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*****
A man stepped out from the shadows. He was battered, his S.T.A.R.S. uniform torn, holding a shotgun.
Captain Enrico Marini.
He lowered the weapon instantly. "Rebecca?"
"Captain!" Rebecca ran to him. "You're alive!"
Enrico looked relieved, but his eyes were hard, scanning the shadows. Then he saw Atlas.
He raised the shotgun again. "Who is this?"
Atlas raised his hands slowly, palms open.
"Easy, Captain. I'm the guy keeping your medic alive."
"It's okay, Captain!" Rebecca interjected quickly, stepping between them. "This is Atlas. He saved me on the train. He saved me from the centipede. He's... he's on our side."
Enrico studied Atlas. He saw the way Rebecca stood near him—protective, trusting. He saw the sheer size of the man and the arsenal he was carrying.
"Private contractor?" Enrico asked skeptically.
"Something like that," Atlas replied smoothly.
"Where are the others? Richard? Forest?"
Enrico shook his head grimly. "Scattered. Or dead. I haven't seen anyone since the crash except for Dewey... and he wasn't Dewey anymore."
"We saw him," Rebecca whispered. "He's gone."
Enrico closed his eyes for a second, a flicker of pain crossing his face. Then he steeled himself.
"Listen, if we go straight from here, there's an old tunnel leading to the villa that was hidden from the eyes,"
Enrico said, pointing down the dark corridor. "It's an exit. We need to regroup."
"Captain, wait," Rebecca said urgently. "We need to find Billy. Billy Coen."
Enrico frowned. "The convict? I thought he was dead."
"He's not," Rebecca insisted. "He fell into the water treatment plant. He helped us. We have to go back for him."
"Rebecca," Enrico sighed, gripping her shoulder. "We don't have time. This place is crawling with zombies and monsters. We need to leave."
"I'm not leaving him," Rebecca said firmly.
Enrico looked at her. He saw the change in her. The terrified rookie was gone; in her place was a survivor.
He sighed, knowing he couldn't change her mind.
He looked at Atlas.
"I don't know who you are, Mr. Atlas," Enrico said seriously. "But my team is falling apart. Please. Protect her. Find Coen if you can, but get her out alive. Meet us at the villa."
"Understood, Captain," Atlas replied, his voice steady.
But the order was unnecessary. Even without the command, he wouldn't have abandoned her. Atlas let his gaze linger on her for a fraction of a second, cataloging the innocence, cuteness mixed with hidden resilience in her eyes. It wasn't just that she was beautiful—though she certainly was—it was a gravitational pull he hadn't felt since he first crossed paths with Alice. It was a bone-deep intuition telling him that she was significant, a rare variable in the equation of survival. Protecting her didn't feel like a chore; it felt like a biological imperative.
It was the same magnetic spark he had sensed in Alice—a radiant, untainted vitality that demanded to be protected. To let a light like that be extinguished by the darkness of this world wasn't just a failure of duty; it would be a crime against nature.
"Good luck," Enrico said.
He turned and ran down the corridor toward the Villa tunnel.
Atlas watched him go. He knew the lore. He knew that Enrico would make it to the Mansion, uncover the truth about Umbrella, and then be silenced by a bullet from a traitor's gun.
'Wesker,' Atlas thought. Atlas decided to get out of here fast; maybe he could still catch up to him and stop Wesker.
"Let's go," Atlas said to Rebecca. "We have a convict to find."
[The Factory - Lower Level]
They walked in the opposite direction, toward a water treatment access lift.
They stepped onto the platform and hit the call button.
THUD.
A heavy vibration shook the floor.
Rebecca looked around nervously. "Did you feel that?"
Atlas turned slowly, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the ruins not far away.
"We have company," he whispered.
Emerging from the shadows of a collapsed retaining wall was a nightmare.
Rebecca gasped, taking a step back. It was similar to the monster they had fought on the cable car platform, but this one was different. It was larger, grosser—a rejection of nature.
It stood 2.5 meters tall—a towering slab of grey, necrotic flesh.
Subject: PROTO-TYRANT (T-001)
This was the "Tyrant Prototype" in its rawest, ugliest form. It was a catalogue of biological failure: its spine was exposed through the rotting flesh of its back; its shoulders were deformed, hunched under the weight of excessive muscle mass; its body was wracked with constant, violent spasms as the primitive T-Virus burned through its nervous system.
It was a creature of side effects. It had low intelligence, barely more than a beast, and its defense was nonexistent due to the pulsing, exposed heart on its chest. But what it lacked in design, it made up for in sheer, tenacious vitality.
It was essentially a "Super Zombie"—a failed beast with a sword-like claw on its right hand capable of shearing through steel.
"Another one," Rebecca breathed, horrified by the twitching, leaking monstrosity. "It looks... Overdone."
"It's a mistake," Atlas said coldly. "And I'm going to correct it."
The Tyrant locked its milky eyes on them. It didn't strategize. It didn't flank. It just roared—a wet, gurgling sound—and launched itself into the air.
It covered the distance in a single, terrifying bound, its massive claw raised to tear them apart.
"Get back!" Atlas ordered.
This time, he didn't play around. He didn't dodge.
This time Atlas didn't play around and drew the Magnum Revolver he had scavenged from the cable car corpse.
He stood his ground, legs braced, watching the mountain of meat descending on him. The creature's exposed heart was pumping wildly, a target painted in red.
Atlas's vision sharpened. The world slowed down.
He didn't just pull the trigger. He fanned the hammer with his left hand, turning the heavy revolver into a semi-automatic cannon.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
BOOM! BOOM!
He fired all six rounds in less than two seconds. His arm was a blur, his aim superhuman.
The kinetic energy was catastrophic.
The first shot stripped the flesh from the heart.
The second and third punched deep into the ventricle.
A solid beam of explosive rounds slammed into the Proto-Tyrant's exposed heart with the force of a freight train. The sheer kinetic energy arrested the monster's charge instantly, freezing it in mid-stride.
Then, The rounds burrowed deep inside the organ before the fuses triggered.
BOOM.
The Tyrant's chest cavity didn't just open; it evaporated. The explosive rounds turned the massive heart and the surrounding ribcage into a fine red mist. A geyser of black blood and shredded meat erupted from its back, painting the walls in a gruesome mural.
Blowing the entire heart out the back of its spine.
The monster lost all momentum. It hit the ground at Atlas's feet, sliding to a halt. Its claw twitched once, violently, scratching the metal floor, and then it went still.
Smoke drifted lazily from the barrel of the revolver.
Rebecca stared at the corpse, then at Atlas.
She lowered her grenade launcher, her mouth slightly open. She hadn't even had time to disengage the safety on her weapon.
"You..." she stammered, looking at the devastation. "You killed it. Before it even landed."
"This monster's weakness is very obvious," Atlas said, flipping the cylinder open and dumping the smoking casings. "As long as the heart in his chest is broken, this guy is dead. Bad design."
"It had a glass jaw," Atlas shrugged, holstering the gun. "Or a glass heart."
DING.
The elevator arrived behind them, the doors sliding open with a cheerful chime that felt out of place in the slaughterhouse.
"Elevator's here," Atlas said, gesturing to the doors.
Rebecca looked at him. She didn't see a mercenary anymore. She saw something almost mythical. A guardian angel with bone claws and a Magnum who stood between her and the abyss.
She walked into the elevator, standing close to him as the doors closed. The fear of the Tyrant faded, replaced by the overwhelming sense of safety she felt in his shadow as her brain proceeded the whole situation.
"That was amazing," she whispered, leaning slightly against his arm, her shoulder pressing into his bicep with slightly red cheeks.
Atlas looked down at her. He could feel her trembling slightly, not from fear, but from the adrenaline crash. He didn't pull away. He let her lean.
"Don't mention it," he said softly.
The elevator descended, taking them down to the water treatment plant. Down to Billy. And down to the final confrontation with the Queen.
---
Location: Umbrella Management Training Facility – Water Treatment Plant (B4).
Time: 01:15 AM (Monday).
The industrial elevator groaned as it hit the sub-basement level. The air here was heavy with moisture, smelling of algae, rust, and the deep, earthy scent of a river flowing underground.
When the heavy steel doors slid open, the sound of rushing water filled the corridor.
Atlas stepped out first, his Magnum Revolver drawn. Rebecca followed close behind, her hand instinctively reaching out to graze the back of his leather jacket—a tactile confirmation that he was there, a solid wall between her and the dark.
They moved to the railing of the underground reservoir. Below them, dark water churned, fed by the runoff from the Arklay Mountains.
"Atlas, look!" Rebecca gasped, pointing down into the gloom.
Caught on a metal grate in the middle of the river was a figure. He was soaked, battered, and lying face down.
"Billy!"
It was the convict. He wasn't moving.
"He's alive," Atlas said, his enhanced vision picking up the subtle rise and fall of Billy's chest. "But he's out cold."
"We have to get down there," Rebecca said, panic rising in her voice. She leaned over the railing. "Billy! Billy, wake up!"
Her voice echoed off the concrete walls.
Billy didn't stir. But something else did.
A massive ripple disturbed the water near the grate. A shadow, dark and slick, glided beneath the surface. It was huge—easily the size of bike.
"Something's in the water," Atlas warned, grabbing Rebecca's shoulder and pulling her back from the edge.
SPLASH.
A massive, tongue-like appendage shot out of the water. It wrapped around Billy's ankle.
Before they could fire a shot, a Giant Lurker—a mutated frog the size of a bull—breached the surface. It didn't try to eat him there; it simply yanked him.
Billy was dragged off the grate. He hit the water with a splash, waking up instantly.
"Gah! What the—"
He screamed as the current swept him away, the Lurker diving after him into the deeper tunnels.
"No!" Rebecca screamed, gripping the railing until her knuckles turned white. "It took him!"
"It's playing with its food," Atlas said grimly.
"The current leads to the filtration chamber. We can cut them off."
He turned her around, his hands firm on her shoulders.
"Rebecca, look at me."
She looked up, her eyes wide with fear.
"We will find him," Atlas promised, his voice low and vibrating with absolute confidence. "He's a Marine. He's tough. But I need you focused. Can you do that?"
Rebecca took a ragged breath. She looked at Atlas—at the calm grey eyes that hadn't shown fear since this nightmare started. She nodded, drawing strength from him.
"Yes," she whispered. "Let's go."