Chapter 140
He was unaware that his 'life mentor' was actually a member of his enemy, the Military Science Department. After successfully joining Tricell, the Counter-Intelligence Department would stop administering the medication, causing him to revert to paranoia, neurasthenia, and schizophrenia. Finally, with just a small trigger, they could persuade him, who had lost too much of his judgment, to take risks.
Although the Counter-Intelligence Department is currently weak and still needs Vera's protection, the resources it already possesses are not insignificant.
He is not an isolated case.
He was chosen simply because he had been transferred to Afghanistan.
As for whether he's really targeting Vera?
Putting aside the difficulty of shooting at high-speed targets, with a communication relay station and sufficient signal strength, the "Red Queen," authorized by Vera and possessing partial overload chip plugin permissions, could keep an eye on him.
"Ms. Russell, the support team has arrived."
In the co-pilot's seat, the army major's voice rang out again, and in response, the roar of a helicopter approached from afar outside the vehicle's dome.
Military support troops from Bagram Air Base have arrived.
After they reunited.
The journey was uneventful, and nothing else went wrong in the next ten minutes. Vera returned safely to the base.
Screech! Brakes.
We've arrived.
The noise of the crowd outside could already be heard.
Click, click.
Two bodyguards in black knocked twice on the bulletproof partition, put away the bulletproof briefcase, and then quietly opened the car door.
Wearing a bulletproof vest, Vera got out of the car behind Chris, the anti-biohazard hero of the BSAA Organization.
Whoosh—
Seeing Vera get out of the car like this, and recalling the scene of the US military frantically deploying troops at the base just ten minutes earlier, the media personnel who hadn't left yet because they were reporting on arms purchases and the war in Afghanistan were instantly excited.
This sounds like big news!
140
Chapter 140 The Shadow, the Shadow Named Vera.
[Resident Evil]
Current.
More than half an hour after Vera was shot and attacked.
With the media frenzy to cover the story, the news, dubbed the "421 Bagram Attack Incident," has spread rapidly around the world.
[Dear viewers, this is Associated Press News. We have just received a shocking report. Just now, at approximately 3:47 PM Afghanistan time on April 21, 2002, in the countryside outside the Bagram Air Base and Satellite Base training grounds, Vera Adelheid Russell, the founder of military science, a billionaire, and a world-renowned scientist, was assassinated by unidentified assailants in a premeditated attack...]
—"Chairman and Chief of Militech Group Attacked!"—
After 4 p. m., almost unanimously, the homepages of mainstream media around the world prominently featured the bolded and highlighted headline.
"Breaking news: Vera Russell, a giant in the US technology and defense industries, was attacked in Afghanistan shortly after reaching a new large-scale arms deal with the Pentagon and Central Command..."
—The New York Times.
Does the attack on the visionary businesswoman and CEO, Ms. Vera Russell, indicate that the series of terrorist attacks that have occurred across the United States since April of this year will continue to spread and expand?
Will this dark, unsettling, and terrifying social atmosphere continue to intensify?
—The Wall Street Journal.
"We do not know whether this incident is related to the recent awarding of new defense procurement contracts to the Pentagon by Militech Group."
"According to political commentators, the attack was most likely launched by an extremist terrorist organization hidden in the Middle East and Central Asia as retaliation for the arms sales by Militech Group. Their aim was to warn and intimidate Vera, or even kidnap her."
—The Washington Post.
"Revenge!!!"
—San Francisco Chronicle
Meanwhile, inside a cave in the Paropamisus Mountains.
"Waste!"
Like a cannonball, the figure flew backward, crashing through the fence and tracing a parabola in the empty, dark cave space before slamming heavily onto the cave platform reinforced with steel and concrete.
The stacked supply boxes were knocked over, and bottles, jars, and miscellaneous daily necessities were scattered all over the ground with a clatter.
"You failed to manage your men properly. A half-mad idiot misled an entire team to carry out his flawed, suicidal revenge. Should I call this loyalty or stupidity? Ridiculous. You can't even handle something this simple? What use are you?"
Donglong.
With heavy steps and a chilling tone, Albert Wesker walked out of the room.
There was someone still gripping his right hand.
The man was dragged along by Wesker.
His legs were kicking wildly, and he even kicked off his leather shoes when he crossed the threshold due to the unevenness. He was whimpering as if he were suffocating. Judging from his clothing alone, he should be considered a junior manager with a fairly high position within Tricell.
Click.
After brutally snapping the neck of the operations leader in Charikar, Wesker released the lifeless body and strode toward the commander of Tricell's private army, who was slumped in front of the collapsed supply crate, bleeding from his mouth and nose, and emitting agonizing moans.
"...cough cough, you...you're just a stray dog thrown in from Umbrella. You have no right to fire me, much less kill me..."
Before the squad commander could finish speaking, Wesker raised his hand and pointed, splat!
The fingers, encased in a black tactical glove, pierced directly through the squad commander's right eyeball.
Listening to the screams, Wesker laughed, a cruel laugh, as his dark yellow vertical pupils gleamed crimson beneath his sunglasses.
"Foolish man, you have no idea how big a mess your men have made."
As he spoke, he forcefully plunged his fingers into the visual pathway from the retina to the occipital lobe of the brain of this unfortunate commander, stirring them around in his eye socket. "Unfortunately, your incompetence disqualifies you from even becoming a carrier for a new type of virus experiment and from joining the glorious evolution."
"You have been fired."
As soon as he finished speaking, Wesker his fingers, the fingers that had pierced his brain twisting and tearing the brain tissue to shreds. With a soft thud, the bleeding fingers emerged from the other, blood-soaked but intact eyeball, gripping the bridge of his nose like a pull ring, Wesker yanked hard.
Snap—
Like a broken faucet, fine bone fragments, blood, and brain matter splattered everywhere, staining the ground red.
The surrounding crowd—employees of Tricell, mercenaries, or even virus researchers from Wesker 'Umbrella 'dark legacy'—all held their breath.
Glug~
In the deathly silence, someone made a swallowing or gagging sound and instinctively stepped back.
"Transfer experimental samples and data."
Discarding the severed nose bone, skin and flesh intact, and wiping the blood off his gloves, Wesker turned and coldly ordered the Tricell employees waiting there, "Because of these idiots, we need to temporarily withdraw from Afghanistan."
"Clean it up."
After saying that, he tossed his trench coat aside, turned around, and walked toward the control room.
"Even though it's useless, it's still somewhat useful..."
Back at the central control panel, Wesker's expression instantly turned serious as he tapped the control keys, the flashing blue light reflecting on his face.
'Bang, bang.'
The blurry, frame-dropping footage shows a small hillside, with explosions echoing and thick smoke billowing into the sky.
This is the only valid footage transmitted back by the unauthorized Charikar field team.
It uses a law enforcement recorder released by the military science and technology department for the military and police market. It is a wireless transmission type.
It just arrived delayed from the receiver in Charikar.
Because the photographer was positioned at a high vantage point, the camera's perspective allowed for a clear view of the USA military vehicle convoy after the gunfire erupted. A fierce counterattack followed, with a dense hail of bullets pelting the hilltop disguised with makeshift foxholes, occasionally causing bursts of blood mist.
"Fuck! Who... who the hell fired... a gun?!"
"Information is incorrect... Reconnaissance is no longer possible... Withdraw..."
The audio quality is poor, distorted, and has packet loss.
You could barely make out the whistling sounds of bullets hitting flesh, very close. The two figures who were talking let out a painful groan and fell to the ground. The camera panned to the sky.
A man clad in a desert-themed ghillie suit suddenly appears in the frame, firing downwards, occasionally veering off course, and shouting maniacally, "Come back! No surrendering! Anyone who retreats dies..."
Just as he roared and fired, a deadly bullet came flying down at an angle and pierced his neck. The bullet was quite large and exploded into a cloud of blood mist. A large hole was punched through the junction of his shoulder blade and neck. His neck seemed to lose its support and tilted to the side, and his body fell to the ground.
The camera lens was instantly shrouded in a crimson hue.
As the dust kicked up by the explosion buried everything, visibility gradually dwindled until, with a deafening roar, a series of hissing sounds followed—
Signal transmission was completely interrupted.
With his gaze still fixed on the pixelated, white screen, Wesker frowned slightly.
Strange, this flawed, suicidal revenge plot is strange in many ways, yet it seems quite reasonable.
Is the military science department trying to shift its own dishonorable role in the April North American terrorist attacks, and to divert public attention and criticism through a self-directed and self-acted performance?
Based on the analysis of the chain of interests, yes.
However, based on logic and the deterioration of the external environment for military science itself, it is highly likely that the work was done by other political and business forces.
Umbrella loyalists who adhere to the Spencer line, terrorist organizations hostile to the military science community's provision of new weaponry to the USA, a Jewish-Onsa faction that doesn't want Vera, a conservative German, to seize too much of the pie, covert power struggles between different military and political entities, and long-established military-industrial groups whose global interests have been severely damaged...
There are too many suspects.
It is possible for a single force to do it, but it is more likely that multiple groups will turn a deaf ear and indifferently fuel the flames.
The Avenger's background is self-evident; according to Travis Company's human resources department, he is an extreme prejudiced individual, and it's impossible for him to have any connection with Militech.
As for why this particular time was chosen...
"Is it because of Vera Russell?"
Wesker muttered someone's name with mixed feelings.
The files reveal that the Avenger who brazenly forged the order was himself a drug addict and alcoholic.
His indulgent lifestyle before regaining his confidence had severely damaged his health.
After joining Travis Company's private armed forces, he had to start taking drugs frequently in order to continuously improve and maintain his physical fitness.
His body was already riddled with holes.
The department's physical examination report showed that after he passed the peak of his physical function, complications such as muscle atrophy, nerve disorders, infections, internal organ damage, and aging would come knocking, meaning that he would be completely useless.
This is not uncommon. The company has no targets for this and will dismiss them at that time.
Therefore, he couldn't wait. The opportunity to strike at Militech was right in front of him. Taking advantage of the CEO of Military Science's arrival in Afghanistan, he decided to take a risk and fight to the death.
In this situation, wasn't William Birkin in the same predicament back then...?
Wesker couldn't help but reminisce about his old friend.
Once again.
Because of Vera, he felt even more empathetic.
Wesker mentally reviewed everything since faking his death and escaping Umbrella, a surge of emotions—anger, jealousy, and humiliation—uncontrollably welled up within him.
Although I hate to admit it, the truth is that Vera is better than her, and she is better than him in every way.
Even when he killed Oswell E. Spencer at the Spencer family castle, the last words spoken by the dying old man, whose physiological functions were fading, after being stabbed through the heart were—
"William is a defective product, and you are perhaps a barely acceptable one. My dream, if it had been Vera, she could have achieved it..."
It's Vera again!
Even though the other party never took him seriously, or even knew he existed, the influence of her every move was so overwhelming that he had to temporarily avoid her.
"...but."
That's exactly right!