Affaire de Coeur
"We were hooked when we woke.
We had arms for each other.
But I yearned to resume
My dreams of another."
― Roman Payne
The Not So Distant Future...
Albert Wesker looked down from the glass enclosure high above the room aptly titled The Inferno.
This is what William had worked so hard to help him achieve. He honored that today.
The Inferno was a work of genius. If Dante had attempted to traverse it, he'd have ended up a wizened stick of decayed flesh before he'd come out the other side. Three football field lengths of tight corners, endless puzzles and a final wide open space where the creatures would be released to end the lives of the S.T.A.R.S members that had been plaguing him since the Spencer Mansion so many years ago.
The techs had been informed to gather the few who had been rejected from theprotocol and give them the necessary equipment to face off with the Goliath himself and his many smaller counterparts. It would been a puny effort at best since the Goliath was nearly a thousand pounds of intelligence and perfectly bred instinct but it would be amusing and it would serve the research effort well.
The girl, Sherry, wouldn't be joining them as she had been proved fruitful and good for the cause. The child she carried was already being injected and monitored with the Goliath strain. If the injections took, then she would birth the first of the new breed of human evolution.
Most likely, she would die from the birthing, as the child would grow to more then ten times the size of a human fetus, tearing her womb and body as it struggled it's way into the world. But such was the way of things. It was a small price to pay for the gift she would be giving them.
There had been some argument over his decision to put Redfield into The Inferno. Since it was apparent that he was a successful breeder, they had wanted to retain him in the lab and use him in the Protocol but Wesker had been adamant about his participation. Redfield would be let loose in The Inferno. He deserved the hell the Goliath would put him through. The arrogant little shit had spent too long trying to ruin his former Captain.
Hi partner, Jill, was a complete bust; her miscarriage months earlier making her all but useless to them as a breeder and thus set to join her brother in his final bout with death. The bitch dying would be another way to pay Redfield back for all the corporate hoops Wesker had had to jump through lately to save Umbrella's ass.
The half breed Carlos was tainted blood. They didn't want to breed any mixed blooded children from him. The first children born from the Goliath would be pure blooded, one combined race. The Indian, Anglo, Mexican heritage of Oliveira made it impossible to determine that his offspring would be of one race. So into The Inferno for him as well.
Kennedy had been the hardest to convince the techs to allow Wesker to put in The Inferno. He was pure middle american Caucasian, his seed was tested and proved strong. But it was the way Ada interacted with him that made Wesker determined to dispose of him quickly and finally.
Ada belonged to the Goliath, he couldn't let her strong feelings for the ex-cop from Raccoon interfere with her purpose. He was too big of a risk to keep around.
So in less then ten minutes, the four pains in his ass would be set into The Inferno and the cages opened.
He figured they'd last an hour, seventy five minutes at the outside. They didn't have the strength, the cunning or the speed to compete with the breeding of the Goliath creatures.
Behind him, the little lab tech squeaked, "What about the girl, sir? The Redfield girl?"
The Redfield girl.
Claire.
He hesitated, feeling the shackles surrounding his long dead heart shiver.
She was another reason Kennedy was down there facing the fight of his life. He hated the way she spoke of him. He always had. Even a thousand years ago, when he was still a man, when he was still a soul worth saving...he'd hated the way she spoke of him.
There's no one with more integrity than Leon Kennedy. I don't think I would have survived that horrible night without him.
Wesker rubbed his hand over his mouth, considering. Finally, he grumbled, "Bring her to me."
"Yes, sir. Yes. Right away."
The door whooshed shut. The silence dragged out. After a few moments, her voice filled his ears, "I'm not a dog. You can't just call me to you whenever you want my company."
Without looking, he put his hand out behind him. A handful of seconds and hers joined it. He jerked her forward and in front of him. His arms looped around her, pinning her back to his front.
Together, they surveyed his playground far below them. He held her to him with his chin atop her head as he spoke, "How long will they last...when I lift the gates and loose the monsters? How long?"
Her voice was rough, cold, and strong. He hadn't broken her. He hadn't tried. And they both knew her reluctance had ended when they'd come together that one night. There was a strange addiction to them that seemed, somehow, to irritate them both. "Let them go, Albert. You don't have to do this. Let them go. I'll stay with you. I won't fight. I won't fight anymore...if you just let them go."
He turned his nose down against the crown of her head, inhaling her scent. She was so still, frozen, in his grip like a curvy statue.
Finally, he answered her, "Why do you resist me, Claire? I can offer you the world if you just...accept me. You continue to chase heroes. Yet you're blind to the truth."
She shook her head, staring into the horror below the glass, "...what truth is that, Albert? You've created a nightmare."
He denied it, squeezing her a little in his arms, "No. No. I've saved the world from that. The damage is done, Claire. Humanity is lost. It's eroded itself through greed and corruption and overt fascination with lust and sloth. The seven sins, Claire. They're aren't just stories. The world is awash in filth. I'm not destroying that...I'm cleansing it."
She shook her head, trembling a little, "Albert..." She almost implored it now. His name like a prayer between them. "You can't really believe that. That's not you talking. That's what they've done to you. They've brainwashed you. They've indoctrinated you into their cult. You're not Wesker."
She turned a little to see his profile and implore him, "You're not a project. You're a man. A man...if you do this...if you finish this...there'll be no hope left for you. The world is fractured, Albert...but it's not lost. Change your mind. Let them go. Stop now while there's still time...and you can still come back from this. I will help you. You can still come back from this."
He squeezed her again, feeling that pain in his chest that was almost like the yearning he'd felt when he first met her. It was the echoes of feelings long dead. Somewhere between that rainy night and this one, he'd lost any sense of humanity. The only glimpse he had of it, was in her arms.
"Claire...someday you'll thank me. When you awake in a world without the filth of a rotten population. When you rise again in a world cleansed of corruption...you'll thank me for saving you."
She whispered, desperately, "If you do this...if you kill my brother like a rat in a cage...I will never love you."
He glanced down at her and the gaze shimmered brokenly. Curious, he inquired, "...did you ever?"
Sadly, Claire breathed, "I might have once..."
He pressed a kiss to her forehead and replied, "You will again. When I give you a world without lies. Your brother lies, Claire. The world he tries to protect is lost."
She shook her head, gripping his wrists where they clutched her. "It's not. Please...please...let them go."
She vibrated with rage at the request. Her defiance always made him proud of her. She refused to submit without fighting it as she did. Her strength was legion.
He studied her face and queried, "Who would you send in his stead?"
And now she panicked a little. He watched it dance on her face; fear and anger and stifled need. He pushed, "You once asked me to spare Kennedy too. I will give you one. One of them - your brother or your hero. You decide."
Claire scanned his face, looking for anything that wasn't empty. She ached for the man she'd seen in his face once. She ached, and saw nothing she could reason with. She wanted to offer herself...but she couldn't. Her soul died a little as she whispered, "...my brother."
Leon, I'm sorry.
Wesker nodded. "I will spare him for you."
He lifted his hand and touched the intercom atop the glass wall looking down into The Inferno. "Get them into the cage. Not Redfield. Put him into an antechamber. Prepare him for guests."
"Yes sir."
Wesker studied her face. "What will he say when he sees you, I wonder? Will you tell him it was force? Will you tell him I made you submit to me?"
Claire shook her head. She closed her eyes and breathed, deeply, "I won't lie. I leave that to you."
A pang of pain echoed in his chest as he answered, "I've never lied to you, Claire. Never. I told you...I'm no hero. The hero always dies."
He turned back as the buzzer signaled the gates lifting and the Goliath releasing.
The fun was about to begin.
This is how he found his redemption for the death they'd dealt him at the cost of Uroboros. This is how Raccoon City should have fallen. This was his moment of victory.
He would show them what it meant to be a god.
His hand slid down and over the heavy mound of the belly of the girl in his arms. She stood stiff and cold there against him as he stroked the evidence of their union. She might never love him, but love wasn't necessary for a new world.
He didn't need her love to fulfill his purpose.
The child in her womb kicked his hand, as if signaling its devotion to him.
He didn't need her love to bring her with him into the new world.
But it didn't stop the pain that lanced between his palm and his cold, dead heart as he remembered what it was like to feel it.
Summer -1998
The frisbee whooshed through the air and landed on the grass with a plop of sound. The trill of laughter followed it as she bounded over and bent, the lush beauty of her glistening cleavage had most of the men in the park watching her in the tiny bikini she wore above cut off jeans.
Off-handedly, Joseph Frost remarked, "Redfield...your sister...good lord..."
He received a slap upside the back of his head for looking, "Keep your dick in your pants, Frost, or I'll make you a eunuch."
Barry Burton chortled happily, "He already is anyway. When was the last time you got laid, Frost?"
To which Joseph retorted, "I dunno, Burton. Why don't you ask your wife?"
Everyone laughed at the good natured ribbing.
The S.T.A.R.S. and R.P.D. Picnic in the Park was an annual fundraiser where the staff and the officers coordinated with the community to get together and raise funds, raise awareness, and recruit new talent.
Bravo and Alpha team were gathered in swim suits and around barbecue grills while music trilled happily and people laughed. Cooking meat, laughter, and conversation peppered the pretty green grass as the world shimmered in high humidity and the sidewalks steamed in the sun. Most of the men were watching Claire and her college girls run around and play frisbee.
Chris was watching Jill in her tasteful one piece and shorts work with some of the new female rookies on a work out regimen. Glancing between her and his face, Barry mused, "Just ask her out."
Chris rolled his eyes and ignored him, lighting a cigarette.
All of it was pretty typical until the Captain showed up.
It was like Jesus walking on water to join them.
They all went uptight. People stared. Someone checked to see if there was a plague of locusts or a river a blood under the bridge nearby.
But it was just Albert Wesker joining the party.
And Albert Wesker never joined the party.
Ever.
The frisbee skimmed over the grass and landed near his boot. In full uniform, he looked out of place in the boiling summer heat.
He wasn't sweating. He glistened, almost prettily, as Claire bounded over and snatched the frisbee up, rising quickly. Her breasts jiggled enticingly in the tiny red bikini top she wore.
She grinned, tossing her damp hair out of her eyes, "...lord. Even at a party, you still manage to look like you have a stick up your ass. How ya been, Al? Picked up any hitchers on the side of the road recently?"
He arched a brow behind his sunglasses, "I believe the level of preparation for most late night travelers has improved since our encounter. Perhaps most motorists are better prepared for eventualities than you."
Claire blinked, eyes sparkling, and grinned, "You giving me shit?"
He shrugged a shoulder, remaining dead pan, "If that's how you see it."
"It definitely feels like being chastised. You lecturing me, Albie?"
He lowered his sunglasses to peer at her over the tops, narrowly, "It's Albert. Albert Wesker."
And she giggled a little, winking, "I like Albie. Albert is the name of a guy in a nursing home. Wesker? You're the boss huh? My brother works for you."
Curious, he tilted his head, "Does he?"
"Hmm. Chris? He's your marksman." She gestured to where her brother was stuffing his face with a hotdog.
At that, he could see the resemblance. The same eyes. The same line of ears. The same sense of humor. Redfield was a bit of a trouble maker, honestly, and constantly flouting authority - but he was the most determined and dedicated soldier Wesker had had the courtesy of working with.
Claire, clearly, had gotten all the looks in the family. Her bohemian, gypsy pretty features had translated better to her. On Redfield, it made him look more like an awkward, big eared monkey.
Wesker nodded, watching her toss the frisbee back to her waiting friends. She put a hand on her hip and cocked it, studying him. A line of sweat slid down her taut belly toward her fraying denim cutoffs. "Your brother is a good soldier."
Claire grinned, shaking her head, "His commanding officers in the Air Force would disagree. They couldn't wait to get rid of him. He thinks he's the fucking boss of everyone huh? But he'll never let you down, I promise. Most loyal dude on Earth."
When she shifted, the sun struck her hair and eyes and reminded him a painting of the goddess Artemis he'd seen in Rome once when he was a boy.
Wesker stared at her until she shifted, her grin widening, "Hello? You zone out on me, Albie?"
He shook his head, mouth twitching, "It seems I was mersmerized by the color of your eyes and hair in the sunlight. It's Titian."
Claire tilted her head at him, blinking, "Titian?"
He turned his head, clearing his throat a little, and charmed her to her toes. He seemed almost uncomfortable. "Ah...yes...In a series of paintings executed following his return from Padua, Titian explored the Giorgionesque half-length figural prototype. Characterized by a certain intimacy, the motif offers a close-up view of its subjects, who, cut off by and appearing immediately behind the frame, present themselves directly to the beholder. Working within this compositional context, Titian developed a type of image informed by classical restraint as well as by a gentle sensuality..."
Claire shifted closer to him in the grass, a little enraptured by how he spoke. She'd never, in all her life, met anyone quite like him. He didn't flatter unduly...he just spoke with a concise and clear set of words that made you realize he was speaking facts, not falsity.
He added, quietly, "Flora was the first of Titian's works that I saw...she was beautiful and young, buxom and had hair like sunlight and fire." He shrugged a little, "It's said that Flora, the nymph, once ravished by Zephyr, who in turn became seductress was his most classical representation of beauty."
Neither realized they'd moved somewhat close in the heat, speaking quietly to each other now.
Claire queried, quietly, "Do you agree?"
He studied her for so long she thought he wouldn't answer, but he did. "The portrait is a poor substitute it seems."
Her lower lip rolled under teeth as she laughed, softly. She dropped her eyes and flushed. He shifted on the grass and cleared his throat.
It was unseemly to stand here like this with a girl barely out of highschool.
Wesker shifted away, "Well...thank you for your support today, Ms. Redfield. It was a pleasure seeing you again."
He shifted away, heading toward the table of beverages. Claire watched him go, feeling the frisbee plop at her feet and rest there. She nibbled the lip poked between her teeth, considering him. It was curious that Chris hadn't ever, once, mentioned that his boss was a fox.
Of course, men didn't usually notice things like that anyway, did they?
Behind her, Rebecca Chambers bellowed, "Game on, Redfield! Stop gawking at the rookies and MOVE IT!"
Claire picked up the frisbee, pacing backward, and thought she just might stop in tomorrow to have lunch with her favorite brother.
Post Note: I am not a scientist. So I stole alot of the nerdy wordy stuff in this story to sound smarter than I am. If you're curious find it here: Make sure you put the /cover-story/viral-soldiers-34289. Virus Soldiers.