The helicopter pilot confessed everything under the appropriate pressure applied by Umbrella. He had been hired by a Mr. Donetsk to pick up a package at the Omega Facility and then provide transport to an undisclosed location when they rendezvoused. Unfortunately, that package was the Tyrant Project; Umbrella's leading project. This made it impossible for the pilot to continue his future work. Indefinitely. When Wesker had recovered the video surveillance that night, it had already been tampered with. It was a collection of footage actually cut and pasted together to look like he had moved the T-line project, himself. This was easily solved when dissecting the footage by the encrypted time and date.

The evidence was there and the death of Mr. Donetsk would be seen as purely routine. It would be obvious to the board that there was no advantage to Wesker having to terminate Head of Crisis Management. He had protected Umbrella assets accordingly and efficiently. So as he sat on the back of an Umbrella medical dispatch into the early hours of the morning, he was feeling more than at ease with himself. He could hardly say the same for his body. As he held an ice pack to his side, he watched the sky fill with a pink and orange glow, signaling a new day on the horizon.

That was the thing about the world. As much as you may have been kicked around or turned upside down, it would never wait for you.

The Umbrella squads had begun to dissipate as the grounds were turned upside down, the lock-down lifted. The bewildered scientists filtered outwards, looking both alarmed and confused. They were used to Umbrella's unusual methods, but a full lock-down happened rarely. By the look on their faces, many of them were simply glad to leave alive.

The medical physician cut the thread and switched it for a clipboard. "You have a concussion and possibly a few fractured ribs, but you should be fine within the week."

The squad captain ran up to the back of the vehicle where Albert Wesker swiftly caught him.

"Report."

"Everything has been contained Sir. Eleven research causalities, one corporate. All assets have been secured."

"The T-103 line will be moved immediately to Arklay. Full security measures are to be taken."

"Sir. Anything else?"

"The wreckage."

"We sent a team to take care of it, but the police got to it first, Sir. We're working on reassigning the plates as we speak."

He got up slowly, obviously in pain.

"Sir, we've examined all of Mr. Donetsk's activity as you requested. within the past four days, there have been some abnormalities in the logs, concerning Umbrella surplus." The Captain handed the man a data pad which Wesker scrutinized without a hint of expression.

"Several samples in biological weapons were intercepted by Crisis Management and were never received at their proper locations."

"Track them down. I want their current locations within the hour."

"Sir?"

Those steel cold eyes gave one look at the Umbrella captain who in response nodded profusely, taking back the data pad.

"This was delivered for you while you were busy inside."

The captain handed him a new phone.

"It's all been reprogrammed for you and a new vehicle will be delivered to your address within the hour. There's an escort waiting for you at the front. "

He took the phone with without a word and headed for the parked car.

Although it would have been more beneficial for Umbrella to receive Head of Crisis Management alive, Wesker was feeling quite satisfied with the man lying in a plastic bag. He however, was beginning to feel like the nuisance would somehow linger like the pain in his ribcage as he walked. He recognized the cataloged samples that had gone missing and all too well. It was a raw sample of the T-virus; something that made Ebola look like a cold.

The second was oddly enough, James Marcus's last project sample. It was thought to be incomplete when Wesker had ordered the termination of the scientist. Birkin even confirmed later on, that the altered T-strain was useless.

Wesker almost smiled at the fact that Donetsk had no idea how to steal properly. He just took what he could grab and run with. 'Like a child running with scissors.' he thought as he climbed carefully into the passenger's seat of the already running SUV. Except those scissors were missing biological weapons without an instruction manual.

If Donetsk did release the virus within the city, collecting any and all combat data would be a fiasco. They already knew the typical results of the T-virus, it was made pretty clear when he and Birkin had seen a corpse maul and devour a man behind thick unbreakable glass. The Organization wasn't as interested in that as the.. other projects Umbrella held behind closed doors.. and with good reason.

The T-virus wasn't an auto-BOW maker, as many presumed. There was the factor of natural selection, which in the end, ruled over the syringe. Testing would be needed to engineer nature, and careful testing at that. Not an unchecked mass epidemic.

Wesker only hoped that Donetsk wasn't as stupid as he thought he was, but he was rarely wrong.

–

Chris could count the days Captain Albert Wesker had been absent and this was one of them. He had been out of office the day before and today didn't seem to promise anything. It wasn't like noticing your desk buddy missing. The ones you would joke with and share stories with as you work for that paycheck every week. It was more like a missing cog from a machine. Subtle, but essential. His absence always became more apparent when the Precinct seemed a little more disorganized than usual.

What the cadets were murmuring outside the hallways didn't help either.

There were rumors that his car had been found, crashed and burning on the highway just outside of the city, which caused an underlying anxiety and murmur around the office floors and water coolers.

Irons of course was barking orders out of his office. His door held more traffic than usual and the pile up of poor management was taking its toll on his nerves. Irons was just as clueless as the RPD was when it came to Wesker's involvement with Umbrella. To the chief, he was just an overly qualified, smug, conceited, pompous bastard who happened to accomplish more than his job required. He knew he could never fire him, as much as he itched to. No one else would do the job as efficiently. No where near. He was always on time and never complained or plotted against his standing as Chief, but those rare times when the Captain wasn't at his desk, typing furiously and putting the RPD in its place, Irons definitely felt it. And it didn't put him in the sunniest disposition.

"Well what do you think?"

"About what." Enrico asked, who had been simply passing through. The working photocopiers were rare today.

"I heard he got cracked up."

"I don't really know.." he said, shuffling the freshly printed papers into a pile against the printer. He paused and then frowned. "you know what I did hear though.." he whispered.

Frost leaned in.

"That you're fully of shit." Joseph looked at him darkly as Enrico beamed with a quick smile and walked out the door.

"Have a little respect, Joseph." she growled. His face lightened, putting his hands up in the air.

" Fine, fine. I'm sorry." his tone lowered. "Ask Chris... He went down to evidence."

Jill looked to Chris who was trying to stay out of the conversation as much as possible. All eyes in the room wandered toward him.

"I just went down.. you know. Just to check things out. They didn't find much. Just a cellphone. It looked like the one he used... but it's probably nothing, you know." he cleared his throat and continued working.

"We would have heard something, Joseph." Jill said in plain. "People like that don't just go missing."

"How would you know. They never found anyone. He could be crawling through the woods for all you know... Being eaten by wolves."

Jill slammed her pencil down on her desk with a fury not many of them had seen before. He had apparently struck a chord.

"There aren't any wolves in this area." a voice came from outside the doorway and into the room. The Captain had just stepped in, on his cell phone, holding a newspaper and briefcase in his other hand. "Wild canine population in the Northeast is predominantly coyote." he said putting the device to his neck and dropping a report into Barry's hands.

"Captain! How are you..." Frost blurted out, straightening himself to an unnatural extent.

Wesker raised a skeptical eyebrow at the man and went into his office, leaving the door ajar as he continued his phone conversation.

Frost watched with his mouth open. Chris simply shook his head and Jill grinned ear to ear at the scene.

"Did you hear that?" Barry asked, leaning back in his chair and putting his hands behind his head.

"No wolves, Joseph. No... wolves..."

–

"Have you found them."

"We traced the coordinates of their original encasements. One was intercepted out of state. The other..."

"Where."

" The other was empty, sir. The case was dumped through one of the manholes on Essex street."

Albert Wesker stood in front of the window as he pressed his fingers between his eyes. The light was overly bright for them and his pounding head wasn't helping. It would be great to have a Head of Crisis Management right about now.

Essex street was at the center of Raccoon city's financial district. The sample could have been anywhere. He couldn't concentrate. There was a loud noise outside his door. Loud and obnoxious. He could hear Jill Valentine say something but was drowned out by his own door to his office, slamming shut. Irons grabbed the phone out of his hand, shut it off and stared at the Captain, his face beet red.

"Where the HELL HAVE YOU BEEN FOR TWO DAYS." he shouted through the walls. It was violent and uncivil.

"I PAY YOU TO SHOW UP AND DO YOUR JOB!"

Wesker simply paused during the first few seconds of shouting. His head exploded in a chain reaction of pain every time a syllable punched the air. Before the chief began to even conceive of the possible implications he could have just set into motion, it was made apparent to him.

–

Whatever was said that day, no one would know but Albert Wesker and Brian Irons. But after the hot-blooded man's shouting had ended and a long deadened silence followed, the door to the Captain's office swung open. The Chief began straightening his tie and walked out without a single word. His eyes met the floor where his feet swiftly carried him elsewhere.

Picking up his phone once more, the S.T.A.R.S Captain made a simple call behind his office walls.

"Search the sewers. Thoroughly. I want 72 hour surveillance, ten mile radius."