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Chapter 012: Exit Ticket
🕑 Added 2025-09-27 04:07:34 +0000 UTCBeep beep—
The encrypted direct line connected immediately.
"Hello." A steady, commanding male voice answered.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Simmons. This is Vera Adelaide Russell from Umbrella Corporation. Sorry to intrude." Holding the receiver to her ear, Vera spoke with the practiced enthusiasm of an American politician.
A wise person knows when to bend. Umbrella wasn’t Arasaka, and this America hadn’t collapsed—it was still the world’s superpower.
On the other end was the U.S. National Security Advisor, a heavyweight in Washington whose family wielded immense influence in both legitimate and underground circles. Vera, by contrast, was just a senior executive at a legal pharmaceutical company—not even the chairman. Best not to put on airs.
Washington, White House, Office of the Assistant to the President for National Security Affairs.
"Good afternoon, Dr. Russell."
In his prime years, Derek C. Simmons leaned back comfortably in his large hardwood chair, reviewing official documents. "What can I do for you?" he asked seriously.
They were both seasoned players—no point wasting time.
Simmons didn’t believe that Vera, newly promoted to head Umbrella’s "Black Umbrella" division, was calling for small talk.
"You're too kind."
Vera smiled lightly. "Umbrella’s growth has always been tied to America. As the new director of Black Umbrella, I hope to contribute to defending free-world values and maintaining social stability..."
From her research, Vera had already formed a mental image of the man: mid-thirties, serious demeanor, dark brown slicked-back hair, tailored suit—the perfect portrait of a polished American elite.
Know your audience.
In politics, Simmons was known as a radical peacenik, forever pledging to safeguard social stability at any cost. Whether genuine or not, Vera used that reputation as her entry point.
"Defending free-world values," "doing my part"—
Parsing through her flowery rhetoric, Simmons quickly cut to the heart of it and chuckled softly.
"So Umbrella, the longtime leader in pharmaceuticals and medical hardware, now branching into bionic prosthetics, drones, electronics, semiconductors — still isn’t satisfied? You want to enter the defense sector?"
"Umbrella has the responsibility, the obligation, and the capability."
Since Simmons had laid it bare, Vera dropped the pretense.
"Is that so? Tell me, does Umbrella have this capability... or do you, Dr. Vera Adelaide Russell, the foremost authority in modern bioengineering and intelligent control technology?" Simmons said pointedly.
He’d been watching Umbrella for some time.
It was strange how a company that had lost two of its three founders and seemed mired in bureaucracy had suddenly bloomed like an old tree in spring.
Those bold moves most likely came from the woman on the line.
Vera only smiled, offering no answer.
"Mr. Simmons, that seems beside the point... Let’s return to the matter of Umbrella’s West Coast manufacturing plans." With fax authorization secured, Vera sent over the same materials she’d once shown Spencer.
A redacted version, of course. Still, she trusted that Simmons, as a seasoned politician, would recognize the subtle profit-sharing signals.
Silence. The faint rustle of a fax machine. Papers shuffled.
"Why not go through the state government? Or the GOP..." Simmons asked casually.
"I chose you," Vera replied warmly.
Simmons paused mid-motion.
"Why?"
"I deeply respect your commitment to peace, order, and stability, Mr. Simmons." Her flattery carried the ring of sincerity, as if she truly embraced his political ideals.
She couldn’t exactly admit she was exploiting his embarrassing weaknesses.
"If you have ambitions for state office—or even a future presidential run—Umbrella will be your most loyal supporter."
"..." Simmons fell silent. He understood that "Umbrella" here really meant her—Black Umbrella.
"Let’s meet in person, Ms. Vera Adelaide." Switching to a more intimate form of address, Simmons spread the still-warm papers across his desk.
Tamayura. WWA Bullpup Assault Weapon. WXA Computer-Assisted Targeting System...
As National Security Advisor—the President’s chief security aide, coordinator of the decision-making process, and overseer of intelligence—Simmons knew military hardware specs inside and out.
If these numbers were real, they outclassed the military’s current development contracts. Assuming, of course, Vera wasn’t bluffing.
On matters like this, Simmons doubted Umbrella would dare deceive Washington.
"It would be my honor. I’ve enjoyed our conversation, Mr. Simmons."
"The pleasure is mine, Ms. Vera."
...
Beep beep.
San Francisco, Umbrella Tower.
After hanging up, Vera shook her head and laughed. Politics, plain and simple—endless foreplay and flattery meant nothing compared to showing value and putting money on the table. Correction: not “money”—political contributions.
Yes, she was bribing—plain and simple.
For example, she planned to give the Simmons family half the shares in the Tamayura pistol plant, along with profit stakes in other weapons production. Only with deals like that could she truly break into the defense industry.
Drones, semiconductors, integrated circuits, electronics—those dual-use goods, while having secured Pentagon contracts under her leadership, were only sensitive technologies, semi-defense at best.
Only true defense contracts granted full access to the industry.
A Washington trip was inevitable—probably to a Simmons family charity auction for a face-to-face meeting.
And of course she’d have to spend lavishly at the event—some unknown painter’s work, a kid’s finger painting from who-knows-where—it didn’t matter. Throwing serious money around was part of the process.
There was also the NRA’s master-craftsman firearms auction, the California state press conference on Umbrella’s new San Francisco plant, the Veterans Association’s prosthetics charity gala...
Vera had her hands full.
It was about advancing her own position—and putting distance between herself and Umbrella’s B.O.W. [Bio-Organic Weapon] fiasco.
Getting her exit ticket ready.
Umbrella’s ship could sink, but she had no intention of going down with it.
"Hmm hmm~"
Humming to herself, Vera opened the documents her secretary had left. Just as she was happily plotting her escape route, a stack of official notices ruined her mood.
Among them:
[Environmental Protection and Animal Rights Organizations Protest Umbrella’s Large-Scale Factory Expansion for Damaging the Natural Environment]
[Equal Rights Groups Protest Unreasonable Composition of Umbrella’s New Hires]
...
"..."
After a long pause, Vera finally spat out the only fitting response:
"Shit."
If it weren’t still early days, would the diversity crowd already be piling on?
Western server special features—gotta love them.
Being a tyrant at Arasaka was way more fun.
