A/N: I passed all my classes!
Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil but Kick and any other original characters belong to me. Uh-huh.
A Vicious Cycle II
Chapter 2: AAA
Subject: Redfield, Claire
Location: London, England
Status: Fine
The rain failed to bother Isabella-what our new employers preferred her to go by-but it kept me feeling groggy as ever and yet the noise it created kept me awake and jumpy. This note couldn't mean that much. "Thank you." For what? Of course, the fact that Wesker sent me a note did not bother me nearly as much as the fact that the message made it to me.
More specifically though, it made it to AAA. How bold of him to send something so suspicious to an Agency known for its army of elite assassins. Once we both thought about it though, Kick and I supposed that it did not matter at all seeing as Wesker could take down the whole organization. For about the sixth time since receiving the message I redid my ponytail, noticing that my hair was now getting close to reaching the middle of my back; I was still deciding on whether or not to continue to let it grow. I saw that Kick's was getting so long so I had often thought about doing the same thing that she did: not cut anything but the ends every so often.
I wasn't trying to change my look or anything; I just figured that there was no longer any point to having a short 'do. It was just a bit annoying when some pieces of hair decided to rebel and stick out because they were too short to be restrained by a ponytail holder. Also, I was beginning to think that I was a bit prettier with longer hair, and though it was difficult to deal with it was worth looking in the mirror and appearing how I wanted to feel. That trip to Russia had me all out of sorts and we'd only been back in London for two days, so once more I was in this medium sized office that I shared with Kick, our desks taking up most of the space, but I wasn't complaining. It was the Styrofoam coffee cups that were making the place seem smaller than it was; we kept those around because when we were bored we'd burn them with our lighters.
That was the only thing we could do that wouldn't get us in trouble. One day Kick had decided to play a target game with the clock over the door of our office, and now we know bullet beats plastic and cogs.
"It was for you," she said out of nowhere, chewing on her pen top.
I turned to my left to look at her. "What was?"
"The note," she replied, throwing a piece of balled up paper into the wastebasket by the door in front of us. "It was meant for the person it scared, and you Claire are scared."
Though there was some truth to what she was saying I couldn't allow her to know that the note had actually rattled me, and obviously I wasn't very convincing. "Why would he be trying to scare me Kick?"
Being the expert on the enigmatic figure that is Albert Wesker, she managed to concoct an answer quite easily with very little thought. "Because he's probably bored, hasn't had shit to do, and he wants us-mainly you-to remember that he's still out there. He wants you to know he's thinking of you," she added more quietly, but she could put herself on mute for all I cared because even then I could still hear the hint in her voice.
The urge to disagree with her and vehemently deny her claim came over me but my reply was silence. I saw her mouth part to say more, and I just knew she wasn't going to let this thing go.
Thankfully, our argument was stopped by the sound of knocking at our office door. With my gaze still on Kick, icier than the subject of our conversation's initial eye color, I yelled a quick, "It's open!" Clipboard in hand, Andrew, stepped over the threshold, his brown hair and raincoat beaded with water. Damn, it was still raining, I hadn't even heard it. Andrew was Kick's assistant, an American member of AAA who had been desked a while back; he couldn't take the assignments, which meant he had no choice since resignation wasn't an option.
"For Isabella," he said, handing her the clipboard over her desk.
"What's this?" she asked, quickly flipping through the papers and therefore earning no sense of them. She never had the patience to look things over before signing them.
"Monthly evaluation," he informed her, and her mood changed from annoyed to hurt, or at least that's what it looked like to me. AAA required Kick to take written evaluations which consisted of questions submitted by board members who were concerned for the safety of the other employees. "I'll leave you to it," he whispered, noting her change in demeanor.
I sent him off with a sweet smile, letting it set on my lips until the door closed. "Same questions?" I asked as my partner allowed the quick scribbling of her pen to do the work of answering me. She could recite the questions by now.
Throwing her pen down, she said, "They're just being careful. After all, I'm not human. I could snap any second."
"You know," I began, speaking softly with the smallest smile on my face, "Andrew really likes you."
"Claire, shut up." Right after her command she turned back to the evaluation in front of her, pretending that she was paying attention to it. She didn't like him that way, especially since she was only given an assistant because the higher-ups felt she needed someone monitoring and checking in on her. I think it hurt her to even think about moving on with anyone, especially since she figured it was best to call it quits with Leon, at least until they were able to be together again. They had not seen each other for a whole year, something I couldn't imagine going through with Rush, and despite the fact that I could not fathom that scenario happening to me lately I was thinking about the development of my relationship with him.
Things were moving slowly, it seemed that in the beginning we had sex merely because of the physical attraction and since we slept together before we were even an official couple everything felt like it was off track. Of course I grew to love him and he loved me back, or so he claimed, but it was all so weird how we just clicked right away. I didn't want to doubt our connection but I also didn't want to fall so madly in love that if things fell apart I'd be left broken like a little rejected schoolgirl with a hapless crush.
"There's a message for you in the lobby." I don't know if that was the first time Kick had notified me of this, I imagine that I was lost in thought while I mulled over my love life. With a sigh I stood up from my desk and headed out our office door. I took the elevator down to the ground floor and made my way over to the front desk, the sound of the heels of my boots clicking loudly against the champagne, tiled floor that mirrored my reflection clearly. Kick and I got to enjoy our comfy jeans today; everyone on the 11th floor chose to look semi-formal on days like these, the boring days.
Most of our weekdays consisted of meetings and briefings on the newest targets and since that involved bringing in specialists from all over the world we had to wear dress clothes to pull together the "Aristocratic" look and convince them that we were as professional as the name of this agency suggested. The meetings mentioned were held on the 15th floor, the place of no jokes and thousand dollar suits, we only got a huge discount on our formal wear because we were what made this place. Today I wore a pair of faded jeans with black, knee-high boots covering my shins that were supported by five-inch heels, a white v-neck tee, and a black, leather jacket. Though not Aristocratic, and though I was not voluptuously built, my slender body wrapped in this outfit definitely turned heads, and I was not one for vanity but I had to admit that I looked damn good today.
The sight of Andrew leaning against the elevated, circular desk at the center of the lobby caught my attention, and before Janice, the middle-aged blonde receptionist could continue to contribute to their conversation, he looked in my direction and smiled. He excused himself and took a few steps towards me, hands in the pockets of his dress pants (I honestly don't believe I'd ever seen him in anything but).
"Claire!" he called, though he was only two feet away from me, but something obviously had him excited right now and a little bit jittery as well.
"Hi…again," I replied, hoping I hadn't sounded too unenthusiastic but really I had just seen the guy a few minutes ago. "Um, I came down here for a message," I informed him, hoping to get that out of the way first.
His hands raised he said, "Yeah, yeah I know. It's me."
A part of me wanted to ask, "What the hell could you want from me?" but I had to remind myself how nice he was to my partner and me. "Yeah, what's up?" were my smartly chosen words.
"Well," I got this friend Jake," he began, his eyes searching the area nervously, "And I know that you have a boyfriend and Jake has a fiancée-"
Knowing that his rambling would not become sensible with time I interjected. "What's your point Andrew?"
Throwing me a nervous smile he said, "I would very much like to go on a date with Isabella, and I think she'd be more willing if it was a double date."
I'm sure my face was scrunched up in ways it shouldn't have been capable of scrunching. "Shouldn't you be asking Kick about this?"
His brown eyes were definitely rolling around his head after my question; he was taking this whole situation too seriously, like if I had said no then Japan would explode or something. He adjusted his blue tie anxiously and unnecessarily smoothed out his white, button down shirt. He was a mess that had been carefully pieced together, and his distress was all because of a woman who barely weighed 115 pounds and was a whole foot shorter than him. Kick had told me about "The Power of the Kitty" before, but this guy didn't even have a hint that he could possibly get any and he was about to faint into his own puddle of sweat.
"I needed to know if you're on board," he whispered, leaning in close to me as though the office snitch, Janice was wearing a spy cam or something. I doubt she would have even found this newsworthy. It was actually encouraged that the agents here who deal with fieldwork be romantically involved with someone who also had a job that requires they have the same level of security clearance, which is why my relationship with Rush was never brought into to question by the board. Now if someone here that was an active officer tried to date either a civilian or one of the fat cats upstairs then that would be a definite no, no. Ethics were a bitch to learn around this place.
"I'll help you," I said with a sigh. Though I didn't really care too much about hooking him up with my best and only friend in London I did need to go out and get my drinks paid for by someone else. It was only something I wanted to do out of boredom so I'd call Rush later-if Kick agreed-and tell him that I wasn't the one going on a date and that Jake had a fiancée back home to be afraid of.
Once I got back upstairs, away from the excessive thank yous that Andrew was sputtering, I informed Kick of his proposal.
"Yeah sure," she said, stacking some papers to her right without even bothering to glance up at me.
With a questionable look on my face I sat on top of her desk while she continued to file away. Staring down at her, I asked, "Really?"
Finally, she stopped what she was doing to stare me right in the eye. "I'm only doing it to tell him that there's no chance of anything blossoming between us." My brow rose significantly towards my hairline at her demeanor. She had been acting strange these past two weeks, she seemed to be hiding things from me and she was acting all too serious to be the real Kick. "Goddammit!" she hissed, rolling her chair back from her desk so that she could put one hand to her stomach and place her head on the desk.
"What's wrong?" I asked, nearly jumping up from my seated position. "Are you ok?" I asked, making my way around the desk. I kneeled before her, watching her blow out small puffs of breath.
"I'm fine," she assured me, although the sound of her voice still had me worrying. What was going on with her?
We'd agreed to keep Wesker's note a secret seeing as there would be an investigation, we would be expected to answer questions and even fill out a report. I didn't want to go through all of that for a note with two words and a signature on it that could mean nothing. I had more to worry about right now anyway, like the impending trampling of Kick's words over Andrew's heart. Since I had no reason to look good for a guy who wasn't single I chose to throw on a charcoal cami, with a pair of boot cut jeans, and black sneakers. I wanted to be dressed for a bar but at the same time I wanted to be comfortable enough if anything went down.
I was still in combat mode; it took me awhile to calm down after affairs such as the one in Russia were dealt with, although it was not the most difficult task.
"Ready?" Kick leaned against the doorway to my little, one bedroom flat. She dressed like she was going to the beach with her decision to wear a light-pink tube top, daisy dukes, and a pair of black flip flops. Kick wouldn't be kicking tonight…
"Almost," I replied, holding my hair back as I searched the old, brown couch in the center of my living room for the ponytail holder I threw down a few minutes earlier.
Stepping in from the hallway she said, "Leave it. It'll make you look like an overly-comfy college kid. We're going to a bar not the library." With that she was out the door, taking the negativity she brought in with her, whatever she was going through I sure hoped that she would get over it. With a sigh of defeat I ended my search and was out the door. Andrew drove, of course, and the short drive to Finn's was quiet most likely due to the seating. Kick chose to ride in the back with me while Andrew and his friend sat up front, something I was grateful for because in my eyes it was just wrong to throw a friend off to a guy she barely knows.
As soon as we entered the double doors of Finn's we were engulfed in the fog of cigarette smoke and the sound of pool balls knocking into one another assaulted our ears. I think Andrew brought us here because he was used to our laid-back-office demeanor, but how else were two females gonna act in a building that was sixty-five percent men? Speaking of Andrew, I noticed that he ditched the dress pants for jeans but he still chose to wear a black button-down. Yeah, he definitely wasn't her type.
"Wanna play some pool?" The question was directed to Kick, so I didn't even turn around, I just assumed she said yes because they passed in front of Jake and me, leaving us to find our own reindeer games.
Finally, I looked to the only person in our party who remained by my side, noticing that he was a pretty good looking guy. Dark hair, five o'clock shadow, and a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up just below his elbows. And his green eyes were to die for. But I wasn't a single woman so I had to keep the admiring to a minimum.
Staring down at me with a friendly smile that one presents to passing strangers he asked, "Wanna get a drink?"
My nods were vigorous and he grabbed my arm before leading me to one of the booths on the opposite side of the bar, but we sat in the corner which allowed us to keep our friends within sight. I ordered a Hurricane while he stuck with the stereotypical, overly-masculine choice of a beer. Seeing as Andrew's rejection would lead him to heartache he would be the one needing the hard liquor so I assumed that Jake predicted the same outcome. He got major brownie points for sticking to the lighter stuff in case his buddy needed a designated driver, and he was such a large man that I doubted three beers would put a dent in his sobriety. Our drinks were brought back quickly, and now that I could work on getting a little drunk I could strike up a conversation with Jake.
After taking a sip of my drink I gave a little smile of delight, I could never taste the alcohol in those things; something Chris called me an alcoholic for saying. "So, Jake where do you work?" I knew he wasn't a regular civilian who just up and left his fiancée back in America, so the only other explanation was that he was working with some organization similar to ours.
"Cross," he replied. He took a swig of his beer and it was obvious how painful it was not to take in half of the glass with one gulp. Since I offered nothing in return he continued to speak about the organization, such a helpful guy, and I didn't even have to tell him to elaborate. "It's a small-time thing, nothing like AUA or AAA. Well, it's like them in what we do but we're just the usual mercs, nothing 'fancy' like you guys," he finished with a smirk and he once again took another controlled swallow.
I crossed my arms in front of me, leaning down to my glass so that I could smile flirtatiously and work on getting tipsy. "I'm sure you guys are just important." It felt nice to flirt with someone, it was all harmless of course, and I was never an attention whore but I was starving for the male affection that I was denying myself until I saw Rush again. Being a woman I had needs, sure my excuse for upkeep was that my job demanded it not my sex life, but I needed someone to appreciate my time in the gym and to admire that I'd turned down the best damn looking cake at that office party last week. At that thought my eyes wandered to Kick who looked bored as she showed Andrew up at the pool table, that bitch didn't have to turn down cake, hell she lived off it when some was left over in her refrigerator.
I mentally kicked myself at that thought; I was a regular, aging human being whose metabolism slowed down when I myself chose to. It wasn't hard staying slim, just hard to keep the love handles at bay, and though nowadays men loved something they could sink their claws into I surely couldn't be caught walking around in size 2 jeans with muffin top. See, I didn't usually think this way but now that there was a handsome guy in front of me I couldn't help it, I'd become those men in prison who go nuts at the sight of a cardboard cutout of a swimsuit model. What was I thinking; I'd never had love handles a week in my life! It was time to get a grip because A: I couldn't sleep with this guy, B: I couldn't get his number, and C: I couldn't even meaninglessly make out with him!
He raised his hand playing at modesty and it brought me back to the here and now, and despite that action I knew he was only trying to demonstrate good manners. "We have our days."
"I'm sure you do."
One Hurricane and many laughs later I needed to get to the restroom, I excused myself and stole a peak at my partner, yawning in boredom as Andrew looked over the small menu of food. Someone was running out of methods of stalling, I thought to myself, walking past the two with a smile that said, "Sucks for you." Something caught my eye on the way to the restroom though, a dark figure that had quietly gone through the back door. I didn't know who it could have been but since Wesker had just contacted me I could only assume that it was him. Without telling anyone, I exited the bar, finding myself in the alley that served as the establishment's personal dump. Many trash bags were thrown against the dumpster that was filled to the brim already with dozens of them, it looked like the owner was too busy or cheap to request another receptacle.
"Wesker?" My voice was soft, whispering the name because I felt silly for jumping to the conclusion and embarrassed because it sounded like I wanted him to be the mystery man. I looked around a little more, even venturing out to the end of the alley which deposited onto a regular sidewalk, but no one was there. Not until I grabbed the door to reenter Finn's.
There was a cord around my throat, so tight that I was sure my skin was covering where it indented into my neck and that there would be a mark reminding me of this fight until tomorrow. Instinct said to get it off, to grab at it but I knew that my efforts would be worthless, and with quick thinking and a move I didn't know would work I balled my hand up into a fist and threw it into my attacker's groin. There was no sound from them to indicate that any damage had been done, but they let go so it had to have had some effect. I fell to the hard ground, clawing at the assailant's choice of weapon, coughing and hacking. Though grateful for some air I had to focus on why I so desperately had to suck it in, in the first place.
Before me there was a man in a cat suit, a black, cloth mask concealing his face and even it was unremarkable. Holes for eyes, and nothing more. I reached for the gun concealed under the legs of my jeans in a holster, knowing that I wouldn't be quick enough to avoid another attack but I would be able to say that I tried. My opponent rushed at me angrily, tackling me into the wall behind us, my head hitting the bricks. At the least I expected to grunt, but I ended up yelling loudly at my latest injury. I couldn't see anything for the moment, although I expected a punch to come next, but there was nothing.
When I could finally see again I witnessed Jake wrestling with the attacker for my gun, the two of them on the ground holding each other back so the other could reach it first. I couldn't move just yet, my vision was still clouded, but I heard the sound of Jake's fist against the masked man's face, never knowing that it could sound so much like it did in the movies. The only one making any noise was Jake, the punching, the grunting, but the man beneath him was silent as he was bludgeoned. It was like he had been trained to show no sign of pain which sounded silly, but as my savior showed no signs of letting up I had to wonder about it. When he stopped punching, I just looked on at him, not able to believe what I'd just seen.
This is why Jake worked for an underground organization. He could kill a man with his bare hands.
Subject: Abolhassan-Ramirez, Isabella "Kick"
Location: London, England
Status: Caution
"Apparently I just missed the party," I said, sounding drained and unenthused. Jake was checking out his bloody knuckles while Claire pushed herself away from the wall that had been doubling as her support. Behind me the backdoor of Finn's creaked open and since I knew Andrew was the cause I saw no bother in turning around. "What happened?" I asked, taking in the sight of the masked man lying on the ground, undoubtedly dead.
As he whipped out his cell phone Jake answered. "This guy attacked Claire. Hello?" He began chatting with the person on the other end of the line, sounding like that one little human he took out had gotten him heated.
"I can't be around all this blood," and with one glance at the knife protruding from the would-be assassin's gut I was done.
Claire started in my direction but Jake distracted her with his assurance, "Andrew and I will handle this. You two can get home ok?" She must have nodded because I didn't hear her give an answer, so I figured that I was correct in my assumption when I heard her footsteps trailing not too far behind me. Honestly I hated ignoring her like this and treating her the way I had been lately, but I just didn't feel right anymore.
"Go home Claire," I said after two blocks of silence between us. The footsteps didn't falter though and I knew then and there that taking the back way home was a bad idea if I'd intended on solitude for the rest of the night. The eerie silence made me stop, but I didn't look around though like your usual scared chick would when she was all alone, biting her nails over the options of lions, tigers, or bears? "Look, whoever you are, I suggest you run along." I looked up to the tops of the slummy apartment buildings, knowing that if there was gonna be an attacker then I should expect for them to flee upward.
My tracker chose not to heed my warning though, and the sound of metal falling against cement let me know that they hoped for a big entrance. My face betrayed calm however, something I was supposed to at least appear when faced with a mocking opponent, and those tended to be the least skilled yet most cocky. "Trust me," I warned, drawing out my words, "tonight's not the night." As I heard something whistle through the calm of the night, I shut my eyes tightly, pursing my lips in an attempt to quell the anger I felt rising inside me. The bullet missed by inches, imbedding itself in the wall of the dilapidated building just in front of me, and at the sound of the weapon being reloaded… I felt something in me snap.
Like I had been possessed, I whipped around to find the drainpipe of the building behind me, and began scaling it like I was Spiderman. That feral urge that I had been suppressing had emerged, and as I reached the top of the building I saw nothing but red. I could smell them, the gunpowder residue was strong on their hands, and their footsteps betrayed their attempt at a stealthy getaway. Something caught my eye just around the corner of the little block that was the rooftop entrance to the building, and as I steered my body left another shot sounded, this time more powerful. It hit me in the arm so hard that I was pushed off the building, and without thinking of the impact I allowed myself to fall.
I just wanted the kill.
It felt like forever before I hit the ground, the cement cracking where I'd landed, but the difference between me and the cement was that I could feel it. However, I released no cry of pain that would relay to my attackers that they had gotten to me just bad enough. Hissing, I pushed myself up on my left arm, promptly grabbing my right with the knowledge that something was broken. Still, I didn't care; I just wanted the people who dared to come after me. With a grunt I got to my feet noticing that my flip-flops were gone. That's what I get for having inadequate footwear, I thought to myself.
Behind me was the sound of boots, instinct telling me to turn, but it wasn't on time. Someone's fist connected with my check, the force behind their blow causing my head to whip around, but this was only pissing me off more. I locked onto my target, another masked assailant in a black cat suit, the sight causing me to both feel and hear a rumble coming from my chest. The desire for the kill was even stronger now, especially since I knew that the attempt on Claire's life was personal. I grabbed my right shoulder and pulled forward, hearing the sound of my bone being replaced.
From inside my attacker's mask, I heard the smallest breath, and somehow I managed to catch the tiniest scent but it was the most satisfying: fear. I couldn't explain what was happening to me or why, all I knew was the instinct to protect myself had grown stronger along with the want to taste the assassin. As I successfully jabbed twice in a row, both shots connecting with the attacker's nose, I felt the negativity in me dispersing throughout my body, and it felt so good not to have it incarcerated to just one part of me. I needlessly continued to beat my opponent as they lie helpless on the ground, unable to even block my attacks most likely because they were unconscious.
With that thought I brought them to their feet, holding the enemy in place as they swayed in a daze, staring into my eyes that had probably become silver by now. Through the eyeholes, two blue orbs looked back fearfully down on me, and at their display of terror I felt myself smile. Once I felt that they could stand themselves, I reached up, wrapping my right arm around their neck to grab their chin while my left palm rested against their cheek. With my smile even wider, my mouth open and watering, I pulled with my right arm quickly and listened to the satisfying sound of their neck severing from their spin. Instantaneously they began to fall to the ground, and I felt like a creature that had earned their right to a kill.
Something told me to ignore the smell of their nose blood that had seeped through the cloth of the mask, that I should look for the other killer, but I just couldn't leave my prey here unattended. My knees must have been scraped and ashy as hell by now as I kneeled over my kill, ready to sink my teeth into their jugular, the idea that their blood was not yet cold had me anxious. With my mouth opened as wide as I could manage without unhinging my jawbone, I went in. Another gun.
"Kick!" Something fell to the ground with a thud behind me, and with shame already filling me I turned to face Claire, the smoking gun still held in up in her shaking hands. "They were following you so I followed you all," she whispered, the tears in her eyes making that pointless. To keep from whimpering she chose to keep her voice low, but I could already see what my actions had done to her. Now I would be hungry on my long trek home.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, not in a grateful mood at all. I just wanted my prey, I just wanted to be alone, but lately I'd wanted something else that was becoming more of a need than a want.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Her worry had turned into anger now. The gun was facing the ground, so I decided to take confidence in Claire that she had seen all of the assassins and that none were left.
My defensive stance had dissolved into one of a pitiful woman who was on the brink; it had turned into the stance of a person who felt exactly as I had been feeling for the past few weeks. "You should go home."
"Not until you tell me what has been going on with you!" She turned red from her scalp down to the bottom of her neck, and a few red splotches were manifesting on her chest. "You've been apathetic to just about everything! You've been treating me like I'm nothing to you! And you just tried to eat a guy!" she screamed, pointing to my prey with the gun.
"Like you'd understand," I replied, the muscles in my face were tensing as I tried to hold back my tears.
"If you would talk to me Kick then I could try!"
"You couldn't because you're too stuck on Wesker. Everything leads back to him with you, it's like you look for an excuse to think about the guy and you've been doing it since we left frickin Greece! He's all around you Claire and you can't even see it. You're breathing him Claire."
"Now that you're done stalling I'd like to understand," she said gently. She was right, even though Wesker was all she could think about I was the one using him to deflect.
My heart splintered, the dams broke, and the migraine that reared its ugly head when you had yourself a good long cry was making its cameo in my skull. "You still wouldn't. You don't know what it's like to be able to smell when someone's afraid, when they're nervous, for God's sake when they're horny!" Mortified by my own admission, I went to the dumpster to my left to rest upon it as I pulled at my hair from the roots. More importantly, I'd done it so I couldn't see Claire.
With her brow furrowed she took a single step closer like she was approaching a wild animal. "You want to eat people?"
"God yes! You smell so good sometimes Claire, especially when you're in estrus. And then when you…" I trailed off, too disgusted with my own desire to continue with the confession. "Sometimes I want you so bad," I whispered, finally looking at her again and even walking over to her, "so bad that I can feel myself biting into you, and I have to push you away because I need it. I have to push Andrew away because I want him in me. If you only knew what it felt like to want to be penetrated just because, li-like you're some kind of animal in heat."
I could see in her movement that she wanted to close the gap, but she didn't. "And the stomach pain you had today?"
"They started a week ago, when I wanted sex. I can't control myself anymore Claire." By now I was too embarrassed to stay, so barefoot, confused, and alone I ran back to my house. Knowing that Claire would follow at least half a mile, I led her to the sidewalk to the public, letting her get lost with the world of normal people so that she wouldn't be left alone. I got stares as I ran, five miles being a lot to cover while barefoot, but the endorphins were welcomed and they numbed the pain of the depression that I had been fighting back for so long.
And even though the urge to run until I couldn't run anymore was strong inside me, the sight of my home stopped me, almost like some invisible hands had gently grabbed me. Something had guided me away from the path of self-destruction. Thank you God.
Subject: Wesker, Albert
Location: Classified
Status: Fine
For a year he had been lying in wait, dormant for the time being as instructed. The computer screen displayed various emails, none really applying to him, but the board loved to remind Wesker that he was simply a subordinate. He had genially taken his place a few rungs down on the ladder now that an even bigger player than the slowly sinking ship that was Umbrella was in charge. It didn't bother the Tyrant as much as it had in the past that he was beneath someone else's boot, but he was smart enough not to make complaints this round. A knock on the door pulled his attention away from the screen, and Ada entered with a knowing smile on her face.
"What have you found?" Wesker asked, not including a greeting.
Hands on her hips she purred, "Good to see you too Mr. Wesker." After taking in the small, cement layered room she gave a shrug, but since he knew her tastes she more than likely wanted to shiver. "A satellite picked up some good conversation between Isabella and Claire."
"Where?"
"London. There was a fight and apparently your pet isn't as tame as you thought." She paused for a moment, although without prompting she knew it was best that she continue. "Isabella admitted to craving human flesh, more specifically, Claire's. And as of late she's acquired quite the sexual appetite. She's changing."
Before Wesker could reply the door to the room once more opened, this time producing the lately absent Bartleby, it seemed that Roger was done with him. "Boss you have no idea how good it is to see you!" he exclaimed, completely ignoring Ada. "That freak had me delivering and shipping God knows what."
Wesker's attention had been caught by the intruder; he was so interested that he jerked his head in the brunet's direction. "What deliveries?" He had lent Bartleby to his old colleague sure, but he didn't expect the scientist to have so many errands that needed to be done in secret. And Wesker was pretty damned sure that Roger had told him to keep his trap shut about what went on Australia.
"Just the other day I had to escort a shipment to a prison in Canada. An AUA prison nonetheless."
Marveling at how thoughtless his help could be, the blond clasped his hands in his lap before staring the man right in the eyes. "You do realize who is in AUA's prison Bartleby?"
"Who?"
With a smirk, the Tyrant removed his shades, considering the possibilities brought on by this game-changer. He would have an excuse to step back into the limelight. "Commander Patricia Layfield."
With disinterest, Bartleby scoffed in Ada's direction. "There's only one prison I care about Boss. Siberia."
One hand balled into a fist on her hip, the spy took her turn to scoff, "You mean Gianna? She's wrapped up too tightly for us to care."
"I swear," he began, folding his arms over his chest, "next time you're in a pickle I'll just leave your little-"
"She's right," Wesker interrupted.
"What?" Bartleby's smile had slowly begun to fade, his hopes of getting back Gianna were shot for now it seemed. Though they were not a couple anymore, and that was almost so long ago that it felt like a dream she was literally his partner in crime. She was an integral part of the team and without her things were going to get a lot harder.
"In due time," Wesker assured his subordinate, noting his concern for Gianna. Of course Wesker knew how valuable she was to them, and despite being the result of Roger's ingenuity she was a part of his "family." "First we will see how things fold out with Ms. Layfield. Until then, I have some business to tend to in London." All he had was time.
A/N: I began suffering writer's block at Wesker's part. Ugh here we go again. Review please. I'M SERIOUS.
