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Time—unstoppable and merciless—continued its steady march.
Day by day, the world decayed.
The T-Virus had spread across the United States like wildfire, consuming everything in mere weeks. Within months, the infection engulfed the entire planet. Humanity crumbled under its weight. The Earth itself seemed to be rejecting life—rivers and lakes ran dry, their beds cracking open like the veins of a dying giant. Once-green forests now stood as blackened skeletons. Meadows of vibrant grass turned to endless stretches of sand and ash. The air was thick with dust and despair. The blue sky that once symbolized hope had turned into a gray, suffocating shroud.
What was once the cradle of civilization had become a wasteland—a silent cemetery for billions.
---
Umbrella Corporation, Los Angeles Branch.
The grand facility that once buzzed with scientific ambition now reeked of death. Hallways that had once echoed with footsteps and chatter were now haunted by the dragging of feet and guttural groans. Dozens—hundreds—of zombies wandered aimlessly through the halls, their milky eyes reflecting the faint, flickering lights above. They searched without thought or purpose, driven by one primal hunger—the need for flesh.
Deep below the surface, hidden beneath layers of reinforced steel and concrete, a laboratory remained sealed off from the chaos above.
There, in the sterile silence of a forgotten experiment, Jack lay motionless on a cold metallic slab. His chest rose and fell so faintly that even machines could barely register it. For nearly six months, he had remained in this state—between life and death, human and something else entirely.
Before him, a massive digital display projected the intricate details of his inner body.
Tiny points of light shimmered across the holographic model—so small they looked like dust particles. But each speck pulsed rhythmically, alive, defiant. Each one was a cell.
Upon closer look, every cell glowed an eerie shade of violet, as though infused with an unnatural luminescence. These were no longer normal human cells—they had fused with the T-Virus and evolved into something new and unpredictable. The scientists had called them T-Cells.
Then, without warning, Jack's eyes snapped open.
The sound was small—a sharp inhale—but in the silence, it was deafening. His pupils, an unnaturally bright amethyst, contracted in the dim light. Slowly, he sat up, the stiffness of long dormancy cracking through his body. His joints popped like breaking ice, each movement echoing through the sterile room.
4 "Ahh… that sleep felt crisp," Jack muttered, stretching his fingers, his tone half amused, half dark. "No idea how long I was out... hopefully not too long."
He turned to the large screen, watching the flickering visuals of his own anatomy.
"These purple cells… T-Cells," he murmured, a grin tugging at his lips. "There's nothing I can't achieve now."
Jack's body had become a battlefield of evolution. Within him coexisted three distinct forces—
the ordinary human cells still clinging to his biology,
the Transformium cells, metallic and alien, integrated into his skeletal frame,
and the T-Virus T-Cells, pulsing with viral energy, flowing through his veins like liquid power.
He stared at his reflection in the glass. His eyes glowed faintly, his veins shimmering beneath the skin like molten threads.
"So… what kind of ability did you give me?" he whispered, smiling darkly. "Let's find out."
He walked toward the armored glass door that sealed the lab. Beyond it, the moans of the undead echoed faintly. The once-sterile hallways were now a graveyard crawling with creatures born of Umbrella's hubris.
The zombies pressed against the glass, their decayed hands scraping at the barrier, jaws opening and closing in mindless hunger. The sight didn't frighten him—it amused him.
"Zombies everywhere… seems this beautiful world's gone to hell while I was asleep," he said softly.
Then, with a flicker of a grin, Jack drew his fist back.
Bang!
The reinforced glass—designed to withstand even Gatling gunfire—shattered like fragile ice. The shockwave sent the nearest zombies flying backward, crashing into walls with bone-crunching impact.
Dust and fragments of glass settled around him as he stepped forward, the scent of decay filling his nostrils.
"Looks like it's time for the rivers and lakes to rise again!" Jack shouted, his voice echoing down the ruined halls.
He disappeared into the shadows of the facility, leaving behind only the echo of his laughter and the groans of the restless dead.
---
One Week Later — Baltimore, Atlantic Coast
The once-bustling port city was now a fortress of the desperate. Rusted ships sat stranded in the harbor, and the sea breeze carried only the stench of rot.
Before the remains of a fortified compound, an iron fence loomed high, reinforced with barbed wire and rusted steel sheets. Behind it, terrified survivors clung to their last hope.
Outside, however, a nightmare swelled.
A tide of the undead had gathered—thousands of them—pressing, clawing, shrieking. Their voices merged into one endless chorus of agony and hunger.
Then, cutting through the mass of rotting bodies, a four-meter-tall mutant zombie advanced. Its muscles bulged grotesquely beneath split skin, and in its hands it dragged a massive iron axe that carved through the lesser zombies like a plow through mud. Each swing sent corpses flying. It moved toward the front gate with terrifying purpose.
Bang!
The giant slammed its axe into the iron gate, making the steel rattle violently.
"Attack!" a sharp, commanding female voice rang out from above.
Pēng! Pēng! Pēng!
Gunfire erupted from the upper floors. Bullets struck the mutant's body, tearing chunks of flesh, but the creature barely noticed. It let out a roar that shook the air, then raised its axe again.
On the rooftop, about sixty survivors—men, women, children, and the elderly—stood huddled together. Their eyes were wide with terror as they watched the horde below. These were the last living souls of Baltimore, clinging to a crumbling stronghold.
Down by the gate, ten armed soldiers fired desperately, their voices cracking with fear.
"Open fire! Keep shooting—don't let it through!"
"Aim for its head! Concentrate firepower!" shouted the same woman's voice, fierce and unyielding.
As she stepped into view, the light caught her face—it was Jill Valentine.
Her expression was cold and focused, but her eyes carried the exhaustion of months on the run. She raised her pistol and fired, every shot deliberate. No Alice beside her. No Carlos. No Terri. She was utterly alone.
But the bullets barely slowed the mutant. It raised its axe and smashed the gate again, bending the steel. The barricade groaned under the pressure.
"Damn it…" Jill hissed through clenched teeth. Six months of running… six months of fighting… and now this?
The memories flashed in her mind—Raccoon City, the fires, the screams, the endless loss. She had survived all of it. But maybe survival was just another kind of curse.
Bang!
The iron gate collapsed with a metallic roar.
The mutant let out a deafening howl and surged forward, leading the horde like a general commanding his army. The undead flooded through the breach like a river bursting its dam.
"Fall back! Fall back now!" Jill ordered, her voice echoing across the compound.
The remaining soldiers retreated, firing wildly into the wave of undead. But it was hopeless. The flood could not be stopped.
On the rooftop, panic erupted.
"They're coming! What do we do?"
"We're dead! They'll eat us—turn us into them!"
"There's no way out! No way—"
The sound of gunfire, screaming, and the thundering steps of the undead merged into one horrific symphony.
Pēng! Pēng! Pēng!
Five soldiers burst through the stairwell onto the rooftop, firing as they went. Jill followed, sweat and grime streaking her face, her pistol emptying with mechanical precision.
The zombies poured upward, relentless and unstoppable. The survivors screamed as they were dragged down, one by one. Jill's heart clenched with guilt and rage—she couldn't save them. Not this time.
Her allies fell around her. One soldier after another was torn apart until there was no one left standing. Some survivors threw themselves from the rooftop, preferring the quick death of the fall to the agony waiting below.
Jill stood at the very edge of the building, wind whipping her hair. She reloaded her weapon with trembling hands.
Below her, an ocean of the dead stretched as far as she could see. Tens of meters down, they reached up, mouths gaping, hungry for her flesh.
She fired again and again, even though she knew it was pointless. Each shot was defiance—each bullet a refusal to surrender.
Then the ground shook.
The massive mutant stomped forward, its shadow swallowing her. It lifted its axe high into the air.
Jill aimed at its head and fired—but the bullets barely scratched it.
Roar!
The axe came down in a blur of motion.
Jill rolled to the side just in time, dust and debris exploding around her. She kicked off the ground and launched herself at the monster, her boot slamming into its abdomen.
Roar!
The creature howled, enraged, and swung its massive fist. The blow connected.
"Ahh!" Jill screamed, the impact throwing her violently backward.
Time seemed to slow as she tumbled through the air.
Below, countless hands reached upward, grasping, waiting.
For a brief moment, she saw the ruined skyline, the dying sun glinting off the ocean.
Her last thought before the fall—
Is this how it ends? After everything… like this?
Then gravity took her.
And the horde waited.