A Day In The Life of Albert Wesker
Summary: It's really hard to devise schemes such as the Spencer Mansion Incident. Join Wesker and friends only a month before the events in RE 1 as they plot and scheme their ways into our hearts as the villains we now know and love. Rated T for strong language, violence, implied sexual themes, and the unspeakable horror of what happens when you break a certain special item close to Wesker's heart. If you really want to, consult with Capcom as to whether or not I own anything related to the Resident Evil Series. That way I can spend the time I would have spent writing a disclaimer either thinking of ways to re-invent the plot, or writing the actual story.
Albert Wesker was having a bad day.
It was June, 1998, only a few weeks before the Spencer Mansion incident. Wesker was up at 2:30 in the morning determined to rehearse every aspect of his elaborate plan, so that he could prove to his college buddies how his eight years at the Revolver Ocelot University of Triple-Crossing Bastards were not a waste.
"no, no, no, no, NO!" yelled an angry Wesker at the hulking figure in front of him, "my mandatory evil bad guy laugh is NOT your cue to break out of the test tube and stab me! You're supposed to do it when I say 'It's Magnificent' and NOT an instant before!"
The T-002 Tyrant, Umbrella Corporation's ultimate BOW (Brain-dead & obvious Womanizer) was having difficulty remembering what he was supposed to do, and after Wesker's last shout of disapproval, he decided that questions should serve his time better. "Rawr?" he asked innocently.
"Okay, okay," said Wesker, who impulsively turned a new leaf and entered into a remarkably patient mood (He'll do anything to see a plan through), " I realize that it is strange for you to wear your mitten for the time, but I had to do something to keep you from actually impaling me.
He was referring to the one article of clothing Tyrant was wearing. As a really strange college requirement, Wesker had once taken an embroidering class and needed something to keep Tyrant from turning him into a skewered shrimp, so he designed the cutest and most colorful home-made mitten for Tyrant's claw hand; and then lined it with enough padding and reinforcement so that not even Tyrant could rip through it. Tyrant had mixed feelings about wearing it. After all, he was the greatest womanizer (which in this case literally means: dead sexy beast) in all of Umbrella's organization, which employed nobody other than desperate, lonely, virgin nerds to work at the Spencer Mansion, and his philosophy was to save time by simply going around naked. And, as far as he knew, his philosophy worked best, largely because any partner/victim of his 1 function never had a chance to say otherwise.
"Hmm, there's still something missing," said a still dissatisfied Wesker, "I mean, anyone with a sword long and sharp enough could simply stab me. We need to do something to more… something that will really demonstrate your strength… Hmm."
They each thought hard about it for a minute, and then Tyrant came up with a brilliant idea "Rawr!" he exclaimed brightly. Yes, he was a violent mutant with exposed internal organs who had the tendency to violate the private regions of anyone he could get his hands on, and yet he could act as cute as a kitten.
"Lift me off of the ground? Hmm… Yes, that could work. Maybe you could also shake me a little, for good measure," said Wesker, glad his plan was coming together. "Alright, remember the cue?" He cleared his throat, raised his arms wide, and repeated the verbal cue which Tyrant was supposed to act on: "It's magnificent!"
Tyrant remembered the cue this time, and so they tried the act once. While Tyrant did the stabbing motion, Wesker grabbed his mitten and held on hard. Tyrant gently lifted him a few feet off of the ground, and proceeded to give Wesker a shaking that would put the vibrating beds in cheap hotels to shame (for a reference, those things register a 7.1 on the Richter scale). Wesker strained to keep his grip, but because he had put so much soft padding inside the mitten, he couldn't grab anything solid. The shaking sent him flying into the roof before falling onto one of the yet unbroken giant test tubes, shattering it.
Miraculously, Wesker's trademark sunglasses neither fell from his face nor were scratched by the incident. After a few minutes sprawled out in the most unnatural of positions, he regained consciousness and climbed to his feet. "Good," he said, even though his head was spinning, he couldn't see, and was still frustrated at how much planning he still had to do before 'The Sublimely Magnificent Albert Wesker Mansion Incident' could commence. "Do it exactly like that." While the haze was clearing, he took a moment to appreciate how helpful his anger management classes had been. A long time ago, he would have had a colorful, several minute swearing episode if something like this happened. Nowadays, only three things make Wesker mad enough to really lose his composure.
1. If you fail to understand his evil schemes during last-minute rehearsals, he will feel mildly angry.
2. If you try to foil his plans before they even begin, he will become moderately angry
3. If you break, scratch, or knock off his sunglasses, then in absolute rage he will do something so unspeakably gruesome that if you are lucky enough to survive, you will be so heavily mentally scarred that you'll never sleep again out of the fear that you just might have a nightmare about the torture.
Tyrant was curiously eyeing a huddled mass in the corner which was whimpering loudly. His one-track mind eventually kicked in and he turned his charm on. Strutting in a smooth manner which would have given tribute to Elvis, he called out in his sexy voice, "Raaawwr." The whimpering only increased.
"Hey! Cut it out, Tyrant," said an annoyed Wesker, "No, it most likely isn't the world-class supermodel you met on that shady online dating site. This was the third time Tyrant tried to act sexy towards random objects in the lab, and he was really losing focus. Tyrant turned around startled, just now realizing that a certain someone had woke up. He submissively walked back towards Wesker. "Rawr?" he quietly asked in as innocent and small a voice as a 9 foot tall monster could manage.
"Yes, yes, I'm fine. Bright as the STARS in the sky," said our entirely black-clad villain, who thought himself mighty clever for his obvious and poorly thought out STARS pun. He chuckled at it, failing to take into account both how dark he looked, and how retarded his hand-picked STARS team really was. Not realizing how big an idiot he was making of himself, he told a secretly laughing Tyrant that he could remove his mitten and practice dramatically breaking out of test tubes
"Rawr!" Tyrant exclaimed happily, glad to remove his mitten and be completely naked again as he skipped to the oversized test tubes. Meanwhile, Wesker decided to investigate the whimpering."It's probably just some idiot researcher who fell asleep during work hours, woke up, and walked into the wrong room. I mean, I'd expect Birkin to do something this hopelessly geeky, but ever since he relocated to the secret underground lab in Raccoon City, I don't know what to expect from these creepy low-rate researchers." thought Wesker. "Hey, nerd." he called into the dark corner.
"Stay away!" Called the whimpering voice in the corner. "I'll have you know that I'm a member of STARS, and can defend my… Oh hell, who am I fooling? RUN AWAY!!" Yelled the figure who blindly ran straight into Wesker.
"Ouch! My precious thyroid gland!" exclaimed the moron. As Wesker pushed him off he was immediately filled with both shock and awe. "Great God!" he exclaimed, "Vickers!?" Indeed, standing before him was none other than the most cowardly helicopter pilot in the history of all existence. He was wearing pajamas with a repeating picture of chickens on them, and, like any true coward lacking the slightest hint self-esteem whatsoever, he had fresh urine stains all over his pants. In his hands he clutched tightly a 5-foot tall, hot pink teddy bear which was bulging as if our most lovable Brad was hiding a giant rectangular device inside.
"Oh my God!!" Wesker mentally shouted, "I've made a terrible calculation. Brad Vickers, the man whom I thought so hopelessly stupid that he would lose a game of checkers against tree fungus, is actually a spy, probably working for Umbrella, who is on a secret mission to unravel my brilliantly devised scheme before I even put it into action!! But what do I do? If he is killed or detained, his employer will suspect something and try to arrest me. I can't risk the exposure. No, I mustn't kill him, I'll simply work loopholes in Umbrella's accounting system, get as much "research funding" as my contact in that department can manage,and bribe Vickers to work for me. Note to self: next time I add a STARS member to the roster, I need to make absolutely sure that they are completely retarded." Wesker turned to Vickers and demanded, "Alright, Brad, how much for you to work for me?"
"Ca-Ca-Captain Wesker?" Brad 'Chickenheart' Vickers stammered out, " I had no idea you were a lion tamer in your spare time," he said indicating Tyrant, who was still trying to squeeze into the first test tube. "Oh, yeah, to answer your question, I find my pay at STARS to be perfectly suitable, sir. Please don't fire me."
"What? Speak sense, man, I know you're here to ruin my elaborate plan to destroy STARS and make me look like an idiot in front of my college buddies. Well you know what? I won't be ruined so easily!" Wesker then grabbed Vickers by the throat and demanded, in as threatening a voice as he could, "HOW MUCH DOES UMBRELLA KNOW!!"
After thoroughly wetting himself again, the poor whimpering wretch Vickers collected himself enough to speak. "Look, Captain Wesker, I can explain. I was on a camping trip with some friends here in the Arklay Mountains. I chose to go because I wanted to force myself to be brave enough to go to sleep with the comfort of only one night light instead of twenty. Unfortunately, I only have the kind of night light that plugs into a wall, so I tried to run extension cords from my apartment across 3 miles of Raccoon City, and another 2 miles of the Arklay Mountains all the way to our campsite. When I tested the night light, it didn't work! So I was already mortally terrified once it started getting dark. I ate the 3 bags of marshmallows next to the box of condoms from the cooler in an attempt to calm down, but that only heightened my nerves. I insisted on sharing a tent with Chris and Jill, who seemed very annoyed at the prospect (more than annoyed, depressed even), but I had to calm down somehow. When we got inside the tent, all Chris and Jill wanted to do was tell horror stories back and forth. I was scared beyond wit.
"And?" asked an inquisitive Wesker, "how did you end up in the hardest room to find in an autistically designed mansion/ secret viral lab?"
"Hold on, I'm getting to that. You see, as Chris and Jill were telling horror stories, they kept looking at me, which creeped me out even further. It was almost as if they were trying to scare me enough to get me to leave the tent so that they could be alone. Well, Jill was telling this really scary story about secret viral experiments conducted by an evil pharmaceutical corporation-and I was so scared that I was ready to leave-when I heard a noise straight out of Hell itself.
"What, what was it?"
"It came from the inky darkness around the camp. At first the noise was quiet, but as their numbers grew, it only got louder. A shrill, hellish, high pitched … CHIRPING NOISE!!" Brad exclaimed with the irrational terror of a two-year old. "I was so infinitely scared that I ran as fast as I could clutching Mr. Twinkle Sugar here," he indicated his teddy bear, "as I ran, some of those little insect things actually jumped on me. They were scary little black things, so I only ran harder; I think they were demon crickets. The rest is actually a daze. Although in getting here I seem to have wet myself," he said with embarrassment.
Wesker and Tyrant were speechless. They looked at each other and pinched themselves several times to make sure they weren't dreaming. Time completely stopped as they took the opportunity to laugh their asses off like neither had ever laughed before. After each had nearly suffocated from laughter, Wesker collected himself enough to do a recap. "So let me get this straight," Wesker said as he felt another barrage of laughter building up inside him, "You heard crickets chirping in the woods, and that scarred you enough to run, as chance would have it, all the way to this mansion, through several locked doors, some being metal and stone; through the garden, down into the pool, where you fell 50 feet down the ladders behind the waterfall, ran through the caves, past my obligatory boulder chase sequences, up a 30 foot elevator shaft, fell back down another 50 foot elevator shaft leading into the secret labs, through even more locked metal doors, finally falling down a 100 foot elevator shaft only to end up here?"
The chicken with the skin of a human didn't know what to say. Finally he mustered a simple, "Uhh, yeah. I guess."
"Great God, Vickers, do you even realize how perfectly you will fit into my plan?" exclaimed Wesker, suppressing his laughter hard, who was now as happy as Santa Claus on the 364 days a year he didn't have to work. "Just one question, if normal everyday crickets scare you this much, how would… let's say, vicious skinless dogs scare you?"
"Enough to make me pilot my chopper away immediately, leaving my teammates for dead."
"Excellent, that's all I need you for, Vickers. Oh, and if you could, don't tell the other STARS members about this incident. If you do, then I really will fire you." said Wesker, who was so happy that he now had a way to get Alpha team into the mansion. Now all he needed to do was work out the specifics.
Proving to be an extremely dull mind, Vickers just now remembered something, "Uh, wait sir, back when I was explaining how I got here, didn't you say something about a plot to destroy STARS?"
Wesker wasn't sure how to respond, and come to think of it, he just realized that neither he nor Tyrant had a way to leave the Mansion once the self-destruct sequence was initiated. But then, these two problems coalesced in Wesker's mind, and he knew what to say.
"Yes, Vickers, as much pain as it gives me, I must destroy STARS. You see, someone in our STARS organization is a triple crossing bastard, it could be anyone from either Alpha or Bravo team. At any rate, they must be sought out. The easiest, most worthwhile cost and time efficient way to do that is to devise an extremely complex, easily thwarted diabolical plan which puts both teams against the horny, desperate population of researchers here in the Spencer… Er, I mean MY mansion." Wesker had never had a plan work out this well before. "So, actually one other thing I need you to do is when we discover this traitor-sometime next month-you need to fly around this mansion and pick up me and Mr. T. here when we are done dealing with said them."
"Can do, sir" said Brad, dozing off "And I suppose that despite the fact that you are down here in a secret viral lab scheming and plotting at 2:30 in the morning with a giant, mutant lion, I shouldn't assume that you are the traitor." (It's an inverse rule: as Brad dozes off, he actually thinks clearer.)
"Damn straight," was Wesker's reply.
"And if your completely diabolical plan ends in a dramatic confrontation between this giant, hairless, humanoid lion and the traitors on a helipad then can I simply rescue the winner? Regardless as to the outcome?" asked Vickers.
"Fine with me," replied Wesker, who knew deep down that his plan would never fail. Tyrant had already killed 4 researchers completely by accident. How much better could the ultra-cute, self-proclaimed "Master of Sandwich-Making" fare against him? And considering the fact that no one in STARS has yet to master the art of walking sideways, Tyrant's victory would be a breeze. But then again, Wesker did have a reputation for being overconfident…
Finally, Tyrant gave into desire. Ever since Vickers revealed himself, he had gained a new appreciation as to how brainless the pilot really was. He now wanted to amuse himself with the sheer stupidity of Brad's cowardliness. So with all his might he imitated… a cricket chirping. It was a very bad imitation. This was the result:
"AAAHHHHH!! DEMON CRICKET!!" screamed Vickers, who turned around and came face to face with his giant pink teddy bear.
"AAAHHHH!! THE ARKLAY BIGFOOT!!" screamed Vickers next, not recognizing his own teddy bear. He turned around again and ran straight for the giant test tube Tyrant was currently inhabiting.
"AAAHHHH!! 9-FOOT TALL BIPEDAL LION!!" Vickers finally screamed. "ALL IS LOST!!." He had lost the will to run momentarily, and simply stood gaping in fear at Tyrant, who was roaring with laughter. Brad started urinating his pants again.
"Ha ha ha ha ha … Hey, Mr. T. (Wesker's nickname for Tyrant)," called the man in black, who could barely talk for all the laughing. He cleared his throat again and said, "It's Magnificent!"
Tyrant understood the message. "RAWRRR!!" he roared dramatically as he shattered the test tube with his claws, barely missing Vickers. Finally, something inside Vickers snapped.
"GREAT F-ING MOTHER OF GOD, I'M A COWARDLY FOOL!!" screamed the helplessly poor chicken. And in the spirit of a special type of chicken (the headless type), he began running blindly around the lab, arms flailing. Tyrant and Wesker couldn't get enough. Neither thought that the stupidity of man could be this funny. But then, something unspeakable happened…
As Vickers was running about, arms flailing and pants dripping, he came too close to Wesker. As he ran by, a random arm flail brushed across Wesker's face… and caught his sunglasses.
Tyrant stopped laughing immediately and watched in horror. He had seen before what Wesker does to those who mess with his sunglasses.
"Stop! Stop at once you idiot!!" screamed Wesker, who gave pursuit in vain. "I swear to everything you hold sacred that I will literally pummel you to death if you do not stop this instant.!!"
Whether by Wesker's threat or his own fatigue, Vickers took this moment to stop and catch his breath. But as he did, the sunglasses which he did not realize were still caught on his hand slipped and fell to where gravity would prefer them to be. Namely the cold, hard floor.
Time seemed to slow for Wesker, who bore witness to the death of his precious sunglasses. Never before had any moment been so tragic for our lovable villain. As the sunglasses fell to just inches above the floor, Wesker caught his own expression in their reflection. The only words that could describe what his expression looked like were grief-stricken. And then, it happened.
SMASH!!
The sound might as well have been that of Wesker's heart breaking. Never before had he known a loss as profound as when he looked down upon the fresh corpse of his dear sunglasses. He walked over, knelt before them, and in a move that paid homage to Darth Vader in a Star Wars movie that hadn't even been filmed yet, looked to the Gods above and cried "NOOOO!!" in a voice so pitiful that, had any Gods been watching, they would have cried. But none were, so the job fell upon Tyrant, who started weeping gently (for a ferocious monster/sexy beast).
A minute of this passed, and then Wesker sought reasons for his dear precious's death. Suddenly, he remembered Vickers, who for the minute stood there paralyzed with dread. He may have been the stupidest and most cowardly helicopter pilot ever, but even he had sense enough to realize that you don't mess with the glasses. Wesker slowly stood up and turned around. Now without sunglasses, the full expression of hatred could be displayed. Wesker gave Vickers such an evil demonic look as would have made Mount Everest itself would cry in terror and flatten to the ground. He began walking forward.
"Ca-Ca- Captain, I-I-I, Pl-Please," whimpered Vickers, who was busy pioneering new depths of human horror.
Wesker stood eye to eye with the terrified bastard, and gave him a calm relaxed expression. He put a hand on Brad's shoulder.
"Brad, Brad? Please, Vickers get a grip. I'm not that angry."
"Y-Y-You aren't?"
"No, no, please calm down, it's not a problem. I have a warehouse filled with identical glasses just like these."
"Y-Y-You do?"
"Yes, yes," Wesker lied. As he talked, he grabbed a blonde wig that was laying on the computer console. "Now the only punishment I ask is that you show your loyalty to me by leaving immediately.
Vickers couldn't believe his good fortune. He had had much worse done to him in high-school. Without saying another word, he immediately walked silently out into the hall.
"Good man," said Wesker happily. He walked over to his computer console, pushed a few button, and diverted primary power away from his section of the underground lab. Next he put on an excited demeanor, ran over to Tyrant, who was standing there, confused as to why Wesker had let Vickers go so easily, and said in as enthusiastic a tone as he could manage, "Tyrant, you've worked hard today and I truly appreciate it. Therefore, I have a reward for you. Remember that World class supermodel you met on that website?"
"Rawr," came Tyrant's anxious reply.
"Well guess what?" she's out in the hall waiting for you!!" said Wesker, handing Tyrant the blonde wig.
"RAWR!!" exclaimed a Tyrant filled with glee. Wasting no time he immediately charged out into the hall.
Wesker turned and looked at the giant, pink, misshapen teddy bear. There was obviously something hidden inside, and Wesker wondered what it could possibly be.
Before he had time to investigate further, he heard the fruits of his scheming in the hall: a rather pitiful cry. "HELP, HELP, ANYONE HELP!!"
So Wesker, satisfied that this was the worst thing he could possibly do to Vickers, stood in the hallway for about an hour watching Brad with long blonde hair get violated by Tyrant in any and every possible way. Another man wouldn't have the stomach for this (Vickers certainly didn't), but Wesker, of course, coming from the Revolver Ocelot University of Triple Crossing Bastards, had come to not only stomach but also enjoy this kind of torture.
The hour passed, and Wesker reflected upon everything he had accomplished during the early morning. Tyrant was really tired after his vigorous fulfillment of his main purpose in life. Vickers lay on the floor unconscious and possibly dead (for all Wesker knew) in the least dignified of positions. Wesker's elaborate Spencer Mansion scheme had grown by leaps and bounds during those early morning hours: he now had a way to get Alpha Team into the Mansion and he and Mr. T. out. After his sunglasses had been thoroughly avenged, he began preparing their funeral (namely his passionate eulogy for them). Tyrant was well versed in his part of the plot, and Umbrella still suspected nothing.
"Only a few hours into the day," exclaimed a joyous Wesker, "and already, it's Magnificent!"
"Rawr?" asked Tyrant, startled. And all of a sudden, he remembered.
"Tyrant, what are you doing? Wait, Stop, I didn't mean… Tyrant, please, you're not wearing your mitten! I beg you, Sto--AAHHHHH!!"
Albert Wesker was having a bad day.
Author's note: So, this is actually my first fanfic, and I am content knowing that it was really fun to write even though I really was writing until about 2:30 in the morning. If you have anything relevant to say about it then please go ahead and review. I have enabled anonymous review for the time with faith that not every anonymous reviewer out there is a spamming you-know-what, and I sincerely hope that I don't have to take away this privilege. And who knows? You just might have to join in next chapter, where new and even more idiotic schemes are created, eulogies spoken at a visitation for dead sunglasses, new characters arise, more random acts of cruelty are committed, and we find out the completely underwhelming secret as to what was in the teddy bear.