Chapter 53: What's With This Sudden Déjà Vu?
After putting the Spider-Man serum on the schedule, Matthew stopped by William's lab to ask about the G-Virus.
No surprises there.
Birkin's answer was the same as every other time he had asked: minimal progress, essentially no movement.
Matthew nodded and let it go. He understood research. It took what it took, and the G-Virus defects were not something that could be removed quickly. If he wanted to accelerate the timeline, there was only one path available outside of the System.
Recruit more talent.
Back at his desk, Matthew's fingers moved across the keyboard. Profiles surfaced from various databases, which he went through and extracted.
When he was done, he looked toward Eleanor.
"Eleanor. I need you to track down a few people. I've sent their files to your phone. Go now."
Eleanor acknowledged this without asking for details and walked out, pulling up her phone as she went.
Three files.
[File: Maya Hansen. Botanist.]
[File: Aldrich Killian. Genetics specialist.]
[File: Alexia Ashford. Umbrella researcher.]
Eleanor's eyes moved over the names.
She had no particular reaction to Maya Hansen or Aldrich Killian. Neither had yet developed the work they would eventually become known for, which made them interesting long-term acquisitions but not urgent.
Alexia Ashford was a different matter.
The name was well-known inside Umbrella. Her grandfather was Edward Ashford, one of the company's three founders. Her father had been unremarkable. Alexia herself was the opposite of unremarkable. She had graduated from university at the age of ten, joined Umbrella immediately afterward, and single-handedly developed the T-Veronica Virus. A body of work that had reportedly been enough to make even William Birkin feel pressure. The reason Birkin had fallen into his particular obsession with the G-Virus, Eleanor had always understood, was Alexia. He wanted to surpass her. He needed to prove he was more than what stood in her shadow.
The problem with this file was a single line in the official record.
Confirmed deceased. Fourteen years ago.
Eleanor's brow pulled together.
Why was her employer asking her to find a dead person?
She thought about this for a moment.
Then she thought about what she knew about how her employer operated, and concluded that the most likely explanation was straightforward: Alexia Ashford was not dead. People who were actually dead were not generally worth recruiting. If the boss was sending her after this woman, then this woman was alive and the official record was wrong.
If Eleanor was incorrect about this and Alexia was genuinely dead, she would find some way to bring back what remained. She was not going to fail another recruitment mission. The Chris, Claire, and Jill situation had been a professional embarrassment she still thought about. A second failure on this scale would be the kind of thing she could not face.
Her phone buzzed again.
[Matthew: Alexia Ashford's location is the Antarctic research facility. She is currently in cryogenic suspension. If you cannot extract her intact, you may bring back the head.]
Eleanor read this.
"Cryogenic suspension." She said it quietly to herself. "Exactly as I thought."
She got into her car and drove.
The office was empty.
Matthew leaned back in his chair.
"System. Show me stats."
The blue interface opened in front of him.
His personal panel:
[Name: Matthew (T-Virus + V-Virus host)]
[Capabilities:
High-Speed Regeneration LV1: A variant ability produced by the fusion of the V-Virus and T-Virus. In normal state, can sustain combat for two minutes following fatal organ damage. Severed limbs regrow within ten minutes. Contact with blood rapidly restores major organs including the heart and brain.
Monstrous Strength LV1: A variant ability produced by the fusion of the V-Virus and T-Virus. Sufficient force to tear through 3cm steel plate with minimal effort. Standard reinforced concrete crumbles under full-force attack. Maximum sprint speed: 70 meters per second.
Blood Mist Form LV1: V-Virus derived ability. Can dissolve physical form into blood mist for movement. Immune to low-grade physical damage in mist form.
Endurance LV2: No change.
Neural Reflexes LV2: No change.]
Worth noting: the original Cell Activity LV2 and Strength LV2 had both changed names and dropped back to LV1 following the V-Virus fusion. The numbers were misleading. The actual capability values had improved. Matthew had noticed this in daily use but hadn't bothered to formally test it since it wasn't as dramatic a shift as the original T-Virus injection. Looking at the detailed panel now, the specific changes were clearer.
He scrolled down.
[Remaining System points: 6,500. Nursery project generating daily.]
[Total accumulated System points: 11,000. Pass milestone reward at 8,000 accumulated points has been deposited to Warehouse: Ivan Tyrant x2.]
Ivan Tyrant.
Matthew sat up.
Right. He had forgotten entirely.
After Tony's rescue, the System balance had crossed 8,000 accumulated and triggered the milestone. He had noted it and then, in the sequence of events that followed, moved on without actually examining the reward.
Ivan Tyrant. More intelligent than the T-103 model. Capable of understanding human speech, capable of speech itself, trained in firearms operation, and capable of coordinating with others of the same type. Expensive to produce. Umbrella had never made many of them, and they functioned primarily as personal security for the company's upper tier.
He hadn't expected the System to hand him this particular model.
Matthew pulled both Ivan Tyrants out of storage to look at them.
Compared to the T-103's overwhelming physical presence, the Ivan model ran to about 2.1 meters, shorter and noticeably more human in overall proportion. The head was completely bare. On the bare head, a pair of goggles with one blue lens and one yellow lens.
Both Ivan Tyrants turned toward him at the same moment.
In unison, they said: "Hello, master."
Matthew's expression did something in the vicinity of a twitch.
That feeling. That inexplicable familiarity.
Was he about to be drawn into a Holy Grail War?
"Master, what are your ord—"
One of the Ivans had started to say something more.
Before it could finish, a flash of light moved through the interface, and both Ivans were returned to the warehouse.
He sat back.
My apologies, Servant. Bald heads don't get speaking privileges in this office. If you want a conversation with me, the minimum requirement is being somewhat presentable.