MyXtremeBhavior does not own any of these characters from the Capcom game "Resident Evil."
LOL, I'm new at this, but I see everywhere that people say they don't own the characters. Well, neither do I. This story will continue, although I'm not sure when the next chapter will be coming. This one is short, I hope the next is a bit longer, but I wanted to get something out there.
Hope you enjoy, please review. Thanks much! )
The papers rustled as they slowly fell to the ground, causing Chris Redfield to sigh and shut his eyes. He knew exactly who was the cause of this. The Senior president. A douche. A douche with power. And who not only knew how to use it, but loved to. For everything.
Wesker.
Albert Wesker.
The blond with his defined face and pale blue eyes threw Chris an atrocious smile which was quickly flooded by placidity.
"I'm terribly sorry Redfield, I seemed have lost my good graces for a moment. You wouldn't mind picking those up for me, would you?"
The prolonged silence Chris created caused Wesker to slightly raise his eyebrows, showing fake disappointment while secretly urging Chris to refuse him. Giving up his act of rebellion, Chris bent down on his knee and shuffled the papers together to place neatly on the table in front of Wesker.
"My pleasure." Was all Chris could develop.
Wesker picked up his completely black sunglasses and smoothly placed them on the end of his nose, then used his index finger to slide them up to the bridge of his nose.
"I'm glad to hear that."
With no words coming to mind, Chris turned around and was continuing back to his table. Two steps away and he once again heard the rustle of a piece of paper finding the ground. Chris turned to find Wesker with an evil grin sliding up his face, with his own face growing warm. He bent down once again and lifted the piece of paper, placing it neatly upon the rest of the pile.
"Don't thank me for fulfilling one of your pleasures, Redfield." Wesker said, his enjoyment obvious even with his eyes well hidden.
Walking back to his table, Chris was nearly dragging his feet, waiting for Wesker to once again "need" his assistance in something easy yet very irritating. The wide room used for their weekly meetings was starting to become one of Chris's most hated rooms. He had started off excited about being the Junior president. He would have the power to help those who couldn't help themselves, the underclassmen who needed guidance and assistance.
He never imagined that he himself would reach the bottom of the totem pole.
Or the situation that would put him there.