Chapter 37 - 36: Head to Hunters

Chapter 37: Chapter 36: Head to Hunters

Far from the damp, biological horrors of the basement, the sterile, fluorescent-lit corridors of the underground laboratory complex echoed with the rapid clicking of polished dress shoes.

Albert Wesker walked with his signature rigid, unbothered posture, his dark sunglasses completely hiding his expression. Beside him, William Birkin was practically vibrating with nervous energy, rapidly scrolling through a data tablet and muttering to himself like a deranged academic.

"It makes absolutely zero sense, Albert," Birkin snapped, tapping the screen aggressively with his pen. "The MA-39 project is notoriously unstable. From the very moment of T-virus integration, the canine subjects suffer catastrophic neurological degradation. They become feral, rabid feeding machines. We barely control them by keeping them starved, and even then, the slightest provocation sends them into an uncontrollable frenzy."

Wesker kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, his voice a calm, modulated baritone. "And yet, we just observed one acting as a completely docile escort for a teenage S.T.A.R.S. medic. A rather large one, at that."

"Large is a massive fucking understatement," Birkin scoffed, his eyes darting frantically across the biological readouts on his screen. "The specimen is easily twice the mass of a standard Doberman. And the necrosis—there is barely any visible cellular decay. Its biological integrity seems completely stable. Has the T-virus mutated spontaneously within the host? We have absolutely zero records of any specimen exhibiting this kind of rapid, stabilizing adaptation. It was practically wagging its tail at her!"

"It is a fascinating anomaly," Wesker conceded coldly, adjusting his shades. "One that would be incredibly useful to study, had our surveillance not been so rudely interrupted."

Birkin’s face twisted into a deep scowl. "That arrogant little shit. If that madman hadn’t hijacked the camera feeds to broadcast his pathetic villain monologue, we could have tracked the Cerberus. We could have gathered invaluable biological data on a potential spontaneous evolution. We could have seen exactly why a bioweapon designed for mindless slaughter was playing bodyguard for a field medic."

"The dog is irrelevant now, William," Wesker said smoothly, waving a gloved hand in dismissal. "We have a much larger problem. Do you honestly believe this to be the real identity of that young man on the screen?"

Birkin scoffed, his professional annoyance bleeding into genuine anxiety. "Impossible. Dr. Marcus has been dead for a decade. We made sure of that. But if somehow it is true, and he has returned with those disgusting leeches... Umbrella will be finished."

"If the old conspiracy against Dr. Marcus is revealed, Mr. Spencer’s career will be over," Wesker replied, his tone chillingly pragmatic. "Not to mention ours. We were the ones who pulled the trigger. Spencer will gladly throw us to the wolves to save his own skin."

They reached the end of the hallway. Wesker smoothly extended a hand and pressed the elevator call button. The mechanical hum of the shaft echoed in the quiet, metallic corridor.

"So, the time has come at last," Wesker said softly.

Birkin looked up from his tablet, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What exactly are you going to do?"

Wesker turned his head slightly, the fluorescent lights catching the dark lenses of his shades. "I will simply say goodbye to Umbrella. The biological weapon utilizing the T-Virus has almost been completed. Our only remaining task is to acquire highly specific combat data."

Birkin stared at him in disbelief, his grip tightening on the tablet. "You can’t be serious. I absolutely refuse to abandon my work. I’ve finished my research on the T-Virus, but I am on the verge of a breakthrough. I just need a little more time to complete the more powerful G-Virus. I am not walking away from my masterpiece."

"Do as you wish," Wesker replied smoothly as the elevator doors slid open with a soft chime. He stepped into the steel cabin and turned to face his longtime colleague. "I will follow my initial plan. I will return to Raccoon City and lure the remaining S.T.A.R.S. members into the Spencer Mansion."

A faint, chilling smile touched the corners of Wesker’s mouth. "Their superior combat training should make them perfect test subjects for the remaining B.O.W.s."

Birkin snorted, already turning his attention back to his tablet. "Fine. Play your little war games. But in the meantime, something must be done about that madman running this facility. We cannot leave loose ends."

Wesker raised an eyebrow behind his shades. "And what do you propose?"

"As I recall, the underground research center is equipped with a failsafe self-destruct device in the lowest basement level," Birkin muttered, a manic gleam entering his eyes.

SCREEEEEEECH!

I threw my entire two-hundred-pound armored frame sideways just as a massive, scythe-like claw violently sparked against the metal floor exactly where my skull had been a millisecond prior.

Why in the absolute fuck did I think coming into the B.O.W. testing room was a good idea?

We had spent the last hour methodically clearing the basement levels. I was feeling completely invincible. We had solved a bunch of obscure architectural puzzles, butchered at least five more of those screeching Eliminator monkeys, and stomped a dozen assorted biological freaks into the dirt. I was riding a massive high of multiversal superiority.

Then we walked into the combat testing chamber, and Umbrella officially deployed the Alpha team.

Hunters.

Two of them. Towering, bipedal, reptilian nightmares with skin like Kevlar and claws designed to shear through tank plating. The moment the automated containment doors slid open, these green bastards didn’t even look at the delicious, bite-sized teenage medic standing next to me. They immediately zeroed in on my massive scaly ass and launched a coordinated, high-speed assault.

Seriously, what is with the aggro mechanics in this universe?

First the monkeys, then the spiders, and now the lizard-men. They completely ignored the soft human and exclusively targeted the terrifying mutant hound. Am I just radiating way too much raw, unfiltered alpha energy for this ecosystem?

I frantically scrambled backward as the first Hunter lunged, its massive claws tearing a jagged, agonizing three-inch gash straight through my supposedly impenetrable Chitinous Armor Plating.

Three hundred Evolution Points of organic Kevlar, and this scaly fuck just shredded it like a cheap napkin.

I couldn’t fight back conventionally. My jaw strength was impressive, but trying to bite a Hunter meant putting my face right in the blender. My scorpion tail was entirely useless because these reptilian freaks were way too fast to sting. I was essentially just playing a terrifying game of dodgeball where the balls were razor-sharp guillotines.

"Ghosty, get out of the way!"

The frantic, high-pitched scream cut through the chaotic shrieking of the reptiles.

Thwump.

I recognized the mechanical thud of the grenade launcher immediately. I frantically threw my weight to the left, diving completely out of the firing line just as a heavy, red-banded cylinder sailed through the air.

The acid round detonated squarely against the broad, muscular chest of the first Hunter.

A massive geyser of highly corrosive, concentrated sulfuric acid exploded outward. The Hunter shrieked in absolute agony as the chemical payload immediately began melting its thick reptilian scales into bubbling green sludge.

A few errant drops of the splashback rained down onto my exposed hindquarters.

"AUUUUU!" I yelped, my canine vocal cords producing a deeply undignified, high-pitched squeal as the acid burned a tiny hole into my ass.

"Sorry! Sorry, Ghosty!" Rebecca squeaked from across the room.

She didn’t waste a single millisecond feeling guilty. She instantly pumped the action on her heavy launcher, loaded a second acidic payload, and fired it directly into the exact same melted spot on the shrieking Hunter’s chest.

Thwump. KABOOM.

The reptile fell to its knees, its entire torso dissolving into a smoking, liquefied crater of raw meat and exposed ribs.

Without giving the creature even a fraction of a second to recover, Rebecca seamlessly slung the grenade launcher over her shoulder, unholstered her tactical shotgun, and marched forward like the fucking Terminator. She racked a shell and started rapidly pumping twelve-gauge buckshot directly into the Hunter’s melted chest cavity, turning its internal organs into absolute soup.

Holy shit.

Who the hell told this girl she was just a field medic? She was a certified, remorseless killing machine.

I am extremely, inappropriately aroused right now.

That brief moment of deeply misplaced horny admiration was a catastrophic tactical error. I completely lost track of the second Hunter.

The bipedal reptile vaulted off the testing room wall and dropped directly toward me from above, both of its massive scythe-claws raised for a decapitating strike. I looked up just in time to see absolute death descending toward my skull.

I couldn’t dodge. I reflexively whipped my heavy scorpion tail upward, using the thickly armored appendage as a desperate biological shield.

SNIKT.

The Hunter’s claws scissored together with terrifying force. It didn’t just scratch my tail. The razor-sharp keratin completely sheared through the thick chitinous segments, violently dismembering the entire back half of my stinger assembly.

Purple venom and thick black blood sprayed everywhere as my severed tail hit the metal floor with a heavy thud.

I let out a furious, gargling roar of pure pain.

That is it. I am completely done being a punching bag for these scaly green fucks.

Operating purely on adrenaline and sheer, vindictive rage, I launched myself upward. I didn’t try to bite or sting. I just used my two-hundred-pound bulk to tackle the Hunter mid-air, slamming its heavy body directly onto the steel grates.

Before it could bring its severed-tail-making claws up to gut me, I violently pinned both of its thick, muscular arms to the floor with my heavy front paws. I dug my claws deep into its scaly wrists, using every ounce of my mutated strength to lock its weapons in place.

The Hunter thrashed and shrieked, snapping its razor-sharp teeth inches from my snout.

Let’s try a new trick.

Rebecca pumped the shotgun one final time, ejecting a smoking red shell that clattered loudly against the floor.

The Hunter at her feet was completely unrecognizable. The concentrated acid rounds had thoroughly tenderized the impenetrable reptilian scales, turning the creature’s armor into a slushy, melted mess. The rapid succession of point-blank buckshot had done the rest, utterly shredding its weakened internals and leaving nothing but a twitching, headless pile of green gore.

She took a deep, shaky breath, her adrenaline running so high her hands were practically vibrating against the gun stock.

She immediately pivoted, sweeping the barrel of her weapon across the testing chamber to locate her mutant dog. She had to save Ghosty. The Hunters were notoriously lethal, and she had just watched one completely sever his terrifying scorpion tail.

"Ghosty, hold on! I’m—"

The words died completely in her throat.

She froze, the shotgun lowering slightly as her brain desperately tried to process the absolute biological nightmare unfolding ten feet away.

Ghosty had the second Hunter pinned to the floor, his heavy paws locking the creature’s scythed arms against the metal grates. The reptile was violently thrashing, trying to snap at his face.

Then Ghosty’s face changed.

The flesh running down the absolute center of his snout, straight through his lower jaw, and all the way down his thick muscular neck violently unzipped. The skin and muscle peeled backward in four distinct, horrifying fleshy flaps, completely splitting his head wide open.

A massive, grotesque, blooming maw of raw red tissue and hundreds of jagged, interlocking teeth deployed from his throat.

It looked like a demonic flower made entirely of razor blades and nightmares.

The Hunter let out a frantic, terrified shriek.

The massive split-maw aggressively snapped forward, completely enveloping the Hunter’s entire scaly head in one fluid, horrifying motion.

CRUNCH.

The sickening sound of thick reptilian bone splintering under immense hydraulic pressure echoed through the sterile testing room. Ghosty violently twisted his neck, his heavy shoulders rippling with effort. The fleshy flaps of his divided head clamped down tighter, grinding through scale, muscle, and cervical vertebrae.

With a wet, tearing schlooop, Ghosty yanked backward.

The fleshy maw peeled back from the Hunter’s neck, rapidly folding inward and knitting back together like a gruesome biological zipper. Within seconds, his normal, heavily scarred canine snout reformed entirely.

The Hunter’s body immediately went limp, a fountain of dark blood vigorously pumping from the jagged, ruined stump where its head used to be.

Rebecca stared at the headless corpse. Then she stared at Ghosty.

The terrifying mutant hellhound casually swallowed the massive reptilian skull whole. You could actually see the massive bulge sliding down his throat.

He turned to look at her.

Those milky white eyes crinkled at the edges. His mouth fell open into a ridiculously stupid, dopey grin, his tongue lolling happily out the side of his jaws. A thick, viscous stream of green reptilian blood dripped steadily from his chin, pooling onto the metal grates.

BUUUURP.

He let out a small, surprisingly delicate burp, followed by a thoroughly enthusiastic wag of his remaining tail stump.

"Ghosty....what the fuck was that?"

Rebecca asked dumbfounded.

--

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