Mid-December, 1998. Two months after Raccoon City went nuclear.
Colorado. An abandoned underground civil defense bunker.
Annette Birkin was rubbing her temples in front of a microscope, watching G-Virus cells split in violent, uncontrolled bursts. Beside her, Dr. Bard hammered away at his keyboard, trying to build a stable suppression model.
"It's no use. The G-Virus mutates too unpredictably." Annette lifted her head, exhaustion carved into every line of her face, and looked at Ryan standing nearby. "William went off the deep end with this thing. Once G-Virus infects a host, sure, the regenerative capacity is terrifying, but the host loses all higher brain function. Turns into a lump of flesh that only knows how to consume and evolve. What we need is a neutralizing agent that can stabilize the genome and preserve the host's intelligence."
Ryan didn't answer right away. He turned toward Jill, who had just walked into the lab.
"Any word on Claire?" he asked.
"There is, but it's not good." Jill handed him an intercepted Interpol encrypted file. "Claire infiltrated Umbrella's Paris facility looking for Chris about two weeks ago. She got made and they grabbed her. Our intelligence network tracked her to Rockfort Island in the South Pacific. It's the Ashford family's private prison."
"The Ashford family..." Dr. Bard pushed his glasses up, sucking in a sharp breath. "One of Umbrella's three founding families? That's their inner sanctum."
"It gets better." Ryan took the file, the corner of his mouth curving with intent. "Claire's little stunt flushed out a bigger fish. Leon's people sent word that Chris already knows where his sister is. He's on his way to Rockfort Island right now."
"Are we going after her?" Jill's hand was already on her holster.
"No. Chris will get her out. Besides, we're not the only ones watching." Ryan walked to the massive electronic map and traced a line with his finger between the South Pacific and Antarctica. "Wesker's headed there too, backed by some shadowy rival organization. He'll use the chaos Chris and Claire stir up on Rockfort Island to go after the Ashford family's real legacy."
"Legacy?" Annette frowned. "What legacy?"
"The T-Veronica virus." Ryan turned to face Annette and Bard, and dropped the bombshell. "Alexia Ashford developed it over a decade ago. A perfect strain. It lets the infected retain full cognitive function. The host can control an entire Veronica ecosystem like a queen ant, even command other organisms infected with T-Veronica."
Annette's pupils contracted. "Retain intelligence? If we could get the original T-Veronica data and combine it with the G-Virus's regenerative properties..."
"Then we create a truly perfect, controllable biochemical enhancement serum. Instead of manufacturing a horde of drooling zombies." Ryan finished the thought for her.
"Get Carlos on the line. Shadow Force assembles now. We're staying out of the mess on Rockfort Island and going straight to Antarctica." He issued the order. "When Chris, Claire, and Wesker have Alexia backed into a corner, we swoop in and pick the ripest fruit off the tree."
...
Two weeks later. Late December, 1998.
Antarctica. Umbrella underground research facility.
The shrill self-destruct alarm screamed through the frozen corridors, red warning lights strobing in a frenzy.
"Warning. Self-destruct sequence initiated. Five minutes until facility destruction..."
On the upper levels, Chris and Claire were fighting for their lives, locked in a desperate battle against the mutated Alexia in a last-ditch escape. At the far end of the base, Wesker, still wearing those black sunglasses, was retreating toward the submarine dock with a dark scowl after getting the worse end of his own clash with Alexia.
None of them noticed that seven floors below the surface, in the heart of the Antarctic base, inside the cryogenic cultivation chamber, a team of fully armed operatives in unmarked black gear was quietly finishing up.
"Boss, we've physically severed all surveillance feeds and mainframe data links. Wesker just pulled out of Sector B. He didn't get the core sample from Alexia. All he took was Steve's mutated tissue." Carlos held his rifle at the ready, posted outside the blast-proof glass door, reporting in a low voice over comms.
"Scraps. He always rushes."
Inside the cryogenic chamber, Ryan stood in a cold-weather coat before the massive cultivation tank that had kept Alexia frozen for over a decade.
A battle had torn through this room minutes ago. The floor was covered in burning green slime and shredded vines. Ryan picked his way through the wreckage to the central control console, drew a specialized cryo-extraction probe from his coat, and slid it precisely into a hidden, undamaged backup blood reserve at the base of the tank.
With a faint hiss of suction, a tube of liquid filled the glass vial, an eerie dark-red substance that shimmered like liquid flame.
T-Veronica virus. The original, uncontaminated perfect strain.
"Alexia was a genius. Shame about her idiot brother." Ryan studied the red liquid drifting inside the vial, satisfaction tugging at the corner of his mouth, then placed it carefully into a shock-resistant metal cryocase and snapped the lock shut.
"We're out." He picked up the case and headed for the exit. "Let Chris and Wesker fight over the escape planes on the surface. We take the ocean floor."
Ten minutes later.
A thunderous explosion tore through the Antarctic base, engulfing the entire facility in a sea of fire before it sank into the frozen abyss.
Hundreds of meters below the surface, a black submarine bearing no markings glided silently into the deep.
In the command cabin, Ryan set the silver case on the table and turned to watch the radar screen as the Antarctic continent shrank into the distance.
"Umbrella's day of reckoning," he said quietly, "is almost here."