The T-virus changed the purpose of the scientific facility.
NEST-1, previously considered a marvel of Umbrella bioengineering, now resembled a deflated birthday balloon: instead of joy, there was gloom and tension. The complex was experiencing power failures, the lighting flickered, the pristine white walls of the first floor were stained with pus, and the bodies of the infected lay on the snow-white tiles.
Having descended here, we admired the local architecture and engaged in looting. We took the essentials, eager to descend even lower, to the next level full of troubles.
As is known, sometimes you can find free cheese in a mousetrap. Therefore, having unofficially dropped in for a tour of the research complex, we had to be ready for anything. The multi-level architecture provided a full spectrum of emotions: from bewilderment to tension. You never know what kind of trouble awaits on the next floor of the inverted tower.
So far, we hadn't managed to inspect all the levels; we only descended to the second underground floor, where it seemed that every research floor had turned into pulsating, fleshy sacs. The biomass leak was evident, as thick veins, the size of an adult python, writhed on the metal surfaces, emitting a bioluminescent, cold greenish light that served as an additional source of illumination.
— Are you sure we can't do everything necessary on the first level? — Ada asked tensely, carefully examining the pulsating veins on the walls.
— We can't synthesize the G-virus sample in the first available NEST-1 laboratory if we don't want to activate the self-destruct system. Once the scanner detects Golgotha, the complex will explode within a strictly defined time, — I explained, recalling Spencer's fondness for the "red button."
On the first floor, the laboratories are equipped with sensors in case of a zombie virus leak. However, apparently, someone influential pocketed the budget for the security system. The problem is that the scanners are only in the laboratories, not in the corridors, which makes them useless in a real virus leak. If someone breaks a flask in the corridor, the system won't react, but in the laboratory, it will. Perhaps scanners are installed in other places, too, but that is questionable. A lot could have changed in a few months.
— What? — Claire repeated, gripping the revolver in her left hand, aiming forward. — What the hell happened there? You saw the walking bastards yourself. And the scanners allowed that?
I frowned, trying to find rational explanations for everything. But something didn't add up. First and foremost, Umbrella scientists would run… No, they are informed about the areas where the scanners work. Stepping into them, while bitten, is tantamount to dying on a powder keg with a lit fuse… Hmm, and the bitten ones didn't decide to take everyone with them?
— I suspect that the artificial intelligence — the Red Queen — ignored the sensor readings, — I suggested, adjusting my sunglasses. One hand held Birkin's swollen heart, and the second was free and intended for adjustments. I have nothing to fear; the "Wesker" squad is quite capable of dealing with threats. Everything below my attention was riddled with bullets.
— He's right, the security protocols here are strange, — Jan supported, scrolling on the tablet as we walked. We picked it up on the first floor from a dead employee who had committed suicide. To avoid being eaten, he used a pistol, the same as the U.S.S. operatives. If Jan was happy with the tablet with digital access to NEST-1, I was putting the last puzzle piece together for the complete picture. And I shared my conclusions with the new ally — Lady HUNK, one of Umbrella's security operatives.
Surprisingly, she did not deny anything.
— None of your business, — her answer sounded satisfactory to me, almost like an admission.
— U.S.S. operatives arrived to seize the G-virus and William Birkin, — I repeated the version of events. — And they did so poorly that the target injected himself with a dose of the G-virus, released T-virus samples into the water supply, and wiped out your squad.
The U.S.S. are the fathers of tactics and the daughters of war, simply geniuses squared.
— I was not in that squad. I was sent later with reinforcements, — she tried to justify herself, slightly turning towards me. Her gas mask hid her emotions, and red lenses hid her eyes. Nothing to understand. — The incident in Raccoon City got out of our control. My comrades died without fulfilling the order: to obtain the G-virus sample at any cost.
— They sent in the reserve, — I nodded. — So, Mr. Death, he…
— I don't know, — she shrugged. — We can die at any second fulfilling our duty. Or not die, like you.
— Another G-virus hunter, — Ada squinted, which looked frighteningly cute combined with the dim lighting.
— Our team has interest groups: a large one — wanting to get the G-virus samples for the downfall of Umbrella, and a small one — aiming to seize the G-virus by its order, — I thoughtfully put everything in its place, hiding my hands behind my back. — How regrettable, mercenary, that your opinion does not coincide with our friendly collective.
She tensed, but I continued:
— So I suggest you leave the sinking ship, take a lifesaver, and swim to a luxurious yacht. To make it easier for you to decide, I'll clarify: the sinking ship is Umbrella, and the luxurious yacht is the team of winners, — I put forward a hellishly favorable offer.
Everyone pricked up their ears, trying to gauge the moment for a scattered and friendly shootout with the friendly collective. But everything is fine: Umbrella mercenaries are not so fanatical as to be loyal and obedient dogs, with the likes of Nikolai Zinoviev being ready to sell his own mother.
Mercenaries must understand that the incident in the city cannot be suppressed; the world is in danger, and everyone involved faces the death penalty by injection. Umbrella is to blame for everything. Only troubles come from them.
— Are you sure you can pay for even a part of my services? — she asked cheekily, accompanying her words with a mocking laugh.
— For the future of our country, I'm sure we'll figure something out, — I smiled hypocritically, calculating the methods for the fastest enrichment. Excluding bioterrorism, there were few such methods, but options still remained.
— Well, well, if we survive, I'll think about it.
A vague answer is half the success.
The mercenary understands that without the G-virus sample, her bosses will most likely twist her head off. However, if Lady HUNK tries to obtain it with my help to support the corporation, I will be the one to twist her head off. A stalemate where there is no better option; there is only Albert Wesker — the most reliable traitor in the world. I only haven't betrayed the air, and only because I breathe it. Any sensible person who does not desire death will guaranteed take my side, well, only to regret it later.
A low growl reached our ears, forcing everyone to shift their focus to the threat. Some shivered down their spines, but most remained unfazed. Someone even caught a warlike excitement, for example, Lady HUNK. She was the first to meet the mutated creatures waiting for us. Disgusting beasts, largely due to the clothing of the guinea pigs.
Experiments on people are a common thing, including women, children, pregnant people, and everyone else. The effect on all groups of citizens of my "beloved country" was studied.
"You reap what you sow" — this truth was confirmed by the hoarse moans of the zombies. They rushed at us, but the team was ready. I moved to the rear, trying to assess the situation and give commands in a timely manner. My companions listened to them; they heroically fired at the ugly targets, aiming to quickly disable them.
I, with deadly intentions, calmly observed everything happening, standing in the dim light and not interfering. I was like a wise and experienced CEO, conserving energy to help employees only in hopeless situations. Any situation that could be resolved without my involvement was automatically excluded from my responsibilities.
The reload time came at the most inopportune moment.
The girls missed the opportunity to contain the crowd, having simultaneously emptied their magazines. But we had the heavy artillery — Lady HUNK. The mercenary, like a whirlwind, moved forward with lightning quickness. With movements that matched her killer image.
And she is rich not only in movements, but rather in a hardened knife, gleaming in the dim light. The knife elegantly slit throats, plunged into eye sockets, and struck temples with its sharp end. A mercenary plus a knife equaled a slaughter of enemies with surgical precision.
It will not be easy for me to deal with Lady HUNK, and with Mr. Death, it will be even harder. He is a living legend, a mercenary who did not perish where others died. I need such people. Actually, I need everyone who will absorb my obligations so that I can coordinate more and work less in minor areas.
— Now left, then right, Jan, get ready to hack the electronic door lock. Behind it is the elevator to the third level, so don't get too tired, — I calmly informed. They glanced at me with obvious distrust. I spoke based on accumulated experience that is too great not to arouse suspicion. — That's where the field testing complex is located, where I will try to synthesize the best Golgotha samples to then use them as irrefutable evidence in the fight against Umbrella.
— You said you worked with my brother, — Claire pressed, making me wonder. Did it only just dawn on her?! Perhaps I relaxed under the influence of Lady HUNK, who knows me damn well, just like anyone in the U.S.S. I completely forgot that there were ignorant people. — How do you know the laboratory so well?
— Well, — Sherry spoke up instead of me, standing next to Claire. — He's my dad's friend.
— And your dad? — Claire was pushing her small and innocent companion towards a dangerous statement.
— Um, he managed all this, — she answered clumsily, attracting the intense gazes of our team. I had to shift the attention back to myself.
— I led the Alpha team in S.T.A.R.S., but that doesn't mean I haven't previously collected information about Umbrella — including research, plans, locations of secret laboratories, and its developments, — I assured them, omitting the fact that many of the infected we met were the results of my developments, which I often used myself. In general, my biography is full of moments that are best left unsaid.
— Ahead… oh, shit, — Jan frowned, seeing an amusing picture on the tablet. Surveillance cameras showed a monster approaching us — a man with mutated lizard genes, a huge reptile that had escaped from its cage. This mass of flesh hobbled toward us, resembling the Tyrant: lots of muscles, large size, and a dangerous appearance. Its thick skin, which wasn't as visible on the cameras, looked even more alarming in person.
A barrage of fire collided with the steel hide, which provided good protection from bullets. The creature only became angrier and rushed at the group with a furious roar. This was my cue. I accelerated to the limit and made a dash, hitting the monster in the neck with all my strength.
Unfortunately, its head remained almost intact, and I needed to make a double leap: first to the mercenary, taking her sharp knife without permission, then to the creature, beginning the high-speed carving of the flesh in the heart area.
One by one, pieces of tissue were pulled aside until a perfect target was revealed.
Abruptly moving to the wall, I gave the command to shoot into the wound.
Ada and Lady HUNK did the best, emptying their magazines into the creature's chest. The worst was Jan, who was busy hacking the elevator and hardly participated in the battle. One could argue and talk about Sherry's uselessness, but she was something of a lucky charm.
With a stretch, but everything is fine.
Hmm… Bad!
I lightning-fast shifted my head, dodging the reptile's treacherous blow. The creature did not shut down after the gunfire but attacked the nearest target. It almost smashed my head against the wall, which would have been regrettable. Then the reptile swung its clawed paw again, forcing me to evade decapitation. I managed to duck, and the claws left cuts only on the metal wall. And, strangely enough, its claws got stuck.
The conveniently available knife quickly plunged into the creature's chest, and then it was a matter of technique. Retreating to the side, a kick to the knee, lifting the leg, and bringing down the guillotine. The reptile's head was not severed, but the creature itself was significantly slammed. It thrashed in convulsions, but no one bothered to finish it off. Everyone hurried to the elevator, and I decided not to fall behind the collective.
Letting all the ladies go first, I was the last to step into the elevator, which helped us descend directly to the third underground floor. So, forward to the laboratory!