The Umbrella Management Training Facility.Monitoring Room.
"S.T.A.R.S. members..."
Wesker leaned closer to the screen, his lip curling in a faint sneer.
"A female rookie fresh out of the academy. A male officer with a bit of a reputation as a shooting prodigy. And the last one... a convict from a wanted poster. Hmph. What an amusing little circus."
He dismissed them instantly.
"They're here because of the train. RPD must have lost contact and sent Bravo Team to investigate. Predictable."
To Albert Wesker, people like Havel and Rebecca were ants. He had seen countless "elite" soldiers crumble before Umbrella's Bio-Organic Weapons. These three wouldn't last an hour.
"Hmm?"
William Birkin chewed his lip, staring at the screen nervously. "Should we dispose of them? If they escape... if they talk... the US Government will get involved. They'll come for my G-Virus!"
Birkin was sweating. He could handle a corporate cover-up, but a federal investigation? That meant soldiers. That meant seizing his lab.
"Relax, William."
Wesker stood up, placing a firm hand on Birkin's trembling shoulder.
"You worry too much. We don't need to dirty our hands. The facility is crawling with zombies and B.O.W.s. Let the monsters eat them. It saves us the bullets."
"Besides..." Wesker smiled coldly. "I want to see how long they survive. Consider it a live-fire exercise."
This was the difference between them. Birkin was a scientist, terrified of losing his work. Wesker was a predator, always looking for an angle. He knew Umbrella was a sinking ship. He didn't care about protecting the company anymore; he cared about gathering data to sell to the highest bidder.
Ten years ago, they conspired to kill their mentor, Marcus. Today, Wesker was already calculating how to kill Birkin if he became a liability.
The Management Training Facility.Main Hall.
Tap... Tap... Tap...
Havel, Rebecca, and Billy emerged from the underground passage, climbing a ladder that led them into the heart of the facility.
They stepped out into a massive, cavernous hall.
It was less a research center and more a palace. Or a cathedral to science.
The floor was polished marble, covered in rich red carpets. Towering stone pillars supported a vaulted ceiling three stories high. Elaborate statues and oil paintings lined the walls. A grand staircase dominated the center, leading up to a balcony that overlooked the room.
It was magnificent. And it was rotting.
Dust coated every surface. Cobwebs draped like shrouds over the chandeliers. Green moss crept up the pristine white columns. The air smelled of mildew and old paper.
It felt like Dracula's castle, reimagined by a corporate billionaire.
At the top of the stairs hung a massive portrait. It depicted an older man with sharp, intelligent features and graying hair. He looked stern, successful, and commanding.
This was the original James Marcus. Not the long-haired, leech-controlling youth prowling the woods, but the respected scientist he once was.
"..."
"That's... Dr. James Marcus?!"
Rebecca gasped, stopping at the foot of the stairs. She stared up at the painting, her eyes wide.
"You recognize him?" Havel asked, feigning ignorance.
Rebecca nodded vigorously.
"Of course! He's legendary in the field of virology. He was one of the founders of Umbrella. I studied his papers at university. He... he was a genius."
She looked around the decaying hall, her expression crumbling.
"I can't believe it. This was his facility? Is he the one behind the virus? Behind the monsters?"
It was a hard pill to swallow. The hero of her textbooks was the architect of this nightmare.
Havel patted her shoulder. "Never meet your heroes, kid. Especially not when they work for mega-corporations."
Suddenly—
CRACKLE...
A harsh static noise erupted from hidden speakers all around the hall.
Havel, Rebecca, and Billy froze, weapons raised.
A voice, deep and distorted by age and poor audio equipment, boomed through the empty room. It wasn't a live broadcast; it sounded like a recording playing on a loop.
"Attention."
"I am Dr. James Marcus."
"Please reflect upon our company motto:"
"Obedience breeds Discipline."
"Discipline breeds Unity."
"Unity breeds Power."
"Power is Life."
The voice echoed off the cold stone walls, a ghostly sermon from a dead man.
"What the hell..." Billy muttered, looking around for the source. "Is this a cult?"
Back in the Monitoring Room.
"What is this?"
Birkin stared at his console. The screens were flickering.
"Interference? Who is broadcasting that audio?"
Suddenly, the monitors showing the S.T.A.R.S. team cut to static.
BZZZT!
One by one, the screens went black. Then, the large central monitor flared to life.
But it didn't show the Main Hall.
It showed a face.
Pale skin. Long, flowing hair. Eyes that glowed with unnatural malice. A man in a white robe, looking like an opera singer from hell.
The resurrected James Marcus smiled at the camera.
"Hello... my students."