Jack's POV – Lab Corridors
The steel corridor rattled with every impact.
Thud… thud… thud.
The Proto-Tyrant's roar shook the passage, rattling the overhead lights. Jack raised his M4, switched to burst fire, and squeezed the trigger. The rifle barked, muzzle flashes cutting through the dark. Rounds hammered into the Tyrant's chest and shoulder, tearing through pale muscle in sprays of black ichor.
The monster staggered half a step, then straightened. The wounds closed almost as quickly as they appeared. Its single red eye locked on him, burning like a laser sight.
Jack swore under his breath. "Figures."
The Tyrant charged. Jack dove aside as its clawed hand smashed down, the impact splitting the steel floor and sending tremors through the hall. He rolled, came up on one knee, and kept firing, the rifle jerking against his shoulder.
The beast roared, unfazed, swiping at him with its massive claw. The strike clipped his side and hurled him into a wall. Jack's vision flared white as the VSS blinked across his vision, warning him of the damage, but he forced it aside.
He glanced down—his wounds were already closing, knitting together.
The Tyrant stalked forward.
Jack pushed himself up, adrenaline spiking. His eyes darted across the room: broken lab equipment, ethanol drums, sparking cables. An idea hit.
He tightened the sling across his chest, slung the M4 to free his hands, and grabbed a canister of ethanol. The Proto-Tyrant lunged just as Jack hurled the container at its torso. The canister shattered, liquid splashing across its chest and arm.
Jack ripped a sparking cable from the wall and slammed it into the spreading pool.
The corridor erupted in fire.
The Tyrant staggered back, its pale skin blistering and blackening under the flames. It thrashed, smashing walls and ceiling tiles loose, its claw sweeping blindly.
Jack planted his boots, raised the rifle, and let the rest of the magazine rip. Rounds tore into its charred torso and exposed muscle. Each burst drove it further back until, with a guttural bellow, the Proto-Tyrant crashed through the wall and retreated into the smoke.
For a moment, the only sound was the crackle of flames and the metallic ring of spent casings hitting the floor.
Jack leaned against the wall, chest heaving. His side still throbbed where the Tyrant's blow had landed, but the bruise was already fading. He wiped sweat and soot from his face, reloading with trembling hands.
"Fuck… I need sleep," Jack muttered under his breath.
He pushed forward, running back toward the corridor where he'd left Rebecca. The Proto-Tyrant had retreated, but Jack knew it would return.
"Is this how it feels to be popular?" he muttered, forcing a grim smile. This was one kind of attention he could live without.
Before he could catch his breath, a new sound crawled up his spine—a low, scraping chitter.
Jack's stomach dropped. "Son of a—"
The wall beside him exploded, and something massive burst through. A centipede the size of a truck crashed into the corridor, armored plates clattering. Its segments coiled around Rebecca, lifting her into the air.
She screamed, struggling helplessly as the insect held her high.
"Jack!"
Her voice cut through him like a knife. For a heartbeat, he froze, anger and desperation boiling up—the same helplessness he'd felt when his team had died. He wouldn't let it happen again.
Jack grit his teeth and triggered it.
[Viral Survival System Notice]
Branch – Viral's Path
Ability: Viral Instincts (Bullet Time) – ACTIVATED
The world lurched. Sound stretched, distorted, every movement dragging into a slow crawl.
+1 second — The creature's mandibles inched toward Rebecca's neck, each snap echoing like rolling thunder. Jack raised his M4 and fired. Casings spun lazily through the air, rounds striking the joints between plates, spraying arcs of ichor that floated like oil in water.
[Viral Infection: 5.7% → 5.8%]
+2 seconds — Jack slid low under a flailing segment, watching every armored plate shift like puzzle pieces. His boot scraped sparks that drifted slowly to the ground. Rebecca's body jerked in the coils, her strangled gasps stretched into hours. Jack fired again, shredding the creature's softer underside.
[Viral Infection: 5.8% → 5.9%]
+3 seconds — The centipede's head slowly turned, compound eyes reflecting frozen muzzle flashes. Jack snapped his rifle upward and fired into its face. Mandibles split, ichor spraying, and the coils loosened. He lunged, catching Rebecca's falling weight with one arm as if she weighed nothing.
[Viral Infection: 5.9% → 6.0%]
+4 seconds — The centipede convulsed, ichor streaming from a ruined eye. Jack squeezed off another burst, each shot hammering into its head, breaking more of its eyes. He kept firing until the mag clicked empty.
[Viral Infection: 6.0% → 6.1%]
+5 seconds — Dropping the M4, Jack drew his pistol in one smooth motion and fired point-blank into the beast's exposed mouth. The creature shrieked, its body spasming before it collapsed in a twitching heap.
[Viral Infection: 6.1% → 6.2%]
Jack killed the ability. Time snapped back. The corridor shook as the centipede's corpse slammed into the ground, ichor flooding across the floor.
Jack pressed the pistol to his temple, jaw tightening.
…you felt it, didn't you? That rush… that power. You could do anything…
His breath hitched. He looked down at the blood pooling around the monster, at his reflection in it. Black veins spiderwebbed around his eyes, and his irises glowed a hungry red.
…why stop now? One more second. Two. You'd never have to miss again. You'd never have to be weak…
Jack snapped his eyes shut, grinding his teeth. "Get out of my head."
Then, suddenly—warmth. A pair of soft hands touched his face. His eyes flew open. Rebecca was there, her palms against his cheeks, her gaze steady.
Through her eyes, he saw the black veins recede, fading back into his skin. His red, predatory glow dimmed, returning to the clear blue he'd once thought lost forever. Rebecca's touch grounded him.
Jack's POV – Medical Bay
The emergency lights painted everything a sickly yellow, and the stench of blood clung to their clothes. Jack sat slumped against the wall, M4 leaning beside him, the silence in his chest heavier than ever.
Rebecca set the Umbrella file between them. The words on the first page burned into his mind:
Subject #199 – PFC Jack Hale: Viral stabilization achieved. Sync rate steady beyond expectations. Priority subject for long-term study.
He didn't need to read further. He already knew the contents.
Rebecca's voice broke the silence, soft but steady. "Jack… what happened to you? Since you joined the military?"
For a long moment, he couldn't answer. His throat went dry. For a second, he thought about lying, brushing it off. But the look in her eyes stopped him.
"Congo Basin. '97. We were nine strong that day — me, TJ, Sgt. Ortiz, Klein, Ramirez, Gallagher, Okafor, Walker, Chu. My squad. My brothers."
His hand clenched into a fist until his knuckles whitened.
"We thought it was a peacekeeping op. Standard sweep. But Umbrella was waiting for us. Gas knocked us out cold. Next thing I knew, I woke up in a liquid chamber with tubes sticking out of every part of me. And above me? A crazy bastard named Gregor Weiss."
Jack's voice roughened, his breath quickening. "He made sure I was awake. Said fear spiked synchronization. Injected me while I screamed. That was when I stopped being a Marine. I was a number. Test Subject #199."
His hands trembled as he pressed his palms to his face. "The others — Ortiz, Klein, Ramirez, Gallagher, Okafor, Walker, Chu — they didn't make it. I had to put them down myself… end their suffering."
His voice cracked under the weight.
"And TJ…" He swallowed hard, but the words tore out anyway. "He protected me when one of our own betrayed us. He sacrificed himself to buy me time. I had to watch him fall so I could escape."
Jack hunched forward, burying his face in his hands. "That's the part that doesn't go away. I still hear it when I close my eyes. Every night."
Silence pressed heavy around them.
Finally, Rebecca reached for his wrist. Her eyes shone, but her voice was steady. "Jack… you're carrying all of them with you. And it's crushing you."
He shook his head, jaw clenched. "Umbrella didn't just kill them, Rebecca. They killed me too. What's left of me is just a monster waiting to snap."
Rebecca's hand slid from his wrist to his cheek, forcing him to meet her eyes. "No. You're not a monster. You saved me. You're the boy I had a crush on back in middle school… and the man I love today."
Jack's eyes went wide, his breath caught in his throat. The words slammed into him harder than any Tyrant's claw. He opened his mouth to argue, to deny her, but before he could—Rebecca leaned in and kissed him.
It wasn't hurried, wasn't desperate. It was careful, steady—like she was afraid he'd break if she pressed too hard. Her lips were soft, warm, grounding. Jack froze at first, every nerve in his body sparking with confusion and disbelief.
The whispers in his head went silent.
His fist unclenched. His body eased. Slowly, as if afraid the moment would vanish, Jack slid his hands around her waist, letting himself get lost in her kiss.
Her hands cradled his jaw, thumb brushing over the faint line where black veins had been just minutes ago.
When she finally pulled away, her forehead rested against his, their breaths mingling. Her eyes shimmered but didn't waver.
"You're not alone anymore," she whispered, her voice shaking with sincerity.
Jack's chest heaved, his pulse hammering. He'd faced infected, giant monsters, even death—things that terrified him. But now it felt like those were nothing compared to this.
He swallowed hard, his voice barely audible. "…You do know I'm slowly turning, right?"
Rebecca smiled faintly, lips still trembling from the kiss. "Don't you remember? I'm a child prodigy. I'll figure something out."
For the first time in years, Jack felt something other than rage or guilt pressing down on him. It was still heavy—but lighter, because she was carrying part of it now.