SpiderMilkshake

4: Gifts The Tyrant stood immobile in the center of the much smaller room—not quite a lab, not quite a holding chamber—awaiting another command from the trio of Umbrella staff gathered around it. Dr. Ramirez clapped once with animated fervor, grinning up at the entity towering over him. “Isn’t he fantastic?” the man gushed, and the taller doctor standing by the door let out an almost imperceptible snort. T-00 had the continuing impression that Birkin chafed under the energy that the T-103 phase 4’s director put out. It did not find such a reaction particularly reasonable. Dr. Ramirez was clear and concise in his commands, and logical in his procedures, methodology… As far as the Tyrant had seen. As the doctor circled around it once more, hands raised as if presenting the hulking form to the others, it remained passive and still to allow itself to be gawked at. “You saw the latest trial run, yes? Absolutely blew the other subjects away! I’m

2: Monster Warehouse The holding area was a much sparser place than the laboratory it had been “born” in. Heavy benches lined two of the walls—which were solid concrete and windowless. The only other thing inside was a group of other Tyrants; the bioweapon paused upon entering to study them. Each was roughly as large as itself, though there was a lot of variance in exact height, width, and build. These Tyrants, however, had Limiter gear in a shade of dark army green, as well as a few which had their faces obscured by a loose, bag-like covering. Two of them turned slightly from where they were perched stiffly on the benches to watch the newcomer; T-00 locked eyes with them each in turn, though it was unclear even to itself how aware they were of their shared origin judging by the glassed-over, rheumy gray of their pupilless eyes. The thought crossed its mind that it may look the same. Silently mulling this over, the creature moved over into one of the open

1: It’s Alive When the newly-created bioweapon first gained consciousness it took several moments to adjust itself to the barrage of sensations. There was something wrong… dizzying about the way its weight was distributed; when its fingers twitched, it felt the movement of cold fluid flowing between them, explaining right away the strange thickness that surrounded its form. Somewhat distorted, slightly muffled, it began to hear a conversation from close by, which it found it could understand: “Eugh. Ugly fucker, isn’t he?” “Ugly is as ugly does, Carson. By the way, it can hear you.” “Shut up. You’re not gonna scare me that way. Now, where’s that Limiter?” “It’s all in that box over there. I’ll start the drain.” There was a heavy clunk, then a pull from below as the liquid it was suspended in began being siphoned away. As its feet met the grate at the base of the chamber housing it, the bioweapon wavered in place