Resident Evil: The One-Man Army
Chapter Two — First Day as a Billionaire
The shower was, without exaggeration, the greatest invention humanity had ever produced.
Forget electricity. Forget modern medicine. Forget the internet, which had probably contributed more to the collective destruction of human intelligence than any biological weapon Umbrella had ever developed.
No, this was the pinnacle of human achievement.
I stood beneath the warm water, letting it run down my face as I tried to organize my thoughts.
Unfortunately, the more I thought about my situation, the more ridiculous it became.
I was dead.
I had met God.
I had been reincarnated into Resident Evil.
I was Leon Scott Kennedy's older brother.
And I owned Umbrella Corporation.
I tilted my head back beneath the water.
"Man, my life went from zero to a hundred real fucking quick."
There was also the small matter of my system.
The very thing I'd specifically requested because I didn't trust the idea of an ability that could potentially control me. I'd seen enough stories to know that some systems were basically glorified slave drivers. They'd give their hosts missions, threaten them with punishment, and occasionally behave as if the protagonist existed solely to entertain them.
Not happening.
If I was going to survive a world where a bad Tuesday could involve a genetically engineered monster tearing through a police station, I wanted my advantages to work for me.
Not the other way around.
"System."
Nothing happened.
I waited.
"…System?"
Still nothing.
I frowned.
"Alright, don't tell me this bastard forgot to install it."
A translucent blue window appeared in front of my face.
I nearly slipped.
"JESUS—"
I caught myself against the wall and stared at the floating interface.
"Oh, you little shit."
The interface remained silent.
Naturally.
I waved my hand through it. Nothing changed. The display stayed exactly where it was, floating in the air without any visible source of illumination.
After a few seconds, a line of text appeared.
[SIGN-IN SYSTEM INITIALIZED.]
[HOST IDENTIFICATION CONFIRMED: DANTE KENNEDY.]
[SYSTEM ADMINISTRATOR: HOST.]
[CONTROL AUTHORITY: HOST.]
[FORCED MISSIONS: DISABLED.]
[PENALTIES: DISABLED.]
[AUTONOMOUS INTERVENTION: DISABLED.]
[ALL FUNCTIONS REQUIRE HOST AUTHORIZATION.]
I read the last line twice.
Then I grinned.
"Now that's what I'm talking about."
Another notification appeared.
[WELCOME, HOST.]
[YOUR FIRST SIGN-IN OPPORTUNITY IS AVAILABLE.]
I rubbed my chin.
"Okay, let's see what you've got."
A new panel opened.
[DAILY SIGN-IN]
[LOCATION: PRIVATE RESIDENCE.]
[AVAILABLE REWARD: PENDING.]
I raised an eyebrow.
"Pending? What the hell does that mean?"
The interface blinked.
[SIGN-IN REQUIRED TO CLAIM REWARD.]
"Right. Fair enough."
I mentally selected the sign-in option.
[SIGN-IN SUCCESSFUL.]
[REWARD ACQUIRED: ADVANCED PERSONAL ASSISTANT.]
I blinked.
Then read it again.
"An assistant?"
A second panel appeared beneath the first.
[REWARD DETAILS]
[A personalized artificial intelligence capable of managing information, organizing schedules, analyzing authorized data, and assisting with administrative tasks.]
[NO AUTONOMOUS CONTROL OVER HOST OR HOST ASSETS.]
[ALL SENSITIVE OPERATIONS REQUIRE HOST APPROVAL.]
I slowly smiled.
"Oh, you beautiful piece of software."
A personal assistant.
With a fortune at my disposal and a corporation that probably required an army of lawyers just to read its employee handbook, this was actually useful.
I didn't need a magic sword or a thousand explosive abilities right out of the gate. I needed information, organization, and the ability to keep track of whatever insane situation I was walking into.
If this thing could help me understand the company I'd just inherited, it might be the most valuable gift I'd received so far.
A new prompt appeared.
[WOULD YOU LIKE TO CONFIGURE YOUR ASSISTANT?]
"Yeah. Let's call you… Black Queen ."
[NAME ACCEPTED:
BLACK QUEEN.]
I paused.
"Wait, is that already taken?"
The system offered no comment.
"Whatever. Black Queen it is."
I shut the interface down and finally finished my shower.
By the time I stepped out, I was feeling significantly better about my circumstances.
Not because I'd solved anything.
I hadn't.
But I had a system, an AI assistant, a ridiculous amount of money, and a body that felt like it could run a marathon without breaking a sweat.
Sometimes, you just had to appreciate the little things.
I wrapped a towel around my waist and approached the mirror again.
Silver hair. Silver eyes. A face that would probably make a modeling agency start throwing contracts at me.
I tilted my head.
"Leon, little brother, I'm gonna need you to understand something."
I pointed at my reflection.
"I'm not saying I'm the better-looking sibling."
I paused.
"Actually, no. That's exactly what I'm saying."
I laughed to myself.
Then I realized something.
I didn't have any clothes.
Well, technically, I had a wardrobe the size of a small apartment. But I had no idea what was inside it, who had chosen the clothes, or whether my new identity came with a collection of hideous designer outfits.
I walked back into the bedroom and opened the nearest wardrobe.
My immediate reaction?
"Holy shit."
Suits.
Rows and rows of suits.
Black, charcoal, navy, and several other shades that probably had pretentious names invented by fashion designers who charged five thousand dollars for a shirt.
There were casual clothes, too. Dark jeans, fitted shirts, jackets, boots, and a few outfits that looked expensive without screaming for attention.
Whoever had arranged this wardrobe understood something important.
Money didn't automatically make someone stylish.
At least, I hoped so.
I selected a pair of black trousers, a fitted dark shirt, and a black jacket. Nothing too flashy. If I was going to walk around looking like a supernatural runway model, I could at least dress like a normal person.
Mostly.
I was fastening my watch when my phone vibrated.
A message appeared from an unknown number.
UNKNOWN:You're awake, then?
I stared at it.
Another message arrived.
UNKNOWN:Good. Breakfast is being prepared downstairs. Your father would like to see you before you leave.
My eyebrows rose.
My father?
Right.
Leon Kennedy's older brother.
Which meant I had parents in this world.
I stood still for a moment, letting that fact settle.
The god had mentioned that he'd built a life for me, but the message had focused on money and Umbrella. He hadn't exactly sent me a complete family history.
I opened my contacts.
There were several names I recognized, along with plenty I didn't.
Family members. Employees. Business contacts.
And one name that made me stop scrolling.
Leon.
I stared at it.
My little brother's number.
The man himself, sitting there in my contact list as if I'd known him my entire life.
I wondered what kind of relationship we had.
Were we close?
Did we argue?
Had I been the annoying older brother who stole his food and blamed it on the dog?
Actually, considering my previous life, that last possibility was entirely believable.
I decided against calling him immediately.
I had no idea what I was supposed to say.
Hey, little bro, remember me? The brother who technically didn't exist until a divine entity shoved me into your family?
Yeah.
That conversation could wait.
Instead, I opened my messages and typed a quick reply to the unknown number.
ME:On my way.
Then I headed downstairs.
And that was when I discovered just how absurdly wealthy I actually was.
The mansion was beautiful, but it wasn't merely expensive. It had been designed with a level of detail that made every room look as though it belonged in a historical film.
Polished floors. Elegant staircases. Artwork that probably required its own insurance policy. Large windows overlooking manicured gardens.
There were staff members moving through the halls, all of whom greeted me with a degree of familiarity that suggested I'd lived here for years.
Which, apparently, I had.
"Good morning, sir."
"Morning."
"Good morning, Mr. Kennedy."
"Morning."
"Good morning, sir. Your father is waiting in the dining room."
"Got it. Thanks."
I kept walking.
Inside, however, I was losing my mind.
Mr. Kennedy?
Your father?
Sir?
I was one greeting away from expecting someone to hand me a crown.
The dining room was at the end of a long corridor, its double doors already open.
A man sat at the far end of a large table, reading something on a tablet while a cup of coffee rested beside him.
He looked up when I entered.
"Dante. There you are."
I stopped.
For a moment, I simply looked at him.
He was a distinguished-looking man in his late forties or early fifties, dressed neatly, with the sort of expression that suggested he was accustomed to people listening when he spoke.
And apparently, he was my father.
Well, this was going to be interesting.
"Morning," I said, pulling out a chair.
He studied me for a second before smiling.
"Did you sleep well?"
"Like the dead."
The words left my mouth before I could stop them.
Silence.
I looked at him.
He looked at me.
Then I cleared my throat.
"Figure of speech."
"Of course."
He returned to his tablet, though I could have sworn I caught the faintest hint of amusement in his expression.
I sat down.
A staff member immediately approached and placed a glass of water beside me.
"Would you like your usual breakfast, sir?"
I glanced at the selection already laid out on the table.
Eggs, toast, fruit, pastries, and enough food to feed several people.
"Actually, I'll take whatever's ready. I'm starving."
"Very good, sir."
As she left, my father set the tablet aside.
"I understand you have quite a busy day ahead of you."
I reached for a piece of toast.
"Apparently."
"Your acquisition of Umbrella has attracted considerable attention."
I stopped chewing.
There it was.
The company.
I swallowed.
"I'm guessing people aren't exactly thrilled about it."
"That would be an understatement."
He leaned back slightly.
"Umbrella is an enormous corporation with interests spanning several industries. Pharmaceuticals, biotechnology, medical research, manufacturing, and a great many other ventures. Its reputation is… complicated."
Complicated.
That was one way to describe a company responsible for biological weapons, underground laboratories, and enough corporate misconduct to fill an entire library.
"Yeah," I said. "I've been reading up on it."
Not really.
But I intended to.
My father watched me for a moment.
"Are you certain you know what you're getting into?"
I considered the question.
The honest answer was no.
Not even remotely.
I knew the games. I knew the major events. I knew the names of certain people and the general direction in which things could go catastrophically wrong.
But knowing a fictional storyline and actually managing the company responsible for half of its disasters were two very different things.
"I know it's going to be a lot of work," I said. "And I know the company has problems. But I'm not planning to walk in there and start making changes just because I can."
That much was true.
"First, I want to understand how everything works. What the company actually does, who's running what, and where the biggest risks are. Then I'll decide what needs to change."
My father regarded me quietly.
Then he nodded.
"That's a sensible approach."
I took another bite of toast.
"Besides, it'd be pretty stupid to start firing people before I know who's actually competent."
"Indeed."
He picked up his coffee.
"I've arranged for your driver to take you to the headquarters. Your legal team will meet you there, along with several senior executives."
I nearly choked.
"My legal team?"
"Of course."
"Right. Naturally."
I drank some water.
Because why wouldn't I have a legal team?
I owned Umbrella Corporation.
I was beginning to suspect that the hardest part of this new life wouldn't be surviving the monsters.
It would be pretending I knew what I was doing around people who expected me to be a functioning billionaire.
My father continued.
"They'll walk you through the current state of the business, the acquisition, and the immediate decisions requiring your attention. I suggest you listen carefully before making any commitments."
"Got it."
He paused.
"And Dante?"
I looked up.
"Don't mistake confidence for understanding. The people you'll be dealing with have spent years learning how to navigate that world. Some will be helpful. Others will be looking for an opportunity."
I smiled faintly.
"Don't worry. I'm not planning on trusting everybody just because they wear an expensive suit."
"Good."
He seemed satisfied with that answer.
I returned to my breakfast, already thinking about the day ahead.
Umbrella's headquarters.
Senior executives.
Legal documents.
And, somewhere in the middle of all that, a company full of people who had no idea their new owner had died in another universe because a zombie stepped on his snack.
Life was beautiful.
After breakfast, I thanked the staff and headed toward the front entrance.
A black luxury sedan was waiting outside, its paint gleaming beneath the morning sun.
A suited driver stood beside the rear passenger door.
"Good morning, Mr. Kennedy."
"Morning."
He opened the door for me.
I slid into the back seat and immediately appreciated the leather upholstery.
Finally, something normal.
Well, normal for someone who had apparently become rich enough to buy a pharmaceutical empire.
The car pulled away from the mansion.
I took out my phone and opened the system.
"Black Queen."
[ONLINE.]
A clean interface appeared in my field of vision.
"Can you access my personal schedule, corporate information, and the records associated with the Umbrella acquisition?"
[ACCESSING AUTHORIZED RESOURCES.]
[PERSONAL SCHEDULE: AVAILABLE.]
[ACQUISITION DOCUMENTATION: AVAILABLE.]
[CORPORATE RECORDS: PARTIAL ACCESS AVAILABLE.]
I frowned.
"Partial?"
[CERTAIN RECORDS REQUIRE ADDITIONAL AUTHORIZATION OR ARE STORED IN RESTRICTED SYSTEMS.]
"Can you identify the restrictions and tell me what I need to access them legally?"
[AFFIRMATIVE.]
"Good. Start by preparing a summary of the company's organizational structure, its current financial position, and any pending decisions that require my attention."
[REQUEST ACCEPTED.]
I leaned back.
"See? This is why you're my favorite."
[NO OTHER ASSISTANT HAS BEEN CONFIGURED.]
"Don't ruin the moment, Black Queen."
The interface disappeared.
I looked out the window as the city came into view.
Modern buildings rose above the streets, traffic moved steadily through intersections, and people hurried along the sidewalks, carrying coffee and talking on their phones.
It was an ordinary morning.
Nobody knew what was coming.
Nobody knew that the world they lived in was built on secrets, that a company with a spotless public image had spent years playing with things it didn't understand, or that the events I remembered from another life could turn their cities into nightmares.
And now I owned that company.
I rested my elbow against the door and watched the passing scenery.
There was a lot I wanted to change.
I wasn't stupid enough to believe that I could prevent every tragedy simply because I knew the story. Real life was messy. People made decisions for reasons I might not understand, and knowing the future didn't mean I could control every variable.
Still, I had advantages.
Money.
Power.
Information.
A body built to its absolute peak.
A system that answered to me.
And the ability to get involved before certain disasters unfolded.
That was more than enough to start with.
The car slowed as a massive building came into view.
The Umbrella Corporation headquarters.
I leaned forward.
"Holy shit."
The building was enormous, a towering structure of glass and steel that stood above the surrounding properties. Its corporate logo was displayed prominently near the entrance, and employees moved through the lobby behind the glass doors.
A few security personnel stood near the entrance.
Vehicles arrived and departed with practiced efficiency.
It looked professional.
Organized.
Completely ordinary.
Which was almost funny, considering the company's reputation in my old world.
The car pulled up near the main entrance.
The driver stepped out and opened my door.
"We've arrived, sir."
I stepped onto the pavement, adjusted my jacket, and looked up at the building.
Somewhere inside were executives who thought they understood the company they worked for.
Researchers who might be brilliant, misguided, or both.
People who would probably try to figure out whether their new owner was a genius, an idiot, or a temporary inconvenience.
And possibly a few individuals who had absolutely no business being allowed anywhere near a laboratory.
I smiled.
"Alright, Umbrella."
I started toward the entrance.
"Let's see what kind of mess you've gotten yourselves into."
The moment I stepped into the lobby, a group of people approached.
At the front stood a sharply dressed man carrying a tablet, accompanied by two others who looked equally prepared to discuss something expensive and legally binding.
"Mr. Kennedy," he greeted me. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I'm Daniel Mercer, your chief legal adviser. We've been preparing for your arrival."
I shook his hand.
"Likewise."
"Your acquisition has generated significant interest throughout the industry. Several of the board members are eager to speak with you."
"I'm sure they are."
Mercer smiled politely.
"If you'll follow me, we've prepared a briefing room where we can review the most pressing matters."
"Lead the way."
We crossed the lobby and entered an elevator.
As the doors closed, Mercer began outlining the day's agenda.
Financial reports.
Leadership appointments.
Pending contracts.
Regulatory concerns.
Research budgets.
Corporate restructuring.
I listened, asked a few questions, and made mental notes.
The more he spoke, the more I realized just how much work I'd signed myself up for.
This wasn't a video game menu where I could click a button and instantly understand an entire corporation.
There were thousands of employees, multiple divisions, complex supply chains, and decisions that could affect people's livelihoods.
If I wanted to make meaningful changes, I needed to understand the consequences.
And I needed to know who I could trust.
The elevator doors opened.
Mercer led me into a spacious conference room with a long table, floor-to-ceiling windows, and several executives already waiting inside.
The conversation stopped when I entered.
Every pair of eyes turned toward me.
I smiled politely.
"Morning, everyone."
A few returned the greeting.
Others simply watched.
I took the seat at the head of the table.
"Alright. Before we start, I want to make one thing clear. I'm here to learn how this company operates before I start making major decisions. I'm not interested in changing things simply to prove that I'm in charge."
I glanced around the room.
"But I am interested in understanding exactly what we're doing, why we're doing it, and whether it's worth continuing."
The room grew noticeably quieter.
One executive shifted in his seat.
Another exchanged a glance with the woman beside him.
Interesting.
I hadn't even mentioned the company's more questionable research programs, and already someone looked uncomfortable.
I rested my hands on the table.
"So, let's start with the basics. Give me an honest overview of the company. The good, the bad, and anything you think I should know before it becomes my problem."
I paused.
"And please, for the love of God, don't give me a two-hour presentation about how we're revolutionizing healthcare if there's a biological disaster waiting to happen in one of our laboratories."
Silence.
A particularly uncomfortable kind of silence.
I blinked.
Then smiled.
"…That was a joke."
Several executives laughed a little too quickly.
One didn't laugh at all.
I made a mental note of that.
Oh, this was going to be fun.
I leaned back in my chair.
"Alright. Who wants to go first?"
And just like that, my first day as the owner of Umbrella Corporation officially began.
Somewhere in the world, Leon Kennedy was probably going about his day without the slightest idea that his older brother had just acquired one of the most dangerous companies on the planet.
And Ada Wong?
Well.
I had a feeling we'd be meeting sooner than either of us expected.
I smiled to myself.
"Let's get to work."