Plague Ship:
Prologue:
The man looked up into the dawn sky; the spectacular hues of the horizon set against the dense jungles of Singapore. Amidst the cloudless pinks and magentas that merged into blues was a growing black shape; and over the chittering of the wildlife behind him he could hear the beat of a helicopter's blades and the bellow of its engines.
Swallowing, he clenched his fists and tried his best to stop his shaking. Pressure had always been an issue he couldn't deal with. Boards of Medicine had denied him tenure—his nervousness prevented him from arguing. Executives denied his studies on virology—his anxieties stood in his way. Umbrella laughed at his theories in anti-body manipulating—nerves prevented his retaliation. But, after a decade of privately funded expenditures, begging for every last dollar, euro and yen to aid his experiments, he had come to the defining point in his 49 years.
While Umbrella Incorporated may have been dissolved for their crimes against humanity, its legacy would be eternal. Geneticists, virologists and biologists flocked to the companies eager to step into the infinitesimal shoes left by Umbrella. He had flocked with his competitors, seeking every opportunity to prove his theories correct. And finally, after so long, after fighting tooth and nail for his moment; it was upon him.
Opening his eyes, he breathed out, the black helicopter deafening in its approach to land. Merely feet above the designated clearing, he began to move forwards; drawn by an invisible need to face the frightening entity within the helicopters steel confines. The meeting had been confirmed a week prior. November was nearly over and the time had come for him to meet his latest employer: a man he had known to fear by reputation alone.
The black doors slid open and armed guards in black fatigues spilled out and stood at ease. He ignored them and swallowed his fears. Wiping the perspiration from his brow, he stepped closer as a figure appeared from the cabin of the helicopter. It stepped down in an immaculate black suit; its porcelain features framed with impenetrable sunglasses and slicked blond hair.
"Mister Borschev, I presume?" asked the smirking creature before him.
The man opened his mouth to speak, but words escaped him. In his absence of speech he could do naught but look upon the being that stood upon him in all its disturbing, grotesquely perfect glory. Every feature of exposed skin was as white as polished marble; a truly flawless complexion that masked intentions that would sicken even the most perverted of men.
"W-Wesker." Stated the man, unsure of what even to say, his body rocking from the aura of menace that hung in the air between the two men.
"I believe you have ssomething I'm interested in."
Borschev gulped, "Yes, sir. I-It's a prototype but I've refined it over the last few years to the stage where I believe it—"
"Is it functional?" Interrupted Wesker.
"Uh—Yes," stammered Borschev, "that is to say that in theory—"
"So it isn't functional?"
"No—I mean…it is but I've only tested in controlled environments on lab rats…"
"Do you have the samples?"
"Of course," Borschev lifted a heavy attaché case from beside himself and passed it to a guard who in turn passed it to Wesker.
Wesker opened the case, let the slightest of approving noises pass his lips and forced the case upon the hands of a young Asian woman, "Have the samples field tested."
"Yes, sir." Replied the woman before she disappeared into the helicopter.
"Now, Mister Borschev," said Wesker, "You will receive payment for the samples and pending the results of field testing I will procure the funding to have mass production set up for…what is it you call this…?"
Borschev's eyes lit up as he spoke, "I call it the Mu-Virus."
Wesker raised a partially obscured eyebrow, "As in opiates?"
"I see you know your pharmacological—"
"Yes, very astute Mister Borschev," Interrupted Wesker as he stepped onto the landing rail of the helicopter, "pending the success of your Mu-Virus, I will have the appropriate funding situated to move this project into mass production, understood?"
"Y-yes, Wesker, sir."
Borschev stood motionless, his mouth agape as the terrifying man known as Wesker slipped back into his blackened helicopter. Within moments its engines roared to life and the small clearing in the jungles of Singapore became awash from its rotors. He shielded his eyes from the rising sun as the helicopter ascended into the sky and within its steel shell, his life's work, to presumably never be seen by his tired eyes again. 41 years of scientific anguish and suffering over an artificially created virus that he hoped would revolutionise the way the world looked at disease.
By showcasing a new, highly communicable biological weapon to the world, he would arise a hero of the scientific community. Through his actions the world would merge under a cause of medical and scientific unity. Together nations would combat disease through the means he had developed by synthesizing intelligent antibodies.
Borschev fell to his haunches, sweat pouring down the sides of his weathered face. The world would herald him a hero for the technology he had developed, but that technology was just passed into the hands of a notorious madman. His life's work in the grasp of a terrifying menace to society, a man responsible for hundreds of thousands of deaths across several continents; a man who had surpassed humanity itself for the sake of his own evil machinations.
"What have I done?"
The high winds above the Singapore Strait battered the helicopter, rocking its passengers as they sped away from the small island nation. Wesker peered over his sunglasses though the small port side window and down at oceanic view. He let a small scowl cross his lips before he returned to a stoic posture and let his feature relax into a neutral mask that he knew intimidated his employees. Across from him –sitting in the single seat attached to the helicopters bulkhead—sat the Asian woman with the attaché case in her lap, open and somewhat alluring.
"It certainly seems more promising than I expected from Borschev." She said to no one in particular, simply voicing her thoughts.
"Indeed." Claimed Wesker, "Considering the fool who developed it."
"An expendable fool?" smiled the woman.
Wesker scoffed, " A necessary fool," he paused, "for now."