A/N: Yeah I know, no real action so far, but trust me it's coming, and it'll be back (or really here for the first time) With a Vengeance. As always read and review because I love you (hey look at that I'm a poet…) And as always flames aren't just welcomed but encouraged.
Demons Dreaming
Chapter 2: The Devil's Advocate
As James headed up the stairs towards the corporate executive offices he soon realized he had sold his soul to the Devil, or at least his mortal equivalent. James "Oliver" Cromwell was the head Executive of the entire "Dead Factory". He sat comfortably in his cheap power suits, plush leather chair, and his big oak desk, he was Umbrella's highest ranking executive and had been given the position as a reward for his hard work with the company. But everyone around the "Dead Factory" knew the real story; the last man left in charge of Umbrella's Raccoon sector, a certain Trevor Mortenson had been assassinated in a violent and extremely hostile coup. Although Umbrella's bullshit story involved something about an anti-Umbrella environmentalist group people could pretty easily deduct that it was James Cromwell's own personal security task force, which carried out the deed. Why else would Strike Force Delta 12 be so high on the payroll when all the other MP's remain nearly faceless and thought of as unimportant?
These thoughts rolled around in James' head as he headed up the long staircase. The uncarpeted and unclean and sometimes downright disgusting lab floors gave way to a long flowing burgundy carpet, the Umbrella logo emblazoned on it. James stopped at the door, the gold plaque read Director of Internal Affairs: James Cromwell. James hesitated momentarily and then knocked. The door opened and Cromwell was there to meet him.
"Sir I've got what you wanted."
"Good to here it dear boy." Replied Cromwell with a smothering amount of false appreciation.
"It seems to me Jake wants to leave. He's very discontent with his job here sir." Said James flatly as he sat down in a faux leather chair set uncomfortably close to Cromwell's desk.
"Well, what can we do about that?"
"Sir. I honestly don't know." James hoped to not give this psychopath any ideas. The last employee who was discontent with his job was boiled alive in the incinerator and of course Jake had to help do the burning. "Thing is sir, everybody has their bad days. But Jakes been having a bad month. I think the pressure is really starting to get to him."
"So what do you suggest?" A coy smile formed around Cromwell's slightly wrinkled face, he had his ideas.
"How about, you let us take a few days off, maybe a week."
"You'll have to use your vacation time. I can't let you have time off on the grounds of work related mental fatigue without a Doctor's note. After all, anyone could pretend to be crazy…" A smirk now filled out Cromwell's wispy lips.
"I know sir, no one is really crazy." Replied James as he rose from the chair and handed Cromwell the tape recorder.
"Is there anything revealing on this tape I should know of beforehand?" Asked Cromwell.
James couldn't tell if he was joking or not as he answered, "Its pretty much the basics of what we just spoke about. And something about Jake's favorite doughnuts."
Cromwell chuckled dryly as James walked out the door.
'That sick fuck, he's got his own agenda.'
James tried to shake the eerie feeling that Cromwell was planning something, but he just couldn't get over their encounter, Cromwell had just seemed too nice, too pleasant for his own good.
In his office Cromwell spun around in his big leather chair a phone in his hand. Flatly he stated, "Get the base ready, operation Crimson is operational." Before hanging up.