Chapter 9: Futility

The cut had been clean, more than likely a machete's deed done to this young woman. Jane Doe was actually Alexis Christiansen, a senior botany major at the local college. The previous evening, which had meant the end of her existence as a vibrant and happy girl, concluded in her body being nothing more than dead meat on a medical examiner's slab. The bright pink dress that cut off just past her knees, which probably brought on more than a few whistles, now lay drenched in bloodstains and caked mud. Even in death, even without a head, it was easy to tell this girl took great care to groom. What nails remained on her hands were tipped in glacial white. Her tennis bracelet was expensive to say the least, even in an evidence bag it glittered in white gold. A hole dead center of her stomach was visible, the fabric there shred with meat and organs exposed. Albert's hand, cloaked in latex, came to rest over the lost girl's own.

'Such a waste.'

Officer Slade was a mess, to say the least, on the slab next to Alexis. A gruesome artist had turned him into a masterpiece of the macabre. A blast just below his ribcage stood out, the hole leaving not a bit of meat in its wake through his torso. A once handsome face had been bludgeoned to distortion. Signs of torture were apparent all over his body, to include his genital region. All of that tattooing to make him appear tough was as worthless as wearing a tarp in a nuclear waste dump.

"My guess would be that both died within seconds of the shotgun blast. Considering one wound through each and the evidence of sexual intercourse along with a clean hole through him and the mess of shrapnel buried in her…" The medical examiner, Tomas Borders, paused for a moment. His aged face swung up, wrinkled stare meeting Wesker's own through tired green eyes. "..He was on top when they were ambushed."

"I think I've seen enough." Albert's frosted words echoed through the chilly room. The examiner was quick to put both dead back in their new homes, locking them up in the coolers, as the blonde officer departed through the steel doors at the other end of the room. Latex gloves pitched in the appropriate bin, another pair of doors swung open as he stepped out of Hades and back into the RPD's fresh air.

His eyes widened at the sight of Irons and Spencer waiting for him in the lobby, which lay beyond yet another pair of doors across the hall he currently stood in.

'Huh, Spencer is walking his fat dog early this morning.'

Stepping through the doors, Albert was expecting the worst as Spencer gave a nod and Irons began to lead the way back to his office.

'Joy…'

"My streets are about to be a fucking warzone now." Irons growled from behind his desk and a glass of whiskey. Wesker had always known him to be a closet alcoholic, considering the minibar that the chief kept locked in the mahogany desk. A pudgy finger pointed at the tall blonde man, the balding man said something most regrettable. "Up until an hour ago, that girl lying in there wasn't the daughter of Fred Christensen. Now the mayor is up my ass that his biggest supporter has to bury his daughter. This is your fucking fault and I swear to God above I will have your badge for this!"

Edging towards visibly bristling, Albert's lips parted to give his beloved boss the tongue lashing of a lifetime. However, it was Spencer who was out the gates first.

"There is no need for that sort of tone, Brian. I can count on two hands the number of times you've screwed up beyond belief. Was it a mistake for me to keep you behind that desk?" Spencer's threat lay beneath the question and was as calm and cool as dawn in winter.

That put an end to Irons barking at the end of his chain, tail firmly tucked between his legs. Seething, he settled back into the leather bound chair. His eyes never left Wesker, who bore an emotionless expression. Irons could feel the blonde's smile behind those sunglasses. "What do you propose then? I can't have this in Raccoon City. Gang bangers killing cops and college students isn't exactly normal around here. It's on the front page of every damn paper. The press is in a feeding frenzy over all of this. I may be in your good graces, but the Mayor is not and he's already up my ass."

"You mentioned that…" Albert took a long sip from his coffee. "Five times now."

'Good graces… More like on the payroll…'

Spencer sighed deeply, aged hands resting firmly on the head of the cane he carried. "This has very little to do with the girl. Hurting her would hurt Dick, who is the main witness against Arvada. Killing her would have been enough for Dick to end his life. They can't get to him in solitary confinement. They're improvising poorly. My men are looking for the appropriate opportunity to get rid of Arvada for good." Picking up a couple crime scene photos from Irons' desk, Spencer gave them a once over before dropping them back down. "He's doing what little he can to try to hurt me after I burned his world to the ground and cast him out of the circle for stealing from me." Aged eyes set on Brian's face, Ozwell seemed to be looking into the man's eyes to see if he had a clue of the bigger picture. Apparently Spencer found none.

Wesker's stare narrowed, eyes shifting to Ozwell as the old man lit up a cigar. "Dick couldn't have possibly known of the issues between you and Arvada. As soon as he figured it out… well." The games within games… and he had to play very carefully at this point.

The aged Spencer nodded gently, smoke rolling from his lips. "I highly doubt he would have." Ash flicked to the floor, Ozwell didn't even seem to notice the look of disgust Irons had for the disrespect to his polished wood floors. "Now then, attacking an old friend of mine and my immediate response would make one wonder why I would shell out eighty thousand for the best lawyer this side of the Mississippi as his defense attorney. What could Dick know that I don't want exposed at all? What could I know about Arvada or Arvada knows of me?" The old man rose to his feet, ashing out the cigar right on Brian's desk. "I don't think I need to say any more than that. Other than if outsiders began to dig into Raccoon City itself, they'd find just who is funding S.T.A.R.S. and how many payrolls you're really on, Brian."

"That doesn't answer what I am supposed to do…" Irons' face was bright red at this point, hands balled into fists. Embarrassment was one thing Brian Irons could not handle under any conditions, and he had egg all over his face now. A shame Spencer wasn't willing to wipe it off for him.

Ozwell turned, peering at Albert. Still, he addressed Brian's question. Irritation raised swiftly in the tones that escaped the mouth of the aristocrat. "Oh… I would suggest letting your men and women hunt down the thugs. Kill them or bring them to me if you don't have the stomach to take out the trash, Brian. Captain Wesker will handle the rest in court. He knows what he needs to do…" A hand clapped on Albert's shoulder and Spencer departed. He paused at the door. "Bring Arvada's bastard to me, though. Alive."

Both men remaining sat in silence for a moment. It was Irons who spoke first. "I hope you have a good plan for this. I'm not going down because of you."

'A good plan? If you only knew how all of this was going to play out in the end. Perhaps William wasn't so wrong for suggesting you be the fall man. Incompetent enough…'

To that remark, Albert's pearled smile appeared and he rose to his feet. Eyes set on Irons behind his shades, he just chuckled a bit. "Don't worry, Brian… I'm not rolling you under the bus with me. You'll have my badge before this drama is through."

Once Wesker had departed, Irons was left only with his thoughts. Examining one of the photos on his desk, something seemed to settle in the mind of the police chief. Stroking his mustache, deep brown eyes narrowed in stare as he dropped the photo and reached out to the old rotary phone sitting on his desk.

"What are you going to do, Albert?" Annette's question slipped past her lips hovering behind a steaming cup of coffee. Ice hued eyes fixed on the face of the blonde man who seemed to be staring at absolutely nothing, a smile curled over the lip of the cup as his stare met hers.

"About what?" Feigning ignorance as always, Albert shifted in the uncomfortable patio chair. It gave a rusted squeak with his movement. "You need new chairs." Subject switched, evasive. Unlit cigarette between his fingers, he shifted his attention to its white paper.

Eyes rolling, she sat the cup on its saucer. "About…the trial." A long pause and she continued. "Also about the reason a girl with brown hair hasn't been sobbing for days on end even though the man who was in her life is now draped beneath an American flag and laid to rest." As his attention returned to her, she smirked. "First couple days I didn't think anything of it… Then William told me that she was spending quite a bit of time with a new 'study partner'." Ash flicked into the metal tray on the round table, she chuckled a bit.

"I'm only keeping her safe. William told me I had nothing to worry about and apparently I do. She is free to come back here. I have no interest in her other than what she can do for us."

"For now. How long until she's pregnant?"

"Ouch, Annette. I maintain my innocence."

"Bullshit, you're infatuated" Another sip taken from the cup of coffee, her blue eyes shifted to Sherry playing in the yard. Two tiny kittens in tow, the pigtailed girl was as happy as ever. Stare softening for a moment, she looked back to Albert.

Wesker let his air out in a deep sigh, finally lighting the cigarette with a lighter he retrieved from the table. "You've been fairly mean to me lately, Annette." He viewed her shrug as she lounged back, and chuckled. "That worried she would disappear from our grasp so you took her in? Battle of the sexes doesn't seem to be your 'thing'."

The blonde woman smiled wide. "I thought it was inappropriate considering that you and William are convinced we need her to the point you've got Spencer persuaded she's more useful alive than in a shallow grave. I don't know what you said to make that happen, but I'm impressed. William, because of her skills and you because she has a pretty face." His feigning wounded received a middle finger reply. "Especially if the old man is going to be locked up for good, we'll need her… Not like we have an army at our disposal like Spencer. She has turned out to be a good friend, though. Cleans up after herself, does laundry, watches Sherry…" A long pause on her end before Annette spoke again.

Albert's turn to give a shrug, smoke rolling from his nostrils. "I'm a man of needs; I thought you two would be gone longer."

Icy hues rolled. "You're such a pig sometimes." Her stare flicked to his face. "Terrible liar too."

"I have no interest. Why don't you believe me?" He absolutely loved infuriating her. Annette was something of a human lie detector when it came to him.

Deadpan, she let off a snort in disbelief. "You really think I'm going to buy that? You fool every man on the planet with your chilly and detached demeanor but you don't fool women. Probably why you try to keep all of them at an arm's length."

"No, I keep all of you at an arm's length because you have cooties." Ashing out the cigarette, a plume escaped his lips. Already he was lighting up another one. The meeting at the RPD was not helping his mood. "Plus, I don't trust anything that bleeds for a week and doesn't die."

"You're such an ass." Annoyance in her smoky voice, Annette leaned back in her chair.

He smiled.

Fingers coming to rest against the side of her face as her head canted, Annette could only shake her head. "You smile a lot more now…" Cigarette between her lips, she took a few long drags.

"Fine, Annette. Let's say you're right…"

"I know I'm right." Smoke escaped her lips as she spoke.

"Let's say that 'Practical Al' gives a shit about the little thief. It doesn't fit into the plan, so she's cannon fodder like the rest." Arms folding over his vest, the blonde man finally found a comfortable position on the old chair.

"We could still proceed as long as you keep lying. Problem solved. Most I foresee her needing to be prepared for is shooting someone. Spencer's thugs are not going to go down easily."

Ash tapped into the tray, Albert nodded in agreement. "She'll get plenty of experience taking lives in S.T.A.R.S. if the city continues on this downward spiral."

Annette let off a snicker. "Right, and the idea of nailing her on your desk just never crossed your mind."

He bristled lightly at her accusation, even if it was completely true. "How dare you accuse me of such unrefined behavior on government property." Her laugh was met with a sigh. "It will be much easier for us with four making the snatch instead of just Wong and myself. Testing facility will have everything we need to grab on hand before making the trip east for the sale." His aqua stare met hers. "Where is Umbrella on that?"

She shrugged, finishing off her cup of coffee. "Three or four years away if we're lucky. They're building it under the old warehouse district that was recently condemned."

"By then, we'll have everything…" Putting out the cigarette, Albert's gaze settled on the sun slowly retreating behind the tree line.

Annette's stare dipped low before she rose to her feet with cup and saucer in tow. "Whatever makes you happy, Albert. I won't be heartbroken if you suddenly decided to split your share with her instead of peppering her with lead. I'm not great at making new friends." She offered a smile and then stepped indoors.

A month had passed since his little heart to heart with Annette. For once in his life, he felt like he could actually breathe again.

Jill came and went now, between her studies and looking after little Sherry, it was rare the two saw one another. He'd called her out of the blue. An offer of dinner had other motives behind it. Not that he'd ever admit that he missed her. He missed nobody. Ever.

After dinner, she was on the couch. Bare feet on the coffee table were nudged off by his hand. Pools of blue met as the captain sat on the edge of the table before her.

"Trial begins tomorrow. Arvada will be put away for good… May even get lethal injection if he is tried for first degree on all counts. Not sure when we will have to go up there to testify."

Jill didn't have much to say in return for a few minutes, knee deep in another one of her horrid beauty magazines. "What are you going to tell them?" Cornflower hues lifted at long last to meet his.

Lips pursing into a thin line, Wesker let his air out in a sigh. "I… have no idea." Frosted gray eyes meeting hers in stare, he smiled. May have been the first time Jill had ever witnessed his actual smile. It was all wrong in all the right ways, little more on the left than the right yet wide and exposed pearled teeth beneath. "Been distracted by a few things." Fingers slipping to his hip, he relieved himself of the Samurai Edge and its holster. "There's this woman…"

"A woman? Seems to always be a woman with you." Jill grinned, flipping through a few pages. As he tried to snatch magazine from her, she rolled off the couch. "I'm reading, don't be rude."

"I may have a problem with this one." He followed her at a relaxed pace, relieving himself of further annoyances such as gloves, vest, web belt and glasses.

Valentine nodded, flipping through more pages. Why she always needed them was beyond his spectrum of understanding at times. "Maybe you should arrest her."

"She hasn't done anything wrong… yet." Pulling his watch off, Albert dropped it on the desk. "She's the kind of trouble that has me out at two in the morning."

Either she didn't hear him or was just looking to say something off the wall. "Maybe you should handcuff her to the bed. Something kinky may get her to behave." Ice blue eyes lifting, her brows popped high as she peered at his wide eyed expression. "What?"

A hand covering his face, Albert let off a sigh. "Were you even listening to me?" Her unconvincing 'yes' led to him snatching up the magazine. Turning it over to plain view, his face could not have been more priceless. Eyes wide and face red, words were hard to form for a moment. Regaining composure and clearing his throat, he offered the magazine back to her. "In the future, could you please listen to me instead of reading about the '50 things that will drive a man wild in bed'? I'm not handcuffing you to a bed."

"Sorry, was only half listening to you. Didn't realize you were talking about me."

He offered the magazine again, deadpan expression scribbled all over his features. "Please give me more than a fraction of your attention in the future."

"I'll think about it." Snatching back the magazine, she returned to the couch.