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Prologue

It was the sound of barbarism.

The audio feed was grainy and garbled, grunts and shouts and animalistic howls coming through the  speakers to assault the ears of all in the room.

To Excella Gionne, it was better than music. 

Normally, she would have kept herself stone-faced. The cold, emotionless ice queen her underlings had come to fear, that was the woman who got things done at the new Tricell-Umbrella. But now, seeing the fruits of her labor first hand? Excella couldn’t keep the smirk off of her flawless face.

She strode closer to the large screen that dominated the front wall of the control center. Her heels clicked against the floor as she passed between the rows of desks. Already she could feel eyes on her body. 

The leering was expected - and invited. The world of corporate politics was cut-throat. And men who were focused on her lush body wrapped in a lavish, low-cut dress were the same men who weren’t taking into account her sharp mind. Men who underestimated a pretty face didn’t last long in Excella’s world. Which meant less competition for her.

Excella knew how to play the game - And today was the day she won.

Years of research. Years of development. Tests, trials, failures. Not just her own, but the failures of others as well. The Raccoon City debacle at least provided a valuable cautionary tale. All of it led to today’s triumph. 

Excella Gionne, titaness of industry, had created her masterpiece. A successful genetic enhancement.

She stared up at the screen, half in awe, half in silent jubilation. The video feed was live. Violence was unfolding. And it was beautiful.

There were men on screen. Tall, fit, and strong, all of them. And they were garbed in the best combat suits Tricell-Umbrella could produce. They wielded the company’s most advanced riot control prototypes. They had been given the best close combat training the company could afford. 

And they were losing.

Losing to a single man. An unarmed, unarmored man.

Excella’s smile grew. Her eyes were locked onto the big screen, utterly captivated as she watched her test subject make short work of his attackers. They were not small men, either. They weren’t even average men. They were the best of Tricell-Umbrella’s elite security force. And Excella’s living weapon was hurling them around the training room like they weighed next to nothing.

A single punch had sent one of the armored attackers doubling over into a desperate, wheezing fit. A strong kick sent another flying back several feet. Excella watched him land in with a heavy thud. A man the size of a rugby forward and a mere kick had him writhing so pitifully on the ground.

The test subject threw his fist into another attacker’s chest. It was like watching a man take a blow from a sledgehammer. It was more than likely he cracked the poor bastard’s ribs.

Behind her, Excella heard one of the tech rats hiss with sympathy. She could imagine the whole pathetic lot of them wincing and averting their eyes from the savagery in the video feed. They were weak. Excella had more nerve in her little toe than all of her pencil-neck underlings combined. She would not look away.

Violence had always possessed a certain beauty in Excella’s eyes. It was brutal, but honest. It was true. A pure, base expression of power. But that wasn’t the only reason why Excella felt so giddy watching the barbarity unfold on the big screen. No, Excella was excited because the violence was visual proof. The strength enhancements she developed were beyond successful.

And of course, her test subject - her champion - was nothing to sneeze at, either.

Even before she had administered to him her prized M-0 formula, her champion had been an impressive specimen. In a purely physical sense, anyhow. Standing almost a head taller than her at a towering six-foot-six, he possessed a broad chest, wide shoulders, thick, powerful arms, and big, strong hands that looked like they could have bent rebar even without the Tricell-Umbrella enhancements. 

Her champion lived up to his cheeky moniker and then some. His looks, Excella noted with wicked glee, were just the icing on the cake. The very large and very bulky cake.

Excella Gionne was the woman who got what she wanted. She had spent years fighting her way into power, carving out her place in the field of genetic modification. So of course Excella would insist that he perform this trial of strength and endurance in only sweatpants.

But she wasn’t the only one watching who held an appreciation for the perfection of the masculine form. The video feed of the M-0 demonstration was being streamed live off-site. Excella figured that her business partner should have the opportunity to see the success she helped create. She even had a voice chat open, just to hear her partner’s reaction.

Excella took the silence on the other end as a very good sign.

It wouldn’t be until Excella’s champion stood tall, triumphant over a dozen defeated adversaries that she heard her partner’s smooth voice come through to her ear-piece.

“He just tore through those guys.” The other woman said. Excella couldn’t see her face but she could hear the faintest hint of awe coloring her words. Her partner gave a short, scoffing laugh. “It wasn’t even a fair fight.”

Excella felt the flame of pride burn hot in her heart, in her soul. Any praise that went into the test subject’s performance, his strength, his stamina, his ferocity, it was all meant for Excella as well. The Pale Queen held her chin high, her back straight. There was a swelling inside her, like the fluttering of wings. It was almost like in her dream, where she would be lifted up to Mt. Olympus to take her place as the new goddess.

“There’s nothing to gain by fighting fair.” Excella answered with a faint scoff. Her smile widened as she watched her champion closely, taking glee in the little expressions of shock on his handsome face. He had known beforehand that the M-0 formula would make him stronger, but it was clear now that he had no idea just how much stronger it would make him. Excella continued, her next words touched with not an ounce of modesty. “You gain so much more by changing the game entirely. And my masterpiece is going to change the game.”

“And just who is your masterpiece, Ms. Gionne?” Her partner pressed. From the tone of her voice, Excella guessed that the other woman’s interest was piqued.

It only made sense. Excella’s champion, the living vessel of her prized formula, was now one of the most valuable men on the planet. But Excella had a feeling that her partner’s interest went beyond mere professional curiosity. And that was exactly the kind of reaction Excella hoped her man would elicit. It would make his job going forward that much easier.

“Yesterday, he was just another mercenary.” Excella said, her gaze fixated on her powerfully built, half-naked champion. She stared, captivated, as his sculpted, glistening chest rose and fell with every deep breath. “Now? John Dalton is the Man of Tomorrow.”