Infinite, Progressing from Arasaka

That face looking back in the darkness, that ghastly pale, rotten face...

"Whew..."

Chris Redfield sat with his head lowered and body leaning forward, taking a deep breath.

After a moment, he opened his eyes. What greeted him was a massive red-and-white umbrella-patterned floor tile, silver-plated and glazed, gleaming spotless.

"Umbrella..."

The word seemed to squeeze out of his throat. The muscles in his face trembled with rage, and his bloodshot eyes seemed ready to spit fire.

Chris would never forget that day—the events of the night of July 24.

As a member of Alpha Squad of Raccoon City Police Department's S.T.A.R.S. (Special Tactics and Rescue Service), he had taken part in an operation concerning the "cult organization" incidents that had appeared one after another in the Arklay Mountains that spring.

He swore it had been the nightmare of his life.

Cult organization, my ass!

There had been Zombies, Living Dead, bio-weapons, and the sins of the US Military and Umbrella Corporation!

For the past two months, whenever he closed his eyes, Chris dreamed of returning to that damned mansion, facing the lunges and bites of rotting corpses with torn flesh, pus, and bloodstains, along with attacks by all kinds of grotesque bioweapon monstrosities.

"...Heh. An Umbrella executive. Hopefully she'll be useful."

Chris raised his head. Under the high-end chandelier brimming with technological flair, the reception hall of this newly built headquarters inside Umbrella's industrial park in San Francisco was bright as day. Having grown accustomed to feeling his way through darkness lately, he could not help narrowing his eyes.

After surviving the mansion ordeal, he had received treatment and recovered at Raccoon City General Hospital. Along with Jill, Barry, and Rebecca, the surviving S.T.A.R.S. members had repeatedly tried to expose Umbrella's crimes to the authorities.

Unfortunately, the arm could not twist the thigh.

Umbrella controlled every vital artery of Raccoon City and forcibly suppressed the matter.

Their reports to the FBI had vanished without a trace, with no response whatsoever. Even S.T.A.R.S. had been forcibly shut down. Chris could only keep gathering dirt on Umbrella from every possible source, along with evidence of its biological research.

Because of some excessive actions during that period, he had even been suspended. But Chris had not given up. He had planned to use a vacation in Europe as an excuse to continue investigating Umbrella's Paris headquarters.

The process remained painfully difficult.

Then Rebecca's letter offered Chris another possible path.

Rebecca, who had originally been invited to take a position at the S.T.A.R.S. Exeter branch in Maine, had suddenly appeared in California. She said she could try to divide Umbrella from within.

As far as Chris was concerned, the very possibility was complete bullshit.

Umbrella people would turn on each other and dismantle their own company?

Still, it was a solution when there were no solutions.

Given the current situation, waiting around was still just waiting around. He might as well take a gamble.

Driven by his sense of justice and his mission to avenge his fallen teammates, Chris had quietly returned from Europe.

After meeting up with Rebecca in San Francisco, he had first rebuked her recklessness. Then he had taken over and tailed the target for several days to learn more about the situation.

After learning that the Pentagon and Umbrella would be making a major deal today, Chris had slipped to the edge of Umbrella's industrial park. Once the Department of Defense convoy had departed and he confirmed Vera was still inside the park, he had barged in under the identity of a former Raccoon City S.T.A.R.S. member and demanded to see Vera, claiming he had important company secrets.

After the 1996 reorganization, Umbrella had become Raccoon City S.T.A.R.S.'s largest financial sponsor. That was practically public knowledge.

The Umbrella employees here would definitely know it.

"Mr. Redfield, correct? Please come with me. Director Russell wishes to see you."

Not long afterward, a secretary arrived with security personnel to summon him.

"..." In silence, Chris rose to his feet.

Really, even knowing that Umbrella had people who were unaware of the truth and different divisions, he still had no goodwill whatsoever toward those people with Umbrella logo pins on their collars.

The elevator doors opened, and Chris followed behind the secretary with a heavy heart.

As he walked through the broad corridor, clearly feeling the surveillance trained on him, he continually thought over the information he had uncovered, more or less, after speaking with Rebecca about this so-called Director Russell.

Vera Adelheid Russell.

Born in 1976, twenty-two years old.

Of German descent. (

Adelheid, a commonly used middle name or baptismal name in German-speaking cultures, carrying beautiful meanings such as sweetness or nobility.

A genius, Umbrella's youngest executive and chief researcher, the first director of the Black Umbrella division.

She had skipped grades and completed her education early, graduating from the College of Engineering at the University of California, Berkeley.

Her parents had died in an accident during her student years. After graduation, she had joined Umbrella's California Division and risen rapidly through the ranks, becoming known for her expertise across multiple fields, including mechanical engineering, bionics, ergonomics, intelligent control, and electronic information.

A textbook example of a genius success story.

She was believed to be exceptionally focused on prosthetics and bionics because of her parents' accidental deaths.

An opponent of Umbrella's old direction, she had publicly criticized Umbrella's excessive investment in medical and biological research many times. She had been the greatest driving force and organizer behind Umbrella's transformation from a single-industry medical company in recent years.

That damned mansion had likely existed long before Director Russell had even been born.

Compared to the scraps of information Chris had painfully uncovered in Raccoon City about the G-Virus, as well as the chief researcher there, William Birkin, this Director Russell had undeniably joined Umbrella far too late.

The T-Virus, G-Virus, B.O.W.s, and all that had already existed before Vera graduated.

And this woman's conflict with William Birkin—her disparagement and criticism of his research results and the investment poured into them—was something even rank-and-file Umbrella employees in Raccoon City had heard about.

Considering her performance at Umbrella press conferences and symposiums, she truly was the only breakthrough point with the highest chance of success.

Thinking that, Chris had a little more hope for the success of this trip.

Rebecca, I hope you're right.

Tap, tap—

The footsteps abruptly stopped. Seeing fully armed corporate security personnel slowly gathering around him, Chris turned his head toward the secretary leading the way. "What does this mean?"

Secretary: "Please forgive us, Mr. Redfield. This is standard procedure. Please stand inside the security gate for a pat-down inspection. We ask for your cooperation."

Chris kept a blank face, but since he had come this far, giving up halfway was not his style. "Fine."

Standing between two pillars, two tall, burly security guards stepped forward and began searching Chris. They were thorough, holding long devices with displays that he could not identify. Metal detectors?

Only then did Chris begin carefully examining Umbrella's security guards.

First of all, they looked extremely intimidating—every one of them a huge, muscular man.

Their equipment was definitely far superior to what his S.T.A.R.S. had. They were wrapped up from head to toe: black stab-resistant uniforms, black military boots and tactical gloves, black coveralls, knee pads, arm guards, heavy Kevlar body armor with armor plates, and...

What kind of gun was that? Why had he never seen it before?

As a former Air Force pilot, police officer, SWAT officer, frequent shooting competitor, and even a championship-winning gun enthusiast, Chris could not claim to recognize every firearm model in the world, but he had personally handled nearly all the famous and highly regarded models on the market.

At least in Chris's eyes, the guns held by these security guards were no less finely made than the first-, second-, and third-place prizes he had seen at shooting competitions. They just lacked customization.

"We will hold your belongings for you, Mr. Redfield."

After completing the search, the guards placed a Beretta M92F pistol, a combat knife, a spare magazine, a wallet, a ring of keys, a Nokia phone, and a waist pouch containing film, discs, and CAM Flash Memory on a long table.

The secretary's eyebrow twitched wildly, but he still said nothing more. "Please." He gestured for Chris to follow.

After another few dozen steps, they reached a door that looked incredibly heavy and obscenely expensive.

Knock, knock.

"Director, Mr. Redfield has arrived."

"Let him in." A cool female voice came from within.

The secretary stepped aside.

Chris straightened his body. There was nothing to shrink back from.

At worst, he would die. He had made a backup of all the information he possessed and given it to Rebecca. Before entering Umbrella's industrial park, he had specifically recorded video footage as well. If anything happened to him, that could still serve as ammunition against Umbrella.

Creak.

He pushed the door and entered.

Chris took in the interior decor, swiftly but carefully observing every detail.

It was a completely different style from that damned mansion and Umbrella Tower in Raccoon City.

It was spacious, simple, and bright, roughly three hundred square meters. An entire wall was made of dark floor-to-ceiling glass. There was a large half-arc desk, elegant and refined, seemingly wood yet seemingly metal. A twenty-seven-inch computer monitor without a tower sat off to one side, along with a large black leather executive chair.

The ceiling was high. A recessed suspended ceiling, which presumably concealed cutting-edge communications equipment and precise electronic devices, hung directly over the desk.

The walls on either side were divided into three areas. One side held bookshelves, with an inset lounge area containing a small bar, wine cabinet, and refrigerator. The guest area on the other side consisted of a large sofa set and a coffee table.

Special panels resembling a minimalist rippled-pattern carpet decorated the center of the long, empty room. A striking woman sat leaning against the desk, raised a teacup, took a light sip, and nodded at him.

"Welcome, Mr. Redfield."

Regarding the man with considerable interest, Vera spoke first.

Well, well, look who this was.

Over six feet tall, with brown-black hair slicked back, a sturdy build that, while not yet as explosively muscular as in the future, was still quite powerful. His youthful face already showed that unyielding aura and the ruthless temperament of someone who would brawl with Tyrants.

Chris.

Really, Vera had never expected one of Resident Evil's destined main protagonists to come looking for her of his own accord.

"Director Russell, you know about Raccoon City, don't you?"

Although Vera's elegance and composure gave off a very comfortable impression, Chris was a straight-laced man of steel who could even leave his gorgeous female partner at home. He had no interest in pointless chatter with Vera and went straight to the point.

"What? Has that washed-up, stubborn middle-aged man William Birkin failed to manage even his own territory? A Raccoon City SWAT officer comes to me asking for help? Ah, although I would love to kick Birkin aside and take charge of the American region, he is still an old hand with some influence on the Board of Directors."

Vera raised an eyebrow and set down her teacup.

Fine, you're in a hurry, so I won't pour you any tea. No pleasantries. Let's get straight to it.

"You... no, they're researching viral weapons!"

"Research into viral weapons is also part of national defense. Are you one of those children who see everything in black and white? As a former Air Force soldier."

Vera spoke in an official tone. "It is perfectly normal for the company to have business in this area and cooperate with the Pentagon. That is the business line handled by their 'White Umbrella' and Birkin. Any objections can be raised with the Board of Directors. I do not interfere with their work, and they cannot interfere with mine. Those are the public rules."

"Rules... Your rules? People died! Fuck you! So many people died, while you sit in your luxurious, safe office and say—"

Still only twenty-five, Chris's composure had its limits. Provoked by Vera's offhand attitude, all the anger and suppressed negative emotions from being stonewalled for investigating Umbrella suddenly erupted.

Bang, bang.

"I'm reminding you to watch your language."

Vera looked at Chris's gritted-teeth expression, tapped the desk, and said heavily, "Otherwise, I can have you escorted out."

"Whew... whew..." Taking deep breaths, Chris stared hard at Vera. "Do you really not know?"

"I know, but as a professional businessperson, I neither intend to dig into it nor want to understand it."

Vera answered instantly. At the same time, she walked fearlessly up to Chris, met his gaze, stared into his eyes, and said word by word, "So tell me what you know about the company's Raccoon City secrets. That is also why I agreed to see you."

As she spoke, Vera turned and walked to the large sofa in the guest area, motioning for Chris to sit.

"A Raccoon City S.T.A.R.S. officer coming all the way to me—has that stubborn William Birkin degraded into useless trash? He kept researching, caused a leak instead, and still failed to contain it. Don't tell me it developed into a biological crisis? Then he really needs to be—"

"It was a biological crisis. The corpses moved. Living Dead."

Chris did not sit. He walked directly up to Vera, his expression graver than ever before. "This is the sin of your Umbrella. If you have even a shred of conscience, reveal the truth to the public. Your people confiscated my bag. The evidence I gathered is inside it!"

Vera paused, leaning against the sofa as if Chris's words had put her into deep thought. Then she smiled.

"As an Umbrella executive, aren't you afraid I'll destroy the evidence and silence you?"

"Go ahead and try. When I came to this snake pit of yours, I never expected to make it back safely."

"Then why not try to abduct me and hold me hostage, threatening me into submission?"

"No. I would not do something like that. I will not indiscriminately take my anger out on others."

With a stiff expression, Chris said, "You're neither a good person nor a bad one. You're a genius. My friends in the military all say so. The prosthetic technology you led the development of has allowed my comrades to embrace people again. Society needs you... Umbrella has criminals who aid evil, but it also has innocent people."

"Ha." Vera laughed softly.

The young Captain Chris was already this good at talking?

"So you're saying that if I don't stand on your side, I'm aiding evil?"