"Now I am become death, the destroyer of worlds."

-J. Robert Oppenheimer

RESIDENT EVIL: "PROTOTYPE"

Beads of sweat rested on Doctor Bledsoe's brow, glistening from the computer screen's dull luminance. An unfinished email stared back at him, the text cursor flickering in and out of sight. He wiped the sweat onto the sleeve of his lab coat, and his fingers resumed their steady waltz on the keyboard. He was writing a suicide note. Trenton Bledsoe's eventful life was nearing its abrupt end.

Bledsoe joined the Umbrella Corporation in the mid-1980s. He considered his experience and research in the field of genetics to be useful to Umbrella's pharmaceutical assets. When he joined the corporation, he quickly realized that everything he knew was merely a misconception. True, Umbrella was a pharmaceutical company that did indeed produce general medicine. However, this was merely a front for much darker things. Umbrella toiled in the field of biological weapons and genetic research, and that department utilized Bledsoe's skills to the fullest. In recent years, Bledsoe began to work with the volatile t-Virus, which had a host of notable effects on its test subjects. Bledsoe worked closely with a brilliant man of science named William Birkin. Dr. Birkin had been working on an offshoot virus of his own, known as G. The G-virus offered enormous restorative properties, ones that could perfect the super soldier molds initiated by the t-Virus.

Bledsoe was allowed access to the unfinished prototype models of the G virus. It had been made very clear that only Birkin himself could work with the more advanced models of G. The products of Trenton's research sat against the wall behind him, resting quietly in stasis tubes, their cold blue light shining in the otherwise dark laboratory. Bledsoe conducted research in this underground laboratory for years, which rested beneath the basement of his own home in Raccoon City. His purpose was to experiment with the G Virus on one of Umbrella's bio-organic weapons: The Hunter model.

The Hunter was a creature born of genetics. They existed of human DNA, spliced with that of reptilian or amphibian genes. The result was incredible. The standard Hunter stood at average human height. Their physique was Herculean to say the least, and each bulging muscle was covered in reptilian scales. What were formerly human fingers and toes were replaced with ebony claws capable of decapitating prey with ease. Their mouths were filled with animal fangs, and their wild eyes were filled with only bloodlust.

His work with the Hunter models had been moderately successful. Umbrella was not blind to this potential success, and had meticulous logs on every piece of Bledsoe's research. The good doctor was not a stupid man, and was aware of Umbrella's capabilities. He could only imagine that they would soon be bursting into his home in a matter of days. They would kill him. They would take his subjects. They would take his research, and destroy any evidence that he ever existed, let alone worked on the project at all. The good doctor had prepared himself. He had already made sure that his wife and daughter were far from Raccoon City, sending them on an extended and very secretive vacation. One of his three specimens was also already removed from the town, stored in a very safe place known only by Bledsoe, and his wife Amelia. The other two remained in stasis, but that would soon change. He planned to release them into Raccoon City. If Umbrella wanted them, they would have to earn them.

"I know my time is limited. We've had this planned for years, and now we must put it into action. Amelia, my dear, I'm so sorry it had to end this way, but I know that this research means as much to you as it does me. Keep Lucia safe, and make sure that Specimen III's growth is not inhibited. Amelia, I love you with all of my heart. Goodbye, my sweet. -Trenton."

The note was finished; he had said his final goodbyes and given her instructions on how to care for Specimen III. He sent the email, the last words his sweet Amelia would ever hear from him. He maximized another window on his computer, bringing up surveillance cameras. His paranoia was confirmed. There was a large black truck in his driveway, and he could see Umbrella's special clean-up crew pouring out. Their image evoked fear, their faces hidden by gas masks, their eyes concealed by soulless black goggles. One of them approached the camera, submachine gun clutched tightly in one hand. He disabled the camera, reducing the feed to static.

Trenton sighed, and deactivated the tubes. He turned in his chair, eying his two remaining specimens, Romulus and Remus. Like the ancient Roman myth, they were his children, two brothers raised under unnatural circumstances. As the heart monitors flatlined and the tubes began to drain, he saw them begin to stir. The tubes slowly began to empty. In a flash, glass was flying, shards exploding towards Bledsoe in his chair. In one fluid movement, Romulus stepped out of the tube, splashing the stasis fluid onto the basement floor. His nine foot tall frame was hunched over, his back against the ceiling.

Before any expressible form of awe could escape his lips, Trenton was on the ground, his legs still sitting in the chair. The disembodied waist and legs went slack, sliding out the chair and falling to the floor. His heart continued to beat, spraying blood from the ragged flesh that ended his upper half. Both Romulus and Remus stood before him now, his beautiful creations. They gave him little time to appreciate them, as the abrupt slash of a claw splattered the good doctor's brains against the wall. The top of his skull spun along the floor like a bowl. As Trenton Bledsoe's lifeless body continued to bleed out, his creations proceeded to sabotage their late "father's" laboratory.

They ceased their destruction only once, when the steel-toed boot of a U.B.C.S. agent kicked in the door to the basement laboratory. Not a single one of them survived.