Chapter 10: The Obsession with the G-Virus

1995, Arklay Research Facility, Basement Level 2 Experimental Area.

The pale fluorescent lights scorched the eyes day after day, while the pungent smell of disinfectant mixed with cell culture medium hung in the air, freezing the second basement level of the Arklay Research Facility into a silent, timeless cage.

Chloe curled up in the metal corner of the isolation chamber, her fingertips gently brushing over the dense, pale pink needle marks on her arms—each mark a medal left by William Birkin's insane experiments.

Some time had passed since Wesker voluntarily transferred to Raccoon City to prepare for his infiltration plan.

The power structure of the entire facility had been completely reshuffled, and the last shred of hesitation in William's eyes had vanished along with Wesker's retreating figure.

All his attempts to make the T-Virus controllable had crashed and burned against Chloe; day after day of sampling, stimulation, and genetic comparison had yielded only a thick stack of data reports with no breakthroughs.

Annette Birkin stood before the console, her fingers flying across the light screen, her brows permanently furrowed.

"William, all sequences have been compared. Chloe's mutation is a unique, natural anomaly. It cannot be extracted, replicated, or used for mass-producing B.O.W.s." Her voice was calm and restrained, carrying the typical rigor of a researcher. "There is no point in continuing to waste time on her."

William slammed his fist onto the console, causing the instruments to emit a frantic buzzing sound. His eyes were bloodshot, his naturally paranoid expression looking even more distorted now as he stared fixedly at the terrifyingly quiet Chloe inside the isolation chamber, as if he wanted to tear her apart and see right through her.

"I don't believe it... There is no such thing as an unsolvable gene in this world!" He growled, his tone filled with unwillingness. "She can suppress the T-Virus, maintain her sanity, and reign it in right at the edge of madness... This is clearly the standard answer for viral evolution!"

"But the answer belongs only to her." Annette did not back down. "Mr. Spencer has already issued the order three times. He wants us to stop the redundant experiments immediately and fully move into the Nest to develop the G-Virus."

Upon hearing the words "G-Virus," William shuddered, the agitation in his eyes instantly replaced by a near-divine fanaticism.

That's right. The G-Virus.

It was the ultimate virus project personally authorized by Oswell E. Spencer and led entirely by him, William Birkin. It was a mutant strain of the Progenitor Virus extracted from the body of Lisa Trevor, who wailed eternally on the third basement level of Arklay. It was his masterpiece, transcending the framework of the T-Virus and belonging to him alone. Umbrella Corporation had already built a top-tier laboratory, the Nest, deep underground in Raccoon City, created solely for the G-Virus.

It had independent clearance, top-tier equipment, and unlimited funding—it was his own private altar.

And Arklay, this old B.O.W. research base, had long been unworthy of his ambition.

"I understand." William took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the frustration and fanaticism in his heart, and turned to look at Annette. "Prepare for sample collection: whole blood, spinal fluid, living tissue, and the complete genetic chain. Extract the highest concentration samples for everything. Also, initiate the cloning cultivation program. Use Chloe's cells to cultivate three sets of clones. I want to take them all with me."

Annette paused slightly. "You want to take her samples to the Nest?"

"Yes." William said decisively, his gaze falling back onto Chloe with a cold, calculating look. "She cannot be replicated, but her stable characteristics are the best control baseline for the G-Virus. I want the G-Virus to possess her rational controllability while also having Lisa's infinite regeneration. That is the perfect life form."

"What about Chloe?" Annette asked. "Stay in Arklay?"

William sneered, his tone dismissive, as if he were talking about a piece of discarded equipment.

"Her? She has no value anymore."

"The Nest is the holy land of the G-Virus, not a prison for old test subjects. She will stay here, along with the Tyrant Project and those other B.O.W.s, to be handled by the new arrivals."

Every word of their conversation fell into Chloe's ears.

She did not look up or move, maintaining her curled-up posture, but her fingertips hidden in her sleeves quietly tightened.

So that was it. She had been abandoned.

William was going to take her blood, her cells, and her clones to the underground of Raccoon City to create a new nightmare, while she, the real one, was to be abandoned forever in this cage in the mountains.

The T-Virus in her body suddenly stirred slightly, as if responding to some more terrifying power about to be born in the distance. Chloe closed her eyes, forcibly suppressing that subtle unease, and hid all her emotions behind a mask of calm. She knew her fate was about to be rewritten once again.

Three days later, the transfer documents from Umbrella Corporation headquarters were officially delivered to the Arklay Research Facility.

Arriving at the same time was a middle-aged man in a white researcher's uniform with a calm and serious expression.

He stood in the center of the experimental area, his gaze sweeping calmly over his surroundings. There was no fanaticism like William's, no coldness like Wesker's, only a rigor and rigidity that adhered strictly to the rules. The accompanying security personnel whispered to William: "Mr. William, this is John Clemens, the new Research Director of the Arklay Research Facility appointed directly by headquarters. He will take full control of the facility's management and be responsible for the supervision of the Tyrant Project and all remaining test subjects and B.O.W. projects."

John Clemens nodded slightly and took the initiative to extend his hand to William, his tone formal and polite: "Mr. William, I've heard much about you. I will take over all operations at Arklay and ensure that Mr. Spencer's orders are executed smoothly."

William shook his hand lightly, his eyes carrying a hint of imperceptible perfunctoriness. He didn't care who John was; he only cared about whether he could successfully take Chloe's samples and leave this dilapidated facility as soon as possible.

"Director John, since you are here, I will hand over directly." William gestured, and Annette immediately handed over a thick file. "This is all the data on Test Subject S01, Chloe—a T-Virus stable variant. Mr. Spencer has personally marked it: do not let her die, do not let her escape, sample regularly, and cooperate with B.O.W. data comparisons."

He paused, deliberately emphasizing his tone: "She is a high-value control sample, but there is no need for deep experimentation; just maintain the status quo. My core energy will be entirely focused on the G-Virus project at the Nest."

John took the file and flipped through it quickly, his gaze lingering for a moment on words like "Chloe," "T-ε Stable Variant," and "Project Eris Material," before solemnly closing the document.

"I understand." He nodded. "I will manage the test subjects strictly according to headquarters' instructions, and the Tyrant Project will also proceed steadily. It will certainly not affect your research at the Nest."

William curled his lips in satisfaction.

John Clemens was obedient, disciplined, and kept to his duties—exactly the kind of "jailer" he wanted.

That afternoon, the cryogenic sample boxes and sealed clone cultivation chambers were loaded one by one onto the armored transport vehicle. Annette personally inventoried and checked them; every sample was clearly labeled: S01 Chloe — G-Virus Control Exclusive.

William stood at the entrance of the facility and took one last look in the direction of the second basement level.

Chloe was still sitting quietly in the isolation chamber, like a forgotten doll.

He felt not the slightest bit of reluctance. He turned and boarded the special vehicle. The engine roared, and the car sped away in the direction of Raccoon City.