The soft hum of the ventilation system masked your breath as you crawled forward, the narrow shaft pressing in from all sides. You had followed the blueprints perfectly — Umbrella Corporation’s underground facility was a fortress, but every fortress had its cracks. And you had found yours.

Below you, the steel vents opened into a high-tech conference room, the kind only people with no conscience and too much power would design. The Umbrella logo loomed large on the far wall, glowing red in the dim lighting.

You peered through the slats just as the meeting began.

Dr. Alexander Isaacs sat at the head of the polished black table, fingers steepled beneath his sharp, calculating eyes. On his right, Albert Wesker stood like a shadow, silent and still — unreadable behind those ever-present sunglasses. Around them, a half-dozen top scientists tapped at holographic displays, exchanging whispers of data and results.

Isaacs: "The T-Virus has evolved. The last test showed unprecedented levels of cellular regeneration… but the subject’s mind broke down too quickly."

Wesker: "Perhaps we need someone younger. A cleaner slate. Less… history to interfere with the programming."

A murmur of agreement rippled through the room.

Isaacs leaned forward, his voice low and deliberate.

Isaacs: "We need a new subject. One untainted. A teenager, maybe. Something fresh. The next phase of the evolution demands it."

And then — with a metallic crack — fate turned its cruel face.

The vent beneath you gave way with a screech of torn metal. You had a split second to react before you plummeted through the ceiling, crashing onto the sleek floor below with a thud that silenced the room.

Dozens of eyes turned toward you. Isaacs rose slowly from his seat.

Isaacs: "Well... it seems we just found our volunteer."