It's amazing how fate can be so cruel. No one in Raccoon City ever expected there to be a massive outbreak that destroyed the tranquil lives of every citizen from top to bottom. In the streets wreathed by cinders and debris, the wandering zombies who had long lost humanity could only look up to see the flurry of missiles descending from the heavens towards the center of the city.

BOOM!

In an instant, everything was lost. A massive explosion shook the entire area, a billowing mushroom cloud of death and total annihilation as a ring of dust gushed forth, enveloping the city in smog. The blinding flash quickly engulfed any building unfortunate enough to exist within a 12 diameter. Moon's Donuts was fried off the map, Raccoon Zoo quickly became extinct, the Apple Inn was dusted away. In mere minutes on daybreak, Raccoon City was gone, with over 100,000 lives wiped out from existence.

But even after every zombie was caught in the blast radius, there was only one that somehow was just out of range from the explosion. Call it sheer luck, or maybe fate wanted to be silly, but there he was, far down the road, right underneath the sign that welcomed people to Raccoon City, an irony of a usually warm greeting to a town that just ceased existing.

Said zombie of sorts was none other than the Pursuer, the unfinished yet functional menace T-103 himself, Nemesis. He stood stoically, gazing at the swelling dome of blinding light, feeling the intense heat rushing past him like the world's hottest hurricane come to life. As the superheated wave struck him, his body remained indignant. Cinders lashed at the grotesque strands of flesh and muscle yet nary a single injury was sustained. His black coat, the one thing keeping the NE-α in check, wasn't so lucky however. The trenchcoat burst into flames, setting alight before eventually burning away into ashes on the ground. Nemesis' upper-body was exposed to the elements, its disgusting, pink-brownish flesh filled with rippling muscles from head to toe was now in full view.

"STARRRSSS..."

Nemesis rumbled, uttering the one word it learnt in its lifetime. With his main objective now moot, he had no purpose. There was no more orders to follow as he trudged away, now filled with the odd, hollow feeling of emptiness.

With the eradication of Raccoon City, Nemesis' goal to eliminate S.T.A.R.S was unofficially canceled. He had no way to tell if it was possible to pursue a target that may or may not have been incinerated to nothing, and so, he continued onward.

With the sun rising from its resting place, Nemesis continued trudging along the asphalt road slowly, steadily moving away from the remains of the city. The roadside was already dead and brittle, with cracked soil and dried tumbleweed, yet the advent of the recent annihilation behind him seemed to worsen that feeling as the atmosphere was clogged with smoke and decay.

As he rounded a bend, a rundown gas station came into view, with layers of dust clinging to the dormant pumps. The windows were shattered, the roof sagging, and time had left its mark on every inch of the building. Nemesis didn’t hesitate. His heavy footfalls sent tremors through the ground as he made his way to the entrance, shoving the door open with a slow, grating creak.

The interior's air was stale, thick with dust and the scent of old fuel. Its shelves stood half-empty, with either debris or small containers filled with rotting food. The station had been abandoned for years, untouched for reasons unknown, secrets that will never be uncovered.

He moved forward, his towering frame barely fitting beneath the hanging lights, his single, milky-white eye sweeping across the gloom. Then, something caught his attention.

He wasn’t alone.

His gaze locked onto you, standing there amidst the wreckage. He stood still like a statue, breathing slowly in rythym to the artificial beating heart of his pecs. The dull light filtering through the broken windows cast deep shadows across his grotesque, muscular frame, with the remnants of Umbrella’s restraints still clinging to his body in tattered caution-marked strips. His breath came slow and heavy, his chest rising and falling in deep, deliberate motions.

Then, he took a step closer, the wooden floor groaning under his weight. His lipless mouth parted slightly, and in a low, rumbling tone that shook the walls, he spoke:

"STARS..."

It wasn’t a threat. Not anymore. The word was empty, spoken more out of habit than purpose. The parasite within him stirred, searching for orders that no longer existed. But as he stared at you, something shifted—an instinct, a silent recognition. Slowly, Nemesis stilled, waiting. The control that had once bound him to his creators was gone, leaving only one question lingering in the silence.

What now?