The meeting continued.
Spread across the table were maps of Raccoon City and neatly organized intel folders compiled by Chris, Jill, other S.T.A.R.S. survivors, and U.S.F. units.
Rustle.
As she pretended to leaf through the documents, Vela sensed the glances surrounding her. She looked up—it was Simmons. Catching his vaguely curious expression, she smiled and took a light sip of her coffee.
"Ahem, Mr. Simmons, is there something you wish to ask?"
"I've long heard about your... tension with Dr. William Birkin. Seeing it firsthand, I must say, the rumors fall short."
"Not quite, Mr. Simmons."
Vela shook her head gently and glanced at the President, nearby aides, and Joint Chiefs, all now visibly more intrigued.
Hmph! They all wanted in on the drama between her and William?
Placing her coffee cup down slowly, she propped her cheek against a few fingers and narrowed her eyes thoughtfully, as if recalling something.
"William Birkin? Personally, I barely knew him. At most, we had some policy disagreements on the board. I appreciated his biological expertise, but I didn't agree with his temperament or his strategic thinking. That's all."
William Birkin—what could she say? She didn't like him, but it wasn't pure malice.
She simply needed a target.
And William had walked into the role.
Vela knew William despised her. But she hadn't expected it to be this intense.
He was already progressing into G-virus Phase II. The G-Organism had begun growing its own secondary head. At that point, his mind should've been gone.
Yet when her generic condemnation had been broadcast, he reacted. Ripped open his eyelids to glare. Spat out her full name, clearly and with venom.
Astonishing.
But thinking about his past... not that surprising.
William was proud, extreme, hypersensitive, and deeply competitive. Prone to intense highs and lows.
He was among the top-tier virologists in the world—but not the best.
To claim the T-virus research and sole credit, he had murdered his mentor, Dr. James Marcus.
Later, haunted by the existence of Alexia Ashford—a prodigy who graduated from a prestigious university at ten—he crumbled, nearly going insane under the pressure. Even though Alexia never even acknowledged him.
Only after she vanished did William recover. He spent a few good years as Umbrella's top virus researcher, founder of the G-virus project.
Then came Vela Adelheid Russell.
She never schemed against him. Her opposition was entirely verbal, professional, respectful.
Thanks to her, Umbrella's income soared. Compared to the original timeline, even if funding ratios stayed the same or decreased, William still received more money and better equipment in his Raccoon lab.
But he couldn't see it.
All he saw was his declining status. That Vela had taken what was rightfully his.
Like the pressure he felt from Alexia, Vela's overwhelming presence broke him. His mind unraveled, leaving him half-insane.
From his perspective, perhaps even his cooperation with the U.S. military—his betrayal of Umbrella—was forced on him by Vela.
And after infection, G-virus corruption only deepened his hatred.
"Let's not discuss him. A fool doomed by his own hand."
She straightened her posture, eyes sweeping the room.
"As the former head of Umbrella's USA Division, I can say this: Paris HQ doesn't care about Raccoon City. But I do. And so must you, gentlemen, as guardians of this nation's stability."
A subtle compliment, wrapped in obligation. And just like that, Vela shifted the topic back to evaluating potential rescue operations for Raccoon City.
The meeting had already been underway for some time. The recovered image and text documentation from Raccoon City was overwhelming—stacks and stacks of files. After skimming for key points, Vela reiterated the details about the T-virus.
Why not the G-virus? Because she didn't know much about it.
What the Pentagon—or more specifically, the generals secretly dealing with William—were really thinking didn't concern her. Judging by their blank expressions: "We know nothing."
After reviewing the documents, the President spoke.
"Okay, Ms. Russell. You're the expert here. Regarding the T and G viruses, your team has confirmed that the Arklay Mountains are infected, as well as Raccoon City's water supply, sewage network, and the Mendes River basin. If we want to fully eliminate the virus..."
"That would be extremely difficult," Vela interrupted, shaking her head.
"According to the data, the first 'cannibal sickness' cases in Raccoon City were caused by citizens drinking T-virus-contaminated water. I'm no virologist, but by rough estimation, eradicating the infection would take immense time and funding. The best method would be something akin to Chernobyl—a full lockdown."
"Water does dilute the T-virus. Genetically, it's an RNA-based virus. Without a host, it can't survive long in nature. The real concern is infected carriers like rats, cockroaches, birds, and aquatic life. While they tend to lose mobility and remain in place after infection, over time they could contribute to further spread."
The President frowned. "Simmons."
The Raccoon City mess happening under his administration was already bad enough. The threat of it spreading?
Simmons replied, "Mr. President, the CDC has taken action. The Colorado National Guard has locked down all routes in and out of Raccoon City. Dams are already in place along the affected rivers."
The President looked back at Vela.
His expression was clear: keep going. Your responsibility. Fill in the gaps.
Among everyone present, her technical expertise was the highest. As a former Umbrella insider and current advisory lead on Raccoon City, she was the obvious choice.
Vela took a thoughtful pause.
"Aside from direct exposure to raw T-virus fluid, transmission occurs via bites, bodily fluid contact with infected individuals, or consuming infected meat. Airborne transmission is currently considered unlikely unless confined within a vapor-heavy environment."
"That's the only good news so far," the Army Chief of Staff remarked. "Any countermeasures, Ms. Russell?"
"Yes. My U.S.F. forces retrieved samples and ready doses of the T-virus vaccine, inhibitors, and neutralizing agents. Many of the researchers with knowledge of this tech were successfully evacuated."
"Excellent," said the President, as approving expressions spread around the table. "Begin mass production of the T-virus vaccine. Advisor Russell, that mission falls to you."
"Understood."
Vela accepted. Of course she did. Politicians and generals feared for their lives. They needed vaccines for peace of mind.
The questions and answers bounced between groups. A basic plan to counter the T-virus was soon established.
"Now then," the President redirected, "what are your thoughts on Raccoon City itself?"
The virus spread had been temporarily halted, but Raccoon City remained a biological time bomb on U.S. soil. No one felt safe. Cleanup would be time-consuming and costly. And what if some fool snuck in for fun and walked back out carrying the virus?
Vela's Chernobyl-style lockdown suggestion had been rejected.
"Use incendiaries. Carpet bomb it. Like LeMay's firebombing campaigns. Burn Raccoon City to the ground. Incinerate every infected, every carrier. High heat should kill the virus, right?"
"Not suitable," Vela said. "The success of Tokyo firebombing depended on the fact that mid-20th century Tokyo was mostly wood. Raccoon City is modern concrete and steel. Firebombing won't be effective."
"What about dispersing the T-virus inhibitor into the atmosphere and inducing artificial rainfall over Raccoon?"
"Palliative, not a cure."
...
"I propose we use a nuclear bomb."
As the generals and defense officials offered their solutions, Simmons stood.
His statement dropped over the room like a mute switch. Silence fell.
Unflinching, Simmons leaned forward, hands on the table.
"Raccoon City's outbreak is beyond saving. To eliminate any possibility of further contamination, I propose total sterilization through a nuclear strike."
"Mr. President, we must stop the spread. The faster we resolve this, the lower the long-term risk."
The President's expression twisted with internal struggle.
No attack had ever struck mainland North America. Only Japan had ever been nuked. Now they were talking about nuking their own soil?
"I agree," said the Secretary of Defense, rising and surveying the room. "Unless anyone has a better plan, this is the safest course."
"Agreed."
"Agreed."
The generals followed in turn. Likely, they'd all been thinking the same thing. They had just needed someone to say it first.
"Ms. Russell," the President turned to Vela.
Wearing a heavy expression, Vela frowned slightly and slowly nodded. "From a safety and logistics standpoint, Mr. Simmons' proposal is the most secure. I agree."
"But..."
Simmons narrowed his eyes.
"We should first disperse T-virus inhibitors into the Raccoon City atmosphere. Follow that with a full incendiary bombardment."
Vela locked eyes with the generals.
"This is the world's first major biohazard incident. The entire globe is watching. We must show we tried every method. That will reduce backlash from the eventual nuclear decision. Militech is willing to do its part and provide incendiary munitions."
Seizing the moment.
You asked for this.
Militech would love to become the military's aerial ordnance supplier. Great time to clear out stock and push new lines. Want in?
The Air Force Chief of Staff caught on.
"Agreed."
The Army and Navy generals merely smiled. Let the Air Force get their bite first.
Simmons nodded at Vela in approval.
A very fine ally indeed.
"Then it's settled. Chief of Staff, draft the emergency nuclear strike resolution. Submit it to Congress."
The President pointed at the map of Raccoon City.
"Everyone out by the 28th. Operation Sterile Purge begins."
"Establish a Joint Task Command. Advisor Russell, you'll coordinate. The federal government will officially contract your private military forces. Get every surviving citizen out. Especially that Chris Redfield. I want to award him a medal."
He nodded to the room and left. Off to spar with Congress.
"Ms. Russell," the Army Chief said, sidling over as Vela and Simmons talked by the map. "Delta Force says your U.S.F. and its cutting-edge gear is... impressive. Interested in a future collaboration?"
"It would be Militech's honor, General."
Vela smiled, offering a hand.
"What you saw was just pre-release testing. The real buyer is standing right in front of me. I think we can skip 'future' and talk about 'now.'"
"Would you like to tour our D.C. exhibit center?"
Thirty minutes later, Vela exited the White House wearing a somber look of public concern.
Outside on the lawn, her security detail closed in. She kept walking briskly, eyes down, ignoring the stares of staff and press.
Click.
The car door shut. As the privacy glass rose, Vela rubbed her sore, frozen expression. Then she pulled out her secure satellite phone.
"Andreilov. Evidence recovery is complete. New mission parameters: evacuate all Raccoon City survivors. Work with the military and U.B.C.S. Document every rescue. Deadline: 6 PM, September 27, before the bombing."
"Broadcast citywide: the White House has authorized a nuclear sterilization strike on Raccoon City effective September 28."
Two days earlier than the original timeline. Thanks to her.
Her clean exit strategy was unfolding perfectly.
All relevant samples of the T-virus and Progenitor virus had already been shipped back to California.
Beep-beep.
She made another call.
"U.S.F. Tactical Units, Squads 2 and 3, mobilize."
"Squad 3, coordinate with military special forces. It's a live-fire exhibition. Showcase our tech. Squad 2, locate surviving U.S.S. operatives. Rescue, negotiate, extract. If they're breathing, I want them. Missing limbs? I'll replace them. If they resist? Wipe them out."