Author's note: Recently, I was looking through Resident Evil fanfiction in excitement over the upcoming Resident Evil 5, and guess what I found? A story I wrote almost 5 years ago! So as curious as I am, I clicked it. And I read it. And I was very tempted to gouge my eyes and throw my computer out the window. I have great compassion for the people who actual read such a horrible, terrible thing. But naturally, I felt the urge to rewrite it in actual legible English. So here I present you: A Cat Named Wesker, REwrite! (insert sarcastic laugh).
The story should be mainly the same, everything is much more detailed and (I'm proud to say) much more understandable. Hopefully I'll be able to finish it this time.
Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil.
A Cat Named Wesker
Chapter 1: The Inconspicuous Box
Jill Valentine knew that Frost was up to no good the moment he strolled into the police department, whistling (rather badly) Beethoven's Ode to Joy and hefting a large, inconspicuous card board box.
Inconspicuous, of course, only to the casual bystander.
However, Jill was no casual bystander. She could smell trouble oozing off of Joseph that Monday morning, and was determined to put an end to it before anyone could get truly hurt. There was no telling what Joseph could do with his childish mind; just last Tuesday he had found it amusing to slyly dose the milk in the coffee machine with a generous helping of laxative. The department was forced to call an ambulance in order to rush a critical conditioned Barry to the hospital, accompanied by two medics who somehow found it hilarious that the police department a block down had to call for an ambulance. Why Joseph had never been fired for his jokes eluded the female officer, and she supposed it had to do with some hidden talent buried in that idiotic brain of his. Just the thought of what might be in the box made Jill cringe, and she hastily got up out of her seat and followed Joseph before he managed to blow the whole building into smithereens.
He seemed to be handling the box with an uncharacteristic care, and almost fell over when he glanced up and spotted a fuming Jill Valentine, arms akimbo, blocking his path.
"Joseph...," she growled in a tone usually reserved for small children and mischievous dogs. "What's in the box?"
"Wh…what? What are you talking about? What box?"
"The box in your hands, you dimwit. What's in it?"
"Erh….nothing." He attempted to sidestep the woman, but was awarded with a shove and a harsh glare.
"Joseph, open the box. NOW."
"C'mon Jill, I swear there's nothin' in it. I'm not doing anything wrong!"
"Sorry, but I find that really hard to believe," Jill responded sarcastically, raising an eyebrow. "If you're not going to open it, I'll do it for you. Gimme that box."
"Trust me Jill, I'm tellin' you-"
He was abruptly cut off as Jill snatched the box from his hands and ripped open the cover. Silence settled around the two officers as she stared inside, her eyes widening and her mouth open. And just when Joseph couldn't bear the silence any longer, she let out a shrill, girlish shriek.
On the other end of the hallway, STARS captain Albert Wesker was busy reading a heavily encrypted code sent to him by Umbrella. It was a frustrating, mind-numbing job decoding the message and sometimes he wondered why the hell Umbrella didn't just call him about their new, world-domination plans. Not like any of them were different. Staring holes into the paper in front of him, he was just about to finish the last sentence when….
Wesker's head snapped up and his hand fumbled instinctively for the Glock at his belt. In a split second, he leapt out of his chair, past the desk, and slammed shoulder first through the wooden door of the office. Rolling out into the hallway, he lifted his gun, ready to fire at the insane bomber/ rampant murderer/ (or in the worst-case-scenario) T-virus zombie that awaited him.
Instead, he was greeted with the grinning face of Alpha team member, Jill Valentine. She was squealing like a toddler at a sweets store, muttering phrases that included the words "cute" and "adorable." However, at the sight of her captain, crouched in front of her, gun pointed aggressively at her head and index finger twitching at the trigger, her smile melted away faster than the Witch of the West in a swimming pool. She gaped like a goldfish for several seconds before stammering out a response.
"C-Captain? Are you okay?"
Seeing no immediate danger, Wesker stood up and readjusted his sunglasses as if he had only been strolling in the park. After all, only Wesker could pull something like this off without the fear of ruining his reputation.
"No it's nothing. I heard a scream outside and I thought there was something wro- " He stopped midsentence as he spotted Joseph and his cardboard box. His face darkened and a visible nerve twitched on his forehead.
"Erh…hi captain! How's it…um…going?" Joseph stuttered, squirming under the older man's gaze.
"What's in the box?"
"Oh the box? Why…eh….right. The box!" Joseph stammered, and glanced at Jill for help. She was conveniently examining a nonexistent crack on the ceiling.
"What's in the box? Well…." Sweat dripped down his forehead. Joseph knew that if he lied, he'd end up half-dead in the dumpster outside. He knew that if he told the truth, he'd still end up half-dead in the dumpster outside. Decisions, decisions…
And then a phone rang.
It was coming from inside the S.T.A.R.S. Office. Frost sighed in relief; he could've hugged a grizzly bear if there had been one in the hallway. The captain, on the other hand, furrowed his eyebrows impatiently and headed back into the office to pick up the call.
"Well then, captain. I know you're incredibly busy, so I'll just head on….out." Joseph watched as Wesker paused in the doorway, and slowly turned around to face the younger officer. Confronted with Wesker's signature expressionless stare, he quickly decided otherwise.
"Never mind then…um…I guess, I should…erh….go in?" He gestured to the STARS office. Wesker ignored him and entered the room, grabbing the phone along the way.
"Well, good luck, Joseph." whispered Jill.
"No wait, Jill, don't go," Joseph begged, but she was already gone. He said a quick prayer on his behalf, swallowed nervously and followed his captain, mentally preparing himself for what was to come.
Joseph Frost stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. It was only months ago that the soon to be STARS office had been swarming with construction workers, and the now empty and shining new room unnerved him. His eyes roamed around, stopping briefly to examine the newly painted walls and to readjust his footing in the plush, red carpet. He would have fiddled with his fingers and twiddled his thumbs if he wasn't holding the box in his arms. After a large amount of fidgeting, he decided to past the time by scrutinizing the glossy office desk in front of him.
Wesker's desk was filled to capacity, yet everything was neatly stacked into piles, so straight and so neat they looked like miniature white skyscrapers towering over the brown wood of the table. There was a picture frame in the corner, but instead of holding the generic "wife, child and dog photograph", it was occupied with a team picture of the S.T.A.R.S. The captain could be easily spotted: he was the only one not smiling.
At the moment, however, Wesker was behind his desk, pacing back and forth the length of the room. He seemed to be arguing with whoever was on the other line, and stopped briefly every now and then to stare at the back wall while the other man talked. Poor guy, thought Joseph. It's never a pretty sight to get on the bad side of the captain. He'd had the experience plenty times before.
"No…what?! How did it happen?...What do you expect me to do? I'm not the goddamn tooth fairy you idiot." Wesker's face darkened. "I can't do that! They're not ready…what? No. I told you before…"
Frost took the moment to readjust his grip on the box. Funny. It felt slightly lighter than before. Yes, it was definitely lighter. Wait a minute. What? He took a quick glance into the top of the box and found himself staring into empty brown corners.
"Crap!" He swore softly. It must have gotten out while he was busy sweating over his potential fate. He darted his eyes left and right, scanning the room for any sign of IT. Nothing on the pseudo-leather sofa chair on the right. Nothing next to the potted fern in the corner. Nothing next to the empty trash can next to the desk. Nothing next to the black cat purring besides the lamp. Nothing next to the hanging plaque…wait.
"Shit!" Joseph swore again. IT had escaped. IT was now sitting there, flicking ITs tail back and forth, a hair length away from the captain's leg. Wesker's debate over the phone had, at the moment, gotten even more heated and his sentences were now colorfully filled with inappropriate interjections.
"I'm telling you, I can't do it. THEY can't do it…what? Shit. You can't be serious. This is insane…"
Joseph inched his foot toward the animal, and leaned his weight, gently and slowly forward. He beckoned with his head and attempted to communicate through an intricate twitching of his eyebrows.
It only stared at him.
"Come here you little rascal…come to Uncle Joseph…," he whispered out of the corner of his mouth.
"Come HERE. Get back into the box," he growled slightly louder.
Still no response.
"Please. Please get the fuck back into the box." He was almost pleading now. The animal began to turn and walk away.
"No. Nooo! Don't ignore me. Get back here, you…" Joseph snarled and prepared to tackle the cat to the ground. Hearing the noise, Wesker snapped around and faced the younger man. Still holding the phone, he gave Joseph a long, cold, hard stare and mouthed the words "Shut. Up." (Actually, it was closer to "Shut. Up. You ignorant prick or I'll put a bullet through your brain…," but Joseph was a vehicle expert, not a professional lip reader and he didn't really catch the rest.)
The captain turned away and went back to jabbering on the phone. Meanwhile, the cat had found its way on the leather chair behind the desk and was curiously examining the contents on top of the wooden structure.
"What? No…look, YOU don't understand. Huh? Training experience? Are you crazy? Shit. Okay. I understand. Yes, we'll discuss it later."
Wesker seemed to be finishing up his conversation; however, Joseph had his eyes nailed at the cat. It sat amiably on the chair, flicking its tail mockingly at the paralyzed human across the room.
"Don't do it," Joseph hissed through his teeth. He regretted not having paid more attention to those suicide prevention courses earlier in the academy. "Don't do it. You'll regret it."
The animal flicked its tail once more. The young officer could have sworn it was smiling at him as it crouched down, ready to leap…
"Don't do it. DON'T DO IT!" Joseph dropped the box and leapt forward, hoping to grab it before it hit the wood.
"I thought I told you to SHUT UP, Frost!" Wesker spun around angrily, ready to unleash his pent up fury. What he saw however, stunned him into silence..
The whole room was covered with fluttering papers, billows and clouds of paper just floating around. Case files, finance documents, admission forms, all danced lightly in front of the captain's sunglasses like ballerinas in synchronized rhythm.
The culprit to the chaos sat placidly on the wooden desk amid the papers, flicking its black tail to and fro. The cat had landed on one of Wesker's paper towers, and the stacks had gone toppling over like dominoes.
Joseph had never seen the captain look as shocked as he did now: mouth agape, phone dangling in his hands. It was during this pregnant silence that he realized that he was in a rather suspicious pose, hands out and body leaned forward toward the mess on the desk. He quickly snapped back to his original spot, and grinned rather sheepishly at his commander.
"Hehe. Well, I guess the snow came early, huh? Haha?" Frost searched Wesker's face for some reaction and found none. "Okay. Bad joke. Sorry." he whispered, and stared down at his boots.
He expected the captain to yell, to scream, maybe even grab him by the throat and throw him out the window. Instead, Wesker slowly reached out and grabbed a stray paper in front of him and placed it on the desk. He approached the other man almost amicably, but the pulsing nerve on his forehead gave away his intentions.
"Frost. Would you mind explaining," he paused here, flashing a strained smile, "why there is a cat on my desk?"
"Oh. The cat? Why, its, eh…a present for you. Sir. I…uh…the team thought that you might enjoy…eh….a mascot." Joseph winced as he realized what he had said.
"You know, like…Christmas….pres-"
"A PRESENT?! ARE YOU INSANE?" Wesker exploded, screaming on the top of his lungs. Joseph dodged the spittle and contemplated on whether to jump out the window and save them both some time. However, he didn't get the chance as the older man grabbed him by the collar and shook the living daylights out of him.
"Did you know that there is one thing, ONE THING, that I just absolutely hate in this goddamn world?" the blond growled.
"Yes, Frost," he hissed. "And you should know never, EVER to bring one in front of me. Do you know what it is?"
"NO, YOU IMBECILE. GOD DAMN ANIMALS! Animals are for dissecting (Joseph raised an eyebrow at this) and eating and kicking. Not for bringing into my office and ruining ALL THE fucking work I did this afternoon." Finished, Wesker released the younger man, sighed, and slumped down in his chair. He took off his sunglasses and rubbed his hand over his eyes.
"Get rid of it. NOW," he growled as Joseph hastily picked it up off the desk and held it in his hands.
"Captain?" Jill peeked her head into the room. "Um. I know it's not a good time now, but can I say something?"
"Well. I was thinking, you know, the team has been under a lot of stress recently, so maybe we could use a mascot. Like the cat. I'm sure it'd raise team morale."
Wesker raised an eyebrow.
"Just think of what the newspapers will say, sir. Don't you think it gives a good image to the public? Special Forces team fosters stray cat? Besides, it doesn't really have anywhere else to go."
The captain took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was about to answer with a steady no, when he spotted the cat in Frost's arms. It stared back at him. He hated to admit it, but the animal was cute. And the way it tilted its furry black head to one side…no. He couldn't let himself fall into its trap.
You've never liked animals, Wesker thought to himself, this one's no different. Remember your aunt's Siamese that bit you when you were twelve? You remember that don't you Albert?
But then again, hadn't Irons told him to do something about the press? They had been going berserk after the S.T.A.R.S last mission. Chris, that idiot, had accidently shot some dog during a shootout in an apartment last month. Those damn animal activists had jumped right in on accusing the team of animal cruelty and slaughter. It didn't matter to PETA that the dog was a fully grown Rottweiler, it didn't matter to them that it had been trained to go after intruders, and it sure as hell didn't matter to them that it was owned by a serial murderer and rapist. Wesker's head hurt just thinking about the paperwork he had done to shut the idiots up.
This, on the other hand, could turn things completely around. This would show the press that the S.T.A.R.S. did care for animals. And besides, it did look so, so very cute…
"Fine. You can keep it. But if it starts pissin' all over the place, it goes out, understand?"
"Yes sir!" Joseph and Jill responded in unison. Frost even saluted with the cat under one arm. As Jill rushed out of the office to tell the rest of the team, Joseph decided that it'd be best to attempt to apologize to his commander.
"Um, captain, sir? About the papers, if there's anything I can do to make up for-"
"Get the fuck out of here before I shove a grenade down your throat, Frost."
Wesker sighed as he surveyed the mess on his desk. It would probably take him the rest of the day to reorganize his work. He angrily snatched stray papers off the ground, swearing vehemently with each sheet. That idiot Frost. Someday he'd have his sweet revenge on the imbecile. Someday.
He was halfway through the pile when the phone rang for the second time in the hour. Snatching the phone up he snarled, "Who is it?"
"You know who this is," a voice replied calmly. Wesker perked up in recognition and quickly stood up nervously. He peeked outside the door to check the hallway for any eavesdroppers and found none.
"Don't worry, this line is secure. Just keep your voice down," the voice said, as if sensing the captain's actions. "You received Irons call earlier right?"
"Yes, I did." Wesker answered, settling himself down in his chair. "What you and the company are asking is ridiculous. I need more time with S.T.A.R.S. They're not ready for something like that."
"I'm sure they can handle it. Trust me; it's nothing but a simple, straightforward, hostage situation. Right now, the city officials don't trust S.T.A.R.S. enough, not enough for us to execute our plans. This is a perfect opportunity for you to gain their trust. Show them what the team is capable of."
"That's the point; they're not capable for something of this size. Not yet, at least. Don't ask them to do something I know they can't do!" Wesker felt his anger building up again.
"The S.T.A.R.S. has trained for hostage rescue before right? It's no different. You won't get a chance like this again, Wesker. You better take it while you can."
The captain sighed and rubbed his temples. He debated briefly on whether he should argue some more, but decided against it.
"Alright, when's it going to happen?" Wesker answered reluctantly.
"Our informant tells us the terrorist group is striking tomorrow morning, around 11:00. All you need to do is get inside, disable the criminals and rescue the hostages. There won't be more than five terrorists."
"Raccoon City Mall, top floor, right? Will they be armed?"
"Yes, they are armed. We don't want to make thing too easy now, do we?"
"To the best of my knowledge, no."
"Well you're knowledge better be accurate, I've spent time training these guys and I don't want to lose any so early on. We need them."
"Don't worry, everything will be under control. You'll receive more information tomorrow morning. And as a final note, remember Wesker, this is an opportunity. Use it well." There was a click and then the line went dead.
"Everything better be under control," Wesker muttered as put the phone down.
Note: Hopefully, everything is significantly better. Review please, I'll try to write more as soon as I have time...