Chapter 25: Season For Chaos
"We're ready to begin." Ellen Smith told John as he passed by the table. She switched her gaze to Wesker across the examination table with a smirk. "I'm surprised you haven't tried asking me on a date yet."
Albert carefully gathered the syringe from the tray next to him. "I'm surprised you care. Considering how many times you shot me down, doctor," He replied in his usual monotone voice. A final glance to the vitals on the monitor and he turned his stare back to the table. "It's time, Lisa."
'Closing the book on you…has been long overdue.'
The restrained mess of a woman on the table merely looked toward the ceiling, hardly moving aside from her ragged breath. Sodium thiopental had calmed her down. The smell permeating off of her was terrible, face draped in flaking skin that didn't belong to her. The most repulsive being in the world to Wesker…yet he never would have gotten far without her.
She had reached out, suddenly grabbing to the hem of Albert's jacket when he began the injections. The man had gotten too close to her grasp finding a good vein. Everyone in the room froze. Everyone held their breath. They expected the worst out of him.
William stumbled out of his chair at one of the consoles, papers previously in his grasp fluttering helplessly to the floor. "Albert, watch it she—"His words died right there in his mouth as his longtime friend made a dismissive gesture.
"You always were her favorite…" Ellen just shook her head, handing over the last injection.
Wesker ignored the remark. He finished quick, ensuring the last hit the best vein for delivering the final part of the fatal cocktail. In front of all, Wesker's latex shrouded palm wrapped around that of Lisa's. His expression was unreadable as always, steel gray orbs gazing down at the lone iris of hers that peered up to him from under the latest creation for a shroud. His free hand stretched further, running along her arm and shoulder.
A sound gurgled from her throat as she began to fade away. Eye closing shut, her body relaxed on the table.
They were in their own world; the scientist and his subject.
Everyone could hear their own pulses as they watched.
When she was gone, he let go.
"Albert?"
William's stunned expression went ignored as the blonde stripped off his latex gloves with a snap. He dumped them in the bin and exited lab.
'Goodbye, Lisa.'
They waited three days. Three long days spent pacing the halls of the old facility where both had carved their names into the history of Umbrella.
Shoulder to shoulder, William and Albert walked the halls of that old place while they waited those three days to ensure her vitals stayed flat. The musty smell of age was pungent in every corridor. They occasionally stopped to reminisce about the past when catching a glimpse of a picture hung on the wall. The younger versions of themselves stared back, blank and expressionless under the glass of the picture frame.
The walk down memory lane was broken by William's question. "What time exactly were you going to be dropping by tonight?"
"Probably around seven, I'd imagine. That's assuming nobody tries to beat their spouse in the front yard or hold up a grocery store over a lack of cranberries in a can." Long fingers reached out to open the front doors.
The mansion behind them, snow crunched under their tread. The woods were a place of reflection, where thoughts of infinite possibilities had sprung from William's mind when he was younger.
They were also a place for thoughts of infinite disasters to Albert; where just how far their creations could go, would be destruction for mankind. "How is Sherry?"
William looked up from the path ahead of them. "Oh, she's doing alright. Her Sunday school group put on a little play yesterday."
"Did you go?" Dark sunglasses hid Wesker's anticipation for a response of 'No'.
"I did, actually. It was cute. For the first time in a long time…I felt like a dad." Hands fishing into the pockets of his coat for some gloves, William laughed a bit. "You look surprised."
"I am quite surprised, William. Usually I am bombarded with excuses or you go into a long recount of your recent creations." His gaze shifted in the direction from which they came.
William dropped his voice to almost a whisper. "Has she heard anything from the old man?"
Wesker shook his head. "Not a word. Given all previous patterns of behavior, I'd say he's dead. I've cut my losses in that regard. Oddly, his death works to our advantage."
"How could that even give us an edge? Without him, you're going to have a hard time convincing her to help us."
"Without him, William," Pale blue eyes peered over the rim of his lenses," I'm the only thing she has left."
Birkin just shook his head, a fog of breath escaping his mouth as he spoke. "That might not be enough unless you're planning on… Oh no. No, no, no, no…" His realization was met with a cruel grin from his counterpart. "There is using her and then there is destroying her when we disappear. Going that far is immoral even for my tastes. Plus it's…unneeded baggage. God help us if another one of you is running around."
"I never said a word about marrying her, William. I have no desire to either." A glance toward the helicopter hovering near the helipad of the estate and Wesker let his own air out to billow in a cloud. "Trust me, William."
Six o'clock, and Wesker was quickly losing his patience with an irate Christopher Redfield on the phone. "Slow down! Now, in your big boy voice, tell me again what is wrong."
"We need you down here at Raccoon City General Hospital. Chief Irons is losing his mind and some lunatic is holding hostages."
He hung up with a sigh, fingers squeezing the bridge of his nose. It was going to be another long night. He should have been used to long nights by now. The blonde half thought of changing out of his black sweater and slacks, but there was no time to bother with that. The idea of another break spent with degenerates was going over like a fart in church.
'Don't idiots ever take a holiday?'
The entropy of squad car lights, people, and screams of frightened souls was hard to tune out as Wesker stepped out of his car. The air itself was electrified with fear. Flashing his badge, he stepped past the line of police trying to keep concerned citizens in some sort of order. It wasn't hard to spot Chris, who was talking to a woman wrapped in a wool blanket in the back of the only ambulance in sight. He waited; a black splotch in a sea of uniforms coming and going.
Chris uttered thanks to the woman before noticing the captain and approached. He never lost stride with Wesker once he caught up. "Alright, Miss Kathy claims the first guy came in three days ago with flu like symptoms. They put him in a room to keep him hydrated and comfortable. The other four showed up today with flowers and claiming to have brought a bag of clothing for him. About an hour ago they took the head surgeon hostage and demanded a few nurses help them rig the bombs on the second floor. One refused and lost her head. Kathy fled through the fire escape but sprained her ankle in a fall. Nobody else has made it out from that floor."
Wesker's brows shot straight up as they walked. "How many hostages?"
"Twelve, and apparently there are kids." Chris flipped his notebook shut as the captain quietly cursed. "How do you wanna do this?"
Darting a stare towards Irons yelling orders from the hood of a squad car, Albert could feel the situation deteriorating already. The chief didn't do well with pressure and it was starting to show to every cop within the area. "Fast and quiet, there's a service entrance through the sewers. The power company used it to install new lines into the grid back in '87." Leading the way toward the team's vehicle where Barry Burton was sitting on the tailgate of, Wesker stripped off his coat.
"Alright, we three can go in. Joseph is on his way still. Brad is out of town. I still can't get Jill on the phone. I have no idea where she is." Chris caught the vest tossed to him by Burton, unzipping the front. "She's been distracted a lot lately."
"Well, we can't have that tonight. It's probably best that she's AWOL if her head isn't in the right place." Wesker dropped the bullet proof vest over his shoulders, zipping and pulling the straps along the waist to fit it snugly. Shoulder holster system dropped over that, he adjusted it to fit over the vest. "Three works best anyway, we'll be in and out."
Barry nodded, chambering a final round into his Colt Anaconda. "What about Irons?" The clack of the revolver's cylinder sliding into place hit the air before the burly man holstered the weapon.
Wesker looked up behind his dark frames toward the crowd gathered at the front of the entrance for a moment. A thought finally occurred to him and his skull snapped towards Redfield. "Where's Speyer?"
Enrico's left hand worried at his brow while the other was almost numb with holding a flashlight over the floor plans spread out over the hood of the squad car. "I just don't see how we can sit here and wait, Chief. Everyone who managed to get out is saying these guys are shooting people left and right."
"We just arrived, Marini. No demands have been made yet, and we don't have eyes on that floor. We need to sit tight until they make contact with us for what they want." Irons said firmly, beady eyes narrowed. "I have experience with hostage situations, believe it or not. I'll be damned if I risk officers. Everyone had better sit tight until I give the order."
"Roger, Chief." Marini was too tired to argue. His brows shot straight up as Forest approached. "What's wrong?"
With hands jammed into the pockets of his jacket, Forest let out a sigh. "Nothing, I'm just admiring how well Chief Irons is working under pressure." Sauntering behind the pair to the other side of the squad car, he peered over the floor plans. "It takes a strong mind to think clearly during all of this."
"Well…thank you, Forest." Shock and quiet filled the chief's voice as he spoke. "I've handled many hostage situations over the years. We just need to sit tight until they make contact."
"What was your first one like?" The dark haired youth was oddly interested.
The chief hesitated with a rugged hand running against the nape of his neck. "Well, it was several years ago…"
Enrico shot Forest a confused look, only catching the member of Bravo Team returning the glance with a sly grin.
"I have a feeling I'm going to regret asking Speyer to keep Irons busy." Wesker uttered, dipping the crowbar's neck into a hole of the sewer cover.
"I'm sure it'll only set you back a case of beer and covering his ass, Captain." Barry replied with a chuckle. He cast his flashlight's rays down into the sewer below. The smell was almost overwhelming to the burly man, a hand raised to stifle a cough. "Smells like backed up death."
"Smells like Christmas Eve at the academy." Chris joked, first to descend into the dark passageway below. Flashlight clicked on, he waved them down.
Wesker followed, dropping the last few steps to the cement of the walkway. Even he couldn't ignore how terrible it smelled, a hand covering his mouth and nose. "Christ, they couldn't have selected a worse day to pick a fight."
Barry laughed, crouched over the man hole. The feeling of being watched overtook his senses, eyes lifted to meet Enrico's about one-hundred feet away. Giving his longtime friend a thumb's up, Burton began his own descent, guiding the man hole cover back to its resting place.
A deep sigh escaped Marini. Once again, he was missing all the fun and forced to listen to Brian Irons' glory days.
'I don't get paid enough for this.'
The service entrance hadn't been hard to find, even in the dank darkness of the sewer. Wesker seemed to know exactly where he was going, which was helpful as far as the other two men were concerned. A dispute of his intimate knowledge was chalked up to nothing more than dead reckoning. Backs pressed against either side of the door, Chris and Barry relieved their holsters of weapons.
At an angle to the door, weapon drawn, Albert checked the magazine once before nodding to Chris. "I'll take point."
Burton clicked the hammer back on the behemoth that was his firearm with a grunt. He nodded to Chris. "Moon's out."
"Goons out," Chris replied, twisting the knob and letting the door swing wide.
First in, Wesker was quick to observe the desertion of the generator room. Inhaling through his nostrils, he was rewarded with a breath of fresh and cool air. The blonde led the way towards the grated stairwell. Each footstep on the steel steps sounded ridiculously loud as they ascended.
It was too damn loud for three men trying to be very quiet.
'Is it? Or are you imagining that it's loud?'
A distant sound of gunfire muffled above.
Pausing short, his right hand lifted above his shoulder in a fist.
Everyone froze in their tracks. The only sounds to be heard were their own throats swallowing down the itching fear of being ambushed.
Steel blue eyes narrowing their gaze, Wesker began to move again. Up the next flight and they were at the door. A stale brown sign greeted them that they had arrived on the appropriate floor.
'The maternity ward? Why am I even surprised that these idiots would be hiding behind infants?'
Quietly, Wesker spoke over his shoulder. "Keep visual contact when possible, move fast and low. Locating the bombs is our priority and disabling them." He grasped the knob, and gave it a twist.
The door swung wide as the three crept in. The captain heading straight, the other two swiftly made their way in opposing directions down the hall.
The nursery was dark as Chris approached the glass, ducking out of sight. The muted sound of crying from infants, and what only could have been one of their caretakers, made him wince. The brunette dared a peek, seeing only one nurse inside. Roughed up beyond belief, she was trying to soothe one of the little ones. Behind her in the dark, the flash of a bomb's trigger blinked in red. Swallowing hard, he crouched low once more. Everything in him burned white hot. He had to keep it together tonight. There could not be mistakes. Working up the nerve, he retraced his steps to the door and slid inside quietly.
Barry passed the nursery's ICU, coming to a stop next to the wall nearest to the beginning of the next hallway. Taking a glance back to the glass peering in, he let out a deep sigh. Two dead inside, their corpses were drowning in a sea of sanguine. As much as he wished he could help them, all the burly man could do was make a mark for Chris to find when he came sweeping back. The flashing red light within was all he needed to see to know an explosive hid within.
'Keep moving, old man.'
Wesker sped past an abandoned hospital bed, sliding to a stop at the next hallway. Peering down both ways, he began to slip eastward. The soft sound of boots was behind him, drawing nearer. Only one pair, however.
'Barry is coming up. Redfield must have found one.'
Back pressed against the wall, he managed to look down the next passageway. To his surprise, three of them were present.
None of the men bothered covering their faces, which was troublesome. In his experience, the blonde couldn't count a single time that people, who were expecting to live after such a standoff, didn't conceal their identities. They began moving toward him, relaxed and unaware. A few gunshots behind them caused the three to stop and look back behind them briefly.
Back in the hallway, Wesker was quick to slip into the first available door. In the men's room, he was hoping to not have company. The flickering fluorescent above hummed in the silence as the captain planned his next move.
'The other two can avoid that roaming group easily, though we should probably put them down before…'
A sudden cough from one of the stalls caused the blonde to jerk his head in the same direction. A sly expression lifting onto his features, Albert simply reached over and flicked off the light.
"What the fuck? Benny is that you? Quit fucking around, I can't see!" Someone roared, stumbling out of the stall in the pitch black of the bathroom.
Wesker let off a small sigh, stepping backwards from the switch and sitting on the sink bar. A hand went to a pouch on his harness, drawing out the silencer. All the while the man stumbled and felt around in the darkness, cursing up a storm, Albert just fixed the silencer to his handgun. Lifting the weapon, he waited.
"What the hell, Benny. Stop fooling around!" Light switch flicked on, the onyx haired man turned around.
The florescence struggled to come on, flickering only brief moments of light before darkness was forced to reveal its hidden assassin. Wesker clicked the hammer back on his pistol, eating up every bit of the utter shock on the goon's face.
"You're not Benny." He paled; almost looked as though he had just witnessed a phantom appear before him.
Albert's lips twisted into the cruelest grin imaginable. "No, Benny sent me in here to tell you to hurry up."
The felon's blood ran cold and made the mistake of reaching for his own weapon.
The silencer barely made the Samurai Edge purr louder than a kitten. Weapon lowered, Wesker let out a sigh. Despite how well prepared he was, this was a high stakes game.
The dark haired man just bled out on the floor before him, a smoking hole in his forehead.
Unscrewing the silencer, the blonde's head lifted at the sound of a booming shot.
'Barry.'
Stepping over the corpse of his latest kill, Wesker abandoned the restroom.
Chris had managed to get a little information out of the nurse. There were three bombs in all. He'd succeeded in diffusing the one in the nursery, and the one in the ICU. Crouched down under the desk of a cramped office, Redfield feverishly worked to dispose of the third. A final wire yanked and the light went dark. Somewhere in the distance he heard the sound of Barry's Colt. Seconds later, he heard Wesker's Samurai Edge. Head sinking between his shoulders, the brunette let out a sigh.
'Thank God.'
"Give it up, pup." Barry barked. His weapon trained on the man bleeding all over the floor amid an assortment of whimpers and tears. Stepping forward, his boot kicked away the rifle previously used to pepper holes in the walls.
At the end of the hallway, Albert peered into the main hall of the floor. A glance over his shoulder, the blonde found Barry Burton approaching. "Wait here for Redfield. I'm going in." Doors pushed aside, he didn't bother waiting for any reply.
It was a blood bath to say the least. Gore and bullet holes littered the walls of the room intersecting the wing. The floors were a mass grave. Corpses scattered the area, frozen in the horror of their final breath. A janitor laid dead next to an overturned mop bucket, blood more pink than red from mixing with the dirty water. A mother huddled over her child even in death.
It made the blonde dizzy to look. As soon as his boots touched the Umbrella symbol painted on the tile floor, a voice reached out from the dark.
"That's far enough. Stay right where you are."
'Damn it.'
He obeyed, stopping in the center of the red and white flower. Frosty glare set forward to the darkened hallway ahead, he waited.
"Drop your gun. Kick it away."
Albert didn't have to think on it, he just did it as the assailant and his last hostage crept out of the shadows of the hallway. Wesker immediately recognized the hostage.
'George Hamilton, the humanist himself…'
George…was having a very bad day. A splatter of crimson painted the front of his white button down shirt. He was caked in dried and flaking blood up to his elbows. Unruly hair and bloody nose, he would have given anything for the day to just end. So tired and so frightened, a few tears spilled down his passive features as the barrel of a handgun dug into the back of his skull.
The blonde S.T.A.R.S. captain's eyes clicked to the man behind him. "Why?" Irritation and anger sang through the single worded question.
"This place… They make monsters here." A nervous laugh echoed the derelict hall. "They took my wife…and my daughter." The voice of the unknown man strained from the shadows dividing him. "They took them and I never saw them again!"
Hamilton's eyes winced shut as the barrel pushed harder against the back of his cranium. "I tried to tell him that he must be mistaken… This is a hospital."
"Sounds like he thinks we're standing in Frankenstein's castle." Wesker's sarcasm was followed by the sound of a hammer being clicked back. "Alright, what do you want? Publicity, money, an escape route?"
"I want the world to know the truth. Umbrella is behind all of this. They are using people in their experiments!" The man's voice hissed in anguish.
"How is anyone going to believe that? You killed everyone here. Nobody is going to buy for a second that you're telling the truth." The surgeon caught in the middle bellowed. "You're just a monster looking to justify murdering innocent people."
Albert was quick to cut in before he lost control of the situation. Hamilton opening his maw again would no doubt end in violence. "Let's stay calm, gentlemen. How about a trade, hmm? You let the doctor go and I'll take his place." There was some silence on the other end of the room. "If you want us to believe you, then you need to give us a sign of good faith. Let him go, and we can discuss the matter further of getting…the truth out. A police officer is a far better bargaining chip than a doctor."
"Yeah…yeah fine," The weapon shined harshly as it was lowered from the back of George's head. "Get out of here, doctor."
Nobody needed to tell the brunette surgeon twice. He muttered his thanks to Wesker in passing. A 'don't mention it' followed him out the doors.
Only when they were alone did Wesker finally speak. "So where's the last bomb?" His stare met the barrel of the handgun and its mysterious owner hugging the darkness.
The other man chuckled softly. "I can't tell you that. Not yet anyway." Stepping into the light, the man gazed evenly at the captain. Disfigured would have been a mild explanation of his appearance. One milky white iris, a very marred nose, and sunken features twisted into the cruelest of wide smiles. "You recognize me now, don't you?"
'I shouldn't have put it past the Dawn to react after we framed them… Shit, shit, shit.'
Wesker nodded slowly, eyes narrowed as he stole a side glance towards his weapon. "Donald Anderson, it's been too long since we did this dance. How are things in 'Hippieville'?" He watched the man move, seeming to have followed the captain's stare towards his weapon. "I thought the Dawn of Heaven had better things to do than suicide bombing hospitals. Are we not paying enough attention to you and your little cult?"
"On the contrary, it seems someone is paying quite a bit of attention to us. In the past month, five of my church's members were arrested. Then my wife and daughter went missing." Scooping up the discarded Samurai Edge, the older balding man looked up to the blonde. "All trails lead to Hell, and that Hell is named Umbrella."
"You're out of your fucking mind, Donald. Your members killed thirty people. Maybe your wife wised up to how much of a lunatic you are and fled. Maybe you should accept reality. Acceptance is the first step in the recovery process." His own weapon turned on him, Wesker inwardly sighed.
"Watch your words, rat. She was dedicated to our cause and doing the work of Christ himself."
Albert bit the inside of his cheek to stall the reply he had for such a stupid statement. A nail scratching along his brow, he exhaled. "Fine, tell me how Umbrella is responsible for their disappearance and…whatever else you're claiming."
Stepping closer, Anderson laughed. "You always were so transparent, Wesker. You're so clueless about what they're doing right under your feet."
Albert knew full well what stood beneath their feet. Five hundred souls and countless dollars of research was just the beginning…
'How did this idiot find out about the Hive?'
"I know…many things. I have someone on the inside, you know." Donald pulled the hammer back on the Samurai Edge. "I know about the facility underground. I know about the T-Virus." He giggled a little at that. "I've done better investigative work than you, and I'm not even a cop."
All of it was dismissed with a snort. "Those ridiculous stories include unicorns?"
The cult leader's eyes darkened, a hand going into the pocket of his jacket. Dropping his own pistol into it, he chuckled. "No, it just involves every sin exposed. You won't have to worry too much about it…" He pulled the trigger, only to hear the click of an empty weapon. A look of complete and utter fury lit up on his face "You roach!"
Wesker could only smirk.
Doors swinging wide open, Christopher barged in right on schedule. Taking aim, he opened fire on the assailant.
Three shots and the man dropped in a heap, lying motionless on the tiled ground.
Gathering the weapon from the fallen fool, Wesker let out his air. "Now I remember why I don't carry extended magazines." He turned to look at Chris. "Thank you, Redfield."
Chris nodded, a weak smile exerted. "Anytime, Captain." Calm finally crept its fingers over his exhausted shoulders. A faint sound of music filled the void of silence. A familiar tune from his childhood, it reminded him of his old jack-in-the-box. His brow furrowed, a frown seating on his mouth. "What's that sound?"
The blonde looked around. "I don't hear anything."
The music suddenly stopped.
Without further warning, the wall behind Wesker exploded into a million shards of cement and plaster.
Everything was blurry, a shrill ringing sound the only thing he could hear. There was light and then there was dark. Neither were very good company and it was making him nauseated.
'Stay awake. If you fall asleep, you're dead!'
His eyes cracked open. George and Chris were over him. The prognosis: bad, very bad. Christopher looked scared.
The surgeon said something garbled and Redfield was up and moving fast where he could not see.
Terrible pain was riddling his entire body and the world was spinning from his grasp. Wesker's head rolled to the side, too heavy to control. His gray blue eyes shot wide open. There, at the end of the hallway in his view stood the shrouded and shackled form of his last victim: Lisa Trevor.
"It's time, Albert." She echoed his words. "Always my favorite." Everything became a red haze as she turned and disappeared down another hallway.
Darkness stole him and his thoughts away after.