The to-do list had expanded outrageously, like a shopping list during the holiday season. First and foremost, we found a new hideout, borrowing an apartment from HUNK. This feisty girl initially objected, but I appeased her by increasing the contract's attractiveness. It was beneficial for me — keeping fighters like her close is useful, encouraging them in every possible way.
And old acquaintances came to the rescue with encouragement when needed. They accumulated little by little, but by now, they were enough to cover the most interesting areas of activity. For example, one good acquaintance was ready to pay an fabulous sum for the G-virus for her research. Three hundred million dollars in exchange for the decades of William Birkin's life — an incredibly profitable offer. His life was worth little in my eyes, so I completed the largest deal in this life without any problems.
But after flying over and settling many formalities, I received precious stones as payment, not truckloads of money. Africa, where my acquaintance hailed from, is known for its lack of cash but wealth of natural resources. There were many diamonds, and they were thrust upon us. Jan took care of selling the stones through underground auctions on the dark web. The depths of the Internet have long paved a Silk Road for selling drugs, weapons, and other contraband. It is useful for all shady dealers to exchange dirty currency for hard currency, which is easier to bury in Mexico. This is how we got the money to move to an expensive complex, purchase weapons, titanium alloy katanas, and lots and lots of explosives. Everything was bought at triple the price due to money laundering, as is known, many banknotes are washed down to the atom during the "laundering" process.
What was pleasing: Jan was fine with everything out of gratitude for saving her life. The hacker had no objection to selling the jewels and did not seek to find out what happened to the G-virus samples or where the container went. She was an extremely useful ally. I am glad the girl survived the events in Raccoon City.
HUNK was no less glad that she could do nothing for a while and receive a tidy sum of cash. The only one who was a little sad was Sherry. I surrounded her with complex books and forced her to study. There's no point in using an ally if there's nothing to use, so the girl is busy with private lessons and self-education. No childhood, but at least a life not in a military laboratory studying a living carrier of the Golgotha virus.
After settling in, a meeting with Nikolai took place. He shared many curious facts, including how easy it is to lose hundreds of thousands of dollars for a conversation…
For the money, I received valuable information about Umbrella's forces: most of the forces were transferred to a shadow reserve until better times, and the other part was withdrawn from the Rockfort combat camp to protect the corporation's directors.
The information was not limited to this: the T-Veronica virus, created by Alexia Ashford, is supposedly on the island. The island's defense has weakened after the Raccoon City incident, and if an attack is to be made, it must be soon. However, information about T-Veronica has already leaked to various corporations, and there is a risk that the rumors have reached the government. One should expect a trick, but to be forewarned means to be ready with a prepared titanium alloy katana.
I was extremely satisfied with the cooperation with Nikolai, despite losing some money from the Wesker Foundation budget (my stash). The gratitude was so great that I even added a couple of bucks for him, in exchange for which I received information about the delivery of one of the Tyrant samples to the island. This information, recalled by my informant after increasing the reward amount, turned out to be extremely useful. The irony of fate, but the Tyrant was delivered personally by Mr. Death — the U.S.S. mercenary — HUNK. Fortunately, he did not stay on the island, but immediately after completing the mission, went on vacation to search for an unknown family member. Without him, Umbrella will become even weaker.
Soon, Ada Wong contacted me, having received solid bonuses from the Organization for successfully completing the mission. She brought even more valuable information: the Organization's third division plans to attack Rockfort Island to seize the T-Veronica virus. The H.C.F. deployment was the peak of the unpleasant news. All the mercenaries in the squad are masters of their craft, and most of them were selected by me. Now that I have no friendly relations with the Organization, the operatives may open fire on me. This is unpleasant, but armed people can be dealt with if you avoid getting hit by RPG rounds.
To summarize, corporations are on the verge of intervention, a new variety of the Tyrant is contained on the island, and H.C.F. is preparing to attack Rockfort in the very near future. Everyone in this world seeks to obtain the Ashfords' developments, including me. However, it is better to know the enemy's face long before meeting them than to face them unprepared.
I accelerated the preparation stage for the operation, approaching the goal by leaps and bounds. The underground laboratory beneath our house was equipped, which allowed me to start improving Golgotha. The strength of this virus is based on tissue regeneration, but thanks to experiments and the laboratory, I learned how to separate a bit of the virus from my body, detonating the particles near the flesh.
It's not certain that the new ability is solely thanks to the G-virus, but now my blows have become more destructive. Even if I am deprived of my priceless purchase — the titanium katana, I can still fight off dangerous opponents with my bare hands. However, I will likely have to fight off the new version of the Tyrant and unknown mutants in the house of one of Umbrella's founders.
As I was finishing my self-improvement in laboratory conditions, a boom of news occurred, both official and public. Several months ago, the military entered Raccoon City territory to evacuate citizens and use the virus vaccine in the field. Active battles for the liberation of the city from the infected ensued, but this did not lead to success.
Partial results of their efforts were published for public discussion, or rather, condemnation. The results were disappointing: the military saved only thirty people, at the cost of hundreds of soldiers' lives. This was a questionable exchange. Not a complete failure only because the survivors expressed a desire to join bioterrorism fighting organizations. A fervent supporter of this idea was a police officer who accidentally found himself in the city and survived there for several months. A strange guy. He could have simply walked out if he lasted that long. I even thought the police officer wanted to live there until old age if the military hadn't found him.
However, living to old age in Raccoon City is impossible.
The government decided to wipe Raccoon City off the face of the earth. It was impossible to save the fully turned zombies, there wasn't enough vaccine for all the soldiers, and mass salvos on the city streets were postponed until the absence of survivors was confirmed. When confirmation followed, the street bombardment had already become too expensive a pleasure, and taxpayers began to suspect that the money would be wasted.
The President made a desperate decision before leaving his post — to drop a thermobaric missile on the "Evil Raccoons' Lair," putting an end to the costly attempts at rescue or cleanup.
Immediately after this, the acting President organized a state special assignment department. Thanks to the public outcry and the publication of materials about Raccoon City, billions of dollars were allocated to the department.
To further support the new structure, I contacted old acquaintances and sold them the second G-virus sample from the container. Evil corporates from Europe, who decided to create a new virus strain for questionable purposes, will in the future throw many difficult missions at the bioterrorism fighting department. They will teach them how to correctly fight against zombies! By providing the zombies…
By the way, I was not at a loss. In addition to connections, information, and other pleasant bonuses, the evil corporates provided me with a legion of mercenaries, located in France. HUNK was sent there to recoup the investment in her and to test my dictatorial mini-army for fighting Umbrella.
I provided work not only for HUNK but also indirectly, through the European corporates, for Jill and Chris! In any case, no one will be out of a job! The unbearably kind Wesker is ready to help everyone, as long as it is profitable for him.
Jill and Chris… Due to my busy schedule, we were unable to meet. But even so… I always come to their aid, even sponsoring future enemies of humanity to increase the significance of the US special department. The more incidents, the more investment in the departments fighting them!
But setting aside the hypocritical jokes… When the corporation from Europe creates a more perfect strain based on the G-virus, it will only play into my hands. I will absorb it and express my gratitude, as a rule, with a shot to the head or the destruction of their laboratory complexes.
Before departure, I contacted HUNK. She reported on the progress of checking the legion for loyalty, weeding out useless individuals, and instilling minimal devotion to the new employer. If something goes wrong, HUNK is obliged to transfer part of the troops to the island at the first call.
The Legionnaires must not betray me, but help. After all, I bought the ownership rights to them, and they began receiving a salary from my Fund. And he who receives payment must give something back in return, for example, his life. If not now, then during the storming of Umbrella's base in the Caucasus Mountains.
— It's fun here, heh-heh-heh! With a bang! — Nikolai Zinoviev laughed, holding tightly to the helicopter railing. He was so engrossed that he commented on the burning island as if it were a fun blockbuster or the World Cup.
— Interesting, — I agreed, adjusting my sunglasses and watching the chaotic destruction of Rockfort Island from the helicopter cockpit. Everything looked uncontrolled, but it was well-planned, which suggested the actions of the Organization's third squad.
— Interesting?! Come on! You wanted to say, "F****ing interesting**"! I thought I'd drop you off to make more dough for the fat goats on the Umbrella board. But no, I'll return with information about the attack! I was promised not one, but two promotions! — he laughed merrily.
— There is satellite communication on the island, — I whispered the bad news to him.
— Those devils! — he swore. — Suka, one promotion. With no raise. Heh-heh. Still not bad!
Flying over the nest of all kinds of evil, I left the helicopter without a parachute. I didn't dive, but landed precisely on my feet from an impressive height. And immediately received a… well, let's just say not the most pleasant surprise in the face.
A mutated dog rushed at me — large, hungry, with saliva dripping from its maw. One of its eyes was missing, and a paw was almost torn off. A creepy opponent. But the beast didn't even have time to spray my face with saliva before I prepared to attack.
I arrived on the island not in house slippers, but in full gear. On my belt — the titanium katana's sheath, and weapons and supplies were scattered across my protective suit, hidden by a black knee-length coat.
A Samurai of the late twentieth century!
Taking a step back and adopting a fighting stance, I instantly drew the katana and shredded the mutant with slashing blows. Thirty swings were enough for pieces of flesh to shower onto the ground. But before they fell, I returned the katana to its sheath with a sense of superiority.
I need more motivation!
— Excellent, — I exhaled, restraining a smile, enjoying the moment of my greatness among the dark bushes and pine tree witnesses. If you don't praise yourself, no one in the forest will praise you, except for the pine cones falling on your head.
Advancing toward the Ashford mansion, I encountered only minor resistance. The H.C.F. fighters on the other side of the island were already finishing off Umbrella's last mercenaries. The zombies scattered around the island were too weak.
My mood was soured by the weakness of the opponents… I need the titanium katana not only to fight mutants but also to deflect bullets flying at me. Someone craves wealth and power, and I — to deflect bullets with a katana.
Making a long leap, I landed not far from the main entrance to the mansion, which resembled a castle. The sound of my landing gave away my location, and a young girl in a red jacket, who had almost reached the door, sharply turned around, pointing a pistol at me.
— Wesker? — Claire quickly hid the pistol, clearly surprised by the meeting.
— By what paths did you wander onto an island in the Pacific Ocean? — I asked, slowly approaching her.
— Where did you disappear after the tunnel? I lost consciousness, and when I came to, I was alone! — she expressed emotionally. — And where is Sherry?
— Sherry got worse due to the shaking; she required urgent aid. She is fine now; she is buried up to her ears in virology textbooks. As for the others, everyone has their own fate and their own decisions, — I answered vaguely, adding fog to my words.
— Really? Thank you! I already thought something terrible had happened, — she quickly approached and hugged me, thanking me for the rescue. Or for helping Sherry. I don't know what "searching for her brother" she has in mind.
— Did you find Chris? — I inquired.
— He's missing! — she expressed offendedly.
Chris is the first candidate to join the bioterrorism fighting department along with Jill. They both perfectly fit the role of jesters who will dance in the face of death. They are easy to find: where there are problems, there they are.
— Then you are here… — I became confused, but she interrupted me.
— Looking for my brother.
Claire is hopeless.