Capítulo 18: Chapter 18: The Briefing Room
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𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘦𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘺, 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦.
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Ethan's eyes darted across the room, absorbing every detail. He sat at the long, rectangular table, the metal cold under his forearms as he leaned forward. The silence was thick, broken only by the distant hum of the building's ventilation system. Fluorescent lights above cast a harsh, clinical glare that washed out the color from everything, making the world seem as lifeless as the people who ran it.
Umbrella Corporation's briefing room was as sterile as its intent—pristine, efficient, and utterly devoid of warmth. The walls, sleek silver panels, reflected the light in sharp angles, creating a suffocating atmosphere. The faint antiseptic smell lingered, a reminder of the clinical horrors that birthed this corporation's darker ambitions.
Seated at the head of the table, Dr. Albert Wesker exuded authority. His blonde hair, slicked back with military precision, and his ever-present sunglasses gave him an inhuman aura. His sharp, angular features were set in an expression of cold detachment as if the details of the mission were beneath him. He didn't bother to look at the others, his attention solely on the tablet before him.
Ethan's onyx-black eyes moved to the tablet in front of him, which flickered to life as Wesker tapped a command on his own device. The screen filled with data—schematics of the Hive, a sprawling underground facility designed for horrors beyond imagination. The mission was clear: retrieve the data on the T-virus, and nothing else. Yet, despite the overload of information, the key details felt missing, like pieces deliberately withheld.
"Your objective is to retrieve the data. The rest is irrelevant," Wesker's voice was sharp, slicing through the room like a scalpel. It was a voice accustomed to giving orders, and more importantly, to being obeyed without question.
Ethan's expression remained unreadable, his face a mask of stoic determination. He didn't respond, simply nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly as he scanned the schematics. Every nerve in his body was screaming at him—this mission was a trap, or at the very least, much more dangerous than they were letting on.
Dr. Lisa Addison, sitting to Wesker's left, shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Her short brown hair framed a face marked by guilt, her soft, empathetic brown eyes refusing to meet Ethan's gaze. She tapped on her own tablet, bringing up a different set of data.
"There are… unexpected variables in the Hive," she began, her voice softer, tinged with a guilt she couldn't quite hide. "We've detected mutations in the T-virus. The data you retrieve will be critical in understanding these changes. We need to proceed with extreme caution."
Ethan's eyes flicked to her, taking in the subtle tension in her posture, the way her hands trembled slightly as she tapped through the screens. She was afraid—of the mission, of the consequences, of something she wasn't saying. But he knew better than to press for details now; the real information was rarely given in these briefings.
Colonel Victor Reynolds, the military consultant, leaned forward, his voice a stark contrast to Lisa's. Gruff and authoritative, he cut through the tension with military precision. His gray hair and steely gray eyes matched the severity of his tone, a man who had seen too much and lost more than he cared to admit.
"You follow the plan, Drake," he barked, his words clipped. "No deviations. This isn't a game. We don't need heroes, just results."
Ethan nodded again, his gaze drifting back to the schematics. No deviations—another way of saying he was on his own once things went south, which they inevitably would. The lack of detail in their warnings was all he needed to confirm his suspicions. This mission was anything but straightforward, and the consequences of failure would be far-reaching, for both Umbrella and the world outside.
Dr. Emily Graves, the youngest of the group, sat opposite Ethan, her green eyes wide with a mixture of fear and excitement. She was new to Umbrella, her idealism not yet crushed by the weight of what they did here. She fiddled with her glasses, pushing them up the bridge of her nose as she brought up a detailed report on the T-virus.
"The T-virus has evolved," she began, her voice filled with a nervous energy that contrasted sharply with the cold detachment of the others. "There could be mutations… we need more data to understand the full scope of what we're dealing with. The creatures you encounter may be… unlike anything you've seen before."
Her words hung in the air, a quiet terror that she tried to mask with technical jargon. Ethan didn't miss the slight quiver in her voice, the way her fingers tightened around her tablet as she spoke. She wasn't just nervous; she was scared. And that fear was contagious, spreading through the room like a virus.
Ethan's thoughts turned inward. Mutations. Creatures unlike anything he'd seen before. The Hive was already a death trap, filled with monsters created by Umbrella's hubris. Now, they were sending him into the lion's den with even more unknowns, more dangers, and less information. It was a suicide mission dressed up as a retrieval operation.
But that was his life now—a series of impossible missions, each one more dangerous than the last. And every time, he returned, battered but alive, a living weapon sharpened by every fight, every kill.
Special Agent Leon S. Kennedy, the last to speak, finally broke his silence. His voice was steady, carrying the weight of experience and a hint of something Ethan couldn't quite place—concern, maybe, or warning. Leon was no stranger to Umbrella's dark side, and he'd seen more than his fair share of their experiments gone wrong.
"Stay sharp, Ethan," Leon said, his blue eyes locking onto Ethan's with a seriousness that cut through the room's tension. "There's more going on here than they're letting on. Trust your instincts."
Ethan met Leon's gaze, a silent understanding passing between them. Leon wasn't just warning him about the mission; he was warning him about Umbrella itself. Trust your instincts—a phrase that could mean the difference between life and death in the field.
The briefing wrapped up quickly after that, each member of the team returning to their own tasks, their own concerns. The cold efficiency of the room felt even more oppressive as the team dispersed, leaving Ethan alone with his thoughts. He didn't need to be told twice; he knew the stakes, the dangers, and the lies.
Wesker lingered a moment longer, his unreadable gaze hidden behind those dark sunglasses. He offered Ethan a curt nod, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken animosity between them. There were no threats, no warnings—just the cold understanding that Ethan would do what he was told, or he wouldn't come back at all.
As the door slid shut behind Wesker, Ethan leaned back in his chair, his muscles coiled with tension. He reached for the dossier in front of him, flipping through the pages filled with sanitized information, half-truths, and glaring omissions. His fingers brushed against something unusual—a small, handwritten note tucked between the pages.
He pulled it free, his eyes narrowing as he read the hastily scrawled words:
𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦.
The ink was smudged, the handwriting unfamiliar. But the message was clear. Someone, somewhere, had taken a risk to get this to him. A warning, a lifeline, or a death sentence—it was impossible to tell.
Ethan's jaw tightened as he pocketed the note, the cold determination in his eyes hardening. He was no stranger to betrayal, no stranger to the games people played in this world of shadows and lies. But this time, the stakes were higher. This time, the cost of failure was more than just his life.
He stood, the sterile lights reflecting off the metal surfaces around him, casting his shadow long and distorted against the walls. The mission ahead was a labyrinth of dangers, and he would need every ounce of his skill, every instinct honed by years of bloodshed, to survive.
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𝘈𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘏𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯:
𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨.
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Vivid_Horizons "If you enjoyed this story, please add it to your library. If not, thank you for reading! Your comments and suggestions for future changes are welcome!"
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