Author's Notes: I suppose that this may soon become a precedent in this work.. The tendency to jump about like some type of spastic grasshopper from person to person, from place to place, and from time to time. This is definitely not chronological, which might lend itself to bewilderment later; just hope that I can keep my demented creativity in check.

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: Resident Evil is a copyright of Capcom, inc., and I
assert no ownership of it. If by their request, or the request of an
authorized representative, I shall immediately remove this work from
fanfiction.net.

Outbreak: Chapter Two

Washington, District of Columbia

Two Days Prior

Porcelain-white domes rose above the magnificent, well-developed hedgerows and greenery surrounding the seat of power of the United States Government. Even at such a late hour, a sliver of the burning orange ball of the sun was still precariously perched over the horizon, maintaining the oppressive heat that refused to relinquish its grasp over the denizens of the sprawling maze of buildings. Men and women darted back and forth on the neatly-paved streets, clad in business attire; young professionals and politicians, some idealists, some ready to sell their souls to their wealthy constituents. It didn't really matter to the man who sat high in his ivory tower above the world, staring down through his tinted windows into the souls of everyone.

"So, Senator Furgeson, is there anything our fair company can do for you today?" The speaker's voice was a silky-smooth outburst, well- practiced, and managing to feign some sense of hospitality. His back was turned to the very intimidated congressman, his broad shoulders and neatly- cropped head of graying hair occupying most of the other man's sight. His black, expensive suit fit him as though he had been born with it, the cloth somehow integrated into his body. He didn't bother to turn, but had he given his guest the dignity of seeing his face, he would have only seen a mirthless smile beneath a pair of impenetrable sunglasses.

"Y-yes, Mr. Harmon." The young, upstart senator Richard Furgeson stuttered, shifting awkwardly in his too-snug gray suit. "I've come to talk to you about your company's policies in Neilson City. As you know, some of our largest contributions have come from your rival, Umbrella." He flinched, somehow feeling the fury radiating from the towering man before him at the mention of his competitor.

"What about Umbrella, Mr. Furgeson?" Harmon's voice was now colder than the depths of winter.

"Well, this poses quite a dilemma for us. You were our largest campaign contributor, but Umbrella has built Neilson; their factories all over our state provide huge income to us." Furgeson was almost quivering, looking like a spooked animal, ready to flee at the slightest provocation.

"I can assure you, Mr. Furgeson, that there will be no conflict of interest in these matters. I'm inclined to believe that Umbrella won't be a problem for us, nor for you; their credibility is already in a...." He paused dramatically, a sinister, smug smile creeping into his face. "Precarious standing after Raccoon City. I hear that the families of the victims of that 'terrible accident' couldn't even identify them through dental records after the nuclear blast. So tragic, Mr. Furgeson, isn't it?" His dark chuckle juxtaposed the seriousness of his words; the cruel humor made Furgeson's skin crawl.

"Yes, it was a terrible accident, but Umbrella claims no responsibility in that outbreak. They're just a pharmaceuticals company; the CBDC reported that it was an infestation caused by a new plague strain carried by sewer rats." Furgeson stammered, having some notion of what his greatest benefactor was implying.

"Ah, yes, of course. And I'm sure their generous donation to the victims' fund and their very kind offer to compensate the government for its expenses helped a lot in that finding. Mr. Furgeson, I know that you're not a stupid man, but you should realize when times are changing. Umbrella is no longer the company that it used to be. Harmon Commercial Pharmaceuticals Firm, my company, is the future of the biotech industry. We financed your campaign, and we can take away your power. Make sure that we are duly compensated, or you may find yourself less than useful." Harmon carefully weighed his words, being quite adept in threatening politicians through subtle implications.

"Yes, I do understand that, Mr. Harmon. I can assure you that your company will have no problems getting that land grant for your new research complex." He was desperate to please his newest 'partner' in the mad-grab for power in the political arena, but still hesitant to turn his back on the company that built the new capital of his state. "The senate is already very interested in providing HCF with its newest federal research grant, after your successful stem-cell cloning experiments."

"Yes, we're very proud of that, Mr. Furgeson." Harmon's voice returned to its former state of pseudo-warmth. "But remember. HCF is the future. Do not disappoint us." With that, he motioned distractedly for the frightened young politician to leave his opulently-decorated office, returning his attention to the bustling city before him. The sun had set, but the curtain was just rising on his bid for control in this center of power.

"So easy." Harmon pondered aloud, "so very easy to take the reigns of these people. All they want is power, and the appearance of power is far more appealing than the genuine control provided by a lifetime of hard work and commitment." He mused, resting his hands on the darkened glass pane. "This is all a game of chess, but the king is always in check. The Queen is ready to stab him in the back at any time, and all members of his camp are ready to change sides and side with the enemy. So many straddle the fence, waiting for a chance to take some paltry amount of control for themselves. They're all pawns, all ready to be soldiers in my dominion. It will be so simple to finally topple the king, to claim his realm. All it will take is one decisive blow."

Turning, he tapped the intercom switch, prompting an immediate reply from his receptionist. "Yes, Mr. Harmon?" Her voice trembled almost imperceptibly, her employer's reputation not at all lost on her.

"Janine, patch me through to the Neilson Regional Defense Headquarters." An insidious smile cracked the grizzled visage of his usually emotionless face, rows of shark-like, ivory teeth pronouncing themselves in the darkened room.

"Yes, sir." A series of clicks and static-filled pulses resonated through his office before all was peaceful; a single, deep voice greeted him seconds later.

"This is DeSalvo, Mr. Harmon. May I help you?" DeSalvo's voice revealed no emotion.

"Yes, I would like to speak with a Major Albert Wesker." Harmon's inflection was that of unadulterated glee, Wesker's betrayal of his former employer one of his greatest achievements.

"Understood, sir. I'll have Wesker on in a few seconds." A small thud indicated that DeSalvo had set down the telephone, a series of footsteps and the creaking of a door clearly audible on the line.

As he waited for Wesker, Harmon pondered the wisdom of his plan to finally topple the behemoth that was his opponent. Umbrella seemed almost indefatigable, a goliath that presented the largest obstacle to his domination of the military, civilian, and government venues that he had sought since he was a young scientist.

"This is Wesker," a cool, detached voice broke him from his reverie. "I've examined your plan for Neilson City. I must say that it's very audacious, Mr. Harmon."

"Do you have any objections to this plan, Albert?" Harmon dared his subordinate to voice any opposition.

"No, Mr. Harmon. This will make the nightmare of Raccoon look like a pleasant dream. I'll have my men deploy as soon as my contact is ready. Are we to release all of the specimens, as well?" Wesker's voice never wavered from its usual, aloof state; it didn't seem to bother him that he was sealing the death sentence of thousands.

"Yes, make sure that everything enters circulation. Umbrella will soon realize the consequences of their intrusion into our market. Umbrella will no longer be an obstacle after this. Ready your contacts in the United States Army's Chemical-Biological Defense Command, too, Albert. CBDC must corroborate FEMA's declaration of the origin of the outbreak to be Umbrella's lab complex. I have FEMA's Director Wilson ready, but you must ensure that this isn't a second Raccoon. There will be no nuclear strike, no cleanup, until it's been firmly established that 'wholesome' Umbrella is the enemy." Harmon delivered the orders with unfaltering confidence, the only sentiment conveyed being smugness. He was absolutely confident in his plan, and he cared not about the costs of it.

"Don't worry, sir. I can assure you that CBDC will not be a problem. CDC and the WHO will also provide similar assessments of the outbreak. Are you ready to become a monopoly?" Wesker chuckled humorlessly, and Harmon could imagine his now-yellow eyes glimmering behind his seemingly permanent sunglasses.

"It will be a glorious day for the company, Major Wesker." Harmon's shark-like smile became a sneer at the military formality. "As Julius Caesar once said, 'veni, vidi, vici.' I trust that you will not betray me, however."

"You can count on me, sir." Wesker's level voice was the last sound heard on the line before it clicked off; pure, blissful silence, interrupted only by Harmon's slow breathing, pervaded the abysmal depths of the office.

"When he saw the breadth of his domain, he wept, for there were no more worlds to conquer." Harmon whispered wistfully, slowly removing the mirrored sunglasses from his angular face. Setting them down on the polished oak desk, he turned his back to the brilliantly-lit expanse of the DC skyline, and fixed his eyes on a map that had arrived on his computer monitor. Its header held two words, 'Neilson City.'