Racing all the way through the city, Jon arrived directly at Umbrella Corporation's headquarters in Raccoon City.
Taking the private elevator up, he noted how the massive skyscraper—over a hundred floors tall—was entirely owned and used by Umbrella. Countless employees worked here, and everywhere exuded an overwhelming sense of futuristic technology. To the people of this world, this company represented the pinnacle of science.
Every technology released from here could be epoch-making, reshaping the present or altering the future.
Of course, Jon had considered founding his own company. With his research capabilities, it wouldn't take long to rise to a formidable level. But it wasn't cost-effective. Umbrella's roots already spread deep across the world. Far better to make his moves inside their walls, where the game was already being played.
Once the "cleansing plan" began, he would, in effect, acquire everything he wanted—and with far less trouble.
Knock knock knock.
The secretary rapped on the door. From inside came a voice: "Come in."
She led him in.
Jon's first impression: a luxurious office. And there stood the man—well, middle-aged man—known as Dr. Isaacs. Upon seeing Jon, Isaacs rose warmly to greet him.
"Dr. Jon, I'm delighted to finally meet you."
Jon smiled back. "The pleasure is mine, Dr. Isaacs."
"Please, sit. Lisa, two coffees, thank you."
Once seated, Isaacs opened a laptop. On the screen was Jon's email from the day before.
"Dr. Jon, forgive my bluntness. With research at this level, there's no reason investors wouldn't line up. Why haven't you sought to join a company already?"
Lisa returned with their coffee. Isaacs nodded his thanks.
"Appreciate it."
Only after the secretary left did Jon finally speak, silently commending himself for his acting skills.
"Tell me, Doctor… what do you think of my research?"
Isaacs nodded. "Quite impressive. Many of your concepts are worth pursuing."
"Unfortunately, others don't see it that way. Too many dismiss it as directionless—'no future,' they say." Jon gave a helpless shrug.
Nice. Someone hand me a golden statuette already.
Isaacs nodded sympathetically. "That is unfortunate."
"But honestly, those projects aren't even my real specialty," Jon replied. "What I excel at most is bioengineering and human modification—and I've already achieved some results."
Isaacs blinked, intrigued. "Oh? Do tell."
Jon rambled off a selection of details. Isaacs' jaw practically dropped—astonishment, disbelief, utter novelty—every idiom one could summon seemed to apply.
"Then… welcome aboard, Dr. Jon."
"Thank you."
They shook hands, both harboring their own hidden agendas. Isaacs sought to harness Jon's knowledge for his own ambitious plans, perhaps even to gain unexpected breakthroughs.
Jon? He only wanted to borrow the chicken to lay his eggs. Once the cleansing plan commenced, inter-base communications would collapse, creating the perfect opportunity to strike from the shadows.
Even Superman, after all, had not been born invincible. Every legend required time to grow. Even with his Kryptonian science vessel, Jon wasn't yet certain he could cleanse this world entirely. Better to play cautiously.
After all, basking in the sun wasn't such a bad option.
"Though, Dr. Isaacs, there is one matter I should bring up."
Isaacs paused. "Please, go on. If you require support, I'll consider it carefully."
"My experiments… may require a considerable amount of test material. You understand what I mean?"
Of course Isaacs understood. Any project in virology or bioengineering inevitably intersected with the human body. After all, technology existed to serve humanity.
"That won't be a problem, Dr. Jon. Our company has close ties not only with the United States but also with many other nations. They'll provide us with death row inmates and life prisoners. Naturally, we compensate them generously."
"I believe they'll consider it an honor—for the future of humanity."
"For humanity's future," Jon echoed with a smile.
Their eyes met, both convinced they had found a kindred spirit. Isaacs thought: at last, another true believer. In the early days, he had faced constant opposition to every bold initiative. But in his mind, only zealots and madmen had any chance of success. And Jon… was clearly one of those.
Within days, Jon's position was formalized. Umbrella provided every necessity: housing, car, a private lab, assistants. Clearly, the corporation valued him highly.
Still, his office remained in Umbrella's ground-level headquarters—meaning he was under observation.
Tch. Looks like without producing results, I'll never get access to the T-virus.
So he played along. His daily work routine seemed normal, his research harmless—focused more on material sciences than virology. The observers even began doubting they were watching the right man.
"How's he been?" Isaacs asked one day.
"Dr. Isaacs, Dr. Jon hasn't conducted much notable research. His current project seems to involve materials."
"Materials? He does that too?" Isaacs frowned. He'd expected brilliance, not… trivialities. Still, he ordered, "Keep monitoring."
"Yes, sir."
Heading straight to Jon's lab, Isaacs arrived just as an experiment concluded. Gunfire tests. Isaacs could hardly conceal his disdain. Wasting talent like this? This wasn't what he wanted.
"Hey, Dr. Jon. How are things progressing?"
Jon shrugged. "Same old. By the way, Doctor, about the materials you promised me… when will they arrive? Without them, I can't begin the real work."
Isaacs was caught off guard. So this was on me?
Forcing a smile, he said, "As a matter of fact, that's why I came. Your test subjects have arrived."
Jon's eyes lit up. "Really? Excellent. Can we see them now? I'd like to begin immediately."
"Why not?"
They entered a hidden passage—an elevator Jon had never seen before. It descended for several long minutes before opening into a vast underground complex.
The Hive. So they were bringing him straight into the nest. If he didn't produce results today, he might very well end up on someone else's dissection table.
The base lay nearly a thousand meters underground, immense beyond measure.
"You don't seem surprised," Isaacs remarked.
Jon shook his head solemnly. "This is how a true research facility should look. I like it."
Isaacs cursed inwardly. This man is a lunatic.
Inside the lab, two hooded prisoners were bound tightly to operating tables, growling through their gags.
"Dr. Jon, the stage is yours."
After sterilizing and suiting up, Jon produced a small vial of glowing green fluid.
Isaacs' eyes burned with curiosity. "What is that, Dr. Jon?"
"Patience, Doctor. You'll see soon enough. Trust me—you're in for a surprise." He turned to his assistant. "Have their vitals all been recorded?"
"Yes, Doctor. All data collected."
Nodding, Jon removed their hoods. The two captives, already terrified, exploded into curses at the sight of the syringe in Jon's hand.
He shook his head. "You'll thank me soon enough. Hush… you'll be grateful."
To Isaacs, Jon looked every inch the madman. Which reassured him all the more—madmen were easier to control.
The green serum was injected into both men. Everyone filed out, leaving only the test subjects writhing within.
Isaacs asked, voice low, "Dr. Jon, this…?"
"You'll see soon, Doctor…"
Moments later, the prisoners' faces contorted hideously. The monitors screamed alarms—their heart rates spiking rapidly.
"Not good! Their vitals are beyond tolerance!" an assistant exclaimed.
Suddenly, a sharp crack.
Test Subject #2 burst apart under the unbearable strain—instantly dead.
"Subject #2 deceased," the assistant reported calmly. "Subject #1's heart rate still rising—but stabilizing."
Jon waved a hand. "No interventions. Let's watch. And Doctor, your retrieval teams… they'll want his body later. It may hold the answers I seek."
Isaacs frowned. "What do you mean?"
Jon's eyes gleamed. "That this one… may become very powerful."
"Powerful? This is a strength-enhancement serum?"
"Precisely."
Isaacs remained skeptical. Human enhancement had long been abandoned after the discovery of the T-virus. Yet here… Jon's formula showed promise.
"How powerful?"
"Three to four times a normal man. With luck, five."
Inside, the subject suddenly sat upright, startling everyone. The restraints were forged from high-strength composite materials—not something any human should break.
The man rose, walked straight to the reinforced glass, and fixed them with a murderous glare.
"I remember you. You're the one who did this to me. Tell me—should I thank you?"
Jon only shrugged and nodded. Isaacs' eyes widened.
BANG!
Cracks spread across the bulletproof glass. The subject laughed, pounding harder, fists like hammers hungry for blood.
"Dr. Jon, this is extraordinary! But tell me—can it be controlled?" Isaacs asked, his gaze practically dripping with dollar signs.
Jon shook his head. "Not yet. It requires more research. Don't be fooled by his power—he's burning through energy. He won't last long like this."
Isaacs nodded. That was logical. He turned to his aide. "Retrieve the subject."
Then, fixing Jon with a sharp look, he said:
"Dr. Jon, I think… we need to talk further."
This little serum, concocted back on Krypton almost as an afterthought, had already proven its worth here. And this was only the beginning.