Kindly remember to add this new work to your libraries."Zenith of Desire: The Hollywood Incubus"
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*****
The three quickly left the place and returned to the infirmary.
The reunion was subdued but relieved. Jill checked Chris' body and sigh.
"You had me worried, partner," she whispered.
"I'm okay," Chris said, though he looked battered. "Thanks to the cavalry."
He nodded at Atlas.
"Now, except for Wesker, we are all here," Barry said, counting heads. "We have wounded. We need an exit."
"I found a map of the mansion courtyard," Chris said, pulling a crumpled paper from his pocket.
"There is a path that leads to the underground laboratory. If there's a helipad, it'll be there."
They took a moment to rest and rearm.
The adrenaline of the forest battle was fading, replaced by the dull ache of exhaustion. The team took a moment to rehydrate and check their gear before the final descent.
Atlas stood by the heavy oak door, thumbing rounds into his Magnum magazine with rhythmic, metallic clicks. He looked calm, almost bored, despite having just faced down a woman wearing someone else's skin.
Rebecca walked over, holding two water bottles. She watched his hands for a moment—the efficiency of his movements—before handing him one.
"You keep saving everyone," she said softly, a tired but genuine smile playing on her lips. She leaned against the wall next to him, their shoulders brushing. "First me, then Billy, now Chris and Kenneth. I'm starting to think you actually enjoy the hero work."
Atlas took the water, cracking the seal. "It pays well," he smirked, taking a long drink. "In gratitude, stale biscuits, and the occasional adrenaline heart attack. It's a lucrative industry."
Rebecca giggled, the sound light and relieved. "Well, consider your tab paid in full."
Jill Valentine walked over from the cots, where she had been checking on Richard. She leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms over her chest. Her blue eyes swept over Rebecca—noting how close she was standing to Atlas—and then settled on the man himself.
She studied him. The S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team had heard stories about survivors, but this man wasn't just surviving. He was hunting.
"You know," Jill began, her voice low and husky, a distinct contrast to Rebecca's youthful tone. "Chris told me what happened out there. He said you stood your ground against that... thing. You drew fire so he could recover."
Jill pushed off the doorframe and took a step closer, her expression turning serious.
"I don't know who you are, Atlas. And honestly, I don't care about the red tape right now. You saved my teammates' life. And you saved Kenneth."
She looked him dead in the eye, her professional mask slipping just enough to show deep, raw gratitude.
"Most people would have run. You didn't. Thank you."
Atlas screwed the cap back onto his water, meeting her gaze with a solemn nod.
"I don't like empty chairs at the breakfast table, Jill," Atlas said simply. "Chris is a good man. He didn't deserve to die in the dirt. Neither did Kenneth. I just tipped the scales."
Jill smiled, a genuine, warm expression that lit up her face. "You're a modest guy for someone carrying a hand cannon."
"I try," Atlas winked. "Keeps the ego in check."
Jill chuckled, shaking her head. She looked at Rebecca, a playful glint entering her eyes.
"So," Jill said, shifting the tone. "I've been getting the after-action report from Rebecca. She tells me you took on a giant, mutated Leech Queen back in the Training Facility."
Jill raised an eyebrow, looking at Atlas's gloved hands.
"She said you turned it into sushi. With knives?"
Atlas laughed, a deep rumble in his chest. "Sushi is a bit generous. It was more like... chunky salsa. And yes, I prefer close quarters. Bullets run out. Blades don't."
"That is... wildly insane," Jill grinned, clearly impressed. "And effective, apparently. You'll have to show me a few moves sometime. You know, when we aren't being hunted by skin-wearing monsters and zombie dogs."
She looked him up and down with a teasing, appreciative appraisal.
"S.T.A.R.S. combat training didn't cover 'giant leech dissection.' I think I need a private tutor."
The atmosphere in the room shifted. It was light, flirtatious, a way to cope with the horror.
But Rebecca caught the look.
She stiffened slightly. She looked at Jill—her idol, the woman she looked up to—and then at Atlas. A sudden, fierce wave of possessiveness surged through her. Atlas was her partner. He was the one who had carried her up the cliff.
Rebecca stepped forward, moving slightly in front of Atlas, effectively cutting off Jill's line of sight.
"Get in line, Jill," Rebecca said. Her voice was light, trying to pass it off as a joke, but there was a distinct edge of territorial claim in it. She wrapped a hand around Atlas's bicep, squeezing tight. "I saw him first. Bravo Team claims exclusive rights on the training."
Jill blinked, then laughed out loud. She raised her hands in mock surrender, backing away with a knowing smirk.
"Okay, okay! Message received, Chambers," Jill teased, her eyes dancing. "I didn't know you had claimed him. I won't trespass on Bravo territory."
Rebecca flushed a bright red, realizing what she had just done, but she didn't let go of Atlas's arm.
Atlas shook his head, looking between the two women. He felt the tension, but it was the good kind—the kind that reminded them they were still human, still alive.
"Careful, ladies," Atlas drawled, breaking the moment with a grin. "You're making me feel like a limited edition collectible. There's plenty of Atlas to go around."
Both girls giggled at that, the heaviness of the situation lifting for a precious few seconds.
"Don't flatter yourself," Jill quipped, though she was still smiling.
"Alright," Atlas said, his expression hardening as he checked his watch. The moment of levity was over. "Break time is done. We have a lab to crash."
He stood up to his full height, checking his gear one last time.
"Let's get this show on the road."
They moved out as a unit.
Richard was awake but weak. Jill and Rebecca supported him on either side. Barry helped Kenneth, whose arm was throbbing.
Atlas and Chris took point.
They fought their way through the garden, putting down a pack of zombie dogs with disciplined fire.
They reached the heavy iron door leading to the waterfall entrance.
"It needs a badge," Chris said.
"I have it," Jill said. She produced the Eagle Medal she had found in the library.
She placed it in the depression.
CLICK. RUMBLE.
The waterfall parted, revealing a hidden tunnel.
"Classic villain entrance," Barry commented.
They entered the tunnel, finding a small room with an industrial elevator.
"Everyone in," Atlas ordered.
They crowded into the cage. Atlas hit the button.
The elevator descended slowly, the air getting colder and damper with every foot.
"Where does this go?" Kenneth asked nervously.
"To the source," Atlas said grimly. "The Laboratory."
The elevator stopped.
They stepped out into a cavernous, wet tunnel. Water dripped from the ceiling, echoing in the dark.
"Stay sharp," Atlas whispered. "We're in the belly of the beast now."
---
Location: The Spencer Mansion – Underground Tunnels / The Altar.
Time: 09:55 PM (Monday).
The air in the underground tunnels was heavy, thick with the smell of stagnant water, rust, and something metallic—like dried blood. The walls were lined with dripping pipes and flickering industrial lights that cast long, dancing shadows.
The group moved in a tactical formation. Atlas and Chris took point, their weapons raised. Jill and Rebecca guarded the flanks, supporting the injured Richard and Kenneth. Barry brought up the rear, his eyes darting nervously into the darkness.
The path ahead wasn't complicated, but it was treacherous.
HISS.
A sound echoed from the ceiling. A wet, predatory rasp.
"Hold," Atlas whispered, raising a fist.
Above them, clinging to the rusted pipes with unnatural grip strength, was a creature of flayed muscle and exposed brain tissue. It had no eyes, only a long, whip-like tongue that tasted the air.
LICKER.
"What the hell is that?" Chris whispered, aiming his shotgun.
"New mutation," Atlas said calmly. "Blind. Hunts by sound."
The Licker shrieked and launched itself, claws extended, aiming for the injured Richard.
It moved fast—faster than a human eye could track.
Atlas was already there.
Magnum in hand faster than the eye could follow, he fired three times.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
Three deafening cracks split the air in rapid succession. Each explosive round slammed into the Licker's exposed brain, detonating in brilliant crimson flashes. The first blew away half its skull in a spray of bone shards and gray matter; the second caved the rest inward; the third erased what was left in a gory eruption that painted the ceiling. A fist-sized chunk of its head simply vanished, trailing smoke and steam as the corpse cartwheeled lifelessly to the floor.
Atlas lowered the gun, smoke drifting lazily from the muzzle.
"Clear," he said, voice flat as he wiped the barrel on his thigh.
*****
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