Disclaimer: I don't own anything in the below peice of fiction. It all belongs to Capcom

Warning: Just Wesker being a dick

Authors Note: I had a really crappy week- a terrible, rip your hair out week kinda week. All you guys need to know is University sucks for me right now, if you want to major in History be prepared to write insane essays, and that I was interviewed by the cops about a murder that happened a block from my house. No, they don't think I did it but they were asking people if they had heard anything... Anyways, the point in all of this is I felt shitty, so I felt like posting this up in case any of you (amazing) guys were having a crap week too. Enjoy!

A date is a job interview that lasts all night. The only difference between a date and a job interview is that there are not many job interviews where there's a chance you'll end up naked at the end of it. ~Jerry Seinfeld~

"Don't look so nervous- you know interviewers can smell fear," Barry mumbled to Chris, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

"Shut up, I'm not nervous," Chris hissed out just as he went to tug at his tie for the third time that minute. "I'm just getting impatient- they've already interviewed six other guys and I'm getting antsy just waiting here."

"They're not going to hire everyone who goes through that door, Chris. Just relax; you'll get in if you're natural."

Running a hand through his hair, Chris bounced his leg up and down quickly as he glanced at the door on the other side of the room where another man had just gone through not fifteen minutes ago. The interviews seemed to be longer than most interviews, and Chris was wondering what exactly was going to be asked of him when he entered.

He understood that they wanted to be thorough when they chose who would join the STARS team- it was, after all, an 'elite' group of people who would be held responsible in dealing with the tougher situations that would occur from time to time. Before he could even get to the interview stage, Chris had to go through some shooting trials, physicals, and psychological assessments (all of which he did before he joined the RPD- apparently he could go crazy after working for the system for just six months), mental tests and tests on the legal codes of Racoon, and finally he was up for an interview.

"Do you know who's doing the interviews?" Chris asked after getting even more agitated after listening to silence, intermittently interrupted by Barry coughing softly to keep his throat clear.

"I don't know- I thought you would be all over the information seeing as how you've been stalking anyone who has any information on STARS."

Chris was about to say something about not stalking when the door at the end of the room opened and an older man stepped out, a shaky smile on his lips.

"A Chris Redfield is wanted next," he said, taking his suit jacket off to toss over his arm. Standing up quickly, Chris almost knocked his chair over as Barry reached out to steady it.

"Good luck, mate," the stranger said, patting Chris on the shoulder before he left the waiting room in a hurry. Chris was about to ask if it was that bad, but didn't have a chance and was left to stare at the door.

"Are you going to go in?" Barry asked, seeing Chris hesitate.

"Yes, just a moment." Cracking his neck, Chris took a deep breath before opening the door and striding in- displaying the confidence he had when he was in the military.

Closing the door behind him, Chris looked ahead to see a metal desk with a free seat on one side, and a lone male sitting on the other side.

Black shades caught the light that was coming from the ceiling, flashing as the man looked up from the papers before him to look at a familiar face.

"And you must be Christopher Redfield," Wesker said, motioning for Chris to take a seat.

Chris didn't even correct Wesker on the Christopher part and pulled the chair back from the desk, making the metal feet scrape loudly against the floor. Wincing slightly, Chris sat down quietly and placed his hands in his lap.

"Yes, I am... and you must be Albert Wesker," Chris said, sticking his hand out to shake it. Wesker took it and shook it- his strong handshake letting Chris know how self-assured he was through the simple gesture.

"You didn't shock me this time," Chris said, laughing nervously as he remembered the last time their hands touched. Raising an eyebrow, Wesker looked at Chris curiously, which prompted him to continue. "You know, when we met outside Chief Iron's office and I was playing with the pen you needed to use to sign in… and then our hands touched and you shocked me."

Chris was looking at Wesker desperately- hoping the man at least recognized him a little bit.

"Ah… yes. I suppose that is how you know my name already as well- you must have snooped through the sign in book," Wesker said, a smirk tugging at his lips. Chris blushed but didn't look away- he was determined to show his confidence. He had faced down enemy air fire in the Air Force; he could certainly deal with this guy.

If only he would take off those damn sunglasses.

"Anyways, now that the familiarities are over, let us begin the interview shall we?" Wesker asked, but didn't wait for an answer from Chris before continuing. "Let's start by asking you why, exactly, you think you would be good for this sort of job."

Twirling an expensive looking pen between his spider-like fingers, Wesker waited patiently as Chris thought over his answer quickly.

"Well, I think the situations that STARS will have to deal with are the sort of things I would be really good with. I'm a passionate person, and I really want to make a difference in the community. I joined the military to do that, but since I left I've been looking for something that will give me back that sense of meaning and I think joining the STARS team will give me that back. Also, I thrive for excitement."

"Then you're an adrenaline junkie?" Wesker asked, an eyebrow raised as his pen stilled and became poised over a slip of paper.

"No! Well, I like adrenaline- it gives me that edge in situations, but I don't actively go looking for it," Chris stated quickly, watching as the pen began to be twirled once again.

"So basically your answer is that you enjoy excitement and making a difference in the lives of others?" Wesker didn't sound particularly impressed, but he didn't really have much emotion in his voice anyways- making Chris struggle to read what exactly he was thinking.

"Yeah, I guess that's it," Chris said, sounding lame even to his own ears.

Nodding once, Wesker jotted a few notes down before flipping one of the sheets over. "You mentioned the military before… it says here that you were discharged from the American Air Force due to an inability to follow orders. Care to explain this?"

The pen began to twirl again.

"Well, I follow orders perfectly well- it's just when someone gives an order that will clearly get someone hurt or killed, then I take issue with it and I don't follow it," Chris said, his confidence returning. He was used to this question.

"So you undermine authority and believe that you are superior in the end?"

The pen stilled.

"No, no that's not what I mean. What I mean is I listen to authority, and I don't think that I know best- but sometimes you have to go with your gut instinct, right? And sometimes that goes against orders, but you know you have to do it anyways because I think everyone should listen to what their senses are telling them."

More notes were jotted down quickly, Wesker's cursive writing slowly filling the page as Chris tried his damndest not to fiddle with his tie. Wesker flipped the sheet over again and began reading through Chris' records from working as a Police Officer.

"You have excellent aim and marksmanship according to these files," Wesker said, smiling slightly.

It did little to ease Chris' nerves.

"Yeah, when I was younger I would play with BB guns and from then on I would practice my aim. Once I was in the military I could begin to really hone my skills."

"I didn't ask for an explanation- but thank you anyways," Wesker stated, causing Chris to blush yet again.

He had entered as a confident Ex-Army member, and would no doubt be leaving as a pre-pubescent little girl.

"You have some medical background thanks to the army… a pilot's license… and numerous other little licenses and background knowledge." Wesker continued to scan through the papers before stopping at the psychological assessment sheet where it said that Chris had passed, with little else on it.

"You went through the psychological assessment as well, I see."

"Do you ever feel like you're trying too hard? Like you're trying to please too many people?"

"No… why would I? I do this all for me."

"And none of this is connected to your parents' death, and you wishing to fill that void that they left for your little sister?"

"I guess that has something to do with it… I don't think about it a lot."

"You seem to not think about your emotions often, Christopher."

"It's just Chris… please."

"Yeah, I went through them as well," Chris said, happy that it looked like the reports didn't go into great detail about what he was asked.

Wesker hummed softly and jotted down some more notes, leaving time for Chris to watch the man before him. He was intimidating and reserved, that was for sure. And despite only having really met him a little while ago, Chris had a feeling like this was the only side he would ever see of him. Not a hair was out of place in his gelled back blond hair; his sunglasses were of an expensive brand and clean- with no smudges apparent at all on the glossy black surface. And his suit was no doubt dry cleaned and well pressed, with no out of place crease.

Basically, Wesker was the complete opposite of himself.

But what Chris really noticed about Wesker was his hands- they didn't appear to be that of a man who used guns often and worked in rough environments. Instead, his fingers were long and delicate, and the skin soft and hydrated. Chris began to wonder what gave Wesker such a position to interview and start up a special force unit, but didn't dwell on such matters as he was broken from his thoughts by a small cough.

Looking up from Wesker's hands, Chris saw that he was looking at him, an eyebrow raised above the rim of his sunglasses.

"Are you alright, you seemed to be somewhere else."

The pen had stopped twirling.

"Yes, yes I am fine. I was just thinking about you actually."

Chris regretted saying it as soon as it had slipped past his lips. If it wouldn't have killed any chance of getting into STARS, he would have literally slammed his head against the desk.

"Oh, well that is rather… interesting. Care to elaborate on what, exactly, intrigues you about me?" Wesker asked, his head tilting slightly to the side- the pen still not twirling.

"I was just looking at your hands. You don't have any calluses or anything that would indicate you work with firearms, and you look so… put together, I guess. You don't strike me as the type of man to be working in a situation like this, so I began to wonder about your qualifications. Not that I don't think you're qualified," Chris added on hastily.

"Those are very good observations, Mr. Redfield. I can assure you that I am more than qualified for this job- but I admire your quick observations."

The pen began to twirl again and Chris found himself able to breathe once more.

"I just have one more question- it should be simple enough. Why is it that you would like to join the STARS team?"

Chris looked down at his shoes for a moment before looking back up at Wesker. "Because I want to make a difference in this world, even if it is just helping a few people in this little city."

Wesker smiled softly this time, and Chris realized that maybe he hadn't screwed everything up terribly. After writing a few more notes, Wesker stood up and Chris followed suit.

Reaching across the table, Wesker shook Chris' hand firmly before letting go to look down at the last folder to read Barry's name.

"It has been a pleasure speaking with you, Christopher. You should receive a call sometime in the next week about your standing. Now if you wouldn't mind, could you please call Barry Burton in?"

Again, Chris didn't even correct Wesker on using the name Christopher and gave his thanks before hurrying out the door before he could make any more mistakes.

Closing the door and walking into the waiting room, Chris noticed Barry had already stood up and looked ready to go inside- he was, after all, the only one left.

"How did it go?" Barry asked quickly.

"I… honestly don't know," Chris replied, a puzzled look on his face.

**XX**

"What do you mean you don't know if it went well?" Claire's voice carried through the phone and over to Chris' ear clearly, little static appearing to disrupt the conversation.

"I just don't know. I mean, this guy wasn't very forthcoming with information in the way he acted. Even when he smiled I wasn't sure if it was a genuine smile, or if it was a smile that really said he was going to bring my complete and utter downfall," Chris said as he poked the cooking pasta he was making for dinner with a spoon.

"That sounds reassuring," Claire replied, amusement evident in her voice. "But did you say or do anything out of the ordinary that would compromise you getting into STARS?"

"I, uh… stared at his hands… a lot," Chris mumbled after a few moments of staring at the white bubbles that were floating around the noodles- popping every so often as if to drive home the fact that Chris' bubble may have just been burst.

"That's not normal, Chris."

"I know that's not normal, Claire!" Chris hissed out before groaning softly. "See, now I'm thinking I fucked it up…"

"Don't be so childish, big brother. I'm sure you did fine- other than the hand staring I think it went well for you." She emphasised the big part in order to snap Chris out of his mope-fest and get him to act his age. It seemed to work when Chris mumbled a 'yeah I guess' before he started to swear profusely.

"What? What's going on?!" Claire frantically called out as Chris almost dropped the phone.

"My god damn noodles boiled over!" Chris moaned, watching the water lower itself as the heat was turned off. Turn around for one second and he'd managed to kill one of the simplest dishes to cook. "Anyways, I should go. I'll call you later, alright?"

"Yeah, okay. Just don't wait almost three weeks to call again, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I won't. Love you."

"Love you too, Chris."

Chris went to hang the phone back up on the receiver, and eyed the pot of noodles from his vantage point in the kitchen.

God damn cooking… damn it to hell.

Going back into the kitchen, Chris went looking for a strainer, deep in thought about the day's events- or more importantly, deep in thought about Albert Wesker.

He was a strange guy, and Chris didn't know if he admired him or hated him for his closed off and guarded attitude that he wore so well. Chris, at times, wished he could be like that- he wished for the ability to just not give a damn about anything.

It would certainly save him a world of hurt in the end, he understood that. But something prevented him from closing himself off and from not caring about what happened to other people.

Bringing the pot over to the sink, Chris dumped the contents into the strainer that was poised above the sink and watched the water separate itself from the spaghetti noodles, eyes glazing over as he continued to think.

One thing was for sure, though… Chris knew that Albert Wesker would always intrigue him.

Thanks for all the reviews/reads/favorites/watches etc. You guys make it all worth while, and I appreciate all of the wonderful feedback! Next chapter we will finally have our STARS team up and running- excited?