Resident Evil: T-Angelus
'Sleep my love, close your eyes...'
†
The first rays of morning sunlight filtered through a gap in the curtains, stealing across the floor and onto the bed where they fell upon the sleeping form of Claire Redfield. She opened an eye for a fraction of a second and immediately winced as the bright light assaulted her vision.
Turning over with a small grunt and muffled curse, she pulled her covers over her face, shutting out the offending light. Claire had slept badly the previous night, only succumbing to sleep at five in the morning and it still seemed early yet. The little sleep she had gotten had been haunted by nightmares; filled with visions of blood and monsters.
Visions of Steve…
A knock at her door jolted Claire from her thoughts and she growled. All she wanted was to fall into peaceful dreamless oblivion for a while and catch up on her rest. The knock came again, louder this time and if Claire wasn't imagining it, more obnoxious.
"What?" She all but snarled throwing the covers off of her face as Chris Redfield opened the door. The elder Redfield had a tray balanced on one hand and a bemused expression on his face.
"Whoa-k. Somebody is cranky this morning." He chided, winking at his dishevelled sister.
Claire smiled meekly at her sibling. She felt like crap, but Chris' famous grin made it impossible to be annoyed at him. She felt a small stab of guilt at not wanting to speak with her closest friend and only relative; she was just so tired…
"Sorry, didn't sleep so well last night.' Claire explained "Is that for me?" She indicated the tray and Chris gave a nod as he brought it over to her nightstand.
"Yeah, breakfast. Couldn't help but notice you've been skipping a lot of meals lately" He said as he set it down. Claire bit her lip and snatched up the glass of cran-apple juice he'd brought her. She tried to ignore the concerned tone in her brother's voice, but how could she tell him the reason she'd been so preoccupied lately was because she had been collecting information on the shadowy organization Albert Wesker reputedly had connections in? He'd only worry more.
All she'd been able to find out was that the team Wesker had lead on Rockfort Island were known as H.C.F; an attack force specialising in covert operation. Though not affiliated with Wesker's organization it was clear they had taken their pay checks from them. It appeared that H.C.F had been hired by Wesker on his organization's behalf and that they had financed the entire operation to retrieve the T-Veronica virus.
H.C.F wasn't the threat. They were obviously a mercenary group who would do anything no matter how sick or illegal for money, but they had nothing to do with the workings of the organization. Claire knew Leon Kennedy was currently involved in an operation to locate and interrogate members in the hopes of finding Wesker, but they'd had no luck so far.
It hadn't been difficult to figure out that Leon was keeping her brother posted on their progress. She'd felt guilty going through Chris' mail, but there was no other way for her to get the information she needed; Chris certainly wasn't about to tell her. The one thing he took more seriously than his job he said was taking care of his little sister. He didn't want her to be involved with the business anymore than she already was. He approved of her work with TerraSave, but ever since the events in Havardville Claire got the feeling Chris would prefer she was back at college fulltime, safe and studying.
And so did Claire. She wished she could just leave it all behind her, but the fact was that she hadn't been the same since Chris had disappeared seven years ago and something inside had compelled her to go after him. Her life had changed in Racoon City and on Rockfort she had known there was no going back.
This time was no different; Claire couldn't just sit on her ass and wait for somebody else to find Wesker. Again, something inside her was pulling and tugging and she simply could not ignore it. After all, the reality was that Wesker was not the person Claire intended to find…
Steve.
Was he alive? Had he come back like Wesker had said he might? In her heart Claire knew that bastard had probably just been taunting her to hurt Chris, but the seeds of doubt had been planted and she just had to know; what had happened to Steve Burnside?
Memories of her first encounter with Wesker still haunted her nightmares; Claire couldn't deny that she was afraid of him, but maybe if she found out where he was she could find out what happened to Steve. The last thing she wanted to do was face down Albert Wesker alone, on his own turf nonetheless, but it was a chance Claire had no choice but to take. She looked up into Chris' deep blue eyes and saw they were clouded with worry.
"I don't mean to make you worry, Chris.' She said softly "It's just I have all this work to do for TerraSave, not to mention all the school work I've got to catch up on after… After everything that's happened." She looked away again and Chris embraced his little sister.
"I know it's been tough, Claire. But someday soon everything will be back to normal, I promise." He sounded so sure, but Claire shook her head.
"It's already been seven years, Chris! It should have stopped a long time ago. Maybe Umbrella is gone, but what about everything else? Zombies and monsters… And Wesker." She felt Chris' embrace stiffen at the mention of the man.
"You shouldn't worry about him-" he began but Claire cut him off;
"I'm not. Sure, I'm scared as hell of the man, but I'm worried about you. I'm worried that one day you're going to go off without me trying to stop him and that I might lose you.' She said and her voice cracked "I am so, so tired of living everyday thinking it might be the last time I ever see you!"
Chris hugged her tighter and pressed his lips to her hair. When he began to speak his voice was soft and reassuring;
"Claire, I'll get through it, we'll get through it. I know we will. There are a lot of people depending on Wesker being stopped once and for all, so I'll keep trying. If you believe I can do it, there is no way I can fail. So just do that for me, sis. That's all I ask."
They stayed that way for a while; locked in a warm and comforting embrace and when Chris finally pulled away he was smiling.
"Get started on that breakfast, Claire. It's not every day your fantastic brother makes you cinnamon toast.' He touched a finger to her cheek "I'm gonna call Jill." Rising, Chris went to the door, pausing to shoot her a cheerful wink, and then he was gone.
Claire hugged her knees to her chest beneath the covers, cradling her glass in her hands. She barely noticed the tear that splashed into the juice as she whispered;
"I do believe in you, big brother…"
†
Somewhere in Ecuador…
It was from the air nothing more than a grey patch sitting in the middle of a sea of green forest. The tourist-filled aircrafts that passed overhead paid it no heed for to them it appeared no more malevolent than a dot.
What looked so insignificant from above was really a vast expanse of concrete and steel that made up a building out of place with its tropical surroundings. Signs on the perimeter fence declared 'Refinería Minera' and to the casual onlooker it did appear to be just another one of the abandoned mining refineries that dotted the rainforest. It seemed innocent enough, but when the misty rains so archetypal of the area dampened the air, the surrounding fence crackled with electricity and the animal carcases at its base continued to moulder secretly in the tall grass.
The refinery was simply a cover for what lay below the surface; an underground complex beneath the jungle known as the Facility. It was made up of laboratories, living quarters, manufacturing plants and numerous secret areas, unknown to many of the Facility's own employees. It dwarfed Umbrella Corporation's Raccoon City laboratories and could have rivalled WilPharma in terms of mass production. However, the Facility did not need to masquerade beneath the façade of a petty pharmaceutical manufacturer. Unlike Umbrella, it remained completely hidden from the public eye, carrying out a single purpose; the creation, manufacture and sale of bio organic weapons.
Built by funds gained from the blood and betrayal of innocents and the evil alike, the Facility was the brainchild of Albert Wesker.
In one of the deepest laboratories the man himself studied a cryostasis unit. The figure suspended inside was that of an auburn haired young man; Steve Burnside, and despite all predictions, he was still alive.
Wesker's lips twitched into a half smile. He had to admit it'd been a surprise when his men had secured Burnside's body for transport and discovered he was breathing, if not shallowly. Wesker had been about to end the boy's suffering when it had occurred to him that a living host of the T-Veronica virus would be more useful to him. The way the mutation had suddenly reversed in Steve also intrigued Wesker; it seemed a step towards discovering a way to stabilize the effects of the virus. Even Alexia Ashford's method of adapting to the virus, spending fifteen years in cryosleep, had proven flawed; the mutations eventually becoming erratic after she spent some time outside a cryostasis unit.
It was already clear that unchecked; mutations from T-Veronica turned the host into tremendously powerful but ungainly and totally mindless killing machines. Perhaps this was useful for the creation of generic weapons but Wesker was certain there was a way to harness the strength the virus leant the host while retaining sentience and preventing erratic mutations. It had been frustrating at first when experiments to stabilize the virus had failed and after the project had run for five years and yielded no results, Wesker had been ready to pull the plug.
But in February of 2003, he had retrieved Umbrella's archives from the Caucasus facility and had discovered something that could potentially revive the project…
An old report told of an expedition carried out right there in Siberia to obtain specimens of prehistoric creatures to study the effectiveness of the T-virus on ancient cells. The researchers had discovered something interesting beneath the permafrost; a single scale from a creature of an unknown genus. It was a discovery that could have received significant attention, but of course Umbrella had kept it secret from the scientific community, choosing instead to harvest the cells and introduce the T-virus to a sample in an attempt to discover just what kind of creature the scale came from.
It had probably just began as an underpaid researcher's side project, something to occupy their time with, but the early results had been enough to secure a large amount of funding from Umbrella; reanimated by the T-virus, the creature that began to grow from the cells appeared similar to a human in its embryonic stage and as it matured into a foetus it began to grow 'wing-like' formations on its back.
The report claimed that the specimen had died due to sudden acute cell degeneration before it reached true foetal stage. It seemed that a host was necessary for it to survive. Surrogate experiments were conducted but resulted in more failure. There had then been an attempt to instead cultivate a pure virus from the cells but the project had been halted in 1998 when all assets had been focussed on completing the T-A.L.O.S project. It had never been started again.
The last note from the researcher in charge had been that he theorized that introducing the T-virus to the cells had somehow caused a mutation within the virus itself. It was well-known that in the absence of suitable Tyrant candidates, the T-virus could normally reanimate dead cells but not heal wounds and was unable to restore sentience in the host, then generally causing grotesque mutations. However, when the virus was introduced to the cells they immediately adapted to its presence and freeze damage caused by millions of years in ice repaired. The head researcher expressed dismay at the abandonment of the project, believing there was a possibility that the cells had the potential to adapt to the T-virus even better than Tyrant candidates.
Wesker had sensed a possibility; if the T-virus could be successfully spliced with the cells, it might hold the key to perfecting T-Veronica as well as the other variants. It was easy enough to obtain the samples from the Caucasus facility and he and his handpicked team of scientists had set out to synthesis a pure viral strain. They already had a test subject harbouring the Veronica virus and now after two years of trial and error, their virus was ready.
The project, once simply named T-A00, had been justly redubbed T-Angelus.
"I suppose today we shall see if you really do come back, Mr. Burnside." Wesker murmured, rather more to himself than the unconscious boy.
His ears suddenly picked up on the sound of soft foot-falls and before she even spoke, Wesker knew Tammy Allen; a young researcher, was standing behind him.
"Excuse me, sir?" She said it as if she were asking a question. Wesker turned to the girl, forcing the disdain from his face as he studied her; what Miss Allen lacked in stature she made up for in intellect; her skill with virology almost on-par with William Birkin's. The sixteen year old red-head had green eyes and would probably have been considered attractive if her face hadn't been so child-like and if she didn't dress in clothing several sizes too large. Wesker had first seen her in the uniform of the private school she had once attended and knew that her baggy clothing hid a mature figure; something that obviously caused her discomfort. She also wore a pair of round glasses she had mentioned she only needed for reading, but it was rare to see her without them on. It seemed that Tammy Allen in fact wore bad clothes as a kind of protection.
Wesker realized however that it would be foolish to dismiss Tammy for her age and the accompanying teen insecurities; after all he and William Birkin had entered Umbrella in their teens. Wesker had recruited Tammy specially, at the time unaware of her age, because of a brilliant article on the use of viruses in curing rare diseases submitted to the Virology Journal by a Tamsin C. Ellen, Ph.D. When Wesker had finally tracked down Tammy Allen, not at all a doctor of philosophy, the terrified teenager was mortified that someone had discovered her deception. She had then been surprised, and flattered, when Wesker had told her he was impressed with her findings and that he had a job he would like to offer her if she was interested.
Despite her genius with science, Tammy also seemed quite naïve and it was easy to gain her trust. Case and point was her reaction to Steve Burnside; at first apprehensive and maybe even the slightest bit suspicious, Tammy had calmed down immediately when Wesker produced the "proper" paperwork to convince her Steve was there by his own choice. Fabricating stories for her was tiring as was remembering to insert contact lenses each day to hide his unnatural eye colour, but it was preferable to having to eliminate her and find a replacement.
"Is there a problem, Miss Allen?" He asked smoothly and noted the slight blush that spread across her face.
"Sir, we're ready to begin' she said to the floor "the virus, i-it's ready." Wesker grasped her hand in his and though the contact was light, Tammy's blush deepened.
"Thank you Miss Allen.' Wesker said, voice layered with practised sincerity "Where is the sample?" Tammy's reply was so soft is was barely audible;
"Damien… is bringing it now, sir." She gently pulled her hand from his and clearly uncomfortable, continued to stare down the floor. She barely looked up as the door to the lab opened, revealing Damien Saunders, a blonde lab assistant of about twenty. Good-looking, in a run of the mill kind of way, Damien's story was that he'd been fired from his job teaching English at a school in Guayaquil for stealing equipment. Desperate for work, he had answered one of the Facility's calls for lab assistants a few months ago. Even though he understood just what was happening, it was evident he was smart enough not to try running away.
"There's my girl.' Damien said, flashing Tammy a smile "Stop flirting with the boss, babe."
Wesker hated Damien for his casual disrespect but since Tammy seemed to consider him a friend, keeping him around was worth it to keep her relaxed. It obviously pained Damien that Tammy could not grasp what was really happening, but as long as he was aware that Wesker would quite gladly snap her neck if Damien should ever prove a threat to the security of the Facility, he held his tongue.
"The virus, Saunders." Wesker managed to refrain from growling at Damien. The shorter man turned to him, the warmth in his gaze fading immediately.
"Coming right up, sir." He said, handing the vial over to Wesker. His voice was tight with suppressed loathing but Tammy didn't seem to notice as she fetched a syringe gun from the instrument table. She handed it to Wesker, looking anxious.
"Do you think it will work, sir? That Steve will be well again?" She asked. The way she referred to Steve like an old friend irked Wesker somewhat but he forced a smile.
"Of course, my dear." He said, giving his voice a reassuring edge. He didn't miss the venomous look Damien shot towards him as he drained the fluid from Steve's cryo unit. Tammy watched as it opened and Steve slumped gently into Damien's waiting arms. Her green eyes were filled with excited anxiety.
"I'll finally get to meet him." She said happily, missing the subtle twitch in Wesker's facial muscles.
I wouldn't be so enthusiastic Wesker thought with dark amusement After all, your life may depend on how much or how little he remembers…
Steve's body was nearly weightless in Damien's arms, seven years of immobility having caused his muscles to atrophy, and it was easy to move him onto the operating table, securing restraints around his stick thin wrists and ankles. Tammy blinked in confusion.
"Why are we tying him down?" She asked, suddenly sounding grave.
"Just a precaution, Miss Allen.' Wesker replied smoothly "In the case of muscular spasms; we don't want Mr. Burnside to cause any harm to himself or to us." Tammy smiled meekly.
"Of course… I forgot." She said, feeling foolish.
As Wesker loaded the vial into the syringe gun, Tammy prepped a vein in Steve's arm; swabbing the area with disinfectant. After she had finished she let her hand linger for a short moment on Steve's emaciated arm, as if to comfort him.
"I believe it is time we attempt to wake our young friend." Wesker said, placing the gun against Steve's arm. The moment the aquamarine-dyed strain entered his veins, all hell broke loose;
Steve's eyes flew open and a piercing keen echoed from his throat causing Tammy and Damien to clutch their hands over their ears. They watched as Steve's skin began to bubble and shift to a green hue, darker patches of scale erupting at random. Before their eyes his atrophied muscles bulked out and he began to thrash upon the table, breaking one of his restraints and flailing the free arm wildly.
Wesker pulled Tammy back before she was hit and watched as Steve's teeth elongated. He gave a final cry before his eyes rolled back in his skull and he slumped on the table, breathing heavily.
"W…What have we done?" Tammy sounded shocked as she gazed at the strange yet beautiful creature Steve had become. None of her research had pointed to such a dramatic physical change. Wesker just smirked triumphantly.
"We have created the future."
As Damien moved closer to Steve, perhaps to check if he was alright, wings suddenly forced themselves from his back, splattering blood everywhere and knocking Damien back so hard that he hit his head on the far wall before he crumpled to the floor. Tammy gasped and ran to help while Wesker's smirk widened.
"Welcome back, Mr. Burnside."
†
In California…
It was not hard to imagine the sadness and disappointment Claire knew she would see on Chris' face if he caught her raiding his office. She tried to push it to the back of her mind as she rifled through the papers on the desk, her flashlight clenched awkwardly between her teeth and praying it wouldn't fall out.
She knew something was up because when she'd been on her way to take a shower, the mailman had knocked on the door and delivered the post straight into Chris's hand and later she had spied him going into his office with a large manila envelope; the kind Leon always sent when he had something big to share.
Claire had snuck into the office at three AM and upon discovering the empty envelope in the trash, cursed. Her brother's desk was a mess as usual and she was stuck sifting through police reports and files she'd already read. She spat her flashlight into her hand and scanned the beam over the desk until it hit a folder marked with the Great Seal; not a S.T.A.R.S report then, it had to be from Leon.
Claire jammed the flashlight back in her mouth, biting back a loud curse when it hit her painfully in the teeth. She got a better grip on it and opened the folder, causing a handwritten page to slip from inside and flutter to the desk. Claire recognized the handwriting as Leon's, but her brow furrowed slightly at the length of the letter; he usually wrote little more than notes consisting of 'this may be of interest to you – L'
'Chris,' the letter began 'the files have all the info, but to summarise; we may have a problem.
Wesker is NOT with the Organization. At least not anymore. We finally caught one of those slippery bastards and all we could get out of him was that they figured out Wesker was the traitor type but he managed to take off with a number of their financial assets before they could do much.
It's not for sure, but we may know where Wesker has run too. See, the CIA lent us an agent for recon in Ecuador a while back to try and piece together why rumours of black market b.o.w trade have sky rocketed there. Couldn't send more because it is way outside our jurisdiction and we'd be royally fucked if what we're doing came to light. Anyway, he found out that at the same time the rumour mill went haywire, a large amount of construction had recently been completed out in the rainforest. He was supposed to do some recon and report back to us, but he's not contacted us for months. Either he has gone deep undercover or whoever is out in that jungle knows they're being watched. Survey says Wesker.
There is another reason I sent all this to you, Chris. See, we tried to get the guy we caught to tell us just what Wesker took from them and he was vague on most of it, but one thing he said caught my attention; Wesker definitely took one cryostasis unit with him, we figured it was a Tyrant weapon but our guy said it was 'just a kid, a young guy.'
Claire's heart leapt into her throat.
Chris, obviously we know Wesker has sold T-Veronica before; I remember briefing you after Operation Javier. That's why I'm almost certain that Wesker still has Steve Burnside with him, alive or why keep him in cryostasis? I know you said he helped your sister and if I know Claire, I'd say that if she finds out he is alive she'll take off to rescue him. Whether you tell her or not is up to you, but I'd wait until we can figure out what the hell happened to our agent. None of us can move until we have hard facts anyway.
I'll contact you with more when I can. It could be a while so until then, just relax. And because I know recklessness runs in the family, don't do anything stupid. And don't give me that look; Claire would be devastated if something happened to you and as much as I love her, I'd make a lousy big brother compared to you.
Seriously Redfield. Don't do anything stupid.
-L
Claire put the letter down slowly, her hands shaking. She felt a strange mixture of anger and love towards both Chris and Leon. She knew they were looking out for her, but how the hell could they keep this from her?
"Steve…" She breathed and fear rode waves of nausea in her gut. It was worse than she had imagined, but now she had a definite lead; it seemed as if her only chance to find Steve alive lay inside the Ecuadorian rainforest…
Her voice of reason pleaded with her to reconsider, to wait until Leon got back to Chris with more information but Claire knew she couldn't wait. It had taken the government agent months to get this information to Chris, how long could she stand to spend waiting for an answer now that she knew Steve could be alive?
Claire closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to calm rapidly beating heart. Reason, she had discovered a long time ago, sometimes had to be callously thrown out the window in order to do what was right, and it looked like there was only one answer here.
As scared as she was of Wesker, as terrified as she was of what he could do to her or Chris, Claire could only focus on the hate she had felt when he dared to taunt her with Steve. She could only hear her voice filled with venom commanding Wesker not to touch him and she could only feel Chris' hands pulling her back. For one moment, it had felt as if she could take him on and win. In order to do what was right, Claire knew she could not afford to let go of that rage.
"Steve…' She whispered "I will find you."
