The service tunnel stretched ahead, lit only by the pulsing red glow of emergency lights. Pipes rattled overhead with every distant explosion, the whole plant groaning like it was alive.
Rebecca dragged Jack down the corridor. He stumbled more than he walked, his rifle hanging loose in his grip.
The System flickered across his vision again:
[Viral Survival System Notice]
Cellular Lockdown (Tier 1) – ACTIVE
Time Remaining: 00:39:44
Jack blinked hard, forcing the numbers away.
Rebecca's voice cut through the pounding in his head. "The data's safe. I've got it in my pack. It's not enough to hurt Umbrella, not by itself… but it's enough for us. Enough research notes so we don't have to start from scratch."
Jack gave her a faint, humorless smirk. "Good. Then all we have to do is live long enough to use it."
A low rumble rolled through the floor.
Rebecca froze. "Tell me that was just the plant destabilizing."
Jack's gut clenched. His adrenaline spiked, forcing him to push against his body's will to shut down. The sound was heavy, deliberate—and getting closer.
Thud… Thud…
Dust sifted from the ceiling. The pipes shivered.
Thud… Thud… Thud…
Rebecca's grip on his arm tightened. "No… no, it can't be—"
The wall ahead caved inward, steel bending like paper. Smoke and sparks poured into the tunnel as something massive forced its way through.
The Proto-Tyrant stepped into view. Burned, battered, its flesh hanging in charred ribbons from their last battle—yet still impossibly alive. Its single red eye burned hotter than ever, locked squarely on Jack.
The Tyrant roared, the sound shaking the treatment plant like an earthquake. Then it charged.
Jack opened fire. The corridor stuttered with muzzle flashes, rounds hammering into its chest and shoulder. Black ichor sprayed, but the monster barely flinched. He shoved Rebecca aside just as the beast's claw swung.
The strike connected, sending Jack flying. His body slammed against the metal floor, pain rippling through his ribs. The VSS blared warnings of critical damage, but he ignored them. Forcing himself upright, he fired again, each shot weaker than the last.
Rebecca's voice cracked with fear. "Jack—we're barely doing any damage to it!"
Jack staggered, bracing the rifle against his shoulder. His vision blurred, every breath heavier than the last. "Then we keep shooting until it does!"
The Tyrant's claw smashed into the wall inches from his head, concrete dust exploding into the air. Jack ducked, rolled, and came up firing, but every movement drained what little stamina he had left.
His rifle clicked empty. He slammed in a fresh mag, dragging in a ragged breath. Each step forward felt like wading through quicksand.
Rebecca's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and panicked. "Jack—we can't stop it like this!"
Jack looked back at her. Her desperate eyes darted frantically across the corridor for something—anything—they could use. His chest tightened. He couldn't let her die here with him.
He forced a grin he didn't feel, teeth gritted through the strain. "Then find something stronger, Becca. Something that'll put this bastard down for good."
Rebecca froze. "What? Jack—"
"Go!" he barked, pivoting to draw the Tyrant's attention. His voice cracked like steel under strain. "I'll buy us time!"
Her gaze locked on his—fear, defiance, refusal. She knew him too well. She knew what he really meant. This wasn't just about time. This was about making sure she escaped.
Rebecca's throat tightened. "No—I'm not leaving you!"
He shoved her again, harder this time, eyes blazing.
"Dammit, Becca—MOVE! You're the only one who can end this!"
For a moment, she stood frozen, trembling, torn between running and fighting at his side. Then, with a strangled breath, she turned and sprinted into the shadows, her footsteps echoing down the branching corridor.
"Don't die, you idiot—I'll be back!" she shouted desperately, her voice trailing into the dark.
Jack smirked faintly, bitter and tired. "Alright, you ugly son of a bitch. Just you and me."
He braced himself as the Tyrant charged, the full weight of its fury crashing down on him.
Rebecca's POV – Treatment Plant, U.S.S. Armory
Rebecca sprinted through the branching corridors, lungs burning, the Proto-Tyrant's roars echoing behind her. Every impact shook the walls. Somewhere back there, Jack was still fighting—still holding that monster off with nothing but grit and a rifle running dry.
She forced her legs to pump harder until she skidded to a stop in front of a reinforced steel door. Faded stencils across its face read:
U.S.S. ARMORY – AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY
Her heart leapt. Umbrella Security Service. Their weapons cache.
She ran to the panel. Dead—no power. Her eyes darted frantically until she spotted a crowbar atop a ruined crate. Snatching it up, she jammed it into the seam and heaved. Metal shrieked. She put her whole weight into it until the lock tore free with a sharp crack.
The heavy door groaned open, revealing racks of weapons. Assault rifles. Shotguns. Crates of grenades. Most stripped bare in the chaos.
And then she saw it—half-covered by a tarp at the far wall.
Rebecca's breath caught.
Four long barrels in a clover pattern. A heavy grip and reinforced stock. Umbrella's emblem stamped in crimson across the launcher's frame.
"A quad-barrel rocket launcher…" she whispered.
Her hands trembled as she yanked the tarp away. The weapon was massive, almost too heavy to lift. But intact. Fully loaded.
Rebecca staggered under its weight, hugging it close. "Jack… please, just hold on."
She grabbed a bandolier of rockets from a nearby crate, slung the launcher over her shoulder, and bolted back into the corridors.
Every step thundered in her chest. She wasn't running anymore. She was bringing Jack the weapon that would end this.
Jack's POV – Treatment Plant, Service Tunnel
The Proto-Tyrant's claw slammed into the floor where Jack had stood a second ago, concrete and steel buckling under the impact. He rolled, ribs screaming, and came up firing. Muzzle flashes cut through the red haze, but the beast kept coming.
Jack's rifle clicked empty. He ejected the mag with fumbling fingers, his vision tunneling. Sweat stung his eyes. His lungs burned like fire.
His body wasn't keeping up anymore. His mind screamed move, reload, fight—but his muscles lagged like they were underwater.
The Tyrant roared, sweeping its claw across the corridor. Jack barely ducked under it, the wind of its swing ripping the air from his lungs. He slammed against the wall, coughing blood.
"Goddammit…" he rasped, dragging himself upright. "Come on… one more round."
He raised the M4 and fired another burst into its chest. The rounds sparked and tore muscle, but the beast just snarled and charged again.
Jack braced himself. He knew this was it. His legs wobbled, arms heavy. His thoughts narrowed to a single line: Just hold it here. Just long enough for her to get clear.
The Tyrant's red eye glowed like a furnace. It lunged—
And then, footsteps. Fast. Desperate.
Rebecca sprinted into view, panting hard, nearly buckling under the weight of the weapon slung across her shoulder.
Not just a weapon.
A rocket launcher. Quad-barrel, Umbrella-issue.
"Jack!" she shouted, desperation cracking her voice. "Catch!"
She ripped it from her shoulder and shoved it across the floor. The launcher scraped against the steel, sliding to Jack's boots.
His eyes widened. A feral grin split his face as he bent, gripping the weapon with trembling arms. He hefted it onto his shoulder, his voice rough but dripping with grim satisfaction.
"Finally—something that bites back."
The Tyrant roared and lunged. Jack braced, sighting down the barrels.
"End of the line," he growled. "Let's see you walk this one off."
He pulled the trigger. The launcher bucked against his shoulder, the recoil slamming through his bones. The first rocket streaked down the tunnel in a flash of smoke and fire.
It hit the Proto-Tyrant square in the chest.
The explosion rocked the entire service tunnel, a wave of fire and shrapnel tearing the concrete and steel apart. The Tyrant roared, its charred flesh ripping open as it staggered back into the flames.
Jack spat blood and gritted his teeth. "Not enough."
He thumbed the trigger again.
The second rocket fired, slamming into its clawed arm. The limb detonated in a spray of gore and burning tissue, torn clean off. The monster howled, staggering against the wall.
Rebecca's voice rang out over the deafening blasts: "Jack, finish it!"
He braced, sighted the glowing red eye. The third rocket screamed out of the launcher.
It struck the Tyrant's face.
The blast engulfed its head in fire and steel. When the smoke cleared, half its skull was gone, one arm dangling by sinew. And still, impossibly, the beast tried to rise, dragging itself toward Jack with what remained of its ruined body.
Jack growled low, his voice raw. "Stay. Down."
He chambered the final rocket. The launcher's barrels smoked, glowing faintly red from the heat. Jack steadied his shaking arms and fired.
The rocket tore into the Proto-Tyrant's torso. The explosion swallowed it whole, ripping it apart in a storm of flame and thunder. Chunks of flesh and burning ichor splattered across the corridor. The monster's scream cut short, drowned beneath the roar of destruction.
Silence followed, broken only by the echo of fire hissing against twisted steel.
Jack staggered, lowering the empty launcher. His arms trembled, lungs heaving. Rebecca ran to his side, steadying him as the smoke cleared.
All that remained of the Tyrant was a crater of charred remains, still smoldering, its red eye dark at last.
Jack managed a rasping laugh, his chest rattling. "End of the line, asshole."
Rebecca rolled her eyes, but her relief was clear in the tremble of her smile. "Cheesiest line I've ever heard."
The VSS flickered to life again:
[Viral Survival System Notice]
New Milestone Reached: First Tyrant Kill
Adaptation Progression Unlocked
Enhanced Recovery (Tier 2)
Effect: Heal moderate wounds (deep cuts, fractured bones, torn muscles) within hours instead of days.
Risk/Limit: Burns through calories, leaving Jack ravenous and fatigued after prolonged healing. Cannot instantly heal mortal wounds (decapitation, destroyed organs, etc.).
Jack's ribs ached, but the pain dulled almost instantly, fading into something bearable. His breath steadied, even as his muscles trembled from exhaustion.
Rebecca frowned, noticing the tension ease under her grip. "Jack… what's happening? You were practically dying a second ago. Now it looks like you're ready to run laps with a fever."
He forced a tired grin. "What can I say? Perks of being Umbrella's favorite science project."