Chapter 24: Parting Ways

In the early hours of July 24, 1998, the heavy rain in the Arklay Mountains continued to pour down. Large raindrops hammered relentlessly against the roof of the Training Facility, mixing with the faint structural vibrations within. This secret facility, long abandoned by the Umbrella Corporation, stood on the brink of collapse at any moment.

There was no longer any sign of life inside the Training Facility. Dim emergency lights cast flickering shadows down the corridors, and the air was thick with the fishy sweetness of Leech mucus, the pungent odor of T-Virus corrosion, and a faint, decaying scent of blood.

Mottled bloodstains on the walls, scattered fragments of experimental records, and rusted, deformed metal equipment all bore witness to the horrific tragedies that had once occurred here.

Rebecca Chambers and Billy Coen groped their way through the labyrinthine corridors. Since stepping into this building where James Marcus served as the first director, the two had remained on high alert. They dodged wandering zombies and bypassed one electronically locked hatch after another, eventually penetrating deep into the core area of the Training Facility.

As they went deeper, the building's security system became increasingly chaotic, and the passages grew rugged and difficult to traverse due to years of neglect. To improve efficiency and find a way out as quickly as possible, the two discussed and decided to split up, agreeing to rendezvous at the Training Facility's central control room.

“Be careful with everything. If you encounter mutated creatures, don't try to fight them head-on; fire your gun immediately to call for help.” Billy gripped his rifle and spoke in a low, solemn voice. He looked at this young but exceptionally brave S.T.A.R.S. rookie, his eyes full of concern.

“I will. You stay safe too.” Rebecca gripped the handgun at her waist, nodded firmly, and then turned to walk into the narrow corridor on the left.

Relying on her extraordinary powers of observation and scientific knowledge, she proceeded cautiously until her path was soon blocked by a closed alloy blast door.

The electronic combination lock on the door had completely failed, its screen flashing fault codes—clearly a power supply issue. Rebecca crouched down and carefully examined the embedded power control panel on the wall beside the door. The panel was covered in dust, and the interfaces had long since oxidized and blackened.

She pulled a simple set of tools from her backpack and carefully pried open the panel's casing. A dense thicket of wiring was instantly exposed, with red, blue, and yellow wires intertwined in a dizzying mess.

Rebecca took a deep breath. Using the basic circuitry knowledge she had learned at the police station, she quickly distinguished the main lines from the branches. Her fingertips trembled, yet she precisely reconnected the detached wires and manually restarted the panel's power module.

Accompanied by a buzzing sound of electric current, the indicator lights on the control panel lit up one by one. The blast door emitted a dull mechanical hum, and the previously locked mechanism slowly clicked open.

“Success.” Rebecca breathed a sigh of relief, raised a hand to wipe the cold sweat from her brow, and slowly pushed open the heavy door.

Meanwhile, in the monitoring room at the deepest part of the Training Facility, Dr. James Marcus stood before a console covered in surveillance screens. Pitch-black leeches coiled around his body, writhing slowly, as viscous mucus dripped onto the floor, corroding small pits into the surface.

His gaze was locked onto one of the screens, where the image of Rebecca opening the door was clearly visible. His clouded eyes surged with rage and cold killing intent.

The intrusion of these uninvited guests had completely disrupted his plans for revenge. He had thought this territory was already under the control of his leeches, yet two outsiders were moving through it at will. This was a provocation to his absolute authority.

James Marcus slowly raised his hand and lightly tapped the cold console. His self-muttering voice was raspy and chilling, punctuated by the faint squelching of writhing leeches, sounding particularly piercing in the empty monitoring room: “You are wasting your time. I have already said this is my territory, yet you enter without permission. You had better understand who is in charge here.”

As he finished speaking, he unhesitatingly pressed a prominent red button on the console—the switch to activate the release mechanism for the T-Virus animal test subjects.

On the monitor, just as Rebecca stepped into the experimental area behind the blast door, the surrounding vents suddenly flew open. Bursts of violent snarling erupted, and several burly Baboons, their bodies covered in eerie blue-purple veins, lunged out.

These were Baboon test subjects used by Umbrella years ago for live T-Virus experiments. Modified by the virus, they had lost all reason, becoming rabid and bloodthirsty. Their strength and speed far exceeded their normal kin. With fangs bared and saliva dripping from the corners of their mouths, they stared fixedly at Rebecca.

“Oh no!” Rebecca’s face changed instantly. She immediately raised her gun and fired, the bullet accurately hitting the lead Baboon. But the T-Virus infected Baboon felt almost no pain; it merely faltered for a moment before continuing its frantic lunge toward her.

She scrambled to dodge, but the Baboons were too fast. One Baboon slammed into the floor beside her. The floor, already structurally damaged by viral corrosion, instantly gave way. With a piercing crack, the entire section of the floor collapsed!

Rebecca felt the ground vanish beneath her. Her body instantly plummeted toward the pitch-black abyss below. Instinctively, she reached out and death-gripped the exposed rebar at the edge of the break. The rough steel instantly sliced open her palm, and blood began to trickle down her arm.

The impact of the fall sent a jolt of intense pain through her entire arm. Her body hung in mid-air; below was bottomless darkness, and in her ears were the whistling wind and the snarling of the Baboons.

She gritted her teeth and exerted every ounce of strength to hold onto the rebar. Her arm muscles trembled from the overexertion, her stamina was draining rapidly, and her fingertips were starting to slip. She clearly couldn't hold on much longer, and a sense of despair instantly enveloped her.

At the same time, in Umbrella's secret underground command post, within a clean yet oppressive metal corridor, William Birkin gripped a freshly printed report, the edges of the paper crumpled and deformed by his grasp.

He walked hurriedly ahead, his brow furrowed deeply, his face filled with unbelievable shock. As he walked, he turned his head toward Albert Wesker beside him, his voice tinged with an irrepressible bewilderment.

“This makes no sense, I really can't believe it... Is this the true identity of that Long-haired young man from earlier?” William's voice trembled slightly. The identity information on the report was enough to overturn Umbrella's entire hidden layout.

Wesker still wore those dark sunglasses, concealing all emotion in his eyes, his entire being radiating a cold and detached aura. Hearing this, he paused slightly, his tone icy and certain, without a hint of a ripple: “It's impossible. But if it's true, then Umbrella is finished.”

“If the conspiracy against Dr. James Marcus in the past is revealed, Mr. Spencer is done for, let alone the two of us,” William's voice grew low, carrying a trace of imperceptible panic.

Years ago, he and Wesker had joined forces to eliminate James Marcus following Spencer's orders, seizing the T-Virus research results. This was the greatest leverage held against them; once exposed, not only would Oswell E. Spencer be disgraced, but they would have no way out either.

The two walked in silence, the atmosphere oppressive to the extreme. Soon, they reached a silver elevator door, the indicator light above it blinking steadily.

William stopped and looked up at Wesker beside him. With a hint of exhaustion and helplessness in his tone, he slowly asked, “It's finally come to this. What do you plan to do?”

Wesker raised a hand to lightly adjust his sunglasses, the lenses reflecting a cold white light. His gaze was firm and his tone resolute, without a shred of nostalgia: “It's time to say goodbye to Umbrella. The biological weapons created with the T-Virus are nearing completion. The only work left is to obtain combat data.”

As he spoke, the elevator doors slowly opened. Wesker did not hesitate, turning to step into the elevator car.

Seeing this, William immediately took a step forward, his tone urgent as he tried to stop him: “Don't be ridiculous. I can't give up on the research. Although I've finished the research on the T-Virus, I still need some time to complete the even more powerful G-Virus.”

For him, his life's work was poured into virus research. The G-Virus was the core of his ambition to surpass himself and subvert biotechnology; he could not possibly give up at this critical juncture.

Wesker leaned against the interior wall of the elevator, his tone indifferent, with no intention of changing his mind: “Suit yourself. I will proceed according to the original plan and lure the S.T.A.R.S. members to the Spencer Mansion. They have undergone rigorous combat training and are the perfect test subjects.”

He had long since grown tired of working for the Umbrella Corporation. Faking his death to escape, breaking free from control, and collecting B.O.W. combat data were his only current goals.

William remained silent for a moment, knowing he couldn't change Wesker's mind. He finally compromised, saying in a deep voice: “Fine. But before that, we must deal with that fellow. Fortunately, I remember that the Umbrella Research Center's basement is equipped with a Self-destruct device. Before things get out of hand, I'll find it and activate it to level the entire facility.”

He wanted to thoroughly destroy all evidence, leaving no possibility for the past conspiracy to leak.

Hearing this, Wesker suddenly remembered something and asked casually: “I recall S01 is still in the basement of the Spencer Mansion, right? Do we need the USS to bring her out?”

A cold arc curled at the corner of William's mouth, his eyes devoid of any pity as he refused without hesitation: “No need. I've already taken her blood samples and clones to the NEST. Since the Arklay Research Facility fell, she hasn't received her Stabilizers regularly. I expect she'll lose control and break down in a few days. Let this test subject Spencer favored rot underground.”

In his eyes, S01 had long since lost her utility. There was no need to waste manpower or resources on an abandoned test subject, and even less need to leave any loose ends.

With a mechanical chime, the elevator doors slowly closed, completely separating the two figures. The former comrades-in-arms, who had once followed James Marcus to research viruses together, officially parted ways at this moment.

Neither of them anticipated that this resolute parting destined them for two distinct yet equally tragic ends.

Wesker, through his meticulously planned fake death, would completely break free from Umbrella and embark on his own dark path. William, obsessed with G-Virus research, would eventually be consumed by the virus he created, meeting a miserable end just like his mentor James Marcus—destroyed by his own research results.

Meanwhile, inside the Training Facility, Rebecca still hung from the edge of the collapsed floor, her strength nearly spent. In the darkness below, an unknown danger seemed to be slowly approaching. An even greater crisis was quietly drawing near.