Chapter Text
"Hey, uh- that's the cure, right? You're done? Can I please- give it to me, please-"
It was done. Bryan could be saved after all, couldn't he? He could see Michelle again- just if they gave him the cure-
Screams of terror echoed throughout the lab, as the lady scientist pointed at him in disgust.
"Oh my god, he's infected, his hand, he's infected!"
"God, I fucking told you not to bring him in here!"
They looked at Bryan with grotesque expressions, keeping the cure tucked away behind them. The scientists scrambled for what they could grasp, throwing glass vials and bottles at him as he shielded his face from the onslaught.
If they just gave him the fucking cure-
He had more to live for, he had Michelle- and a baby, for fuck's sake! A baby he was going to care for, one he wanted to raise into a lovely child in a peaceful family. He needed that cure. And he was going to get it, no matter what.
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The next few minutes were a blur. There were moments of consciousness, sure- moments where he squinted open his eyes just to see a messy barrage of limbs, flesh and blood on his hands (Were those his hands? Bryan wasn't quite sure). It was bile-inducing, like those scientists had been mashed to bits by a blunt blender. And God, he felt amazing seeing it. It was a haze of pleasure, like a primal need inside him had finally been fulfilled. That might have been the worst part of it all.
The next time Bryan regained sight, it was when he was staring down a ginger-haired scientist. The cure was in his pocket, he recalled faintly. It was a memory he didn't remember witnessing, but oh well. Bryan felt something wet roll down the remaining half of his face. Most likely rain, or tears from someone. He was a jumbled up mess of people now, all shifting and merging inside him. But the thought of returning to Michelle- to his child- ripped him out of the realisation that he wasn't exactly human anymore.
"Please… the cure-", he whispered. The scientist, although seemingly scared out of his wits, lifted a shaky hand above his pockets and dug out a sickly, neon green syringe. The guy hung it above one of Bryan's left tendrils, waiting for some sign of aggression. Bryan tried his best to hold still, to not ruin his one chance of returning to a normal life.
Taking the stillness as a sign, he stabbed the syringe into Bryan- only getting about half of the cure in before his tendrils started seizing up, flinging the scientist off the frail metal bridge. Ah, shit.
Bryan lifted his right arm shakily and pushed the cure in the rest of the way with a final burst of effort. It felt like every one of his nerves was doused in ice cold water, piercing and unkind. It worked its way through his body, squirming and twisting as it forced the parasite out of Bryan. Through his spotted vision, he could see people- whole people- tearing away from him, clinging onto the bridge and gasping for air. Had they really been inside of him? Part of him? Like, in him. Eugh.
Bryan realised, a bit belatedly, that this meant he probably merged with those people and most likely absorbed their… insides. Eugh.
Staring down at his body, he appeared normal. When he stared down at his limbs, they were attached, beyond all belief- and perfectly intact. Despite it all, Bryan doesn't feel human. And he knows he may never be human again. There was a strange tingling sensation on his back, perhaps cure residue? He reached his right hand up to touch it and-
"Oh, ew?! What the fuck!!", he screeched. It was a weird ass, slimy, tentacle thingy. Coming out of his back. Which was very real and not at all obscured by the previous parasitic memory haze. Fuck.
"Shit, shit, shit- there's no way-" The cure was meant to work. Bryan had come this far, delivered the antidote shit to the 28th floor, shot put down a girl in the face (in self defense). Maybe if he tried hard enough, they'd leave. If he closed his eyes, the tendrils curling around him, a fleshy reminder of how inhuman he was, would leave. If he just tried hard enough, they'd go away. For his sake, they had to. Bryan curled into a tight ball on the frail metal bridge, squeezing his eyes shut and clutching onto his knees. If he didn't hear them, see them, feel them, know them- then they'd go away.
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"I swear to god, I'm not infected! I'm- I'm safe, you know? I could be- uh - useful! Useful somehow, just don't shoot me-"
Bryan sat on a leather padded navy black seat in a military helicopter. The words "NATIONAL GUARD" were scrawled across the sides in sleek white paint as Bryan peered down at the wreckage once named Raccoon City General below. The choppers circled the city, shooting any and all people or infecteds trying to escape. The 'virus' was everywhere, leaving buildings collapsed into piles of bloodied rubble. People walked the streets covered in blood and growing tentacles, snarling like feral animals. He'd even sneaked a glance at the tentacle monster consisting of the lady he'd hit with his car and her husband, along with Maxine, Paul and some Raccoon City bystanders. The sight was terrifying.
Of course, the gun pointed to his head was possibly more terrifying. Like, on a scale of one to tentacle monster, it was probably a bit under tentacle monster.
"Could you maybe… put the gun down? I don't know, it's uh- just a suggestion." Bryan chuckled nervously, diverting his gaze to anywhere but the barrel of the daunting machine gun. He tapped his fingers nervously on the seatbelt of the helicopet, awaiting a response from the woman holding said gun. He watched as a pudgy old man turned in his seat, leaned over to the blonde woman's ear and mumbled something just loud enough for Bryan to hear, but not make out.
"Sorry, what was that? I couldn't hear it over the helicopter blades.", Bryan shouted.
"That wasn't meant for you to hear, dumbass."
"Oh."
The lady slowly lowered the gun whilst making it very clear to Bryan that it was still loaded as she pseudo-checked the bullet count.
"Welcome aboard, pal. I'm Paul Sr., and this is Maxine. Now, could you tell us anything about the cure? Where those pesky Umbrella scientists kept the old bugger?", the fat man laughed.
Bryan let the question sink in for a moment, before getting hit with a sudden wave of deja vu. If there is another Maxine, why didn't old Paul just call her? Fuck, he could've just been driven to the fucking hospital by new Maxine instead of playing glorified Subway Surfers with raining zombies whilst running to the hospital. Do all these agents have doubles just in case one of them dies?
"Uh, I don't think I know more about it than you do."
The old man turned to look at Bryan with a cheerful smile gracing his face, beckoning for him to lean in. Bryan shuffled as close as he could with his seatbelt on, letting the old man whisper in his ear.
"Listen here, bud. The only reason we're keeping you alive right now is because we found you on that bridge with half a team of scientists. Specifically, the scientists who were tasked with making the cure."
He turned and pointed an accusatory finger at a huddled group of shaky scientists- Stanley, whossat, and whats-his-name.
"If you keep bullshitting me, I'll get Maxine here to shoot the hell out of your ass and toss you out of this helicopter. Do you want that?"
Bryan shook his head quickly.
"Neither do I, pal. So get to work, 'cause you have some explaining to do."