Chapter Two: The Other Team
The Raccoon City skyline stretched out before Atkins. From the series of sparkling skyscrapers that formed downtown Raccoon, sprawling out to uptown. Streets spun out before Umbrella HQ like a complex web, weaving out into the suburbs before coming to an end before the forest and mountains. From the vantage of his office, he could see the R.P.D., where Irons no doubt thought that he had things under control and the world under his thumb. Atkins's smiled. This was Umbrella's city. His city.
The doors opened behind him but Atkins didn't bother turning from the vista. He could see his secretary enter through the reflection in the window. Ms. Jackson was a woman of her late twenties, tall with long gold hair. She always coming into the office in tight mini-skirts and high heels that added two inches to her height. Dressing just right for the boss. This ostentatious display was almost charming. Today she wore a red tube skirt and matching red lipstick.
"Mr. Atkins," she said. "Colonel Vladimir is here."
Atkins nodded and finally turned around. His office sprawled out before him, large enough to fit at least fifty people and still have plenty of wiggle room. A polished oak desk stood before the wide window overlooking the window with two black chairs on the other end. Maroon carpeted the floor. A few pieces of art hung on the walls and a gold gilded chessboard sat upon a small wooden end table between his desk and the door. A sideboard stocked with a crystal decanter of scotch and several glasses stood to the left. Other than that, the office was relatively bare.
"Send him in," Atkins replied. Ms. Jackson turned around to retrieve the Commander-in-Chief of Umbrella's various paramilitary units. "Oh, and Ms. Jackson," Atkins said, looking at his secretary over the brim of his glasses. The young woman turned around, a suggestive smile crossing her lips.
"Yes, Mr. Atkins?"
"Wear something more…concealing tomorrow, would you? Be more professional."
Ms. Jackson's face fell. She promptly turned on her heel and left the room, shutting the double doors behind her. Atkins walked over to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of scotch. He replaced the stopper on the decanter and took a sip when the doors opened once again.
He turned to see the hulk of a man before him. Colonel Sergei Vladimir stood at about six foot seven, with the broad physique that made him a tyrant of a man. He wore his white hair slicked back, save for a fringe that obscured a thin scar across his left eye.
"Sergei," Atkins greeted. "Care to join me for a drink?"
"I'd rather not," Vladimir replied. Atkins grabbed his own drink and made his way back toward the desk, gesturing toward one of the seats for Vladimir to sit. The Colonel followed in his stiff, long strides. Even upon the carpet, the man's boots made an audible sound. Atkins sat but Vladimir remained standing.
"What is the status report of the Arklay estates?" Atkins asked, placing his drink on the desktop.
"The training facility has been enclosed," Vladimir replied in his monotone Russian accent. "Though there is nothing but rubble that remains."
"And the Spencer estate?"
A moment of silence rang through the room. Atkins watched Vladimir, watching for any trace of distress that usually came with disruptions or incompetence. Atkins had become so skilled in identifying it, that he knew something was wrong as soon as an employee walked into his office. Yet, Sergei Vladimir was a blank screen, remaining an enigma to Atkins's gift.
"There has been…complications," the Colonel replied evenly.
Atkins raised an eyebrow.
"Complications?" Atkins asked, taking another sip of scotch.
"The initial clean-up was a success," Vladimir said. "The area was secured. However, the crew in charge of erecting the fence have gone silent."
"It would seem the area wasn't cleared out well enough," Atkins said, his voice low. "You know that Mr. Spencer doesn't suffer failure."
"Hardly a failure," Vladimir replied.
"No?" Atkins asked. "I count two, in which both times you failed to contain the infection. Did you not instruct Albert Wesker to destroy the facility? Did he not fail?"
Vladimir's face tightened. With his pale skin, it almost appeared as though he were made of marble.
"Sergei," Atkins replied, his voice softer. "We are standing on a knife's edge. We are on the brink of the greatest scientific discovery in the history of mankind. One wrong move and it is all over. Do you understand?"
Vladimir glared down at Atkins. Atkins had to force down a smirk. It was always amusing to put Sergei—a man accustomed to giving out commands—being forced to take them himself.
"Understood," Vladimir replied through pursed lips. Atkins only nodded.
"Is your team prepared for the G-virus extraction?"
"They are," Vladimir replied. "They are to move on NEST tonight."
Atkins nodded, standing and turning back to his perfect world. Cars sped down the highways below, giving little thought of Umbrella or the influence over them all. Ironic how the general populace didn't even know who their true rulers were. Yet, Atkins's attention over Raccoon was fleeting. His eyes found their way to the outskirts—the Arklay forest and the mountains. The untamed wild. The one thing threatening his world. What better way to take care of the situation but bend it to his will. After all, that's the true secret to life—power and control.
"I want you to scramble another team," Atkins continued, watching Vladimir's reflection. "I want another sweep of the Arklay facility. There's something that was left that we need."