Umbrella Sub-Lab – L4 / Surveillance Deck
The control room was silent except for the hum of half-dead circuits.
Smoke curled from the shattered consoles; the acrid tang of ozone still hung in the air.
Dr. Alexander Isaacs stood before the central monitor, watching the flickering feed of Jack Hale and the two surviving S.T.A.R.S. operatives descending in the elevator toward the lower lab.
Behind him, Albert Wesker observed in silence—arms folded, expression unreadable behind mirrored lenses.
"Tell me something, Isaacs," Wesker said at last, his voice low and measured. "Why did you reveal yourself to Subject #199?"
Isaacs didn't turn. His hands trembled slightly against the console. "Because I need more data. So far, Subject #199 has bested nearly all of Umbrella's creations. That proves he's a superior specimen… but the problem is, he isn't my creation."
His tone sharpened. "One final test—that's all I need. I'll use him to measure the limits of my own work."
Wesker's footsteps echoed across the floor—slow, deliberate. The glow from the monitors reflected off his glasses like twin embers.
"You intend to pit Subject #199 against your project—Subject T-001A," he said, voice clipped. "To see which creation is superior… and present that to the board?"
Isaacs gave only a small nod, eyes never leaving the screen. "Exactly. Results speak louder than reports. Once they see the data, Umbrella will have to recognize the T-Aegis strain as the future of bioweapon design."
Wesker shifted his gaze to another monitor—one that displayed the containment chamber on Sub-Level 5. Behind reinforced glass, a massive silhouette stood motionless, its single red eye glowing like a furnace.
Subject T-001A — Aegis Tyrant.
The creature stared directly at the camera, unmoving. Waiting. Watching.
Its presence radiated malice through the feed—like a predator studying prey it already owned.
Wesker's jaw tightened. For the first time, he felt something close to unease.
"I have business elsewhere," he said quietly. "Be careful, Doctor."
Isaacs smiled faintly, his reflection flickering in the monitor. "Oh, Albert… caution is for lesser men."
Umbrella Sub-Lab – L3 / Access Hallway
The elevator rattled as it descended through layers of rusted steel and hydraulic groans.
Emergency lights painted the shaft red, pulsing like a heartbeat.
Jack stood at the front, shotgun raised, eyes fixed on the display above the door.
L3 – Research Level.
The car slowed with a deep mechanical moan, then stopped.
Jack glanced toward Jill and Rebecca. "Stay sharp. We don't know what's down here."
Both women nodded.
The doors hissed open with a rush of cold air. The corridor beyond was wide and dark, lined with shattered glass panels and overturned lab carts. Faint alarm lights flickered overhead.
Jack stepped out first, scanning the hall. His Viral Sense pulsed faintly in his head—a soft prickle at the base of his skull.
Something was down here… but it wasn't close yet.
Not hunting. Waiting.
"Clear—" he started, but the word died in his throat.
The elevator doors behind him slammed shut.
"Jack!" Jill lunged forward, hitting the panel inside, but the controls flared red.
OVERRIDE LOCK – ACCESS DENIED.
Jack spun, pounding the steel with his fist. "Rebecca! Jill! What the hell!?"
Rebecca hammered at the console, trying to reroute power. "It's not responding! Someone's controlling the elevator remotely!"
A voice crackled through the intercom—smooth, calm, unmistakable.
"Hello again, Jack Hale. I hope you didn't miss me. This time, we'll conduct a proper test. No more random variables to hinder my work."
A deep metallic groan echoed through the shaft.
"Rebecca!" Jill shouted. "What's happening!?"
The elevator shuddered once—then began descending on its own.
Jack slammed his palm against the sealed doors. "Jill! Rebecca!"
The car dropped out of sight, its hum fading into the depths below.
He was alone.
Jack's Viral Sense spiked like static in his skull. Something massive was moving beneath the floor—slow and deliberate.
He raised his shotgun, stepping forward. The soles of his boots crushed glass underfoot. Steam drifted from broken pipes overhead, curling through the light like ghosts.
Then he saw it.
The T-Aegis Tyrant stepped through the haze.
Jack grimaced. "Fuck… you again? Is this your idea of a test?"
He kept the shotgun trained high on the massive form.
The Tyrant took one slow, deliberate step forward.
Jack fired. "Come on, big guy. Let's end this once and for all."
He fired again.
The shell tore into its shoulder, shredding muscle and sending black ichor spraying across the wall.
The Tyrant staggered—but didn't fall.
It looked down at the wound, then up at him again.
Then its chest expanded with a deep, mechanical rasp.
Its flesh began to move.
The torn wound didn't just close—it shifted, bones sliding beneath the skin like knives finding new angles. The arm itself warped, stretching, bones snapping outward through the forearm. What emerged wasn't a claw—it was a blade, grown and fused from its own skeleton, dripping with black ichor.
Jack muttered, "Well, that's not what I wanted to happen."
The Tyrant lunged.
It didn't charge like a beast—it moved with precision, closing the distance in two strides. The bone blade whistled past Jack's head, carving a deep gouge into the wall behind him.
Jack ducked low, rolled beneath the next swing, and fired upward. The buckshot hit the underside of its jaw, exploding teeth and cartilage. It didn't even scream. It just adjusted.
From the intercom, Isaacs's voice rose in manic excitement.
"Do you see it? Adaptation! It's learning in real time! The T-Aegis strain reconfigures structural integrity under trauma! Beautiful!"
The Tyrant's red eyes flared brighter—almost blinding. It pivoted, fluid and silent, the bone sword dragging a molten scar through the floor.
Jack dodged the next swing. The Tyrant's blade struck an electrical box, exposing a tangle of sparking wires. Jack saw it and formed a plan in an instant.
He fired again—another hit to the leg. The Tyrant stumbled, balance faltering. Jack rushed forward, slamming the butt of his shotgun into its chest and driving it back into the live cables.
Electricity burst across the room—arcing through the creature's body. It convulsed, shrieking soundlessly, its eyes flickering between crimson and dull black.
Then it stopped moving.
The lights across the floor dimmed, and the hum of the generators faded. Power across the level went out completely.
Jack lowered his shotgun, breathing hard, and noticed the elevator door's lock light turn green. The mechanism clicked.
He exhaled, half-smirking. "Guess I short-circuited the security system."
Jack approached the elevator, shotgun slung over his shoulder. The panel beside the door showed only a black screen.
He pressed the call button anyway. Nothing.
He hit it again. Still dead.
"Come on…" he muttered, slamming his fist against the metal casing.
The floor hummed faintly, the sound echoing down the corridor. No response. No power. Just silence.
Jack's eyes swept the room. A broken security station sat half-buried under debris. Among the wreckage, something glinted—an iron crowbar, its handle scorched and bent at one end.
"Good enough." He grabbed it and wedged it between the elevator doors.
Metal screamed as he pried them apart inch by inch. The doors resisted at first, then gave way with a sudden jolt—the gap wide enough for him to peer through.
He noticed a series of emergency lights flickering down the shaft, marking a ladder that ran along the inner wall.
"This is the only way down, I guess."
Jack slung the shotgun across his back and grabbed the ladder, stepping into the shaft. The air was cold and damp, carrying the smell of rust and burnt wiring.
He didn't notice the sound behind him.
A low, wet crack.
Then another.
In the darkness of the ruined corridor, the T-Aegis Tyrant twitched. Its eyes blinked open—dim at first, then flaring bright red.
It watched Jack climb into the shaft, unmoving.
Waiting.