The Umbrella Management Training Facility. Monitoring Room.
"..."
"Who is this guy?"
Wesker and Birkin stared at the monitor, utterly baffled.
The man on the screen—the figure in the white robe with the long hair and the androgynous, youthful face—was a stranger to them. He looked nothing like the James Marcus they knew. The Marcus they remembered was an elderly, bitter scientist, not this... opera singer.
Neither of them connected this youthful entity to their murdered mentor.
However, while they didn't recognize him, the entity certainly recognized them.
Using the facility's internal network, the Queen Leech hijacked the camera feed. It stared directly into the lens, its glowing eyes piercing through the screen, locking onto the two traitors.
"I leaked the virus."
The voice was melodious but cold.
"I caused the outbreak in the Arklay Mountains. I attacked the train three miles away. It was all me. Surprised?"
The entity waved a hand casually.
Squish... Slither...
On the screen, the room around the robed figure seemed to melt. Thousands of leeches erupted from the floor and walls, coalescing into a writhing black mass. They swarmed together, climbing over each other, defying gravity.
Slowly, the mass took shape. It formed legs, a torso, a head. The black slime shifted colors, mimicking fabric and skin.
In seconds, the youthful figure was gone. Standing in its place was a stern, gray-haired man in a business suit.
Dr. James Marcus.
The exact image of the man who died ten years ago.
"Damn it!" Birkin gasped, stumbling back. "What is this? He... he came back to life?!"
Before they could process the impossible, the Leech-Marcus spoke again.
"Ten years ago... Dr. Marcus was assassinated. You two were involved, weren't you?"
The question hung in the air like a guillotine blade.
Birkin's face drained of color.
"He knows! Wesker, what do we do?"
Birkin began to pace frantically, his hands shaking.
"That old fox is alive! How did he survive? Was it the T-Virus? When did he inject himself? Does the T-Virus really have the power to resurrect the dead? This is insane!"
"And Wesker! If we don't deal with him... if Spencer finds out Marcus is alive and we failed to kill him... we're finished! He'll send the cleanup crew for us!"
Fear consumed him. He wasn't afraid of the zombie apocalypse; he was afraid of losing his status, his lab, and his precious G-Virus project.
Wesker, however, remained motionless.
He adjusted his sunglasses, analyzing the situation with the cold precision of a machine.
Water Leech Queen... he thought. Interesting.
He wasn't afraid. He possessed the power of the Progenitor Virus; a mere leech monster didn't intimidate him.
More importantly, he noticed a flaw.
"Calm down, William."
"Think. If he is James Marcus... why is he asking us if we were involved?"
Wesker's lips curved into a smirk.
"He was there. He saw us. If his memory was intact, he wouldn't need to ask. That thing... it's just a copy. A memory fragment reborn through the virus. It's confused."
Ten years ago, they killed Marcus. Today, Wesker was confident he could kill this ghost, too.
"I'll handle this," Wesker said, turning toward the door. "He won't leave this facility alive."
"Where are you going?" Birkin cried.
"I'm returning to the Raccoon City Police Department. I will mobilize S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team. I'll bring them here to 'investigate.' Let Chris and Jill do the heavy lifting."
He gripped Birkin's shoulder.
"You stay here. Guard the lab. If necessary... activate the self-destruct sequence. Just don't blow yourself up."
With that, Wesker swept out of the room, his long coat billing behind him. He had a stage to set.
Left alone in the dim light of the monitoring room, Birkin trembled. He looked back at the screen, where the Leech-Marcus seemed to be staring right at him.
He felt a phantom sensation—slimy, cold bodies crawling over his skin.
"Damn it!"
"I can't stay here..."
Birkin slammed his fist on the console. He couldn't fight. He was a scientist, not a soldier.
"I have to destroy this place. I have to blow it all to hell before he comes for me!"
He scrambled for the door, heading for the control room. He would nuke the facility, kill the S.T.A.R.S. team, kill Marcus, and bury the evidence forever.
The Management Training Facility. Main Hall.
While the masterminds plotted above, the three survivors were busy exploring the ground floor.
The facility was a labyrinth. It wasn't designed for work; it was designed to confuse.
"This architecture is absurd," Havel muttered, shining his flashlight on a massive statue of a goddess holding a set of scales.
"To open the front door, we need to find two specific statues—the Statue of Good and the Statue of Evil—and place them on these scales to balance them?"
Billy looked at the mechanism, bewildered. "Why? Why not just use a keycard?"
"Because Spencer was a pretentious lunatic," Havel replied.
He looked around the grand hall. Keys were hidden in books. Doors required crests made of gemstones. Shotguns were mounted on walls with gravity traps.
"No wonder everyone died during the outbreak," Havel noted dryly. "Imagine trying to evacuate this place during a fire. 'Oh no, the fire alarm is ringing! Quick, everyone find the Blue Gemstone to open the East Wing door! Wait, who has the Music Box Key?'"
"By the time you solved the puzzles, the zombies would have eaten you three times over."
Rebecca giggled nervously. "When you put it that way... it is pretty stupid."
"It's not just stupid," Havel said, checking his shotgun. "It's a death trap. But we have to play the game."
"Billy, Rebecca. Keep your eyes open. The keys to getting out of here are scattered all over this hellhole. And I guarantee they aren't just lying on the welcome mat."
"We need to split up... no, wait. Never split up. We stick together."
Havel corrected himself quickly. Splitting up was how you died in horror movies.
"Let's go find some statues."