Marvel 1919 : Rise of an Empire

George floated high above, watching as the Earth gradually turned green, feeling quite pleased. The Ancient Star, once a banishment site in the Marvel Universe, now renamed by George, resembled a blank canvas, allowing him to unleash his imagination freely.

However, George had no immediate plans to bring people to this planet. He felt that Marvel's Earth was still too bound by terrestrial concerns to explore the stars. He also didn't want to control everyone around him with illusions.

Though he could bend perception with ease, George knew that absolute control brought no satisfaction.

If all loyalty were synthetic, what purpose would anything hold?

Maintaining the persona of a "Great and Righteous" individual was important to him. George had no desire to be viewed as a villain, or worse, become an experience-grinding dungeon for heroes.

Before reaching peak combat power, he needed to ensure that this place was safe from all angles. It had to be completely secure, with not even a slight vulnerability.

George believed a certain saying held true: loyalty exists only when the stakes for betrayal aren't high enough.

He took his companies as an example, noting that even after nearly completely delegating authority, some individuals still harboured ulterior motives. He'd seen it firsthand, project leads turning coat the moment profits dipped.

Furthermore, the mindsets of people in the world could be quite peculiar. They were often swayed by volatile emotions, leading to rash and sometimes shocking decisions. Like that woman in Tomb Raider who impulsively stabbed her lover out of fear, emotion made people dangerously irrational.

As a result, George concluded that he would have to build the entire Ancient Star himself. He couldn't place his trust in anyone else. The criminals, in his view, were merely tools for his purposes.

"Monday, list the urban planning blueprints and required construction materials."

A moment later, the AI responded in its ever-dry tone, "Compiling… Warning: this project exceeds scalable human workforce limits."

As George looked at the densely packed list of materials projected on the screen, he was astounded. Good heavens! The list spanned several pages, making it impossible to read through completely. How many people would be required to build all of this?

From George's perspective, Monday could only be classified as an ordinary artificial intelligence, functional, but far from sentient. Compared to the advanced forms of Ultron or Jarvis from future timelines, Monday was barely more than a glorified assistant.

With this in mind, George turned his attention to a world that offered both practical resources and fertile ground for biological experimentation: the plane of Resident Evil.

The Umbrella Corporation

The setting was the early 21st century. The Umbrella Corporation had already emerged as a global corporate juggernaut, with its products found in ninety percent of American households.

On the surface, it was a gleaming enterprise offering breakthroughs in medical technology and computing. Beneath that façade, however, it thrived as a military-industrial giant, specializing in genetic experimentation and biological weapons.

Most employees remained oblivious to Umbrella's darker dealings. The company's executive leadership had gone to great lengths to mask their covert operations.

One such operation was the Hive, a five-hundred-meter-deep subterranean research facility located beneath Raccoon City. To hide the entrance, they constructed a discreet mansion above it, complete with a private security force.

Then came the incident that would unravel it all.

Raccoon City

A sudden outbreak of the T-Virus within the Hive sent tremors through Umbrella's hidden empire. As chaos brewed beneath the surface, George materialized on a quiet stretch of road just outside the city. A weathered sign greeted him: "Welcome to Raccoon City."

He had landed at the precipice of the first Resident Evil film, the narrative still untouched by catastrophe. In his mind, scenes flickered, Alice awakening, the Red Queen's containment breach, the Hive descending into darkness.

The road was still busy, the air relatively calm. Dusk bathed the skyline in hues of red and violet.

A car slowed beside him.

"Hey, need a ride?" came a woman's voice through the open window.

George turned with a friendly grin. "Hello, beautiful! If you're headed toward the city center, I'd be grateful for the lift."

"Hop in. Taxis are a rare species out here," the woman replied, unlocking the door.

"Thank you kindly, madam," George said as he slipped into the passenger seat.

The vehicle hummed down the highway. Raccoon City loomed ahead, unaware of the doom resting beneath its foundations.

"Why were you walking alone out there?" the driver asked.

"I came to Raccoon City to travel with some friends," George replied casually. "But when I stepped out, they drove off without me. Wrong company, I suppose."

"Sounds like trouble," she said, glancing at him. "The forest outside town hasn't been safe lately. People have seen... things. Beasts, they say. If you're out for fun, best stay out of the mountains."

George gave a knowing nod. "Appreciate the warning. What should I call you, madam?"

"Jill Valentine. And you?"

"George. Just George."

His eyes flickered with recognition. Jill Valentine, elite member of S.T.A.R.S., Alpha Team operative, and a central figure in the biohazard nightmare soon to unfold.

According to the timeline, she'd recently been suspended after the mansion incident. Her continued presence in the city likely meant she was still investigating Umbrella on her own.

And the 'Beasts'? Early symptoms of what would soon spiral into a viral catastrophe.

The ride continued with light conversation, Jill asking about his travels, George offering half-truths. Yet his mind was already churning.

He needed access to the Hive before Umbrella activated lockdown protocols. He had no interest in playing hero; he was here for the data, for samples, and leverage.

When the car stopped at an intersection, George leaned toward the window.

"Thank you for the ride, Jill."

"You're welcome. Stay out of the woods, and good luck with your friends," she replied.

"Goodbye, Jill."

He watched her car disappear around a corner, his smile widening.

Fate had delivered one of the story's major players to his doorstep. And now, George knew exactly how early in the timeline he had arrived. The pieces were in motion. Now it was time to act.

The Umbrella Strike Team

Before George could reflect further, two black General Motors SUVs adorned with the Umbrella logo rumbled past him, their engines growling through the stillness.

Through his X-ray vision, George observed a team of heavily armed operatives inside, headed toward a villa just ahead. Nearby, a woman stirred from a coma in an upper room, while a man crouched cautiously by a shattered window.

Piecing it together, George quickly recognized the setup. The woman was Alice, the central figure of the story, and the man was Matt, a resistance member.

The soldiers belonged to an Umbrella Corporation strike unit. This wasn't just a coincidence, it was the opening scene of the first Resident Evil film, unfolding in real-time.

To George, the squad seemed like little more than doomed cannon fodder. From the beginning, everything was rigged. The Umbrella Corporation's leadership had orchestrated the outbreak, intending to wipe out humanity while they sheltered in a cryogenic bunker deep beneath the Hive.

Once the surface had been purged, the Red Queen AI would revive them and dispense an antidote, allowing them to reemerge as lords over a sterilized world. Everyone else? Disposable.

Though George's nature leaned toward the pragmatic, even cold-blooded, he couldn't ignore the scale of suffering this plan would inflict. Billions of lives lost for the sake of control? Not under his watch. The game would be rewritten.

Stretching casually, George began walking toward the villa.

Confrontation

The area was already tense. Shattered glass glinted beneath his boots as he approached the mansion's front. Through the broken window, he saw Matt bound on the floor, hands cuffed behind him.

"These people don't waste time with diplomacy," George muttered.

No sooner had he stepped forward than weapons were trained on him.

"Hands up!" barked Rain Ocampo, her voice cutting through the air like a whip.

George paused, raising his hands with a calm, disarming smile. "Let's not be hasty. I come in peace."

"Down! On the floor!" ordered James "One" Shade, the squad leader. He gestured for the others to subdue George.

George's expression turned icy. With a single mental command, an invisible force surged from him.

The operatives gasped as their weapons slipped from their grips, torn away by a gravitational force they couldn't comprehend.

"Clang, clang, clang!"

The weapons clattered mid-air, swirling together in a synchronized magnetic pull. George molded them into a compact, hovering iron sphere.

"Fire!" James shouted, but the command came too late.

Several team members reached for sidearms, but George flicked his wrist. The ball of guns fragmented and shot toward them, striking hard and fast, knocking several to the floor.

"If I were you," George said, stepping over a groaning operative, "I'd show a bit more restraint."

James, eyes narrowed, studied George's cold expression, the calm ruthlessness of someone who could kill without flinching.

"Stand down!" he ordered, lifting a hand to stop further action.

George's smile returned. "Much better."

Though he possessed the power to warp minds and crush skulls, George restrained himself. He believed in influence through words, not brute dominance. Excessive force was easy, but it eroded the soul.

"Now," he said lightly, brushing dust from his coat, "let's not dwell on that. Everyone on your feet."

The team obeyed, still rattled. The earlier defiance had evaporated.

Meeting Alice

A woman approached cautiously. Her gaze was sharp, wary, but intelligent.

"Hello, sir. Do you know who I am?" asked Alice, the former security officer who, in the movie, would later be decapitated by a laser grid.

George gave a subtle nod. The story had begun. But this time, it wouldn't follow the original script.

"You, named Alice, are like the others. You're all Umbrella employees responsible for security at this emergency exit, and the Captain is aware of this," George responded cheerfully.

"Then what happened to me?" Alice inquired again.

Kaplan interjected, "The Hive has its own defensive control system, managed by an AI called the Red Queen. In emergencies, it releases an anesthetic gas that renders individuals unconscious for four hours. Severe memory loss is a common side effect."

"Then… what about this?" Alice asked, removing a ring from her hand.

"Your marriage is fake, a cover to conceal your real identity," George explained. "Your entire life here was fabricated by Umbrella."

By this time, the others had rearmed and were preparing to move again. Just then, Matt, a member of the anti-Umbrella resistance, approached George hesitantly.

George glanced at him. "I know what you want to ask, but you may be disappointed. Your sister died when the Red Queen sealed the Hive. I'm truly sorry."

Matt's face turned pale. Rain pulled him forward silently to join the others.

George shook his head and followed at the rear. He dismissed the idea of staying above ground, eventually, he'd need to descend.

Besides, the Umbrella forces would soon surround the mansion. For now, avoiding confrontation was best.

The group ahead appeared relieved when George followed. His presence and the skills he had already displayed reassured them. More than that, they knew he held valuable information.

George saw it all in their expressions, he didn't even need to read their thoughts. He just smiled and remained silent.

Umbrella Command Center

Meanwhile, elsewhere in a sterile Umbrella command center, George's movements were being monitored on several screens. In a dimly lit virtual conference room, several senior officials sat in silence, their attention fixed on the main seat.

"White Queen, do you have any information on this individual?" asked William Birkin, seated at the center.

"No matching information found in national biometric or identity archives," replied the artificial intelligence, White Queen. "Subject first appeared on surveillance outside Raccoon City, entering the city in Police Officer Jill Valentine's vehicle. All other data is inconclusive."

William leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "This individual is anomalous and has high research value. I recommend capturing him alive. If we understand the source of his capabilities, it could be invaluable."

The other Umbrella leaders exchanged uneasy glances. One of them asked, "And if capture fails?"

William paused, his expression hard. "Then initiate the nuclear fallback. If we can't secure the sample, we must destroy it. We can't afford any threat to the Hive's containment protocol or our long-term plans."

"Agreed," the others responded in unison.

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