The Resident Evil series is owned by Capcom.

All characters are 18+.

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AN: Here’s the begin of a new project that is looking to be pretty lengthy. By the time it’s done, it should be 60k+ words at the least. A lot of time to enjoy the fall of your favorite RE women.

This Resident Evil story takes some liberties with the series canon. And by some, I mean a lot. It’s effectively an AU, really.

RE 1-3 all happened in broad strokes. Sheva Alomar and Excella Gionne have both been aged up so they can appear in this story’s timeframe as adults.

A fun, new project centered on themes of corruption, breeding, and maledom.

Enjoy.

– – –

Prologue

It was the sound of barbarism.

The audio feed was grainy and garbled, grunts and shouts and animalistic howls coming through the speakers to assault the ears of all in the room.

To Excella Gionne, it was better than music.

Normally, she would have kept herself stone-faced. The cold, emotionless ice queen her underlings had come to fear, that was the woman who got things done at the new Tricell-Umbrella. But now, seeing the fruits of her labor first hand? Excella couldn’t keep the smirk off of her flawless face.

She strode closer to the large screen that dominated the front wall of the control center. Her heels clicked against the floor as she passed between the rows of desks. Already she could feel eyes on her body.

The leering was expected – and invited. The world of corporate politics was cut-throat. And men who were focused on her lush body wrapped in a lavish, low-cut dress were the same men who weren’t taking into user account her sharp mind. Men who underestimated a pretty face didn’t last long in Excella’s world. Which meant less competition for her.

Excella knew how to play the game – And today was the day she won.

Years of research. Years of development. Tests, trials, failures. Not just her own, but the failures of others as well. The Raccoon City debacle at least provided a valuable cautionary tale. All of it led to today’s triumph.

Excella Gionne, titaness of industry, had created her masterpiece. A successful genetic enhancement.

She stared up at the screen, half in awe, half in silent jubilation. The video feed was live. Violence was unfolding. And it was gorgeous.

There were men on screen. Tall, fit, and strong, all of them. And they were garbed in the best combat suits Tricell-Umbrella could produce. They wielded the business’s most advanced riot control prototypes. They had been given the best close combat training the business could afford.

And they were losing.

Losing to a single man. An unarmed, unarmored man.

Excella’s smile grew. Her eyes were locked onto the big screen, utterly captivated as she watched her test subject make short work of his attackers. They were not small men, either. They weren’t even average men. They were the best of Tricell-Umbrella’s elite security force. And Excella’s living weapon was hurling them around the training room like they weighed next to nothing.

A single punch had sent one of the armored attackers doubling over into a desperate, wheezing fit. A strong kick sent another flying back several feet. Excella watched him land in with a heavy thud. A man the size of a rugby forward and a mere kick had him writhing so pitifully on the ground.

The test subject threw his fist into another attacker’s chest. It was like watching a man take a blow from a sledgehammer. It was more than likely he cracked the poor bastard’s ribs.

Behind her, Excella heard one of the tech rats hiss with sympathy. She could imagine the whole pathetic lot of them wincing and averting their eyes from the savagery in the video feed. They were weak. Excella had more nerve in her little toe than all of her pencil-neck underlings combined. She would not look away.

Violence had all the time possessed a certain beauty in Excella’s eyes. It was brutal, but honest. It was true. A pure, base expression of power. But that wasn’t the only reason why Excella felt so giddy watching the barbarity unfold on the big screen. No, Excella was excited because the violence was visual proof. The strength enhancements she developed were beyond successful.

And of course, her test subject – her champion – was nothing to sneeze at, either.

Even before she had administered to him her prized M-0 formula, her champion had been an impressive specimen. In a purely physical sense, anyhow. Standing almost a head taller than her at a towering six-foot-six, he possessed a broad chest, wide shoulders, thick, powerful arms, and big, strong hands that looked like they could have bent rebar even without the Tricell-Umbrella enhancements.

Her champion lived up to his cheeky moniker and then some. His looks, Excella noted with wicked glee, were just the icing on the cake. The very large and very bulky cake.

Excella Gionne was the woman who got what she wanted. She had spent years fighting her way into power, carving out her place in the field of genetic modification. So of course Excella would insist that he perform this trial of strength and endurance in only sweatpants.

But she wasn’t the only one watching who held an appreciation for the perfection of the masculine form. The video feed of the M-0 demonstration was being streamed live off-site. Excella figured that her company partner should have the opportunity to see the success she helped build. She even had a voice chat open, just to hear her partner’s reaction.

Excella took the silence on the other end as a very good sign.

It wouldn’t be until Excella’s champion stood tall, triumphant over a dozen defeated adversaries that she heard her partner’s smooth voice come through to her ear-piece.

“He just tore through those guys.” The other woman said. Excella couldn’t see her face but she could hear the faintest hint of awe coloring her words. Her partner gave a short, scoffing laugh. “It wasn’t even a fair fight.”

Excella felt the flame of pride burn hot in her heart, in her soul. Any praise that went into the test subject’s performance, his strength, his stamina, his ferocity, it was all meant for Excella as well. The Pale Queen held her chin high, her back straight. There was a swelling inside her, like the fluttering of wings. It was almost like in her dream, where she would be lifted up to Mt. Olympus to take her place as the new goddess.

“There’s nothing to gain by fighting fair.” Excella answered with a faint scoff. Her smile widened as she watched her champion closely, taking glee in the little expressions of shock on his handsome face. He had known beforehand that the M-0 formula would make him stronger, but it was clear now that he had no idea just how much stronger it would make him. Excella continued, her next words touched with not an ounce of modesty. “You gain so much more by changing the game entirely. And my masterpiece is going to change the game.”

“And just who is your masterpiece, Ms. Gionne?” Her partner pressed. From the tone of her voice, Excella guessed that the other woman’s interest was piqued.

It only made sense. Excella’s champion, the living vessel of her prized formula, was now one of the most valuable men on the planet. But Excella had a feeling that her partner’s interest went beyond mere professional curiosity. And that was exactly the sort of reaction Excella hoped her man would elicit. It would make his job going forward that much easier.

“Yesterday, he was just another mercenary.” Excella said, her gaze fixated on her powerfully built, half-naked champion. She stared, captivated, as his sculpted, glistening chest rose and fell with every deep breath. “Now? John Dalton is the Man of Tomorrow.“

– – –

1.1

Two Months Later

BSAA New York HQ

“I don’t like him.”

Rebecca Chambers didn’t need to look to know that her friend was frowning.

Ever since the BSAA higher-ups approved joint operations with Tricell-Umbrella personnel, Jill Valentine had been stuck in a decidedly sour mood. Not that Rebecca could blame her. The incident at the Spencer Mansion was years in the past, but the deadly mark the old Umbrella left on the world was bleeding even still.

The short and slight medic spared Jill a quick glance. Standing at 5’6″, Jill was only slightly taller than Rebecca’s diminutive 5’3″, but the way the older woman carried herself more than made up for her lack of size. With the calm confidence Jill had in the field, to Rebecca she may as well have been a towering Amazon. The sharp, steely look in Jill’s icy blue eyes only hammered that feeling home. Rebecca could tell that Jill Valentine wanted to break some bones.

Rebecca said nothing at first, instead following Jill’s line of sight. It didn’t take long to discover the object of her friend’s ire. Jill wasn’t keen on any of the Tricell-Umbrella goons, but there was one in particular that seemed to rub the STARS veteran the wrong way.

He stood at the other end of the briefing room, gathered with the rest of the corporate mercenaries, the goons brought over from Tricell-Umbrella. But he wasn’t just another rent-a-thug meathead. Just from the way he carried himself, the tension in his stance, the sharpness of his gaze, he stood aside. He was more. And he was big.

Commander John Dalton cut a noted presence just by being. Rebecca had him pegged at a towering 6’6″, easily the tallest of anyone in the room. And geared up as he was, suited and booted, he seemed even bigger. His blond hair was cut short, almost a buzz cut, and his green eyes were cold and hard as steel. Mesmerizing too, in their own way. Rebecca could imagine just staring into them – when they weren’t sending fearful chills down her back, at least.

Perhaps it would have been better if Dalton was ugly, pig-faced like all the other meatheads she and Jill had the displeasure of running into in years past. But alas, this was not the case. John Dalton was handsome. Most unfortunate.

A sharp, chiseled face, like he was sculpted into the form of the perfect man. Prominent jawline, dimpled chin, kissable lips… even the slight crookedness of his Roman nose gave his face more personality instead of acting as a blemish. And his body…

Wide, firm shoulders. Big arms. Powerful chest. Flat stomach. Tree trunk legs. The man wasn’t just solidly built. He was the definition of solid.

It was… difficult for Rebecca to keep her eyes off of him. And with the wry smirk that often played on his lips, like he knew something no one else did, he had an air of roguishness that reminded Rebecca of Billy Coen.

But despite the obvious eye candy, it was clear that Dalton reminded Jill of somebody far worse than an escaped convict. And Rebecca had a good idea who.

“Tall, blond, sharp eyes.” Rebecca muttered, nudging Jill with her elbow. “Remind you of anybody?”

Jill gave Rebecca a short nod, her eyes narrowing at Dalton. The former STARS operative deepened her frown, her beautiful Eurasian features twisted by the sheer dislike she held for this man, this intruder. Rebecca knew exactly what her friend was thinking: that the shadow of Albert Wesker lived. And he was standing in this very room.

Rebecca watched as Jill bristled in silent anger. Rebecca herself stewed in dread as memories of the Spencer Mansion came rushing back to the surface of her mind. A very bad night. And still the nightmare continued. Otherwise the BSAA wouldn’t have been formed. And Rebecca and Jill wouldn’t have been standing in this briefing room.

“He even works for Umbrella. The Tricell merger doesn’t mean jack shit. They’re the same damn corporation.” Jill spoke calmly, quietly, but it was clear that she was fuming. She turned to face Rebecca then. “Have you read his file?”

“What little of it I could.” Rebecca sighed, tightening her lips. “I found a lot of black ink. Strange for an Army Ranger.”

“Former Army Ranger.” Jill reminded her. The distaste in her words was almost venomous. “He’s not a serviceman anymore, he’s a mercenary. An Umbrella hired gun. That’s who the BSAA tells us to get in bed with these days…”

This time it was Rebecca’s turn to frown. As much as she admired Jill, it could not be denied that the STARS golden girl had become a bit more jaded in recent years. But it was to be expected. How many zombie outbreaks and bioterror attacks could a woman endure and still be an idealist?

“Most of our team is former military, Jill.” Rebecca reminded Jill in turn.

“And after they mustered out, they joined up with STARS and then with the BSAA. Not with some megacorp.” Jill shot back. “We fight for a cause, Rebecca. Dalton and his Umbrella mercs fight for a paycheck.”

Rebecca let her friend’s words stew in her mind. Even back when they were in STARS, Jill had been the more worldly of the two. Certainly, she was the more experienced. And that gave her position more weight, didn’t it? But Rebecca was reluctant to write off Dalton and the other corporate personnel. Even if he did remind her of Wesker. Judging people based on their appearance was wrong, wasn’t it? That’s what American kids were taught in school right off the bat!

“He volunteered for this mission, same as us.” Rebecca said without thinking. Jill may have given her a pointed look, but there was no one more surprised than Rebecca herself. She couldn’t believe she was defending a corporate mercenary.

“I’m just saying…” Jill huffed, unwilling to get into it with the short medic right before the briefing. The taller woman leaned over then, nudging Rebecca’s arm. Jill’s next words came low and quiet. “We need to be careful around these Umbrella guys, Rebecca. We need to watch each other’s backs.”

“All the time.” Rebecca said, nodding. And Jill gave a nod in turn.

The chatter in the briefing room suddenly died down. Rebecca was curious as to why, but only for the briefest moment. Beyond the now-hushed voices of the strike team personnel, Rebecca could hear the sound of high heels clicking against the tile floor. And those footfalls, steps taken with purpose and pride, they thundered louder than a giant’s.

She was here, Rebecca realized.

Tricell-Umbrella’s very own ice queen strode into the room then. The tall, the beautiful, the immaculate Excella Gionne. With her lustrous brown hair wrapped in a tight bun and her lush, ample body poured into a very low cut dress of shimmering silver, the new Director of Anti-Bioterror Operations looked like a goddess in the flesh. The woman was radiant… And in Rebecca’s opinion, dressed completely inappropriately for the situation at hand.

Director Gionne was another reason why Jill was displeased, Rebecca knew. Even aside from the absurdity of strutting around BSAA HQ like she was on the runway at a fashion show, Excella was a cold, ruthless woman. Supposedly, at least. Neither Rebecca nor Jill had heard particular good things about the woman. And they hadn’t heard good things about her company, Tricell, either. Rumors, scandals, controversies, Excella had been the subject of many. But there was nothing concrete, nothing confirmed.

Excella Gionne may have looked like an angel, but there wasn’t a virtuous bone in her body. Just from looking at her, Rebecca had alarm bells going off in her head. Even worse than what she felt from Dalton.

And now she’s running the show…

It wasn’t right, Rebecca knew, to have someone so closely connected to Umbrella overseeing BSAA operations. But reality had a funny way of ending up twisted, didn’t it?

Rebecca’s eyes followed Excella as she strode to the front of the room. All eyes were on her, in fact.

No doubt because of her heels, Rebecca thought dryly. If nothing else, the woman can command attention.

Director Gionne stood before the strike team personnel, her flawless, pale face sporting a cold serenity. It was the calm arrogance that came with knowing that no one could touch you. The corporate queen looked out over her subjects from the podium, her gemstone earrings and golden necklace gleaming under the light. She really did look like a goddess, Rebecca reluctantly conceded. Every last bit of her appearance was calculated perfection. She was beauty made flesh, a stunning vision. And commanding, much to Rebecca’s shock.

“Be seated.” Excella ordered in her silky smooth voice. A faint Italian accent colored her words. The strike team, both BSAA and T-U operatives, took their seats. The Director of Operations continued. “I’m assuming you’ve all done your homework so I’ll keep this brief. Thirty hours ago, the city of Toronto was struck by an act of bioterrorism. Though the Canadian government has contained the worst of it, local forces have yet to extinguish the BOW threat.”

Behind her, the operations screen flickered on. Live footage from the city was on display. It did not look good. The echoes of Raccoon City rang out even today. Beside her, Rebecca could practically sense Jill fuming at the footage.

“Who does the BSAA believe is responsible?” Jill blurted the question out, but Rebecca was not shocked. Though calm in the field, Jill Valentine was as hot-headed as they came. And nothing made her more furious than bioterrorists.

Rebecca’s eyes darted towards Director Gionne, just in time to see the ice queen lift her chin some, somehow adopting an even prouder aura. The self-regard of the disgustingly wealthy knew no limit, it seemed.

“All the information you needed to know came in the mission dossier, Agent Valentine.” Excella answered curtly.

Rebecca frowned, irked by the woman’s blatant disdain for them. And if Rebecca was irked, that meant Jill was pissed.

“We’re putting our asses on the line and you’re keeping us in the dark?” Jill was standing then, drawing some amused chuckles from the T-U mercs.

Rebecca shot the meatheads a hard look, though that just seemed to delight them more. Even Dalton, normally the most composed of his bunch, wore a pleased grin. The shine in his eyes told Rebecca that neither she nor Jill registered as anything close to a threat. And that realization made her cheeks burn hot with anger.

“This is a sensitive operation.” Excella answered coldly, flicking a speck of nothing from the podium with disinterest. She didn’t even bother looking in Jill’s direction then. “One that your superiors believe requires discretion. If that’s too much for any of you to handle, feel free to resign.”

Jill stood, her heated eyes lasering in on Director Gionne. The tension was palpable. All awaited what the hot-head and the ice queen would do next. A moment passed… And Jill Valentine sat back down.

Rebecca was shocked, but her friend had indeed backed down. Jill said nothing, crossing her arms. The anger, though… that was still there. Rebecca could see it in Jill’s eyes. Furious blue burning bright. But somehow, Jill remained calm, composed. It was an eerie sight. One that sent a chill down Rebecca’s back.

Back up on the podium, Director Gionne continued the briefing.

“The authorities have managed to cordon off a section of the downtown metropolitan area, containing the BOWs. This is the red zone. That is where you will be heading.”

On the screen, an overhead view of the zone in question flickered on beside the live footage of Toronto. Rebecca could see that it encompassed several city blocks. She herself hadn’t had much experience with urban disaster areas, but Jill had gotten a lifetime’s worth at Raccoon City.