Zombies shambled from the shadows of Dining Hall B, their groans echoing like a horror movie soundtrack gone wrong.
The sanitation team—Shade, Rain, JD, Kaplan, and the rest—froze, spines tingling, eyes wide with panic.
Raja, unfazed, checked his assault rifle with a grin, savoring the chaos.
"Listen up, crew," he shouted with Authority, voice cutting through the hisses.
"Want to avoid becoming zombie chow? Follow my orders, no questions. Clear?"
The team, spooked but trusting his vibe, shouted, "Sir, yes sir!"
Raja's chest puffed up—Commander Ghost, reporting for duty.
MAYA: "Master, your ego's crowding the room."
He leveled his rifle, tone sharp. "Here's the deal: these things are dead, reanimated by some nasty virus. One bite, one scratch, you're toast—turning into them. Gunners, aim for the head; it's the only way to keep 'em down. Can't aim? Blow their legs off. Don't screw this up." The team nodded, weapons raised, nerves steeled.
Raja's grin turned feral. "Alright, squad—give 'em hell!" He opened fire, headshotting zombies like a video game pro, bullets finding skulls with robotic precision.
Inspired, Shade's crew joined in, mowing down undead left and right, the hall a symphony of gunfire.
Raja pushed forward, counting bullets—pop, pop, pop—syncing reloads like a dance.
JD and Kaplan wrestled with the next floor's door, Spencer on lookout, while Matt and Alice scanned for strays, signaling threats.
MAYA pinged Raja's brain: "Second-floor door's opening!" He spun, rifle up, clocking six o'clock.
"JD, fake hubby—dive now!" His roar sent them scrambling aside, clearing his shot.
The door burst open, and a horde of zombies spilled out—rotting, snarling nightmares straight from Hades. The team yelped, hearts racing at the sheer numbers.
Raja didn't flinch. He sprayed bullets, shredding zombie legs, toppling them like bowling pins.
"Grenade!" he yelled, lobbing one into the pile—BOOM!—guts and groans silenced.
"Core room, now!" he ordered. The team sprinted for the Red Queen's chamber, Raja covering the rear.
Inside, he scanned for wounds. "Check for bites or scratches—go!" They patted themselves down, tense.
Rain nodded, "I'm good."
But Raja's eyes darted—Alice and Matt were gone. "Oh, Fuck!"
he roared. "Where's Red? Oye! Fake Hubby, you lost your fake wife?!" Panic crept into his voice, a rare crack in his swagger.
Stocktaking: two rifle mags, four Glock mags, one grenade, two incendiaries, two flashbangs.
"I'm fetching them," Raja growled.
"Shade, no heroics—save ammo, stay put. Understood?"
Rain stepped up, "I'm backing you—you'll need me." Her worry was cute, but Raja saw the fear.
He smirked, planting a quick French kiss. "Stay, babe—guard fake hubby. If he twitches, shoot."
Spencer gulped as Raja nodded to JD. "Open the door."
Zombies lunged as it swung wide. Raja charged, a whirlwind of dodges, kicks, and headshots, moving like a cyborg on a killstreak.
The team gawked, thinking, He's not human. Bullets flew, ammo ticked down, but Raja cleared a path, relentless.
Meanwhile, Alice, split from the group, wandered a new floor—cages, bloodied walls, locked rooms reeking of death. Tiny footsteps pattered, and an infected dog—jaws dripping—sprinted at her. She dove aside, locking herself in a guard's room.
A zombie guard lunged; Alice's instincts flared in, She roundhouse kicked the zombie cracking its skull, dropping it cold.
She grabbed its gun, but the zombie dog smashed the glass, snarling. Alice slipped out, slamming the door to trap it.
Outside, seven more dogs waited, eyes glowing. Her muscle memory took over—bang, bang, bang—headshots felling them with eerie precision.
Raja, hearing shots, zoomed in, catching Alice mid-fight. She wall-ran, ninja-style, and roundhouse-kicked the eighth dog's head like a soccer ball.
Raja whistled, strolling up. "Damn, Red!" He hugged her, sneaking a cheeky butt squeeze, and kissed her hard. "Badass vibes!"
He drew his Glock, popping the stunned dog's skull for good measure. Alice blushed, catching her breath.
Raja handed her the Glock. "Let's snag Matt before he's zombie lunch."
Alice nodded, trailing him, gun ready. Matt, meanwhile, snuck through offices, hunting Lisa Addison's files.
Raja's super-senses—amped by 25% brainpower—locked onto a racing heartbeat. They found Matt pinned under a zombie on a bench, struggling.
Raja swooped in, snapping the zombie's neck like a pencil. Matt sobbed, staring at the body. Alice's eyes flickered—memories of Lisa surfacing.
"Spill, Matt," Raja snapped. "Who's she? What's your game?"
Matt choked, "My sister, Lisa—Umbrella scientist. She saw their messed-up experiments, wanted to expose them. I'm here for her proof."
Raja's eyes narrowed, hoisting Matt by the collar like a ragdoll. "You got your closure—no more solo quests, got it?" Matt nodded, trembling.
Raja smirked, "Good chicken impression."
Low on ammo, Raja ditched guns, pulling his enchanted knife—razor-sharp, no magic.
He grabbed a crowbar for Alice, an axe for Matt. "Silent kills only—don't wake the dead."
He bulldozed toward the core room, knife flashing, zombie heads rolling like gruesome marbles.
Alice and Matt, stunned by his precision, swung their weapons, guarding flanks. Hordes charged in the final corridor, a snarling wall of death.
"Run!" Raja yelled.
Alice and Matt bolted for the door as Raja backed up, shooting stragglers, counting shots—pop, pop.
At the door, he lobbed an incendiary—WHOOSH!—flames swallowing the horde.
Raja slipped inside, slamming it shut, and turned to the team's shocked faces.
Shade's jaw hung loose, Rain's eyes sparkled, Kaplan looked ready to faint.
Raja dusted his hands, grinning like a game-show host. "Now folks, that's how you rescue VIPs and clear zombies. Who's buying me a beer?"
MAYA: "Master, you're insufferable."
He winked, "And crushing it."
To Be Continued…