It was a fine Wednesday morning and Wesker strolled directly from the RPD parking lot to the firing range, a folder tucked under his arm and a coffee that he knew was fresh in hand.
He had slept on William's proposal and had gone through the data. It seemed that the scientist had been forthcoming with his results. The boosters were indeed needed, but also looked to have a minimal chance of catastrophic side effects if taken in proper succession. Still, if it didn't work, he would be throwing everything away. Not only his life, but the years of work he had already invested, and to Wesker, the latter grated against him the most. He didn't necessarily need it, but if it worked…if it worked. He took sip of the molten coffee in his free hand. Without risk or sacrifice, there were no rewards.
Gunfire rang in his ears as he pushed the iron door open in a full swing.
"Morning Patricia. Is she here?"
"Not yet. The usual?" the officer behind the counter asked.
He shook his head, looking at his watch with a scowl. "No, I need something heavier today."
"Big boy it is." The woman handed him an extra pair of muffs, and his requested loadout. Walking over to an empty stall, he watched the newly-graduated officers from the first floor compare target practices, chiding one another for missing their marks entirely.
It was a moment that would stick with him for the rest of his life, one where he truly recognized how underprepared the RPD was for what was brewing up in the mountain labs, like watching children play dress up. He had seen the projections. If anything got loose from Arklay and made its way to a major population, well. It would be one for the books.
He felt a tug on his shirt sleeve and shot a glance over his side, annoyance habitually scrawled across his face from his train of thought being interrupted. Rebecca Chambers held her hands over her ears and was yelling something unintelligible.
"You were supposed to be here 15 minutes ago, Miss Chambers." he growled louder than he needed to. He could see her frame visibly flinch every time a trigger was squeezed. Holding a pair of muffs out towards her, the young medic scrambled for them, obviously relieved to dull the deafening noise around her.
"Sorry, Captain! What is it you wanted to see me about?"
He drew the folder from under his arm and passed it to Rebecca.
"I've been looking at your performance so far within Bravo. Your IQ and medical training are off the charts, but your tactics are significantly underdeveloped. This is an elite team, Miss Chambers, and we don't carry dead weight."
Her face went red with shame and a foreign twinge of sympathy traveled through him. 'Too much,' he thought. Feeling his own fuse running short today, he reached deeper for his patience.
"Listen. You're smart and you're talented. I'm here to make sure you survive the evaluation process. Unfortunately for you, that involves firearms."
He took the folder from her hands and casually tossed it down to the side, picking up in its place, a magnum. Rebecca balked at the sight of it. 'As she should, it's practically twice her weight.'Wesker thought to himself.
"You need to stop fearing weapons and start thinking of them as tools to be used. Do you understand?"
She answered with a fervent nod.
"Good. Now take this, and let's see what you can do." He got up from his seat and let her take ownership of the stall.
"Ready when you are."
She lifted it, her arms wavering slightly, despite both her hands grasping at the steel with a death grip. She closed her eyes and pulled the trigger.
Click. Click.
Wesker dragged the heel of his hand down his face. He gestured for her to hand over the gun.
"Four things that could have just killed you. One- Never assume the weapon is loaded or unloaded. Two- You didn't check to see if the safety was on. Three- holding the gun the way you did would have broken your wrist. Four- You closed your eyes."
Tears began to well up in Rebecca's eyes as the color rushed to her cheeks in a frenzy.
"It's alright. Look." He showed her, pointing the gun and taking her place. "Always use the other hand to stabilize. Safety is on, pop the clip, check it, reinsert. Safety off, hold-"
He fired it and Rebecca's frame rattled from head to toe, feeling the vibration of the shot through the air. She couldn't imagine how loud it was without the muffs on.
Wesker held the weapon back out towards her. "You can do this, I know you can."
Wesker saw her face transform from a scared animal to something resembling stark determination. A smirk crept across his face.
Rebecca Chambers wasn't great with firearms. She didn't need to be, but he'd be damned if he'd let an IQ like hers go to waste in a place like the RPD. She had the potential to become something extraordinary. Her knowledge of medical science was higher than most emergency response teams in the region, and at such a young age. He had to admit that he had been developing a soft spot for her youthful potential. He'd have to fix that.
"Let's try it again." He handed her a magazine and the gun. Wesker could see her photographic memory at play as she carefully mimicked his movements from just moments ago. She had gotten it perfectly on a first try. Without hesitation, she fired, her frame fighting back the recoil just barely. There was hope for her yet.
"Excellent. Well done. Work on the blinking and your aim, and you'll be well on your way for your evaluation."
He could see her shoulders deflate in relief as she slipped the safety back on. "Thank you, Captain." She said.
He put his hand on her shoulder briefly in reassurance. "Turn in the equipment when you're finished." He turned to leave but stopped himself.
"Rebecca, one last thing. If you see Malcom, send him by my office?"
"Sure thing, Captain."
–
Wesker was sitting at his desk leisurely when Malcom Wright walked through his door.
"You wanted to see me, Sir?"
"Ah, Malcom. Please, shut the door."
Malcom did as he was asked and stood in front of Wesker impatiently.
"I'd like you to collect your things."
Wesker could see his words take a few seconds to register.
"Ex-cuse me? Sir?"
"I don't believe I stuttered."
"Sir, I don't understand.-"
Wesker slid an unmarked folder across his desk.
"Why don't you start talking, Malcom. But very carefully." Wesker's jaw muscles held firm like a steel trap. He reached out and thumbed open a folder revealing a single photo. It was a photo of a familiar young face in a basketball uniform, sitting on a court, her face beaming. Her midriff even brighter.
"You know, I was looking the other day for the report you wrote for Bravo's performance review. I was curious how the new recruit, Rebecca Chambers was doing. It was due a week ago, after all and you were out. I happened to find this instead, among an expansive personal erotic collection from the RPD women's locker room."
"I don't- I don't know what this is- I've never seen these before in my life!"
"I warned you to speak carefully."
Malcom was speechless, but the heat traveling up his face spoke volumes.
"I'm not going to charge you, because it would be a distraction to half the police force here and we can't afford that. What I am going to do, is take your badge, and your gun. You're going to walk into Chief Iron's office and give your immediate resignation. You're just not feeling it anymore, I hear. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"
Malcom fidgeted in place, looking for an ounce of sympathy in Wesker's eyes, but was only met with his own warped reflection.
Malcom reached for his gun and placed it on the desk. He removed his badge, took one long look at it, eyes tearing up, his hand not quite ready to relinquish its grip.
"You'll pay for this. Mark my words. I know that you're not a real cop, you fuck, and I'll die before I fucking let you off for this. " His words were low and venomous.
"I'm sure you will. Now get the fuck out."
Malcom slammed his badge down on Wesker's desk and stormed out of the room, letting the door bounce against its own hinges.
Wesker smiled, the satisfaction quietly spreading across his lips. He was aware enough that most would feel immense fulfillment from firing a sexual predator in the making. Wesker's happiness however, was taken from the look on Malcom Wright's face the moment he had realized his career was over. That he had been caught, skinned, and eaten, and by the sound of it, would soon be barking up the worst possible tree.
A knock came at the door and Wesker slid the incriminating photo off the desk and reflexively into the underdrawer of his desk.
"Everything ok, Captain?"
"Ah-Enrico- Just the person I wanted to see. Have a seat."