Well, hello! I'm so sorry this update has taken almost two years to finish, guys :/ I've gone through so much in that time, so please forgive me. You all know how cruel things in life can be. Blah. Can't we all just have super cool virus powers like Wesker, and the keen intellect to sell stuff on the black market? :D Kidding ;) Anywho, this is a pretty long chapter, for those who still follow and read my stuff. It's much appreciated, by the way. I read all your reviews and mails, so never doubt that your attempts to reach out go unnoticed. This has just been a very bumpy road for me, and it got to a point where I never had time to write anything. I hope this little routine I have going stays.
This chapter continues right after the last one, so I hope you guys enjoy :D
The Beginning of the End
"Having looked over the results again and again, I highly doubt Spencer will be suspicious, William," Wesker said into his cordless phone, while rinsing out the day old coffee from the pot into the sink. "All you have to do is tweak the numbers; make it so the animal deaths are less than that of the humans. Should he ask why more tests weren't conducted, it's simply because there weren't enough subjects to test on. That's the truth."
There was a groan on William's end. "No matter what the truth is, Al, Spencer will always find an excuse to make even the truth sound ridiculous. My gut feeling says he'll pay us a visit once he has these results."
"So what if he does? There were no surviving specimens from either species, and so we burned the corpses to prevent the spread of infection. The G-Virus is still too powerful and needs more testing."
A barrage of hard tapping noises made Wesker scrunch his face. "What is that?"
"What?" William asked, nonchalantly, having his focus elsewhere. "Shhiiiit…" And the hard tapping continued. "I hate computers. Why do you keep telling me CAPS is on?" He asked the computer. "CAPS is not on. Not on!"
"I'll ignore the fact that you're arguing with a computer—which, I might add, is pathetic in its own right—but should you break another keyboard, you will be responsible for it." Wesker placed the coffee pot back onto the burner.
"Well, yeah…We both know you won't fork over any money if anything breaks around here," William jabbed, continuing to abuse the computer, mumbling something that was akin to "cheapskate" under his breath.
"That's probably because I'm a responsible, intellectual human being, and not a wild baboon like you." He continued before William had a chance to respond. "Get the data sorted and typed like we discussed, lest you'd like to tighten the rope already around our necks."
"No need to nag me. The computer and I will get the job done. That is, if it doesn't continue to piss me off," William replied. "Oh! My dearly beloved is on the other line. I guess I'll call you when I'm finished here, Al. Toodles!"
Just as he was about to hang up, Wesker paused when he still heard William on the other end.
"Hey, baby, what's shakin'? I just got off the phone with cranky pants, and I think he's actually in a good mood, surprisingly. You know, with all the recent stress pileup, I think it would be a nice gesture to hire a few women to sleep with him…or at least get him a blowup doll." William paused, expecting Annette to reply, when Wesker spoke up in a mocking voice.
"Dully noted, dear. But I believe Wesker can manage on his own, seeing as he doesn't have to try hard for women. Something I can't say about you…"
"Al?! Holy shit, I thought I clicked over—"
"Get the data done or cranky pants is going to have to break your legs." Wesker clicked off and put the phone back in its cradle, sliding a hand down his face and sighing.
William was a double-edged sword. On one side he was a genius, and Wesker couldn't deny the fact that he needed William more than William needed him. There had been plenty of times—too many to count, in fact—where William's genius trumped Wesker's own, though the latter would never admit to that; he supposed the baboon comment wasn't entirely true. On the other side, however, William was—to put it plainly—an overachiever. In the field of science and medicine, yes, that was a good thing. But for Wesker, it made certain situations overwhelming and difficult to deal with. The current situation was no different. William's paranoia and inability to follow directions nearly put Wesker on edge, and he seldom lost composure.
"Is everything OK?" Claire appeared in the doorway, clenching the hem of the STARS T-shirt she was wearing as she walked into the kitchen.
"Business is never without its complications, my dear, as I'm sure you've noticed over the past few months. As of now, we can both agree that things are, indeed, OK." He offered a smile that melted the worry off Claire's face, and the closer she came towards him, the more at ease she felt.
She leaned up against him, and wrapped an arm around his midsection—not so tight as to make him uncomfortable, but just firm enough to let him know she needed him there. Wesker kept his smile and brushed her bangs aside.
"Based on your current hairstyle, I take it you slept rather well."
"Maybe I did," Claire replied, and pulled back slightly. "Or maybe, I'm just trying out a new 'do for school." She flipped her auburn hair back and rubbed furiously at her locks until they covered her face. "What do you think?"
"I think you need to reconsider before you step foot outside this house." Wesker chuckled, combing Claire's hair back into its natural state. "No…All joking aside, I don't believe any style you choose would rob you of you beauty. Your attitude, however, is an entirely different matter altogether."
Claire rolled her eyes and pushed off his chest playfully. "Just when the moment was getting there…"
"Moments are but a flicker, Claire. They come and go, vanishing right before our eyes. The small comfort in this is that we can create them if we so choose…And up until now, I have no regrets for any that we've shared." Claire placed one hand on his shoulder as she tip-toed up to kiss the corner of Wesker's mouth, when he added, "Even the moments your brother seemed to ruin all on his own."
Claire gave a loud and frustrated sigh. "Don't mention that gorilla right now. I love him, but he's shown too much parental guidance for my liking, and it's really getting on my nerves."
"That goes without saying. If it eases your mind, I've already arranged for Alpha and Bravo to meet at the station for training, so you won't have to see Chris when you get home." The blond gave a shrug. "He seems to enjoy confrontation…Why not let him get it from me?"
"Oh yeah…home." Claire rubbed the back of her neck, feeling the tension tighten around her shoulders. "You might spend the day with him, but he'll come down on me for sure once he's home."
Wesker pondered the scenario in his mind and shook his head. "I don't think Chris will venture into that kind of territory with his questioning; he is well aware of our boundaries."
"Our boundaries? You mean…?" Claire didn't need to hear Wesker's reply to confirm what she feared. She knew Chris was very protective of her when it came to his captain, but Chris never gave Claire hassle for being around him, other than threatening to kill the man if he dared to show the least bit of disrespect towards her.
Wesker's voice grabbed Claire from her thoughts, and she gave him a hard look. "I'm sorry, my dear, but he would've found out either way. We both know his persistence can be quite troublesome, and can quickly transition into something problematic. I'm sure the bruises he comes home with are a clear indication of that." He waited for a response, but Claire said nothing and continued to stare. Wesker sighed. "I know you feel betrayed, Claire…but you have my word that I never intended to tell him."
"I know," she mumbled and looked away, softening her expression. "You've kept this a secret as long as you could, and I can't blame you for something that you had little control over. I mean…even if you didn't say it directly, Chris and the others would've gotten really suspicious. They're cops, after all."
"And they've been trained by the very best," Wesker added. "For now, I wouldn't linger too much on the matter. If anything, Chris will refrain from speaking to you about it until he's ready; it's still too soon for him." He brought a hand to cradle Claire's chin. "Don't worry. Everything will fall into place soon enough. And when it does…you'll be free."
"This is Red Leader," Chris whispered into the radio on his shoulder. "No sign of the Smurfs…"
Barry's chuckle ghosted through the speaker. "Shut up, Chris, you're gonna get us all caught," came the static reply.
"Just what the hell do you mean "Red Leader," Redfield?" Enrico argued. "I'm in charge of you circus animals, so unless you want me to shoot your asses, I suggest you keep it down."
The steady flow of the creek replaced the silence between exchanges. Chris eyed the brush across the way, steading his breathing as his eyes scanned side to side; the tree he was nestled in was his lookout point. The branch he was up against was just wide enough to hold his frame, and although he and the other Reds wore camouflage to compensate for the lack of cover, he was not entirely invisible. Anyone could be watching and waiting for his sorry ass to make the wrong move. And unfortunately for Chris, and all the others on his team, each of them were forced to spread out to protect their flag.
It was quite the surprise when Wesker proposed the idea of a capture the flag training session using paintball guns; everyone was split into two teams—Red and Blue—and given their own bases, with the creek dividing both sides. The objective was simple: capture the flag without sustaining fatal "wounds." Any shot in the head, chest, or abdomen was considered fatal; those who were shot in these places had to freeze in place, drop the enemy's flag, and receive multiple shots from the opposing team. Those who got themselves "killed" were out of the game.
This exercise was to promote teamwork and stealth—both of which were equally important in STARS, and Wesker ensured everyone on both squads incorporated this, not just into their work, but into their daily lives. While most of the team understood, Chris couldn't help but play the cynic. Deep inside his gut, he felt that Wesker enjoyed this kind of training, simply to have an excuse to injure someone on purpose for their lack of discipline—that someone being Chris.
Wesker would love to shoot him right between the eyes.
Chris gripped his paintball gun tighter and reached for his radio. "I still don't see any activity, guys. I think it's safe to send someone to capture their flag. Any volunteers?"
"I vote for Frost to go," Enrico replied, amusement in his voice. "He's not a liability for us anyway."
"What? That's fucked up, Captain," Joseph whined. "Make Chris go; he's not doing shit."
Chris rolled his eyes at the response. "I'm doing recon and guarding our flag, you idiot. Without that and my shooting skills, you'd be on the floor crying like a little baby the moment someone shot you."
"That sounds about right," Barry added. "Remember when Forest got 'em with a water balloon in the face during our barbeque last summer?" He laughed, making Chris grin on the other end. "Frost threw his balloons down and chased after Forest, screaming bloody murder down the street that he was going to "shave his mullet" once he got ahold of him." Barry continued laughing through the radio; Chris had to hold the button to quiet the noise, while he covered his mouth with his free hand.
"I remember that," Enrico chimed in. "I actually think Vickers peed his pants, because he laughed so hard."
"Yeah, he did," Barry said, taking a deep breath and continuing. "Whew. Good times with you clowns. I went home that day with a sore stomach, though I didn't know if it was from laughing or the food."
"Keep it up, Barry…" Joseph said in warning. "I'll rearrange all the cases of ammo back at the station, if you don't cut it out. You know Wesker has to have everything in order..."
"Chill out, Frost, and stop acting like a wuss," Chris said, rolling his eyes. "You're starting to sound like Forest."
"Fuck you, Chris. I'm not that little hillbilly pansy," Joseph replied. "You're lucky you're not on the Blue team, because I'd shoot the shit out of you."
"Can it, Frost!" Enrico yelled over the radio. "Or I'll track you down and shoot you myself. That mouth of yours is gonna be your own undoing, if you keep spewing garbage out of it."
"Captain's right, Frost," Barry said calmly. "No need to get hostile on us. It's all just fun. C'mon…"
The others waited for a response, but only static came through the receiver. Dry, screeching static…
"Frost?" Barry asked. "Don't give us the silent treatment, now…"
"Stop dicking around, Frost, and say something," Chris demanded. "You refused to shut your trap before, so what's stopping you now?"
More static. And then, it stopped. For a moment, it seemed like everyone held their breaths, not because of the dead silence, but because someone (if it wasn't Joseph) was pressing the talk button on the receiver. Those dreadful seconds of silence ate away at Chris' confidence, and he quickly became nervous. What if Joseph had been attacked by an animal? There were plenty of wild cats and bears in the forest, and either of the two animals would be more than delighted to have a fresh meal waiting for them, helpless and alone.
Chris shook those thoughts away. Joseph would fight tooth and nail against any attacker, no matter the disadvantage. But then there was the silence…Who was pressing the button?
"Oh my…The colorful language on this team always seems to amaze me. I do have to wonder, though, if any of you can gain anything from your conversations."
Of course it's you, Chris wanted to say, but instead, said, "What happened to Frost? Did you shoot him?"
"To my utter dismay, no, I didn't; but he made an error of judgment when he thought it wise to run from me." Wesker chuckled. "It would've been so much easier for him to surrender...then, I could at least make him beg for mercy. Oh well. He won't get far, I assure you. For you see, I have his radio…and I'm rather good at hunting."
The radio went dead on Joseph's end.
Chris swallowed hard, and gave a quick scan of the creek and the surrounding brush, feeling a flicker of panic swell in the pit of his stomach, but he found no one.
"Shit…" Chris chewed at his lip, allowing the options he had run rampant in his brain. "I could try and find everyone before they do," he said to himself. "But if I got caught, I'd be fucked. Unless…" Chris eyed the flag below him flowing in the light breeze, and shrugged. "I guess I don't have much of a choice."
He climbed down without disturbing the birds in the branches above him, and took the flag in his hands. It was tattered and worn, the red faded from the excess washing; it was one of Joseph's old bandanas he kept in his locker to use in the gym. Barry figured Joseph had more than enough of the "rags" to wear, and insisted that this particular one be used in the training exercise. Joseph complained at first, but it wasn't until Chris and Forest threatened to tie him up in the women's locker room naked did he agree.
He took the flag and tucked it into his vest pocket, and headed south, trying to make as little noise as possible. Every now and then he'd stop and take cover behind a tree, every time he heard the birds go quiet. If there was one thing he learned from watching National Geographic, it was that silence in the forest was a bad sign; it usually meant a predator was near.
When the coast was clear, Chris moved on and headed deeper into the forest, gripping his gun hard enough to cramp his hands. He flexed his fingers, and took in the sights around him, noticing the sun making its slow decent behind the mountains.
"No wonder people get lost out here…" Chris muttered to himself. "I'll be shit out of luck once the sun goes down." And then it hit him like a ton of bricks. He grinned and reached for his radio, hoping the others hadn't been captured yet.
"Blood, blood," Chris said into the receiver, "Sugar Daddy wants some sugar." He waited for a response.
"Sugar? What kind of sugar?" replied Enrico.
"Wet sugar, easy sugar?" Barry added.
"Wet sugar," said Chris went on, "about fifty sprinkles wet sugar of the Red Planet. Watch for Blue Moons."
Wesker lowered the volume on the radio and brought the receiver to his side, trying to make sense of the absurd conversation between the Reds. The tree he was leaning against provided enough cover, lest Joseph happened to be in the area eavesdropping or watching him from afar. For Joseph's sake, it was in his best interest to remain hidden, Wesker figured, and wanted to shoot every paintball he had into the bandana wearing fool. The Alpha captain was more than eager to do so, but opted to wait until he had back up; Joseph's screams from the shots would give away his position.
"Blues—roll call," Wesker said into his radio.
"Jill, here."
"Brad, here."
"Forest Speyer is present and accounted for, Captain."
Wesker resisted rolling his eyes. "Yes, what would we do without Forest Speyer?" He cleared his throat. "Now, listen carefully. I overheard Chris' little conversation with the others, and I'm certain he was speaking in code; he obviously prepared this ahead of time in case someone was captured. What I gathered from listening was the code name for their flag, which Chris called "Red Planet." The "fifty sprinkles" he mentioned could possibly pertain to the number paces from the flag, but I'm not quite sure…"
"Fifty sprinkles might be a measurement…" Jill agreed. "Maybe Chris isn't too far from where the flag originally was?"
"Unfortunately, that's the problem," Wesker reminded her. "We still haven't located their base or the direction in which the fifty sprinkles were taken."
"Did he mention anything else?" Brad asked. "Something that sounded like it could've been pointing to a direction? Perhaps an acronym to throw us off…?"
"No, nothing entirely puzzling…" Wesker scanned his surroundings, and shot a glance over his shoulder before continuing. "There was a phrase Chris used that was rather…odd. He mentioned the word "wet sugar." Does that jump out at anyone?"
There was a pause. A long and awkward pause.
"The silence tells me your minds are in the gutter instead of trying to crack this code. Do me a favor and refrain from asking why I would know that."
"It does sound pretty nasty if you think about it, Captain," Forest chimed in. "C'mon…Something white and sugar-y? I mean, I know I would say something dirty, but Chris? Well, that might be pushing it. I would much rather talk about sprinkles."
"Having to deal with grown men that act like children on a daily basis, I can see why you would say that, Captain." Jill said and smiled when Brad muttered, 'That's for sure.'
"I don't think Chris made the name up for his own amusement," she continued. "Frost might have added that as his contribution to the code, for all we know."
"Wouldn't put it past that bandana wearing puss," Forest jabbed. "Other than it meaning something nasty, I might have a clue to as to what it could be…if you guys wanna hear it?"
"Why not? There's not a thing you can say that won't surprise us anyway, so have at it." Wesker let his head rest against the tree, closing his eyes and waiting for Forest to flap his gums away about memories he didn't give a shit about, like finding buried treasure when he was five, or reciting some metaphor he knew nothing about. In short, Wesker just wanted to shoot whatever theory Forest was about to disclose, and then move on to his own; time was of the essence, after all.
"Alrighty, so here it goes," Forest began, sounding rather confident than usual. "Me and the guys usually make time to get a football game going on the weekends. We try to find stragglers at the park to play against, and when we do, we briefly go over the plays we made up before the game. Usually, Barry ends up being the quarterback, and Chris and I end up as receivers. When he shouts "wet," he's usually telling Chris or myself that we have to go west; and he uses the word "easy" for east. I mean, he uses both words loosely when we play, but that's the only situation I can think of where those words are used."
A low, baritone-like chuckle made its way through their radios, and then increased in volume, causing the others to pull back from their receivers. The idiot had done it, Wesker thought. Forest was the last person on his team—or STARS in general, as a matter of fact—the Alpha captain thought would come up with something on his own, and actually be right about it…or as close to right, anyway; neither of them knew if wet meant west and easy meant east, but at least they had something to go off of.
When his chuckle died, Wesker cleared his throat; he was serious now. "Tell me, Speyer—did you happen to take an extra shot of Espresso this morning?"
"Captain, you know I don't drink coffee; I'm caffeine sensitive. I'd be bouncing around like a goddamn Jackrabbit, if I did."
Wesker frowned. "Nevermind, Speyer. It seems your intelligence is, indeed, short-lived. My mistake." He pushed off from the tree and held his gun against his chest. "Our destination seems to point west. Everyone head that way and report back to me, should you find anything out of the ordinary. Be very cautious…Oh, and don't forget about Frost. He's running about, still. He has no radio, but he's still armed. If you see him, shoot to kill."
"So, Frost hasn't turned up at all?" Barry asked, concern setting in his fine lines. Chris shook his head. "Damn…I hope Wesker or the other Blues haven't got to him."
"I doubt it," Enrico replied. "Wesker's one to announce himself before he's actually gonna do something. Look what he did when he took Frost's radio."
"He's right, Barry. For now, we can assume Frost is laying low and not trying to be the hero." Chris scoffed and peeked through the tall shrubbery, feeling the constant paranoia looming over him like a black cloud. "So, what's the plan? Either of you two have any ideas?"
Enrico glanced at Barry, and back to Chris. "We go for the flag," the Bravo captain said. "One person stays with our flag, and the other two can find the blue one. For all we know, the Blues are looking for us; they wouldn't just leave Wesker to do all the work."
"For all we know, they might be carrying their flag around, too," Barry reasoned. "And that's bad. The moment they get wind we're in their territory, it's all over; we'll be cornered."
"That's why one person will stay here."
"It won't matter, Enrico. Even if one of us stayed, the other two would be history, and then the Blues will be on the flag holder. No mercy, remember?"
"You both make good points…I mean, it would be ideal to go for their flag while they're looking for us," Chris began, "but then it's like Barry said, we could be ambushed; and someone could have the flag. Besides, neither of us know the position of their base. We might have to travel pretty deep in the woods to get anywhere."
"Yeah, and who knows how that will go," Barry agreed. They trio were silent for a moment, each looking at the sky or picking at the fallen leaves, waiting for something that hasn't already been declined to rear its head.
Then, Chris had an idea.
"The Blues are on their way here, right? Knowing Wesker, he probably figured out our code."
"Anyone could've figured out our code, Redfield," Enrico said with a shrug. "It's not like it was well thought out."
"That may be…but what if we changed codes on them?" Barry and Enrico gave him questioning looks, but said nothing. "Wesker has Frost's radio…We could make up code between ourselves, in order to confuse the Blues. If Wesker cracked our code, then they're coming for us, which means they'll find us, eventually, if we don't move. But, if we told them we're gonna make a move elsewhere—"
"Then they'll believe it and take the bait!" Barry finished. "We can make this work to our advantage."
Enrico rubbed his chin and sighed. "Well, it's better than just running around out here with our heads cut off. Let's do it."
Wesker had been trailing Frost for some time, now, occasionally kneeling to feel the grooves of the footprints left by the combat boots in the soft soil. It was loose, and fell through his gloved fingers like sand. He wasn't far, Wesker guessed. Frost was the only one that had to have gone through here, save for himself; he hadn't seen or heard from anyone else in the last half hour.
He continued walking, eventually stopping for a water break under the shade of a Juniper. He pulled the small canteen strap from around his shoulders, and unscrewed the cap to drink. He removed his glasses and blinked a few times to adjust to the light, and sighed. He and the others had been training for quite a few hours already, and though he admired the opposing side for their cooperative teamwork—with the exception of Joseph—Wesker was ready to call it a day. Sure, he enjoyed the hunt as much as anyone, but he needed to get back to the lab; the pressure Spencer was putting on William and himself proved to be a tad overbearing. It wasn't that Wesker didn't trust William with typing up fake reports. He trusted William with everything work related. But with Spencer's growing impatience and Umbrella personnel and secret agents in both his sleeves, Wesker feared for his friend's life…and his own.
"Blood, blood. Red Planet is secure. Venturing to the Blue Moon. Over." Chris' voice called through the radio, and Wesker turned the volume up.
"Roger. Heading to Blue Moon." That was Enrico, Wesker noted. He smirked to himself, took another drink, and then put his canteen back around his shoulder.
"This is Blue Leader checking in," he said into his receiver.
"Jill, here."
"Brad, here."
"Forest, here."
"There's been a change in plans," Wesker stated. "It seems the Reds are going for our flag…but unfortunately for them, they'll come up empty handed."
"Ah, so you did take it, Captain?" Forest asked. "I thought Chicken did."
"With all due respect to Vickers, if I know the Reds, they won't have mercy on anyone with the flag, especially someone with abilities…inferior to my own. If they want this flag, they'll have to put up a damn good fight for it." He slid his glasses back on. "Get moving towards our base. We'll surround them and win this damn game. Over and out."
Wesker started back the way he came, gun at his side, and when he was out of earshot, Joseph, who had been hiding in the nearby shrubs, came forward. He could barely see Wesker's retreating form, now, but if he was careful, he could follow his captain without getting caught. He moved quickly and kept his gun close, hoping he wouldn't run into enemy Blues on the way.
"I don't fuckin' see it," Enrico growled as he jogged back to Barry and Chris. "They must've taken the flag with them."
"Shit. I knew it," Barry said. "They wouldn't just leave it unguarded; they aren't that naïve."
"I can't say the same about you three." The trio whipped around to see Wesker and the other Blues, with their guns pointed at them.
"Hands up, boys," Jill said with a teasing smile. The trio pointed their guns back.
"Not a chance, Jill," Chris replied, and looked to Wesker. "Figured out our code, huh?"
"This may surprise you, but Speyer was actually the one to solve the bigger piece of the puzzle."
Chris shot Forest a hard look. "Traitor. No one else is supposed to know our lingo."
"Well sorry, but you or Barry never said it was copyrighted. Besides, the point of this game is to win, and right now, that's what we're going to do, Chrissy. Hand over the flag."
"Ok…" Chris reached into his cargo pants, only to come out empty handed with his middle finger sticking up. "Once again, not a chance. How do you even know I have it?"
"I've already deduced that, Chris," Wesker replied instead. "With respects to both of your teammates, unlike you, though they do have brute strength and keen intellect, they wouldn't be able to outrun me or the others if they tried. They would have been shot down like dogs. And now, since I've proven myself right, why don't you hand over—"
"Why don't you hand over your flag, Captain?" Joseph managed to track Wesker and catch him from behind; the latter raised his brows in question, almost as if they said, 'Whoops. Forgot about him,' but Wesker was quick to pick up the ball.
"Frost!" Chris yelled.
"Ah, Frost. It's about time you joined us," the Alpha captain began, and looked over his shoulder to see the barrel of the paintball gun behind his skull. "We were starting to think you got lost."
"I know you were tracking me, Captain, which is why I also know you have the Blue flag. When you stopped to take a water break, I was hiding in the shrubs. I overheard your conversation."
"Clever, Frost…But there's just one problem: the only way to win this game is to take the flag from me. Will you be able to?"
"If I shoot you in the fatal spots, it's all over anyway. We'll all be shot here and now," Joseph replied. "It all falls down to you, Captain. You can hand it over or you can get shot. What's it gonna be?"
Wesker's brows knitted; he bristled. "Don't get overconfident, Frost. If holding that gun gives you the courage you need to take the flag from me, then you might as well sit this out and let one of your teammates—"
Joseph fired one shot at the base of Wesker's neck, where the exposed skin was tender from the sun. The blond tightened his body and growled, tucking his neck and hunching his shoulders from the pain, but he remained on his feet, as the red paint dripped onto his collar. Everyone jumped, guns moving back and forth between each other, waiting for someone else to open fire, but the shots never came.
"You imbecile…" Wesker grounded out through clenched teeth, and swung his body around to fire on Joseph. Several paint balls exploded above his brow, but Joseph was able to move before he was blinded, and shot another two paintballs into Wesker's face. The blond, unable to see, quickly rolled right and wiped the paint off his face in one swift movement. He grunted, feeling several shots explode into his vest, just below his shoulder blades, but not hard enough or painful enough to hinder his movements. Everyone began firing at their opponents, while retreating to find cover behind trees.
Wesker was up on his feet, dirt whipping behind him as he charged Frost like a raging bull. His gun up, he pulled the trigger, but the shots curved and missed their mark, as Wesker was taken down from behind. Chris wrapped his arms around Wesker's shoulders and pulled him in, fighting to keep him down, but to no avail; once Wesker spotted his gun mere feet from him, he broke loose from Chris' grip and grabbed at the muddy earth to pull himself closer.
"No!" Chris cried. "You're not going free."
The marksman pulled Wesker back by the legs, only to receive a punch to the jaw when the blond flipped himself over. The hit put Chris in a daze for a second, before he was on Wesker again, this time, pulling him in from the front until their chests were touching.
"Why the fuck did you hit me, Wesker?" Chris said through clenched teeth, and pressed his forehead to Wesker, where the bruising and welting were just surfacing.
The Alpha captain hissed in pain. "Stop with the goddamn heroics, Chris! Be a man and take whatever is thrown at you." Wesker pulled his head back and slammed it against Chris' own. Chris howled, but refused to let up and create the opening for Wesker again.
"You want to keep this shit up, Wesker? Fine!" Chris continued to press his forehead into his captain's tender skin, and every time Wesker tried to pull back for a head-butt, Chris pressed further to stop him. The remaining red paint made its way down the side of Wesker's brow, near the corner of his eye, and down the hollowness of his cheek. Chris followed it, and then looked back up at Wesker's eyes, stone-cold and filled with rage. He must've lost his glasses in the scuffle, Chris thought, and refused to look away.
"I hope you're gonna put some makeup on those things," Chris seethed, trying hard not to laugh at the idea of Wesker putting makeup on to cover his bruises.
"Perhaps I will…I wonder if Claire knows any good brands."
"Just don't know when to quit, huh?" Chris pressed harder, shifting enough so he didn't kiss his captain on the lips…or get bitten.
"What the hell are you guys doing?" The two flag holders pressed their foreheads against each other, not letting one or the other go, and slowly looked up to see Enrico hovering over them, spotted with blue paint.
Neither Chris nor Wesker uttered a word.
The rest of the group filed in and circled the two on the ground, all wearing concerned expressions. Wesker closed his eyes, releasing a small sigh. Chris figured he was embarrassed to some degree, given their current positions, but he knew that this little game had to be put to an end.
"Woah, Captain…Getting a little cozy, there, with Christopher, huh?" Forest teased, combing the red out of his mullet. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with us."
"Seriously, though," Joseph added. "You two might as well kiss and make up while you can."
"Shut up, Frost. It's your fault this happened," Chris reminded him. "Just take the damn flag out of Wesker's pockets, already."
"Don't you move, Frost," Wesker warned.
"You lost, Wesker. Get over it," Chris said. "You were shot, fatally, before anyone else, and since you were the flag holder, that means you're dead."
"If someone gets the flag," Wesker added. "If anyone tries to reach into my pockets, you'll have me to deal with."
"You aren't going anywhere. Frost, go for it."
Joseph knelt and extended his hand, fingers barely touching the outside of Wesker's rear pocket, before he pulled back, hearing a slight growl. "No way, Chris. If he's growling at me, then he means business."
"Growling? But he didn't—"
Chris cut himself off as he heard the growling intensified, but it wasn't coming from Wesker. He and Chris exchanged looks before letting each other go, and finding the source of the growling not ten feet from them.
A Doberman Pincher.
Wesker could feel the tension from the circle around him and muttered, "Everyone stay calm," before slowly helping Chris to his feet, and, quickly, washing his hands of their bitter struggle.
The Doberman snarled and lowered its head, and Wesker noticed the blood along its matted fur; its eyes were milky white with death, and judging from, what appeared to be loose tendrils of meat hanging from his jaw, the animal had just fed.
It doesn't matter, Wesker wanted to say. These animals will kill because they're programmed to.
"Does anyone have their gun on them?" Wesker asked in vain, when they shook their heads no. "Any more paintballs, then?"
"We're all out, Captain," Jill said.
"Well…this mutt isn't going to just walk away. Search the ground and pick up any rocks you find—slowly!"
And they did just that, moving with precision and keeping their eyes locked on the dog. It never moved from its spot, but continued to growl and watch.
"Ok…Everyone take aim," Wesker said and grabbed a golf ball sized rock in his palm. "Fire!" Waves of rocks sailed through the air, pelting the dog between the eyes and down its skeletal looking back. It cried out with every hit, and, realizing it was outmatched, the dog turned with its hind legs and disappeared into the woods.
"That was easy," Barry proclaimed.
Too easy, Wesker thought. "He was a lone pup. Had it been a full-grown adult, it would've attacked without any regard for its well-being."
"You know…Come to think of it, that dog looked a little weird," Chris noted. "Like, his eyes were all white…
"Yeah, I saw that, too," Jill said. "Creepy."
"It was sick, if that isn't obvious enough for you all." Wesker bent down to pick up his paintball gun. "I think it's time we take our leave before the whole pack shows up, and consider this little match a draw. Agreed?"
"We're out of paintballs, so it's not like we have a choice," Chris said, scooping his own gun from the floor. "I guess we can settle this some other day."
Wesker gave a nod and turned away from the group. "Then let's make haste. The sun's about to go down…"
The automatic door let out a hiss of air after Wesker removed his ID card from the panel at the door, and he was quick to walk through it. He immediately spotted William seated at his favorite station, looking through his favorite microscope…but he didn't look up.
"You son of a bitch!" Wesker said with uncontrollable rage, and pulled William from his seat by the collar. The stool he was sitting on toppled onto the linoleum tile.
"Al! What?! What happened?!" William looked Wesker up and down, taking note of the welts on his forehead.
"You know very well what happened, you snake. You let those fuckin' dogs run rampant in the forest while my team and I were training!"
William's expression grew dark. "You told me to release them, Albert," he said calmly. "You told me last night. Don't you remember?"
"I remember, William. Yes, I remember very clearly. But for god sakes, man…Why on earth would you let them out in the daytime?!"
"It was dark when I released them this morning," William reasoned.
"You idiot! That thing—and countless others, I'm sure—killed someone or something before we made contact with it. STARS is well aware of this creature, now. They weren't supposed to be exposed to any kind of BOW until I said so." He shoved William aside, breathing heavily. "Now, they know what to expect when the time comes…"
William massaged where the coat collar rubbed his skin raw. "What do mean? When what comes?"
"The day you and I say goodbye to Umbrella. I've already explained to you why we have no other choice."
"Then why are you mad at me about the dogs? Umbrella will get the blame if things get out of hand. What's the big deal?"
"The big deal is that, in order for us to disappear, we need to eliminate anyone we've made contact with over the last couple of years, William. That means informants, Irons, STARS…"
Claire…
"We can't leave a paper trail, especially one for Umbrella to follow." Wesker ran his fingers through his hair and plopped in the stool next to William's. "We can't pull this charade any longer. There's too much at risk for us both."
"What's gonna happen to us, Al?!" William snapped, catching Wesker off guard. "Do you know how hard we worked to get this far? What am I supposed to tell Annette?"
"She'll understand—"
"How do you know?! I have so much more to risk losing than you do, Al. Don't you dare try to take that away from me. I have a wife and daughter to think of, unlike you." He pointed a finger at Wesker. "You can't expect me to just drop everything and head for the exit. Do you realize what kind of shit we're in? Spencer is coming…I sent the reports to him this afternoon." Wesker raised his eyebrows in question.
"He seems to be satisfied for now, but he wants to see what we've been working on for himself," William continued. "Just what the fuck are we supposed to tell him, Al?! We have one fucking Tyrant to show for the T-Virus, minus the dogs in the forest. And the G-Virus? Oh yeah, nothing!"
Wesker waited for William's panting to slow to normal breathing, before reaching out to touch his shoulder. "Get ahold of yourself, William. You'll have to forgive me…I'm just as concerned for you and your family's wellbeing, too. They mean everything to you, so it's only right that you would put them first…but think about it. We have to get out while we can. Your family will be involved if we slip up."
William shook his head, bangs waving side to side. "No…I don't…They won't take them from me," he said with tears in his eyes. "I'll give them hell before they can try."
"That's it." Wesker nodded. "That's what I wanted to hear. Now…wipe those tears. You can cry all you like once this is over. Right now, we have to prepare everything. Gather everything you can and move to the underground lab below the city, just like we discussed. I will deal with Irons and STARS, and once they're out of the way, I'll contact you and we can all escape together."
"And…What about work? Our finances?"
"We can keep working with G and sell what we need to for profit…But this is the biggest obstacle that's in our way, now. All we have to do is get past this and we'll be fine. Things will return to normal."
William scoffed. "There is no normal for us, Al. There never was. We sold our souls the moment you and I stepped foot into this company." He shrugged. "But…I trust you with my life; always have. I just need you to promise me, Al. If…by some bad luck, I die or get caught up with something I'll never get out of…promise me that you'll look after Annette and Sherry."
"Will—"
"I mean it. I've been so caught up in my work, that I wouldn't be surprised if it led to my demise someday. And Sherry…she deserves to be brought up right. She's a smart cookie already, and that will get her far…but she'll need some guidance along the way."
Wesker gave William's shoulder a squeeze. "Then you better make damn sure you're there to guide her. Don't talk like you've given up. You still have some fight in you, William. Now…are we going to give them hell or not?"
The younger scientist gave a half smile, trying to fight back more tears. "Yeah…Yeah, we will."
There you have it, folks! This chapter took way longer than I had anticipated, but I hope you all enjoyed it. I'm thinking of taking this story into a different direction, simply because the characters I like are not in the games anymore lol How do you guys feel about William Birkin surviving, and NOT becoming the monster he does in RE2? And the mansion…I'm not sure I'm gonna go into that, simply because it would take too long…But I might. Wesker has to be killed and revived some way, right?
Anyways, thanks again for reading, everyone. I do apologize for the long, long delay. Hopefully now, things will be right again :D Let me know what you think, if you decide to review. And don't forget to voice your opinions about the questions I asked! I'm curious as to where to take this story.
Oh, and I'm working on two drabbles for The People in My Life, if anyone cares to know.
Special thanks to Tina Von Rotter and MOONLIGHT SHADOW HUNTRESS, both of whom have supported me and helped me throughout this difficult process of actually sitting down to write, when my brain was wracked with so much other stuff. Thank you both very much. I couldn't muster the courage without ya. Feel free to check out their awesome stories in my Favorite Stories section :D Also, feel free to follow me on Instagram or request me on Facebook :D All that info is in my profile :D Thanks again! Until next time, GO TEAM WESKER! -Lil V.
**This chapter is dedicated to Tina Von Rotter. With all the storms in your eyes, I couldn't bear to look away, for I, too, had similar storms in mine.**