Author's Note: I feel the need to stick this here because I would feel like a sucky author if I didn't mention it. Yes, this is het from a yaoi author. And it will only get another chapter if I get a combination of 10 favs, story alerts, and/or reviews. So lemme know if you like it or hate it.

Ch 1- Welcome to the Jungle

It started the way most bad things started in Claire Redfield's life: with Umbrella. She thought some days that someone, somewhere in the company must have some kind of vendetta against her or at least Redfields in general. How else to explain the way it continued to fuck up Chris and her lives? The twenty-six year old woman sighed as she sat in one of those white crinkly gowns that hospitals always demanded you change into before they came in to inspect you. She had just gotten out of a hot zone that she had been sent to investigate for Terrasave and this was part of her welcome back debriefing. They had to make sure that she hadn't been infected. This was her first time returning home from an actual hotzone. Mostly her job was interviewing suspect companies. They'd already done the blood work, as the hello kitty Band-Aid at the juncture of her elbow attested and she was just now waiting for the physical once over. She already knew she wasn't infected. She hadn't turned into a zombie nor mutated into one of those horrific creatures. The brunette blew one of the loose strands of her hair out of her eyes. They made her take her hair down so they could check her scalp for wounds. They were taking not chances in a virus getting loose in America.

Claire looked up as the door opened and the red headed man who was responsible for all the incoming agent's medical debriefing. She smiled at him as he closed the door and sat on the stool. He snapped on a set of white latex gloves and wheeled the chair over towards her. He returned her smile and Claire thought briefly about the lack of a man in her life. Leon was still chasing the dream of Ada and most of the men she had tried to date had fled when they realized she was taking on the pharmaceutical industry the way she was. Or they freaked out when they realized what had happened with Raccoon City. Men didn't tend to like it when a petite woman could prove she had more balls then they did.

"How was your Asian vacation? Didn't get bit by anything nasty, did you?" he asked as he motioned for her to hand him her arm. She did shaking her head in the negative.

"Please, I barely ran into any B.O.W.s," she said rolling her eyes. And that was the truth. The island that the North Korean government had decided to use as a testing site had a very small population and once she had confirmed that the T-virus or one of its variants was loose they had sent in BSAA. Which meant that she had been forced onto a helicopter and flown back to the states. She was too valuable to Terrasave to be allowed to hunt down the people responsible. It didn't stop her from wanting to, though. "Ouch!" Claire winced as the doctor ripped off the Band-Aid that had been covering the forming bruise on her arm from the needle. She'd always had delicate skin, which was a nightmare in her line of work. She looked at her arm and expected to see a small dime shaped bruise. Instead she saw nothing. It wasn't even red from removing the Band-Aid.

"I thought they had your test results mixed up," the doctor said talking to himself. Claire looked at him confused. That was until she looked at her file which sat on the counter. It was hard to miss the large, red stamped "positive" on the top paper. Her eyes widened in horror. What did that mean? She hadn't been bitten. Hell, she didn't even have so much as a scratch from a licker. The only difference she had noticed was a sudden increase in her appetite and liking her meat a little rawer than normal. If she was infected, wouldn't she have died by now and turned into a zombie? Or mutated like Steve? What was going on?

While she was trying to puzzle this out, the doctor had not been idle. He had run from the room, hitting a button for emergencies of this nature on the way out. Claire started at the blare of sirens and made to get out the door, only to be pushed back in by dozens of men in biohazard suits. Panic started to set in then; all the horrors of what she had seen happen to people at the hands of scientists crowding into her mind. She began swinging, ignoring the pain that raced up her knuckles as she smashed the Plexiglas screen on one man's suit, throwing him into his fellows. They toppled like dominoes, and she used their distraction to bolt from the room. She barely made it five feet in the hallway before there were more. And these had what looked like rifles. They were kneeling on the ground to get her into their sights as she turned to run in the other direction. The first report was followed seconds later by something whistling over her ear. It landed in the wall in front of her, and she barely had time to register that it wasn't a bullet a tranquillizer dart before one hit her shoulder. Claire raised one hand up to her shoulder as she felt her legs give out on her. She fought the blackness coming over her, tears escaping her eyes with the effort. But whatever the dosage was on the dart was just too strong, and the last thing she saw before she blacked out was one of those masked men looking over her.

Five Days Later...

Albert Wesker was a patient man. He had to be. People rarely realized it, but scientists were forever waiting for something-be it results or for a computer to hum to life. So it was that he was bidding his time, waiting for Sherry Birkin to grow up, waiting for companies around the world to catch up with him. He had heard some promising rumors about the goings on in Spain. Perhaps there would be something there for him to use. He was at a dead end on creating genetically modified humans that had any kind of intelligence beyond that of eating what moved. He had thought that he had found the answer in himself and later Alexia Ashford, but it had proven not to be so. It seemed that they had been the rarest of the rare in that their mutation had not destroyed their minds. He was interrupted in his musings by the sound of punk music coming from his phone. He mentally made a note to ground Sherry. She should not being messing with his personal ite

"Ms. Wong," Wesker answered his light English accent purring down the phone. She was the only one besides Sherry who would dare to interrupt him when he was down in the lab. She was his eyes and ears in the outside world. True, he monitored the scientific world through the internet and had even published a few papers over the years under a pseudonym, but he was a little inconspicuous to be wandering around the outside world. His eyes were the least of his problems.

"I've just come across the most interesting piece of information, sir," Ada's voice came through loud and clear on the cellphone. "I'd thought you'd love to hear it before anyone else." Wesker frowned. He knew what that meant. It meant that it was information that Ada would likely get a lot for on the black market and the fact she was calling him first meant that it was likely related to something he had asked her to work on before. All of it added up to the fact that this was going to cost him a pretty penny. Not that it mattered to him. He already had enough money to buy a third world country with plenty left over.

"This had best be worth it," Wesker told her as he turned his swivel chair so that he was no longer looking at the computer monitors arrayed to show him a combination of data crunching, security feeds, and websites.

"Oh, it is, sir," Ada promised and the blonde could almost hear the smile on her face. "You remember how you were looking into that variant on the T-virus a few years ago?" He vaguely remembered asking her to see if she could dig anything up on the Ashford's and their research. "A little birdy told me that the American government just recently acquired a living host-a host that while carrying has yet to mutate." Her voice sing-songed on the end and Wesker suddenly didn't care what he was paying.

"Did this birdy also happen to tell you were they were keeping it?" he asked already planning out how long he could be gone before his other experiments suffered from lack of attention. He detested leaving them in another scientist's hands. They always seemed to fuck things up.

"It did," she told him. "But I'd hurry, sir. From what I was told it might end up in pieces before long."

Every inch of her hurt. Hell, she was convinced that her hair hurt and she knew for a fact that it didn't have feeling. Claire opened her eyes only to moan in pain and close them at the bright light directly above her. She heard voices but didn't understand what they were saying. It was like someone had stuffed her ears full of cotton and then put her underwater just for good measure. Her memories came flooding back a second after that registered and with it her panic. Where was she? She ignored the blurring of her vision from tears as she forced her eyes open to look around. She was on some kind of metal table and the voices she was hearing where two people in lab coats in the next room over huddled over a microscope. She tugged her limbs, letting out a low hiss of pain at the movement only to find them restrained. She felt tears leaking out of her eyes as she realized how helpless she was. She didn't even have the dignity of clothes. She froze as she thought she heard her name and began to concentrate on the voices. The brunette was surprised when she realized she could make out what they were saying.

"I hate how you do that," one voice, distinctly female said.

"Do what?" another male voice asked.

"Use her name. She's a subject and nothing more," the woman said and Claire felt her temper flare. She was a person, God damnit.

"Whatever, Mallory," the man said dismissively. "It doesn't change just how remarkable she is. I've never seen anything like this before. You know how there are theories about how mitochondria became a part of cells? How some scientists believe that it was originally a symbiote that somehow merged itself into our DNA? If I didn't know better I'd say that's what happened with the T-virus." The woman, Mallory, snorted.

"Impossible, Jenkins," she commented. "For how remarkable the T-virus is, it's still a virus. It replicates itself by injecting its genetic code into a host cell and forcing that cell to create little viruses instead of normal cells. These cells then take over the host and cause death and mutation." Well, that matched what Claire knew about viruses from her years in high school.

"But they didn't," Jenkins offered sounding like a little kid in a candy shop. "That's why she didn't die, why she didn't mutate. It looks like instead of her cells doing nothing but creating T-virus cells, they absorbed the genetic material of the virus and replicated with the virus's genetic material added in. It explains why she wasn't detected until they tested for the virus. She comes up positive because the markers for it are still there, but it's not a virus anymore." Claire felt her breath hitch. So she was some kind of freak? Her body had somehow eaten the T-virus, the scariest thing on earth? Not just eaten it, but absorbed it. Something beeped and she looked up to one of the tubes attached to her and watched as yellowish liquid flowed out of it and into her. When she felt the blackness reaching for her, she didn't fight it this time.

One Week Later…

Wesker looked at the bunker sitting in the middle of the Nevada desert and sneered. The tattered sign on the fence he had jumped over in order to get here read Area 51 and he had to wonder at the cliché. No wonder the government never managed to keep secrets for long. They just kept using the same damn tactics. Wasn't the definition of insanity something along the lines of trying the same thing every time and expecting different results? The blonde checked his guns again making sure the safety was off. It was his set of magnums from the S.T.A.R.S. days. He carried them to remind himself of what often happened to best laid plans. He slid the weapons back into their holsters and proceeded to walk up to the steel door. The two guards at the door raised their weapons in his direction. He didn't even give them time to challenge him before he was on them. He crushed the one of the left's wrists with one hand while he used the other to snap the neck of the one on the right. He dropped the lifeless body, and wrenched the left one's arm around so he was kneeling in the sand.

"Give me your keycard," Wesker ordered, not bothering to raise his voice above a whisper. He man handed it to him and Wesker used the arm he had a hold of to slam him into the side of the building with enough force to dent the metal. He slid the card into slot next to the door and offered the camera facing the entrance a lazy salute. It had been a while since he had a chance to let loose and there was no way he was leaving a task as important as retrieving this subject to some underling. He only hoped the military had something better than the guards at the door. He would be so disappointed if they didn't.

When Claire woke again it was to the all too familiar sound of sirens blaring. She still hurt, but the pain seemed to be far away at the moment as she stared out the observation window and into the hallway. She watched the flurry of people in white coats as they ran for the exits and felt her heart jump into her throat. Did that mean that there had been a breach? Panic erupted in her once clam mind as she thought that they were leaving her in here with a possible outbreak. Panic, it seemed, gave her new strength and she managed to break her arms free with a wrench of metal twisting. She ignored the metal cuffs on her arms as she pulled wires out of her body heedless of the pain. Sitting up, she yanked metal bindings off her feet.

The floor was cold when she stood up, but she forced herself to ignore it and the panic bubbling under the surface as she set priorities in her mind. She needed a weapon and then clothes. If this was an outbreak, the weapon would be more valuable than clothing. She looked around the monitors and medical machinery for something to use before finally cursing, knocking one of the metal stands that a monitor was on over, and yanking a leg off. Standing there, holding it she felt her eyes widen. Holy fuck, she'd never been able to do that before. Faced with proof of her alteration by an infection she had no memory of gaining, she felt the panic she had shoved down racing towards the surface and closed her eyes. Panicking would get her killed and nothing else. She could have a nervous break-down once she was out of here.

Speaking of getting out of here, how was she going to get the door open? She tried to open the door using the button next to it only to be denied access. Growling in frustration, Claire raised her improvised club and slammed it into the door panel. Just as she was fixing to let loose a string of curses that would make Chris blush for doing something that dumb, the door slid open. Thanking God for her luck, she stepped out into the now empty corridor. The place was deserted. Walking towards what she hoped would be an elevator she caught sight on an office. She stopped as she caught sight of a garment hanging on a peg with footwear underneath.

A few minutes later saw her in a long white lab coat, only the top buttons done up to allow for movement and a pair of steel-toe biker boots. Clearly, this was not considered lab wear and was why they were in the office to begin with She was in the elevator, having jammed the up button and thankful not to have encountered anyone or anything on the way. Seconds later the door dinged and she found herself plunged into the chaos of gunfire, gun smoke, and the smell of blood and sweat. As she stepped out of the elevator, she caught sight of a black blur taking on what looked like a tactical team. Focusing on the blur her eyes widened and a new type of panic hit her. Hell no.

Wesker had fought his way through most of the first floor, ignoring the civil employees as the rushed towards exits. They all smelled of fear and sweat, but none of them carried the scent he was looking for. The smell of infected was not something that could be covered. When the virus had improved him it had literally improved all of him, smell included. The blonde opened the door to the room that held the elevator according to Ada's stolen plans and found an entire security team waiting for him. Really, hadn't they learned that they couldn't kill him? He probably could just take the bullets and walk to the elevator doors, but he didn't like the idea of leaving enemies at his back. Mind made up, he became a blur of speed-a killing wind. He dodged bullets and had over half the team gone when his hearing picked up the ding of the elevator. That wasn't what caused him to pause in his whirlwind of destruction. It was the smell. The scent of cinnamon mixed with the sickening sweet smell of infected. He tossed the guard into his fellows as he craned his head around to look at her. Shock widened his internally lit eyes, and he didn't even feel the bullet enter his torso.

"Claire Redfield?" Wesker asked as his mind fit the face with a name. It was unmistakably her. He'd recognize his sworn enemy's younger sibling anywhere. Especially, after the whole incident in Antarctica. Antarctica, the Redfield siblings, Alexia, T-Veronica. Things made a sickening amount of sense then and he couldn't stop the chuckle from escaping his lips as he ignored what was left of the security team in favor of stalking towards the distressed woman. She was rapidly shaking her head back and forth. He reached out and grabbed her arm and she snapped.

He touched her. The bastard, the man who was often in the starring role in her nightmares fucking touched her. She moved without thinking, instinct telling her that it was a bad idea to let him touch her, and she swung the metal table leg in her hands with her full force. He hadn't been expecting it, and the blow sent him flying across the room though desks both metal and wood. Claire's eyes widened at the damage and she looked at the makeshift club in her hand. It was bent and twisted like she had hit a steel pole instead of the former S.T.A.R.S. captain. There was sound from his direction and she looked up to watch in horror as he got up. He raised an eyebrow over his dark sunglasses at her and popped his neck.

"I haven't been hit like that in a long time, Miss Redfield," he said voice even. It almost sounded like he was enjoying himself. Claire swallowed dryly. This was not good on so many levels. "Is that anyway to treat your rescuer?" he asked and it was then that she remembered that she was trying to escape a government laboratory of which he was not a part to judge by the fierce resistance he had been dealing with. But the idea of him coming to rescue her was ridiculous. Alarm bells rang in her head as it occurred to her just what he would brave this to get. She wrapped her arms around herself protectively. He wanted what was in her blood. He stepped towards her and their conversation was cut short by the arrival of back up for the few men left of the tactical team. He crossed her in an instant and everything was put on hold. She needed to get out of here and he was her ticket out. While she seemed to have super strength she had no clue how fast she could move or even how to make herself move that fast. He seemed to realize the decision she had come to as he reached into his black coat and drew out a gun. He handed it to her and she took it forcing herself to ignore the S.T.A.R.S. logo.

"I assume you know how to use that," Wesker said flatly as he drew a matching weapon for himself. Claire glared at him as she took aim at one of the men aiming at her. She hit him dead center in the head before being forced to move to the side as he fellows opened fire on the two of them. She ended up taking cover behind a desk looking at the tyrant who just shook his head. "I'll cut a path, you watch our backs," and with that he moved. She peeked out from behind the desk and was startled to find that she could follow his movements as he tore through the men. Gritting her teeth, she moved from her cover and followed in his wake, having no choice but to trust that he knew the way out. He was moving fast and Claire was surprised to found herself able to keep up and nearly choked as an idea hit her. She was as fast as he was, she was as strong as he was. Dear God, was she just like him? No, she decided as she fired over her shoulder to try to keep some of the guards pinned while Wesker fiddled with a door. She was nothing like him. She'd get her out of here and then she would lose him.

"Miss Redfield?" he called to get her attention and she turned around to see desert and night sky. Freedom. It was to be short lived as she dashed towards it and a lucky marksman got off a clean shot to her head. Wesker watched as blood bloomed on her forehead, understanding even as he reached out to catch her. He swung her up over his shoulder, picked up the gun she had dropped from limp fingers, and headed out into the night. Fortune had smiled on him.