Chapter 90: Clones
Wu Fan stared at the few lines of text on the screen. The ash on his cigarette had grown long; he had forgotten to flick it.
S.T.A.R.S. Advance Assault Team, six people, twenty-four hours to manufacture, 60,000 points.
Once manufactured, they cannot be made again; however, if the team is wiped out, clones can be manufactured again for 60,000 points.
He looked further down.
[Umbrella Security Service (U.S.S.)], Umbrella Corporation's top-secret force. Core mission: protect assets, recover virus samples, and destroy unfavorable evidence.
Professional elites, absolute obedience, limited to six people, repurchasable after wipeout, exchange cost: 100,000 points.
This team was a bit pricey.
[Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasure Service (U.B.C.S.)], conventional mercenaries for rescue and maintaining order. Starting at ten thousand clones at once, 500,000 points.
Wu Fan stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, his lip twitching slightly.
Elites are rare, but cannon fodder is plentiful.
Ten thousand people for 500,000 points—that averaged out to 50 points per clone.
The S.T.A.R.S. team had six people for 60,000 points, averaging more than 10,000 points per person.
He stood up and walked to the window. The area downstairs was empty, the streetlights making the concrete look pale.
The searchlights on the perimeter walls rotated slowly, their beams sweeping across the wilderness and illuminating nothing.
60,000 points for six people.
He could afford to feed and house them.
He couldn't afford ten thousand people.
Currently, self-sufficient food production was enough for the base and the Prison. If he suddenly mass-produced troops, there wouldn't be enough food, water, or living space. A shortage of supplies at the base would only cause discontent and lead to wavering loyalty among his people. Even if he used points to buy supplies, consuming them like this indefinitely wasn't sustainable; no matter how fast he earned points, he couldn't fill that hole.
The base had to become fully capable of supporting ten thousand people self-sufficiently first.
He would use elite teams first; otherwise, there wouldn't even be enough people to lead missions.
He turned back to the desk and clicked confirm.
[S.T.A.R.S. Advance Assault Team manufacturing... Remaining time: 23 hours 59 minutes.]
He closed that window and opened another.
Umbrella Corporation Global Orbital Satellite Constellation. Unlock condition: SSS-level clearance.
He glanced at the golden icon in the top right corner and clicked it.
The point balance dropped from 161,000 to 61,000.
Hive Level B2, Administrative Office Dispatch Platform.
On the high-tech widescreen, the Earth rotated slowly; blue oceans, white clouds, and the outlines of continents emerged from the dawn-dusk line.
The Red Queen's voice came from the ceiling speakers, calm and without a ripple of emotion.
"Satellite link established. Global monitoring system online. Bio-signal monitoring activated. Walker horde status assessment module loading."
Wu Fan stood before the screen, watching the blue planet rotate slowly before his eyes.
The Red Queen began to zoom in. The American continent emerged from the curve; coastlines, mountain ranges, and rivers appeared, while city outlines looked like patches of gray moss clinging to the earth.
Zooming in further.
East Coast of the United States, Georgia, Atlanta.
The city grid unfolded on the screen—streets, blocks, and the roads he had walked countless times. Looking down from space now, they resembled an open chessboard.
Zooming in further.
CDC.
The gray building complex, white walls, the nearby small town, the temporary defensive lines made of containers, training grounds, and helipads—everything was crystal clear.
"Red Queen, monitor the Walker hordes."
Several rows of data popped up on the screen.
Within Georgia, large-scale Walker hordes: three locations.
Atlanta urban area: Walker density extremely high; the number could not be precisely estimated, but it exceeded one million.
Toward Savannah: A horde of approximately 200,000 moving slowly along the coastline.
Northwest: Scattered individuals, no large-scale clusters formed.
The data continued refreshing; with every update, a few more red dots appeared.
Wu Fan looked at the dense red markings and lit a cigarette.
Hive Level B7.
The lights in the cloning lab stayed on all night.
The incubation chambers were circular and transparent, hanging from the ceiling to the floor like giant capsules.
Pale green nutrient solution circulated slowly inside, with bubbles rising from the bottom in strings, shimmering under the lights.
Six human silhouettes floated in the liquid, eyes closed and bodies relaxed, like fetuses in a mother's womb.
Cables and tubes extended from the chamber walls, connecting to their spines, the backs of their heads, and their chests.
On the monitoring screens, brainwaves pulsed steadily; heart rate, blood pressure, and blood oxygen—every number was so perfect they hardly seemed human.
The next day, 4:00 PM.
Manufacturing progress: 87%.
Captain James Shade. Black, bald.
His features were now distinct: thick eyebrows, high cheekbones, and full lips. With his eyes closed, he didn't look like a warrior but like a middle-aged man napping on a park bench.
In the adjacent chamber was Chad Kaplan, the hacker. White, lean, with long fingers and thin calluses on his fingertips.
Rain Ocampo, female combatant; there was a thin scar on her cheekbone that hadn't fully healed yet.
J.D. Salinas, Olson, and Cabo.
Six people, six bodies floating in pale green liquid, six steady brainwave patterns.
Progress: 94%.
The nutrient solution began to drain.
The liquid level dropped slowly, from the tops of their heads to their chins, to their chests, to their waists.
The cables and tubes automatically detached from them, and the skin at the connection points healed rapidly, leaving not even a scar.
The chamber doors opened.
White mist billowed out, filling the entire laboratory.
James was the first to wake.
He opened his eyes, his gray pupils darting around, then stepped out of the incubation chamber, his bare feet touching the cold metal floor.
He looked down at his hands, clenched them, released them, and clenched them again.
Then he stood up straight, facing the direction of the surveillance camera.
A cold voice came from the speaker.
"S.T.A.R.S. Team, awaiting orders."
Kaplan was the second to emerge.
Rain stretched her neck, her joints cracking loudly.
J.D., Olson, and Cabo walked out in sequence, standing in a row with bare feet on the floor.
Six people, six pairs of gray eyes, all looking in the same direction.
In a cold tone, the Red Queen instructed them to go to the equipment room and collect their combat uniforms and gear; the Boss wanted to see them.
The six people turned and left.
Bare feet stepped on the metal floor, their footsteps synchronized like those of a single person.
When Wu Fan met them in the office, the six had already changed clothes.
They wore pitch-black combat uniforms bearing the Umbrella Corporation logo.
Their backs were too straight, they stood too neatly, and their eyes were too uniform.
These were the members of the suicide squad from the first Resident Evil movie.
"Do you know who you are?" Wu Fan asked.
James spoke, his voice low and steady.
"S.T.A.R.S. Advance Assault Team. Captain James Shade. Our mission is to protect assets, perform strike missions, and maintain absolute obedience to Umbrella Corporation commands."
Wu Fan looked at him for a few seconds, then pushed the map on the desk toward him.
"There are a few streets in downtown Atlanta that haven't been cleared yet. Go and get some practice."
James took the map, folded it, and tucked it into his pocket.
The six people turned and left.
The sound of synchronized footsteps echoed through the hallway, growing more distant until it vanished.
Wu Fan stood by the window and watched as the six people, having collected their weapons and equipment, walked out of the main building and climbed into a humvee.
The engine started, and the vehicle drove out of the gate, soon disappearing from sight.
He lit a cigarette, the smoke forming a thin layer of mist on the glass.
His rookie protection period had passed. After upgrading to SSS-level clearance, those biochemical weapons, vehicles, and aircraft would have to be restored by spending thousands or even tens of thousands of points.