Chapter 17: Complicated Affairs

It happened again. Tonight of all nights. He awakened to pain splintering through his cranium, caused by distorted dreams or memories still fresh, the source of his affliction.

Wesker wasn't a stranger to it and rose to do his usual ritual when this happened: splashing water on his face. Painkillers? Rarely. Rubbing his temples, his eyes, his forehead. He had no choice but to wait for the pressure to alleviate, despite his mind becoming something close to hypersensitive during this time.

3:12 A.M.

The STARS Captain sat at a mahogany desk in his bedroom. A small desk lamp provided a soft, dim glow. He watched Claire's beautiful form sleep soundly in his bed, blissfully unaware of his torment.

Wesker had reminded her of the guest bedroom after their last round in his sheets, in case she'd be more comfortable in there, but she had declined and stayed with him. Admittingly, he was a little surprised by that.

He hated what he was feeling for her, but at the same time...strangely welcomed it, like a drug he'd been craving and was now addicted to. From her clever wit, fiery temper and beauty to the way she tasted, smelled, felt. For a man who had great control over his more primal urges, Claire had some kind of pull over that control. She appealed to all of his senses in just the right way, the way most women couldn't, reminding him that he wasn't immune to the forces of nature. Not to mention, making him realize his desire for her wouldn't wane anytime soon, and he was perfectly fine with that. There was something simply compelling about her. He wanted her all to himself.

Anezka had been something special too. A young, brilliant researcher with fire red hair and an equally blazing disposition. But Anna had jilted him, reasons unknown, seemingly disappearing from the face of the earth. His resentment towards her, as well as his pride, kept him from seeking her out.

"I know you will come to hate me. Just know that I love you, and I had to do it…"

Her final words to him from a random phone call three weeks after she had up and left Raccoon City. Nearly seven years now, but he still heard it as clear as if it had happened yesterday.

Had to do what? What was he missing? She had acted so strange those last few days she was here. Wesker shook his head, jaw clenching, hating that he still thought of her, hating what she did, and yes, hating her too. The whole thing was quite absurd in the fact that he still wasted time and energy dwelling over her.

Wesker dropped the bitter thoughts of Anna, turning away from his sleeping Claire to peer out the nearby window. Small snowflakes glittered in the beams of street lamps outside. He attempted once again to make sense of the flashing pictures that had painfully awoken him, but the inability to decipher or rationalize them only frustrated him further.

A soft whine snapped him out of it. Lying near the bed, Odin stared directly at him, ears erect. Wesker gave him a signal and the Doberman lowered his head onto his paws, licking his lips. It was a shame most MA-39s would go to waste once infused with the T-Virus. The Cerberus project genetically modified and bred the dogs for extreme intelligence, strength, and agility. The new Epsilon strain was an improvement, but still caused enough deterioration that prevented MA-39s from taking complex orders.

Strange how no one at the Spencer estate reported a missing Cerberus dog when Wesker had taken him three years ago. Then again, some of the handlers weren't all that perceptive.

Wesker clenched his fist on the desk as another wave of pain jostled through his skull. More distorted images flashed by, many unrecognizable to him as usual. Same with the faint, echoing voices. No, there was one he did recognize. And it made the pain flare, made his body cringe. More of his buried hatred clawed to the surface.

It was much like another voice Wesker once knew, although that one died at his feet in a pool of his own blood a decade prior.

When the time is right...you will be next…

Ironic how in the early years of his life, he had been oddly intrigued and drawn to Lord Ozwell E. Spencer. But as he grew, after being subjected to Marcus's indoctrination, conditioning, and torture alongside William, inside the walls of the Umbrella Executive Training Facility, after climbing the ranks within Umbrella, those feelings slowly mutated. After years of learning, adapting, and evolving. Hatred and distrust took their place, just as they often did.

After all, it made only sense now that he had control of his life, now that he could see what he hadn't before. Marcus had always been a pawn. A puppet attached to strings held by Spencer. He had subjected them to the menticide for all those years, all for a "better future for you and for Umbrella".

Obedience breeds discipline. Discipline breeds unity. Unity breeds power. Power is life.

He and William were no different than Marcus to Spencer. Puppets. The next generation to pull strings on. But Wesker had made sure long ago to cut the strings that shackled him, instead only putting on the illusion that Spencer still had control.

But there was a rabbit hole somewhere, one he wasn't supposed to find. And it had to do with these "dreams". Could the brainwashing from his years at the Training Facility have gone further back, even as far as his childhood? Sifting through his memories, it didn't seem so. His life was normal considering the circumstances, even when placed with Marcus and William, only taking a dark turn once entering the Training Facility some years later as a teenager.

There were those strange, hazy images of some kind of boarding school with other children his age that were not in his topographical or declarative memory.

He had no way to prove it, but just the thought of it boiled his blood. Why else would the dreams cause him so much discomfort?

No. He was in complete control of his life and everyone around him. He was no longer the ruled. He was the ruler.

A soft whine stirred her from slumber, waking her just enough to alert her brain that she wasn't home in her own bed. The sheets were different, the comforter was different. The scent wasn't hers. Her eyes opened, and in that second everything came back to her. The party, her "mission", Wesker's house, what they did in the dining room...what they did in this bed. His bed. She was still in his bed, but he wasn't with her.

Claire sat up, awake, her skin exposed to the coolness of the room when the warm blanket fell away. Her inner rectitude had hoped it had all been a dream, if only so she didn't have to face what she had done yet again. But as Claire moved, she felt the familiar ache in her limbs, in her groin. She felt the faint bruises from a mighty hold on her flesh. She felt the stickiness between her thighs where more of Wesker's cum had leaked out since falling asleep. There was no denying it, even if she wanted to...but she didn't want to. As much as she should be scolding herself for her major lapse in judgment and character yet again, she wouldn't. Not while high on the thrill of these encounters with her brother's boss.

The younger Redfield looked around the faintly lit bedroom that had been completely dark not long ago. She spotted her captor/lover sitting at a desk on the far side of the room, staring out the window as snow danced on the other side of the panes. Claire held her breath, the only thing she could do as she stared. It was strange seeing Albert Wesker in this light. And she didn't mean the lighting in the room.

What she saw was something intimate, a part of Wesker right here and now that very few people have seen. Felt it in her bones. But she didn't know him well enough to know exactly what she was seeing as he stared out the window, and struggled to place it. He was tired, but that wasn't it. She had never seen such a look in his eyes. But she desperately wanted to know. It wasn't exactly sadness. Nor was it doubt or self-reflection or even anger. And yet, somehow it was all of them at once. The hatred she did feel for certain, and Claire recalled Nikolai telling her that Wesker was driven by hatred.

After all the things she had seen this man do, what she learned about him this past week, it shouldn't have mattered what drove him. Stopping him and exposing him should've been all that mattered. But Claire couldn't help herself. What could cause a man to hate so much that it drove his very soul?

Claire quietly got out of bed, wearing only underwear and the borrowed V-neck shirt. She didn't make a peep, even as she stepped over Odin, yet wasn't surprised the STARS Captain somehow heard her, swiveling the desk chair to face her, his steely eyes kindling her stomach.

Well, this was a stupid idea. What the hell was she supposed to say?

"You should be resting, dear heart. It won't be long before I must take you home."

Despite his stormy eyes, his tone was gentler than usual. Claire relaxed, weakly shrugging. "Can't sleep. Looks like you can't either."

"I don't sleep much."

His response didn't surprise her. His tone suggested he simply didn't need much sleep, but Claire felt it was a guise to the fact that he couldn't sleep much.

What did surprise her was him motioning her to come closer, despite her leaning on the desk only a couple feet away.

Hesitating, she quipped, "Guilty conscience finally catch up with you?" And then squeaked when he pulled her down onto his lap.

Claire was completely thrown off by this strange behavior!

Wesker chuckled inaudibly, noticeable only by the slight pull of his lips. "Wishful thinking, my dear. Pointless cognitive bias. Just as pointless as most penitence. The majority of people's decisions and subsequent consequences are known beforehand, thus to regret them afterward is groundless."

In other words, no. But Claire hadn't been holding her breath or anything.

Wesker's arm secured her lower back, either holding her steady or preventing her from getting up. Claire moved one leg over so she was straddling him instead. Her captor faintly smirked, his eyes taking advantage.

"Just imagine if dear big brother saw you now. What would he think?"

Claire frowned, imagining Chris seeing her like this...or finding out what she had done with Wesker...more than once.

"He'd blow his top, that's for sure."

A soft snort was his response. Claire sighed, hating herself a little more.

"He'd be disappointed." Her voice was just a whisper, as soft as his fingertips as they skimmed her lower back.

"Inevitably. Little sister isn't as innocent as he believes."

She glared at him. "In himself more than anything. He'd blame himself as if he did something wrong. Because he's had to shuffle being a parental figure and a brother. He's had to try and be our parents instead of being himself."

"Given my experience in how he thinks, I'm not surprised. But it's foolish to wear someone's shoes you will never be able to fill."

The younger Redfield broke eye contact, thinking about how much Chris had struggled over the years between being a brother and being a parent, no their parents. Wesker was right. Impossible shoes to fill, as great as he was to her, as much as she loved him.

"As dense and irritating as he can be, I will say this," Wesker said, playing with a strand of Claire's hair. "The sacrifices he's made for you are admirable. As is his devotion to making sure you know how to defend yourself and navigate through life. Most love has selfish intentions and is conditional, blood or not. Most brothers would've settled, or even abandoned their siblings, to live their own life, achieve their own ambitions. And although he cannot step into the shoes of those you have lost, he certainly stepped up and took it head on. But I wouldn't expect anything less from him."

Claire never would've thought in a million years she'd hear the STARS Captain give a compliment that wasn't laced with sarcasm or derision. Not while he wasn't acting anyway. And she was both grateful and disheartened hearing it.

Chris had been younger than she was now when their parents died. His world got turned upside down just as much as hers did. His dreams, his college and life plans, all gone. Because he chose to. He sacrificed all of that for her, to keep them together, to give her a better future.

And this is how you repay him? Her inner voice chimed as she straddled Chris's boss, but that seemed so insignificant compared to the deep hole she had dug herself into regarding Albert Wesker.

Capture and blackmail had turned into attraction and seduction. Attraction and seduction turned into an affair, and that affair had just turned quite dangerous. Evident in the way he looked at her, evident in the way that he held her. All because she had gone to the wrong place at the wrong time…

Yet despite his pragmatic and callous nature, Wesker would surprise her. Like pulling her onto his lap, or complimenting Chris in such a way that subtly doubled as reassurance for her. It intrigued her. Or maybe she was wishful thinking just as he had said…

"Thanks," Claire finally whispered, returning her gaze to his steely blues. She risked charting dangerous territory by asking him something more personal. "Do you remember your parents at all?"

As expected, he gave her a look. Skepticism more than anything. Guarded, too. She expected him to deflect her question, mock her in some way. But when he sighed, her heart nearly flipped in anticipation. He was actually going to humor her?!

"I only remember my father to an extent, but most of the memories are...corrupted."

That was an odd word choice, but Claire remained silent, not wanting to deter him from divulging in her.

"He was a bio-engineer. I wasn't close to him."

He wasn't going to say anything else. Determined, as was her way, Claire pried further. "And your mother?"

Wesker shrugged. "Died in childbirth, I was told."

"Oh...I'm sorry."

He only looked mildly amused by her condolences. "For what reason?"

Claire shook her head. "She was your mother." Wasn't that obvious?

"Your point?"

His response shouldn't have caught her off guard, but it did. Claire stared at him, unsure what to say, but more importantly, unable to comprehend why she had expected better from the man blackmailing her to get more power.

Of course he wouldn't care about his deceased mother. Think, Claire, think!

Wesker must've read her mind to an extent, curiously cocking his head to the side with a subtle smile. "How can you miss someone you have never met? How do you legitimately care about them?"

Claire couldn't answer that. Not really. He made a point, like so many times before. It still felt wrong though. Was it because she had known her mother and still missed her to this day?

Their emotional constitutions were worlds apart. She had known that already. So what was she seeking here?

"You can't. No matter who they are to you. No matter how society deludes you regarding its apocryphal ethics."

Claire looked at him skeptically. "You don't ever wonder? Who she was, how she lived?"

Still amused by this conversation, the STARS Captain massaged her lower back. "For what purpose? She's dead."

She put her hands on his chest. "Stop. Just...try it?"

Wesker scowled. "I'm not -"

"For me...dear heart?"

Her soft plea wasn't like her, but Claire needed to get something out of Wesker, anything to help make this fucked-up relationship they've created make any sort of sense. She knew she was reaching for straws, but she needed it for her sanity.

Though he was the type of man to curl his lip to such pleading, Wesker gave a little at hearing her teasing use of his term of endearment for her, a feat she never thought she'd achieve. Didn't mean he was happy about it...

"Your inquisitive mind is both endearing and aggravating, my dear. I do suggest you direct it towards more sensible aspirations. But for now I'll humor you, despite whatever you may be seeking of me. From what I was told, her name was Andrea. She was a child prodigy and accomplished geneticist. I imagine she was much like my father. Her life was her work."

She waited, but he didn't say anything more. That was all Claire was going to get. She would have to be satisfied with it. She was lucky she got anything, really.

His eyes, which had focused on her exposed belly from her shirt hiking up, met hers once more. The grim set of his lips finally lifted to his usual leer. "Anything else you wish me to fantasize about?"

Claire gave up. "No."

"It won't do you any good to try and understand me, dear heart. No need to complicate things."

But he was the one who wouldn't let go of her wrist as she attempted to stand, preventing her from leaving his side. She looked down at him, the pressure of his fingers seized around her pulse merely epitomizing their situation. And she recalled what he had whispered in her ear just hours ago. Mine. So, who was really complicating things here?

She sighed, resigned. "Right. I know that. As long as you let my brother and me go in the end, I don't care."

Wesker didn't say anything. After a moment's staredown between them, he let her wrist go. The pressure immediately alleviated, the blood tingling up and down her limb. Claire stepped over his lap and returned to bed, longing for home.

The silence that infused the car as Wesker drove Claire home was different from the silence after the Christmas Party going to Wesker's house. The Redfield sister still wore Annette's clothes, knowing the dress would draw Chris's suspicion, and her normal clothes were still in Wesker's room in NEST.

She kept her gaze out the passenger window, watching slumbering houses pass by on dark suburban streets. The sky had cleared finally, revealing stars that competed with sparkling snow beneath street lamps.

This early in the morning, traffic and life were scarce. A suburban respite in the throes of Raccoon City's hustle and bustle.

The cold had iced up any vehicles parked in driveways, some still untouched from a new sheet of snow. Inside the Jaguar, the heated leather seats warmed her tired body. The soft, warm air blowing from the vents made her eyes heavy.

It wasn't just her body that was tired. It was her mind. Her soul. Claire didn't want to admit it, but this whole ordeal was starting to take a toll on her. Last night especially.

She loathed herself for getting into this mess. Loathed herself for making it worse by having an affair with her brother's superior. She hated him too; how he was able to manipulate, deceive, and exploit everyone and everything around him so easily. In his ego, they were living in his world, endless pawns in his quest for more power. More control. She wanted out. She wanted it to be over.

The silence was mostly frustration. But it came from her. The corrupt STARS Captain showed no signs of exasperation, remaining composed as he steered her home. If anything was amiss with him, he kept it well under wraps.

Finally, after what felt like hours in thick silence and warm air that smelled of new car, Chris's house came into view: dark, silent...empty. Wesker pulled the car into the driveway, downshifting after pressing the clutch and rolled the Jaguar to a stop.

The locks disengaged, but Claire hesitated after grabbing the door handle, wanting to say something, just not sure what exactly.

"You are almost done with this, dear heart. Don't drop the ball now. Chris is counting on you."

She glared at him, his eyes now hidden behind his usual shades, unreadable. Claire squeezed the handle hard, but she had completely turned towards him now, ready to set the record straight with his mind games.

"He is counting on me. Yet, after the fight we had, I found out from Jill that it wasn't her that set him straight. It was you. You took him out to the trail, didn't you? Why? Why did you help get him off my back?"

Wesker was quiet for a moment. "I spared him."

Her heart dropped. Spared? As in he had meant to kill him out there?!

"Killing Chris in no way helps me reach my goals currently and would only complicate matters. The same applies if he finds out about our...arrangement. Both of which prevents me from getting what I want. It was the most logical solution that doubled as a favor for you. You're welcome."

She kept his gaze, her own hard stare reflected back at her from the shades. "And what do you want, exactly?"

She was grateful the sunglasses shielded the piercing of his eyes, because his equally piercing smirk and telltale silence chilled her to the bone.

The feelings of dread and exhilaration rushed through her blood and instantly made her sick, made her dizzy, but she didn't let it show, instead she calmly breathed in. She would be the one with the last word this time.

"You're the one telling me not to complicate things. Yet, you prevented Bennett from taking me away, taking me to this Roth guy you're so obsessed with bringing down. And don't even try making the excuse that it would complicate matters with Chris and STARS because you said before killing us wouldn't be a big deal. Something's changed. Killing Chris wouldn't affect your goals, unless, of course, they involve me." She hooked a thumb back toward herself for emphasis. Then, she glared into the dual Claire Redfields staring back at her. "Maybe you were only bullshitting when you told me last night why you saved me, but I think there's some truth to it. Because I heard what you said. And you know exactly what I'm talking about. So who's really complicating shit here?"

She didn't let him answer, satisfied with the way his smirk dropped to a grim line. Claire yanked the door open and got out, the bitter cold biting her right away. She slammed the car door shut as hard as she could. It was too dark to see through the tinted windows, but she stepped away from the car with a hard glare as it reversed out of the driveway and took off down the road. She gave the retreating Jaguar the finger and with an aggravated groan, stomped to the house before she froze her butt off.

The wide, cloudy pupilless eyes subtly followed his movements within the large, cylindrical tube. One finger, protruding with a long, curving talon, twitched beside the bulging muscle of one thigh. Air bubbles filtered through the liquid that filled the container. The beast was strong enough to burst through if it could, but every second of the day it was sedated, sleeping mostly, only awake for a few hours every day, watching, waiting…

William ignored the T-002's interested stare and lipless grin. Did the creature have enough of a consciousness to remember it was him and Albert that gave him such a cruel fate when it was once human? Probably not.

The Golgotha creator wasn't interested in the Tyrant itself anyway. He was here going through some of the new findings for the Epsilon strain of the T-Virus. The research wasn't meeting deadlines, and so Spencer had asked William and Albert to give guidance. Albert had done more than Will, if only as a way to allow his partner more time on the G-Virus.

Little did they know that there was an ulterior motive to his helping hand.

"Dr. Birkin?"

Startled, William jumped a little and looked up. He relaxed. It was just John Clemens. Boring, innocuous John. The one Ada had just started "dating" if he recalled. Why? He wasn't a bad looking guy, but he wasn't exactly her type either…

John had transferred from Chicago years prior, taking over the T-Virus work once William began his G research at NEST, secreted away below Raccoon City. He was an alright guy, William guessed, but he wasn't nearly cutthroat enough for this place; and quite frankly, he was surprised he was still around.

"Oh hey, John-my-man!" William greeted, not bothering with titles, because why would he? John was his inferior. And smacked him on the shoulder like the nobody he was. "How's it going?"

"G-Good, I suppose," John gave him an odd look: unsure, confused. His eyes flicked nervously from the paperwork and monitor Will had taken over, before quickly scoping the room. "Can I help you with something?"

"Aw, aren't you sweet? But nah, I got this."

"The team and I have made some, uh, great breakthroughs r-recently. We'd hate to take up any more of y-your time."

In other words, John was asking him to leave in his own, polite way because he had no balls.

"That's great. Good job!" His near mocking cheer died in the air as William continued what he was doing without missing a beat. No one else bothered the chief researcher as he rummaged through their hard work...

That is, until a tall, ominous shadow fell over him. That definitely was not John…

"Dr. Birkin, good morning."

William whirled around, sour taste in his mouth, and hit his knee hard on the nearby chair. "Ow!"

Sergei's sharp gaze danced like a cat's watching a cornered mouse, grinning. "Strange seeing you without your other half."

It was all he could do to keep from furiously rubbing at his knee. "Anne's busy at NEST."

He felt threatened but didn't outwardly show it. People were watching, after all.

"I wasn't talking about Mrs. Birkin."

Will rolled his eyes. "Like I haven't heard that before! What do you want? Kinda busy here."

Dick.

The Colonel rarely bothered them in the open, pursuing his beef with William and Albert on the sly, determined to find some way to prove to Spencer they were threats needing to be neutralized. With all these faces around, William knew he'd be fine. For now, anyway. Arrogant as he was in the fact he was nearly untouchable, Sergei was the exception. Sergei wasn't afraid of William or his influences. Most notably, he didn't fear Albert.

"Lord Spencer wishes to speak to you, Dr. Birkin."

William's gut clenched and he instantly felt ill. No, no, no. Why now? I don't wanna!

"Look, if it's about Percy getting impaled after taking the wrong key, it wasn't me this time!"

Sergei sneered. "Not that. Follow me." When he didn't immediately follow, the Colonel narrowed his eyes. "You dare make Lord Spencer wait any longer than he has to?"

Yes, I dare! He's gotta croak sometime!

Then again, William didn't want Spencer's end to arrive by natural causes. William would much rather see the old bastard in a pool of his own blood with Albert and himself laughing as he died. Just like Marcus. Yes, just like that.

"Coming!" William exclaimed in a sing-song voice. "Of course, Lord Spencer wants to speak to his Chief of Research. Duh!"

His swank fell away once they left the lab though. It was nothing but uncomfortable silence as William walked with the tall, broad Russian. It was busy in the underground research center, but the surface was a different story. The trip back to the estate through the courtyard was devoid of life.

It looked as though the property landscapers had freshly salted and shoveled the walkways, but were nowhere in sight now. Probably inside having a nice, hot cup of coffee.

A lone Cerberus dog howled in its pen not far away, another reminder of the isolation surrounding the estate. Like one of those godforsaken castles in a cursed, forever winter forest right out of a fairy tale.

William's mind raced, dreading the meeting. He wondered how Albert and Claire's night went after they left Bard's Christmas Party. The sexual tension was obvious between them last night and so a no-brainer for what had surely happened once they got to his house. But Will was curious about how the rest of the night had gone between them. Their ongoing attraction to each other certainly was making things interesting! Al's behavior especially had piqued Will's curiosity.

He had yet to hear back from Ada, who was tracking Bennett's movements. He could only hope that she would touch base with them soon, preferably with the location of their elusive "friends".

"Why are you so quiet?" Sergei questioned. "You usually cannot shut your mouth."

"Just trying to be a good noodle for you," Will said merrily as they entered the estate through the back door.

Despite pulling on his coat after leaving the underground labs, the short walk through the courtyards had chilled him already, and he was relieved to be inside the toasty mansion. William didn't share Albert's fondness for the cold, and sided mostly with Alex as far as weather was concerned.

"You disgust me. This cold is nothing compared to mother country," Sergei scoffed. "The winter here is a "walk in park" as you Americans would say."

"You're absolutely right, Sergei," Will jeered. "I didn't walk twelve miles to school in the snow, uphill both ways like you, and it shows!"

He'd normally buff his nails after dealing such a burn to the Colonel, but not here, not so close to Spencer's study. With a sharp glare directed at him, Sergei rapped his knuckles on the dark door that bore the Spencer family crest.

"My lord, I have Dr. William Birkin here as you requested. Are you ready to see him?"

"Send him in, Sergei." The velvety British voice was both weak and strong, tired and mighty. But no matter the cadence, it still made the Golgotha creator sick to his stomach.

The Colonel opened the door for the researcher. The small, impeccably clean study looked the same it always did. The distinct scent of old tomes and Earl Grey tea often permeated the air here, and now was no different. There was a chair just inside the room with a small, round fold-out table in front of it. Just on the other side, Spencer sat in his large, leather chair that normally faced his desk up against the window. Except now it faced the other chair and small table.

William inwardly groaned as he went to take a seat just before Sergei snagged and frisked him.

"Hey! No need to get so handsy!" Will barked.

"It's alright, Sergei. Leave us. I will ring you when we are finished," Spencer stated.

The Colonel released William, but hesitated, obviously displeased with leaving the Umbrella founder alone with his own researcher. "As you wish, Lord Spencer."

Will didn't miss the pointed glare his way before the towering man left, having to duck to even get through the doorway. The crested door closed shut behind him, and they heard the heavy footsteps leave the hallway.

"Sit, my boy." His tone may have sounded cordial, but deep down it was an order.

William ground his teeth, presenting a fake smile and did as he was told. They stared at each other for a moment, analyzing, thinking. The British billionaire was 74 years old, wearing a dark, silk gown that complimented shrewd blue eyes. Most of his hair had receded, but what was left was silver and nearly chin length. It was strange that this old, shriveled, weak man before him was the king of this empire. He was a shadow of his former self now, compared to the strong, resilient, elegant, young aristocrat shown in photos in the hallways of the estate.

This is what Albert despised most about Spencer. No one like this should be king of anything. William agreed. But they both knew what this seemingly frail, old man was capable of. And William knew way more than Albert did...

"Tea?" Spencer asked, motioning to the teakettle on the table in between them.

The Golgotha creator sighed. "Allow me, my lord."

He poured them each a cup without spilling a single drop, even as the older man looked on with a complacent smile.

"Look, if you summoned me because-"

"Shh. Drink."

William reluctantly picked up his teacup and blew on it before taking a sip. Spencer peacefully sipped on his, listening to the faint classical music that played from a gramophone to the side of his desk.

He hated this. He fidgeted, bounced his knee, burned his damn tongue on another drink. It was so...suffocating in here. It wasn't just the tea now; he was burning up. He knew he shouldn't be showing this wretched man before him any weakness, but he knew what was coming. Why didn't the bastard just get it out already?

"I read your newest report on Golgotha. Quite fascinating! Incredibly impressive how far you've come with it in just a few years, William. The fecundity and regenerative abilities are nothing like I've ever seen before."

"Thank you, sir." What Spencer didn't know was that the quarterly reports he submitted on his research were months behind his actual progress. And not near as...honest. "Next quarter I hope to have a breakthrough in stability, as certain virions collected still contain a defective mutagen."

"If anyone can do it, it's you, my boy."

Was that supposed to put him at ease? Because William knew it was utter bullshit. Spencer was just making small talk, building up to why he really asked William here. It was obvious how they stared at each other, the fake pleasantries a front, one that all but ignored the weight that hung over their heads.

Spencer's lips fell to a firm line, much like the many wrinkles that creased his face. After another long sip of his tea, the Umbrella founder sighed. "Don't look at me that way. It's been two months since I've received an update. I've been quite patient with you. I've practically given you anything you've requested in exchange for this one thing I've asked."

The chief researcher took a deep breath. "With all due respect, Lord Spencer, I have nothing new to report, but I will as soon as I do. This is not something we can rush."

"How is Albert?"

It's like his words went in one ear and out the other, as always. "He's fine. Doing what he does best."

"His reservations towards me have only gotten worse. His mind continues to break down the indoctrination and artificial memories implanted as a child. Eventually, he will realize the truth. He is already uncontrollable as it is. This is why you must finish the Prototype Virus."

The Prototype Virus...an experimental variant derived from the Progenitor Virus made specifically for the Wesker Children, a eugenics project Spencer had been conducting for decades. Except, instead of creating a superior breed of humans as planned, the virus had killed most of them. Only Alex had survived her dose after developing a sickness due to her breeding.

Once the star subject, she was pulled from the program afterward. Spencer reversed her brainwashing and kept her close to him, working as a chief researcher for his other experiments and a chief member of the Umbrella Intelligence Division.

That left Albert as Spencer's most promising candidate and asset, the cream of the crop, but he dared not administer the unstable Prototype Virus into him. Too risky, too dangerous. Albert was too valuable to Spencer for him to meet the same fate as the other Wesker Children. Years later, that's where William came in. Spencer had put it on him to stabilize and improve the Prototype Virus.

His best friend's life was literally in his hands and he didn't even know it…

"It will get finished. Trust me. But it's going to take more time. We risk killing him if it isn't right."

"I suspect you are delaying any progress because of your attachment to him."

"W-What?!" So what if that was the case? Angry, upset, William opened his mouth to argue.

Lord Spencer leaned forward, pointing a long, bony finger in Will's face. "Albert is mine. I bred him! Just as I bred you. You owe your very existence to me! Albert was created to be a weapon under my control. He's an asset, not your friend."

The Golgotha creator bit his tongue, holding the older man's sharp glare. Spencer slowly leaned back, coughing, relaxing only after wiping his mouth with a handkerchief. "You shouldn't disillusion yourself, my boy. You're better than that. Albert doesn't care about you. He only uses you. It's his nature. Don't feel bad for doing this."

It was far from the first time he had heard that. From Spencer, from the Colonel, from others, including his wife. Deep down, part of him believed it, acknowledged the weight it held. Maybe he was a fool for his continued loyalty to Albert. William had no qualms about cutting anybody's throat to get what he wanted, to achieve his ambitions. Except Albert, that is.

It was one thing to stabilize and improve the Prototype Virus so it wouldn't kill Albert, and so he could reap the full benefits of it. It was another entirely to enable Spencer complete control through it.

The one thing Albert didn't want anyone to have over him ever again.

Spencer poured them refills on their tea, sighing deeply. "You know he would kill you if he found out about any of this."

William didn't say anything, staring at the steaming tea, chest hurting, sickened. That choking sensation he often felt around the Umbrella founder burned now. Spencer might as well have had his bony hands around his throat.

The withered lord rose to his feet, hunched, and shuffled the short distance to his desk. He picked up a stack of papers and brought them back over to where he and William were sitting. With a shaky hold, he presented them to the Golgotha creator.

William slowly took them, dubious, and scanned them over in fretful silence.

"I value you, William," Spencer said after another short coughing fit. "You are irreplaceable to me and this company. You continue to far exceed any expectations in everything that you do. I know what I'm asking is hard. I know that I've asked a lot of you lately, but you never disappoint. So here I am making good on my promises."

William couldn't believe it. He scanned over the print several times, if only to make sure he was reading it correctly. Spencer wasn't just confirming a lead spot on the executive board, he was promising a contract to give all rights and ownership of G to him!

"All I ask is that you finish the Prototype Virus and get Albert under my control."

The words were like a cold dagger cutting straight through his breastbone. William had done countless immoral and terrible things in his life, most of which never bothered or affected him. But this did. This hurt.

He despised this man.

The chief researcher could only nod, unable to swallow the lump in his throat as he put the contract down on the table. Spencer's cold eyes seemed to bore right through his very being, scrutinizing, gauging his reactions.

William stood, ready to leave. He had as much as he could stand, head pounding, but mostly it was the sickening ache in his chest. He didn't care that Spencer hadn't excused him.

"I'll do what I can," he announced and turned for the door. Spencer's eyes continued to drill into his back, and just as he grabbed the doorknob, the king had something else to contain him.

"I heard from Sergei that Albert may have let a civilian live? A young woman. Is this true?"

William slowly turned around, a heaviness in the air as he thought about how to answer. Sergei didn't know about the Wesker Children eugenics or Albert's importance to Spencer, but he did know that Albert and William were often up to no good and was ready to prove it to Spencer by any means necessary.

"Is she...compatible?"

William quickly shook his head, returning to his seat. "No, sir. He disposed of her. You know Sergei can be a little paranoid sometimes."

"A shame, really. We've never been able to locate Miss Muller since she fled."

Fled?

William was interested now, and he could tell by the sharp curl of Spencer's lips that's exactly what he had been aiming for.

Anezka didn't flee. She just left...right? For unknown reasons, jilting Albert, leaving her research behind here at the Arklay Laboratory.

Will finally took the bait. "Fled?"

Spencer's satisfied smirk disappeared as soon as it had formed. "That's right. I know the truth of what really happened to Anezka Muller. It is something only disclosed to my most trusted inner circle, like Alex. Do I have your trust, William? Do I have your secrecy?"

As if the Umbrella founder didn't have enough from him. William nodded.

"So many rumors over what could've happened!" Spencer chuckled. "Truly a dramatic affair! The truth is that Miss Muller conceived."

WHAT?!

Despite his brain blowing a gasket, William was proud of himself for keeping a straight face.

"I offered her a transfer and a substantial reward in exchange for Albert's offspring. After all, I told her Albert wouldn't want anything to do with it and she was all alone. But I underestimated her. She fled the states and went into hiding. To this day, she hasn't been found."

William shuffled through his memories of Anezka and her final days here. Her strange behavior now made sense, as did the tension with Albert and the seemingly sudden decision to leave. He couldn't believe it! Al was a father, holy shit! Will, for a moment, had his own selfish curiosities about this illegitimate child fathered by his best friend. Boy or girl? The child would be five or six now. How much did it favor Albert? Had the little bugger come out wearing baby Ray-Bans?

Despite his hatred for him, there was no denying the significance of Spencer's experiments and what he was able to accomplish with Albert.

"That was my only chance back then to continue the eugenics program with Albert's genetics, despite Miss Muller not being a perfect match. Considering what happened with Alex, it was better than nothing. But the girl was able to escape before I got what was rightfully mine!" Lord Spencer swallowed surfacing frustration, staring intently at his chief researcher. "So, if there is indeed another female that Albert is interested in before the completion of the Prototype Virus, I need to know."

William had already done his research with Claire Redfield. She was an exceptional match to Albert as far as genetics went. But he wasn't sure how long the affair would last. He knew Albert though. He was a little obsessed with the redhead, and had her right where he wanted her, under his control. But he also cared about Claire in his own way, just as he had with Anna.

"I'll be sure to tell you if there is," William stated, keeping Spencer's stare.

The king snorted, prompting another small coughing fit as he added sugar to a fresh cup of tea. "I'm sure you will, William. I'm sure you will."

Holyshitholyshitholyshitholyfuckingshit!

He was freaking the fuck out.

Phone. Phone! I need to talk about this!

William hurried through the hallways of NEST, marching towards his laboratory, ignoring anyone who raced up to ask him a question. His mind spun like it had last night, drinking all those festive cocktails from Bard's Christmas Party. He had forgotten why he had gone to the Arklay lab in the first place this morning. It no longer mattered.

Spencer's demands were one thing, but this. Shit. This blew everything else out of the water.

"Good morning, Dr. Birkin!" his guard said outside his door. "You have-"

"Do not, under any circumstances, let anyone through this door!"

"Y-Yes, sir!"

The door automatically slid open for him and when it closed behind him, he typed in the electronic password to keep it locked. Will tossed his coat and went straight for the telephone. He mashed the dial pad, the phone number embedded in his memory.

The Golgotha creator paced around the lab as the phone rang in his ear. "Come on, come on, come on! Answer!"

It went to an answering machine, but this was too urgent for that. William hung up and dialed again, chewing on his lip, continuing to make a trench as he went back and forth. Back and forth.

Ring...ring...ring! Nothing!

Once more, he hung up and dialed, cursing under his breath. "Pick up!"

The echoing ring cut off in his ear, replaced by an all too familiar, silky-smooth voice. Finally!

"Hey! It's Will! We need to talk! Pronto!"

"Enthusiastic as always, aren't you, darling? Well, you're in luck. We'll be seeing each other real soon."

A/N: Sorry for the long wait on this chapter. It was literal hell to write! Plus, this summer has been cray cray. Lost my kitty I had for over sixteen years, been down with Covid (I'm better now), among other things!

I hope this chapter was worth the wait! I appreciate all my readers! Thank you for your patience and I hope to not take as long next time! Tell me what you think by dropping a review, or follow/fave if you haven't already! :D

Stay safe out there and be kind!