Above the world, satellites are safely taking orbit. While the continents are steadily moving and life is progressing on, the satellites are watching everything from above with their digital eyes and are frowning. Many satellites have lost power since the T-virus outbreak and have left their predetermined orbits to float lifelessly through space. Only a few of them are still running from computers on Earth's surface, or, more appropriately, Earth's underground. Umbrella's main satellite is the pinnacle of spatial communication between ground computers and the satellite's operating system. However, there is one satellite not registered by any company and not carrying any known frequency. It not only floats passed Umbrella's satellite, it sends a cryptic message.

Look at us now, Umbrella... Look at this...

The last bits of humanity are lost to the T-virus with exception to survivors who are mass located in the White House. Men and women, militia and medical faculties, pre-outbreak and post-apocalyptical survivors are all protected by the boundaries Umbrella crafted in case of emergency. Some survivors are still fighting out there, but there is no real way of knowing. One survivor, Ada Wong, was traveling through the corridors of the White House searching for the head of Umbrella: Albert Wesker. She may not know much about satellites, but she did know that something was not right about this unknown one. When she finally came across the office that Wesker was residing in, she forced her entry and slammed her hand onto his desk.

"We have a problem," Ada started, gaining the man's interest.

"I imagine so," Wesker said, calm disposition making her suspicious.

"We've detected a signal from an unidentified satellite," Ada said, face beginning to twist in anger. "It's requesting that you take a look at it."

Wesker hummed in thought and then rose to his feet. He circled about his desk and proceeded to follow the concerned Ada to the main computer area. Each screen was black with white words being typed up. Alice and her daughter were standing in the middle of the room, reading the words together. Jill Valentine was also reading the words from behind one of the signal analysts. Wesker held his hands behind his back and hummed in thought again as he walked up to one of the screens and read the words. Suddenly, a mixture of voices combined into one provided audio for the next couple of words.

Billions of people wrongfully damned because of your selfish desire to dominate the world through biological advancements that you knew you couldn't control. How many years has it been since the outbreak? Guess what? The world's gone straight to hell. How does it feel now? You've got the world at your fingertips, or should I say you have nothing but dust and undead flesh under your fingernails? Isn't that what you wanted?

Wesker, for a moment, becomes unnerved by the familiarity of the voices. He couldn't exactly pinpoint each one, but he could identify one of them and that was not a good sign. This person was smart, and a smart adversary was definitely not a good one. He pushed one of the analysts gently to the side and began typing a reply but he was denied access to respond and the message repeated from the beginning. He then asked, "Has anyone tracked down that satellite's signal yet?"

"No, sir, we're trying to do that now."

"Whoever it is definitely caught your attention," Alice remarked, looking at Wesker with disdain and a hint of amusement.

You failed Umbrella. Like all great leaders who try to conquer and expand a kingdom already too large to handle, you have fallen and you have saved no one. Enjoy what little power you have left. It'll be gone soon.

Wesker ordered calmly, though his voice had a sliver of concern, "Looks like we're going on a scavenger hunt. Track down every operational satellite in orbit. I want to find out where that signal is coming from and how it found us here. I have a feeling I know who's playing with us."

Jill, Ada, and Alice exchanged looks for a moment and then returned to the screen repeating the same message. The mixture of voices repeated the same lines until the signal shut off and the security cameras returned to normal function. Wesker sighed for a moment, smirked, and then left the room. He knew exactly where that kind of transmission could have come from, but from which satellite is the real mystery.

_____________________________________________________

He was happy to be home as he drove through the suburbs of Rochester, Minnesota. It was a beautiful night. The stars and the moon were glittering in their purest of white translucence. He turned a corner to his left and drove up to the driveway, waiting for the garage door to lift high enough for clearance. He messed up more cars that way. It was sad really, but he didn't care. He was just excited to be home away from the Umbrella Corporation's research facility. He finally got the week off, and he was going to spend it with his wife. He got out of the car and retrieved his bouquet of flowers from the car seat. Hurriedly, he closed the door quietly and locked the doors, cussing when the vehicle made the noisy beep before locking itself up. On the wall, he pushed the garage door button and waited to make sure the thing closed. Technology keeps advancing but the frustrations when they don't work sure doesn't. When it closed, he went to open the windows just a bit to let some air travel and then locked the door behind him. He was happy enough to break out in a dance, but his cellphone killed his mood when he cussed and then quickly took it out just to turn it off. What was wrong with the world when he couldn't enjoy his time off... or his wife?

When he finally entered his home, his other cellphone rang and made him stop in his tracks and roll his eyes. Today was just that day to stop any romantic gestures. He looked down to see the name on his caller ID and saw "Santana" with the picture of a guy posing near the Mona Lisa. He pushed the answer button on his iPhone and said, "Oliveira."

"Carlos, we have a situation!" the man said, sounding panicked.

Carlos held his breath for a moment and replied, "What's wrong?"

"You forgot your Viagra!" Santana said, waiting for the older man to respond.

A click of the phone and the dial tone was a proper response. Forgot his fucking Viagra? Really? His libido was punching Viagra in the ass right now and this is the bullshit he has to put up with? God, he needed new friends! Santana was a good man, though. He was fairly young in the security field and was very intelligent when it came to both research and technology use. The frightening thing about him was his good nature and love of women. He didn't care what the woman looked like so long as she had impressive bedroom skills. Carlos just supposed that meant being in your early to mid-thirties was both a time to settle down and a time to not give a shit for who you settled for. Speaking of settling down, his wife was still upstairs.

He sneakily went up the stairs and into their bedroom, hearing water run from the shower head. Okay, very classy. He could prolong the libido for a moment. He went ahead and undressed himself as he walked around the bed, placing the flowers in a presumably perfect spot, and wondering what his lady of the evening was doing before she went to shower. Apparently, she was prepping herself for something good as he spotted oils and her lingerie underneath her robes. Feeling that he couldn't take it anymore, Carlos bit back a loud whine and decided to invade his wife's privacy. Fuck surprising her! At that moment, when he was hopping on one foot to remove his footwear, Santana sent him a text. He didn't even care about what he had to say.

"I'm gonna kill that son of bitch if he calls me in the middle of the sex!" Carlos hissed, running into the bathroom.

Hey. Wesker wants me in Washington D.C. Tracking an unidentified satellite. You're on your own when you get back to work. Enjoy your wife, bastard.

She was a beautiful woman. That's all he knew. That's all he needed to know. When he pulled the curtain back, he merely stood there and watched her snap around and cover herself instinctively. When she said his name in a sharp whisper and looked into his eyes for an explanation, she only saw one thing in them: a passionate red gaze that showed nothing short of admiration. He reached out to touch her face and pulled her closer towards him. Her gorgeous fair skin, wet locks of amber, baby blue eyes, and delicate lips were calling out to him. She smiled feeling the sexual tension between them growing and planted an innocent kiss to his lips. His phone rang again several times and a hissing sound rang throughout the bathroom. He separated from his wife, looked at the showerhead, and then scoffed.

"You stay right where you are," Carlos said, swiping his finger about her straight, button nose.

"What if I don't want to?" his wife said in a sweet tone.

Carlos turned around and then said in a menacing tone, "I punish you... vigorously..."

His wife perked her eyebrow up and then closed the curtain as she continued to shower. She most definitely wasn't going to get her skin pruned up. May as well take that punishment. Carlos was five seconds away from humming his phone out of the window as he snatched it from the bed and then looked at his messages. Santana left the first message about leaving to DC for Wesker and then a list of other associates were leaving incomplete messages. One was from someone named Grady, another from Sarah, and several more from Yusef.

Yo

Hel

Someone broke

Virus spr

Missed call from Grady

Missed call from Sarah

"Sounds like you're busy," a familiar voice said.

Carlos turned to his wife, seeing she was wrapped in her robe and was not wearing her lingerie, and pouted. He said, "You used all the hot water."

"That thing that's pointing at me is gonna need a lot of cold water," she remarked, walking over to the vanity dresser.

"That's not very nice, Alessandra," Carlos responded, sending text messages back to the callers. Since they interrupted a perfectly romantic evening, he may as well kill his plans entirely. Alessandra pulled his face towards her and stole another kiss before smacking his butt and returning to the vanity dresser.

Though he would like to continue with the lovemaking, Carlos was getting a little concerned about the messages. Something about the virus unnerved him and if it spread the whole city was in trouble. He just wished someone would call him back to tell him what happened. But if the virus spread, then no one would be able to respond and these messages would barely register if they were infected with it. Maybe he should leave. A message from an unknown caller then appeared. He slid his finger over the screen to open it and read it quietly.

Don't worry. Situation under control. Enjoy your wife.

And baby it is on...again! Carlos almost broke into his happy dance, but he decided to just stay calm and not do twenty rounds of the cabbage patch. He looked at the unknown number one more time before walking away from it, reasoning that the caller might have been a containment officer who had a working phone. As his wife, Alessandra, was drying her hair, he stretched a muscular arm across her collarbones and locked her wrists in his large hand above her head. Faintly, she gasped and then hummed an "oh" when he kissed her sensitive spot. Okay, nice surprise, hubby. She turned her head to see his face and saw the animal in his eyes. Shit, this was gonna be the rough kind of lovemaking, wasn't it?

"What, no flowers?" she asked, trying to distract him.

That didn't work. Carlos immediately yanked her body out of the sitting stool in front of the vanity dresser and dragged her to the bed with the beautiful cream roses still resting on the bed spread. Her body was shoved directly above the sheets, not touching them and only a few centimeters away from the roses to actually smell their fragrance. Neither one of them moved as she was bent over in a perfect L without any part of her body touching the bed. While it is hot to be under the spell of the laced roses, which is the ultimate reason why her arousal spiked obviously, she was sure being anchored like a shelf bracket to a wall was not enough foreplay for what was clearly about to happen.

"Any other requests, little girl?" Carlos questioned in a vicious tone. "Since you like not following orders, you're gonna have to suffer from your punishment. This stalling business that you're doing won't save you."

"What about your phone?" Alessandra asked in a whimpering sort of tone. Those roses were laced with something powerful!

Silently, Carlos pulled Alessandra back up and reached down to grab the discarded phone just lying on the bed like a dormant remote control. He bit down on the crook of her neck, causing her to yelp, and placed the annoyance of the evening in her mouth.

"If it comes out of your mouth, I'll make it painful..." Carlos hissed.

That was all she needed right then. For the next three hours - maybe more, depending on who fell asleep first - her jaws were clenching onto the phone. The teeth marks on his screen were now his pride and joy as he lay next to his wife in perfected bliss. A faint siren woke the slumbering man as he held onto his wife. He turned his attention to the window, seeing lights and slowly rose from the bed for a moment. Suddenly, the hissing noise from earlier stirred again and a pale-yellow mist shot through the vents. Alessandra woke up and whispered his name but both of them went unconscious before they could react to the gas leak.

________________________________________________________________

The streets were quiet and empty now, but they wouldn't be for long. Umbrella's research facility had been on lockdown due to the T-virus outbreak. There were still some scientists who were in the building, but no one knows if they were rescued or not. The messages on Carlos Oliveira's cell phone were the last bits of evidence containing the status of the outbreak. Cars were scattered about in the driveways and streets. Infected were closing in on the neighborhood but weren't quite there yet. You could hear their hissing and moaning if you were in the city. You could hear them approaching. This was the only part of the neighborhood that hadn't been attacked or evacuated so it was possible that a food source was still available. Unfortunately, there were several food sources still about.

A yellow Suzuki V-Strom was cruising through the suburbs with its rider calmly pulling up to a single house. It was a two-story home with a garage and large patio, perfect for whoever lived there. The rider took off the orange and yellow helmet to reveal a black woman with a wispy Mohawk. She wasn't a tall woman, 5'4" at her highest, but she was definitely a cautious one. She turned the bike off, dismounted from the vehicle, and placed the helmet on the handle of the bike. The only weapon that was equipped on her was a shotgun. Her pistols ran out of bullets earlier and were dead weight now. Her bandolier was strapped on her body in the shape of an X, and the rifle was placed on her back. She removed the rifle from its holster strap and held it up as she cautiously ran to the gate. It was locked, so her best bet was to climb over it. Luckily, there were monogram letters on the gate, so she got some leverage on the letter O with her combat boots and athletically hopped over the gate and landed with a nice thud and then walked as if she hadn't jumped down at all. A gauntlet was on her arm and it beeped to get her attention. She looked at it for a second, kept the rifle at eye level, and looked down at it to see what caused the noise. A red hologram of a little girl came onto the screen of her gauntlet-like communication device.

The hologram said, "Connie, you can't stay here. The infected have reached this area."

"I know," Connie looked up from her bangs and looked into the window where she thought she saw movement upstairs. She couldn't leave just yet. Her device found someone who was not infected with the T-virus. She then said, "But I got a read on a survivor. Help me get to the person, please, Red Queen."

Red Queen hummed in concern and then relented by saying, "You have to hurry. You only have between fifteen and twenty minutes before the infected have reached your area."

"There was a tank a few miles from here that I got on the radar. Is it operational?"

"It is, but it can only go so far before you will have to travel on foot," Red Queen replied.

Connie nodded, went to the door hurriedly, twisted the knob a few times, and then kicked it open since it was locked. Immediately, she held the rifle up to eye level and checked to see if an infected managed to break in. Nothing. All was quiet... too quiet. Connie went into the kitchen and stocked up on knives first just in case. She then hunted for a flashlight. When she obtained the items, she also saw a pistol in the drawer next to the utensils and held on to that. The magazine was full. She ran quietly to the stairs and hoped the survivor was okay. Most of the doors were opened upstairs. She didn't see anyone in the game room or one of the guest bedrooms, so she went straight for the master bedroom just to be sure. The minute she walked inside of the room, she spotted a man lying in his bed alone and breathing evenly. How didn't he hear the biocontainment units in the area? Or the evacuation sirens? Connie went over to him in silent steps and caressed his cheek. He was a handsome man.

Abruptly, the man screamed and hit her in the face with his pillow. She yelped and ducked as he swung a bat. Quickly, Connie grabbed his hand and punched him before screaming, "Hey! Hey! I'm not here to hurt you!"

"Who the fuck are you?" the man demanded, readying the bat for another swing.

"My name is Connie!" she answered. "I'm here to get you out of here. The T-virus spread and there are infected coming to this house soon."

"Connie, the infected are precisely 2600 feet from your location. You have to leave now or it will be too late to defend yourself from the massive horde. You still have to get to the tank if you want to use it," Red Queen warned.

"Look," Connie said, giving the man the handgun that she found in his kitchen. "I'm trying to save you from being eaten alive. Please..."

The man looked into her brown eyes and resigned to her pleas. He lowered his bat, took the pistol, and asked, "What about my wife?"

"She isn't here. You were the only one in the house," Connie answered, eyebrow raised in confusion.

The man looked at the bed, seeing no remnants of his wife's presence, and then looked down at himself. He was dressed in a long sleeved navy blue shirt and regular jeans with combat boots. A bulletproof vest was covering his torso, but he had no memory of dressing himself at all. Maybe this woman was lying to him and was the kidnapper of his wife trying to get him on her side. Well, at this rate, he had no real choice. For now, he would go with her until his wife was found. The woman before him was an attractive one, though. Her hair wasn't outstandingly lengthy like most black girls have it now with the weave, but it was long enough to reach the middle of her back. Her lips were large like a black woman's lips, but that was all he could say was large. Her breasts weren't D or F cups and her booty wasn't huge as far as he could tell. She had an impressive length and curve to her legs, though. He stopped looking at the woman's features and gazed into her face suspiciously. Seeing that she was desperate to leave, he reached his hand out to shake as a sign that she was on a limited supply of trust. Connie looked down at it and hesitantly shook his large hand.

"What's your name?" Connie asked.

"Carlos."

Connie nodded her head, cocked the shotgun to fire at will, and led him outside swiftly. For the first time in a long while, Carlos felt like he was living out a missing part of his life. He still didn't know who this woman was, but it was good that she seemed to be trying to help. Carlos followed her as they climbed over the gate, ran to the bike, and waited as Connie turned it on. He wanted to offer a ride in his truck, but they didn't have much time. She said the T-virus had spread and if a horde of infected were only 2000 feet away, they were on borrowed time and it was slipping fast. When the bike started, he watched as Connie typed in some coordinates on her arm brace and then straddle the bike.

Don't stare at her ass. Don't stare at her ass. Don't stare at her ass. Carlos chanted in his head. He didn't listen to himself, though. Shit!

"Here," Connie said, handing him her helmet. "Get on."