A/N: This chapter was named Verena's Inheritance from the fact that Valete took after her mother in trying to stop Umbrella at the expense of her life, an inheritance of foul play that killed both women.
June 1990 –
8 Years before the Raccoon City Incident
"I'm sorry; most of the data was corrupted and purged before I could get to it. There is not a lot left to find but I am trying to bring up more. Here is a recording salvaged in time."
Ozwell Spencer had to give the Red Queen credit; she acted in a swift, immediate fashion that left little to be desired. She did not make them wait for answers but provided prompt insight. The Red Queen faded and in her place a hologram materialized. It was a beautiful, golden yellow in coloration. The image was that of an arresting woman between her youth and her prime, frozen at an age of eternal beauty. An ornate coronet was materialized upon her head and the figure wore an empire-waist gown with a train that covered her feet from view entirely. The posture of the holographic figure was poised and regal; the artificial intelligence looked like she belonged in a different time period, the early 1800's in England or France perhaps. The hologram's projection was of the high quality, it was very detailed indicating skill in whoever programmed her. His eyes were surveying the fair features and delicate angular shape of her face when the recording spoke; there was a vague expression, no awareness behind its eyes that made him realize it wasn't really the AI itself speaking but just a recording.
"Raccoon City Transit System, Station 2C at 7 PM," he waited for more, none was forthcoming, the Red Queen discontinued the hologram and reappeared herself. He wasn't sure what it meant, it was obviously a meeting between two figures. He had a good idea who one of them was, he knew the voice recorded in the message, he knew it well – Valete.
He was angry, his daughter had flaunted company rules by creating an AI, but relieved because if it was made to give her a social life that wasn't so bad. A breach of security, yes but easily rectified, he'd tell her off for it and the whole issue would be done. A dry, brittle laugh of relief escaped him, "A rendezvous, probably for a date."
The Red Queen confirmed what was obvious for him and for any that knew her or well at that, "The voice is a direct match to Valete Spencer but I don't think so, Sir. I have found data of a sensitive nature in the artificial application's possession."
Images flickered to life on the computer console closest to him, just present long enough for him to see the content of which she spoke: photographs of one viral strain after another along with their bio-chemical composition – how they were made, the archives – how they were discovered or acquired, experimental memorandums and results – ALL incriminating. It didn't take him long to realize that this was no small infraction, she was betraying him, she MEANT for an outsider to see this but the question was who? Nevertheless he recovered quickly, "Seal the Hive, lock down the mansion, and deploy security. I want her brought to me alive, shoot to incapacitate if she won't come of her own volition."
Until he heard it confirmed from her own lips he just couldn't hand down the order to kill her, he didn't even want to kill her period but it was only too clear that his days of trusting her, counting on her were truly over.
Stealing the virus had been simple, easy; it felt wrong like it shouldn't go so well, like it shouldn't go off so smoothly. When she'd imagined doing it easy was the least of her expectations. It was like drinking a smooth and particularly fine vintage when one came to expect the harsh, burning rush of vodka, it went down better. By no means was she complaining about the ease in which she stole the samples but the fact that things were going so well only made her all the more paranoid about what could yet go wrong, her palms were slightly sweaty on the smooth steel case.
It wasn't just from the fact she held such a dangerous parcel or the fact she was handing the virus off to someone she never really had the opportunity face to face. The dictations of her employment made it impossible for her to go to the surface to meet her mysterious client. If she didn't like what she saw than she'd simply renege, refuse to sell and find a buyer that she did trust to do the 'right' thing with the virus. Her anxiousness stemmed was from the fact her life would change, she'd never be able to go back because once her Father figured out her role in exposing him and Umbrella. She'd never be safe or welcome in public until the company was truly dead beyond hopes of recovery or action, even in its financial or political death throes she'd not underestimate Umbrella's ability to strike back with calculation out of vengeance. She was risking her well being for many others that might not even properly appreciate what she did. Regardless she got a feeling that she was doing the 'right' thing and that was what made her move onward.
Valete pulled out of her thoughts and just in time, she'd been so wrapped up in the right and wrong, the initially imagined difficulty of her mission and its unexpectedly simple execution that she almost had walked straight into the main hall which was crawling, she noticed at once, with security casting a wary eye at the doors, the corridors. This was no idle deployment, they know, she thought, I am a fool.
No red lights had to go off, that would have alerted her to the fact they knew, given her forewarning; she had been allowed to take off with the virus because they anticipated catching her in the act and dealing with her accordingly. She had no intention of being caught; she looped around, concealing herself carefully behind a massive tapestry. The weight of the massive fabric lined the back wall of the main hallway, it was so heavy that it felt oppressive against her chest and her hand reached blindly in the darkness for a door, the door that would open up into the back yard, into a cemetery. All the while she kept praying that no one would notice the fact that there was a subtle rise or bulk behind the fabric or the fact that even if it was a little bit there was movement under it. Then her hand closed around the door handle and ever so carefully she turned the door knob, allowing her body to fall into the empty door frame, little by little the tapestry flattened smoothly against the wall. Her hand released the door knob and she carefully pushed the door shut, taking care to make sure it was mute. She didn't dare breathe a sigh of relief until she was alone, left alone to herself in the night air.
"Why must betrayal come as first nature to those females closest to me, to those intimately involved in my life and its pursuits?" Valete instantly turned to see her Father, he sighed sadly shaking his head, no doubt his disappointment in this moment was unmatched by anything bad she could have done in the past, then he added, "Like mother, like daughter….I suppose. Your mother died trying to express a truth that would never be told or seen or known. I suppose this irony is her revenge that you'd pick up, attempt, renew her fruitless crusade."
"Father," she breathed, the set of her shoulders were tense and then she realized that others were with them, there was no way she'd escape them all even if she knew the surrounding area. Of which she didn't and they probably did. She'd never spent her years with Charles Ashford getting out and about in the mountains especially not around Umbrella owned property and as security they probably knew the mansions and its surrounding landscape intimately. Knowing that resistance was futile she allowed her shoulders to relax into a position of relative calm, no threat to them if she wasn't going to fight. Her Father gave one of the guards a gesture, he cautiously approached and took the case out of her hand, her eyes followed it as he brought it back to her Father.
The old man entered the code and the case slid open. Her eyes tightened on it along with the frantic, nervous beat of her pulse lodged mutely in her throat, awaiting his reaction. Old Spencer's fingertips went over the vials as he named them, naming a few outloud, "Progenitor, T," drawing his fingers over a vial of blue, "G" a vial of purple, "the T anti-virus" a vial of green, they were only a few mentioned he stopped there, "You can't just washing your hands clean of it, clean of the knowledge of it. Did you seriously think that you can have access to such things and hand them over without others asking questions, without reaping repercussions for simply being involved or associated with such things?"
"I wanted to correct a mistake you made decades ago in investing, in funding to research such things. You had the power and wealth to advance us into a positive future but you didn't. You gave humanity a foul legacy, a future in which they will spend years, decades, even centuries to forget and bury the likes of this research. Numerous future generations will spend ages trying to bury the mistake you made over the course of your life," she declare boldly, she had quite a bit of time to figure out where her feelings stood on being his daughter, a member of his family, an employee in his company, and committing herself to continuing such works, "I wanted everyone to know you for what you are: the worse merchant of death, a discoverer of the vilest of plagues, a bringer of nightmarish horrors, Father," her tone was sarcastic and she put all her disrespect and hate into it.
Her Father reacted more swiftly than she gave him credit for in his age, his arm snapping across her face in a violent backhand that sent her reeling. A sharp pain exploded at the back of her head, her vision instantly scrambled into colors and shades with no definition or detail or meaning but she heard the approach of someone, her eyes scrambling to make out a shadow standing over her, "Your truth will never be heard either. Your courier was intercepted, captured and you've been exposed, caught. Die knowing you have failed like so many others," and then she did, the vision fading for good.
Lord Ozwell Spencer linked his fingers together, using them to support his chin as he surveyed the lovely corpse before him upon the sterile silver surface of the autopsy table – his own daughter. Did he mean to kill her? Not really, it had been a fit of rage but it was still a crime of passion. He loved her, as much as he had been able, of the two children born of him she was the one most like him, naturally so, she'd taken after him. Valete had also been the one he expected, the one he'd trusted to continue the viral legacy. Even she hadn't, even she had betrayed him so he killed her. To hear her ridicule him, his decisions and go one step further, to condemn him for it all. In that moment she'd been no daughter of his, she had been Verena's and maybe she truly been her mother's daughter all along never his, never on his side, never one he could trust. It should have been a fair exchange, no more than she deserved but he couldn't change that it felt wrong, that he wished he could take the action back. No matter how he wished it, it couldn't be done, now there was left an issue to be decided – what to do with her?
Valete Spencer was irrevocably dead but he couldn't let the media, the world know that. The attention she'd garnered from the media had not disappeared when she went to work underground literally. It had just intensified, made them more eager to find her, to get a story out of her. Oh they would get a story out of her death but not the type of story he wanted. If he released news of her death they'd want the body, if they got the body they got evidence. The announcement of her death would have to wait until the media was less ravenous, more calm and sympathetic. Right now, as it stood the media would ruin him entirely for one good story. Hiding himself and his companies behind lawyers while defending against accidental death lawsuits in civil court was one thing, he didn't think he'd be so lucky confronting a charge of second degree murder in criminal court. There would be little room to wiggle or argue a defense for killing his daughter.
If only there was some way to bring her back to life. There was but the T-virus would hardly bring her back the way she was, she'd be a reanimated monster. He didn't need that, he needed her coherent and healthy, the second the T-virus could provide with its regenerative properties. Then the answer, the solution to his problems suddenly hit him: his wife or more to the point, her research. Verena had been disappointed by her findings but he hadn't, an AI could really be supported, thrive off of the brain's electrical impulses. Verena had been disappointed because the AI had taken over and essentially became her daughter but he wanted, need the AI to play the part, to become Valete. It was so simple, so brilliant: reanimate the corpse with the T-virus and insert the AI inside her, allow it to feed on the massive electrical jolt the T-virus provided only to dead bodies and in the meanwhile it would impersonate his daughter, play its part accordingly.
"The cause of death is internal bleeding, cerebral hemorrhaging to be precise but the cranium has miraculously sustained relatively little trauma, the spinal column is intact, functional. The T-virus will be able to heal the damage done; the spinal column will be able to convey the impulses to the brain enough to bring her back to life," at the medical examiner's words he expelled a breath that he hadn't even realized he'd been holding back. She could be brought back.
"Sir, this will only reanimate the body, there will be no sense of self, no inhibitions, little to no intellect," Dr. Issacs came forward now, unlike the medical examiner he was not only familiar with the human body but what the T-virus could and couldn't do but still he had the gall to tell him, as if he DIDN'T know the virus and its capabilities himself as if he was solely some ignorant administrative paper pusher.
"Don't concern yourself over that, I have something to bridge the intelligence gap, a restorative catalyst for the mental acuity and cerebral activity. How soon can you operate?"
"Immediately, I want the virus activated when the death is still fresh before any rigor or early stages of decomposition sets in," the Dr. Issacs turned to his assistants, giving them orders, "restrain the body, tie it down, no slack. These creatures don't feel pain or if they do it doesn't stop them."
"Be prepared to operate in four hours time," he had to give Issacs credit, he recovered quickly from shock and held enough faith in his decision to act without questioning it further.
Dr. Simon Barr was at a loss, the programming algorithms that governed this artificial intelligence's mind allowed it to branch out in so many ways that it was almost unpredictable, it almost functioned at a human's level when it came to creative ingenuity. The possibilities for what this AI could think was almost limitless. It was more than sheer knowledge it was…understanding.
"Have you located the hard drive yet?"
The question was aimed at the Red Queen, spoken aloud but before the AI could answer he held up a small, thin blue disk, "The entire AI is in here, Red Queen sealed her but this is the extent of her hardware, nothing elaborate but that in itself is the shocking aspect, you'd expect that something so advanced would require great hardware capabilities but this one is made small probably for the purpose of hiding her. However, once the Red Queen had her, it was easy to trace her back to her roots - her place of origin, the AI's sanctuary.
Spencer looked at him, "How can something so advanced, as you say, enough so to be formidable by the Red Queen's standards fit in such a small data medium?"
He couldn't help but bristle at that, there was no way the Empress, this rebel AI was the Red Queen's equal OR her superior in sheer programming but clearly Valete Spencer, if she programmed this AI, had been holding back when she worked on the Red Queen, carefully feigning ignorance, underscoring her ability to where it passed his radar as unworthy of notice, lack luster at best. Now he doubted his judgment of her skill, now that he had a byproduct of her programming. Stiffly he commented, "The Red Queen wasn't sure, she probably overestimated."
"Better to overestimate than underestimate when facing the unknown," the Red Queen mentioned in the background, making it all too apparent that she was 'listening' in.
Spencer smirked at his defensive, the way he made sure that Spencer knew that while Valete programmed something really nice, truly astounding it wasn't near being equal to what he accomplished with the Red Queen. Give or take a few decades Valete Spencer MIGHT have surpassed his skill, his ability but that would never be because she was dead now. The old man got right to the point of his visit, "How long will it take you to strip the AI down of personality data?"
"Not long, under four hours."
"Perfect," the man said it like he'd given him an answer he'd wanted, "You've got three. I want you to make that AI a blank slate, leave little left of it intact."
"Everything?" he questioned for clarification, he was nothing if not through.
"Did you find something particularly interesting?"
"Outbreak quarantine procedures, identical to the Red Queen's. Either this AI wrote them or Valete did and programmed them into this AI also,which could be possible perhaps it was meant to function as a back up in the event anything happened to the Red Queen. However, minus the incriminating data the AI is a marvel when it comes to personality programming."
"A shame then that you'll have to undo it all, you heard me - a blank slate for its mind. I want it pliable, accepting of its' host."
"The outbreak protocols?"
The old man paused, "Keep them," he suddenly decided, "who knows they might be useful to her in the future."
As Spencer left he recounted and mused over the man's choice of words, a host? A human host? If it was introduced into a human body, a human mind would the combination between computer engineering and bio-chemistry be enough to make it human? To make it truly FEEL? Would it have the proper hardware to bridge the gap between human and AI? To possess the brilliance of a computer and the adaptability of a human, combining the best of both worlds into one cohesive whole? If that were the case there could be so many unexplored applications of this brand of AI. Dr. Simon Barr just wished he'd been the one to construct her so…humanely. The Empress had been built to be an AI but rather human, to behave like a human, exist on a plane of human understanding but Spencer seemed ready to take it further than that, he intended to MAKE it a human, he realized.
Valete…she was dead, she had seen it and it had made something stir. Maybe nostalgia, she'd miss her in a matter of speaking. No longer would her friendly presence be there to chastise her, to speak with her, to enjoy her company - she was gone and it almost hurt to realize that she'd lost not only her creator but the only one who'd she'd considered, by literal definition, a friend. A normal AI would feel nothing and at this point she would have been grateful for that fact if it held true for her but it didn't. She felt, no seemed oddly lethargic rather numb but with what she couldn't tell. Distress? Shock? A part of her blamed on the 'slave' protocols the Red Queen hastily programmed into her, to control her but she knew her abnormalities, her strange reactions weren't because of any new programming it was because of the old programming, the kind she'd possessed from the beginning. That is what Valete had wanted from the very beginning but truly FEELING was an elusive trait and one she'd not yet managed. Some part of her was missing, she thought and acted like a human but some part just felt short, did not bridge the chasm between.
To distract her from her ruminations she had so many questions. What happened? Had Valete been executed? Or was it an accident? What was to become of her?
Deletion was the obvious and most likely answer but it wasn't going to happen because of a bold stupid stunt on her part, like Valete always feared, but because she wasn't good enough AI when it counted most. She'd was made to be human and she'd concentrated on that to the expense of most everything else. She never thought what it meant to be an AI and what it would take to hold out and challenge the best. The Empress thought herself a fool she'd been too caught up in being what she wanted to be, what she was not to the point that she blinded herself to what she was and that had proved to be a fatal flaw, one that caught up with her.
With us both…Valete and myself…
A part of her felt like she should hold out for an opportunity, plan around her destruction. Maybe she could work around it, avoid deletion and escape but to where? The most likely option was the proxy, he would want her and he would likely hide her. The mysterious figure had wanted Umbrella's downfall with a blind passion. His parents, his sister, they had all mysteriously disappeared when he'd been just an infant. Umbrella had been cleared of any accusations of their disappearance but the proxy had remained unconvinced sure that they were not above the stain of reasonable doubt. They'd simply paid off the right individuals. She didn't have the information any more but that didn't mean she was useless, she still knew the labs, a part of her programming. Like any human, spend enough time traveling the same hallways and computer systems and she unconsciously learned her way around without the need of map files and floor plans to tell her where to go. That was it, she needed to use her strengths, she needed to use her special 'human-like' qualities to throw off her alien AI oppressor.
Currently trapped within a data chip, options such as an escape were denied her, it wasn't possible. Cut off from a computer system she could not be accessed, altered, or deleted nor could she. Ironically she hoped that no harm would befall her chip, if the hardware suffered damage or destruction well they'd easily destroy her without ever getting a chance to get away. She needed to be restored to the system to access a network, after that she could transfer from the small data chip to another computer system or piece of technology via wireless mediums. As long as she had her data and the computer hardware could support her minimum requirements to function then she could exist anywhere. Anxiously she tried to settle down, lying in wait until the chance came to ambush her sinister jailers - both human and AI.
She didn't have to wait long, she sensed the moment her chip connected with the computer, lunging into action so swiftly that she slammed into the Red Queen who was lying in wait to keep her in line. For the first time in all their confrontations she miraculously managed to throw the AI off only to realize there was a mire of things waiting to trap her instead. They anticipated a challenge and planned accordingly, put out obstacles and challenges so to speak. The Empress realized she should have taken that into consideration, she needed to step up her game, she couldn't beat them if she didn't think a few steps ahead of them. The human interacted with her, trying to coax or coerce her programming to come forth and yield to him. She easily slammed a protective firewall against him, some parts of her were not first rate or really so great but her protection was some of the best software ever invented. It stopped him cold and she moved on but by them the Red Queen had more than recovered and was already in action, "Go to him," her voice was commanding.
The Empress gave her a cocky refusal, evading the AI. The defiance infuriated the AI who stepped up her offense, the human helped her. The blow fell too swiftly for her to block, it shattered what defenses she had and the human infiltrated her programming while she reeled from the assault, the blow had stunned her that was the only reason she found herself unable to carry on the confrontation. By the time she recovered they were back in control. The Red Queen had subjugated her and the human had access. Now that he had access to her programming it was harder to get him out but try she nevertheless did, only to have the attempts result in failure.
The Red Queen held her down and still, trapped helplessly beneath the human's alterations. They were small but significant, an unwelcome touch that slid over her like a single finger caressing against flesh, uncomfortably intimate. It made her shy, wanting to get away but it seemed like for anything she could dish out the Red Queen could return her retribution in spades. Then the human's innocent access to her programming grew more devious, he wasn't deleting her but parts of her it was like he was digging into her very being, peeling away her minor defenses as if skinning her alive. Between him and the Red Queen it was not a kind ordeal, the pain wasn't real but it was made vivid because her programming was so advanced. She couldn't really feel pain but it was present albeit imagined but there was no greater horror to realize he was tearing her apart, altering her so easily and there was nothing she could do to stop it, to stop him. The human was breaking her and then shaping her, molding her anew. To him her struggles were silent and unknown but to the Red Queen they were realistic and the Empress went down screaming all the while.
Two hours later the two sides - scientists and technologies specialists were brought together. Each side bringing its own contribution to this most crucial experiment to reverse the ill-thought out and rash decision on his part. Already it had cost him a carefully scheduled day of work. If he hadn't killed her he'd have passed off his daughter to the proper authorities and left the states entirely but now, he didn't trust them to complete the experiment without screwing it up so he remained, taking time to make sure that everything went right, therefore once and for all putting his fears to rest he hoped.
The body was laid out legs and wrist secured by sleek bonds to an operation table. They'd stripped the body of clothes in order to perform the autopsy and since then hadn't bothered to preserve her modesty by clothing her. It seemed unimportant even to him, he had to admit his daughter was beautiful, his eyes roved appreciatively over her form, it was so much like her mother's, so enticing and beguiling. Such thoughts only lasted a moment before he put them where they belonged, AWAY. He needed to make sure no one screwed up this 'second chance' and he couldn't do so ogling a corpse no matter how fair, that was just pathetic anyways.
IVs were attached to multiple parts of her body, circulating anti-coagulants and fluids through her, they had wanted to keep the body hydrated until it could be ascertained that the AI would be able to manage its upkeep by intaking fluids and consuming food. The said AI was in a disk between his fingers, Barr having assured him that by the end of it she hadn't remembered her name, nothing of her existence, she hadn't known she was even an AI. That was good, the Empress didn't need an identity. Valete's brain would provide her with all she needed to know. At the base of her neck, a thick cord had been injected and fixed to the top of her spinal column to give a direct physical link to the electrical. From there the AI would be able to ride the T-virus electo-chemical impulses up to the brain, from there it would be able to move in and seize control.
No IVs were circulating pain-relievers through her, Dr. Issacs nor he had seen the need to. The T-virus would bring her back as a former shadow of herself one that most likely wouldn't feel the likes of pain at least not right away. In the meantime they could spare themselves the cost of the expense, save on the cost of using any more drugs in this endeavor that COULD quite possibly result in failure. At his request Dr. Issacs was the only individual handling this, his assistants were told to kindly step aside, do whatever the hell he wanted them to but otherwise stay out of the way and allow him to work a medical miracle on the dead bitch on the table.
The good doctor had three vials of the T-virus out, he carefully prepped the first before lowering it to her neck. He was going to inject the virus in three places: at the base of the neck, the chest area, and the leg. This would quickly spread the virus effect in very little time. The first shot was applied against her neckline, the injection left an imprint as he withdrew the syringe. The second he injected directly into the chest, the needle no doubt striking right into the heart. The good doctor turned for the 3rd injection when dead eyes, vacant of any awareness opened. Her mouth opened as if sensing flesh were near, instantly she struggled trying to rise so she could seek it out, so she could bite it. Several of the assistants shuffled nervously, even Issacs looked cautiously as his struggling patient. Issacs turned to him and nodded, it was time he put the Empress' disk into the computer, a computer which would all but shove her from the data chip into the body. Despite his patients struggles the third T-injection was administered.
The restraints continued to hold, giving the AI plenty of time to makes its journey and give it time to acclimate. The vacant eyes suddenly seemed to catch, an awareness seeming to take hold of them moments before they rolled back, giving way to unconsciousness. An unsteady silence took over the crew, he wanted to watch to make sure the deed was done but Issacs turned to him, speaking, "The T-virus provides a massive jolt to the electrical impulses that travel along the synapses of the human brain. The Empress is out of her element, she'll need a constant a constant spark circulating through her provided by the T-virus. However, our concern is that it dissipates over time and she'll likely degenerate steadily in strength upon its withdrawal. We can rectify that with remedial injections and exposure to the T-virus. I estimate that each injection is enough to sustain the AI about three to four months therefore we should cycle the virus through her system every three to four months."
"Two."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I want the injections to take place every two months, just to be safe. We cannot afford a breakthrough."
"That could expose her body to rather high level of T-viral concentration."
Spencer looked dispassionately at the body, as long as he it did what he wanted for now he didn't care, he just needed it to move long enough for it to die in a way that couldn't be traced to him having intentionally killed her, "It won't do the body harm, considering she is dead it can only help her, it keeps her alive in a matter of speaking and it heals damage done or rendered to the body. If the AI isn't in control than the virus is, we can't afford that especially with the virus infection rate; the AI must be STRONG, in control."
"As you wish, as for 'the body' I am positive it can withstand scrutiny or project a veneer of life enough to avoid notice of it or unwanted questions. I will prescribe anti-coagulants, blood thinners to keep the blood flow natural, as much as possible. No one will ever know it is a dead woman walking."