Chapter 5

Wesker leaped over the first Tyrant's attacking claws, landing nimbly on his feet and delivering a devastating backwards kick that took the Tyrant in the lower back. Wesker then had to dive aside as the second charged him, the sharpened claws missing him by inches. Wesker countered with two swift punches, then an uppercut.

Then the first Tyrant smacked him across the head with a backhand, hurling him up and away. Wesker saw the ceiling coming a second before it connected with his face. He then felt the floor connect with his back as he fell. Shakily, the red-eyed man stood, then hurled himself aside as one of the Tyrants charge. Its claws raked the floor beneath Wesker, tearing up gouges in the ceramic plates.

Wesker leaped up into the air, his right leg coming around in a swift kick that would have bent metal bars. His foot met the Tyrant's face, and it was forced to step back several huge steps to absorb the impact.

Then the second was charging, its arm shooting across and swatting Wesker hard enough to send him through a wall. Wesker continued to fly, shattering glass beneath him and rolling off a table. He quickly stood back up, clenching his teeth.

No, it wasn't going to end like this. Losing to a pair of mindless Tyrants? No damn way! He was Albert goddamn Wesker!

Wesker scanned the room, realizing he was in a medical bay. He then smiled.

"You ugly bastards want the samples?" he asked the two hulking Tyrants as they slowly, calmly walked toward the hole he'd flown through. Wesker snatched up a syringe and took out one of the vials of Umbrella's latest concoction.

"Then you'll have them!"

The Tyrants were the result of a combination of T-virus research and also an unusual parasitic creature created by Umbrella's Paris labs. This parasite was called the Nemisis parasite, and was one of the reasons why Tyrants even existed at all. However, the Nemisis parasite had the sad tendency to consume and kill its host within a matter of months without constant injections and upkeep.

The vials of samples in Wesker's pocket were a special Umbrella concoction, a virus that reacted in response to the Nemisis parasite in each Tyrant's body. The anti-Nemisis had the lovely trait of dramatically increasing the Nemisis parasite's consumption of its host's body. Whereas before, it took months for the Tyrant to die, when the virus was injected, it would over clock the Tyrant's and the parasite's metabolism to the point where, within minutes, the body ran out of energy and was forced to feed on itself to continue surviving. Within moments after that process began, the body would break down and die.

In short, the samples Wesker held caused a Tyrant to literally starve to death in minutes.

Wesker filled the syringe and held it up. Normally, he'd squeeze it a bit to get the air bubbles out, but right now, Wesker didn't really care about that. He looked up as the two Tyrants hulked into the medical bay. Only enough time to fill the one syringe. Well, that was fine. Wesker could take a Tyrant one-on-one.

The Tyrants charged, knocking over medical equipment and tables, sending glass and delicate instruments flying. Wesker leaped aside, then kicked off a wall and into the air, directly over one of the pale-skinned death machines. He landed lithely on one of the Tyrants' shoulders, and jabbed the syringe into its neck. The virus poured into the Tyrant's blood, working immediately.

The Tyrant thrashed, its normal right arm flying up over its shoulder, slamming Wesker with incredible force in the shoulder and hurling him away once more. He slammed through a wall and rolled over, pain shooting through his left arm.

"Shit," he muttered, realizing his mistake.

He'd been so focused on the "Tyrant dying" aspect to remember the whole report about the anti-Nemisis virus. While the Tyrant was infected and its metabolism was over clocked, its physical power was increased ten times over and more. Furthermore, the Tyrant went totally berserk. Wesker watched as the uninfected Tyrant was suddenly tossed off its feet. The infected, berserk Tyrant fell on it. Clawed arms slashing while its fists pounded.

Within moments, the berserk Tyrant had torn its brother apart, and then spun towards Wesker.

Wesker shakily rose to his feet, clutching his left arm. Broken. The damn Tyrant had broken his arm with its sheer strength. He spared a glance at Batman and his comrade, to see the rest of that merry crew had arrived. Joy. Hopefully the berserk Tyrant would notice them first.

But the Tyrant remained focused on Wesker, and as it charged, Wesker realized that though the Tyrant would break down in minutes, those were minutes he didn't have.

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It wasn't often that the whole Batclan was together to fight a common foe. Ever since Nightwing moved on to Bludhaven due to differences with the Dark Knight, the Batclan had been missing the original Boy Wonder. And there was no better time than now for a little family reunion.

"Take turns," Batman said, slashing the Tyrant's back with his Batarang, and rolling out of the way before the Tyrant could smack him any further. "It can't take us all at once." The rest of the Batclan nodded, as Batgirl delivered a two sharp jabs and a triple side kick to the Tyrant's head. Robin soon followed up with a few turning kicks when the Tyrant turned its attention to Batgirl. Nightwing was soon on the Tyrant's case as he pounded hard with his escrima sticks.

Now with the rest of the Batclan here, Batman could turn his attention back to Wesker. He was just in time to see Wesker slammed through another wall by a Tyrant.

Wait... just one? Batman scanned the room for the other, finally noticing it in the corner, body maimed beyond recognition. Then Batman noticed something different about the other Tyrant. It was moving fast. Much too fast.

"We have to bring down this Tyrant now." Batman said through his headset as he dodged the Tyrant's clawed hand. "We don't know when it will go berserk like the one currently thrashing Wesker." Then an idea came to Batman. Or rather, he remembered something from the movie Armageddon. When you detonate an explosive in the palm of your hand, all you get are a few burns. But when you clench your fist and detonate an explosive in it...

"At the count of three, release all your grappling hooks on it." Batman commanded. The other three members of the Batclan knew better than to disagree.

"One... Two... Three!"

Nightwing somersaulted away from engaging the Tyrant in hand to hand, and released his grappling hook in the air, at the same moment that the rest launched theirs. The four strong cords swung around the surprised Tyrant, immobilizing it for a moment. Just enough time for Batman to pry open its mouth with a batarang and drop two batgrenades down its throat.

"RUN!" Batman yelled, as he ran away from the Tyrant. Nightwing, Robin and Batgirl followed suit, as the Tyrant exploded from within, sending chunks of charred flesh flying all over the room.