For advance 40+ chapters patreon.com/TranslationGod?
Marcus stared at the zombie dog. Hairless. Rotting. Teeth way too long for any normal canine.
"Jesus, that's disgusting," he muttered.
Alice glanced at him, surprised he was complaining about aesthetics while facing death, but didn't comment.
The zombie dog tensed, muscles bunching.
Then it charged.
"Run!" Alice spun and bolted for the next room.
Marcus followed at a leisurely pace, extending his telekinesis as the creature closed the distance. Just a gentle nudge—enough to make it stumble, slow down, buy them a few extra seconds.
They crashed through a door into an adjacent office. Alice slammed it shut behind them, the heavy metal blocking the zombie dog's momentum. Through the window, they could see it scrabbling at the door, claws scraping metal, unable to figure out how handles worked.
Alice exhaled. "That was—"
Behind them, a zombie in a lab coat lunged from the shadows.
Marcus's telekinesis-enhanced kick caught it in the chest. The zombie flew backward—way too far for a normal kick—and slammed into a filing cabinet six feet away with a bone-crunching thud.
Alice spun around, saw the zombie crumpled against the cabinet, then looked at Marcus.
"Nice shot," she said slowly.
Marcus shrugged and walked over to the downed zombie. It was wearing a security uniform with a gun belt. He plucked the pistol free—a Beretta, half-full magazine.
"Now we're armed," he said, checking the safety.
Alice's shoulders relaxed slightly. A gun changed the equation. Not much, but enough.
Then she saw movement behind Marcus. "Look out!"
Three more zombie dogs squeezed through a broken window on the far side of the room, glass crunching under their paws. They spread out, flanking, growling with that horrible wet sound.
Alice moved closer to Marcus instinctively. He had the gun.
Marcus raised the Beretta, perfectly calm. The zombie dogs crouched, preparing to spring—
They charged as a pack.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Three shots. Three headshots. The dogs dropped mid-leap, momentum carrying their corpses forward to skid across the floor.
Alice's jaw dropped. "How did you—"
BANG. BANG.
Two more dogs from a different angle. Two more perfect headshots.
Five shots. Five kills. Not a single miss.
Marcus lowered the gun. "We should keep moving."
Alice stared at him. That wasn't lucky shooting. That was trained. Military-grade marksmanship, the kind you got from thousands of hours on a range.
Who the hell is this guy?
Before she could ask, glass shattered behind her. The zombie dog from the other room—the one they'd locked out—had broken through the window. It hit her from behind, jaws snapping at her neck.
Alice reacted on pure instinct. She twisted, kicked the dog away, grabbed a metal stool, and beat it into submission with a flurry of strikes that would've made a UFC fighter proud.
When the dog stopped moving, Alice stood there breathing hard, staring at her hands.
How did I do that?
Images flashed through her mind. Training rooms. Gun ranges. Hand-to-hand combat drills. James's voice: "You're security. You were trained for this."
"You okay?" Marcus's voice pulled her back.
"Yeah. Fine." Alice lowered the stool. "Let's go."
They moved through several more rooms, methodically checking for threats. Most of the zombies were slow, easy to avoid. A few they locked in rooms rather than wasting bullets. But no more guns to scavenge—everyone's weapons were empty or missing.
As they circled back through a lab area, Marcus heard voices ahead. He held up a hand. Alice froze.
They crept forward. Through a doorway, they saw Matt struggling on the ground, a female zombie on top of him, jaws inches from his throat.
Alice didn't hesitate. She grabbed a heavy glass paperweight from a nearby desk and brought it down on the back of the zombie's skull with a sickening crack. The zombie's neck snapped. Matt shoved the body aside and scrambled backward.
The zombie's face was visible now—a woman, maybe thirty, wearing a lab coat. Her ID badge read LISA ADDISON - GENETICS DEPT.
Alice felt something twist in her memory. A conversation. This woman's voice: "I'll get you the virus. I know the password."
Matt crawled over to the body, tears streaming down his face.
"Who is she?" Alice asked quietly.
"My sister." Matt's voice broke. "Lisa."
Silence hung heavy.
Matt wiped his eyes and looked up at them. "I need to tell you something. I'm not actually a cop."
"We figured," Marcus said.
"I'm with an environmental group. We found out Umbrella was researching illegal bioweapons here—the T-virus, genetic experiments, all of it. My sister worked here. She was going to get evidence, proof we could take to the media. But she..." He looked at Lisa's body. "She didn't make it."
"Why did she fail?" Marcus asked. "The virus leaked. Everyone's dead. What went wrong?"
"I don't know." Matt's voice hardened. "Maybe she trusted the wrong person. Maybe someone betrayed her."
Alice looked away, guilt written across her face. Memory fragments were coming back. She'd been Lisa's contact. She was the one Lisa had trusted.
Did I betray her? Did I get her killed?
Marcus noticed Alice's expression but didn't comment. "We should move," he said. "Staying here won't help. What we can do is get evidence of what Umbrella did here and make sure the world knows. Save other people from this."
Matt nodded slowly. Alice took a breath and straightened.
As they prepared to leave, Marcus paused at the doorway. "Oh, by the way—I should probably mention I'm also with an environmental group."
Both Matt and Alice stopped and stared at him.
Matt's expression clearly said: Do you think I'm an idiot?
Alice rolled her eyes. If you don't want to share your identity, just say so. Don't make up obvious lies.
Marcus grinned. "Okay, fine. You got me. I'm not just with an environmental group." He leaned in conspiratorially. "My real identity? I'm actually a deep-cover intelligence operative. International espionage. Very hush-hush."
Matt looked even more skeptical. "Right. And I'm James Bond."
"I'm serious!" Marcus's grin widened. "Triple agent. Playing all sides. You'd be amazed what I've seen."
Alice studied him. The joke was ridiculous, but... that marksmanship wasn't a joke. Five headshots in rapid succession without missing? That was professional-grade skill. Special forces, maybe. Intelligence operative wasn't completely impossible.
"You're full of shit," she said finally. But her tone was thoughtful.
Marcus just smiled and started walking. "Believe what you want."
They continued through the Hive. The atmosphere had shifted—less tense, oddly. Marcus's terrible joke had broken the heavy mood, and despite everything, both Alice and Matt found themselves relaxing slightly around him.
Whatever his real identity was—cop, agent, civilian with gun training—he didn't seem dangerous. At least not to them. If anything, he seemed... decent. Someone trying to help in his own weird way.
Alice found herself glancing at Marcus more often as they walked. Trying to figure him out.
Who are you really?
Marcus, for his part, was quite satisfied with how the conversation had gone. Make jokes, deflect suspicion, let them think he was either a bad liar or possibly telling the truth. Keep them guessing.
Much better than revealing he was an interdimensional traveler with telekinetic powers.
Identity management, he thought with amusement. It's all about selling the story.
(End of Chapter)