Without another word, they turned and walked into the darkness, ready for whatever came next.
John and Ethan moved cautiously through the thick forest, the night air still heavy with the lingering smoke from the collapsed facility. The silence was unsettling—no wildlife, no wind, just the distant crackling of dying embers.
As they crested a small hill, they came upon a gruesome sight. Scattered across the dirt path were the bodies of several men, their uniforms marked with cartel insignia. Some had been torn apart, others lay motionless with gaping wounds. Bullet casings and blood painted the ground, evidence of a violent battle.
Ethan knelt beside one of the bodies, flipping him over with a grunt. "Jesus. Whatever did this wasn't human."
John scanned the area, his instincts on high alert. "No, but they put up a fight. Let's see if they left anything useful."
They began searching the fallen cartel members, their fingers quickly sifting through pockets and gear pouches. John found extra 9mm and shotgun shells, stuffing them into his vest. Then, beneath a nearby corpse, something caught his eye—a **.44 Auto Mag pistol**. He picked it up, examining the hefty frame before ejecting the magazine. It was half-full, with a few more .50 AE rounds scattered in a nearby box.
John: "Now this is a nice find. Packs a hell of a punch."
Ethan was a few feet away when he let out a low whistle. "And I think I just found something even better."
John turned to see Ethan crouched near a massive rifle—an **Anzio 20mm**. The barrel alone was intimidating, and next to it lay three loose rounds, with one already chambered.
John raised an eyebrow. "That thing looks like it could take down a damn tank."
Ethan slung the rifle over his shoulder, testing its weight. "Yeah, well, let's hope we don't have to."
John smirked. "Knowing our luck? We probably will."
With their new weapons in hand and their ammo restocked, they pressed forward, their path illuminated only by the faint glow of the moon. The cartel members had been wiped out by something vicious—and whatever it was, it was still out there.
Ethan tightened his grip on his weapon. "We should keep moving. I've got a bad feeling about this."
John nodded. "Yeah. And I don't think we're alone."
They continued toward their next objective—finding Zoe and Mia, unaware that something far worse was already watching them from the shadows, biding its time.
John and Ethan moved through the dense forest, guided by the faint glow of the moon and the distant, flickering lights of an old boathouse ahead. The structure was run-down, its wooden planks warped and covered in moss, but it was still standing—barely.
Ethan: "This has to be it. Zoe said she'd be waiting."
John scanned the area, his grip firm on his shotgun. "Yeah. But stay sharp. Just because we haven't run into anything yet doesn't mean we're in the clear."
As they approached, the wooden dock creaked under their weight. A dim lantern flickered inside the boathouse, casting long shadows against the walls.
John knocked on the door frame. "Zoe? Mia?"
From inside, a cautious voice answered. "Who's there?"
Ethan exhaled, relieved. "Zoe, it's us. We made it."
The door creaked open, and Zoe Baker stepped into view, her wary gaze shifting between the two men. Behind her, Mia Winters sat on an old wooden chair, looking pale but alert.
Mia: "Ethan… You're alive."
Ethan stepped forward, his expression softening for the first time in hours. "Yeah. I found you."
John gave the room a quick scan before stepping inside, shutting the door behind them. "We don't have much time. That cartel squad we found didn't just die on their own. Something tore through them. Whatever it was, it's still out there."
Zoe crossed her arms. "Then we best move fast. I got the materials for the serum, but we only got enough for one dose."
Ethan frowned. "So we have to choose…"
Mia looked between them, realization dawning on her face. "Then there's no time to waste. We have to go now."
Before anyone could respond, the ground beneath them rumbled. A deep, guttural groan echoed from the darkness outside, sending a chill through the air.
John instinctively raised his weapon. "That's not the wind."
Ethan moved to the window, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the treeline. "Something's coming."
Zoe tightened her grip on the table. "No… *someone's* coming."
A massive shadow loomed just beyond the light, moving with an unnatural gait, its form twisted and hulking.
John took a breath. "Jack."
The monster that was once Jack Baker stepped into the moonlight, its grotesque, pulsing body barely resembling the man it once was. His milky eyes locked onto them, a grotesque grin splitting his mutated face.
Jack: "Now… where do y'all think you're goin'?"
With a roar, he charged.
John pumped his shotgun. "Everyone, move!"
Jack Baker lunged forward with unnatural speed, his grotesque, mutated limbs smashing through the flimsy wooden walls of the boathouse. Splinters and debris exploded in all directions as John and Ethan dove aside, barely avoiding his crushing attack.
John rolled to his feet, raising his AA-12 shotgun. "Ethan, get them out of here!"
Ethan grabbed Mia's arm, pulling her toward the back exit while Zoe followed close behind. "Come on, move!"
Jack let out a guttural laugh, his twisted, elongated form shifting as he turned toward John. "Ain't no runnin', boy! You *know* that!"
John gritted his teeth and pulled the trigger. The AA-12 roared, unleashing a barrage of Dragon's Breath shells that engulfed Jack in a wave of fire. The flames licked at his monstrous flesh, but he barely flinched, his grotesque grin widening.
Jack: "Heh… that tickles."
John cursed under his breath. "Yeah? Let's see how you like this."
He switched to his .44 Auto Mag, aiming for the pulsating mass near Jack's shoulder. He fired. The heavy round tore into the grotesque growth, sending black ichor spraying across the room. Jack let out a pained howl, stumbling backward.
Ethan: "John, hurry up! We don't have time for this!"
Jack's eyes snapped toward Ethan and the others as they neared the door. With inhuman speed, he lunged.
John: "No you don't!"
Thinking fast, John grabbed a nearby propane tank and hurled it at Jack's feet. As the beast turned, John fired a well-placed shot. The explosion rocked the boathouse, sending Jack flying backward in a heap of flames and smoke.
John turned, sprinting toward the exit. "Go! Now!"
The group burst out of the boathouse just as another explosion sent it collapsing inward. The night air was thick with smoke and fire as they ran toward the dock, where an old motorboat bobbed in the dark waters.
Zoe: "That's our way out!"
Ethan helped Mia into the boat while Zoe prepped the engine. John kept his eyes on the wreckage of the boathouse, his grip tightening on his weapon.
Ethan: "John, come on!"
Just as John took a step forward, the smoldering debris shifted.
Jack's deep, monstrous voice rumbled through the night.
Jack: "Y'all ain't leavin' me *behind*…"
A massive clawed hand burst from the wreckage.
John exhaled sharply. "Oh, for fuck's sake…"
The fight wasn't over yet.
John didn't hesitate. He raised his AA-12 and fired a burst directly at Jack's emerging form. The shells ripped into the burning wreckage, sending sparks and chunks of debris flying. But Jack just kept coming, his grotesque form twisting as he pulled himself free.
Jack: "Now, now… don't be rude, boy. We ain't done yet."
His voice was deeper, distorted, his body a horrifying fusion of flesh and hardened fungal growths. His right arm had morphed into a massive claw, jagged and dripping with black ichor. His left eye was missing entirely, replaced by a pulsating, tumor-like mass.
Ethan: "John! Get in the boat, *now*!"
John backpedaled, firing another burst from the AA-12, but Jack lunged with terrifying speed. The clawed hand slammed into the dock, sending wood splintering into the air. John was thrown backward, skidding across the dock's surface.
Zoe: "Use the serum! It's the only way!"
John didn't waste a second. He lunged forward, gripping the **serum** from his belt and stabbing it directly into Jack's pulsating mass.
Jack let out a horrible screech as his body convulsed violently. The infection rapidly spread, hardening his flesh into stone-like formations. He staggered, arms flailing before he collapsed onto the dock, his monstrous form petrifying completely.
Jack: "Y'all… think… this is over?"
With one last groan, his body crumbled, leaving nothing but a hardened, lifeless husk.
Ethan: "John, *move*!"
John didn't argue. He sprinted toward the boat, leaping in just as Ethan gunned the engine. The boat lurched forward, skimming over the dark water.
Zoe, still on the dock, took a step forward. "Wait… what about me?"
Ethan's grip tightened on the wheel, guilt flashing across his face. "Zoe… I…"
John looked away, jaw clenched. They had no choice. There was only one dose of serum left.
Zoe's expression hardened as she stepped back, understanding settling in. "I see…"
Mia, weak but conscious, looked at Ethan. "We have to go."
Ethan hesitated for a moment longer before nodding. "I'm sorry."
As the boat pulled away, Zoe watched them disappear into the night, her figure slowly fading into the distance. The swamp was eerily quiet, save for the rippling water behind them.
Ethan reached for the final **serum**, turning to Mia. "Hold still."
Mia weakly nodded, and Ethan injected the serum into her arm. She let out a small gasp as the infection began to recede, her body trembling before finally relaxing.
John stared at the fading shore, a heavy feeling settling in his chest. "We left her behind…"
Ethan, gripping the wheel, didn't look away. "I know."
The boat roared forward, cutting through the swamp as they sped away from the nightmare behind them. But John knew—it wasn't over yet. Not until they made it out alive.
The boat cut through the still waters of the bayou, the distant sounds of the collapsing Baker estate fading into the night. The air was thick with humidity, and the only light came from the moon reflecting off the water's surface.
Mia leaned weakly against Ethan, her breathing steady but shallow. John sat across from them, reloading his Auto Mag with a tense expression. The weight of what they had left behind pressed heavily on them all.
Ethan: "She didn't deserve that…"
John exhaled, his fingers tightening around his weapon. "None of them did. But we didn't have a choice."
The boat rocked gently as they moved further from the nightmare they had survived, but John's instincts kept him on edge. Something didn't feel right.
Mia, her voice barely above a whisper, spoke. "Where do we go now?"
Ethan: "We get as far away from this place as we can. And then… I don't know."
John remained silent, staring ahead at the dark waters. Then, in the distance, something large came into view.
John: "What the hell is that?"
The massive, rusted structure loomed ahead—a derelict shipwreck, half-sunken and covered in years of decay. The eerie sight made John's gut tighten. Something about it felt *wrong*.
Ethan slowed the boat. "A ship? Out here?"
Mia's breathing hitched, her body tensing. She clutched her head, her eyes wide with fear. "No… no, not here…"
Ethan: "Mia? What's wrong?"
She gasped, gripping the side of the boat as a wave of dizziness overtook her. Then, a distorted, childlike giggle echoed across the water.
John's grip tightened on his shotgun. "Did you hear that?"
Ethan barely had time to react before the boat lurched violently. A massive force struck them from beneath, sending John overboard. The world became a blur as he hit the water, sinking into the darkness.
As he struggled toward the surface, the last thing he saw before blacking out was the outline of a small figure standing on the wrecked ship, watching him with cold, lifeless eyes.
The figure stood motionless, its presence unsettling, but neither Ethan nor John understood what they were looking at. The eerie silence was broken only by the lapping of the water, and before John could react, his vision blurred, and darkness took over.
Ethan's eyes fluttered open, his head pounding as he slowly regained consciousness. His vision was blurry, the dim glow of flickering lights casting eerie shadows on the corroded walls. The air was damp, filled with the heavy scent of mold and seawater.
A soft voice called out to him. "Ethan… Ethan, wake up."
His senses sharpened as he felt a familiar hand shake his shoulder. He turned his head and saw Mia kneeling beside him, her expression filled with urgency and worry.
Mia: "Come on, we have to go. Now."
Ethan groaned, pushing himself upright. He realized he was in a dimly lit, rusted hallway, pipes lining the walls, dripping with condensation. The ship. It all came back to him in fragments—the boat, the sudden attack, the cold darkness swallowing him whole.
Mia: "Here, take this."
She pressed a small vial into his hand. Ethan looked at it, confused.
Ethan: "What is this?"
Mia: "It's the only way to stop her. You have to use it. Find John. End this."
Ethan's breath hitched. "Mia, come with me."
Mia shook her head, a sad smile on her lips. "I can't. Not this time. Go, before she finds you."
A distant metallic *clang* echoed through the corridor, followed by the faint sound of giggling. Ethan's blood ran cold.
Mia shoved Ethan through the doorway with unexpected force. Before he could react, she slammed the heavy metal door shut behind him, locking it from the inside.
Ethan pounded on the door. "Mia! Open it! Don't do this!"
Mia's voice was barely audible through the thick steel. "You have to keep going, Ethan. Save John. Stop her."
Another metallic *clang* echoed through the ship, and the laughter grew closer. Ethan took a shaky breath, then turned and ran, gripping the vial tightly. He had no choice. He had to find John and finish this.
Ethan sprinted through the decaying corridors of the ship, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His mind raced, replaying the last moments with Mia, but he forced himself to focus. He had to find John.
After pushing deeper into the wreckage, he found a storage room with rusted lockers and scattered equipment. Slumped against the far wall, bound by heavy industrial chains, was John. His clothes were torn, his face bruised, but his eyes snapped open the moment Ethan entered.
John: "Took you long enough. You alright?"
Ethan rushed forward, working on the chains. "I could ask you the same thing. Hold on."
He found a metal pipe and wedged it between the links, using all his strength to break the restraints. With a final *snap*, the chains fell, and John stretched his sore limbs.
John: "Not gonna lie, I was starting to think I was gonna rot in here."
Ethan handed him the vial. "Mia gave me this. She said it's the only way to stop 'her.' We need to get moving."
John nodded, taking the vial and tucking it into his vest. "Then let's get the hell out of here."
They navigated their way through the shipwreck until they found an emergency raft. Paddling away from the wreck, they reached the riverbank and began their trek through the dark swampland. The radio in the distance crackled to life, catching their attention.
**Radio Transmission:** "Umbrella extraction team inbound. Hostiles still active in the area. Proceed to the abandoned factory. Repeat: proceed to the abandoned factory."
**Secondary Transmission:** "This is General Allen Booker of the United States Marine Corps. Our unit has received the distress signal and is en route to secure the area. Any surviving personnel, respond immediately."
Ethan and John exchanged a look, realizing John's call had gone through.
John: "Sounds like our best shot. We lost everything back there—we're gonna need weapons."
Ethan: "Then let's hope that factory isn't completely picked clean."
Following the transmission's guidance, they made their way through the muddy terrain until they reached the dilapidated factory. Inside, they found crates stamped with military insignias, untouched and ready for use. Opening them up, they found exactly what they needed.
John pulled out a **SPAS-12 shotgun**, inspecting the weapon with a nod of approval. Next to it was a **Single Action Army revolver** chambered in .45 ACP and an **M1 Garand rifle** with a full clip of **.30-06 rounds**.
Ethan cracked open another crate, pulling out a **10mm Glock**, an **HK53 assault rifle**, and an **M2 flamethrower**. He exhaled, feeling the weight of the weapons in his hands.
Ethan: "Alright. Now we're ready."
John: "Not yet. We still have a job to do. We go through the mines, find this lab, and figure out what this stuff actually is."
With fresh weapons and renewed determination, the two pressed forward into the darkness of the abandoned mine. Neither of them truly understood what they were looking for, but if it could stop whatever was happening, they had no choice but to find out.
John and Ethan descended deeper into the mines, their flashlights cutting through the darkness. The air was thick with moisture, the damp walls covered in patches of mold and strange fungal growths. Every step echoed through the tunnels, a constant reminder of how isolated they were.
Ethan: "I don't like this place. Feels like something's watching us."
John kept his SPAS-12 raised, scanning the shadows. "Stay sharp. If those things are down here, I don't want them getting the drop on us."
They continued forward, following rusted signs marked with faded Umbrella insignias. Soon, they came across a heavy steel door, slightly ajar. Ethan pushed it open, revealing a laboratory in complete disarray. Broken monitors flickered, cabinets were ransacked, and the faint smell of chemicals lingered in the air.
John: "Looks like someone got here before us."
Ethan moved toward a terminal still displaying faint green text. "Maybe we can find out what this 'E-Necrotoxin' actually is."
John watched the entrance while Ethan scrolled through the files. The screen displayed research logs detailing a bioweapon project—an entity referred to as *Eveline.*
Ethan: "She's the one controlling everything. She's… some kind of biological weapon."
John: "And this toxin?"
Ethan clicked through the files, then stopped when he found a diagram. "It's designed to shut her down completely. If we use it on her, this all ends."
John: "Then let's make it."
Ethan followed the instructions on the terminal, moving to a secured cabinet labeled **E-Necrotoxin Synthesis**. Inside was a small vial of a clear, viscous liquid. He inserted it into the processing unit, watching as the machine whirred to life. Moments later, a metal container slid out, revealing the completed **E-Necrotoxin**.
John took the container, weighing it in his hands. "One shot, huh?"
Ethan: "Looks like it. We better not miss."
A sudden, distant laughter echoed through the tunnels, sending a chill down their spines. The lights flickered as a childlike voice whispered through the room.
???: "You can't stop me…"
John chambered a round into his shotgun. "Like hell we can't."
With the toxin secured and their weapons ready, they pushed forward into the heart of the mine—where Eveline was waiting.
John and Ethan pushed forward, deeper into the mine's winding tunnels, their flashlights casting long, shifting shadows against the damp rock walls. The further they went, the more the environment changed. The walls pulsed with black fungal growths, the air thick with a sickly-sweet scent of decay.
A whisper, faint yet unmistakable, echoed through the tunnels.
Eveline: "You're different, John... I don't like that."
John froze for a moment, scanning the darkness. "Ethan… did you hear that?"
Ethan swallowed hard, gripping his rifle. "Yeah. She's here."
Eveline's voice grew clearer, dripping with frustration. "I tried to make you like the others… but you didn't change. You didn't *listen* to me. Why?"
John furrowed his brows, gripping his shotgun tighter. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about."
Eveline giggled, her voice surrounding them from all directions. "Oh, but I do! Your body… it's different. Stronger. The mold couldn't take you like it did the others. It didn't want to. I didn't want to. You're *broken*."
Ethan shot John a glance. "What the hell does she mean by that?"
John clenched his jaw. "I don't know… but I don't care. She dies either way."
The walls pulsed again, as if responding to Eveline's rage. The ground beneath them trembled, sending dust and loose rock cascading from the ceiling.
Eveline's voice turned venomous. "You think you can stop me? You think *that* little toy you made will work? You'll see, John. You'll see how useless you are when your friends start *rotting* like the rest."
John took a step forward, his voice steady. "You talk too much."
A sharp, high-pitched laugh filled the tunnel, and then—silence. The air became still, oppressive. The only sound was their own breathing.
Ethan tightened his grip on his weapon. "We need to move. Now."
John nodded, leading the way, but Eveline's words lingered in his mind. Immune? Stronger? None of that mattered right now. The only thing that did was putting an end to this nightmare.
And it was waiting for them just ahead.
John and Ethan pressed forward through the pulsating tunnels of the mine, their weapons at the ready. The deeper they went, the more the walls seemed to move, breathing as if alive. The sickly-sweet stench of decay mixed with the damp, oppressive air, making every breath feel heavier.
Ethan: "I really hate this place."
John chambered a round into his SPAS-12. "You and me both. Stay sharp."
A low, guttural growl echoed from the darkness ahead, followed by the wet, slithering sounds of something moving. Then, all at once, the tunnel came alive.
Black, writhing shapes emerged from the fungal growths along the walls, their deformed bodies twisting unnaturally as they lunged toward them. The Molded—dozens of them.
Ethan didn't hesitate, raising his HK53 and firing in controlled bursts, cutting down the first few creatures that rushed them. John took aim with his shotgun, each blast ripping through the grotesque forms, sending pieces of blackened flesh flying.
John: "Keep moving! We can't get bogged down!"
A larger Molded burst from the wall ahead, its grotesque, hulking frame blocking their path. It let out a deep, inhuman roar before charging forward, its massive clawed arm swinging wildly.
Ethan switched to his flamethrower, unleashing a stream of fire that engulfed the creature. The Molded shrieked, flailing as it burned, but still pressed forward. John aimed for its head and fired, the heavy slug finally putting it down.
Ethan: "They're not stopping!"
John: "Then we don't stop either!"
They pushed forward, cutting through wave after wave of Molded, their weapons growing hot from constant fire. Their arms burned with exhaustion, but they couldn't afford to slow down.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they reached a rusted metal door at the end of the tunnel. Ethan slammed his shoulder into it, forcing it open. They stumbled inside, sealing the door behind them.
The room beyond was different. The walls weren't lined with fungus, and the air felt eerily still. Monitors flickered, displaying distorted images of a young girl's face. Eveline's face.
Ethan: "We're here."
John gripped his shotgun, his breathing heavy. "Then let's finish this."
As they stepped forward, Eveline's laughter echoed through the room, and the real nightmare began.
John and Ethan stepped cautiously into the eerie chamber, their weapons raised. The dim glow of the monitors cast distorted images of Eveline's face across the room, her hollow eyes following their every move.
Ethan: "You feel that?"
John: "Yeah. She's close."
A chilling giggle echoed through the chamber, sending a shiver down their spines. Then, the monitors flickered, and Eveline's voice filled the room.
Eveline: "You should have listened. You should have stayed with me. But now… I don't need you anymore."
The air grew heavy, and suddenly, the entire room trembled. The walls pulsed, the fungus twisting and expanding as Eveline's influence reached its peak.
John: "Ethan, get ready!"
The walls burst open as massive tendrils of black mold surged toward them. Ethan raised his flamethrower, unleashing a stream of fire that forced the tendrils back, their twisted forms writhing as they burned. John fired his SPAS-12, each blast ripping through the advancing mold.
Ethan: "She's not holding back anymore!"
John: "Then neither are we!"
The room convulsed as Eveline's voice became a piercing scream. The tendrils receded, and in their place, a ghastly figure began to materialize. Eveline, no longer the frail girl they had seen in recordings, but a monstrous, shifting entity, her form bloated with pure infection.
Ethan pulled the **E-Necrotoxin** from his pouch. "We end this now!"
John: "Cover me!"
Ethan sprinted forward as John laid down suppressing fire, each shotgun blast slowing Eveline's transformation. Tendrils lashed out, barely missing Ethan as he closed the distance. With a final desperate lunge, he stabbed the vial directly into her pulsating core.
Eveline let out an ear-splitting shriek, her form convulsing violently. The entire room shook as the infection began to rapidly deteriorate, her body collapsing inward.
Ethan stumbled back toward John, both of them watching as Eveline's monstrous form withered away. The monitors around them flickered one last time before going dark. The air became still.
Ethan: "Is it over?"
John reloaded his shotgun, exhaling sharply. "Let's hope so."
But outside, the ground trembled, and a deep, guttural roar echoed through the remains of the mine.
The real fight had just begun.
The entire mine trembled violently as Eveline's final scream echoed through the cavernous tunnels. The walls cracked, and large chunks of rock began to fall, forcing Ethan and John to scramble for an exit.
Ethan: "We need to move! Now!"
John: "No argument here!"
They sprinted through the collapsing tunnels, dodging falling debris. The infected mass that had spread throughout the mine was rapidly dissolving, breaking apart like brittle ash. Bursting through a rusted metal door, they found themselves outside, back in the ruined remnants of the Baker property.
The land around them had been twisted by Eveline's influence, black fungal tendrils spreading across the swamp and the wreckage of the house. A deafening *roar* erupted from behind them. They turned just in time to see the ground heave upward, sending massive chunks of debris flying.
From the wreckage, a monstrous, grotesque version of Eveline emerged—her body fused with the remains of the house itself. She had grown to an unimaginable size, her face distorted in rage, her massive tendrils tearing through what little was left of the Baker estate.
Eveline: "You think you can leave me?! YOU BELONG TO ME!"
John raised his shotgun. "Yeah, no thanks."
Ethan: "How the hell do we fight *that*?!"
Before John could respond, a deafening *roar* of jet engines split the sky. A shadow passed over them, followed by the thunderous impact of artillery. A **jet strike** slammed into Eveline's monstrous form, causing a massive explosion that sent shockwaves through the area.
Through the smoke and debris, the distant rumble of **tank treads** filled the air. From the tree line, **U.S. Marines** poured in, their weapons trained on the giant creature.
**Radio Transmission:** "This is General Booker! We have visual on the target! Engage at will!"
The tanks fired their heavy cannons, sending explosive shells into Eveline's towering form. She let out a distorted, ear-piercing screech as the rounds tore into her.
Ethan and John took cover behind a wrecked vehicle as the battlefield erupted into chaos.
Ethan: "About damn time!"
John smirked. "Guess my call made it through after all."
As Eveline thrashed against the overwhelming firepower, Ethan saw something glint in the distance—a **specialized anti-B.O.W. weapon** being dropped by a descending Umbrella soldier.
**Radio Transmission:** "Ethan Winters! Take the shot!"
Ethan and John exchanged a look before Ethan sprinted toward the weapon. Eveline's massive eyes locked onto him as she let out a furious roar, sending tendrils crashing down in an attempt to crush him.
John: "Go, go, go! I'll cover you!"
With tanks and Marines laying down suppressing fire, Ethan grabbed the weapon, a massive high-powered **anti-B.O.W. cannon**, and turned toward Eveline for one final shot.
Ethan: "Say goodnight!"
He pulled the trigger.
The high-powered anti-B.O.W. cannon fired, unleashing a devastating projectile straight into Eveline's monstrous face. The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the battlefield, and for a moment, everything went silent.
Then, Eveline let out a final, ear-piercing shriek, her grotesque form convulsing violently. Her massive body began to calcify, turning to hardened ash as cracks spread across her frame. The fungal tendrils that had wrapped around the remains of the Baker estate withered, collapsing like a dying tree.
John watched, his grip still tight on his shotgun. "It's over…"
Ethan, still holding the smoking cannon, exhaled sharply. "Yeah… finally."
A deafening explosion erupted from Eveline's remains as her body shattered into dust, sending a gust of thick, blackened air into the sky. The battlefield fell eerily quiet, only the distant hum of approaching helicopters breaking the silence.
**Radio Transmission:** "Target neutralized. All units stand down. I repeat, stand down."
From the treeline, a group of **Umbrella soldiers** and **U.S. Marines** advanced cautiously, weapons at the ready. A helicopter descended onto the clearing, kicking up dust and debris. The side door slid open, revealing a tall, imposing figure in tactical gear.
John and Ethan turned as the soldier approached, his face becoming clear in the dim light.
**Chris Redfield.**
Chris: "Ethan Winters? John? You two really did a number on this place."
Ethan lowered the cannon, exhaustion evident in his face. "You took your time."
Chris smirked. "We had to make sure you softened her up first."
John shook his head, his body aching from the battle. "Well, she's gone now. No more Molded, no more Baker family. It's over."
Chris: "Not quite. We still have cleanup to do. There's more to this than just Eveline."
Ethan frowned. "What do you mean?"
Chris didn't answer immediately, glancing toward the burning remains of the Baker estate. "I'll explain everything later. For now, let's get you two out of here."
Ethan looked back at where Eveline had fallen, the reality of everything sinking in. The nightmare was finally over.
Or so he thought.
The helicopter cut through the night sky, the remnants of the Baker estate disappearing below. Ethan sat in silence, staring out the window as the cool air rushed past him. Beside him, Mia sat wrapped in a blanket, her fingers trembling slightly as she held onto his arm. His body was exhausted, but his mind raced with everything that had happened.
Across from him, Chris Redfield sat with his arms crossed, watching him carefully.
Chris: "You did good back there, Ethan. Most people wouldn't have survived that."
Ethan: "Yeah… well, I didn't have a choice."
Chris nodded, understanding the weight behind those words. He reached into a pouch and pulled out a photo, handing it to Ethan.
Chris: "We've been tracking this operation for a while. There's more going on than just the Bakers. You'll want to stay out of it."
Ethan barely glanced at the photo before looking back out the window. "I'm done. I just want to go home."
Chris glanced at Mia, then back at Ethan. "She's lucky to have you looking out for her. Both of you should take some time to recover." He leaned back, letting Ethan and Mia have their silence as the helicopter carried them away from the nightmare they had just survived.
---
John, however, had a different destination.
Seated in another helicopter, he listened to the comms chatter as the Marines coordinated cleanup operations. The aircraft veered toward a secure location where a military convoy waited. As they landed, John spotted a familiar figure standing near a group of armored vehicles.
A tall man in decorated Marine fatigues, his presence commanding even in the dim light.
**General Allen Booker.**
John stepped off the helicopter, his boots hitting the pavement with purpose. His entire body was covered in bandages, resembling a ghostly figure straight out of war-torn history. His face was wrapped tightly, only his sharp, tired eyes visible. The air was thick with tension as he took a slow step forward, his presence unsettling even to the hardened soldiers around him. Before he could say a word, another voice called out, laced with disbelief and restrained emotion.
"Took you long enough, little brother."
John turned to see **Trevor and Arthur**, his older brothers, standing near their father. Both were dressed in full combat gear, their expressions shifting between relief and mild amusement.
Trevor's smirk faltered for a moment as he took in John's wrapped appearance. "Jesus, John… what the hell happened to you? You look like you crawled out of a grave."
Arthur folded his arms, but there was no hiding the concern in his eyes. "Three years, John. You disappeared without a trace. Now you show up wrapped like a damn mummy… where the hell have you been?"
John let out a dry chuckle, though there was no humor behind it. "Better weeks? Try better years. I don't even know where to start."
General Booker stepped forward, his sharp eyes studying his son. "Report."
John straightened instinctively. "Mission complete. Eveline's terminated. The biohazard's been neutralized."
The General nodded, looking toward the distant horizon where the battlefield still smoldered. "Good work. But this isn't over. Not by a long shot."
John exhaled, already knowing what was coming next. "Yeah… figured as much."
Trevor hesitated before clapping John on the shoulder, feeling the layers of gauze and bandages beneath his palm. "Come on, we've got a lot to catch up on. You need rest."
John glanced around, noticing a motorcycle parked near the convoy—the same one he had ridden to the mission. He knew what he had to do.
John smirked faintly. "Yeah… but not yet."
As his family turned their attention to a briefing near the command tent, John took his chance. He moved swiftly, slipping away from the group and heading toward his bike. Swinging a leg over it, he started the engine, the roar cutting through the night.
Trevor turned just in time to see him. "John! Where the hell are you—"
John didn't look back. He gunned the throttle, speeding off into the darkness. He still had unfinished business.
Vengeance was waiting.
As they walked toward the convoy, the weight of everything he had been through still lingered, but for the first time in a long while, he wasn't facing it alone.