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The massive Umbrella research facility in Siberia was divided into four subterranean levels, each as large as a medium-sized football stadium.
On the second floor—the security sector—three members of Alpha Team had just arrived, their boots echoing ominously in the dimly lit corridor.
"Martinez! Patrick! Are you there? Respond!" one of the agents barked into his comm device, his voice tight with urgency.
"Enough, Richard," said another, grimly. "The last thing Martinez transmitted was about a Black Code. You know what that means, don't you?"
Richard lowered his head, his voice a whisper. "Yeah. Facility compromised."
"Exactly. Something serious went down. Serious enough to warrant immediate annihilation protocol. That also means... whatever it was, it took out both Martinez and Patrick."
He turned toward the third agent, who was intently scanning the security feeds.
"Hunk," he called, "anything on the cams?"
Hunk shook his head. "No, sir. Just corpses, panicked scientists, and the assault troops sweeping the corridors."
In addition to the five-man Alpha Team, nearly fifty heavily armed assault troopers had been deployed throughout the installation, prepared to exterminate any threat that moved.
"Hold on... Sergeant, I think I found something," Hunk said after a few seconds of silence.
"What is it, Hunk?" the Sergeant asked.
"Here—fourth floor. Lab sector," Hunk pointed to the monitors.
The Sergeant and Richard turned to the screens. But at first glance, nothing appeared out of place.
"There's nothing there," Richard sighed.
Hunk growled under his breath. "Exactly. That's the problem. The fourth floor is the deepest level—it should be swarming with scientists fleeing the assault teams. But it's... empty. Too empty. Where the hell is everyone?"
Richard froze. The realization hit him hard. Hunk was right.
Then the Sergeant spotted it—a fleeting shadow, a dark blur crossing one of the screens. It was so fast, he almost thought he imagined it.
"Wait—something moved. Hunk, change the camera angle. Focus on that corridor."
Hunk nodded and adjusted the view, cycling through the feeds of the fourth floor.
Again—nothing.
Except...
"There. Someone's alive, near the sample vault," the Sergeant pointed.
"Zoom in," he ordered.
Hunk magnified the image. What came into focus chilled them all.
A scientist in a bloodied white lab coat, crawling on the floor. His face was pale, eyes wild with terror as he dragged himself forward, glancing frantically over his shoulder.
"He's running from something," Richard murmured.
The Sergeant motioned to Hunk. "Try enabling the audio. He's saying something."
"Easy." Hunk tapped a key. "There."
A crackling sound came through the speakers, followed by the broken, desperate voice of the scientist:
"Please… have mercy… I never... I never did anything to you! Just let me go…!"
They watched in silence.
"Why… why are you doing this to me…"
"GRRRrrrrrrrRRAHHH!"
A guttural, bestial snarl erupted from the speakers. The sound was inhuman—something torn straight from a nightmare.
Then, a black blur pounced on the man.
"ARGHHH! No—please! It hurts! PLEASE!"
The creature that landed on him resembled a massive dog—but its body was made of a shifting, tar-like black substance. Its eyes glowed an unnatural, deep crimson.
"What the fuck is that?" the Sergeant breathed.
Its claws and fangs shredded the man mercilessly, each swipe flaying skin and muscle. Blood sprayed the walls. In seconds, the scientist was no more than a mangled carcass.
Without hesitation, the creature darted off, disappearing into the shadows.
Then... more movement.
Shadows flitted across the screen.
"Two... three... four..." Richard began counting.
"I see eight," Hunk said coldly. "Eight of those things."
"You think those dogs took out Patrick and Martinez?" Richard asked, doubtful. "Seems excessive for a Black Code. Our assault troops can handle them."
The Sergeant, who had remained silent, finally spoke.
"It wasn't because of the dogs."
His voice was low. Controlled. But filled with dread.
Richard and Hunk turned to him, then back to the monitor.
In the corridor the beasts had just passed through... a little girl walked slowly, barefoot. Her hair was snow-white. Black horns curled from her head, and from her back sprouted four dragon-like heads, twisting and writhing with eerie, lifelike motion.
"What in God's name...?" Hunk muttered, disbelief cracking his usual composure.
Then, something even more unexpected happened.
One of the dragon heads lunged down and bit into the corpse of the scientist, the one just killed by the beast.
In the next second, the body began to melt—black liquid oozing and boiling where flesh had been.
The sludge shifted, forming... another one of those dog-like creatures.
From the man's remains, a new hound was born.
It let out a violent, echoing bark, then bolted after the others. But the girl... she stopped.
Then, she turned.
She looked directly into the camera—and smiled.
The three men shivered.
That smile... it wasn't human. It was evil incarnate.
Without a moment's hesitation, the Sergeant turned and began barking orders.
"Richard—contact the assault units. I want barricades set up at the end of the second floor. Those things are fast—we don't have time to waste."
"Yes, sir," Richard responded, his tone suddenly serious, the weight of the situation pressing down on him.
The Sergeant turned to Hunk.
"We're going to hold them back as long as we can. You're the fastest one here, so your task is to infiltrate the third floor and extract everything you can from the Head Researcher's database."
He handed Hunk a USB drive.
"There's no way we can recover the cargo now, and we don't have the firepower to deal with… whatever the hell that is," he said, referring to the horned child-monster. "But we're not leaving empty-handed. There has to be something on Dr. Ironwall's terminal."
Hunk nodded. "Understood, sir."
As he was about to leave, the Sergeant placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
"You've got twenty minutes, tops. After that... I'm blowing everything."
Hunk simply nodded and disappeared toward the duct entrance on the second floor, vanishing into the ventilation system like a ghost.
Now alone in the surveillance room, the Sergeant stared once more at the monitors.
"…May luck be on our side."
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- Bel's POV -
I kept walking through the corridors of the facility, unhurried, simply enjoying the moment.
After all, the scientists have nowhere to run. From above, Umbrella's agents are killing on sight. From below... there's me. It's almost poetic — angels above punishing sinners, and the devil below, waiting for their souls.
I don't really need to hunt each scientist down personally. There were nearly five hundred of those pests the last time I counted. It would take too long — and time isn't something I have. Umbrella doesn't leave compromised facilities standing. They'll blow this place sky-high at any moment.
That's why I'm using these little cuties.
I gently stroked the head of one of the hounds I created.
When I formed them using my Biomancy, I maxed out their lethality. Their claws and teeth can easily tear through steel, and they move faster than any ordinary animal.
They're a bit expensive, though. I need biomass from three human beings to make one hound. But overall? Totally worth it.
As I formed another hound from a fresh corpse, I noticed a camera blinking red.
Someone's watching me.
How cute.
I gave the camera a sweet smile — and it shut off immediately.
Well, that was rude.
I continued toward my destination. A place I had visited not long ago. See, my telekinesis has greatly enhanced several aspects of the Mold. That includes a little ability I call the Bio Detector. Basically, I can sense every living thing in this facility — and there are plenty.
I'm picking up about three hundred and sixty life signs. Many of those signals are moving in groups, eliminating the others.
Soldiers, no doubt.
Fighting soldiers while carving my way through the facility and hunting scientists one by one? No thanks. I'd rather leave the soldiers to someone else.
Why hunt the scientists?
Because each of these bastards is considered a genius. And just like the Black God, I can also store everything about a living being when it is infected or consumed by me or by the creatures I created, be it memories, genetic code, or knowledge.
In some ways, it's a bit similar to Prototype, which is another zombie game franchise.
Where was I? Ah yes — that's why I came here.
I stopped in front of a massive steel door. A scanner swept across my body.
[Welcome to Block C3.]
[Scan complete. Identity not recognized.]
[Access denied.]
I shrugged, lifted my hand, and began to squeeze the air as if crushing something invisible. The door groaned, then bent inwards. With a final motion, it crumpled like foil and tore from its hinges. With a flick of my wrist, I hurled it aside.
Block C3 — where they keep the mutants born of the T-virus.
I sense three life signs.
Three mutants.
I smiled.
This is going to be fun.
Crossing the bridge that led to the containment cells, I came face to face with the creatures.
"WAAARG!"
"GRAAAA!"
"GRRRRROUUUUW!"
Three Proto-Tyrants. Not bad at all.
I raised my palm, and above it formed small spheres of living black particles. I blew gently — and the spores shot into the cells, entering the Tyrant's bodies within seconds.
The growls stopped. I felt the connection take hold.
With a simple wave of my hand, the steel bars exploded outward. They were free.
The three monsters calmly stepped forward and stopped before me.
Fun fact about the T-virus — the mutants and infected by it are surprisingly easy to control with the right tools. I remember Resident Evil: Damnation, where Lickers were controlled by people using Las Plagas Type 2 parasites. But compared to the Mold, Las Plagas is... primitive.
With the Mold, airborne infection is enough. It reaches the brain quickly and takes full control.
Now they're my toys.
Even better: their bodies began to shake. The Mold was mutating them, triggering violent transformations. Their rotting muscles turned black and hardened like obsidian. Their claws sharpened, their frames grew taller, bulkier, stronger.
I smiled again.
It's hunting time.