At the White House.
The atmosphere was complete chaos. The hallways, usually silent and controlled, were filled with hurried footsteps, tense murmurs, and doors opening and closing with urgency. In one of the main offices, the President stood beside his desk, the phone pressed to his ear, one hand braced firmly against the polished wooden surface, his knuckles white from the pressure.
"Fury, I need your help," the President said, his voice firm but carrying a tension he couldn't hide.
On the other end of the line, the response was immediate.
"What do you need?" Fury replied, direct and to the point.
The President closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and spoke quickly, as if afraid of losing precious time.
"Send me your best geneticist as fast as possible. None of the people I've called know what to do with a destroyed parasite that somehow, even without a mind, is still alive and has integrated itself into the genes of my daughter and the son of a friend," the President said, clenching his jaw as he spoke.
There was a brief silence on the line. Only a few seconds, but they felt eternal. The President opened his eyes and stared into the distance, waiting.
"He'll be there in 30 minutes," Fury finally said, his serious tone making it clear he understood the gravity of the situation.
The President hung up with a sharp motion and lifted his gaze toward one of the interior windows. Through the glass, a medical room inside the White House was visible. Inside, Leon and Ashley were writhing on their beds, their bodies shaken by violent, uncontrollable spasms. Their muscles contracted unnaturally, arching their backs and tensing their limbs.
The monitors beeped incessantly, displaying erratic readings. Doctors moved from one side to the other like headless chickens, checking instruments, exchanging nervous words, adjusting doses, and starting over again, unable to find a real solution.
Beside the President stood a tall, heavily built man, his muscular frame evident even beneath his clothing. He had short brown hair, hard features, and a strong jaw now tightened with frustration. He was the President's personal bodyguard, Chris Redfield. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, his gaze fixed on the scene beyond the glass.
"Damn it, I should've gone on that mission. We wouldn't be on the verge of losing your daughter and such a talented young man if I had," Chris Redfield said, grinding his teeth, clearly angry with himself.
The President slowly shook his head and turned toward him.
"Don't keep insisting on that. It would've been the same. You may be stronger than Leon, but he was close to defeating you when he left," the President said, trying to remain calm.
Chris lowered his gaze for a second, his fists clenched.
"At least it would be me in that bed and not him," Chris Redfield said, his voice heavy with guilt.
After Raccoon City, Chris had gone to Europe to look for evidence against Umbrella. For months he moved through contacts, hidden files, and dangerous zones. Although he found proof, it didn't matter how much he gathered: the United States did nothing against Umbrella.
Some time later, he learned that after the Raccoon City incident, many powerful people had taken an interest in Umbrella, protecting it from the shadows and making it nearly impossible to destroy without real political power.
Chris Redfield was contacted later, while surviving multiple assassination attempts by Umbrella and its sympathizers. The President was interested in recruiting him for a secret team he was forming for missions against Umbrella. He knew the STARS were a group made up mostly of prodigies in close combat and armed combat. He had seen several classified videos of them fighting monsters that no normal human should have been able to defeat.
This new President seemed to be deeply loved by the people. He wasn't corrupt or anything like that; he genuinely wanted what was best for the country. That was why one of his main objectives was to eliminate the problem that Umbrella and its leader, Wesker, represented.
Umbrella had completely covered up its responsibility for what happened in Raccoon City and, even so, was still viewed favorably by the general public.
The President had gathered the surviving former members of STARS from Raccoon City, along with another Raccoon City survivor he considered an absolute genius. Chris, seeing no other way to fight Umbrella, accepted. Over time, he learned that the President wasn't lying.
When his sister joined a few months later, convinced by the President himself that this was the best way to end Umbrella, Chris accepted the role of the President's bodyguard, while the others went on missions to disrupt Umbrella's plans whenever possible. Chris also participated in some missions when he could, but most of the time he stayed behind protecting the President, who was his greatest hope for finally ending Umbrella.
And he didn't regret being his bodyguard. Assassination attempts against the President were constant, carried out by unknown organizations. For that reason, Chris couldn't allow himself to stray too far, though at times he switched positions with Leon when necessary.
As Chris recalled everything that had happened, the door opened softly. A Caucasian man of average build, brown hair, and a serious appearance entered the room. He walked with a firm step, quickly scanning the surroundings as if evaluating everything.
"Mr. President, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Richard Parker," Richard Parker said as he extended his hand confidently.
The President turned, looked him straight in the eyes, and shook his hand firmly.
"The pleasure is mine, Mr. Parker. I hope you can solve this problem we have. The life of my daughter and one of my agents is in danger," the President said, his tone grave and sincere.
Richard nodded slowly, his expression focused.
"Leave it to me. I'll make sure to save them," Richard Parker said, his voice firm and reassuring.
With that, the President nodded and allowed him to enter the medical room. As soon as he stepped inside, all the professionals turned toward him and almost immediately placed themselves at his disposal, clinging to any hope of saving Leon and Ashley.
The first thing that caught his attention wasn't the spasms, alarming as they already were, but the monitors. Irregular rhythms, erratic electrical spikes, genetic patterns projected on screens that simply should not exist in a human organism.
He walked slowly, in silence, observing Leon and Ashley from different angles. Their bodies arched intermittently, muscles contracting as if something inside them were testing limits it didn't yet understand.
"Turn off that sedative," he suddenly said, his voice firm. "It's making things worse."
"What? If we don't, they'll go into shock!" one of the doctors protested.
Richard didn't raise his voice. "They're already in shock. It's just not neurological—it's genetic."
That was enough to plunge the room into silence.
He approached one of the screens and began scrolling through images: cellular scans, enlarged DNA sequences, structures that seemed to grow and reorganize in real time.
"The parasite has its brain destroyed," he began to explain. "Which would normally imply functional death. But here something much worse happened… or more interesting, depending on how you look at it." He pointed to the image.
"The organism lost its control center, so it did the only thing it could to survive: it fused. Not at a tissue level… but at a genetic one. It's no longer 'inside' them. It's rewriting them."
One of the doctors swallowed hard.
"So… it can't be extracted anymore?"
Richard slowly shook his head. "No. If you try, they'll die. The parasite is already part of their active DNA. Every new cell they generate includes it."
He turned toward the President, who was watching from the other side of the glass. "Sir, what your daughter and Agent Kennedy have is not an infection. It's a forced coexistence."
He looked back at the patients.
"The absence of a parasitic brain caused a phenomenon of cellular autonomy. Each fragment of the organism is trying to survive on its own, sending contradictory impulses. That's why the spasms, the loss of motor control, the extreme pain." He paused. "It can't be cured."
The word fell like a slab of concrete.
"Then…?" one of the doctors asked.
"It can be stabilized," he replied. "But that means accepting an uncomfortable truth."
Richard took a deep breath before continuing.
"The only way to stop the chaos is to create a new control center. Not eliminate the parasite… but dominate it."
He lifted his gaze, aware that what he was about to say would change many things. "I have a serum. Incomplete. Experimental. It's never been tested on humans under these conditions."
Chris frowned. "What does it do?"
Richard took a moment.
"It's designed to enhance genetic adaptation, increase cellular coherence, and allow a human organism to withstand impossible changes without collapsing. It improves communication between cells, reinforces the nervous system, and…" he looked again at Leon and Ashley "…it could allow their minds to become the new brain of the parasite."
A heavy silence filled the room.
"What are the odds?" the President asked.
Richard was honest.
"Survival: moderate."
"Total control: uncertain."
"Developing abilities beyond what's human: high."
"And if it isn't applied?" someone asked quietly.
Richard didn't hesitate. "In less than 24 hours, their bodies will collapse. The parasite will remain alive… but they won't." He looked directly at the President. "With the serum, there's a chance they won't just survive… but take control of what's trying to consume them." He lowered his voice. "I can't promise they'll come out the same. But I can promise that without this… they won't come out alive."
The monitors began to beep loudly again. Leon arched violently; Ashley screamed in pain.
Richard was already putting on gloves. "Decide quickly. Because evolution has already begun… with or without us," Richard Parker said seriously.
The President held his gaze for a few seconds that felt eternal.
"Are you saying this is the only option?" he finally asked, his voice tight.
"Yes, sir," Richard replied without hesitation. "It's not a cure—it's a control intervention. Without it, there's no real chance they'll survive."
Chris stepped forward. "Then do it. What are you waiting for?"
Richard slowly shook his head. "I didn't bring the serum with me."
The tension in the room spiked instantly.
"What do you mean you didn't bring it?" one of the doctors asked, incredulous.
Richard turned slightly toward them. "When Fury called me, I didn't have complete information. I was told about a parasite without an active brain, but not about such advanced genetic integration. Bringing that serum without confirming the scenario would have been irresponsible."
The President frowned. "Where is it?"
"In my personal lab," Richard replied. "Sealed. Isolated. Off any network."
Chris watched him closely. "Why sealed?"
Richard exhaled slowly, as if he didn't like revisiting the memory. "Because years ago they tried to kill me to get it."
The room fell silent.
"It was during an aerial transfer," he continued. "An 'accident,' on the surface. A security failure. In reality, a direct assassination attempt mid-flight. They wanted the serum… or they wanted me gone."
He looked again at Leon and Ashley, whose monitors were still showing dangerous spikes. "After that, I shut the project down. Sealed everything. I decided the world wasn't ready for something like this."
The President clenched his fists. "But now it is."
Richard nodded slowly. "Now it's necessary."
A heavy silence followed, broken only by the sound of medical equipment.
"How long will it take to bring it?" the President asked.
"If I leave right now, less than an hour," Richard replied. "But I need full authorization. Protection. And no interference when I return. Once the serum is administered… there's no turning back."
The President didn't hesitate. "You have my permission. All the support you need. Do whatever you have to do to save them."
Richard inclined his head slightly. "Then I'll go get it."
Before leaving, he paused and looked at the doctors. "Keep them stable. Don't increase sedatives. Don't try anything invasive."
Chris nodded seriously. "Come back fast."
Richard headed for the exit with a firm stride. As the doors closed behind him, the monitors flared again, as if Leon and Ashley's bodies were marking time.
Richard returned to the medical room with a determined step, a small metallic cooler secured at his side. Two Secret Service agents escorted him but stopped at the door. The atmosphere inside was even more tense than before; the monitors sounded irregularly, and Leon and Ashley's spasms had grown more violent.
The President was already waiting.
"Do you have it?" he asked, without preamble.
Richard nodded once.
He wasted no time. He entered the medical room and placed the cooler on a sterilized table. He entered one code, then another. The system emitted a soft hydraulic sound and opened. Inside were two thick glass ampoules containing a dark amber liquid that seemed to move slowly, as if it had its own density.
Some of the doctors unconsciously stepped back.
"This isn't a conventional drug," Richard explained as he prepared a specialized syringe. "It's a genetic catalyst. It doesn't force change… it organizes it."
He approached Leon first. The agent's body arched violently, his muscles tensing to the limit.
"Hold him," Richard ordered.
Three people barely managed to keep him still.
Richard inserted the needle directly into a vein in Leon's neck.
"Phase one initiated," he said quietly, more to himself than to anyone else.
He pressed the plunger.
The effect was immediate.
Leon screamed, but it wasn't just pain: the monitors exploded with chaotic readings. His heart rate skyrocketed, then plunged, then stabilized into an entirely new pattern. The convulsions stopped abruptly… and for one terrifying second, his body went completely still.
"Pulse dropping!" a doctor shouted.
Richard didn't look away.
"Do not intervene."
The DNA projected on the screen began to reorganize. The sequences that had been chaotic now aligned, as if something were making decisions.
Leon inhaled sharply.
His eyes snapped open.
Then it was Ashley's turn.
She was crying weakly, her body trembling uncontrollably. Richard moved quickly, repeating the procedure.
"Breathe," he told her calmly. "Don't fight it."
The injection went in.
Ashley screamed… and then her voice cut off abruptly. A chill ran through the room as her body temperature dropped suddenly, then rose again in a controlled manner. The spasms ceased one by one.
The silence was absolute.
The monitors now displayed stable rhythms.
Richard stepped back, breathing properly for the first time since he'd begun.
"Initial phase complete," he said, his voice tired. "Now comes the hard part."
The President slowly approached the glass, looking at Leon and Ashley, who were breathing normally. "Did they survive?" he asked.
Richard nodded.
"Yes. But this is no longer just survival. From now on… the parasite will respond to them. Not the other way around. And they'll most likely receive some enhancements from my serum."
He looked at his own hands, still trembling slightly.
"If they wake up conscious… it'll mean they achieved something that should never have been possible."
The monitors emitted a soft beep.
Leon moved his fingers.
Ashley frowned, as if dreaming.
Richard raised his gaze, serious.
"Now all that's left is to wait… for them to wake up." He looked at Leon and Ashley asleep in their beds. "Which will probably take a few weeks, until the changes fully settle."