Ah, sorry it took me so long to update. Please let me know if I have
lost my touch; that is, if it was ever there in the first place...
Chapter 5
Context Time: A Little While After the Spencer Mansion Incident; Location: Somewhere off the coast of South America; Alfred's Private Mansion on Rockfort Island; Hour: 1632
Alfred sighed as he rubbed his temples. Really, his beloved company was going through a rough stretch. It might have looked to the public that all was going well, but a select few knew otherwise. Alfred had just returned from Cleveland, where he had had another argument with the Board of Directors of White Umbrella. The topic was insignificant, something about whether to initiate tests of the T-Virus on humans, which Alfred had adamantly opposed. The fact was that the others had once again banded against him, and Alfred had the feeling that they knew something that he didn't. That in itself was unnerving.
Absentmindedly running a hand through his slick blonde hair, Alfred rose from the plush leather seat in his bedroom, where he often came to think, in order to go to the Infirmary. He had suffered silently for too much time; he wanted to see someone else, a prisoner, in pain as well.
Walking through his arched doorway, he stepped into the grand foyer of his mansion, listening to the soft scrape of the thick red carpet underneath his boot heels. Turning left into the entrance hall, he surveyed his twenty-foot high oak front doors before opening them. They were French-style doors, each one opening in an opposite direction. As he let go of the solid gold doorknobs and looked up, he found himself staring a man straight in the eyes. A man he though he would never see again.
"Hello, Alfred," said Oswell Spencer, with a mischievous grin on his wrinkled face.
Landing his helicopter on Rockfort undetected was easier than he thought. Oswell had just told his pilot to land in a small cove on the south shore of the island and to keep the copter running just in case he needed to make a quick getaway. After departing from the copter, Oswell had walked the island out in the open because no one seemed to know who he was.
That will change soon, if all goes according to plan, Oswell thought darkly.
Ironically, he was just about to knock politely on the door when, as luck would have it, Alfred swung them open like he was someone worthy of praise and attention. Oswell sensed that Alfred had a lot of things on his mind, because his entire manner was detached, and he was staring at the floor. When Alfred looked up and met Oswell's eyes, a look of complete surprise, mixed with a little horror, flooded his face.
"Hello, Alfred," Oswell said smoothly, and smiled a little to make Alfred more nervous. "Long time no see, no?"
The momentary feeling of surprise that Alfred had displayed was immediately replaced with an expression of arrogance. "Not long enough, Oswell," Alfred sneered. "It is a pity; you are not dead like I have been imagining. What brings you to my humble abode without an invitation?"
"I was in the neighborhood. And, as I assume you know, I have some very pressing issues to discuss with you," Oswell said casually, knowing that Alfred's display of superiority was nothing but false bravado.
"Come," Alfred said, beckoning Oswell to follow him with a wave of his hand. He led Oswell back through the French doors into a study in the north wing of the house. The room consisted of a marble center table with the Ashford name engraved in the middle and a row of media devices on the far wall.
Making himself at home, Oswell plopped into a chair at the far end of the room, just to make it inconvenient for Alfred to have to walk all the way across the room. Alfred, with his back to Spencer, quietly shut the single door before turning around. Narrowing his eyes, he made his way to where Oswell was seated and sat directly across from him, folding his hands in front of him in a business-like manner.
"Whatever it is you must tell me, I implore you to do it quietly. My dear sister is taking a small nap in her room upstairs, and I have no desire to wake her up over whatever troubles we may encounter in this room," Alfred said in a tone that was just above a whisper. Startled by this sudden act of semi-kindness, Oswell merely nodded, although he knew that Alexia was actually in stasis on Antarctica. He said nothing of this. "Now, what nonsense do you wish to tell me?"
All good feeling that Oswell felt for Alfred suddenly vanished. "I want to reopen the discussion that we had twenty years ago," Oswell started. "This company is as much mine as it is yours. I have come to reclaim my half of the company, either with your backing or without it."
Alfred said nothing for a few minutes, as though he was pondering this deeply. Oswell knew otherwise, because Alfred's face showed nothing but anger and insanity: a terrible combination.
"Tell me this, Spencer," Alfred muttered. "Why have you waited twenty years to have this conversation? We could have worked something out all those years ago when you went into hiding. What the hell have you been doing?"
"It seems your memory, is off, Alfred," Oswell said lazily, using Alfred's first name as an insult. "Let me offer you a refresher. You chased me away because you wanted the company all to yourself. Stupidly, I, like a coward, hid in Europe. The reason I am coming back now is because now I have the resources to forcefully take my position from you, if necessary."
Alfred's eyes widened. "You are positively mad! Take away all of my hard work from me? I will not allow it," declared Alfred, jumping to his feet and slamming his clenched fists onto the tabletop. "Besides, you do not have as large a claim to this company as I do. Your family was not actually needed to start this company; they were just there as potential scapegoats in case anything went wrong."
Oswell leaped to his feet as well. "How dare you say such things! I now see that coming here was a mistake. I will make my offer very clear to you: either I get ownership of half of both Umbrella Pharmaceuticals and White Umbrella, or I create a new company using your labs, scientists, and other assets."
"Ha!" Alfred was on the verge of laughter. "My men are all loyal to me. And even though the Board of White Umbrella and I have had our disagreements, they would never accept a new member in their little circle without my authorization. I suggest that you go back to hiding in Europe or wherever in God's name you were."
"Really, that's rather sad," Oswell retorted, with a slight shake of his head. "You claim that your men are loyal to you. Tell me, Alfred, what happened at my estate in Raccoon?"
"What are you talking about? Nothing unusual is happening at your old estate. All T-Virus production is running as smoothly as ever and the specimens are being kept in perfect condition. What could possibly be wrong?" questioned Alfred, more to himself than to Oswell.
"You do not keep up with current events, do you, you silly little man? The phrase 'cannibal murders' does not ring a bell? How about the explosion in the Arklay Mountains, where my old house was located? And the S.T.A.R.S. suspension, and Wesker's disappearance?" With each question, Oswell spoke faster and louder until he was almost shouting. "You really do not know about all that! And why don't you know? Because those Board Members, who are supposedly loyal to you, have kept it from you!" By this time, Oswell was breathing heavily.
Alfred just surveyed him with cold eyes. "You are getting senile in your old age, Spencer. Besides, I do not get small-scale American news here on Rockfort."
Regaining his composure, Oswell drew an envelope from his inner jacket pocket. "Very well. Here is all the evidence you will need to see the truth to this event." He threw the envelope in front of Alfred, and both men seated themselves once again. Alfred opened the envelope and dumped the contents onto the table.
The envelope consisted of various newspaper clippings in a more or less chronological order. Alfred picked up the first article and read random parts of it aloud: "Murdered in the woods…partially eaten…another three victims found…decayed skin found on the bodies…citywide curfew in place…. What does this have to do with you, me, the Board, or our lives, Spencer?"
"Keep reading," Oswell commanded.
"Special Tactics and Rescue Squad will be sent into the outlying forests in one week to search for signs of the cannibal killers and supposed monsters loose in the woods…Albert Wesker is the newly-promoted leader of the S.T.A.R.S…. explosion in the woods…Umbrella donated money to the city council to help clean up the forest due to the explosion at their unused mansion at the hands of the S.T.A.R.S…. When the hell did all this happen?" Alfred asked as he looked up from his reading.
"About a week ago," answered Oswell. "People were being slain and devoured by who-knows-what in the woods. The Board decided to send in Wesker and his squad to solve the problem. It was found out by your own men that there was a T-Virus leak in the labs underneath my estate, and that the T-Virus has an interesting side-effect on humans: it decays their skin while killing most of their brain cells, effectively turning them into zombies. The Board sent in the S.T.A.R.S. to contain the problem, but unfortunately your operative, Albert Wesker, was killed in the mansion and the surviving S.T.A.R.S. members discovered what research was being conducted there. They tried to go public with it, but of course no one believed them, and so they went into hiding."
Alfred could not believe his ears. "My own trusted advisers kept this from me…," he seemed to be in a state of shock. He finally came to his senses. "This will not go unpunished. I am going to Cleveland to get rid of them immediately, and I will finally be in complete control of the company." He stood up then and turned to go, forgetting that Oswell was there.
"Alfred," called Oswell. "You forget one thing: You will not be in complete control of the company, because I am here as well. We can own Umbrella jointly, and I will help you take care of your problems with the Board."
"Over my dead body," Alfred scoffed. "The company is mine, and that is final."
"I was hoping it would not come to this, but if I must do it, I will. Alfred, I am taking my half of Umbrella away from you. I am splitting the company," Oswell declared. "But don't fret, I will keep this out of the media in order to keep up the appearance of a unified front to our investors and competitors."
Alfred's whole body froze. "No one in my company will work under you," Alfred said meekly, as though trying to convince himself as much as Oswell.
"Remember how I said I now have the resources to do this? The Board is not the only mutinous faction, so to speak. The entire European section of Umbrella is unhappy with your leadership, and I have rallied them all under me. Even the Paris Headquarters," Oswell said this last sentence slowly, as if savoring it.
"I do not believe you. Go, go as far away from here as you can, and never return. You are not wanted here," Alfred ordered. "As soon as I am done purging the Board, I will come to Europe to reclaim the rogue labs."
Oswell was halfway to the door when he turned around. "Good luck. As I have said, I am in control over the Paris HQ. Technically, I am in control of the whole company. Try getting that back from me." And then Oswell was out of the door and on his way back to his helicopter as fast as he could walk.
Well, that wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, he thought. He boarded his hidden helicopter, and departed from Rockfort.
After Oswell had left, Alfred could only stand in shock and ponder what he had just heard. His royal blue jacket was still slung over his right shoulder only, because he had frozen when Oswell had broken up the company. A cold fist closed itself over Alfred's brain.
Damn it! First the Board, then Spencer returns, bringing me news of the S.T.A.R.S. mishap, the European mutiny, AND his breakup of MY company! Can this day get any better! Alfred's thoughts came in angry bursts.
Umbrella had labs on every continent. The problem was that White Umbrella only had limited labs in Europe, North Africa, Southeast Asia, Midwestern United States, Antarctica, and South America. With Oswell in control of the European labs, and especially the Paris HQ, he was in the position to take more away from Alfred.
That's okay, thought Alfred. The Paris HQ may be the public HQ of Umbrella, but I still control Rockfort, and I am about to have total control of the White Umbrella HQ in Cleveland. With these two important locations, I can move to take back the European labs and Paris.
With these hopeful thoughts, Alfred finished putting on his jacket, and then walked to Rockfort's private airstrip. There, he was greeted by one of his five personal pilots.
"Take me to Cleveland, pilot," Alfred directed before boarding his Cessna light aircraft.
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I plan on finishing this story, eventually, so expect another chapter sometime soon. And I actually mean soon, this time. As always, reviews are wanted. I'm out.
Kompressor
