Chapter 780

Evenson knew perfectly well that everything he’d just said sounded far more convincing in theory than it would ever be in practice.

Getting an enormous organization to maintain absolute loyalty was impossible. Even a safeguard as extreme as a soul contract could be undermined by enough loopholes, technicalities, and sheer bad luck. Expecting ordinary rules and punishments to accomplish the same thing was laughable.

A brutal system of fear could certainly reduce the likelihood of betrayal.

But push it too far, and it could produce the exact opposite result.

Absolute fear could eventually turn into absolute hatred.

Fortunately, none of that really mattered to Evenson.

He wasn’t genuinely trying to solve Hydra’s internal problems.

His actual goal was much simpler: convince Stephanie to become Hydra’s executioner, give her enough personal authority to establish herself quickly, and use that authority to influence Hydra from behind the scenes.

If anything, a perfectly unified Hydra would have been a headache.

A Hydra so tightly controlled that nobody could slip through the cracks would be useless to him. Evenson much preferred an organization with problems.

Because problems created opportunities.

Every time something went wrong, Stephanie would have to step in and solve it.

Every problem became another mission.

Every mission became another opportunity to build her reputation.

And the stronger her reputation became, the more influence Evenson gained.

There was another advantage he’d deliberately left unsaid.

Authoritarian rule was ultimately built on prestige and power. Absolute authority required people to believe absolutely in the strength of the person wielding it.

But Stephanie’s new power hadn’t come from herself.

Evenson had given it to her.

If she began to associate overwhelming power with authority, and authority with power, then her growing faith in strength would inevitably become dependence on the person who had granted that strength to her.

She would begin as the enforcer of an authoritarian system.

Eventually, she could become part of the system itself.

That transformation might take time.

But judging from the fire burning in Stephanie’s eyes, Evenson doubted he’d have to wait long.

"So?" he asked, watching her examine the glowing weapon in her hands. "Satisfied with it?"

" satisfied... I suppose."

Stephanie’s expression was strange.

"How should I put this? I feel like there’s something deeply embarrassing about the whole thing."

She raised the green blade slightly.

"I mean, it’s an old movie, but it’s a classic. You didn’t seriously think I’d never seen Star Wars, did you?"

"Is that so?"

Evenson scratched his head.

"You’ve just revealed your age."

Stephanie’s face immediately darkened.

Age.

That was a sensitive subject.

For a woman like her—with her looks, family background, and position—she should have had no trouble finding someone.

Yet somehow she was still single.

Not even one serious suitor.

She paused.

Wait.

How had her thoughts gotten here?

Stephanie abruptly snapped back to reality.

Evenson had somehow derailed an otherwise serious conversation about power into her nonexistent dating life.

She needed strength.

That was what mattered.

Not the fact that she was standing there holding what amounted to extremely elaborate cosplay equipment.

Still...

When was she ever going to get a boyfriend?

She immediately rejected the thought.

Damn it. I’ve been exposed to too much of Evenson’s nonsense.

Evenson noticed her expression cycling through several colors and assumed she was embarrassed by the whole role-playing aspect.

That wouldn’t do.

This was far too entertaining to let her back out now.

"Actually, you should understand this," he said. "Movies have always been one of the best ways to launder money. If the film happens to make a profit, even better. Why wouldn’t we use something that useful?"

Stephanie stared at him.

"You..."

Her eyes widened.

"Oh, my God."

She looked horrified.

"Wait. Star Wars wasn’t—"

Evenson gave her a knowing smile.

"Look at the size of our company. We need to stay behind the scenes while simultaneously funding biological research, developing advanced technology, and paying an enormous number of employees."

He spread his hands.

"Where do you think all that money comes from? Do you think I go around personally robbing banks?"

"We obviously have to operate legitimate businesses and bring money back into the organization. Film production is just one of them."

"Movies actually make that much money?"

Stephanie sounded genuinely skeptical.

For ordinary people, Hollywood could seem like an endless money-making machine.

But from her perspective, it wasn’t exactly an impressive source of revenue.

"Make enough of them," Evenson said. "And if you keep the production costs down, they can be quite profitable."

"Wouldn’t cutting the budget just turn them into terrible movies?"

Low-budget films occasionally became unexpected hits.

But most of them...

Well.

Stephanie remembered more than a few movies she’d watched where she’d spent the entire runtime wishing her father would send someone to strangle the lead actor.

And if the purpose was laundering money while still making a profit, they needed box-office success.

That meant hiring recognizable stars who could attract audiences.

And recognizable stars weren’t cheap.

A huge portion of the budget would disappear into their salaries.

So if they wanted to cut costs, they’d have to do it somewhere else.

Sets.

Props.

Costumes.

Special effects.

Stephanie’s imagination supplied the inevitable result.

A collection of mediocre celebrities with questionable acting skills awkwardly performing in front of special effects that looked like they had been made with spare change.

She shuddered.

The first one or two movies might make some money.

But keep doing that and eventually they’d lose everything.

Unless, of course, Hollywood’s biggest stars were secretly on Umbrella’s payroll and willing to work for free.

Stephanie suddenly froze.

"Wait."

She looked at Evenson.

"Is Umbrella’s headquarters in Hollywood?"

"We prefer sustainable profits."

Evenson completely ignored the question and continued talking.

"We don’t believe in one-time windfalls. Making movies cheaply is an art. During the marketing campaign, you tell everyone it’s a massive production with an enormous budget."

He smiled.

"But when you actually make the movie, you don’t necessarily spend that much."

"Take flying, for example."

"You see someone soaring through the sky and think, Wow, that special effect must have cost a fortune."

He shrugged.

"But what if they’re actually flying?"

Stephanie’s expression slowly changed.

"And imagine a monster that appears in one scene, gets shot by the protagonist, and dies."

"You’d assume the creature was created with expensive makeup and practical effects."

Evenson’s smile widened.

"But what if it’s an actual monster?"

"And what if it really did get shot?"

"One of the company’s failed experiments has to be disposed of somehow."

Stephanie stared at him.

"Stop."

Evenson was getting into it now.

"And then there’s—"

"Stop!"

Stephanie waved both hands frantically.

"I don’t want to hear another word. I think you’re destroying my childhood."

She was already starting to question everything she’d ever loved.

Yoda hadn’t been a puppet.

He’d probably been some failed Umbrella experiment involving monkey and frog genetics.

She refused to think about it.

Stephanie had once dreamed of entering Hollywood herself.

As a child, she’d imagined becoming a glamorous movie star.

Her father had crushed that dream before it ever had the chance to begin, and she’d spent years resenting him for refusing to take her ambitions seriously.

Now...

Maybe he’d actually been right.

Hollywood was terrifying.

If she’d gone into the movie business and ended up filming something like Water... whatever it was called, she didn’t even want to imagine what she’d have been dragged into.

She shuddered.

No.

Absolutely not.

What Stephanie didn’t realize was that Evenson had talked himself into his own bullshit.

The longer he continued, the more plausible it sounded.

And the more he thought about it, the more he began wondering whether the idea might actually work.

A movie franchise based on biological experiments.

Resident Evil, perhaps.

He already had the perfect setup.

He could play Wesker.

Ada Wong and Jill Valentine were practically ready-made.

And Alice...

Didn’t the caretaker for that adopted daughter of the Eredar twins have the name Alice?

Evenson fell silent.

Wait.

That might actually work.

Stephanie, meanwhile, had lowered her head and was once again examining the inscription carved into the weapon’s hilt.

If Evenson’s explanation was correct, then her ability to manipulate gravity was practically the Dark Side of the Force.

Which meant...

She was a Sith.

She’d always believed the Sith had gotten an unfair reputation anyway.

The Jedi were the ones standing in the way of galactic unification.

The Sith were simply willing to do what was necessary.

Stephanie’s eyes gradually lit up.

The more she thought about it, the more appealing the idea became.

"Hmm..."

She raised the green blade.

"Sith warrior..."

Then her eyes suddenly widened.

"The Chosen One!"

She threw one hand into the air.

"We are the chosen rulers!"

Evenson, who had been mentally wandering through his own increasingly absurd ideas, snapped back to reality.

A chill ran down his spine.

For a moment, something ancient and unpleasant stirred in the deepest recesses of his memory.

He nearly went looking for a river to throw himself into.

Still, the important thing was that Stephanie had accepted the power.

Three days later, Evenson paid Gideon Malick another visit.

During those three days, Stephanie had become considerably more proficient at controlling her new abilities.

She’d also mastered the most important function of her new fel-infused lightsaber:

Turning it on.

And turning it off.

Unfortunately, that was about as far as Evenson could take her swordsmanship lessons.

He knew a great deal about magic.

Swordplay?

Not so much.

There was a difference between swinging a sword and being good at screwing around.

Evenson was considerably more experienced at one of those.

When he arrived at Malick’s estate, the reception followed much the same pattern as before.

Gideon Malick personally came out to greet him.

And, just as before, neither man immediately discussed business.

Apparently, powerful families had an ancient tradition of refusing to get straight to the point.

Instead, they wandered through several unrelated topics, exchanged pleasantries, discussed whatever happened to come up, and only once the atmosphere had become sufficiently relaxed did they finally transition into the actual purpose of the meeting.

This time, Malick mentioned that he’d recently acquired a new rifle and wanted Evenson to try it.

That was when Evenson realized something important.

Stephanie definitely hadn’t told her father about her injuries.

If Gideon Malick knew his beloved daughter had nearly been killed, he wouldn’t have casually handed Evenson a rifle to admire.

He’d probably have used the rifle to beat him over the head with it.

Since the weapon had been offered as a gift, however, Evenson certainly wasn’t going to refuse.

He accepted it and examined the rifle.

It was beautiful.

The craftsmanship was exceptional, from the quality of the wood in the stock and foregrip to the ivory inlays.

More importantly, it was a Winchester lever-action rifle.

A classic.

Malick suggested they take it to the shooting range and give it a try.

Evenson privately rolled his eyes.

A private shooting range.

The decadent excesses of the aristocracy were truly difficult to comprehend.

Once they reached the range, Evenson raised the rifle.

He fired.

Bullseye.

Again.

Bullseye.

Again.

Bullseye.

He lowered the weapon and stared at it.

What the hell?

This was his first time using a gun.

Was he secretly a sniper whose true potential had been tragically wasted on Warlock magic?

He’d spent his entire life as an American citizen, but he’d never actually fired a gun before.

For one thing, he’d never needed one.

For another, guns weren’t exactly cheap.

Something about this didn’t make sense.

Then Evenson noticed it.

The rifle was special.

Malick approached, clearly amused by his expression.

"This is the Winchester from the old legends of the American West. It was said to be as accurate as the famous Colt."

Malick tapped the rifle.

"You only need to aim roughly in the target’s direction. The shot will find its mark."

Evenson’s eyes narrowed.

"That’s an interesting ability."

"It earned the rifle another nickname."

Malick smiled.

"The Viper."

Evenson looked at the weapon with renewed interest.

"That’s pretty useful."

He casually slung the rifle over his shoulder.

He made absolutely no mention of returning it.

"People say you should return a kindness with another kindness," Evenson said. "You helped me considerably before, and now you’ve given me an excellent weapon."

He smiled.

"So I’ve decided to give you something in return."

Malick raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

"What exactly?"

Evenson’s smile widened.

"I’ve decided to give you a god to worship."

Malick stared at him.

Why not just give me a father and let me raise him?

The thought crossed Evenson’s mind with absolutely no warning.

He decided not to say it aloud.

...