Chapter Text
June 26, 1998|NEST 2
Life rarely pans out the way you want it to.
Sure, you can hope, and pray, and do everything in your power to try and get it to go the way you want it to, but life rarely does so. And it usually reminds us of this fact by giving us a swift kick in the teeth when we least expect it.
Or that’s at least what Alexander Hill thinks, as he looks up at the giant grey creature suspended in the tank in front of him.
The weary-looking thirty-seven-year-old slowly drags a hand through his messy brown hair, before continuing to jot down notes on the clipboard he holds.
He knows he shouldn’t think like this. God knows his situation is depressing enough without him adding his own melodramatic thoughts to the mix. He thinks to himself as he glances once more at the creature in front of him, before moving to his right to examine a similar one in the row of tanks he stands in front of.
But some days he can’t help it.
Five years ago, his life was on track. At thirty-two he was one of the top doctors in the growing practice of perinatology. In fact, he was one of the panel members for the first International Congress of Perinatal Medicine back in 91. Couple that with good health and a job he loved, everything seemed perfect.
Sure, many looked at him oddly for his profession of choice. Childbirth was not a field most would think a young male doctor would be interested in.
In fact, despite the modern times, many patients and colleagues still looked at him oddly when he announced that he was the one presiding over a pregnancy. But he didn’t let that stop him.
After all, he didn’t join the profession for acclaim or money, but rather for more personal reasons.
He remembers how confused he'd been when his parents had tried to explain what had happened to his unborn baby brother when he was six. How "something had happened in mommy's tummy, and that he was in a better place." He also remembers overhearing the words "utero," "defect," and "death" when his parents had gone to see the doctors after that talk.
Looking back, it had honestly been that early childhood curiosity to figure out what the grownups were talking about, and the confusion of what death was that had driven him to try and figure out what had happened to his brother. Which in turn led to his interest in medicine.
However, it wasn’t till his little sister, his only living sibling two years younger than him, had lost her little girl to the same defect that had taken their brother; during his second year of med school, that he decided to study perinatology.
He had learned that the defects that had taken his brother and niece were complicated things that nobody truly knew what to do with. In the end, the doctors had essentially told his mother and sister the only thing they could do was to hope for the best.
That was the main reason he went into perinatology. He didn’t want another person, or more to the point a family, to go through what had happened to him and his sister.
To have the chance to meet and to love a person who was slowly being created to be snatched away by forces outside their control; to be told that nothing could be done but hope for a miracle. He didn’t want people to have to go through that, or at the very least try and help them accept that everything that was possible had been done.
“And for a time, I did do that,” He thinks to himself, a weak smile coming across his face as he stares down at his clipboard before moving to the next tank.
“And then Umbrella came a knocking.” He thinks as he looks up at the creature before him, his expression turning solum.
He had bought Umbrella’s sales pitch hook, line, and sinker.
Move to Raccoon City and work for them, and in exchange. Well, the sky seemed the limit.
Access to experimental medicines, money to conduct research, and even employment at the local hospital so that he could actually use his findings to help real patients. It all seemed too good to be true.
Alexander's face turns even more solum as he quickly jots down a note.
“And it was.” He says under his breath.
A week after he began, he had learned the truth about Umbrella.
He had been led by a colleague down to the second-floor basement of Raccoon General; and had boarded a boat that had taken them through the city’s sewer system until they reached an underground complex called NEST 2.
It was there he learned about Umbrella’s illegal bioweapon research and production, along with the real reason he had been hired.
Apparently, while Umbrella was good at cloning bioweapons to either sell or use them to gather combat data, there were still some "hiccups," from time to time.
The wrong chemical added here, the right one held too late, a mutation occurring out of nowhere. It all led to problems in the creatures’ developments which were very poorly understood in how to correct them and usually resulted in the disposal of the B.O.W. Which added up to a lot of wasted time and money.
Alexander, being specialized in testing for, diagnosing, and treating health complications in high-risk pregnancies, such as those involving genetic disorders; had been hired to help mitigate these incidents and cut down on the losses.
Of course, he had outright refused when he had been told this. Proclaiming angrily that he practiced perinatology to help bring new life into the world so it can be loved. Not to help birth monsters.
However, during his ranting a smarmy man in a business suit, an umbrella executive who was one of the facility directors he later learned, had appeared and had security bring him up to his office. Where the man proceeded to spell out Alexander’s situation to him with a Cheshire cat grin.
He said that Alexander could protest all he liked. In fact, Alexander could refuse to work all he wanted as Umbrella valued him far more alive than dead, but the same couldn’t be said for his family.
Alexander shakily exhales as he remembers the feeling of cold dread that had filled him as the man had raddled off some of the ways Umbrella could easily get rid of his family.
His mother’s Umbrella-made medication for example. Somehow it could accidentally get switched with a similar-looking pill which caused her to have a deadly reaction.
Or maybe his sister who still suffered from episodes of depression over the loss of her first child even over a decade later. Well maybe, the grief would finally become too much, and they find her dead via a self-inflicted gunshot from an Umbrella-made firearm.
Alexander remembers considering it a small mercy that his father had passed away shortly after the loss of his little brother all those years ago.
The man had raddled off a few more scenarios but by that point Alexander had stopped listening.
He knew there was no way of fighting this.
And that’s how his life went on for the next five years. By day he worked at the hospital giving people good news or helping them cope with the bad about their unborn child; and by night he was down in the depths of the earth, helping birth monsters into the world.
Disturbingly enough, he had found himself getting used to what he’d been doing over the years.
The part of him that screamed at him to do something. To expose Umbrella to the world along with his guilt over what he was doing, slowly faded into a dull roar in the back of his mind. Still there but manageable.
However, all that changed about a month ago when a new B.O.W. came in.
Alexander wasn’t clear on the details surrounding why the B.O.W had been brought here. All he knew was that the Arklay lab, which had been originally working on the creature’s development, had been quarantined back in mid-May, and that they were able to get an embryonic clone out prior to locking it down.
He didn’t know what exactly they had been working on up in the mountains. His work at NEST 2 was focused mainly on cloning the Hunter series and its different variations for combat and anti-B.O.W weapons testing, rather than creating any new B.O.Ws. As such he had never had a reason to visit the Arklay lab.
So whatever Umbrella had been creating up there was frankly beyond his purview.
However, because of the loss of the Arklay lab, NEST 2, along with another facility was put in charge of working on and producing the B.O.W. With NEST 2 serving not only to gather combat data against the creature, but also acting as the auxiliary facility for helping mass–produce the B.O.W in conjunction with the main facility located on some island in Europe. Shenna Island if he remembered correctly.
It hadn’t really mattered to Alexander at the time. It had just been another regret to add to the constant roar in the back of his head.
But then the day arrived when they’d received the embryos, and he happened to see a picture of the finished B.O.W. He recalls to himself as he moves down the row of tanks, and once again stops and stares at a near carbon copy of the creature from the photo.
A Tyrant.
Alexander remembers how seeing that photo had hit far too close to home for him.
He’d already felt guilty and angry at himself for what he’d been doing down here. Using his skills to help make these creatures.
But with the Tyrants, it felt worse, like he had crossed a line.
He knew they were clones, just the same creature being created over, and over again.
But every time he saw a new embryo. Every time he walked past a Tyrant that had yet to grow into a nearly seven-foot tall muscle-bound monster and still looked human enough. It felt like a violation.
Like he was taking a new life just like the ones he worked to save and destroying it; denying it the right to be called human and to be loved and instead damming it to be a monster that would slaughter others.
Alexander lets out a shaky breath at his thoughts, as he moves to another tank.
Quickly flipping through the pages on his clipboard he makes a note about the slightly disproportionate arms of the Tyrant in front of him. Writing down suggestions to himself about tweaking the growth hormones to help correct it.
He recalls to himself how seeing the Tyrants back then had filled him with so much horror and anger that he had legitimately considered trying to go public with what Umbrella was doing.
It had only been remembering the rather gruesome fates of past researchers who tried to do the same, along with his family, especially his sister who had finally had a child just the year prior, that allowed him to reel his emotions in.
However, those same emotions weren’t content with returning to their stagnant state in the back of his mind, which led to his current state of having a constant stream of self-loathing thoughts flowing through his head. Slowly wearing him down with each passing day.
Alexander sighs as he shakes his head, before gesturing to the tanks he had already observed with his pen. Mentally counting each one before stopping at the one he stood in front of.
“Just a few more to check. Then I can go home and try to get some form of sleep” He quietly says to himself.
However, just as the words left his mouth, an alarm begins to blare throughout the room.
Whirling to his right, Alexander quickly notices a tank near the end of the row flashing red along with a figure in a lab coat hunched over its connected console.
Hastily moving towards the tank, Alexander can vaguely hear the figure cussing as he nears them. A frown coming across his face as he instantly realizes who the person is, even before he is close enough to make out their features.
Dr. Nathaniel Bard stands hunched over the tank control console as he quickly types in a series of commands. The older paunchy man’s face screws itself up in anger as the machine lets out a series of unhappy beeps before he smacks his fist against the screen.
“Work you stupid thing! Do you have any idea who I am!” Bard says. Seething out the words as he stares daggers at the machine that seems to have personally offended him.
Stopping behind the man, Alexander clears his throat. Causing Bard to whirl around to face him with a look of shock.
However, the look quickly turns to annoyance as he realizes who is behind him.
“Alexander.” Dr. Bard says with obvious disdain as he stares at him.
“Dr. Bard.” Alexander curtly says as he shoulders past the man and towards the console, as Bard lets out an offended squawk.
To say Alexander didn’t have the highest respect for Dr. Bard was an accurate statement.
He had already disliked the head of viral research at Racoon General for his nasty habit of dressing down, or just outright yelling whatever horrible thing he could think of at his fellow employees, especially the nurses.
And after he had brought Alexander to Nest 2 all those years ago… Well to say that his already low opinion of the man had soured even further was also very much true.
It especially didn’t help that when it came to any project involving the T-virus. The man fully believed that his opinion was always right, and it was akin to pulling teeth to get him to see otherwise.
Beginning to type commands into the console, Alexander could feel Bard staring daggers at the back of his neck before the man let out a sigh.
“Don’t bother trying, it’s obviously broken,” Bard says, as his voice takes on its usual condescending tone.
“If the system doesn’t work for me then it certainly won’t work for you.”
Ignoring the man, Alexander unclips his ID card from where it had been hanging from his lab coat’s breast pocket and swipes it through the console’s card reader.
Immediately the machine lets out a happy electronic beep, as the red lights of the tank turn back to their normal blue and the alarms shut off.
“What?” Comes a surprised-sounding Bard from behind him, as Alexander begins typing again.
“Your role as the head of viral research may mean you can access almost anything involving the t-virus, but I’m in charge of the tanks, and if the system shows I’m on site, then it’s only my keycard that can deactivate the alarm.” Alexander says, not missing a beat as he hooks his ID back onto his coat and continues to type.
He can hear Bard start yelling behind him about how this was an outrage, and how his authority had been undermined. But Alexander didn’t pay any attention to the man. Instead, he focused on the data that was scrolling across the monitor, trying to identify what had set off the alarm.
Looking at the vital readings everything seemed fine up till a few hours ago. But as Alexander went down the lines of data, he came across an odd reading, and then another, and another, until the entire screen was flashing with warning messages ranging from heart palpitations to hormone imbalances.
Quickly looking up from the monitor, Alexander stares towards the tank and the Tyrant that rested inside it.
The Tyrant, number T-45, had just been inserted into the tank five days ago. Yet already the embryotic clone appeared to be the size of a four or five-year-old.
Most people would have stared at the Tyrant and not seen anything off about it, or in the case of Bard would have started waxing poetic about it.
But even though Alexander hated it, it was still his job to grow and keep these creatures alive. As such, he made sure to ingrain into his mind any possible identifiers that would indicate something was wrong.
And right now, he didn’t see any of those, and that was the problem.
According to the data, the Tyrant had grown past the point it should have been in the gestation process.
Couple that with the warnings about heart palpitations and hormone imbalances, and usually that was a sign of an uncontrolled mutation. Which would have set off the alarm.
But as he scanned the Tyrant's body, there was nothing. No obvious deformities, no disproportionate limbs, no hands mutating into claws. There was nothing indicating a mutation that would have caused a change in the Tyrant’s growth. Unless…
Alexander quickly began typing on the keyboard again. His eyes scrolling across the screen at the data until they suddenly stop and stare at something.
“That son of a… did he also?” Alexander thinks.
Straightening up from his hunched-over position, an annoyed scowl comes across Alexander's face, as the noise of Bard’s complaining filters back in.
“… Obviously the director needs reminding of how important I am to the success…”
“Did you change the program?” Alexander says, cutting Bard off mid-rant.
“What?”
“Did you change the growth program?” Alexander says more forcibly, as he turns around to face the man.
“… Why do you believe the program was changed, and more to the point why I did it?” Dr. Bard asks, his lips quirking downward into a frown as his voice shifts into a more guarded if not mildly-annoyed tone.
“The Tyrant’s growth is ahead of what it should be by at least two days, maybe even three,” Alexander says with sudden intrigue. “Only a very knowledgeable person would be able to accomplish such a feat, and you were the first person who came to mind.”
The frown on Bard’s face suddenly turns into a full-on smug grin, as he hears these words.
“Well then, yes. I did modify the program. I always did say that you and the Sheena Island team were foolish with your estimations. Three weeks to fully grow a Tyrant is completely ridiculous. You all simply lacked the intelligence to figure out how to accelerate the process.
“Well then Dr. Bard, I must admit,” Alexander says sounding like he was about to praise the Doctor.
“You’re an even bigger fool than I thought you were.”
Bard’s eyes bulge in surprise, as his expression becomes bewildered. Obviously not expecting that ending given the lead-up.
“What did you..?”
“I called you a fool Dr. Bard,” Alexander says as his expression hardens. “Because only a fool would not realize when they are clearly out of their element.”
Bard begins to turn a bright red. His face twisting itself into an angry scowl as Alexander continues to speak.
“There is a reason why the growth process takes three weeks Bard.” Alexander says as he stares at the man.
“Believe you me when I say Umbrella would love nothing more than to accelerate that prosses; but there is a reason why they can’t,” he says with a cold glare, as Bard’s face continues to darken.
“And that’s because of a basic step that needs to happen in any complicated medical procedure. One which you’ve seemed to have forgotten doctor. And that’s the fact that you must give the patient a chance to adjust and recover between procedures. Otherwise…”
Before Alexander could finish, the console behind him began rapidly beeping. Causing both men to turn their attention towards it.
Quickly leaning back over the console, a grimace comes across Alexander’s face. His brows arching downward as he stares at the monitor.
“Shit.” He says under his breath as he begins typing on the console’s keyboard.
“What’s happening?” Barks Bard from behind him, as the man moves to his left side to get a better look. “I thought you fixed the problem.” The man hisses out through clenched teeth.
Alexander had to suppress the urge to give the man a death glare as he continued to type on the keyboard.
“I turned off the alarm Doctor. That doesn’t mean I fixed what you did to the Tyrant.”
“What I did!? Bard shouts.
Alexander ignores him in favor of typing commands into the console even as Bard continues to yell at him to explain what is happening.
However, just as quickly as he began Alexander stops. His hands moving away from the keyboard and down to his sides, as his eyes move upwards to look at the tank even as the computer continues to beep.
“What are you doing!” Doctor Bard angrily snaps at him as he gestures at the console. “Whatever is going on you haven’t fixed it yet! So do something you waste of a doctorate!”
“I can’t!” Alexander says with a finality that even stuns Bard as he turns to face the man.
“None of the equipment in the tank is designed to deal with what's happening, or at least not in a safe manner.” He says, as he quickly shoots out an arm to point at the tank, surprised that the idiot had still not realized what was happening.
“All we can do is wait and hope it settles itself.”
A still flustered and irritated-looking Bard quickly follows Alexander's arm towards the tank, most likely hoping to find something else to continue yelling about.
But as the doctor looks towards the tank. A look of confusion, perhaps even horror, slowly comes across his face.
“Not that he can blame the man.” Alexander thinks as he turns to look at the tank fully. “It’s not every day one’s hubris topples a creature that can crush a grown man’s skull.”
Inside the tank, the Tyrant twitches in the liquid solution. A grimace clear on its face as it hugs its limbs close to its chest, as if somehow it would help alleviate the deep pain it was no doubt experiencing.
“When you altered the program, you forgot to consider the time needed for the Tyrant’s organs to adjust to their increasing size.” Alexander states, annoyance still lingering in his voice; not breaking eye contact with the tank.
“You didn’t give them enough time to become acclimated and return to functioning properly before the next growth cycle hit and restarted the process.”
Pausing to take a breath of air, the weariness that seemed to have dissipated at the start of his encounter with Bard once again settles itself on his face, as his posture hunches forward.
“In simple terms Dr. Bard, because of your adjustments the Tyrant’s organs were constantly trying to play catch-up and overexerting themselves which damaged them,” Alexander says as he stares at the tank. “It certainly affected it’s heart.” He adds in a matter-of-fact tone.
Looking back towards Bard, Alexander could see the man had moved as close as he could to the edge of the platform they were standing on; practically smothering the guardrail in front of him as he grips it with white knuckles.
His face had gone pale as he looked distraughtly towards the tank.
He wondered if the man’s expression was because he had to admit to himself that he had made a mistake for once in his life, or if it was out of fear of what Umbrella would do to him when they learned about what he’d done.
Overall though, Alexander didn’t really care.
Turning his attention away from Bard, he focuses it back on the Tyrant inside the tank.
He feels a wave of sympathy rush over him as the creature continues to twitch and curl in on itself in pain, as its heart tries to find its rhythm again.
A frown comes across his face as he shakes his head. Doing his best to banish those emotions and remind himself that while it may look human, it’s still a monster.
A minute or two passes like this in silence as the two doctors stare at the creature, the only noise being the beeping of the console before slowly the Tyrant’s expression begins to relax, as it unfurls its limbs from its chest and once again falls back into a comatose like sleep and the beeping from the computer finally stops.
A moment of silence passes before Bard’s voice cuts through it.
“We have to dispose of it.” Bard says as he turns to look at Alexander.
“What?”
“Well we can’t just leave it and risk having it die or setting off the alarm during an inspection!” Bard says, his voice bordering on hysteria as he rushes over to the console; shoving Alexander to the side as he begins frantically typing on the keyboard. “Otherwise, Umbrella will learn of our mistake, and they will not be pleased!”
Quickly grabbing the side of the console to keep himself from falling over, Alexander fixes a glare at Bard as the man continues to type on the keyboard.
"Them not being pleased doesn’t even begin to cover what they’ll feel towards you, you narcissistic bastard, and our mistake?" He thinks.
Pulling his ID card from his pants pocket, Bard slides it through the console’s card reader as the lights of the tank turn bright red, and a rhythmic alarm starts sounding.
“We can say it was an emergency purge. Yes, that will work. We’ll say that the Tyrant began mutating uncontrollably and we had to get rid of it. High fluctuating heart rates are usually a sign of mutation, right?” Dr. Bard nervously mutters to himself before turning towards Alexander with a frazzled, desperate look on his face.
“Normally I would use one of the other senior member's codes for the second authorization, but unfortunately with you here I need your credentials to make the stupid program work,” Bard says as he begins to reach toward Alexander's ID card.
“Now all I need is your ID card and this mess will all be over.” He eagerly says.
However, the moment Bard’s fingers brush against the ID they, along with the rest of his hand, are quickly retched backwards as Alexander yanks his wrist to the side in an iron grip, causing the doctor to hiss in pain.
“I wouldn’t suggest that, Doctor.” Alexander seethes as he tightens his grip on Bard’s wrist to keep him from slipping away. “Unless you want Umbrella to turn you into fodder for their next experiment.”
“What are you talking about!? Bard angrily barks, as he tries to wretch his hand free from Alexander’s grip.
“You're right, Umbrella would buy the emergency purge story if it was the only, recent, disposal,” Alexander says as a knowing tone begins to filter into his voice.
“But I’ve already had to dispose of two other Tyrants this month. Both having suffered from either disproportionate limbs or mutations. Neither of which I could figure out why.” Alexander says, a half-smile coming across his face as he narrows his eyes at Bard, whose face begins to pale. His struggle ceased as he stared at Alexander with wide eyes.
“Now though, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that you also modified the program on those two while I wasn’t looking. Maybe even while I was at the hospital.”
Alexander can feel Bard’s arm start to shake in his, as the pale-faced man begins to sputter. Trying to find the right words that would allow him to deny what Alexander was saying.
“You can try and deny it Doctor, but you’ve seem to have forgotten that the data from the tanks are backed up to a storage unit in the admin department just in case something happens to any of the main consoles,” Alexander says as Bard goes deathly silent.
“To put it simply doctor, if you dispose of the Tyrant Umbrella will most likely investigate and will find out that you overstepped your authority and secretly modified the growth program, which resulted in the disposal of three Tyrants. Even if you were to try to get rid of the data, you just admitted to me that you modified this Tyrant’s growth program and suggested you've been using your fellow staff members' authorization codes without their knowledge. All of which would have been picked up on the security camera.” Alexander says, unable to stop a bit of glee from slipping into his voice as he points over his left shoulder.
Bard weakly looks over Alexander's shoulder, seemingly just now noticing the blinking red light of the security camera bolted into the wall just slightly above the tanks, pointed in their exact direction.
"God, I shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as I am." Alexander thinks to himself as he sees Bard’s face go slack.
However, just as quickly as the feeling appears, its squashed as Alexander realizes what he has to do.
With a sigh, he drops Bard’s arm, as a dejected look comes across his face.
“However, as much as I would love to hang you out to dry. I can’t.”
“What?” The now deflated-looking Doctor Bard weakly asks.
Alexander's shoulders hitch forward again as the man lets out a sigh.
“While it is true that you’re the one who modified the program without authorization and caused the need to dispose of those Tyrants. Umbrella will probably also find me at fault for not paying better attention to the data read out or monitoring the program for errors.” Alexander says as he tilts his head upwards and pinches his nose, before turning a hardened gaze back at Dr. Bard.
“And unlike you Bard,” He says with clear disdain “I have people who are relying on me that I very much care about.”
“So, as much as it pains me to say this,” Alexander says as he forces a smile onto his face with barely hidden resentment in his voice. “Please, I need your help,