Prologue
The ten investors entered the 1960s boardroom, their scepticism palpable. Smoke from their chain-smoking habits filled the room, a haze of grey that matched their disbelieving faces. The vibrant colours of their shirts and ties were a stark contrast to their grim demeanour. Each man clutched a briefcase containing the fruits of Oswell E. Spencer's controversial research. They were here to scrutinize what they considered to be an unlikely investment. One exception stood among them: Doctor Karen Wesker. Unlike her peers, she was fascinated by the possibilities Spencer's revolutionary drug promised. In her mind, this could be a breakthrough worthy of her name.
From the moment she first laid eyes on Spencer, she recognized a visionary. A ruthless, ambitious elitist who would stop at nothing to realize his goals. She knew he wouldn't let these cynics undermine his ideas and power.
Throughout the years, Spencer's visits to the U.S. had been rare. He was often away, hunting for new technology or organic matter to fuel his projects. Her mother had once told her a story about visiting Spencer's castle, an imposing fortress on the British Isles overlooking the coast. The castle, reminiscent of a wartime fortification, had once defended against German attacks during WWII.
Spencer, always fascinated by the hunt, had captured German soldiers during the war and subjected them to elaborate escape rooms within his castle. He wanted them to feel hunted, to understand the futility of following inhumane orders. These captured soldiers were more than mere pawns; they were part of a fanatical Nazi group aiming to create superhuman soldiers. Spencer's gruesome experiments on them yielded insights that would eventually fuel his ambition to alter humanity forever.
The boardroom doors opened, and Doctor Oswell E. Spencer entered. The room fell silent as all eyes turned to him, their earlier snide remarks and overzealous attitudes disappearing. The investors had never seen a television screen as advanced as the one that emerged from behind the wall.
"Ladies and gentlemen, for years we have pondered how to prevent another war and how to defend ourselves if such a war were to occur," Spencer began. He spoke of the wages of war and his vision of creating something remarkable to lead humanity forward. Pressing a button, he started a recording.
The screen came to life with a message: "What makes us human? How do we know if we are more than the sum of our parts? At Umbrella Incorporated, we strive to create the foundation for continued existence, where wars can be fought and won, where the sick can be healed, and where our daily lives are enhanced."
"Huh, Umbrella sounds ridiculous," muttered a young investor under his breath. Spencer's gaze swept the room, sensing their disdain.
A tall, bald man in a suit whispered something to Spencer. "Excuse me, gentlemen, I have an urgent matter to attend to. Please continue watching," Spencer said, turning to Doctor Wesker. "Doctor, would you mind accompanying me? There's something I'd like you to see."
Spencer, the bald man, and Doctor Wesker left the room. "What was that about?" an investor muttered. Their attention returned to the screen as Umbrella unveiled its forthcoming projects.
A large yellow flower appeared on the screen. "We will show how this engineered flora can become a fuel source to power a home, a cure for rare genetic diseases, or a weapons-grade biological armament."
"Did he say bio-weapon?" one investor asked, astonished. The room grew tense, not because of the presentation, but because of the metal shutters that suddenly dropped down, plunging the room into darkness.
"What the fuck?" exclaimed several men. They tried the door, but it wouldn't budge. Panic set in as they pounded on the shutters, calling for help.
In the centre of the boardroom table, the floral display began to twitch. A glass jar containing the yellow flower appeared. The glass shattered, and the flower began to wilt. Unseen and unscented, a gas filled the room. Loud, convulsive coughs echoed as the men began coughing blood and clutching their throats. Their skin peeled away, teeth decayed, and bodies transformed into mindless zombies.
Within seconds, the turned men began murmuring, dragging their feet toward the unturned. The screams of the remaining men echoed as they were consumed by the zombie horde.
Spencer watched from a camera room with two other men and Doctor Wesker. "So, what do you think?" he asked, turning to Doctor James Marcus and Doctor Edward Ashford, the two men who would become the founding fathers of his research. They were stunned by the rapid mutation.
"This is 1967, Doctor. The world isn't ready for this kind of threat," Ashford replied, his voice trembling.
Spencer's cold, calculating eyes never left the screen. "They will be," he said, a hint of a smile forming on his lips. "Soon enough, they will be."