Marvel and Beyond

In the center of the hall, Rebecca's gaze was drawn to a large portrait hanging on the wall. It depicted an older gentleman—the same man Rebecca had seen earlier in the dining car.

The inscription beneath confirmed her suspicion: Dr. James Marcus, First and Last Director of the Training Facility.

"Why is there an Umbrella Corporation symbol here?" Rebecca asked, her eyes narrowing as she looked at Max with growing suspicion.

Max paused, choosing his words carefully. "If I'm not mistaken, this must be the training institute. It should've been abandoned years ago."

Rebecca frowned. "What was this training facility for?"

Max gave a slight shrug. "Probably a research and training centre for Umbrella's elites. I don't know the specifics—I just transferred here recently." His tone was casual, but purposeful, as if trying to wave away any misunderstanding before it could root itself.

He knew better than to look too connected to Umbrella. Once the truth about the corporation came out, Rebecca and others from S.T.A.R.S. would treat even minor associations like a stain. Best to keep things vague.

"Dr. Marcus was one of the company's founders. He died about ten years ago," Max added, stepping closer to the portrait, feigning distant interest.

Rebecca, however, continued staring at the image, her thoughts racing. She was certain she'd seen this very man alive—on the train, just hours earlier.

…

Meanwhile, in the facility's monitoring room, everything unfolding in the hall was being watched.

"Who are these two?" William Birkin asked, confusion and irritation evident in his voice.

Wesker, ever composed and cool-toned, replied, "Rebecca Chambers—just joined S.T.A.R.S. The man with her was recently transferred from the Chicago branch. He's been assigned to take over your post at the Arklay Research Institute."

William's brows furrowed. Before he could respond, the screen flickered.

Suddenly, the mysterious figure who had been seen humming near the cliff earlier appeared onscreen. In a chilling confession, he revealed that he had orchestrated everything. His goal? Revenge—pure and undiluted—against the Umbrella Corporation.

Moments later, a mass of leeches surged across the screen, pooling at the figure's feet before writhing together and forming a humanoid shape.

When the new figure stood fully formed before them, both men froze.

Even Wesker, the epitome of calm, felt a cold sweat break across his brow.

It was James Marcus.

Long dead, murdered in conspiracy—by none other than Wesker and William themselves. And now here he was, resurrected in flesh and form.

Both scientists stared, shaken to their core. They were rarely caught off guard, but this? This went beyond the boundaries of their rational understanding.

In that silent, terrifying moment, Wesker's eyes sharpened. He made a decision. One he had been contemplating for quite some time.

…

Back in the hall, Rebecca whispered, "I think I know this man."

She stood still, eyes widening in realization as fragmented memories snapped into place.

She turned quickly to Max and began recounting the events on the train—everything she'd seen.

Max listened, nodding with feigned curiosity, though he already knew. There was no benefit in confirming anything right now. Saying too much might trigger suspicion—and get him involved in something far deeper than he wanted.

"Is that so?" he murmured, tapping his chin. "Maybe we can find more clues here."

Facing Rebecca's youthful righteousness and infectious drive, Max sighed internally. Then, the two began their investigation of the facility.

Just like in the game, Max found bullets and herbs scattered across the floor, in drawers, behind broken furniture. As they entered a new level—what he mentally dubbed a "map transition"—he swept up every item with practised efficiency.

If someone had asked, he would've explained it as literally playing the game itself.

Rebecca, with her expert medic skills, knew how to properly handle and combine herbs—an essential survival mechanic.Watching her work, Max felt a spark of excitement. This wasn't just survival—it was a live-action playthrough of a horror classic.

'It's like playing Resident Evil in real life—looting, solving puzzles, breaking things open for items,' he thought, eyes gleaming with thrill.

When it came to collecting supplies, Max held no hesitation. No guards. No scolding voices. Just opportunity.

Some rooms had locked drawers, requiring passwords or complex puzzle-solving. Those annoyed him. Especially when he's armed.

But most obstacles? He solved those with force.

Wooden crates were smashed apart with kicks. Locked doors were blown open with a well-aimed shot. Subtlety had its place, but Max preferred a more... efficient approach.

After scanning the first floor, the duo headed for the second. At the top of the stairs, Max pushed open a door to the right—and his breath caught.

"Fuck!" he cursed, heart slamming as he instinctively raised his gun.

Two grotesque monsters stood in front of him—giant insect-like creatures that hovered between being mutated cicadas or demonic flies.

They were watching him.

He stood frozen, certain that if an elderly man had opened this door instead, he'd have dropped dead from shock.

With adrenaline spiking, Max swapped his handgun for a shotgun and unloaded both barrels.

Rebecca, similarly stunned, jumped into action. Together, they opened fire on the freakish insects in a chaotic barrage.

'What kind of sick freaks made these things?' Max seethed as he reloaded. 'Umbrella employees must be actual psychopaths.'

Breathing hard, sweat coating his skin, he leaned against the wall and clutched his chest.

Rebecca noticed and rushed over, rubbing his back in concern. "What happened? Are you okay?"

Her hands moved to check his chest, fingers pressing gently.

"It's nothing, just... got a bit scared and stressed," Max admitted, voice trailing to a whisper. Saying it aloud made it feel worse somehow.

At first, Rebecca looked alarmed. But as his words sank in, she blinked—then burst into laughter.

"I thought it was something serious," she chuckled, patting his back while trying to compose herself.

Still giggling, she walked out for reconnaissance. Max sighed, smiling helplessly at himself, and followed.

Just outside the door, Rebecca turned and gave him a pointed glare, as though recalling something odd.

"I was also taken aback. What the hell were those things? You work for umbrella right?"

"No clue. But I think you should protect me from now on. Better get to work, Officer," Max said with a grin, dodging a serious answer.

She stared, incredulous. "You want me to protect you?"

"Why not? You're a trained STARS officer."

"I'm a woman, you know."

"And you're trained," he replied, deadpan. "Gender's irrelevant. Your job is to protect civilians."

"I—" Rebecca stumbled over her words, floored by his audacity. She'd never met anyone like him.

But Max just shrugged, brushing it off with a grin. Deep down, he had been terrified. His heart had pounded dangerously fast during the ambush. Better to laugh than dwell.

And truthfully? He did want someone watching his back.

He circled the room where the monsters had been, eyes scanning for hidden items. Based on his gaming instincts, there had to be something valuable nearby. Elite monsters usually guarded something worth the effort.

Sure enough, after rifling through cabinets and tossing aside debris, he spotted an assault rifle and a grenade launcher—with a few explosive rounds, no less—just lying on a sofa across the room.

Not exactly hidden, but he wasn't complaining.

He let out a relieved sigh as he picked up the weapons.

'Now this is more like it. I can finally breathe again.'

Max had always known that in survival horror, it wasn't the monsters themselves that scared him the most—it was being powerless. No gun, no ammo? That's where fear bloomed.

'If I had a minigun with infinite ammo, I'd be laughing while mowing everything down,' he mused. 'Hell, I'd probably be complaining there weren't enough zombies to test out combos on.'

…

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