Chapter 312: Doctor, You're a Clone Substitute
Clap clap clap...
As Birkin applauded, two assistants wheeled in a medical cart.
It was covered with a white cloth, hiding whatever instruments lay beneath.
"Allow me to introduce what I believe is the greatest biological research achievement of the century."
As he spoke, Birkin whipped off the cloth, revealing four glass containers.
Inside them, submerged in a special liquid, were crab-like creatures. Their beige-yellow exteriors shimmered faintly, and it was clear—they were unlike anything known to humankind.
If Allen were present, he would have immediately recognized them as facehuggers.
"You should feel honored to be the first batch of parasitic hosts," Birkin said, gazing at the facehuggers with eyes full of tenderness, like a father doting on his children.
Barbara and the others looked utterly disgusted.
Indeed, mad scientists weren't all that different from lunatics—if anything, lunatics probably seemed more normal.
Birkin eagerly explained, "Obviously, these are extraterrestrial organisms. Using the best genetic engineering technology humanity currently possesses, we've modified them to perfection. A new artificial species—what I call the Cleansers. Their purpose is to purge the surplus population unfit to live in this world."
Purge the surplus population?
Given his deranged mindset, it was safe to assume that 99% of humanity would fall into his "cleansing" list.
In comparison, the criminals they usually fought would look like choir boys in his eyes.
"Now then, who should be the first host?" Birkin's eyes scanned the Raptor Squad. Physically healthy and robust, they were clearly ideal vessels.
Boom!
The wall collapsed.
Suddenly, the solid concrete wall was blasted open from the outside.
A metal crate shot through the opening, carrying two figures.
One of them flipped midair and landed gracefully.
"We're the nemesis of crime, the embodiment of justice—The Powerpuff Girls!"
Allen flipped his hair back confidently. "Sorry I'm late, girls."
"…"
This guy… what a showoff!
Barbara and the others didn't feel the relief of being rescued—instead, there was a twinge of secondhand embarrassment.
Birkin quickly retreated behind his subordinates, poking his balding head out nervously. "Who are you?!"
"Old man, never heard of the Powerpuff Girls?"
Allen rubbed his chin, puzzled. "No way. That's classic American capitalism at work. It'd be sad if a grown man never watched cartoons."
"Who watches that childish crap?" Birkin snapped angrily.
He came from a wealthy family and received an elite education from a young age—how could he ever have been exposed to such meaningless drivel?
Allen, however, turned his focus to the four women. "Don't worry, girls. Let me guess—a pervert kidnapped you and wants to do unspeakable things?"
"Allen, he wants to implant those things in us!" Barbara pouted, pointing to the containers with the facehuggers.
Hissss… Lake hairy crabs?!
Allen sucked in a sharp breath. "Man, that's messed up. Even I never thought of something that twisted."
"Kill him!"
Birkin barked the order without hesitation.
A group of heavily armed guards raised their weapons and took aim at Allen.
In an instant, gunfire erupted, bullets pouring forth in a storm of fire and lead.
"I dodge, I roll, I flank—!"
Allen darted and weaved effortlessly through the hail of bullets, not showing the slightest sign of pressure.
His agility stunned Birkin. He couldn't believe a human could move like that—unless this guy was a speed-type superhuman.
Bang bang bang…
While dodging, Allen rapidly closed the distance.
With a flurry of punches and kicks, he easily sent eight soldiers flying.
"Heh heh heh…"
Allen turned to Birkin and his two assistants, an eerie smile spreading across his face like a villain savoring his final victory.
"Watch out!" Harley shouted a warning.
Allen whipped his head around.
The eight soldiers were getting back up.
They removed their helmets, revealing their true faces.
Pale, expressionless, with completely bald heads. Most horrifying of all, their mouths split open like a four-petaled flower, lined with rows of jagged teeth.
"Bio-zombies?"
Allen, a frequent dweller of the 3D netherworld, hadn't watched the Resident Evil films—but he'd seen plenty of its 3D spin-offs.
Especially the ones starring Agent Ada Wong and Officer Jill—he'd studied those frame by frame, admiring the models.
ROAR!!!
The zombies let out a terrifying howl and charged.
Birkin, hiding nearby, now wore a smug smile of certain victory.
These bio-soldiers were Umbrella Corporation's latest independent research triumph.
They were no longer human—free of fatigue and pain. Unless dealt a fatal blow, they could fight endlessly. Perfect killing machines.
The only thing stopping their deployment was a minor issue of ethical morality. Otherwise, they'd already be sold to countries as war tools.
Shing!
A flash of silver streaked through the air.
The once-terrifying zombies froze where they stood—then, in the next instant, their bodies were severed into pieces.
Allen flicked the blood off his "Pig-Slaughtering Blade" and tucked it back under his arm, casually remarking, "To die by the hand of the greatest bladesman in the North—that's an honor."
The Raptor Squad members were truly shocked.
With his hospital gown and crazy demeanor, Allen had completely fooled them. They weren't sure they could survive even one of his attacks.
Seizing the moment, Harley quickly freed her teammates.
Only Black Canary—Dinah—remained unconscious due to the effects of the drugs.
"Don't come any closer!"
Birkin shoved his assistants in front of him, his previous arrogance gone.
"It's not my fault! I'm just a wage slave!"
"I'm a victim too! Umbrella forced me to do it!"
The two assistants pleaded as they dragged Birkin forward, using him as a shield.
Smack!
Allen stomped his foot into Birkin's face and snarled, "Old man, were you bullying my girls? We're the Savage Squad—you should've known we don't mess around!"
"Sir, I realize I was wrong!"
Birkin, desperate, tried to invoke the name of his backers. "If anything happens to me, Umbrella won't let you off the hook!"
"Won't let me off?"
Allen sneered. "You really think you matter that much? As if Umbrella would avenge a clone."
"…"
Birkin stared, stunned and confused.
"Umbrella specializes in bioweapons—but truth is, their cloning tech is even more advanced. All their high-level execs are asleep in some doomsday bunker, waiting for the New Continent. The ones running things out here? Just clone managers."
Allen grinned as he explained, "You've seen the production line, haven't you? Like a meat factory cranking out clones for experiments. Don't tell me you thought you were special."
"I…"
Birkin's mind faltered, consumed by doubt. He had seen the mass clone production process—like a butcher shop for humans.
Given Umbrella's usual methods… he just might be the latest in a long line of clones without even realizing it.
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