Wayward Mission

In the village of Kijuju, Chris Redfield had gotten separated from his partner. He and Sheva Alomar had been attacked by a mob of majini who were infected with a variation of the Las Plagas virus. The majini had basic human intelligence but lacked rationalization and follow the orders of the majini infected with the control Plagas form. Chris was surrounded by majini and there was no sign of his partner. The sheer number and degree of excitement of the infected around him told Chris he was in trouble. There were simply too many of them and things only got worse for him when he heard heavy lumbering footsteps. He lifted his eyes to stare up into the masked face of the executioner majini.

The big man lifted his enormous axe and swung its sharp side down towards where Chris stood. Chris rolled under the man to avoid the heavy blade and raised his gun to fire at two majini who were running at him with weapons raised above their heads. Their eyes were distant but hostile at the same time and murder was certainly their mission. Chris brought the two men down but was blindsided by a majini who came at him from the right. The wrench in the man's hand smashed against Chris's head and he stumbled off balance. A majini from the rear grabbed him by the forearms and yanked them behind his head. The native slammed him facedown to the dirt ground and straddled over his back. Chris grunted in discomfort as the infected man held his arms so that they were practically pressed against the back of his head, definitely in a position they were not meant to ever be in.

When Chris realized he couldn't break away, panic overtook him. He thrashed in the majini's strong grasp but the other majini were now standing around watching him. Before he could even begin to break free of his captor's hold, another majini stepped forward and restrained Chris's legs. He expressed his rage at being held down with a low growl and increased struggling.

"What have we got here?" a man spoke with a cocky air to it. "An American agent all the way out here? Tsk Tsk. And getting yourself trapped like this, not a good thing."

"If it's not a good thing then why don't you just let me go?" Chris snarled, unable to see who was speaking to him from his current position.

"You misunderstand," the man's gruff voice said to him. "It's not a good thing for you."

A pair of boots appeared in Chris's eye line as the man crouched down so his face was closer to Chris. The man wore brown, green, and gray camouflage pants and a tight black shirt. He wore a belt equipped with multiple weapons, fingerless gloves, and had short blonde hair and blue eyes. Most noticeably about this man besides the enormous muscles, was his badly scarred face. Currently, the man wore a smirk on that face.

"What's your name, soldier?" the man asked him.

Chris only glared in reply which caused him to sigh with impatience.

"My name is Jack Krauser. Now yours...?"

Jack Krauser... Why did that name sound so familiar to him? Chris wondered to himself, frowning slightly. When Krauser could see his captive was not going to reply, he grabbed a fistful of Chris's hair and yanked his head up so that they made eye contact.

"I'm gonna lay out the situation for you. If you answer all of my questions truthfully, I will let you go. If you don't, then I will kill you."

"You'll kill me no matter what I do." Chris said to the man, narrowing his eyes.

"Don't tell me what I'll do, pretty boy. If you answer my questions, you will prolong your life. That's a certainty and I give you my word." Krauser told him.

"Prolong my life?" Chris asked him, suspiciously. He didn't like the words the bigger man had chosen to say.

Krauser smirked knowingly. "Well it's not like you can escape your inevitable death, is it? None of us can."

Chris stared silently at him for a moment before he finally voiced his obvious answer. "No."

Krauser tilted his head as if trying to figure him out. "No?"

"No I will not tell you who I am or answer any questions, so you might as well kill me now."

Chris didn't want to die. But he also wasn't going to betray Sheva..or Jill. Relaxed in the fact that he would at least die protecting them, Chris accepted his death and waited for it. But it didn't come. Chancing a glance at Krauser's face, he saw the man seemed pleased with Chris's answer.

"I suppose it wouldn't be much fun if you gave it up so easily."

"What? I'm not giving you any information ever," he informed the man.

"We'll see about that." Chris heard Krauser say.

And then a heavy boot was coming toward his face and darkness swept all other thoughts away.

/

When Chris woke up, he was in a dimly lit room that appeared to be a storage place of some sort. His hands were bound with rope in front of him and his weapons were gone. He pulled himself to his feet and surveyed his new accommodations. Stone floors and walls and a few musty crates stacked here and there. The door itself was steel and a swift kick to it told him it was fairly sturdy.

"Feeling afraid?"

Chris jumped in surprise. Following the source of the voice he found that Krauser was standing in a darkened corner of the room, farthest from the door. He had been so quiet and still that Chris hadn't even noticed his presence. With a smooth laugh, the noticeably buff man drew away from the wall and folded his arms across his chest.

"I'll take that as a yes." Krauser said.

Chris narrowed his eyes at the other man. "What do you want from me?"

"I would have started with something easy such as your name. But clearly you have no interest in telling me so we can start with something different. Such as what you're doing out here in this part of Africa."

"Is there a question in that?" Chris asked brazenly.

Krauser stared at him with complete seriousness now. "What are you doing in Africa? Who sent you and what is your mission? These are the things I want to know."

"Oh is that all?" Chris retorted. "No thanks. I have to keep some secrets or the ladies might get bored."

Krauser came closer to Chris and he backed away until his back hit the wall. Something shiny flashed in the dim light and he saw the taller man now held a knife in his hand.

"Hm..humor as a defense mechanism."

"It's not-" he began to protest, but a knife pressed against the skin of his throat caused him to fall silent.

Chris swallowed nervously. How did he always get himself in these situations?

/

Approximately two weeks later...

Albert Wesker prided himself on always being in control. He was the manipulator and the schemer. He was the one in command and got whatever he desired. Sometimes he didn't get what he wanted right away but in the end, he always did get it. So it was only natural for him to be extremely irritated when he learned his plans to spread Uroboros had failed. And it had been Jill Valentine who was the one to undo all his hard work. It had to have been her because she was the only one who could have the information Chris Redfield and his new partner used to destroy his precious virus. Wesker remembered arriving at his airplane only to find Uroboros destroyed and he clenched his fists in frustration. This was the first time he ever felt truly outdone by Chris. His subordinate had finally succeeded in completely ruining his plans and it angered him to no end.

Wesker knew it was time to pack it in when the BSAA squads began showing up. It had taken them a few weeks, probably waiting for their agents to finish their reports before coming. They were clearly there with one mission: To erase any trace of viruses from the village and nearby areas. It was when one of the infected villagers came to inform him of the BSAA teams arrival that he first learned of their captive.

"Six teams have arrived so far," the African American villager infected with the control Plagas informed him.

He stood before his master completely emotionless and staring blankly ahead.

"Very well." Wesker said. "You're dismissed."

"Should the prisoner be eliminated?" the majini asked.

Wesker turned to look at the infected man, sharply. "What?" he asked through clenched teeth.

"The American agent," the majini answered, seemingly still unaware that he was uninformed.

"Where?"

/

Wesker arrived at the storage room within minutes of his conversation with the majini. He frowned and knew immediately who had kept him uninformed. The man he had working for him was leaning against the wall near the room silently.

"Krauser. You failed to inform me of a captured American agent."

The man lifted his head and their eyes met. Krauser was one of the few men who never regarded Wesker with fear even though he was well aware of his capabilities. Perhaps it was because the former soldier himself was infected, or maybe it was because the man's enlarged ego had something to do with it. Wesker couldn't be sure. However, he wasn't too bothered by his lack of fear since the soldier had proven to be loyal and obviously respected him and his plans.

"You were busy with your own plans. I didn't want some American runt to...distract you."

Wesker raised an eyebrow at the other man. "And after the plan failed...?"

Krauser paused, and before he could answer, Wesker did for him.

"You were having fun with the American, weren't you? Thought I might hand down a kill order so you decided not to mention the agent for awhile, hm?"

Silence confirmed his suspicions.

"What information did you get from the agent? Did you get an identity?" Wesker asked him.

"Nah, he wouldn't even give up his name."

Wesker glowered at his subordinate. The man couldn't even get information out of a prisoner? He was either far more lacking in skill than Wesker had first thought, or the agent was a very tough son of a bitch. Annoyed with Krauser in every possible respect, he waved the soldier away.

"Get out of my sight, Krauser."

With a grunt of discontentment, the man pushed himself off of the wall and strolled past.

"Oh and Krauser," Wesker started.

The ex-American agent glanced back at Wesker, waiting for him to continue.

"If you ever keep me in the dark about anything like this again..." he trailed off, leaving the threat open so Krauser could interpret it any way he chose to.

"It won't happen again." Krauser told Wesker and walked away.

Once the footsteps faded into the distance, Wesker turned to face the storage room door. With a solid kick, the door flew off its hinges and hit the opposite wall. He entered the room a bit eager to find the one who had managed to survive Krauser's torture without giving up any information. In the corner farthest from the door laid a man with his back to him. The man was completely naked with his hands bound in front of him and his entire body was marred with dozens of cuts and bruises, definitely Krauser's work.

Upon hearing Wesker's footsteps, the man slowly dragged himself into the corner. He pressed himself against the wall, his face still hidden in the shadows. He seemed to be attempting to stay as far from the owner of the footsteps as possible. Wesker stopped beside the cowering form and reached a hand down to turn the face toward him. He paused when the man flinched away from his touch.

"Please...don't. Don't hurt me anymore..." the man whimpered.

So it seemed Krauser had succeeded in breaking the man after all. A shame the soldier never got to see his work pay off. But wait...that voice. The prisoner's voice sounded far too familiar. Wesker gripped the man gently by the chin and turned his face into the light. Wesker was shocked when he saw the identity of the prisoner.

"Chris?"

Chris's face was as bruised and bloody as the rest of his body. Both of his eyes were black and blue and one of the eyes was swollen shut. His lip was cut and bleeding in several places and his one usable eye was bloodshot. For some reason, seeing Chris like this didn't make him feel good. Wesker had always thought he wanted to see his nemesis bloodied and broken on the floor like this. But now that he was, it felt quite different.

"No..." Chris moaned in terror when he saw Wesker.

The beaten man lifted his bound hands and pushed Wesker's hand away from him, trying to crawl to the other corner of the room. Chris moved slowly and it was clear he was very weak and exhausted. That was when he noticed something else. The BSAA agent had blood trailing down the inside of his thighs. Instant rage tore through him at the thought of Krauser touching Chris in such a way. He bent down and grabbed hold of Chris's shoulders, placing him onto his feet. At the touch, he whimpered again and tried to get away. The younger man kept his head down and refused to meet Wesker's eyes.

"Chris, I'm not trying to hurt you!" he exclaimed with frustration. "I'm trying to help you."

Chris went still at those words, his head remained lowered, eyes rooted to the ground. Slowly, the man lifted his head and with his one good eye he stared at Wesker.

"Why?"

Wesker paused at the question. Why? Why what? Why was he helping him? He didn't know the answer to that question himself. He just knew he didn't want to see him like this. Wesker admired the strong, defiant Redfield who never abandoned his beliefs or gave up hope. Chris was definitely someone who didn't deserve to have such horrible things done to him but they had been done to him anyway. Clearly no one was looking out for Chris, so he would just have to be the one to do it. He had no idea where this was all coming from but he felt it best to follow these instincts of his.

"Because this wasn't supposed to happen." Wesker finally said.

Chris started to say something but then he started frowning. His eye rolled back in his head and he fainted. Before he could hit the floor, Wesker swiftly caught him. He untied his wrist bindings and then removed his own jacket to wrap around the naked form. Lifting the limp form in his arms, he carried him out of the storage room to take him somewhere to rest.