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geralddurden · 6 months

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Umbrella Pharmaceuticals - Chapter 21

Miller looked at the plans of the building. Marcus's labs in the basement, the staff and student quarters in the west wing, the lecture hall and library on the first floor...

"Miller?"

Marcus called out from the desk in his exclusive office. Finally, his boss had been able to realise his dream: a facility all to himself. He knew Spencer was the one who had granted his wish, but with a quid pro quo: Marcus would be the director. And so it was, to his regret, that he became the director of the facility that Ashford and Spencer ordered built on the outskirts of Raccoon City. But not only of the laboratory that Spencer gave him, but of something else that infuriated the Texan.

Ashford and Spencer were in the midst of a business expansion process whereby they turned Umbrella Pharmaceuticals into the Umbrella Corporation, a biomedical conglomerate with Umbrella Pharmaceuticals as the parent company and thus Ashford and Spencer as the outright owners. In a face-to-face meeting, Spencer told them that he had spoken to Ashford about the possibility of building some kind of training centre for company employees. He told them that this appealed to investors and set them apart from other pharmaceutical corporations that did not invest in this kind of project. Marcus seemed to ignore it at first, as it seemed like a typical political issue that he couldn't care less about. Or so they thought until, in an unexpected twist of fate, Spencer assured them, not suggested or recommended, that the training centre would be located in the same lab he was going to build for Marcus.

Marcus was obviously very angry. He threatened to shoot Spencer with his revolver, but the posh Englishman was smarter and, with a sharp tongue, swore to him on his ancestors that Marcus would not have to take care of the training centre at all, that all this would be handled by a admin office in Raccoon City and by a coordinator, namely Miller, Marcus's secretary. Miller made excuses with his doctorate, but it didn't work. Spencer would pay him for his PhD if that was enough for him to continue as Marcus' secretary. The end result was that, much to his chagrin, Marcus ended up accepting the position of director of the place, the uncreatively named Umbrella Training Facility, as the only requirement for dominance over the lab. Nominal director because de facto Miller would have to take all the managerial shit and deal with the incoming students. For the moment, he had been given a list of fifteen students, all of them fresh out of college and, except for a couple, rich kids whose parents were Spencer's friends and acquaintances.

"Yes?" replied the secretary.

"Have you prepared tomorrow's speech for me?"

Miller searched his folder.

"Yes, I have it here."

"Read it to me."

He cleared his throat. He hoped it was to his liking.

"Attention. This is Dr. Marcus speaking. Let's have a few minutes of silence to reflect on our company motto. Obedience brings discipline. Discipline brings unity. Unity brings power. And power brings life."

He finished.

"And that's it?" Marcus sounded surprised.

"Yes. Well. That's what you asked for: direct, concise and without wasting time."

The director turned around in his chair to look out of the window.

"It looks like a pamphlet signed by Orwell[1]."

"Spencer suggested it to me. It had to sound grandiloquent for the kind of students who would be coming."

"Grandiloquent," Marcus guffawed sardonically. "Grandiloquent..." He turned around. The chair mechanism squeaked. "Never associate with an Englishman if you don't want to be fucked with his courtly blather..." he spat haughtily.

Miller pocketed the paper. Marcus, visibly serious and irritated, stared at him. Uncomfortable, the secretary stood up, ready to leave. He still hadn't gotten used to his thesis advisor's sudden mood swings and inflexibility. It seemed that even having his own lab had not softened his temper. And from the xenophobic comment he'd just made, he figured he was having a falling out with Spencer. Be that as it may, he didn't care. He left the office with the plans, the speech and the list of students. It was the latter list that he pulled out for a final check. Alongside the first name and surname, the nationality and age had been included.

Akers, Akhila (F) United Kingdom. 23 years old.

Birkin, William (M) United States of America. Age 15.

Bronson, Gustav. (M) United Kingdom. Age 24.

Cipriani, Nina. 24 years old. Age 24.

Deschamps, Pierre (M) France. 24 years old. 24 years old.

Dunn, Myles (M) Ireland. 25 years old. Age 25.

Grigorescu, Saveli (M) United States. 24 years old. 24 years old.

Kapanadze, Nili (F) United States. 26 years old. 26 years old.

McCallum, Francis (M) United Kingdom. 27 years. Age 27.

Royce, Megan (F) United States. 24 years old. Age 24.

Scrivenor, Ravi (M) United Kingdom. 23 years old. Age 23.

Starek, Hilda (F) United States. 23 years old. Age 23.

Wang, Marit. (F) Netherlands. Age 24.

Wesker, Albert (M) United States. 17 years old. 17 years old.

Ziegler, Agnes (F) Federal Republic of Germany. 24 years old. 24 years old.

He hadn't interviewed any of them, that had been the responsibility of human resources, although he had been warned to be careful with minors for legal reasons. He had no idea what the fuck a couple of minors were doing there; only that they had been attached to him as his main responsible and supervisor. Marcus had washed his hands of it and so had the admin office. So it was his turn to be the sucker on duty. Anyway.

His parents were waiting for him outside with the car parked on the road. He took a last look at his bedroom: Star Trek posters and a periodic table, pictures of animals and sticky notes with formulas only he understood. And, of course, his first university degree: a degree in microbiology from Harvard University. Number one in his class and fifteen years old. Fifteen years old. No one would be able to beat that mark. He puffed out his chest as he retrieved the letter from Umbrella Pharmaceuticals from the disorganised bedside table. The letter stated that he had been accepted into a pilot programme for future executives of the company. They were confident in his talent and the bright future that awaited him. In fact, he had always wanted to be an astrophysicist. Ever since he was a child, travelling through space on the USS Enterprise was more appealing to him than spending idle hours staring at a molecule through a microscope. He realised, however, that physics was already saturated with towering figures and, if there was one thing that surpassed his desire to be something, it was his desire to be the best. And he would be the best because he felt he was the best.

He picked up the letter containing the invitation to the Training Facility and stuffed it into the unfolded, overflowing suitcase he had placed on top of his unmade bed. Mixed in were pants, shirts, a jacket, pyjamas, dress trousers and jeans, a pair of shoes, acne cream, a comb and many more books and notebooks. So that the container wouldn't burst, he had arranged the contents like a kind of chaotically designed puzzle. Without further inventory, he closed the suitcase and left the house. His parents were waiting for him at the porch entrance. Both wore proud but worried smiles. They had accepted his new dream of becoming a virologist despite the initial reluctance caused by his unexpected rejection of a large scholarship to study astrophysics.

"Ready?" His father, who had donned his lucky San Francisco Giants cap, ruffled his hair affectionately.

Their mother headed straight for the car. They followed her into the car. He sat in the back row of seats, his suitcase on the floor of the car and off to the side. His parents, in front, would take turns driving four hundred miles from Baltimore to Raccoon City. His mother started up. She increased the speed of travel. His inner voice said goodbye to the suburbs.

III

He raised his finger to hitchhike. The car passed him by. He sat down. Another car in the distance. He got up. Hitchhiked. Passed by. Sat down. A van. Pulled up. Hitchhiking. Passed by. Stopped. The van stopped on the roadside. He approached it with his rucksack over his shoulder. He approached the driver's window. A Mexican couple.

"Where are you going?" asked the driver, shouting over the thunderous volume of the music.

"Raccoon City."

"And where is that?" The driver paused the radio.

"In Ohio, by the Appalachian Mountains."

The driver took off his cap to wipe his sleeve across his sweaty forehead. The co-driver leaned over the dashboard to look at the hitchhiker.

"Phew," sighed the driver. The co-pilot said something in Spanish. The pilot refocused on the hitchhiker. "I can drop you off in a nearby city... That's a long way from where I'm going."

"Okay."

"Come on," the driver invited.

He opened the side door of the van. They were carrying timber, tools and cans of paint to renovate a house. He sat down in the available space between a toolbox and a couple of stacked cardboard boxes. He settled in, tucked in, with his rucksack on his legs. The driver released the brake and rejoined the road.

After a while of hellish cruising, with the radio thundering and the shock absorbers whipping his back, the co-driver rose from her seat and slid into the boot, sitting in the gap between the two seats. She was a young, dark-haired, dark-skinned woman. Her curly hair had been pulled back into a dishevelled bun.

"What is your name?" She hugged her legs, showing interest in the hitchhiker.

The hitchhiker didn't answer at first. The young woman, intrigued, introduced herself first.

"My name is Maria. And you?"

"Michael."

Maria settled back in her seat, stretching her back.

"And how old are you? I'm twenty-one."

"Eighteen."

"What were you doing here? Hitchhiking? Did they leave you stranded?"

"I don't have a car."

The driver turned up the volume.

"Where are you from? I come from Veracruz with my father."

"New York."

"Oh, and from what hood?"

The hitchhiker didn't answer and didn't want to continue talking.

"Downtown New York?" Maria persevered.

"Yes."

"Maria, help me here," the father ordered.

Maria crawled into the passenger seat. The pair began to argue in Spanish about what the hitchhiker could guess as the direction to take. The latter, with the other two debating in the background, leaned against the van door. He concentrated on ignoring the ambient noise.

The hitchhiker dismounted at a bus stop outside Stoneville. He reported to a nearby convenience store that the bus to Raccoon City would be coming in half an hour. He had five dollars to spare. Either he would eat or save it for transportation. He chose the second option. He sat on the bench by the bus shelter, his hood up and his hands hidden in his sweatshirt pocket. He clutched a concealed butterfly knife in his right hand. The backpack was on the ground and between his legs. He had forgotten his cap at home. He was hungry and thirsty. An elderly couple sat next to him. The old people were talking animatedly to each other.

Finally, he spotted the bus in the distance. He asked the driver if it stopped near the Umbrella Training Facility on the outskirts of the city. The bus driver told him no, that it did not stop nearby and that he would have to walk there along the road. He paid him and sat in the last row. It had started to rain. He took the letter of invitation from the back pocket of his jeans.

Dear Mr. Wesker. Your son, Albert, has demonstrated his unparalleled potential for... He didn't want to read any further. It didn't matter. That invitation would be his escape route.

Notes:

[1] George Orwell, author of 1984 and Animal Farm.

#resident evil #albert wesker #william birkin #oswell e spencer #james marcus #ozwell e spencer

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umbrellacorphq · 9 months

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You noted on the expense report that the fully-furnished, fully-staffed mansion you had built and stocked with rare artworks and wine was "better than any security door"

Yes.

And was this before or after an entire team of local police officers stormed the lab?

Uh... before.

#umbrella corporation #resident evil #oswell e spencer #spencer mansion

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dalekofchaos · 10 months

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Resident Evil 6 Remake concept

I feel like if Capcom decides to do a RE6R, then it should be a complete rewrite.

I'm arguing to have Alex Wesker as the mastermind instead of Simmons. Or hell. Don't have Wesker kill Spencer. Have Spencer be behind everything. We never got that final confrontation with Umbrella, that should happen. Alex because if my theory is correct, she in Natalia's body is behind the corruption and transformation of the BSAA. Spencer because come on, having him be so easily killed by Wesker was so unsatisfying, this is the man behind everything, this is essentially the Emperor Palpatine of Resident Evil and that's how he goes out? Oswell E Spencer should have a grand stage

Replace Helena with Ashley. There is a big fan interest for Ashley to become an Agent like Leon and while it may be tricky to figure in Ashley, I'm sure Capcom can think of something

Bring in Jill, Claire, Rebecca and Barry. Not just Leon and Chris. All hands on deck!

More focus on survival horror and less on the super ultra action

#Resident Evil #Resident Evil 6 #Alex Wesker #Oswell E Spencer #Ashley Graham #Leon S Kennedy #Chris Redfield #Jill Valentine #Claire Redfield #Rebecca Chambers #Barry Burton

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mirandawesker · 2 years

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I don’t know if someone has talked about this but I’m currently thinking about the creativity of RE5 when Spencer and Albert are talking.

I love how Spencer says “ Now my candle burns dimly. Ironic, isn't it? For one who has the right to be a god! To face his own mortality” then gets killed by Albert, who was facing him.

#albert wesker #resident evil #wesker #resident evil wesker #albertwesker #resident evil albert wesker #resident evil 5 #re5 #Oswell E Spencer

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chrisitsraining · 1 year

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oswell e spencer and lorenzo belli have a very similar energy

#the energy is nasty btw #dumdum hours #oswell e spencer #lorenzo belli #haunting ground #resident evil

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comicgeek2003 · 2 months

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Dragon In Chief

When the dragon is more dangerous than the main antagonist.

The Dragon-in-Chief is a version of The Dragon who serves as the de facto Big Bad of the story, even if they're technically not at the top of the bad guy hierarchy. They're nominally subordinate or in service to another villain, but typically so much smarter, stronger or more skillful, and just as evil if not more so (and almost always scarier) that it's clear who's really the biggest threat in the story.

The supposed main villain, for their part, overestimate The Dragon's loyalty or are too afraid to keep them in line. It could also be that the Big Bad is more of a puppet king being manipulated by subordinates, and the Dragon finds this set-up preferable to taking charge personally.

Examples:

Games of Thrones: Lord Tywin Lannister serves as the Dragon-in-chief to his grandson, the incompetent teenaged fool of a King Joffrey Baratheon, who he is technically only the Hand to, and not even that until Season 3. Perhaps best exemplified by the Season 3 finale in which Joffrey claims that it was his father who won the war while Tywin "hid under Casterly Rock!" In response to this challenge, Tywin just sends Joffrey a death glare, which Joffrey quickly buckles under after a just few seconds of attempting to keep eye contact.

Doctor Who: In the episodes The Stolen Earth/Journey's End, Davros is little more than a "pet" for the Supreme Dalek, but it's his plan for the Reality Bomb his creations are following. Also, Dalek Caan needed him to recreate his species. All of this, combined with his personal enmity with the Doctor, makes Davros effectively the face of the Dalek threat.

Resident Evil The Umbrella Chronicles: Sergei Vladimir is the de facto Big Bad, carrying out Ozwell Spencer's orders for him. When Sergei dies, Spencer is left with no allies and no support, and in the following game, is killed by Albert Wesker.

Dragon Ball: In the Red Ribbon Army Arc, there is Officer Black, who is much more competent and threatening and has more morals than Commander Red. When he finds out how petty the wish Red planned with Dragon Balls was —making himself taller—he kills him.

Rio: Nigel to Marcil. While his owner Marcel still drives the plot to some degree, Nigel is the more direct threat and far more menacing and evil than Marcel, while also serving as the lynchpin for Marcel's entire plan.

Avatar (2009): Though Parker Selfridge is the nominal leader of the human forces, the main antagonist of the film is Colonel Quaritch, who runs his mercenary army exactly how he wants to and ultimately becomes the real power in the operation and it's clear they both know it. About the only things that keep Selfridge in place are the fact that he's paying, and that Quaritch can't be bothered with the administrative details.

Alice in Wonderland (2010): The Jabberwocky (which, for bonus points, just so happens to resemble a dragon) is by far the bigger threat compared to his mistress the Red Queen, given that Alice's goal is to slay it and as soon as she does, all of the Red Queen's followers abandon her and she's quickly banished.

Kim Possible: Shego (mostly) helps Drakken carry out his schemes rather than invent and execute any of her own. But we know she has the power to completely overthrow Drakken if she wants to. The only thing that stops her fulfilling all the criteria is that for most of the series, she lacks the ambition to become a bigger treat. Drakken is actually more scientifically savvy than Shego — she just has a lot more common sense and can actually fight on a near-equal level with Kim.

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rachelfoleyisntdead · 1 year

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Albert going into espionage so he could work with scientist Alex in a non-competitive capacity, but then Spencer separating them to kill two birds with one stone by setting ambitious Albert against Marcus and avoiding Albert and Alex conspiring against him (like what happened with the Ashfords).

#albert wesker #alex wesker #oswell e spencer #james marcus #resident evil hcs

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mywitchcultblr · 2 years

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[ Attention! This is Dr. Marcus. Please be silent as we reflect upon our company motto. Obedience breeds discipline. Discipline breeds unity. Unity breeds power. Power is life. ]

#umbrella corporation #resident evil #zombie #horror #aesthetic #moodboard #photo edit #re #raccoon city #edward ashford #james marcus #oswell e spencer #oswell spencer #horrorcore #zombiecore

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my-sleepy-head · 5 months

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Do I headcanon that Oswell Spencer was likely homophobic and transphobic? Absolutely. He formed Umbrella so he had funding for his eugenics program and likely saw the Wesker children as breeding stock to some extent.

Do I also see Albert Wesker as a trans gay man? Yes, main headcanon for him outside of autistic.

He’s probably one of the only trans or gay people Oswell Spencer didn’t explicitly, outwardly, show disgust about because it meant he could “still breed” and he needed Albert to trust him. Albert also showed interest in other guys pretty young and only came out after Alex helped him cut his hair for the first time after the progenitor infection when he was 10 or 11 years old. (Essentially he accepted it because he only had 3 test subjects left and he told himself that at least Albert still had the possibility of having babies when he got older so it was in his best interest to pretend he was fine with it.)

#resident evil #project w #plan Wesker #albert wesker #oswell e spencer #Alex never told him she’s a lesbian because she’s cis. she only made her relationship public after his death.

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geralddurden · 2 months

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Umbrella Pharmaceuticals - Chapter 33

Spencer's driver picked them up at the airport in the morning. An hour and a half later, the vehicle was driving through the Arklay Mountains. Exhaustion was killing him, exacerbated by the random obstacles that littered the dirt road and which the driver swerved to avoid. But he fought back the nausea as he endured a throbbing headache.

He took Alexia's hand. She was distracted by scanning the landscape through the window. An unexpected stop on the way. Just as they were about to leave, Alexander received a call from Spencer. Oswell was inviting him to his country home in Raccoon City to discuss an urgent matter of vital importance to the company. The second phase of the Progenitor. Apologetically, Oswell offered his transport at no extra cost. The point was that Alexia would have to go with him. Oswell didn't mind, he let her come too. Their arrival in Massachusetts was delayed by a day.

Alexia increased the strength of her grip to reposition herself in the seat. The gesture gave him a moment of satisfaction. For the first time in years, he was happy. Anomie. Intrusive thoughts. Apathy. Sadness. Negative feelings he had avoided by working out at the gym and focusing on parenting and business. Imitating his parents and with the support of his mother, Alexander took responsibility for the care and education of his children, minimising his absences and the care provided by others. This parental approach was confirmed when Alexia learned to speak within a few months.

It was unexpected.

He sat down to watch a boxing match, as he usually did in the evening to relax, and she suddenly appeared in the living room to tell her father that Alfred was crying because he had tripped over a toy. The diction was awkward, but the words were unusually precise. It was then that he knew that Alexia was Edward's desired granddaughter. After tending to Alfred, he scooped her up in his arms and ran into Elizabeth's bedroom. Her mother, thrilled, congratulated him on having fathered a genius.

His initial surprise turned to genuine self-absorption. His demeanour changed to a self-imposed aloofness that caught Elizabeth's attention. Despite his constant presence, Alexander hardly interacted with his children. Elizabeth asked him why. He didn't know what to say. It turned out that he was still trying to adapt to Alexia's accelerated learning. Elizabeth empathised with his only child's inexperience and his fascination with her granddaughter's chaotic personality and unexpected reactions, such as biting a babysitter, taking apart half her toys by herself, hiding in the most unlikely places until the police were called, and the demonic pranks she and her twin brother plotted, which included liquefying a clown doll in the kitchen and turning on the microwave to heat the carcass of a rat that no one knew where the hell she got it from. Precisely because of this, and to avoid future misfortune, Alexander needed to get to know his children and not become obsessed with maintaining an absurd and selfish safety distance that would never benefit him. He had to learn to be a father to his children so that they would not reject him as a stranger, something Edward and Elizabeth always avoided with him. He realised that his mother was right, so he tried to change his ways.

The change included spending quality time with Alexia and defining his relationship with Alfred. He still didn't know how to relate to his son. He was looking forward to the possibility of a second successful embryo... Alexia withdrew her hand. Alexander shifted in his own seat. It reminded him of himself with his father. Elizabeth was always telling him how much Alfred looked like him and Edward. Alexander denied it. Alexia was more like Edward, a comparison Elizabeth underestimated because of Alexander's apparent lack of knowledge about himself and Alfred. He didn't care; he still believed that Alexia was the one most like Edward. Although Alfred was the apparent heir by order of birth, it was Alexia who was on her way to university at the age of seven. She was Edward's heir.

The hallway of the Spencer mansion gave her a dizzying sense of déjà vu.

“Alexander.” Oswell caught his eye. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. I'm just tired.”

Oswell gave them a tour of the ground and first floors.

“What about the traps?” Alexia asked, genuinely intrigued.

“Because of the lab.” Oswell winked.

As the host led them through the rooms, Alexander took a temporary break from reality to fantasise about writing a romance novel to distract himself from the post-traumatic association of the manor with the base...

“Dad.” Alexia grabbed his hand.

“Yes?”

“What happened to George Trevor?”

He had no idea.

“He disappeared,” Oswell replied immediately. “He and his wife and daughter. The Arklay Mountains must have taken them to the afterlife.”

Oswell opened a door. The room resembled a pub, with a huge grand piano huddled to its right. A sheet of music lay on the music stand. Oswell approached the instrument and lifted the cover of the keyboard.

“I doubt that such a piece would challenge a young woman of such unparalleled genius as yours, princess,” Spencer challenged, imitating the style used in Jacob's Circle to refer to them as suitors.

Alexia ran to the armchair. Beethoven, Piano Sonata No. 14, Moonlight.

Alexander and Oswell retired to the bar.

“Princess?” Alexander whispered in confusion.

“Edward told me a few things about your family.”

Alexia began to play. After the first few notes, the floor shook and a wall panel began to rise. Without stopping the melody, the pianist concentrated on the trompe l'oeil.

“Ha!” Oswell let out a chuckle.

The panel revealed a secret corridor-like room with a bust of Beethoven in the background.

“Ludwig Van.” Oswell lit the cigar he had taken out of his jacket. “You can go in, but don't touch anything.”

Without a second thought, Alexia ventured into the glassed-in secret room.

Their last stop was the library in the west wing. Alexia lost herself in the shelves, anxious to find a book that would interest her. Alexander and Oswell settled into a pair of armchairs that had to be wiped clean with a handkerchief because of the fine layer of dust that had accumulated on them.

III

“Marcus insists. That old cunt even calls me to remind me.” Oswell lit a second cigar.

“Uhm…” Alexander drew his gaze to the shelves in case he could see his daughter through the gaps.

“And he's right.” Oswell took a long drag. “We must begin the second phase. We can't go on like this. We built the company for this and I'm not prepared to give up, and I doubt very much that your father would have given up either.”

The deliberate allusion to Edward forced Alexander to look at Oswell.

“No.”

“I have a plan.” Oswell extinguished the cigar in the ashtray. “Leave the rearrangement of the second phase to me. James will be a pain in the ass and you know how annoying he can be when things don't work out. It'll take time.”

Alexander turned the ashtray, ready to speak.

“I will run the company from Harvard.” Another full turn. “And what about our research teams? Will we continue as before, each on our own?”

“That's a question you and I will work out.” Oswell was concerned about the long-term viability of the model based on independent research teams. “We'll discuss it when I've finished designing the second phase.”

Alexander sighed and removed his hand from the ashtray.

“We can't give up now,” Oswell continued. “Umbrella hasn't taken off.”

“I know.”

Alexia appeared, holding two books.

“I'll give them to you.” Oswell picked up the ashtray.

#resident evil #alexander ashford #alexia ashford #oswell e spencer #james marcus

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