Resident Evil: The Dead Must Breed (Zombie/Monster Evolutions Fanfic)

Chapter 56: Chapter 57: The End?

Another violent impact slammed into the blast door.

The reinforced titanium groaned, buckling inward as the locking bolts sheared clean off their moorings with sharp metallic pings.

CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.

Each strike was deliberate, methodical, and absolutely relentless.

Enrico’s face drained of what little color he had left, his bloodshot eyes locked onto the warping steel. "It... it followed me..." he wheezed, fresh panic strangling his voice. "Run... you have to—cough—you have to run..."

"Captain, we’re not leaving you!" Rebecca gripped his hand tighter, her knuckles white.

"Kid... I’m already dead..." Enrico coughed, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth. "Just... just go..."

The blast door shrieked.

A massive, pale gray fist punched clean through the center of the steel like it was aluminum foil, the reinforced metal tearing apart with a deafening SCREEEEE.

Thick fingers, each the size of a grown man’s forearm, curled around the jagged edges of the hole. Then, with a single, effortless pull, the entire blast door was ripped off its hinges and hurled down the hallway behind the creature with a thunderous CRASH.

Standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the flickering red emergency lights, was a hulking, eight-foot-tall figure.

Its skin was a mottled, sickly gray, stretched taut over grotesquely swollen muscle mass. Its shoulders were impossibly broad, its arms hung past its knees, and its hands were tipped with thick, bony spikes that jutted from the knuckles like organic blades.

On the the creature’s chest was its heart, exposed massive and pulsating, with the size of a basketball. It throbbed visibly with every beat, wet and glistening, veins and arteries bulging obscenely as dark blood pumped through its body in rhythmic waves.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

The sound echoed through the narrow corridor like a war drum.

Rebecca’s voice came out as a strangled whisper. "What... what the fuck is that thing?!"

"Is... is that its fucking heart?!" Her voice cracked as she scrambled backward, her boots slipping in Enrico’s blood.

Yeah. Yeah it fucking was.

The Proto-Tyrant. The original T-001 prototype. The walking, eight-foot-tall middle finger to every law of biology and common sense.

[ProtoTyrant]

My claws scraped against the metal grating as I shifted my weight, every muscle in my body coiling tight.

This was bad.

This was really bad.

The hallway was barely twelve feet wide, lined with exposed piping and steam vents. There was no room to maneuver, no space to dodge. Every single one of this thing’s attacks would be a potential instant kill, and Rebecca was standing right in the goddamn blast radius.

And I was in the wrong fucking form.

Cerberus was built for speed and pack tactics, not slugging it out with a walking tank in a narrow corridor. I needed reach, I needed power, and I needed it now.

Enrico let out a wet, choking laugh, his head lolling back against the bulkhead. "It’s... it’s over... we’re done... just... just make it quick..."

The Tyrant’s milky, dead eyes locked onto Rebecca.

It took a step forward.

Rebecca raised her shotgun, her hands trembling as she lined up the shot. "Stay back!"

BOOM.

The blast echoed through the corridor as the shell slammed directly into the Tyrant’s chest.

The creature didn’t even flinch.

It raised one massive arm, and the buckshot pellets ricocheted harmlessly off its thick hide with dull plink sounds, scattering across the floor.

"Shit!" Rebecca ejected the spent shell, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She dropped the shotgun and snatched up her grenade launcher, hands fumbling to load an explosive round. "Deal with this, you ugly bastard!"

THOOM.

The grenade hit dead center, detonating in a massive fireball that swallowed the Tyrant whole. Smoke and flame billowed through the corridor, the heat searing against my fur.

For a second, I dared to hope.

Then the smoke cleared.

The Tyrant walked through the flames completely unharmed, its exposed heart still beating steadily. It didn’t slow down. It didn’t stop.

"Fuck! What the hell is this thing made of?!" Rebecca backed up, her hands shaking as she fumbled for another grenade.

I ran the numbers in my head, calculating escape routes.

The nearest side corridor was at least forty feet behind us. The Tyrant was twenty feet away and closing fast. Even at full sprint, we’d never make it before it caught up and turned Rebecca into salsa.

There was only one option.

I had to buy her time.

The familiar burn ignited in my chest as I triggered the shift. My bones cracked and popped, my spine elongating violently as chitin plates erupted across my shoulders and ribs. My claws extended into razor-sharp scythes, and my snout flattened into a reptilian maw lined with serrated teeth.

The transformation took less than three seconds.

Enrico Marini had seen a lot of fucked-up things in his career as a S.T.A.R.S. Captain.

He’d walked into crime scenes that looked like abstract art painted in human viscera. He’d pulled bodies out of places bodies had no business being. He’d stared down armed psychopaths hopped up on PCP who thought they were bulletproof.

But watching the black-armored dog that his rookie medic had somehow domesticated violently break itself apart and rebuild into a seven-foot-tall reptilian killing machine?

That was a new one.

"Jesus... Christ..." Enrico wheezed, his fading vision struggling to process the horror unfolding in front of him. The creature’s flesh split open, raw muscle and sinew twisting and snapping into new configurations. Thick green scales erupted from bleeding tissue, and its entire skeletal structure restructured with wet cracks and pops that echoed through the corridor.

Rebecca didn’t even look back. She was too busy reloading her grenade launcher, her face set in grim determination.

The Tyrant paused, its dead eyes shifting to the new threat.

Ghosty—or whatever the hell he was now—dropped into a low crouch, his scythe-claws scraping against the metal floor. His scorpion tail rose high over his back, the black stinger dripping with venom.

The two monsters stared each other down.

Then the Tyrant moved.

It covered the distance in three massive strides, its right fist swinging in a brutal haymaker aimed directly at Ghosty’s skull.

Ghosty ducked.

The fist sailed over his head and punched clean through a support beam, tearing the steel apart like wet cardboard.

Ghosty surged forward, slipping under the Tyrant’s guard in a blur of black chitin and green scales. He drove his scythe-claw deep into the creature’s side, ripping through gray flesh and exposing thick ropes of muscle beneath.

The Tyrant didn’t even grunt.

It swung its other arm in a wide backhand, but Ghosty was already moving. He launched himself upward, his powerful legs propelling him onto the Tyrant’s broad back. His claws sank deep into the creature’s shoulders as he clung on, his tail coiling around its neck.

Rebecca’s breath caught in her throat. "Ghosty, the spine! Go for the spine!"

The Tyrant’s back was a grotesque mess of exposed vertebrae and pulsing tissue, the t-Virus having forced its skeletal structure to mutate beyond the protection of its hide. Thick cords of muscle crisscrossed the exposed spinal column, but the bone itself was visible between the gaps.

Ghosty didn’t hesitate.

He drove both claws into the base of the Tyrant’s neck and ripped, tearing away chunks of gray flesh and muscle in thick, wet handfuls. Blood sprayed across the corridor walls in dark arcs as he dug deeper, his claws scraping against exposed vertebrae.

The bone held.

The spine was too dense, too reinforced by the virus’s grotesque handiwork. His claws left deep gouges, but they couldn’t penetrate.

The Tyrant’s body went rigid.

Then it moved.

The creature twisted violently, reaching back with both arms to grab Ghosty. But its proportions were too extreme, its arms too long and its torso too thick. It couldn’t reach.

So it did the next best thing.

The Tyrant threw itself backward with all its weight, slamming its entire bulk directly into the steel wall.

CRUNCH.

Ghosty’s body was crushed between eight hundred pounds of mutant flesh and a reinforced bulkhead. His chitin armor cracked like an eggshell, shards of black plating exploding outward as his ribs buckled inward with a sickening series of wet snaps.

He let out a gargling shriek, his claws losing their grip as the Tyrant peeled itself off the wall.

Ghosty hit the floor hard, gasping for air through a collapsed lung.

The Tyrant turned.

Before Ghosty could recover, the massive creature grabbed him by the throat with one hand and lifted, hoisting him effortlessly into the air. Then, with a brutal overhead swing, it slammed him down onto the metal grating.

WHAM.

The impact dented the floor, the metal buckling beneath Ghosty’s spine. His vision went white with pain.

"GHOSTY!" Rebecca screamed, raising her grenade launcher.

The Tyrant raised its right arm high.

Ghosty’s blurry vision focused just in time to see the thick, bone spike jutting from the creature’s wrist descending directly toward his skull.

He rolled.

The spike punched clean through the metal floor with a deafening CLANG, missing his head by inches.

Ghosty twisted, scrambling to his feet, and triggered the Novistador camouflage.

His entire body shimmered and vanished, the light bending around him until he was completely invisible.

The Tyrant froze, its dead eyes scanning the corridor. It yanked its spike free from the floor, the metal screeching as the bone tore through.

Silence.

Rebecca held her breath, her hands white-knuckled around her grenade launcher.

Then the Tyrant’s shin exploded in a spray of blood as invisible claws tore through its calf muscle.

It staggered.

Another slash opened a deep gash across its thigh. Then its hip. Then its lower back.

The Tyrant let out a guttural, inhuman roar and started swinging wildly, its massive fists slamming into walls, pipes, and empty air. Steam hissed from ruptured vents as it tore through the corridor in a blind rage.

Rebecca pressed herself flat against the wall, barely avoiding a backhand that would have taken her head clean off.

The Tyrant’s movements grew more erratic, more violent. It was bleeding from a dozen cuts, its legs weakening as tendons were severed.

Then, finally, it slowed.

Its massive chest heaved as it stood in the center of the corridor, swaying slightly. Its exposed heart beat slower, the rhythm uneven.

It looked... exhausted.

The Tyrant stood in the center of the corridor, swaying on its feet like a drunk boxer. Its exposed heart beat slower, the rhythm uneven and labored. Dark blood leaked from a dozen slashes across its legs and torso, pooling on the metal grating beneath it.

Alex circled slowly, his invisible form moving silently across the gore-slicked floor. His breathing was ragged, each inhale sending sharp pain through his cracked ribs, but his eyes were locked on that massive, pulsating organ.

It’s tired. The bleeding is getting to it. Just need one clean shot at the heart and this is over.

The Tyrant’s head swiveled slowly, its milky eyes scanning the empty corridor. Its arms hung low, the bone spikes dragging against the floor with a metallic scrape.

Come on, you big ugly bastard. Just stay still for five more seconds.

Alex crouched low, coiling his legs beneath him. The exposed heart was right there, barely three feet away. One good leap, drive both claws straight through that meaty organ, and—

The Tyrant’s shoulders sagged further. Its breathing grew heavier, wetter.

Now!

Alex launched himself forward, his powerful legs propelling him through the air in a blur of invisible death. His claws extended, aimed directly at the center of that obscenely beating heart.

Three feet.

Two feet.

One—

The Tyrant’s eyes snapped up.

Its right arm moved.

Not slow. Not tired.

Fast.

SSSCCCHHHLLLKT.

Alex’s entire body jerked to a violent stop mid-air.

Time seemed to slow down, the world grinding to a crawl as his brain struggled to process what just happened.

He looked down.

The thick bone spike from the Tyrant’s wrist was buried completely through his torso, entering just below his ribcage and erupting out his back in a spray of dark blood and shredded meat.

Uh... is that... is that supposed to be there?

The camouflage flickered and died.

Alex’s body shimmered back into visibility, impaled on the Tyrant’s arm like a piece of meat on a skewer. Blood ran down the bone spike in thick rivulets, pattering onto the floor below.

"GHOSTY!!" Rebecca’s scream tore through the corridor.

The Tyrant raised its arm higher, lifting Alex’s twitching body into the air. His claws scrabbled uselessly against the creature’s wrist, his legs kicking weakly as his insides slid and shifted around the massive spike.

No. No no no. Get off. Get OFF. Move. MOVE!

But his body wasn’t listening. His muscles spasmed and jerked, but there was no strength behind them. Just pathetic twitching.

The Tyrant’s other hand came up.

Thick gray fingers wrapped around Alex’s chest.

Then it pulled.

SSSSCCCCRRRRAAAAPPPPEEEE—

The world exploded into white-hot agony as the spike tore back through his body. Flesh ripped. Organs tore. Blood and viscera poured out of the massive exit wound in a steaming, chunky waterfall that splattered across the Tyrant’s legs and the floor below.

Alex’s jaw opened in a soundless scream, his throat too damaged to produce noise. His vision blurred, red creeping in from the edges.

His scorpion tail lashed weakly at the Tyrant’s face, the stinger scraping harmlessly across its cheek.

The Tyrant’s hand shot out and grabbed the tail.

No—

CRRRRRACK—SCCCRRREEEEEEEP—

The tail ripped free from the base of his spine, vertebrae snapping like dry twigs as the entire appendage was torn away in a spray of purple venom and dark blood. The segmented black length dangled from the Tyrant’s fist for a moment before it casually tossed it aside.

That was... that was mine...

The thought was distant, fading, like trying to remember a dream.

The Tyrant drew back its arm.

Then it threw.

Alex’s body flew through the air and slammed into the steel wall with a sickening CRUNCH. His spine folded, his skull cracked against the metal, and he crumpled to the floor in a broken heap.

Everything hurt.

No.

Everything was... numb?

He couldn’t feel his legs. Couldn’t feel his arms. Couldn’t feel anything except the cold metal pressed against his cheek and the warm wetness spreading beneath him.

Get up.

His body didn’t move.

Get up, you stupid piece of shit. GET UP.

Nothing.

His vision was going dark, the edges of the world turning black and fuzzy. Something was flashing in his peripheral vision—angry red text, blaring system notifications—but he couldn’t focus on them. Couldn’t read the words.

This... this isn’t...

How?

How did it go so wrong so fast?

He was supposed to be smarter than this. He knew this world. He knew the enemies, knew the patterns, knew—

I fucked up.

The realization settled over him like a lead blanket.

I fucked up and now I’m dying in a hallway like a chump.

All that power. All those evolutions. All that... everything.

And he got baited like a fucking noob by a prototype with a goddamn exposed weak point.

What a lame way to go.

His vision focused for just a moment, and he saw her.

Rebecca.

She was screaming something, her face twisted in horror as she raised her grenade launcher toward the Tyrant. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

Run.

He tried to say it, tried to force the word out, but his throat was full of blood. It bubbled weakly past his lips instead.

Please... just run... don’t die here because of me...

But she wasn’t running.

Of course she wasn’t.

Stubborn. Brave. Stupid.

I’m sorry.

Sorry he couldn’t protect her. Sorry he got her into this mess. Sorry he was about to leave her alone in this nightmare with a monster that wouldn’t stop until she was paste.

The darkness crept in further, swallowing the world.

The last thing he saw was Rebecca’s face.

Then nothing.

<To Be Continued?>

Cliffhanger kun strikes again...

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