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… Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
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.
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.”