Death smelled surprisingly mundane: burnt rubber, spilled gasoline, and faintly of cheap vending machine coffee.
Sim blinked, shaking gray ash from his eyelashes — ash falling thickly from the smoke-choked sky over Raccoon City. The guy was lying on cold asphalt in some filthy alley cluttered with dumpsters. His head was splitting as if someone had thrown a jackhammer party inside it, and a dull, throbbing pain pulsed in his right forearm. Glancing down, the freshly minted corpse found an ugly bite mark there. A chunk of torn flesh, blackened veins spreading from the wound in a pretty little web... and a complete absence of a heartbeat.
— Fantastic, — Sim rasped, sitting up and feeling his chest. — No pulse, no breathing, no insurance. Just a corporate drone's dream.
Instead of panic came a strange sense of peace. The T-Virus, about which so many terrifying rumors had circulated through the lab corridors, had clearly done its job. But why was there no overwhelming urge to eat someone's brains while shuffling and drooling?
The answer materialized right out of thin air. With a melodic chime painfully reminiscent of an old arcade game, a semi-transparent holographic screen flared to life before his eyes.
"Integration complete! Welcome to the T-Virus Evolution System, User 'Sim Simovich'."
— Seriously? — the guy waved his hand in front of the screen, but his fingers passed right through the neon letters. — I died just to turn into a mobile game interface?
"Denial is the first stage of acceptance, User! — the screen cheerfully displayed. — Your current status: 'Advanced Zombie'. Level: 0. At this moment you are at the very bottom of the food chain, somewhere between moldy bread and a lame rat. But don't despair! The System provides limitless opportunities for career growth under apocalyptic conditions!"
Sim snorted, leaning against the brick wall and getting to his feet. His body responded surprisingly well. No zombie stiffness, except his joints creaked slightly.
— And how do I grow? Eat cabbage?
"Currency is the key to success! — the System responded, unfolding three glowing icons before him. — Collect Biomass Points by absorbing other, less fortunate mutants. Accumulate Horror Points by giving survivors heart attacks with quality jump scares. And finally, Style Points! For elegant kills and dramatic entrances. Now, to sweeten the pill of your death... Claim your Welcome x10 Roll!"
Right at the center of his vision, a giant golden button appeared with the word "SPIN."
The excitement that had long slumbered in the soul of a former employee with a pitiful salary suddenly woke up and gleefully rubbed its hands. Gacha. In real life. Or rather, real death. What could go wrong? Sim mentally pressed the button.
The screen exploded in a kaleidoscope of colors. A virtual roulette spun at a frantic speed. Gold and purple sparks flashed, promising incredible mutations, impenetrable armor, and the strength of gods. The guy held his breath (purely out of habit).
Ding! The first item dropped. Gray glow.
"Torn Left Combat Boot (Common). Description: Perfect for tripping over flat surfaces."
— Hey, System, what kind of garbage is this? — Sim protested.
Ding! Ding! Ding! The roulette mercilessly churned out results.
"Air Freshener 'Pine Forest' (Common)."
"Half a Brick (Common)."
"Rusty Paperclip (Common)."
On the eighth spin, green light flashed.
"Nail Regeneration (Uncommon). Description: Your nails grow 5% faster. A great bonus for those who like to scratch doors."
— I demand a complaint book! This is rigged! — the outraged corpse was already about to kick a dumpster when the tenth, final spin blazed with a blinding pink light. The screens vibrated, fanfare music played.
"BINGO! Unique fan-service item obtained: 'Form-Fitting Tactical T-Shirt'! — the solemn inscription read. — Description: Made from nano-polymers, it perfectly accentuates the contours of your dead yet still attractive abs. Increases 'Charisma' parameter by +15. Female survivors will shoot at you slightly less eagerly. Maybe. Apply immediately?"
A bundle of fabric materialized in Sim's hands. Black, stylish, with the logo of an unknown special unit. He skeptically examined his torn, blood-soaked shirt, then turned his gaze to the new item.
— Well, since we're already at it... — the guy muttered, pulling off the rags and tugging on the shirt.
It fit like a glove. The fabric pleasantly cooled his dead skin, and the cut genuinely flattered his figure, hugging his shoulders and chest as if he had just stepped off the cover of Men's Health: Apocalypse Edition. A nearby shard of a shop window reflected a rather decent-looking guy: pale skin, eyes glowing with a faint crimson light, and a devilishly stylish outfit.
"User looks drop-dead gorgeous. Literally. Warning: hostile units detected approaching. Tutorial mode activated!"
Sim spun around sharply. From around the corner, shuffling and growling, tumbled two classic, canonical zombies. Faces contorted, clothes hanging in tatters, thick saliva dripping from their maws. Spotting Sim, they stopped. Sniffed the air.
Instead of the stench of a rotting comrade, they caught the scent of pine air freshener (which the System had helpfully activated in the inventory) and saw before them something too attractive to be dead. The zombies simultaneously roared and lunged at him.
— Hey guys, we're on the same team! — Sim called out, stepping back.
"They do not recognize you as one of their own. Too much style, too little rot, — the System helpfully informed. — Basic skill available: 'Cobra Bite'. Use it to collect your first biomass!"
The first corpse lunged forward, stretching out bony arms. Sim acted on instincts amplified by the virus. His body reacted with lightning speed: a light sidestep to the left, a sweep kick that sent the attacker crashing to the asphalt with a crunch. The second proved more agile and tried to grab the new tactical shirt.
— Not the outfit! — Sim snarled.
Something clicked in his head. The skill activated on its own. The guy snapped forward, his jaw locking with inhuman force, and he delivered a lightning-fast, serpentine bite directly into the opponent's neck. The crack of vertebrae echoed through the alley. His mouth filled with a foul but strangely invigorating taste of infected blood. The zombie went limp and collapsed.
"Excellent execution! — the screen lit up. — Received: +20 Biomass Points. +5 Style Points for preserving your wardrobe. Keep it up, handsome!"
Sim wiped his chin with the back of his hand and spat black blood. His eyes gleamed brighter. In the distance, above the rooftops, the glow of fires blazed ominously — the Raccoon City Police Department was burning. Somewhere out there, special forces squads roamed, frightened rookie cops scurried, and elite mutants hid with pockets full of valuable biomass.
— Well then, — Sim straightened the collar of his perfect shirt and smiled with predatory satisfaction. — Let's go spin that roulette.
Raccoon City at night resembled a branch of hell where someone forgot to turn off the neon signs. The streets were littered with abandoned cars, broken glass, and the bodies of those who had been less fortunate than the new owner of the gacha interface.
Sim strode down the road with the grace of a predator, savoring the absence of shortness of breath and fatigue. The tactical shirt hugged his torso nicely, while the torn jeans slightly ruined the image of a stylish apocalyptic macho. However, what currently concerned the corpse wasn't the holes in the knees but the persistent beeping in his head.
"Attention! — the semi-transparent screen blinked in golden font. — An anomalous concentration of plot armor has been detected in your quadrant! Temporary banner activated: 'Encounter with Main Characters'. Chance of rare mutations increased by 15%! Urgent Biomass Point injection required!"
— Easier said than done, — the guy muttered, nimbly vaulting over the hood of a burning taxi. — The local weaklings give crumbs. I need something more serious than these slow bags of bones.
The answer to his request came in the form of a low, vibrating growl from a dark alleyway. Three Dobermans slowly stepped into the light of a flickering streetlamp. Fur shedding in clumps, exposed muscles, and infected saliva dripping from their fangs left no doubt — the doggies clearly weren't here to play fetch.
"Elite biomass detected: Infected Hounds! — the System joyfully announced. — It is recommended to avoid bites to the face. Your 'Charisma' parameter may suffer!"
— Thanks for the concern, tin can!
The first dog launched itself, turning into a blurred streak. The mutant's speed was impressive, but Sim's reflexes, sharpened by the T-Virus, proved sharper. The former clerk rolled sharply aside, letting the flying mass pass overhead, and raised his arm, catching the second dog mid-leap by the throat.
— Sit! — the corpse barked, slamming the creature hard into the asphalt. Bones crunched.
The third Doberman bit into his calf, puncturing the jeans. There was almost no pain, just unpleasant pressure. Sim irritably clicked his tongue, activated the Cobra Bite, and sank his teeth into the exposed scruff of the beast. Thick black blood flooded his tongue. The dog jerked and went still. The remaining dog he finished with a powerful kick, sending the whimpering carcass into a brick wall.
"Brilliant! Received: +150 Biomass Points. Congratulations, Level 1 reached! Base characteristics increased."
Suddenly, the silence of the night was shattered by the dry, rhythmic crackle of gunfire. The sound came from the direction of a gas station two blocks away. They were shooting professionally: short bursts, precise singles.
— And there's the plot armor arriving, — Sim smirked, licking the blood from his lips, and broke into a sprint.
Reaching the gas station, the mutant jumped onto the roof of a parked van and froze, assessing the situation. The scene before him was classic, as if lifted straight from a blockbuster poster.
At the center of the chaos, fighting off an advancing crowd of corpses, was a girl. A blue bandeau top, a short black skirt, heavy boots, and an S.T.A.R.S. beret. Jill Valentine herself. She moved fluidly and lethally, every shot from her Samurai Edge finding its mark, but there were too many zombies. They were pressing the operative back against the fuel pumps, cutting off her escape routes.
"Attention! Heroine in danger! — the System squealed. — Quest available: 'Knight on a Dead Horse'. Protect the target and collect maximum Style Points! Would you like to spin before the battle? You have enough for a single roll!"
— Go ahead, spin your barrel organ! — the guy mentally commanded, watching Jill fend off a particularly persistent fat man in a chef's uniform with her knife.
The holographic roulette spun just once but produced a blinding purple-and-gold light. Double drop!
"Incredible luck! Consumable received: 'Fire Resistance (30 sec)'. You can literally dance in the mouth of a volcano. Wardrobe Module received: 'Beach Season'! Description: Who said the zombie apocalypse isn't a reason to show yourself off? Includes extremely brief tactical swim trunks with pouch attachment straps and impressive body oil. Charisma bonus +50. Opponent bewilderment bonus +100."
Sim nearly fell off the van.
— System, are you kidding me?! What swim trunks?! There's a crowd of corpses out there and an armed-to-the-teeth woman!
"Aesthetics demand sacrifices! Apply 'Beach Season' for the maximum Style Points multiplier?"
Below, the sound of shattering glass rang out — one of the zombies had hurled an empty bottle at Jill, causing the girl to lose her balance. She pressed her back against a fuel pump, breathing heavily. The bullets in her pistol were clearly running out. A puddle of gasoline from a punctured hose slowly spread directly under the feet of the crowd.
Sim looked at the sparking wiring above the fuel pump, then at his interface.
— Fine, to hell with it. Let's go all out! Activate everything!
The space around the guy flickered with pink neon. His clothes dissolved, replaced by something utterly unimaginable. Precious little fabric remained on his body, but a great deal of leather straps appeared, advantageously accentuating defined muscles that now gleamed as if coated in expensive lotion. The result looked so absurd, bold, and magnetic that any Japanese idol would have died of envy.
At that moment, the wiring above the gas station short-circuited. Sparks rained down into the puddle of gasoline.
The explosion shot into the night sky as a roaring column of flame. The shockwave scattered the nearest zombies, and Jill instinctively covered her face with her arms, expecting the fire to consume her too.
But instead of scorching heat, she heard the heavy thud of boots landing.
Sim dropped from the van directly into the epicenter of the roaring flames. The Fire Resistance buff worked flawlessly: tongues of fire only beautifully curved around his gleaming, half-naked body without causing the slightest harm. He slowly walked out from the wall of fire, like a terminator at a fashion show.
Jill lowered her arms and froze, eyes wide open. The weapon in her hands trembled. Before her stood a tall, unnaturally pale man with burning crimson eyes. He wore only military boots, dark glasses (where they had come from, the System tactfully omitted) and... tactical swim trunks, cinched with straps. The fire played across his perfect abs, and on his face shone an enchanting, if slightly predatory, smile.
— What the... — was all the S.T.A.R.S. operative could breathe out, forgetting about the surviving corpses advancing from the darkness.
"Style Points multiplier activated! Crowd in shock, heroine in disarray. Act now!"
Not wasting a second, Sim surged forward. He moved like a dancer — lethal and fluid. A grab, a suplex throw — the first zombie sailed into a burning car. An elegant pivot, a spinning heel kick — the second lost half its skull. Every movement was accompanied by a display of perfect musculature and the faint clinking of tactical carabiners at his hips.
Jill simply stood and watched as the half-naked, firelight-gleaming stranger tore apart bare-handed the monsters she had struggled to handle with a firearm. It broke every survival pattern that had been drilled into her during training.
Snapping the last corpse's neck, Sim elegantly brushed an invisible speck of dust from his shoulder. He turned to the girl, slowly pulled off his dark glasses, winked at her with his glowing right eye, and in a husky yet velvety voice said:
— The evening is getting too hot, miss. Mind the fire.
Without waiting for an answer, the half-naked savior gracefully leaped onto the fire escape of the neighboring building and melted into the darkness, leaving Jill Valentine standing in the middle of the burning gas station with the most bewildered expression of her entire life.
"Quest complete! — the System saluted with a shower of confetti before the eyes of the guy running across the rooftops. — 500 Style Points received. Secret achievement unlocked: 'Pattern Breaker'. Keep it up, User!"
The night wind of Raccoon City pleasantly cooled his battle-heated skin, but running across rooftops in tactical swim trunks was, to put it mildly, impractical. Having sprinted to a safe distance from the blazing gas station, the mutant mentally closed the wardrobe menu.
The space flickered with neon again, and the outrageous beach outfit vanished. In its place came the dense fabric of tactical pants, a load-bearing vest with the Umbrella logo, and a high-collared jacket, picturesquely torn at the left shoulder. His hair fell into a stylish, artful mess, and the crimson irises of his eyes glowed softly in the semi-darkness. The former corporate clerk now looked exactly like a bold protagonist ready to conquer hearts and break jaws.
His destination was the monumental building of the Raccoon City Police Department, rising above the city like a grim Gothic bulk.
Inside the R.P.D., an eerie silence reigned, broken only by the dripping of water somewhere beneath the high vaulted ceilings of the main hall and the muffled moaning of corpses barricaded in the corridors. The marble floor was generously scattered with shell casings and dried bloodstains.
Sim silently slipped behind the reception desk. His heightened sense of smell caught the scent of fresh blood and gunpowder. In the western corridor, propped against the wall, sat a badly wounded special forces soldier. His body armor had been torn by the claws of some large monster, and his breath rattled out of punctured lungs with a wheeze. The man was doomed.
"Attention! High-quality equipment carrier and excellent biomass detected! — the System immediately activated, unfolding two shimmering windows before his eyes. — Action choice available:
Option A: 'Call of Nature'. Tear the victim apart and consume the flesh. Reward: +300 Biomass Points. Penalty: -50 Charisma (you will look like a pig at a slaughterhouse).
Option B: 'Aesthetics of Death'. Gift the condemned a quick and stylish end. Reward: +200 Style Points, clean clothes."
— I prefer not to stain the new outfit, — the interface owner whispered.
The corpse approached the dying man silently. The soldier with difficulty raised his clouded gaze, trying to aim a trembling rifle barrel at the tall figure, but his strength was gone. The weapon clattered from weakened fingers.
— Y-you... one of them? — the soldier gurgled. — But why... aren't you attacking?
— Because I have standards, friend, — Sim replied softly, crouching beside him. — Your shift is over. Sleep.
A lightning-fast movement — and strong fingers cleanly but mercilessly snapped the soldier's neck. Death was instantaneous. No blood, no torn entrails. The mutant gently laid the body on the floor and straightened his jacket collar.
"Elegant! +200 Style Points received. Bonus: Access keycard to the Armory obtained!"
Before the guy could celebrate his find, the floor beneath him vibrated slightly. From above, from the direction of the second floor, came heavy, measured footsteps. Boom. Boom. Boom. The sound was as if a concrete pile in size-fifty boots was walking across marble.
"CRITICAL THREAT! — the screen turned an alarming red. — Competing Predator detected: Tyrant T-103. Level: Walking Wardrobe. Direct combat is categorically not recommended. Your biomass will be spread in a thin layer across the parquet!"
Plaster rained from the ceiling. The wooden doors on the second-floor balcony exploded into splinters, and a colossal figure dropped heavily into the hall. The two-meter giant, clad in an impenetrable green coat, adjusted his trademark fedora hat and slowly turned his impassive, gray face toward Sim.
— Nice threads, big guy, — the competitor's rival assessed, slowly backing toward the library doors. — But the coat makes you look heavy.
Mr. X did not appreciate the joke. The giant launched himself with a speed alarming for his size. A heavy fist capable of punching through tank armor whistled a millimeter past Sim's face, slamming into a marble column. Stone burst into fragments, showering them both.
Cranking his muscle tension to maximum, the former clerk dived under the second attack and shot out into the corridor leading to the library like a bullet. The Tyrant silently, like an unstoppable locomotive, followed, shouldering through the flimsy partitions.
Bursting into the multi-tiered library, Sim flew up the wooden staircase to the second tier. The old floorboards creaked beneath him, while below the sound of smashing furniture already rang out — Mr. X wasn't bothering to look for stairs, he simply walked straight through, punching his way through historical bookshelves.
— Think, System, think! — the mutant snapped on the move. — I need Horror Points, and this guy clearly doesn't know how to be afraid!
"Use the environment! Fan service works not only on girls, but also on the laws of physics!"
The giant had already reached the upper tier and swung for a crushing blow. Action was needed immediately. Sim grabbed a tilting, enormously heavy oak bookshelf packed with tomes and, putting all the strength of the T-Virus into it, sharply pulled it toward himself while simultaneously falling onto his back.
The shelf crashed down, dragging the Tyrant with it.
The thunder of falling books mixed with the cracking of splintering wood. The second-tier floor couldn't withstand the colossal weight — the planks gave way, and both mutants plummeted down into a cloud of centuries-old dust.
When the crash subsided, Sim opened his eyes. The situation turned out to be... delicate.
He lay on the floor, and resting directly on top of him, pressing him down with his massive body, was Mr. X. Their faces were in unacceptably close proximity. The Tyrant's gray, stone-like skin nearly touched Sim's nose, and the bioweapon's heavy breathing fanned his cheeks. A huge gloved hand rested on the floor beside the guy's head, creating a perfectly absurd pose straight out of a teenage romance.
The Tyrant froze, as if the processor in his head was trying to process a non-standard prey behavior pattern.
"DING! — the System chimed ecstatically right before his eyes, blocking the monster's stern face. — Incredible development! Maximum distance closure with boss recorded! Achievement unlocked: 'Dangerous Proximity'. +1000 Style Points awarded! My, there are sparks flying between you two!"
— System, shut up, — Sim said through gritted teeth, trying not to move. — This is not at all what you think it is.
Mr. X finally stirred. His right fist slowly moved upward for a finishing blow. But the pause was enough. Taking advantage of the giant shifting his weight, Sim slipped out from under the green coat with the fluid motion of a snake, gracefully rolled across a pile of books, and sprang to his feet.
— Sorry, big guy, but I prefer more talkative partners, — he tossed back, brushing dust from his jacket. — And for the record, the fedora is so last century!
Spinning sharply around, the interface owner darted toward the door leading to the west wing. A furious roar struck him in the back — the Tyrant had finally realized his prey had escaped in the most brazen manner possible and had also criticized his wardrobe.
Leaving behind the wrecked library and a bewildered monster, Sim raced through the dark corridors of the precinct. Ahead awaited the armory, the parking garage, and the golden marker the System had helpfully highlighted on the radar. The main course of this night was just getting started.
The smell of dampness and overheated machine oil in the basement of the R.P.D. was so thick it could be cut with a knife. Sim silently glided along the peeling walls, passing locked holding cells. His new instincts were running at full capacity: he felt the vibration of the air, heard the scraping of infected hounds' claws in the kennel around the corner, and — most importantly — sensed someone's living, pulsing warmth.
"Attention! — a golden banner appeared before his eyes, flooding his vision with pixel confetti. — You have entered the area of an exclusive event: 'Your Perfect Enemy/Partner'. Chance of obtaining a Legendary item increased to 90%! Target detected. Designation: 'Golden Rookie'."
— Golden rookie? — Sim narrowed his eyes, looking at the pulsing dot on the map. — System, you mean Leon? I hope he doesn't come with an anti-cheat ban.
"He comes with top-tier Horror Points, User! — the System replied cheekily. — Leon Kennedy possesses a unique protagonist aura. Frighten him so badly his knees shake, and your Gacha gauge will shoot through the roof. Begin the hunt!"
From around the corner came the sharp crack of a gunshot, followed by desperate barking that turned into a yelp. Sim accelerated, moving with the grace of a shadow.
In the parking garage, a classic drama was unfolding. A young officer with a mop of chestnut hair, dressed in a brand-new Raccoon City police uniform, was frantically fighting off two zombie Dobermans. Leon looked exactly as a hero should on his first day of work: frightened but determined, with a couple of cuts on his face that only added to his rugged appeal.
— Damn it, how many of you are there?! — Leon put the last bullet into the head of a lunging dog and racked the slide. Empty.
The second Doberman, crouching low, was preparing to leap. The cop frantically reached for a spare magazine, but his oil-slicked fingers slipped.
Sim decided this was the perfect moment for a dramatic entrance. He wasn't planning to save the guy like a good Samaritan — he needed points.
The mutant burst from the shadows like a projectile. Instead of attacking the dog, he caught it mid-air by the tail and slammed it with savage force into the side of a nearby police cruiser. The metal crumpled, the glass shattered into dust. The creature didn't even have time to yelp, turning into a shapeless lump of flesh.
Leon froze, dropping the magazine. He slowly raised his eyes to his "savior." Before him stood a tall, pale guy in an Umbrella tactical vest, whose crimson eyes glowed in the darkness of the parking garage with an unkind, nearly mocking fire.
— Hey, officer, — Sim said hoarsely, tilting his head to one side. — Drop something?
Leon drew a sharp breath and reached for his knife. In his eyes reflected primal terror — this monster was speaking, moving like a human, yet radiated death.
"DING! Received: +500 Horror Points. Leon Kennedy is officially in awe of your charisma! Gacha gauge filled to 100%. Wish to spin the Wheel of Fortune right now?"
— Spin it before he shoots me out of sheer fright! — Sim commanded mentally.
The world around him slowed. While Leon slowly drew his combat knife, a wild carousel of purple and gold sparks whirled before the mutant's eyes. The sound of fanfares was so loud Sim nearly winced.
"LEGENDARY DROP! — the screen blazed blinding white. — Item received: 'Nemesis Mind Shard'. Type: Active Mutation. Description: Now you can do THIS. Your body adapts a bio-organic weapon of the 'Tentacle' type. Warning: use causes dependency and heightened corporate interest."
At that moment, time returned to its normal flow. Leon had finally drawn his knife and lunged, but Sim didn't even flinch. From his left shoulder, right through the torn fabric of the jacket, a long, pulsing dark-violet appendage burst out with a wet crunch. The tentacle, coated in slime and small spines, coiled around the cop's wrist in a fraction of a second, knocking the knife away.
— What the... — Leon went even paler, staring at the writhing tentacle that was now delicately lifting him off the ground.
— It's not polite to come at passersby with sharp objects, Leon, — Sim stepped closer, his face ending up inches from the cop's. The mutant could smell his sweat and fear — it was sweeter than any energy drink. — I could take offense, you know.
"Horror Points counter is off the charts! Combo bonus for first-encounter tentacle use! — the System was practically breathless with delight. — Drain everything from him, User! He is your golden goose!"
Sim felt Nemesis's power pulsing through his veins. The tentacle was not merely a weapon — it felt like a full fifth limb, sensitive and incredibly powerful. He could snap the rookie's neck right now, but that would be too boring. He needed a long-running drama.
— You know, I'm in a good mood today, — Sim relaxed the tentacle's grip, letting Leon slide down to the floor. — I'll give you a five-minute head start. Run, officer. Go find that redhead friend of yours or whoever else you were planning to save.
Leon didn't wait to be asked twice. Grabbing his pistol and magazine, he sprinted toward the elevator leading into the precinct building, constantly looking back and stumbling. His footsteps faded into the depths of the corridors.
— Leon, I'm coming to find you! — Sim called after him cheerfully, feeling the tentacle coil contentedly behind his back like the tail of a pleased cat.
"Attention! New event participant detected! — the System suddenly shifted its tone. — Coordinates: Parking Garage Entrance. Target: Claire Redfield. Status: 'Combat Sister'. Warning: she has a grenade launcher and a complete absence of humor regarding zombies."
Sim turned around. At the entrance to the parking garage stood a girl in a red jacket, gripping a large weapon in her hands. She had seen everything: the tentacle, the frightened Leon, and Sim's glowing eyes.
— Hey you, freak in tactical rags! — Claire called out, taking aim. — Leave the guy alone, or I'll turn you into a very stylish bathroom rug!
The mutant assessed the situation. Fighting Claire now wasn't in his plans — the Gacha was drained, and Style Points required a change of scenery. He elegantly pressed his fingers to his temple in a mock military salute.
— Ladies first, — Sim smiled.
The tentacle shot toward the ceiling, hooking onto a concrete beam. The mutant soared upward, pulling himself along the appendage with incredible speed. Claire fired, but the grenade only helplessly exploded into the wall, showering the parking garage with sparks. When the smoke cleared, there was no one left on the beam.
Sim stood on the roof of the precinct, gazing at the burning city. His interface shimmered with new colors, and fresh spins awaited their moment in the inventory.
— So then, System, — he stroked the pulsing tentacle, which obediently retreated beneath his jacket. — What's next? Down into the sewers or straight to the lab to find Birkin?
"The path to NEST is open, User! — the System responded, unfolding before him a list of new, even more insane rewards. — But remember: the deeper we descend, the better the chances of pulling something truly... legendary from the Gacha."
Sim smirked. The night in Raccoon City promised to be long, bloody, and devilishly exciting.
The descent into the Raccoon City sewers proved a serious test for his sense of smell. If the streets reeked of ash and blood, here there reigned a suffocating miasma of sewage, rotting flesh, and some kind of sweet chemical muck. Sim grimaced, dropping from a rusty ladder onto the concrete edge of a drainage channel. His new boots, extracted from the System with great effort in exchange for a hundred Style Points, squelched pitifully in suspicious slime.
"Attention, User! — the interface blinked fastidiously. — You have entered the location 'Water Treatment Facility'. Area aesthetic rating: negative infinity. However, an exclusive banner is now open here: 'Swamp Romance'! Increased chance of obtaining toxic mutations and waterproof cosmetics!"
— I'll do without mascara, — the former clerk snorted, peering into the gloom. — I need big game. Something that will lead me to the G-Virus.
The water in the channel bubbled suspiciously. A carcass surfaced, vaguely resembling a human but bloated to unimaginable proportions and covered in pulsing violet welts. A G-mutant. The creature let out a gurgling roar and spat a stream of corrosive acid at the uninvited guest.
Sim reacted instantly. Muscle tension fired like a spring, throwing his body aside. The acid hissed as it ate through the concrete where the guy had stood a second before.
— Hey, easy! This vest costs more than your worthless life!
From the mutant's left shoulder, the Nemesis tentacle emerged with a wet rustle. The dark-violet appendage, obedient to its new owner's thoughts, shot forward, coiled around the bloated monster's neck, and yanked sharply upward. The creature choked, lifted from the ground. Sim didn't hesitate: a powerful jerk, and the tentacle slammed the G-mutant into the tunnel wall. The welts burst, splattering the brick with disgusting fluid, and the monster went limp.
"Biomass collected! — the System reported cheerfully. — But don't relax, handsome. Something very hungry and catastrophically large is approaching."
The ground beneath his feet shuddered. The water in the wide channel foamed, and from the dark depths, with a thunderous roar, emerged a prehistoric nightmare face. A giant mutant alligator, the size of a decent city bus, snapped its jaws, capable of biting through an armored personnel carrier. The reptile's eyes burned with dull, primal hunger.
— Seriously? Someone flushed a crocodile down a toilet here? — Sim whistled, assessing the boss's dimensions.
The alligator surged forward, sweeping aside pipes and concrete blocks in its path. Running along the narrow walkway was pointless — the creature would simply swallow him along with the rebar. What was needed was firepower, not tentacles or teeth.
— System! Dumping all biomass reserves into Weapon Gacha! Urgent!
"Executing! Emergency x10 spin activated!"
A mad vortex of icons spun before his eyes. The alligator was ten meters away. Eight. Five...
"Rusty pipe... Plunger... Bag of chips... Standard lighter... BINGO! Epic drop: 'Umbrella Corporation Fragmentation Grenade (Limited Pink Edition)'! Explodes with love!"
A hefty grenade materialized in the guy's palm, painted acid pink with a little heart drawn on it.
The alligator's maw swung open, baring rows of razor-sharp teeth the size of kitchen cleavers. The stench of rotting meat hit him in the face.
Instead of leaping away, the interface owner stepped forward. The tentacle fired from his shoulder like a harpoon and wrapped around the upper jaw of the giant reptile. Sim braced his feet against the floor, pulling the appendage taut to its limit, preventing the crocodile from snapping its jaws shut. His muscles screamed, the T-Virus in his blood boiled, wringing inhuman strength from his dead body.
— Open wide, here comes the airplane! — the guy bared his teeth in a predatory grin.
With his free hand, he yanked the pin from the pink grenade with his teeth and sent it in an elegant arc directly down the creature's bottomless gullet.
The tentacle instantly released the jaw and retracted back into his shoulder. Sim dove behind the nearest thick drainage pipe.
A dull, gut-deep explosion shook the sewer. Chunks of scales, murky water, and entrails flew across the entire tunnel. The giant alligator's body convulsed and toppled onto its side, blocking the channel.
Silence, broken only by the gurgling of water, settled over the underground once more. Sim stepped out from cover, fastidiously shaking a piece of liver from his shoulder.
"EPIC VICTORY! — golden letters practically danced before his eyes. — Ultimate Biomass dose received! Evolution Bonus activated: 'Partial Scale Armor'!
Description: Strong as steel and stylish as a rock star's jacket. Enjoy!"
A short, hot flash ran through his body. Sim watched with interest as elegant plates of coal-black scales formed directly over the skin and torn clothing on his forearms, thighs, and sides. They looked not like a hideous shell, but rather like designer leather panels from an expensive couturier, perfectly fitting into his bold aesthetic.
"User is becoming increasingly attractive... to monsters, — the System commented playfully. — Your defense increased by 60%. Charisma (Dark Side) +30."
— Nice to have your efforts appreciated properly, — Sim rotated his arm, admiring the shimmer of the scales.
Suddenly, his hearing caught a light, rhythmic tapping. Click-click-click. The sound of heels on a metal grate.
The mutant silently slipped into the shadow. Below, one level down, a slender female figure was heading toward massive steel doors bearing the NEST logo. A red dress with a slit, an elegant walk, a pistol in a delicate hand. Ada Wong.
The System instantly highlighted her with a golden outline.
"Final Location unlocked. Objective: NEST Laboratory. At stake — the Fate of the World and Legendary Gacha. Following her, boss?"
Sim adjusted the scaled collar of his jacket, bared his fangs in the darkness, and stepped after the girl in red. The hottest party of this apocalypse was waiting for him underground.
The sterile corridors of the underground NEST complex, flooded with cold neon light, were starkly different from the fetid sewers. Here it smelled of ozone, antiseptic, and impending catastrophe. A ubiquitous female voice from the speakers monotonously counted down the minutes to self-destruct protocol activation, while somewhere far above, Raccoon City waited for a cleansing nuclear strike.
The gacha system's owner strode confidently across the laboratory's glass floor. The new scale inserts on his armor creaked softly with each movement. Ada Wong's trail had vanished a couple of levels back — the spy had proven too quick — but the radar steadily guided the mutant toward the evacuation train platform. It was there, at the very epicenter of the plot vortex, that the final prize distribution was due to take place.
Heavy blast doors hissed open, revealing a vast hangar. The freight locomotive was already humming, warming up its engines. Near an open car, clutching her bleeding side, stood Ada in her torn red dress. Slightly ahead, gripping a shotgun with whitened fingers, stood Leon Kennedy.
And directly above them, clinging to the steel beams beneath the ceiling with hypertrophied claws, loomed him. William Birkin — or rather, what remained of him after the G-Virus injection. A vast, pulsing mound of flesh studded with blinking yellow eyes.
"ATTENTION! CRITICAL PLOT POINT! — the interface before Sim's eyes blazed blinding gold. — Ultimate Quest available!
Option A: 'Coward Survivor'. Jump on the train, wedge yourself into a corner, and pray. Reward: life and a boring pension.
Option B: 'Sacrifice for the Legendary'. Save Leon from the blow by taking the damage yourself. Reward: World Gacha! Exclusive rebirth banner in a parallel universe with elves and a harem! Are you ready to become an isekai hero?"
The former clerk stopped, cracking his neck, and stared distrustfully at the flickering text.
— Another world? Seriously? — Sim grimaced with distaste. — Leave all this fun for some boring fantasy village? System, you're underestimating me. There's a whole corporation of evil geniuses left here, hordes of unfarmed bosses, Tyrants, Nemesis... And honestly, the local survivor population, — the mutant glanced expressively at the long legs of the spy in red, — suits me perfectly. I'm not going anywhere.
"REFUSING THE WORLD GACHA?! — the red pixels of the interface went fuzzy from virtual shock. — User insanity level has exceeded permitted limits! Hidden protocol activated: 'Umbrella's Bane'. Objective: Survive at the epicenter of a nuclear explosion. Reward: Secret Survival Banner!"
Birkin let out a piercing roar that made the control room windows shudder, and dropped like a stone, aiming his massive sledgehammer arm directly at Leon's head. The cop raised his shotgun, but it was clear — there was no escape.
Space flickered. Muscle tension cranked to maximum turned Sim into a blurred silhouette. The guy wedged himself between the monster and the cop a fraction of a second before impact.
The hook, devastating in its force, came down on the savior's chest. Black scales flew in all directions like obsidian shards. The stylish tactical jacket shredded to pieces, and the interface owner himself was hurled backward. His boot soles skidded across the metal platform, throwing off showers of sparks, but the mutant stayed on his feet.
— What the hell?! — Leon exhaled, staring in stunned disbelief at the familiar guy whose eyes now blazed with crimson flame. Torn but rapidly regenerating muscles showed through the ripped clothing.
— You again, rookie, — Sim coughed up black blood and grinned defiantly. — Step aside. This seating section is VIP only.
Birkin, enraged that some insignificant insect had dared stand in his way, roared from all his maws simultaneously and launched his attack.
The corpse didn't hesitate. From his left shoulder, the Nemesis tentacle burst out with a revolting crunch, immediately coiling around the nearest steel pylon. The mutant used it as a sling, sharply hauling himself toward the ceiling, dodging a spray of acid from the G-monster. Mid-flight, he activated the remaining incendiary grenades from his inventory, sending them directly into the largest concentration of eyes on the enemy's shoulder.
A series of explosions lit the platform in orange light. Birkin howled, blindly swinging his claws. One of them caught Sim, tearing through his thigh and hurling the fighter to the edge of the platform. The elegant image was falling apart. Of the alluring cover-model only a wounded, blood-soaked fighter remained. But the smile only grew wider.
— Come on, freak, show me what daddy's got! — the system's owner snarled, charging headlong.
This was no longer a dance — it was primeval slaughter. Sim sank his teeth into the giant's ankle, activating the Cobra Bite and greedily draining biomass mid-combat to offset the incoming damage. The tentacle lashed at the boss's eyes, distracting the monstrosity from the train.
Leon and Ada were not idle. Taking advantage of the fact that their strange ally had seized all the attention, the humans poured lead into Birkin from every available weapon.
— Train is leaving! — Wong called out, jumping into an open car. The locomotive lurched and slowly began to pick up speed.
— Jump! — the cop stretched out a hand to Sim, standing on the footboard of the departing car.
Birkin, having completely lost form and turned into an amorphous mass of fangs and flesh, made one last, desperate lunge toward the evacuation locomotive.
Sim glanced from the outstretched hand to the oncoming carcass. Then looked at the timer on the ceiling. Ten seconds until detonation.
— See you on the surface, Leon! — the guy called out cheerfully, wiping blood from his battered face. — Try not to die without me!
Instead of grabbing the saving hand, Sim sharply spun in place. The tentacle shot forward, locking firmly around the flying monster's neck. Ignoring the cracking of his own bones, the mutant shifted his weight and, using the enemy's momentum, hurled the carcass with inhuman force directly under the steel wheels of the accelerating train.
A wet, nauseating crunch rang out. A huge chunk of biomass was pulled under the locomotive, ground to pulp. The train shuddered but continued moving, swiftly carrying the survivors into the dark, saving tunnel.
The exhausted fighter was left alone on the empty platform.
"ATTENTION! MISSILE HAS REACHED TARGET! DETONATION IN 3... 2..."
— Spin the survival roulette, tin can! Everything I've got! — Sim roared, watching the concrete ceiling of the complex begin to crack with a deafening screech.
The Gacha kaleidoscope before his eyes spun at a frantic speed, merging into a single golden streak.
"DING! ULTIMATE DEFENSE UNLOCKED: 'Umbrella Corporation Cryo-Capsule for Senior Management'. Description: Protects against nuclear flame, management criticism, and unpleasant odors. Deploying immediately!"
A smooth titanium cylinder materialized from thin air. The doors hissed open. The mutant barely managed to collapse inside when a blinding white flash consumed the underground laboratory, wiping the remains of Raccoon City into radioactive ash.
Two days later.
Ash slowly settled over the molten ruins of what had once been a thriving city. A dead silence reigned around the enormous crater, broken only by the howling of the wind.
At the very center of the radioactive wasteland came a loud metallic clang. The armored lid of the cryo-capsule flew aside, raising a cloud of gray dust. From the cylinder, a figure slowly rose.
Sim stretched with pleasure, listening to the cracking of his restored vertebrae. The wounds had closed completely, leaving not even a scar.
The holographic interface chimed before his eyes as if nothing had happened.
"Awakening successful! Radiation level: Lethal (For you — a light breeze). Current status: 'Ruler of Ruins'."
"New item available from compensation package: 'Stylish Black Inquisitor Coat of Umbrella'. Putting it on?"
— Obviously, — the guy snorted.
The hologram flickered, and a dense, perfectly tailored fabric settled over his shoulders, concealing beneath it a bare yet still immaculate torso. Sim ran a hand through his hair, returning it to its signature artful disarray.
"Attention, User! — the screen expanded, displaying a global map of the world dotted with dozens of red points marking secret laboratories, training bases, and infection outbreaks. — Umbrella Corporation is planning new incidents. Albert Wesker has disappeared in an unknown direction. New forms of the virus await their moment."
The mutant bared his teeth in a predatory grin, gazing at the endless horizon. His crimson eyes blazed brighter than the rising sun.
— Then hunting season is officially open, — Sim adjusted his coat collar. — Let's go collect biomass. Those corporate rats have no idea who sits at the top of the food chain now.