The elevator door opened and the team split up, one group turning left, the other turning right. Both groups took another left and right respectively, as the elevator faced out away from the researcher's office; they had to "turn around" to face the entrance to it.

They walked along the metal catwalk, towards the only brown, wooden doors they'd seen in the entire building, an indication of the user of the room's importance.

If there were any concerns as to whether or not this was Sharpe's office they were quickly dispersed as they all spotted the plat above the doors that read "Chief researcher: Kathleen Sharpe."

The trip here had been a quick, and mostly uneventful one. Though of course the other scientists had seen them, none would be able to get to the security office in time, and even when they did, they would realize that there were two corpses inside, that the door to it could not be opened, and that the other security guards were spread out across the premises.

"One must love the flaws and stupidities of the human mind; they are so easy to manipulate to your liking." Wesker thought as two men formed on each door and the man in front on both sides pushed it open, the other immediately rushing in behind them and heading down one of the two short halls to search for the doctor. Both were followed by their respective backups and Wesker walked calmly in behind them, letting the draws drift closed and gazing at the large plaque on the short wall between the two halls.

A commemoration plaque was on the wall, labeling Sharpe, by the company which owned the B.B.R.C., Orion Dynamics, its most valued researcher. In the small amount of time Wesker had had since his "recovery", he had heard about how she'd pushed to have such a plaque made, even though Orion would not normally give out such marks of importance.

"How pitiful; to have an intellect like hers and still be such a narcissistic old fool."

"She's here, in the lab!" Tanner spoke loudly to make sure everyone could hear him, as Wesker's attention altered from the plaque.

"So easy to manipulate." He thought once more, walking down the right hall as he heard the others in the office coming their way as well.

Most of the room was like a large semi-circle, and had shelves and shelves neatly covered with samples, except for one spot, its vacant place was slightly to the left of the experiment table which the doctor stood behind.

She wasn't aging particularly well, though then again, she was in her sixties, so there was no reason to expect a human would still be desirable in appearance at that point in their life.

Sharpe was holding a small handgun in one hand, and in the other… a vial of the T-virus.

The rest of the team were aiming their weapons at her; they all knew more or less what it did, and had no intentions of becoming infected.

"Go cover the doors, and put your gas masks on." He instructed them.

All of them showed at least minor surprise, except for Boyd, whose face and eyes remained as solemn as ever.

"If you want to send us away so that you can act on your own-" Dalca began, but he didn't get the chance to finish.

"That's an order." He added.

These men weren't rookies; they didn't whine as they left the room to cover the entrance, but they certainly didn't enjoy it.

"That's unfortunate for them." He thought in passing.

"Now then…"

"Kathleen Sharpe, I presume?" He asked, taking a step into the room.

"That's chief researcher or doctor Sharpe to you, and that's quite far enough." She spoke, aiming the gun at the vial of T-Virus.

"Quite a desperate move, doctor; why are you acting so rashly?"

"Don't play with me. I know that you've come here for me and my creation."

A laugh spilled from his throat, though it was muffled by his closed mouth as he looked at her through the sunglasses he always wore.

"You? What makes you think I'm here for you? It's your invention my employers seek, not its inventor."

"Nonsense! I know they want to steal me away to some shamble of a lab in the heart of South America or something along those lines." She spoke, her eyes narrowing in both suspicion and agitation.

"You overestimate yourself, doctor. The only reason you developed 'your' virus is because of the material that was recently recovered from the rubble of a disaster."

Her eyes drew narrower and lost much of the agitation, replacing the emotion with confusion as her hands shook slightly.

"You… how do you know about something like that?"

"The material is here, isn't it?"

The doctor showed hesitation, but her weapon did not stray from the vial.

"Even if it were or is, you have greater things to be concerned about." She spoke calmly, obviously trying to regain control of the situation.

"And what would they be?"

"Myself, and this virus. I've already been given the vaccine before; I'm immune to it. How about you and your team though? Do you really think gas masks will keep them from succumbing to the after-effects of the virus?"

Wesker's grin grew in amusement as he stepped over to the long, slightly curved table nearby him and picked up a sample's test tube, gazing at it.

"You should know, doctor; plans motivated by desperation are rarely well thought-out or successful. Or at the very least…" He spoke, placing the test tube back in its place.

"Those that develop the desperate ideas very rarely survive."

"You don't scare me."

Despite the statement, he could see the woman's hands beginning to shake more; they were not trembling, but she was losing the confidence she'd begun the conversation with.

"I can assure your survival, however, if you cooperate."

"And why should I believe your words? Even if I did want to cooperate?"

"Because, if you want to live, you really have no other choice. I am immune to the T-Virus as well, and my team's gas masks will allow them to survive the initial infection. Past that, a few zombies are no issue whatsoever, let alone when we have high, unreachable vantage points from which to shoot them."

"You aren't really so foolish as to think the only things being produced are your so-called zombies do you?"

"Miss Sharpe, I have dealt with many bioweapons in the past; from Tyrant models to Cerberuses, to hunters, to lickers… they're all the same to me; they're all just trash to clean up. Trash you have to make sure doesn't get on your shoes."

"My bioweapons are far superior to those relics! I have more research data, greater resources, and a far superior mind to those other two hacks!"

Wesker's grin drew up more into a smirk as the "smart" woman realized she'd had a "slip of the tongue".

"You honestly believe that you're more intelligent than both William Birkin and Alexia Ashford?" He asked, having learned of her inferiority complex that developed with them when first the G, and then T-Veronica viruses were created by Birkin and Ashford respectively.

"You're damn right I am!" She yelled, foregoing her attempts at class retorts.

"That fool Birkin injected himself with his own virus because he'd been too stubborn to let the company he was working for have it, ultimately becoming a mindless monster killed beneath the streets of Raccoon City! Ashford meanwhile, took the T-Veronica virus into herself and then reawakened when her twin was killed, only to be killed herself by Chris Redfield."

Wesker lost his smirk, and his mouth delved into a seemingly unreachable frown.

Sharpe obviously noticed this and continued.

"That girl's death bothered you hm? Well it might make you somewhat happier to realize that the very virus I created was wasted on returning her to life."

His brows drew in slightly, his interest piqued.

"Unfortunately for the both of you, the virus and her are going to be destroyed by me soon enough; I'm not about to give my life's work over to anyone!"

His facial features returned to normal, though he still frowned.

"You plan to destroy both of those things?"

"I don't plan to; I will."

"I see." Wesker remarked, walking a few feet to the left, gazing at nothing in particular. However, it drew Sharpe's interest.

"That changes things."

It was her turn to show her confusion.

"What do you me-"

*Bang! Bang!*

The shots rang out not an instant after he'd drawn his gun from its holster, one hitting the doctor between the eyes, the other shooting the T-Virus vial.

Her mouth slumped first, and then she dropped both the gun and the vial, breaking what had been left intact after the bullet shot through it. The rest of the woman's body followed thereafter, and she disappeared behind the table.

"Foolish old bat; I don't have the slightest care in the world as to the welfare of that woman. But do not mention Chris Redfield's name around me, or that is the cost you pay." He told the corpse in his usual tone, his grin returning as he spun his handgun and then put it back in its holster.