Interlude 1: Potomac
Senator Ron Davis (I-WA, as CSPAN would've added after his name) waddled his way to his car. A short, somewhat dumpy man with a mean disposition and a face only a mother could…tolerate, the veteran congressman for Washington State was nothing if not punctual. He always left his residence in Alexandria at 7:03 AM, a thermos of coffee in one hand, a folded breakfast pastry in the other, a newspaper folded under one arm.
In these respects, he wasn't that much different from a wealthy businessman. Granted, someone drove him to work, rather than relying on public transit or driving himself, and rather than carrying a copy of the New York Times or The Washington Post, his paper was The Early Bird, a collection of headlines and articles from various American and British news rags put together by the government for those in the intelligence community. Still, he was just like any other man leaving home for on a work day.
Davis somewhat enjoyed the commute to work. It gave him a chance to compose himself, sipping his coffee (black, and extra strong), going over the events of the previous day so he was better prepared to face the workload ahead of him.
He was sitting for about a minute and a half, paper unfolded in front of him, before he realized he wasn't moving. "What's the hold up, Norton?" he growled at the man in the front seat. Davis didn't own a limo, but he liked to pretend he did; thus, the retractable wall between himself and his security guard/driver. "Let's go!" he snapped, raping the Plexiglas with his fingers.
Slowly, the wall slid down, revealing a skinny man in an expensive business suit and tinted sunglasses. He reached up and slid the glasses down his nose, revealing cold, grey eyes "I think you're going to be late today, Senator."
Davis's eyes widened. "You-! What are you doing here?"
The man smiled thinly. "There's been an incident, Senator, and it appears our plans need to be accelerated. The lab in Raccoon City has been compromised, and a biohazard has occurred."
Davis felt his face drain of color. "My God…How bad?"
"As bad as can be imagined. Governor Burkholder called out the National Guard, and the city is under quarantine. The Army has sent teams of Rangers inside, but contact was lost with them just before midnight, and we assume the worst."
"Jesus" Davis said, somewhere between a curse and a prayer.
"Overall, this is good news" the other man replied. "Umbrella will burn for this; I can assure you of that. All that remains is deciding who's going to pick up the pieces."
"What do you want me to do?" Davis asked, trying to regain his composure. He needed to assume his poker face, but this was all happening too fast.
"There's really very little we'll need to change about our original plan" the other man replied. "The strike team we'd assembled, along with the alternates, can be inserted into the city all at once instead of at the key location. We'll need to modify their orders to account for the current situation, but there's no reason we can't come out ahead here. In fact, if we play our cards right, we'll probably come out looking like the good guys."
"What do you want me to do?" Davis repeated, adding a little steel to his voice.
"As I said, not much more than you were already willing to" the other man replied. He elaborated for a few more minutes, When he was done, he paused. "Can you manage it?"
"Of course I can!" Davis snapped. "What kind of idiot do you take me for?"
The other man didn't answer; he just smirked a little. Davis growled, but didn't say anything. He didn't know quite how this man fit into the conspiracy he was more or less a major wheel in, so irritating him probably wasn't a good idea.
"Very well, Senator. It's probably time you went to work, wouldn't you say?"
By the time Davis got to work, his coffee was cold and his pastry had gone stiff. It was a good thing the DC police couldn't ticket a Congressman driving to work, because he probably would've earned a black mark on his otherwise spotless record. As it was, he was uncharacteristically late.
As a sign of just how dire the situation was, no one commented on his tardiness. There weren't TVs inside either House of Congress, but there were several set up in the hallways outside. Scrolling across each were more or less the same scenes: US Army and National Guard vehicles maintaining checkpoints outside a medium-sized city, helicopters zipping in and out of billowing clouds of smoke, a few bedraggled people stumbling down the highway out of the city.
Messages scrolled across the bottom of the screen. Most were generic, without really revealing much in the way of anything. INDUSTRIAL ACCIDENT IN COLORADO. GOV. BURKHOLDER ORDERS QUARINTINE. RESCUE EFFORTS UNDERWAY. There were a few, more interesting ones, such as AL-QUAIDA CLAIMS RESPONSIBILITY FOR CHEMICAL SPILL and RUMORS OF NEW DISEASE AMONG SURVIVORS.
Davis knew he already had a better idea of what was going on than anyone on the news, but there was a difference between knowing and seeing.
About twenty minutes later, everyone was called into a Joint Session. Settling into his chair, Davis could tell who else was in the know and who wasn't. The ones who looked confused or determined were those who didn't know more than the average citizen. The ones who looked scared…they were the elected few. Davis wondered if they were members of the same cabal as himself, or those who'd hitched themselves to the already doomed ship that was Umbrella, Inc.
The voice of the Speaker of the House snapped Davis's eyes forward. "Ladies and Gentlemen, the President of the United States" she intoned, a certain smugness in her voice suggested she both knew exactly what was going on and further, was anticipating the firestorm about to rain down on the President and his party.
Davis settled into his chair, appearing to focus on the President, but he really only listened with half an ear. The rest of his mind was focused on his own plans, the wheels within wheels of the conspiracy he'd been a part of since his third term in Congress. Overall, he had to agree with his contact. Things weren't going according to plan, but they were going to work out just fine.