"..."
"Roar! Roar! Roar!!!"
The T-002 Tyrant opened its eyes and let out a piercing, high-pitched roar that instantly shattered the remaining fragments of its glass containment tank. Its massive claws tore through the wreckage, and its huge feet stepped onto the lab floor. The three-meter-tall giant stood before them, its bald head and milky-white eyes exuding a terrifying, uncanny valley-like pressure.
"F*ck! Run—!!!"
Chris and Enrico, recovering from their shock, scrambled to their feet. Chris raised the pistol and immediately emptied a few rounds into the creature's bald head.
"Bang! Bang! Bang—!!!"
The muzzle flashed, and 9mm rounds struck the T-002's forehead with precision—a testament to Chris's champion marksmanship. Yet, the bullets were useless. They failed to penetrate the Tyrant's thick defenses, leaving only faint dents on its gleaming skull. Not a single drop of blood appeared.
Chris was momentarily stunned. The head was the weakness of all other monsters; why was this one's skull as hard as armored steel? Unfamiliar with the Tyrant series, Chris didn't grasp the nature of the enemy.
Meanwhile, Captain Enrico scrambled up, quickly ripping his shirt to create a makeshift bandage for his mangled, bleeding hand. It was a crude attempt, but every drop of blood counted. He quickly realized his dilemma: he was unarmed. With only one pistol and 15 rounds between them, and facing a monster of this caliber, Enrico felt Wesker had been incredibly cheap. Giving up the humorous idea of using a chair as a weapon against a creature that shrugged off pistol fire, Enrico braced himself.
Though Chris's attack didn't break the Tyrant's defense, it did hurt the monster. A giant doesn't ignore the ant that bites its foot; it crushes it.
"Roar! Roar! Roar—!!!"
The T-002, still lacking a developed language system, roared in fury and immediately charged. Enrico, being the closest, was its primary target.
The charge was like a maddened elephant, shaking the lab floor. The Tyrant's massive, steel-taloned hand swept toward Enrico's face with terrifying speed and force.
"Sh*t!" Enrico cursed, raising the folding chair as a shield.
"Bang————!!!"
The impact was tremendous. Enrico felt as if he'd been hit by a runaway train. The chair instantly splintered, the force transferring directly through his chest. Several of his ribs snapped, and he was hurled into the nearest wall like a ragdoll. He coughed up blood, his body spasming on the floor.
In a single hit, Captain Enrico was disabled, reduced to a crumpled, defeated heap.
"Roar! Roar! Roar..."
The T-002 didn't immediately move for the kill. It turned its attention to Chris. Like any strong predator, it preferred to torment its prey, enjoying the struggle rather than finishing the job quickly, unless it was genuinely hungry.
Chris panicked. The sight of the brutally wounded Enrico and the murderous Tyrant filled him with anxiety. However, his eyes fixated on the large, throbbing red heart exposed on the T-002's chest. The organ was pumping furiously from the exertion of the attack, making it an undeniable target. The heart must be the weakness, Chris realized with a surge of hope.
He quickly raised the pistol. He had ten rounds left. He had to take down this monster with what little he had, but he couldn't be sure if the exposed heart was just as armored as the head.
Chris recalled a difficult scenario from a past arrest: a suspect hiding in a car with bulletproof glass. Standard police pistols couldn't penetrate it. To solve the problem, Chris had pressed his gun against the glass and fired several shots in rapid succession, aiming for the exact same spot. This continuous, focused pressure could breach even laminated glass.
Chris decided to replicate this difficult technique, concentrating all ten remaining 9mm rounds onto a single point on the Tyrant's exposed heart. Though he had never attempted this technique in real combat, his experience as a shooting champion gave him the confidence to try.
His eyes hardened with resolve. He aimed at the T-002, took a deep breath, bit his tongue to sharpen his focus, and steadied his hand. He lowered the muzzle slightly, then unleashed a rapid, intermittent burst of fire.
"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang—!!!"
An amazing phenomenon occurred: the ten rounds flew in a precise, single line, one bullet following the wake of the last.
The first round hit the heart but failed to penetrate the high-density muscle, lodging itself in the tissue. The second round slammed directly into the first bullet's entry point. The muscle resistance instantly collapsed, and the next two rounds punched into the external heart. The remaining six rounds tore through the exposed organ.
"Squelch...!!!"
The Tyrant's colossal body stiffened. It collapsed to one knee, clutching its chest in pain as a terrifying amount of blood gushed from the wound, pooling instantly on the floor. It was as if Chris had shot a blood bank.
"..."
"I hit it! Is it dead?" Chris shouted, unable to hide his excitement. A fatal heart wound should be enough to kill any creature.
Unfortunately, the T-002 was a creature with three hearts. The external heart only controlled blood circulation. With the primary circulation heart gone, the two internal hearts would immediately take over the function. This meant the Tyrant was still alive and combat-ready, though the increased strain on the remaining organs would likely shorten its effective combat duration.
"Roar! Roar! Roar—!!!"
The Tyrant let out a fresh, deafening roar of rage. Though not fatal, the injury hurt and infuriated it. Its milky-white eyes fixed on Chris, and its yellowed teeth were banged in a snarl.
"Thud! Thud! Thud—!!!"
It surged to its feet, every muscle taut, and charged Chris—the same unstoppable, rhino-like assault. The floor shuddered as if struck by an earthquake. Facing a behemoth about to crush him, Chris instinctively pulled the trigger.
Click... Click...
The handgun was empty. The ten rounds were all spent.
At that moment, Chris's composure finally shattered into panic. Facing imminent death, he was momentarily paralyzed, unable to turn and run. The Tyrant seemed intent on crushing his skull.
Am I going to die—?
"Dodge! Flashbang!!!"
Just as Chris was resigned to his fate, a shout from behind yanked him back to reality. His training took over: hearing the command "Flashbang," he immediately curled up, covering his head and ears, and rolled desperately toward the nearest corner.
Simultaneously, a green, cylindrical object arced through the air and struck the Tyrant's bald head. Confused, the Tyrant grabbed the mysterious object and crushed it in its massive hand!