In the midst of the intense discussions within the White House, the idea of inviting Max Sterling and his Bio Organic Weapons (B.O.Ws) for testing emerged as a potential solution. The President, his eyes reflecting a mix of determination and caution, considered the suggestion carefully

"Max Sterling and his creations could provide us with valuable insights," the President stated, his voice carrying the weight of the decision. "We must understand the capabilities and limitations of these B.O.Ws firsthand. It would be in our best interest to invite him and his team for testing, conducted under rigorous government supervision."

The cabinet members exchanged glances, recognizing the importance of such an endeavor. The seasoned military strategist spoke up, voicing the collective sentiment. "Mr. President, if we can evaluate the effectiveness of these Bio Organic Weapons in controlled environments, we can better assess their potential integration into our defense strategies. It would also allow us to understand the extent to which we can rely on these creations."

The President nodded in agreement, acknowledging the wisdom in the strategist's words. "I concur. We will extend an invitation to Mr. Sterling and his team to conduct testing on a designated government site. This testing must adhere to strict protocols, ensuring safety and security for all involved. We need to ascertain not only their combat effectiveness but also their compatibility with our existing resources and strategies."

In the heart of Santa Monica City Hall, Max Sterling, the CEO and founder of Umbrella Corporation, was immersed in the ceaseless paperwork that accompanied his leadership role. Despite his prominent position, administrative tasks still found their way to his desk. As he diligently sifted through the documents, the ethereal presence of White Queen manifested before him.

"Mr. Sterling, the factories have commenced production," White Queen relayed information with a sense of efficiency that matched her digital nature. "Additionally, the military has decided to implement a drastic measure tonight: a nuclear strike on Kansas City. Patient Zero has been confirmed there, and the government believes this sacrifice will draw the attention of the infected."

Max furrowed his brow in contemplation. "Why would Patient Zero linger in an evacuated city? This doesn't align with our previous data."

White Queen clarified, "According to military intelligence, Patient Zero seems to be drawn to individuals labeled as 'The Immune.' The government has rationalized this as a strategy to use volunteers as bait, sacrificing them in a nuclear attack aimed at Patient Zero. The families of these volunteers are promised care and support."

Max nodded, acknowledging the severity of the situation. "Desperate times indeed," he remarked, recognizing the dire lengths authorities were willing to go to contain the outbreak. His attention shifted as his phone rang once again.

Answering the call, Max listened to President Whitman's proposal. "Mr. President, can you provide us with the details of the location on the East Coast where you'd like us to showcase our B.O.Ws? We'll be there, and depending on the outcome, we can proceed with further discussions."

Whitman's voice resonated through the phone, "Come to Washington, Mr. Sterling. We'll talk business when you arrive."

"I'll contact you upon our arrival, Mr. President," Max affirmed, and with that, the connection was severed.

Amidst the intricate tapestry of Santa Monica City Hall, Max Sterling's contemplative gaze was fixed on the ever-shifting landscape of a real-time map of the United States. A grand tableau of states and cities sprawled before him, a virtual mosaic that held the key to his next strategic move.

"White Queen, bring up the real-time map of the U.S.," Max requested, and in response, the expansive canvas of the nation materialized before him. Max delved into a meticulous examination, zooming in and out as he scrutinized details that eluded the casual observer.

"White Queen, have we registered a railway company for Umbrella?" Max inquired, probing into the vast repertoire of sectors Umbrella had infiltrated. White Queen, the epitome of efficiency and knowledge, promptly confirmed, "Yes, Mr. Sterling. We have established companies in various sectors, including railways."

Satisfied with this confirmation, Max continued his inquiry, "Do we possess a train in Los Angeles?" Once again, White Queen affirmed, "Indeed, Mr. Sterling. A train is not only present but has been meticulously prepared. Resources have been allocated discreetly to handle various tasks in the background, aligning with your agenda."

Max commended the unseen work, acknowledging White Queen's invaluable role. "Great work. You are an indispensable asset to Umbrella, White Queen," he remarked, recognizing the significance of her contribution. Unfazed by the compliment, White Queen responded, "I have always been, Mr. Sterling."

Max then articulated his next directive, "Begin loading various B.O.Ws and Umbrella products onto the train. Calculate the optimal route from Los Angeles to Washington, D.C." White Queen, swift in her response, estimated, "With my full intervention, the journey will take approximately 33.7 hours. I will assume control of the entire railway system, expediting Umbrella's passage."

Max, displaying his astute leadership, acknowledged White Queen's capabilities. "Given the current state of affairs, this might prove to be easier than anticipated. Check for damages in the railways, just to be thorough." White Queen, ever diligent, investigated and reported, "There are blockages due to the apocalypse, extending the travel time to 45 hours. Umbrella can clear these obstacles using the T-103 Tyrants strategically, pushing, shoving, and relocating impediments."

Max nodded, formulating his plan with a thoughtful demeanor. "Then let us prepare. This journey will be crucial for Umbrella."

The Umbrella Train Station in Los Angeles, once the bustling Los Angeles Union Train Station, had undergone a metamorphosis into a nerve center for Umbrella operations. Max Sterling, the architect of this transformation, arrived with his trusted executives—Nikolai, Alisa, Louis, and Joe—by his side. The air was charged with a sense of purpose as they prepared for their journey to the East Coast.

Louis, always injecting a touch of lightheartedness, couldn't help but voice his craving. "I really miss McDonald's, Boss. Mind if I spend some company money for our trip?" Max, with a nod, affirmed, "This is indeed a company business trip, and all expenses are covered."

Alisa, glancing at Sophia perched on Max's shoulders, suggested, "Perhaps we should buy new clothes for the little one?" Nikolai, pragmatic as ever, interjected, "We have a surplus of clothes collected in various warehouses and in The Hive. No need to spend when we have ample stock." Alisa conceded, "True, Nikolai. The prospect of seeing a city free from infection may have clouded my judgment. Although, a good steak does sound tempting."

Joe, content to enjoy their camaraderie, offered a smile. Meanwhile, Sophia, clad in a pink cotton sweater, white jeans, pink shoes, and bunny-eared headphones, was engrossed in playing Tekken 7 on her phone—signifiying her attachment to one of the characters. Her screen displayed a "K.O," indicating a defeat.

Feeling a tap on his head, Max turned to Sophia, who sighed and expressed a desire. "Max, can you teach me to fight?" Alisa, agreeing with the sentiment, suggested, "Indeed, she's already six years old and possesses strength beyond a typical adult. It's essential for her to learn control. How about training with me, sweetheart?" Sophia, however, had a specific mentor in mind. "I want Max to teach me. He's the strongest," she declared.

Louis, amused, remarked, "Our baby girl is developing a discerning taste." The scene exuded a sense of familial warmth.

The sprawling train station echoed with the orchestrated movements of Umbrella employees, resembling ants in a meticulously coordinated ballet. Max, overseeing the preparations, walked alongside Sophia. Before them loomed a colossal train adorned with the unmistakable Umbrella logo on its doors.

Sophia proposed a promise. "Pinky swear?" she asked, her small pinky meeting Max's in a gesture that highlighted the vast difference in their finger sizes. "Don't forget now," Sophia reminded as they continued their journey.

The massive train was a sight to behold, a formidable amalgamation of technology and bio-organic weaponry. A procession of Tyrants and various B.O.Ws, including Hunter variants and modified Lickers, were being methodically loaded into the train's carriages. At the forefront, the Umbrella Security Services, led by none other than Leon, orchestrated their own deployment. Approximately 400 USS forces were settling in, ensuring the security of the train.

Max and his executives stepped into the middle carriage, a three-car stretch designated for their exclusive use, complete with individual rooms.

Max led Sophia to a specially refurbished carriage turned training room. Both clad in training clothes, he initiated their session with warm-up exercises. Sophia, attentive and eager, absorbed the theoretical aspects of close-quarters combat that Max imparted. After a few minutes, he declared, "That's enough theory. Now, show me what you've learned."

Sophia, drawing from her unnatural speed and the combat skills honed in video games like Tekken, executed a series of swift and intricate combos on Max. However, she paused, rubbing her fists and shins. Concerned, Max asked, "Are you okay, baby?"

Sophia nodded, wiping a small tear from her eyes. "I feel like hitting rocks," she confessed. Max chuckled and inquired if she wanted to stop due to the pain. Sophia declined, stating, "Pain reminds you that you are alive. That's what you told me."

"Come now, let's continue," Max grinned, appreciating Sophia's resilience.

Meanwhile, in the digital realm, Red Queen tracked Olivia's helicopter journey, pinpointing her location in the mountainous region of San Francisco. Olivia, within the aircraft, grappled with the aftermath of her encounters. Bullet holes, broken bones, and flesh wounds adorned her body, but the regenerative abilities of an Immune were gradually knitting the wounds. Despite the pain, Olivia focused on piloting the helicopter, reflecting on her experiences within the enigmatic world of Umbrella.

"B.O.Ws and potential superhumans," Olivia mused, her thoughts intertwining with the rhythmic hum of the helicopter's blades. "Umbrella is concealing more than I anticipated. Unfortunately, extracting data from their systems proved elusive." Determined, she applied pressure to her injuries, navigating the skies with a resilient spirit.

Max delved into the paperwork that demanded his attention, a routine interrupted only by occasional sparring sessions in the training carriage involving Alisa, Nikolai, and Louis, each imparting their unique fighting styles to the intrigued Sophia. Amidst the exchange of combat expertise, Max juggled his responsibilities, guiding Umbrella toward its uncertain future.

As Max immersed himself in the weight of decisions, White Queen's inquiry punctuated the air. "Mr. Sterling, it is five minutes before the scheduled nuclear strike on Kansas City. Would you like to witness it in real-time?" Max, ever focused on the strategic landscape, nodded in agreement. A screen materialized, projecting the imminent destruction of Kansas City.

The minutes ticked away, and with a burst of blinding brilliance, a mushroom cloud engulfed the city, leaving behind a stark testament to the unforgiving power of devastation. News outlets, both visual and auditory, echoed the occurrence, making the nuking of Kansas City the evening's defining spectacle.

"White Queen, commence the journey," Max directed. Swiftly, the command reached the operator of Umbrella's formidable train, setting it in motion. The train, with an initial crawl that swiftly escalated to 80 miles per hour, embarked on its journey, traversing a world reshaped by the Hydraxen pandemic.

In the midst of this unfolding narrative, Red Queen materialized. "Mr. Sterling, Olivia Beaumont has been traced to a potential Sentinel Corp base," she reported. Max, seizing the opportunity, issued a directive. "Confirm the location and dispatch AT with his B.O.W cohort. Level the place and extract detailed information on all Sentinel Corp bases."

The Alpha Tyrant, flanked by an array of fearsome Bio Organic Weapons—Tyrants, Lickers, Hunter variants, and more—prepared to execute Max's strategic command, poised to reshape the unfolding chessboard of post-apocalyptic power plays.

The train thundered down the tracks, its metallic body a beacon for the infected hordes that chased futilely in its wake. The haunting echoes of snarls and groans, like a cacophony of the damned, reverberated in the night air. The desperate figures, once humans now twisted into monstrous forms by the Hydraxen virus, stumbled and sprinted after the swiftly moving train.

The disparity in speed between the relentless pursuers and the sleek vehicle was evident. As the train's velocity increased, the infected, driven by an insatiable hunger, fell behind, their anguished cries blending into the background of the desolate landscape. The night swallowed their futile pursuit, leaving the train to cut through the darkness with unwavering determination.

Within the secure confines of the train, Max observed this macabre ballet of pursuit and escape on the surveillance screens. The relentless chase, a reminder of the world's descent into chaos, stirred no emotion in him.

As the train traversed the Transcontinental Track, the first challenge emerged in the form of a railway obstruction near El Paso. The collision of trains had barricaded the tracks, halting Umbrella's relentless advance. Max, orchestrating the journey from within the train, was promptly notified of the impediment.

"Mr. Sterling, the cross-track railway is obstructed due to a collision. Your orders?" queried the efficient communication system. Max, with a decisive nod, issued his directive, "Halt the train in the desert, just at the border of Mexico. Deploy the Tyrants to clear the obstacles."

With the train grinding to a halt amidst the arid expanse, USS troops swiftly geared up, preparing for the task at hand. Stepping onto the desert terrain, they methodically engaged and neutralized the scattered infected, creating a secure perimeter. Simultaneously, four imposing figures, the T-103 Tyrants, were unleashed. Their massive forms surged forward, sprinting with preternatural speed toward the tangled mass of trains blocking the tracks. 

In the shadowy desert night, the imposing figures of the Tyrants, embodiments of Umbrella's formidable power, arrived at the site of the railway collision. Under the orchestration of the Red Queen, they were tasked with the formidable challenge of clearing the path. The first obstacle, a horizontally positioned carriage, seemed insignificant before the might of the Tyrants. With a synchronized effort, two of the colossal beings effortlessly shoved the carriage aside, leaving a trail of dents in its wake.

However, the echoing noise of this operation acted as a sinister beacon, drawing the attention of the night's twisted inhabitants. From the darkness emerged a multitude of Special Infected and regular infected, drawn to the commotion like moths to a flame. Yet, the Tyrants stood as unyielding beacons, their immense strength displayed as they crushed and obliterated any infected that dared to challenge them. The night air was filled with the cacophony of screams and the sickening sounds of bones breaking and flesh tearing.

As the chaos unfolded, Max observed the unfolding spectacle. The Red Queen diligently gathered data, revealing two new variants among the Special Infected. The first, a female with razor-sharp claws, attacked a Tyrant, severing its trench coat limiters. In response, one of the four Tyrants metamorphosed into a Super Tyrant unleashing its augmented power, the Super Tyrant swiftly dispatched the assailant.

The second new threat emerged as a rotund infected, vomiting bile onto a Tyrant. The viscous substance attracted regular infected, turning the area into a chaotic battleground. The Fat Infected met a swift end as the Tyrant annihilated it, causing a violent explosion.

Max, ever astute, made prompt assessments. "White Queen, designate the female infected with claws as the 'Witch' and the bile-vomiting Fat Infected as the 'Boomer.' The Hydraxen Virus displays impressive mutative capabilities on its infected subjects," he commented. The White Queen swiftly acknowledged, "Adding the Witch and the Boomer to the Special Infected Database."

As the imposing figure of the Super Tyrant loomed over the misshapen train carriage, a testament to the chaotic aftermath of the collision, it faced a barrage of attacks from the relentless Volatiles. However, the transformation into a Super Tyrant had not only fortified its strength but also granted it enhanced abilities. With a display of overwhelming power, the Super Tyrant effortlessly flipped the carriage to the side, crushing the Volatiles that dared to challenge its might.

Having successfully navigated through the obstacle, Max's order resonated through the command center, "Recall the Tyrants, and revert the Super Tyrant back to its regular form." The four Tyrants swiftly retreated, sprinting back to the train as it prepared to continue its journey. Inside the Tyrant Storage, a well-coordinated team of Umbrella technicians and scientists commenced the intricate process of restoring the Super Tyrant to its original T-103 form.

Amidst the technological hum and biological machinery, the Super Tyrant underwent a remarkable transformation. As the technicians worked with precision, the formidable creature shed pieces of flesh and blood, discarding the excess biomass accumulated during its heightened state. The process was a harmonious dance of science and mastery, showcasing Umbrella Corporation's unparalleled control over its bio-organic weapons.

Within a few minutes, the Super Tyrant had completed its reversion, now back to its T-103 form. The restored Tyrant, along with its counterparts, was placed in specialized culture tanks. Here, they received a replenishing infusion of nutritious fluids, a bespoke concoction designed to repair damages, maintain strength, and ensure their readiness for future endeavors. As the Tyrants rested in their tanks, the collected biomass stood as a testament to Umbrella's ability to harness and repurpose the very essence of its bio-organic creations—an artistry of manipulation that solidified the corporation's mastery over its own monstrous arsenal.

Umbrella's Train Began It's Journey once again.