Author's Note: I'm not following the official back story totally, though much of it is left open to the imagination. I think I mixed up the order of some of the events, but I think I like it better this way. I hope no one minds…

EDITED 5/10/12. The usual, cleaned up a lot of dialogue. Tried to fix some POV issues in this chapter and switched some stuff around in an attempt to make Excella seem more in character.

EDITED 7/19/12. Minor changes.


The Devil's Queen

Chapter 4

Excella stepped out of the limousine and onto the sandy, gravel path. Her high heels sank straight down into the uneven dirt, and she wobbled unsteadily for several seconds before finding her balance. Directly ahead, she could see a rocky, remote beach and a sliver of sea lining the horizon beyond. The smell of salt water tingled her nose and a cool ocean breeze raised goose bumps on her bare arms.

Shuddering, she ignored the cold and focused her eyes instead on the tiny, dilapidated building at the end of the gravel path. The walls were the color of dirty gray sneakers. A number of its roof tiles had fallen away, leaving an odd crossword puzzle design in its absence. Weeds had overrun its hastily constructed entrance way, and the cheap plaster walls were cracked and crumbling apart. The building had obviously been neglected for years.

Hearing the car door slam behind her, Excella turned to her side to see Wesker step out of the vehicle. As usual, he had on his dark shades and uncannily, wrinkle-free black suit. Straightening up, he adjusted his glasses with one hand and tugged on his suit with the other, a familiar movement that Excella had since associated with her mysterious companion.

"Are you sure this is the correct location?" she said, eyeing the building suspiciously.

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"For one thing, Tricell is a billion dollar corporation. And that," –she pointed a finger at the shack—, "looks like a safe house for some backwater drug dealer"

"Not everything the company owns needs to be a candidate for a worldwide architecture competition."

"But that thing is absolutely horrid. I can't believe Tricell would be willing to taint its name with such a miserable thing."

"Keep in mind, this location is merely for accounting. It has no need to be extravagant."

"Accounting? It doesn't look like it even gets electricity."

"On the contrary, those electricity poles over on the right—" Wesker started, his usual deadpan voice sprinkled with a hint of amusement.

"It was a rhetorical question."

"I know."

Turning, Excella motioned for her driver to wait at the spot, before pulling her fur shawl closer around her and starting down the path. She wondered briefly if she had overdressed for the occasion, with her cream colored, tube dress and glimmering silver jewelry. At least the shawl, its tendrils of fur flattened down by the wind, was keeping her warm in the sea side weather.

Wesker followed behind her, his footsteps extraordinarily silent, as usual. The path was difficult to navigate, uneven, and largely overrun by sturdy weeds. Some had even flourished to the point that they reached knee height, and Excella was forced to tiptoe around them.

"This Irving," Excella said as they walked. "How did he manage to end up in a place like this?"

"Tricell caught him dealing with some high-risk items on the black market."

"I thought Irving was supposed to be helping Tricell buy resources through the black market. Isn't that why they hired him?"

"Of course. But he was spotted by the police, and when something like that happens, Tricell needs a scapegoat."

"So they put the blame on the agent, and throw him out."

"Correct. Once the employee has been compromised, Tricell knows that he's of little use. He was careless enough to get caught, and therefore isn't fit for the job. Then they force him down into the most remote and useless division in the company, so that he's out of their way."

"And, at the same time, under their control. They can't have him spilling their secrets out to the world," Excella said, as they reached the door of the building. "What I don't understand is why they didn't just silence him, permanently. It would have been quicker and cleaner."

"Tricell has its reasons. For one thing, he might be genuinely useful," Wesker answered, stepping up besides her. "Or, it may be that there simply has been too many unexplained disappearances of Tricell employees lately, and yet another one would catch the interest of the government."

"In other words, saved by luck."

"Perhaps."

Standing directly in front of the door, Excella was able to see the details of the building up close. The distance had masked many of its imperfections. Now that she was a few feet away, she could see dirty black stains on the walls, broken glass on the floor, and even a few bullet holes near the corners. One window was in such pitiful condition that it appeared completely opaque. A trash can stood a few yards to one side, overflowing and swarming with flies. Excella wrinkled her nose in disgust at the sight, and edged away.

Loud, grating rock music could be heard somewhere inside the shack. It drifted out from behind the door, the pulsating beat of the bass resonating through the thin walls. Excella flashed an incredulous look at Wesker, before rapping the door sharply with one pale, delicate hand.

No response could be heard, and the music continued as before. Excella knocked again, this time louder, and stood back, her foot tapping impatiently on the ground. From the corner of her eye she could see Wesker standing slightly to the side of her shoulder. He was motionless, and not the slightly swaying 'motionless' that one would associate with a regular human being. He was, quite literally, as still as a statue. There could have been a frozen, wax figure behind Excella, and she would not have been able to tell the difference. It was moments like these that reminded her regularly that her companion was not the least bit human.

Footsteps sounded over the pounding rock music, accompanied with a few muffled yells and a loud crash, as if someone had accidently knocked over something large and metal. The music abruptly died off, and the door clicked as the latches were undone. A rather, dull-looking face popped out, bland, chubby and not the least bit attractive. The man's dim eyes stared at the two visitors for a few minutes, as if debating their existence.

"Um…can I help you?" he said hesitantly. It was obvious that there had not been any visitors for quite a while.

"Ricardo Irving?" Excella asked. She considered offering a handshake, but decided against it. The man didn't look very sanitary, and she didn't wish to risk contracting some type of disease.

"Oh," the man replied, obviously pleased that he didn't need to deal with the two newcomers. "You're looking for Irving, he's inside. Just a minute, let me get him. I think he's napping."

"I am not fucking asleep!" came a heavily muffled voice from further inside. "How the fuck am I supposed to sleep over you're goddamn music?"

The man smiled sheepishly and nodded towards the back of the room. "That's him. I'll get him to the door."

He turned away and disappeared into the room, leaving Excella and Wesker at the doorway. From the crack of the opening, Excella could see a dank, filthy chamber, piled high with dusty electronic equipment. Wires littered the wooden floor, twisted into one another, like giant tangles of blue and green snakes. The constant whirring of computers could be heard in the background. Excella managed to flash yet another skeptical look at Wesker, before someone appeared by the door.

It was a lean man of medium height. He had a mop of thin, brownish hair, and beady, clever eyes that darted back and forth between the two visitors. His striped shirt was rumpled and stuck out at various angles beneath a faux leather jacket. A large and golden, but obviously fake, chain encircled his skinny neck and his metal watch made a cheap, hollow tinkling sound as it brushed by the doorway. There was an air of uncertainty that surrounded the man, as if he was attempting to make up for something he did not have with an overblown, excessiveness.

Ricardo Irving did not open the door completely, but instead peeked his head out cautiously and stared at the pair for several long seconds.

"You ain't here to kill me, are ya?" he said abruptly. He voice came out in a shrill whine, heavy with some obscure variant of a New York accent.

"Wherever would you get that idea?" Excella answered.

"Well, you can never be too cautious," Irving said. "I'm a wanted man, ya know? I know too much. Someday, they'll come and get me, and I'll disappear off the face of the earth, and ain't no one gonna know what happened…"

"Well, we aren't here to kill you," Excella interrupted. She'd always had a certain loathing for cowardly people, and Irving's sniveling nature annoyed her greatly. "We're here to talk. Someone referred us to you. Did you not get a message?"

"I did. Youse two from Tricell, am I right? I got the message, alright. Just wanted to be sure." He opened the door completely and gestured for them to enter. "This way, there's a meeting room in the back where we can talk."

Excella stepped into the room, carefully avoiding the overturned computers and unlabeled disks scattered around the floor of the tiny entrance. Wesker followed behind her, silent and unreadable.

The music was suddenly turned on again from somewhere to their left. It had been switched to heavy metal, and the sound of piercing electric guitars blared painfully in Excella's ear drums. She winced as she followed Irving into a narrow, claustrophobic passageway past the entrance.

"Don't mind the stupid prick," Irving said with a wave of his hand. "He's always playing that awful crap. I can't evah get any work done around here."

The corridor led to an equally cluttered room in the back of the building. It could hardly be called a meeting room; the only furniture it contained was a plastic, foldable table and several mismatched chairs and stools. Large stacks of yellowed newspapers and crumpled printouts were nestled in each corner, collecting dust and filth. An old white board with a large crack down the middle hung on one side of the wall, but no dry erase markers or any other writing utensils could be found.

"Have a seat," Irving said motioning toward the chairs. The door creaked atrociously as he closed it, and he sat down by the opposite end of the table. He leaned back casually in his chair and placed his feet on the table in front of him. Dust and paper bits flew and Excella tried hard not to sneeze.

Rubbing her nose, she carefully picked her way to one of the stools, brushed off a thick layer of dust resting on its seat, before sitting daintily down. Wesker opted not to sit, and instead leaned against the crooked white board with his arms crossed stoically across his chest.

"So, what's the deal?" Irving asked.

Excella glanced questioningly at Wesker. How much were they supposed to tell the man? The blond didn't return the glance, but instead, turned and addressed Irving himself.

"We're looking to do some private research, some things that Tricell doesn't need to know about," Wesker said. "Without the company's support however, we don't have the funds to get us on our feet."

Irving shot a sidelong glance at the other man, a sly grin plastered on his face. He was obviously finding the whole situation very enjoyable. Here were two higher-ups practically begging him for help. For someone like Ricardo Irving, this type of thing didn't happen very often.

"And who might you be?" he demanded, as if relishing in his momentary power.

"A partner of Tricell," the blond answered coldly. He turned toward the other man, his face a chilling mask beneath the dark shades. A slight shudder ran through Irving's body, and he averted his eyes. Excella knew the feeling; it was something she'd experienced often with Albert Wesker. It was a suffocating sense that there was something very wrong about the man in black, but nothing specific enough that you could put your finger on.

"Geez! I was just wonderin', man!" Irving muttered. "I mean, I know the lady over there,"—he pointed over to Excella. "I've seen her before at some of the banquets and stuff. But I've nevah seen you anywhere."

"He's working for me," Excella added. She hoped her words would quell any further suspicion in Irving. "Can you or can't you provide us with the funds we need?"

Irving's eyes twinkled with excitement, and his movements became quicker, almost childish.

"Of course, who do you think I am? I've been workin' in this business for most my life. I can get you the funds, no problemo," he said. His grin had returned, as he rubbed his hands together energetically. "But I'm bettin' that this project you two have your eyes set on is gonna require a pretty large source of dough, am I right?"

Excella glanced again at Wesker, who nodded in agreement. Irving chewed his lip thoughtfully, and cracked a few knuckles out of habit.

"I think I know a way to get you two what you want. The thing is, where you're at now, it ain't gonna work very well. I mean, I could get you the dough, but not in the quantities you're thinking of. It's just too difficult here in Europe, with Tricell's little sneaky eyes watchin' your every move."

"So? What do we do?"

"Africa. That's the best bet. The black market thrives there; you could sell hundreds of B.O.W.'s to the warlords and get filthy rich, and I guarantee you Tricell will not hear a thing. It's just too muddled, there in the jungle. Too many side deals and under the table shit, and Tricell ain't got the time to sort through all that junk."

"Africa?" Excella said, wrinkling her nose. "No one conducts research in that godforsaken continent. Why not just use my current laboratory? Couldn't you send the money to us?"

Irving shook his head. "It doesn't work that way. It's possible, but wiring so much money around is bound to get someone's attention. The research 'as to be conducted in Africa, where the money's at."

"Easy for you to say. We'd have to build an entire new center down there in order for us to start. That's completely ridiculous."

" About that…," Irving said, drawing out his words. He opened his mouth hesitantly to speak, but abruptly shut it again. His eyes flickered back and forth cautiously between the pair for a few seconds, before he leaned in closer and started speaking in a soft whisper.

"Listen. I've been digging through some of Tricell's databases, and I found some files that they've kept hidden. Apparently, the company owns some old research facility in Africa. This place called, Ki, ki-something." He snapped his fingers. "Kijaj? Kijuj?"

From the corner of her eye, Excella saw Wesker start violently upon hearing Irving's words. His body stiffened in sudden, apt attention, and she could see that his mind was racing wildly at the new information.

"The name's not that important," Irving said, waving the thought away. "It used to be owned by Umbrella, but after its fall, Tricell swooped in and picked it up. But it was too remote and they never found any need to put into use. It's just sittin' there right now. An entire research facility, empty and abandoned! Can you imagine that?"

"It used to be owned by Umbrella, you say?" Wesker said softly, as if he was having a hard time believing the words.

"Yes! And it's not some dinky little hut or something. It's a full research facility! The thing's gotta be several football fields long, and partially underground. I don't remember the exact numbers, but take my word for it; it's huge!" Irving motioned outward with his arms to emphasize the word.

Wesker seemed unable to contain himself with some type of emotion, and he fidgeted uncharacteristically as he listened.

"But that's not all," Irving continued. He had noticed Wesker's subtle excitement, and it drove him to an even more animated state. "Listen to this—my informants tell me that there's a whole fucking oil field within miles of the facility! An oil field!" Irving seemed about to fall off his seat in enthusiasm. It was obvious that he had been holding this information in secret for quite a while, and had been waiting for the right people to divulge it to.

"Oil?" Excella said disbelievingly. The whole thing sounded a bit too good to be true. "If there was an oil field down there, how come Tricell hasn't done anything? They should be all over the place by now."

The comment barely phased Irving, and he continued on without hesitation.

"The thing is, Umbrella knew the place was a gold mine, figuratively, of course. But they didn't want no one to know about the potential of the place. Didn't want to get the public's attention. So, they covered it up by saying the place ran dry decades ago. Drew up some fake documents and reports. But the locals know better. They say the place's practically leakin' oil. "

"I don't know if I'd trust some tribal savage over an official report," Excella said, still skeptical.

"It doesn't matter," Irving said with a nonchalant wave of his hand. "The facility itself is still valuable as hell, and it's perfect for what you two are planning. It's far from the eyes of Tricell, and is teemin' with cheap labor in the indigenous populations. And, if my sources are correct, if the oil fields ain't dry…"

Excella could almost imagine the man's pupils morph into dollar bill signs as he savored the idea.

"You're sure that it used to be owned by Umbrella?" Wesker interrupted. It seemed to Excella that he was still ruminating over that particular fact and wasn't quite caught up with the conversation yet. His face was twisted into a strange, agitated countenance that she found difficult to categorize.

"Yes, yes," Irving answered impatiently. "Used to be owned by Umbrella. I think it said that it was one of the pharmaceutical giant's first facilities, back in the 1900's. Of course, that would mean that most of the equipment there is out of date, so we'll have to budget some money in renovating the place to get it workin'—"

"Wait a minute," Excella cut in, before he could finish. "There's something we haven't discussed yet. How in the world are we supposed to convince Tricell to hand over an entire research facility to us? Or perhaps you think that by fluttering our eyelashes and making puppy dog eyes, they would just throw us the paperwork?"

Irving stared at Excella as if she was speaking a foreign language. "What do ya mean?"

"I don't know if you've heard, but I'm not exactly Tricell's favorite employee. They're not just going to give me the facility to use."

"Oh. Y-you don't think you can persuade them?"

"Maybe in time, but not now. I don't have the authority or the leverage for that. You'd have to be at least, I don't know, head of the division to make those kinds of decision. And I'm sure the current one doesn't give a damn about me or my research."

"We can do it." Wesker's voice sounded unusually strained, as if he was forcing himself to mask any sign of emotion. However, it was obvious to Excella that something in their conversation has strongly piqued the man's interest, and he was just barely containing his excitement. It was strange to see his usual, taciturn demeanor disappear and replace itself with a kind of boiling agitation. "Like you said. We just need time."

"Time to do what?"

"Time to move up Tricell's ladder and get close to the top." In a flash, Wesker was suddenly up close to Excella, his face right next to hers. "Didn't I promise you, Excella? With my help you will get to the higher ups. Maybe even become a division head yourself."

"Have you gone mad?" Excella said, unnerved at Wesker's sudden enthusiasm. "It would take decades to get enough influence to become the head of a Tricell division. That's not something that happens overnight."

"That's what I'm here for," Wesker answered. "With my research and data, I can make you known in Tricell. Soon the board of directors will be clambering all over themselves to give us that facility. I can make it happen."

"Right. And say I become division head," Excella said, rolling her eyes. "Then what?"

"Then we get this abandoned center, and the freedom to do whatever we want with it," Wesker paused for a second here, before leaning in closer and whispering directly into her ear. "Think about it, Excella. Not only is the place rich with resources and far away from Tricell, with you as head of the Africa division, no one would even think of questioning our work. I'd have complete freedom to conduct my research there and you— you would be what you've always wanted to be: the most influential woman in the company. "

"This is ridiculous," Excella muttered. True, becoming a division head at Tricell was far more that she had ever dreamt of, but how in the world could he possibly imagine getting her into a position like that? It was a pipe dream, a fantasy….a fantasy from a man who has been consistently analytic, scheming, and cool-headed throughout their short relationship. She pursed her lips.

Wesker straightened up and faced Irving.

"However, we'll need some extra funding right now. If we can create a convincing enough project and present it to Tricell, they might be persuaded enough to give us the facility."

"I can work that out. You have some old, defunct strands of the T-virus? If I sell them right, I can get some black market buyers interested. Those fucking terrorists will pay anything to get their hands on some of that stuff, even if the damn thing barely even works."

"I'll send you some samples."

"Sounds good," Irving said with a nod. "Though, um…pardon my curiosity, but what type of 'convincing' project do you have planned? I mean, whatever it is, its really gonna have to 'wow' Tricell's board of directors, ya know what I mean?

"The Las Plagas."

"They've already done research on the Plagas before," Excella said impatiently. She was getting annoyed. What was Wesker thinking, going on about this crazy notion of his? Excella Gionne, head of division at Tricell? No matter how she stretched her mind, it still seemed impossible, especially in the short timeframe Wesker was proposing. "Tricell doesn't think it's very useful, not without a full control plaga sample, which no one has been able to procure—"

"I can make it better," Wesker cut in. "I can improve the Plaga, with the subordinate sample I have. With some severe modifications and time, it can theoretically be controlled. If we succeed, we don't need the control sample at all. Excella, you can present Tricell with the preliminary data, predicted success rates, a rough layout of the research, maybe even a sample product. Once they see it, they will be throwing you research facilities left and right."

Excella scoffed. She wasn't buying it. She'd seen the men at Tricell, she knew first-hand what they were like. They'd shoot her down the minute word got out that she was aiming for division head. It just wasn't possible. And if they rejected the idea, which they would, she would be the laughing stock of the entire company for the rest of her life.

"You're delusional," she muttered under her breath.

"Well, your lady-friend there doesn't seem so sure about this," Irving said to Wesker with a wry smile. "But hey! I can't get any worse than I am, so I'm willin' to give it a try. I'll help you two out, but….BUT. Say you succeed and get that facility…I want in on the dough you rake up. I want that oil, capisce?"

"Of course," Wesker answered softly, in an unusually gentle voice that sent goose bumps up Excella's arm. Irving paled drastically, and for a moment, Excella expected him to dive out the door and run away, like a hunted rabbit fleeing for its life. Instead, he swallowed hard, stood up and brushed the dust off his cheap jacket.

"W-well then, looks like we're done h-here. I gotta get back to work, or else the idiot out there's gonna get suspicious and rat me out. You two can find your way out, right?"

Wesker nodded, but Excella remained sitting in her chair, arms crossed and unmoving.

"Alright-y then. Uh…guess I'll be going. I'll see you around. Contact me whenever you need to," Irving muttered nervously, before he edged out the door and disappeared into the hallway.


Excella didn't say anything until the door closed behind Irving.

"Sei pazzo," she muttered. "This idea of yours. Preposterous. I can't go through with it. Did you ever think about how it's me who has to do the talking? That it's me who has to face those senile old men and see their snickering faces when I tell them that I want a new facility, or become the head of the Africa division? You know how much of a laughing stock I'll be? I have the reputation of the Gionne family to keep and I've been in this business long enough to know that this is not going to work. I'm sorry Albert, but I'm not going through with this."

"You don't believe that I can improve the Las Plagas? Is that it?" His voice was soft, emotionless.

"I don't think it's enough to persuade them. I hate to pierce your idealistic bubble, but they're stubborn fools, the whole lot of them. Even an amazing research achievement like you propose won't sway them enough to give me that facility." She was frustrated. Frustrated at him for his naivety in the matter, and frustrated at herself for wanting for it all to be true. It was tempting, his talk of division heads and giant research facilities, yet she knew that it would only end in failure. Her failure.

"You don't trust my plans."

"How am I supposed to?" she snapped. "Has it ever occurred to you that I don't even know what you plan to do with that facility? I don't even know what this whole 'research' you talk about it supposed to be. You told me on that balcony that this would be partnership. And last I heard, a partnership involves the mutual sharing of information."

"I've helped you so far. Is that not enough?" he asked. It surprised her that he didn't seem the slightest bit angry at her accusations. Excella even thought she spied a slightly amused grin on the corners of his mouth, which only annoyed her even more.

"I know you've helped me. You've given me so much in the past few months, more than I could possibly have imagined. But I don't jump into things that I know are not going to work out. And this, this is one of those things. I might as well be throwing myself to the wolves if I do what you say. And besides, what's so special about that particular facility? Why can't you just settle for something else?"

"The facility is special," Wesker said. His voice had changed abruptly into a flat monotone and the shadow of a smile had disappeared. "It's perfect for what I plan to do."

"You mean this 'oh-so-special project' that you haven't told me about?" Excella sneered. "How do you expect me to put myself out on the line for some endeavor that I know nothing about?"

In the back of her mind, Excella knew that she was probably forcing his patience, but her sudden flurry of frustration has temporarily nullified the thought. Now, however, a sudden flash of memory reminded her of the parking lot where they had first met. A flash of black, a spurt of blood, and those bodyguards had been ripped apart with his bare hands. And she could see those hands now, gloved, as usual, adjusting the blond's sunglasses for the umpteenth time. Excella suddenly regretted her words.

Wesker stepped forward so that they were just inches apart.

"So," he said quietly, almost in a whisper. "You want to know what I'm up to, is that it?"

"N-no, well...," Excella floundered. Her earlier rage had dissipated completely with his proximity, and little shivers of fear were crawling up her spine. "I'm just not sure about this. I don't think it's going to work, and I don't want to take the risk." She struggled to keep her voice under control, and resisted the urge to step away from the man. She could almost imagine it, his hands grabbing hold of her neck and twisting. A quick crack and she'd be dead before she knew it.

To her surprise, Wesker only let out a long, uncharacteristic sigh.

"I understand," he said. "I know it must be difficult for you to do this, but, you've got to understand Excella—" he put his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eyes—"I need you. I can't accomplish anything without you. You're the key to everything."

Excella was so astonished at his sudden change of attitude that she found herself at a loss of words. She could see her own gaping mouth from the reflection of his sunglasses.

He continued speaking despite her silence, his voice so soft and low that she had to strain her ears to hear.

"I promise I'll let you know everything, in due time. We'll be partners…maybe even more than that. But for now, Excella. You have to trust me and do what I say. I know what I'm doing. But I can't do it without you."

His words were soothing, almost hypnotic, and Excella had to repeat them in her mind several times before they sank in. When they did however, she suddenly became aware of his hands for the first time, and shook them off her shoulders in shock.

Some little voice in the back of her head was screaming out a warning, telling her to leave now, and get as far away from the man as she possibly could. But one look at his face shut off the alarms going off in her mind. He looked so sincere. So…earnest. Never before would she have imagined such a face on that man, but there it was. Was it just a façade? Perhaps this was the true Albert Wesker?

Partnershe had said. Maybe even more…

She shook her head once in an attempt to clear her head and think properly, before looking up once more at the blond.

"How important is it that you get this facility?"

"Very."

It was Excella's turn to sigh, and she rubbed her temples tiredly. She felt like she had just woken up from a long afternoon nap. Everything felt so muddled; she wasn't sure what to think anymore.

"I don't…," she started, but then she caught a glimpse of Wesker and the words stuck in her mouth. For a second, she saw a glance of what seemed like hope, if it could even be described that way, on the man's face. She could almost see the blazing ambition in his eyes piercing through the dark lenses. Wesker wanted the facility, and he needed it. She had no idea why the research center was so important, but she knew without a doubt that it was vital to his plans.

It's a partnership, Excella reasoned with herself. He helps me, I help him. Of course, the acquirement of an entire research center was no small accomplishment, and if she could manage it, well, it would be infinitely more prestigious than the small, compact laboratory she overlooked now. And if in fact he was telling the truth, that absurd notion that he could make her a division head… Mutual interests, she told herself again. I'm helping him because it helps me. It's for my own benefit.

That's right. I'm doing this for myself.

But in some small corner of her heart she knew that it wasn't true, despite how many times she repeated it.

"Alright, you win. And not because…of anything. I will get what I want right? I'll be a division head of Tricell, correct?"

"I swear."

"But don't get any ideas. I still want to know what you're planning with all this."

"You will know in due time."

"Luckily for you," Excella said, as she started walking towards the exit. "There's a Tricell conference in two month. All the big shots will be there. It'll be a perfect chance to present the new Las Plagas. Can you get it finished by then?"

"Yes, if Irving can get me the materials I need soon enough. I've already done some preliminary work on the topic. I'll need to use your current facility, of course."

Excella nodded. "I'll tell the staff that you're the new head research manager. They won't question me about it."

They made their way outside, back into the salty air and weed covered path. Silently, Excella walked towards her limousine parked on the dirt path. She couldn't hear Wesker behind her, but she knew he was there, following.

They had almost reached the car, when Excella suddenly felt a steely hand on her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks.

"Excella…," he said.

She turned around to face him.

"I meant what I said in there. When I saw you back at that fundraiser, that first time, I knew that you were special. That's why I chose you," he said. "What I have planned is something bigger than anything you can imagine. And when I succeed I want you right there by my side."

"Succeed…?" Excella started to ask, but was cut short when Wesker placed one gloved finger over her lips.

"You'll see in time," he said softly. "But for now…just trust me."

Excella started to answer, but when she looked up at him and saw the confidence and surety in his face, she didn't know what to say. Instead she turned away, confused and flustered, and walked hurriedly back towards the vehicle, clutching her fur shawl protectively around her as she went.


She had her back turned the whole time, and as a result, didn't catch the sneer on Wesker's face as he watched her go. He stood there for a second, observing, like a hawk watching its prey from a distance, before moving on and following her down the path.