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"Do you really intend to inject yourself with the T-Virus?"
Dr. Ashford looked at Jack, his eyes filled with disbelief and alarm.
Jack smiled faintly. "Naturally, Doctor. Otherwise, why else would I need you?"
"You're not afraid you'll turn into a monster after the injection?" Ashford asked, incredulous. "No one has ever survived direct fusion with the virus—except that woman."
He didn't need to say her name. They both knew he meant Alice.
"Turn into a monster?" Jack chuckled. "That's exactly why I need you, Doctor—to make sure that doesn't happen."
He pulled out a sleek silver syringe filled with a translucent blue liquid that shimmered faintly under the lab lights.
Ashford stared at it grimly. "That's not just any sample. This strain of T-Virus was created after Nemesis's second mutation. It's the most advanced and dangerous evolution we've ever seen."
Jack twirled the syringe between his fingers. "You're not wrong. By today's standards, this is the strongest version of the T-Virus."
Ashford's brow furrowed. "You actually plan to inject that into yourself?"
Jack nodded slightly. "I've considered it. But, well… there's always the chance I could turn into a mindless creature. Rather concerning, isn't it?"
Ashford exhaled through a humorless laugh. "You want the virus's power for yourself."
"Power," Jack repeated softly. "That's the right word. The T-Virus offers temptation—and potential. Strength beyond comprehension. Imagine telekinesis, teleportation, or abilities still undiscovered. To humans, such things are impossible… but I'm not exactly just human, am I?" He smiled again, sharp and confident.
Ashford studied him carefully. "You know things we don't, don't you?"
"Of course," Jack said, smirking. "This great one's brilliance is no idle boast."
Ashford sighed. "I suppose I have no way to escape your control. Tell me—what exactly do you want me to do?"
Jack's grin widened. "You really are a clever man, Doctor. I enjoy dealing with clever people. The sample in this syringe contains traces of Nemesis's gene and other impurities."
Ashford's eyes narrowed. "You want me to remove the unwanted genetic material?"
Jack's eyes glimmered with mischief. "Exactly. Though that's not all I have in mind."
Ashford frowned. "But without proper equipment—"
Jack shrugged casually. "Equipment is the easy part. If we can't build it, we'll take it. Umbrella has branches in almost every major city."
Ashford hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Fine. I'll do it. But you'll need to provide the necessary lab tools."
Jack gave a slow, satisfied smile. "Doctor, I don't put faith in words alone. If you betray me, I have many ways to make you regret it."
Ashford's gaze darkened. "I'm not a fool."
"Of course not," Jack said smoothly. "That's why I like you."
---
Umbrella Corporation – Los Angeles Branch
Jack pushed open the door to the laboratory, the air filled with the faint hum of machinery and the sterile scent of antiseptic.
"Doctor," he said, glancing at Ashford's wheelchair, "this equipment should be enough, right?"
Ashford lit a cigarette, taking a long drag before replying. "Yes… more than enough. It'll do nicely."
"Excellent," Jack said. "Then I won't disturb you. The work's all yours."
He handed over the silver syringe.
Ashford looked down at it, then at Jack's retreating back. A faint, cunning smile flickered on his face, barely noticeable. "Don't worry," he muttered under his breath. "I'll handle everything."
Jack didn't look back. The corners of his lips curled upward, as if he already knew what the doctor was thinking. "Good," he said softly. "Handle it well."
---
Umbrella Corporation – Detroit Branch
Meanwhile, in another Umbrella facility across the country, a group of scientists in white coats gathered in a sterile examination room.
A middle-aged man, clearly in charge, adjusted his glasses. "Run a 24-hour observation. Full biochemical and electrolyte analysis. I want complete data by tonight."
Against the far wall, a woman sat wrapped in a thin bathrobe, her damp hair clinging to her neck. Her eyes were unfocused, her voice distant.
"M-my name… my name… my name…" she whispered again and again, as if searching for something buried deep within her mind.
The scientist frowned. "Subject is showing post-coma memory disorientation," he said to his team. "Initiate high-level neural response testing."
"Mister—" one of the researchers interrupted.
"What is it?" the supervisor asked impatiently.
Before the man could finish, the woman's voice changed. "My name… my name…" Then her gaze snapped into sharp focus, her tone turning cold, dangerous. "My name… is Alice."
Every scientist froze. The supervisor stared at her in shock, his disbelief written plainly across his face.
Alice smiled—a slow, contemptuous smile. "I remember everything now."
In a blur of motion, she snatched a pen from one of the nearby assistants. The man barely had time to react as she drove it toward his eye—but stopped just a hair's breadth before contact. Then, with the same hand, she delivered a powerful punch that sent him sprawling across the room.
The others tried to intervene, but Alice was already moving. Her body flowed like water, her strikes precise and brutal. Within seconds, half the researchers were down.
She grabbed the supervisor by the throat and slammed him backward into the glass wall.
CRASH!
The reinforced glass shattered, and the man fell limp to the floor beyond the frame.
A security guard burst into the room, firing an electric shock rifle. Twin electrodes shot forward, embedding into Alice's shoulder. Blue arcs of electricity crackled across her body.
She winced—but then smiled through the pain. "That tickles."
With a swift tug, she ripped the electrodes free and hurled them back. They hit the guard square in the chest.
"Ahhh—!" he screamed as thousands of volts surged through him. He convulsed violently and collapsed, smoke rising from his uniform.
Within moments, every staff member in the room was either unconscious or dead.
Alice stepped over their bodies, calm and composed, and walked toward the exit.
---
Umbrella Surveillance Command Center
In the central control room, an operator stared at the security monitors in disbelief. Every screen showed the same thing—Alice walking calmly through corridor after corridor.
"Central office to all units!" he shouted into his headset. "This is a Level-One breach! Immediate containment! Highest priority!"
He looked back up at the screens—and froze.
On each monitor, Alice suddenly stopped walking. She lifted her head and looked directly at the camera. Her lips curved into a mocking smirk.
The operator's breath caught. "What the—"
Blood began to pour from his nose. Then from his eyes. Then his ears. His body trembled violently as the monitors flickered with static.
He screamed once before collapsing, lifeless, onto the console.
The screens showed only Alice's cold gaze… and that haunting smile, as if she were staring straight through the glass, right into the soul of whoever dared to watch her.