Chapter 3: Trouble

The next day, Claire kept herself busier. She did pushups and sit-ups, ate noodles, and showered, but it still only killed three hours. Around noon, the locked door upstairs opened and Wesker stepped out. He was wearing a black t-shirt, pants, and boots, and his sunglasses ever helped to keep his face a mask. Claire was in the middle of sitting aimlessly on the couch.

"Enjoying your stay, Miss Redfield?" he asked with the slightest of grins as he descended the stairs. Claire couldn't keep her body from tensing as he approached her back. She crossed her legs to look more relaxed.

"The quality of entertainment is lacking," she stated blandly, focusing on his form as it passed and entered the kitchen.

"How unfortunate," Wesker mocked. Claire heard the microwave start, and was eager for him to be gone, but hours of being alone with nothing to do were getting to her. She needed some answers. She followed him into the kitchen.

"How long am I going to be kept here?" she asked, keeping close to the door in case she had to run.

"That depends," he answered. "Suffice it to say, however long you are required." Claire did not like that sound of that.

"And why am I required?" she pressed. Wesker removed a bowl of noodles from the microwave and sat at one of the barstools around the center countertop. She had not thought he needed to eat anymore. Chris had mentioned that he was no longer human, but apparently he still ate, if only occasionally, as the few food options suggested.

"I am not in the habit of discussing my plans with prisoners." Claire suddenly recalled his words from earlier, at the university.

"This has something to do with Chris and the other operatives, doesn't it? You said you were planning to visit me before I stole your samples…" She never finished. Wesker was standing before her, forcing her back into the wall with his mere presence. She tried to maintain what dignity she had left by not pressing flat against it.

"Indeed, dear heart," he spoke lowly. A hand came up and ran gently down her cheek. "But I just had a very large setback in my plans and am in no mood to talk about your brother." His tone alone kept Claire silent. An angry Wesker was extremely dangerous. He stepped back and returned to his seat, and Claire released her breath. Chris was a touchy subject with Wesker. "Chris may find less time to interfere with my associates if his sister's life is on the line." Claire cringed, feeling the word liability stamped on her forehead.

"Yeah, well, I hope you're wrong." She pivoted and left the room before he could see that she was under threat of crying. Chris would do something stupid to try and save her. She knew that full well, and it could mean his life being terminated. Wesker probably knew that too. Chris would get reckless, and he was the only close person in Claire's life now that Leon was gone. She settled on the couch, and reflected on the possible doom scenarios that could await her and Chris—perhaps all of the anti-Umbrella members, if Chris tried to be a hero.

"You're upset that he'll come after you?" Wesker asked. Claire realized he was standing over her. She turned from the inside of the couch and sat up. "I must underrate my hospitality." His voice was mocking, but his face straight.

"He'd be of better use blowing up your associates," she stated. "Coming here is a waste of time. You'll just…" she stared at him, trying to convey her anger to the red orbs behind the glasses. "…kill him," she finished. "As long as he's alive, he should be doing his job to stop monsters like you, not…" Chasing after his little sister.

"Not risking his life for you," Wesker finished, face blank. "How very noble of you, dear heart. I had no idea you held such sentiments, but your brother will not stop my plans indefinitely. Rest assured that dying to save you or not won't affect things in the long run." He stated it as fact, as if there was no hope for his opponents. Claire felt anger boil in her system because of it. His confidence was infuriating, but, in his presence like this, the finality of his words hit Claire hard.

"Believe what you want, Wesker. Nothing is set in stone." Wesker regarded her with what seemed like interest. His hand found her face and turned it upward so they were looking at each other.

"Just as mouthy as him. I hadn't had time to notice on Rockfort. You have the most amusing notions, dear heart. It would be too easy to change that." The low threat was meant to break her spirit, and Claire desperately opposed it.

"Bite me." The sharp sting of pain that radiated across her face made her head spin. She lifted a hand to her cheek. Wesker had hit her, hard, but not nearly as hard as he could have. Before she recovered, he was holding her up against the wall by her throat. She struggled to breath and lashed out with her legs to no avail. Her hands grappled with the tightness constraining her airway.

"Remember what I can do, Miss Redfield." Claire did not meet his gaze and kept struggling. When she spoke, her voice was a crackling gasp.

"How could I forget?" Wesker smirked humorlessly, dropped her, and left the room, back to the door on the second floor. Claire sat still for some time, considering her options. She realized that she basically had none. Wesker was worse than a monster, she decided. He was a heartless chunk of ambitious flesh. What could drive a man to surrender his humanity for power? She had always wondered if he regretted that at any level.

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Albert Wesker was sitting in a chair before numerous monitor screens in a darkened room. He glanced at the screens and tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair in thought. No recent activity by his enemies—not that they were important—and no word from his man in Brazil. The old facility had been revived and was currently being manned. Research would commence soon, and few survivors knew that there was a plant in Brazil. It gave him the opportunity for some tamper-free test runs with the new virus shipped from Russia. The old network was being reestablished, and his opponents could do little to stop the process, but that was only a show of progress for his "bosses". The new virus was a secret for him alone, and the men in Brazil were under his watch, not the cooperation's.

Speaking of the virus…he stood and walked over to the briefcase. Business had kept him busy yesterday, but now he could devote time to their care. He flipped the top open, well aware that Claire had broken the lock. He paused. The third sample was missing. He slammed the lid shut and marched for the door.

"Where is it, Miss Redfield?" Claire was standing and trying to keep distance between herself and Wesker, but there was nowhere to go. The steel in his step was unmistakable as he approached. Again with her back to the wall; how she hated that. Wesker removed his glasses and stared her down with red eyes that made Claire's insides curl in fear. She knew exactly what he was referring to. Pick your battles carefully, Claire.

"It's in Europe," she answered, voice soft. "The operatives will have it soon." Wesker stared at her in disbelief.

"Do you have any idea how stupid it was to mail a highly contagious and fragile virus in the regular mail?" he seethed. "And you've set my work back by weeks!"

"I didn't have many options," she protested. Wesker slammed his fist into the wall, and Claire jumped. Her eyes widened as she saw the dent it left in the metal right beside her head. He glared at her, and she shuddered at the controlled rage coiled behind his tense muscles. She was too shaken to speak.

"Your life just became very important," he stated. "Come with me." Claire followed him into the previously locked room and found herself staring at computer screens and a several desks. He reached her backpack and unzipped it, removing her cell phone. He flipped it open and checked her address book before sitting and dialing a number on a different phone attached to his desk. Claire stood by silently. "Hello, Chris," he said, and Claire's heart jumped. She could only imagine her brother's response. "It's nice to hear from you too," he chuckled. "Your sister recently acquired something that belongs to me. She mailed part of it to you. Unless you'd like her genetics altered, you will return it." There was a long pause, during which the threats made Claire blanch. "Of course. Dear heart." He held the phone to her.

"Chris?"

"Claire, are you okay?"

"Yes. I'm fine. Don't come after me, Chris. Promise you won't. You have to finish your job!" But her head was screaming to be rescued by anyone. Wesker grabbed the phone from her.

"Self-sacrifice is worthless, Miss Redfield. Chris, I will contact you in several days. By then, the sample should be in your possession. We'll negotiate an exchange at that time." He clicked the phone off, and turned to find Claire murdering him with her eyes. He smiled. "You may go, Miss Redfield." He sat in his chair and began typing on the keyboard. Claire watched the screens zoom into a map of Brazil. Wesker swiveled to level his eyes at her.

"You underestimate us, Wesker," she spat. "It's going to cost you." It sounded foolish to say at the time, but she held her head high and left the room. Wesker smirked. No, he gave Chris and his band of rabble credit for having the potential to strain his progress, but they did not stand a chance at total victory. Miss Redfield had a most stubborn streak. It was probably the only thing that would keep her intact throughout this.

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Meanwhile: Somewhere in France

"Chris?" Jill called. She laid a hand on his shoulder. He was sitting alone on the porch of the small house they were staying at. "It's going to be okay. We'll get Claire back." Chris lowered his head.

"Wesker will hurt her, Jill. Claire's a smart girl, but her mouth's worse than mine. How can she ask me to leave her there?" Jill sat close to him and wrapped her arms around his torso.

"She only said that because she doesn't want to risk our mission, and she's not a girl, Chris." Chris smiled grimly. "She's not. She's a woman, and she's seen horrors most people can't imagine. If anyone can survive the captain, it's her." But in the back of her mind, Jill knew how manipulative Wesker was. Claire might be able to defend herself against a normal man, but Wesker was in a different class, and she would need to guard her mind more than her body. Chris leaned into her embrace.

"He'll pay, Jill. He'll pay for everyone he's ever made suffer." He gritted his teeth together and squeezed his fists. Jill recognized his anger and could do little to soothe it. She wished he wouldn't work himself up like this. "That, I promise."