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geralddurden · 4 days

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Umbrella Pharmaceuticals - Chapter 41 (New chapter sorting)

Summary: William Birkin completes the Beta strain of the T-virus. Oswell E. Spencer and Alexander Ashford sign their first commercial contract for the sale of biological weapons. Albert Wesker gathers enough information on the two Umbrella presidents.

Convulsion.

The creature's hands moved. The legs trembled. The eyes opened. The torso jerked and the creature sat up straight. Mouth open, oozing saliva and bile; rotten teeth protruding like fangs.

The creature kept its balance. Then it walked. One step. Two steps. Staggering as if drunk, to nowhere. It hit the wall. It raised its arms. It clawed at the concrete. Fingernails came loose from both hands.

A gate slid behind it. A dog. A Doberman. The Doberman barked in fright. The creature turned around. The Doberman, barricaded between the closed gate and the creature, bared its teeth. The creature did not back down. The Doberman stepped forward: it bit the creature on the leg. But the creature felt no pain. With the impact, it pounced on its prey.

The creature bit off a chunk of its snout. The Doberman whimpered and rolled over, but the creature held it in its immovable arms. It went for a foreleg. Food. The doberman, limp, fell to the ground. The creature preyed on the torso, peeling away layers of dermis until it reached the intestines. It ate most of the intestines. Satisfied, it rose again. It wandered in circles around the tiny cell.

Convulsion.

The Doberman's legs twitched.

Beta strain completed. The first fully functional biological weapon; a scientific prodigy. However, there was a handicap. Ten percent of the population was immune. 0% immunity had been mandated, but, for the moment, Beta was enough. His greatest success; his first great achievement.

Dr William Birkin.

The nameplate made him smile slyly. The PhD had been a cakewalk compared to his real job. A couple of years invested, and he was done. Doctor. Now he really felt like the chief researcher at Umbrella's top clandestine lab, like their top researcher. He already had two major projects under his command: the T-virus Beta project and the Cerberus project. Spencer had called him to congratulate him. Everyone trusted him. He was the best. But he didn't waste any time either. Spencer demanded that he solve the 10% problem and he came up with a new idea. A crazy idea, but in line with the research he had done.

The Hunter project.

Spencer called him back. A risky and expensive idea. But they made a deal: if he got results within a year, Spencer would increase the lab's funding.

Birkin agreed.

He would meet his boss's fiscal demands at all costs. He couldn't afford a single mistake, a single failure. And so, his former life faded with every sunrise over Arklay. Two years shy of coming of age, he had surpassed the expectations of the company's top brass and the rest of the scientists on staff, who were much older than him. He was euphoric and couldn't stop working flat out. Whether he was paid or not didn't matter to him as long as he achieved his goal: to rise to the top of the company's hierarchy; to sit at the executive table, even if he had to sacrifice his youth to do so.

A white dome of smoke had formed over Oswell's head. At times, instead of smoking, he seemed to be chewing his cigar with relish as he reviewed the supplementary papers to the main contract he had received from an unnamed Department of Defense agent. For his part, Alexander was silently sipping his third glass of Scotch. Their first massive sale of biological weapons to the Western military-industrial complex.

Oswell read diagonally through the eternal clauses set out in the supplementary papers like a list of meaningless legal fanfares. What was important was on the last page of the main contract: how much, how much money, how much to spend. Alexander asked Anthony Campbell, his cousin, to advise them on how to read and sign the contract. Oswell didn't want any surprises or backstabbing later. Fortunately, Anthony verified the integrity of the agreement. Now it was up to the two presidents.

And they had a problem. The bioweapons production model remained as defined by Edward Ashford and Oswell E. Spencer a few days before founding Umbrella, with both presidents responsible for an independent line of research. Although Spencer was neither a virologist nor a passionate scientist, he knew how to manage a company and its employees, while Edward was a virologist and knew how to manage research teams. Ultimately, it was established that both presidents would lord it over a portion of the company to accelerate the development of new projects and that the two lines would not overlap or saturate each other.

At first, until Edward's death, the idea seemed good. Then, with Alexander, Oswell chided himself for his naivety. The initial plan was forged on the basis of Edward's assumed experience and Marcus's greater commitment. But with Edward out of the picture, what remained was an underachieving Ashford junior, an anti-social Marcus and a Spencer on the verge of an anxiety attack over the fateful prospect of economic growth. Thatcher's fiscal policy had helped them to clean up the books, but they were still in the same rut and Spencer wanted to end it as soon as possible by unifying all lines of enquiry into one. He would not go to his grave with an absurd bankruptcy.

The point is that the fine thread on which his success hung was in the hands of the individual sitting opposite him. Alexander would not budge an inch, even though his line of enquiry was going down. Spencer tried to convince him, appealing to his father's memory, if necessary, but nothing. He had clung to the possibility that his beloved daughter, Alexia, would take up Edward's unfinished work to revive a line of enquiry deader than the pharaohs of the Lower Nile. And that was as far as it went. Oswell cursed the memory of all his ancestors from the 20th century to the kingdom of Scotland.

However, he calmed down and, on second thoughts, soon changed his attitude.

He gave in to Alexander's demand on one condition: that all the necessary resources be allocated to the Arklay laboratory, at least to fulfil the most immediate contracts. Alexander reluctantly agreed. Spencer assured him that his two chief researchers, one Birkin and one Wesker, would be sufficient for the delivery of the first full B.O.Ws package in the form of a couple of samples of the Beta strain and a squadron of Cerberus.

“What kind of war are we getting into?” Oswell mumbled.

“Afghanistan, maybe.”

“Hum. Fuck the Commies. Anyway. Shall we sign?”

Alexander put the glass away and pulled a gold pen from inside his jacket.

“We sign.”

III

Albert stored everything he had collected on the presidents of Umbrella in a file overflowing with printed sheets.

Oswell Ernest Spencer was a sexagenarian from the south of England, specifically, the county of Essex, where his country house, The Spencer Estate, was located. Only son of Abraham Spencer, 2nd Earl Spencer. Unmarried and childless. Known for his extravagant artistic sensibility and his love of hunting, which he practiced regularly on his Essex estate. Hereditary member of the House of Lords. Resident in the Principality of Luxembourg since the 1950s, where he built a replica of his ancestral home. Arklay's Spencer mansion was also inspired by his country house. In his youth he attended Eton College. Graduated from two university degrees in the United States. Affiliated with the Conservative Party. A staunch capitalist, as his very small public appearances made clear. Allegedly, Spencer was a member of the exclusive Harriett Club, made up of billionaires and other influential British personalities linked to politics, business, and the media. Outside of Umbrella and his other companies, knowledge of Spencer's private activities was negligible. He was generally regarded as a mysterious figure, unknown to the tabloids. Somewhat more information was available about his relatives, such as his cousin Beatrice Spencer, the current inhabitant of The Spencer Estate after her cousin's departure for Luxembourg.

Alexander Charles Johannes Arthur Duncan Ashford-Campbell-Douglas-Stuart was a Scots-Dutchman residing at Ashford Hall, Northumberland. He was the sixth Earl Ashford and the rightful heir to the late Stuart dynasty in the United Kingdom. Divorced with two children: Alfred, the heir, and Alexia, a child prodigy who started university at the age of seven. Known for his love of boxing and for participating in television talk shows. Affiliated with the Conservative Party and honorary fellow of the Royal Society[1]. Hereditary seat in the House of Lords. Most relevant: Grand Master or ‘head’ of Jacob's Circle, a little-known secret society which is attributed with a decisive occult power in British domestic and foreign policy.

Interesting, but insufficient. The data collection was not enough for him because his goal was not knowledge, but to infiltrate Umbrella's power networks. And to do that, he had to make contacts. Get to know other employees. He would not stay locked up in a lab for eternity. He had changed his mind about his destiny: he wanted to possess the Progenitor virus and make its limitless potential his own. He wanted to be more than just an employee, no matter how high his rank.

That was his desire.

[1] Royal Society of London for Improving Natural Knowledge.

#resident evil #william birkin #oswell e spencer #alexander ashford #albert wesker

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gigi-does-art · 2 months

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An interesting family.

Sorry but the Leon Spencer au I have has been living in my head rent free, I just had to draw more of the au. So here’s Leon with his parents!

(And some rambling I have about the dynamic of this family. It might change at some point, but here’s what I have at the moment under the cut.)

Okay so I mentioned before that Leon is much closer to his mom- yet to be named but I have some name ideas for her- than he is with dad. Mostly due to the fact that Spencer barely interacts with him at all, and if he does only a few words are shared between them. His parents do love each other though, it’s just that Spencer doesnt care about Leon for the most part. Leon is basically useless to Spencer’s grand scheme of things- because of his lack of powers- so instead Spencer focuses on advancing the Wesker Plan. He really does not care about Leon’s wellbeing unless it somehow affects him directly (i.e. the minute he finds out Leon is in Raccoon City, he immediately programmed one of the tyrants to bring him back because why is he there??? What reasons do you have for being in the middle of a zombie apocalypse??). So he doesn’t bother to bond with Leon. With all these factors, Leon is much closer with his mom. She’s more of a constant in his life than Spencer is and actually does care for Leon’s wellbeing. Which the reason why he uses her last name instead, he really doesnt like to be called Leon Spencer and tries to avoid the use of his dad’s last name as much as possible. Anytime someone calls him by Spencer, he immediately corrects them. But also both dont know of Spencer’s true nature, and are mostly kept in the dark from what he has been doing in Umbrella.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #oswell e spencer #leon spencer au #resident evil #resident evil au #my art #sketch #catified #design #catified design #catified resident evil #i still don’t know the reasons for why leon is in raccoon city in this au #but just know he still goes #and instead mr.x chases him to detain him and bring him back to spencer #due to mr.x being unable to speak leon just thinks this giant tyrant is trying to kill him #also because he uses his mom’s last name no one realizes hes related to spencer #he also just doesnt look similar to spencer either

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my-sleepy-head · 5 months

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MLP AU project W

Sometimes you have to take the kids outside so they stop knocking things over.

I tried to see how coloured line art would look in my style. It’s pretty.

(Background taken from DeviantArt)

#MLP+RE #resident evil #resident evil au #mlp fim #mlp au #albert wesker #alex wesker #oswell e spencer #sleepyhead draws #yes the children have a band around their wrist with their number. Albert hates it but they wear them in public for Umbrella identification #once Spencer is ‘’certain they can be trusted’’(they get into a special school or get a job) they stop wearing them.

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umbrellacorphq · 9 months

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You noted on the expense report that the fully-furnished, fully-staffed mansion you had built and stocked with rare artworks and wine was "better than any security door"

Yes.

And was this before or after an entire team of local police officers stormed the lab?

Uh... before.

#umbrella corporation #resident evil #oswell e spencer #spencer mansion

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dalekofchaos · 11 months

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Resident Evil 6 Remake concept

I feel like if Capcom decides to do a RE6R, then it should be a complete rewrite.

I'm arguing to have Alex Wesker as the mastermind instead of Simmons. Or hell. Don't have Wesker kill Spencer. Have Spencer be behind everything. We never got that final confrontation with Umbrella, that should happen. Alex because if my theory is correct, she in Natalia's body is behind the corruption and transformation of the BSAA. Spencer because come on, having him be so easily killed by Wesker was so unsatisfying, this is the man behind everything, this is essentially the Emperor Palpatine of Resident Evil and that's how he goes out? Oswell E Spencer should have a grand stage

Replace Helena with Ashley. There is a big fan interest for Ashley to become an Agent like Leon and while it may be tricky to figure in Ashley, I'm sure Capcom can think of something

Bring in Jill, Claire, Rebecca and Barry. Not just Leon and Chris. All hands on deck!

More focus on survival horror and less on the super ultra action

#Resident Evil #Resident Evil 6 #Alex Wesker #Oswell E Spencer #Ashley Graham #Leon S Kennedy #Chris Redfield #Jill Valentine #Claire Redfield #Rebecca Chambers #Barry Burton

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mirandawesker · 2 years

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I don’t know if someone has talked about this but I’m currently thinking about the creativity of RE5 when Spencer and Albert are talking.

I love how Spencer says “ Now my candle burns dimly. Ironic, isn't it? For one who has the right to be a god! To face his own mortality” then gets killed by Albert, who was facing him.

#albert wesker #resident evil #wesker #resident evil wesker #albertwesker #resident evil albert wesker #resident evil 5 #re5 #Oswell E Spencer

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chrisitsraining · 1 year

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oswell e spencer and lorenzo belli have a very similar energy

#the energy is nasty btw #dumdum hours #oswell e spencer #lorenzo belli #haunting ground #resident evil

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comicgeek2003 · 2 months

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Dragon In Chief

When the dragon is more dangerous than the main antagonist.

The Dragon-in-Chief is a version of The Dragon who serves as the de facto Big Bad of the story, even if they're technically not at the top of the bad guy hierarchy. They're nominally subordinate or in service to another villain, but typically so much smarter, stronger or more skillful, and just as evil if not more so (and almost always scarier) that it's clear who's really the biggest threat in the story.

The supposed main villain, for their part, overestimate The Dragon's loyalty or are too afraid to keep them in line. It could also be that the Big Bad is more of a puppet king being manipulated by subordinates, and the Dragon finds this set-up preferable to taking charge personally.

Examples:

Games of Thrones: Lord Tywin Lannister serves as the Dragon-in-chief to his grandson, the incompetent teenaged fool of a King Joffrey Baratheon, who he is technically only the Hand to, and not even that until Season 3. Perhaps best exemplified by the Season 3 finale in which Joffrey claims that it was his father who won the war while Tywin "hid under Casterly Rock!" In response to this challenge, Tywin just sends Joffrey a death glare, which Joffrey quickly buckles under after a just few seconds of attempting to keep eye contact.

Doctor Who: In the episodes The Stolen Earth/Journey's End, Davros is little more than a "pet" for the Supreme Dalek, but it's his plan for the Reality Bomb his creations are following. Also, Dalek Caan needed him to recreate his species. All of this, combined with his personal enmity with the Doctor, makes Davros effectively the face of the Dalek threat.

Resident Evil The Umbrella Chronicles: Sergei Vladimir is the de facto Big Bad, carrying out Ozwell Spencer's orders for him. When Sergei dies, Spencer is left with no allies and no support, and in the following game, is killed by Albert Wesker.

Dragon Ball: In the Red Ribbon Army Arc, there is Officer Black, who is much more competent and threatening and has more morals than Commander Red. When he finds out how petty the wish Red planned with Dragon Balls was —making himself taller—he kills him.

Rio: Nigel to Marcil. While his owner Marcel still drives the plot to some degree, Nigel is the more direct threat and far more menacing and evil than Marcel, while also serving as the lynchpin for Marcel's entire plan.

Avatar (2009): Though Parker Selfridge is the nominal leader of the human forces, the main antagonist of the film is Colonel Quaritch, who runs his mercenary army exactly how he wants to and ultimately becomes the real power in the operation and it's clear they both know it. About the only things that keep Selfridge in place are the fact that he's paying, and that Quaritch can't be bothered with the administrative details.

Alice in Wonderland (2010): The Jabberwocky (which, for bonus points, just so happens to resemble a dragon) is by far the bigger threat compared to his mistress the Red Queen, given that Alice's goal is to slay it and as soon as she does, all of the Red Queen's followers abandon her and she's quickly banished.

Kim Possible: Shego (mostly) helps Drakken carry out his schemes rather than invent and execute any of her own. But we know she has the power to completely overthrow Drakken if she wants to. The only thing that stops her fulfilling all the criteria is that for most of the series, she lacks the ambition to become a bigger treat. Drakken is actually more scientifically savvy than Shego — she just has a lot more common sense and can actually fight on a near-equal level with Kim.

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mywitchcultblr · 2 years

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[ Attention! This is Dr. Marcus. Please be silent as we reflect upon our company motto. Obedience breeds discipline. Discipline breeds unity. Unity breeds power. Power is life. ]

#umbrella corporation #resident evil #zombie #horror #aesthetic #moodboard #photo edit #re #raccoon city #edward ashford #james marcus #oswell e spencer #oswell spencer #horrorcore #zombiecore

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rachelfoleyisntdead · 1 year

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Albert going into espionage so he could work with scientist Alex in a non-competitive capacity, but then Spencer separating them to kill two birds with one stone by setting ambitious Albert against Marcus and avoiding Albert and Alex conspiring against him (like what happened with the Ashfords).

#albert wesker #alex wesker #oswell e spencer #james marcus #resident evil hcs

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geralddurden · 7 months

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Umbrella Pharmaceuticals - Chapter 21

Miller looked at the plans of the building. Marcus's labs in the basement, the staff and student quarters in the west wing, the lecture hall and library on the first floor...

"Miller?"

Marcus called out from the desk in his exclusive office. Finally, his boss had been able to realise his dream: a facility all to himself. He knew Spencer was the one who had granted his wish, but with a quid pro quo: Marcus would be the director. And so it was, to his regret, that he became the director of the facility that Ashford and Spencer ordered built on the outskirts of Raccoon City. But not only of the laboratory that Spencer gave him, but of something else that infuriated the Texan.

Ashford and Spencer were in the midst of a business expansion process whereby they turned Umbrella Pharmaceuticals into the Umbrella Corporation, a biomedical conglomerate with Umbrella Pharmaceuticals as the parent company and thus Ashford and Spencer as the outright owners. In a face-to-face meeting, Spencer told them that he had spoken to Ashford about the possibility of building some kind of training centre for company employees. He told them that this appealed to investors and set them apart from other pharmaceutical corporations that did not invest in this kind of project. Marcus seemed to ignore it at first, as it seemed like a typical political issue that he couldn't care less about. Or so they thought until, in an unexpected twist of fate, Spencer assured them, not suggested or recommended, that the training centre would be located in the same lab he was going to build for Marcus.

Marcus was obviously very angry. He threatened to shoot Spencer with his revolver, but the posh Englishman was smarter and, with a sharp tongue, swore to him on his ancestors that Marcus would not have to take care of the training centre at all, that all this would be handled by a admin office in Raccoon City and by a coordinator, namely Miller, Marcus's secretary. Miller made excuses with his doctorate, but it didn't work. Spencer would pay him for his PhD if that was enough for him to continue as Marcus' secretary. The end result was that, much to his chagrin, Marcus ended up accepting the position of director of the place, the uncreatively named Umbrella Training Facility, as the only requirement for dominance over the lab. Nominal director because de facto Miller would have to take all the managerial shit and deal with the incoming students. For the moment, he had been given a list of fifteen students, all of them fresh out of college and, except for a couple, rich kids whose parents were Spencer's friends and acquaintances.

"Yes?" replied the secretary.

"Have you prepared tomorrow's speech for me?"

Miller searched his folder.

"Yes, I have it here."

"Read it to me."

He cleared his throat. He hoped it was to his liking.

"Attention. This is Dr. Marcus speaking. Let's have a few minutes of silence to reflect on our company motto. Obedience brings discipline. Discipline brings unity. Unity brings power. And power brings life."

He finished.

"And that's it?" Marcus sounded surprised.

"Yes. Well. That's what you asked for: direct, concise and without wasting time."

The director turned around in his chair to look out of the window.

"It looks like a pamphlet signed by Orwell[1]."

"Spencer suggested it to me. It had to sound grandiloquent for the kind of students who would be coming."

"Grandiloquent," Marcus guffawed sardonically. "Grandiloquent..." He turned around. The chair mechanism squeaked. "Never associate with an Englishman if you don't want to be fucked with his courtly blather..." he spat haughtily.

Miller pocketed the paper. Marcus, visibly serious and irritated, stared at him. Uncomfortable, the secretary stood up, ready to leave. He still hadn't gotten used to his thesis advisor's sudden mood swings and inflexibility. It seemed that even having his own lab had not softened his temper. And from the xenophobic comment he'd just made, he figured he was having a falling out with Spencer. Be that as it may, he didn't care. He left the office with the plans, the speech and the list of students. It was the latter list that he pulled out for a final check. Alongside the first name and surname, the nationality and age had been included.

Akers, Akhila (F) United Kingdom. 23 years old.

Birkin, William (M) United States of America. Age 15.

Bronson, Gustav. (M) United Kingdom. Age 24.

Cipriani, Nina. 24 years old. Age 24.

Deschamps, Pierre (M) France. 24 years old. 24 years old.

Dunn, Myles (M) Ireland. 25 years old. Age 25.

Grigorescu, Saveli (M) United States. 24 years old. 24 years old.

Kapanadze, Nili (F) United States. 26 years old. 26 years old.

McCallum, Francis (M) United Kingdom. 27 years. Age 27.

Royce, Megan (F) United States. 24 years old. Age 24.

Scrivenor, Ravi (M) United Kingdom. 23 years old. Age 23.

Starek, Hilda (F) United States. 23 years old. Age 23.

Wang, Marit. (F) Netherlands. Age 24.

Wesker, Albert (M) United States. 17 years old. 17 years old.

Ziegler, Agnes (F) Federal Republic of Germany. 24 years old. 24 years old.

He hadn't interviewed any of them, that had been the responsibility of human resources, although he had been warned to be careful with minors for legal reasons. He had no idea what the fuck a couple of minors were doing there; only that they had been attached to him as his main responsible and supervisor. Marcus had washed his hands of it and so had the admin office. So it was his turn to be the sucker on duty. Anyway.

His parents were waiting for him outside with the car parked on the road. He took a last look at his bedroom: Star Trek posters and a periodic table, pictures of animals and sticky notes with formulas only he understood. And, of course, his first university degree: a degree in microbiology from Harvard University. Number one in his class and fifteen years old. Fifteen years old. No one would be able to beat that mark. He puffed out his chest as he retrieved the letter from Umbrella Pharmaceuticals from the disorganised bedside table. The letter stated that he had been accepted into a pilot programme for future executives of the company. They were confident in his talent and the bright future that awaited him. In fact, he had always wanted to be an astrophysicist. Ever since he was a child, travelling through space on the USS Enterprise was more appealing to him than spending idle hours staring at a molecule through a microscope. He realised, however, that physics was already saturated with towering figures and, if there was one thing that surpassed his desire to be something, it was his desire to be the best. And he would be the best because he felt he was the best.

He picked up the letter containing the invitation to the Training Facility and stuffed it into the unfolded, overflowing suitcase he had placed on top of his unmade bed. Mixed in were pants, shirts, a jacket, pyjamas, dress trousers and jeans, a pair of shoes, acne cream, a comb and many more books and notebooks. So that the container wouldn't burst, he had arranged the contents like a kind of chaotically designed puzzle. Without further inventory, he closed the suitcase and left the house. His parents were waiting for him at the porch entrance. Both wore proud but worried smiles. They had accepted his new dream of becoming a virologist despite the initial reluctance caused by his unexpected rejection of a large scholarship to study astrophysics.

"Ready?" His father, who had donned his lucky San Francisco Giants cap, ruffled his hair affectionately.

Their mother headed straight for the car. They followed her into the car. He sat in the back row of seats, his suitcase on the floor of the car and off to the side. His parents, in front, would take turns driving four hundred miles from Baltimore to Raccoon City. His mother started up. She increased the speed of travel. His inner voice said goodbye to the suburbs.

III

He raised his finger to hitchhike. The car passed him by. He sat down. Another car in the distance. He got up. Hitchhiked. Passed by. Sat down. A van. Pulled up. Hitchhiking. Passed by. Stopped. The van stopped on the roadside. He approached it with his rucksack over his shoulder. He approached the driver's window. A Mexican couple.

"Where are you going?" asked the driver, shouting over the thunderous volume of the music.

"Raccoon City."

"And where is that?" The driver paused the radio.

"In Ohio, by the Appalachian Mountains."

The driver took off his cap to wipe his sleeve across his sweaty forehead. The co-driver leaned over the dashboard to look at the hitchhiker.

"Phew," sighed the driver. The co-pilot said something in Spanish. The pilot refocused on the hitchhiker. "I can drop you off in a nearby city... That's a long way from where I'm going."

"Okay."

"Come on," the driver invited.

He opened the side door of the van. They were carrying timber, tools and cans of paint to renovate a house. He sat down in the available space between a toolbox and a couple of stacked cardboard boxes. He settled in, tucked in, with his rucksack on his legs. The driver released the brake and rejoined the road.

After a while of hellish cruising, with the radio thundering and the shock absorbers whipping his back, the co-driver rose from her seat and slid into the boot, sitting in the gap between the two seats. She was a young, dark-haired, dark-skinned woman. Her curly hair had been pulled back into a dishevelled bun.

"What is your name?" She hugged her legs, showing interest in the hitchhiker.

The hitchhiker didn't answer at first. The young woman, intrigued, introduced herself first.

"My name is Maria. And you?"

"Michael."

Maria settled back in her seat, stretching her back.

"And how old are you? I'm twenty-one."

"Eighteen."

"What were you doing here? Hitchhiking? Did they leave you stranded?"

"I don't have a car."

The driver turned up the volume.

"Where are you from? I come from Veracruz with my father."

"New York."

"Oh, and from what hood?"

The hitchhiker didn't answer and didn't want to continue talking.

"Downtown New York?" Maria persevered.

"Yes."

"Maria, help me here," the father ordered.

Maria crawled into the passenger seat. The pair began to argue in Spanish about what the hitchhiker could guess as the direction to take. The latter, with the other two debating in the background, leaned against the van door. He concentrated on ignoring the ambient noise.

The hitchhiker dismounted at a bus stop outside Stoneville. He reported to a nearby convenience store that the bus to Raccoon City would be coming in half an hour. He had five dollars to spare. Either he would eat or save it for transportation. He chose the second option. He sat on the bench by the bus shelter, his hood up and his hands hidden in his sweatshirt pocket. He clutched a concealed butterfly knife in his right hand. The backpack was on the ground and between his legs. He had forgotten his cap at home. He was hungry and thirsty. An elderly couple sat next to him. The old people were talking animatedly to each other.

Finally, he spotted the bus in the distance. He asked the driver if it stopped near the Umbrella Training Facility on the outskirts of the city. The bus driver told him no, that it did not stop nearby and that he would have to walk there along the road. He paid him and sat in the last row. It had started to rain. He took the letter of invitation from the back pocket of his jeans.

Dear Mr. Wesker. Your son, Albert, has demonstrated his unparalleled potential for... He didn't want to read any further. It didn't matter. That invitation would be his escape route.

Notes:

[1] George Orwell, author of 1984 and Animal Farm.

#resident evil #albert wesker #william birkin #oswell e spencer #james marcus #ozwell e spencer

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