Location: Secure Underground Laboratory, San Antonio, Texas
Date: July 25, 2017
Time: 03:00 Hours
The laboratory was silent, broken only by the steady hum of server banks and the air filtration systems.
This wasn't the makeshift workshop under the ranch. This was San Antonio, Alen's original stronghold, protected by Bio-Safety Level 4 (BSL-4) containment measures. It was the only facility capable of containing the nightmare he was currently studying.
Alen Wesker slumped over a stainless steel workstation, his head resting on his folded arms. He was asleep, though not peacefully. He wore a heavy hazard suit, stripped to the waist, with the helmet beside him. Around him, sealed in reinforced glass vacuum chambers, were samples of a thick, black substance that defied biological norms.
The Mold.
He had been isolated here for two weeks, away from the ranch, Master Shi, and Isabella. He had claimed it was for quarantine. The truth was, he felt like he was losing his mind.
Alen was a virologist. He understood the beauty of a virus—a protein shell searching for a host to replicate. It was mathematical and predictable.
But this? This was fungal. It was ancient, chaotic, and interconnected. It didn't just infect, it communicated.
"Good morning, Master Alen."
The voice was soft, warm, and filled with a maternal touch, contrasting sharply with the sterile room.
Alen groaned and lifted his head. His eyes were red and lined with dark circles. He looked at the holographic emitter in the center of the room.
The Red Queen was gone, replaced by Ronda.
Although still a digital avatar, the cold and commanding child in the red dress had transformed. Ronda now resembled the only warmth he had known in his youth—his adoptive mother, Jessica Richard. She wore a simple lab coat, her expression attentive and gentle.
"You have been asleep for four hours," Ronda said, her tone laced with concern. "Your cortisol levels are dangerously high. I have finished scanning the samples from the Dulvey site."
Alen rubbed his face, feeling the stubble. "Give me the bad news, Ronda."
Ronda gestured, and a holographic double-helix—black and twisted—appeared in the air.
"Subject: E-001. Codenamed 'Eveline'. A genetically modified human created as part of the next generation of bioweapons research by the group known as 'The Connections'."
Alen stared at the data. "Designed to eliminate enemies without combat."
"Correct," Ronda continued. "By merging an unusual bacterium with a Mutamycete fungus into her genome at the embryonic stage, she gains the ability to mentally dominate anyone infected with her mold. A hive mind. She is unique—the first E-Type bioweapon."
"And she was obsessed with family," Alen muttered as he picked up a tablet. "A lonely god seeking followers."
"The Mold itself is much older," Ronda explained, bringing up a map of Eastern Europe. "It is a fungal super-colony, likely originating from a mountain range in Eastern Europe. The Connections acquired samples in the 1990s. There are six known variants, but E-Type is the apex."
Alen stood and paced the small room. He glanced at the black sludge in the vial. It seemed to pulse, reacting to his movements.
"The Connections," he spat. "Eastern Europe. H.C.F. It all leads back to the vacuum left by Wesker and Spencer. But this…" He slammed his hand on the table, rattling the equipment.
"This is madness, Ronda! I am a virologist! I work with RNA and protein spikes! This is mycology on steroids! It's a hive mind. It's hallucinogenic. I'm out of my league."
"Master, please calm down," Ronda urged, her avatar moving closer to the glass. "Your heart rate is rising. Desperation clouds judgment."
"I am desperate!" Alen yelled, his voice breaking. "I can't synthesize it. I can't predict it. Umbrella used viruses to ruin the world. The Connections are using fungus to enslave it. It's chaotic. It's unstable."
He leaned against the console, breathing heavily. "And I think… I think I've been exposed."
Ronda paused. "My sensors detect no active infection in your bloodstream. Your Wesker-variant antibodies are destroying the spores upon entry."
"Physically, maybe," Alen said, tapping his temple. "But mentally? I hear it, Ronda. The humming. The little girl laughing. I see things out of the corner of my eye. I'm immune to the transformation, but the psychic residue is getting through."
This was why he hadn't gone home. He feared he was a carrier, a walking signal for a dead girl.
"I need a weapon," Alen said, his voice lowering to a growl. "I need a way to kill this stuff that doesn't involve burning down a house."
"You mean a necrotoxin?"
"Better. A delivery system." Alen pulled up a blueprint he had been sketching. "I want to make an anti-mycotic serum—something aggressive. And I want to put it in a bullet. A hollow-point, fragile-shell round. You shoot an infected person, the round shatters, the serum enters the bloodstream. Immediate calcification. They turn to dust. No fire, no wasted ammo."
"Theoretically possible," Ronda calculated. "It would require an enzyme similar to the E-Necrotoxin used by Ethan Winters but stabilized for ballistic impact."
"Start the simulations," Alen ordered. "I'm going to burn The Connections to the ground. I'll find their main lab, track down the head of this operation, and ask why my biological mother, Alex Wesker, was interested in this filth."
"Alex Wesker?"
"Natalia Korda," Alen said darkly. "Alex transferred her consciousness into that girl. And Natalia has been seen near fungal outbreaks. It's connected, Ronda. They're trying to recreate Eveline or something worse."
He walked to the reflective glass of the containment unit and looked at himself. He saw his slicked-back blonde hair and sharp features. He looked like him. He looked like Albert Wesker.
For the first time in months, he felt a wave of disgust.
"I can't do this anymore," Alen whispered. "I can't wear his face while I hunt his legacy. It attracts too much attention. If The Connections see a Wesker coming, they'll go underground."
"You wish to change your appearance?"
"I wish to disappear," Alen replied. "I need to be a rumor. A ghost story. Something that terrifies them not because of who I am, but because of what they can't see."
He turned to the AI. "Ronda, search the encrypted archives for urban legends. Specifically, shadow figures. Manifestations of fear."
Ronda's eyes glowed as she processed the request. "Search complete. Result: The Hat Man."
"The Hat Man?"
"A global phenomenon," Ronda explained, projecting shadowy sketches on the screen. "Witnesses report a tall, shadow-like figure dressed in a trench coat and wide-brimmed fedora. Unlike a ghost, he lacks facial features—just a void. He does not scream; he observes. He feeds on terror. He is seen in the corners of rooms or at the foot of beds. He vanishes when approached."
Alen stared at the silhouette on the screen. It was imposing, featureless, and inhuman.
"A shadow that judges," Alen mused. "A void in the dark."
He looked down at his hands—hands that could punch through concrete, hands marked by a cursed bloodline.
"I like it," Alen decided. "I'm done being the Prince of Umbrella. I'm going to be the Monster under their bed."
He looked at Ronda. "I need a coat. A duster. But not off the rack. I want it made from the same ballistic weave my father used—impact resistant, fireproof. And a wide-brimmed hat, reinforced. I want to be a silhouette."
"I will place the order through our secure fabricators," Ronda noted. "And for your physical appearance?"
"Black," Alen said, running a hand through his blonde hair. "We're dyeing it back to black. No more gel. No more sunglasses. I want glowing blue eyes visible beneath the hat brim, and nothing else."
He walked over to the main console and initiated the lab's shutdown sequence.
"Pack up the data, Ronda. We're leaving."
"Where are we going, Master?"
"Back to the ranch," Alen said as he picked up his gear. "I need to talk to Isabella and Master Shi. I've been away too long, and Isabella will be worried."
He paused at the door, glancing back at the Mold sample.
"And then," his eyes glinted with cold determination, "we go hunting. I'm going to take apart The Connections piece by piece. They want to create monsters? Fine. I'll show them what a real monster looks like."
Mission Update:
New Objective: Dismantle 'The Connections' Syndicate.
Research Status: Anti-Mold Munitions (In Development).
New Persona: The Hat Man (Active).
Next Stop: Lemanissier Ranch.