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Chapter Dedication: This Chapter goes out to Chaed, a rather good friend of mine. She's given me ideas, inspired me to write for Resident Evil, and she introduced me to the world of Project Moirae, something that I absolutely adore. So this chapter's for you my friend. Thank you.

Lara

--

Wesker's staring down at the newest addition to his lab pets. He can't quite believe that it's real, but because it's in front of him, he has to. Somehow, that blasted brat got in and turned the damn thing PURPLE!

The hunter looks up at him with pale pink eyes, and Wesker immediately wants to crush the thing like bug under his boot. The poor, miscoloured creature flinches and croaks mournfully, as if it knows exactly what he wants to do.

Next time the ginger boy sets foot in the labs is the last. It's hard trying to be an evil genius when mutant brats are messing with your carefully created DNA sequences and turning your beloved pets into girlish nightmares.

Steve had been almost useless apart from the small virus sample, other that turning his lap pets different colours and just being there to annoy. Wesker doesn't want to get rid of the boy, however. The virus, it seems, quite likes the company. It may be a different strain, but it was still partially similar to Wesker's own variation of whatever the hell Birkin had in that vial.

Wesker, for years, has been trying to get the exact replica of the virus in his blood stream. No luck. Every single one of his experiments he had tried to create with his own fail miserably every time. He's almost at his wits end with this failure. However, he's willing to take one more chance before resorting to trashing the place in a temper.

The white doors slide open and in steps a person in a biohazard suit. The Hunter chitters and croons a welcome.

"Steve, remove the suit."

"Aww, but it's-"

"Now Steve."

The suited -up boy sighs and goes back outside to remove the suit and put it back where he got it. Sometimes, it's like having a mini Redfield - perish the thought - running around his ankles.

Ah yes…Mini Redfield…that man is so gullible I almost don't believe it. I swear, if he hadn't found that photo, to this day he'd believe I had no part in the Mansion.

Steve steps back into the room, humming a nonsensical tune to himself as he leans over the benches and prods at various things.

"Steve?"

"Yeah Wezzy?"

"Stop calling me that. Who gave you permission to fool around with the Hunter DNA?"

"Uh…me?"

Slowly, very slowly, Wesker removes the sunglasses from his face and sets them into the lab coat pocket.

"Steve…I'm giving you one more chance to prove your actually worth keeping around or you will find yourself dead on an autopsy table faster than you can blink."

"You'll be needing someone else to help you with Claire's brother? Someone he won't wanna kill on sight?"

Wesker frowns at the ginger haired boy. Slowly, the hint of a tiny smile creeps onto his face. "Your being serious for once…Alright you can stay alive, just a little longer."

"So…you really think this is gonna work Wezzy? I mean, the guy hates your guts. You can't be serious about -"

"I can assure you, I am. As strong as I am, you lack certain…qualities of a good soldier. Your good with guns, but that's only because your lucky. You can barely fight, it's nothing but brute strength and again, luck. Redfield is a trained soldier. He'll be rather useful when compliant."

"What am I? Fish food?" Steve crosses his arms and glares heatedly at Wesker, his skin suddenly seeming to gain a light green tinge.

Now Wesker, he's not particularly wanting Steve to destroy anything in this facility, and so he has to come up with something to get Steve to calm down.

"Steve, go to your room and leave me alone. If you do this I will buy you the newest car chase game."

Steve blinks. "You serious? You'll buy me GTA 4?!"

"Yes." Wesker nods, absentmindedly wondering why he keeps the boy around, why he spends so much on console games for the brat, why he doesn't just kill him, why he doesn't just train him for real and what the hell GTA 4 is. Ah yes, because I have Redfield now. Doubtless the two will get one and speak non-stop about that little red-headed girl…what was her name…ah yes, Claire wasn't it?

Steve cheers loudly and turns to leave the room. "Oh, Wezzy?"

"Don't call me that." The blonde's reply by now is automatic, he's already tuned Steve out and is focusing on a small Petri dish under a microscope.

"Did you like how I painted the Hunter?" He laughs and leaves.

A few seconds later Wesker lifts his head and blinks. "Paint?!"

--

The lab has finally finished boring him, the various rainbow coloured Hunters have been washed down, and now Wesker's taking the last of his free time before he decides to wake up Chris. Steve, oddly enough, hasn't been seen since he left the lab, and Wesker is partially relived and partially worried. Steve on his own is rarely a good thing. If he's not causing havoc with the animals and BOW's then he's doing something equally atrocious.

The level they live and work on of the facility is strictly off limits to all…humans. The penalty for this is generally death, usually by whatever monster Steve happens to have let roam free around at that point. His favourite at the moment is the Hunters. The stupid beasts actually let him pick them up, carry them about, play with them and somehow even paint them!

Wesker sighs and bites down on an energy bar. God knows how he managed to get them to stay still enough to paint the whole thing. Those contacts were a nightmare. I can't imagine how much bother he went to getting the blasted things in. Hunter's must have hated it, but they do generally like the boy.

Suddenly, a mop of ginger hair appears over the side of couch's arm rest. Wesker takes one look at it and inwardly groans. "What now Steve?!"

"Um…I may have done a little…whoopsie in the lab…"

Wesker stares at the slightly moving hairdo, the face hidden behind the black leather couch.

"A big whoopsie…"

Oh god, what did he do, please not-

"…maybe a whoopsie with certain guy you brought b-"

"STEVE BURNSIDE!" Wesker was on his feet in seconds, Steve pinned to the opposite wall by his throat. "What. Exactly. Did. You. Do. To. My. SPECIMIN?!" Anger is burning throughout Wesker's body coursing through his veins as hot as the sun, yelling, screaming, moaning for him to spill blood in his rage.

Steve clutches at the hand closing his wind pipe, struggling to breath. He may be a Tyrant, infected with the stronger T-Alexia, but it still hurts to suffocate.

Wesker slowly forces himself to calm down and not rip out Steve's throat. He needs the boy, and the company, if irritating, would doubtless be better than Redfield. "What did you do Steve?! Tell me!"

"I think I pressed purge."