Emptiness.
That was the only word he could think of to describe his current feelings, if he could even call them that. He felt numb and he couldn't stand it. Before there had been anger and rage; feelings that had enveloped and overwhelmed his entire existence. He had defined himself by it, lived by it even. Nothing else had mattered. But now he had nothing. Not even his fury to keep him going.
The rage had hurt, but at least it had been something. Before that though, there had been another emotion. An emotion that he could barely recall how it felt, yet he couldn't completely forget either, no matter how hard he had tried. He wouldn't admit the words completely to himself though, even though he knew they would always ring true, especially now.
He stared down at the empty bed. The city lights streaming in from the open curtains illuminated the room in a soft glow. He sat down on the edge of the bed, his back to the vacant resting spot that seemed to haunt him now. He ran a hand behind him feeling the cold sheets, soft under his touch. He wouldn't turn around and even think of daring to look at it anymore. He hadn't slept in the bed in weeks. He wasn't doing much sleeping anyway. Staring out the terrace windows, he ran a hand through his hair and then buried his face in his hands.
He was finally alone, and there was no going back.
"What have I done?"
Chris walked into the S.T.A.R.S. office for the last time. He had made the pact with himself before he had even thought about entering reaching out for the door handle. These past weeks, he had lost so much. His friends, his normal life, and any sentiment he had about his faith in humanity. How could people do that to each other? The ordeal at the Arklay facility had left more wear on the young marksman than what was just physical.
It had only been two days since the incident and when he and the remaining members of S.T.A.R.S had returned, Chris had fought to show everyone the truth, the truth behind Umbrella and it's evil. People were less than sympathetic to say the least. Especially Irons, the rotten bastard was probably on Umbrella's payroll too. Why else would the chief of police shrug off such a horrible event as the one that had happened on that warm night in July? The majority of the S.T.A.R.S were gone, and Umbrella and the media had attributed it to a freak accident on a "routine" mission.
It was as if his friends and coworkers lives had meant nothing. Just human refuse to be used and manipulated to their puppet master's ends. And the worst part wasn't even that, not for Chris. The worst part was that the one who had orchestrated the entire thing had no repercussions. Sure, he was dead, but Chris had wanted more than that. Chris had wanted Albert Wesker's name and Umbrella's to go up in flames just as that mansion had. Unfortunately for Chris, he was the one of the only few who felt like condemning them.
How ironic it must have been to be killed by his own creation. But that didn't help to sate Chris' bloodlust any.
Chris stalked towards Wekser's desk and began rummaging through it, looking for some evidence, some clue to help or lead to Umbrella's destruction. He ripped open drawers and threw papers on the floor after briefly skimming them for anything damning. He found nothing useful as he searched for hours until he had reached the last unopened drawer. He yanked on it only to find that it was securely locked. That didn't make a damn bit of difference to Chris though. He pulled and pulled with all his strength and pent up aggression until the lock broke. It wasn't so much the lock as the entire desk drawer coming off its hinges.
He rifled through the papers there, all meaningless until he came to an envelope. A heavy yellow envelope addressed to Wesker from an unfamiliar name bore the Umbrella logo. Chris ripped it open eagerly and began reading. He skimmed through until a certain point of the letter piqued his interest.
...after the S.T.A.R.S team is sent in we'll have all the data we need. The European branch has been hassling me nonstop; fools can't seem to make any progress for themselves. I'm sure Spencer regrets the day he let you, one of his best researchers, transfer into the intelligence department. But I'm sure no one else could handle this thing as smoothly as you Albert.
The Paris facility sent me something quite interesting the other day. I've enclosed it in this envelope. I thought you might be interested to take a look at it as well. They call it the Nemesis project. It's what those posturing idiots think will be the end all of biological weaponry.
They have no idea, G will blow away any and all competition. I've been getting strange feelings though as of late. I feel like some of my underlings are watching me, a little too closely if you get my meaning. Annette says I'm being paranoid, but you and I know more than anyone that Umbrella has the tendency to take things that don't belong to them. I won't be another Dr. Marcus. They'll have to pry my precious G Virus from my cold, dead, fingers. But I won't let that happen.
I have something to leave in your care. The item we discussed, remember? I'll leave it in the usual place, you know where. Its' test results were somewhat circumstantial, but if you're still thinking of following through with your plan then you might need it. If anyone can make it work it would be you my friend.
If all goes well I'll be seeing you in Paris in a few days. I'm not looking forward to talking to Spencer about my research. I don't trust the dying old coot. For being one of Umbrella's founders he sure isn't very bright. You would think he'd know genius when he sees it and that only I am able to handle G's research.
Well I, and I'm sure he as well will be eagerly awaiting the data. Best of luck with your precious S.T.A.R.S. Not that you'll be needing it.
William Birkin
Chris slammed his fist on Wesker's desk. How dare he joke about his friends' lives so flippantly. But this was it; this is what he needed. There was more than enough evidence in this letter to show Umbrella, and Wesker, for what they really were. But this was all he had. Chris knew that going to Irons again wouldn't be of any help, even with the letter. The fat, power hungry official would probably just destroy it, and then Chris would be left with nothing again. He should have gathered evidence while he had been trapped in that nightmare, albeit he had been too busy trying not to get eaten alive at the time.
The young marksman had no idea where to currently find this William Birkin. But he knew he'd be in Paris in a few days as well as one of Umbrella's founders. From the sound of it, Spencer seemed to have a lot of power. Paris, that was the key. He'd go, confront them and expose them. And if he couldn't expose them, he'd take them down with him flames.
Oh Will, you and you're excessive paranoia... 'rolls eyes' I'm sure you'll be fine... -_-
BTW I don't know if it was clear or not, but the first scene doesn't take place at the same time as the rest of this first chapter. Who it was bein' all sad, well you'll have to keep reading to find out.
I was playing RE 2 and I love how Wesker's desk is trashed when you go in the S.T.A.R.S office. So I made it Chris' fault haha...
As usual please review! ^^
Riridono