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There were many days that the BSAA and the DSO were competing for the same goals, most of the time not speaking to each other. Like cousins that mean-mugged one another at family occasions while stealing the classified samples and research before burning the place to the ground before making a getaway. Middle fingers raised, of course.
After Leon S. Kennedy’s name had been cleared as not the bioterrorist personally responsible for killing the President and post New York’s crisis correction, the DSO decided that perhaps a little more transparency and co-operation with the BSAA could be beneficial.
You know…. Since Captain Chris Redfield absconded with Kennedy on his vacation and just cleaned house.
This is how said Captain of the Hound Wolf Squad found himself chatting outside with Leon on the outskirts of the PT area at the BSAA Headquarters on a Thursday afternoon. The Wolves were one of three squads doing training in the cordoned off outdoor gym today because the weather had turned absolutely gorgeous and it seemed cruelty to not enjoy that much sunshine in May. The pair were joined by Claire and Rebecca, as the two had been to lunch together and didn’t mind watching a bunch of soldiers being put through the calisthenics wringer by Jill Valentine. With emphasis on increasing strength and stealth contributed by Leon.
When Jill finally called a break, the three squads dispersed for water and re-fueling with the Wolves migrating naturally closer to their Captain. He waved them over, before giving an equal mix of encouragement and technical critique. Mid-sentence to Night Howl about posture in the pistol squats, music once again interrupted from his back pocket.
“I mean what can I say? Three babies in the backseat singin’ to you. Hey DJ, won’t you play that song for me? And turn it up on your radio. I got 200 seconds and I’m ready to go!”
“Pardon me. We can go over this shortly.” Retrieving his phone from the pocket, he answered and put it on speaker because judging by the look on Leon’s face as he checked his suddenly vibrating phone for texts, this might prove entertaining.
“Chris, when the hell did you learn calisthenics?” Leon asked as his brows furrowed at the messages from Hunnigan blowing up his phone.
“The 90’s. West, what did you do? Kennedy looks like he’s about to either cry or roundhouse something.” The Wolves immediately perked up hearing his name.
“Hey Big Boy, what undies you have on?” The soft lilt of an accent came through the phone as he completely ignored the question.
Rolling his eyes, Chris replied, “Grey and shapeless. Yours?”
“The color of the DSO being a nuisance.”
“Red, then.” Shaking his head a little, “Is that you coming up to the fence?”
“Comin’ in hot. Have a guest with me, looking for sanctuary from the pains in my ass here.”
“The Director isn’t going to like this.” A smirk. “Jump the fence.”
The Squad looked over to the nearest part of the six-foot chain link fence, spotting a very speedy West with what looked like a petite blonde woman over his shoulder booking it as two black SUVs were closing in and swerving to try and cut West off from freedom. Dodging to the left suddenly, West skillfully swung his hostage around, she squeaked and clung to him like her life depended on it with arms around West’s neck and legs around his waist in a vice grip. Grabbing the top of the fence, West hopped and swung over, landing in a crouch with hands reaching back to steady the woman.
The DSO Agents slammed on the brakes and got out of the car, eight agents aiming guns at the massive man that was straightening out of the crouch and about to approach Redfield. He reached around and touched the blonde’s cheek, getting her attention and gestured for her to hop down and go behind him towards Leon.
“GET DOWN ON THE GROUND NOW! DO IT NOW!”
West shook his head and turned his attention to the incoming BSAA perimeter guards.
“Fast little buggers!”
Those were the only words he’d managed before taser prongs landed in his ass, stomach, and upper back courtesy of the guards. Grinning a little while each taser delivered approximately 1200 volts in bursts, he continued approaching Redfield and ignoring both the guards and the irate DSO agents on the other side of the fence.
Chris and Leon had already bolted towards the fence the second they saw the SUVs in pursuit of West, Leon going for the Agents and Chris for the guards.
“Stand down, Agents. That’s an order.” Leon barked through the fence.
“That fucking monster is the suspect in an open investigation taken into custody today during an op! You didn’t see what he was doing when the agents caught him by surprise. He then breached containment, knocked out seventeen people, kidnapped Agent Birkin, and has eluded custody!”
“That’s what you get when you’re stupid enough to go after West. If you’d called in for information, you would have been told to leave the site immediately because your clearance isn’t sufficient to be read into whatever he’s up to. Be thankful he knocked them out and went for a nice run instead of what he could have done. Get out of here, I have Agent Birkin. Hunnigan is going to have your heads when you get back to the office. What a shit show.” Leon shook his head and turned back to see Sherry watching as Chris ordered the guards to turn drop the tasers.
“You should know by now that if the suspect you’re trying to detain doesn’t go down with electricity, it’s probably because he’s trained to withstand the voltage. Have none of you done recurrent training since getting hired? Get back to your posts. Now.” Redfield growled, scattering the guards. “West, you good?”
“Peachy.” Picking prongs out his flesh.
“Let Becca to check you over. And quit fucking with my phone. It’s alarming the team.”
“…No promises.”
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Piers and the rest were struggling to hide the awe, horror, and equal measure of utter bamboozlement at what they had just heard on speaker, the speed at which their Captain took off towards the fence, and the stand-off that had occurred with a very unbothered-looking West.
“How the hell is he still standing? I know he’s built like a tank but that’s just not possible.” Umber whispered.
“I’ve been tased a couple of times in training. That shit hurts.” Lobo grimaced.
“And yet he looks like it’s just another Thursday afternoon.” Tundra observed, “Kinda like Alpha does when he’s busy chucking zombies around like frisbees on the field.”
“Frisbees? Really?” Canine snorted.
“She’s not wrong.” Piers snickered.
“That ringtone though…what’s that all about?” Night Howl pondered.
“That underwear question though…” Umber shook his head.
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West shrugged out of the slightly grimy and bloodied shirt before plopping onto the crate in front of Rebecca, displaying a wide range ink, as well as some nasty purple and black bruises to go with two sets of taser holes and irritated skin around them.
“Alright Doc, I’m all yours for the next five minutes.” Getting a slight snort from both Leon and Rebecca in return.
“I think I’m going to need more than five minutes, West. And you need to drop your drawers later, I know there are holes in your left butt cheek as well.”
“Buy me dinner first, Doc.” A cheeky grin.
“That’s Chris’ job. Or Claire’s.” Rebecca huffed as she started cleaning up the sluggishly bleeding wounds.
“Speaking of: Christopher! Did you nay feed your sister enough when she was a wain? She’s staring at me like I’m a buffet.”
Claire was indeed unabashedly staring at the half naked Irishman while Rebecca tended the wounds. She winked with a big smile.
Chris shook his head in amusement.
“That’s not my fault. You’re shirtless with your pillows on display.”
“Pillows? Really?! What then do ye call the sides of beef known as your pecs?”
“I have a shelf. You have pillows.”
“Shelf. Right. Can you even see your feet if you look directly down?”
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The Squad had been shooed back to training for the remaining hour of the workday, but now had more questions than exercises left. They did manage to narrow them down a tad; to a cool one hundred to start with. When time was up, Piers had been voted as the sacrificial lamb to approach and actually ask when West was alone and waiting for Chris to give him a ride.
“West, that’s quite an entrance to make.” He started.
“Hello ma boy! Well, I’ve had a flair for the dramatic for ages now.”
“Why did you bring Sherry with you?”
“Well… she mentioned about some kind of inter-agency co-operation going on here lately, and I figured that she’d be the best one of the DSO to bring, seems as her Pa was here already. My other boy, Leon.” He smiled widely.
Piers blinked, brain not quite processing that last sentence.
“If you don’t mind me asking, when did you and Captain Redfield meet?”
“Technically the Spencer Mansion. But we first worked together in Rockfort.”
Piers was about to say something else when he heard the quick and heavy steps of his Captain approaching. Turning slightly, he was taken aback at the borderline furious expression on his face. West noticed and didn’t seem too phased.
“What happened?”
“Director. My office has been… rearranged and I ship out on a mission tomorrow night. Solo. Won’t be able to keep our plans after all.”
“Ah, what set him off?”
“Me. Again.”
“And what did you do?”
“Refused to do the proper thing and deport you back over to the DSO to get tased and tortured for information.”
“Much obliged.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I didn’t mind the voltage though. Just sayin’.”
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Canine: Arklay?! That’s ground zero for all of the mess we’ve been fighting for years since!
Night Howl: I’ve seen almost all the body cam footage recovered, as well as the original security feeds from the mansion that Umbrella had saved prior to destruction. I never saw West in any of it. Sure, it was still very new tech at the time, but I wouldn’t have missed a man his size.
Umber Eyes: Are we gonna ignore the fact that Alpha apparently buys West dinner? And they banter as bad as he and Kennedy do.
Tundra: Are we also going to ignore that Captain referred to his chest as a shelf?
Fenrir: I didn’t know he could run that fast either. He cleared that 200 yards in twenty-five seconds.
Lobo: Seems there’s a lot more than meets the eye to both of them.
Tundra: Pillows though…
Umber Eyes: …Think the Captain’s used them as pillows?
Fenrir: Ugh. I don’t want to think about that.