A/N: Enjoy Or die. (just kidding )

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The warrior doesn't care if he's called a beast or a dog; the main thing is winning.

-Asakura Norikage (soteki) (1474-1552)

Walked away, heard them say, "Poison hearts will never change. Walked away again. Turned away, in disgrace, felt the chill upon my face cooling from within

-AFI "The Leaving Song"

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Wolf's Bluff Ohio

Just after the shooting

Albert Wesker sat in a nearby street café, trying to contain his uncontainable anger and waiting for his contact.

He had arrived at two thirty, sat down, ordered a drink and a light meal (A salad, a rarity for someone who's genetic make-up ordered him to eat meat) and a drink.

At three o' clock he'd watched the afternoon traffic begin to dissipate.

And at three thirty everything went to hell.

He had ignored the snipers up on the roof assuming them to be matinence. When they had begun to pick off various civilians on the other hand-he had prepared dutifully to rush to their aid when a familiar voice appeared like a ghost from the air...

"I'm with the WBPD! Lets have a little order here!"

Chris Redfield. The good, the golden, the god, descended from Olympus to assist the mere mortals who cried out for his assistance.

Then things had gotten interesting.

A police sniper had cried out from the roof of their building- when two security officers managed to corner the second sniper (He had no idea how-apparently they had used a net and something that looked a hell of a lot like a cattle prod) the third was rushed by a group of businessmen and women from another building.

Well shit. Ever since September 11, everybody had wanted to be the hero...

That was when Christopher had shot the woman.

"What?"

"That police officer! He's shooting people!"

"Somebody stop him! Isn't he supposed to be the good guy?"

Wesker frowned. Chris Redfield the saint shooting people?

Indeed, a woman lay on the ground bleeding profusely from a second wound in her arm. Chris had done well-the shot severed the elbow joint. Wesker's frown deepened as his fellow officers crowded around him, attempting to restrain him.

Then he had started screaming about zombies.

Wesker watched as they hauled Officer Redfield off the field, penalty called on account of rough play. His eyes darted back and forth insane and manic.

"Captain Wesker! Call Jill! Help meeeeee!"

Wesker said nothing and began to push his way to the back of the crowds. It was about time for his contact to show up and-

"Hello Captain. It's been a while."

Albert Wesker froze.

The woman behind him (Older then she had been when he knew her, yet no less desirable) had shoulder length brown hair. She wore a trench coat and hat and looked like a reject from a spy-thriller.

"Do I know you?"

"I know you." She sidled up to him, "I know you, and I have for quite some time Captain." She removed her hat and looked him in the eye. Outside the crowds were beginning to disperse.

"Chambers?"

"Oui." She slipped the hat back on, "That's Special Agent Carlton with the FBI however."

"Married?" he disguised his surprise at the sudden appearance of someone he'd shot in the chest. If there was a true cat in this business it was Chambers-who could take a bullet and come back swinging.

Her eyes narrowed, "Witness protection program."

"Oh." He raised his eyebrows, "Well it's a pleasure to see you, but-"

"But nothing." Rebecca's eyes were icy-her demeanor cold. He had never figured that the 18-year-old kid of his STARS team could grow up to be someone who he might actually have to politically maneuver with on his level...

"...Antarctica base."

Wesker looked up, "What?"

"As part of the government investigation." Rebecca continued, "Like I said. I must say that you and Chris were quite complete in your decimation of the base." She leaned back in her chair, "That and there has been documentation unearthed us."

Wesker frowned, "How?"

Ignoring the sudden media frenzy-the departure of all the café's patrons-they sat in a booth towards the back. The two waiters and the staff were arguing hysterically up front.

"About the founding of the HCF." Rebecca slipped something out of her coat and slid it across the table, "Files containing detailed information pertaining to a project APOCALYPSE."

Wesker frowned, "What?"

She slid the file across the table and Wesker flipped it open, examining it.

"Most of this is blacked out."

"Yeah, but computers are amazing things." Rebecca shrugged, "Take it, I have copies."

"You've changed Becca." Wesker smiled, "You're much more familiar with how this works. What happened to you after Raccoon?"

"Most of the file." Rebecca ignored him, "Details the planned operations for an Umbrella research faculty." Her eyes narrowed, "Then it details the destruction of these faculties."

"That was in all the files." Wesker said, "Look, you have to understand Rebecca-"

"Carlton."

"Rebecca. The company was fully prepared to destroy themselves to hide their secrets." He lowered his eyes darkly, "after all, we were doing things that would ruin us if discovered." He couldn't believe that he was revealing all of this...

"Who gave you the order to assassinate Dr. Marcus?"

Wesker froze. He coughed a few times.

"Ho-How-How-How do you know about that?"

Nobody knew about Dr. Marcus's death save him, Birkin, and the UBCS team members. Wesker had checked, the two of them had died when Birkin took their secret to his grave.

The café darkened.

"Who gave you the order?"

"It..." he leaned back into the leather, the question had shocked him into response. "It...came from someone at the French labs. We had no idea who-an executive-that was for sure." He nodded firmly, "Anyway what does this have to do with me?" he slipped his comfortable hard façade back into place.

Rebecca flipped open the folder again.

"Operation Apocalypse shall begin with Dr. James Marcus who has become a liability." She read, "His research shall be subsequently completed by Dr. William Birkin. In the event that Dr. Birkin and Dr. Albert Wesker-"

Her eyes met Albert's. She kept reading.

"Should attempt to repeat the similar acts of insubordination that Marcus has committed both shall be assassinated as needs be. Physiological profiles indicate that both subjects shall take extreme action should their lives be threatened."

Wesker frowned, "We did receive physiological exams. However they had nothing to do with the possibility of us-"

Rebecca interrupted him, "Because of the highly violent nature of the research being conducted, it is recommended that in order for project apocalypse to proceed as planned-the Spencer Estate faculty (Previously in operation as a simple storage and recycling plant) shall be used to further the development of the necessary goals of the General program."

"Well, that was-" his mind was working. Hadn't he wondered the same thing? Why put the faculty out in the middle of the forest? It was almost like they had wanted them to release the virus...

Rebecca's voice brought him back to reality.

"They didn't choose you because of your brilliance Captain." Rebecca sounded sad, "Although that was a large part of it. What did that guy say? Genius is equal parts brilliance and insanity."

"That was obvious." Wesker laughed aloud, "Just look at Marcus-"

Silence filled the room and poured out into the street. The area was a mass of cop-cars, journalists, and helicopters removing the wounded to various hospitals around the area. 23 people had died.

"What." Wesker asked, "Are you getting at?"

"I'm saying that the outbreak at Ark lay, the destruction of Raccoon-hell with what we know..." Rebecca glanced down out of the booth, at the gray world outside, "Probably the Ashford situation-it was all planned."

"That's impossible." Wesker growled, his body tensing, "It was freak chance. I mean honestly-"

"Who came up with the ideas? You said it yourself in your confidential memo to Agent Wong-"

"Agent Wong?" Wesker's eyes bugged out of his head, "Ada..."

"Is working with the government." Rebecca said, "CIA specifically. Had you fooled even?" she grinned.

"Jesus..." Wesker did not like being played at all, and he had apparently been misused six ways from Sunday.

"Someone..." Rebecca grabbed Wesker's arm and stared into his mottled eyes, "planned this. The outbreak-the mansion-they left you and your co-workers a outline..." Rebecca looked at him sadly, "To end the world."

"You're lying Chambers." Wesker growled, "In any case, what concern is it of mine? After all, I left Umbrella." He stood, "I believe our conversation is finished."

Rebecca leaned against the booth and watched Albert Wesker stride out of the café. Even when she was eighteen-she had wondered about his sanity. Now, with what she had seen out in the street and in the files...

She shook her head and groaned. They all saw things in such terms of black and white!

The café door banged shut and Rebecca closed her eyes and put two fingers to her temples. She did not have the heart to tell Albert Wesker that the HCF had sent him to Antarctica.

They had asked him to locate Alexia.

They controlled his actions.

Which meant, especially with the discovery that the HCF board members could not be located at all-meant that they were probably involved as well.

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Africa's Ivory Coast

Dark men on a dark boat, in a dark place.

From the casual observer's glance-they appeared to be old friends chatting away in Swahili, unusual for the area. The boat rocked back and forth for a bit in the moorings, sending the reflection of the moon shivering across the water.

The first man handed the second one a brown package.

If the observer had been omnipotent, like the saints and angels above, they would have noticed that the box was marked, "HCF-Ivory Coast faculty" and that the man who was holding said box-wore all black.

Black mask, black shirt, black gun, black boots.

His friend said something else and laughter rocked across the harbor. A drunken American Sailor (Staying in port while his ship was docked) frowned at the sudden peal of uninterrupted mirth before shuffling off-the evening's entertainment holding him up with her thick arms.

They were two dark men on a dark boat, in a very, very dark place.

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The next day

HCF's Ivory Coast faculty: "White Rabbit"

"Hi Bob, grabbed the mail?"

Bob nodded, showing Ted the small brown package that had arrived that morning. They were a small faculty, and a package like this from the home office was a rarity, and a treat.

Ted held out his beefy hand, "Any letter?"

"Nothing." Bob smiled, "Just says open immediately. What do you think it is?"

"Don't know. Probably important."

"Well don't just stand there! Open it for Chrissake!"

Ted tore into the box like a child on Christmas. He gasped for a moment, then both men crumpled to the ground.

Like a lost white feather, a small notice drifted out from the boxes bottom. Its script was elegant-written by a hand that was used to communication by writing-not by the information age's "Electronic mail System"

We sincerely hope you enjoy the new and improved, faster activation T-Virus. Improving the method of transfer was quite simple. The virus is easily transferred to bacteria, therefore enclosing spores in your mail allowed it to be transferred very quickly.

Thank you for your trial run gentlemen.

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Horizon Chemical Foundation

Las Vegas Nevada

Greg Peterson slammed his computer on the side. Outside sunlight beamed through his windows, mocking those who were forced to work with the promise of a full-fun day at "Adult Disneyland."

"HURRY UP!"

Carla peeked her head in, "What's wrong?"

"Its IVC." Greg growled, "They haven't reported in yet. We're supposed to receive hourly reports from them and Dr. Stevenson said that I couldn't go to lunch until that Damn Jack ass Ted reported in.," he growled. He hated Ted. He hated the fact that HCF believed in employees, "Eating out" for Lunch. The most nutritious food that the cafeteria offered was Toaster Eggo waffles in the vending machine.

"Want me to bring you back some MacDonald's?"

Greg gagged, "Don't you realize you're going to end up an elephant if you keeping eating that shit Carla?"

Carla growled, "Look who's talking Mr. This-is-my-fifth-heart-attack and I'm okay..."

"Those happened to have occurred from Stress and-"

Something beeped.

"Finally!" he clacked a few keys and opened the direct communication log. With the updated computer system. He could now speak to Ted, and hear audio from all the way in IVC...

And be there.

Yes, holographic sensors allowed 3-D projections of actual happenings to appear on screen. Once he'd called up Robert Davis right in the middle of smooching some hot little number...

"Bob? Ted?"

"HELP!"

Tina Evans appeared before them.

Her dress was torn-blood smeared over one eye. The specter invaded the room staring at them with pity-revulsion at something that had occurred outside their vision. The audio filled the room with screaming-awful screaming...

"We got-outbreak-"

"Tina!" Greg began punching keys furiously. Carla stared in horror as Tina picked something up off the floor and leveled it directly at her.

"DON'T COME ANY CLOSER! CAN YOU HEAR ME? BOB! PLEASE!" tears oozed down her cheeks, wet with red, "Bob? Bob please...oh god...oh god bob..."

The backward holographic sensor triggered. Carla shrieked as a zombie-a zombie – passed right through her-arms outstretched. She began to scream; a long, low sound-as the image snowed one more time and went dark.

Both stood, staring at the screen. The world repulsive with the new found knowledge that one of their colleagues was in danger.

"We have an outbreak situation." Tina said, "Level Five." She licked her lips, "Holy Sweet mother of god...it's happening all over again..."

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A/N: Short, yes, unbelievably short. The next one will be longer I promise. We have to get back to Sherry yes? Sherry and Kevin both.