Hey folks! Well, here it is—the long awaited chapter :P I don't have much to say except that this chapter will set the stage for the mansion ^^ but we'll cross that bridge when we get there. :D Plenty of Wesker/Birkin goodness, here :D
My drabble story titled, The People in My Life will be updated regularly, so be on the lookout for updates.
A big thanks to all my reviewers and all those who have favorited/followed! Enjoy!
Here Lies the Truth
Claire scrolled through her text messages, taking note of the last message she'd received from Greg, which was almost a week ago. At first, she thought nothing of it, deciding he was probably mad at her for some unknown reason and the best way to deal with her was to cut off any contact. Yeah, that might've been credible for the first two, maybe three days, but Claire began to worry, surprisingly. It wasn't like Greg not to text her; he would always send at least a dozen texts before she started class every day and even those were too much. But now…it was all just—what was the word?—different? Weird? Quiet? Hell, any one of those words could fill in the blank.
Claire's hand flinched at the phone's sudden vibration. It was Chris calling. She sat up in bed and pressed send. "Hello?"
"Claire, are you at home?"
She raised a brow. "Y-yeah. Why? Is something wrong?"
There was a brief moment of silence that made Claire's throat tighten up in anxiety. A sigh came through before Chris spoke again. "We need you to come down to the station. I-" A silent curse echoed into the earpiece. "Look, I'll explain what happened when you get here. Please hurry. And be careful."
The line went dead.
Claire nearly broke the door off its hinges as she stumbled into the STARS office. Chris hopped off his desk, seemingly glad to see Claire, until he remembered why she had come in the first place, and then frowned, creasing his brows. He looked disturbed.
"What's going on?" Claire asked, and when Chris didn't answer she looked around at Brad, Jill, Joseph, and then landed on Chris again. "Chris? Why does everyone look like someone died?"
"Someone did," came Wesker's deep voice from behind. Claire spun around to see the Alpha captain enter the office with Barry right behind. He kept his eyes down as he shut the door. Claire searched Barry's face and then Wesker's.
"What do you mean, Wesker?" Wesker said nothing right away, and this pissed off Claire the more she stared at her own reflection in the black lenses. She lunged forward and grabbed ahold of his tactical vest, barely managing to pull him towards her. Wesker did nothing but stare, retaining his usual calmness as Claire gave him a few shakes.
"What happened, Wesker, huh?! Tell me!"
"Claire!" Chris reached out to grab his sister, but was halted by Wesker's hand towards him. The captain didn't take his eyes off Claire as he waved Chris back.
"Two days ago, we received a call from Greg's parents, telling us that he hadn't returned home," Wesker began, keeping his tone neutral as he watched Claire's face slowly fall. "Now normally, we have to wait twenty-four hours before we begin our search for a missing person, but considering the circumstances of his mental health, we decided not to take any chances."
"What mental health?" Claire demanded.
"He was easily depressed—couldn't bear the thought of being alone, so he always made sure he was in contact with someone; according to his parents, he attempted suicide twice."
"There's no fuckin' way—" Claire stopped, eyes widening in realization as she thought about Greg's unusual behavior.
No wonder he always wanted to hang out.
"Around 1:34 this morning, we found his car near the Arklay Mountains— empty, but, oddly, with the keys still in the ignition. Several K-9 units were dispatched to search the area thoroughly, but, unfortunately, they came up empty-handed, with the exception of this…" He held his arm out to Barry, who gave him a bag that was labeled, "Evidence." Inside were the tattered remnants of Greg's shirt, coated with bloodstains down to the frayed ends.
He had to have been attacked.
"No body was found," Wesker continued, handing the bag to Claire for her to see. "We can assume," he gave a nod, "given the evidence in your hand, that he was either attacked or…"Wesker shrugged, letting Claire fill in the rest. She looked from Wesker to the bag in disbelief. Suicide? No, not him. Fuck what the parents said. "He was pronounced dead around 6:34 this morning."
Claire shook her head. No, she thought. It can't be. Her eyes began to water to the brim of her lids and pooled over, sliding down her cheeks and onto the floor. She gave a sigh and began to sob, pulling Wesker closer and burying her face into his chest. Without warning, Claire pulled her fist back and punched Wesker in the stomach. He released a short breath of air and took a few steps back, but Claire refused to let him go. She pulled back for another, but Wesker held her at arm's length.
"You fuckin' asshole! You 're just gonna give up looking, because you found his shirt?! How could you?! He could be dying out there!"
"Claire, stop it!" Chris grabbed his squirming sister from behind, struggling until he successfully wrapped his arms across her chest, pinning her arms to her sides. "Calm down," he warned. Claire stopped her squirming, but kept her eyes on Wesker, breathing heavily as the adrenaline burned through her brain.
"I understand how you must feel, Miss Redfield—"
"No you don't!" she growled. "You don't care about anybody but yourself."
"I said calm down," Chris said as he squeezed tighter. "Ok? Are you listening?" Claire gave a short nod. "Alright. I think we need some fresh air—"
"I don't want to go outside, Chris."
"How about the cafeteria? You want a soda? Huh? C'mon…let's get a soda and chill out, OK?" Claire's eyes shot down in thought, away from Wesker, until she nodded. "Good. I'm gonna let you go now…promise me you won't go hitting the captain…"
She looked at Wesker, fire still burning in her eyes. "I promise," she said dryly. Chris released her and carefully pulled the evidence bag from her grip.
"Let's go, then." He let Claire lead, and when they passed Wesker, she didn't look up at him. Chris, however, mouthed a "sorry" as he passed Wesker and gave the bag to Barry before leaving.
"You know she doesn't mean it, Captain," Barry said, crinkling the bag in his hands. "Girls that age are…"he looked around the room as if the word he sought would come out of hiding. "…very fragile. They can break very easily."
Doesn't that apply to all women? Wesker almost wanted to smile. Almost. "I suppose a man that lives in a house full of females would know what that's like, hm?" Wesker looked down at his vest and resisted touching Claire's near-dry tears. "I don't take it personally. I'm sure she must've felt strongly for that boy…"
Even in death, the thought of him puts a bitter taste in my mouth.
"I'll speak with her again once she has calmed down. I don't need another Redfield trying to pummel me into the ground out of spite." He nodded to the bag. "Take that down to evidence and make sure everything is accounted for."
"Sure, Captain." Barry turned on his heel and exited the office. Wesker ran a hand through his hair and turned to the rest of his team.
"I'm going to step out for a while. Let Barry know he's in charge until I return. My cell is on if you need to reach me."
Before anyone had a chance to respond, Wesker had already gone.
Claire crushed the empty can of soda in her hand, keeping her eyes on the table as Chris lectured her…again.
"…was just doing his job, Claire. You didn't need to attack him. What he did was all part of protocol, and he even broke it because he was your friend. He wanted to find out what happened to Greg, but Wesker can only do so much. If something comes up later on, you'll be the first to know."
Claire sighed, having finally calmed down. "I know, Chris. I shouldn't have hit Wesker; that was very wrong of me. It's not his fault all this shit happened. Like you said, he was just doing his job." She shook her head in shame. "I feel like an ass, you know that? I guess I was just so caught up with everything…and then the way he told me…no emotion whatsoever…" She bit back oncoming tears and turned away.
Chris laid a hand on his sister's. "That's how Wesker is, Claire. He takes his job very seriously. Sure, he might've been a robot back there, but deep down, he's feeling your pain—he feels it even more than you, because he doesn't know how to mend it."
Claire raised a brow. "Are we still talking about the same Wesker? Your captain, right?"
Chris smiled. "Ok, that might've been a little much, but you get what I'm saying…he has to fill sympathy or pity, or something like that; he's just not showing it. He just has to be strong for everyone who puts their faith in him."
Claire looked to the crushed can in her grip and gave a couple nods in understanding. Wesker didn't want to see her cry or feel any pain for Greg's death, but she had the right to know about it; it wasn't Wesker's fault that she nearly broke down in front of everyone. Claire mentally cursed.
Well, that shit was embarrassing.
"Are you feeling well enough to go home, now?" Chris asked as he placed a hand on Claire's shoulder. She nodded, standing when Chris motioned for her to follow.
"So, how is our little friend today?" Wesker asked as he eyed the glass tank holding the new Tyrant within.
The sound of a pen scratching against paper sounded as William recorded its vitals. "Oh, you know, he's just floating around." He crossed over to Wesker and handed him a clipboard with a few sheets of data attached. "Everything seems normal. He hasn't been hostile or anything, but he's twitched a few times in the last…" he eyed the clock on the wall, "…what, half-hour or so? Other than that he's just been…well, floating around." He chuckled and ruffled his messy bangs.
"Good." Wesker scanned the data and handed it back to William, turning his attention back on the Tyrant. "They're looking for him," he muttered, absentmindedly.
"Who? The RPD?" Wesker nodded. "Pffft. Well, unless they can make it through those woods without getting lost, they'll have a hard time reaching this facility, and even then they wouldn't find us-er, him." William sat the data on a lab table and leaned back, crossing his arms. "How did the girl take it?"
Wesker raised his eyebrows in surprise, leaning back against the table as well; he regarded William with a confused expression. "The girl? Whatever do you mean?"
William snorted. "C'mon, Al. A hidden motive always accompanies your actions. You must've had a good reason for using this particular boy for our experiment. Perhaps a little jealousy? I mean really, he was good-looking, healthy, had a rough-edge attitude on him…sure he cried until the bitter end, but…"
"But what?" Wesker inquired further.
William furrowed his brows. "But why him? We don't use subjects like him. Everyone we've ever experimented on had something wrong with them, be it physically, mentally—"
"He had depression. He would've killed himself anyway. How's that for 'mentally'?" Wesker's expression went to its usual hardness. "And there was no girl. We just did him a favor."
"Was that your idea of showing mercy?"
Wesker curled his lip in irritation. "Mercy? No. The T-Virus killing him would have been mercy. This," he gestured to the Tyrant, "was the result of our cruelty."
William sat upright, baffled. "Our cruelty? I didn't bring him here, Al."
"But your hand never faltered when it came down to experimenting, did it? The virus entered his bloodstream very quickly, if I do remember." Wesker bared his teeth, almost ready to bite the younger blonde's head off. "And since when did you decide to shed a tear for this hopeless creature, William? This is all sport for you."
William searched Wesker's face in disbelief. "I might've been excited when this Tyrant was created, but I do not find joy or, rather, satisfaction, in doing this for, what you call, sport." He put a hand to his chest. "I am a scientist, first and foremost, and my life is dedicated to research not subjecting people to such utter torture in order to purposely amuse myself. I am not you, Albert."
"Well, then, unplug the fucking thing, for God's sake! I could really care less, William." He pointed a finger dangerously at his friend. "You have something else coming if you think you can pin this on me."
William put his hands up in defense. "I never said I was pinning this on you, Al." He sighed. "Look, I'm sorry…I-I just…I don't do this for sport…you make me sound like a monster." William rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath that sounded as though he was sobbing. "I just haven't slept in God knows how long, a-and I haven't seen Annette or Sherry…" He looked at Wesker with watery eyes. "I'm so close to perfecting G I can taste it, Al." He slapped one of his opened palms. "It's right there—right smack in the middle. I just need a little more time…"
Wesker resisted the urge to scratch his head in confusion. If the captain didn't know any better, he could guess that William was near a mental breakdown; judging by his argument he had tried to better Wesker in, he had a loose screw somewhere in that overworked brain of his. For one thing, William never complained about the subjects, unless, of course, their DNA couldn't handle the virus, which resulted in complete failure and termination of the subject.
Wesker would have to add another tally for William's odd behavior.
The Alpha captain ran a hand through his hair. "William. Is that what this is about?" William hesitated to reply. "Well? Is it or not?"
"Yes…and no."
"What do you mean yes and no?" Wesker growled, pulling William forward by the collar. "I'm not here to solve a riddle. Start talking."
"Y-you want the truth?"
"No, I'm holding you in a threatening matter just to admire your eyes."
"It's about you, Al."
Wesker pulled him closer. "Spit. It. Out," he warned.
William tried to see Wesker's eyes from behind his shades. To his dismay, it was futile. "Do you remember a few months back, when we talked about enhancing human cells, to perfect them to a point where they wouldn't be considered human anymore?"
Wesker's anger started to dissolve. He raised a brow. "I might recall something along those lines. Why?"
William swallowed, bracing himself. "Well, when we finished our discussion regarding this theory, I took it upon myself to 'detour,' if you will, and put aside my G experiments to further research in, what I'd like to call, my Prototype Virus." Wesker's grip loosened slightly. "You see, unlike the T-Virus the Prototype Virus doesn't turn you into a brainless ghoul. Instead, it enhances the cells to perfection—increasing cell division by 200%, which means any damage done to the body will regenerate as though it never occurred. Unfortunately, other than regeneration and reanimation, I didn't have enough time to test for other side-effects or abilities, nor did I have the privilege to test on humans. For all we know, this virus could have a totally different effect compared to the animals."
"Let us infer, then, that if a stray bullet were to pass through my brain—from the frontal to occipital lobes, for example—I would not sustain any damage physically or mentally as a result, correct?"
"Gee, I don't know. During the rat trials, I left my Uzi at home." William shook his head. "Didn't I just say the time allotted wasn't enough to test on humans? Look, all I can tell you is that the body is able to regenerate any physical damage and reanimate, should the unfortunate host die from God knows what. Anything else is up in the air."
Wesker's fingers slipped from the other's lab coat. He tilted his head to the side, absorbing all the information William had fed him, and smirked. "Then it's only right that I become the first human to be tested on."
William looked down and then at the Tyrant. "No, Al. I can't let you do that. It's far too risky."
Wesker couldn't help but chuckle. "Oh? Do I need a permission slip first?"
William's face turned a light pink as he scrunched it in anger. "This isn't funny, Wesker! You could die, you selfish bastard!" William threw a jab, only to have his arm twisted behind him until his back was against Wesker's chest.
"Then why bring it up?" Wesker growled, hot breath searing William's ear. "If this virus has the potential to kill me, why bother telling me about it?"
"Because," William uttered, despite his pain, "I figured you would want to test it on other people—your enemies, not yourself. I-I already told you the results for testing on humans are unknown, so for all we know, the virus might cause you to mutate instead."
"Mutate?"
William struggled against Wesker's brute strength. "Yes, just like the T-Virus. That's the catch. Look what happened to that young man—he became a Tyrant. And what were the odds, hm? What, one in one-hundred, Al? Everyone else before him either died or reanimated to become a brainless fiend."
"Let me put your pitiful speculations at ease, then. I won't mutate, William—"
"You don't know that!" William shouted. "You're not clairvoyant, Al; you don't know what could happen. For all we know, you could inject yourself and never wake up. Do you know what that would do to the company?—what it would do to me?!"
"The company doesn't care about me, William."
"Yeah, well I do. You're like a brother to me, Al. And after all these years, do you really think I would just cast you aside as though you meant nothing to me?" He scoffed. "Boy, do I have news for you, pal."
There was a long, dreadful minute of silence until William spoke with soft words.
"That's why I'm afraid, Al. You're the only friend I have…and it would kill me to lose you."
William nearly toppled over upon his release, and rubbed his throbbing arm with a grimace on his face. Wesker placed his hands on his hips and took a deep breath. He couldn't believe it. Why was everyone admitting their feelings all of a sudden? It was suffocating and troublesome, to say the least. But the more he thought about it, the more he understood where William was coming from: the younger scientist couldn't survive without him, as pitiful as that sounded.
Wesker thought back to the time he told William his lab visits would be less frequent, since he would be spending more time at the police station. The mixed emotions that sailed across William's face were unrecognizable, even for Wesker. Despite the praises and pats on the back he'd received, Wesker could see the despair in William's eyes, and with every visit and departure, the loneliness grew. Even now, William would do whatever he could to prolong Wesker's stay; going as far as to start an argument, knowing he would lose, knowing Wesker would retaliate…knowing Wesker would eventually storm out, allowing the loneliness William had come to dread to take his place once more.
The Alpha captain shook his head in disappointment. "Forgive me, but your delusions of a possible mutation on my part, and your "tear-jerking confession," are starting to give me a headache. Leave all this nonsense alone, William; for both our sakes."
William's face scrunched up in hurt more than anger. "I get it, Al. You're not the type that is open with his feelings, nor do you put your emotions on display for everyone to see, unless you're ready to tear someone's head off. I know. But do not stand there and mock me, because I happen to be the only one that cares about you. Whether you feel the same or not, you'll never admit it and I don't expect you to. The least you can do is respect my feelings and consideration for your well-being."
William regained his composure, smoothing out his lab coat, he made his way to the freezer and pulled out a vial labeled, "Prototype," and brought it back. He held up the glass container and gave it a light shake, watching the red liquid splash against the sides. He held it out to Wesker.
"Here. I can't stop you from doing what you want to do." William shrugged, refraining from looking his friend in the eyes. "Just remember what I said, Al. There's only one of you in this world; you have a lot to offer; a lot to gain and a lot to lose." He gestured for Wesker to take it. "Choose wisely."
The older blond didn't hesitate to take the vial as he reached out and took it between his fingers, accidently grazing William's clammy ones as he pulled back. He took great interest in the red liquid and examined it closely, tilting it to the side as though expecting it to change colors with the smallest amount of movement. It did not, of course, but that didn't make the virus any less impressive.
Wesker couldn't help but smile. He'd been waiting for something to give him hope, something that would help him leave his old life behind and start anew with inhuman abilities—according to William, anyhow. But such a big leap of faith also meant there was a chance to fall. Would the virus work? How would it bring him back from the dead? What if it caused his death? Should he go through with it? And if so, how would he execute such a plan; there was so much at risk that it could all blow up in his face.
Wesker pursed his lips in thought before pocketing the vial in his vest, staring absentmindedly at the clock on the wall, until William's shuffling near the Tyrant's tank brought him out of his thoughts. He was back to checking the vitals, returning to his "mad scientist" form like he was before Wesker entered the lab.
"You should go home and rest, William," Wesker said finally, moving to stand next to his partner, admiring the Tyrant behind the glass tube. "He's not going anywhere."
William scoffed and shook his head, removing his sheets of paper from the clipboard. "And neither am I. I'm fine, Al. Just…" he waved Wesker away. "Go where you're needed."
William didn't bother to see Wesker's reaction and, instead, turned from him to attend to his goldfish tank in the back of the room. He smiled as he approached, seeing how the fish swam to the surface, eager for William to sprinkle their dried flakes into the water. As soon as he did, the plump fish ate with vigor, sucking up every flake that floated by, and as soon as they finished, they went back to swimming, to minding their own business, to ignoring William. It was then that the scientist felt a sense of loss, a pit of emptiness within his core.
The automatic door sounded behind him, and when he turned, expecting to see Wesker give his farewell, he frowned—there was only loneliness waiting for him.
Wesker stirred in his sleep for the umpteenth time. Darkness stretched across his muscled form and was quickly replaced by the milky moonlight as he sat up abruptly. He wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead and leaned forward to wrap his arms around his knees, taking in long breaths to steady his heartbeat.
What's wrong with me?
Wesker immediately thought back to the argument in the lab, scowling when William's face appeared in his mind.
You bastard, William. When I get my hands on you—
Loud buzzing sounded from Wesker's side table drawer. He quickly reached over and grabbed his phone, taking a deep breath before flipping it open.
"Wesker."
He expected it to be his team.
"Al! Thank God you're awake!"
Wesker's teeth grinded together. "No thanks to you," he seethed and craned his neck to see the digital clock read 3:45am. "What do you want?"
"I-I'm sorry, Al, but listen! The rats—they got out!"
Wesker pinched the bridge of his nose. "So set up a trap and kill them," he growled. "I'll be there when the team breaks for lunch. Until then, make sure you stay away." An exasperated sigh escaped his lips. "You know, for a genius, you sure lack common sense. Now if that's all—"
"No, Al! I can't find them anywhere!"
"What?"
"I-I was going to check on them before I left, just to make sure I didn't leave anything open, but when I got to the room, they were gone! They had eaten through the damn cages!"
"So they must've just disappeared into thin air…"
"Will you stop with the fuckin' sarcasm?!" William shouted into the receiver. "This is serious, Al. If they so much as set foot outside, they could spread the infection. There could be a biohazard! Doesn't that mean anything to you?!"
And then it all clicked into place. The Prototype Virus, the insufficient amount of data, Greg's death, and now the loose rats…if Wesker could somehow utilize all these variables to his advantage, then perhaps there was hope after all. All he had to do was create a plan, and that was something he had no trouble with.
"Yes, William. As a matter of fact, it does."
So it's not as long as the previous chapter, but hopefully you guys liked it anyways. Yeah, I know, go ahead and hate me for making William the cause for the future outbreak in the forest. I just wanted him to play a more crucial role, since we don't get too much of his participation as a scientist during this incident (aside from his mutation in RE 2). He just kind of disappears into the facility under Raccoon until he becomes a monster later on.
As I said, this chapter will set up Bravo's and eventually Alpha's arrival in the forest. So here's what we know:
Greg is officially dead, but the cause is still unknown (at least to everyone but Wesker and William), which causes some suspicion since it's in the Arklay area. This makes it a hot spot. Secondly, the rats got out, so they'll be at risk for spreading the infection. I didn't show the dogs escaping yet, but I'll get to that. Wesker now possesses the "Prototype" virus that is responsible for his incredible abilities (as seen in CVX and RE5), thanks to William. Some say it was T, but I've read around and it's not sure what kind of virus it is, other than the default name, Prototype. You know what happens with his injection and all that, which is why the next chapter won't go into too much detail about the mansion itself, but about the splitting of Wesker and Claire. Yes, I said it—SPLITTING! I know, I know, I'm evil ;D
Got any questions, comments, suggestions, or if you wanna hit me up on Facebook, head to my profile! Thanks a bunch to all my supporters! GO TEAM WESKER! Until next time! –Lil V.