Umbrella Executive Training Facility, Sub-Level Archives
The archives hummed with fluorescent light. Shelves gleamed with fresh steel, lined with files stamped and cataloged under Isaacs's authority. The facility that once bore Marcus's name had been gutted and rebuilt—modern Umbrella white coats had scoured his legacy, sterilized it, made it theirs.
But the walls still remembered him. And so did the leeches.
They poured through vents and conduits, a living tide guided by one mind. Slick bodies slithered across terminals, pulling folders to the floor. Marcus walked among them, his skin pale, his eyes sharp, his very frame shifting with the creatures inside him.
One leech climbed into his palm, curling around a fresh file stamped [Asset Transfer – Confidential]. Marcus opened it slowly.
Subject: PFC Jack Hale – Designation #199
Umbrella Oversight Division – Aegis Project Candidate
A photograph slid free. Blond hair. Blue eyes. Shackles biting into his wrists.
Marcus's jaw clenched. "Hale…"
The Queen Leech roared from its containment pit, its voice resonating through every spawn.
—He lives—
Marcus's lip curled in disgust. "Isaacs. My protégé. He dares twist my work into this… Aegis. A parasite pretending to be evolution. And this Jack Hale—this convict—is the vessel."
The leeches writhed louder, their voices rising in chorus:
—The false strain… inside the train—
—The host survives—
—He carries their corruption—
Marcus turned his gaze upward, as if he could see through the concrete, through the forest mist, straight into the hulking shadow of the Ecliptic Express.
"Hale is the key to Isaacs's perversion. Kill Hale, and the only Aegis prototype dies with him."
The swarm hissed as one, their voices twisting into a single command:
—Kill him. End the false strain. Restore the legacy—
Marcus dropped the photo, letting it sink into the mass of leeches devouring Isaacs's files. His shadow stretched across the polished steel walls—no longer the ghost of a dead scientist, but a hunter reborn.
Ecliptic Express
Smoke curled from Jack Hale's pistol. The zombie at Rebecca's feet twitched once before going still, blood pooling beneath its head.
Rebecca's hands shook around her sidearm, her pulse hammering in her ears. Slowly, she looked up. Jack leaned against a seat, his prison jumpsuit torn and bloodied, blond hair plastered to his forehead with sweat.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Rebecca finally broke the silence, her voice sharp but trembling. "My team thinks you did this. They think you shot us down. They think you killed those MPs."
Jack gave a weary smile. "Dang, your team must have some wild imagination."
Rebecca's knuckles whitened around her pistol. "Tell me it wasn't you."
His blue eyes met hers. The smile vanished. "It wasn't me, Becca. I barely got out alive."
Rebecca froze. In high school, Jack only used her pet name when something serious had happened.
Her lips parted, questions bubbling up, but before she could press him, a wet groan echoed from the forward car—another, then another.
Shadows stirred in the corridor. Pale figures stumbled into view, arms reaching, jaws gnashing.
Rebecca's stomach flipped. She lifted her pistol, hands trembling. "Oh God…"
Jack steadied himself against the wall, raising his own weapon, though his arm shook with fatigue. "Focus. Don't waste bullets. Breathe."
The first zombie lurched forward. Rebecca fired—miss. The second shot grazed its shoulder. Her breathing hitched, panic rising.
"Becca!" Jack barked, his voice cutting through her fear. "Aim for the head. Steady hands. Don't rush—control it."
She gritted her teeth, forced herself to inhale. Exhale. Line up the sights. Her next shot cracked through the zombie's forehead. It dropped instantly.
Her chest heaved. The others shambled closer, but this time she was ready. Two more controlled shots, and they fell.
Silence returned, broken only by Rebecca's ragged breathing.
Jack lowered his pistol, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Not bad for your first time."
Rebecca's eyes burned. "I almost got us killed."
Jack shook his head. "You kept it together when it mattered. That's what counts." His voice softened. "You should've seen me in boot camp—I couldn't stop shaking."
She stared at him, tears threatening but not falling. Then she nodded, holstering her weapon. "We need to move. Somewhere safe."
Jack leaned on her shoulder as they slipped into a quieter car, one with an overturned table and broken windows that offered some cover. He sank into a seat, exhaustion etched into every line of his face.
Jack noticed the red bandana tied around her head. His eyes lingered on it.
"You kept it," Jack murmured.
Rebecca's breath caught. "You remember?"
Jack's voice grew distant. "Middle school. You scraped your knee. I gave you my old handkerchief. You told me you lost it."
Her cheeks flushed. "I lied. I kept it. And when I sent you that picture in boot camp… I wanted you to know I hadn't forgotten you."
Jack's lips curved into a faint, tired smile. "I carried that photo everywhere. Training. Deployment. Even into Congo. Lost it there."
Rebecca's chest tightened. For a moment, the fear of the forest and the monsters outside faded, replaced by something warmer.
But the distant groans returned, reminding them that time was short.
Jack's eyes flicked toward the corridor. "We'll talk more. But not here. This place isn't safe."
Service Compartment – Rear Car
Rebecca and Jack slipped into a service room cluttered with broken crates and scattered luggage. Jack sank against the wall with a heavy grunt, his breath ragged.
Rebecca knelt beside him, pulling her kit open. "Hold still," she said, voice firm but gentler than before.
She cleaned the gash on his arm. Her brow furrowed. The torn flesh was already knitting together, pale scar tissue forming faster than she'd ever seen. She blinked, rubbed her eyes, leaned closer. That can't be right.
Jack smirked weakly. "Something wrong, Doc?"
Rebecca swallowed, forcing her hands to keep moving. "No… just fatigue. I thought—never mind." She wrapped the bandage tightly, hiding the impossible healing beneath gauze.
When she was done, she sat back on her heels, staring at him. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Jack… why were you in that convoy? Why did the military have you listed as a prisoner?"
Jack's eyes flicked to hers, then down to the floor. He was silent for a long moment before he spoke. "Remember when you told me not to enlist? I guess you were right."
His eyes looked distant, like they were hiding something. In truth, the VSS flickered before him, which he ignored for now.
Rebecca frowned. "You're not answering my question."
Jack shook his head. "The less you know, the safer you'll be. Leave it at that."
Rebecca's chest tightened. Part of her wanted to accept that—wanted to believe in the Jack she remembered. But the medic, the rookie S.T.A.R.S. officer inside her, couldn't ignore the convoy she'd seen, or the files she'd found in the mud.
She hugged her knees, her eyes lingering on the red bandana tied around her head. If he won't tell me… then I'll find out myself.
Jack finally focused on the VSS.
[VSS]
[New Bond Triggered]
Rebecca Chambers: Trust Reforged
[Medic's Grace – Passive]
Effect: Greatly accelerates recovery from minor wounds. Slightly accelerates recovery from major wounds. Mitigates fatigue.
Active: While Rebecca Chambers is present
Jack leaned back against the wall of the service car, letting out a long breath. The ache in his body, the trembling weakness from Cellular Lockdown—it was still there, but duller now. Almost like someone had lifted a weight off his shoulders.
He flexed his bitten arm experimentally. The pain was still there, but bearable. His fatigue… slowly ebbing. He glanced at Rebecca, who was reorganizing her kit on the floor. His eyes narrowed slightly. Her bond. It's doing this.
He willed the VSS again, showing his full stats:
[VIRAL SURVIVAL SYSTEM]
Subject: Jack Hale
Strain: Aegis Virus
Health Status: Fair (deep bite wound healing)
Sync Rate: 47%
Viral Infection: 5.7%
Adaptation Skills
Branch – Soldier's Path
Enhanced Recovery (Tier 1): Heals faster from minor wounds.
Reflex Response (Tier 1): Slightly improved reaction time with pistols.
Stamina Boost (Tier 1): Minor stamina boost. Slightly reduces recovery time from fatigue. Muscle Density (Tier 1): Slight strength increase. Improved recoil control. Melee strikes hit harder.
Branch – Shield's Path
Viral Resistance (Tier 1): Passive. Slows infection rate after exposure.
Cellular Lockdown (Tier 1) — Passive
Effect: Immune response amplified. Prevents T-Virus mutation.
Duration: 2 hours
Risk: Host cell fatigue after duration.
Branch – Viral's Path
Viral Instincts (Bullet Time) – Active
Effect: Temporarily slows perception of time.
Cost: +0.10% viral infection per second.
Risk: Prolonged use may result in loss of control.
Branch – Bonds Path
Ada Wong: Calculated Touch
Health Status: Good (not in immediate danger)
Viral Ability Resistance (Passive): Viral Path abilities consume 50% less infection growth. Cautious Instincts (Passive): Heightened sense of danger when partnered with Ada (+5% chance to detect ambushes).
Status: Deactivated – Ada Wong not present.
Rebecca Chambers: Trust Reforged
Health Status: Fair (slight bruising)
Medic's Grace (Passive): Greatly accelerates recovery from minor wounds. Slightly accelerates recovery from major wounds. Mitigates fatigue.
Status: Active – Rebecca is present
Jack exhaled slowly and muttered, "Well… guess you're good for more than patching bandages."
Rebecca looked up, arching a brow. "Excuse me?"
Jack shook his head quickly. "Nothing. Just… I feel better. Faster than I should."
Rebecca tilted her head, studying him. "That's adrenaline, Jack. Nothing more." She gave him a half-smile, clearly not buying his deflection.
As he studied her, his gaze caught on her uniform. He frowned. It wasn't the standard RPD blues he remembered seeing around the city. Instead, her fatigues were lighter, tactical, with a custom patch on her shoulder: S.T.A.R.S.
"That's not regulation," he said, nodding at her gear. "You playing soldier now?"
Rebecca blinked, then grinned proudly. "Not just a soldier. Special Tactics and Rescue Service. S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team. Raccoon City's elite."
Jack raised an eyebrow. "Elite?"
She puffed out her chest a little, almost forgetting the blood and smoke around them. "Top of the line. Best of the best. Enrico, Forest, Kenneth, Richard—everyone's highly trained. They don't let just anyone in. I had to prove myself."
Jack smirked. "You? Little Rebecca, the girl who was shaking like a lamb a minute ago?"
Her cheeks flushed. "That was forever ago!"
Jack chuckled, shaking his head. "Never heard of S.T.A.R.S., but if you say you're hot shit, I'll take your word for it."
Rebecca folded her arms, mock-pouting. "One day, you'll see what we're capable of. We don't back down, not from anything."
Jack's smile faded slightly as he looked at her. You're brave, Rebecca… maybe too brave.
Before he could say more, the train shuddered. Both of them froze.
A faint scratching echoed along the metal siding, like claws dragging against steel. Then a wet, guttural hiss seeped through the cracks of the door. The air grew heavy, damp, as though the very walls were sweating.
Rebecca's hand went to her pistol. "What was that?" she whispered.
Jack's jaw tightened. He pushed himself up, gripping his weapon, though his body still ached. "Whatever it is… it isn't friendly."
Outside, the sound grew louder—skittering, writhing, a chorus of tiny wet bodies moving as one. The air seemed to vibrate.
The leeches were gathering.
Marcus's voice carried faintly, echoing with inhuman resonance:
—Jack… Hale…—
The train lurched violently, the wheels screeching as it roared to life.
Rebecca staggered, grabbing the wall for balance. "It's moving!"
Jack steadied her with one arm, eyes locked on the sealed compartment door. His gut twisted. Something was waiting for them out there.
And it had his name.