over the edge.
The Proto-Tyrant hauled itself onto the pad, rain sliding across its pale, grotesque form. Its eyes gleamed milky white, its breathing a low growl that rattled Jack to his core.
Jack's heart slammed in his chest. He raised his rifle—but then froze.
The Tyrant wasn't looking at him. Its gaze locked onto Ross.
It took a step forward, its massive clawed fist clenching. Its jaw worked as though forcing words through broken machinery.
"…Must… protect…"
Jack's stomach dropped when he heard the giant's deep, recognizable voice.
The Tyrant turned its head, just slightly—enough for Jack to see something beneath the scars. A scarred cheek. A familiar shape to the jaw. A look in its eyes that didn't belong to a monster.
Jack's throat went dry. "…No… you… can't be."
The monster tilted its head at the sound of Jack's voice.
"…Protect… Jack…" the Proto-Tyrant growled, its massive frame tensing for combat.
Ross roared, fully lost to the Aegis Virus, and charged.
The two titans collided with a crash that shook the rooftop, steel screaming beneath their weight.
Just as Jack staggered back, heart hammering, another sound cut through the storm—a helicopter's engines.
This one wasn't Umbrella's.
Hovering close to the platform was Ada, the downdraft from her ride scattering sheets of rain across the pad.
"Jack! Get on—we need to go!" she shouted, reaching out from the cabin.
Jack grabbed the case strapped to his back, a sad look crossing his face as he turned toward her.
"Ada… is that promise still valid? I want information. Then I'll give you this case." His voice was steady, but his eyes were heavy with sorrow.
Ada's voice strained over the storm, the chopper hovering dangerously close. "Jack! Hurry—before this whole place goes up!"
Jack's grip tightened on the case. He didn't move. His eyes stayed fixed on the rooftop, where the Proto-Tyrant and the Ross-thing circled each other, two titans made to kill now locked in their own private war.
His voice cracked as he shouted over the rotor wash. "Tell me the truth, Ada. That thing—that monster that's been stalking me… you knew who he was, didn't you?"
For once, Ada's mask slipped. The cool indifference, the sly grin—gone. She hesitated, eyes lowering for just a fraction of a second. Then she looked back at him and nodded.
"Yes," she admitted, her voice almost lost in the storm. "I knew."
The words hit harder than any blow. Jack's chest hollowed out, grief flooding in. His oldest friend. His brother since middle school. The man who had his back through boot camp, every mistake, every scar—turned into Umbrella's weapon. And Ada had kept it from him.
Jack's jaw tightened. His voice was low, raw. "You should've told me."
Ada reached out, rain lashing across her face. "Jack, please—come with me. We can still—"
He cut her off with a bitter laugh, shaking his head. Then, with one motion, he hurled the case upward. Ada caught it against her chest, her eyes widening at the weight.
Jack's face was set, sadness etched deep into every line. "Just go…"
"Jack—"
"I'm staying here." He lifted his rifle, his voice hardening into steel. "I'm finishing what I started."
The chopper wavered, its downdraft scattering rain across the pad. Ada held his gaze a moment longer, then slowly pulled back inside. Her voice was faint, almost swallowed by the storm. "…Don't die, Jack."
The helicopter peeled away into the night, vanishing into the storm.
Jack stood alone on the helipad, the roar of the engines fading. Before him, the Proto-Tyrant and Ross crashed together again, claws rending, bone splintering, their battle shaking the steel under his boots.
Jack steadied his rifle, eyes burning with grief and fury. "Alright," he muttered to himself, rain streaming down his face. "One last fight."