[TWD x Resident Evil] — Chapter 544 - Beginning Data Testing
Splitting the team.
The most classic weakening tactic in the book.
Break the squad apart, force them to face the mutants alone, unable to form any crossfire. And in the process, test the hard limits of each one's solo combat capability.
It would make Chris's price tag a lot more convincing.
"Captain." Chris didn't move.
"Splitting up in an environment like this — isn't that too much of a risk?"
Wesker turned. Behind his sunglasses, his gaze fixed on Chris.
"This place is too large."
"If we don't spread out, we won't find Rebekah in time."
"This is an order, Chris."
"Understood." Chris gritted his teeth and arranged his face into something that looked like compliance.
He signaled Jill. The two of them raised their weapons and moved toward the western corridor.
Barry grabbed Joseph, who was still dragging his feet, and headed east.
Wesker watched his people obediently scatter, then turned and climbed the grand central staircase.
His figure disappeared around the second-floor landing.
In the western corridor, Chris and Jill stopped.
"He's getting impatient." Jill pressed her back against the wall and lowered her muzzle. "Impatient to feed us to his monsters."
"The old bastard thinks he's got it all mapped out." Chris checked his magazine.
Armor-piercing rounds, fully loaded. Good stuff he'd lifted from Leon.
"He wants live combat data? Fine. We'll give him a show."
"Just on our terms."
Outside the Spencer Mansion.
On a hidden hillside.
Leon leaned against a tree trunk, a micro-terminal in his hand. Several red dots blinked on the screen — trackers he'd had Rebekah plant on Chris and the others beforehand.
Ada sat on a flat rock nearby, long legs crossed, turning her signature grappling hook gun over in her hands.
"They're inside." Ada glanced at the screen. "Wesker isn't suspicious."
"He's too arrogant for that." Leon pocketed the terminal. He tilted his head back and looked up at a faintly lit window on the mansion's second floor. "Arrogant people always think everything is under their thumb."
"When they fall, they fall hard."
"When are you going in?" Ada asked.
"No rush. Let the actors warm up first. A show without gunfire won't satisfy Wesker."
Inside the Spencer Mansion.
Chris and Jill pushed open the dining room's wooden door.
A wall of rot hit them instantly. On the floor lay a corpse, gnawed down to bare bone.
"This place is disgusting." Jill pinched her nose.
The words barely left her mouth before a wet, rhythmic chewing sound crawled out of the shadows at the far end of the room.
Chris clicked on his tactical flashlight. The harsh white beam cut across the dark.
A massive zombie dog crouched over another body, feeding.
It heard them. It turned.
The skin and flesh had sloughed off its entire frame, leaving nothing but bone-white teeth and mucus-slicked gums.
BANG!
No warning. Chris pulled the trigger.
The 5.56mm round blew the zombie dog's skull open.
Black blood hit the wallpaper.
The shot rang out sharp and hard in the silence of the mansion.
Second floor. Monitoring room.
Wesker sat at the main control console.
On screen, Chris's one-shot headshot played back in perfect clarity. Wesker wasn't impressed.
That was just the appetizer.
His fingers moved quickly across the keyboard.
"Appetizer's done," he murmured. "Time to serve the main course."
Command issued.
Deep in the mansion's second basement, the isolation door ground slowly upward.
Several Hunters climbed fast through the ventilation ducts, bodies armored in dark green scales, both arms warped into massive scything blades.
Back in the dining room.
Chris had just lowered his weapon when a grinding, teeth-grating scratch came from directly overhead.
"Above us!" Jill snapped her muzzle up.
The vent cover exploded inward.
A Hunter dropped from the ceiling with a shriek, one massive scythe claw driving straight for Chris's throat.
It was fast. Genuinely fast.
Nothing like the zombie dogs. Not even close.
Chris threw himself into a roll. The claw missed his neck by inches and buried itself in the solid wood dining table, splitting the entire surface in two.
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!
Jill's rifle opened up.
The burst hammered into the Hunter's scales and threw off sparks, leaving nothing behind but a handful of shallow white marks.
"That hide is tough!" She fired and kept moving backward.
"Switch to armor-piercing!" Chris dropped to one knee, lined up the muzzle on the Hunter's softer abdomen, and held the trigger down.
The armor-piercing rounds did the work.
Scales tore. Green fluid sprayed out in a pressurized burst.
The Hunter screamed, its massive body crashing to the floor. It twitched twice and went still.
They didn't get a second to breathe. From the corridor outside, dense, rapid footsteps were already closing in.
At least 3 more, by the sound of it.
Chris swapped his magazine and looked at Jill.
"Fall back. Main hall."
"We can't let them box us in here."
Monitoring room.
Wesker watched combat data cascade across his screens.
The Hunter's damage resistance. Offensive output. Sustained aggression under fire.
Perfect. Every number exactly what he needed.
Exactly what H.C.F. had been asking for.
He watched Chris and Jill trade ground for survival on one feed, then switched to the eastern corridor. Barry and Joseph were deep in their own fight.
"Impressive," Wesker said, settling back in his chair. "Gentlemen."
➤ Next: Wesker, Completely Dumbfounded