July 12, 1998, 3:30 PM
The air inside Jack's Bar was thick, a mixture of roasted coffee and the stale beer from the night before. Afternoon light barely filtered through the cloudy windows, casting long shadows on the worn wooden floor. In a secluded booth, far from the counter and the few daytime patrons, a man sat with an almost unnatural composure.
His name was Eddie Cai. A pearl-gray tailored suit draped perfectly over him without a single crease. His blond hair was combed with meticulous precision. Between his fingers he held a white porcelain cup, raising and setting it down with slow, calculated gestures. Not a drop of tea spilled.
Opposite him, Jill Valentine kept her back straight, never leaning into the padded booth. Her hands rested on the table, still but not relaxed. Her sharp blue eyes never stopped moving, scanning every detail of the bar, every shift, every face. Her hair was cropped short and practical, her expression firm and unreadable.
"Miss Valentine, I presume?" Eddie's voice was calm, with an almost imperceptible accent. "I'm Eddie Cai." He extended a hand across the table. His smile was polite, controlled.
Jill shook his hand. A solid grip, brief. "Jill is fine." Her tone was professional, direct.
"I know you work for S.T.A.R.S.," he continued, withdrawing his hand. "A prestigious assignment. Dangerous too, I imagine."
One corner of Jill's mouth lifted slightly. "Depends on the day." Her gaze fixed on him. "Cai isn't a local name. And word is you own a mansion in the Arklay Mountains." It wasn't a question, but a statement.
Eddie nodded slowly, unruffled. "My parents were Asian. As for the mansion, yes, it's mine. A luxury I can afford." He paused, his eyes studying her with sharp curiosity. "Along with a certain… talent for precision mechanics. Let's say I'm a genius in my field."
The claim was arrogant, but spoken with such calm it sounded like a mere fact. Jill didn't react. She tilted her head slightly. "The Arklay Mountains have become a dangerous place lately. Animal attacks, people disappearing."
"I'm aware," Eddie replied. "But my property is secure. My defense systems are… state of the art."
"I'd like to see them in person," Jill said, her voice flat and even.
Eddie was silent for a moment. The polite smile faded, replaced by a neutral expression. A faint tremor crossed his hand, the only sign of any inner reaction. Then the smile returned, wider than before. "You don't waste time, I see. Very well."
"When?"
"Let's exchange numbers first," he said, his composure restored. "Then, when you're ready, call me. I'll give you a private tour." His eyes glimmered with amusement. "But be careful out there. Not everyone has my defenses."
Minutes later, the meeting was over. Jill stood to leave, but Eddie's voice stopped her.
"One moment, Jill." He bent to retrieve a small hard case from beside the table. He opened it with a sharp click. Inside, nestled in black foam, was a pistol. A Beretta 92F, but not a standard model. Its finish was matte, almost black, and the grip had been clearly customized.
"I know your issued gear leaves much to be desired," Eddie said, offering the weapon with the handle toward her. "Consider it a gift. For our first meeting."
Jill hesitated only a second before taking it. The weight was perfect. Her hand wrapped instinctively around the shaped grip. With a smooth, practiced motion, she racked the slide to check the chamber. Empty. The slide had been lightened, the trigger mechanism tuned for a shorter, cleaner pull. The balance was flawless. Masterwork, not the product of a mere gunsmith. Damn, this wasn't just some rich man.
She looked up at him, a new light in her eyes. The surprise was masked, but her mind was working at full speed. Who the hell was this man?
"Thank you, Cai," she said, her voice sincere. "It's… impressive."
"I told you. I'm a genius," he replied with a quiet laugh.
Jill didn't return the smile. "Keep your phone on. I'll call when I'm free." It didn't sound like a promise. It sounded like an order.
She turned and walked to the exit without another word, the weapon firmly in her hand.
Eddie Cai watched her leave. When the bar door closed behind Jill, the polite smile vanished from his face. It was replaced by something else, a shadow of calculation that hardened his features. He raised the teacup to his lips, eyes fixed on the spot where she had disappeared.
---
July 12, 1998, 4:10 PM
The door of the luxury camper closed behind Eddie with a pneumatic hiss, sealing out the noise and dust of Raccoon City. Inside was another world: cream-colored leather, brushed steel finishes, and an almost absolute silence broken only by the soft hum of the air conditioning.
Seated at a teak table, a woman did not lift her eyes from the tablet in her hands. A flawless white suit framed her slender figure. Long blond hair fell over her shoulders in a perfect wave. Her ice-blue eyes moved quickly through lines of data and complex charts. Not a muscle of her face moved. She looked like a porcelain statue, as beautiful as she was untouchable.
Alex Wesker.
"A blind date, Eddie?" Her voice came calm and sharp, without her gaze leaving the screen. "I thought you were past such trivialities."
Eddie dropped into the seat opposite her, loosening his tie. A mocking smile curved his lips. "Sometimes I need to remind Spencer that his puppet still has a few personal strings to pull. Just a little amusement, nothing more." He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "When the time comes, that old bastard will learn no one controls me. But for now… I'm powerless."
Alex shut off the tablet with a sharp tap. The silence grew heavier. "And your promises? Those are not trivialities."
He looked at her, his smile fading. He knew what she meant. It wasn't an illness in the ordinary sense. It was a programmed cellular instability, a genetic time bomb that, if not defused, would consume her.
"I'm working on it," Eddie said, his tone steady again. "The current serums are garbage. They'd trigger nothing but uncontrolled degradation. I need something new. Something perfect." He stood and moved closer to her, his expensive scent filling the rarefied air of the camper. "I've almost isolated the sequence. Give me a little more time."
"William Birkin's prototype?" Alex asked, her expression impassive.
"William's work is crude," Eddie replied with contempt. "A lucky strike wrapped in an inflated ego. I'm talking about another serum. My serum." He bent over her, so close he could feel the warmth of her skin. He kissed her cheek, an intimate gesture without warmth. His hands encircled her narrow waist. Alex didn't move, but he felt the muscles of her abdomen tense.
She slowly turned her head, her icy eyes locking with his. "Don't disappoint me, Eddie. You can't afford it." A faint blush colored her cheeks, a flash of humanity quickly suppressed.
"Trust me," he murmured. "I never have."
July 12, 1998, 9:05 PM
Shadows stretched through the grand library of the mansion. Ancient dust floated in the rare shafts of moonlight streaming through the Gothic windows. Eddie sat in a leather armchair, cigarette smoke spiraling toward the coffered ceiling. It was no ordinary cigarette; it was his own creation, designed to stimulate concentration without tar's side effects.
This was where he worked. He, Alex, and his loyal housekeeper, Stewart. Three souls in a stone mausoleum. His laboratory lay in the basement, a sanctuary of modern technology hidden beneath centuries of history.
His brain was his only true resource. No systems, no divine aids. Just a mind capable of seeing the connections others ignored. With it, he was striving to perfect the Progenitor virus, to bend it to his will, to create something beyond mere mutation. Power, speed, immortality. They were no longer dreams but achievable goals. If only he had more time.
The discreet sound of a phone broke the silence. It came from the adjoining study, where Alex was organizing documents. He heard her answer, her voice a controlled murmur. A monologue of "yes," "I understand," "it will be done."
Moments later, she appeared in the doorway. The desk lamp behind her turned her into a dark silhouette.
"It was Spencer," she said, her voice flat. "A new project. He wants me out of the country."
Eddie exhaled a plume of smoke. "When?"
"Not immediately. But I must prepare. The work here in Raccoon City remains the priority, for now."
A bitter grin spread across Eddie's face. "Immortality. That old bastard never lets go, does he? He's obsessed."
Alex leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms. A rare, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips. "And you know it, don't you? You always know everything. Yet you keep playing the spoiled boy."
"The best defense is a mask no one wants to look too closely at," he said, crushing the cigarette in a crystal ashtray. He rose, silence stretching again between them. He moved toward her, stopping just a step away. The air crackled with unspoken tension.
"This conversation has tired me," he said, his voice low. "Let's go."
Alex didn't answer. She held his gaze for a long moment, her eyes searching his. Then, without a word, she turned and walked down the dark hallway toward the sleeping quarters. The sharp sound of her heels on marble was the only reply Eddie needed.