The poison coursed through James Marcus's veins, each trembling heartbeat pushing it deeper into his system. He knew this was no ordinary toxin – Oswell wouldn't grant him such a merciful release. Death loomed, inevitable yet agonizingly slow. Marcus's gnarled fingers trembled as he penned his final words. "I guess I'll die not knowing how you didn't poison yourself." The whiskey beside him remained untouched – he needed a clear mind for what came next.

"Knowing you wouldn't give me something curable, I decided to spend my last moments returning the favor, you know I won't go down without a fight."

Marcus's office felt like a mausoleum, dusty tomes and faded military regalia lining the shelves. He cradled his Medal of Honor, its polished bronze glinting in the light. In his other hand, he gripped the cold steel of his pistol. His rheumy eyes drifted to the haunting canvas of The Lunatic of Étretat, the madman's twisted visage mirroring the turmoil within.

"This has to end, Oswell." The rasping words tumbled out, freighted with decades of bitterness. "That trip to Africa took more out of us than conceivable. Samantha thought she would never see anything worse than Vietnam. I think about her and Aaron every day."

Regret lanced through him, the sting of memories dragged into the light after years of self-imposed amnesia. What he wouldn't give for one more moment with his departed wife and son, to anchor himself in the unconditional love he had once known.

"It's a shame you never experienced what love is." Marcus's chapped lips twisted into a mordant smile as he brought the muzzle to his jaw. "Though maybe that was the key to our success." The gunshot cracked like a whip, its concussive force spraying crimson across the lunatic's crazed rictus.

Rebecca flinched at the gruesome tableau, the damning note crinkling in her trembling hands. She dropped it atop Marcus's desk and booted up his computer, the flickering screen illuminating her ashen features. Names flickered past in endless streams of data – Oswell Spencer, Alexander Ashford, Michael Warren, Brian Irons. Each represented a twisted strand in this sordid web.

Her fingers flew across the keys as she hurriedly compiled the evidence onto a floppy disk."Got them" Rebecca murmured, slipping the disk into her med-kit. She cast one last haunted glance at the shattered husk that remained of a former Umbrella leader. Oswell and his co-conspirators would pay for their crimes – Rebecca would ensure Marcus's final act of defiance wasn't in vain.

Rebecca closed the door behind her and strode back down the hallway, her footsteps echoing in the silence. Just as she neared the corner, a faint knock sounded from the direction she'd come. She whipped around, pistol raised, its beam cutting through the shadows to reveal a solitary hand disappearing behind the wall. Her grip tightened on the reassuring weight of the gun.

"Hello? Anybody there?" Her voice rang out, demanding an answer from the eerie stillness.

Moments ticked by without response. Rebecca inched backward, every muscle taut with apprehension. "If there is someone there, I need you to identify yourself now. I'm not going to hurt you."

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A male face emerged tentatively from behind the wall, obscured by the shadows. "Hey, it's okay" Rebecca said, inching forward. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm a police officer, alright? You can come out."

Another face joined the first, this one female, peering out from the same shadowed recess. Rebecca advanced cautiously. "Are there more of you? I'm with someone too. We can get you out of there."

The two strangers eyed her warily for a few heartbeats before retreating once more into the darkness. Rebecca feigned another step forward. "No! Please, I have no intention of hurting them. Let me help you. "The faint scuffing of footsteps drifted from behind the wall, muffled yet unmistakable. "I'm going to come to you, okay? So we can talk."

She moved ahead, every sense straining, until an icy chill raced down her spine, raising goosebumps along her flesh. An unnatural prickling at the nape of her neck drew her gaze down the corridor. Her light revealed nothing, yet instinct screamed at her to retreat. "I'm going to need you guys to step outside, okay?" Her voice wavered despite her attempt at confidence. "For my own safety. "

Silence answered her plea. Rebecca swallowed hard, her throat suddenly parched. "I understand. Take your time. I'll be downstairs." She backed away, ears straining for any sound, every fiber tensed for movement.

Something flew from the depths of the hall, clattering onto the floor before her feet. Rebecca's light revealed a severed human head, rolling grotesquely to a stop mere inches from her boots. The staccato of hurried footfalls shattered the silence, and a nightmarish figure hurtled into view - a twisted, elongated monster with gnarled claws and hollow eye sockets that seemed to drink in the feeble light. Its bulbous belly heaved with each rasping breath as bony protrusions tore through its mottled flesh, forming crude appendages that skittered and clutched at the air.

Panic detonated in Rebecca's chest. She pivoted and ran, legs pumping, boots pounding against the tile as she fled the shambling horror. A corpse materialized in her path and she stumbled, catching herself just in time before hurtling onward toward the exit. The offices whipped past in a blur of half-seen cubicles and shadowed terminals. Rebecca slammed her palm against the elevator call button, whipping her rifle from her back as she scanned for any sign of pursuit.

The doors slid open with a merciful chime and she flung herself inside, stabbing at the button for the first floor. Rebecca braced the rifle's stock against her shoulder, thumbing the selector to full automatic as a reverberating moan echoed through the narrow shaft. Claws punched through the closing doors, grotesque fingers straining to pry them apart as the shambling nightmare forced its elongated form into the gap.

Rebecca opened fire, the rifle's report thunderous in the confines of the elevator. The stream of ricocheting rounds battered at the creature, shredding its pallid flesh, but still it fought to gain entry. Its jaws distended, a guttural screech ripping free as a nightmarish maw yawned wide, revealing row upon row of fangs slick with viscous drool. The monster retreated, metal grated on metal as the elevator began its descent.

The magazine ran dry with an ominous click. Rebecca frantically reloaded, her trembling fingers struggling to force the fresh magazine home. A worrying creak sounded overhead as the elevator shuddered, the monster throwing its bulk against the roof in a frenzy to breach the cab.

Rebecca dropped into a crouch, leveling the rifle at the buckling ceiling as a forest of talons punched through the metal panels. She squeezed the trigger, the rifle thundering again as it chewed through the fresh magazine in a relentless volley of fire. Bullets ricocheted in a deadly storm, tearing into the abomination's outstretched limbs. With a chilling screech of pain and rage, the creature withdrew. A hiss of hydraulics announced their arrival as the elevator slowed. The doors parted, and Rebecca burst into the lobby, rifle at the ready as she fled the confines of the blood-spattered cab.