The Biohazard Chronicles

by Flaming Overlord

Two months has passed since the grizzly events at the Spencer Estate. Chris Redfield, a member of the team investigating the incident, has vanished. His sister, Claire, travels to Raccoon to find him. However, what she finds there is a waking nightmare. *An ongoing Novelization of the Resident Evil series. I do not own Resident Evil/Biohazard. All ownership remains with Capcom.*

9. Chapter 0-8: Wesker's Failure

Chapter Eight: Wesker's Failure

"Damn it!" Birkin said, slamming the phone down for the fifth time in the past fifteen minutes. "Where could Vladimir be?!"

Wesker didn't answer but kept his fingers laced together and watched the screen. Birkin paced once more behind.

"Relax," Wesker said, not bothering to turn around.

"Relax?" Birkin replied, his blonde hair now frizzed and sticking up. "Relax?! You know what's in the Spencer Estate! What research is housed there? What if this…this man is after it. Umbrella would be finished in terms of bioengineering."

Wesker nearly snickered. Poor Birkin. Yes, he was bright, yet so limited. Empires rise and fall, and so do organizations. Once a people reached the zenith of their power, they lose control of that power. Like Icarus flying too close to the sun. It was the natural order of the world.

Birkin reached for the phone once again.

"Leave it," Wesker said. Birkin's hand froze inches from the receiver. "He'll call when he returns." Birkin's hand hovered over the phone for a few more seconds, before he finally sighed and returned to pacing.

"Do you really think you know who this…this man is?" Birkin said, gesturing toward the screen.

"A hunch really," Wesker said. Rarely were his hunches incorrect.

"Who is it then?"

"As I said, merely a hunch," Wesker said. "It's best to let these events to unfold to be certain."

Birkin grunted, and his footfalls grew heavier. The phone rang, and he nearly tripped over his own legs reaching for the 'speaker' button.

"Colonel Vladimir!" Birkin said, reminding Wesker too much of an excited schoolboy for his taste.

"No," another voice said—not the heavy, Russian accent that they anticipated. This voice was smooth and flowed out of the receiver. Wesker's brow furrowed, and his jaw tightened. If there were one person he rather talk to less than Sergei Vladimir, it was Stephen Atkins. Every time Wesker spotted him, dressed in his wrinkle-free suit with that smug expression as he held an Umbrella press conference, Wesker had an undeniable urge to knock his teeth out.

"What do you want," Wesker said. "We wanted the Colonel."

"Yes, well," Atkins said. Wesker could practically see the man push the glasses up the bridge of his nose as he spoke. "The colonel is doing damage control, so he's currently busy."

"Damage control?" Birkin said, looking between the phone and Wesker.

"Of course," Atkins replied. "Since Mr. Wesker has failed to reclaim the Arklay Facilities in a timely fashion, Colonel Vladimir has been sent in." Wesker didn't reply, but his fingers tightened around each other.

"So, he's coming here?!" Birkin said.

"You didn't actually think that Mr. Spencer would want T.A.L.O.S. lying about when it's so close to completion, did you?" Atkins said, the faintest hint of a snicker lacing his words. "Mr. Spencer would also like this incident to remain as quiet as possible. Continue with your…attempts of reestablishing the Arklay Facilities."

"Of course," Birkin said. "Speaking of which, Wesker said he might know who—"

"May be capable of testing the Virus's capabilities," Wesker said. Birkin's eyes darted toward him, mouth agape, but Wesker ignored him. "The S.T.A.R.S Alpha team are well equipped, and should be able to provide valuable combat data." Silence fell on the other end of the line. A faint thumping came through the receiver, as though Atkins were drumming his fingers on a desk.

"I'll run the suggestion by the Colonel and Mr. Spencer," Atkins said. "You might yet be of some use, Captain Wesker." With that, the line went dead. Birkin starred at the phone, Adam's apple raising as he swallowed.

"Why didn't you tell him about your hunch?!" He said.

"Unnecessary," Wesker said. Birkin shook his head and sighed. So, they were moving T.A.L.O.S. Wesker glanced over at his companion, who was drumming his fingers on the counter. Lines etched into his face. William realized it too. If Umbrella was removing projects and replacing them, it was only a matter of time…What happened to Dr. Marcus all those years ago came to the forefront of Wesker's mind. And Spencer doesn't take failure lightly. Yes, his and William's time was nearly up.