November 1, 1998, 4:30 PM, S.T.A.R.S. Training Field
The air at the training field was thick with a cold, metallic tension. The S.T.A.R.S. members, summoned abruptly from their routines, moved with subdued restlessness, their murmurs lost in the autumn wind.
Barry Burton was polishing the barrel of his Colt Python, a comforting ritual in a moment of uncertainty. His eyes shifted to his captain, a figure immobile and impassive in a black uniform. "Captain, any idea why we've been called out so suddenly?"
Wesker didn't turn. His dark sunglasses reflected the gray sky, hiding every thought. "No idea, Barry. Let's wait." His voice was flat, a razor of calm in a sea of anxiety.
A short distance away, Jill approached Eddie. An almost imperceptible smile tugged at her lips as her fingers lightly traced the outline of a purple bruise on his cheekbone. "Svetlana doesn't go easy, I see."
"It's training, not a dance lesson," Eddie replied, a flicker of pain crossing his eyes before being immediately suppressed. He took her hand, their fingers intertwining. A man had to be strong; a bruise like that was nothing. But her touch was an anchor.
Across the field, Wesker's gaze lingered on them for a moment. Another Spencer variable. An unknown. Unknowns must be eliminated or controlled, he thought, his face a mask of ice. If she tries to interfere with my plans…
The roar of a car interrupted everyone's thoughts. Chief Brian Irons stepped out of the passenger seat, followed by Lieutenant Marvin Branagh.
"Gentlemen," Marvin began, his voice strong and clear, that of a true officer. "Citizen complaints about incidents in the Arklay Mountains have become unbearable. In the coming days, you will conduct an exploration. The one responsible for these attacks must be found. As soon as possible."
"You are the elite," Irons added, his tone oily and political. "I am confident you will complete this difficult task." He turned to Wesker. "Captain, you will lead the mission. Maximum caution. Keep us informed of any developments." He paused, as if he had just remembered an insignificant detail. "And if you find anything… unusual, ask the new guy. Cai. He seems knowledgeable."
Sergei's order had been delivered, disguised as a casual suggestion. Irons had received his envelope that morning.
"Chief," Eddie stepped forward. "I have a proposal. I've invited a freelance journalist. She's gathered extensive evidence about the incidents in the area. She could be a great help. Plus, she could report on our mission afterward."
Marvin frowned. "A journalist? An amateur?"
"No. She's Alyssa Ashcroft. Experienced. Reliable," Eddie replied, his voice steady.
"Very well," Irons conceded with a wave of his hand. "She may come. Prepare yourselves. Anything else?"
"We could also invite Instructor Belikova. Her tactical skills would be an asset," Eddie added.
"No problem." Irons nodded, then turned and walked away, already disinterested.
Marvin lingered for a moment, his gaze scanning each team member. "Guys, be careful. This mission is dangerous. I'll wait for your return." Then he too left.
"Good," Wesker said, checking his watch. His voice cut through the air. "Prepare your gear. At nine o'clock sharp, we depart."
Heading into the Arklay Forest at night was suicide. But the captain had spoken. A murmur of assent passed through the team.
"Darling, I'm going to find Rebecca. It's her first mission; she'll be nervous," Jill said to Eddie, squeezing his hand one last time before walking away.
As Eddie began preparing his equipment, a shadow fell over him.
"Cai."
Albert Wesker's voice was cold, precise, devoid of any emotion.
"Can we talk?"