Chapter 32: Umbrella Falls

"...Effective immediately, the Umbrella California Division and USA Region are severing ties with Umbrella's Paris headquarters."

Outside Terminal 3 of San Francisco International Airport, reporters from every major outlet had gathered in force. As the explosive announcement of Umbrella Corporation's split rang out, camera flashes lit the area in waves, and the rapid-fire clicking of shutters formed a continuous chorus.

Amid the forest of cameras and microphones, Vera turned her head after finishing her statement. A black-suited bodyguard leaned in and whispered discreetly, "Director, Captain Andrelov in Raccoon City has successfully extracted the S.T.A.R.S. survivors."

"Good. I'm aware."

Vera gave a slight nod, then furrowed her brow, her expression balancing concern with calculated indignation as she acknowledged the assembled reporters.

"Ladies and gentlemen, that concludes our Q&A session for now. As a responsible corporate officer and citizen, I cannot ignore the disaster unfolding in Raccoon City. Despite my ongoing conflicts with William Birkin, we were once part of the same company. The Raccoon City incident has already occurred—there's no denying it. I will not shirk my responsibility. Both I and the California Division will contribute our share to help Raccoon City through this crisis."

Understanding their employer's intent, the security team immediately moved forward, working with the SFPD airport police to cordon off the reporters. Vera seized the moment to head toward the Boeing 777 private jet waiting on the tarmac, its fuselage still bearing the red-and-white Umbrella logo.

"Director Russell, as a company employee, executive, and board member, is your unilateral split from headquarters and the board even legal?"

"Director Russell, why was your first response after the Raccoon City incident to announce your separation from Paris headquarters? Are you hiding something...?"

Vera ignored the reporters’ shouted questions.

She had called them here to deliver information, not to debate or defend herself.

American reporters lived up to their reputation—all those TV dramas portraying them as reckless weren’t exaggerating. Each question was sharper than the last, blunt and unfiltered. Even tabloid reporters couldn’t resist steering the discussion toward scandal at a moment like this.

Click.

She ascended the stairs, boarded the jet, and the cabin door closed behind her. Instantly, the worry and irritation vanished from Vera's face.

Snap!

"These reporters..."

Settling into the plush seat and fastening her seatbelt, Vera pursed her lips. She wasn’t truly annoyed—reporters were simply doing their jobs. Within the rules, they could ask whatever they wanted, and whether she responded was her choice.

Of course, if any reporter crossed the line—trespassing into her private life or pulling dirty tricks—Vera would ensure they felt the full weight of her reach. Full-service treatment, she mused: psychiatric confinement, manipulated outcomes, a staged “suicide,” down to burial.

"The media can have their moment. I'll find my opportunity eventually."

Vera pinned up her hair and picked up the latest newspapers and magazines spread across the table. Every major paper’s front page screamed bold headlines: Raccoon City's outbreak of the “cannibal disease,” with detailed speculation about Umbrella’s illegal experiments filling entire columns.

Hmmm...

The fuselage shuddered as the plane took off and reached cruising altitude. Vera signaled her personal bodyguard to approach and provide a detailed briefing.

This Boeing 777, privately commissioned and modified by Vera, rivaled some aspects of Air Force One. It concealed advanced communications systems, anti-jamming and anti-eavesdropping electronics—a mobile, albeit partial, command center. Perfect for her current needs.

Hidden compartments opened with a faint hum. Lights flickered on command and communication equipment as the modular main screens loaded. Within ten seconds, they linked, displaying aerial footage of Raccoon City alongside first-person perspectives from U.S.F. soldiers’ recording devices.

Transmitted via Raccoon City’s signal receivers, the feed appeared before Vera’s eyes with only a slight delay.

"Andrelov recruited the U.T.S. units in my name?"

"They’re well-informed, aren’t they? Fine. After I finish in Washington, I’ll meet them." Tapping her armrest’s touchscreen, Vera cycled through enhanced images, then donned her headset.

"A request? You want to rescue U.B.C.S. personnel too?"

After a brief pause, Vera’s eyes gleamed. "Approved."

She wasn’t surprised by Andrelov’s connections to other Umbrella armed units. Since 1991, Russians had played a key role in Umbrella’s private forces. Sergei Vladimir, commander of the paramilitary Red Umbrella division, was a former CCCP colonel. Mikhail Victor, a U.B.C.S. squad leader, had been a mid-level KGB operative. Nicholai Ginovaef was an experienced former CCCP special forces officer.

Vera’s U.S.F. security force, bodyguard team, and emergency response units included many former members of the collapsed superpower’s military or those trained by them. After the CCCP’s dissolution, countless former soldiers, security officers, and intelligence operatives sought work abroad—or risked starving themselves and their families. Vera absorbed them, gave them decent work, and brought their families to California, building entire Umbrella communities with schools, hospitals, and recreational facilities.

Leveraging these networks, she continued recruiting talent—military personnel, security staff, internal affairs officers, and professionals from architecture, engineering, and mathematics. She also dispatched agents to the Russian Far East, Ukraine, the Baltics, and Kazakhstan, trading food and necessities for high-tech equipment and weapons blueprints.

By early 1998, as a formidable figure rose in Russia, Vera’s private armed forces were already well-established and trained. She diversified recruitment globally, drawing from U.S., European, and Latin American military sources.

"With U.B.C.S., recruit as many as possible, but prioritize the mission. The surviving company administrative and research personnel in Raccoon City—their survival and testimony—are crucial."

Satisfied with Andrelov’s report, Vera shifted focus to the U.S.F. rescue operations, evidence collection on William Birkin, BOW experiments, and the Talos Project.

"Excellent. Soon, I’ll be speaking with the National Security Advisor. Watch for contact from the military—they’ll collect the T-virus and its suppressant."

Toying with the red-and-white umbrella pin, Vera smiled. After receiving satisfactory answers, she ended the call with Andrelov.

Buzz buzz—

A text arrived. Her private number.

Sender: Derek C. Simmons

[Looks like you've finally taken the right step.

Under Spencer’s misguided leadership, Umbrella became a threat to social stability.

Happy independence, my friend.

Now, I suppose I should call you the CEO of Militech.

The President wants to see you, Ms. Vera Adelheid.]

Vera’s smile shifted as she tapped her screen.

Send: [I have a gift for you too, Mr. Derek.]

Simmons: [I look forward to it.]

Looking forward to it, she thought. Let your family work on it first, Carla Radames. Don’t disappoint me…

Vera’s grin grew mischievous. While she was interested in T-virus research, now wasn’t the time. Since Simmons and the Pentagon were keen, why not play along? It reinforced her innocence: I, Vera, had nothing to do with the Raccoon City incident.

For years, she had focused solely on her own domain, never touching virus research or BOW mass production. Though she might have sensed something, she hadn’t imagined Spencer and Birkin would go this far.

Abandoning T-virus research completely? Impossible. Vera wasn’t foolish. Timing was everything. With U.S.F. units already securing samples—including T-virus, its suppressant, the Progenitor virus, and experimental specimens—some would go to the Pentagon, some kept by Vera, and some… sent far away to Arasaka.

By reorganizing Umbrella’s California Division into Militech, inheriting the USA Region’s lobbying system, and building Washington and Pentagon ties, Vera had extricated herself.

Every coin has two sides. For now, she and Militech couldn’t actively pursue BOW or bioweapon research. Vera, however, believed cyborg-BOW hybrids held more potential than pure BOWs. Competitors wouldn’t care—they would monitor her closely.

Militech would inherit Umbrella’s pharmaceutical and medical hardware businesses, but virus-related R&D would remain low-profile for the next few years. Vera wasn’t in a hurry. Umbrella’s legacy would sustain her while she built Militech’s framework.

Calming herself, Vera awaited the White House National Security Advisor’s arrangement for a connection.

Beep beep—

The screen dialed. Connection established.

Vera closed the Raccoon City feed and accepted the video call.

After the shield-shaped insignia with the bald eagle appeared, a middle-aged man in a dark suit came into view, seated in the iconic Oval Office.

Before the presidential seal fully appeared, Vera composed herself, her voice solemn: "Mr. President, I’m Vera Adelheid Russell."