Capítulo 19: Chapter 19: Ethan's Reflections
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𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘸, 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘌𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯'𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵.
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He sat rigidly in his chair, the cold metal pressing against his back through the layers of his Umbrella Advanced Combat Suit. The suit's nanofiber mesh adjusted subtly to his shifting posture, a silent reminder of the corporation's ever-present grasp. Around him, the dimly lit briefing room echoed with murmurs and the soft tapping of fingers on tablets, but all of it faded into a dull buzz as memories clawed their way to the forefront of his consciousness.
His onyx-black eyes fixed on a small, almost imperceptible stain on the otherwise pristine floor—a smudge of darkened hue against sterile white. To anyone else, it would be meaningless, a trivial blemish in an otherwise immaculate environment. But for Ethan, it was a portal, pulling him back into the shadows of his past.
Rain pelted down in sheets, turning the narrow alleyway into a river of grime and debris. The air was thick with the stench of rotting garbage, wet pavement, and the acrid tang of smoke from a distant fire. Six-year-old Ethan stood barefoot in the freezing puddles, his small frame shivering violently under a threadbare hoodie soaked through to the bone. His fists were clenched so tight that his nails bit into his palms, drawing thin lines of blood that mingled with the rainwater dripping from his fingers.
Before him lay his mother, her lifeless body sprawled awkwardly across the cobblestone. Her once vibrant eyes stared blankly into the stormy sky, reflecting flashes of lightning that illuminated the horror etched into her frozen features. A dark pool spread beneath her, the rain diluting the blood but never washing away the deep crimson that stained the street.
Ethan's throat burned with suppressed screams, his voice trapped behind a wall of shock and despair. The world around him blurred, sounds muffled as if he were submerged underwater. The distant wail of sirens grew louder, but they were too late. They were always too late.
A rough hand suddenly grabbed his shoulder, yanking him back into the chaos of reality. He looked up to see a man dressed in a dark suit, his face obscured by shadows and the brim of a fedora. The man's grip was firm, almost painful, but his voice was eerily calm.
"Come with me, boy," the stranger commanded, his tone leaving no room for defiance.
Ethan resisted, trying to pull away, but the man's hold tightened, dragging him away from his mother's side and into a waiting black sedan at the mouth of the alley. The car's door slammed shut behind him, sealing his fate and plunging him into a darkness that would shape the rest of his life.
Back in the briefing room, Ethan's jaw clenched, muscles tensing as the memory faded, replaced by another.
He was fourteen now, standing in a stark, windowless training facility deep beneath the earth's surface. The walls were lined with reinforced steel, and the floor was a grid of worn mats stained with sweat and blood. A dozen other adolescents stood alongside him, each dressed in identical black training gear, their eyes hollow and bodies battered from endless drills.
An instructor circled them like a predator, his eyes sharp and unforgiving. Without warning, he barked an order, and the room erupted into controlled chaos. Ethan moved instinctively, his body reacting before his mind fully processed the command. He lunged at his assigned opponent, a taller boy with a cruel smirk and eyes that betrayed a sadistic pleasure in the violence.
The fight was brutal and swift. The other boy swung first, a wide arc aimed at Ethan's jaw. Ethan ducked smoothly, his enhanced reflexes turning the attack into an opportunity. He drove his fist into the boy's ribs, feeling the satisfying crunch of bone giving way under his knuckles. The boy gasped, staggered, but recovered quickly, launching a flurry of kicks and punches that forced Ethan to retreat a few steps.
But Ethan was relentless. He sidestepped a high kick, grabbed the boy's extended leg, and twisted sharply. A scream echoed through the room as the boy collapsed, clutching his twisted limb. Ethan didn't stop. He pressed his advantage, delivering a calculated strike to the boy's temple, knocking him unconscious.
"Enough," the instructor's voice boomed, and Ethan immediately stepped back, his chest heaving but his face expressionless. The instructor approached, looking down at the fallen boy before turning his gaze to Ethan. There was a flicker of something akin to approval in his eyes.
"Well done, Drake. Again."
Ethan nodded, already moving to his next opponent as the cycle of violence continued unabated. Day after day, fight after fight, he honed his skills, his body becoming a weapon forged in pain and discipline. But with each victory, a piece of his innocence crumbled away, leaving behind a hardened shell filled with purpose but devoid of joy.
A sharp, authoritative voice yanked Ethan back to the present.
"Drake, are you even listening?"
Dr. Albert Wesker stood at the front of the room, his imposing figure silhouetted against the glowing briefing screen. His ever-present sunglasses reflected the ambient light, concealing his eyes but not the irritation evident in his tone.
Ethan's eyes snapped up, meeting the blank lenses head-on. His face betrayed nothing. "Every word," he replied coolly, his voice steady and composed.
Wesker's lips curled into a thin, mocking smile. "Then perhaps you can enlighten us on the primary objective parameters?"
Before Ethan could respond, Dr. Lisa Addison interjected, her voice soft but firm. "Albert, perhaps a short break would be beneficial. It's been a long briefing."
Wesker turned his head slowly toward her, his smile fading. "This is not a daycare, Dr. Addison. We proceed as scheduled."
Lisa's eyes flashed with defiance, but she held her tongue, her gaze shifting briefly to Ethan with a hint of concern. Ethan gave a barely perceptible nod, acknowledging her silent support.
Colonel Victor Reynolds cleared his throat, his gruff voice cutting through the tension. "The mission details are clear. Drake knows what's expected of him. Let's not waste time on unnecessary distractions."
Ethan's gaze drifted back to the display screen, now showing detailed schematics of the Hive's upper levels. His mind cataloged every corridor, every entry point, every potential ambush spot. But beneath the surface calculations, unease simmered. The Hive was a labyrinth engineered for containment and secrecy, and he knew all too well that Umbrella's secrets were often deadly.
Dr. Emily Graves leaned forward, her fingers dancing across her tablet as she pulled up additional data. "Ethan, we've identified several hotspots where the T-virus mutations are most concentrated. You'll need to be prepared for rapid adaptability in your tactics."
She glanced up, her green eyes wide behind her glasses, a mixture of excitement and fear evident in her expression. "Some of these mutations exhibit unprecedented resilience. Standard ammunition may prove ineffective."
Ethan's attention sharpened. "What are you recommending?"
Emily hesitated briefly before responding. "We've developed new incendiary rounds and high-impact explosives specifically designed to counter these threats. They've been integrated into your loadout."
She tapped her tablet, and a detailed list of his updated ammunition appeared on the main screen. Ethan's eyes scanned the information swiftly.
𝐀𝐦𝐦𝐨 𝐋𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐔𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞:
• 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐲 .𝟒𝟓 𝐀𝐂𝐏 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬: 2 magazines (16 rounds total).
• 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐇𝐊𝟒𝟏𝟔 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬: 2 magazines (60 rounds total).
•𝐂𝐫𝐲𝐨 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬: 3 units, capable of freezing targets within a five-meter radius.
Ethan nodded, processing the additions. "What about penetration capabilities? Will these rounds compromise structural integrity in confined spaces?"
Emily smiled faintly, appreciation gleaming in her eyes at his quick assessment. "The rounds are engineered for maximum effectiveness against organic targets with minimal collateral damage. Structural compromise should be negligible."
Wesker stepped forward, his presence dominating the room once more. "Time is of the essence. You deploy at 0600 hours. Ensure all preparations are complete."
He paused, then added with a chilling finality, "Failure is not an option, Drake. Remember what's at stake."
Ethan met Wesker's gaze unwaveringly, the weight of unspoken threats heavy in the air. "I always do."
The room fell into a momentary silence, the hum of the monitors the only sound as the gravity of the mission settled over them all.
Ethan remained seated, his eyes lingering on the slowly rotating 3D model of the Hive displayed before him. Shadows danced across his face, highlighting the sharp angles and the steely resolve etched into his features.
A soft rustle drew his attention. Lisa stood beside him, her brow creased with worry.
"Ethan," she said softly, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder. "Be careful down there. There's more going on than they're telling us."
He looked up at her, a hint of warmth flickering in his otherwise cold gaze. "There always is."
She squeezed his shoulder gently before withdrawing, her footsteps echoing softly as she left him alone and go to other side of room.
Alone now, Ethan exhaled slowly, his mind a battlefield of memories and anticipations. He reached into his pocket, fingers brushing against the small, crumpled note he'd found earlier: 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦.
The words were a stark reminder of the treacherous path ahead, a path he would have to navigate alone despite the illusion of support surrounding him.
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𝘌𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯'𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘤𝘶𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦.
𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘮 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘮.
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PENSAMENTOS DOS CRIADORES 
Vivid_Horizons
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