The old wingback was one of a few chairs the big man had found over the years that were comfortable, where he enjoyed sitting back and watching the serenity of the snow falling deep in the Rockies. Jack felt that, of all of life's little pleasures, he had earned that pleasure the hardest way anyone could.
As far as nearly all the world was concerned, he had died back in Spain at the hands of the Bitch In A Red Dress. It had been a wicked shock for both himself and the Red Umbrella/Organization team that arrived shortly after the explosion that he not only had survived the experience, but that an extended stay in a regenerator tank brought him back to full health in time, even allowing what remained of the damn Plagas infection to be absorbed and brought under his Veronica-virus' sway. No one within that branch of Red knew who he was, only that when the news was relayed to Wesker, the order for the tank to be prepped was given and immediately followed.
Years later, he bided his time. The Irish donut-chaser was first on his list for eradication. Then the traitor, Ada. No time limit had been given to him by Wesker, just a smirk and a suggestion to 'have fun with it'. So he waited.
Ada was good, he knew that more than full well. But she was also cocky and arrogant. Leon was too wrapped up even now in his emo griefing over every little thing, going from a whiny little bitch to spaztic secret agent man with a book of regs shoved up his ass. But time was on his side. They were still very much so the other's weakness, and memories fade when one thinks a person is dead. It wouldn't be much longer.
A night of blood was soon to be his.
Jack Krauser looked forward to it.
"For such reknowned agents of the 'good' guys, you two are pathetic."
He had the satisfaction of watching the two of them tied back to back from the shadows as they returned to awareness and paled when they heard his voice. "You two must be getting older, or all of Ada's STDs are catching up to you both. A baby monkey could have taken you both."
It had taken a bit of a fight to bring Kennedy in, Jack was hoping for a fight but got far less than he expected with that one, but Ada had been far too easy. "You, Miss Wang-sucker, still chase every damn dick within five miles of the last placed you dropped your panties. Pay a cop enough to lure you in, and you fall for it. Pathetic and predictable." He laughed as the nude Asian lowered her head in embarassment as he spoke. "As for your... state of dress... I had to make sure you had nothing to help you here. You were thoroughly searched when I brought you in. I did debate on whether or not I was going to need a HazMat suit, though."
A large hand grabbed hold of the smaller man's hair, forcing him to look up into the icy eyes of death. "And you. You should know by now, I don't stay dead. I am worse than Wesker about that. A chopper killed me. You killed me. The bitch behind you killed me. Yet here I am, alive and well, comrade. It has been far too long, hasn't it?" A sharp tug as he forced Leon's head back even further made the big man grin. "I have been well aware of your continued service, and how fucking sick it makes me to know that you still have your head shoved up the President's ass. But that all ends now. There is no hope in hell of rescue. Your legacies end now."
Stepping back, never once breaking eye contact with Leon, Jack let his left arm shift and reform as the blade. It, like its Master, had changed when the virus overrode and absorbed the Plagas. The leading edge still held the blade itself, but instead of steel, it was black and dull in appearance, with a long line of smaller spines pointing towards his hand on the upper and lower sides of his arm. Instead of looking as if it was torn from his body and was alien, it looked as if the arm was finally a part of him. "I will not make this easy or quick for either of you, and even if you do slip your bonds, you will not be going anywhere. At least not while you still breathe."
The rich, throaty laugh that erupted from Jack's mouth would not be the last time they heard it that night. It merged over and over again with their screams as the night wore on deep in the mountains.
"Sir, there's an overnight package for you from the US."
Wesker peered over the top of his tea cup as the voice over the intercom interrupted his morning ritual. "Has it cleared the checkpoint yet?"
"No Sir, it's been held up for containment reasons. It seems to have biological material in it."
That made the older blond start. "Who is it from? Is there any return information?"
"Yes, Sir. A... Jimmy Stone, Sir?"
"Bring it in, I am authorizing the delivery." The click of the intercom as it went silent once more triggered a fit of chuckles that continued up until the door opened a few moments later and admitted two of his interns with a sizable box between them. "Set it on the conference table, and get out."
It was still nearly an hour later before he stood, his eyes not leaving the nondescript box from the instant it entered the room. Slow, steady steps brought him to the table, a claw extending from his finger piercing the tape. One hand reached in to lift the severed head of his erstwhile secret agent clear, her face frozen in death. "So. You have gotten your revenge, Jack? This is something to set your mind at ease now. As for easing me of this thorn, you will be well-rewarded for it."
Opening up the box more, he saw the familiar face of a rookie cop he had once had fun torturing all over the world and grinned. "Ahhh yes, Leon Scott Kennedy. The reason you inevitably joined Umbrella Corporation and sought me out. I do hope he was suitably impressed by the improvements a little bit of time can make on a man."
A quick phone call and the removal of the heads to the lab for flesh removal, and Wesker had to smile. His faith in Krauser had been well-placed, and the transfer to the Cayman account the massive blond used showed how much his service meant to the one person he looked up to as a superior.
It was yet another cold night deep in the mountains, but not so cold that the snow fell as powder. Fat, wet flakes fell lazily from the sky as Jack sat on the bench stationed alongside his front door on the porch, a bottle of whiskey by his side. "I wonder what work he'll give me next. The list for Racoon survivors gets shorter and shorter by the day. Maybe the Redfields..."
He closed his eyes as he took a contented draw of the whiskey. "That'd be a good challenge. In time."