Author: Chapter 7.
Chapter 7:
Angered 'God' of the Ex-S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team!
A short route was all it took to reach the lowest basement level of the facility. All it had required were feet to walk with, at a brisk pace, and an elevator to get him to the floor he needed. The stairs would have been better, but this man was in no mood for the joys he occasionally obtained from walking up or down the stairs.
Albert Wesker was in a dangerous mood, one that he had been in ever since he received the phone call concerning Chris and his team from his ally, Trace. Christopher had caused a commotion at a lab on the east coast, his team of misfit rogues skewering the facility for anything to help them in their little 'quest' to get rid of all of the remaining Umbrella labs. But the Lab they had broken into was not Umbrella's. It was SEMI's. Chris knew not of Wesker still living and Wesker hoped to keep it that way. He didn't need that measly human on his track again.
Thankfully the Tare Laboratory, located in Virginia, was mainly focused on DNA coding and recoding, biology and a bit of chemistry. It was almost laughable, really, except that he had been informed of something darker. A scientist had been at the facility, his knowledge of the A-Virus extremely high. Chris and the others had managed to capture him and had probably 'dealt' with the rest of the employees at that lab. No doubt they had been killed. This infuriated Wesker.
"I'll make you regret the day you decided to go against me, Christopher!" He could hear his past-self saying to Chris after their earlier confrontation, which had been in a smaller lab in Mississippi years ago when Umbrella had still been around.
"There's nothing to regret, Wesker." Chris had replied. "Except not killing you sooner."
He stormed out of the elevator, making his way down a hall, past all the current workers, who shied away from the negative waves of energy he was throwing off. They knew he was in a bad mood. It could easily be told by his clenched teeth, fisted hands, the dark manner by which he walked and his quick pace.
He shook his head quickly as some meager male scientist tried to speak to him, his words falling on deaf ears. He had no time for incompetent human weaklings at the moment. He vanished behind a set of double doors, into one of his 'Silent Chambers', which was basically like the training room. He always went here to work off built up pressure or to release some steam.
He quickly changed into more appropriate clothing for his practice. He picked a blank area, a small place set close to the back, meant for duels or spars. He eased back into the state of calm that he associated with preparing for the practice.
He picked a stance and slid into it, his body slightly crouched, his left hand extended out, palm forward, and his right hand halfway hidden behind his back, meant for protecting his back if an opponent figured it the best spot to attack. He began.
He performed a few basic movements, mostly; a combo'd punch ending with a kick upwards towards the jaw line of an average man's chin if he were in front of him, a sweep kick with such force as to break the feet of those unfortunate to face him, and a few reflex motions.
Three hours slid by and he hadn't even broken a sweat. He had managed to work off his anger and frustration. He decided to call it a day and head back to the labs to get some work done. He changed back into his normal clothes, his usual black outfit and trademark sunglasses. He pushed them gently up his nose, shielding his sensitive eyes.
He strode out of the darkened room, making his way up to the labs to continue his latest project; creating something similar to the Ani-A, but far more potent, for a longer time period hopefully. He took the stairs up, his signature smirk now present on his face.
He began to wonder who the scientist had been. His contact had only said that a scientist was taken, but never mentioned a name. Did Trace even know who? He faintly remembered Trace's words, spoken over the phone:
"Hello?" He answered his vibrating phone, holding it to his left ear.
"Wesker, bad news. The lab on the northern tip of Virginia had been found in complete chaos earlier today. I'm up here with Remae Rodder, right now, with a cleanup crew, scanning it for info as to what happened.. We checked the sensors and data base on a still-working computer. Video camera feed showed that the attack had been placed by Chris Redfield and his little group. They took a scientist who had been here, one with high knowledge of the A-Virus. Your orders, sir?" Trace's tone was empty, void of any emotion. He had always been good with hiding his feelings behind that bloody camo mask of his.
Wesker was silent for a moment, the wheels in his head grinding to an abrupt halt. "Christopher?"
"Yes, sir." The man answered.
"Check the lab thoroughly and get it cleaned up. Thankfully there are no B.O.W.'s to fuss over. If the lab is too far gone to salvage, then dispose of it with the self destruct sequence. Understood?" Wesker stated in his cool voice, his face just as empty as the man who had delivered this news to him.
"Right away, sir." The line ended and he slid his phone back into his pocket. He visibly seethed with rage.
He shook his head, discarding the thought of that message from his mind. No need to get upset over spilled milk. He just hoped that Trace and Remae could clean up the mess, or completely erase it if necessary.
He sighed, his feet taking him into his private office at this lab, a small area hidden inside four sturdy concrete walls. There were no windows at all because he was underground. No point in looking at dirt, rocks and whatever else lay beneath the earth's crust in this area.
He sat at his desk, his mind shifting to the reports that had been thrown on his desk earlier that week. He picked it up carefully, his golden red eyes scanning the words carefully.
"So.. We have another S.T.A.R.S.-like team, eh? I wonder how this.. R.A.S.P. Team would fair in the near future. I doubt they would prove as skillful as the Raccoon S.T.A.R.S. did back during the Spencer Mansion incident..." His words trailed off as he remembered that night, always fresh on his mind when he thought of S.T.A.R.S. again.
He shook off the memories of his old team. He would deal with the survivors soon enough, possibly. Only Chris Redfield, Jill Valentine, Rebecca Chambers and Barry Burton had lived through that ordeal, not counting himself, plus they now had Billy Coen, Leon S. Kennedy, and the ever lovely Claire Redfield, survivors from the Raccoon City accident, all of whom were much older now.
Somehow they kept working their way into his field of play, disrupting and causing him more problems, costing him money that could be spent on more important things, but no matter.
Soon he would erase them forever, like a terribly long nightmare, finally coming to an end.
'Soon, Chris. Not even you will stand in my way.'