A black sedan, its doors emblazoned with the Umbrella Corporation logo, pulled slowly away from the crowded curb and merged into the flow of traffic.
In the backseat, Matthew adjusted his suit, which fit him with uncanny precision. Eleanor had brought it for him. Even to his untrained eye, the fine stitching and luxurious texture screamed that this was no off-the-rack garment.
"Ross, does the assistant's job description include being my personal tailor?" Matthew asked, half-joking.
Eleanor, focused on the road, blinked in surprise before realizing he was teasing. "To be more precise, sir, I am responsible for every aspect of your life, including clothing, food, housing, and transportation. It is all part of my duties."
"Then you're going to be a very busy woman," Matthew said, reopening his laptop to finish the document he'd started earlier.
The first half of the file detailed how his "cheap" old man had joined Umbrella. Matthew skimmed it. It was mostly fluff. The second half, however, got into the meat of the Security Department's responsibilities.
[The Security Department is primarily responsible for internal security, the destruction of evidence detrimental to the company, responding to biohazard leaks, protecting key personnel, and the deployment of BOWs...]
In short, they were the ones who did Umbrella's dirty work. Matthew wouldn't have to get his hands dirty personally, but he needed to know the how and why of the operations.
By the time he finished Eleanor's briefing, he understood his true role: personnel management, mission approval, and, most importantly, squeezing operational funds out of the head office. As the saying goes, "Money makes the world go 'round." Without a budget, no one was going to do the killing for him.
A short while later, the car pulled up smoothly in front of the Umbrella Building. Matthew and Eleanor stepped out.
The Security Department was headquartered right here in Manhattan. It was the same skyscraper Matthew had seen from his hotel window the night before. It was a titan of glass and steel standing in the heart of the city, directly across from Stark Tower.
Standing amidst the bustling crowd, Matthew looked up at the hundred-meter-tall monolith, took a deep breath, and stepped inside.
Across the street at Stark Tower, Tony Stark stepped out of his sports car, a fresh cheeseburger in hand. He watched Matthew's retreating back for a moment before glancing at Happy.
"Happy, I think I need a better-looking bodyguard-slash-driver. Look at that guy. Even his driver is better looking than you."
Happy looked toward Matthew, a skeptical smile playing on his round face. "That's not just 'some guy,' Tony. That's the new head of Umbrella's Security Department."
"The woman with him is Eleanor Ross, the former assistant to the previous head, Theodore Lawrence."
Happy flexed an arm, patting his bicep. "Besides," he joked, "I don't think a scrawny kid like that could protect anyone. I'll stick with my 'muscle under the fat' approach."
Tony gave Happy a slow, head-to-toe look. He stayed silent for two seconds, took a massive bite of his burger, and turned toward the building. Happy scrambled to follow, still trying to "sell" the merits of his physique to his boss.
***
Inside the Umbrella Building, the lobby was a hive of activity. Everyone seemed to be in a rush. Matthew and Eleanor bypassed the crowds and entered an elevator that required Level 3 clearance.
As the doors closed, Matthew stared at the clearance bracelet on Eleanor's wrist. It felt strangely familiar, reminding him of the hours he'd spent hunting for keycards in the games before he transmigrated.
"Ross, who designed those bracelets?" Matthew asked.
"These?" Eleanor raised her wrist. "They were commissioned by Oswell E. Spencer, one of the board members. My clearance is Level 4. Yours is Level 5, the highest within the department."
"So, do I get one?"
"No. I had headquarters process your credentials before you arrived. From now on, you just use facial recognition," Eleanor explained.
The elevator chimed as it reached the designated floor.
"Where are we?" Matthew stepped out and looked around. The space was massive. The walls were lined with weapon racks displaying everything from tactical daggers to grenade launchers.
"Mr. Lawrence, according to the instructions your father left for me, this is your first task," Eleanor said. "You are to master a series of military skills."
"Subordinates can betray you for profit. Bodyguards can die in combat. I believe you understand, sir... the head of a Security Department should not be a defenseless man."
Eleanor pulled a stack of files from her bag. "I've prepared a shortlist of candidates. You may choose any of them to be your instructor."
"And don't worry about damaging the facility. We are on the 25th Underground Floor. This area is reinforced, and every weapon here is within safety thresholds."
Matthew stared at the racks. 'She's forcing me to get stronger.'
It worked out, though. He had already planned on finding someone to train him once he settled into Umbrella. Now, he didn't even have to ask.
He took the files from Eleanor and flipped through them. Suddenly, his eyes locked onto a specific page.
"Him," Matthew said decisively. "I want him."
Eleanor leaned in to see who he had pointed at. A photo stared back at her.
The man in the picture wore a gas mask and a black military helmet. He was clad in full-body tactical gear and a combat vest, with a submachine gun, tactical grenades, and flashbangs strapped to his waist.
Eleanor read the codename next to the photo. "Hunk?"
"Yes," Matthew nodded. He pointed to the salary listed at the bottom of the resume, 1.2 million dollars. "And give him a twenty percent raise."
"A twenty percent raise? But..." Eleanor started to protest, but Matthew cut her off.
"Your salary is going up by twenty percent, too."
"Understood, sir!"
[System Points +20. Eleanor Ross feels deeply grateful to you.]
[Accumulated System Points: 30. Pass Reward: Junior Zombie Dog * 5 (Stored in System Space).]
[Next reward at 100 points. Please continue to use the system rewards to benefit the people.]
Matthew had no words for the system's definition of "benefiting the people."
The cold, white lights of the training ground left no shadows on the floor. A moment later, the elevator doors slid open.
A figure stepped out, radiating a sense of icy indifference and overwhelming pressure.
"Sir," the man said, his voice muffled by the mask. "Hunk reporting for duty."