By the wild banquet creek, fine delicacies were leisurely roasted over the fire.
The sky was bright and clear, the sun warm, the breeze gentle.
Wisps of cooking smoke curled upward, and in the wind drifted a fragrant blend of animal fat, seasonal fruits and vegetables, and exotic spices.
Time had quietly passed noon; the private feast was nearing its end.
Having each gained what they desired, Vela and Morgan Lansdale—both having secured their respective interests—chatted and laughed with easy familiarity. They knowingly wrapped this alliance of convenience in the guise of friendship, and between drinks, turned to light-hearted topics.
"Buying Greenland from Denmark, Ms. Russell—are you serious?"
"Quite serious. Greenland is vast and sparsely populated, its climate frigid—perfect for building world-class, large-scale data center clusters. Letting the Danes keep it is a waste of potential."
"Ha, true enough. I heard the Sacramento State Assembly recently passed a bill hiring several decorated ASP Arkansas State Police and Border State Highway Intercept veterans to join the California Highway Patrol as instructors?"
"I'd call that a strong partnership—each side complementing the other. For maintaining comprehensive social order and ensuring a top-tier international business environment, of course."
"Didn't the San Francisco Bay Area win the title of safest region in America again in 2004? But speaking of security—heh—there seems to be some brewing unrest in Los Angeles lately."
"Ah, the same old topics: illegal immigration, LAPD's violent enforcement issues, the control of high-risk populations, and the implementation of federal biohazard containment protocols."
...
Question and answer flowed as the fine dishes on the table gradually disappeared, and the kitchen attendants began serving dessert.
The atmosphere grew even more relaxed.
Vela sat gracefully, sipping a glass of lemon water.
"Human rights are innate. Let them make noise—as long as it doesn't interfere with our company's operations."
Meaning, of course: if it did interfere, she would crush it without hesitation.
Morgan Lansdale fell silent, then shook his head with a wry smile. "So last night's visitors from Los Angeles City Hall—they were here to discuss security and law enforcement support contracts, weren't they?" His tone was inquisitive, but the certainty behind it was clear. "North and South California—one state, two systems. Comparisons are inevitable. No wonder some people are getting anxious."
Vela dabbed at her lips with a napkin and replied calmly, her voice indifferent. "Let them be anxious."
As she spoke, she was about to stand and stretch her legs—when one of her bodyguards approached, leaned close, and whispered, "Boss, it's your pet..."
"Pet?" Vela blinked.
The mention of her pet made her instinctively think of the tiny cybernetic dinosaur from Cyberpunk 2077, but she didn't recall keeping one at the Filoli Estate. Then she remembered—it was a real pet.
"No need to drive it away," she said, waving a hand dismissively.
"Yes, ma'am." The bodyguard nodded and withdrew.
Morgan Lansdale raised an eyebrow. Drive away what?
Moments later, he heard commotion in the distance. The bloodhounds, which had been gnawing on bones, suddenly barked sharply.
Armed guards around the perimeter parted cautiously, and soon a few large, yellow-furred cats with black rosettes burst out of the brush, bounding toward them from the wilds.
"Jaguars? Or..."
Trying to identify the species through his binoculars, Lansdale paused.
"Leopards," Vela answered, speaking lazily. "I received them as local gifts during a hunting trip on the Urhoga Savanna in Africa. They've been with me for nearly two years now." As she spoke, she started walking forward.
Ah, so those southern African warlords gifted them to curry favor with you, the great arms magnate—Lansdale thought knowingly.
Vela's fondness for hunting was hardly a secret across the United States.
According to the endless efforts of Hollywood paparazzi over the years, this woman was rather reclusive—she never attended talk shows or interviews, leaving the gossip-hungry public with no juicy scandals about her private life. As for her hobbies—
Shooting at the range didn't count; that was every American's birthright, not a pastime.
Besides playing golf with senators and politicians, Vela occasionally rode horses at her estate's private stables. But what truly infuriated animal rights activists and vegetarians alike was her passion for hunting.
Silver Ridge Peaks, Yukon Valley, Layton Lake District, and Fernando—they were all among her favorites. In her leisure time, she often invited business partners and political allies to join her on these expeditions.
It wasn't until the soft purr of the big cats reached his ears that Lansdale snapped out of his thoughts. He turned and saw Vela casually lifting a half-meter-long leopard cub into her arms, rubbing, patting, and playing with it.
The cub's parents, rather than showing aggression, affectionately rubbed their heads against Vela's legs, displaying a docile, endearing demeanor.
"Want to pet it?" Vela asked, raising the little leopard like one might hold a house cat.
"Uh." Morgan Lansdale glanced at the cub's parents, who immediately bared their teeth and growled the moment he stepped forward. Shaking his head with a wry smile, he spread his hands. "I'll pass. These old bones wouldn't survive a bite or two from a predator."
He was, after all, no cyber-augmented soldier or virus-enhanced superhuman—just a well-trained old man in decent shape.
Saying that, he sat back down, took a gulp of whiskey, and watched Vela petting the leopards with a thoughtful gleam in his eyes.
"Has Militech been experimenting on them with the same technology used in the Jurassic Park Project?" he asked, voice laced with curiosity.
If the Jurassic Park project's promotional material was true, then how had Militech managed to tame creatures far more vicious than leopards—dinosaurs, for instance?
And if that technology could control dinosaurs... could it also be used on B.O.W.s?
Vela's hands paused for a moment. She cast Lansdale a knowing glance.
"Perhaps," she said lightly.
She put the cub down, crouched to give both parent leopards a few affectionate strokes, then brushed the dust off her trousers. After instructing the private chef to share some of the leftover meat with them, she returned to her seat.
A vague answer—neither confirmation nor denial.
One could say it was somewhat related to the Jurassic Park Project, but unlike the cybernetic implants or neural chips Lansdale imagined for controlling predators, these leopards were something else entirely.
They were, in fact, a byproduct of Vela's early Geass experiments.
Without the metaphysical foundation of Code Geass's "World of C," Vela's own Geass in other worlds was extremely weak—its power grew slowly and was barely functional. Altering human consciousness was nearly impossible; at best, it worked as a crude form of telepathy and short-range emotional spectrum reader.
However, this limitation applied mainly to highly intelligent beings with advanced cognition—humans.
To put it bluntly: the smaller the brain, the thinner and smoother the cortex, the easier it was for Geass to affect the target.
Those "local gifts" from the African warlords? Most had been used up by the then newly-awakened Vela for testing.
The leopard family before her were among the most successful graduates of the Russell Feline Academy. There were also cheetahs and a lion family living in another section of the estate—apparently too far away to smell the outdoor feast today.
As for the untamable ones—if they couldn't be raised, they could still be cooked.
Nowadays, after ample practice and under the right conditions, Vela could easily pass for a druidic beast tamer if she wanted.
After all, no insect could bite her, and all wild beasts and poisons instinctively fled from her.
If someone annoyed her, she could simply use her Geass to command a swarm of mosquitoes to fly right into their mouth. Useful little conveniences, especially when stuck at an airport, attending some international meeting, or being harassed by intrusive media she disliked.
Yes—very convenient indeed.
Seeing that Vela wasn't interested in further discussing cybernetic control or neural domestication, Lansdale wisely dropped the topic. Business aside, civility still mattered.
Seizing the lull in conversation, he began chatting idly about recent happenings in Washington.
"The Indian Minister of Commerce recently visited the U.S. Their trade negotiations focused on inviting Militech to invest and set up factories in India, with various incentive policies..."
"Hah, India's subsidy programs?" Vela chuckled.
"As a gesture of goodwill to show we've no intent to monopolize the market, Militech will gladly let others compete for that one."
Before long, their conversation wound down on that humorous note. With both parties satisfied, Vela excused herself under the pretense of pressing business.
The unprocessed game was distributed among the bodyguards, attendants, and private chefs—each would have some sent to their homes in the Militech community.
Everyone got a share; though not much, it was the gesture that mattered.
...
Watching Vela's retreating figure, Morgan Lansdale narrowed his eyes slightly.
He pulled a half-smoked cigar from his hunting jacket pocket, flicked off the cap with a snap, and struck a lighter. The flame reflected in the deep lines etched at the corners of his eyes.
Huff—
Drawing deeply from the cigar, he exhaled and murmured to himself, "Pleasure doing business, Vela A. Russell. Let's hope we don't end up as enemies."
...
At two-thirty in the afternoon, Vela finished washing up and changing at the Filoli Estate. Dressed formally, she returned to the old Militech Building downtown, ready to meet with the Los Angeles City Government delegation to further discuss details regarding the police service contract.
With biochemical attacks increasing exponentially worldwide, even free-spirited, open Hollywood—the romantic and diversity-championing City of Angels—had to face a stark reality:
Biochemical crisis.
It was undeniable that the influx of immigrants and students from across the globe had greatly fueled the U.S. economy, especially during the late Cold War and the early post-bipolar era.
However, unlike the normal trajectory of history in other worlds, the Resident Evil world had experienced a very different path. Following the 1998 Raccoon City Incident and the September 11, 2001 attacks, and with the escalation of global bioterrorism in recent years, even without the rise of the MAGA movement, America's attitude toward immigration had inevitably begun to grow cautious.
Tighter immigration policies were certain—especially for illegal immigrants and refugees.
Who knew how many among them might be carrying viral bombs, or harbor thoughts of detonating one in the middle of a crowd?
After all, bioweapons were insidious: highly contagious, easily spread, and capable of inducing social panic. Containment was always far harder than outbreak.
And where did those most extreme illegal immigrants and refugees come from? On that point, the morally bankrupt senators of Washington and the old-money families of Wall Street were well aware—and just as wary.
They valued their lives far too much.
It was foreseeable that signing the police service contract would spark fierce controversy. Importing Northern California's model into Los Angeles would inevitably inflame the city's already sharp divisions, potentially igniting chaos surpassing even the 1992 Los Angeles riots.
Thus, they had come to seek aid—from the nation's and world's largest private security provider.
...
Meanwhile, in the North Bay—while Vela was negotiating police support with the Los Angeles delegation—outside the grand press hall of the Jurassic Park complex, beneath massive neon holographic billboards, a well-dressed Asian woman in a red coat and black short hair lowered the phone from her ear. A press badge hung from her neck.
"Generous Albert, this deal of yours is a real headache... Militech's dinosaur DNA mother samples..." she murmured, glancing toward the interior of the building—where SFPD officers, SWAT units, and Militech security personnel crowded the entrance of the Jurassic Park exhibition hall.
At five in the afternoon, according to a statement from Militech's Corporate Communications Division, Vela Adelheid Russell herself would attend the event in person to promote the official opening of Jurassic Park.
At that time, through the use of genetic programming technology, the resurrected dinosaurs would make their public debut before a live global audience.
"This world is getting more and more fascinating," the woman sighed softly, then followed the crowd into the venue.