Chapter 125: A Convergence of Factions

December 25, 1998, Christmas.

Three hundred meters beneath Fort Meade, Maryland, USA, the top-secret biological research base codenamed "White Box" lacked even a hint of holiday spirit.

Pale fluorescent lights remained constantly lit 24 hours a day, and the scent of disinfectant permeated every inch of the walls. This was the core stronghold where the U.S. government received Umbrella Corporation's Raccoon City legacy.

Sherry sat on a plastic chair in a single-person Observation Room, looking around at everything uneasily.

Outside the glass wall, three researchers in full hazmat suits stared at jumping physiological data on screens, their pens recording something incessantly.

This was her third month under house arrest here. Her daily life consisted of blood draws, neurological reflex tests, and answering various questions about her experience with G-Virus infection—like a laboratory rat locked in a cage.

The door to the Observation Room was pushed open, and Annette walked in. Wearing a white lab coat, she looked much more haggard, her eyes bloodshot. The once paranoid and cold senior Umbrella researcher was now left with nothing but exhaustion.

In her hand, she held a crudely wrapped apple—a Christmas gift she had asked someone to secretly bring in.

"Mom." Sherry looked up, her eyes brightening for a moment before dimming again.

Annette sat opposite her, pressing the apple into her hand, her voice kept very low: "How much blood did they take today?"

"Three vials," Sherry said softly, taking a bite of the apple. "They also asked me if I felt something moving inside my body."

Annette's fist clenched suddenly. The condition for her being forced to work for the government was to ensure Sherry's safety.

But she knew clearly in her heart that these people didn't care about Sherry's life or death at all; all they wanted were the secrets of the G-Virus. If she didn't still have utility value, Sherry would have been sent to the dissection table long ago.

"Don't be afraid, Mom will protect you." Annette reached out to touch Sherry's hair, her eyes filled with guilt. "Just wait a bit longer, we'll be able to get out soon."

Just then, the sound of breaking glass came from the adjacent Observation Room. Annette's expression changed, and she stood up immediately: "It's Angela."

The two quickly walked next door to see Angela standing in the center of the room, a shattered water cup at her feet. There was no emotion in her blue eyes; she just stared fixedly at the researchers outside the glass wall. Those researchers backed away repeatedly in fear, their clipboards dropping to the floor.

Unlike Sherry, Angela's identity had always been a mystery. There were no records of her in the government's database. Her genetic sequence was highly similar to Chloe's, yet it contained unknown mutation fragments.

She never spoke on her own initiative and rarely had emotional fluctuations, but as soon as anyone tried to approach within three meters of her, she would become extremely aggressive.

What terrified the researchers even more was that she could interfere with electronic signals without touching any equipment, even causing surveillance devices to malfunction briefly.

"That's enough, Angela," Annette said softly.

Angela turned her head to look at Annette, the hostility in her eyes gradually dissipating. She silently walked to the corner, squatted down, and curled into a ball while hugging her knees.

Outside the glass wall, a man wearing a black suit and gold-rimmed glasses was watching this scene with interest. He was the U.S. National Security Advisor, Derek C. Simmons.

He had been observing Angela for a full month. This mysterious girl possessed potential even more terrifying than the G-Virus.

"Mr. Simmons." The base director walked to his side and said respectfully, "Dr. Annette still refuses to disclose Angela's origins."

"It doesn't matter." Simmons pushed up his glasses, a meaningful smile curling at the corner of his mouth. "Even if she doesn't say, I can find out. This girl is a perfect biological weapon, superior to any B.O.W. Perhaps I can consider becoming her legal guardian."

The director froze for a moment: "But, she doesn't have any identity information, and..."

"If she has no identity, I'll give her one." Simmons interrupted him, his tone brook no opposition. "From today on, Angela is my adopted daughter. Whoever dares to object, make them disappear."

Meanwhile, at the CIA Special Training Base in Black Rock, Virginia. Leon had just finished a day of combat training, coming off the training field drenched in sweat.

Months of closed-off training had stripped away the last trace of his youthfulness, making his gaze steadier and sharper.

His performance was impeccable; whether it was firearms, close-quarters combat, or intelligence analysis, he far exceeded his peers.

The CIA finally relaxed its close surveillance of him, allowing him limited access to the internal intelligence system.

Leon walked into the intelligence room, turned on the computer, and entered his authorization password. The first thing he searched for was news of Sherry and Angela. When he saw terms like "White Box Base," "Long-term Medical Observation," and "Research on Physiological Effects of Viruses," his fist slammed onto the desk.

He had long expected the government wouldn't easily let these two children go, but he hadn't expected them to be so excessive. So-called medical observation was nothing but another form of human experimentation.

But he could do nothing now. He was just a rookie agent in the CIA with no power, even needing to apply in advance just to leave the base.

If he dared to act rashly, the CIA would immediately revoke the protection for Sherry and Angela and hand them over to the Department of Defense's biological weapons research division.

Leon took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. He knew that only by becoming stronger and gaining more power could he truly protect those he wanted to protect.

He casually clicked on an encrypted briefing from the European branch titled "Monitoring of Umbrella Hostile Faction Activities." Attached to the briefing was a blurry surveillance screenshot taken at Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport. The photo showed a short-haired woman in a red trench coat; her silhouette was slender, yet carried a sharp aura.

Leon's pupils contracted sharply.

He was all too familiar with this silhouette.

On the third underground level of the NEST, at the moment the elevator platform broke, that woman had resolutely broken free of his hand and fallen into the abyss.

But later, when the Tyrant was about to kill him, the quadruple rocket launcher dropped from the ventilation duct and that cold sentence, "Now we're even," had been haunting his mind.

He had always been unwilling to believe Ada was dead. Now, this screenshot confirmed his suspicion.

Ada Wong was still alive.

Leon stared at the photo for a long time, his fingers gently brushing over the red figure on the screen. He didn't know what Ada was doing now, nor why she had appeared in Europe. But he had a premonition that they would meet again soon.

In the early hours of December 27, an unmarked military transport plane landed at Rockfort Island Airport. The hatch opened, and two fully armed soldiers escorted Claire down. The cold sea breeze, mixed with a salty, fishy smell, blew her hair into a mess.

To hide their tracks, the plane transporting her had passed through five countries and flown for three full days.

During these three days, she had been locked in a small cargo hold without water or food, with only endless darkness and cold. But she hadn't given up; she was constantly looking for a chance to escape and worrying about her brother Chris's safety.

"Move it!" a soldier pushed Claire impatiently. "Don't dawdle!"

Claire stumbled, regained her footing, and turned to look coldly at the soldier. There was no fear in her eyes, only stubbornness and anger.

The soldier felt uneasy under her gaze and, becoming angry from embarrassment, raised his rifle butt and slammed it hard against the back of her head.

Thud!

Claire's vision went black as she lost consciousness, falling heavily onto the cold concrete ground.

"Drag her to the cell," the soldier spat, speaking to his companion.

The two dragged Claire by her ankles like a dead dog toward the island's prison building.

High above the South Pacific, several stealth bombers painted with the H.C.F. logo were weaving through the clouds. Inside the cabin, Wesker stood by the porthole, looking down at the churning black seawater.

He was still in his black tactical suit, his blond hair combed meticulously, and he still wore those signature sunglasses on his face, hiding his cold golden pupils.

Since faking his death and defecting from the Arklay Research Facility, he had joined H.C.F. Relying on his knowledge of Umbrella and his powerful personal abilities, he quickly became a core combat asset for H.C.F.

This time, the mission he received was to seize the t-veronica virus on Rockfort Island.

"Commander Wesker." A team member walked to his side and said respectfully, "We have entered Rockfort Island airspace and are expected to arrive over the target in ten minutes."

Wesker nodded, turned around, and looked at the special forces behind him, ready for action. These members were elites selected by H.C.F. from all over the world, equipped with the most advanced individual combat weapons.

"Mission objective: Destroy all ground defense facilities on Rockfort Island, control the virus laboratory on the island, and bring back a complete t-veronica virus sample." Wesker's voice was cold and devoid of emotion. "Kill anyone unrelated without exception."

"Understood!" the team members responded in unison.

Wesker looked out the window again, a mocking smile curling on his lips. That neurotic madman Alfred Ashford didn't deserve to possess such a powerful virus at all. The t-veronica virus could only realize its true value in his hands.

On the evening of December 27, the sky over the South Pacific was as gloomy as a water-soaked black cloth.

The transport ship aminaia slowly entered the Rockfort Island port, its massive hull cutting through the seawater, leaving a white wake.

Deep inside the ventilation ducts of the cargo hold, Jill and Chloe had already donned full diving gear. Their waterproof backpacks were filled with weapons, ammunition, and first-aid kits.

"Are you ready?" Jill asked in a low voice, reaching out to help Chloe adjust the straps of her oxygen tank.

Chloe nodded. She closed her eyes, and her perception instantly spread out. The life signals on the island were chaotic: there were soldiers, prisoners, and... an extremely cold, extremely familiar viral aura, sharing the same origin as the Progenitor Virus aura she had felt at the Arklay Research Facility, yet even more violent and eerie.

"There's a very strong viral signal on the island." Chloe opened her eyes, her expression solemn. "There are also many armed personnel; the defense is tighter than we imagined."

"It's okay." Jill patted her shoulder. "We'll circle underwater to the cliff behind the prison to land; surveillance is minimal there."

The two quietly crawled to the edge of the ship's rail, glancing at the crew and security personnel unloading cargo on the pier. After confirming no one had noticed them, Jill gave Chloe the "submerge" signal.

Just then, a piercing roar of engines suddenly came from the clouds.

The two looked up simultaneously to see several black stealth bombers breaking through the clouds, appearing over Rockfort Island. The bomb bays opened, and countless aerial bombs fell like raindrops.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

Violent explosions sounded one after another, and flames soared into the sky. Before the anti-aircraft guns on the island could even fire, they were destroyed by the bombs. Containers on the pier were blown to pieces, and fuel leaks triggered a massive fire, turning the entire port into a sea of flames in an instant.

"It's a raid!" Jill's face changed drastically as she grabbed Chloe. "Get in the water, fast!"

The H.C.F. bombing formation led by Wesker arrived over Rockfort Island right on time.

Bombs fell on the roof of the prison building, sending concrete fragments and rebar flying everywhere.

The unconscious Claire was startled awake by the explosions. She sat up abruptly, looking at the scene of wreckage before her, her eyes filled with shock.

Out on the sea, Jill and Chloe leaped into the cold seawater. The massive shockwaves whipped up towering waves on the surface, slamming them deep into the ocean.

The peace of Rockfort Island was completely shattered. This storm, stirred up by multiple factions, finally officially began on this isolated island.