Chapter Text
Sitting on the uncomfortable plastic chair in the corner of the lab, Bryan thought back to all the shit he had to go through to get here. He should have just turned around after hitting that crazy woman with his car. But of course, him actually trying to be a good person caused him to get attacked countless of times by those monsters (zombies? people? undead-people??). He shook his head. Just thinking about it all made his brain hurt.
Speaking of hurt—
Bryan barely managed to stop the whimper threatening to escape his mouth. Weakly, he clutched his injured hand further against his body, hoping to hold on just a minute longer. His humanity slipping by the second.
Breathing heavily, Bryan closed his eyes and tried to think of something nice. Immediately he was greeted by the terrifying memories of the past hours, flashes of limbs simultaneously clawing at him and melting back into each other. How could he ever forget the groans of the creatures and wet splashes when their bodies hit the ground, scattering their remains across the streets. He only closed his eyes tighter, looking ever more like a scared child trying to wish away a nightmare than a fully-grown 25-year old. Although who was he kidding, his life has been a mess even before all this stupid shit.
That nearly made him want to laugh out loud hysterically when his mind drifted to the terrified little girl in the RV crying one second and biting him in the next. He will probably never, ever forget the spray of blood that followed. And the deep red stain with mixed in pieces of the child's brain will forever haunt his dreams— or rather nightmares, he thought bitterly. He wanted to be mad, to be furious. If he hadn't wanted helped yet again, he would still be normal. There wouldn't be a swelling wound on his arm and he wouldn't be feeling like shit right now. But he couldn't. All he could do now was wonder if he would end in the same way, pleading and begging for help only to be put down a minute later.
His hands were starting to sweat. His breathing was becoming more erratic. You didn't have to be a doctor to know that something was very deeply wrong with him, which is why it confused him even more that the scientists just left him alone, without sparing him a second glance.
Speaking of the scientists.
He slowly opened his eyes and glared at the scene before him. People in white coats were running around, talking and, he realized after a moment, they were laughing, congratulating themselves. He even watched as one of the guys patted another scientists next to him on the back.
On a normal day, that sight would have him curse up a storm and yelling in the guys faces but right now couldn't find the energy to do that even in his mind. Blinking slowly, Bryan realized two things.
One, he couldn't here anything besides the blood rushing in his ears. He didn't notice it at first but it was becoming ever more glaring. Especially when he could see the people in the lab open and close their mouths vehemently.
And the second thing, which took him honestly too long to notice was that they got the cure. The ginger man had finished extracting the liquid into a syringe. His pathetic little brain finally connected all the pieces and for the first time since he entered this building he felt a small branch of hope starting to grow inside of him.
Of course, it all went to shit anyways.
Bryan couldn't even begin to tell how it all went down. He just remembered eyeing the green syringe hungrily and taking a few steps towards it. Small, nearly incoherent pleas fell from his mouth as he was hanging to the last sliver of control.
And then something hit him in the head.
And although he couldn't exactly hear the glass breaking, he did feel it digging into his feet as was moving towards the cure. The whole experience felt like going in and out of consciousness, finding himself somewhere new whenever he gained enough self control to look around. But even without that, the constant feeling of flesh sliding around, limbs growing out of him and even the satisfaction that he felt while consuming some of the researchers accompanied his every moment.
He found himself running after the last scientist holding the syringe, hoping the man wold turn around and save him. And then they were on the rooftop of the building. The skyline must have looked breathtaking at this very moment, if only he had enough time to appreciate it.
The man couldn't run far, with Bryan's tentacles (limbs?) quickly tugging around the man and pulling him in front of the monster (in front of Bryan). With every ounce of self control it had left, it opened its mutated mouth and begged,
"pl-..-pleas-..se.." and when the man in its hold didn't so much as move a muscle, it continued, "..cu-.. cu..-re..". Its speech sounding more like a growl towards the end. Tears fell quickly from its (many, many) eyes when suddenly the scientist plunged the needle deep into its neck and pressed down.
The change was immediate.
The sick mass of bodies started to collapse, parts of it slowly peeling of and falling onto the snow-covered grounds with a disgusting, wet sound. The tentacles retreated slowly, worming their way back into its owners flesh. Though, not before contracting one final time and ripping the scientists body in two. He probably deserved it. Fuck him, thought Bryan to himself before losing consciousness.
Stumbling backwards, the creatures body contorted, letting out a number of pained groans as it twisted and turned before finally slumping against the cold ground.
⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹
The first thing he felt was the painful cold all around his body. He absentmindedly wondered if he forgot to turn the heater on and reached out his arm in search for his blanket. He shuddered when his fingers touched something wet and slimy instead, quickly curling back into himself.
He tried to open his eyes only to immediately clench them shut again, overwhelmed by what was going on around him. A lot of things were moving and brightly flashing all above, but he found himself unable to follow it right now.
Bryan had a vague idea of what happened, him delivering the cure, turning into the monster and so on, but his brain was still feeling too muddy for comfort. He took a few deep breaths while slowly testing the mobility of his fingers. His legs soon followed. And even though pretty much every small movement activated his pain receptors, he couldn't stop the grin from forming on his face.
His face.
From what he could remember of the transformation, it was brutal. Bryan, still laying on the ground, raised a shaking hand towards his face and started to softly access the skin.
After a few seconds of holding his breath, Bryan sighed in relief, finding nothing out of the ordinary. His face was still— well— normal? He probably needed to look himself over in a mirror before giving the final verdict but he had two eyes (he counted them multiple times) and even his head seemed to have come back to its normal, average shape.
Feeling a little bit braver, Bryan opened his eyes for the second time, this time gazing at his hands in front of him. And while yes, they were covered in blood and he was pretty sure his left hand was also missing a few fingernails, those were still his hands. Just normal fucking hands. No tentacles. No bumps. And no open wounds.
Steering his eyes further up, Bryan inspected the bite mark. It was still somewhat noticeable but it looked nearly fully healed. And to his delight, when he wiped his arm somewhat clean with his shirt, he couldn't see any of the black lines running up his skin.
"Oh my fucking god!" he laughed, almost giddy. "Take that you stupid fucking idiot," he started to rant, "actually brain-dead! Holy shit" he muttered thinking about the scientists. If they had just given him the cure sooner none of that would have happened.
He started to stand up, still muttering many quiet "fucks" to himself when his gaze fell onto the bloodbath around him. And just like that his brain short circuited.
"Oh what the FUCK", he exclaimed while quickly scrambling to get up.
Unfortunately for Bryan, his bare foot slipped on .. something (no, he would not like to imagine on what.) and he was suddenly propelled backwards, landing in the filthy heap of body parts and half-eaten corpses.
"EW EW EW" yelled Bryan horrified while shaking his hands off the somethings, "why the fuck, oh my god, what the fuck.."
Bryan swallowed the bile rising up his throat, blinking back a few tears, trying to get used to his surroundings. On shaky legs, Bryan stepped up more and more until his back met a brick wall. Leaning against it, he let out a sigh of relief and exhaustion, when he was suddenly alerted of somebody else's presence.
Or rather the presence of a few somebodies.
A blinding light engulfed his whole being, as if he was standing under stage lights. He quickly put an arm up, saving his eyesight as he focused on his other senses.
He could hear a few helicopters flying overhead. Their headlights roaming the rooftop, focusing on the corpses and signs of battle. But one helicopter's focus remained solely on him.
Bryan could feel himself stiffen up in the light, suddenly self conscious about his appearance. His thoughts were racing. What if he still looked mutated? Did it even matter with all the blood covering him? Are the here to save him? Will they kill him for what he did to those scientists? Do they even know?
He was so deep in his head that he didn't even notice a small group of armed soldiers being dropped onto the very same roof he was standing on. Still looking up at the sky, Bryan wondered what he ever did to deserve this. When suddenly-
*crunch*
His head snapped back, all of his sensed focused on the space in front of him. There he could see four or five people in tactical gear looking at him intently. Or at least he assumed they were looking at him, but it was hard to tell with how their helmets concealed their faces. His attention was then quickly brought to the heavy-looking guns that were pointed his way. Instinctively, Bryan raised his hands above his head, hoping that they wouldn't just shoot him. That would be the icing on the cake, surviving this shitshow only to die by a bullet, thought Bryan grimly.
For a moment nobody did anything when a man moved to the front and shouted, "Don't move!"
At first Bryan wanted to scoff and tell the man to fuck off but the glint of the firearm in the mans hands made a very strong argument against that. So, fighting his instincts, Bryan only nodded shakily.
Then, something else reached his ears. Some kind of static sound, reminiscent of the dispatch radio in the overturned police cruiser. Looking around he noticed that one of the men had his hand lifted to his helmet and was speaking something about a survivor and Umbrella and—
*crunch*
The man in the front took another few steps forward.
"Are you infected?" he barked at him, not even trying to take on a more sympathetic tone for the clearly traumatized man in front of him. Dickhead, thought Bryan to himself.
After a few seconds the man only repeated his question, even more rudely if that was even possible, while also aiming the rifle now directly at Bryan's head.
Taking a small breath, Bryan uttered, "No-No! I'm not man, I swear! I mean.. well-"
Bryan quickly shut his mouth as the atmosphere became impossibly more tense. Scrambling for an explanation (and to keep his right to live) Bryan frantically explained, "Okay listen! I-I.. I don't really get it myself, okay!"
The throbbing in his arms started to become ever more present. "I was bit, bitten, i don't fucking now and then… and then I, like, you know.." he trailed off after vaguely gesturing towards his left arm, leaving the rest to their imagination. When he heard the other members of the group quickly raise their guns at him, he scrambled to continue.
"B-but! Then this one scientist dude stabbed me with the cure and now I'm better!" He panted for a second, hoping that this was enough. When nobody said anything, he added, "Which I by the way delivered, the cure I mean. But of course no-fucking-body seems to be at least a little bit thankful," in an annoyed tone of voice. He continued to curse under his breath when was suddenly grabbed by his arms, turned around and forcefully shoved against the wall he was previously leaning against. It also didn't take him long to notice the cold nuzzle of the gun being pressed against his neck.
He started thrashing against the hold and asking, "Hey, what are you-" but was immediately stopped by the hands tightening around him and slamming him back against the wall. His vision blackening out for second as he tried to catch his breath.
Bryan could do nothing as his left arm was ripped from his body. Rough, cold hands clamped around his wrist. He was sure they would leave a semi-permanent mark on his skin. Of course, only if he would still be alive by then. After trying and failing to move his head back around to see what they were all focusing on, Bryan just closed his eyes and tried to calm down. It was probably fine. They would see that he wasn't lying and help him. Maybe they would even congratulate him, who knows.
That thought was swiftly ripped away from him when his ears picked up parts of their communication. He was pretty sure that none of the men were speaking around him, but he tried not to focus on the source of his newfound information. The words were intermitted by static, making it hard to make out what the person was trying to say. But Bryan got the gist of it.
The cure. Only one. Carrier. Immune. In its blood.
Bryan started to squirm as the words turned even darker.
Lab. Something about experiments. Trials. Keeping it under observation.
It. Bryan's breathing started to pick up. Fuck they're talking about me. Oh hell nah. He wanted to protest out load, but his mouth was pressed so tightly against the wall, that he was grateful to even be able to breathe in this position.
Inside him, his urge to flee only grew. He planted his feet more firmly in the snow and tried to curl into himself, even if only a little bit, to get away from the prying hands.
What it got him instead, was the tightening of a gloved hand against his throat and somebody hissing at him to stop moving. But Bryan wasn't thinking at this point anymore. Mustering all of his remaining strength, he braced himself and pushed against the man holding him from behind. He hoped for him to stumble back slightly or even just loosen his grip, instead he himself landed on the floor with a dull thud.
Not questioning his luck, Bryan quickly turned around to access the situation and froze instantly.
The man, strong, muscular, definitely taller man, was lying a few meters behind him, not moving. Panicking, his eyes roamed the rooftop for an opening to get away and finally fixed on the door leading back inside the lab.
And just like that he took off.
In the background he could hear many voices going off at once. Frantically trying to communicate with each other. He paid it no mind until he hear the words, "Catch him!" being yelled somewhere. Absentmindedly, his brain also registered the command to keep him alive and not shoot him, which he did, in fact, appreciate.
He passed some of the guards when one of them appeared just in front of his way. Not even thinking about it, Bryan's body acting on reflex, he dove to the left and then smoothly back into his original pathway, having effectively dodged the man.
Bryan ran like his life depended on it (which it probably did). His socked feet punishing off the blood covered floors in rhythmic beats. Whole body aching, Bryan didn't even dare to stop for a second. His mind already imagining the punishment that would await him, if he were to submit to the people back on the roof.
Never in his life has Bryan felt so happy to see a staircase sitting right in front of him. He practically jumped from landing to landing, not caring about how loud and uncoordinated he was being. When he finally reached the ground floor, Bryan closed the door to the staircase and leaned his back against it.
Closing his eyes, Bryan waited for his body to give out on him, after having completed such a strenuous feat. But that moment never came. Yes, his feet still felt like they might freeze and fall off at any moment and his countless wounds also didn't let themselves be forgotten. But all in all, he felt fine. Or as fine as he could be considering his circumstances. If he were to truly think about it, he would even say he felt better than when he entered this dreadful building.
Deciding that now was not the time to dwell on it, Bryan turned back to the door and hesitantly peeked inside. Nothing. No footsteps, shots or even any sound at all, well besides his labored breathing.
Confused, he returned to the parking lot, stopping to eye the camera suspiciously. But when no voice greeted him there, Bryan just thought fuck it and went towards the exit gate.
If he managed to somehow loose those fuckers, who was he to complain about it. And so, Bryan exited the hospital building and made his way towards the streets of Raccoon City. With no proper plan in mind, he just picked a random direction and started walking, hoping that the snow conceal his footprints soon enough.