I know you've all been waiting for this, so here it is.
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Chapter 3: Watching from Afar
Wesker was not amused. His long strides glided over the compound's interior yard as he approached a group of guards waiting nervously under his stare. There were three of them? Why did it take three men to capture a single intruder? He hated dealing with inexperienced and ineffectual personnel, and it was only a rare occurrence that brought him into contact with them. His red eyes flashed toward the man kneeling on the ground between the guards with deadly intent. This man had actually managed to steal a sample from the lab. Wesker wasn't sure if it was more surprising that he had succeeded or that the barely capable guards had caught such a man.
He would have fired them on the spot, but he was technically a guest here at TriCell, and he didn't need to distance Excella by overstepping his boundaries just yet. His booted feet stopped before the kneeling man and Wesker appraised him. He was very dark-skinned, with a shaved head where sweat was beading due to the heat. Wesker didn't feel the temperature in his concealing, black outfit, but he could imagine how uncomfortable the environment was. His dark shades angled downward toward the intruder with interest and watched the man's insistence on a straight and stern face. A fighter then, Wesker decided, or maybe it was an exterior afforded by his lack of appreciation for the predicament that he was in.
"Did you retrieve the sample?" Wesker asked the guards.
"Yes, sir. We've sent for a…"
"No need," Wesker interrupted and held out an expectant hand. "I will handle it." The sample was quickly turned over and Wesker pocketed it. "Where did you find him?"
"Right inside the front door, sir. He was trying to use a stolen security guard's card, but it was flagged."
"He's from this area?" Wesker guessed.
"Yes, sir."
"And how did he get the security card?" Wesker pressed. He did not expect an accurate answer, but the guards fumbled over half-ass explanations anyway. They really were worthless most of the time, but Wesker knew that they could cause harm. Any idiot could cause harm in the right situation, which would be an unfortunate matter for someone if it applied here. He had zero tolerance for lowly liabilities. Someone had either been careless with his security card, or…his veiled eyes drifted to the guards. There were anti-Tricell sympathies in this area, which was why it was foolish to hire locals.
"Where are you three from?" Wesker inquired. Suddenly the captured man's eyes shot to Wesker's face, and the tyrant did not miss the gesture as the guards answered. "And are any of your comrades from this area?" His voice sent a chill through the air that caused the men to visibly shift. Wesker would have smirked at the ease with which he frightened them had he not been so annoyed. "Give me the security pass," he demanded. His eyes scanned it. As expected. The card belonged to a guard drawn from a surrounding town.
"Bring him here," Wesker ordered and returned his attention to the man at his feet. "I don't suppose you were working for anyone, were you?" he inquired with a distinct, mocking curl to his voice. It was the deriding tone more than anything that made the man glare. He had vowed not to speak, not to give satisfaction to this demon man, whom he had heard rumors about in town. He was evil, of that the prisoner was sure. No one could act as cold and cruel as this monster did and have an ounce of humanity.
"Now would be the time to talk if you expect a quick end," Wesker drawled with slight interest. The brave ones always made for more interesting interrogations, for the very moral indignation that often drove them was their greatest undoing. It reminded him of Chris. He only had to press a few buttons. "I don't suppose that we in some way disrupted your lovely, pastoral life, did we? You have my sincerest apologies." The man only hardened his stare and Wesker allowed him a brief glance behind his sunglasses. That definitely elicited a reaction of widened eyes. Wesker barely smirked, but his strict mask fell back into place as the guards returned.
"Here he is, sir," a guard announced, pushing another uniformed man forward. The scrawny man stumbled, his eyes darting to the kneeling prisoner before going to Wesker. Ah, Wesker thought, the betraying sign of loyalty was in the man's eyes. He was not as resolute or strong as his friend; that was for certain.
"This man is from your area," Wesker said. "Did you help him get inside?"
"No, sir. He is no friend of mine, sir." Wesker's blank face made the man squirm. No one could ever tell what the tyrant was thinking.
"So you aided him through negligence then," Wesker stated. "That's unfortunate. It would have looked better to end as a traitor rather than a fool." With that, Wesker whipped out his pistol faster than any of the men could follow and planted a bullet in the guard's head. The prisoner visibly jerked in emotion but controlled himself at the last minute, falling back into his relaxed position while the body less than foot away from him spilled blood across the grass and paved walkway.
"Clean it up," Wesker coolly ordered the guards. "You didn't work with anyone," Wesker decided as he looked at his prisoner.
"No," the man gently spoke, and Wesker had to give him credit for his controlled tone. "But there are more like us, who you've made suffer."
"I'm sure that you have plenty of company," Wesker coldly agreed. He sensed a morose, resigned aura around the man that whispered of personal loss. "Was it a family member?" he asked. The man looked at him, detecting the slight toying quality to his voice. Wesker was trying to bait him into revealing his motives, and it worked.
"My sister never came back from her treatment here." Curiosity satisfied, Wesker aimed his gun and shot the man through the forehead.
"Clean that up as well," he instructed as he sidestepped the blood fanning out toward his shoes. Now that this hassle had been handled, there was more important business to focus on. He was only here for an inspection of the facilities before he personally stationed himself here. His arrangements were almost finished and then he had to ship a test subject. He glanced to his left, up to the second floor, where large glass windows overlooked the yard. A woman stood there, all slender, attractive curves and dark eyes as she watched him. Wesker wondered if she got a kick out of seeing him execute his work, for she prized efficiency as much as he did. Excella briefly inclined her elegant neck toward him, but Wesker made no acknowledgment of her.
He entered the building and navigated his way to his quarters. Staying here would have been convenient, and Excella had baited him with advantages to doing so, but he had decided against it. She was a conniving woman, and he knew that she liked to keep her enemies and allies as close as possible, which was why he kept himself a step ahead of her. He did not need to be here permanently until the final preparations were made for the new virus, and that was months, maybe even a year or two off. There was no telling time with research, but in the meantime the company was gaining a stronger foothold here and the political gears were turning in his favor. Let the pieces slide together before he moved.
That brought him back to his current task. He needed to check on the work here and assure his allies of his intentions and collaboration before he left to finish his own research. He had collected the date for every known BOW, as well as viral samples, and he was allowing Excella's company to experiment with and refine them. They were adequately equipped for the job, but he had not shared everything with them—not by a long shot. He kept his deck perpetually full, and staying here meant the hassle of having people try to steal a glance at his hand. He preferred working alone, and so he planned to leave within two weeks. He had the last samples of new viral variants and research to collect from his various employers and some private research to conclude.
He sat at his computer and entered his password with a satisfied smirk. It was good to be so close. He had started with Umbrella at the ripe age of seventeen and bided his time in the ranks, gaining influence and plotting as he fully realized what science could offer him. He was forty-eight now, and that was a long time to wait for the power that was rightfully his. The world belonged to those mighty enough to claim her, and she would be at his feet before he was done. There was nothing that he craved more. Suddenly a peculiar phrase dovetailed with his thoughts: You have power issues; you know that, right?
Claire Redfield, he contemplated, folding his arms over his lap. If she had stayed she'd be working at his side by now, no doubt sitting here, in this room with him while he worked. He suddenly realized just how quiet and dark his workspace was, but he was back into his normal routine now, and conjectures of what he'd have if everything had gone as planned would lead nowhere. Still, she would have been excellent eyes and ears, someone to warmly watch his back and make smartass comments about the employees here. She would have been perfect, but she had left.
The red in Wesker's eyes flared.
He had barely heard a word at the meeting that day. In fact, he had been on the verge of crushing someone's skull, and then he'd returned to the lab. He'd checked the room and the labs, even the firing range. He had looked even though he suspected that she was long gone. His first reaction was frustrated anger, and he'd broken a table by slamming his fist into it. Then came the professional concern about his laptop, which he had carelessly left in her possession. Wesker inclined his head in thought. He had almost labeled Claire as a target for elimination due to her clear rejection of his offer and flight to his enemies when the computer reversed that.
It hadn't been touched. It hadn't been tampered with. It just sat there, exactly where he had left it with Claire's hair tie beside it. She could have taken every bit of information and viral research that he had collected and turned it over to his enemies in a devastating reversal of fortunes. It would have been cause for serious action, but she had left it with a clear marker of having realized the opportunity and forsaken it. Wesker had lost her physically, but mentally she was still under his sway, and that meant that there was still a chance. He could imagine how conflicted she was in pursuing her cause but wanting to avoid confronting him. She might yet be his, especially once obstacles like Chris were removed and his enemies had grown weaker. She would have fewer reasons to resist him under such conditions.
Claire Redfield. Wesker had placed more trust in her than anyone, and she had left him without betraying that in her own fashion. He had been angry when she was not to be found, he realized. He had also been disappointed by her rejection of his offer. Perhaps that had fueled the frustration, for he had offered her more than anyone before and she had foolishly refused it. Was there a sense of loss? In some ways, yes, as mixed as matters concerning her had become. Betrayal? Wesker stopped himself there and mentally frowned.
She had acted as rationally as she could given her circumstances. Her moral self-preservation had called for it when she realized that she would slip from her standpoint if she stayed. In a way, she had been pragmatic to push her emotions aside. Betrayal. Wesker found it strange that the word had come to his mind. It was foolish to get caught up in such things since humans were only ever really loyal to themselves in the end. He had seen it time and again. Real, outside loyalty was scarce. He had personally never been disloyal since he had never claimed to be loyal to anyone but himself. But he had wanted Claire's loyalty towards him, and he had thought that it might be possible with her, which is why he had extended some trust. He had wanted her emotions to bind her to him. He still did, but trust meant the possibility of betrayal.
Dear heart, what have you been up to? Wesker opened a program on his desktop. There was a tracker implanted in Claire's laptop, and not only could he tell exactly where she was, but he could access her files. He kept a close watch over her to ensure that she was not captured by rivals or causing problems for him. He smirked. Anything on her computer was open to him, but he had not checked on her for two weeks since he had been busy. Wesker eyed her location with curiosity. Claire was on a plane. He accessed her internet history and found that she was heading to California. What was she doing? He perused her activities.
She was researching companies and organizations, so it was clear that she was getting ready to act, but what of these various, unrelated searches? Apparently she was having nightmares again, unlike when they had shared a bed. He coldly smiled as he read through her conversations with Chris, for he knew that she was trying to express herself without bringing him into the conversations. It was bothersome that Chris and her were on such good terms, but Wesker knew that he could destroy that at will.
His attention hitched as he checked her Google searches. UC Berkeley, Dr. Matthews. Wesker's interest rose as he contemplated the meaning of her actions, which were made more obvious by her possession of Stars files. He tapped his fingers on the desk. She was looking into his past, and it made him muse over her parting words for the one-hundredth time. She was certainly putting effort into this, but Wesker was a man who left few traces. He decided to keep a closer eye on her for the next few days.