Chapter 4

Then Find Your Target

Albert Wesker had always been a careful man. From a young age he had learned that a person's reputation can take them far further than their ability ever could. His father had taught him that, the hard way. Perhaps his mother had borne the brunt of it, but Albert never forgot a useful experience, no matter how inappropriately it was gained. He had decided on his own that reputation would never be enough, so in the end he'd decided to combine it with his abilities. That was what slid him perfectly into the niche needed in Umbrella, his unequalled scientific ability, that carved him perfectly into the scientist needed to inspire Birkin to murder and mutiny, his ability to read people and manipulate them accordingly, into the perfect STARS captain who no one would even consider questioning, his authority, his disarming nature, his proficiency with firearms and hand to hand combat. In this current situation his unique abilities, which he prided himself on, combined with keeping his rather unique reputation low profile had served to initiate him back into the governments employ without so much as a simple alias and a handpicked team of researchers and one man's hunger for power and money.

His was a reputation that didn't need to knock before entering, although that usually didn't sit well with whomever's door was being opened.

"Sergeant Howes," he said as he approached the man's desk, stopping a few feet away, ignoring his irritation and subsequent 'what the hell do you...', "I want Kennedy's assessment report and his profile, in fact, it would be better if you just gave me everything."
"Close that door," the Sergeant growled, glaring.

That made Wesker smile, well not smile, he wasn't sure if he ever did that anymore. Smirk was more appropriate. He walked casually back towards the door at his own pace, setting the parameters of dominance. The door closed with an audible click.

"How very paranoid you sound Sergeant," he said, readjusting his sunglasses; he'd done it on purpose of course, but then Albert Wesker never did anything without a purpose, "I do hope our little deal isn't making you nervous in any way."
"Listen Wesker..." the Sergeant said, leaning forwards on his desk and pointing a rather rude finger in Wesker's direction.
"Please, I'd rather you got into the habit of calling me Smith," Wesker's smirk deepened as he silently appreciated the irony of his alias, "we don't want you saying anything you'd regret in front of the wrong people now do we?"
"Whatever your name is then!" the Sergeant snapped, somehow keeping his voice authoritative even in the low decibel levels, "Don't think that you can walk around like you own the place. I got you in here, remember that, you owe me. I'd hope you'd have some respect for that. And you shouldn't even be up here, I said you should call me on the secure line and I will come down to the lab to see..."
"Yes I understood your message," Wesker drawled out, sighing, "but this couldn't wait. I need that information immediately, it's vital to my plans."

The Sergeant looked at Wesker and Wesker looked back through the darkness that had always comforted him. He'd never liked artificial lighting, but it was a necessary evil of laboratory work, and a man of his genius needed as few distractions as possible when working with highly hazardous biomaterial. The sunglasses had stuck, from the early days, and he'd begun to enjoy the further benefits. The lack of emotion they afforded him by hiding his eyes, the fear and anxiety he could create by taking them off to reveal the glowing amber beneath, to name but a few. He was enjoying benefit number one right now as the Sergeant strove to read him.

"I thought you said you wanted me to work out Kennedy's kinks a little before you did anything," Howes said with a frown.
"There is always work to be done in the meantime," Wesker cocked his head to the side and took a few steps towards the desk, placing his hands on it and leaning forwards, casually threatening, "you don't need to know the particulars of my work though, Sergeant. As you said, you got me in here, I wouldn't want to bore you with inane scientific details that would surely be far over your head."

The Sergeant's eyes narrowed and Wesker decided it was the optimum moment to drop the smirk. He leaned a little closer, noting the hesitant movement that Howes took, trying not to back away, show weakness. It made Wesker feel warm inside, one of the few things that did anymore. He took off his sunglasses and took a long moment to watch Howes swallow and try not to back away in what he assumed was disgust.

"Kennedy is going to give me what I want," he said calmly, "you don't need to know anything more than that. You'll reap your benefits from my experiment soon enough, you don't need to worry about that. The files, if you please."

Howes practically threw them at him, but managed to assemble some form of restraint that had him pushing the files forcefully at Wesker's chest. Wesker didn't move a millimetre, absorbing the shock of the blow like a brick wall, liking the confusion and worry that flickered through Howes' eyes before his gruff, Sergeant mask fell back into place; it told Wesker that Howes' hadn't quite known just what he was getting himself into, even though he'd known just what Wesker was. Human greed was a powerful emotion, as was pride, but, unlike Howes who only saw what was right in front of his face at any given time, Wesker knew how to treat both personality traits with enough respect and cunning to make them work. Albert Wesker was nothing, if not careful.

He exited the Sergeant's office, leaving the door open just to see if the spite would create a reaction in his body, in his mind. It didn't, he didn't feel the small victorious glow he used to. Perhaps it was too human a feeling for his brain to comprehend any more. Fear, that it still understood, fed from, pain, longing, lust, power. Not love, but then he was still in debate over whether he'd ever possessed that ability in the first place. The elevator took him down, seven floors under the earth, where everyone was decked in sterile white and didn't make eye contact with anyone else as they walked around, absorbed in their work. Just the way he liked it. The experiment was shaping up nicely, and the data would be vital in his understanding of the particulars of this wonderful new organism he had created. Howes would get what was coming to him, that much Wesker was sure of, and Kennedy would give him the ability to test it against someone who had fought the T-Virus and come out unscathed. Yet, even though he was so very close to realising a crucial stage in his overall plan, there was something else, there was something new that was eating away at him, making him quicken his steps as he walked, made his breathing speed up ever so slightly, made him open the door a little more forcefully than he usually would.

Some days he walked into his lab expecting to see Birkin sitting at the closed enviro-cases, manipulating the viruses within while his eyes gleamed with concentration and mania. He attributed it to remnants of memory and emotion left over from his human mind. Some days he didn't. Today was one of those days; perhaps, he thought as he sat down gracefully into his black leather chair and looked at the open report held before him, it was because he had found an adequate distraction.

In the time after the Racoon City incident Kennedy initially abided with Claire Redfield and her brother Christopher Redfield until he...

The feeling was unmistakeable. He felt it start deep down in some unnameable place, somewhere deep down.

...abided with Claire Redfield and her brother Christopher Redfield...

It travelled, up into his lungs, making him take a deep breath, into his fingers, as they curled into the thick cardboard of the folder, bending it, shaping it...

...brother Christopher Redfield...

Into his brain, into his mind's eye, as he saw clear as day that face, those blue-grey eyes alight with anger and hatred and hatred and hatred and...

"Ah Christopher," he said much more calmly than he felt, "how I've missed you."

AN: Sorry about the change to 3rd person, but this little snippet obviously couldn't come from Leon's POV. Argh, I just can't keep Wesker out of this story, I tried, believe me I tried to keep focusing on the main plot! But it's hard to ignore him really...so yes, this is very AU now, oops. Gonna be fecking around with the canon to no end, even more than I thought by the looks of things. Please r&r and let me know what you think.

Ps: To firewolfsg – Yes, I've read your fics and I love them! That's what inspired me to write this in the first place, especially since there isn't that much fiction out there for this sort of time period (I credited you, didn't want to steal it). Thanks for the review though, it's always encouraging!