When Wesker saw the Ultimate Ouroboros Morpheus being pounded by naval guns and missiles, it felt like staring at his own future—fanatical, stubborn, and finally obliterated by modern firepower.
The sight sent a chill down the arrogant Wesker's spine; it was indeed the fate meant for him, only the script had changed. The cuckolded William took that bullet for him and died in his place.
"Form Blue Umbrella?" Simmons seemed to catch the drift and suddenly chuckled.
"Set up the Blue Umbrella Corporation as mercenaries, supervised by the Western Federation and the international community. Use high-tech and minimal cost to wipe out bio-weapons—you can't keep 'cleansing' every outbreak with missiles."
"If every terror group followed suit, the world would descend into chaos. How many cities can you sterilize before the regions panic?" Wesker expounded his theory.
Every family member fell silent; maintaining the Western Federation's global status meant more funds for the immortality project.
With the Federation's prestige and hegemony, money was practically free for the taking.
"I'm in." The real-estate tycoon voted first—at eighty, returning to his prime was his only wish, and time was running out.
The second vote stunned everyone: Simmons. "I agree as well."
Even Kaplan shot him a surprised glance.
Simmons sneered, "Don't treat me like some brain-dead fool. If it profits the family, personal spats are trivial—hardly shocking."
The motion passed swiftly: re-establish Blue Umbrella, a company born from Umbrella's disgrace, vowing to eradicate every bio-weapon—perfect leverage against the BSAA or for global clout.
Kaplan cleared his throat. "Next target: Eddie Cai. He holds the virus-enhancement method; to realize the immortality plan, we must make him hand it over."
Simmons scoffed, "You and Eddie were old partners—how do I know you won't collude?"
Kaplan snorted. "You only need to know my loyalty to the family; the rest isn't your concern."
"He sent his wife to Eddie's bed, got her pregnant, and even raised the kid. I think every man here gets that grudge—no male ego could stomach it." Wesker's shades hid a gleeful smirk.
The room fell silent. Such things weren't rare—power games weren't exclusive to men—but pregnancy took it beyond a mere 'forgiveness cap', and Kaplan had brought it on himself.
Simmons eyed his old rival with something close to sympathy, a sense of shared misery.
On Goddess Island, Eddie lounged with his family until his phone buzzed. "Speaking—what's up?"
"Kaplan and Simmons have joined forces to take you down," a male voice said.
"Got it. While you're at it, dig up everything on a South-American drug lord, Glenn Arias—payment's guaranteed and I want full intel."
"Understood." The caller was David, a spy who'd escaped Raccoon City and now worked for a shadowy outfit—reliable, no downsides so far.
Hanging up, Eddie smirked coldly. Once he, General Morgan, and Kaplan had been an iron triangle; now Morgan was ruined and vanished, while Kaplan had flipped for his family.
Tapping the table in rhythm, Eddie puffed on a cigarette, lost in thought.
Alex strolled over in a bikini, sat smiling. "Honey, what's on your mind?"
Eddie filled her in; compared with Alexia, Alex understood these power plays far better.
Alex lit a cigarette. "Better bring Christine and Excella in—both are sharp and will give solid advice."
Moments later, a woman in white and another in grey arrived—Christine and Excella.
After hearing the news, the two exchanged glances and burst into laughter.
Eddie snapped, "What are you two laughing at?"
Excella said with a smile, "Haha, my dear husband, you're a real bastard. It's almost funny that Kaplan could put up with something so awful."
Christine nodded. "I always thought something was off—turns out you're a genuine villain. Hehe, but I like your brand of bad."
The three women were off on a tangent, chatting endlessly about how awful Eddie was, as if they'd forgotten the point of the conversation.
Eddie had to cut in. "Ahem. Sounds like you don't know my true power. Time I showed you what real fear means!"
Excella smiled sweetly. "We've considered that. There's a flawed path: it can boost the body for a while, but it burns through life. Hit the threshold and you're left paralyzed—yet still able to speak."
Eddie's eyes lit up. "Perfect for setting a trap for them? Heh, I like it."
"Not just the Western Federation—almost every family would be interested, including the Gionne and Travis Families. But, darling, could you help my Grandmother? She's been so good to me; I don't want her to die."
"Are you sure? The elderly don't usually handle viral enhancement well."
Excella produced a photo: an elegant, well-preserved woman who looked barely forty. "That's my Grandmother—she's not old at all. She's clever and kind. Without her, I wouldn't be where I am today. I want to repay her."
Chapter 550: Carla's Official Arrival
Excella rolled her eyes. "After Grandmother married, her business talent and her status as a Travis direct descendant earned her a seat on the family council. My father couldn't qualify—impure bloodline. Even I don't qualify, all because of this ridiculous pedigree rule."
Great clans have great-clan troubles; ordinary folk have ordinary struggles. Everyone has their own hardships.
"Fine, I agree. If you weren't my wife, I wouldn't even consider it. Hah—guess that's a husband's duty: looking after his wife."
"Thank you, darling, but Grandmother won't give in easily. I'll make a plan—she's fiercely loyal to the family. To save her, we have to guarantee she won't leak our intel."
Half a month later, after a string of major-city terror attacks, every urban area worldwide became tightly guarded; even boarding a flight meant heavy screening.
If anyone could release a virus on a whim, how could society function?
Excella and Christine vacationed on Goddess Island, helping Alex develop the second-generation virus.
Two millennia of lifespan wasn't enough—they needed more. Idle hands made for idle minds; better to stay busy.
Day-to-day operations had been handed over to their Daughters; Christine and the others occasionally stepped in to teach the girls how to navigate people and politics.
As for Mom, she was off on holiday—after all that work, she finally had some couple-time with her husband.
Eddie continued studying the Plaga parasite; the Africa trip had turned up no trace of the Type-3 Plaga.
Apparently Tricell hadn't produced it yet, and Anruka hadn't contacted Eddie—likely tied up in internal strife with no free time.
Simmons kept inviting Eddie to an experimental conference, only to be stood up again and again.
They extracted unique compounds from the Plaga—similar to the parasites once used to boost the Tyrant's intellect.
Introduce these during cancer-cell division and the subject retains full awareness, preventing intelligence loss from endless division.
Otherwise, each division shaves off a sliver of IQ; after enough cycles, the cell forgets how to divide at all—its own demise.
Eddie stood at the Lab Window, studying a cloned Tyrant bred solely for experimentation.
Implanted with Mutated Cancer Cells, the body showed no pathology; rapid division hadn't caused skin necrosis or slippage—the form remained intact.
"Success?" Annette asked, stepping closer in her heels, a gleam of excitement in her eyes.