Kindly remember to add this new work to your libraries."Zenith of Desire: The Hollywood Incubus"
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*****
They looked up at him, their eyes softening.
Rebecca silently reached out and gripped the fabric of his jacket. Atlas didn't pull away; he simply adjusted his stride to match hers, a silent promise of protection.
Jill, standing beside, glanced. She saw the interaction—the subtle shift in Atlas's posture to shield them, the way Rebecca leaned into him. A small, knowing smile touched Jill's lips before she turned back to the mission. 'He's a good man,' she thought. 'Dangerous, but good.'
They reached a massive set of double doors at the end of the hall.
"This is it," Enrico whispered. "The main lab."
They entered.
The room was cavernous, dominated by a massive central computer bank and several large, cylindrical stasis tanks. The hum of machinery was deafening here.
Standing at the main console, his back to them, was a figure in a black S.T.A.R.S. uniform. The glow of the monitors reflected off his slicked-back blonde hair. His fingers danced across the keyboard with practiced ease.
Atlas narrowed his eyes. He knew that posture.
"I didn't expect us to meet again so soon," the man said, his voice smooth and cold, without turning around.
"Wesker," Jill spat the name like a curse. "You despicable bastard."
Albert Wesker stopped typing. He turned slowly, the fluorescent light glinting off his dark sunglasses. He looked at the battered, bloody group with the detached amusement of a scientist observing rats in a maze.
"Thanks for the compliment, Jill," Wesker smirked. "But you're just in time. The preparations are almost complete."
"Why?" Chris stepped forward, his knuckles white on his weapon. "Why did you betray S.T.A.R.S.? You set us up! You killed Kevin! You killed Forest! Why are you trying to kill us?"
"Believe it or not, Chris," Wesker said, walking slowly down the steps from the platform. "It's not me who wants to deal with you. It is fate itself. You were simply... necessary sacrifices for the next stage of my plans."
"Looks like you're just a slave to the Umbrella Corporation," Barry snorted dismissively, his gun trained on his former captain. "Doing their dirty work for a paycheck."
Wesker laughed. It was a dry, humorless sound.
"A slave? To Umbrella?"
He shook his head, looking at them with genuine pity.
"You think small, Barry. Umbrella is a dinosaur. A bloated, rotting carcass of a company that doesn't realize it's already dying."
Wesker began to pace, his voice taking on a frantic, visionary edge.
"Look at this city. The skin irritations, the missing persons, the quarantine failures. The outbreak is inevitable. Raccoon City will fall, and when it does, Umbrella will burn with it. Stocks will plummet, assets will be frozen. The ship is sinking, and only a fool stays on board to drown."
He gestured to the computer.
"I have no intention of going down with the captain. I have secured... alternative employment. A rival organization that appreciates vision over bureaucracy. But they require an entrance fee."
He tapped his temple.
"Experimental data. The final validation of the ultimate biological weapons—perfected, unstoppable. That is the price demanded by evolution itself. And you," he gestured lazily toward them, voice smooth as venom, "are the hapless collateral: wrong place, wrong time, just like every soul in this rotting husk of a city."
"You are a bastard, Albert Wesker," Enrico growled, leaning against the wall for support.
"You're going to blow this place up, along with all of us, just to pad your resume?"
"Precisely," Wesker smiled cruelly. "The self-destruct sequence has already been primed. In a few minutes, this facility—and all evidence of my involvement—will be ash."
"What do you mean?" Rebecca asked, her voice trembling. "What plan? What weapon?"
Wesker didn't answer her directly. He turned back to the console and pressed a final key.
CLACK.
"It's time for you to see what a real monster is," Wesker whispered, his voice trembling with dark excitement. "It's magnificent, isn't it?"
He pointed to the massive, fluid-filled tank in the center of the room.
Everyone followed his gaze.
Inside the glass cylinder, suspended in a nutrient solution, was a giant.
It stood nearly three meters tall—almost nine feet of grey, necrotic muscle. Its heart was exposed on the right side of its chest, pumping rhythmically. Its left hand was human-sized, but its right hand... its right hand was a massive, mutated claw that scraped against the glass.
Subject: TYRANT (T-002).
Atlas stared at it. He knew the stats.
The T-001 Proto-Tyrant they had killed earlier was a failed draft—spine exposed, brain decaying, unstable.
This? This was the flawed masterpiece.
The T-002 was sleek. Refined. The exposed organs were minimized and armored. The muscle density was off the charts. In the game lore, this creature could punch through two meters of reinforced concrete with a single swing. A force of 250kg per square centimeter was needed just to crack concrete; this thing could shatter a bunker.
"That's..." Chris whispered, stepping back.
"The Tyrant," Wesker finished breathlessly. "The ultimate lifeform."
"It's huge," Rebecca squeaked, instinctively stepping behind Atlas. She gripped the back of his tactical vest, hiding her face against his back. Atlas reached back with one hand, checking for her, ensuring she was close.
"Stay behind me," Atlas murmured, his eyes locked on the tank.
Wesker pressed a button.
HISS…
The liquid in the culture tank began to drain.
The amber fluid swirled away, revealing the grey skin of the monster in stark clarity.
The Tyrant's eyelids fluttered.
It opened its eyes. They were white, soulless, and devoid of anything resembling humanity.
CRASH!
The Tyrant didn't wait for the glass to lift. It punched through the reinforced containment wall. Shards of glass exploded outward like shrapnel.
The monster stepped out onto the metal grating, wet and glistening. It stood to its full height, towering over everyone in the room.
The S.T.A.R.S. members raised their weapons, trembling.
Wesker laughed, spreading his arms wide. "Goodbye, fellow S.T.A.R.S.! I will miss you!"
He looked at the Tyrant, his face beaming with the pride of a father.
"Now! Destroy them!" Wesker commanded.
The Tyrant slowly turned its head. It looked at the group of terrified humans.
Then, it looked down at the man shouting orders.
The Tyrant stopped. It turned its massive body toward Wesker.
Wesker's smile faltered. He lowered his arms slowly.
"What's going on?" Wesker muttered, a flicker of panic entering his voice. "Why aren't you attacking them? I am your creator! Follow your programming!"
The Tyrant took a step toward him.
"Stop!" Wesker shouted, backing up. "You defect! Do as I say!"
Wesker fumbled for his Samurai Edge, raising it to shoot.
He was too slow.
The Tyrant didn't strike with anger; it struck with efficiency.
SCHLICK.
The sound was wet and sickening.
The Tyrant's massive claw thrust forward, moving faster than the eye could follow. It pierced Wesker's chest, the long blades entering through his ribs and exiting through his back.
"Gah...!"
Wesker gasped, his sunglasses slipping down his nose. He looked down at the massive claw protruding from his chest, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief.
"No..." Wesker gargled, blood bubbling from his lips. "This... cannot... be..."
Rebecca gasped, burying her face in Atlas's shoulder to hide from the gore. Jill flinched, turning her head away, her hand flying to her mouth.
The Tyrant lifted Wesker into the air like a ragdoll. It stared at him for a second, then flicked its wrist.
Wesker's body was thrown across the room.
He slammed into the far console, shattering monitors, and slid to the floor, leaving a streak of crimson on the white wall. He lay there, motionless, a gaping hole in his chest.
The "mastermind" was dead. (Or so it seemed).
The room fell into a terrified silence.
The Tyrant turned back. It looked at Atlas. It looked at Chris. It looked at the huddled group.
It roared.
The sound of the Tyrant's roar was a physical force, shaking the catwalks and rattling the remaining glass tanks.
"It's loose!" Chris yelled, racking his shotgun. "Open fire!"
"No!" Atlas barked, not looking back. "Rebecca, Jill, get the wounded and get far away from here! Go to the helipad! Barry and Chris, you back down. Let's stop this guy."
Rebecca and Jill didn't argue. They grabbed Enrico, Kenneth, and Richard, hauling them toward the emergency exit corridor.
Seeing that its prey was fleeing, the Tyrant roared again. It dug its massive clawed feet into the metal grating, tearing up the floor, and launched itself forward with terrifying speed. It ignored Atlas, aiming to bypass him and slaughter the retreating women.
Atlas didn't draw a gun. He knew bullets would just annoy this thing.
He clenched his fists.
SNIKT.
The bone claws extended, gleaming white and jagged under the harsh laboratory lights.
"Okay, big guy," Atlas growled, stepping directly into the monster's path to draw the aggro.
"Let's see if you're tougher than your brother."
The Tyrant stopped its charge, recognizing the challenge. It looked down at the man standing in its way—a tiny speck of biomass compared to its own three-meter bulk.
*****
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