“How do you know so much about the cursed springs?” he asked Pat.
     “What?”
     “The Jusenkyo springs…how do you know so much about them?”
     “It’s nothing to worry about,” she said, turning away from him and 
looking out the window of the plane.
     *Nothing to worry about my ass…*

     *I can’t tell him…he seems so convinced I’m this Pat girl…and…*
     She turned to face him again.
     *…in a way…I hope it’s true…*
     “Ok, to make a long story short,” she began, “when I used to work for 
Umbrella, Kamiya, my sensei, brought me here a few times.”
     “Kamiya-san taught you?  But you said you couldn’t fight…”
     “He didn’t teach me martial arts…he taught me in firearms.”
     “What happened to Colonel Whitefire?”
     “Who?” she asked.
     “Colonel Whitefire.  He taught me about firearms.”
     “Oh…him…he was going to teach me, but then he had a heart attack.”
     “What are you two talking about?” Scyther asked from behind the seat 
behind them.
     “Nothing Scyther…just about old times.  Nothing to worry about…” he 
said.

     “Nothing Scyther…just about old times.  Nothing to worry about…” he 
said.
     *Jesus, if Umbrella keeps up with the pace they’re on, Project 546 
might be sooner than I thought…*
     “How does this thing fly?  Sure, it has wings, but they aren’t beating 
or flapping!” Scyther said, looking out the window.
     “Well, you see…” Pat started trying to explain how airplanes work.
     *Umbrella must pay for all they’ve done.  Weber…I don’t even want to 
think about what I’m going to do to him…the little f…*
     “Um, excuse me?” a man from the seat in front of him interrupted his 
chain of thought.
     “What?” he asked.
     “You wouldn’t happen to know a Leon Kennedy, would you?”
     “What?  Why do you ask?”
     “Oh, no reason.  I just had the feeling I’ve seen you before…” the man 
said, turning around and sitting back in his seat.
     *What the hell?  Why’s he asking about Leon?  Shit…*
     “Pat,” he whispered to Pat.  “After the flight, I have some business to 
attend to, all right?”
     “Fine…we’ll wait for you by the exit.”

     After the flight, he followed the man who asked him about Leon to the 
washroom.
     *This guy’s either a friend of Leon, or he’s Umbrella…*
     After the guy did his business and washed his hands, he came up behind 
him and pushed him against the wall.
     “What do you know about Leon?” he asked.
     The guy started to laugh.
     “What’s so funny?”
     “You…” the man said, and if on cue, five men came into the washroom, 
handguns pointed at him.
     *Shit…I hate traps…*
     “Come with us.  Weber would like to talk with you,” one of them said.
     *Weber!  I can finally get close to that shit…*
     “Come quietly.  He wants you alive,” the guy said.
     *My God, these guys are idiots!  I can take a legion of assholes like 
this…oh well…best to play along…*
      “I’ll come quietly…” he said.

     They six Umbrella goons lead him to a limo parked in the front of the 
airport.  After driving to Umbrella’s headquarters in New York, the limo was 
met by three gigantic robots.
     “Welcome!” a familiar voice shouted out.
     *That arrogant son-of-a-bitch!*
     “WEBER!” he shouted out as he got out of the car.  “Where are you!  
Come out!”
     “Tisk, tisk.  Even grown up you’re as short tempered as ever.  Ok, I’ll 
bite.  Here I am!”  With that, from the front entrance of the building came 
Weber.  “Oh, and I wouldn’t try anything stupid.”
     One of the guys from the limo handed him a small screen.  On it was 
footage of Pat and Scyther locked up somewhere.
     “You conniving asshole!  Leave them out of this!”
     “You know as well as I do that I can’t.  Now come with me…” Weber said, 
turning around and walked back to the building.
     He followed, and as he did, the huge robots had their guns pointed in 
his direction the whole time.
     *Shit.  I knew I shouldn’t have gone with it…what the hell are these 
robots anyway?  When’d they start technological warfare?*

     In the building, Weber sat behind his desk, and he sat in a seat in 
front of it, restraints on.  He eyed the room, taking note of every little 
detail.
     “Now that we’re comfortable, I have something else to show you…”  Weber 
hit a button on his desk, and a screen dropped down the west wall.  Weber 
hit another button, and a picture appeared.