Chapter Text
Albert Wesker was not having a very good day.
Well, that was an understatement. To say that Wesker was not having a very good day was like calling the Pacific Ocean a swimming pool, or a meteorite a minor inconvenience. It would be more appropriate to say, for example, that Wesker’s day had gone from bad to apocalyptically terrible.
Never in his life did he think he would die to a godamn wolf. Less than a mile from the Spencer Mansion, of all places. It was like god was laughing at him.
But that’s getting ahead of things. Because one does not end up at the jaws of a wolf when they wake up in the morning. Unless they fell asleep in a wolf den, in which case they probably had some bigger problems in their life.
No, Wesker’s very bad day started, as it often did, with Chief Irons.
“Respectfully, I don’t see why I have to go to the mountains.” Said Wesker for the third time that morning, glaring through his sunglasses at the fleshy waste-of-space in front of him. “There haven’t been any reports, there’s barely been hikers- everyone’s waiting for the snow. There’s no need to waste time sending three STARS members up.”
“Says you, lazy ass,” Irons grumbled, stamping some form complete, “Raccoon City expects boots on the ground, especially in our tourist death-trap of a mountain. And the Mayor refused my suggestion that we just tell ‘em to bring shotguns. Apparently, that’s inhumane.”
“Charming. But why do I have to go?”
Irons levelled him with a glare. It wasn’t the glare of someone who’d been beaten in wits by their betters, which was the only way Wesker liked to be glared at- no, it was the glare of a ‘superior’ upset at being questioned on something that should have been obvious.
“Because,” Irons said slowly, “I’m sending Redfield out too.”
Oh. Right. Well, that was certainly something. Wesker frowned behind his sunglasses, trying not to tap his feet to the beat of his thoughts when-
“The Veterans are visiting?”
“Yes, well done, Albert.” Wesker’s eye twitched. He really had to get that under control. Showing rage wouldn’t do, not unless he wanted to show it. “The veterans are visiting, and Redfield has the emotional control of a toddler. Get him out of here and maybe I won’t happen to find a whole load of unfinished reports that you, the captain, should have been dealing with.”
Wesker’s whole face tightened until it was carefully neutral. “Are you threatening me, Irons?”
“I’m asking you to do your goddamn job. Umbrella or no, appearances are important, and I don’t think anyone’s going to be impressed if we end up in the papers. Can you imagine?” He snorted. “No, you’re going to take Redfield and jog up to the mountains for the day so that neither of you offend some eighty-year old into a heart attack. Hell, if you need to, drag someone else up on your little daytrip. Just keep him out of the RPD for today.”
Wesker was reasonably certain that his skin would break with how tight all his muscles were. Perhaps he would be very kind and extend the twisting tightness to Irons’ face, crunching all his bones and fat and nerves until he was a thick sauce they could serve the Tyrants-
“Wesker?” Irons snapped his fingers and it took every ounce of self-control Wesker had pounded into him not to rip them off. “You better get moving unless you want that paperwork.”
The smile was the worst thing about him, Wesker thought. Irons had the sort of smile that only someone with absolute certainty in their own pathetic position could have. Someone with so many skeletons in the closet that they could use them to decorate for Halloween. Wesker wanted to punch his teeth out and wear them like a necklace.
All he actually did was slam the door and walk out in a huff. One step to calm his breathing, another to set his shoulders straight, three, four, five until his fingers uncurled.
Right. Veterans visiting. Irons had probably mentioned it. Or not, it was awfully hard to tell- Wesker made a habit of tuning him out. Irons had even less worth hearing than the average person.
He opened the door to STARS and did not wince when it banged. The team turned towards him; Rebecca waving, Brad flinching, Barry rolling his eyes. They all set back to work quickly enough, except for one.
Chris Redfield, black sheep of STARS, was balancing a pen on his nose. Or to be more specific, Chris was rebalancing a pen on his nose, having dropped it with the bang.
“Chris,” Wesker said, and the pen dropped again, “I’d like to speak to you.”
“Er- Yessir! Right away!” Chris stayed in his seat. Wesker sighed.
“In my office.”
“Captain!”
Chris’ chair clattered as he darted to the office. Chris would never pass up the chance to avoid paperwork. Wesker strolled after him.
“Jill, you too.”
She gave a nod and kept typing. He didn’t know Jill all that well. Barry had recommended her for STARS, and her combat potential looked promising, to say the least.
He left her to finish and followed Chris. As expected, Chris was fidgeting- bouncing his leg, tapping his fingers, all the things that Wesker would never consider doing in front of a subordinate. Still, there was no point trying to beat around the bush- subtlety was wasted on men like Chris Redfield, who were mostly there to move rocks and look pretty. “Chief Irons wants you out of the building today.”
“Oh, what the fuck- he can’t even fire me in person?”
Wesker blinked. Oh. Right. Most people would take that badly, wouldn’t they?
“I mean that we- as in, you, me and Jill- are going on patrol today.”
Chris slacked into his chair with a groan, half-way to a pout when he met Wesker’s gaze. “Why wouldn’t you say that in the first place?”
“I thought that you may have at least a little faith in Chief Irons.” Wesker lied.
“Bullshit.”
“Chris, shut up, we can hear you outside,” came Jill’s voice, strolling inside and settling down, “anyway, what’s happening?”
“Irons,” Chris spat, “wants me out of the building, today.”
“Oh shit, he couldn’t even fire you in person? That’s worth shouting about.”
“No one is getting fired!” Wesker said, before it could go any further, “Well, no one in STARS. I can’t speak for the RPD as a whole. So if we could all calm down..?”
“Can’t blame me for taking it that way, captain,” Jill shrugged, “Besides, I’m plenty calm.”
Wesker chose to ignore her. “We are going out of the building today, because Chief Irons would like to ah- make sure that the tourist trails are up to scratch before the snow comes.”
Jill raised an eyebrow at him. Chris was still grumbling.
“…Oh, don’t give me that look, Officer Valentine.”
She raised the other one.
“…Fine, Chief Irons wants us- as in, me and Chris- to go out because he thinks I will ‘offend an eighty-year-old into a heart attack.”
Jill beamed at him. God, it was bad enough trying to keep all his emotions under wraps with the stress of STARS and Umbrella, never mind having to cover for Irons as well. The day he died was a day everyone would celebrate.
“I want us out of here by half-ten.” He paused. “Also, please pick up some lunch for yourselves. We’re probably going to be out for a while.”
Wesker knew in his heart of hearts that the rain was just because it was autumn, and rain happened in autumn, but that wasn’t going to stop him cursing Irons anyway. He swore as he stepped out of the car to meet a sodden Chris and Jill.
“Lovely weather,” he grumbled as a greeting. Chris pouted. He looked like a boy-scout forced into a camping trip. It was adorable.
“For ducks, maybe,” Jill said, squinting as the rain dripped down her face. “So, what do we do? Wander up and down? Stick flags in the mud?”
“If it’s bad enough. Chief Irons didn’t give us many orders outside of…looking after the death trap.”
“Of course he didn’t,” Chris grunted, “Couldn’t we just go home and pretend we did some work?”
“No. We have a duty to ensure the trails are safe. Even if Chief Irons did suggest giving the tourists shotguns.”
“You sure he wouldn’t be the one hunting them?”
Wesker pursed his lips and did not even consider laughing. Jill had no such restraint and giggled.
“Yes, well- if we take a trail each then we can meet up to discuss any warnings we feel should be up there. Any questions?”
“Do you want a donut?”
“I-“ Wesker pinched his brow, “Yes, fine, I would like a donut. We’ll meet back here in around three hours. And please, if you do find anything suspicious, contact me at once.”
“Aye aye.”
“Yes Captain.”
“Good. I’ll be taking the Spencer trail. Chris, Pine Tree path, Jill, scenic route. There shouldn’t be any trouble today.” He paused. “And if all goes well, we may even be able to bring food back to STARS too.”
Wesker did not, in fact, intend to bring back food for STARS. As soon as Jill and Chris left (“I’m just making sure I’ve locked up properly, it’s the damn car-“) he sighed, grabbed some paper, and scrawled a note-
Dear officers, nothing bad but have found signs of rare bird species. Just going to check if I’m right.
Which was a complete lie, but it would buy him a little time. Wesker flicked his eyes around, wiping off his sunglasses. The Spencer Mansion wasn’t too far, and it wouldn’t hurt to check up on it. The note should cover him for a little while; Chris and Jill would spend more time arguing about if it was suspicious or worth going after him than anything else.
He wasn’t looking forwards to traipsing through the mud though. The Spencer Mansion had long been hidden by trees and half-collapsed paths. No issue for a man like him, of course, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.
Wesker grimaced as the mud squelched beneath his boots. It was going to be a long walk.