The comms room felt like a quiet refuge, the soft hum of the servers creating a calming backdrop that gently faded the distant sounds of gunfire and terrifying roars, a mechanical lullaby in a place filled with fear.
Rebecca sat at the main console, her face lit by the gentle green and amber glow of the monitors. Her fingers moved swiftly over the keyboard, each keystroke filled with purpose. Jun watched, captivated, as she reclaimed her identity in a way that felt both powerful and beautiful, reminiscent of their time in the forest.
He stepped back, allowing her some distance, resting his shoulder against the wall next to the tightly shut door. His arms hung casually across his chest.
He stood there, not merely as a guard, but as someone who was truly focused on her. He noticed the small changes in her face, like a map revealing her thoughts—the deep line on her forehead as she worked through a secured file.
The slight lift of her lips when she unlocked a new data stream, and the way she tucked a loose strand of chestnut hair behind her ear, her fingers trembling with excitement.
He noticed the heavy burden on her shoulders start to lift, the trauma of the last few hours fading away.
In its place, her familiar, confident stance as a skilled S.T.A.R.S. operative returned, and he felt a quiet satisfaction at giving her this moment of peace, a warmth that felt better than any reward from the System.
After a long, quiet stretch marked only by the steady clicking of keys and the low hum of machines, she let out a soft, frustrated sigh.
It seemed to deflate her a bit, her shoulders drooping as she leaned back in the swivel chair.
"It's no good," she said, letting out a heavy sigh. "The main outgoing satellite array is completely down. It's not just disabled or locked out; the hardware itself is physically fried, scorched from a power surge," she continued, her eyes fixed on the screen.
Her voice carried a weight of professional disappointment, sharper than any shout could convey.
"We can't call for help from here. We're totally cut off from the outside."
Jun pushed off the wall and strolled over to her, careful not to invade her space. He stood close beside her chair, his solid presence a quiet support in her ever-changing world. "Then we look inward," he said, his voice steady and soothing, like a gentle wave meant to calm her nerves.
"What about the signals coming in? Do you have the archive logs? Is there anything from your team? Any clue that might help us understand what happened here?" He asked critically, his voice steady and calm.
He had learned to keep his tone even, not wanting to complicate things further. His eyes flicked between her face and the intricate data flickering on the main screen.
His mind, sharpened by the instinct to survive, scanned for patterns, for weaknesses, for any loose thread he could pull at.
"I'm trying to find it now," she said softly, her gaze fixed on the lines of code. "Digging through the local server logs feels like wandering in a digital ghost town. Everything's either corrupted or gone." Her fingers started to dance again over the keyboard as she ran another search query.
"But... hold on a second." Her fingers froze, hovering above the keyboard. She leaned in closer, her eyes growing wide as they locked onto a single line of text in the directory list.
"I found a data packet. It's all fragmented and lost in system clutter, but it has an S.T.A.R.S. encryption key on it—a Bravo Team key." A flicker of true, urgent hope brightened her eyes, making them gleam in the light of the monitor.
She moved quickly and carefully, her hands flying as she tried to piece together the broken file. "It's from my team, Jun! This is it!" She shouted a little, her words laced with a hint of hope.
Jun stood quietly next to her, his own hope now linked to hers, his breath catching in his chest. He leaned closer, eyes glued to the screen, as the progress bar inched forward, each pixel a step closer to revelation.
Suddenly, a new window appeared, revealing not words, but a blurry video file. The thumbnail showed a man's serious, dirt-streaked face, frozen in time.
Her hand shook a bit as she guided the cursor and pressed play.
The video sprang to life, revealing a man in a tattered S.T.A.R.S. uniform. His face was etched with grim determination and deep fatigue. The camera wobbled in his grip, while distant shouts and distorted growls echoed from the small speaker.
Enrico Marini stood there, the leader of Bravo Team, his eyes wide and empty, reflecting a fear that felt deeper than the usual battle nerves.
"...to anyone who can hear this, this is Captain Enrico Marini of S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team. We're in the main hall of the training facility, and the situation is... catastrophic, I say again, catastrophic," his voice came out strained and hurried, thick with dust and adrenaline.
"We've lost contact with Alpha Team. Their last message was filled with screams and... the sound of something breaking.
We've run into hostile B.O.W.s. They're nothing like what we were briefed on. The Hunter variants are quicker and more cunning. We're pulling back to the dormitory wing to regroup and secure the armory. It's our only shot at holding a defensive position..."
He turned his head, the camera jostling in his hand, and a look of pure panic flashed across his face. "They're herding us! My god, they're not just attacking randomly. They're blocking our way out, they're—"
The video abruptly shifted to a burst of static, followed by a sharp, cut-off scream, then settled into a sea of gray noise.
Rebecca gazed at the lifeless screen, her hand pressed to her mouth. Her eyes widened, filled with a fresh, chilling fear that grasped the weight of what she had just learned.
"The dormitory wing... the armory... that's all the way on the other side of the facility, past the central courtyard," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.
She glanced up at Jun, her eyes searching his face, hoping he would say something to challenge the truth she already felt deep down.
"He said, 'herding us.'" Jun, what... what does that mean? "How can they be... herding?" she asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.
Before he could respond, a new alert lit up on a secondary monitor to her left. It was a straightforward, stark message that had just come through a low-power, local-only emergency channel—a ping that seemed impossible.
Just two words, yet they sent a chill through Jun, leaving his blood icy, while Rebecca's face drained of all color.
PACKAGE SECURE.
A message came through from a terminal ID that was clearly marked in the system log... the Incinerator Control Room.
The room they had just exited, the one where they had battled for their lives and outsmarted a tyrant into a pit of fire, a room that should have felt deserted, suddenly seemed to whisper.
The fragile hope that had blossomed in the comms room faded away in an instant, replaced by a chilling sense of dread as a new, clever trap closed in around them.
•••
The words—PACKAGE SECURE—floated between them, a cold presence that drained the warmth from the room. \
The servers buzzed, their sound almost like laughter, while the green glow of the monitors painted their faces in an eerie, ghostly light.
Rebecca let her hand drop from her mouth, her knuckles pale as she clutched the edge of the console.
"The incinerator…" she whispered, her voice shaking with a chill of new fear.
"Nobody was around, I swear... It was just the two of us. I looked around for any signs of life before we blocked the door. There's nothing... at all."
Jun paused, his gaze drifting for a moment. His thoughts raced like a storm, yet his body remained motionless, like a predator sizing up an unfamiliar danger.
His [Threat Sense] wasn't shouting about a lurking monster; instead, it hummed softly, a steady reminder of intrusion, of being observed, of unseen hands tugging at him from the darkness.
He rested his hand on Rebecca's shoulder, a firm, reassuring presence. "We weren't alone," he said, his voice steady, almost eerie. "Someone was watching us... this whole time."
He leaned over her, his movements purposeful, and started typing on the console. His fingers moved quickly, not as gracefully as Rebecca's, but just as determined.
He quickly moved away from the video file and pulled up the facility's internal network map. "Tch, the message didn't just show up out of nowhere. It was sent through a particular channel, or you could say a specific terminal. So, um... it has to have a source and a destination, right?"
"Destination?" Rebecca leaned in, her brow knitting together as she observed him. For a moment, her own fear faded, replaced by a flicker of curiosity.
"Look closely," Jun said, his eyes darting over the lines of data. "This wasn't a broadcast; it's more like a point-to-point transmission." He focused, letting his [Threat Sense] guide him, filtering out the digital noise to find the thread he needed.
"It was like a walkie-talkie; one person sent a message to another, and we just happened to overhear it." He pointed to a line of code. "Here, the recipient terminal," he said. "Look, it's in the director's private lab, down at Sub-level B1."
A new location, a darker depth of the nightmare, awaits them.
"Let's see... The name of the director was... Marcus," Rebecca breathed, the name lingering like ash on her tongue. "But he's... this journal claimed he was already dead, then reborn as the Queen Leech."
"Perhaps he's not the sole director," Jun replied, his eyes sharp. "Perhaps his consciousness, his will, still operates this place like a program, like a ghost in the machine." He straightened, eyes shifting from the map to the door.
"This 'package'... it must be us."
"Like who else but us, who emerged from the incinerator, the ones who survived the tyrant? We have already become intriguing new specimens at this moment."
The realization gripped Rebecca's heart like a chilling fist, squeezing tightly as a wave of dread washed over her, leaving a lingering ache in her chest.
They were not merely battling for their lives; they were trapped in a sinister experiment, their every move scrutinized like helpless creatures in a darkened lab, the air thick with tension and dread.
Her eyes, wide and shimmering with a blend of fear and a fierce, awakening determination, locked onto his. "What should we do now, Jun? Should we just head straight to the dormitory wing to find my team?"
Jun's gray eyes locked onto hers, a steady warmth radiating from them. In that gaze, she felt a surge of unwavering strength, a fierce, protective certainty that chased away any lingering doubts.
"No, running would just lead us to the same fate as your team. There's a whole pack of those freakish monsters out there, just waiting to ambush us.
But, at the same time, as we made our way towards the dorms or the armory, it felt like we were walking into yet another trap waiting to ensnare us."
Jun let out a heavy sigh, running his fingers through his messy hair. He paused for a moment, the weight of his thoughts settling in, before deciding to fully embrace this predator game—first to be hunted, then to hunt.
"No... This time we hold our ground, no more running, and no more being just a pawn in this ridiculous script."
He turned back to the console, his jaw clenched tight, a surge of determination coursing through him.
"We're flipping the script; if it's keeping an eye on us through the systems, we'll make it go dark." His fingers danced over the keyboard, each stroke a blend of instinct and unspoken knowledge, as if the air around him hummed with a secret rhythm.
The commands flowed effortlessly, a mix of [Lockpicking] intuition and the System's quiet urging, drawing him deeper into the moment.
He was deep in concentration; unlike before, his fingers were flying over the keyboard as he navigated the facility's central security protocol.
"Hey, what are you doing right now?" Rebecca leaned in, curiosity sparkling in her eyes, as she playfully nudged the soft, fluffy marshmallows of her chest against the back of Jun's head.
"Soft..." Jun felt a warmth spreading through him, his mood lifting as he gazed at the soft, bouncy curves that seemed to belong solely to him, a sense of comfort enveloping him.
"You know, it's all about creating a distraction," he said, a grim smile flickering across his lips. With a final, resolute tap of his fingers, he set the entire system into motion.
In the Training Facility, a sudden, resonant click echoed as every electronic lock on each cell, every containment unit, and every specimen cage released simultaneously, filling the air with a palpable tension.
The air was filled with a symphony of distant, metallic clunks and hisses, each sound echoing softly through the walls of the comms room, creating an atmosphere thick with anticipation.
BWEEEEEEEEEEN!
Alarms blared to life, a deafening, pulsating wail that split the air. Red emergency lights began spinning, casting strobe-like flashes through the hallway outside their door.
Jun rose to his feet, his fingers curling tightly around the handle of his combat knife, the cool metal pressing against his palm.
The once serene comms room had vanished, now overwhelmed by the frantic pulse of a facility unraveling around them.
"Now," he said, his voice slicing through the chaos of the siren's wail, "while it's preoccupied with its own mess, we make our move."
"We'll step into this lab and find out who's calling us a 'package,'" he said, his voice laced with frustration.
He felt a deep sense of responsibility for her, a fierce need to shield her from the world. He felt a surge of determination as he sought to avenge her.
•••
The facility transformed into a waking nightmare, the blaring alarms piercing the air with a relentless shriek that filled the atmosphere with dread.
Spinning red emergency lights cast frantic, bloody strokes across the once-sterile hallways, creating an unsettling dance of shadows.
Jun's gambit had succeeded beyond expectation; the symphony of unlocking doors had morphed into a horrifying cacophony.
Shrill shrieks pierced the air, mingling with guttural snarls, while the sickening, wet sounds of feeding echoed through every shadowy corridor and open doorway. The cacophony wrapped around them, a suffocating blanket of terror that pressed heavily against their senses.
He cracked the door to the comms room, his instincts swirling like a chaotic compass in a storm of predatory signals, a psychic onslaught brimming with hunger and rage.
"It's a zoo out there; everything they were keeping in cages is loose now, and they're all very, very hungry," he said, his voice a low, tight rumble that sliced through the surrounding chaos.
His body coiled like a spring, every muscle taut and ready, instinctively aware of the looming confrontation.
Rebecca positioned herself just behind him, her back making brief contact with his, the Benelli gripped firmly in her steady hands.
Her face was pale, yet her eyes shone with sharp determination, mirroring the flickering red lights around them. "Which way do we go?" she asked, her voice slicing through the chaos, revealing the slight quiver that coursed through her body.
Jun's gaze flicked to the central stairwell, a decision forming in his mind with clarity. He could almost feel the texture of the facility's map etched in his memory, each twist and turn mapped out as he calculated the path of least resistance through the chaos surrounding him.
"This is the most direct route to Sub-level B1," he said, his voice steady, eyes scanning the dimly lit corridor. "It'll serve as a choke point, much easier to defend than these expansive halls where we could easily find ourselves surrounded."
He glanced back at her, his gaze piercing and unwavering, the depth of his gray eyes locking onto hers, enveloping her in a soothing aura of assurance. "Remain right behind me, and don't pause for anything, okay?"
She offered a decisive nod, the warmth of her trust enveloping them like a soft blanket, creating an unspoken bond in the air. "Just lead the way; I'll follow closely behind."
He burst from the room, moving not with reckless, panicked speed, but with a lethal, predatory grace.
His [Enhanced Reflexes] allowed him to process the chaotic scene in clear, manageable snapshots.
A zombie in a tattered lab coat lurched from a side door, its arms outstretched. His combat knife found its eye socket with a wet crunch, the sound mingling with the creature's groan as it escaped its throat.
He didn't break his stride, yanking the blade free and letting the body crumple behind them.
Rebecca was also right there, a shadow in his wake, her presence a warm, living pressure against his back, a constant reassurance that steadied him amidst the chaos.
"Aim for the legs!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the blaring alarms, a command that felt instinctive between them.
Rebecca got it right away, without even thinking. He leaned in, knife raised, catching their fierce gaze. She knelt down, steadied the shotgun, and pulled the trigger.
The loud bang echoed, tearing through the front legs of the first creature, which fell and yelped, causing the snarling pack behind to stumble over it.
It wasn't a kill, but it was just the right pause, and that pause was exactly what they needed. Jun quickly took her arm, his hold steady yet soft, and urged her into a fast run, leaving the bewildered and hurt group far behind.
They arrived at the thick metal door of the central stairwell, the clamor of battle and the laughter of feasting drifting from the floors above and the shadows below.
Jun slammed the door shut behind them, using all his strength to shove a broken piece of pipe through the handle, creating a quick but solid barrier.
The calm in the concrete stairwell felt like a true gift, with the alarms now just a faint, far-off hum.
"Down," he said, his voice bouncing off the walls, already leaping down the steps two at a time. His senses were on high alert, filtering out the distant noise to zero in on the path right in front of him.
Going down into Sub-level B1 was like plunging into the cold, quiet belly of a huge creature.
The air turned colder and drier, filled with a sharp scent of antiseptic mixed with something else, something metallic and electric. It smelled like a strong lightning strike happened nearby.
The alarms quieted down, replaced by the deep, steady hum of powerful machines hidden from view. The hallway at the bottom was tidy and quiet, a stark contrast to the wildness they had just experienced upstairs.
The silence here felt heavier, almost like it was watching, more than any noise.
At the end of the hall, there was a tall, heavy door, its surface plain except for a simple black plaque that read: DIRECTOR.
"..." x2
Jun felt his Threat Sense shift from a chaotic scream to a sharp, clear focus. It was a cold, watchful presence, full of dark intelligence, lurking just behind that door, waiting patiently. In there was the origin of all this, the one who led this whole haunting melody of demise.
"Slowly," Jun said as he moved forward, Rebecca gliding quietly beside him, her shotgun held steady and firm. He felt a sudden chill as he noticed there was no lock on the door, just a smooth, shiny brass handle, as if the person inside had nothing to worry about or was ready to greet anyone who came by.
He gazed at her, a deep connection of silent understanding, shared struggles, and strong trust flowing between them in that one, soft look.
"...Haa," they finally arrived at the end of the path. There was no more running; it was time to stand before one another.
He stretched out his hand, fingers wrapping around the cool, sleek metal of the handle.
Just as he was about to push, the door creaked open smoothly, as if it had a mind of its own, showing him the room inside.
A warm invitation. A test of skill.
The room ahead wasn't a lab with bubbling beakers and sharp tools; it was a grand, round study, a mix of brilliance and chaos.
Bookshelves overflowed with leather-bound books, a grand piano stood quietly in one corner, and in the middle, in a tall-backed chair behind a huge, carved oak desk, sat James Marcus.
He appeared just like he did on the train, his suit perfectly neat, his hair smoothly styled with not a single strand out of place. A slight, cold smile lingered on his lips as he observed them walk in. He gently swirled a glass of deep red liquid in his hand, something that definitely wasn't wine.
"Welcome," Marcus said, his voice smooth and rich, a strange contrast to the terror he had unleashed. It was charming yet completely empty.
"I'm really happy you could make it! Please, come on in. No need to be shy."
He raised his glass and pointed to a big, one-way mirror that covered the whole wall, like a glimpse into another world.
"You showed up at just the right moment; the main event is starting any second now."
In the reflection, they spotted a vast, round chamber beneath them, resembling a gladiator's arena. In that arena, a solitary man stood, wearing a bandana and a fierce expression.
He faced a growing swarm of shuffling, moaning zombies, battling with a combat knife. His movements were quick and precise, but the overwhelming numbers were closing in on him, making his struggle all the more desperate.
It was Billy Coen.
Marcus smiled broadly, a real, twisted joy lighting up his eyes as he watched his puppets move with life. "I really enjoy a dramatic family reunion; how about you?"
(To be Continued)
•••
Jun's Current Status:
Points: 950
Skills: Basic Strength, Lockpicking, Threat Sense, Enhanced Regeneration, Pain Suppression, Enhanced Reflexes
Equipment: Combat Knife, Benelli M3 Shotgun (Rebecca).
Bound Companions: None
Active Objectives: Confront Marcus; Save Billy Coen.