CHAPTER 2
A New Alliance
The supposedly abandoned airstrip emanated a degree of noise strong enough to shatter the midnight calm that the dark sky and pale moon normally brought on, each silhouette on the runway and around the buildings actively carrying out their duties as darkness cast by the black clouds obscured their bodies, each one ducking and weaving in between the beams of brilliant white the moon cast upon the once-deserted structure. Hammers clanged, cylinders grinded in their chambers, exhaling the gas built up within, and circuitry buzzed as the black-clad workers hastily prepared for the imminent take-off of the prototype stealth aircraft, wasting no time in configuring the software within, loading the pods with missiles and hastily preparing the cryogen chambers for each of their commander's beloved test subjects. Several men in white coats and HAZMAT suits slowly allowed the cold fog to pour from the multitude of containers stacked around the obscenely large runway, cautiously using crude apparatuses to extract the many vials and test tubes within the icy containers, painstakingly placing them neatly within another, which was quickly and efficiently transported to a small lift, that seemed to descend into a long shaft.
A flash of glinting black briefly appeared in the dark windows of the control tower, and the lenses of an expensive pair of sunglasses lit up every time the moon flowed into the large control room. With a slight huff, Albert Wesker pushed his shades up the bridge of his nose, his features contorting into a smug expression as the corner of his mouth twitched upward into a wicked smirk. Ignoring the many fools around him within the communications tower, he oversaw the activities below like a hawk - constantly, efficiently and sternly as his predatory gaze seemed to seep from behind the edges of his lavish eyewear. He paid little heed to the fully clad soldiers behind him, often only bothering them when he thought one of the simpletons below needed to be disposed of, and even then, hardly a word came from him, his order coming only in the form of a quick snap of his fingers.
That was, until the familiar hiss of the blast-doors filled the room, and the heavy footsteps slammed onto the steel flooring. Wesker smirked as he heard the deep, gruff voice bark at the soldiers in a brash, unknown tongue as the man walked towards him, stopping dutifully a few feet away. "Enver…" Wesker acknowledged the man with a simple nod of his head as he turned around. "I take it your trip to Spain was fruitful?"
"Very much so, Albert." The man, Enver, replied with a thick African accent as he stepped into the light of the fluorescent tube above them. The white hue it gave off illuminated his dark skin, and added a sinister gleam to his deathly white eyes, leaving only a slight glimmer in the absence of a pupil and an iris. The man quickly scratched as his full, messy beard with a gloved hand, and turned to struggle with his backpack, allowing his swept-back dreadlocks to cascade down his shoulder, obscuring half of the beige tank top he wore, some even dangling past his belt, blending with the darker patches of the desert-themed cargo pants he wore. Even as synthetics, Wesker smirked when he saw his would-be 'soldiers' waver at seeing Enver's muscular body, some trying to remain unnoticed as they stepped back. "It would seem that the Los Illuminados had a fair grasp of what to do with Las Plagas. Fanatical freak or not, Osmund Saddler cannot be accused of sloppy work - these few subjects here prove it." He said, handing a black dossier with the words "H.C.F." on the cover. "I suspect you'll find Project U3 and the Verdugo specimens rather entertaining. There's also a file on your old employee, Jack Krauser, and a record of what they did to his arm."
"Interesting…" Wesker pondered aloud as his eyes flitted across the multitude of macabre photos in the dossier as he quickly took in all the information. "These are perfect." He said suddenly, curtly closing the dossier. "Combine these with the... friends I brought out of Africa, and our dear Jo is in for a rather rough time…" He smirked as he turned to the door. "How long will it take you to create a 'Verdugo' for me?" He asked, pausing at the large blast doors.
"In this day and time?" Enver grinned. "Give me eight hours."
"You have nine." Wesker nodded as he turned back to the doors. "I want nothing less than perfection, Enver." He warned. "The Genocide Angel has already been contacted by the B.S.A.A. She will arrive here soon to try to reclaim her friend. She must not succeed…
"Whoa… Just… Whoa…" Even Sei's eyes widened at how lavish the penthouse suite of the Rosso Angelos hotel turned out to be, even in the harsh conditions of the modern era they lived in. The living room itself seemed to emit a most poignant smell of luxury, greatly accentuating the gilded designs of practically everything within it, be it the silk curtains or the marble counters and sinks, and the almost royally designed beds in each individual bedroom. "Even I'm not used to this…" Sei's eyes widened slightly as she gazed at the suite. "Are we sure this is the correct room?"
"Don't jinx it, Sei!" Amy giggled as she hopped onto one of the large recliners around the fireplace. "It's not every day a weird, foreign group of people pay for stuff like this…" She grinned. "We're gonna live like kings here - for free!" She giggled. "This almost makes being a few hours late worth it…"
"Don't forget why we're here in the first place, Amy." Sei sighed as she took a seat on one of the large sofas in front of an impossibly long television. "Did you find anything on that tip Jill Valentine gave us?" She asked, quickly hitting a button on the remote resting on the table next to her, and the screen immediately burst into a spectrum of different colours.
"What, about Umbrella?" Amy asked, eyeing the television as the ads continued to pop up on the screen. "Nope. Nothing. Whoever they are, they must be hiding themselves real good…" She mused, deliberately trying to remain as passive as possible as she saw Jo's eyes fall slightly. Wordlessly, the gunslinger stood up and disappeared into one of the rooms. Almost as soon as the girl vanished, Amy shot from her seat with speed unknown to be present in a small girl, and quickly leaned over the back of the sofa, close to Sei's ear. "I lied. I got quite a lot of dirt on Umbrella, but I won't say anything unless you confiscate Jo's guns…" She whispered fearfully, eyes darting back to the door of the bedroom Jo currently occupied. "Believe me when I say she's gonna flip when she hears what I found, and I want a really good chance of running away without any bullet wounds when that happens…" Then she promptly fled back to her seat, placing her laptop on her crossed legs as she flipped it open, expectantly gazing at Sei as she crossed her arms over her chest.
"Um… Jo?" Sei hesitantly called as she gave Amy a confused look, fully turning to face the young girl. "Could you come here for a moment? Amy has something to say…" She called.
"Ahem!"
"Oh, and leave your guns!" Sei quickly put in, as they heard Jo's footsteps signal that she had turned around inside her room to put her guns away. She then quickly pulled the door open and entered the living room, standing behind another sofa as she glared at them with a slightly irritated look on her features. Sei smiled sheepishly at the display, and quickly turned back to face Amy.
"Please sit down, Jo." Amy sighed as she hit a few buttons on her keypad. "This is stressful enough for me without you towering over me with that scary face…" Oddly enough, Sei picked up, it seemed as though she was doing her utmost not to meet Jo's glare.
"You heard her, Jo." Sei sighed. "Take a seat and make yourself comfortable. This looks like it could take long."
"Why can't she sum it up?" Jo asked blankly, her glare intensifying slightly.
"'Cuz you'd kill me. And jump on my grave. And-"
"What Amy is trying to say," Sei quickly ushered the young girl to silence with her hand, "is that, seeing as Meg is involved here, the news might agitate you a bit." She said, as she beckoned to Jo to sit down. "If you're standing, there's no telling what you'll do." She said hopefully. Jo opted to glare at her for a while, before giving in and sitting down on the chair.
"Better?" She asked dryly.
"Much." Amy smiled nervously as she turned her attention to her screen. "Err… Let's see… Hah, here we go! 'Umbrella Pharmaceuticals, Inc.' Huge player in the medical world, founded in the late 1980's by Lord Ozwell E. Spencer, Doctor James Marcus, and Sir Edward Ashford. Huge name worldwide, spanning several markets such as pharmaceuticals, medical hardware… Ugh, duh… Defence, cosmetics, consumer products, and food sorts. Came to fall in the year 2003 after… Uh…" She shot a nervous glance at Jo, who frowned at her for pausing, and she immediately went back to reading. "Came to fall in the year 2003, forty-two years ago after being found guilty on various macabre activities related to clandestine markets such as… such as Genetic Engineering and Biological Weaponry."
She heard Sei gasp at this, but refused to look up, fearing Jo's reaction. "They were found guilty on numerous charges of mass murder after deliberately and accidentally releasing incredibly harmful viral strains into several areas, like the now-demolished Raccoon City, Rockfort Island, Sheena Island and Antarctica, and the deliberate release of hostile bio-organic weapons into populated areas to determine their combat ability by killing civilians. Other outbreaks include one onboard the Spencer Rain, an Umbrella-owned cruise ship, as well an outbreak in South America entitled Operation Javier, then the Umbrella Russian Stronghold in the Caucasus region, an outbreak in India, and lastly another outbreak in an airport in Harvardville, United States." She sighed. "So, in short, Umbrella was a company who made monsters to kill people, and viruses to turn other people into said monsters…"
Amy slowly looked up at them, seeing the shocked, almost disgusted look on Sei's face, and the look of building rage and worry on Jo's, which made her whip her head back to her screen. "That's horrible…" Sei spoke. "Those people cost so many lives… It's like times back then were no different to times today. How were they even allowed to do such things?" She asked.
"They weren't." Amy shrugged. "But they weren't 'not allowed' to do them, either. Seems the goody-two-shoes cover Umbrella used was to hide their experiments. I've got here a list of some of their more known victims. Let's see… Jennifer Trevor, experimented on and killed after little to no symptoms showed… Sir Edward Ashford himself, died after a disastrous viral infection… Lisa Trevor - Hell no! I read that one - not going in there again!" She huffed.
"Why not?" Sei asked, perplexed at the girl's sudden tantrum. "Is it that bad?"
"Yes it's that bad!" Amy whined. "And I know Jo will really kill me if she hears this…" She whimpered.
"Just read it." Jo said blankly as she slumped back in her chair. "I've heard too much already… So just carry on."
"Promise you won't kill me!"
"I will, if you don't get to it." Jo growled, the first signs of her increasing anger slipping through her lips.
"Okay, okay!" Amy whimpered as she hurriedly clicked on the link, waiting for a brief moment before starting to read aloud again. "Lisa Trevor, born to Ozwell E. Spencer's estate designer George Trevor. Apprehended by Umbrella forces shortly after Spencer decided to dispose of him. She was subjected to a Beta-type, or 'B-Strain', of one of Umbrella's viruses, and her mind collapsed shortly after due to her young age of twelve years, throwing her into insanity, as well as certain degrees of illiterate actions and primal, animalistic tendencies. Used as a guinea-pig for Umbrella's research, and injected with countless viruses during that time, including a parasite that supposedly granted her immortality. It is said that, by the time of the parasite's injection, Lisa was no longer human - her body was nothing but an amalgam of the viruses she was injected with, a moving cesspool of viral strains. Several employees who came forward after Umbrella's fall with information in return for their freedom, claim that experiments done on her were often 'gruesome beyond description' and that the multitude of viruses mutated her into a 'savage, beastly monster' instead of the normal girl she should've been." Slowly, she glanced at Jo wearing a smug, yet slightly fearful look. "Are you happy now?"
Jo did not respond, instead keeping her eyes on her knees as her fringe covered her eyes slightly. Even in her slumped state, the muscles in her arms, neck and stomach slowly started to contract as she balled her fists in anger. "What else?" She asked shakily, voice near-rabid with hatred as she kept her eyes hidden.
"Not much after that…" Amy said, a tad frightful of Jo's response. "It ends there… There's a bunch of 'See Also' links here, but they're all broken…" She said. "I told you, you wouldn't like it…" She said, closing her laptop. "But hey, there's an upside to all this…" She forced a smile. "Umbrella can't be responsible."
Jo slowly lifted her gaze from her knees, locking eyes with Amy. The small girl yelped softly at the amount of malice within them, quickly scurrying to Sei's side as she attempted to hide from the fires of the gunslinger's wrath. "What do you mean, 'they can't be responsible'?"
"Didn't you listen?" Amy asked, a scowl suddenly etching itself on her face. "Umbrella got shut down forty-two years ago. Edward Ashford died from a viral disaster, James Marcus was proclaimed dead - okay, I didn't mention that, but anyway… And Ozwell Spencer was found dead in his European Estate. The founders are dead, and the company itself has been shut down for more than forty years. It can't be them."
"Then why did Jill Valentine tell us to search for information on it?" Jo growled, relaxing slightly as Amy's words sunk into her mind. If Umbrella wasn't responsible, the chances were good that something as bad as what happened to their experiments, could not happen to Meg. At least, Jo hoped not.
"I dunno." Amy shrugged. "The links at the bottom referred to some other companies and events, like Los Illuminados, WilPharma, TriCell, U.S-"
"TriCell?" Sei suddenly cut her off with a puzzled look. "They're huge today… They're derived from three cells of Travis Trading, each cell representing one of the colours on the logo. Why would a company specializing in natural resources, trading and medicines conspire with Umbrella?"
"You can shoot me if I know." Amy shrugged. "I guess that's why this 'B.S.A.A.' wants to meet with us. If Umbrella was simply a taste of what they know, I'm sure they can fill in the gaps…" She suddenly tensed. "Speaking about the B.S.A.A… We were a few hours late, right?" She asked, and Sei nodded her answer slowly. "So… What time were we supposed to be there?"
"In twenty-two minutes." Jo answered nonchalantly as she gazed at the clock. "Twenty-one, sorry…" She turned her gaze back to Sei and Amy, and saw them glance at each other with looks of shock and sheer terror as they realized how late it had become. Slowly, both of them looked back at Jo with almost accusing looks. "What?" Jo shrugged, still a tad agitated at the news about Umbrella. Sei and Amy, however, hardly bothered to answer her. They simply shot from their seats, running to their rooms as they repeatedly exclaimed how late they were, before disappearing behind the doors of said bedrooms. Jo sighed as she apathetically reclined into the sofa. This is going to be a long night… She thought irritably.
The sharp, white light illuminating the inside of the large containment cylinder sharply contrasted the dark, dank surroundings it was placed in, shadows futilely attempting to pierce the glass that covered it, eager to drown the cushioned interior and the sleeping girl resting upon it in complete darkness, as several loud footsteps echoed in the room, drifting from the oddly dressed people monitoring the small screens protruding from each one. The steady beeps of the medical hardware softly filled the cold air around it, as the girl within it breathed calmly as she slept. Around her small, circular cell, almost three-hundred identical units stood in a neat, orderly arrangement, all of them humming in unison as the monitors connected to them beeped and whirred. Slowly, one of the girls' eyes started to flutter open, a creak of white under the beautiful eyelids allowing a slight hint of blue to peer through them, staring past the few strands of red hair hanging attempting to obscure it.
Wesker smirked as he stood behind the two way mirror overlooking the subterranean chamber, seeing a few of the orderlies rush to the topmost container as one of them hastily attempted to switch on his radio. His smirk grew when he heard Enver chuckle behind him, and turned to face the large African man. "Once again, within my calculations." He grinned. "Subject 300Z12… I have the distinct feeling she will be the most successful of the lot."
"Mr. Wesker!" The orderly's voice suddenly sounded over the radio. "Sgt. Brandt! Is anyone there?" He asked. "Subject 300Z12 is waking up ahead of schedule. Request viable protocol?" Wesker simply beckoned to the radio with his hand as he retook his place at the mirror, gazing at the container holding 300Z12. Enver nodded at his commander's order, and briskly walked over to the radio.
"This is Sergeant Enver Brandt." He spoke into the radio. "Leave Subject 300Z12 be, and call in the armed guards. If she is awake, we may as well feed her now." He narrowed his eyes when he saw the soldiers march in, armed to their teeth as they dutifully stood around the container. "And tell those soldiers to watch how they handle her!" He barked into the microphone. "Z12 is a very dear specimen to Commander Wesker, and I will personally skin your leftovers after he is done with you, should you harm her! Be gentle!" He ordered, and promptly turned off the radio. "How such puppets can understand the complex orders you give them astounds me…" He sighed as he, too, stood behind the pane of glass, albeit a few inches behind him as he took up a respectful stance. "That specimen… Z12… What makes her so special, Albert?"
"As I said, I have the feeling she will be the most successful of this lot…" Wesker mused as he stared at the orderlies, now gently pulling the girl into a sitting position, attempting to lift her from her disoriented state. "I searched for a specimen such as this for years after my rebirth… And only now, in the accomplice of a Genocide Angel, no less, do I find the very foundation to the perfect being… Meg…" He smirked as he gazed at how the young girl was being force-fed. "That is why I created the T-Alpha virus. I merged the Progenitor virus with a T-Virus infected NE-Alpha parasite, and the results were shocking indeed…"
"It seems I've been away too long…" Enver commented. "The T-, G- and Progenitor viruses I know about, but T-Alpha? Care to explain how it worked?" He asked. "Are you trying to say that, by some marvel, the T-virus actually merge the NE-Alpha parasite? How is that even possible? You would need a host who has immunity to the T-virus to administer the parasite."
"And a host I have… Obtained her a few days ago, right before the RAPT disaster." Wesker smirked, snapping his fingers. On command, the large computer screen behind them lit up, and his smirk grew when he heard Enver gasp. Slowly, he turned around, savouring his subordinate's expression as his eyes fell on the photo of the sleeping young girl, white hair neatly splayed out behind her as the tattoo on her right shoulder, creeping down to her wrist and onto her cheek, glowed a sickly green hue as the veins on her face, chest and shoulders stood clearly visible, almost black under her milky skin. Speechless, Enver turned to face him.
"Is… Is that…" He gazed back at the screen. "M-Maria? B-But how…?"
"I have my ways and means, Enver." Wesker grinned as he once again turned back to the containment room. "Maria, much like Jo, is one-hundred percent immune to the T-virus. As you see, she had to be rendered unconscious in order for it to survive her abnormal metabolism, otherwise she'd have worked it out of her system as if it were a common cold. So I took advantage of this; I injected an overdose of T-virus strains into her body, and afterwards inserted an NE-Alpha parasite into her. While most hosts of this parasite would inevitably die within twenty minutes, it seems the T-Virus, mixed with her superior cells and DNA as a Genocide Angel, managed to decompose the parasite completely. I extracted this new strain from her, and injected it into some… unsuspecting hosts. The results, as I expected, were to be marvelled."
"So, using the old T-Virus in conjunction with Maria's DNA, you created a new T-virus…" Enver pondered. "Merging it with the NE-parasite, no less… It seems this one would be even more potent than William Birkin's G-virus…" He pondered.
"Actually, this was the one thing the G-virus lacked…" Wesker said smugly. "Hosts of the G-virus would mutate constantly, inevitably ending up a blob of messy entrails because of the constant adaption their body would have to perform. This virus, however, takes after the NE-parasite slightly. This one executes the exact same function of the NE-parasite, but only to a different extent."
"Wait…" Enver sighed as he thought about Wesker's information. "Seeing as the NE-Alpha parasite renders a person highly susceptible to control or suggestion, won't it do the same to a specimen's cells, as the T-Virus inserts it's genetic coding into any cell it makes contact with. Seeing as parts of the NE-Alpha parasite are still present in this new strain, that would result in… Controllable cells?" He asked, perplexed at the functions of this new virus.
"Not controllable, Enver…" Wesker grinned as he turned to face his subordinate, the fires of his ambitions burning brighter than even behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses. "It creates adaptable cells." He said darkly, smirking sinisterly. "Infusible cells…" He grinned maniacally. "Imagine the possibilities, Enver… Imagine a breed of human that held the neo-genetic structure capable of merging, fusing with any viral strain we develop, and in so doing, supplying said strain with a worthy host!"
"You mean a host that won't turn zombie when the T-virus injects…" Enver nodded, excitement growing on his dark face. "One that won't turn into a pile of blob when the G-virus enters their system, and one who won't lose it and mutate upon receiving a dose of the Progenitor Virus…" He grinned. "A host that won't…"
"That won't die upon receiving Uroboros…" Wesker grinned. "Think of what could happen, Enver; think of an Uroboros recipient accepting both the T- and G-viruses, as well as the Progenitor virus, to up the evolution even higher…"
"So this is what you were doing…"Enver chuckled. "Adjusting your plans of godhood to even further extents… This is miraculous, Albert… I see the genius here; if there are too little who are worthy of Uroboros, then you make them worthy…" He grinned. "This T-Alpha virus is gold… Your ideals shall soon see life…"
"Hopefully, Enver…" Wesker grinned as he turned back to the large room, where more orderlies were slowly streaming through the doors as more and more girls woke from their induced slumber, whining and moaning as the narcotics left them dazed. "Hopefully. While the T-Alpha strain's rate of death is considerably lower than that of Uroboros, it is still reasonably high… And looking at how many of these fine specimens were desecrated by the criminal way of life in this land, I doubt many will live through it…" He said as he fully turned around and started to the door. "Have the orderlies ready the specimens for administration. I will go engineer the majority of possible vaccines into the virus while they prepare them."
"Trying to prevent any crippling sicknesses, I see…" Enver grinned. "Of course, that is a necessity… We cannot have a subject 'fuse' with the common cold and have it affect their performance… That would be horrifying…"
"Exactly." Wesker nodded as he pushed his sunglasses back with one finger. "In the meantime, I want you to personally oversee inspection of the specimens. Some of those girls, like Meg, are still rather young… And I don't trust the feeble orderlies this country can procure to keep their hands to themselves." He said sourly.
"How long will we need to keep them under narcosis once they are secured?" Enver asked as he drew a long, golden combat knife from his belt. "The longer you take, the more fun I can have with the delinquents who try to touch the specimens…"
"Keep them under narcosis for about an hour and a half after they've been fed." Wesker said as he quickly punched in the code to open the blast doors.
"When they wake up afterwards… We inject."
"Sei! Jo! Oi! Over here!" Sei cringed slightly when she heard Takane's thickly accented voice disrupt the general peace and silence that reigned over the lavish restaurant. Several disgruntled customers, easily recognised from society's higher classes by the way they looked at Jo's rather casual outfit, sneered and frowned at them when they realized the loudmouthed girl was one of their accomplices.
"They had to pick one of these places…" Sei groaned softly when she saw the customers turned their noses up at the fact that Jo, who had opted to stay in her normal attire, was flaunting the dress code such a luxurious restaurant normally sported. Slowly, she tried to look away from the predatory gazes the other customers were shooting at them, and quickly led Jo and Amy to the table where Takane was waving madly at them, ignoring the multitude of bandages over her arms and shoulders as excitement dominated. Leo still looked worse for the wear, slumped forward over the table, with a patch of gauze over his left eye, and a sling around his arm, with several bandages pushing against the tuxedo he wore. He seemed to be asleep.
"C'mon, guys, take a seat!" Takane ushered them with an excited whisper. "Jus' wait 'til you guys hear the titbit I got for you…" She grinned as the three sat down, Sei taking a bit longer as she smoothed out the elegant dress she wore. "Y'know that chick who called you guys, Jill Valentine?" Takane said softly, grinning widely as she looked at the three. "Now, she looks, moves and fights like a chick in her late thirties… Guess how old she really is…" She grinned.
"Early forties?" Sei guessed with a shrug. "Possibly mid-forties or late forties…"
"Nope!" Takane chuckled as she leaned forward. "Get this… She's seventy-one!" This caught everyone's attention causing them to stare at her with wide eyes and slack jaws. Even Jo raised a brow at the story. "It's true!" Takane grinned. "She was born in 1974 - apparently she was one of Umbrella's partners' playthings for a while, that's why she ages so slowly." She giggled. "Imagine that… If anyone knows who took Meg, it's her… She got the wrinkles to prove it!"
"Is that so?"
Takane immediately fell silent and shot back against her chair as a woman clad in casual wear entered the small booth. The woman smiled at Sei and her companions, removing the blue cap that covered her auburn locks, which were tied into a ponytail behind her head as she sat down. The lavish light reflected off her black leather jacket, and complemented the white tube top she wore, as well as the beige straps of her small backpack. Her dark jean hugged her hips tightly as she crossed her legs under the table, and she scanned the three visitors with a timid smile as she glanced at Takane. "You should know better than to gossip, Takane. You are a police child, after all…" She nodded at Takane, who only forced a laugh and scratched the back of her head in embarrassment. "I'm Jill Valentine." She said, extending her hand over the table to shake Sei's. "I'm sorry we're a bit late - we ran into some trouble at our Japan branch, and our 'CEO' will be a bit late because of it." She said apologetically as she shook Amy's hand. Jo simply stared at her blankly, and it seemed that Jill already knew attempting to greet her would be futile, as she didn't bother to try and shake Jo's hand.
"We're grateful that you offered us your help." Sei suddenly spoke with a polite voice. "We thought our search would go on for days, but then you called. It's clear you know a lot more about these people than we do."
"Thus we tried to help." Jill nodded. "Now, our CEO will explain the majority of the details once he arrives with the others. Until then, he told me to tide you over with as much information on the soldiers as we could gather." She said, quickly fidgeting with her backpack as she procured a large dossier from its folds, sliding over to Sei as she dropped the backpack next to the chair. "The group who took Meg is known as HCF, or the Host Containment Force. They were normally a former Umbrella researcher-turned-bio-weapon's personal taskforce, until said man died in Africa in 2009. Now they're under the command of one Enver Brandt, a skilled commando, as well as yet another bio-weapon, though, no-one knows what he's capable of."
Sei carefully opened the dossier, her eyes first falling on the picture of the large, muscular African man standing there; staring into the distance, away from the camera has his thick dreadlocks swayed in the wind. The first detail Sei took in was the fierce expression on his face, one of malice, hatred and murderous intent. Secondly, she knitted her brow when she saw the man's eyes, nothing but two orbs of white, devoid of pupils or irises. Lastly, she saw how muscular he was, clad in a black sweatshirt and a dark pair of cargo pants. "That's him." Jill said as Sei passed the photo to Jo. "Enver Brandt. He's a former Sierra Leone death squad officer, who turned commando after the violence there ended in 2033, over twelve years ago. Afterwards he disappeared for a while, only for his name to pop up during several Missing Persons investigations. Afterwards, he made a huge political splash when he started to sell versions of Umbrella's B. to criminal organisations, in a bid for funding. Now we know that funding was used to rebuild H.C.F."
"And H.C.F sent those things to take Meg?" Jo asked, glaring at Jill. "What were they? They were anything but human."
"True, the white blood gives that away." Jill smiled. "Those soldiers are known as 'synthetics' - they're an artificial brand of combatant, procured by H.C.F, by infusing a steel, cybernetic endoskeleton with a mix of a pasty, sticky mesh similar to rubber, and several other biodegradables. Lastly, they add a few mechanisms into the body, like eyes and a voice transmitter, and a chip inside their heads, and presto. A loyal, smart henchman who can think on the fly, depending on the parameters programmed into them."
"But what does H.C.F want with Meg?" Sei asked with a confused expression as she sifted through the files. "Meg is… by all manners of speaking, a normal girl. What good would she be to a bio-weapon?" She asked. "I mean, she's mostly dependant on Jo. Why didn't they go for her instead?"
"Uroboros."
Sei quickly turned her head to the entrance of the booth when she saw Jill smile at hearing the voice, and Jo, Amy and Takane followed suit shortly after. Their eyes fell upon an elderly gentleman, clad in formal wear as he stood with his arms crossed. Even with the greying hair and the wizened face, the man still looked like a capable person - his body structure was still slightly muscular under the tuxedo, and he still stood at a considerable height, though his slightly raspy voice gave his age away. Three other people stood behind him as he glanced at Jill and smiled, before wholly entering the booth. "Name's Chris Redfield." He said as he shook Sei and Amy by the hand. As he turned to try and greet Jo, Jill simply waved his attempt away and beckoned him to sit. "I'm the current director of the Bioterrorism Security Assessment Alliance, or B.S.A.A, as you know it." He said as he glanced at the dossier Sei was handling. "We chose the meeting time to be this early because we know this might take some time, depending on how patient you'll be while we attempt to save your friend."
He then turned to the three people who came with him, each of them very aged, but still healthy-looking. He motioned to the first person, a small, tanned woman. "This is Sheva Alomar. She worked with me as a B.S.A.A operative during 2009, in West Africa's Kijuju region. Behind her," He pointed at a taller, darker-skinned man who seemed to be aging for the worse, facially speaking. "Is Josh Stone, another B.S.A.A operative from Africa. And lastly," he pointed to a slightly young-looking man, streaks of blonde still evident in his greying hair. "We have Leon S. Kennedy. He joined the B.S.A.A in 2010, after a stint as a government agent." Chris then turned back to the three girls. "I won't beat around the bush; each of us here has extensive experience in biological warfare, built up through years of combating Umbrella B.. It will take a while before we can strike at H.C.F on the airfield, but until then I think it's best that you are told as much as possible about them, and the history of Umbrella and its associates."
"What was that word you said?" Jo asked suddenly, hardly bothering to sound the least bit polite or grateful after hearing she would have to wait. "Uroboros… What was that?"
"Uroboros…" Sheva, the tanned woman, suddenly spoke up, "is what we believe to be the main reasoning behind the kidnapping of not only Meg, but two-hundred and ninety-nine other youngsters here in Japan." She said gravely. "We believe Enver Brandt has recovered an old sample of it, and is intending to modify it to his will."
"It was a virus that would've been used to bring about the forced evolution of mankind." Chris said sadly. "Back when I was a lot younger, I was an inhabitant of Raccoon City, as was Jill. Our Special Forces team leader, Albert Wesker, betrayed us during one of our missions, injecting himself with a viral strain that was supposed to render him superhuman. It backfired, however, and he was killed by a B.O.W." He frowned. "But we were wrong. Wesker was alive, and we ran into him again at the place of one the outbreaks, the Antarctic Research Facility, a couple of years later. There we saw exactly what happened to him. We failed to beat him then, and we kept searching for him afterwards. Then we got a tip-off from a reliable source of Umbrella's remaining founder, Ozwell Spencer, in his European Estate. When we got there, however…"
"Wesker got there before us, and killed Spencer." Jill said with a slight hint of anger on her face. "He used his new powers and easily beat us, and almost killed Chris. That's when I decided to take advantage of his carelessness. I dove into him, tackling him out of the window in a bid to kill him." She sighed as sorrow flashed in her eyes. "It didn't. Both of us survived… and he used me as one of his toys. In the end I find out I was one of the main elements in the creation of the Uroboros virus… Ironic, that I was used for something I fought to stop…"
"But Wesker's dead now." The man named Leon Kennedy finally spoke up. "Chris and Sheva blew him up in volcano in 2009, there's no way he's coming back, and this whole Uroboros ordeal ended after that. TriCell got nailed for partnering with Wesker, a B.S.A.A agent took over the reins, world's safe. For now, at least. As heartless as this may sound, what we need to focus on now, especially with a Genocide Angel like Jo on our side, is how we're gonna go to work on the airport with all those H.C.F synthetics there."
"Leon's right." Josh Stone nodded in agreement, speaking for the first time. "We shouldn't get lost in the past and forget about the future - if Brandt leaves Japan, we're screwed, as we have no idea where he's going. Add to that the multitude of B.O.W's he might have, and we are in for a tough time."
"I don't care what's in my way." Jo suddenly spoke up. "I don't care how many men armed with how many guns you want to send in. I don't care about any bio-weapons, and I sure as hell don't care about Enver Brandt. All I care about is getting Meg back - and I'll kill anyone who gets in my way of doing that."
"Then save those bullets for when we attack." Jill said. "I promise you, as soon as we get there you can go looking for Meg, we won't stop you." She looked at Jo sincerely, an almost pleading look on her face. "But you already had a tough time dealing with eleven of them - there are bound to be hundreds on that airstrip, all armed to the teeth. Please, Jo… Help us get rid of them, and we'll help you find Meg. One hand washes the other." She sighed. "Without your help we won't have a chance. There are too few of us to kill them all, and there are too many of them for you to fight alone, not to mention the bio-weapons you'll have to face. Heaven knows what you'll do if you cross paths with a Reaper…" She said.
"Trust us when we say that a mass of such experiments in one place is a pain in the ass." Leon said as he locked eyes with Jill. "I went to Spain once, in 2003, and I nearly lost my life numerous times because of all the monsters there. Even the villagers had turned into mindless animals, Jo. There are certain monsters that cannot be killed simply by shooting at them. Hell, I fought one who took a rocket to the face and shrugged it off, waving its finger at me afterwards before royally kicking my ass, quite literally, at that." He scowled, averting his gaze, as he seemed to reminisce.
"And we fought certain variants of what happened when Uroboros goes wrong." Sheva spoke up, drawing Jo's attention to her. "No matter the situation, there was no way we could've fought them man alone - you need a partner to take them down, and none of us are able bodied enough to be that partner."
Jo stared at Sheva for a while, narrowing her eyes slightly as she went through all of the pleas she received within her mind. The synthetics, in her own opinion, were hardly an obstacle; she disposed of the previous ones easily. The other things they mentioned, "B.O.W's", perplexed her greatly. She had never heard of something shrugging off a blast from a rocket and proceeding to attack afterwards unless it had some similarities to a cybot - something the word, 'organic', told her was not so. Then there was Uroboros. If I need a partner to take one down, it's gonna be a hassle to get past them… She pondered as she averted her gaze, slightly furrowing her brow as she thought. Guess I have no choice…
"Fine." She said curtly, glaring at Chris. "I'll help you kill the synthetics. But I have some requests if I do." She said. Chris nodded contently, and Sheva, Josh and Leon shrugged, seeing no reason to object. "First, I don't want any bullshit from your men. I don't want them fooling around or cracking jokes - that'll just delay Meg's rescue even more." She said. "Secondly, I need some more ammo for my guns. Mine's running low." She looked to each of the four elder operatives, and saw each of them nod again. "And lastly, I want your men to leave Enver Brandt alone if he's near Meg. If he as much as touches her, I'll kill him myself."
"Why did I see that coming?" Jill chuckled. "Of course you can have Brandt for yourself; he's low priority to us on this one. The missing persons are more important than his ambitions." She smiled. "And, of course, Meg is the most important of said persons." She added quickly.
"So that's settled then?" Chris asked Jo. "You'll help us here, with fighting H.C.F?" He seemed almost surprised at how easily Jo had made up her mind. Sei repressed a slight grin at this - she knew he must have heard of Jo's stubbornness somewhere…
"Yes…" Jo nodded. "I'll help. But only with the synthetics." She warned. "After that, any non-Uroboros monster is your troubles, not mine. I don't care what else they send after me - I'll kill anything that comes in my way."
"Spoken exactly like the headstrong girl we were informed of." Josh nodded with a smile. "You'll find the B.S.A.A has more than you need to help you in that. We have stockpiles of weapons ranging from assault rifles to sniper rifles, and Leon here has a… a 'contact' who can organize you some rather potent custom material." He smiled. "Last I checked, he had some very impressive gadgets…"
Jo was a tad shocked at the sudden hospitality. Here they were basically offering her access to an armoury - and a black-market supplier, if the word 'contact' was any indication. To her, this seemed like more than just some simple coup hunting a madman. These people seemed to want to help her, even with her hostility towards them. Lowering her head slightly, she slowly slumped back into her seat. "Thanks…" She muttered curtly, allowing her fringe to cover her eyes.
"Well then…" Chris smiled as the waiter approached. "We have much to do. We need to plan the attack, organise the teams, and enlighten everyone on H.C.F in more detail." He spoke. "We also need to get you all prepped and ready to fight any B.O.W's we come across - I'd hate for you guys to come across more Majini lookalikes…" He muttered. "We got some nasty surprises from those guys…"
"But as always…" Jill cut him off with a smirk. "Chris is planning too far ahead. Something that's become common after the Africa incident…" She chided him playfully, to which Chris only shrugged. "As dark a time as this is, I think there's a possibility to shed some rather positive light on this evening." She said, smiling to each of them as she beckoned the waiter to enter the room.
"I do believe we have a new alliance to celebrate…"
The harsh, helpless feeling of numbness quickly shook Meg from her daze, and she uttered a loud, slurred yelp as the orderlies hastily tied her to the operating table. Her vision was still blurry after being shaken from her sleep by these men, and her hearing still was not up to scratch, seeing as the loud machinery around the table hardly echoed softly in her ears. The feeling of the orderlies' strong hands hardly registered to her, her body still numbed after her long sleep, and even the tight, constricting shackles that were being tied around her wrists and ankles stung her skin only slightly. She felt a reverberation rock through her body as they forcefully slammed her back onto the table, but she hardly felt a thing. Lazily, she saw one of the orderlies rush over to a keyboard, punching in a code as his fingers blurred across the keypad. Even in her stupor, she still screamed when several more shackles extended from the table itself, clamping her body to the table with such force and constriction that she could hardly flex her fingers. A man in a white lab coat suddenly entered the room, carrying what appeared to be a high-tech version of a ball-gag, while another entered shortly after, carrying a steel briefcase, and scurried over to one of the large, shiny tables. The operating table she was bound to suddenly started rise, tipping forward so it could stand at a rather sharp angle, all the while carrying her frail body along with it. She tried to protest when the first doctor came to apply the ball-gag, but found herself unable to do so - her body simply refused to cooperate.
The doctor slowly loomed over her, gag at the ready, drawing several loud sighs from her, a poor attempt to scream. Then she glanced at the doctor -and her attempts to scream died out immediately. She could easily see the stress on the aged man's features, picking up on severe lack of sleep by glancing at the dark rings around his eyes, and finally, she met his eyes, only to repress a gasp. The way the man's eyes danced filled her head with images of her past. The look within the doctor's eyes was the same look Jo had in hers whenever Meg got herself kidnapped - a look of fear. "I-I'm so sorry…" The doctor whimpered under his mask. "H-He… Has my family…" His eyes started to tear up, and he quickly closed them as he brought the gag closer. "P-Please… Forgive me…"
Only then, in the process of feeling the obscenely large ball shoved into her mouth, did she notice the other doctor - as well as the glint of a syringe's needle shining in the overhead lights, and before she knew it, she felt a slight pin prick in her arm. She shook slightly as the burning sensation spread throughout her body, and within a moment, the numbness was gone. "A-Apply the apparatuses!" She heard the first doctor call shakily at his subordinates, who hurried toward Meg with what seemed like bolt-on frames for most of the shackles. With all her energy returned, she screamed against the gag with all her might, futilely attempting to move her constricted body, to no avail - the shackles hardly allowed her to twitch her head. Then her eyes met a sight she found very familiar - the blonde hair, the black shades, the dark attire; all of them complementing the one image she recalled almost instantly: The man who kidnapped her, standing right there in front of her, smirking darkly as he watched her squirm.
"It's your turn, Meg…" He said sinisterly. "I believe I… neglected to properly introduce myself last time. I do beg your pardon for that." He glared at her from under his sunglasses, making her break into a cold sweat as a wave of discomfort swept over her. "My name is Albert Wesker." He smirked. "And I shall soon be your new God…"
As if on cue, a mess of thin, writhing mechanical arms extended around the operating table, each one tipped with a box that rotated around the axis at the very end of the arm, and each box tipped with a vial of sickly green gunk that served only to send more shivers down Meg's spine. Wesker snapped his fingers once, and the two doctors immediately started working their magic upon the consoles they sat behind. A buzz of electricity coursed through the multitude of wires running down each arm, connecting to the small boxes, mostly at the area where the vials met the black, plastic material. Several of the doctors' subordinates quickly hopped forward, sweating profusely as they pulled each box off an individual arm - twenty-two arms, Meg fearfully counted as the orderlies set to work, turning their guilt-ridden faces away from her sheer look of terror once what was under each box lay exposed.
Syringe needles - each one as thick as a small seed, and each measuring about a foot, maybe less. Meg couldn't even register how quickly the waves of panic swept over her body - she only felt her heart start to beat so rapidly that it hurt, her cold sweat running down her face and scantily-clad body, making it glisten in the fluorescent lighting, and the many tremors that shook through her body at the sight of the looming needles. She did her best to calm herself, even turning her gaze away from the threat altogether, in a bid to face her captor. Her eyes widened when she saw the first doctor stalk over to Wesker, openly crying as he tore his mask off. "P-Please…" He begged the sinister man. "M-My family… Please release my f-family…"
"Oh? Didn't I tell you?" Wesker asked nonchalantly, face contorting into a wicked mask as his lips twitched upward into an almost evil grin. At this moment, Meg's adrenaline kicked in, and she could almost swear she felt the world slow down around her - just in time to see Wesker raise his arm, straighten his palm - and drive it clean through the doctor's chest.
SPLAT!
Meg jerked, tears flowing freely, mixing with the droplets of blood spattered across her face as the doctor gasped at Wesker, blood streaming from his mouth as he stared at the black-clad man, eyes wide and dimming. "Your family…" Wesker sneered. "Has been dead for the past four years… Just as you will be soon…" He violently tugged his hand from the dying doctor's chest. "Did you not realize that you cannot trust me?" He frowned as the doctor uttered his last breath, life leaving his eyes as they fluttered closed. "Once again…" Wesker furrowed his brow. "I am surrounded by incompetence…" He said as he locked eyes with Meg, chuckling as he saw the pale shade of white the girl's face had taken on. "Oops… Did I scare you?" He grinned. "Good. If you refuse to obey willingly, as you said you would, then I shall use fear instead. At least, until you become my little puppet… Then you'll follow me, regardless of your will." Fixing Meg one last glance before turning his back, he quickly looked to the remaining doctor, trembling behind the console with his finger hovering over a large, red switch. He chuckled darkly as he turned his back on Meg, intently listening as he signalled to the doctor with a simple gesture. "Inject her."
His lips split into a cruel grin as he heard the needles pierce flesh, muscle and bone alike with a sickening crunch, followed by a scream of agony so loud that even the steel ball-gag could not restrain it. The high pitched shriek echoed off the very walls, travelling through the entire complex as the sickly green liquid slowly, painfully made its way into the young girl's body. Yes… Scream. Wesker thought evilly as he strolled down the corridor. Show me that ferocity with which you will fight… Show me… He grinned as he broke into a fit of dark laughter. Show me the latent power with which you will ultimately kill the Genocide Angel!
It hurts… Oh god, it hurts!
Meg didn't know where she was anymore - she couldn't even focus for a second. The cold steel of the thick syringe needles felt as if it were searing away at her flesh, emitting a wave of cold painful enough to turn her vision to pure crimson as it spread across her skull. She could literally feel the green gunk tearing her apart from the inside, feel it push outward from inside as her body shook so violently that some of the shackles came loose. Several bright flashes pierced the red haze clouding her vision, and she saw the steel above her act as a mirror. Even through all her immense pain, she could see the deathly white hue her skin had taken on, and saw that her mouth was so far open as she screamed that there were gaps above and below the gag, allowing her own ear-bursting shrieks to deafen her. She felt the movements, the rips and the tears within her body begin to worsen, growing more frequent as her scream grew louder. Several more flashes of red within her vision passed, and her eyes met those of the reflection, seeing a macabre black liquid run through her veins, causing them to pop under her pale skin as pools of black started to take over her once blue eyes. Just then she saw the blood leak from her mouth, pooling around the gag as her vision turned crimson again, only for it to start fading as her scream grew softer, deafening as the blackness came, relieving her of her pain as the last grains of her consciousness slipped away.
Jo jerked slightly as the wolf-whistle met her ears. She stood waiting outside while Sei, Jill and the rest of the B.S.A.A quickly left for the bathroom or went to settle the bill, thus escaping from the maddening noise within the restaurant. Inhaling deeply, she shrugged the odd whistle off as she felt the cool, midnight wind brush past her face as it howled past the buildings. Then the whistle came again - and again, and again, and again, serving only to fuel her already building anger as her left eye twitched. With a slight huff, she placed her hand on the grip of her gun and briskly strode in the direction of the whistle. Every now and then, it would sound again, almost guiding her to a place where something odd would happen. Jo frowned as it sounded for the umpteenth time. I'm going to shoot this punk… She grit her teeth.
Then it sounded again, right before the entrance to a long, dark alleyway, drifting from the darkness as it assaulted her ears, causing her to frown in agitation. Angrily, she set off down the alleyway, drawing both of her guns as her left eye twitched in annoyance yet again. Then something caught her eye - an weird, dim blue light shining from one of the large crevices within the alleyway, splaying an oddly soothing glow across the dark walls. Cautiously, she approached the source of the light, moving as silently as possible, narrowing her eyes as she crept closer.
"Ya don't hafta worry about fightin', strangah…" Her eyes widened as the gruff voice, slightly muffled and carrying an odd Cockney accent, drifted from the shadows. "I'm simply a good salesman, nothin' more." Jo pondered this for a moment, before nodding to herself and stepping into the crevice, her guns still in her hands. Her eyes immediately fell upon the obscenely long chalice standing against the wall, a brilliant blue flame flickering atop it in an almost mesmerizing cerulean display. Then her eyes fell upon the slightly hunched man, whose body was almost entirely obscured by the black longcoat he wore, propped hood hiding his face in shadow, exposing only a dark blue bandana covering his mouth. "Welcome." He said with a chuckle. "I heard some strangahs in 'ere talkin' bout assaultin' H.C.F. That wouldin be you wit' the guns, wouldit?" He asked, maintaining his slouched stature, with his arms crossed over his chest. Jo studied the man painstakingly, frowning slightly when she could not make out any of the man's face, but she nodded nonetheless, lowering her guns slightly. "Well then, have I got a surprise fah you…" He grinned, pulling open his longcoat.
Even Jo was stunned at what she saw, so much so that her arms fell to her sides, hands limply clinging to her guns as she stared at the toyshop assortment of weapons and ammunition stored in the many folds of the man's coat, ranging from custom handguns to antique Magnum revolvers and, although impossible, a rocket launcher stashed between the boxes, belts and cartridges of bullets. "Take yah pick, strangah." The man grinned. "This one's on the house."
"Oh, great." Sei sighed as she and Amy accompanied Chris and his companions out of the Rosso Angelos. "Jo's gone missing again…" She said dryly as she eyed the empty streets. "This is just brilliant." Chris glanced in every direction, perplexed at how the gunslinger had suddenly disappeared. He quickly turned to face his companions.
"Hey guys, have you…" He fell silent as his eyes fell only on Jill, Sheva and Josh. "Okay, where the hell has Leon gone?"
"Hahaha! Strangah…" The salesman laughed heartily as he handed Jo the obscenely large revolver, almost as bulky as a Cybot's arm. He saw Jo carefully examine the gun in her hands, frowning when she saw room for only three bullets in its bus. "Now what wouldya need a gun like that foh?" He asked her with a chuckle. "There any cybots ya need t' put down with one shot? That gun'll do it for ya…" He laughed. "It ain't called a 'Hand Cannon' for nuthin', y'know…"
"I'll take it." Jo said with a nod. "I might need this, where I'm going…" She said, mumbling a silent 'thanks' to the salesman as she took the holster for the big revolver and clipped it to her belt, quickly slipping the revolver into place as she did so. A slight rustle from before her drew her attention again, and she saw the salesman dig three large boxes of ammo, disguised as shoeboxes, from his backpack.
"Ya'll need these, strangah." He chuckled. "These here are .721 SafeBreaker rounds - the only type o' ammo that there Hand Cannon uses. Guaranteed to break clean through a bank safe - behind a bunker. Underground. From th' top of a skyscrapah." He laughed heartily. "Though I suggest ya fire slightly from th' hip, in case it slips from yah grasp. If that happens… I ain't payin' for any spine operations, strangah." He warned, bowing slightly as he bade her farewell with a wave. "I believe yah friends are searchin' for yah, strangah." He chuckled. "Come back anytime, should yah need more… equipment." He grinned under his bandana. "The Merchant always has what yah want."
Jo nodded curtly, trying to get used to the extra twenty pounds of death the large revolver added to her weight, and spun on her heel, starting down the alleyway once again, walking briskly to catch up with her comrades. "Jus' a word of advice though, strangah." The Merchant called, making her stop and crane her head around slightly. The blue hue of the flame was still visible, but the Merchant himself was outside her field of view. "Don' try to shoot that tankbustah with one hand - it packs a bit too much punch for that to work." He said, and Jo quickly registered two red dots under the Merchant's hood. "'Specially for a 'Genocide Angel'…" He laughed. Jo's eyes widened immediately, and she swung around on the spot, aiming her handgun where the Merchant once stood.
"…Huh?" Jo found herself dumbfounded when she saw there was nothing - not even an empty shell casing or a burn mark from the flames - where the merchant once stood. The only trace of movement was a slight flutter as a rogue piece of paper blew into the sky, leaving only the faint echo of the Merchant's voice drifting through the alley. "Enjoy yah new gun… strangah…"
"I see you made a new friend."
Jo stopped in her tracks as she neared the alley's entrance, turning her already confused, slightly agitated gaze up. She recognised the man from the restaurant - one of the B.S.A.A agents, Leon Kennedy. He smirked as he leaned against the wall, turning his gaze from her heated glare to bag of shoeboxes in her hand. "And you got some new 'accessories' too…" He chuckled. "I take it you got some new gear as well?"
"I'm never going near him again." Jo said dryly as she and Leon exited the alley and started down the street. "He's annoying. And he called me stranger. And 'Genocide Angel'." She frowned. "I hate that name…" She growled. "Why did you tell him?"
"What are you talking about?" Leon asked with a chuckle. "You've got the stick by the wrong end, Jo." He smirked, confusing the gunslinger even more. Leon stopped and turned to face her, a look of amusement on his face, but she could tell he was serious. "I didn't tell him you're a Genocide Angel. No-one did." He smiled, seeing Jo's eyes widen slightly.
"But… Then how…?"
"He's the Merchant." Leon smiled with a shrug. "He just knows this stuff…" As if on cue, Jo caught site of the longcoat-clad man again, this time seeing his two glowing, red irises in clear detail as he stood across the street, at the entrance to one of the parks. Then, with an almighty roar, a large bus passed them - and as she looked again, the Merchant was gone.
Darkness seemed to seep from each crevice of the room as the two looming figures stood over the containment unit, the bright light within it the only source of illumination on the entire sub-level. The brilliant white light cast a magnificent hue upon the skin of the girl sleeping within the unit's confines, comfortable covered by a few white sheets as the numerous monitors connected to her body, some sticking onto her shoulders and chest, disappearing under the sheets as others snaked between the girl's snow white locks, coming to rest on her temples as she breathed calmly, chest rising and falling rhythmically.
"Seems the T-Alpha virus has paid off…" Enver smirked, the white light casting a lighter hue upon his African skin as his dreadlocks glistened in the incandescence. "Specimen 300Z12 was the only survivor of the T-Alpha injection - the rest were either melted from the inside out, or blew up." He said. "Pair this with your twenty-seven percent survival rate from the Americans, the eleven percent survival rate from Europe and the fifteen percent survival rate from Africa, and you have just proved that the T-Alpha virus is a success." He grinned.
"Finally…" Wesker grinned as he punched a code into the unit, the lambency from the fluorescent lights sinisterly dancing on his black attire as the glass screen quickly withdrew into the unit itself, allowing him to reach a hand into it. "After all these years of failure, I have finally found my answer." He said as he stroked the girl by the chin. "Meg… You truly could be my greatest achievement yet…" He grinned as he used his two fingers to pull her eye open, revealing a dancing silver pupil, in the middle of a pitch-dark iris. "Oh, how I wish I could see the look on Jo's face when she sees what perfection I have elevated you to…" He smirked. "Soon, Enver…" He spoke to his dark-skinned subordinate. "Soon we shall inject her with Uroboros… Soon we shall achieve a specimen worthy to walk this planet under my rule… A new breed of superhuman altogether…"
"Much like the Genocide Angels were meant to be?" Enver asked, eyeing the now white-haired Meg as she slept peacefully. "Only with less flaws?"
"No…" Wesker grinned. "A Genocide Angel cannot dream to achieve what I plan to bestow upon Meg… She will be no mere angel, Enver. She will be exactly like you; my elite servants, the most powerful of my new genesis." He grinned.
"Just like you, Enver… She shall be one of my Archangels!"
A/N: And thusly, we draw to the inevitable close on this chapter. I would, once again, like to extend a personal word of thanks to Cloverfield for beta-reading this chapter for me. Honestly, half of the quality of this chapter comes from her treasure-troves of knowledge, and as such, she has been invaluable to me as an editor. You have my humblest gratitude, Clove - you're one in a million.
Well, that's that, and no harm done - At least, I pray not. I subscribe there is not much more to say - so until th next chapter, I bid all of you farewell.
'Til next time,
CP