August 14th, 1995
"EMERGENCY IN LEVEL THREE... SECURITY PERSONNEL PLEASE RESPOND... EMERGENCY IN LEVEL THREE... SECURITY PERSONNEL PLEASE RESPONSE...".
The voice over the speakers was calm, simply because it belonged to that of a computerized monitor rather than a human. If it wasn't for the earsplitting tone that was being used to convey the message, one would think that nothing was wrong because the tone of the female voice was actually rather friendly, sort of like a smiling employee who meets a client for the first time. But everyone in the underground facility knew better from experience alone.
Albert Wesker raced down the pure-white colored hallway, followed by two similarly dressed security guards who were several steps behind him. He sharply twisted the right side of his upper body backwards in an effort to avoid a scientist in a lab coat who was blindly rushing away from the direction that the guard was hurrying towards. But he only partially succeeded. The scientist's lowered head slammed into his right shoulder anyway, and the other man continued in his aimless direction as he staggered for two more steps before tripping and falling flat on his face. Sharp pain traveled from Wesker's right shoulder to the rest of his torso.
He didn't bother wasting time by screaming from the pain in his upper body, nor by swearing at the man for delaying him for an extra second during a scene when time was very crucial. But he also knew he couldn't ignore the man who had partially slammed into him, not as a high-ranking security member of Umbrella's strike force. Struggling to maintain his footing, Wesker turned his head behind him and to the right to glance at the fallen man. Seeing that the confused scientist didn't have any dark red blood stains on his back, and not remembering having seen any on his front for the instant before they collided, Wesker turned back when he noticed that the scientist was still moving, and thus wasn't mortally wounded.
Some of the many medical employees and security staff who were following him would surely tend to anyone who was able to distance him or herself from the source of the emergency. So the ever diligent guard, he forced himself to not swear out loud due to nearly have his sunglasses knocked off his face, and resumed his rush towards the source of the trouble. Wesker didn't take long to find it. Whether that was a good thing or not, he could not guess. But his hunt came to a sudden half when he covered twenty more steps down the hallway and ran past half a dozen more hysterical employees in white. Knowing where he needed to be, he stopped, turned to his right and reached into his uniform simultaneously with both hands. His right hand withdrew a .50 caliber Desert Eagle pistol while his left one gripped his ID card.
Bending his right elbow and pointing the weapon towards the ceiling,
Wesker swiped his ID card in the slot available. The massive metal door in front of him gave a friendly acknowledgement of his name and rank and welcomed him into the room. Then the foot-thick door opened sideways and Wesker stepped into a scene that was all too familiar in his line of work.
Two scientists were already dead. One lying motionless on his stomach in the middle of a large pool of his own blood. Another was a few steps away with his head and left arm separated from the rest of his body. On one side of the room was a line of vertical glass tubes, each filled with a liquid and housing a different beast inside. Wet footsteps leading from a broken tube could be seen intercepting the first body, then the second and lastly a third scientist who was the only living person in the room besides Wesker himself.
Only other living person, that is, because a beta hunter was also alive in that room, with its boil-covered back at him as it concentrated on its third target. The hunter had broken out of the tube and caused the havoc facing the security guard who stood at the door. As the last living scientist kept his back in one of the room's corners and was desperately trying to put a metal table between himself and the monster, Wesker leveled his handgun.
"New age unbreakable glass my ass!", he exclaimed as he dropped the ID card on the floor and took aim with both hands.
Three rounds shot out of the muzzle of the handgun and struck the hunter in the back and between its shoulders, all three entering the tough flesh within a two-inch diameter of each other. The hunter's body shook violently with each bullet that invaded it, but it nevertheless remained on its feet, to the chagrin of both humans who were still breathing. Hissing in rage as well as pain, the hunched monster turned away from the scientist and locked eyes with Wesker for a short instant before rushing towards the guard himself. The scientist remained frozen in place as he watched his former pursuer dashing towards armed guard instead, not that he had any training to fight against a hugely stronger opponent even if he had not been frozen in a panic.
Wesker could see the entire incident unfolding before him in slow motion. The creature closed the distance between itself and him very quickly, but he was quicker with his firearm. He had to be, after all. Four more rounds flew out of the weapon and pierced the monster's massive chest and face.
Bloodied and having been forced to slow down, the injured hunter still managed to reach its new human prey and swiped at Wesker's throat with its right arm. The human let go of the firearm with his left hand while retaining the weapon with his right one only. He used the left hand to smoothly grip the hunter's wrist as it was coming down towards his upper body. While two more security guards were heard running behind Wesker, they took sight of the impasse between him and the shorter, but stronger, adversary. As the monster tried to use its right arm against the newest prey, Wesker retained his right grip on the Desert Eagle and swung the weapon in a downward arc, the cold metal crashing into the left side of the hunter's head.
Under ordinary circumstances, a single hit from a human could've never affected a hunter, but seven massive bullet holes had already riddled its body, so the strike knocked it unconscious. It fell motionless on its right side and did not attempt to move again. The two additional guards from behind him entered the room with handguns drawn at the ready, visually scanning the other tubes in an effort to make sure that the rest were not scratched by the creatures inside of them.
Wesker understood why they did not bother checking on the two motionless scientists, as it was unheard of a hunter allowing its prey to survive. The first scientist was most likely dead, and even if he wasn't, the small chance of saving him was not as important as checking the remaining tubes for potential future outbreaks after one had already happened. Besides, he knew that the security staff's job was just that, to make the environment more secure. It was the medical staff's job to try to save the employees' lives after they had been attacked and the threat had been neutralized.
"Are you OK?", he pointed towards the third scientist whose life he had saved.
"Uh, y... yeah", that one finally uttered as he slowly pushed the metal table away from the corner he was huddled against with shaky hands.
Standing one step away from the downed hunter, Wesker first replaced the empty Desert Eagle clip with a fresh one, and then kept his newly-loaded firearm trained on the monster with his right hand as he pressed on an intercom near his shoulder with his left hand.
"Lab number 8 secured", he calmly spoke into it before logging off.
The loud and continuous emergency announcement that was still emerging from the hallway behind him quieted down within a few seconds.
"Don't kill it, p... please", the scientist shakily walked towards him as his weapon was still aimed at the unconscious prototype beast, just in case it should wake back up despite the heavy blood loss it was experiencing as time went on.
"If you say so", Wesker replied as a handful of white-clad scientists entered the lab from behind him, "But you know what they say about a dog that has a taste for human meat".
He placed the safety mechanism for his weapon back on before holstering it as the scientists took hold of the hunter's arms and dragged it back towards the broken tube. Sighing, Wesker first picked his ID card off the floor and turned back towards the entrance to the room, but was greeted by a staff member before having the chance to exit.
That person was distinguished from the majority of people in the compound by the fact that he was wearing neither a scientist's white coat nor a security guard's outfit. Instead, the middle-aged man was dressed in a 3-piece gray business suit, emphasized by the ID card attached to his left breast pocket with the logo of a red and white umbrella on it.
"I was watching your performance on the security camera. Did you have to use so many rounds?", the man questioned.
"It was only an entire clip", Wesker didn't try to keep the disdain from his voice as he walked around the man and exited anyway, though he did intentionally not add his wish to use the new clip on the person who questioned his way of getting things done.
"The hunter may be permanently disabled, unusable after that", the man hissed.
"Both your scientist and I would've been permanently lifeless if I hadn't taken it down", the guard continued back outside and into the hallway from where he had entered the room.
"You know the cost-benefit priority of the Spencer enterprise!",
Wesker's antagonist angrily followed him outside, "The same employers who pay your salary!".
"Then spend more money on more unbreakable glass to keep the monsters confined, boss", the guard snickered as he continued towards his office, finally leaving the representator from White Umbrella behind.
The plush office looked more like a living space than a work environment as the metal doors disappeared sideways into the wall. While not as powerful as the doors that guarded the lab rooms, these gates were still made of three inch-thick smooth metal, bulky enough to ensure that no human could break through and no one without pre-approved access would make it past them. Even if some of the creatures in the lab could easily break through the doors and get past the security provided for such 'normal' rooms, it was comforting to appreciate that unintelligent monsters wouldn't know how to use the information there anyway.
The security officer sighed, with annoyance as much as with wariness, while he walked in and dropped the firearm on the lavish, 3-person sofa, even as the doors shut behind him. He ignored the paperwork and diagrams of present and potential experiments that were organized in neat sections on his desk, waiting to be reviewed by him so he could study any possible weak points of creatures he may have had to take down in the future. He instead sat down on the right side of the couch next to the weapon and stared at the paintings on his office wall.
This job wasn't getting any less repetitive, he thought to himself as he sighed again. It almost always involved him eradicating or at least restraining an unchained monster, or enforcing a quarantine when a viral outbreak occurred in a lab. Dealing with human scientists was actually shoddier than dealing with unintelligent fiends and ogres, as there was no need for public relations control afterwards.
It was the opening of the metal doors without his approval that regained his attention. The fact that the person walking into his office did not need to announce him/herself before entering meant that he/she was one of the highest-ranking members of the company. Thus, ignoring this individual, or throwing them out face-first, was not an option, at least not as of now. The same man who had hassled Wesker a few minutes ago just outside the lab entered into the security guard's bureau, wearing his hands in his suit pockets.
"Vice president Claymont, overseer of the Spencer Enterprise Quality
Control", the previously-unnamed individual introduced himself, "In case you were wondering who you were having an argument with".
"Would you be offended if I said I was not?", Wesker looked up at him while remaining seated.
Claymont smiled in response.
"Rumor has it that you're rather unhappy with our company, Albert. You don't mind if I call you Albert, do you?".
"Free country, just not a free corporation", the guard's facial expression did not change.
"It has been a long day, I'm afraid", the overseer exhaled slowly,
"And it's not even lunchtime yet".
That was followed by a chuckle that didn't last when he realized that
Wesker didn't smile back.
"Please do allow me to sit down at least", the vice president added as he approached the far left side of couch.
With person on either side of the sofa and the handgun still between them, the older man stared ahead at the same artwork that Wesker's face was aimed towards.
"Yours is a complex story indeed, Albert", both men kept gazing ahead without looking at each other, "From one of our best researchers to security personnel, all within a few short years".
No answer from the younger security guard.
"One has to wonder where you think you'll be heading with our great corporation. But for that, we need stability as well as dedication".
The older man turned his head to look at Wesker from across the couch for the first time.
"How are you planning on getting ahead at Umbrella, much less be noticed by White Umbrella, if you can't commit to any one project, Albert?".
"Oh, I was counting on having lots of more days like this one", Wesker crossed one leg over the other and extended his left arm on the back of the sofa, "But in this job, the real work starts after the smoke cleared and the bullets have been spent".
"I wouldn't worry about the two victims", the vice president's response was as easy-going as the rest of his attitude, "The unfortunate car accident they'll be in won't leave much of a trace of how they really died".
"Of course, the car accident... Is that my job?", Wesker looked back towards the paintings.
"Definitely. We could definitely use the assistance of someone with your qualifications", came the dry reply.
"And here I thought it was supposed to be about protecting the employees' safety and welfare", the guard went on.
"That's a good one, Albert".
No answer from Wesker.
"Albert, how would you like to undertake a special project for White
Umbrella?".
The security guard looked back at him.
"For the men in white when I wasn't good enough to be getting ahead in regular Umbrella just a few moments ago?".
"Have you ever worked under cover, Albert?".
"Can't say I have, no".
"It seems that this company needs an educated and informed undercover man inside the Raccoon City Police Department", the vice president informed him casually, "Umbrella does have many people on the payroll there, however, most are so they'll simply look away, so they're technically not our people. The locals are getting jumpy about all the sightings and rumors near the city's forest, and the police department is breathing down our necks. If they're not dealt with soon, they could infiltrate and make our company known to the public. You know we can't allow that".
Wesker found himself being surprised for the first time today, followed by the feeling that his time was being wasted.
"How the hell can that be a problem?", the guard verbally shot back,
"Especially a problem you're bringing to me!".
Before Claymont had a chance to reply, Wesker jumped up to his feet, turning around to face the older, seated man and pointing down at him with an accusing left index finger.
"If you people have a problem with my work ethics, then you have the spine to come out and tell me to my face! Don't be shipping me off to work in some figurative sub-basement where I'm wasting away".
"Albert, please. You misunderstand", the vice-president's demeanor did not change despite the antagonist he was now looking up to face.
"I bet", Wesker snarled back, showing two rows of angry teeth between the words, even while his eyes remained hidden behind the sunglasses,
"Don't use too many rounds on the monsters, Mr. Guard. They're more important than your colleagues or the people you were hired to save. And you're not getting paid to think, just to follow our procedures".
Both men locked eyes, Claymont momentarily wishing to get up, but deciding not to so as to not risk the wrath of the younger, stronger and better-trained employee.
"Does any of that sound familiar?", Wesker's hands went by the sides of his own head, instinctively checking the status of his hair, before his arms crossed in front of his chest, "Do you think that adding in some flattery is going to make me not notice that I'm being sent somewhere else and will only be recalled here when you need more cannon fodder? So all of a sudden you have some half-assed project to send your least favorite security guard to. What? No more car accidents can be orchestrated for undesirable employees for today?".
"Now that's just about enough!", his older supervisor finally stood up to face him in turn.
Both men exchanged a quiet lock of their eyes, but this time on their feet.
"The Raccoon PD is truly becoming a problem for White Umbrella, one that needs to be dealt with, and the more experienced security expert we have working for our side in there, the better".
"Let me get this straight, Mr. vice president", Wesker walked over to the couch and towards the weapon that was still resting in the middle of it, "The company basically gets a green light by the federal government to use any methods necessary to develop a viral weapon for it before one of this country's many enemies developed it first".
He holstered the weapon before turning back towards Claymont.
"And you expect me, someone who has always flattered himself in having an at least average IQ, to believe that the near unlimited powers given to us by the highest authority in the land is still not enough to get a bunch of local meter maids off our backs", the guard continued with sarcasm.
"The government covers up for us, yes, but do you really think that
Umbrella should be running to hide behind a masquerading clause? The government is happy to look the other way and let us have our own way with the coroners and media, but there's only so much we can ask them to do, especially considering how big their annual budget for Umbrella is, all without any of the safety protocols that every other company needs to adhere by", Claymont informed him, "But even with the people receiving supplements to their wages, it's not enough. Those Raccoon cops are starting to meddle nonstop. They won't look away. So sure, you run to the federal government and inform them that you can't distract a bunch of uninformed locals on your own".
"I only came aboard to protect the lives of individuals who are working to safeguard this country from viral attacks, so you find yourself another flunky to do your dirty work", Wesker snapped back.
"And if those cops do manage to infiltrate us and expose Umbrella to the public, the same public that we're trying to protect isn't going to allow our continued existence", Claymont whispered back, "So choose your mission, Albert. Either stay here and work with the company for as long as it's tolerated, or work undercover and ensure that the company is in business indefinitely. Or at least until our sponsors are satisfied".
Wesker did not reply. His eyes only bore into Claymont's from behind his sunglasses. The vice president suspected that he had seen the guard grimace.
He just wished he could be sure.
The police station was definitely different than the usual headquarters he was used to being employed around, he thought to himself as he winced even when his eyes were hidden behind the shades.
For starters, the majority of the work area was above ground under the afternoon sun, not camouflaged and buried underneath a dark mansion. The clothes were also different, having changed from the standard khaki
Umbrella Security colors to the navy blue one belonging to the members of the Raccoon City Police Department. Moreover, Wesker was having to get used to the new equipment. The weapon was changed from the powerful .50 caliber Desert Eagle to the lighter 9 mm Glock pistol that carried several more rounds per clip. Not that he didn't approve of being able to fire more shots before reloading, but he also preferred the ability to blow apart a car engine with one bullet. He also had to remember to always wear his complimentary Kevlar vest underneath his attire. His outfit at Umbrella Security also came with a standard body armor, of course, but it was almost unheard of their officers using it since such gear was mainly used to defend against human intruders.
Umbrella, on the other hand, was so well hidden that it was virtually unheard of to have human spies or trespassers finding it. The anti-bullet protective apparatus was also useless against the monsters, so Umbrella Security only relied on firepower and never on the equipment.
Thus, rookie police officer Albert Wesker erratically scratched at the tight bullet-proof vest that hugged his upper body. He also carried a gym bag over his right shoulder with one arm and made his way towards the front door of the police station.
"Claymont has got to tell me how he managed this within one week", he told himself.
Once inside the police base, he first had to stop and visually take the entire scenery into his path of sight. The station was fairly large, as expected from the way the outside of the building appeared while he was nearing it, and very well lit. It was also much busier than the kind of environment he was used to having when at his profession. Instead of pure white or gray walls with only khaki-dressed security guards and white-dressed scientists who only spoke to each other when the exchange of information was vital, Wesker was now looking at a large area where blue-dressed as well as casual-dressed officers and detectives conversed with civilians, handcuffed suspects, district attorneys as well as defense lawyers. So the volume of the noise alone was enough to force him to need a few seconds of adjustment.
Before too long, Wesker retained his grip on the gym bag that hung over his right shoulder and walked towards the staircase. Knowing the approximate area where his desk was located, he made his way up the stairs, walking past other individuals even as he met others who were coming downstairs.
The second floor was much the same as the one that occupied the street level of the building. Looking through the nameplates on the lockers, Wesker finally found an open one that conveyed his first initial and last name. He promptly put the gym bag vertically inside the locker and pushed its metal door shut, not minding that it lacked a locking mechanism. Not that one should need a lock inside a police station, he mused to himself, but still, he was glad he was not going to be placing his weapons in there, as he always carried them on his person.
It was then that Wesker heard a voice that was addressing him.
"First day on the job?", came the question from behind him.
Wesker turned around to find himself facing a similarly-dressed officer in basic blue with the RPD letters in white across the chest.
"Name's Joseph Frost", the other officer extended his right hand before
Wesker gripped it with his own.
"Albert Wesker, and yes, first day here", the Umbrella operative told him as they shook hands, suspecting the other officer was quietly wondering why he still insisted on keeping his sunglasses on even when he was indoors.
"Good to meet you, Albert", Frost went on with a smile, "I'm rather new here myself. But you can always tell someone who's in his first day since they're not sure where their lockers and desks are".
"Good to be here", Wesker replied in good-humored sarcasm, still visually combing his younger colleague and then his overhead environment, "So when do we start protecting the innocent and punishing the guilty".
The grin on Frost's face widened.
"First day on the job is obvious if you're talking like that", the more youthful officer rested his hands on his own hips, "All the fun will take place once you survive several ages of mind-numbing paperwork. But the good news is that all those who survive the ordeal end up getting paid to have fun for the rest of their lives".
"Speaking of fun, who do you have to annoy around here to replace one's sidearm with a more, let's say, adequate weapon?", Wesker asked as he crossed his own arms in front of his chest.
"Come again?", Frost looked and felt surprised, "You wanna replace your
Glock? Have you had any experience with firearms, Albert? That piece is the most advanced state of the art weapon out there".
"Maybe, but my own experience has been around .50 caliber Desert
Eagles, I'm afraid", the Umbrella spy cracked his knuckles before proceeding to find a suitable desk on which to organize the new stack of paperwork which was sure to follow on the job.
"That's a bad idea anyway", Frost followed him, "The captain here
loves the Glock. Hell, he'd be screwing it if his wife would let him, I suspect".
Frost laughed at his own joke as Wesker turned to look at him with a perplexed look on his face.
"Anyway, ahem", the slightly more experienced officer's demeanor became more serious, "Point is, the captain will NOT approve your request, especially if you haven't had years on the force yet. Here, use this desk. It has the least number of bullet holes in it".
Another confused look from behind Wesker's sunglasses.
"Kidding", Frost informed again.
"Thanks for the desk", the older officer started clearing out the top of the desk in an effort to make it his own for the time being.
The Umbrella mole knew it was clearly too early to find out what this police district knew or suspected about his original employer's covert operations. So best to familiarize himself with the new agency before asking what could be perceived as too many questions. Besides, he didn't want anyone wondering about the method he used to get here without having gone through the police academy first.
"Can you tell me where I can get one of those forms to change my sidearm, Joseph?", Wesker finally asked as he was exploring the insides of the desk.
"I already told you that you'll be wasting your time, Al", officer
Frost was surprised that Wesker was back on that topic as he himself was filing a pile of paperwork on his own desk.
"I'd rather try and know for sure, and don't call me Al".
Frost stopped in place, not sure if Wesker was serious with that statement.
Rather unrefined for someone's first day at work, he thought.
"But Wes is fine", Wesker snickered back.
Two days after his initiation at the Raccoon Police Department, Wesker reported to work at 7:45 AM, about fifteen minute before his eight-hour shift was due to begin. He dropped his holstered weapon on the desk as he proceeded to check his phone messages from the previous night.
Officer Frost happened by when Wesker was halfway through the messages, with his eyes still down on the desk as he wrote down a name and phone number that had been left on his voicemail several hours ago.
Something caught Frost's eye.
"Is that a Desert Eagle?", the more experienced police man asked, not believing his eyes, as the new weapon was part of Wesker's uniform.
Without responding out loud, Wesker smiled to himself as he kept writing down the important messages and deleting the ones he had no use for.
Weeks rolled by as a full-time member of the RPD, even as Wesker's primary job started after his eight hours in the police department were finished. Endless reports and procedures were learned and sometimes memorized, along with an entire system of rules that was meant to allegedly keep the officers as safe and efficient as humanly possible while on the job. His opinion of the ratio of those regulations that were truly useful as opposed to the ones that were a waste of time was constantly changing, depending on his mood. And after four months of arrests of petty and major criminals followed by a massive amount of paperwork, he still had not completely gotten used to the occupation. To make it worse, he needed to know everything about being a police officer before being trusted enough to find out what the department knew or suspected about his true employers.
The lack of progress on his mission for White Umbrella was on his mind as he was driving a patrol car by himself. Wesker knew he needed to concentrate on the job at hand on the short run without being distracted with the long term mission, as he could not afford to be diverted from any potential dangers that being a police officer alone could present him at any time. So visually combing both sides of the sidewalk as he drove by, as well as keeping his eyes on the street ahead of him, forced him to stay alert at all times.
The first potential crime he spotted involved two women in their late
20's, one dressed in a business attire with short, straight brown hair while the other was clothed in casual clothes as she had curly, shoulder-length blonde hair. Both individuals' jumpy behavior of repeatedly looking around them before hurrying through a door and closing it behind them drew his attention.
"Time to serve the public", Wesker whispered to himself as he swiftly parked the car at the first empty space next to the sidewalk.
Withdrawing the keys out of the ignition, he exited the vehicle and followed both suspects towards the door that he expected to be presently locked. It took him about a minute to reach the doorknob and try to twist it, and he realized he was right, as it was locked from the inside. The first thing he did was to make sure he was not standing right in front of it, as procedure dictated.
"Police, open up now!", he ordered as he repeatedly banged on it with a closed right fist while the door was next to his own right side.
No answer.
Withdrawing the service firearm with his right hand, he delivered a front right kick next to the doorknob, shattering the locking mechanism and bursting the entrance open.
He aimed the Desert Eagle into the unkempt room as the majority of his body was still hidden next to the doorway. But instead of the hostile environment he suspected might greet him, he saw both women only, and neither one of them seemed to be in a position to put up a fight. The lady in the business suit appeared to be passed out on a filthy couch while the woman in casual clothes was knelt down next to her and undoing a rubber band that was tied around the first person's upper arm.
The second individual looked up and stared into Wesker's eyes for an instant, revealing a panicking mind set. Her eyes jumped before she stood up and bolted away from him as he slowly and carefully entered the room.
Watching her disappear down an adjacent hallway before he heard a backdoor opening and closing, the Umbrella operative let her go as he concentrated on the first person who was still unconscious on the sofa.
He first checked for a pulse by gripping her left wrist. Finding a faint heartbeat, he remained standing and scanned the room as a whole. It appeared to be a small, and very grimy, first floor apartment complex, with a short hallway that led to a nearby kitchen, bathroom and rear door.
The officer pressed a button on his uniform radio and called for an ambulance as he quickly walked through the hallway, kitchen and bathroom to ensure that no one else was there. Finding nothing except mice and cockroaches, he then holstered the Desert Eagle and returned to the comatose stranger on the couch. Wesker squatted down next to sofa and examined the needle that protruded from the suspect's left forearm as her sleeve had been pulled up. He took a hold of her arm and slowly withdrew the needle as he kept an eye on her face to see if she would wake up.
She did not while he let the empty syringe fall on the floor next to his feet and checked her breathing to make sure she had not stopped the respiratory process.
"Out on a lunch break?", he asked, even though he knew she could not hear him while he could pick up the sound of an approaching ambulance from a distance.
Just as he thought the situation was about to improve, he heard several screams from outside that were followed by a loud crash. He couldn't even try to guess what had just transpired, so Wesker stood back up and ran out the door. The scenery that greeted him was the last one he wanted to see at the time.
An ambulance had crashed into the back of his parked police car, even while the sirens were screaming with red lights and deafening noise. Two paramedics emerged from the mangled ambulance, the passenger with a bloodied cut on his forehead, as both had trouble walking straight.
"You called for an EMT, officer?", the ambulance driver staggered a few steps, trying to steady himself.
"What the hell happened!", Wesker raised his voice in an effort to be heard over the pedestrians and drivers who had stopped their cars on the sidewalk and gotten out after witnessing the accident, "Didn't you see my car?".
"Well yeah! We saw it. Just...", the passenger from the ambulance stopped, choosing his words, "We were just in a hurry to get here, is all!".
"Are you two all right?", the officer added as he approached the two men.
"Yeah, yeah", the driver replied as he shook his head and then rested it against the palm of his hand as if he had a giant headache, "Just not sure if this ambulance is usable any more".
"I got an OD in that house back there!", Wesker pointed behind him, "She doesn't have very long! What the hell are we supposed to do about
that?".
"Can you check to see if it's still driving, Lenny?", the driver asked of his passenger.
The man named Lenny kept a piece of cloth pressed against his bloodied forehead as he nodded once and ran to fill the seat behind the wheel.
"Show me where your OD is!", the previous driver then advised.
Obliging, Wesker led one of the two paramedics back into the living room before that individual squatted down next to the couch in his own turn and felt for the woman's pulse. It was a sudden change to be in a quieter room.
"She's very weak, she needs to be taken to Raccoon City Hospital and
now", the emergency health worker informed the officer who kept standing behind him.
"No kidding", Wesker sighed, "So let's go already. Is the ambulance ready?".
"Afraid not", Lenny ran into the room with a worried look on his face to inform them both, "Our wheels are gone, guys. That ambulance ain't going anywhere anytime soon".
"One of you guys call for a back-up EMT unit", Wesker ordered.
"This is our side of the city alone! It'll take ages to re-route another unit in this side of town!", the original driver countered as he stood back up.
"Let's use my cruiser then", the Umbrella operative suggested as he withdrew his car keys, "We'll put her in the back seat".
"Problem again", Lenny sighed, holding his hand out in front of him to stop Wesker, "I checked, officer. That collision flattened both your rear tires also. Your patrol car's not going anywhere without being towed there first".
"This is great. This is fucking GREAT!", Wesker angrily kicked the couch, leaving a deep dent within it and not paying any attention to the jumpy reaction shown by both paramedics as he did so.
He crossed his arms in front of his chest, looking down at the critically wounded woman on the sofa for a few, silent seconds without uttering a word. Neither man around him knew of what to say, or even wanted to make themselves heard with someone who had a temper and was armed at the same time, so both opted to simply watch him instead.
"We'll just have to borrow a ride", the officer finally announced as he turned around and walked out of the living room.
Once outside, he promptly marched away from the gathering multitude of spectators and onto the side of the street outside. With both paramedics still on the sidewalk, Wesker withdrew the badge off his uniform and pointed it at the first, blue 4-door car that was approaching the spot where he stood.
"Stop the car", he ordered out loud, though even he had to admit he could not be heard over the noise pollution that surrounded him.
The driver did see him, but the automobile did not appear to be slowing down in anticipation of his verbal and nonverbal commands.
"STOP THE DAMN CAR!", he screamed louder.
The blue vehicle slightly turned to avoid hitting him as its driver honked his horn due to the inconvenience. Swearing several times, Wesker did not follow that car with his eyes but instead concentrated on the second vehicle he spotted coming closer to him. So he pointed his RPD badge towards the driver of that second, cream-colored convertible.
"Pull over! PULL OVER!", Wesker screamed at the male operator behind the wheel.
Unfortunately, the result was the same. The second car swerved around the spot where he stood on the street and drove past him.
Watching the second vehicle leave him behind, the officer sighed in vexation without showing any signs of anger. Instead, he replaced the badge back on his uniform and withdrew his Desert Eagle pistol instead. He then stood his ground on the side of the street and turned his head to face the third, red 4-door car that was rolling towards him.
The Umbrella spy undid the safety mechanism on the firearm and pointed it at the female driver, making sure she was staring down the barrel of the deadly weapon.
"PULL OVER THE CAR NOW", he barked, his sunglasses visually drilling into the woman's terrified eyes.
She did so, slamming on the brakes before her vehicle came to rest about a yard away from Wesker's legs.
Happy that he didn't have to be shown up by jumping out of the way if the car hadn't stopped, Wesker replaced the safety mechanism and holstered his weapon. He walked over to the open driver's side window before placing his hand on top of the roof of the car and looking down through that same window.
"Thank you for stopping, ma'am", he spoke in an unusually composed voice, considering how they were meeting, "Raccoon PD. We have an emergency that we need to use your vehicle for. It should only be about half an hour".
Looking back to the paramedics, he raised his voice to be heard.
"We got our ride, fellas! Bring the OD!", he declared.
Then his attention was put back on the lady driver in a more tranquil tone.
"Would you kindly move over, ma'am? We need at least three adults in the front due to a prone individual who'll be in the backseat".
Routine foot patrol was just that - routine.
Nothing much happened out of the ordinary. The citizens of Raccoon City were either friendly, unfriendly or neither. Thus, officer Wesker always ran across people who were trying to offer a pleasant smile or greeting upon meeting him, those who scoffed and said something behind his back, or those who gave no visible reaction at all.
During another time and place, he would've done something about the second type of resident, but at this time, he had to spend more energy on how to accomplish his objective of finding out what the department knew about Umbrella.
At least that's what he would've done on the long run if his attention wasn't diverted on the short run. That is because in this day, routine patrol held a surprise for him, one that was not usual in this sleepy, peaceful town.
"Armed robbery in progress, Grady's Inn on 16th and Oregon, shots fired! Proceed with extreme caution!", Wesker's radio screamed from his toolbelt.
"Some things never change", he whispered to himself as he crouched while outside the door to the empty restaurant, all the customers having vacated the premises a short while ago.
Moving carefully towards the front door, he slowly used his drawn sidearm to push the entryway open.
Inside the vacant eatery, the unmasked, middle-aged Caucasian was still busy emptying the contents of the counter cash register into his jacket pockets as an unconscious store clerk lay on the floor in a pool of his own blood.
The thief's demeanor changed from annoyed to one that was enraged when he saw the door opening towards him. It was only then that he saw a squatting police officer with dark eyeglasses looking back at him from about ten yards away.
"Are you so stupid that you don't even wear gloves in the commission of a crime?", was the question thrown at him by the uniformed intruder.
"Fuck you, pig!", was the only reply.
The older man lifted his right arm, aiming a long-barreled revolver and looking to fire it for the second time today. He thought he was very fast. He also thought that he couldn't miss from the short distance across the pizza shop.
From Wesker's point of view, it appeared more like his opponent was moving in slow motion.
The Umbrella operative rose up to his feet, pointed the Desert Eagle pistol with his right hand only and pulled the trigger even before his adversary could take aim. His gun coughed once. A .50 caliber bullet exploded into the middle of the robber's left thigh and exited out the back of the man's leg, leaving a dark red stain on the wall behind him.
The robber, in turn, screamed as he pulled the trigger on the revolver while the section of his leg which was below the wound was separated from the rest of his body. A bullet shot out of the revolver and entered the ceiling of the restaurant. While that happened, the male suspect let go of his firearm and dropped behind the counter and on the floor next to his victim.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! MOTHERFUCKER! YOU SHOT ME!", was the screaming
Wesker tried desperately to ignore as he kept his gun aimed at his target.
He approached the counter, right arm on the Desert Eagle and left hand on the communicator on his belt, all the while attempting to be heard over the screaming.
"This is Wesker, I have two down at the shop on 16th and Oregon, gunshot wounds. Require medical assistance, and I mean now", he spoke into his radio as he reached the cash register.
Hearing sirens emanating outside from behind him, he also kicked the revolver away, putting several feet between the downed weapon and the trio of humans.
Still paying no attention to his enemy's fading spasms or the second pool of blood originating from the criminal's severed leg, Wesker squatted next to the restaurant employee and placed his left index and middle fingers against the side of the man's neck. He knew that the suspect was going into shock, but simply did not care at the moment.
"Wes!", came the shout from outside as the door to the shop opened again.
He gazed behind him to see officer Frost entering the restaurant with another uniformed colleague that he did not recognize.
"I'm fine, officer Frost", Wesker looked back down to the victim as he addressed his partners, "But shooting casualty here isn't. Pulse is weak and erratic. He could stop breathing and go into cardiac arrest any second now. He needs to be in a hospital five minutes ago".
"This is Joe. I want an ambulance at...", Frost started speaking into his radio as the new pair of police officers made their way inside.
"I already put out the call!", Wesker snarled without looking up from the unconscious victim, "Just help me stop his bleeding till help arrives".
"One of us should tend to the suspect while two tend to the vic...",
Frost and his partner were holstering their weapons as they quickly walked towards the cash register.
"No!", an irritated Wesker interrupted Frost for the second time, but looking up to lock eyes with him, "We all work on him".
With his colleagues squatting around the two injured individuals, the
Umbrella scout pointed at the down suspect as that man was desperately gripping whatever remained of his left leg.
"Our job is to protect victims", Wesker angrily added, "If he stays alive till the paramedics get here, then fine. But we don't waste our time on him".
He got unreadable facial expressions from both RPD employees, but
Frost's mouth noticeably tightened. The younger man obviously didn't appreciate taking orders from someone who was the same rank as him.
"Fine", Frost finally answered as Wesker already started tearing the victim's shirt to use it to place pressure on his wound, "But they better get here fast, then".
"It's good to know I have someone watching my back", was the last thing
Frost heard from the undercover Umbrella security guard as Wesker's calmer tone had become much more accepting of his own role as Frost's subordinate.
The amount of paperwork that was waiting to be completed after Wesker's shooting incident was enough to cover his entire medium-sized desk to the point where the wooden surface of the desk could not be seen.
"Hm", he scratched his chin as he eyed the large quantity of documents that needed to be filled out or signed about the day's earlier occurrence, "Scary of how it can find you wherever you go".
"You OK, Wes?", Frost had walked up behind him.
"Oh, of course", the shaded spy turned his face to look at the younger officer, "And I thought I could take on any adversary, until I saw
this. I mean, you think you're ready, but then the reality of it is enough to traumatize any and all, regardless of how tough you think you are".
Frost had to momentarily read Wesker's facial expression before replying. One day I'm going to pull those glasses off his face, he mused.
"You're talking about the paperwork rather than the shooting, aren't you?", officer Frost wanted to confirm his suspicions.
The smile on Wesker's face as he turned back to look at his desk confirmed what he believed.
"Can this waste of time wait till tomorrow?", the older man asked him without making eye contact.
"Uh, well, I suppose", Frost informed, "But we may as well. Got another hour before we clock off".
"Then I'm done for the day", Wesker turned back to him, "Feel like grabbing some lunch before we head to our homes?".
"Well, I mean, sure, but we aren't done for another hour".
"Oh, fuck it, who's keeping tabs anyway? Not like we have to punch in and out on this job", with that, Wesker walked past Frost and headed outside.
"You coming or what?" the older man called out after him before Frost did what used to be the unthinkable just a week ago and left work early.
"It's just so weird to think that someone from our department had to fire his gun, much less firing it so early on the job", Frost conversed over a plate of shrimp and fries and a glass of orange soda as he was seated in a small, local bistro named Burger Kong, "I mean, I can't even remember the last date when a member of the RPD had to discharge a weapon while on duty".
"Can't say I'm disappointed", Wesker answered in between bites of his chicken sandwich, "This is a job I've wanted to do for a very long time. I'm happier to not have to wait before cleaning up society of its scumbags".
The damn shades are always on his face even when he's eating, Frost thought to himself, making sure his face didn't reveal what he was thinking.
"Then if you don't mind me asking, Wes, how come you're a cop now?", he said out loud instead.
"What do you mean?", Wesker took a drink of the light beer.
"You are a few years older, and if you wanted this line of work since day one, how come you're just starting? You don't have to tell me, of course.
Just curious as to how I myself started here right after high school but you're a few years behind me".
"Ah!", the older but less experienced officer smiled as he swallowed the food in his mouth and began to be ready to lie, "Well, that'd be since I had four years of college after high school, so didn't leave the classroom till I was 22. But even that leaves some time, between graduation and the police force, as I'm sure you noticed".
"Uhuh".
"I wasn't born here in Raccoon City, Joseph. I had initially applied for the police department back in my home state, but oddly enough, the powers that be stated I had some 'severe anger issues' when put through a psych exam", Wesker pointed out the emphasis on the three words.
"Can you believe that?", the Umbrella operative smiled at his younger colleague, "Me, anger issues. So instead of wasting my time with those clowns, I joined a large security company back home that basically let me have more freedom. Last year, the job relocated me to Raccoon here, and that was a few months before I got laid off due to cutbacks. It seemed a good time to try the police force again".
"Weird is right, but those dim-witted tests don't know jack about the person they're supposedly reading, Wes", Frost added, "Talk about a waste of talent. But better late than never, right? I'm just wondering still if we did the right thing by that suspect today before the medic guys arrived. I've never done anything like that before. I mean, I know he was a shithead and all, doesn't mean a severed leg was gonna hurt any less. And not that I'm gonna say anything, Wes, but the other officer that I was with, I don't know if he'll be talking to the brass about how what we did violates protocol".
"I wouldn't worry about that if I was you, Joseph. I assure you that the only way anyone will make a fuss over this is if it makes it on the news. And that will only happen if he has politically connected loves ones, which we can safely assume that someone who's robbing pizza shops does not", Wesker finished the last of his sandwich and drink, "And as far as what you had mentioned previously about the psych test and better being here late than never, definitely correct on both counts. Good to be part of a non-corporate team. But for now, I need to run an errand at the hospital where my shooting victim was taken. Want to see how he's doing before I head home".
"Oh?", the younger officer was surprised to see him stand up as soon as his food was over.
"I just wish I had gotten there sooner and kept him from being victimized at all. I'll go home from there and get some R & R before I see you tomorrow for another busy day of making the world a safer way through paperwork", the older man checked his sidearm for what felt like was the hundredth time since the shooting.
"Seeing two people with blood exploding from them isn't a scene I'm likely to forget either", Frost added.
"Lunch is on me", Wesker placed a $20 bill on the table, "You try to get some rest too before tomorrow, kid".
"Kid, funny", Frost grinned, "I'm how many years younger than you?.
"Enough years", the older man pointed at him before turning and exiting the petite restaurant.
"How is he doing?", Wesker directed his finger through the window of the hospital room where Richard Rodriguez, the shooting victim from earlier that day, was lying on a white-colored bed.
"In a word, not good", Dr. Alex Bechet replied in a whispered tone, "In more than one word... Well, I'd be wasting my time since it'd just be a fancier way of telling you that his chances are small to none".
"The problem?", the uniformed police officer crossed his arms, making the older doctor nervous as he saw his own reflection in the younger man's sunglasses.
"The problem, security guard Wesker, is that this man's heart was punctured by a bullet at close range", the Umbrella contact in the hospital informed him, "So unless a miracle happens and he finds a heart that's donated to him in the next 48 hours, he won't be around by the end of the week".
"And organ waiting lists are typically years long", the security guard/police officer knew the rest of the predicament.
"Thus why this patient won't be operated on", Bechet added.
An awkward moment of silence followed as Wesker marched into
Rodriguez's room, followed from a few steps behind by his fellow Umbrella employee.
The younger man ignored the unconscious patient who remained sedated while he took a hold of the medical chart that was attached to the foot of the bed. Wesker looked interested in what he read and nodded twice to himself before returning the chart to its rightful place.
"What if I could find this hospital a heart before the end of the day?", Wesker returned his arms to a crossed position in front of his chest.
"How in hell do you expect to do that?", the pseudo-doctor inquired.
"Let's just say us RPD types know the location of every victim and suspect we either carry or end up putting into one of the local hospitals", Wesker's armed relaxed by his sides.
"Come again?".
"I happen to know where Marc Black's room is".
"Umbrella has special plans for Mr. Black ever since he was brought in with the gunshot wound that you so aptly provided him with. He's off limits until a White Umbrella clean-up crew arrives at midnight to take custody of him", Bechet answered, "So you leave him alone to us, Albert".
"You tell White Umbrella to find another pimp, or whatever the hell else they want with that waste of space", the police officer abruptly turned away from his conversation with the older doctor.
"What?", Bechet called after him as he watched him leave.
"Just get the operating room ready, doctor", Wesker answered him as he got further away.
"Albert, no!", the undercover general practitioner bolted after him,
"Where are you going!".
Wesker thought to himself that it was a distinct advantage that Alex Bechet was in the same figurative boat that he was, thus the elderly
Umbrella employee would never be in a position to inform his doings to the local Raccoon City authorities. He had nothing more to say as his pursuer quickly, but nervously, followed him down the hallway to the area where his destination was found. The RPD official walked into a second hospital room, and it's only then that Bechet realized that it was the one belonging to the restaurant shooter, as the name written on the register stated the patient's first initial and last name was M. Black. The younger man grasped the new chart, lifting it towards his face as he silently read the contents.
A smile crept over Wesker's face after several seconds. He finally placed the flat document back where it belonged.
"Hey, Black, wake the hell up, you ugly son of a bitch!", the Umbrella spy called out.
The injured suspect whose left arm was handcuffed to the bed lifted his head up as he saw the officer who had wounded him now standing in his room. Even though he was in a half-seated position on the hospital bed, he still could not move due to his restrained left wrist and the immobile cast placed around his left thigh that was used to reattach his leg.
"What the fuck do you...", Black started demanding, the disgust and anger showing on his face.
"Catch this, you asshole. It's a present", Wesker unholstered his
Desert Eagle pistol and lightly threw it on the robber's stomach from three yards away.
More surprised and confused than anything else, Black's fingers landed around the barrel of the weapon by instinct alone as Bechet stood silently a few feet away from both men, still wondering what his employer's security guard was planning.
"Put my gun down, motherfucker!", Wesker ordered out loud as soon as he knew that Black's fingerprints were on his firearm.
"Wha...?" the injured man started asking, trying to question what was going on.
Without answering, Wesker lifted his own left leg by bending that knee.
He smoothly withdrew the 9mm Glock pistol from that ankle with his right hand and took aim at the robbery suspect for the second time today. He heard Bechet and Black gasping at the same time as he pulled the trigger once. A 9 mm bullet shot out of his second weapon and entered the patient's forehead, bouncing that one's head as blood, bone and brain matter spilled on the pillow and wall behind him.
Satisfied, Wesker walked up to Black's corpse and picked the Desert
Eagle out of his dead hand. He holstered the first weapon with his left hand while he maintained his right hand grip on the back-up Glock pistol.
"You saw that, the man grabbed my gun as I was interrogating him. I had to resort to deadly force since our lives were in danger", the officer informed the shocked Umbrella scientist as he turned around. Bechet's mouth was still wide open as his eyes were almost perfectly round while he kept looking at the body which was missing its forehead on the hospital bed.
"Now you have a heart to use for Mr. Rodriguez", was Wesker's last statement as the officer headed home.