Tie the Noose Chapter 41

Albert Wesker grit his teeth as he hefted Barry’s arm over his shoulder, trying to keep the large man from shifting too much as he and Chris moved in the center of the odd procession. In front of them Daniel kept a steady, if imposing pace as they navigated the maze of snowy trenches, the first hints of daylight starting to peek over the horizon, the first streaks of light staining the cloudy sky like a harbinger of things to come. Jill and Rebecca brought up the rear, the younger woman sneaking glances at her beau as they brought up the rear, only to get nudged more than once by Jill to keep her focus on covering their rear.

Every so often something would pop out of the ice, either ahead of them or behind, and it would bring them to a halt as either the girls or Daniel himself would deal with it. The headless would come in ones or twos, but according to Valentine they’d faced much worse trying to get to them in the scramble between the ill-made decision to set off that gas tank and the arduous fight that followed. Indeed, the fact that only one of theirs was grievously wounded in the process was a much better outcome than Albert had expected, all told.

Daniel had pulled some kind of device from a shoulder holster once they’d gotten underway, a compact tablet device that Wesker had seen most often in the labs down in the NESTs but this one was hardened and ruggedized. It was a map, or so the man had explained, among other things. A glance had told him that it was what he’d said it was, but Wesker was more familiar with those sorts of things, and knew it was more than that, the map being the least of its functions. Rebecca had seemed oddly perturbed when she saw it, but hadn’t commented, but it was clear she’d seen it before.

What that meant he couldn’t say, but it was clear that another question had been added to the doubtlessly growing list that the young woman had been building since she ran into her wayward lover. She was brilliant in her own way, and it was something that had made Wesker consider her for recruitment to his own forces when things went off, the young genius catching his eye more than once with her quick wit and determination. Her history of emotional trauma had only managed to sharpen her, as well, and from all he’d seen, she would come along with Daniel once he was brought into the fold. A two for one deal that brought a small gin to his face, one that was quickly wiped away when another crack in the ice disgorged another two of the undead into their path.

Not that it made much difference when Daniel stepped forward, burying his combat hatchet in the chest of one, nearly cutting it in two from shoulder to hip, while the other flailed and scraped helplessly against his armor, his massive paw wrapped around its spine while its rib-maw snapped harmlessly against his arm. The axe came down again, and dealt with the other as well. As it should be, he thought with some satisfaction. Daniel had already taken the next step down the road of becoming a superior to humanity, and Wesker practically salivated at the time when he too would get the chance.

In time, he reminded himself. In time.

He had since come to regret his decision to get involved in this particular incident. He would be the first to admit that he had miscalculated in what he had expected to find in this little show of horrors Spencer had thrown together. He had expected T-mutations, perhaps a few lower-tier BOW variants, or some unique experiment that they’d need to put down, but the fact that he’d not managed to predict the level of hostility this new viral strain produced was… troubling. If it indeed was a viral strain at all, which he had long since begun doubting.

He’d been limited in his ability to get agents into this place while it was active and under control, and it seemed the old bastard had managed to pull the wool over Wesker’s eyes, much as he was loath to admit it. Arrogant though the decrepit fool was, there was no doubt in that he was at the very least capable. It went to show him that he’d need to be more careful in his information gathering efforts in the future, lest he walk into another operation fraught with assumptions. He’d do better next time.

Still, this particular misadventure was far from unsalvageable. He’d originally intended to use this to expose the core of his STARS to the underbelly that was hidden just below the surface of the city and the company at large. The first step of getting them on the same page while positioning himself as the informed leader. It was simple enough in concept, really. Chris and Jill both had deeply inset streaks of stubbornness and an unfortunately black and white sense of justice. That said, the two were both the lynchpins to getting the rest of them in the right mindset.

A limited exposure to the nature of BOWs and the virus itself would be more than enough to turn them into zealots more than willing to burn Umbrella to the ground. It was something even he could get behind, his own dislike for the greater company, something that had bloomed in the years he’d been forced to play their petty political games in order to get anything worthy of the name done. From there the two would be able to support him in turning the others. Ultimately they would, at least if all went well, act as his operatives, turning over labs, taking data, all in the name of gathering evidence and shutting down the business as a whole, all while he reaped the benefits of it. Not just the data, either, but samples, combat logs, a whole menagerie of technical innovations and more.

And none of them would be the wiser. That was the beauty of it. They would operate under his implicit guidance, brought into the fold of his organization under the guise of operating clandestinely, shutting down the players while avoiding the eye of the corrupt and inept government. It was a beautiful, ready-made excuse that he had ample evidence of thanks to his own dealings with the various power-hungry factions within both the local, state and federal organizations that belonged to one Block or another.

After all, who could you trust, if not your Captain, who had been infiltrating the corrupt apparatus in order to bring it all down. Or at least, that had been the plan. The fact that this entire facility was something straight out of hell itself had not been on the docket, and it had nearly cost him everything in the process. He almost thought it a trap, given how perfectly lain out it had been to lure him in. The corrupted underground, that Grafted monstrosity that had been hunting them, the capture of one of his primary assets he’d hoped to flip, then dangled in front of him like a cut of juicy meat…

Yes, he could see all the pieces that came together the way they had. Not that it had made much of a difference. Wesker had come out on top, as he always did. Daniel seemed little worse for the ware, though he was… different… from when Wesker last saw him. He had no idea what Spencer’s little lapdog had done to him, but he seemed in decent health despite the obvious first-stage mutations. Another unexpected, but not unwelcome variable. If nothing else, it was another lever of control, one he knew that Daniel would appreciate for what it was once he was properly rested.

Once they all were. Jill had informed them that Daniel would be reading them in on what he was doing here once they managed to get somewhere safe, and Wesker could use that, if he could get the operative alone. Daniel had been slowly opening up to him during his little vacation in hiding, and perhaps it was time to get him fully on-side. He even knew how to present it to the man. Daniel was a cautious sort by nature, and diffusive when it came to sharing secrets. It was an admirable mindset, one that would serve him well as Wesker’s ultimate right hand, but in order to get him there, he would need to act.

Wesker wasn’t sure what Daniel’s ultimate endgame was, but that was fine. He could infer enough that he knew he could give Daniel some measure of legitimacy in his claims, as well as offer insight that the man himself might not have. A useful tool in a useful trade, and bringing him into the fold was long past due anyway, with what was coming. He’d survived the Reaper, as well as whatever had been injected into him, both potent indicators that he was, in fact, worthy of being called his equal, and once Wesker managed to get his own awakening through the T-Virus, a brother in all but name.

Yes… that sounded right. That sounded correct. Daniel was performing above and beyond Albert’s wildest dreams, and so he would be incepted into Wesker’s inner circle, right next to William, and from there the world would be their oyster.

Assuming, he thought somewhat sourly, that they managed to survive this mess. He knew that Daniel would want access to the Research Center before they left. It was a worthy goal, and Wesker himself had to admit he was curious as to just what Spencer had been up to here, because these creatures… well, needless to say that he’d never seen any of the mutations that had done their best to kill them up here come up from any of the variant viruses that came out of either NEST or the mansion lab.

Not that it was enough to deter him, of course. Between the team reuniting and the potent force multiplier in Daniel, well, there was little else to fear here. He was sure of it.

“We’re almost there.” Daniel announced, as they finally exited the snowy trenches and shaking Wesker from his thoughts. Ahead of them across an open lot, stood what looked like a bunker of some kind, with a tall watch tower jutting from its roof. The walls were high, and made of reinforced concrete, the doors thick slabs of steel and the whole building surrounded by a security fence. The lights were on and active, power restored now that the automated plant was up and running, but it didn’t stop them from sweeping the door.

“What is this place?” Rebecca asked, as they moved up in a column, guns up, Barry doing his best to stay on his feet as he leaned heavily against the two men.

“It was a security station, disconnected and separate from the underground and, as far as I know, free of the mold.” Daniel’s tone was tired, the near week of exhaustion creeping in as he forced himself to keep moving. “That was a while ago, though. No idea if anything moved in in the interim, so keep your eyes open.”

“Gotcha.” Rebecca nodded as they approached the door. It was still sealed shut, which was a good sign according to Danny, though the door opened without any real resistance. There was a keycard reader, but it had been broken at some point, and Daniel didn’t remember doing it.

That was enough to put everyone on edge. That aside, there wasn’t anything that seemed to have been moved or messed with when they piled into the entryway, and to be frank, several of them felt the wave of warmth that hit them as almost too welcoming. It was a stark difference from the frigid cold of the night, the snow and the ice, which, small mercies aside, they set Barry up in the reception room with Chris keeping watch, and went to clear the rest of the building.

Exiting out into the garage, they found Daniel’s SUV right where he’d left it, but that wasn’t what caught their attention. No, what did it was the string of honest-to-god Christmas lights that had been strung up around one of the doors leading to what looked like the holding cells, the doors left open. The lights weren’t subtle either. They looped the doorframe in a sloppy outline, and the glow bounced off oil-stained concrete and the side of Daniel’s vehicle.

Daniel stopped dead.

“What the fuck?” Were the words that tumbled from his lips as he stared at it incomprehensibly, “This is new.”

As the words left his mouth, it was then that a man dressed in a ragged camo uniform strode out, and nearly into four guns, his face wrapped in a shemagh, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand as he looked over the four of them with a pair of piss-yellow jaundiced eyes. He moved slow and easy, cloak hanging heavy off his shoulders, plate carrier stacked with mismatched pouches, boots scuffed and wet at the toes from the snow outside. The scarf covered most of his face, and the skin that showed looked waxy and pale under the garage lights. He didn’t flinch at the muzzles aimed at his chest, and he didn’t hurry, even with fingers tightening on their triggers. “Well, shit, Partner. Shoulda told me you’d be bringing company. I’d’ve thrown some more stew in the pot.” He drawled with a lazy southern accent, seemingly uncaring about the guns pointed in his face.

The coffee cup stayed steady in his gloved hand, steam curling up past the edge of his shemagh. His eyes moved across them in a single, measuring sweep, then paused on Daniel as if the rest of them were the expected complication. Jill kept her weapon trained and didn’t lower it a fraction, and Rebecca’s jaw tightened as she shifted her stance to keep a clear line past Daniel’s shoulder. Wesker didn’t move at all.

“The fuck are you doing here?” Daniel asked, as Jill and Rebecca both glanced at him, curiosity written across their faces as to just how he knew the strangely dressed Survivalist but not lowering their weapons. Wesker, for his part, could only stare as one of Spencer’s most dangerous allies lapdogs back at them from behind his tattered scarf.

“I go where the business goes, Partner. That ‘an I figured you might need a little… support while yer up here.” The man said as he ran his eyes over Daniel’s armor, chuffing a laugh. “Don’t tell me ya don’t need it. Looks like you been through the war, son.”

“Danny, who is this?” Rebecca asked from the side. The question jolted him, reminding him that no, he wasn’t alone here, and yes, this was going to be one more thing on the pile. He glanced at her, as the others slowly lowered their weapons, before answering.

“You were wondering about where I got my gear, right? Well, you’re looking at him.” Daniel sighed. “Meet the Survivalist, no name given.”

“Or asked, right Carter?” Jill cut in, an edge to her voice. He shot her a look but nodded all the same. The woman kept the openly suspicious look on her face, not hiding what she thought. It was fair, even if he didn’t like it.

“Or asked. He’s got connections, though, and has been a big part of bankrolling things for me. Weapons, armor, medicine, and a number of other things besides.” Daniel sighed, and he knew that wasn’t a satisfying enough answer, “For now, I’ll vouch for him, though how he got up here I have no idea. Care to share?” He shot that at the grinning man with jaundiced eyes, twinkling with amusement.

“It wasn’t easy, Pard. I’ll tell ya that for free.” He laughed, either ignoring or uncaring of the discomfort of the others. “But it looks like you got enough going on. I’ll be in my shop, if’n you’d like to peruse once things settle.”

“Now hold on-” Jill started, only to pause when Wesker set a hand on her shoulder. The man had been silent through the entire exchange, and when Jill looked back at him, she was almost surprised to see the stony look on his face as he minutely shook his head. A sharp frown cut across her face as she nodded, unhappy but willing to wait.

“Daniel, if you need it, feel free to speak to your… friend. Jill, Rebecca and I will finish sweeping the building.” Wesker only spoke once the Survivalist had wandered back into his shop. Rebecca looked ready to argue but Wesker silenced that with a hard glance, and Jill nodded. Daniel’s eyes drifted between them, his sunken eyes almost black surrounded by the heavy bags that had been present on his face, and eventually acquiesced. Rebecca still hesitated, but he stepped forward and pressed his forehead to hers, mumbling something none of the others caught.

Whatever it was, it had eased the harsh lines that had marred her around her lips and the tightness that had coiled through her. She still clutched his rifle in her hands, the gun both too big and too small for her, and held it like a security blanket as he stepped off and followed the ragged arms dealer through the makeshift door.

“I don’t like this.” Jill said, finally, once they’d gotten out of the garage. For all that had happened, there was a tangle of emotions running through her, one that had been growing more and more hostile with every new revelation. Daniel was an enigma, and the nature of his newfound strength, the rampant aggression that he seemed to barely have a grip on and the sheet instability he’d been leaking had been bad enough, but it was piled on top of the greater clusterfuck that was the entire facility. The last twenty four hours had been a hellscape of revelations, between the undead, Carter’s accusations that the band-aid company was behind it, despite a staggering lack of evidence to connect the two, and now this fresh bullshit with an actual mysterious arms dealer who, according to the man in question, was providing him with, at the least, DARPA-grade experimental equipment.

“I know, Jill. He has his reasons, and he said he’d tell us everything.” And then there was Rebecca, the other half of Jill’s seemingly never-ending parade of stressors. She had to fight to snap at the woman more than once, the young STARS medic just… not seasoned enough to handle everything coming at her as it had. She’d been a staunch defender of her boyfriend ever since they found him in the power plant, trying to shield him from Jill as much as she could, and it was driving her to her wit’s end. Since the very beginning Rebecca had been split in two over everything, even when she really needed to stay on task.

Jill couldn’t fault her for it, either. Unlike everyone else in STARS, Rebecca was the first recruit that had not only no military experience, but barely any life experience, and it was showing. There was only so much that someone could be taught. Training wasn’t a substitute for experience, and if she were being honest, they had brought her in almost as an experiment, to see if intellectual genius could be used as a substitute. As it was turning out, as far as Jill could see, the answer was no.

She would never say it to Rebecca’s face, that she had her doubts, that she was struggling to trust the young woman at her back, but things were about to come to a head. Maybe after everything settles she would see about talking to Wesker about moving the girl out of STARS as a whole. Send her someplace to get some real seasoning, as opposed to sending her out into the deep end and expecting her not to drown in the process. It wasn’t fair to her, and it was dangerous to all of them that the people behind the program were willing to try it regardless of all sense to the contrary.

Or maybe not, she thought sourly. Because if Rebecca was out of STARS then she had little doubt the young woman would throw in with her lunatic boyfriend all the way and probably get herself killed in the process. Nothing she’d seen from him had instilled any kind of real confidence in what he was doing. Maybe when he finally came clean about it that would make a difference, but she doubted it. People like him never had genuinely good reasons for going off like some sort of crazed vigilante, putting everyone around them at risk in the process and ending up dead in a ditch somewhere when things went to shit.

Rebecca couldn’t help but keep glancing at Jill as her face became increasingly stormy as they cleared the remainder of the building. She knew the older woman was under a tremendous amount of stress and calling her unhappy was like calling thermite ‘mildly warm’. She had no idea what was going through her mind, either, just that it was likely related to Danny in some way or another. Jill hadn’t been subtle in how closely she’d been watching her boyfriend, seemingly waiting for him to snap and turn on them, but Rebecca knew Danny. She might have misjudged him before, but she knew for all the danger that he could represent, he wouldn’t hurt them unless they gave him a reason to.

“I’m going to go check on Barry. I want to move him to one of those bunks we saw in the other room.” The words were almost foreign on her lips as she broke off from the others, once they’d been sure the bunker was safe enough. That was another huge worry on her mind, after finding him in that cargo container. Beyond Jill, beyond Danny, even beyond the facility, Barry had been seriously wounded. Herbs and the overstuffed medic bag she carries had gotten him stable, but he’d lost a lot of blood in the interim. Moving him as they had was already a lot on an already overtaxed body, and she had some very legitimate concerns about infection that had her mentally tallying up the dozen antibiotics and antivirals she was planning to feed him.

Plus there was the vent. He’d been leaking bright red blood from the shunt nearly from the moment that she’d plugged him, and while the combination of heavy herbal supplements would heal that up in the interim, moving him any time in the next few days would be iffy at best, not even mentioning the infection risk of having a metal tube linking his lungs to the open air.

“Hey, Rebecca. Everything alright?” Chris’s rough voice pulled her from her thoughts as she walked into the waiting room. The former airman had a tight look across his face as he stood with his rifle at a low ready, Barry having barely moved from the chair they’d put him in, but the steady rise of his chest told her he was still breathing.

“Yeah.” She said, shaking her head. “Yeah, we’re good. We found a bunkroom and I want to move Barry to one of the beds.” She moved over to the heavyset armorer with a frown on her face. He seemed barely conscious, and unresponsive. “How long has he been like this?”

“Not sure. He was aware enough when we came in, so maybe ten minutes? Why, is something wrong?” Chris asked, moving up next to her. It was kind of a stupid question, he knew, what with the massive hold in the man, but still.

“He lost a lot of blood, and he’s showing signs of a concussion. The herbs are doing their job, and hopefully I’ll be able to remove the shunt once the discharge stops, but other than that? I can only do so much with what I’ve got.” She said as she moved to lift one of his arms. “Help me get him to a bunk, would you?”

“Yeah, I gotcha.” Chris took his other arm, and admittedly he was the one shoulding the majority of the bulk, but Barry made a valiant effort all his own as they passed the SUV. Daniel was halfway inside of it when they approached, finally stripped of all the armor and weapons, but no less massive for it. The black undershirt he wore was struggling to keep his mass in check, and if he was big before, he towered over Chris now, something the other man found curious even as the hot spear of anger hit him. Daniel, for his part, hauled himself out of the car when they approached, glancing over them.

“Do you need some help?” He asked, and before Chris could tell him to fuck off Rebecca nodded, waving him over to take her place.

“Please. We’re taking him over to the bunkroom.” She said as he came over and slid under Barry’s other arm, hoisting the weight to be more balanced between them. Chris grit his teeth as Rebecca moved to get the door.

“Jesus Burton, what happened to you?” Daniel grunted, as Barry turned to give the bearded man a wan smile, but anything he would’ve said was swallowed by a weak, wet cough. Chris glared at Daniel from over Barry’s shoulder.

“What happened was he came here trying to save your worthless ass, Carter.” Chris hissed out venomously, glaring at Daniel. “We all did, after we found out you disappeared up here, and look how that turned out.” To his credit, Daniel didn’t deny what Chris was implying, as the two shuttled into the room behind a frowning Rebecca.

“So what do you have to say for yourself, Dan?” Chris growled, as soon as they were clear of the room. He’d gotten right up in Daniel’s face almost immediately, and he didn’t care that he had to tip his chin up to do it. “I want some answers out of you, chiefly among them being what in the fuck is all this, followed by how are you involved?” Chris kept his voice low, but the heat in it didn’t hide. His hand stayed clamped on Daniel’s arm, fingers digging in with a grip that said he didn’t intend to let Daniel drift away again.

Chris’s anger didn’t have much precision, but it had direction. Barry’s blood was still fresh on his hands, and he held that wound out as an accusation without needing to say the word. He crowded Daniel one step at a time, forcing him to give ground, close enough that Daniel’s shoulder brushed the concrete. With his back to the wall, it cramped Daniel in and Chris used it, elbow and chest and forearm pressing into him to keep him pinned where Chris wanted him.

“And you’ll get your answers Redfield, but not until you get out of my face.” Daniel growled back, pushing Chris off of him, only for the man to shove him right back, grunting as he did so, eyes hot and face red. Daniel’s face stayed flat, and his posture stayed set, not moving nearly as much as Chris expected. Chris wasn't a small man, either, and had worked out judiciously his entire life. The fact that Daniel was so unaffected grated at his last nerve.

Chris recovered fast and shoved again, harder, the heel of his palm hitting Daniel’s chest with a thump. The contact slapped loud in the corridor, and Chris’s jaw worked as if he were chewing the words he wanted to spit. He wanted Daniel to flinch, to break composure, to give him anything that looked like remorse. Daniel didn’t give it. Daniel’s silence only sharpened the edge, and Chris stepped in again as if he meant to wring what he wanted to see out of the man with his own two hands.

“No, no more running, no more dodging. I’m not going to give you another chance to slink off.” The words were hard, and Daniel’s face closed off the moment Chris said them. Chris leaned in as he spoke, breath hot, voice still kept low, and the threat carried on his posture as much as his tone. His shoulders were tight, and his stance widened for leverage, ready to turn it into a fight.

Daniel’s head tilted a fraction, and his eyes narrowed. His breathing shifted, and it sounded controlled, forced into steadiness. He didn’t look away from Chris, and he didn’t soften, even when Chris kept escalating. Chris took that as defiance, then stepped closer, piercing whatever bubble of personal space remained between the two.

“I think you’ll find I don’t need to slink off anywhere, Redfield. Or did you forget the last time we had a disagreement? Which one of us was on the floor then, hm?” Daniel spoke without raising his voice, and Chris looked like he'd been slapped. He got right back up into Chris’s space, the size difference turning Chris’s forward press into a bad gamble rather than an aborted attempt at intimidation.

Chris didn’t flinch away. He took the threat, and it only sharpened his vehemence, shoulders squaring as if the insult had become personal. He stepped into Daniel and checked him, trying to send him into the wall. Daniel resisted, feet braced, and the garage filled with the scrape of boots as both men fought for position. Neither had thrown a punch, not yet, but Chris wasn't budging and Daniel refused to give an inch.

“You got lucky last time. Lets see how you do without blindsiding me while I was trying to help you, you arrogant fuck.” Chris shoved a finger into Daniel's chest, but Daniel brushed him off, which almost sent him stumbling. Daniel tried to force his way past before Chris got ready to really lay into him, only to get dragged back at the last second. Chris lunged, hands snapping up for Daniel’s collar and shoulder, pulling him in close as he pulled at the tank top.

Daniel refused, and his jaw worked once as patience broke and something colder took its place. He caught Chris’s forearm and turned it just enough to stop the forward drive, then shoved Chris off with a force that made Chris stumble back. Chris surged again, and the aborted fight turned into a tight burst of grappling, forearms smashing, shoulders checking, both men trying to control the other. Daniel was slammed into the concrete behind him only to reverse Chris into the wall, before pushing him off onto the ground.

Chris hit the garage floor with a whuff of escaping air as the wind was knocked out of him, but the fight was far from over. He shot to his feet, arms up as he got ready to charge the big man, Daniel bracing, having given up trying to end this peaceably.

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Albert Wesker asked him in a tone so cold that it made the outside chill feel positively rosy in comparison. It went down Chris’s back like a bucket of icewater, quenching the burning anger that had been consuming him not a moment before. Jill had appeared at his other side, too, her arm wrapping around his, pulling him back.

Wesker didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. The Captain’s tone carried authority that Chris was all too familiar with, and Chris felt it hit the back of his neck like a collar. He glanced back to Wesker, then to his partner, as Jill anchored him in place, forearm locked, stance planted, and a stormy look of anger on her face.

“I’m trying to get some answers out of this asshole. Sir.” He tacked on at the last moment, as Wesker looked between him and Daniel. There was a sharp frown on his lips as he all but dragged Chris away. Chris jerked once against Jill’s hold, then forced himself still with visible effort, breathing hard enough that his chest rose and fell in harsh pulls.

“There will be a time for that, but it isn’t now.” Wesker said, calmly, his tone brooking no argument. “We’ve all been through an ordeal, Chris, but turning on each other over past grievances doesn’t do any of us any good. You’re STARS, and I expect you to act like it.”

That pulled him back to himself, if nothing else. Chris gave Daniel one more long look before snorting and turning away. Jill went with him, leaving Daniel and Wesker to themselves. Much as he hated to accept it, the Captain was right. He was angry, sure, and frustrated, but he was better than that. It didn’t stop him from storming off to find a corner to stew in, though Jill was a welcome partner in that. In the end they would get the answers they wanted, come hell or high water. They just had to wait. It wasn’t like the bastard was going anywhere, after all.

For Daniel’s part, he just sighed, the exhaustion that he’d been staving off through sheer, naked willpower finally creeping up on him. He’d dropped his loot off with the Survivalist, along with his gear which was in desperate need of maintenance. The Survivalist had been happy to oblige, especially once those coins came out. He’d been told that if he could get a hundred more there was a prize he could get, whatever that meant, and had even been handed a blue slip of paper with the announcement on it.

He wasn’t sure what to make of that, but the fact that the wayward weapons merchant seemed to be having fun with it was enough to set his teeth on edge. It wasn’t out of character though, and he’d been paid decently for his trouble, but something about it felt weird to him. He’d been assured that there was a fortune to be had, if he could find it, but Daniel was less interested in that and more interested in getting some actual rest. He’d tabled the issue, ultimately, and just made his trades.

He’d actually been getting ready to lay down, stripping off the worst of his gear and into something that was clean. Between all the blood and gore caking into his gear, the BDU he wore under all the plate was about spent. He had spares, but it didn’t help the crusty feeling he felt all over. That was going to be on hold, though. Again.

Seeing Barry in the condition he was in had been… stark. A sharp reminder that they had been risking their lives in coming here. Coming here for him, of all people, too. How they found out that this was where he was was a question he had all his own, but MacKinnon had mentioned getting Rebecca not long before he found himself beside himself. Was this what he meant? If so, then Daniel doubted that there was much bite left to that threat. He’d been… thorough, in dealing with the remnants of the USS and Gideon’s scientists, though the man himself was long gone by the time he got to him. He just knew that the fucker was going to be an issue sooner rather than later. But one problem at a time.

“Something you need, Albert?” he asked tiredly, shuffling over to his car and slumping against the back bumper. For a few seconds, he just let the SUV take his weight. The fight had burned through him harder than he wanted to admit, and the mess with the others had left his nerves raw. “Because I’m going to be completely honest, I legitimately have very few fucks left to give.”

Wesker stopped at an easy distance, close enough to keep the conversation private and far enough to avoid crowding him. The garage lights caught on his sunglasses, hiding his eyes and leaving Daniel with only that polished, faintly amused expression to read. A mask of a mask, it felt like, that subtle tilt of the shoulders, that pique of the head, crafted all to tell one story, even as his lips quirked, hinting at another.

“Interesting turn of phrase, Daniel, considering everything that’s happened. Have you given any thought as to what you plan to tell the others? Or were you just going to wing it and hope for the best?” The man had the audacity to chuckle at that, and Daniel shot him a sour look.

Daniel’s shoulders sank another fraction against the bumper. He was too tired for these games, and Wesker had never sounded more pleased to find a crack to slip a knife into. It was like he was trying to worm his way in, and Daniel didn't even know why.

“That was the plan, yes. I don’t know how they wound up here, but the cats are out of the bag.” Daniel said, almost nonchalantly, before shooting him a look. “Which raises a number of questions about you, doesn’t it?”

Wesker’s smile thinned, though it didn’t vanish. He tilted his head just enough to make the gesture look thoughtful rather than defensive, and that alone made Daniel want to put more distance between them. The charm came out soft and controlled, every edge rounded with purpose. Daniel was too tired to pretend he didn’t notice.

“Hmm, so it does. I admit I’m rather surprised you didn’t have a plan for this eventuality. You’ve been rather on the ball before this.” Wesker said, as he glanced around the room, making sure they were alone. “We both know that you’re better than that, Daniel. After all, you've hidden so many secrets before now.”

Daniel watched the man, eyes narrowed. Wesker wasn't one to mince words, and he sure as hell didn’t waste time getting to the point, either. But Daniel would be damned if he let the smarmy fuck control the conversation.

“That’s rich coming from you, Al.” Daniel said, confirming everything Wesker had ever suspected about just how much he knew, at least about the blonde STARS Captain. “Especially considering what you’re up to. Or did you think I conveniently forgot your little proposal?”

Wesker gave almost nothing away, but Daniel caught the smallest pause, a tiny break in rhythm before that smoothness returned. It was enough to confirm that he’d hit something real, or close enough to real that Wesker wanted it hidden.

“Oh, not at all. In fact, I had hoped to speak to you about that before your little interrogation, of which, I’m sorry to say, is largely unavoidable at this point.” Wesker hummed. “What were you even planning to do? Tell them the truth?” The words were fired off as a joke, a hint of mocking disbelief mixed into the conversation. Daniel just gave Wesker a long, tired look.

The question hung between them, ugly and practical. Daniel could already hear Jill’s voice when the explanation began. He could picture Chris’s suspicion, Rebecca’s hurt, Barry’s silence. Truth sounded clean, easy almost, until it had to survive real people sitting across from him, people he cared about, people he called friend, called lover, and maybe in another life called allies. He rubbed at the heel of one palm, then dropped his hand before the tremor in his fingers could show.

“Yes, actually. That was the plan.” Daniel deadpanned. Wesker just stroked his chin at that, the wheels turning behind those shaded eyes. Daniel met his gaze with a flat, unimpressed glare. “Which begs the question as to what exactly you were hoping to weasel out of me. So let me ask you again. What. Do. You. Want?”

Wesker let the silence sit for a breath. He didn’t rush to fill it. That was another trick, Daniel knew, letting him feel the weight of his own impatience before offering the answer with just enough grace to make it sound generous. But that was the game, wasn't it? Power plays, like it always was and always would be. Fucker.

“Now now, no need to get testy, Daniel." He said after a moment, holding up his hands placatingly. "After all, I’m more than willing to help you in all this. To give you the one thing you need.” Albert came in close, resting a hand on Daniel’s shoulder. He had to resist brushing it off, wondering what the slimy prick was up to. “I can give you legitimacy.”

Daniel’s eyes dropped to the hand, then came back up. Wesker’s grip wasn’t tight, like he was making a point, but smooth, easy, friendly, and confident. That made it worse. It was measured, almost paternal, and Daniel hated how neatly it fit the exhausted part of him that wanted someone else to carry part of the load. A hand up when he was at his lowest, his most exhausted. It burned like acid, and he brushed it off.

“Bullshit you can. You work for them, and we both know it.” Daniel snapped. “Or did you think I didn’t know? Because let’s be frank, you aren’t great at hiding it.”

Wesker withdrew his hand peaceably, an easy look of contrition on his face, and took a slow step back, giving Daniel some space. Every motion was reasonable. Daniel knew the trick and still felt the pressure ease when Wesker moved away.

“Au contraire, my friend. I would love to know how you figured that out, but it’s only half the story. I may work for them, but I hate them all the same. Just as much as you do, if not more.” Wesker said as he stood, pacing around Daniel in a half circle. “After all, I’ve been working to undermine them for years, playing their games, breaking their toys and clawing my way higher and higher within that decrepit edifice.”

Daniel turned his head enough to track him, Wesker’s pacing slow and controlled, vulnerable, disarming, like he was revealing a piece of himself. Daniel didn’t trust it for a second.

“Right sure, and you’re at the tippy top of the totem pole. Why?” Daniel huffed, and Wesker just gave him a calculating look.

For the first time, the charm eased back. Wesker didn’t drop it entirely, but something colder slipped through the gap, something older and far less polished. Daniel felt the shift and straightened off the bumper without meaning to. His hands hung loose at his sides, wary at the sudden shift.

“Have you ever heard of Project-W?” At Daniel’s blank look, Wesker continued. “I’d be surprised if you did. Umbrella has gone out of its way to bury it into the deepest annals of their corporate history.” Wesker said, almost casually. “After all, it would be quite the scandal if it came out that Umbrella had been directly involved in the deaths of hundreds of children. Real children, collected, harvested, educated, trained… experimented on. Injected with viral agents, meant to weed the weak from the strong, until only a paltry thirteen remained. Then, one by one they were taken away, pushed until they broke, until even those few numbers dwindled down to a mere two.”

“A girl named Alex, and a boy named Albert.” Wesker’s eyes lit up as Daniel made the connection. “That’s right. Project-W. Project Wesker, named after the scientist who ‘raised’ us. Of which I am the penultimate creation of. So yes, Daniel Carter, I have ample reason to want Umbrella to burn, and its ultimate master, Oswell Spencer, to be buried under that pyre.” Wesker let the final name sit there, quiet and poisonous.

The words landed too quietly. Daniel had expected something slicker, some sales pitch dressed up as confession, but Wesker just laid it out. He let it sit bare in the air, and that... Daniel wasn't sure what to do with that. It sounded like something the company would do, he didn't deny it, but…

Daniel wanted to call it bullshit. He had the word ready on his tongue, easy and blunt, something he could throw at Wesker and use to shut the whole thing down. It didn’t come. Too much of what Wesker said fit the kind of evil Daniel had seen from Umbrella, and that was the problem. The company had made monsters out of corpses, soldiers, animals, plants, and God knew what else. Children weren’t a line they wouldn’t cross. Umbrella didn’t seem to have lines to begin with.

“Let’s say I believed you.” The words sounded almost forced. “And that you’re not full of shit.” His memories of the games, of Wesker stabbing the other STARS in the back came to the forefront of his mind. For the life of him he couldn’t remember just why the man did it in the first place, and he was dead and gone by the end of the game anyway, so did it matter? That was the one thing he’d learned early on, that what he saw in the games meant less than nothing, that all of the people he’d met were more than just characters on a screen, with real lives and complexities and goals.

The thought made his stomach knot. He had leaned on those old, broken memories as if they were gospel, then spent the last year learning how useless they could be. Every person he’d met was so much more than that. Jill, with her never ending quest to find a boyfriend, Chris and his need to turn everything into a competition, Barry and his million pictures of his kids that he would show off every given chance, and Rebecca... how she'd become so much to him in so little time... If all of them were real, then Wesker was real too, and that meant he could be worse than Daniel remembered, better than Daniel assumed, but most of all, more than the monster he'd caricaturized the man into being.

Yet in all the interactions he’d had with the man, all the wariness, the worries, the concern, the coincidences he’d assumed were manufactured, the meetings and the seemingly countless discussions they’d had… was it all in his own mind? Had he let his paranoia nearly cost him one of the best resources he could have asked for? Could he flip the so-called villain into being something more than just a one-and-done caricature meant to give the first game a real bad guy to shoot? The doubts were there, now. “Let’s say that you’re being legit. Answer me this: why in the hell are you telling me?”

Wesker’s posture changed again, almost imperceptibly. He stopped pacing and faced Daniel fully, hands loose at his sides, voice lowering into something less theatrical. It was a beautiful little performance, and Daniel hated how well it worked. Wesker had seen the opening and softened himself around it, stripping away just enough polish to look human.

“Because I know you know the big picture, but you’re bereft of the details. We’re not working at odds, you and I, and when I realized it I wanted to get you on my side. You’re dangerously good at what you do. Quick witted, skilled, determined, all the things that I need to take Umbrella down, Daniel Carter.” Wesker said, for once sounding almost like a normal person, the inflection gone, the oily confidence, all of it stripped away. “That we’re here at the site of their latest atrocity, finally able to have a real conversation about it, is nothing short of providence.”

Daniel stared at him and searched for the hook. There had to be one. Or... was there? Was he letting his own bias work against him again? He didn't know. He didn't know if he was just lying to himself again, convincing himself that the person in front of him was as bad as he'd let himself believe.

“I'm sure.” Daniel said, sounding unconvinced as the wheels kept turning. “I get all that. Lots of fancy words, not a lot of substance Wesker. What are you asking for, because it sounds like a whole lot and being honest? I don’t trust you.”

Wesker accepted the distrust with a small nod, as though Daniel had just proven himself reasonable. He backed off another step, the mask slipping back into place. The move was too smooth, too perfectly timed, and Daniel felt himself bristle at how easy it seemed for the man.

“And that’s perfectly understandable.” Albert disseminated, calmly, “But you asked me what I wanted earlier. All I desire is that you offer me the smallest chance to show you how useful I can be. I’ll back you up when we have our discussion. Give you the support you need, and the context. The others trust me, far more, I dare say, than they trust you. Use that. Get them on board with the plan. There is still much to do here and we both know that if left to fallow, this little nightmare might well spill out like a torrent if it’s not… handled correctly.” Wesker held out his hand, and Daniel stared at it for a hot second, before reaching up and shaking it.

It felt wrong, somehow, yet at the same time, when the apocalypse was looming like it was, with the clock ticking down, what choice did he have? Wesker was just one man, maybe an evil one, or just a greedy bastard looking to get rich from all the tragedy that was coming, or some political player that had his own goals, but all of that didn't matter in the face of oblivion. If Wesker proved to be everything he said he was, then all the better. If not... well, it's not like Daniel couldn't crush his head like a grape now. Use every tool. That's what he told himself at the beginning. Use it all, and maybe, maybe save the world at the end of it.

“Fine. We’ll see what we’ll see. If you hold up your end, if you do what you say you will, then we can talk, after.” Daniel finally grunted, before standing and making his way over to the cushioned seat of his SUV. “But until then, fuck off alright? I need a nap.”

The dismissal came out rough, but exhaustion took most of the bite from it. Daniel opened the SUV door and leaned his forearm against the doorframe for a moment, letting the vehicle hide the worst of how badly his legs wanted to give out. He didn’t look back right away. He could feel Wesker behind him, calm and unreadable, and the fact that the man had given him exactly enough to think about made Daniel’s head ache.

“Of course, Dan. Of course.” Wesker smiled, bowing out. “I’ll send Rebecca your way once she’s got Barry sorted. Have a good night.”

Wesker left him with that same easy grace, his steps quiet against the garage floor. Daniel watched him go in the reflection of the SUV’s window, unwilling to turn fully and give the man the satisfaction of seeing his face. The offer sat in his chest, heavy and useful and rotten around the edges. He didn’t trust Albert Wesker. He likely never would, but even a double-edged sword was a useful weapon, so long as he didn't get cut on it. Still, there was a sense there, one that made him feel uneasy as he slumped into the padded seat of the truck, leaning it back, and let his eyes drift low, six torturous days finally overwhelming him as he drifted to sleep.


000


Two hours later Rebecca finally finished with Barry. Her hands were stained red, and she was exhausted, but the big STARS armorer would be fine. Eventually. The application of several doses of herbs and around fifty stitches, along with what seemed to be gallons of antibiotics, stimulants and hemolytics had managed to restore the man enough that he’d safely drifted off to sleep. The best solution would have been to get him airlifted out, but the path down the mountain was still fraught with thick snowfalls. According to the information Danny had provided, it would take another two consistent days of the system running to clear that up, and by then it would either be too late or unnecessary.

Still, Rebecca had her concerns. The wound site was still very red, despite everything she did to prevent an infection from taking root. He hadn’t looked bad, hadn’t been running a fever, or anything else that indicated more than the obvious problem, but she’d still enlisted both Jill and Chris to run a rotating watch on him, with strict orders to get her if anything looked off. The Captain had mentioned that Danny had drifted off to sleep some hours earlier, once she’d gotten everything squared, and told her to get some rest in the interim. Things were going to be hectic tomorrow.

But that was a problem for future Rebecca. The thought brought a small smile to her lips. It was another of Danny’s little colloquialisms that he always used to say. Usually in regards to dish duty. It was a fond memory of hers, just a little one, that brought her back to when things weren’t so terrible. Before all this, the misunderstandings, the lies, the half truths… back to when he was just a quirky guy with a smile that made her weak in the knees.

Staring at him through the car window now, he felt like a different person. Looked like a different person. The rosy skin he used to have was bleached a sickly white, with dark rings rounding his eyes, like deep bruises, and his size… he’d always towered over her a bit, but between the muscles and the added eight inches, it was… it was grotesque, or very nearly. His hair had grown out long, too, she had noticed, reaching down to his shoulders almost and had taken on a dark, oily sheen. His face was so worn, too. Like he’d aged twenty years in the handful of weeks since she’d last seen him, with thick lines crossing his face, mixed with old scars.

And new ones.

She opened the door, and gingerly slipped in, resting on top of him, so close she could feel his heart thrumming in his chest like a base drum. He was cool to the touch, not corpselike, but his body just didn’t seem to retain any heat, and his muscles were like corded steel under velvet, rock hard, uncomfortable to lay on, even as she did just that.

But he was still Danny. Still her Danny, she corrected, even as her fingers traced the ugly scar left by the shot she’d nearly taken his head off with, now joined with several others. They traced his body with a kind of sadistic reasoning, like a patchwork of torture. Some of them were old, like the gristly burn on his hand. Too many were new, like the crisscrossing cuts across his torso, or wrapped around his ribs. Incision sites, injection marks, some in places that were strange, like his shoulders, and his throat. Some, like the ones in his chest, were horrifying, right where his heart or lungs were. She couldn’t imagine the reason for it. No one sane just… stabbed people there.

But that was the point, wasn’t it?

Seeing someone you care about mutilated for little reason other than someone being able to do it… changed things. She had wondered for so long what he was trying to hide from her. Now she knew. Now she knew and she wished to god she didn’t, because he had been destroyed in the process.

“I don’t know what to do.” She whispered, out loud. “I had so many things I wanted to know, so many questions I wanted to ask, and I thought… I thought that what I needed were answers.” The words were tired, achingly so. She hated that it made her feel this way, feel like she had been so focused on the wrong thing that she’d missed the signs that were right in front of her.

She loved him, despite his flaws. She still did, despite the lies, and the mistruths, and all the fucking charades. It didn’t make sense, not logically. He was a nightmare to deal with a lot of the time. He could be stubborn, and prone to hiding his thoughts, and the nights… Jesus, rarely was there one that he didn’t end up pacing or having nightmares or being a general insomniac. But she had accepted that, because he needed help, and she could give it. Would give it, always, as long as he needed it, and as long as he desired.

But she wished he would just be honest about it. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together, once she saw him in action. She recognized the device he’d been using to guide them. She remembered it, tucked under a pile of notebooks. A toy he’d called it, for his milsim hobby. What a fucking joke. And the injuries, the sickness? She’d been worried to death he’d been getting abused by his family at first, then that he’d been getting involved with some kind of criminal mischief. Secret agent was not on her list of reasons behind how badly he’d been brutalized.

“Who are you really, Daniel Carter? Why are you doing this? What could make you… make you do this to yourself, that you needed to do so badly?” She asked, as he slept under her. “You’re… I love you, but I don’t understand you. I don’t understand this. I don’t understand why it has to be you, over and over again.”

Danny didn’t answer her. He never did, not when it mattered. She could feel the tears prickling her eyes as she balled her fists together. Jill didn’t trust him. Chris raged at him. Barry was disappointed in him. Wesker… she didn’t know what the Captain saw in him. But her? He was her lover. He was her friend. He was her confidant, and her partner in crime. He was the one who sat next to her during all those stupid monster movies, and the person who made her feel like she was seen, she was understood, she was cherished. He was the first one to look at her as she was. Just a quirky girl who liked quirky things, beautiful and real and unrepentantly her.

He was her heart. Her soul. Her favorite memory.

But he was also a stranger.

He… she didn’t know who he was any more. She wondered if she ever did.

She knew it wasn’t healthy to feel this strongly, this quickly. It had been barely six months, and the relationship had been so hard at times. He had been so hard to be with. Yet she could still feel his arms around her when she wept on the anniversary of her Dad’s death. Had remembered his body pressed against hers when the stress of work had finally overwhelmed her. The smile he had as he hauled that stupid CPR dummy up the RPD stairs for the dozenth time. The feeling of drifting off against him as she read her favorite book.

Daniel Carter had become so much to her so fast, and yet, he was like a ghost, a distant, faded thing for all that she knew about him. Someone who gave all he could to her, but offered nothing of himself. Like who he was didn’t matter, so long as he felt strongly enough, gave to her enough, cared for her enough. He did it all, gave it all, and never… never let himself come into that equation.

He treated himself like the tool he needed to get things done. He threw himself into this insanity like he did everything else. Pursued it with everything he had, even as it ripped him apart. Even as he destroyed the thing that made her Danny her Danny. She saw it in his eyes, back in the power plant, when she finally pulled away the mask he’d worn to hide himself behind those red-tinted goggles. She saw just hope badly he’d shattered, just how much he hurt, just how much he’d lost, reflected in those brown, broken irises.

And maybe that’s what he’d been trying to show her, back in November, when she’d asked and he’d given her a bunch of broken answers and half-truths. It wasn’t in what he said, but how he said it. The desperation, the belief that nothing he had to say, nothing he could share, nothing he could show, would ever be enough. He had given up before he’d even tried, and then tried anyway, for good or ill. He had been crying for help, under that. Crying for someone to understand, to believe him, even as he himself believed it was pointless.

She hadn’t understood it then. Not the words, but the man under them. She had failed to see that even though he didn’t have the words, he believed in them. He was afraid of them. He was lost under them, and he didn’t know how to say it. Because he believed only he could do it. That if he figured it out, he could stop it from affecting her. That he could keep this sickness, this nightmare, from consuming her too.

But it was never enough. He was like her father, in that regard. Her dad was the same way, someone so consumed by his work that it in turn consumed him. Someone fighting a rising tide, desperately trying to find a way to stay above the water, even as the next wave came in, over and over again, seeing nothing but failure after failure as some invisible clock ticked down, until there was nothing left of him to give. Until the only thing he could do was try to escape it all. Because it broke him. Because it hollowed him out.

And the longer it was there, above them like a hangman’s noose, the more tempting it became to slip your neck through the hole, and let it take you. Just like it had her father.

“But I won’t let it take you.” She said, quietly, and felt him stir.

“Hm? Becca?" Danny asked, tiredly, only for her to press against him. Her hand came up and slid over his eyes, like she did when he’d woken from a terrible nightmare, and couldn’t get back to sleep.

“It’s okay, Danny. I’m sorry I woke you.” She said, as she drifted up and kissed him on the cheek, and felt him settle back down. “I’ve got you.”

Always.