Resident evil : Rise of a Monster english

During my introspection, I received information from Marcus' clones who continued to explore the mansion.

They didn't find any creatures inside, but while exploring some balconies and the graveyard, they spotted quite a few infected dogs and crows. One of them reported finding Spencer's office with a safe hidden behind a tapestry.

I decide to head straight to this Marcus clone after retrieving Zombie G who was guarding the door. After two minutes of running through this horribly quiet mansion, I finally arrive at Spencer's office.

Spencer's office is a sumptuously decorated room, with dark wood furniture and Persian rugs. The warm sunlight reflects off the shelves filled with leather-bound books.

As I enter, I immediately notice the tapestry half-torn from the wall, revealing the safe hidden behind it. Normally, even if I asked for a room inspection, there would be little chance that this Marcus clone would spot this hidden safe, but someone must have tried to steal its contents. Blood stains indicate that the thief is probably no longer with us.

I approach the safe, my mind anticipating what I might find inside. The possibilities are vast: compromising Umbrella documents, classified virus research, maybe even weapons or valuable biological samples. The fact that someone risked their life to access it means its contents must be extremely valuable.

Marcus clone stands nearby, silently watching. Unlike the first safe I opened in the mobster's office a few months ago, I am much stronger.

I concentrate for a moment, feeling a wave of heat invade my right hand. My skin begins to transform, taking on a dark, rough hue. My fingers lengthen, becoming sharp, menacing claws. The metamorphosis is swift and impressive: reinforced bones emerge, surrounded by powerful muscles, giving my hand the appearance of a fearsome weapon.

With a growl, I sink my massive claws into the door of the vault. The metal barely resists the pressure, bending and deforming around my claws. I feel the structure of the vault give way under my grip, but instead of simply tearing the door off, the entire vault detaches from the wall with a deafening crack.

I pull the entire vault out, the metal scraping against the stone as debris and dust fall around me. The vault weighs heavy, but my superhuman strength lifts it effortlessly. Marcus' clone, motionless next to me, watches the scene with disconcerting neutrality.

I set the vault at my feet and quickly examine the interior, still intact. My claws return to their normal form, my fingers resuming their human appearance in a matter of moments. The transformation leaves a slight tingling sensation in my hand, a reminder of the power that lies dormant within me.

My excitement quickly cools when I discover only money in large quantities in this safe. "That was to be expected, you don't leave documents or compromising objects in a safe on the surface." I thought as I collected the bundles of dollars.

$500,000 is added to the $150,000 I saved in my nightly hunts. At least the money doesn't take up space in the safe.

After finishing inspecting the office without finding anything useful, I retrieve the leeches from Marcus' clone before opening the window. The cool afternoon air enters the room as I look down at the cemetery. Without hesitation, I jump to the ground below.

The thud of my landing echoes through the oppressive stillness of the day, quickly attracting the attention of the creatures lurking nearby. I notice my shoes have fallen apart from the stunt, leaving me barefoot.

Almost immediately, I see dark shapes emerge from the shadows of the trees, silhouettes moving quickly toward me. A pack of mutant dogs, their eyes glowing with an unhealthy light, advances, growling, their gait fluid and predatory.

Their muscles tense under the emaciated skin, their claws scrape the ground with palpable aggression. Their lips are curled to reveal sharp fangs, gleaming in the light filtered by the clouds. There are about ten of them, their movements coordinated and determined, as if they were directed by a single murderous will.

Looking up, I notice a flock of mutant birds converging on me. The sky is darkened by the multitude of winged silhouettes, crows with dark feathers and sharp beaks, their piercing cries breaking the calm of the afternoon. Among them, I make out falcons, their talons flashing dangerously, and a bald eagle, majestic but sinister, its massive wings beating the air with fearsome power.

The crowd of mutant animals forms a menacing circle around me, their movements synchronized like a danse macabre. The crows swoop down, their beaks poised to strike, while the dogs advance, snarling, their eyes fixed on me with a ferocious intensity.

I feel the excitement rising within me, a mixture of adrenaline and determination. Every creature here is a new opportunity, a potential addition to my army. I clench my fists, ready to face this horde of mutants, knowing that each victory will make me stronger.

The first dog lunges, its fangs sharpened to rip a piece out of me. I pivot on my left foot, narrowly dodging its attack, and reach out to touch its gaunt hide. In an instant, it disappears, absorbed into my factory. A second dog follows immediately, attempting to bite my leg. I jump back, my foot brushing its head before capturing it with a simple touch.

The crows swoop down, their beaks sharp as blades. I swing my body sideways, avoiding their coordinated attacks, and extend my arms to touch them as they pass. One by one, they disappear into my factory, transformed into potential allies.

A hawk swoops down on me, its gleaming talons aimed at my face. I duck quickly, feeling the wind from its wings brush against my head. I reach out to it, and with a simple touch, it joins the other captured creatures. The process repeats itself as I continue to dodge and capture birds and dogs, my movements becoming a fluid dance between attack and dodge.

Finally, the bald eagle enters the scene, its massive wings beating the air with fearsome power. It hovers above me, calculating its moment to strike. The last dogs still standing try their luck, but I quickly neutralize them, sending them into my factory with precise, rapid movements.

The bald eagle dives, its talons open and ready to lacerate my skin. I brace myself, knowing this creature will take more effort to capture. He strikes, and I roll to the side, narrowly avoiding his razor-sharp talons. I quickly get up, reaching out to touch him, but a message pops up.

DING

T-Virus Fusion Detected or "?" absorption will take 20 seconds.

The time will be reduced by 10 seconds due to the T-Virus mutation bonus.

20, 9

Contact interrupted, please try again.

The content of the message surprises me so much that the bald eagle almost manages to touch me.

We exchange several passes, him attacking and me dodging, each looking for an opening. Finally, in a calculated move, I feint a dodge, luring the bald eagle into fully engaging. At the last moment, I change direction, reaching out to grab his wing. He struggles violently, but I maintain my hold, fighting against his strength.

DING

Successful fusion T-virus detected or "?" absorption will take 20 seconds.

The time will be reduced by 10 seconds due to the bonus on mutations to the T-virus.

20, 9, 8, ... 1, 0

Successful fusion T-virus successfully absorbed available in the factory, please name it.

"Name it Aquila" I say, thinking back to an episode of Jdg on the eagle and the bald eagle since Aquila means eagle in Latin.

1 Aquila will be produced every hour. You have 10 Aquila directly in the factory.

You get a bonus for capturing any species that has successfully fused perfectly with the T-virus.

After this little interlude, I recover all of Marcus' clones since the manor has nothing more interesting before breaking a metal door behind the manor.

Oddly enough, it's a crappy garden shed with multiple entrances, so why put a stronger door when the other two are made of wood. I take the door on the right, taking advantage of the sun still shining, to explore the surroundings.

The trail begins at the edge of a dense forest, where the trees, old and twisted, seem to form a natural canopy, obscuring the sunlight. The gnarled branches intertwine above my head, creating a shaded and stifling vault. Vines hang like motionless snakes, adding a touch of mystery to the already eerie atmosphere.

The ground of the trail is uneven, dotted with exposed roots and moss-covered stones. Dead leaves crunch under my feet, and from time to time, insects flee my presence, disappearing into the dense vegetation. The air is heavy, thick with the smell of damp earth and rotting vegetation, a constant reminder of the unforgiving, wild nature of this place.

As I walk, the path narrows, the trees seeming to grow closer together, forming an oppressive natural corridor. The rays of light that manage to pierce the canopy cast shifting shadows on the ground, adding a surreal dimension to my journey. The cries of nocturnal animals echo in the distance, amplifying the sense of impending danger.

Eventually, I glimpse Lisa Trevor's cabin through the trees. It is nestled deep in the forest, surrounded by thick vegetation. The cabin itself is a dilapidated structure, built of weathered wood and stone. Broken boards and boarded-up windows attest to its advanced state of disrepair. An aura of desolation and mystery surrounds this place, as if time has stood still here.

Through the crumbling walls of the cabin, I hear indistinct whispers, interspersed with muffled sobs. A female voice, trembling and filled with sadness, seems to call out faintly: "Daddy... Mommy..." These words, barely audible, carry an unfathomable pain, a desperate search for comfort and answers.

The mixture of these guttural rattles and the murmured sobs creates a heartbreaking cacophony, a melody of suffering that haunts the mind. The sound seems to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, resonating through the cabin and the surrounding forest, like a perpetual echo of the tragedy that unfolded here.

Each "Daddy... Mommy..." is a poignant plea, a desperate cry from Lisa Trevor's tormented soul, searching for her parents lost in the darkness. The pain and loneliness she expresses are almost tangible, filling the air and amplifying the sinister atmosphere of the place.

This rattle, accompanied by the whispered cries, freezes my blood and reminds me of the tragedy and horrors that have taken place here.

Unconsciously and despite the dangers, my empathy takes over and I cross the door of the cabin. I enter quickly before seeing the desolate creature in front of the hearth of a fire hunched over itself.

Her appearance is a disconcerting mixture of terror and pity. Lisa Trevor, a victim of Umbrella's cruel experiments, stands before me, but she is not aggressive. On the contrary, she seems contemplative, her eyes empty of all malice, as if she is searching for something in me.

Her face, barely visible beneath the long strands of dirty, matted hair, is disfigured by stitches and scars, evidence of the many surgeries she has undergone. Her eyes, though clouded by pain and madness, shine with an eerie, almost childlike glow, as if she is searching for a long-lost human connection.

Lisa's body is wrapped in a torn and dirty dress, its tatters hanging sadly, revealing malformed and disproportionate limbs. Her arms and legs are covered in bloody bandages and scar tissue, adding to the horror of her appearance. A large metal chain, a symbol of her captivity, drags behind her, rattling on the ground with every movement.

On her back, she carries what appear to be human remains, the faces of her parents stitched onto her flesh in a macabre attempt to regain some semblance of family. These faces, frozen in expressions of eternal pain, add a profoundly tragic dimension to her presence.

She advances slowly, her bare, dirty feet dragging on the floor of the cabin. Each step is accompanied by a soft moan, a sound that seems to be a mixture of pain and curiosity. She stops a few meters from me, raising her head slightly as if to see me better, her eyes searching my face with a disconcerting intensity.

Her whispers, always present, become more distinct. "Daddy... Mommy..." she repeats softly, her trembling voice echoing in the heavy air of the cabin. Her gaze does not express hatred or violence, but rather a deep sadness and a desperate search for comfort.

I remain motionless, captivated by this apparition at once terrifying and pitiful. Lisa Trevor, in all her horror and tragedy, stands before me, a lost soul in a monstrous body, searching for human connection in a world that has cruelly betrayed her.

(Ed: Cry, let yourself go)