Vera recalled the favors she had given him. At the charity donation dinner organized by his wife, she had bought a painting that cost an arm and a leg—though she could not see a shred of artistic value in it—and donated two million dollars.
"You never truly know a person's heart. That British bastard Spencer always called himself an aristocrat. Who would have thought he could commit such evil?"
A tall, thin middle-aged man with graying hair joined the conversation at just the right moment. Vera lightly shook his hand.
The House Minority Leader.
The construction company his son had joined had just received a large number of orders from Militech, the newly established company formed from the Umbrella California Branch Vera had once controlled.
"Gentlemen, this is a unity of purpose unlike anything we have seen since 1941. God bless the United States. When disaster strikes, our shared patriotic stance proves the superiority of our system."
The Speaker, white-haired yet powerfully built, his complexion ruddy and healthy, stepped down from the podium. After shaking hands with these longtime congressional rivals, he turned to Vera.
Vera returned his smile.
She had some connection with this Speaker as well.
He had once been a VIP client of the Umbrella California Branch's rehabilitation and convalescence services. After the Raccoon City incident, Drake C. Simmons had not been the only person she reached out to.
This respected old Speaker had been a lawyer, graduating from UC Berkeley School of Law. He was technically Vera's senior alumnus from many classes before her. After establishing ties, Vera had promised him an easy retirement position: legal counsel in Militech's legal department.
Introduced by these old men, Vera shook hands with every nearby congressman and political figure, smiling politely as she thanked them.
That was probably the word she had said most today.
Listening to their verbal encouragement and sympathy, Vera could only sneer inwardly.
Unity, my ass. If the Raccoon City incident had not gotten so massive, you would still be tearing each other apart over party politics.
The 9/11 Incident had not yet happened. At this point, the North American homeland of the chosen nation had never suffered an attack. A sudden bioweapon disaster that would kill over a hundred thousand people and destroy an entire city—no politician could bear that responsibility.
Even the President would face impeachment. One misstep, and he would be forced from office.
Good thing she had come.
Bringing benefits while also taking the blame...
No, this had been Umbrella's doing from the start.
The White House and Washington probably had a rough idea of the dirty things Umbrella had been doing in secret over the years.
They had ignored it because, on one hand, they had needs and Umbrella had the technology, and they were not clean themselves. On the other hand, the Umbrella network built through lobbyists and political donations was not weak.
Just look at the original timeline. After Raccoon City was destroyed by a nuclear bomb, with no conclusive evidence and for reasons no one knew, Umbrella was merely accused of being highly suspicious—and somehow remained afloat on the stock market from 1998 to 2005.
If Wesker had not submitted evidence of Umbrella's secret biovirus and bioweapon research to the international court, it might have held on for several more years.
Now that Vera had defected, countless informed personnel from the Raccoon City branch had been rescued by the U.S.F, and a massive amount of evidence that would have been destroyed in Raccoon City's nuclear blast had been made public, Washington's politicians were practically rejoicing.
The responsibility had to fall entirely on Umbrella. With the evidence in hand, they would convict it to death!
Otherwise, would that not make them incompetent?
Under this temporary united front, the congressmen all appeared perfectly cordial.
As though there were no pressure or conflicts whatsoever.
And with the newly established Militech executive, the Whip, the Minority Leader, and the Speaker all appearing in the same frame, the sharp-eyed reporters naturally would not miss the chance to snap photos.
When the four emerged from the front entrance of the Capitol Building, the countless reporters waiting outside surged toward them like a tide. The cameras went click, click, click! Flashbulbs flickered nonstop, and questions came one after another, creating such a chaotic din that nothing could be heard clearly.
"Was the Raccoon City incident really caused by a biovirus leak?"
"William Birkin turned into a grotesque monster. Ms. Russell, are the photos and videos you released real? Can you guarantee that?"
"Why did you name Umbrella USA's restructured company Militech? Ms. Russell, can we boldly speculate about your relationship with the Pentagon?"
"Ms. Russell, was this move meant to signal your future direction in office and business? Will Militech, restructured from the Umbrella California Branch, abandon its old pharmaceutical business and become a 'pure' defense contractor?"
"Ms. Russell, in such a hurry to reach a separation agreement with the Pentagon, White House, and Congress, do you have other ties to the Raccoon City incident? Or did Congress specifically use this opportunity to force you to split from the Umbrella Paris Headquarters so it could break up Umbrella?"
Secret Service agents and on-duty police officers forcefully held back the crushing crowd of reporters.
Vera did not steal the spotlight.
At a time like this, the stage should be left to these old politicians. They would handle everything.
After sharing the profits, Militech would bring them benefits, unlike Spencer and Britain had in the past. They would never allow anyone to lump Raccoon City together with the newborn Militech.
Regarding the specific equity arrangements for Vera leading Militech out of the illegal Umbrella corporation, they were also very rational and restrained.
To be discussed later...
Vera was a genius. Everyone knew that.
And geniuses ahead of their time never feared sharing benefits, because they could create new sources of profit growth.
They saw this very clearly. What had value was not Militech, but Vera.
No one would fight Vera for control of Militech. The positions of chairman and chief executive officer, as well as the largest shareholder with absolute control, could only belong to her.
After all, they themselves were powerful congressmen and political figures. What they needed was money through legitimate channels.
Washington was clearly more important. There was no need to tear things apart with Vera. In 1998, no one thought a board seat in a company mattered more than a position in Washington.
After putting on this act with Congress's old men, Vera felt as though her facial expression was about to become unnaturally stiff amid the flashing cameras. Finally, a White House attendant and a Marine Corps lieutenant colonel came to rescue her from the ordeal.
"The President and Mr. Simmons are waiting for you in the White House War Room, Ms. Russell."
Pointing apologetically at the general sent from the White House, Vera offered the congressmen an apology, then entered her vehicle with the help of Secret Service agents and private bodyguards, riding with the lieutenant colonel.
"How do you need me to help?"
"At dawn on the twenty-sixth, the National Guard linked up with the U.S.F under your advisement at the western evacuation point outside the city. But the Delta Team and Echo Team that entered Raccoon City from the southeast seem to have come under attack from the U.S.S..." He paused. "William Birkin... according to the reports, they appear to have encountered a severely mutated Dr. William Birkin."
Vera raised an eyebrow slightly.
The news did not surprise her at all. Entering from Raccoon Avenue, the western side of the city was relatively open, laid out in square blocks. But the southeast contained the police station, city hall, power substation, and narrow, complex underground passages. More importantly, the school was there. William, seeking to lay eggs, would definitely go looking for his daughter...
"Mr. Simmons hopes you can try to persuade that U.S.S team to surrender. At the same time, immediately order the U.S.F to enter and capture or kill Dr. William Birkin... and try to determine whether there is any final possibility of saving Raccoon City."
Capture the G-Creature? Vera's lips twitched several times. She shook her head and laughed. They really dared to imagine it.
"Fine. Do you have a satellite phone?"
William, ×! Vera,?!
As Vera set off for the White House, the media released the news that the bill she had pushed through Congress—to sanction Umbrella, freeze all of its operations, and forcibly restructure it—had passed the House of Representatives.
Shortly afterward, footage of Vera speaking eloquently to the cameras beneath the Statue of Liberty on Capitol Hill alongside a crowd of congressmen and political figures was broadcast live around the world.
Denver, Colorado. In a Hidden Safe House concealed within an upscale Apartment building in the city, the news of the House of Representatives passing sanctions against Umbrella cast shifting blue light across the dim room.
A tall man in a navy-blue shirt, wearing an underarm holster, sunglasses, and a slicked-back blond hairstyle, leaned against his seat and quietly watched the screen.
Among the balding middle-aged and elderly men and bob-haired old women, that beautiful young figure stood out sharply.
She wore an expensive uniform with a high-tech feel, patterned in dark crimson. Her delicate, symmetrical face looked almost like that of a decorative vase, while her wavy light-blond hair fell like a waterfall to her shoulders.
And then there were those unforgettable indigo eyes.
"...Spencer, you brought this upon yourself. How could someone like Vera Adelheid possibly let you control and bleed her dry?"
Albert Wesker wore a cold smile.
He did not know exactly how much Vera knew about Umbrella's secret research into bioviruses and bioweapons. After all, she truly had never proactively involved herself in virology or made any covert moves. That was a fact. But the arrogance and disdain in her attitude could not have been faked.
After only a few brief encounters without directly facing each other, and a few observations from the sidelines, Wesker could already sense that he and that woman were, in some ways, the same kind of person.
Wesker admitted that in the past, he had even felt envy, jealousy, and inferiority toward the achievements this woman had made and the meteoric rise to her lofty position.
"William... in the end, you still lost."
Creak, creak.
Watching the censored image of the grotesque monster on the news, along with the large bold text declaring, "William Birkin, Umbrella Virology Chief Researcher, Instigator of the Raccoon City Incident," Wesker clenched his fist. A vein bulged briefly on his forehead before fading.
Within Umbrella, William Birkin had been one of his few friends.
When he had voluntarily injected himself with an experimental mutant strain of the Progenitor Virus in order to fake his death, it had been William who prepared and administered the injection.
Wesker knew that in recent years, William had nearly been driven mad by the pressure Vera brought upon him within the company.
His own ambitions, the pressure and contempt from colleagues, the increasingly bleak prospects within the company—Wesker had vaguely realized that William had made contact with high-ranking U.S. military officials and might have been preparing to betray the company.
And the result was obvious. William had still lost completely.
She had not even paid attention to him.
Spencer had been the one to strike.
And judging by the news, Vera, Washington, and the Pentagon might have been in bed together long ago.
Even if William had succeeded by some stroke of luck, Wesker did not think his friend could compete with Vera.
B.O.W.s and bioweapons were indeed things the military needed. But compared to the obvious prospects brought by Vera's cybernetic technology, intelligent unmanned technology, electronic information industry, and emerging weapons products that steadily delivered and turned profits, William's technological shortcomings and limitations were far too apparent.
Now, William had indirectly caused the world's first massive bioweapon leak. The military immediately cut off contact with him and, working with Vera's congressional speech, pushed all blame onto William.
The Pentagon: William Birkin? Never heard of him! We are afraid Miss Vera might misunderstand.
Before long, Wesker even saw news that William Birkin's alma mater had removed him from its hall of fame and revoked his degree, while many private hospitals announced the termination of their cooperation agreements with him...
"William, rest in peace. I will never repeat your mistakes..."
Though the footage had been censored, Wesker knew very well that his old friend had died the moment he was infected with the G-Virus.
Beep beep...
The text alert interrupted Wesker's final mourning for his friend. He picked up his phone. Caller: Ada Wong.
He answered.
Wesker asked, "Did you get it?"
"Not yet."
A slightly husky, mature female voice came through the speaker.
"You never told me Umbrella's internal conflict would be this intense. Vera Adelheid's U.S.F, the Paris Headquarters' U.T.S, the U.B.C.S who know nothing and are still rescuing people, the U.S.S sent by Spencer, RPD's Raccoon City police, and the military's special forces—they're all fighting each other. The B.O.W.s deployed throughout the city and the escaped bioweapon test subjects from the laboratory far exceed your estimate... It's too chaotic. I have no chance of entering the Underground Research Institute at all."
"William Birkin has turned into a monster and is wandering around the school district, apparently looking for his daughter. He encountered the military's special forces, and a fierce firefight broke out. The nearby hordes of corpses are converging on the city. For now, I also can't get close to the second target."
"..."
After quietly listening to her account, Wesker finally said in a deep voice, "That is your problem to consider. I chose you precisely because of the risk. Double the payment. Do not disappoint me."
"I'll do my best. I'm trying to blend into the Raccoon City police. They're gathering survivors. I think I have a chance to reach the second target."
"Then you had better hurry, Ada. Vera Adelheid is in Washington. Once she confirms that she has what she wants, evacuates the survivors and military, and the military determines Raccoon City cannot be saved, what awaits Raccoon City will be total sterilization."
The call ended.
"Before Vera Adelheid mobilizes more troops... No, there's no time. I still can't expose myself..."
Wesker put down his phone and quietly watched the computer screen. On it was the surveillance system of the Raccoon City Underground Research Institute, accessed through the backdoor William had left behind.
Raccoon City.
Southeast district, Raccoon Junior High School.
"Roar—!" Soft, spine-chilling chewing sounds and enormous, inhuman cries of pain echoed continuously.
Tap, tap...
Beside a chain of abandoned vehicles that had crashed into one another, soft footsteps sounded along the edge of the road, followed by pained grunts and low curses.
"Fuck, fuck! Those Umbrella U.S.S dogs!"
"Enough. Keep it down. We lost this round. Their equipment... damn it, since when has USA Special Forces equipment fallen behind..."
"You too, stop whining. Fuller's dead. If we draw that monster William Birkin over here again, we're all dead."
A group of U.S. special operations soldiers in urban camouflage and tactical vests staggered into a cleared-out building. They drew the curtains, ate compressed biscuits to restore their strength, bandaged themselves, and sorted through their remaining ammunition.
There were dead and wounded. The team's atmosphere was heavy.
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