Wesker was not the trusting kind, and yet his profession required it of him as he took point down the darkened corridor, gun at the ready and his focus on what was in front and around him; he had to trust his team to watch his back.
Coming to an intersection, he checked both directions before he signaled to the others behind him it was clear and waited. He could hear Captain Redfield whisper into his ear piece, louder than Wesker would have liked but unavoidable at the moment as he received information from bravo team still outside, ready to storm the building. When Redfield went quiet Wesker felt a soft touch to his left arm from a feminine hand.
Ready - go left, it said. He moved down the corridor as Jill slid out behind him, covering the right as the rest of the team followed Wesker and then replacing Barry's position at the rear.
Wesker moved slowly, taking his time and ensuring none of the terrorists were hiding in the shadows of lockers, looming tall in the low light. Fortunately Wesker had good night vision, so much so that Jill had grabbed him when they first entered the building, pointing to his face and giving him a what the hell expression. He'd still been wearing his shades.
Another bit of fortune was the terrorists waiting to make their move until well after school hours when the children were gone. Their hostages were faculty pulling late hours and they kept the RPD from acting. So far there were no casualties.
The RPD remained outside, guns trained on the windows and negotiator on the line. Bravo was posted at various entrances ready to bust in should things go south and feeding Captain Redfield information directly. Alpha team was to infiltrate and assess the situation and, if possible, take down the terrorists without the risk of a full-on firefight.
Ignoring the classrooms, Wesker headed straight to the door at the end of the corridor. The terrorists had holed themselves up in the faculty break room which should be through the door and down another hallway. He stood against the wall and peered through the window. There was no one he could see. He gently tested the door handle and found it locked. Another signal to Joseph behind him and soon the team fanned out around him while Jill came forward, deftly picking the lock while Wesker watched the corridor beyond through the window. When she finished she gave him a thumbs up and slid back into position behind him.
Slowly, still watching for any signs of movement, Wesker pushed open the door and entered, scanning the entryway before signaling the others and moving forward. They were approaching the faculty break room and the terrorists might have posted a guard; caution was essential.
Fortunately the terrorists were apparently feeling confident in their position as Wesker glanced around the last corner and saw no one. He halted the team with a gesture as he stared at the small window in the door, watching for movement in the dim light that no one was looking out in turn. Nothing. Though the lights in the room were off the windows made it brighter than the hallway and Wesker was certain he would have seen someone.
They could hear one of the terrorists speaking, though it was muffled. Hopefully they were distracted as that and the lack of guards would be moving things into alpha team's favor.
Wesker approached the door, walking along the wall and practically hugging it as he slid into position beside the door, peering in through the window. There were three armed men he could see…where were the other two? The report said there were five. Four hostages, one on their knees while a terrorist stood over him, yelling.
Shit.
Wesker waved the team over. Once they filed in behind him he turned and relayed the information to Captain Redfield: see three armed - four civilian - civilian danger.
Redfield nodded and whispered to bravo, "Situation, we're going in," then signaled to the team to get on line.
The team pressed close behind Wesker, ready to breach the room. He could feel Jill breathing she was so close. His adrenaline surged and the world sharpened into focus, so clear he could almost taste the air. He reached out and slowly turned the door handle, too slowly to be noticed, and felt rather than heard the click of the latch clearing. With his gun hand he reached back and tapped Jill, letting her know he was ready. She passed it back along the team who would then return it to Wesker to let him know that they were ready and he could breach the room. The members of STARS had done it enough times in training and in the field that they performed this quickly and smoothly.
Wesker was suddenly shoved forward unprepared, slamming him into the unlatched door and throwing it open before he toppled to the floor. He'd never received Jill's tap; someone jumped the gun.
Fortunately, the terrorists were so caught off guard themselves that for the split-second it took for Wesker to trip and Jill to recover she already took over Wesker's position, swinging her weapon into the blind spot beside the door and firing at one of the men Wesker hadn't seen as he raised a rifle. The team continued to barrel in after her, unable to worry about Wesker on the ground and focused only on their enemies and the screaming civilians. Redfield yelled for the terrorists to drop their weapons and fired on those who didn't immediately comply. The civilians hit the floor and covered their heads. Wesker did the same, trying to protect himself as his team trampled him.
It was over in seconds. Chris called for status of his men and everyone responded. Wesker sat up and holstered his gun, pains in his lower back and left knee where he'd been stepped on making themselves known. Two of the five terrorists surrendered and were being manhandled onto the floor and into zip ties by Joseph.
Chris turned to Wesker. "Were you hit?"
"No," Wesker growled, feeling his face heat with shame, "I tripped."
Chris nodded and pulled him to his feet. Here was not the place to discuss that massive fuck up, they'd cover it later during debrief. Wesker shot a glare at Joseph (because who else would have impulsively pushed into a breach before the front man?) and considered having that discussion a bit early.
Jill gave Wesker an apologetic wince as they both evacuated the hostages. He probably had a boot imprint on his lower back where, in her attempt not to trip along with him, she'd caught herself by stomping on him instead. He ignored her.
Bravo and the rest of the RPD swarmed into the scene and controlled chaos broke out. Wesker was glad to be out of that as STARS slowly trickled back outside. He put his shades on as the press circled around like the vultures they were. The chaos began to quiet as ambulances took away the hostages and the terrorists that had been shot. He was certain at least one was already dead. Captain Redfield was an incredible marksman and would have gone for the man threatening the civilian first. The two that surrendered were hauled off in police cars.
STARS had nothing left to do here; the rest would be handled by the RPD. They waited for Captain Redfield to clear them to leave but he was busy getting an earful from the deputy. Something about rushing in before being cleared. Wesker didn't envy the captain. He stretched and bent his wrenched knee a couple of times until something popped and the pain faded.
Dr. Marcus had not approved of this infiltration plan at all, but Wesker knew he'd have a better chance falsifying his records with his help. None of Wesker's complaints to Marcus had worked thus far to spur him to action of any kind, so he'd changed tactics.
"They went after William," he said, sitting in his former mentor's office, facing the man across an elaborate desk that made the space seem greater than it was, "They attacked Annette and scared his little girl."
Dr. Marcus was not an emotional man. Logic and science was not just his job and passion but his way of life and thinking, and yet he had been the one to bring Birkin and Wesker into his fold. He had ensured their education and care, dealt continually with Birkin's family and, briefly, took guardianship of Wesker until he'd turned eighteen. If Marcus could have attachments to anyone it would be the two of them, so Wesker tossed the emotional bait and reeled slowly.
And so Dr. Albert Wesker was wiped from Umbrella. Birkin removed his name from digital records beyond the employee ones; every project he'd been attached to, every credit and footnote. Wesker hated his hard work being erased but Birkin assured him as he was removed so he could be returned. The hard copies of all the files couldn't be altered and were locked away should anyone contest his contributions later.
The worst part was stripping himself of his hard earned doctorates. His presence in Umbrella was reduced to a mere security guard should anyone go digging or he happen across any BSAA agents who'd recognize him.
Wesker wondered through this whole process why he was even bothering.
"Debrief tomorrow morning," Captain Redfield informed alpha and bravo teams, "until then go get some rest; you all earned it."
Wesker turned to leave when a hand on his arm held him up. Captain Redfield regarded him with concerned eyes and Wesker couldn't help but raise a brow at the intensity in them.
"Do you need to get checked out?" Redfield asked, his voice low and gesturing to the medics still clustered around the ambulances.
"Just some minor bruising," Wesker said, pulling his arm free, "I'm fine, Captain."
STARS began to disperse, pulling off their gear and heading to their own vehicles parked farther away. They were on-call twenty-four hours a day and kept a secondary set of gear at home in case of emergencies where going to the RPD first would take too much time and they needed to be on-site as soon as possible. Captain Redfield didn't care about the uniformity of the secondary gear and it resulted in STARS sometimes having a motley appearance of different colors and types as the team used remnant gear from any previous jobs they'd had or whatever they could pick up. This also meant they could sometimes go straight home after a mission rather than return to the RPD to turn it all in. The downside was that maintenance and upkeep of this gear was on their own time.
Wesker removed and then tossed his tactical vest into the back of his coupe when he saw Joseph heading to his own truck, held up after a friendly chat with Redfield, no doubt. In the blink of an eye, Wesker was on him, slamming Joseph's back into his truck and pinning him there with an arm across his throat.
"What the hell!"
"You jump the gun during a mission like that again, and I will throw you into the line of fire myself," Wesker said softly, almost casual, but with a sharp edge in his tone accented by his forearm pressing further into Joseph's windpipe. "When I'm fronting, I decide when we breach and when we move forward, do you understand?"
"Wesker!"
"What are you doing?!"
"Get off him!"
At the command from his captain Wesker released him and stepped back, hardly cowed and arms crossed in annoyance. Joseph's hand leapt to his throat and he gasped but was otherwise only a little ruffled. Redfield quickly stepped between the two, facing Wesker.
"What was that?"
Wesker kept his tone controlled, "He jumped the breach before I received the signal everyone was ready which resulted in my fall. As point man my life is already at the highest risk and I don't need that chance increased because of hotheads. I felt a quick reminder was in order."
"You don't attack your teammates!" Redfield snapped, "If you have a problem you bring it to me and I'll deal with it!"
But you won't, Wesker nearly retorted but held his tongue. The young captain had yet to learn the lesson of keeping himself separate from his subordinates and he and Joseph were friends. They hung out during off hours. He'd already turned a blind eye to a few minor indiscretions if not outright encouraged them. Aside from the occasional eye-roll from Jill the rest of the team seemed to tolerate this.
Redfield stepped closer to him as though trying to create the illusion of privacy while nearly the entire team stared at them. "I've already talked to you about your attitude, Wesker. You need to at least try to get along with the team or I'm not going to be able to keep you around, got it?"
He was not going to win this and he couldn't risk dismissal, so Wesker nodded, hissed out a "Yes, Captain", and stiffly returned to his car, inwardly raging.
Captain Chris Redfield was not completely incompetent; the potential was there, he'd make a good soldier, but the man was not even twenty-four and lacked the experience for Wesker to put faith in him as a leader. Enrico of Bravo Team should have been captain; he had both the experience and the achievements, and yet was playing second-fiddle to Redfield.
There had been strings pulled somewhere, no doubt. Was it the BSAA or did Redfield have his own connections?
Still, Wesker had a part to play and it was due to Captain Redfield that he was accepted into STARS at all. He had badly underestimated the weight of his medical discharge from the army and how the RPD would view him in light of it.
A mental breakdown, it said.
Crazy was what everyone heard.
He'd gone into the desert with his unit and came out alone, not knowing what had happened and covered in blood. The human imagination ran from there. His men's families, who had once always been glad to hear from him, would no longer take his calls. His old unit finally told him to stop contacting them when he'd keep asking if his men had been found yet. They were the only ones who could clear his name.
Chris Redfield opened the door the RPD had slammed in Wesker's face and said he'd do an interview.
It didn't begin too well, or at least Wesker thought. Captain Redfield kept giving him an odd look as he flipped through Wesker's file.
"You spent time in juvie," Chris said. It wasn't a question, but he clearly wanted more details.
"I stole some cars," Wesker shrugged. There may have also been some assaults. "I got out and went straight," he said, laying the foundation of truth for the lies he knew he was going to have to start building.
Redfield actually smirked at that. "Maybe I should team you up with Jill."
Wesker didn't know who that was yet and for the time being didn't care. He said nothing and let Redfield shuffle through the paperwork, apparently winging this interview. His juvenile records were technically sealed but an outfit like STARS would have access. He was glad of it. If they focused on his juvenile delinquency and subsequent name change when he turned eighteen there was less focus on his job history. The fake employment record that had been made for him should hold up under a basic background check but he worried it would collapse under intense scrutiny. Fortunately for him Redfield didn't seem to be the brightest bulb in the STARS chandelier.
Chandelier indeed, the Raccoon City Police Department was in an old art museum and impressive, save the offices that suffered in space and windows. Still, he wondered what secrets the building held and hoped to go prowling around sometime.
Redfield frowned slightly as he perused the file, lips pursed in thought. "You worked for Umbrella?"
"I was a security guard," Wesker said, keeping his voice casual as though he hadn't noticed Redfield's change in demeanor, "Started checking passes at the gate and worked my way up second-level security. I honestly spent more time shepherding the scientists around. They get unhinged at night."
Second level required a clearance but did not give access to laboratories or anything of importance. Council and break rooms, mostly. The BSAA already had a presence there. "All those years of hard work and then they purged most of us."
"Really? Why did they do that?"
Nice try. "Companies like that have a lot of rivals and espionage does happen. Then the BSAA showed up, so who knows. Maybe Umbrella is hiding something. If so then I guess it's best I got let go before anything comes up."
Chris nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer. More file flipping.
"You had good marks in school…" Redfield paused, eyebrows rising as he regarded the files, "Really good. And until your dismissal your military record was excellent…"
Wesker knew it was coming and yet still couldn't help but bristle. "There was more to that supposed breakdown than what the discharge lets on."
Redfield blinked at him as though surprised by the reaction and set down the file. "Look, it's okay. I was in the Air Force for a short time but there was… an issue and I was discharged. It was honorable, but still. So I get it, sometimes things just get messy. Hell, even if your discharge papers are correct down to the letter, so what? It's a warzone and you had a breakdown. It happens. I mean," his voice softened slightly, "it's most likely you were a POW, right? Nobody should blame you for that."
Wesker nodded. Much as he loathe it, sympathy was an easy way to get people to view you more favorably, although in this case it was a double edged sword; too much sympathy and Redfield would view him too weak for the position.
"Thank you, Captain," he said, appreciative yet confident, as though it was something he already knew.
Still, he had not realized how badly something inside him needed to hear that.
"The truth is," he continued, knowing that it was time to get to the point and lay it on, "I miss feeling like I'm doing something worthwhile. I went back to my old job because that's what I knew, but it's not enough for me anymore."
It was not entirely a lie. After the army, going back to the labs had not been as easy as he'd assumed. He lost patience with the repetitious work and the enthusiasm of discovery he once felt had dwindled, pressed down under the weight of windowless grey walls.
"I'm good at what I do, Captain. I was regularly out in the field with my men getting my hands dirty, but I was also an officer, so I know my way around paperwork and -if you'll pardon me- official bullshit."
Chris Redfield said nothing for a long moment, just regarded him with an intense look that, briefly, made Wesker uncomfortable and well aware he was not wearing his shades. Had he possibly underestimated the man? Was Redfield far more adept at reading people than Wesker initially assumed? However he did not flinch from the gaze and instead returned it with the same blank stare he gave Sherry when he assured her that neither he nor her parents ever experimented on cute, fuzzy animals, even as he had, merely an hour before, been sawing open a monkey's skull.
Captain Redfield smiled. "I could use someone who can handle the official bullshit and paperwork."
"I'm not doing yours."
He laughed then, and welcomed Wesker to STARS.
Like most nights, Wesker didn't make it to his bed. He dropped his tactical gear on the floor as he came in the front door, put his weapons on the coffee table, and then face-planted onto his couch where he planned to stay until morning.
The phone rang and Wesker screamed into the cushion.
"What?" he snarled into the receiver, having rolled off the couch and alternatively crawled and run to the phone in the kitchen.
"Do you yell at everyone over the phone?"
"Birkin, do you know what time it is?"
"…No."
Wesker sighed. "It's one in the morning. One in the morning. I have to get up in four hours and I haven't slept yet."
"Busy day, huh?"
"Why are you calling? Oh hell, are you calling from the lab?"
"Well I can't really leave."
"Will!"
"What? Do you want me to send you notes by courier?"
"That would be great, actually!" Wesker snapped, "Multiple couriers are one of the best untraceable methods of information delivery!"
"Anyway, Annette and Sherry are coming back Wednesday evening. Do you think you can pick them up?"
"Of course, is that all?"
"No, uh…I have some bad news and something to show you and I don't think we should talk about it over the line. You're going to have to come here."
Wesker thunked his head against the wall in frustration. "Umbrella is crawling with agents right now, I can't be seen back there after supposedly being fired."
"I'll unlock one of the old emergency escape hatches for you. Number three. I'm pretty sure the BSAA doesn't know about those."
Most of the staff didn't even know those existed, and Birkin and Wesker only knew because of their penchant to stick their noses in everything in their youths and Marcus indulging them. Hatch three was in a sewer entrance in the park and close enough he could slip into the labs after work.
"This is important, right?"
"Yeah. McKenzie's gone missing."
Shit.
"I'll try to come after work; I go running in the park sometimes so it won't seem suspicious."
"Thanks, Al."
He hung up without any useless goodbyes. The light on his answering machine was blinking and he switched it to playback since he was already standing there. The first was his mother, attempting to reconnect with him. He skipped it without listening. The second was the owner of a house for rent on the edge of town, saying she'd received his deposit and he was free to come pick up the keys whenever. The third was old, from last week, and was Barry inviting him to a team barbecue that had already occurred and he didn't attend.
He erased them all and went to bed, not bothering to change but at least in his actual bed this time. He dreamt of screaming and low groans as bloody hands reached for him.
