Resident Evil Series Fan Fiction ❯ Uncontrolled Exposure ❯ Chapter 2

Telephonic Family

April 1996

Albert Wesker walked beside Bastian Shaw, keeping his jacket tight around his shoulders. Hoping beyond hope that the thick wool would help keep him warm; even though he knew it was fruitless. Even though it was April the seasons of Raccoon deemed fit to shower them with a late sprinkle of snow. He snorted, turning to watch Shaw as he literally bounded towards the restaurant; easily avoiding the dirty grey and brown sludge pooling near the curb.

He didn't care what the Southern idiot and the meteorologists claimed he knew for damned sure that seven inches wasn't a `sprinkle of snow'. It wasn't even moderate. They were located towards the base of the Arklay range, meaning a snow fall like this should only happen during winter or-at worst- late autumn. Not scant weeks before spring.

He snorted, rolling his eyes as he followed the other officer. He had no idea why he'd even agreed to be out in this frigid weather but he had; easily accepting the other man's offer to escape the confines of the office in favor of actually eating somewhere else but he had. Oh wait, now he remembered; he'd wanted to be away from Irons and the others.

The Chief of Police kept allocating his people-his specially trained rescue service- to deal with the stupidest things. Traffic accidents, burglaries, domestic calls. He grimaced, shaking his head. He knew there wasn't much to do at the moment but honestly did the man really have to add insult to injury by forcing them-forcing him to have to go over meaningless tedious paperwork he shouldn't even have to glimpse?

And to think they were the best of the best within Raccoon PD; being used as menial labor just so Irons could feel superior.

He looked up, barely stopping in time as he noticed Shaw had stopped; his ear pressed to his cellular with his eyes closed. Wesker raised a brow, confused before the man spoke; his own eyes rolling behind his glasses in time with Shaw's. It was one of his siblings. From the sounds of it his brother.

“I know its aggravating idiot but its what she wants. No I'm not thrilled about it but seriously will it kill you? Look we have a few days before we have to worry about anything like that. No I don't know why she wants us to go up there.”

Bastian sighed, his eyes narrowing as he ground his teeth; his voice becoming more and more aggravated as he spoke. And Wesker knew now that it was his little brother on the line. Mikhail Shaw was one of the man's two younger siblings-the middle child from everything he'd learned- and the most constant source of aggravation for his profiler.

“I know she's weird Mikhail but she's out sister. And if she wants us to come up and eat dinner then what would it hurt? Besides when's the last time you even talked to her?”

Mikhail was six years his brother's junior and had been through undergraduate and graduate school; earning himself dual Masters in engineering and Psychology . . . before apparently deciding to throw it all away to toil away in some garage a friend of his owned. Wesker rolled his eyes, trying not to snort at the thought.

While Bastian didn't seem to mind that his brother all but squandered his education and intelligence Wesker himself couldn't have been more firm in his opinion. The boy-Bastian had told him-had come away from both MIT and Harvard with honors. And if it had been left to him to decide Albert would've pushed him harder into an actual meaningful field.

He could be mapping neurons and designing new synapse bridges from brain trauma . . . but he wanted to pick and fiddle with motorcycles and ancient relics of cars. He just didn't understand it.

Wesker turned back as Bastian growled into the phone, his almost bottomless patience finally breaking as he snapped at his brother. And he doubted that Shaw was aware that his accent had thickened, causing two people walking around them to stop and look on before he slid his glasses down enough to glare at them. They both paled, continuing on their way as Shaw continued to give his brother hell.

Bunch of cretins, the entire lot of them.

“Look Mikhail. I get it, you've got some new girl or whatever. And you don't want to leave even for a few days. But Chaos is your sister. And she's been working herself to death in school. It won't kill you to go to the damn lake. No I won't say its okay for you to bring the damn girl. Because its Chaos's house that's why. Hey you know what, call her. If she says okay then fine. But I'm warning you, you show up with some trollop-yes trollop. Because I've yet to see you date a good girl.”

Bastian rolled his eyes skyward, his voice dropping as he muttered before he continued arguing with his sibling.

“Oh dear God how is he this dense? Fine. You're right. I don't know her or anything about her. And no I won't be mean to her if I ever meet her. But it had better not be at Chaosia's dinner. She's stressed enough . . . and you remember what happened with your last girlfriend?”

Bastian nodded, grinning even as he lied through his teeth; assuring his brother he wasn't.

“No I'm not laughing, Khail. I'm just warning you. Chaos needs warning to be human. Especially with school and work. And she just wants us to come spend a few hours while she's there. Look over some things and then all go our separate ways. But really she just wants to see you. I see her all the time now with her working in the city. We eat lunch together at least once a week and dinner twice.”

He stilled, glancing over to Wesker before rolling his eyes; mouthing an apology before he continued.

“No I'm not with her. She's at home asleep. She has the late shift tonight so she's trying to catch a few hours after her last class. So no, now isn't a good time to try and call her. Okay go ahead if you want to lose a limb. Look, I've only got so long to eat Khail. I'll call you back. Bye.”

He hung up, turning to Wesker with an aggravated sigh.

“Sorry, Captain. Family you know?”

Wesker dipped his chin, not understanding in the least as he walked into the small diner. Shaw led him back towards the darker booths, each sliding into place on opposite sides of the plush worn leather as Shaw tossed a menu in his direction. He looked it over, impressed by the rather varied selection before him as Shaw shed his black coat and grey scarf; pushing the sleeves to his thermal shirt further up his forearms.

Technically both of them were just in the office today to do paperwork. And while he'd opted to go in dressed in his most comfortable tailored black slacks and black button down dress shirt Shaw had taken the `casual' dress code to heart. His hair chin length hair was pushed back from his face, the thick black waving and curling slightly instead of falling straight.

Something that Valentine had thoroughly enjoyed teasing the profiler about as she'd been leaving to go home; tugging one of the waves playfully as Shaw had rolled his eyes.

He glanced back down to his menu, trying not groan as Shaw's phone buzzed to life again; the StarTac spinning on the table as it vibrated. Bastian glared at the phone, flicking it open before he even checked to see who it was.

“Jesus! What part of I don't have long to eat did you not-Oh. Chaos. Shit kid I'm sorry . . . no I didn't mean to *sigh* Khail's an idiot. I told him not to call you. Did he wake you up? Christ on a cracker . . .”

Shaw reached up, pushing his hand through his hair; grimacing at the snow flurries that clung to his fingers while Wesker tried not to chuckle. For a self-professed enthusiast of the outdoors Shaw didn't seem to actually enjoy the aftermath of his cavorting. At least not when it messed up his hair.

“Damn it. I'm sorry kiddo. Look I'll deal with him when I get off. Even if I have to drive up there to kick some sense into his ass. No, if you don't want to meet her then you don't have to. Because we're eating at your place and I know for fact that if you go crazy then my unit will probably be responding.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes as he grinned. And Wesker felt his appreciation for the youngest Shaw escalate just the slightest. If she-a mere adolescence could see the fault in Irons' logic then why couldn't anyone else outside of their squad?

Because Umbrella lines their pockets well enough not to care . . . and Irons does as he pleases so long as he can get away with it.

“Yeah I know right? The STARS responding to a domestic dispute. Think about how we feel. We've gone to six in the past three weeks. And two car crashes and a shoplifting. Why? Because our Chief of Police is an ass and trying to make some kind of point. Hell I don't know. If you figure it out let me know. Cause me and the others are about to take up a collection for a hitman.”

Wesker grinned, chuckling in spite of himself.

At least he wasn't alone in truly despising the idiot anymore. The squad had-thanks to Shaw and surprisingly Redfield-started to pay closer attention to the way Irons treated the superior officers of STARS. And once they'd noticed the decided lack of professional courtesy they'd started going above and beyond to lighten the load for both himself and Bravo's Enrico Marini. Hell even Redfield made a decided effort to be less annoying.

Now if they could just get him to be efficient with paperwork and stop rushing headfirst into things then he might have a pretty decent squad. He had no idea how long he would be in STARS-only that it was deep cover. And that he was expected to actually perform the duties of Captain atop his spying and other . . . hobbies with William.

Shaw turned, looking over towards the bar before glancing back to him. And Wesker barely caught the phone pushed into his hands as Shaw scrambled out of the booth; moving towards the counter quickly.

“Here, talk to Al for a minute. I gotta go grab something to drink or I'm gonna kill something.”

Wesker glared after him, pulling the phone to his ear. Raising a brow at the voice that floated through the receiver. When she spoke he felt his heart actually jump. God she had a great voice-even with the obvious irritation coloring her tone. Her words were spoken with an intriguing mix of soft and husky tinged with just enough confidence to be alluring. Like cool steel wrapped in velvet whispers and silk promises . . . but not the false whispers he was accustomed to. This wasn't a woman trying to sound seductive or timid; and he doubted as he heard her gripe at Bastian that she could if she wanted to.

“NO! Dammit Sebastian! Don't put me on the phone with someone I don't even know-God you're just as dense as Mikhail some days.”

Wesker chuckled, watching Bastian lean over the counter and-after nodding to the tender-grab a bottle of scotch and two glasses. He raised a brow, thinking aloud before he really stopped himself.

“I assure you, Ms. Shaw I wasn't consulted on the matter either. Is your brother aware that its only three in the afternoon?”

The other end was deathly still, making him almost believe she'd hung up before he heard a snort. And her next words made him grin darkly. God she had a wicked little tongue. But then again so did her brother when he was upset.

“Are you aware he's a functioning alcoholic? I hope you drove. Its always best to drive if you're going somewhere with him he can drink. The sot.”

Bastian sank back into the booth, uncorking the bottle and pouring two stout glasses before pushing one to him. He took a long drink from his tumbler before motioning for the phone; giving Wesker a pointed look.

“We walked, Ms. Shaw. And thank you for the formal warning. Here is your brother.”

Bastian took the phone back, rolling his eyes as he ended the call. And Wesker was suddenly thankful for the scotch when he heard the man's last little quip to his sibling. God how had she survived with both this man and their brother with her sanity intact?

“Ha ha, Chaosia. No I just grabbed a bottle. Murray won't mind. Look, I'm gonna go; let you get back to sleep. If you're not halfway there thanks to Al's titillating conversational skills. No I'm not driving; not any time soon. Yeah, I love you too oh chaotic one. Bye.”

He clicked the phone shut, shaking his head before pointing to the menu. Leaving Wesker to groan as he started talking appetizers. God what was it with these people and hotwings and cheese fries?

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Hours later as he finished the last bit of his paperwork Albert Wesker realized something crucial. He'd been in the office-on a day he was supposed to have been off-through both shifts. And even though he wasn't thrilled he wasn't about to kill anything either. At least not now that Valentine had ushered Redfield and Vickers out and into the shooting range.

He leaned back, reaching up and rubbing his eyes just as a knock sounded on his door; a dark shadow appearing behind the frosted glass. God please let this be Shaw and not one of the other idiots. He was in a good mood . . . and he actually wanted to leave in one.

“Come.”

The door pushed open, Redfield stepping in with a sloppy but hopefully completed bundle of files beneath his arm. The sniper moved, depositing the files onto the proper cabinet top before he turned. And Wesker could tell he was itching to ask something. He sighed, carefully placing his glasses on the desk before propping his elbows onto the cold wood. He kept his eyes on the papers before him-ignoring that the words and ink were running together- as he drawled to his subordinate.

“Yes Redfield?”

Redfield swallowed loudly, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly before glancing towards the door.

“I uh-we're all going to grab something to eat now that we're done. Bastian suggested that I ask you if you wanted to go.”

Wesker didn't look up, trying not to roll his eyes at how nervous the man seemed. Like rat in a snake's den.

“And how lucrative would my presence be for you financially Redfield?”

Chris grinned, blushing as he shrugged. The man flopped into the seat before his desk gracelessly, a sheepish grin across his lips as he chuckled.

“it would gain me about $700, sir. Which would make up for almost all of what Bastian cleared me out of last month. The rotten head shrinking bastard.”

Wesker's lips twitched, barely as smirk as he glanced up. His seldom seen eyes insanely light and blue as they showcased exactly how humorous he thought all of this was. And suddenly Chris had to wonder if Bastian wasn't right. Wesker wasn't a complete jackass-oh he was a by the book tight wad with a superiority complex sure- but he seemed like he could be okay. Weird but okay.

No wonder the profiler was opting to go to lunch with the Captain more and more the past month.

Wesker spoke, drawing him from his thoughts and back to the matter at hand.

“Where are you intending to go?”

Chris grinned, swallowing back his surprise as he shrugged; trying to keep an open mind. Bastian had warned him that if he went in acting like `a brash buffoon' then the Captain would refuse, ordering him to leave him alone. And Chris desperately needed this to give himself an edge over the next bet. Because he doubted that he would be able to get Jill to agree to go anywhere with him over Bastian and Speyer for her birthday; not without a miracle at least.

“Well uh- we were kind of going to leave that up to you sir. I mean if Speyer picks it'll be nasty just to get back at Bastian. And Barry doesn't care so long as its edible. You know with his wife and girls out of town he's been hitting the fast food joints and vending machines hard . . . I don't think he'd have a problem with cardboard right about now. And I'm not letting Shaw pick. He'll send us somewhere with a bar and wings just to do it.”

Wesker nodded, his face neutral as he slid his glasses back into place. And when he looked back up Chris was relieved to see his reflection in the dark glass. It was odd to see Albert Wesker without the shades . . . almost like seeing your parents naked or something. It was just . . . wrong. He turned as Bastian pushed his head into the room, the same insufferable grin on his face as he looked them over.

“Hey guys . . . no bloodshed yet right?”

Chris narrowed his eyes, Wesker's jaw tightening showing that they were sharing the same thought. Bastian Shaw was too damned good at manipulation and meddling. And they had just become the latest victims of his boredom. Wesker nodded tersly, his tone tight and snipped as Bastian shrugged and grinned lazily.

Meaning that he was well aware that he'd been caught and just didn't care. Because his end goal-the two of them in the same room without yelling or termination threats-had been accomplished.

“None thus far, Officer Shaw. Though that might change very soon.”

“Yeah well kill each other if you're going too then c'mon. The rest of us are starving. You picked a place, Albert?”

Wesker's left brow ticked as he sighed, laying his pen down before he pushed to his feet. And Chris nearly cried for joy when he turned to him, nodding.

“I'm going along with this farce enough as it is. Let Redfield pick the establishment. So long as it doesn't have a bar, hotwings or cheese fries.”

Bastian's face fell as he looked to Chris, almost pleadingly.

“Aw c'mon. I gave you the damn opportunity to do this. And to make dumb and dumber shut up! Can't we go somewhere decent?”

Chris shrugged, shaking his head as Wesker nodded in approval. A small smirk appearing as Shaw groaned even louder.

“No can do, Bastian. Captain's orders. And since I'm still on the clock he makes the rules.”

Wesker chuckled, grabbing his coat and gun harness; shrugging into them as he mumbled.

“Now if only you had that attitude in the field then we might survive this year.”

Chris glared at Wesker as he shrugged, seemingly unfazed that he'd heard him. But as he moved to turn out the lights the blonde Captain turned to the profiler, grinning darkly as he spoke. Leaving Chris to wonder what in the hell had happened at lunch to cause this. Bastian was turning bright red as he sputtered. While Wesker seemed about ready to burst into laughter-well as close as he got anyway. You know, tiny sarcastic little smirk as he chuckled and shook his head.

“And be sure that it is within walking distance. I have it on good authority that Shaw is a how did she put it . . oh yes; a sot.”

“Wha-who?! Dammit I'm gonna skin her. she's worse than me-“

“With a sibling like yourself one would hope she invested stock in at least three distilleries and breweries. She would be their primary customer to retain her sanity.”

“She's already insane! And you've never even met her! You talked for five seconds and now you're on her side?! Really?!”

The two bickered as the three of them made their way to the others in the lobby, Chris grinning as he shook his head. He had no idea who they were arguing over but it was funny to see. Until he realized-as they stepped into the elevator-that Bastian had been right. EManing he owed the idiot another $150 as soon as he got paid.

He groaned, running a hand down his face. Dammit! He was still going to be broke between this and helping Claire with her damned books! He turned as Wesker spoke, trying to banish his worries. He'd figure it out later. Right now he needed to find somewhere Wesker would like while keeping to his rules . . . and hopefully aggravating Bastian in retaliation for his part in his financial woes.

“I'm on no side save my own, Sebastian. It was merely intriguing to see you through another perspective and still get the same quintessential picture. Now Redfield where are we going?”

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