Africa. The underground laboratory. TriCell's core quarantine zone.
Five days had passed since acquiring the flesh sample from G-001. In those five days, Wesker had barely left the precision gene-recombination unit.
The quarantine zone reeked of disinfectant, thick enough to taste, but even that couldn't fully mask the occasional whiff of rotting flesh drifting up from deep within the ventilation system. Behind the cultivation tanks, several massive black sealed incineration chambers sat in cooldown mode, packed with the failed products of countless experiments over the past few months.
"Albert, look at this data." Excella stood beside him, her slender fingers sweeping across the control console.
On screen, countless 3D models of gene helix structures were recombining at a frantic pace.
The Progenitor Virus, originally volatile and violently rejection-prone, had achieved an eerie equilibrium after the near-perfect original G-Virus sequence was introduced. Cells that would have rapidly collapsed in earlier simulations could now not only withstand the Progenitor Virus's forced rewriting but had even advanced a step further in absorptive capability.
Under the microscope, the viral strains glowed dark gold, like intelligent micro-predators methodically tearing apart ordinary cells, restructuring them, then fusing them perfectly together. No more degenerating into mindless heaps of flesh.
"Ninety-five percent success rate."
Excella drew a deep breath, barely containing the excitement in her voice. She looked at the man beside her like she was seeing the future.
Wesker watched the green data stream refreshing on screen, and the faintest cold smile finally touched his lips.
He raised his right hand and ran it over his bare scalp. The hair follicles still showed zero signs of recovery, but the rush of imminent power was enough to temporarily suppress his hatred for Ryan.
"Not yet perfect, but we've touched the threshold of evolution." Wesker stared at the culture dish, eyes frigid. "The G-Virus's infinite proliferation fills the gap the Progenitor Virus leaves when it destroys host DNA. The fragile human body finally qualifies to carry the power of a god."
Just as Excella was about to speak, perhaps to discuss the next round of live testing, every alarm light in the laboratory switched without warning to a piercing dark red.
The holographic projection on the console began warping violently. The stable green data stream was instantly buried under a blizzard of static, followed by a piercing electronic screech that cut through the silence.
"What's happening?" Excella's face went pale. Her hands flew across the keyboard, fighting to reclaim control of the system.
A fine sheen of cold sweat broke across her forehead. This was TriCell's highest-classification secret facility in Africa. The main computer ran on an isolated internal LAN behind cutting-edge military-grade firewalls. An external signal forcing its way in should have been flat-out impossible.
But the garbled code on screen mocked her confidence. In barely ten seconds, TriCell's entire security system had been gutted, every defense protocol shredded like tissue paper.
"Mr. Wesker, and Ms. Gionne. Apologies for the intrusion."
A deep voice, processed through a voice modulator with a mechanical edge, filled the laboratory. "Wesker, looks like your retirement in Africa has been treating you well." The sound came from every surround speaker at once, making it impossible to pinpoint the source.
"Who are you?" Excella demanded into the microphone, her voice sharper than her nerve. "Hacking into TriCell's private servers? You know what that means. Wherever you are on this planet, TriCell's mercenaries will dig you out."
Wesker turned, bracing both hands on the console, a flicker of disgust passing behind his sunglasses. He didn't share Excella's panicked indignation. What he felt was the irritation of having his work interrupted.
"The Connections. A pack of opportunists who hide in the sewers peddling scrap. What do you want with me?" Wesker identified them instantly, his voice dripping with undisguised contempt.
"Our contact with her has been severed." The other party ignored Wesker's mockery, their tone growing darker. "Half a month ago, the operative we sent to establish contact went silent. We've tried every method since. Nothing."
"And? The trash you sent out couldn't even manage a distress signal?" Wesker let out a cold laugh.
He'd never had any respect for The Connections. A gang of thieves who'd built themselves up on Umbrella's table scraps, hawking stolen biotech on the black market. They didn't deserve to be on the same board as him.
The voice on the other end paused, as if choosing its next words carefully.
"What if they ran into Star Fire?"
The voice carried a deep dread. You could even hear a faint tremor underneath it.
The moment Wesker heard "Star Fire," a wave of killing cold rolled off him.
The temperature in the entire lab seemed to drop several degrees. Excella instinctively hugged her own arms. She could feel the murderous intent radiating from Wesker, an almost physical pressure that threatened to freeze the air solid.
"Star Fire took over the site directly. Within hours they'd sealed that valley airtight. Our lookouts in the surrounding area can't even get close." The Connections operative kept talking, their pace unconsciously quickening. "Their operational efficiency is terrifying. Swarms of armed helicopters blacking out the sky. Full-formation elite special forces. And scientists who seem to know bioweapons inside and out."
A deep breath on the other end, as though reliving the despair of that intelligence report. "Starfire Pharma is devouring all of our core assets, Wesker. Once they digest what's there, the next thing they clean out might be that Stairway to the Sun you haven't even had time to warm up yet. Ryan's goal isn't just to control bioterrorism. He's running a purge against every bioweapons faction on the planet."
Wesker was silent for a moment. Ryan's rate of expansion had genuinely exceeded his projections.
From the NEST beneath Raccoon City, to the Antarctic Veronica facility, to the Island off Spain. That man moved through the world like a player on an unrestricted server, and every strike landed precisely on a bioweapons faction's critical weak point. Wesker himself had paid a painful price for it, his full head of blond hair among the casualties.
"So you pack of strays want to come crawling to me for shelter." Wesker's voice returned to ice.
"No. A partnership."
"Partnership is fine, but I don't take in dead weight. Tell me, what does The Connections still have that's worth putting on my desk?" Wesker straightened up. He knew that if they'd risked exposure by hacking into TriCell's systems, they had to be holding a bargaining chip they considered heavy enough.
"We brought a gift you absolutely cannot refuse. It's already at your door."
The line went dead. The lab's red alarm flickered twice, then the lighting returned to its normal cold white. The data stream reappeared on the holographic display as if the entire intrusion had been a hallucination.
But the next second, the lab's multi-ton alloy blast door let out a crisp mechanical unlock.
Excella stumbled back a step. Access to that door was restricted to her and Wesker alone. There was no physical means of opening it from the outside.
Wesker's eyes narrowed. His virus-enhanced senses had already picked up the footsteps beyond the door. They carried no living heartbeat, cold and mechanical as a slab of moving ice.
The door slid open. A man in dark tactical gear wearing a signature gas mask walked in.
His stride was steady and utterly lifeless, heavy combat boots striking the metal floor with an unsettling echo. On his back he carried a sealed cryogenic transport case, its surface still glazed with a thin layer of frost.
The Grim Reaper. HUNK.
Umbrella's former top-tier recovery specialist. After Umbrella's collapse he'd vanished completely from public view. No one expected him to turn up here.
"Wesker. Been a while." HUNK's voice through the gas mask filter carried no discernible emotion, as though he were a machine executing a program.
He paid no attention to the murderous look in Wesker's eyes, nor to Excella tensed up like a cornered animal in the corner. He walked straight to the lab bench, swung the cryo case off his back, and set it firmly on the stainless steel surface. Then he entered a complex Connections internal code on the console.
The mechanical lock released with a sharp click, cutting through the silence of the lab.
The lid opened. A cloud of white cold-mist dissipated. In the center of the sample rack sat a single test tube. Inside it, a black substance writhed constantly, as if alive.
The Mold.
The black liquid seemed to sense the change in its surroundings. It thrashed against the reinforced blast-proof glass of the tube, searching frantically for any organic matter to latch onto.
HUNK laid out the sample's origin and value in clipped, efficient terms.
"A sample The Connections previously obtained from her." HUNK looked toward Wesker. "They believe only the technology in your hands can unlock this thing's full potential."
Wesker approached, his steps measured and unhurried, stopping at the lab bench.
He looked down at the black Mold sample, at its eerie sheen under the lights, then glanced at the so-called Grim Reaper standing before him, the man who'd supposedly never failed a mission. The tension in Wesker's face finally gave way to an unfathomable smile.
A smile of absolute hunger for power, and absolute confidence in revenge.
"The Stairway to the Sun, Veronica, the G-Virus, Las Plagas, and now this Mold that Spencer himself deemed forbidden."
Wesker reached out with a black leather-gloved hand and ran his fingers along the frosted surface of the cryo tube. His voice carried a manic edge.
The grand plan that had been missing its key piece finally clicked into place. The Stairway to the Sun provided the cornerstone of evolution. The G-Virus granted a body capable of infinite regeneration. Veronica brought the possibility of ecological fusion. Las Plagas and the Mold network could forcibly unify all of humanity under one evolutionary directive.
He would become the sole god of an entirely new species.
"Ryan, you think you've already won. But you don't realize you've just been gathering the puzzle pieces scattered across the globe and delivering them right to me."
Wesker gripped the black Mold tube tight in his hand, his eyes blazing with madness behind the sunglasses.
But there was still one problem. Stitching them together, purifying them, reshaping them into the true Ouroboros would take time. A lot of time.
He turned and looked at Excella, who had been standing silently off to the side.
"Simmons. You handle the liaison." Wesker's voice carried no warmth. "Whatever he wants, allocate it from our reserves. Tell him there's one condition: make trouble for Star Fire. Keep them busy."
Excella gave a small nod. "Which batch?"
"Secondary samples will do. That politician doesn't deserve anything better."
She asked nothing more, turned, and left the laboratory. The click of her heels against the floor faded into the distance, and the alloy blast door sealed shut behind her.
Inside the lab, the Progenitor Virus purification equipment spun back up with a high-load hum. The ultimate nightmare aimed at Star Fire, aimed at all of humanity, was being frantically incubated deep beneath the arid African earth.
[This novel is now COMPLETE. Read the entire series right now on Patreon: patreon.com/NiaXD]