"You'd better leave now," Allen warned Benjamin before turning to walk away.
"Wait—can you hold on a second?" Benjamin called out, trying to stop him.
Allen paused and glanced back at the man. "What is it now?"
"I'm asking you… please treat Katherin well," Benjamin said, his gaze steady. "She's a sweet girl. I just want her to have the kindness she deserves moving forward."
Allen raised an eyebrow at that. "If you like her that much, then why did you accept my offer?" he mocked, his tone laced with sarcasm.
Benjamin gave a crooked smile and sniffed lightly. "Compared to love, money is far more delicious—and it smells sweeter too."
Allen shook his head at the remark, stifling a laugh. Without another word, Benjamin walked away first, leaving Allen to follow the path where Katherin had run earlier.
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the city, Katherin wandered alone through the silent night. Her steps eventually faltered in a narrow, dim alley, and tears began to stream down her cheeks.
Before long, a group of rough-looking men emerged from the shadows.
"Hey, girl… are you out here all alone?" one of them sneered, his eyes shamelessly trailing along her body, making Katherin shiver.
Panicked, she tried to cry out for help.
"Somebody! Please!"
But her plea was met only with mocking laughter.
"Don't waste your breath… no one's going to hear you here," one thug jeered.
Katherin's face turned pale. She spun around, desperate to escape, only to find the way blocked—she was surrounded.
"Please… someone, help me!" she cried again, her voice trembling.
Just as one of the men reached out to grab her, his wrist was suddenly caught in a firm grip. He froze, eyes widening—Allen stood before him, calm yet radiating quiet menace.
"Alright… I suggest you walk away. Or else…" Allen said evenly.
"Or else what? Don't think we're scared of you," the thug shot back with a bravado so cliché it almost made Allen laugh.
God… I regret hiring them if this is the best acting they can pull off, Allen thought, sighing inwardly.
When one of the thugs actually pulled a knife on him, Allen blinked in disbelief.
Wait, hold up—was that even in the script? Looks like they're improvising… forget it.
In one swift motion, Allen struck the man, knocking him out cold. The others, stunned, panicked at the sight. Allen hadn't hurt them further—just given a subtle gesture to take their unconscious friend and run.
They didn't need to be told twice. Dragging their fallen companion, the thugs scrambled out of the alley, leaving Katherin frozen in place, her wide eyes fixed on Allen.
"Hmmm, Mrs. Warrant… you're safe now. Next time, if you plan to go out, you really should remember to bring a bodyguard," Allen said calmly. He purposely didn't ask if Katherin was alright—lines like that felt too cliché, straight out of the kind of anime protagonists he used to watch.
"Thank you for your help, Mr. Winters," Katherin replied softly, lowering her head a little.
"You're welcome." Allen gave her a faint smile. "How about I walk you home? I'd hate for something like this to happen again on your way back, Mrs. Warrant."
Katherin hesitated for a moment, then gave a small nod. "Alright…"
As they walked side by side, Katherin suddenly glanced at him with a touch more courage.
"Mr. Winters… may I call you Allen? Of course, you can call me Katherin as well."
Allen studied her for a moment, then allowed himself a small smile. She was surprisingly forward for someone he'd just met.
"Of course. Besides, I'd prefer to call you Katherin."
During the walk back, Katherin kept the conversation flowing. She asked about his work, his daily life, and even brought up light topics that made her laugh every so often. Little by little, her mood seemed to lift, the earlier fear fading away as if it had never happened.
Finally, she gathered the courage to ask, "Allen… could I have your phone number? I'd like to… maybe invite you to dinner sometime, if you don't mind."
Allen looked at her slightly flushed face and gave a light nod.
"Of course."
He handed over his contact information, and Katherin accepted it with a smile that was warmer, more genuine than before.
When they arrived at City Hall, Katherin was immediately greeted by her father's guards waiting at the entrance. She turned back to Allen, offered him a warm smile, and gave a small wave.
"See you again," she said softly before stepping inside the building.
Allen simply returned the gesture with a slight nod and wave, watching until she disappeared behind the large doors.
Not long after, a young female secretary approached him politely.
"Mr. Winters, thank you for escorting Miss home safely," she said.
"My pleasure," Allen replied lightly. He then pulled a small memory card from his pocket and handed it to her. "Please give the mayor my regards."
The secretary accepted it with a respectful nod before heading back inside.
Allen cast one last glance at the grand building, then turned away, his steps unhurried as he made his way back toward his apartment.
....
The next day, Allen ordered two of his guards to head to a large empty building where two helicopters were stored. They were a gift from the mayor, part of an agreement they'd made earlier. He had also designated that place as an emergency evacuation route for the future, especially if the outbreak he feared ever came to pass. Based on his calculations, air travel by helicopter was one of the safest ways out of the city—second only to the underground rail system.
Afterward, Allen descended into the underground laboratory and resumed his work. He had taken the entire previous day off, yet no one seemed to care. Now, he was back to testing: attempting to merge the T-Virus with his custom-made super soldier serum.
Forty-two trials—and every single one had ended in failure. His serum was simply too strong. Instead of fusing, it devoured the T-Virus, weakening it until nothing remained. Every test subject he used died, though at least none of them mutated.
"It looks like my serum is too strong for the T-Virus. Even when I increase the virus dosage, it just weakens further," Allen muttered as he recorded his results.
Unwilling to give up, he moved on to the Extremis Virus—a sample he had obtained from a man who claimed to be the Mandarin in the Marvel universe.
BOOOM!
A deafening explosion rocked the room. Allen's body was thrown across the lab, slamming hard against the wall.
"Ouch… that actually hurt," he groaned, wincing. He had deliberately chosen not to use Avalon for protection, so he took the full brunt of the blast. But within seconds, every wound on his body closed, healing completely, leaving only his scorched and torn clothes as evidence of the blast.
Ding.
The lab door slid open, followed by the familiar sound of footsteps he knew all too well. A woman stepped inside, carrying a steaming cup of coffee and a chocolate-glazed donut.
"Allen, what happened in here? Why is your lab such a mess?" Annette Birkin's gentle voice carried with it a note of worry. After setting the tray down on the table, she rushed over to him. "Are you alright? Did you get hurt, Allen?"
Her voice was like music to his ears, a soothing melody that cut through the chaos. Allen rose slowly, took the coffee she had brought, and sipped it. "I'm fine. Looks like I just need to clean up this place first."
Annette sighed, gazing at him with a mixture of tenderness and mild reproach. "You really should rest, Allen. You've been down here too long. Don't be like my husband—working non-stop on research until he looks like a lunatic."
Allen gave a faint smile at that. With his burned clothes and the wrecked lab around him, he really did look more like a mad scientist than a genius researcher.
"Of course not. I'm nothing like William, not that extreme," Allen replied, leaning back in his chair, enjoying his time conversing with the beautiful woman in front of him.
"That's a relief. By the way, Allen… what exactly are you working on? Why does this place look like a mess, as if an explosion just happened?" Annette asked, her tone calmer now. She just wanted to make sure there hadn't been any dangerous accidents here.
"Well… you could say there really was a small explosion earlier," Allen said casually.
Annette frowned. "Are you working on some new biological weapon or something else?"
"Biological weapons? Of course not. I have no interest in something like that. I'm refining a serum of my own," Allen answered with a faint smile.
"Oh, speaking of biological weapons," he continued, "why is it that only two test subjects are recorded as successful? Do you have the complete data on that?"
"Two subjects? You mean the Tyrant Project, right?" Annette gave him a knowing smile. "That data isn't entirely accurate, Allen. So far, there are actually four of them. Do you know why?"
"I have no idea. I was never granted access to those files," Allen admitted.
Annette's smile deepened slightly. "That's because the cost of their maintenance is too high. And so far, there's only one who doesn't require special upkeep."
Allen leaned in, intrigued. "Oh? And who might that be?"
"His name is Sergei. He's Spencer's personal bodyguard. You should be careful around him, Allen. Don't ever cross him." Annette's tone shifted, carrying a note of warning, as though she was speaking to a trusted friend.
Allen nodded slowly, though a hint of disappointment flickered in his eyes. "So, in other words, this entire project is pretty much pointless?"
"You could say that, yes," Annette agreed.
A brief silence passed before she looked at him again. "Oh, right. Earlier you said you were working on a new serum. Can I know what kind of serum it is?"
Allen hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should tell her. But eventually, he chose honesty. "I'm refining my own version of a Super Soldier serum. You could say I'm trying to upgrade it. Annette, have you ever thought about living longer… or having superhuman strength? That's what I'm working on."
Annette fell silent, considering his words. The idea sounded both tempting and dangerous. The thought of an extended life and enhanced body was alluring, especially for her. Nearing the age of thirty-seven, with forty looming ahead, she had already been worrying about wrinkles and had been using various beauty products just to keep her body looking youthful.
"Your idea is fascinating… quite special, actually," she admitted with a small nod.
Allen saw an opening. "Annette, I need your help with this. With your talent, I know we could pull it off together. Especially with your expertise in serology—our work would finish much faster. I don't want to be involved in Project A or B your husband is working on. Those people just argue endlessly."
Allen then gently took her hands into his own, his eyes locking onto hers. "What I want is peaceful research… and a friend I can count on."
That earnest look in his eyes, combined with the warmth of his touch, made Annette's heart soften.
"Alright, Allen. I'll help you," she finally said, giving him a faint smile. "But don't toy with me. This could affect our friendship. And more importantly… I can't risk my family's safety."
Allen's lips curled into a satisfied smile. "Relax. I'd never endanger my friend—or her family."
Yet deep down, Allen already knew William, Annette's husband, wouldn't last much longer. He didn't even need to lift a finger—Spencer would see to it. Albert Wesker himself had to stay in the shadows, hiding from Sergei's watchful eyes just to survive. But William? He was openly defying Umbrella and refusing to hand over his research.
Annette gazed at Allen for a long moment. Deep inside, the thought of using him for her own gain had crossed her mind. But the longer she considered it, the stronger the sense of regret she knew she would feel if she ever betrayed the fragile friendship that had begun to grow between them. Allen had become her friend, someone who made her feel valued—and if she destroyed that trust, she knew she could never forgive herself.
In the end, Annette drew a deep breath and made her decision—she would help Allen wholeheartedly.
Almost unconsciously, she began to compare Allen with her husband. The realization stung. As a wife, what she was feeling might be considered wrong. And yet, she couldn't deny it: around Allen, she felt more comfortable, more appreciated… something she hadn't felt in her marriage with William for a very long time.
"By the way, Allen," Annette finally spoke, pushing away her thoughts, "what kind of serum are you working on? Is it something like the T-Virus?"
Allen gave a small smile and shook his head. "No… not at all."
He then began explaining to her the details of his Super Soldier serum. Every word that left his lips left Annette stunned. If what he claimed was true, then this serum could already be considered near perfect—even more valuable than the T-Virus or the G-Virus. More astonishing still was its ability to grant immunity to those very infections.
"Allen… this is incredible," Annette whispered, almost in disbelief.
Allen's expression grew more serious. "I also have samples of other serums. My goal is to merge them all into a single, stable formula."
Annette looked at him intently. "If your serum is already this close to perfection, why would you still need my help? I'm sure you could finish it on your own."
Allen only shook his head softly, leaning a little closer. "You see, that explosion earlier… it was caused by one of the test subjects. He blew up like a bomb, the result of instability when I tried combining the different serums."
He then reached for Annette's hand, clasping it firmly as if channeling his determination through that touch. "That's why I need you. With your help, I know we can create something far greater. Something truly perfect."
Annette felt the warmth of his hand, along with a tremor in her chest she couldn't quite define. His words didn't just persuade her—they shook something deep inside her.
*******
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