September 23, 1998, 4:45 AM – Underground Laboratory Exit
Every step was a conquest. Eddie moved down the sterile white corridor, one hand pressed against the wall for support. It wasn't just weakness. It was a hunger so deep, so visceral, that it felt like a black hole opening inside his gut, threatening to consume him from within. His body, reshaped by the serum, screamed for fuel.
At the exit, the gray dawn light hit him like a slap. Mark, one of the day-shift guards, approached with a worried expression.
"Dr. Cai, are you alright? You're pale as a ghost. Need a ride?"
Eddie, barely able to focus on his face, nodded. Gratitude felt distant, muffled. "Thanks, Mark." He didn't trust himself to drive. In this condition, he would crash into the first lamppost.
As he walked toward the car, he felt the changes. A tingling under his skin, a new, strange awareness of every single muscle in his body. The fusion process had been unbelievably fast. Six hours. A world record, fuck. Alexia Ashford had needed fifteen years of cryogenic sleep to achieve something similar. He had done it in six. A thin smile tugged at his lips. Worth it.
Just as Mark was about to open the door for him, another guard ran up.
"Mr. Mark, special meeting. Security's requesting you."
"Shit," Mark cursed, genuinely regretful. "Sorry, Eddie, I can't…" He glanced around, then shouted. "Hey, Kevin! Get over here!"
A man with shoulder-length hair and a cocky grin walked up, swaggering in a way that clashed with the Umbrella uniform.
"What's up, Mark?"
"Drive the doctor where he needs to go. I owe you a beer."
"Deal," Kevin said, clapping Mark on the shoulder. Then he turned to Eddie, winking. "So, Doc. Where to?"
Kevin Ryman. The name was familiar. A S.T.A.R.S. candidate who had failed the exam twice—not for lack of skill, but for his reckless attitude and total disregard for authority. A loose cannon.
"Near the university," Eddie muttered, collapsing into the passenger seat. He shut his eyes, trying to concentrate, to fight back the hunger clouding his mind.
"University, huh?" Kevin said, starting the car with a screech of tires. "Didn't peg you as the bookworm type. Most Umbrella big shots are so uptight they look like they've got a stick shoved up their ass. You're different. You even say thank you." He laughed, loud and genuine. "Don't take it wrong, it's just funny, that's all."
"My title at Umbrella is a burden, not an honor," Eddie said, his voice flat, exhausted.
"Hahaha, maybe. But everyone wants to work there, y'know? Anyway, I heard you're Jill's guy."
Eddie's eyes snapped open. "How do you know that?"
"How? The guy named Chris has had a funeral face for a week," Kevin said, still smiling. "You move fast, huh? Bagging the prettiest woman in the department. But watch yourself. If we ever find out you mistreat her, don't be surprised if we show up with metal pipes."
He said it as a joke, but for a moment, his eyes didn't smile at all.
Ten minutes later, they arrived. Raccoon City University, a sprawling campus funded largely by Umbrella. Eddie got out without a word of goodbye. He headed straight toward the cafeteria, the smell of fried food guiding him like a beacon.
He ordered. Not a meal. Everything. Three burgers, two orders of fries, a hot dog, a whole pizza, and two liters of soda. The kid behind the counter just stared at him, mouth half-open, tray forgotten mid-air.
Eddie sat down and began to eat. It wasn't hunger. It was demolition. He tore through the first burger in two bites, ripping bread and meat without chewing. He swallowed handfuls of fries, the salt and grease exploding into pure energy on his palate. He didn't taste it. He only felt his body screaming in gratitude.
Kevin hadn't left. He leaned against his car, smoking a cigarette, watching with an unreadable expression. He saw the way Eddie ate—with an almost animal, predatory ferocity. He saw how quickly Eddie's pallor faded, replaced by a healthy flush. He saw something that wasn't entirely human.
When Eddie finished, he leaned back in his chair with a long sigh. He felt full. He felt… powerful. The pain was gone, replaced by a calm, vibrant strength. He looked up and saw Kevin staring at him.
"Ah, Kevin!" he said, with his usual smile—arrogant and charming again. "Sorry, I was starving. Come on, let me buy you something."
He called Kevin over, offering food with disarming generosity. But as Kevin approached, laughing, Eddie knew something had changed. The man had seen too much. And a loose cannon like Kevin Ryman was unpredictable. Another variable in an equation that grew more dangerous every day.