Chapter 96: The Designated Fall Guy!
According to the Screenplay Theory, if Marcus wanted to earn Destiny points by saving the Resident Evil world, he had to do it the hard way — saving the world without using Destiny to rewrite the ending. The outcome had to arise from genuine deviation against the original script, not from Marcus ordering the screenwriter to change the last page.
Working purely within the conditions of the Resident Evil world, that seemed like a dead end. Every viable path to the airborne Anti-T virus ran through either the cloned Dr. Isaacs — who had built-in limitations — or Dr. Ashford's team, who were moving too slowly to matter.
But Marcus wasn't limited to working within the Resident Evil world.
He had other options.
System, he thought, the spatial coordinates we reserved in the Main God Space — are they still active?
"Confirmed. Still active."
The administrators didn't purge them?
"Host, as previously explained, the System's authority exceeds the Main God's administrative functions. The Main God cannot remove coordinates established by this System."
Right. Take me there. Main God Space — the North American Team.
"Acknowledged." The System deducted ten Destiny points without ceremony — it never forgot that part — and the transition happened instantly.
The Main God Space — North American Team Plaza
Marcus materialized in the open plaza and took in the scene with a practiced eye.
The North American Team had just come back from something rough. That much was obvious from the state of them — worn gear, a few people running on fumes, the quiet that settled over a group that had barely made it out. The Main God's repair functions were cycling through the team, patching up whatever the last world had done to them.
Marcus spotted the person he was looking for immediately — tall, broad-shouldered, the kind of guy who looked like he'd been built specifically to survive things that should have killed him.
Call him Zack. Team veteran. Someone Marcus had crossed paths with during the Resident Evil mission, even if Zack didn't have the full picture of who Marcus was or what he was capable of.
Marcus grinned. "Zack. Rough day?"
Zack looked up from the repair cycle, expression somewhere between wary and resigned. "We just got out of an Alien mission. You could say that."
Standing slightly apart from the main group, Marcus noticed someone else watching him — a lean, sharp-eyed man with the kind of stillness that came from professional training rather than personality. Call him Cole. Former intelligence, by the look of him. Expressionless, precise, filing away everything he observed. He'd clearly been on the team long enough to know the veterans, but he didn't recognize Marcus — and that bothered him in the way that gaps in information always bothered people like Cole.
Marcus's Spirit attribute of 39 points made that kind of thing easy to read. He glanced over at Cole and said, pleasantly, "Hey, Cole."
Cole's expression didn't change. But something behind his eyes did. He didn't know this man. He had never met this man. And this man had just greeted him by name.
"Mr. Foster," Zack said, accepting the last of his repair cycle and straightening up. "What brings you to our space?"
"You just finished Alien, right?" Marcus said. "Inside the ship?"
"Yeah." Zack's jaw tightened slightly at the memory. "Situation was critical."
Marcus waved it off. "Aliens are a manageable threat. You've unlocked your enhanced physiology by now, right?"
Zack stared at him. "How do you know about—"
"Because I've been paying attention." Marcus didn't elaborate. He stepped forward and dropped an arm over Zack's shoulder with the casual familiarity of an old friend. "I need a favor, Zack."
Zack tried to step out of the hold.
He couldn't.
Across the plaza, Cole's expression flickered. He knew exactly what Zack's physical capabilities were at this stage of enhancement — the kind of strength that made most conventional restraints irrelevant. And Marcus Foster had just held him in place without visible effort.
Transcendent, Cole thought quietly, and filed it away.
Nearby, another team member — a woman who wrote everything down and forgot nothing, call her Jordan — had been watching the whole exchange. She spoke up before Zack could figure out how to respond. "Mr. Foster, what exactly do you need from us?"
Marcus glanced at her. "I'll get to that. First—" He released Zack and turned to face the group properly. "Cole, your current position makes this conversation complicated for you. I'd sit this one out."
Cole's eyes sharpened almost imperceptibly. Marcus hadn't explained what he meant. He hadn't needed to. The implication was clear — Marcus knew something about Cole's role within the team structure that Cole hadn't volunteered. Cole filed that away too, and said nothing.
Marcus turned back to Zack. "Here's the pitch. You come back to Resident Evil — which is where I'm currently operating — and I personally guarantee backup. Whatever you run into, I've got you covered." He paused for effect. "And I'll throw in equipment that'll make your next Alien mission feel like a cleanup operation."
Marcus snapped his fingers.
Four figures materialized in the Main God Plaza.
Liquid metal caught the light and shifted — two of the figures were T-1000 units, mirror-polished chrome that moved with that unsettling fluid grace that made the T-1000 one of the most dangerous close-combat units ever deployed. The other two were TX models — next-generation Terminators, the kind that combined liquid metal components with a hardened endoskeleton chassis and onboard weapons systems that made the T-1000 look like an early draft.
As Marcus introduced them, all four units ran a demonstration — their liquid metal surfaces rippling and reforming, reshaping within three seconds into perfect physical copies of Zack, standing in a row and looking back at the original with identical blank expressions.
The team stared.
Except Cole, who observed.
Zack muttered, almost to himself, "If I'd had those in the Alien ship..."
"Xenomorphs wouldn't have been a problem," Marcus finished for him. "They're really not that impressive once you have the right tools."
Jordan cut back in, practical as ever. "Mr. Foster. What do you need?"
Marcus smiled. "One item from the Main God's exchange catalog. Airborne Anti-T virus — it's listed under Resident Evil: The Final Chapter props. Disperses through atmospheric wind currents, lethal to T-virus infected hosts worldwide when released with the right conditions. Coordinates with the global monsoon system for full-coverage dispersal." He looked at Zack. "I need one unit. Contact the Main God and pull it from the catalog."
Zack blinked. "There's a sixth Resident Evil film?"
"Focus, Zack."
Zack pulled up the Main God interface and ran the search. The item came back immediately — Airborne Anti-T Virus, Resident Evil: The Final Chapter.
Price: 3,000 points and one C-rank side quest completion.
Zack quietly cross-referenced the Terminator pricing while he was in the catalog. T-1000: 5,000 points, one C-rank side quest. TX: 10,000 points, two B-rank side quests.
He looked at the four Terminators standing in his plaza.
The math was not complicated.
One Airborne Anti-T Virus at 3,000 points and one C-rank side quest, in exchange for two T-1000s and two TXs — combined catalog value somewhere north of 30,000 points and multiple high-rank quest completions.
Zack was already working out whether he could push for a second unit.
"Ahem," he said, keeping his voice carefully neutral. "Mr. Foster — how many of these do you actually need? Just confirming the quantity."
Marcus gave him a flat look. "One. I need one. What are you going to do with eight of them, carpet-bomb every continent?"
"I was just—"
"You were calculating whether you could get a second set of Terminators out of me." Marcus pointed at him. "Don't."
Zack had the decency to look slightly caught out.
"I'll tell you what I'll tell you for free," Marcus added. "When you transition between worlds with Terminators in tow, the logistics get complicated. Best configuration — have one T-1000 link directly to you, physical contact maintained through the jump. Other three form a perimeter around you during the transition. That's the cleanest method."
Zack immediately pulled up the Main God interface and completed the exchange before Marcus could add any conditions or change his mind.
Marcus accepted the Airborne Anti-T Virus — a compact sealed dispersal unit, deceptively simple-looking for something that could functionally end a global pandemic — and turned it over in his hands once.
"You're not worried I'll just walk off with this?" he said, with a trace of genuine amusement.
Zack let out a short, dry laugh. "What exactly would I do about it if you did?"
He had a point. Marcus Foster had just held a peak-enhanced fighter in place one-handed without breaking his conversational rhythm. The gap between them was not a gap Zack could close by wanting to close it.
Marcus pocketed the dispersal unit.
The Screenplay Theory was going to play out exactly the way he'd planned.
The script said the world ended.
What happened next was going to be something else entirely — and the deviation was going to be real, earned, and worth every Destiny point it generated.
Let's push the story forward!
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