14

Marcus was already awake when he heard the bell for the elevator go off down the hall. Dressed in only gray sweat pants and a dirty white undershirt under his white lab coat, he was busy entering information into his computer's graphics program. He wanted to get a three-dimensional visual representation of the new mutation of the Progenitor virus that was breeding with his leeches. The process of compiling the data into a visual image took hours, and Marcus had spent all night entering it.

The security guard turned into a zombie, just like all the others, drastically changing Marcus' original ideas about the results of the combined DNA. It seemed that even though the Progenitor was no longer technically present in the leech's body, it still infected the host with an almost identical disease with identical symptoms. The guard had reanimated according to the exact time scale the Progenitor was set to. Marcus could not account for the apparent likeness of infection, but he knew for a fact that it was not the Progenitor infecting the host. It was something else, something brand new.

In his hastily-scribbled notes, he called the new variant the T-virus. When the elevator bell rang, he was in the middle of entering the information to create a diagram of the virus in order to compare it to the original Progenitor. His head snapped up at the noise and he got up from his chair.

Instinctively, he knew what was happening. It dawned on him as if by inspiration. They were coming for him, coming for his work. Even though he was the only one who had the access code for the elevator, he knew that someone in a position of authority could get the codes directly from the computer system. Someone like Spencer. He had ignored Spencer's calls and deadlines for long enough and now they were coming for him.

He felt like a deer caught in an oncoming car's headlights. They were coming to get him, coming to take away everything he had worked so hard to accomplish. They would steal it from him and throw him away now that he had done all the work. They didn't care about him, Spencer didn't care about him, they only cared about results and progress. They only cared about the work he had poured his life and soul for more than a year. They were just going to waltz in and steal it right from his hands!

They were going to steal his precious leeches!

Marcus could not let them. He might have been willing to part with all the physical data surrounding the experiment, but he knew that they would not stop there. They would not stop until everything was taken from him. They would strip him of his privileges, of his entitlements, of everything he had worked so hard to obtain. After what had happened, Spencer was sure not to stop until there was nothing left to take.

Marcus ran to a table on the other side of the lab, knocking to the floor most of the things scattered on top. Before sending the body of the dead security guard to the treatment plant the night before, he had taken the man's gun. He didn't know why at the time, but now he was glad that he had done so. They were not going to take his life away without a fight. He grabbed the pistol off the floor along with the spare clip and headed out into the hallway.

"Doctor Marcus!" someone shouted.

With a start, Marcus recognized Wesker's voice. Wesker! They had sent him down here to steal everything? Or had he requested the chance to actively promote himself?

Marcus braced himself against the doorframe and pressed the barrel of the gun against his cheek. He hadn't fired a gun since his short stint of service in World War II; could he even hit what he was shooting at? He fumbled with the pistol and disengaged the safety. He didn't know how many bullets remained in the clip or how to insert a new one once it ran out.

"Doctor Marcus! We want to talk to you!"

Wesker was ambitious and had the potential to be ruthless, but Marcus had trouble believing that he had volunteered for this mission. It seemed infinitely more likely that Spencer had put him up to it, or most likely forced him to do it. Spencer would have no qualms with taking advantage of a new employee and sacrificing him for what he deemed to be the greater good. Wesker, no doubt, had been pushed into this. And he was a smart one, so he probably knew he was in over his head.

Marcus couldn't dwell on it, though. Wesker might not want to be here, but here he was and there was only one possible explanation. He was here to steal Marcus' work, to take away the only thing that mattered. And Marcus couldn't let him get away with it. It didn't matter that Wesker was another innocent victim of Spencer's manipulations, he was here to rob Marcus of his life.

Marcus leaned into the hallway and raised the pistol. He pulled the trigger and the gun fired twice, jerking his arm up into the air. The soldiers down the hall ducked for cover and Wesker leaped to the floor. The bullets went wide, and one of them shattered the fluorescent light above their heads. Bits of glass rained down as the soldiers rapidly raised their guns and opened fire.

Marcus turned back behind the doorway and covered his ears as the roar of the machine guns filled the narrow corridor. The far wall exploded in a flurry of bullet holes, and sparks shot across him like microscopic meteors. The second it died down, Marcus stuck his arm back in to the hall and fired once more, his arm shaking. At such an awkward angle, the recoil of the gun hurt his wrist. Another volley of bullets followed, and Marcus could feel their impacts in the wall.

"Marcus!" Wesker screamed over the gunfire. "Throw the gun away!"

"You won't take it from me!" Marcus shouted back, his voice trembling. He discovered his face was wet with tears. "You'll have to kill me!"

"Don't make me do this!"

Marcus stuck his arm out again and fired twice before the gun clicked empty. He tossed it to the floor and ducked back into the lab room. Gunfire erupted once more, blasting what remained of the walls to pieces. Smoke drifted up from the riddled metal wall panels like steam. His ears rang with the deafening noise. Desperately, he turned to the glass terrarium, where the leeches, attracted by the cacophony, were lined up against the glass, watching him expectantly.

Out at the end of the hall, Wesker glanced at the soldiers and said nothing, simply pointing forward defeatedly. They surged forward like a wave down the narrow corridor, weapons raised as they moved to the end of the hall. He stood behind as they advanced, his arms limp at his sides. He hadn't wanted it to come to this, but he knew it didn't matter. Marcus was dead either way.

The soldiers rounded the corner in unison. Marcus barely had time to look up and raise his hands before they opened fire, showering the room with bullets. He felt one hit him squarely in the stomach and lurched forward before another struck him in the chest, and another, and another. He stumbled backward with the force of the shots as the walls around him seemed to explode with dozens of bullet impacts. The entire doorway was lit up with flashes and bursts of gunfire. Distantly, he felt another hit his leg and another tear through his side as he sailed backward and crashed into the terrarium.

The glass shattered immediately, weakened by the numerous bullet holes already perforated through it. His body shattered through the glass and stood upright for just a moment before sliding to the floor and crumpling over, his white shirt now stained with several red circles that gradually got wider.

The leeches, freed of their prison, oozed and jumped out of the terrarium. Wesker was behind the soldiers now, screaming for them to shoot the leeches. Marcus twitched his finger, trying to stop them, even as his life slowly ebbed away. The soldiers concentrated their fire on the leeches, blowing them apart before any of them could get close enough to threaten them. Marcus tried to speak, tried to whisper, but failed. Darkness enclosed his vision.

Wesker walked forward gingerly, stepping around the splattered leech bodies littered across the floor. He kneeled in front of Marcus, who looked up weakly.

"I'm sorry, old man," he said. "It didn't have to be this way."

With his last ounce of strength, Marcus whispered, "Yes ... it did ..." And then, his body finally went completely limp and his head rolled back, eyes staring up at the ceiling. His blood pooled across the floor, almost reaching Wesker's shoes before he stepped back.

The soldier's slung their guns back over their shoulders and stood at attention, and Wesker realized that they were awaiting his orders. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his lab coat and forced himself to remain calm. "Call security, get them over here. We have to clean this up. Who knows what those things were infected with. Two of you stay here and make sure nothing moves. The rest of you sweep this whole lab."

The soldiers saluted him smartly, the gesture almost making him laugh it was so terribly out of place after such needless violence. As instructed, two of the men stood guard at the door, guns trained on the room to confirm that everything inside was dead. Belatedly, Wesker turned back and looked at Marcus' dead body.

"Watch him closely," he said, looking at the dead leeches lying around. "If he moves, shoot him."

"He's dead, sir," one of the soldiers said. To his credit, he said it matter-of-factly, and with a straight face. There wasn't a trace of confusion or amusement in his voice.

"I know that," Wesker said. "But he might not stay that way."