#undercurrent

🩸☣️🩸☣️🩸☣️🩸☣️🩸☣️🩸

It had been about a week since your arrival at Rhodes Hill, and you had already fallen into a routine—wake up, shower, eat breakfast in the dining room, have some tests done by Dr. Gray, lunch, more tests, dinner, and a couple hours of free time before curfew.

Your anxiety had waned, but it still lingered beneath the skin, an ever-present unease you couldn't make sense of.

At a glance, it all seemed perfect here. Between the amenities and the competent staff, the center was a dream come true.

But you began to notice little things that made you question if there might be more occurring behind the curtain.

The employees, though polite, always held the patients at a distance, a knowing expression on their faces that made you feel like little more than a specimen. 

And speaking of the patients, there was clearly something... off with them. Sure, this was a chronic care facility so of course they had issues that put them here, but there was an emptiness behind their eyes that concerned you.

Regardless, you attempted to be friendly, making small talk at the dining table or during free time. The most you got out of them was a stilted conversation that trailed off into silence. You chalked it up to the fact you were all sick and trying to get better, not spending your time socializing.

As for “getting better”... you were absolutely inundated with tests. They wanted blood draws, urine samples, and even vials of your spit. You were familiar with repeated medical procedures, obviously, but it felt like they weren't actually doing anything to help you.

It had only been a week, you reminded yourself. They were simply looking for any clue as to what exactly was wrong with you so that they could create a proper treatment plan.

You were fine.

You were fine.

You were fine.

You snapped back to reality when an orderly entered your room, telling you that dinner was about to start. You nodded, pulling yourself away from the window you had been staring out of for who knows how long, taking a moment to find your bearings.

You followed the orderly to the opposite side of the building quietly, smiling at the passing faces you were beginning to put names to.

Right as you were about to enter the dining room, Mr. Bennett strode up to you. "Miss, I apologize for interrupting, but can I have a word?"

"Oh, yes, of course," you responded, raising your brows in curiosity.

"Good, good. I'll have your meal sent up to my office." He shifted his gaze to the orderly, a silent conversation passing between them with only a look.

The latter nodded obediently, turning and rushing off towards the kitchen.

"Right this way..." Mr. Bennett continued, placing a hand on the small of your back to lead you to his personal domain.

You allowed him to steer you, though the warmth of his palm seeping into your spine through your shirt made you squirm slightly. If he noticed your mild discomfort, he said nothing.

It wasn't long before you were standing in the middle of his office, watching him pull away to sit behind his desk with an air of authority that felt forced.

"Please, sit," he encouraged, leaning forward in his chair as you complied. "Now, tell me how your visit has been so far. Do you feel we've been giving you adequate care?"

"Uh, yes, I suppose," you answered, fiddling with your hands in your lap. What else could you even say? That you've jumped at every shadow? That you've wondered if there was a dark secret kept within these opulent walls?

Despite your rather vague response, he nodded, accepting it at face value.

The orderly from earlier arrived then, placing a tray of food in front of you before stepping back to blend in with room, awaiting his next command.

Mr. Bennett watched you intently as you slowly reached for your utensils and began to eat, feeling unsettled by the sudden quiet in the room.

"So... will I ever end up meeting this director of yours?" you questioned, hoping that small talk would dispel the tension.

He smirked at that, steepling his fingers. "You will soon enough."

Your brows furrowed at that, but you elected to finish your meal instead of pushing for more information. You had a feeling you wouldn't get any answers regardless.

Just as you were swallowing your last bite, the chairman's phone began to ring, and you were thankful to be freed from the oppressive silence.

"Yes sir, she's with me currently," he said, expression changing to something dark as his eyes cut back to you, lingering on your form and making your skin crawl. "Of course, sir. I'll get right on that."

Before you could say or do anything, Mr. Bennett motioned for the orderly, who moved to stand behind you, grabbing your shoulder to keep you in the chair.

"It would seem you'll be meeting the director sooner than anticipated."

You let out a cry as the orderly wrapped his arm around you, and you thrashed wildly in his hold, too weak in your sickly state to free yourself. You suddenly felt a sharp prick in the side of your neck, your body gradually going limp despite your desperate attempt to fight it off.

The last thing you saw before you drifted into darkness was Mr. Bennett's triumphant grin.

🩸☣️🩸

Victor Gideon watched with a predatory focus as your unconscious form was wheeled into a small medical room on a gurney, your limbs bound in leather cuffs linked to the metal on either side.

He crossed his arms over his broad chest, patiently waiting for Dr. Gray to hook you up to a heart monitor before he approached, his white lab coat rustling around his thighs. Wearing his visor, he raked his gaze over your prone form to scan you, its multiple lenses allowing him to see blemishes on the skin normally naked to the human eye.

You had already been stripped of your clothing by a nurse, who replaced them with a hospital gown, your chest rising and falling with every breath beneath the papery fabric. Your flesh was thin and mottled, with some bruising from where the orderly had to hold you down to sedate you. Other than that, he saw no apparent injuries.

He pinched your chin with his large fingers, shaking your head slightly to see if you would stir. When you didn't, he clicked his tongue in mild annoyance.

"Fetch an IV," he commanded softly. "And be sure to add a stimulant to it. I want her awake for this."

His eyes remained glued to your face even as the needle was pushed into your sallow skin, the clear fluids slowly dripping into your veins.

🩸☣️🩸

You began to shift, moaning in discomfort and confusion as you opened your eyes, blinking against a bright overhead lamp. You tried to sit up, but something cuffed to your wrists and ankles prevented it. Panic flooded through you as you realized you were in a strange room.

"Wha's... happen...in'...?" you slurred. You weren't sure if anyone could hear you, but you had to try.

Suddenly, a large shadow moved beside you, though its features were just a blur.

"Good evening, miss. I figured it was about time we formally met." It was a masculine voice, which sounded calm and almost gentle. It did little alleviate your mounting terror.

When your vision finally adjusted, you startled at a massive man hovering over you, pale face half-covered by a visor with several lenses of varying sizes, giving him an almost spider-like appearance.

"Wh-who...?"

"Dr. Victor Gideon," he introduced. "I'm the director of Rhodes Hill."

"What's going on?" you managed to ask as you regained your senses. "Last thing I remember is being in Mr. Bennett's office, and then..." you trailed off, recalling that you were manhandled and drugged by that orderly.

"I felt it was pertinent I saw you tonight," Gideon replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. "But enough of the pleasantries. You have no idea the wealth of possibility you hold within you, my dear."

You shook your head in bewilderment, brows knitted. "I... I don't understand..."

The director let out an amused huff, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. "Oh, you will."

He then half-turned to where Dr. Gray stood, reaching out with an open palm. The other man quickly placed a syringe there before stepping away dutifully.

Gideon shifted his focus back to you. "Your particular reaction to the a-Virus is unprecedented. I have sought out many of those who survived that outbreak, and they were either completely healthy or died shortly after due to complications. You, despite being given the vaccine, still retain traces of the virus in your blood. Don't you see? You were not cured. You were changed. You adapted. The only living being to do so."

He then pinched the glass vial to hold it aloft in the light, making sure you could get a good look at it. "This is the Tyrant Virus, a highly contagious strain of the progenitor family."

Your eyes widened in fear and recognition. "That's... that's the virus that overtook Raccoon City in the nineties, isn't it?"

Gideon nodded. "It is indeed. Though this syringe contains a mutated version of it."

Your heart began to pound in your chest as you realized exactly what he was planning to do. "You—you're going to infect me with that? Won't it just turn me into a zombie?"

"It might," he stated plainly. "But it might not. And the slim chance that it doesn't would make you a scientific marvel. More than you already are, that is."

"Because I'm still carrying the a-Virus... you think I might have immunity to that one?" you questioned nervously, eyes trained on the syringe.

"Immunity, perhaps. Though I believe it could make you into something... more," Gideon murmured, face inching closer to yours.

You let out a shuddering breath. "Could it heal me?"

"Heal you?" He laughed as though your concern was inconsequential. "My dear, you have the chance to be reborn."

"I take it you're not giving me a choice in the matter, are you?"

"I am not." His tone was direct but not harsh. You weren't sure why you found his honesty to be strangely comforting.

Biting your lip, you stared up at the ceiling, laying out all of this new information in your mind's eye.

You were scared, of course, but maybe this would be worth it.

You would either get better or die trying.

You nodded, more to yourself than to him, and looked over at Gideon once again. "Then you might as well get it over with, doctor. No use dragging out the inevitable." 

"Ah, quite the pragmatic little thing, aren't you?" he mused, reaching down to grab your face in his massive hand. "Very well."

You flinched lightly at the unnervingly cool touch of his fingers, but didn't fight it, allowing him to tilt your head and expose your neck.

You closed your eyes tightly as you felt the needle puncture your skin, using the pain to ground you in the moment.

A soft whimper escaped you as the viral liquid rushed through your bloodstream, and you pulled your hands into fists at your sides, waiting for what would happen next.

Minutes passed, though it felt more like hours in the quiet room, the only sounds the muted breathing of yourself, Dr. Gideon, and the clinic's staff standing at a distance.

Just when you were beginning to think that you might be in the clear, your body suddenly locked up, your fingers and toes curling against your will.

You tried to move, to cry out for help, but all that left your lips was a rush of breath.

You then started to shake, which ramped up into a violent seizing fit, the heart monitor fluctuating wildly nearby.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head and your teeth loosened from the gums, falling out and down your throat. All you could do was choke on them.

"It's happening," you vaguely heard Gideon say, his tone almost giddy.

If you could speak, you would have screamed at him, at all of them, but you were forced to endure this excruciating pain for what seemed like a millennium.

That's when you felt a burst of agony shooting from inside your skull, blood suddenly beginning to leak out of your nose, ears, and eyes, pooling in your mouth and obstructing your airways. You could only make pathetic gurgling noises as you drowned in it.

"Damn it all, she’s hemorrhaging," Gideon growled, his voice muffled to your ears. "We’re losing her."

For a long few moments, all you could feel was the burning of your lungs, the aching of your trembling muscles, the sharp pain radiating from your head...

And then everything turned black.

🩸☣️🩸

Victor's large hands furled into fists as your body finally went still, the heart monitor flatlining next to you.

This wasn't supposed to happen. You were supposed to be different.

"What a disappointment," he muttered, scowling in disgust as he checked your pulse, only to feel nothing but your clammy skin.

He ripped his arm away from you and turned around, rage seeping from him like cologne. "Dump her in the grinder before she reanimates. I have no further use for such a failure."

Dr. Gray quickly and unceremoniously ripped off the heart monitor pads from your chest and the IV needle from your arm, ignoring the slight squirt of blood from the force of extraction. He called out to the two orderlies standing outside the door, who rushed in to wheel you down to the basement.

Just as they were about to push through the door, however, your form suddenly jolted, back arching off the plastic padding beneath you.

The orderlies jumped back, unsure of whether you would lunge at them or not.

Hearing the commotion, Gideon whipped around, watching you with growing curiosity. You could have been just a mindless, living corpse, but he found himself intrigued by your sudden awakening.

You contorted, sputtering on the blood still trapped in your throat before tilting your head just enough to vomit it and the teeth you involuntarily swallowed onto the linoleum floor.

Airways cleared, you started to scream and writhe, your entire body shifting.

From where he stood, Victor could see your once gaunt features fill out, your sickly flesh turning a healthier, warmer shade. Your brittle fingernails began to fall off, thicker, almost claw-like ones sprouting out in their stead. The teeth you had lost to the virus were soon replaced, your gums splitting open to make room for a new set, the edges glinting with an inhuman sharpness in the light.

You then stilled completely, and Victor wondered if perhaps all those dramatics were for nothing and you really were dead this time.

Unlike the surrounding staff who shied away from you, Victor stepped closer and closer until he was directly above you, inspecting you with his visor.

If you were breathing, he couldn’t tell, and so he reached down to check your pulse once more.

The moment his fingers pressed against the skin there, feverish and damp, you took in a deep gasp of air, your eyes shooting open to reveal a vibrant gold hue in place of your once naturally colored irises, the pupils narrowing to feline-esque slits.

“Look at you,” Victor sighed in delight, baring his uneven metallic grin. “I never should have doubted you, little lamb.”

As you looked around the room, likely trying to make sense of your surroundings once again, he leaned in, nose nearly brushing yours and making you recoil.

“You are certainly my greatest feat yet…”

🩸☣️🩸☣️🩸☣️🩸☣️🩸☣️🩸