Green Valor

Confront

In the dim light of his laboratory, Dr. Wormsly stood trembling, staring at Saskia, who was chained up in cold, metal cuffs. She sat slumped in the corner, her wrists bound, her eyes wide with fear and defiance. Wormsly's hands shook as he tried to steady himself, but the weight of what he was about to do crushed his chest, making it hard to breathe.
His heart raced, and his mind was spinning. The drugs, scattered on the metal table beside him, had been his only way to cope with the crushing guilt. But they weren't enough anymore. He had thought about ending it all more than once, swallowing the pills and letting the darkness take him. But not tonight. Tonight, the fear was stronger than the despair.
He picked up the phone with trembling hands and dialed. He didn't know who he was calling—maybe a lifeline, a last-ditch attempt to stop himself from going too far. The dial tone rang in his ears, and he swallowed hard, his mouth dry, his thoughts frantic.
After a few agonizing moments, a calm voice answered. "911, what is your emergency?"
Wormsly squeezed his eyes shut, gripping the phone tighter. His voice was barely a whisper, shaky and terrified. "I... I'm doing something I'm not supposed to."
There was a pause on the other end, and the operator's voice softened, trying to draw him out. "Can you tell me what you're doing? I'm here to help you."
He opened his mouth to answer but hesitated. His throat felt tight, his emotions choking him. "I... I'm going to regret it. I'm going to hell for this," he said, his voice cracking. "I'm scared. I'm so scared."
The operator's voice remained calm, steady, but urgent. "It's okay. We can work through this. You don't have to do anything you'll regret. Can you tell me where you are?"
Wormsly shook his head, tears blurring his vision. His fingers were slick with sweat as they clutched the phone, and he glanced over at Saskia, her face pale and scared. "I can't... I can't tell you where I am. I can't."
The operator pressed gently. "Are you alone right now?"
Wormsly froze for a moment, the lie tumbling from his lips before he could stop it. "Yes. I'm alone."
Another beat of silence from the operator, then a soft, "Do you have family? Is there anyone we can contact to help you?"
Wormsly's voice broke as he responded, his fear spiraling out of control. "I have brothers—older brothers. But you can't—don't tell them. They'd do something far worse. You don't understand. If they knew what I was doing..." His voice trailed off, the terror in his words palpable.
The operator tried to keep him grounded, their voice gentle but firm. "I need to know where you are. You don't have to go through this alone. Please—just tell me where you are."
Wormsly's breath hitched, his eyes darting around the lab, at the cold, sterile equipment that had become his prison. The secrets, the experiments, everything he had buried so deep, were now suffocating him. He couldn't tell them. He couldn't betray everything, not after all these years. His heart pounded so loudly in his ears that he could barely hear the operator's voice anymore.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, barely audible. "I can't..."
Before the operator could respond, Wormsly slammed the phone down, the sound echoing in the cold, clinical room. He stood there for a moment, breathing hard, staring blankly at the floor. He had called for help, but the weight of his sins kept him trapped in this nightmare. The phone call had been a moment of weakness, a cry for salvation that he could never truly accept.
He glanced at Saskia, still chained, still watching him. She didn't say a word, but the look in her eyes said everything. There was no turning back now.
Wormsly's hands shook as he reached for the syringe on the table. His hands, once steady in the pursuit of science, now trembled with guilt and fear. He had crossed lines, and there was no undoing what he had done. The man who once believed in control had lost it completely. The tension was palpable. Saskia, cuffed to the door handle, could feel her heart pounding in her chest.
Her mind raced as she watched Dr. Wormsly pace back and forth, his face a mask of stress and agitation. She knew she had to try and reason with him, to find a way out of this nightmare.
"Dr. Wormsly," she pleaded, her voice trembling but resolute, "you don't have to do this. Please, think about what you're doing. The serum—it's dangerous! It's not just your experiments at stake here. People's lives—innocent lives—are on the line."
Dr. Wormsly paused, his back to her, his hands trembling slightly as he reached for a small vial on the table. The pressure of everything was getting to him, the weight of his brother's expectations, the looming deadline, the monstrous consequences of his work—all of it. He rubbed his temples, the throbbing pain in his head refusing to subside.
Without a word, he moved to a drawer and pulled out a small, clear bag of pills. His fingers shook as he fumbled with the bag, desperate for some relief from the storm raging in his mind.
But before he could take any, the shrill ring of his phone cut through the silence, making him jump. He snatched up the phone, recognizing the number immediately.
"General Cordero," he answered, his voice stiffening, trying to suppress the anxiety bubbling within him.
"Wormsly," the voice on the other end was deep, authoritative—his older brother, General Cordero. There was no warmth in his tone, only the cold, clipped efficiency of a military man used to getting what he wanted. "Is the serum ready?"
Dr. Wormsly hesitated, his eyes flickering towards the vials on the table. The serum was far from perfect—there were still too many unknowns, too many risks. But the pressure to deliver, to not disappoint his brother, weighed heavily on him. He swallowed hard, his throat dry.
"It's... it's ready," Wormsly lied, his voice barely steady. "But it still needs some tweaks. It's not quite... stable yet."
On the other end of the line, there was a moment of silence, the kind that made Wormsly's skin crawl. He could imagine his brother's cold, calculating mind working through the information.
"Good enough," Cordero finally said, his tone dismissive. "I'll take the serum as it is. We can test it out ourselves. I'm sure it'll be... effective."
Wormsly's heart skipped a beat, panic rising within him. "But—"
"Don't worry, little brother," Cordero cut him off, his voice dripping with condescension. "We'll handle the rest. Just have it ready. I'm sending someone to pick it up."
The call ended abruptly, leaving Wormsly staring at the phone, his hand trembling. He had wanted to protest, to tell Cordero that the serum wasn't ready, that it could cause unspeakable horrors.
But he knew better than to defy his brother. Cordero had always been the stronger one, the one who got what he wanted by any means necessary.
From across the room, a soft, horrified whisper broke the silence. "No..." Saskia breathed, her eyes wide with terror as she realized the full extent of what was about to happen.
Dr. Wormsly turned to her, his face pale, his expression unreadable.
He didn't say anything, just stared at her for a long moment, as if seeing her for the first time. Then, almost mechanically, he reached into his coat pocket.
Saskia flinched as his hand moved, the sound of the cuffs clinking against the door handle echoing in the room. But instead of something sinister, Wormsly pulled out an apple from his lunch. He walked over to her, his steps slow and deliberate.
She watched him, every muscle in her body tensed, her mind racing with fear and confusion. He held out the apple to her, his face void of emotion.
"Here," he said flatly, as if this small act of kindness could somehow absolve him of the monstrous deeds he was about to commit.
Saskia stared at the apple, too stunned to react. Wormsly placed it in her cuffed hand and then turned away, his mind already elsewhere—focused on the serum, on his brother, on the destruction they were about to unleash.
Without another word, he left the room, the door closing behind him with a final, echoing click. Saskia was left alone, the apple cold in her hand, her thoughts racing as she tried to process what had just happened.
She knew she was running out of time. The serum was about to be unleashed, and with it, a new wave of horrors would be born.
But even as despair threatened to overwhelm her, she resolved not to give up. She had to find a way to stop this—no matter what it took.
The waves lapped gently at the shore as Jack and Alec dragged the rowboat onto the sand, their breath coming in heavy clouds in the chill night air. The journey had been grueling, but the stars had guided them, each one a small beacon of hope in the dark expanse above. Finally, they had made it to the city's edge, though their victory was marred by an unsettling stillness. The beach was deserted, the silence unnatural for a place so close to civilization.
Jack stood, scanning the horizon. In the distance, the city loomed—a cluster of dark shapes against the night sky, illuminated by the occasional flicker of firelight. His eyes narrowed, a cold dread settling in his gut. Something was terribly wrong.
"We made it," Alec said, his voice hoarse from the cold and exhaustion. "But where is everyone?"
Jack didn't answer immediately. His gaze shifted from the distant city to the empty beach, then back to the stars. The city, with its familiar buildings and lights, was supposed to be a symbol of safety. Now, it felt like a trap.
"We need to get to headquarters," Jack finally replied, his voice tense. "But we need to be careful."
They trudged across the empty boardwalk, their footsteps echoing eerily in the silence. The air was thick with tension, the kind that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.
As they neared the city, distant sounds began to reach them—the faint murmur of voices, the occasional shout, and the ominous crackle of fire.
When they finally pushed through the last stretch of sand and into the outskirts of the city, the source of the noise became horrifyingly clear. A massive protest had erupted, the streets alive with chaos.
People were shouting, some hurling objects, others brandishing signs. Fires burned in the streets, their smoke mingling with the bitter smell of tear gas.
Jack and Alec forced their way through the crowd, dodging protesters and debris.
The noise was deafening, a cacophony of rage and despair. Jack's eyes darted from one sign to another, each one striking like a blow to his gut.
"OVERTHROW CORDERO!"
"END THE TYRANNY!"
Graffiti was scrawled across walls, windows were shattered, and buildings were ablaze. Jack's heart pounded in his chest as he absorbed the scenes of devastation.
This wasn't just a protest—it was a full-blown revolt. The people were turning on each other, and on Cordero, in a way that he had never imagined possible.
As they pushed further into the chaos, Jack's worst fears were confirmed. A massive screen mounted on one of the buildings blared the latest news, the headline bold and unmistakable:
GHOUL OUTBREAK: CITY IN CRISIS
The footage was horrifying—ghouls rampaging through the streets, tearing through civilians as they fled in terror.
The city was under siege, and the people were paying the price. Jack's stomach twisted in knots as he realized the full extent of the disaster.
"They're here," he whispered, the words barely escaping his lips. "The ghouls—they've made it to the city."
Alec's face paled as he took in the news. "This is bad, Jack. Real bad."
They pushed on, desperate to find some semblance of order in the chaos. But what they found instead chilled Jack to the bone.
Amidst the rioters and the panicked civilians, a group of soldiers moved with purpose, their uniforms marked with the insignia of Cordero's forces. Jack's heart skipped a beat as he recognized two of them—Quinn and Yuri, soldiers he had once served with, now enforcing Cordero's brutal crackdown.
Quinn was barking orders, his voice cutting through the noise like a knife. "Move in! Secure the area! No one gets through!"
Yuri, tall and menacing, was pushing back protesters with the butt of his rifle, his face set in a grim expression. Jack could see it in their eyes—the fear, the determination, the sense of duty twisted by the chaos around them.
Jack stepped out of the shadows, calling out over the chaos, "Yuri! Quinn!"
The two soldiers turned, disbelief written across their faces. For a moment, it was as if time stopped. "Jack?" Yuri's voice was filled with shock. "Is that really you?"
"You look like you've seen a ghost," Jack joked, despite the heavy tension. But the relief was palpable. They were alive. They were together again.
Quinn rushed over, grasping Jack's shoulders, his eyes wide with fear. "Jack, you don't understand. Dr. Wormsly... he's gone rogue. He took Saskia—he's got her at his lab, and he's doing God knows what."
Jack's heart thudded against his ribcage, fury and dread colliding in his chest. "Where is he?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. The thought of Saskia in Wormsly's hands was too much to bear.
Quinn motioned towards the far end of the city, where the laboratory stood like a fortress. "We have to get there fast, Jack. Things are spiraling out of control."
With a curt nod, Jack turned to Alec. "We're getting her out. No matter what."
The team moved swiftly, cutting through the streets like shadows, slipping past rioters and evading soldiers. The roar of the protest dimmed as they neared the lab, but a new sound soon pierced the night—a shrill, otherworldly screech that made their blood run cold.
A ghoul, grotesque and twisted, emerged from the shadows, its eyes wild with bloodlust. But what froze Jack's heart was the tattered military uniform hanging from its skeletal frame—a stark reminder that these creatures had once been men.
The ghoul let out a screech, summoning more of its kind from the dark corners of the street. Within seconds, they were surrounded by a horde, their snarls filling the air. The team raised their weapons, the flash of gunfire lighting up the night.
"These guys are impossible to kill!" Quinn shouted over the din, frustration and fear in his voice. The bullets seemed to do little more than slow the ghouls down.
Jack smirked, despite the situation. "I killed one with a rock before," he boasted, pulling the pin from a grenade and lobbing it into the center of the horde. The explosion sent chunks of flesh flying, but still, the ghouls pressed forward, relentless and unyielding.
Alec was panting, his eyes wide with fear. "There's too many of them, Jack!"
Yuri, reloading his rifle with shaking hands, cursed under his breath. "We need backup, now!" He grabbed his radio, barking orders into it. "This is Yuri! We need immediate reinforcement at Sector 7! Ghouls are overrunning our position!"
Jack turned to Alec, urgency in his voice. "We don't have time to wait, Alec. You and I need to get to that lab and save Saskia before it's too late."
Yuri, still firing into the horde, nodded at Jack. "Go! We'll hold them off as long as we can. Just get to Saskia!"
Jack and Alec shared a quick glance, then bolted from the fray, sprinting towards the lab as the sound of gunfire and ghoul screeches faded into the background.
They didn't look back, knowing that their friends were risking everything to give them this chance.
As they ran, the looming silhouette of the laboratory grew larger, its sterile walls hiding horrors Jack couldn't begin to imagine.
The thought of Saskia trapped inside drove him on, his legs burning with the effort, his mind racing with the need to reach her before it was too late.
But even as they neared the entrance, the echoes of the battle behind them grew louder, and the reality of what they were up against settled in. Dr. Wormsly's twisted experiments were spiraling out of control, and if they didn't stop him here, the entire world could fall victim to his monstrous creations.
The door to the lab was just ahead, the final barrier between them and the heart of the nightmare. Jack's hand clenched around his weapon as he glanced at Alec. "This is it," he said, his voice grim.
Alec nodded, his face set with determination. "Let's finish this."
With a deep breath, they pushed through the door, stepping into the cold, sterile halls of the lab, unaware of the horrors that awaited them within.
Hours Earlier
General Cordero stormed into Dr. Wormsly's lab, his boots striking the floor with a fury that echoed through the sterile halls. His face was twisted in rage, his eyes blazing as he cornered Wormsly, who was hunched over a table of bubbling beakers and scattered notes.
"What the hell is going on, Wormsly?" Cordero's voice was a thunderous roar. "The serum is attacking my own army! The people are revolting in the streets! And you're sitting here, hiding like a coward!"
Dr. Wormsly, his normally pale face now ghostly white, fumbled with his words. "I... I didn't expect the serum to have such... side effects. It's—it's the mutation—I told you!"
"Spare me the excuses!" Cordero barked, advancing on him. "You were supposed to create an unstoppable force, not turn my men into monsters! And what the hell were you thinking, sparing that girl, Saskia? She's a liability!"
Wormsly opened his mouth to explain, but his hand, trembling with fear, knocked over a beaker filled with a glowing liquid. The glass shattered on the floor, the contents sizzling as they met the cold tiles.
Cordero's patience snapped. He grabbed Wormsly by the collar and slammed him against the wall, delivering a brutal punch to his face. Wormsly crumpled to the ground, clutching his nose as blood poured between his fingers.
"You're nothing but a sniveling coward," Cordero hissed, standing over him. Wormsly shivered, barely able to meet the general's gaze, his whole body trembling with fear and pain.
"Clean yourself up," Cordero spat, disgusted. He turned on his heel and marched out of the lab, slamming the door behind him. The room fell into a tense silence, broken only by Wormsly's labored breathing and the dripping of blood from his nose.
Wormsly dragged himself up, his mind racing. The serum was out of control, his life's work turning into a nightmare. And now, his brother—the one person he had ever sought approval from—was on the brink of destroying everything.
As he wiped the blood from his face, he didn't notice the camera in the corner, its lens zooming in on his every move.
Present Time
Jack and Alec crept through the darkened corridors of the lab, the weight of their mission pressing down on them. The air was thick with the sterile smell of chemicals and something else—something more sinister, like the scent of decay.
When they reached Dr. Wormsly's lab, the door creaked open under Jack's hand, revealing the cold, clinical room within.
Rows of monitors lined the walls, their screens showing various parts of the facility. But it was the figure at the center of the room that caught Jack's attention.
Dr. Wormsly was hunched over a table, his eyes wide and bloodshot, muttering to himself as his hands trembled. The moment he saw Jack and Alec enter, his face drained of what little color it had left.
"No... no, no, no," Wormsly stammered, backing up against the wall, his eyes darting around the room in frantic terror. "You're not supposed to be here... you were supposed to die... you should have died!"
Jack's anger flared, every muscle in his body tensing as he stepped forward. "You sick bastard," he snarled, his voice low and filled with venom. "You did this—you turned my father into one of those things! You made these monsters!"
Wormsly's back hit the wall, his hands shaking as he held them up defensively. "It was—it was for the greater good! The perfect army—unstoppable, unbeatable—"
Jack surged forward, ready to tear him apart, but Alec grabbed his arm, holding him back. "Jack, don't," Alec urged, his voice strained. "We need him to stop this."
Wormsly's eyes flicked between them, his mind racing as he tried to find a way out of this nightmare. "Please, I—I can fix this," he pleaded, his voice trembling. "I just need more time, more resources—"
"You're out of time," Jack hissed, his voice dripping with hatred. "And you're going to pay for what you've done."
Across the room, Saskia watched in terror, her hands cuffed to a heavy door handle. Her heart pounded as she took in the scene, the two men she cared about teetering on the edge of violence. But then, Alec moved quickly to her side, his fingers working to free her from the cuffs.