Okay; maybe a bunch of you don't remember but in one of the really early chapters I stated that most of Wesker's research was at the Organization. That was a brain malfunction. I meant S. Just thought I'd let you know.
Also, timline; eight hours has passed since the last chapter.
Prepare for total domination.
"But-"
"No."
"But-"
"That's enough, Sherry," Wesker finished. Sherry closed her mouth. "Now, is there nothing else you can tell me?"
She shook her head.
"Then leave. Return to S."
"What? Why?"
"It's dangerous to have you here."
"But I can help you!"
"No, Sherry. You know as well as I do the risks involved."
"What risks?"
"Perhaps you're being followed, or traced. These are things I can't leave to chance. Return to S."
"What am I supposed to tell Alex?"
"You couldn't find anything; there was no trace of me here."
"Y-you're sure I can't help?"
"Go, Sherry."
"Alright..." she looked at Wesker fearfully. Her eyes then darted to Claire, sitting on the floor. Her eyes narrowed in silent fury, and Claire opened her mouth.
"Sherry, I'm-" the younger woman turned sharply and left, not giving Claire a chance to finish.
As the door slammed shut, Wesker slightly raised an eyebrow at Claire, who was stil gazing after Sherry. He then gave a mental shrug, resolving that whatever their history was it was of little importance to him.
He had other things to worry about; namely, removing himself from Alex's radar. All of his equipment was still at the cabin. Before long, his picture would be everywhere.
It looks like he would have to go underground.
"Hey; hey, Rodney! Where'd you go?" A man in a blue flannel shirt was looking at a large projection screen.
"I'm right here; what is it?" Another appeared form behind a nearby storage cabinet.
"Go get Yates on the phone, would you?"
"Why?"
"Just go!"
Yates was sitting uncomfortably in a room with twelve other men, four of whom were interpreters. More international damage control, and it was his job to bear the bulk of the responsibility. He never imagined his job
Angela entered hurriedly.
"Sir, there's an important matter that requires your attention."
"How important?"
"National security, sir." Yates' head shot up and stared at her. She returned his look solemnly.
"Alright; granted, I'm grateful for your timing, but I still have work to do. This had better be good."
"It is."
"You needed to see me, Mr. Yates?" Both men turned to see a young woman with short hair jogging down the hall.
"Ah, yes; Rebecca. My go-to girl for medical jargon. You get to see this stuff first-hand and then feed the information to your friends. In secret, of course."
The young medic's jaw dropped. "Y-you mean-"
He chuckled and patted her on the head, "Relax. I notice things; I don't blame you. Anyway, I figured it was only appropriate for you to see this."
"See what, sir?"
"I... am not entirely sure yet. Rodney?"
The technician who had been observing from a distance suddenly seemed to reanimate. "Uh, yes, sir. Well, this is the data from the infectees we've been bringing in since last month. We've been taking regular samples from each of them in order to determine the degree of infection."
"This isn't going to be good, is it?"
"Ah- well, no. We can report that in some cases the victims have made progress. In them, Uroboros was responding to treatment. However, this was only in certain cases. Unfortunately, all we have to work with is the vaccinne for Las Plagas. As you are aware, BSAA Africa failed to successfully recover a sample of the serum Redfield and Valentine informed us of. Right now, we're starting from scratch. We've been comparing the Las Plagas samples to its vaccinne, and hope to find some sort of pattern that will aid us in studying a cure for Uroboros."
"This is all in the report you filed. What's new; why did you call me here?"
"Er- right. Well, if you look here," Rodney jogged to a keyboard and began typing. Data began streaming onto a nearby moniter, "It seems we hit a snag. Withing that last few hours, we've been getting all sorts of readings. Yesterday, all of the samples we took were consistent with each of the subjects' circumstances. But if you look at this chart here, you'll see the data's been skewed. There's something different; a completely new factor is affecting their bloodwork, and a number of patients who were as far as rehabillitation had to undergo an emergency quarantine. It's like, all of a suddent none of the antibiotics are working. As a matter of fact, their degree of infection is rising rapidly. And once a patient reaches a certain point of infection, surgery is deemed too risky and the only option then is-"
"-Sterilization." Rebecca finished.
"How many have we killed so far?" Yates asked.
"Thirty-nine."
"Jesus! We only had fifty-seven people in isolation!"
"And it's only going to get worse."
"What assumptions can you make about this sudden factor?"
Rodney shook his head, "None, sir. What we've observed so far is actually rather... interesting, for lack of a better word."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, Uroboros uses it's hosts' abilities for things such as combat and procreation."
"Right..."
"But it can't do that when it completely overwhelms the host; something which occurs inevitably after a certain period of time."
"Are you going somewhere with this?"
"Well, the reason that occurs is attributed to a neurotoxin secreted by the parasite into the host's body, permanently damaging the immune system and allowing the parasite to takeover. However, our most recent patients, in spite of being so far gone, have been able to conduct themselves far better when compared to the first infected. It's like they possess the ability to reason in an individualistic manner, and to some extent, control the parasite in their own bodies."
"Wait- what?"
"Is that even possible?"
"Apparently so. But there's another drawback."
"What's that?"
"This- this other factor, whatever it is; it seems to increase the ability of infectees to spread the parasite, and, in addition, increase the rate at which the parasite takes over the body."
"But I thought you said the hosts could control the parasites."
"Well, it's not an exact science. In some, they can, and in others, they can't. I haven't been able to find anything in their chemical makeup which might have sparked the anomaly. It may not even be physical; there are a myriad of enviornmental factors which could have caused this. I won't be able to tell for sure without more subjects."
Alex tapped the desk impatiently. He had the clinical results in front of him; his men had assembled a number of theoreticals and studies in an attempt to make the most education decision as possible, and he'd read all of them. However, he'd never been one to rely on statistics.
What he wanted now were results.
Just as he was preparing to call his assistant, the door to his office opened.
"Sir; the documents you asked for." A man in a tailored balck suit handed him a manilla envelope.
Tearing the folder open, Alex gazed at the file, interpreting the meaning behind each figure.
After a few moments, he rested the papers on his desk and looked out through the window, smiling in satisfaction.
I know the last segment might have been a bit much; don't be afraid to ask for clarification if anything doesn't make sense. I've got this plot pretty nailed in my brain; how it comes out in writing... well, I can't really be objective as to whether or not I'm gettign my message across. For those of you who care to make my job easier, tell me what you think has gone on so far. This way, i can tell if I've been using the right words.
I shouldn't worry too much; you guys are pretty quick. You probably know what I'm going to do before I do.
Oh, right; theory.
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