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After dinner, Allen was now in Yoko's room. The reason he was here was simple—there was something he needed to assign to her. What he wanted was for her to hack back into Umbrella's security camera system and fabricate a video that would show Albert Wesker still alive, stealing data directly from the supercomputer connected to Umbrella's main server. The footage needed to look real enough to divert attention and create confusion within the organization.
Allen also had a personal reason for doing this. He wanted Umbrella to start hunting Wesker down again as soon as possible. Allen still remembered that Wesker had kept a photo of Rebecca in his personal locker inside the S.T.A.R.S. room—a picture of her wearing sportswear. That memory irritated him more than he cared to admit, and this was his way of paying Wesker back by dragging him into even more trouble.
Several hours passed as Yoko worked nonstop, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she bypassed security layers, rerouted access points, and edited the footage frame by frame with meticulous care. When she was finally done, she leaned back in her chair and let out a long sigh.
"Huff… it's finally finished," Yoko said, stretching slightly.
She glanced over at Allen, who was standing nearby, completely absorbed in his phone, casually sending messages to Athena as if nothing serious was going on.
"Boss, everything's done," Yoko said.
"Thanks, Yoko," Allen replied. He stood up and walked over to her desk to check the results himself, his expression calm but clearly satisfied with what he saw.
"You're welcome. Just don't forget your promise to treat me to dinner," Yoko added, her cheeks turning red.
Allen was standing close now—close enough for her to catch the subtle, masculine scent coming from him. The proximity alone made her feel a little dizzy.
"Hehe, of course," Allen said with a smile.
He had given Yoko this task with a simple reward in mind: once everything in Raccoon City was finally settled, he would take her out for a proper meal. For now, though, the plan was complete, and the pieces were quietly moving into place.
...
Meanwhile, deep within Umbrella's underground laboratory, Sergei had already reached the main server room, accompanied by two Tyrant T-103 units standing silently at his sides like living weapons. Their massive frames filled the narrow metallic corridor, each heavy step echoing through the cold facility. Sergei's goal was clear—access the surveillance records and determine Dr. William Birkin's current whereabouts.
As he accessed the system, his eyes narrowed. Something was wrong.
Several unfamiliar login records appeared on the monitor—foreign access codes that should not have existed within this sealed network.
Who would dare infiltrate this place? Sergei thought, his expression darkening. Deciding to investigate further, he began reviewing the archived CCTV footage.
What he saw made his eyes widen slightly in surprise.
On the screen, a familiar man appeared—calm, confident, and unmistakable.
"So… you really are still alive after all, Wesker," Sergei muttered coldly as he stared at the image of Albert Wesker moving through the facility as if it belonged to him.
Moments later, another detail caught his attention. Data transfer logs. Massive ones. Entire files had been copied from the main server.
A low, humorless laugh escaped Sergei's lips.
"Hahahaha… impressive, Wesker. So you truly wish to die," he said, his voice filled with anger and contempt. "Stealing company data and disappearing just like that. You really have some nerve."
Wesker's betrayal ignited a deep fury within him. Sergei clenched his fist, already imagining the moment he would personally hunt Wesker down and crush him with his own hands. No one betrayed Umbrella and walked away.
However, priorities came first.
Before anything else, the supercomputer had to be secured. Sergei ordered preparations to transfer the system immediately to another Umbrella facility located in Northern Europe. As long as Umbrella still possessed the Red Queen, rebuilding the company would only be a matter of time.
As for Dr. William Birkin… Sergei's interest had not faded. The combat data produced by the G-Virus was far too valuable to ignore. If Birkin was still alive, then obtaining a live sample—from the doctor himself—would be ideal.
A thin smile formed on Sergei's face as he turned away from the screen.
.....
The next morning, Allen, along with Christine, Michaela, Yoko, and Monica, left early for the helicopter landing pad. When they arrived, Allen saw Barry and Robert already waiting there with their wives and children.
Up until now, Barry had been unable to get out of the city because Brian had been blocking any official evacuation. Having no other choice, he contacted Allen for help so he could meet his family and finally leave Raccoon City. He also deliberately invited Robert along, hoping it would make it easier for Robert to move his family as well.
"Hey, sorry for making you old guys wait," Allen said with a slight grin as he greeted the two middle-aged men.
"Hey, stop calling me that in front of my wife and kid," Robert said, sounding a little annoyed.
Barry, on the other hand, just laughed. He didn't seem offended at all—in fact, he looked rather proud of being called that.
"Hahaha, it's fine. We're the ones who came too early," Barry replied.
"Alright, alright. Go ahead and get on board. Don't worry—Christine will make sure you, and your families are escorted somewhere safe," Allen said, gesturing for both families to board the helicopter first.
Robert, however, remained behind.
"Hey, Robert, are you sure you don't want to go with your family? You know this will make your daughter sad," Barry said.
Robert shook his head. "Don't worry about that. I'll catch up with them later," he said as he gently patted his daughter's head.
"Dad, why aren't you coming with us? I don't want us to be separated," Emma said, her voice trembling.
"Don't worry. Daddy will follow soon, okay?" Robert replied softly.
Barry glanced at Allen and nodded. "Thanks for the ride, by the way."
"No problem," Allen answered calmly.
Yoko and Monica boarded the helicopter after them.
"By the way, Allen, thanks," Robert added sincerely.
Allen simply nodded. "Yeah, yeah, no problem, old man."
The helicopter's rotor began to spin up. But just as it was about to take off, Allen suddenly spoke again.
"And… sorry about this," he said, swiftly injecting something into Robert's neck.
"Huh? What do you mea—" Robert didn't get to finish his sentence. His body went limp as the drug took effect.
"Dad!" Emma screamed, trying to rush out of the helicopter, but Barry quickly stopped her.
Robert's wife was shocked as well, confused by Allen's sudden action. However, she quickly realized that her husband was only unconscious. His body was gently placed inside the helicopter alongside the others.
"Hey, Allen, if you were going to do this, you could've at least done it where they couldn't see," Barry muttered.
"Haha, sorry about that. Don't worry, Emma—your dad's just sleeping," Allen said with a wink. "Besides, this way, doesn't he get to go with you after all?"
Barry sighed and shook his head.
"Barry, I'll leave the rest to you. And please apologize to that stubborn old man for me," Allen said before turning away with Michaela.
Barry closed the helicopter door, and moments later, the helicopter lifted off, flying away and leaving Raccoon City behind.
On the way back, Michaela unexpectedly steered Allen toward a nearby hotel. The distance was short, and Allen could only smile—he had no intention of turning down her invitation, especially one that promised steamy sex. He knew exactly where this was headed, and the thought excited him.
Before long, they were in one of the suite's luxurious rooms, the air thick with anticipation. Moans echoed off the walls as Allen's thick cock plunged relentlessly into Michaela's slick pussy, pounding her with rapid, forceful thrusts. Her body rocked forward with each impact, her hands gripping the sheets tightly.
"Ahhh," she gasped, her voice husky with pleasure. "Keep going, boss—don't stop." In the doggy style position, she arched her back and lifted her ass even higher, presenting herself fully to him, begging for more.
Slap!
The sharp sound of his palm connecting with her firm cheek made her cry out. "Auhhh... yes, spank my ass harder!" Michaela demanded, her tone laced with raw need.
Allen grinned at her enthusiasm and delivered several more stinging slaps, watching her skin flush pink and then deepen to a vivid red, marked with the clear imprints of his hand. The sensation sent jolts through her body, and her pussy clenched around his shaft like a vice, squeezing and massaging every inch of him in rhythmic pulses that drove him wild.
"Ahhh, your pussy is so fucking tight, Michaela," he groaned, his hips snapping forward faster. "I'm about to cum—it's too good."
"Yes, fill me up—cum deep inside my womb!" she cried out, her body trembling on the edge. With a sudden twist, she flipped onto her back and pulled him down for a fierce, passionate kiss, their tongues tangling hungrily as she wrapped her legs around his waist.
They shifted positions seamlessly, Michaela climbing on top to straddle him in reverse cowgirl. Facing away, she gripped his thighs for leverage and began grinding her hips with wild, lustful abandon. She lowered herself fully onto his cock, impaling her dripping pussy until the entire length speared into her, breaching her cervix and delving into her womb. Allen's eyes locked on the erotic sight: her flat belly bulging outward with each deep thrust inward, then deflating as she rose up, only for the bulge to reappear when she slammed back down. The visual, combined with the wet sounds of their joining, pushed her over the brink.
"Ahhhh!" Michaela screamed as her orgasm crashed through her, her pussy convulsing violently around him. She squirted hard, her juices gushing out in hot spurts that soaked Allen's groin, thighs, and the sheets beneath them.
The tight spasms milked him relentlessly, and Allen couldn't hold back. With a guttural roar, he thrust up one final time and erupted inside her, pumping rope after thick rope of hot cum directly into her womb. The sheer volume made her belly swell slightly, a visible testament to how much he'd flooded her.
Exhausted and spent, Michaela collapsed backward into his waiting arms, her chest heaving with ragged breaths. She closed her eyes, a satisfied smile playing on her lips as aftershocks rippled through her body.
"Ready for round two?" Allen murmured, his voice low and teasing. Without waiting for a full answer, he rolled them over, positioning her beneath him in missionary. His cock, still semi-hard and glistening with their mixed fluids, twitched at the sight of her sprawled out, vulnerable and eager.
"Yes... claim my body as yours, boss," she whispered breathlessly, spreading her legs wide in invitation. Her pussy lips parted slightly, already swollen and leaking their combined essence, ready for him to plunge back in.
Allen didn't hesitate. He aligned himself and drove forward with a wet plop, burying his cock to the hilt inside her welcoming heat. The rhythm built quickly—plop! plop! plop!—the lewd slapping of skin on skin filling the room, punctuated by their escalating moans and gasps. He pinned her wrists above her head with one hand, using the other to knead her breasts, pinching her hardened nipples as he fucked her deep and steady.
Michaela bucked her hips up to meet every thrust, her nails digging into his back when he released her hands. "Harder—fuck me like you own me!" she urged, her voice breaking into whimpers as pleasure built anew.
They lost track of time, the midday sun filtering through the curtains giving way to the afternoon light. Allen flipped her onto her side for a spooning position, entering her from behind while his hand roamed freely—rubbing her clit, squeezing her ass, even slipping a finger into her tight rear entrance to heighten her sensations. Michaela came again and again, her body quaking so intensely that she blacked out briefly twice, her eyes fluttering shut as waves of ecstasy overwhelmed her.
When she came to the first time, Allen was still going strong, his stamina unyielding. He pulled out only to have her drop to her knees, taking his cock into her mouth for a good blowjob, sucking and licking until he was cum in her her mouth. She deepthroated him eagerly, gagging slightly but pushing through, her saliva dripping down her chin as she worshipped his length.
"God, your mouth feels incredible," he growled, threading his fingers through her hair and guiding her pace. But he didn't let her finish him there—instead, he lifted her onto the edge of the bed, standing between her thighs to eat her out. His tongue lapped at her folds, delving into her cum-filled pussy to taste their mingled flavors, while his fingers curled inside her, hitting her G-spot until she squirted onto his face.
Revived and insatiable, Michaela pushed him onto his back for another ride, this time facing him in standard cowgirl. She bounced vigorously, her breasts jiggling with each descent, grinding her clit against his pelvis for extra friction. Allen thrust up to match her, their bodies slick with sweat, the room reeking of sex.
By the third faint—after he'd bent her over the desk, railing her against the cool wood surface while pulling her hair—Michaela was a quivering mess, her pussy raw and oversensitive but still craving more. Allen finally reached his peak again, pulling out to cum across her back and ass, marking her before scooping her up for one last gentle missionary round, this time slower and more intimate, drawing out their shared climaxes until they were both utterly drained.
Hours later, as the sun dipped low, they finally stilled. Their bodies were a glistening canvas of exhaustion—coated in layers of dried sweat, cum streaks, and faint red marks from bites and grips. Michaela's skin shone with the evidence of their marathon, her pussy puffy and leaking a steady trickle of his seed.
Allen, ever the attentive partner, gathered her limp form in his strong arms and carried her to the bathroom. The spacious en-suite featured a large shower with multiple heads, and he turned on the warm water, letting it cascade over them as he held her upright. Gently, he washed her body, his hands soaping her curves—massaging her sore muscles, rinsing away the sticky remnants between her thighs. Michaela leaned into him, murmuring soft thanks, her energy slowly returning under the soothing spray.
He took his time with himself too, but his focus remained on her, ensuring she felt cared for after the intensity. Once clean and towel-dried, he helped her dress, stealing a few more kisses before they checked out of the hotel, both walking a little unsteadily but with matching, secretive smiles.
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