Chapter 33: A Meal for All

Military.

The first impression it gives is always stability, reliability, durability.

This is the image I intend to present to the public.

Military-grade doesn't always mean the most expensive or the best, but it does mean mass-produced, standardized quality — reasonably priced goods in bulk. The most advanced scientific breakthroughs are applied to the military first. It's not that we can't make better products; it's an economic choice. Military implies cutting-edge technological exploration.

Technology.

The fusion of science and application. Science answers theoretical questions; technology solves practical problems. Every social advance is accompanied by technological progress. Militech is my answer.

Military represents my commitment to the civic responsibilities granted by God and the Constitution — responsibilities I will not shirk. Technology reminds me of my original purpose. We will rise from the ashes, break the shadow called Umbrella, and return to the forefront of science and technology.

...

Rustle, rustle—

Columbia District, atop the 25-meter-high Capitol Hill, inside the Capitol Building’s House chamber.

Clerks and reporters in the second-floor gallery frowned or scribbled, recording the non-member speaker's explanation at an emergency session — why Umbrella was being reorganized into Militech.

An emergency legislative session was underway.

September 26, 1998. Morning.

Inside this 233-meter-long, three-story Classical Revival building, the Raccoon City catastrophe had been fully exposed.

Vera Adelheid Russell, former Umbrella board member and USA Regional Director, had submitted evidence rescued from Raccoon City to the White House, Congress, and the Supreme Court — proof of Umbrella’s secret virus research and bioweapons development.

If this were a Hollywood movie, it would be a tale of redemption and lone-hero courage: Chris Redfield, formerly of Raccoon City S.T.A.R.S., had become a hero known across America and the world.

Vera’s vivid account described Chris infiltrating Umbrella’s San Francisco industrial park, risking being shot to meet her. He convinced her with firsthand testimony and hard evidence.

He’d been lured into a mansion by William Birkin while in S.T.A.R.S., used as a guinea pig for virus experiments and BOWs. Most teammates died or were maimed; only he and a few escaped. Afterward, Umbrella suppressed him — S.T.A.R.S. was disbanded, his reports ignored, and he received death threats. He couldn't even meet his sister. Alone, he traveled to Europe to investigate. Even when his leads went cold, he didn’t give up. He kept standing against Umbrella.

At last, perseverance paid. A surviving teammate’s suggestion opened another path. Though imperfect, his sense of justice and guilt over fallen comrades would not let him wait. Every day of delay meant more victims. He acted — and succeeded. Umbrella split. Evidence from Raccoon City was smuggled out before it could be destroyed.

Righteous, indeed.

Chris Redfield was reportedly still in Raccoon City at that moment, rescuing teammates and gathering more evidence — a tough, unyielding man who wouldn’t back down. Retired Air Force pilot, ace marksman, former police officer, special tactics officer — those credentials stacked into a powerful image.

As for Vera: a brilliant, wealthy magnate who’d ultimately broken with William Birkin and Spencer. The narrative of being deceived by Spencer and then seeing the error of her ways — turning back and atoning — was irresistible to American audiences.

Before the central podium modeled after the Roman Pantheon — white marble in classical Roman Revival style — Vera ended her debut as a special invited speaker by stressing learning from mistakes, civic responsibility, and announcing the reorganization into Militech.

It was a performance.

Though Vera held no congressional office, after meeting the President she’d been given an advisory title: White House Technology Advisor — a think-tank role. Not powerless, but far from Simmons’s influence as National Security Advisor.

Bang!

The Speaker’s gavel fell.

“Three hundred ninety-nine in favor, five opposed, thirty-one abstentions. 398 to 18. I hereby declare the sanctions and asset-freeze resolution passed. Umbrella Corporation bears primary responsibility for the Raccoon City biohazard incident and has seriously violated the law. All Umbrella activities in the United States are to cease immediately.”

Applause thundered.

“Perfect speech. Militech — good name. Ms. Russell, have you considered a political career? I could sponsor your party membership.”

“Sir, thank you, but I don’t have such plans. When I think of Raccoon City...” Vera’s voice trailed as she stepped down. A middle-aged politician with sunken eyes approached; she shook her head. “The mess William Birkin made is just too big.”

That man was the House Majority Whip. Vera remembered the favors she’d done: at his wife’s charity gala she’d bought an obscene painting and donated two million dollars.

“You can know someone’s face but not their heart. That fellow Spencer styled himself nobility — who knew he’d commit such atrocities.”

A tall, lean middle-aged man with gray hair joined them: the House Minority Leader. His son worked at a construction company that Militech — the former California Division of Umbrella — would contract with.

“Gentlemen, we haven’t seen a united front like this since 1941. God bless America. When disaster strikes, our patriotic unity proves our system’s superiority.”

The Speaker — white-haired, robust, ruddy of complexion — descended from the podium and shook hands with Vera. They had connections: he’d been a VIP client of her California Division’s rehabilitation services and a UC Berkeley Law alumnus. She’d offered him a cushy post-retirement legal-advisor role at Militech.

With these introductions, Vera smiled, shook hands, and said “thank you” more than anything else that morning.

Listening to their praise, Vera laughed inwardly.

Unity, my foot. If Raccoon City hadn’t exploded so spectacularly, they’d still be in bitter partisan fights. No one would take the blame. The White House wouldn’t risk impeachment over a misstep; one false move and the President could be out. That’s why Vera had come.

To bring benefits — and someone to take the blame.

No, Umbrella had actually done the crimes.

Washington had long suspected Umbrella’s secrets. They hadn’t intervened partly because they needed Umbrella’s technologies and partly because Umbrella’s lobbying and donations had built a protective network.

In the original timeline, after Raccoon City was nuked, Umbrella somehow survived on the stock market from 1998 to 2005 despite suspicions. If Wesker hadn’t leaked Umbrella’s research to the International Court, who knew how long they might have lasted?

Now, Vera’s defection, rescued personnel from Raccoon City’s division, and the evidence that had been smuggled out before the nuclear strike had made the case undeniable. Washington praised her. Umbrella must take full responsibility and be convicted.

Otherwise, the politicians would look incompetent.

Under this temporary consensus, Congress presented a picture of perfect harmony.

Militech’s new CEO, the Whip, the Minority Leader, and the Speaker — all in one frame. Reporters surged as they left the Capitol. Flashbulbs popped. Questions came from every direction.

“Was Raccoon City caused by a viral leak?”

“Ms. Russell, are William Birkin’s photos genuine? Can you guarantee them?”

“Why rename Umbrella’s reorganized U.S. arm Militech? Any ties to the Pentagon?”

“Will Militech abandon pharmaceuticals to become a pure defense contractor?”

“Was this split forced by Congress to break Umbrella’s Paris headquarters?”

Secret Service and duty officers held back the crowd. Vera didn’t hog the spotlight. At times like this, the stage belonged to the old politicians; they would handle the fallout. After the benefits were divided, Militech would bring profits to them, not Spencer and Britain. They would never let anyone link Raccoon City to the newly formed Militech.

Equity arrangements for Vera’s lead role in Militech’s separation had been handled with restraint. Vera was the real asset — a genius who could create fresh profits. No one would compete for Militech’s control; chairman, CEO, and majority shares would be hers. Political office mattered more to these men than corporate seats.

Accompanied by Congress’s elders, Vera felt her expression stiffen from constant adjustments. Finally, a White House attendant and a Marine Corps lieutenant colonel escorted her.

“The President and Mr. Simmons are waiting in the Situation Room, Ms. Russell.”

With an apologetic nod to the general, Vera excused herself and entered the motorcade, riding with the lieutenant colonel.

“How can I help?” she asked.

“At dawn on the 26th, the National Guard rendezvoused with your U.S.F. at the western evacuation point outside the city. But Delta Force and Echo Team entering from the southeast were attacked by U.S.S....” He paused. “William Birkin. Reports say they encountered Dr. Birkin in a severely mutated state.”

Vera raised an eyebrow.

The news didn’t surprise her. Entering from Raccoon Street, the west side was more open. The southeast — around the police station, city hall, the power substation, and the school — was narrow and complex. William, needing hosts, would inevitably search for his daughter.

“Mr. Simmons hopes you can negotiate the surrender of that U.S.S. squad, while ordering U.S.F. to enter immediately to capture or kill Dr. William Birkin... and assess whether Raccoon City can still be saved.”

Ha.

Capture a G-creature? Vera’s mouth twitched. She shook her head with a wry smile. They really dared to dream.

“I can do that. Do you have a satellite phone?”