Albert Wesker stood gazing out a solitaire window at the winding pathways below
as the overhanging trees created moving shadows over the already dark courtyard.
Images of the Spencer Estate were recalled. The bodies, the stench of decay...the
B.O.Ws...the STARS who stole his humanity away from him. He cringed at the thought
of Redfield. That bastard fly-boy would pay for every breath he continued to take.
Moving away from the window he took a seat in a well-worn leather chair.
The desk before him lay bare. Apparently this was not Mr. Trent's regular office,
and knowing Wesker's recent streak of bad-luck, Mr. Trent had forgotten all about
him and flown off to deal with some urgent Umbrella matter.
Disturbing the silence, a knock on the door sounded. As the hinges creaked
and the heavy door opened, Wesker climbed to his feet and removed his dark sunglasses.
'No sense in making an unnecessary, unprofessional stereotype for myself.' he thought.
What Wesker's eyes saw next made his jaw drop from it's usual clenched manner. Standing
in the doorway stood a young girl. She appeared to be around the same age as Miss.
Chambers, Bravo Team's child genius and medic. She was sporting a beret with the U.B.C.S.
crest, and black jungle fatigues to boot.
"Mr. Trent?" Her words almost shocked him. 'Was she here for the meeting?
Surely Mr. Trent had a better sense of humor.' Before Wesker could answer, Mr. Trent
entered the room and motioned for them both to sit. Removing his trenchcoat, he eyed both
soldiers. 'This WILL make for interesting conversation at the next meeting.' he thought.
Moving to the desk he cleared his throat and straightened his tie.
"As you both know, Umbrella has been "experiencing" some "difficulties" at one of
their Northern facilities. Interrupting, the U.B.C.S soldier pointed towards Wesker.
"I can see what this has to do with the Umbrella Counter-Measures Squad, Sir. But
what does it have to do with the cop?" Wesker glared at the woman. If only Trent wasn't
present, he would show her who was in control. He was ALWAYS in control.
"It's not for show, I can assure you, my dear. Mr. Wesker has some experience with
our little "problems", and I'm sure he'll be more than astatic at the fact that he will be
accompanying you and your team to our Northern lab." Wesker almost choked.
"You can't be serious, Mr. Trent. I would work much more efficient without a bunch
of foot-soldiers tagging along."
"I'm aware of your past mishap in Raccoon Forest, Captain. I can assure you that for
insurance purposes it has been decided that you shouldn't go alone. If the STARS put in an
appearance we need to be certain that you will fulfill your duty to secure the facility, and
not go gallivanting off in search of revenge." Wesker sank back into his worn seat. Come Hell
or high-water, he would put these soldiers in their places. And whether Umbrella wished it or
not, he was going to kill Redfield.
as the overhanging trees created moving shadows over the already dark courtyard.
Images of the Spencer Estate were recalled. The bodies, the stench of decay...the
B.O.Ws...the STARS who stole his humanity away from him. He cringed at the thought
of Redfield. That bastard fly-boy would pay for every breath he continued to take.
Moving away from the window he took a seat in a well-worn leather chair.
The desk before him lay bare. Apparently this was not Mr. Trent's regular office,
and knowing Wesker's recent streak of bad-luck, Mr. Trent had forgotten all about
him and flown off to deal with some urgent Umbrella matter.
Disturbing the silence, a knock on the door sounded. As the hinges creaked
and the heavy door opened, Wesker climbed to his feet and removed his dark sunglasses.
'No sense in making an unnecessary, unprofessional stereotype for myself.' he thought.
What Wesker's eyes saw next made his jaw drop from it's usual clenched manner. Standing
in the doorway stood a young girl. She appeared to be around the same age as Miss.
Chambers, Bravo Team's child genius and medic. She was sporting a beret with the U.B.C.S.
crest, and black jungle fatigues to boot.
"Mr. Trent?" Her words almost shocked him. 'Was she here for the meeting?
Surely Mr. Trent had a better sense of humor.' Before Wesker could answer, Mr. Trent
entered the room and motioned for them both to sit. Removing his trenchcoat, he eyed both
soldiers. 'This WILL make for interesting conversation at the next meeting.' he thought.
Moving to the desk he cleared his throat and straightened his tie.
"As you both know, Umbrella has been "experiencing" some "difficulties" at one of
their Northern facilities. Interrupting, the U.B.C.S soldier pointed towards Wesker.
"I can see what this has to do with the Umbrella Counter-Measures Squad, Sir. But
what does it have to do with the cop?" Wesker glared at the woman. If only Trent wasn't
present, he would show her who was in control. He was ALWAYS in control.
"It's not for show, I can assure you, my dear. Mr. Wesker has some experience with
our little "problems", and I'm sure he'll be more than astatic at the fact that he will be
accompanying you and your team to our Northern lab." Wesker almost choked.
"You can't be serious, Mr. Trent. I would work much more efficient without a bunch
of foot-soldiers tagging along."
"I'm aware of your past mishap in Raccoon Forest, Captain. I can assure you that for
insurance purposes it has been decided that you shouldn't go alone. If the STARS put in an
appearance we need to be certain that you will fulfill your duty to secure the facility, and
not go gallivanting off in search of revenge." Wesker sank back into his worn seat. Come Hell
or high-water, he would put these soldiers in their places. And whether Umbrella wished it or
not, he was going to kill Redfield.