Dr. Wataru Watari sat in his meticulously organized workspace, the glow of his computer screen casting deep shadows across his dimly lit office.
An office located within a high-tech laboratory hidden deep beneath the icy terrain of Hokkaido, Japan. The heavily fortified reinforced walls around him protected him from the horrors now terrorizing his country.
As he typed, the rhythmic clicks of keys broke the silence, blending with the soft hum of his server room behind him. After taking a sip, Wataru set his steaming cup of coffee on a nearby coaster etched with the Umbrella logo.
As he was about to click open a folder detailing a fellow scientist's recently acquired notes, he paused and looked up to the sprawling monitors that hung from the ceiling. Each monitor was displaying the terrors and violence that were now ripping the world as he knew it apart.
As he watched the live feeds on his monitors of the hordes of infected terrorizing Japan and several other countries and territories, Wataru sighed as he closed his eyes. The weight of shame and regret weighed heavily on his shoulders. His mind began to wander, and he allowed the memory of how he joined Umbrella all those years ago to wash over him.
On the day he entered the dimly lit boardroom of Getek's main office in America, Wataru felt a shift in the atmosphere as the door clicked shut behind him by two large men in suits, sealing him in with the company's corporate executives, who all stared holes into him. At the head of the table sat Karen Parker, the company's CEO, her eyes gleaming with predatory intelligence that set Wataru on edge.
"Welcome, Dr. Watari. And thank you for making the long trip from Japan to hear our proposal," she had said, her voice smooth but laced with something hidden. "Your work on virology precedes you... We believe you possess the unique skills we require to help evolve our current project to the next level."
"And what project would that be?" Wataru replied. Karen smiled, her eyes seeming to pierce his soul.
"To unlock the hidden potential of the G-Virus."
"The G-Virus!? That's impossible. That virus was completely eradicated along with Raccoon City," Wataru stated, a note of disbelief creeping into his voice. He paused, his mind racing with the implications. "I see… so Umbrella has never truly been annihilated. It merely rebranded itself, adopting different names and establishing seemingly unrelated companies. That horrible virus still exists."
Wataru narrowed his gaze, feeling a chill as the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. No one else in the room seemed surprised by the information. Karen smiled, seemingly pleased by his deduction. "You are as intelligent as we believed, Doctor. Indeed, to the public, Gentek is nothing more than a humanitarian pharmaceutical company. But in reality, we are Umbrella. Knowing that, I hope you listen well to our proposal."
Behind Wataru, the two large men moved with precision, positioning themselves in front of the double doors to effectively seal off any chance of escape. As Wataru's eyes narrowed, he could make out the glint of weapons tucked beneath their jackets.
A cold shiver raced down his spine. He turned back to Karen, a heavy sigh escaping his lips, but it was laced with an edge of desperation.
"I'm... listening."
"Marvelous! Now then, Doctor, envision a world where diseases are nothing but a distant memory, a realm where humanity transcends its current limitations and soars to unimaginable heights. We're extending you a hand to join us and harness your brilliance to revolutionize human life as we know it. With your expertise, we can usher in a new era of humanity, redefining the very essence of life itself!" Karen rose to her feet, the fervor of her speech still echoing in the room.
As she finished her tirade, a wave of applause erupted from the board members, their hands coming together in a rhythmic fashion that resembled the clapping of mindless seals at a marine show.
Wataru stood at the precipice of a momentous decision; the seductive allure of the proposal weighed heavily on him. The prospect of unlocking a groundbreaking cure, one that could transcend the limits of human illness and elevate humanity to a new echelon of existence, tugged at his scientific ambition and curiosity in ways he hadn't anticipated. It was a tantalizing idea.
Yet, deep within him, a warning bell sounded. He was acutely aware that this tantalizing opportunity would come with a heavy price, one that he could already sense looming on the horizon.
The reports he had read of Raccoon City haunted him as well as the rest of the scientific community. The few images and videos available to them were vivid and horrifying. He recalled the harrowing tales of the biological weapons unleashed during that catastrophic outbreak—how they precipitated chaos, death, and horror on an unimaginable scale. The vivid imagery of grotesque creatures spawned from the virus still lingered in his mind, twisted monstrosities that had once been ordinary humans.
Wataru understood all too well that the allure of progress could lead down a treacherous path, one lined with the pain and evil that had scarred the world before.
"Even if that is true... is the price for such power worth all the pain it would bring the world?" Wataru had asked, his voice steady, yet he felt a knot tightening in his stomach. Karen leaned in, her expression becoming viciously earnest.
"Nothing comes without sacrifice, Dr. Watari. We are prepared to do what is necessary. Consider the legacy you could leave and the mountains you could move! The question is: Are you willing to step into the abyss, or will you simply become another forgotten footnote in history?"
Karen's words left a bitter taste in Wataru's mouth.
On that day, he had walked away, accepting their offer.
But what choice did he really have?
It was never an offer in the first place; it was an ultimatum.
He could still recall the fanatical expressions on thren's exexecutives' facesTheir laughter as he shook Karen's hand had haunted him for weeks.
Wataru leaned back in his chair, the faint glow of the monitors casting a soft light over his weary face. As he closed his eyes, memories of late nights spent in the sterile confines of his state-of-the-art lab, provided by Gentek, flooded back to him.
The initial hesitance he had felt quickly vanished as he lost himself in the sheer amazement of delving into the T and G-Virus strains. Each discovery felt like an invitation to dive deeper and push the boundaries of what was possible with the human genome.
He could vividly recall the first time he isolated a specific genetic structure that allowed the virus to grant enhanced abilities without the threat of the subject losing their mind and becoming part of the undead. It had been an exhilarating breakthrough. Wataru had instinctively known then that he was on the verge of something monumental. A new strand of the G-Virus that could elevate a person beyond their human limitations, bestowing them with a power that could change the very fabric of society.
His heart raced as he recalled the meticulous trials, the endless calculations, and the unyielding ambition that fueled him. He'd barely slept, driven by the vision of what his research could accomplish. The laboratory had become a second home, the sound of glassware clinking and the smell of antiseptic a constant reminder of his new obsession.
After years of research, the moment he finally laid eyes on his completed modified virus strain under the microscope, shimmering and potent with power, Wataru felt as if he were staring at the key to the new world.
Yet, beneath the excitement lay shadows of doubt.
Was he doing the right thing?
Was his hunger for discovery worth the future death and destruction his research could bring?
These thoughts had nudged at him, whispering warnings of the consequences. But with every flicker of uncertainty, the allure of greatness pulled him back, igniting a relentless fire of a researcher within him.
Now, as he sat in the aftermath of his work, the memories brought both pride and a lingering sense of regret.
And now, with the world on fire, Wataru was reminded that greatness came at a great price, leaving him to wonder if the power he had discovered could ultimately consume him with its consequences, just as it promised to elevate those fortunate enough to wield it.
Should that day come, Wataru would accept anything the world would punish him with.
"Enough reminiscing... Let's get to work," Wataru said and turned back to his computer.
As Wataru logged into his computer's service terminal, he began reviewing a collection of notes written by a fellow scientist, Dr. Alex J. Mercer.
Alex J. Mercer was one of only five scientists that Umbrella had recruited to develop new viral strands of the G-Virus, like himself.
But upon closer inspection of Alex's work, Wataru was left in shock.
Alex's research on his own G-Virus strain was not only revolutionary but also verged on the improbable.
As Wataru sifted through the limited pages filled with intricate, albeit redacted, diagrams and detailed equations, he was captivated by the complexity of Alex's own variant of the virus. The notes outlined its composition, unique properties, and potential applications, suggesting capabilities that challenged conventional understanding.
As Wataru immersed himself in Alex's meticulously scribbled notes and findings, he encountered a profound conflict—one that oscillated between admiration for Alex's brilliance and skepticism towards the audacity of his conclusions.
The core of Alex's research was centered around his G-Virus strain, which he dubbed "Blacklight," whose implications were as staggering as they were alarming.
According to the documents, Blacklight has a unique ability to operate at a genetic level, enabling its host to undergo continuous evolutionary transformations. This relentless progression promises to significantly enhance both physical and cognitive traits, resulting in the potential emergence of a superior life form.
The process works by targeting the protein-coding regions of the promoter introns in each cell. As a retrovirus, Blacklight contains RNA and the reverse transcriptase enzyme, allowing it to insert its genetic code into the host's cells. It enters the cells, repurposes them, and alters their structure, activating previously dormant non-coding segments of the organism's DNA.
The genetic modifications detailed in Alex's work suggest that Blacklight can manipulate the host's DNA, not only enabling adaptation but also facilitating radical reconfiguration in response to environmental stimuli.
The notion that a single strain could sustain an endless cycle of evolution bordered on science fiction, verging on hubris. The hypotheses relied on a foundation of speculative biology that blended legitimate scientific principles with fantastical projections—an idea that, while tantalizing, treaded an alarming line of absurdity.
The potential consequences of this discovery weighed heavily on Wataru's mind. If Blacklight truly had the ability to unlock the secrets of limitless evolution, why hadn't Umbrella devoted all its resources to Alex's research?
Was it possible that Alex's work was merely the product of a madman's overactive imagination and lofty ambitions?
Wataru mourned the lost opportunity to discuss Alex's research with him. The tragic circumstances surrounding Alex's untimely death irreparably closed that door. During the evacuation effort involving Gentek soldiers, Alex became a victim of the infection sweeping through New York City.
With his death, access to Alex's research disappeared along with him.
His secretive and guarded nature, despite Umbrella's hard-set rules for them all to keep all of their findings and data readily accessible, meant that Alex's extensive work was ultimately lost after Gentek's soldiers mishandled the retrieval of his research.
In their attempt to secure Alex's research data, Gentek soldiers stormed his laboratory. Unfortunately, in their carelessness, they inadvertently triggered a failsafe program on Alex's computer system, resulting in the irreversible deletion of all his vital research data. The precious insights and discoveries he had painstakingly gathered were lost forever.
Now, the only remnants of Alex's genius lay scattered before Wataru: a few handwritten notes and documents left in his laboratory, given to him and the rest of the surviving scientists by Umbrella, in the hope of understanding and reverse-engineering Blacklight.
Alongside the few remnants of Alex's research recovered was the only vial of the fully completed Blacklight Alex had in his possession while he was being evaluated.
After Alex's death, the vial of Blacklight was promptly taken to their main benefactor and leader.
"BL-062009. The Blacklight Virus," Wataru said as he read the last page of Alex's recovered notes. "I wonder where that vial ended up."
Wataru's question brought back memories of several months ago, when he and his fellow scientists were brought in to review the plan to unleash their completed G-Virus strains on the world.
And at the center of the plan was their benefactor and Umbrella's leader, Albert Wesker. A man whose presence radiated power and demanded attention.
Albert's piercing gaze seemed to pierce the souls of those around him from behind those ever-present sunglasses, exuding a chilling blend of authority and danger. His relaxed demeanor, in stark contrast to the weight of his dangerous ambitions, was unsettling.
To Wataru, it felt as if he were an insignificant ant beneath the shadow of a giant, dwarfed by the imposing figure who orchestrated the complex operations of Umbrella, Gentek, and a host of other corporate giants to unleash Hell on earth.
When Albert finally spoke of the plan, Wataru was shocked at the method their G-Virus strains would be distributed.
Albert had decided to inject these highly valuable, highly expensive strains into random vials of the newly manufactured flu vaccine at the same time as the world's population would be vaccinated with the Trojan horse that was the cure. Ensuring that the strands would end up within a random individual somewhere in the world through pure chance.
The process was essentially a lottery system.
Wataru found the method to be ridiculous.
Albert was essentially abandoning the time-honored principles of meticulous candidate selection and the scientific rigor that typically underpins such processes. Instead, Albert opted for a haphazard approach, allowing fate to decide through nothing more than the flip of a coin. This capricious method, devoid of careful consideration and systematic evaluation, left the outcome to pure chance, disregarding the importance of informed decision-making altogether.
What if one of those invaluable vials were to be destroyed due to carelessness or discarded in negligence? The consequences would be catastrophic; years of painstaking research could be erased in an instant. These strands required specific hosts for their propagation—they should not be taken lightly or left to the whims of chance.
Apparently, Wataru wasn't the only one to think so. Another scientist, Dr. Hae-Jung Seong, had voiced how utterly ridiculous Albert's plan was.
Wataru would never forget how Albert had walked over to Hae-Jung. With one hand, he had effortlessly crushed her skull.
With his hand covered in blood and brain matter, Albert turned to them all with an easy-going smile, as if he hadn't just killed a person without hesitation.
"Anyone else?"
With a shaky sigh, Wataru lifted his cup to his lips, but was left disappointed. His coffee had gone cold. Leaning back in his chair, he stared up at the ceiling with a lost expression.
A soft ping alerted him to a new email sent to him by Umbrella. With a tired sigh, he sat back up and clicked on the message, only to snap to attention at its contents.
The email held an attachment containing a newly discovered piece of Alex's research. Wataru leaned forward and opened the email, but sighed at how heavily redacted the file was.
"1969… Hope, Idaho? Redlight?" He read, confused.
His eyes scanned the document's contents before he stopped at the only name written within the document.
"Elizabeth… Greene?"