September 22, 1998 – 8:15 AM, Jill's Apartment
Morning light filtered through the blinds, painting golden stripes across the wooden floor. Eddie opened his eyes slowly, sleep retreating like a tide. The air smelled of coffee and the faint, lingering trace of Jill's scent. He sat up, stretching sore muscles. Since that night… this had become his refuge. Living under the same roof was a logical move, a tactical alliance. Or so he kept telling himself.
No sign of Jill. On the kitchen table, beside a cup of coffee gone cold, lay a half-eaten slice of toast. Next to it, a note in her hurried handwriting: Wesker moved up the training. See you tonight. Don't burn the house down.
A faint smile tugged at his lips. Albert Wesker. Another of Spencer's masterpieces. Cold, efficient, lethal. An excellent trainer, no doubt. And an even better traitor. Eddie wondered if Jill, in her naïveté, could sense the serpent behind those dark sunglasses. Probably not.
He ate the rest of Jill's toast—a strangely intimate gesture. A taste of normality. An illusion he was becoming dangerously fond of.
---
September 22, 1998 – 11:30 AM, Underground Laboratory
In his private lab, away from Birkin and Annette's prying eyes, Eddie pulled a small vial from a temperature-controlled incubator. Inside, suspended in a faint amber serum, was a single blond hair. His own.
It was his T-Serum, diluted to a fraction of its original potency. A prototype not designed for transformation, but for adaptation. A test of bio-compatibility.
When he held the vial up to the light, his breath caught. Not even twenty-four hours had passed. He had expected days, maybe a week, before seeing results. Instead, the change was already clear.
Under the computer's magnification, the keratin structure of the hair had altered. The cells weren't merely binding to the virus—they were assimilating it. The structure was denser, its cellular integrity reinforced at a microscopic level.
"The test worked…" he murmured, a flash of pure, unfiltered triumph in his eyes. "Near-instant compatibility."
This diluted version wouldn't turn a man into a Tyrant capable of fighting a tank. Not yet. But it would enhance strength, endurance, and cellular regeneration by a significant multiple. A stable super-soldier, without the risk of uncontrolled mutations or metabolic collapse. The first step. The essential step.
With this, he could build an army. And with an army, he could take everything.
He carefully placed the vial into a refrigerated case and slipped it into his pocket. Time to head back to the surface.
As he exited the cover building, a luxury sedan pulled up silently in front of him. The window rolled down, revealing a far too familiar face. Katherine Warren, the mayor's daughter. Her smile was too bright, her eyes too eager.
"Good morning, Eddie. Want to have breakfast together?"
Her chirpy voice grated on his nerves. Since he had orchestrated her breakup with Benjamin, she had begun pursuing him. She had become an annoying appendage to his plan.
"Good morning, Katherine. I've already eaten, sorry," he replied, polite but cold.
"Oh…" Disappointment crossed her face like a shadow. "I just wanted to bring you the pizza, burger, and soda you asked for. Are you sure you don't want to come?"
"Not now. I have work," he said, preparing to leave.
"Wait!" Her voice sharpened, almost desperate. "Are you mad at me? I'm sorry about what happened, I realize my mistake… I didn't know you well back then, of course I tried to defend Benjamin." She leaned out the window, her eyes pleading. "But not anymore. Now I'm your friend… a close friend!"
Eddie froze, more shocked by the pathetic intensity than by her words. What the hell was wrong with her? He turned slowly.
"Katherine, you misunderstood. I'm not mad at you. Relax." His voice was calm, almost patronizing. "I just really need to go. I had a sudden inspiration, and I need to put it into practice right away."
Her expression softened instantly, her worry melting into childlike relief. Her fears had been baseless.
"Oh, all right then. What about tonight? We could have dinner together."
Eddie sighed inwardly. She was a nuisance, but a nuisance that might still prove useful.
"Maybe," he said, with a vague, noncommittal smile. "I'll let you know."
He walked away without waiting for a response, leaving her staring dreamily at his back. Poor, foolish girl, he thought. She had no idea she was just another pawn on his chessboard. A piece he would sacrifice without hesitation if she became too troublesome.