Resident Evil 1. Turned Tables

_**Author's Note: Please don't be afraid to give me a review after you read. I love hearing what the readers have to say. Your critiques, support, and guidance help keep these stories alive for the writers. I've been doing extensive research into the universe of Resident Evil to make sure I stay as far away from deviation as possible. If you feel something isn't right, or that I may have deviated, please feel free to let me know. [Insert witty Disclaimer ownership here] I do own my OC's and if you have any requests regarding them or other characters, feel free to PM me. I will get back with as soon as possible. Thank you.**_

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|Twisted Fates|

By Neo-Evolution

|Remains|

It was over. The blast still rang in his ears as he found himself flying. Time slowed. Life slowed. His heartbeat slowed. So much heat. So much fire. _So much pain_. The ringing in his ears drowned out the sound of the helicopter as Jill, Sheva, and Chris left the scene of Wesker's demise. This was it. The end. The final scene to Wesker's chapter and his legacy was going to be nothing more than a small spark in the middle of a volcano. What little breath remaining in his lungs was knocked out into the scorching atmosphere as his torso landed on volcanic rock. The ringing in his ears. Would it ever stop? His eyes stared lazily at the billowing smoke. The smell of burnt, diseased flesh raped his nose. It made his stomach roll…what stomach was left. His body twitched as the Uroboros refused to give in. He could feel it. A cold settling in. This was death. This was how a god dies.

The heat and caustic air was doing a number on him. Even with half of him gone, was it possible for him to regenerate? A cellular war waged inside him and it was taking a huge toll on his body. Energy drained, and body horribly mutilated, he just stared into the sky as a feverish calm began to creep into his mind. A strange, ambient thunder sounded around him. His lids slowly began to close as his grasp on his willpower began to slip. _No, this can't be how it ends!_ He thought to himself, his singed brow furrowing as he tried to stay awake. The cogs in his brain seemed to rust as the Uroboros fought for control of his cells. The Progenitor attempting to fight back, echoed in his thoughts. _Evolve!_ Strange figures danced around in the fading world around him. Silence was taking over his brain, fever was settling in and the world was slipping away. Everything he had worked so hard to create was gone. As his eyes closed, his body suddenly felt weightless as if he were rising from the ground. Fire danced in his veins, scorched his lungs, and quieted his thoughts…the battle was lost.

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|Tri-Cell|

It wasn't everything she had hoped for. How long had she been working for the company? Was it three years now? She couldn't remember. She had lost track of time. Tri-Cell had become her life. A cancer, seeping into her and taking over. It wasn't exactly what she had dreamed of doing, but she was working on the only thing that she knew. Took in a long, deep breath. The smell of the laboratories had once been sickening with the over-use of disinfectant and cleaning solutions. Here, she was being paid to play god for a corporation. Her life depended on her secrecy and resourcefulness. She didn't like how things worked around here. She did remember how she was caught in the spider's web. She had been lost in research at her college, playing with a bacterial mutation that had recently popped up in the hospitals. Humanity was working on creating unstoppable supergerms, un-intentionally of course. Now the innocent, young and old, were suffering from humanity's ignorance.

She had been in the labs working when a group of men had approached her with an offer she couldn't refuse. She wasn't the highest in her field, but she had been the close second. They were excited, or so it seemed at the time, that she might possibly be joining their ranks. Just recently, she had been told about an offer coming from the government, a full scholarship to continue her education and move her up in ranks. This was everything she wanted. Knowledge was key to everything. There is no end because there were so many questions that needed answers. And she thought she could find it in the genetic code of the thing man feared most. She hadn't expected a meeting so soon. In turn, she discovered her contractors hadn't been the government. Instead, they were a secretive company that worked outside the states. She hadn't known anything about them at the time. She only knew what they wanted her to know. She had been promised a position in a laboratory that would give her high job security, better pay, and a chance to travel the world.

She hadn't known what she was signing up for when she penned her name on the bold line. It hadn't been until a year later that she discovered that she had signed her proverbial soul to a corporate devil. Tri-Cell wasn't exactly what she had expected. She thought it was a pharmaceutical company, basing a research facility with the means of finding cures, learning the characteristics of mankind's greatest enemy to ensure that they had an upper hand in the never-ending battle. She had been greatly mistaken. She had been flown on a private jet to a secret location. She was given a medium level badge and stuck in a lab almost 24/7. There were even small dormitories and private apartments for the Tri-Cell employees. She had lost all contact with her family, her friends, and fellow students. Her graduation had been nothing but dust in the wind. She glared at a bored, miniature version of herself on her keycard as she re-read it, for the umpteenth time in her life of confinement here, through those thickly rimmed glasses. Harley Desmond-Class B. She was one step away from getting her Class A license. She would have full access to the facility. She would be included on bigger projects.

Her paychecks would be better. But that wasn't what she had been looking forward to. She would have more freedoms. The option to travel. Her own little apartment. Higher access meant more information. She'd have more authority in the labs. She would be able to work on her own little side projects. It was all she really wanted. The freedom of her own work. She sighed heavily as she pulled her reading glasses from her nose and stashed them in her coat pocket. The elevator finally came to a halt. A soft, musical note sounded as the doors opened and she was allowed entrance to the main lobby of the facility's fifth basement level. The desk assistant greeted her as he did every morning. There was a gleam of extra excitement, but she ignored it. She made her way to the large, metal doors where two armed guards, suited in full riot gear stood at attention.

"You're a little late to the party, Miss Desmond. Work late again?" Trey asked from his desk.

She paused only slightly as she noted the heavily armed guards. Something was definitely up.

"No, I decided to catch up on some lost sleep for the week," she said as she hesitated before passing her keycard through the reader.

The device gave a short, dainty number of notes as the pressure lock released and the door slid open. She gave one more glance back at the guards standing on either side of the entrance. It wasn't uncommon for there to be armed guards standing at attention here and there, but these mean were armed with M-16s. _Party, huh?_ She thought to herself as she made her way into the long corridor. Doors dotted the walls left and right. Little offices, storage units, and a lounge room mostly. She made a left, following the hall as it hooked a right and then t-ed. She took the second left, leading into the research department. It opened into a large common room where it branched off into several different corridors. Each one was guarded by double, reinforced doors that required a keycard to access. There were several guards posted in the room. She counted five. Her colleagues nervously glanced up at her. Kevin was the only one with an excited look on his face. A huge smile stretched his mouth—a handsome face to behold if you could look past the ego.

"Harley, you missed the party! Have you heard yet?!" he said, trying to restrain the excitement in his voice.

By the looks of the guards in the room, something was definitely up.

"What's going on? Is this a drill?" she asked nervously as she joined the rest of the researchers there.

Meg Whitaker sat in one of the small chairs, her legs crossed in her uncomfortably tight skirt as she glared up at Harley. She was the lead scientist on the level and had a Class A clearance. She wasn't entirely sure why she was mingling with her crew, but she was about to find out as her cheeks flushed with frustration. She had been a leading part of this team since she gained her access card. She wasn't about to let someone from another division come in and walk all over her territory. She had a problem with authority figures. Especially authority figures that liked to push their weight around. Ms. Whitaker was one of them.

"So nice of you to show, Miss Desmond. I was wondering when you were going to grace us with your presence, seeing as how you have more important things that you need to take care of other than what you're supposed to be doing here."

"Sorry, Ms. Whitaker. I had a busy night and slept through my alarm," Harley said, trying her best to staunch the bitterness in her voice.

Harley fought to reign in her attitude as Whitaker began to fill her in.

"While you were sleeping away precious time, the company received some news today. Both good and bad."

"Is that why there are so many guards posted?" Harley asked, eyeing them warily.

"I'll get to that. Tri-Cell lost contact with a group of employees working at an undisclosed location. Those included in this group were high-ranking officials Albert Wesker and Tri-Cell CEO, Excella Gionne. Tri-Cell has recently recovered some data and samples after looking into an emergency beacon traced back to a crashed aircraft registered to the company. In the investigation, we've recovered what little remains were left of Mr. Wesker. His remains are currently at our facility…on your floor. You're all being reassigned. Excella Gionne is currently MIA, and until we can discover where she is or what has become of her, a certain protocol has begun in the event that she returns or otherwise. In the event that Ms. Gionne takes leave, and Wesker unable to step in for her, I become next available to take charge until further notice. Your job, as of now, is to work diligently on the remains of Albert Wesker.

"He is, currently, all that is left containing samples of both the G specimen and the new Uroboros. He is nothing more than a remnant of the man he once was. The chances of him fully recovering are slim. You will take sample after sample. Spend your every waking second studying the interactions of both Uroboros and G samples in his body. There isn't much time left for him. He has two viruses waging war over dominance. He'll eventually burn himself out and the viruses will devour what's left. It's your job to get as much information from him in the short amount of time that you have. It is of the utmost importance that this is kept under wraps. Failure to complete your mission, or to uphold confidentiality will result in termination from Tri-Cell, and you all know what that means," she said with finality before she stood up and began to walk off.

She paused to glance back at them with a sincere look on her face, "However, if you succeed in getting the information we want before the termination of the project, you will graduate to the next rank. Consider this your final test."

Harley gulped. Albert Wesker? Walking proof of near perfect symbiosis on a cellular level. A tyrant carrier. Wesker, a ghost amongst the walls of Tri-Cell, was now lying in pieces in a lab. _Her_ lab. And it was up to her team to study him? Butterflies invaded her stomach with a force she hadn't felt since she first stepped onto the private airport where she would begin her flight across the world to join the Tri-Cell research group. She had only met the man once. He was intimidating, terrifying, and obsessed with the roll of alpha. The man had an "id" the size of Jupiter. He had lurked around one of their research rooms looking for a certain bit of information. It was like a static ozone surrounded this man. The atmosphere changed whenever he entered the room. She had been examining a sample under a digital microscope, her back turned to the door, when he had entered. It was like instinct had turned a switch on in her brain. A silent alarm going off. The fine hairs stood on the back of her neck as an eerie hush killed the dry murmur. She couldn't help herself. She had glanced around to see what had disturbed the peace.

Wesker, gaze hidden behind those dark shades, was prowling the lab. The older scientists seemed to know exactly who he was. She however, had only been there for about a month. She had heard rumors, but had never had the honor of meeting the man—so didn't recognize him by appearance. There he was, his presence demanding a good ego stroking as he looked down on all the "little scientists" in the room. Harley nearly had to slap herself to keep from staring. If the man hadn't looked like a complete jerk, she probably would have found him handsome for a somewhat older gentleman. Charming, maybe. He looked of German lineage. That perfect, blonde hair greased back. The sharp nose, pale skin, chiseled jaw line. Oh, yeah, the man was dripping with trouble. She knew she wasn't going to like him at all. She remembered rolling her eyes as she turned back to work. His heavy footsteps seemed to echo through the lab as she watched the cells glide around in the solution. She had been working with these little guys for a while now. So far, if they kept up the good work, she was going to get a promotion.

She turned the little dial on the contraption, releasing a small droplet of solution that mixed with the specimen. The cells were nothing more than stem cells donated from Tri-Cells resources. She watched for the next few minutes as the cells mingled. The lab only knew the specimen as "U-α". Unbeknownst to her, it was the baby step toward the perfected Uroboros. She knew it only as "George". She had a habit of giving her own projects pet names. Some of her colleagues saw it as cute while others thought it was a little childish and redundant. She watched, a crick in her neck forming as it protested the stiff angle. "George" greeted the new cell with a mild form of hostility, like a spider pouncing on an intruder in its web. A few seconds passed by as "George" became acquainted with the new cell, slowly beginning assimilation. She swallowed nervously as she watched. This was the way it always began. She knew it was too early in the game to start celebration. As the cells began to bond, she grabbed the little stopwatch from beside the monitor and clicked it. The seconds ticked by counting up as she watched "George" work. She mentally counted to herself as if she were watching the countdown to the millennium ball drop.

She was so entranced she didn't hear someone address her. The seconds ticked by in her head as she watched "George" finally take residence in the introduced cell. She held her breath, as time seemed to slow. She watched, the world around her muted as her attention was pulled elsewhere.

"Miss Desmond!" someone shouted, breaking her concentration.

If there was one thing she hated, it was being interrupted. She grumbled something that was almost unintelligible but sounded relative to "gimme a minute" as she barely managed to stay on count with the time. _Sixty-one, sixty-two, sixty-three…_ Someone had roughly grasped her shoulder. She leaned back, angrily switching on the monitor to view it on the screen. As soon as the image flickered up, the cell terminated itself. She clicked the little button on the stopwatch and checked the time. It wasn't a complete loss. In the area of science, there is no such thing as failure. It's knowledge gained. She quickly jotted down a note in "George's" file before she turned to the person who was just dying for her attention. It was her superior scientist and he had a look of desperation on his face. She turned and looked up at the towering, blonde man. He had the look of a permanent frown on his face. She couldn't see past his shades, but she imagined a frustrated glare behind them. At the time, she had no idea who he was and, although she was fairly intimidated, she wasn't very happy that they had almost cost her a day's worth of research.

"I'm sorry, but you caught me in the middle of something," she said, trying to keep the nervous vibrato from her words.

"Mr. Wesker, this is our newest recruit. Ms. Desmond, this is Mr. Wesker…your boss," he said, stressing the last.

She paused for a moment, taking in the new information. She gulped, raising her hand offering a friendly handshake.

"It's nice to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you," she said.

She could hear the ass holes pucker as she stood there, awkwardly waiting for him to accept her friendly gesture. When he didn't, she flushed with a mixture of anger and embarrassment.

"He's here for the 'U-α' project. You'll be reassigned another."

The news made her jaw go slack. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"He's taking 'George'?" she squeaked.

Wesker raised a brow at the name, glancing over at her superior.

"She has a tendency to nickname some of the specimens, sir. I assure you, she's quite the addition to the family, as whimsical as she is," he said with a nervous laughter.

Harley suddenly felt sick to her stomach.

"I've been doing everything to a 'T' sir. I hope I haven't done anything wrong."

"No, Ms. Desmond. It's not a question of your abilities. It's just the company has decided to bump 'U-α' to a higher level facility."

She just stared at them both for a moment, somewhat depressed that her project was walking away. She had put so much time and effort into her research and now someone was going to take it. She bit back the tears as she dejectedly picked up "George's" file and handed it to Wesker. For a second, she couldn't bring herself to let go of the manila folder, and she could see a frustrated tick start in the man's jaw.

"Just…take care of him ok?" she said before trudging out of the room.

That day she vowed she would never forgive him for that. And now he was sitting in a research room. _Her_ research room…blown to bits and barely alive. And he carried all that was left of the completed strand that was once "George"…


	2. Tyrant

|Tyrant|

He was just a remnant of what used to be the man the facility feared. The team just stood there staring for the longest moments and exchanged nervous glances of disbelief. Harley watched him. Ragged breathing was the only thing that gave her a sign of life. Or would it be considered "unlife"? She wasn't sure anymore. The things she had worked on in the facility changed her outlook on a lot of things. This wasn't Wesker anymore, according to Tri-Cell. She looked down at Wesker's folder. They were now supposed to call him "Specimen U-PG013". She almost didn't recognize him. His unusually perfect skin had been marred with darkness. _Were those burns?_ She couldn't tell as Uroboros clung to him for dear life. Harley was on autopilot, the _snap_ of her latex gloves catching everyone's attention, as she stepped closer to the slab. She was more than curious to see what they did to the specimen she had once had a nickname for.

"Why isn't he hooked up to anything?" she asked, noting the absence of an IV, breathing apparatus, or sedation.

She looked down at his file again, flipping through the pages looking for any information. There was no schedule for anesthesia. Even in this state, there was still a chance that Wesker could wake up whether it was voluntary or not. She wasn't about to chance anything. There was a note of some form of sedation during retrieval. It was mild. Something you would give to one of the medium, or human, sized specimens. Although it was enough to make your average Joe overdose, she wasn't entirely sure it would be enough for him. Harley glanced over at the team, there faces somewhat blank as they were still taking in the site of Wesker. Kevin was the only one that answered, shrugging.

"It is up to you and the team to make the decisions around here. I will be watching your progress," Whitaker said through the intercom, her voice startling the researchers.

The woman always had a knack for sneaking up on you when you were in the middle of something. She followed the gaze of the rest of the team to the observation deck several feet above them. She was standing behind the six-inch thick window, giving her a droll stare. Forcing a smile, Harley turned back to Kevin. What she wanted to do was grumble. What she had to do was make a good impression.

"Gemma, fix up an anesthesia schedule for Mr. Wesker. Go ahead and get the first dosage ready. I think we need to start by diagnosing first. We need to find out what's affecting what. What's keeping him alive? That's a question we need to answer first," she said, trying to sound as confident as she could.

She took in the sight of him again. This was impossible. There was hardly anything left of him. Just the upper part of a torso that looked like it had taken severe damage. Explosive? She wasn't included in on a lot of the details. It had been a while since she walked into a project blind. She hardly had any information on the subject lying before her. He was in pieces. His torso looked like it had exploded. A faintly beating heart lay exposed, wrapped in Uroboros. How was this considered a successful "evolution" if the most vital organ became an obvious target? She never understood it. This was just like any other Tyrant case. Most of them always mutated with the heart exposed. She set the manila folder down on the counter stepping closer to the bed as she grabbed a scalpel from a metal tray. It was time to do a little exploration.

Gemma had yet to move from her spot as she stood, watching. Kevin stepped up to the side of the slab, opposite of Harley, a large grin on his face. She could tell the man had been waiting for this moment for a long time. In all honesty, she had only seen some of the tyrants on site and rarely assisted. This was the first tyrant she had ever really worked on. Not once had she imagined her first, huge project would be Albert Wesker. She let out a heavy sigh before she gently set her gloved fingers on the Uroborus that cradled his heart. She tensed. Her touch must have set off something. As soon as she made contact with the cavity, Wesker's body seized ever so slightly, like a snake recoiling from an unwanted touch. Harley swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. Her hazel eyes glanced up at Kevin, before darting to look at Wesker's face.

He had a mild expression on his face. It was faint, but it was there. His brows were furrowed, as if he were angry, frustrated, or in pain. This man…this _thing_ wasn't completely sedated. She glared over at Gemma.

"Get the sedative, now!" she hissed as Gemma stared at her like a deer in headlights.

Harley offered the scalpel to Kevin who took it eagerly. She turned around grabbing a small flashlight from the tray to her left. She leaned in slowly, reaching for his face as Kevin closed in on the cavity. Gently using her thumb and forefinger, she opened Wesker's right eye. Her stomach dropped. So that's why he wore the sunglasses. She hadn't seen anything like it before. Those serpentine eyes lolled around, lazily, trying to focus but couldn't. Gathering her courage, she moved the flashlight to shine at the unnatural orb to check for a reaction. As the light reflected off of the pupil, it contracted tightly, into a pinstripe slit for a brief second. There was a twitching of muscle underneath her hand and she moved the light away from the orb, watching it dilate. It was erratic, trying to focus on everything and nothing at once. His eye lazily closed as she watched his brow twitch again, the frown growing more prominent.

"Wesker?" Harley said—startled at how loud her voice was.

"Don't, Miss Desmond. It's a lost cause. You heard Whitaker," Kevin said as he touched the end of a scalpel close to a membranous strand of Uroboros attached to the heart.

"Wait," she said, placing a shaking had over Kevin's. Her eyes didn't leave his face. "Wesker, can you hear me?"

Kevin scoffed at her, brushing her hand away as he went back to the incision. The fluorescent lights gleamed blindingly on the scalpel as it delicately touched the viscous tissue. Wesker's eyes fluttered open drunkenly sliding around in those heavy lids. Those snake-like eyes lazed into focus, glossy with waning sedation as they tried to catch her gaze. Her heart skipped a beat.

"Wesker? Albert Wesker?" she said, her voice a shaky whisper now.

Gemma had yet to return with the anesthesia. She could feel the color leave her face as the realization hit her. She turned to look at Kevin, her eyes dropping on the scalpel just as it sliced through the membrane. The heart sputtered as if had taken a sudden does of adrenaline as Wesker regained consciousness. She was only able to utter a single word that caught Kevin's attention—"_shit_". Before she could even finish the syllable, the air was knocked out of her as she found herself flying. The blow had been painful, her body convulsing as it was trying to remember to breathe again. Everything seemed to slow, the lab blurring past her as she defied gravity, if only for a moment. As soon as she took flight, her body landed at an odd angle against the counter, her jaw slamming against the edge of the cabinets. Teeth cut into her cheek on impact and the metallic taste of blood invaded her mouth.

The ringing in her ears and the throbbing in her head was disorienting. Gravity pulled her ragdoll form from the counter and she slid painfully to the white and green tiled floor. Her body convulsed as her lungs tried to find their rhythm again. It took too much time for her to recover a breath. With one ragged inhale she sucked in a mouthful of blood, finding herself choking. Blood, thick and mixed with saliva, splattered against the cold tile. Those hazel eyes looked up to scan the room. Everything was dancing and blurred. She could barely make out Kevin as he was in, what looked like, a chokehold. The Uroboros was writhing around his arm, pulsing as Wesker roared his anger to the world. Kevin's gurgling was almost drowned out by the inhuman wail that shook the room. Harley gagged, dry-heaving as blood dribbled from her lips. The taste was sickening. She couldn't gather her thoughts over the horrible noise, scrambling scientists, and raging tyrant that was determined to end them.

She sputtered, trying to say something, but words refused to form. Forcing herself to her feet, she did the only thing she could think of. Still disoriented, Harley used what strength she had to charge the slab, toppling it over. She landed on top of it, the edge slamming into her bruising side. Her hands didn't catch her, but the slab did…right under her diaphragm. She coughed once more, spraying another mouthful of blood. Wesker toppled to the floor, his grasp releasing Kevin. She took in a ragged breath as she watched the tyrant begin his recovery, using his arms to lift. He was stalled being that he obviously hadn't realized his bottom half was missing. She screamed the only thing that came to her mind—"_GO_!" Her voice was ragged, but she had mustered enough air and lungpower as she tried to scramble to her own feet.

Kevin was clutching his throat as he staggered towards the door. Gemma had just entered the room as they were rushing to leave, Harley taking up the rear. It took Gemma a moment to realize what had happened. In her excitement she dropped the tray, its contents clattering to the floor, and turned to run. But the doors had slammed shut, locking as a faint alarm hummed around them. Gemma screamed, tears staining her cheeks as she beat the door with her fists. Harley's knees cracked on the tile as she grabbed for the syringe. A pitiful whine escaped her trembling lips as she realized it was completely empty. Her eyes frantically sought out the little vile of anesthetic. Gemma continued to scream at the top of her lungs, gasping and gagging on her fear as she had her back pressed against the pressure lock door. _There!_ Harley's eyes settled on the little vial glinting underneath the stool just a few feet away. Clutching the syringe close to her as not to break it, she launched her self over to it.

Bright light. Pain. Adrenaline. Panic. The stench of something familiar mingled with the sour stench of humans. He itched all over and burned at the same time. He heard everything as if he were under water. Hungry. He was so hungry. There was a threat. Who were these people? _Prey…No, they were prey!_ Everything was like a strange dream. All control was lost as he could only sit by and watch as everything happened around him. But his whole attention was on the man that had been in his grasp. The only thing running through his mind was "kill…devour". That was exactly what he had chosen to do before he was interrupted by gravity. He slumped to the floor startled that he hadn't managed to catch himself. He floundered about for the longest time before he realized that he no longer had legs. _No!_ Where were his legs? _What had they done to him?_ Flashes of something sped through his mind. Memories? A seething anger flooded through him. _Why?_ A scream broke his thought. No. Someone had given a command. Using his strength, he lifted himself with his arms as he tried to right himself.

He smelled something. It smelled so delicious. The Uroboros hummed to life. He scented the air, like an animal catching wind of prey. _Devour…Evolve!_ Was all he heard when he steadied himself, pulling what was left of his body over the research slab. The screaming. _Stop the screaming!_ He wanted to shout those words at the top of his lungs, but the only thing that came out was a guttural roar. He reached out, using his arms to pull his body forward on the tile. That smell. It was stronger now. His eyes settled on the woman, clamoring at the door. Her face was an ugly contortion of fear. The sight made him sick. It made him hungry. It fueled his rage. He reached forth, clamoring towards her, slipping on something cool, thick and wet. It was there. The scent was overpowering. What was it? The Uroboros hummed in his head, like a twisted purr quaking his brain. His eyes focused on the blood splattered upon the floor taking a huge whiff. That's what smelled so enticing? His conscious grimaced at his reaction. Mentally he protested as his body did of it's own accord. His tongue, sharp and demanding, flicked out for a taste of the crimson. _DEVOUR!_ Uroboros screamed in the head, breaking his concentration.

As it screamed in his mind, it bled out into the room in the form of a blood-chilling roar. A carnal anger flooded through him. A need that he couldn't understand. A hunger to devour the wounded. With a newfound strength he launched himself at the woman. The composure, control, and pride he had once held in his previous life were gone. There was no restraining what he had become now. She didn't stand a chance. The Uroboros wanted this woman and it was going to have her. Her scream pierced his ears. The sound was so painful. Surely this pitiful creature wasn't what he was scenting. She crumpled to the ground as he landed on her. The bitter, caustic smell of urine hit his nose as she pissed herself in fear. He raised an arm, wrapped in Uroboros that twitched and writhed with life, and plunged his fist into her chest. Blood spurted from her mouth like a twisted, broken fountain. The sound of bones snapping, flesh ripping, and an exposed heartbeat created a sick ambience. _Thump-thump_, the organ protested in his fisted hand as Uroboros tried to cradle it…infect it…assimilate it. But something was wrong. _Thump-thump_.

He growled…_Uroboros_ growled in frustration. This wasn't what he was searching for. He willed his hand to drop the failing heart, but Uroboros had no intentions of doing so. He watched on as the virus attempted to assimilate, the tissue of the large muscle beginning to blacken. Something caught his attention. A soft sound echoed from behind him. A cough? He ignored it as the Uroborus wanted to claim its first real victim since release. But something else interrupted his thought process. The sound of something dropping to the floor…something glass. Those serpentine eyes landed on a small figure. Her heat signature raged as his eyes—Uroboros' eyes—picked her out of the corner. She had dropped the empty vial as she attempted to stand, causing it to slip from her trembling fingers. Somehow, she had managed to hold on to the syringe. Blood dribbled from her mouth, her lips swelling and her face bruising. Tears streaked her face as shock made her freeze in terror. Those eyes flickered with their ethereal light. His thought processes weren't working completely. His body had forgotten to release the heart.

Blood sprayed as it was ripped from its fixtures. The discolored organ came flying toward her. The demon was coming. She heard his hands slapping against the tile as she ducked the fleshy missile. It splattered against the wall, just inches from her, the impact dusting her in crimson. She scrambled a few feet in the other direction as Wesker crawled towards her. His face was contorted in rage. The room was too small, and he was much too fast as he reached out, his large hand swiping an ankle out from under her. She let out a gurgled scream as she lost her balance. She landed, catching herself on her knees and her only open hand. She felt a pop followed by a shock of blinding pain. A sob burst from her lungs and blood flew from her lips. Uroboros clambered for her, desperate to have her…to _devour_ her. His body was searing against hers as he wrapped himself around her, a hand hooked around her throat to strangling her. She kicked and flailed, trying to free herself as he breathed hot air in her ear.

This was what it had been looking for. _That tantalizing smell_. Something familiar. Something that tickled an old memory. Something that felt familiar but wasn't. He was so distracted that he hadn't felt the tiny prick in his side. The burning sensation as the drug entered his system. His growls began to strain as his ragged break slowed. The angry thrum of his heartbeat began to quiet as it pressed against her back. Her own anger and fear had almost changed to pity when she had rolled from his slacked grasp. His glare had turned into something a little different as the drugs kicked in. For a brief second he almost looked defeated…broken…weak. Those horrible eyes locked on her for the longest time as he tried to fight off the anesthesia that was knocking him on his ass.

"Miss Desmond, the blood samples," Whitaker's voice said through the intercom.

She sounded cold, calm, and unchanged by the events that had just unfolded before her. She picked herself up on wobbly legs, glaring at the shadowed figure standing on the observation deck. Limping, she retrieved the items scattered around the lab. An IV pack, some specimen tubes, a fresh needle, a sheet of labels, and pulled a pen from her coat pocket. She collapsed to the ground. Her body shuddered from the pain and fear wracking her body. She didn't want to touch him right now. After what she saw him do, she needed time to recuperate and pull herself together. She needed a shot of whiskey…a shot of something. Crying as she placed her hands on Wesker's shoulder, she proceeded to roll him over. Using all of her strength, she had to try several times. Shards of metal debris clawed at the sleeve of her lab coat that Uroboros cradled in his arm. His skin was beyond feverish against hers as she rolled him over. He flopped onto his back with an audible groan, almost sounding human. She watched him for the longest moment, waiting for him to spring at her again. He lay there taking shuddering breath after shuddering breath. His face however, was calm as his eyes danced under his lids while his mind worked in forced REM sleep.

Gently, she moved his left arm, turning it to get to that soft area where she pressed her fingers in search of the vein. It wasn't hard to miss at all. His veins seemed large, puckering to the surface as she began to stimulate it with a couple of flicks. She wiped at her mouth with the back of her coat sleeve, wincing at the pain as her face continued to swell. The site of her blood there made her stomach churn…as if watching Gemma's demise wasn't enough. Tears plopped against the floor, mixing with blood and saliva. She had never hated someone so much before until today. Gemma's death meant nothing to Whitaker. Rarely, there were accidents, but nothing like this. She had known of the lack of empathy Tri-Cell had, but to experience the extent of it made her fume inside. Angrily, she tore open the IV kit. She slipped the need into the skin and cursed, missing the vein. She pulled the needle out and stole a glance at the deck. Whitaker was still there…staring down at her with that haughty look. Harley took a deep breath and held it. Placing the head of the needle at the vein, she slowly exhaled and let the needle glide in…


	3. Poison

|Poison|

Harley looked at her reflection staring back at her in the mirror. The swelling had gone down a little in her face. Her bottom lip sported a nice, jagged cut and her jaw was a brilliant red and purple. Her hip looked just as bad. She toweled off the rest of her wet, auburn hair and limped over to her laptop. It had been a couple of days since the incident, but she was still shaken from it. Flashes of Gemma's screaming face and Wesker's rage still haunted her. She had been lucky to get any rest. She sat on the edge of the chair, checking her e-mail as she vigorously worked her wild, soggy strands. Kevin had sent her a message earlier this morning before she had managed to fall out of her bed. She began to re-read it again, still shocked at what she found there:

Desmond,

Ms. Whitaker tried to contact you earlier this morning regarding project "U-PG013". She was very adamant that you stop by her office as soon as you came into work today. "U-PG013" is being bumped to Level-A security. Some of us may be going with him.

Kev

She read it once more to make sure it wasn't her imagination. She was losing a big project again. After what she had said to Whitaker's face after decontamination and several tests to ensure she hadn't been infected, Harley was sure she wasn't going to have a job. She didn't even bother to show up the day after. The day before, she had just ghosted around the lounge and specimen area. She hadn't been able to make her way into any of the research rooms. She certainly hadn't been in to check on Wesker. But, it was as she had expected. Her team had done everything she had asked according to Kevin. Whitaker had authorized a stasis tank. The supplies and equipment had been set up for Wesker to be taken care of as if it were imperative that he survived. If Whitaker was going to get the extent of research that she wanted out of this man, they were going to need some more time. As much as she didn't want to, she was going to have to go in and face Whitaker. She just wasn't sure how to feel if she lost this project.

This would give her a chance to see what Tri-Cell did with George. She wasn't sure what she was going to do with the information she found. She was just curious and her curiosity was the only thing she had going for her around here. She tossed the towel into the hamper and proceeded to dress herself, grabbing her new lab coat on her way out of the dormitories. She locked up and made her way to the offices. Taking the boring elevator ride down, ignoring Trey's warm welcome at the front desk, and trudging into the lounge to pick up a strong cup of coffee before she went on to confront Ms. Whitaker in her office. She was escorted through the double pressure lock doors that lead to the back elevator. It was the only way to the Level-A facility. Level-A was its own building built entirely underground. This was where all of the large, expensive projects were kept. Large-scale tests were performed there. The scientists who worked in the complex had almost free reign there. They were allowed to pick and choose the projects they worked on. Most of them consisted of small groups that had an individual lead scientist.

The elevator was more of a horizontal trolley that passed through a long tunnel opening into a large foyer. Large monitors glared down at the pedestrians as they crossed on the elaborately tiled floor where a large Tri-Cell insignia was stamped. All of them donned lab coats sporting the same logo. The guards lead her to the row of elevators, saluting the heavily armed men guarding them. They allowed them safe passage as an elevator was called. Those sitting at the front desk barely gave her a glance as they continued working. The guards squeezed into the elevator with her in tow as they pressed a button. A musical _ding_ sounded as the door closed and she began her slow ride to Whitaker's office. So many things were running through her head right now.

Whitaker was standing with her back turned, pouring herself a drink when she entered through the office door. She didn't even turn to acknowledge her presence as the guards closed the door behind them. It was now just her and Whitaker. The sound of glass being moved and the sloshing of liquid was the only thing that broke the silence as Harley took in her surroundings. This was the first she had ever been in a lead scientist's office since she had gotten her first major promotion. It was extremely lavish with the leather sofa and office chairs. Elegant Tiffany lamps adorned her desk that probably was priced at about a small used car each. So, this was the life of a lead scientist in Class-A. She would be jealous if she didn't find the posh lifestyle distasteful. Whitaker turned around and looked at her with a forced smile. Harley could see the stress weighing on her features. Motioning to the chair in front of her desk, she gave Harley a silent order to take a seat. Harley, of course, gave her what she wanted, wincing as she did so. Her hip was giving her quite a bit of trouble today.

"Here, you're going to need it," the older woman said as she set down one of two glasses of some sort of hard liquor.

Whitaker watched the younger scientist's brow furrow slightly as she hesitated at her words. She watched the young, pretty, and heavily battered woman pick up the fine, crystal glass and take a sip. The scotch burned as it slid down her throat, churning her stomach as it took residence there. She coughed, sputtering a little at the strength of the alcohol. It had been a long time since she had indulged in some hard liquor. Whitaker only gave a brief smirk before she started.

"Miss Desmond, I'm going to be blunt. You took a hell of a beating earlier this week. What you did in that lab was reckless. After Gemma Murray's death, I contacted the board and sent in a request to terminate Subject U-PG013," she said, pausing to see Desmond's reaction.

There was a mild dilation of her pupil as her eyes fixated on her and a small tick began in her jaw. Other than those details, Harley didn't say anything.

"However, the board refused my proposal. Although I feel that the blood samples that we have should be enough to continue research, the company thinks otherwise. An affiliate of Mr. Wesker's has come forward. We are being asked to hand over his body, but Tri-Cell isn't ready to give our new specimen up so easily. The board feels that this is our first and only chance to get a hold of Wesker's virus as well as Uroboros. But, because of the incident, the board has come to a unanimous decision to move Subject U-PG013 to a higher level facility."

"What does that have to do with me?" Harley asked, her tone unintentionally dry as she took another sip of the scotch.

"There is one more position open for another member to move over with him. They are asking for those who are familiar to the case. Though you haven't personally worked on very many G-virus carriers, you do have experience in the Uroboros strain. However small that experience is, the facility is desperate to use anything to their advantage if it means coming closer to harnessing the power of Wesker's little project."

"Why me? The Uroboros that's trying to integrate with Wesker's cells are nothing close to what I worked with. Even then, the small time frame I had with U-α wasn't enough to give me any advantage for the field."

"Well, in the small window of opportunity you did have with U-α, his research team didn't find it important to redact your name from his file. We've only managed to get a hold of one other scientist who worked on it with him. The rest are either MIA, or dead. So, whether you find your small bit of time with the virus important or not, the company does. They want you working on this project whether you want it or not. I've opposed this in every way possible, but to no avail," she said, her hard expression suddenly softened. "I know you've been through a lot these past few days. Your quick thinking and reactions were commendable. I would understand if you didn't want to continue with the project. That's why I pushed for them to allow me to break the news to you. I felt that given some time and from me, you will come around. You'll be granted high-level clearance through the Class-A facility, and a suite in the apartment district."

"Would you be my superior?" Harley asked, her eyes staring blankly at the contents of her glass as the cogs churned in her head.

"No, Dr. Eric Zimmer will be heading the team. He's all that's left of Wesker's original members that we could find."

"Who else from my team is moving with Wesker?"

"No one else. It's just you."

"But…" Harley stammered, thinking back to the e-mail Kevin had sent her earlier.

"Look, this is the only opportunity you're going to get to move forward for a while. I suggest you take it."

Harley thought for the longest time. She was going to be dropped in the middle of a team that had decades of experience under their belt. She would have a permanent superior always looking over her shoulder. Wesker's face would remind her constantly of the horrible event that happened in the research lab. All she could think about was poor Gemma. She had worked with the woman for almost a year now and was the closest thing to a friend Harley had in a while. Taking a heavy swig of the scotch in her hand, she set the glass down loudly on the surface of Whitaker's desk. Her cold grey eyes watched her as Harley's spine straightened. Gathering her composure, she stood, looking down at Miss Whitaker. A look of hot, determination flashed in her eyes. Gemma would be avenged. Harley would do everything in her power to finish the job and Gemma's vengeance would play out in the form of her taking Wesker apart …piece by piece.

"Alright," Harley finally answered. "But on one condition."

"And what's that, Miss Desmond?"

"I'm not going into this project blind. I want to know everything about the subject. I want Wesker's files, including whatever you can gather on him. I want to know what he was doing with Uroboros. Before I get too deep into this, I want to know everything about that tyrant, down to his genetic make-up."

Whitaker scoffed at her, "Those are some heavy demands, Desmond. That information is 'need to know' only, and as from what I recall, you weren't on that list." Pausing to take in Harley's bruised and angered expression, she continued. "I will do everything in my power to get what the company and Wesker's affiliates will allow you. Keep in mind, they're only going to hand over what _they_ feel will help with he research. That information is only privileged to certain people, and I only hold so much sway."

Whitaker pulled a cigarette from a fancy little case and lit it with a click of a lighter. With a crimson talon, she pushed a couple of buttons on her office phone and a man's voice came over the speaker.

"Send Patricia up to my office and find someone who can get a hold of Ms. Wong. Make sure they know it's of utmost importance," she said before standing up and walking around the desk to lean on it, just inches from Harley. "This is the beginning of the greatest part of your career with Tri-Cell. I recommend you don't screw it up. Both your and my reputation count on it. I will get you whatever I can. The rest is up to you. We only have so much time before we either terminate project U-PG013 or sell him back to his affiliate. Do you think you can start working soon?"

"I guess…just give me a tour of the place and I'll do as much as I can until I can get whatever I need. Maybe Dr. Zimmer can fill me in on some information."

Whitaker gave her a nod just as someone knocked on the door.

"I can get you a temporary pass that you will have to sign for at the front desk until you we get your information changed in the system. At the end of the day, you're required to turn in the temp badge until yours comes in," she said as she opened her office door. "This is Patricia. She will show you around, get you signed up for the temp badge, and get your paperwork ready. Welcome to the team, Miss Desmond."

Patricia led her on a long tour that lasted a better part of the morning. She mainly showed her where she was going to be working and whom she was going to be working with. She had barely caught a glimpse of Zimmer who was hanging diligently over the shoulder of a fellow scientist. Wesker's body was floating in the stasis tube, hooked up to so many different monitors and supply tanks. It was an eerie sight. One that brought tears to her eyes. Zimmer had caught a glance of the two of them as they passed through, his gaze watching her like a hawk. His face was that of a seasoned researcher. The lines that marked his face proved that the man had seen a lot of things in his life. He had the air of a gentleman that couldn't be surprised anymore. His stare was unsettling as it followed them until they were out of site. So, Zimmer worked closely with Wesker. Surely he had some information to give her.

This was where she wasted so many hours of her life over the next few weeks. The blood samples they had taken were barely enough to go on. Some of the researchers had already started on testing them. Her first day in, Zimmer had handed her a vial, stating that she already knew what to do and left her there. For three weeks, he watched her work diligently at her station, neither commenting nor critiquing on the work she had done. He just ghosted around the room, taking down notes. She, however, had learned quite a few things with Wesker's blood under the scope. It was another long night. The digital clock glared 3:23 a.m. in crimson. A lone guard stood at the door, quiet and diligent with his work. The days she had been here, he had ignored her and she had ignored him, allowing for peaceful work. Tonight wasn't much different. The only lights that remained in the lab were those at her workstation and the small lights that illuminated Wesker's stasis tank.

Something had slowed Wesker's virus down, killing the cells even. It looked like it was a prior symptom before the Uroboros had infected his body. This was keeping his Progenitor strand from fighting off the secondary infection. All of the original viruses from Umbrella were children of the original Progenitor. Most of them had recognizable traits that all new scientists were trained to look for when they first joined Tri-Cell. It wasn't as basic as the original Progenitor, but it didn't look anything like the original T-Virus and wasn't even close to the G-Virus. In all possibility, the oddity could have been caused by the death of the cells. There was no way she was going to be sure until she could obtain a fresh sample and find some living cells. Leaning back from the digital microscope, she looked at the image through the little monitor. With a few keystrokes, she took a screenshot and sent it to print.

Dr. Zimmer slipped out of his office, catching sight of her hunched over her desk with her back to him. The only sound in the room was the quiet settling of a printer going back to sleep and the stasis tank churning. He stood there and watched for the longest time. She was obviously frustrated with something. He gave the guard a silent nod with his head and the guard slipped out of the pressure lock doors. Leaving them alone. The guard's unexpected exit distracted her for a moment before she turned back to what she was doing. He laid his lab coat over the back of a chair and set his coffee mug down, just loud enough to snap her to attention. She spun around in her chair, those doe-like hazel eyes peering over her reading glasses showed obvious surprise to see him there.

"Can I help you, sir?" she asked, her voice soft and strained from lack of sleep.

"Has anyone told you how un-healthy your work habits are?" he said as he stepped closer to her.

His voice was a deep purr. Though he was very soft-spoken, the man had a voice that commanded your attention. And it did just what he wanted too, because all of her attention was on him.

"I, uh…It's just a habit. I don't really have anything better to do," she said with a nervous laugh.

He stood there, lighting a cigarette nonchalantly even though there was a no-smoking policy in the building. As a lead scientist, it was easy to get away with a lot of things. The click from his zippo shattered the ambient silence as he fingered the printed image of Wesker's cell. He flipped through the pages of her notes, skimming them in silence as she sat there like a student being graded on a pop quiz.

"So, you want to tell me what you've been up to?" he asked, taking a long drag from the cigarette before letting the smoke filter out through a sigh.

At first, Harley couldn't come up with the words. She just sat there, nervously straightening the papers in her manila folder.

"I…I, uh…think I might have found an anomaly," she said handing him the image.

He took another puff from his cancer stick before offering it to her.

"Here, have a smoke since you obviously need it, and tell me what the hell I'm looking at."

His smile was coy. She blushed as she took the smoldering cig from is large fingers and took a drag from it with a shaking hand. There was a gleam in his eyes. The man was intelligent. She knew he was testing her. His years of experience should have made the anomaly as apparent as a neon sign in a window. He wanted to see what she thought. Smoke danced from her lightly bruised lips as she prepared her words.

"The Uroboros is fighting for dominance over his body…but you already knew that. There's a secondary virus that looks like it's held residence in his cells for quite some time. Years, maybe. What Tri-Cell believes to be a strain of the G-virus integrated into his system…isn't. I don't recognize it sir. Maybe it's an earlier mutation of the Progenitor?"

"Ok, is there anything else?" he said, lighting a second cigarette for himself.

"I don't want to say for sure, because I can't prove it. I need a fresh sample for some more research. If that's ok?"

"What is it you're trying to prove or disprove, Miss Desmond?"

She swallowed nervously, "Some of his cells are dead or damaged…and I don't think it's from Uroboros."

"What are you suggesting?" he asked, his face regaining its usual serious expression.

"I need some fresh samples to make sure, but I think there's an outside factor. I think something is damaging and maybe even killing his virus. With his virus dying, he's unable to fight off Uroborus. It's as if this strain of Progenitor is the only thing keeping him alive."

Zimmer let out a heavy sigh and handed the print back to her, "To my office, Desmond."

Her stomach dropped. Had she done something wrong? She watched him retreat to his office door, snatching his coffee mug from a neighboring station and using it to flick ashes into. It reminded her of the cigarette in her hand. It had burned itself, and a nicely sized piece of ash had fallen into her lap. She cursed as she tried to dust it off and stood, only to leave a nasty smudge in her lap. Trudging behind Dr. Zimmer, she followed him into his office where he flicked on the light and sat down in his large chair, propping his feet up on his desk. He motioned to the chair on the other where she took a seat nervously. He slid his ashtray towards her, in turn using the mug he had perched on his stomach for himself.

"Do you remember your _condition_ that you gave Ms. Whitaker a few weeks back?" he asked, his face emotionless as well as his voice.

Harley nodded as she took a drag off her cigarette.

"Whitaker was unable to get anything out of Wesker's affiliate. Meaning, she was unable to gather information for you. I worked for Mr. Wesker under the advisement of Tri-Cell's CEO Excella Gionne. I was with his team when he adopted the U-α project. There is a strict confidentiality policy with this project. I am also a very close friend with Wesker's affiliate. We feel that it could breach certain security if we were to release that information. The anomaly you're talking about wasn't really supposed to be _discovered_. I've been doing everything that I can to keep it under wraps, because it was Wesker's main wish to keep his Progenitor strain out of company hands. This is why his affiliate is doing everything in their power to recover him. You're a very dedicated worker, Miss Desmond. I admire that. However, I'm going to warn you. You're stepping into something that you might not be able to get out of. So, I'm giving you the only warning I have. Clean your station, give me your file, and go to bed.

When you return tomorrow, you will act like tonight never happened. The information you know will suddenly vanish from your memory. Or," he said, opening up a drawer and pulling out a heavy stack of folders and dropping them loudly in front of her. "You could take this into consideration, read it like it's your bible and take every ounce of information there to ensure that Wesker _recovers_. But, I'm telling you this now. There's no turning back if you open that folder. I'm entrusting you to full confidentiality. Whitaker knows _nothing_ of this. Tri-Cell knows _nothing_. I plan to keep it this way by any means necessary."

Those last words were a threat, and she wouldn't put it past him to ensure the information stayed silent. She stared at him for the longest moment, trying to swallow her nerves as she glanced at the huge stack of manila folders. All of her answers where there. Uroborus…the Progenitor. She was being offered and opportunity of a lifetime…but at what cost? She watched Zimmer stand from his chair and walk around his desk, killing the smoldering butt in the ashtray in front of her.

"Miss Desmond, you have great potential. And I'd hate to see something happen to it. A smart person knows their limits. It would be in your best interest to find yours," he said, finalizing the conversation as he left his office.

He didn't bid her a farewell, didn't offer a smile, or anything else. He walked into the lab, picked up his coat and disappeared through the pressure lock doors. He paused next to the guard standing there. He didn't even look up at him.

"You know what to do if she leaves. Notify me if anything happens."

"Yes sir," the guard said, checking his pocket for the syringe he had no qualms about using…


	4. PG67A-W

_**Author's Note:**_ _**Sorry...it took a little longer to post than I thought it would and the chapter is only slightly shorter than the previous. It's a little slow, but this is a delicate process we're working here. And I felt this was very important part of the story. I may come back and change some things around or cut it completely. We'll see how it goes. Don't for get to review. **_

* * *

|Secrets Secrets|

She had spent the next four hours going through the first half quarter of the files. She couldn't believe what she was reading. Wesker had spent all that time rushing the evolution of Uroboros in the hopes of creating some kind of weapon that could be controlled by only "the chosen few". What was Wesker thinking? Uroboros looked like the epitome of chaos incarnate. She couldn't see any way of controlling it. If anything, it was controlling _him_. Looking through what little bit of his notes she could find, she determined the man was insane. She had made a mistake. She should have never opened the file. She should have walked out of the lab and never turned back. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her. There was no way she was going to spend the rest of her days at Tri-Cell trying to save the life of a mad-man who believe this virus was going to "save the world". He glanced up through the office door, giving the stasis tank an angry glare.

"Dumb ass," she muttered under her breath.

She continued flipping through the file, skimming through this and that. Her eyes burned from lack of sleep. She was going to need several cups of coffee if she was going to make it through the day. There was something that caught her eyes. It was a small excerpt from one of Wesker's personal notes on the virus. All but a small entry had been blacked out:

"I've been working diligently these past few nights cultivating several samples of the U-α strain, but one has me puzzled. One of the samples retrieved from the previous group was left unmarked. The sample had been frozen for preservation by the team who had it last. Upon waking it from a dormant state, though sluggish, it appeared to have traits shared by none of its sister strains. I feel it's imperative that I contact the original researcher in charge of the first stages of the virus. I believe the name was Desmond? In the meantime, I have named this specimen U-EV23. The mutation in this strain is fascinating, but it will take some time to determine whether it is what I'm looking for…"

Harley suddenly felt sick and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She had thought the sample destroyed. When Wesker had come calling for the U-α sample, she had done something foolish. Where she was asked to hand over all of her notes on the project, she had fibbed. U-EV23, as Wesker had called it, was her personal project. She had taken notes on it of course, but she hadn't put them into the original folder. Instead, she had kept it in an annex portfolio she kept on herself at all times…until the project had been taken away. U-EV23 was going to bring her a promotion. Instead of handing over the information, she had angrily stashed them in her apartment. She wasn't going to let Wesker have her glory. She dropped her head painfully on the surface of Zimmer's desk, cursing her self. Why hadn't she destroyed the sample? She groaned. Her body ached and her brain was exhausted. The cool wood of the desk felt ridiculously comforting as sleep taunted from the back over her mind.

Dr. Zimmer sauntered up to the lab doors as the night guard was being relieved of his shift. They caught each other's glances, the watchman giving him a silent nod. Zimmer paused for a brief moment in thought before he continued to his office. He took a ginger sip of his scalding coffee as he slowly made his way to the open door of his office. Desmond was sitting in his chair slumped over the files he had given her earlier. Her head was cradled in her arms as they folded over the array of papers she had spread out. From the looks of it, she hadn't gotten too far in her studies…but she was already past the threshold of no return. The corner of his mouth twitched into a brief smile before staunching it. In all honesty, he hadn't wanted her to open the file. He didn't want her involved. Wong would find her a liability but the affiliate wanted Wesker's state improved as soon as possible, and was willing to fork over whatever it took.

"Miss Desmond," he said, clearing his voice as he tossed his lab coat over the back of his chair.

She stirred and gave a small sleepy groan, but didn't rouse.

"Miss Desmond, this is not a very good place to camp," he said sternly, finally waking her from her sleep.

He watched as she slowly lifted her head, peeling away a small post-it that had attached itself to her cheek.

"Sorry, sir. I lost track of time and…" she said, bolting to her feet too quickly and causing herself to become a little light headed.

She felt a headache coming on as she began to quickly straighten up the files to get out of his way. In all honestly, she was a fairly attractive woman. If only he were a few years younger. She had to be at least twenty-four, or twenty-five years old. He was well over ten years her senior. The bruise hadn't completely left her face yet. It was finally losing its yellow and green tint. He had to hand it to her. There were very few who had stood up to Albert Wesker and survived. She had lucked out that day. In his weakened state, she had barely managed to get the upper hand.

"Leave the file. I want you to go home and get some sleep. I'm going to need you at the top of your game later. I want you here and ready after lunch. I've prepared the requests to obtain more samples from Wesker. You can finish reading the file on your own time. Right now, we have work to do, and I can't afford you slipping up and setting us back in your exhausted state of mind."

"Yes, sir," she slurred, staring at him with those big, doe eyes.

He watched her trudge from his office and out of the lab before he let a smile grace his lips. Harley passed through Level-B without even answer the friendly greetings from Kevin or her original team. She was a ghost going through the motions on autopilot as she road the elevator to the surface, passing through the food court and heading to the apartments. They had moved her into the western dormitory, giving her a little single bedroom apartment. It took only seconds for her to slip into a coma. Although she was deprived of sleep, her restless mind only allowed her to catch up on a few hours. Her eyes were red and angry with her, but Harley just couldn't lie in bed any longer. She trudged around her home, making a strong pot of coffee. Lunch was just a few minutes away as Harley fumbled through her computer files, hunting for old notes she hadn't looked at for several years.

She still had the old image captures of Uroboros in its early stages when she had the time to play with it. It surprised her that the files were still on her computer after all this time. It should have been lost and forgotten when Wesker had taken the project, but now she was glad they were still intact. Skimming through them, the information she had been looking for finally stared her in the face. It was the few notes she had on the U-α she had once worked with on the side. The strain Wesker had named U-EV23. The mutation he had mentioned in his notes occurred when she had tested this strain on something other than the stem cells that Tri-Cell had stashed in the freezers for them. She had introduced a small sample of her blood to a specimen of U-α. It had taken a little coaxing, but it had taken to her blood cells quite well. She had continued with these little experiments during the late night hours when everyone had retired to their beds. The cells, of course, had terminated in the first trials. With a little coaxing however, she had noticed U-α had managed to bond with her blood cells for a longer time frame than the stem cell cases.

She hadn't been sure at the time why this was. This strain, or U-EV23, was stashed in its own little specimen tube and frozen until she was able to find the time to check the success of the bondage. But, before she could do so, it walked out the door in the arms of a blonde madman. Her anger had subsided for a brief moment. With a hand propping her head on the desk, she stared at her old notes. The relevance of U-EV23 to Wesker's case was probably almost non-existent. Zimmer had entrusted her with the information on Wesker and the Uroboros. She didn't want to open herself up to a man that had ended their first conversation with a heavy threat. Something just didn't sit well with her when it came to the doctor. With a heavy sigh, she turned to the box under her bed, flipping through some of the contents. Inside, she managed to dig up a portfolio she hadn't seen for a while. A little notebook containing some of her note and theories along with a dog-eared hard copy of the notes she had stored on her computer. She pulled the item from the box and tossed it onto the bed. Halfway through her shower, she had finally made her decision…

* * *

|Of Toxins and Serums|

Everyone was still out for lunch when she entered the lab. The first thing Harley checked was Zimmer's office, but he wasn't there. With a heavy sigh, she checked the digital clock on the wall, marking the time. She only had about twenty minutes before the rest of the team returned. Setting the portfolio at her station, she walked over to the specimen lab. The station was basically a large glass fridge that contained vials and petri dishes full of cultures or strains. She looked at the labels on the little shelves. She was looking for anything new since yesterday. Zimmer mentioned earlier that morning that he had paperwork ready to send in for specimen extraction. Her eyes skimmed the labels sitting in the small section that any Uroboros strain might be sitting, but to no avail. She was just closing the doors to the specimen fridge when Zimmerman walked into the lab.

"Desmond, my office," he said in a flat tone, his pace hurried as he disappeared through his office door.

Harley swallowed nervously as she scurried over to her station and picked up her portfolio before following Zimmer's trail. He didn't say a word to her as he picked up his lab coat, downed what was left of a cold cup of coffee and motioned. He was obviously in a rush for something.

"Miss Desmond, we were giving the 'ok' to have Wesker taken out of stasis long enough for a specimen extraction. We only have a few minutes to get ready. They're getting ready to drain the tank as we speak. We're going to meet them at the lab. Whitaker will be surveying us. It's time to shine, sweet-heart," he said, not giving her time to comment, as he motioned for her to follow him.

She had to quicken her pace just to keep up with Zimmer's ridiculously long strides. He led her through a maze of corridors and stairways until they reached the research lab. The station was completely annexed from the operating table. A thick glass window gave a clear view of the slab in the other room. Double, pressure locked doors allowed researchers to pass through the annex and into the operation room easily, but also allowing a form of security if anything were to happen. Harley's eyes scanned the lab room, taking in the equipment available to her. Quickly, she began to set up her station with the things she needed. By the time she was placing the last few items down, two large doors slid open in the operating rom as a small group of people rolled in a bed containing Wesker. They parked the bed parallel to the slab where they diligently began to unhook him from the small transportable machines to move him onto the slab. Once he was there, they hooked him back onto IVs connected to the machines in the room. It was the first time she had seen him outside of the tank…all she could do was stare.

Whitaker had just slipped into the room when Zimmer placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze to pull her back into reality. She turned to look up at him, her eyes glazed with what looked like fear. He didn't acknowledge it. Instead, he nodded towards the lockers where the operating gear hung. Nerves had her thoughts scattered as she just went through the motions of putting on the uniform. Zimmer's touch startled her out of her moment as he zipped up the back of her uniform. She turned to look up at him as she pulled the small hood over her head. He handed her a mask, his face void of emotions.

"Ready?" he asked with unblinking eyes.

She only nodded, sparing Whitaker a nervous glance before she pulled the mask on over her head. Zimmer led her to the first door to the operation room. It closed behind them as a small computer counted down to a decontamination shower. The heat of the mist was still hot against her skin even through her heavy suit. Sweat began to bead on her forehead as she counted by the time. Suddenly the shower was off and the second door opened. Zimmer had already stepped into the room. Harley was still gathering her composure before she could bring herself to step inside. Wesker lay on the slab, just as he had the first time they had met like this. The only differences were the IV and anesthesia drip. He would almost look peaceful had he still not had the slight crease on his brow. It was a mild look of pain. She was starting to wonder if he looked like that all the time. It felt like an eternity as she stared down at him. She was snapped out of her reverie when Zimmer offered her a scalpel.

She took it without hesitation and her eyes zeroed in on a spot of flesh where Uroboros had embedded itself into his arm. Her hand paused just over the darkened flesh there as she took a moment to glance up at Wesker's face before she made the first incision. With a pair of long tweezers, she plucked a severed piece of Uroboros from Wesker's arm, sliding it into a vial of solution that Zimmer held out for her. He capped it, grabbing another as she went back for a second specimen. A third was taken before they moved on to blood samples. While she was collecting the vials of blood, Zimmer took a couple swabs for a mouth and saliva sample. When they were finished with the collection, Harley moved back to his right arm and began fishing for the shards of metal that were imbedded in his arm. Uroboros seemed to hold on to them tightly, as if it were another extension of itself. Using the scalpel, she began to cut them away, digging them out of his flesh.

They clattered to the ground loudly as she plucked what she could from him. Picking a choice few, she set the smallest pieces on the tray before she grabbed a slide from the table. Taking one last blood sample, she placed a drop on the slide and took it to the exchange window. It was a small, air-sealed chamber that allowed safe transportation of samples or items from the operation room to the laboratory without it having to go through the decontamination chamber. She slipped it inside and closed the little door, sealing it before she turned to Zimmer to say something. He cut her off as he motioned for her to go. He would finish up there while she checked the sample while it was still fresh. The door closed behind her and the computer went through a second cycle before allowing her to pass back into the laboratory. She pulled the sample from the chamber and sat down at a microscope. It wasn't looking too good. Uroboros was invading his body like wild fire and a lot of his cells were dying. What few cells were left looked impeded, as if they had forgotten their roll.

She moved the slide here and there, scanning the vast area of dead or dying cells until her eyes locked onto a miniscule cluster of cells that looked somewhat viable. They weren't the greatest looking specimens, but for the moment they were all they had. Zimmer entered the room just as Whitaker broke the silence.

"What's the prognosis, Miss Desmond?"

Zimmer stalked over to her, leaning in close and setting a strong hand on her shoulder. The grip was painful. He slid her a warning glance that sent a chill down her spine as he turned to look through the microscope.

"We…uh, won't know until we can get these back to the lab."

"How much longer, Dr. Zimmer? The board is getting impatient and so are Wesker's affiliates," she snapped.

When Zimmer answered her, he was calm and precise with his words, "We are doing everything we can with what we have, Ms. Whitaker. I'm sure the board would like to have a specimen that is viable as opposed to a rushed and possibly contaminated version. It would end up being a waste of time for all of us. Just tell the suits to be patient. I'll contact you personally when we have a breakthrough."

Whitaker's eyes narrowed on him for a moment before sharing a glance with Harley. She muttered something under her breath before she clicked those stiletto heels out of the lab and disappeared into the corridor. Harley closed her eyes and bowed her head as she let out a sigh of relief.

"Desmond, I need you focused," Zimmer warned, snapping her to attention. "What do we have here?"

"I have an idea," she said as she slipped her reading glasses on. "Something's keeping his virus from working. It's something that's completely shut it down in most of his cells. But, it looks like there were a few that may have survived. If we can extract these cells, we may be able to grow a culture that we could introduce back into his system to help fight off the secondary infection. A booster shot if you will. It's a long shot, but it's all we have to go on. As for what's causing Wesker's cells to shut down like this, I'm completely stumped. I haven't seen anything like it. The only thing I can think of is a mild form of anti-virus, but that's just speculation on my part."

Zimmer's smile threw her off guard for a moment. He glanced up as the men came to retrieve Wesker and return him to stasis. He only spared them a brief glance before he turned his back to the window and leaned against the lab table to give Desmond his full attention. She was smart; there was no denying that. Maybe too smart for her own good. However, his previous regret for recruiting her was slowly vanishing. He needed her on the team.

"You almost hit the nail on the head. When I saw the cell damage, the first thing I thought of was his serum. After Wesker's initial infection, he had to keep his virus in check for fear of mutation down the road. Excella helped him develop a serum that would help keep the virus in check, allowing him to maintain his inhuman abilities, but staunch the virus's mutagenic properties. However, as affective as it was, the serum had to be administered on a strict schedule. An overdose could prove deadly. There were only a few people who knew about the serum, and I highly doubt Wesker did this to himself."

"We may have to look into creating a new serum. It's highly possible that the surviving cells we found here could have built up immunity to the previous one. It would be a necessary precaution if the original doesn't work. That is _if_ these cells do what we're wanting them to do."

"This will take quite a bit of time, Desmond. I hope the board is willing to wait on you," he said, a gleam in his eye.

"I guess they're going to have to, sir. Unless you have a better idea," she said, blushing.

"I guess we better get started then. It seems we're on the right track. It will be easier and faster with both of us working on this. I hope you really like working night shifts. Leave Whitaker to me. She only needs to know what I want her to know, understand? If she comes to you with questions, you send her back to me. You're career and more depend on it," he said the last with in a sinister tone that churned her stomach.

"Y-y-yes, sir," she stammered as she quickly began cleaning up the station…


	5. The Judas Kiss

_**Author's Note: Sorry this took a little longer than expected. I hope this makes up for your wait. I know I've been a little impatient to see where this story goes. I'm hoping this proves as a little change of pace, since the last couple of chapters were a bit slow. Hopefully, you guys might find this chapter a little more interesting...and. O.O; ZoMG! Could that be a little twist [Dun...dun...DUN]!? Don't forget to let me know what you think in the little box at the end of the chapter. I enjoy hearing from you guys. M'kay, BAI!**_

* * *

|Mistake|

Zimmer and Harley had spent a week working hard at the labs trying to extract what few good cells they could find and attempt a healthy culture. With his cells dying, Uroboros' advances through Wesker's system had slowed to a crawl. It wouldn't be long before they lost him completely. It was hard to rush these things, and Harley was beginning to fear that it was too late. What extra time she did find, she had spent comparing her notes with the files Zimmer had. It was during that time she had decided to break it to her superior. His features had been cold and emotionless as he went through her files. When he had finished, it hadn't been pretty.

"You broke protocol, did unauthorized experiments on company property, and withheld dire information for a project. You do realize that there are serious consequences for your actions?" he asked tersely as he crossed his hands over his chest.

Her face turned several shades of red as her eyes dropped to her hands fisted in her lap. She didn't really think about how Zimmer would have reacted, and by his tone, she new she was in for some serious shit. There was a long pause before she answered.

"I hadn't thought about it at the time. When most people do things like this, the answer is always the same. You never really think about the consequences until it is too late. I was angry and…jealous that someone was taking my project. Honestly, I thought the project had been scrapped after Wesker left with it. I had no idea he was still working on it. I had no idea at the time he was going to turn U-EV23 into what it is now. Still, there's no excuse. I'm sorry, sir," she said with shaky words.

Zimmer looked at her for the longest time. His brow was furrowed. By Anger? Frustration? His jaw ticked as his thoughts churned in his head. If Tri-Cell were to find out what she had been doing, she would be terminated on the spot. Desmond was walking a razors edge in this facility with this kind of work ethic. He closed the file, stacking it with the rest of them and stood. She watched as he put them in a small safe tucked away in a cabinet. It had a digital keypad. There were a flurry of musical beeps followed by a _click_ as the lock released. He stuffed the folders into the safe and closed it…locking them away.

"Miss Desmond, if the company found out about this, you know what will happen, don't you?" he asked with his back to her.

_Hook._

"Yes, sir." Her voice was barely a whisper.

She watched him slowly walk around to her, leaning on the desk just mere inches from her.

"So you know the consequences if I were to get caught with this kind of information."

"Yes, sir," she said, staring up at his towering figure.

"You've put me in a kind of predicament," he said as another word passed through his head—_line_.

"I know, but, it's not much different from what we're doing now, is it? No one has to know," she said.

_Sinker_, he thought as he caught the hint of desperation in her voice.

"Then you understand the dire consequences if something were to slip. You're in deeper than you could ever imagine. If Tri-Cell discovered what was transpiring in this lab right now, you wouldn't be going down just for what's in that folder," he said with a nod towards the safe. "Your name is on that paperwork. They could implicate you fully into this whole project. You have a lot riding on this, and I would start thinking about you're options if the time comes. Once this culture is finished and is reintroduced to Wesker's system, there'll be no turning back. His affiliates will come calling and you better be prepared. You're in this for the long haul."

She tried to blink back the tears in her eyes. Harley had really walked into it this time. She was more than positive Zimmer was implying that if Tri-Cell were to find out what was going on behind their backs, he was going to drop everything in her lap and let her take the blame. Her name was in those files. Tri-Cell wouldn't think twice before making an example of her. She had just fucked herself, and she really didn't see a way out of it. Instead of becoming Zimmer's colleague, she had become his scapegoat.

"Then what would you suggest, Dr. Zimmer," she said, gritting her teeth.

A crooked smile contorted his charming, yet aged, face.

"I suggest we become very good friends in the next few days, Desmond. It would benefit us both in the long run. Oh, and I'm going to need a blood sample."

"I thought we had enough blood samples."

"I mean from _you_."

"Why do you need my blood?" she asked as fearful butterflies danced around in her stomach.

"I don't think you're in a position to be asking questions now, are you?" he said, his smile twisting maliciously.

She bit back a retort as she nodded, completely submitting.

"Good," Zimmer said as he left the room.

He came back with a few items in his hand, closing the door behind him. She watched as he snapped on some gloves and began to pull open the packaging of sterile equipment. That twisted smile didn't leave his face as he struck her vein with the needle. He didn't just take one specimen. He took enough to fill two large tubes that he stashed away in his pocket for later. He tossed the equipment and sent her on her way. He could see the tension in her shoulders from where he stood. He almost felt guilty about his actions, but he had to ensure that there was a plan "B" if things went wrong. Wesker hadn't used U-EV23 to complete Uroboros, but she didn't need to know that. He had used the sister strain. While they were waiting for Wesker's Progenitor virus to culture, he was going to run some tests of his own. He locked his office up and left for his private lab. There, he opened up his own little specimen fridge and took out a small tube. A miniscule, black cloud floated around in a clear solution.

It wasn't labeled for a good reason. He sat down, placing a drop of the virus on the slide and got to work on the microscope at the table. He studied it for a moment before introducing a small drop of Harley to U-EV23…and watched the magic happen. Even years after the fact, the virus hadn't forgotten its maker. Since it had already integrated with her DNA, the infection of the new blood cells introduced was remarkably smooth. It hadn't been able to mimic her cells completely, but it was enough to allow the new virus to slip in and make itself at home with little struggle at all.

"Fascinating," he said as he pulled away, walking over to the office phone hanging on the wall and dialed a number. "Yes, this is Dr. Zimmer. I was wondering what a man would have to do to get a copy of certain security footage. Yes, it shouldn't be hard to find. It'll be on file for project U-PG013. That would be it. Could you forward that to me as soon as possible? Thank you very much."

He pulled out another specimen from the fridge before logging into the lab computer there. He switched out the slides, placing Uroboros under the microscope now. He was getting ready to introduce Harley's specimen with the virus when a notification chimed on the computer. _That was fast_, he thought to himself as he opened up the email. There was the video file he had been waiting for. It was the security footage that had been recorded during the incident between Harley's team and Wesker when they had first placed him on the operating table. He glanced back and forth between the two projects as he dropped the blood sample onto the Uroboros slide. He watched the Uroboros rape the little red cells as it forced a violent assimilation of her DNA. Albert had created the black hole of viruses. This thing would stop at nothing to devour everything in its path. His concentration was broken when he heard the lab break out into chaos on his monitor. He had looked up in time to see Harley connect with the counter before slumping to the ground. He sat back and watched the scene unfold.

Zimmer took in the images before him. Desmond hunched over a puddle of blood, the bed crashing to the ground as Wesker was sent flailing, the team of researchers leaving behind two of their own to fend off the raging tyrant…He now hovered over the puddle of blood on the floor—lapping it up as a dog would lap spilled milk. Zimmer paused the video. He knew exactly what he was looking at. Uroboros must have sniffed out Harley's DNA, like a hound scenting prey…or maybe it was something else. Somehow, it had been able to recognize Harley. It could sense the higher success rate just by the smell of her blood. If the Uroboros were to infect Harley, it would turn her into nothing more than what Wesker had devolved to. But, what of U-EV23? He pulled a secondary sample from Harley's progeny and introduced it to Wesker's Uroboros and watched. What unfolded before him made him laugh uncontrollably. He had stumbled upon something magnificent and it was all thanks to Miss Desmond.

* * *

|Time and Pain|

The following weeks hadn't been kind to Harley. Paranoia and anxiety had begun to set in as the culture finished. The other scientists in the lab worked unsuspectingly as they followed their orders from the company. Whitaker had stopped in from time to time and the last visit had resulted in bad news. The fact that Wesker had somehow managed to hold on to a thread of life this long had amazed Harley, but the board of Tri-Cell had voted to terminate the project since they had failed to acquire the specimens in time. She was beginning to suspect the samples they had were sabotaged gradually over the course of time. There was no reason she could think of that at least one viable sample couldn't have made it. Now Wesker was due for termination and everything they had worked for was going down the drain. She felt a miniscule speck of relief. With the project over, there was no reason for her to be the scapegoat.

She hadn't been watching the clock as she sat there, going through her files one last time. The team was disbursing for lunch when she had been startled out of her thoughts. She stood from her chair, joints aching from sitting for so long, and made her way to the lab door. She was suddenly met by a group of heavily armed guards. Their uniforms were black and unmarked, unlike regular Tri-Cell uniforms. The guard on-shift just stared as confusion delayed his reaction. One of the heavily armed men made a hard connection to the Tri-Cell security guard with the butt of his M14. She watched in horror as a spray of blood flew from his busted mouth. He struggled to get to his feet as another guard came up behind him, bashing the back of his skull with an audible _crack_. Her hand came up to cover her mouth, staunching a scream as she backed away. _Who were these men?_ She stumbled over a chair, almost falling, but a strong hand grabbed her from behind.

Zimmer held her shoulder with a firm grip and he guided her back to her station. One of the uniforms picked up the body of the dispatched guard and drug him to Zimmer's office, letting him slump to the floor behind his desk…out of site. Zimmer watched her glance nervously at the cameras in the corner of the lab.

"Oh, don't you worry your pretty little head. Everything's been taken care of. Wesker's affiliates are more than angry about the situation. Once they found out that Tri-Cell was terminating Wesker and they were going to receive a corpse, they set in motion a plan to retrieve him. Tri-Cell won't know what hit them. You see, money is more powerful than loyalty these days. It wasn't hard to buy off a few friends that were already inside, and his friends were more than a little generous. All we have to do is play the waiting game. You're going to help me tend to Wesker. These men are here to ensure that we get out of here safely."

"We?" she asked, her voice barely an audible whisper.

"Of course. You think I'd leave the progeny of the deceased mastermind behind the establishment once known as Umbrella, do you?"

Her brow furrowed. It wasn't in anger, or frustration…it was confusion.

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"Wesker's affiliate's were very interested in you once they found out who you really are. But, all in due time, Miss Desmond."

He pulled a syringe from his coat pocket, uncapping the needle, and stabbed her left thigh without warning. A small scream erupted from her at the sudden pain. The needle had pierced through her jeans and buried itself into the muscular tissue of her thigh. His thumb pushed down the little plunger, injecting the contents of the syringe into her system. It burned like liquid fire as she stared up at him in total shock. Those big, hazel eyes almost saddened him. It was the look one would get from a puppy after you swatted it with the newspaper. A look of utter betrayal. He would feel guilty, if he could. But the wheels had been set in motion, and there was no turning back now.

"Just a secondary precaution. Can't be too careful now, can we?" he sad, tossing the empty syringe into a neighboring trash bin. "Now, if you will please assist me, Desmond. I would greatly appreciate it. The sooner we get started, the better."

Tears streamed down her face as she stood from her seat. He moved like a man with a purpose, working the small terminal for the stasis tank. She watched as he began the process of shutting down the anesthesia. It wouldn't be long before it wore of and he awoke. He then opened the service box for the IV. This was where Wesker was being fed a saline cocktail. Using the small port available, he injected Wesker's new culture. There were always the small odds that this could potentially fail, but he was willing to risk it. His instincts had never failed him before. The saline solution would flush the virus into his system. They would know in the matter of a few hours if it would take affect or not. Harley limped over to the stasis tank, making sure to leave a few feet of space between her and Dr. Zimmer. He pointed towards the small monitor on the other side of the tank.

"I want you to track his vitals. Notify me if anything changes," he said, turning his back to her and making his way to the armed men.

They talked in hushed voices, making it hard for her to catch any details in their discussion. She did as he asked, stumbling over to the chair and plopping down in front of the small computer. A cold sweat broke on her skin as the unknown intruder spread in her system. She could feel it slowly crawling its way up her thigh. Her stomach rolled with nausea as she pulled up Wesker's vitals. She watched the clock, counting down the minutes until lunch was over…and the rest of the researchers would return to the lab.

* * *

|Rebirth|

It had happened so fast. When the other scientists had returned from lunch, they were slaughtered like pigs. Wesker's brain activity had just started to spike when they heard the first explosion. It was far off on the other side of the complex, that she wasn't even sure she had heard it. The heavily armed men had piled the bodies of the researchers on one side of the lab, keeping them out of the way. The second explosion sounded, closer than the first, when Zimmer had commanded her to start draining the stasis tube. She had barely caught sight of Wesker's eyes opening as the fluids began to drop. The virus had taken faster than they had expected. Uroboros slowed the healing process, but in the end, Wesker was almost once more. His skin was still tainted black in some areas where Uroboros still tried to hold on. Those serpentine eyes were brighter than ever as they locked on vague figure. It was then that the lab doors opened and the repeat of a gun exploded in the room. Blood sprayed as one of Zimmer's armed men took a bullet to the head.

Harley took cover as Tri-Cell guards flooded the room, spraying a wall of automatic fire in their direction. Several pierced the glass of the stasis tube, spilling the solution onto the laboratory floor. She clasped her shaking hands over her ears, trying to protect them from the concussive blast of the rifles. Bullets exploded into monitors, desk, walls, and tile as the room erupted in chaos. The hired mercenaries returned fire in an attempt to ward them off. Everything seemed to slow as she pleaded for it all to stop. Her stomach felt like it was on fire now. _A virus_. Zimmer had infected her with something. She stared at the floor as empty M14 shells clattered all around. A body nearly collapsed on top of her, knocking her off balance. A scream of fear and pain escaped from her as she rushed to balance herself. As she recovered, here eyes settled upon the dropped mercenary. He writhed in pain as blood spewed from a neck wound. Her eyes settled on his tactical belt. He still had a mag left, but that wasn't what had her attention. The small, egg shaped grenade did. With fumbling hands, she attempted to rest it from its bindings…

His eyes managed to focus as he watched the scene unfold through the cracked and distorted glass. All he could feel was rage and pain for the moment. His body was on fire and still groggy from the anesthesia. As the fluid continued to drain, he scanned his surroundings, thankful that his mind wasn't as clouded as the last time. He could still hear the echoes of Uroboros in the back of his mind, humming like a strange frequency. _Stasis…why in the hell was I in stasis!?_ With a growl, he fumbled for the breathing apparatus still attached to his face, ripping it away in a rage. He roared as he pulled at the IVs, monitors, and suspension apparatus. All he could see was the color red. Balling a fist, he pulled his shoulder back and punched through the three-inch thick glass. It shattered in an explosion of fluids and shards. As he was lifting his head to target his first victim, those inhuman eyes landed on Harley as she hurled a grenade towards the door.

He tried to launch himself but was stalled as his bare foot couldn't grip the saturated tile and slipped. That second was all it took. Wesker watched as her shoulder exploded in a violent shower of red. The force of the bullet's impact sent her crashing backwards into the lab station to his left. A shock of pain erupted through his spine as something tugged at his brain. He struggled for a moment as his body tried to fight off the sudden episode. His motor functions were rusty on how to maneuver his lower half. She was hunched over the ground, clutching her heavily bleeding shoulder when he had managed to regain his footing. He stood, hesitant for a second before he was suddenly sprayed with a storm of bullets. Time crawled for him as the bullets pelted his chest, spilling his own blood. His pupils focused on the Tri-Cell security. He smelled the ignition of the grenade before he saw the flash. _BOOM!_ An explosion devastated the entrance of the lab, scattering the firing squad that had been standing there. He dove, taking cover as they were showered in concrete and shrapnel.

The silence was pregnant with confusion as the team recovered from the disorienting blast. Harley's ears rang. She couldn't hear anything as her inner ear screamed. Her head was killing her. The fiery ache had moved to her chest as the infection spread. She attempted to crawl across the floor, but slipped. Instead, she found herself rolling onto her back. The ringing in her ears still had not subsided. The pain wracked her body, keeping her from thinking straight. Opening her eyes, she was startled as Wesker swooped in. It had happened in a fraction of a second. One moment he had been standing over her, the next she was dangling in the air with his hand wrapped around her throat. Part of him wanted to snap her neck as she floundered in his grasp. So weak…but something stopped him. That familiar smell. Her face. He knew her face from somewhere. Uroboros coiled weakly around his brain. The secondary virus was losing its fight, but it's dying whispers still echoed in his thoughts. _Devour_.

Someone was yelling his name. Someone required his attention, but he was busy. She had quit clawing at him with her only good hand the other slack from the gaping wound. Her kicking stopped as consciousness began to fade from her eyes. His pupils dilated slightly as he brought her face closer to his. It was then he realized the undertone in her scent. _Uroboros_…she was infected. He could smell it in her blood. She hadn't mutated yet. _Why?_ He thought as he watched her slowly fade away.

"Wesker!" Zimmer shouted from his right.

Wesker's attention snapped to the doctor.

"I'm sorry we don't have a welcoming party set up for you, but we only have thirty minutes. The first thing you need to do is drop her. She's no use to us dead," he said.

How the man could be sure that Wesker was back in control was beyond anyone. Zimmer snapped on some gloves as he motioned for the tyrant to hand her over. He did, hesitantly, as he noted the mercenaries training their guns on him. He sneered at the threat. _Humans…_He could slaughter them all in seconds. Zimmer worked quickly as he finally released his grip on her. Her body slumped in Zimmer's arms. He applied pressure to the wound, trying to staunch the bleeding. He started wrapping her shoulder as best as he could for a quick fix. Wesker was taking in his heavily nude state as Zimmer began to explain. He chose a dead mercenary to borrow clothes off of and began to dress, trying to contain his anger as the anesthesia was slowly wearing off.

"I'll fill you in on everything later. Right now we've got to get out of here. An affiliate has a chopper prepared a couple of miles south. The facility was too heavily guarded to try anything closer, but we managed to pull a team inside Tri-Cell to help us break out. We only have a small window of time to get this done. We need to move _now_," Zimmer said as he finished Harley's bandaging.

She was slowly coming around to consciousness as he pulled her to her feet, lightly smacking her face to bring her back. Wesker froze, trying to understand why the site unsettled him so.

"What affiliate would that be?" Wesker asked as he checked the chamber of a dropped M14 before inspecting the magazine, those hellish eyes locking on the old scientist.

"All in good time, which we're running out of quickly," Zimmer said, heading for the door…


	6. Hive

_**Author's Note: Sorry this took so long in posting. Have been battling a bad migraine for a couple of days. Hopefully this makes up for my lack of productivity. Prepare your anus, because this one is kinda interesting. **_

* * *

|Hive Mind|

They had weaved their way through corridors after being forced to climb up to the floor above them using the rubble from the explosion. The grenade had caused a chain reaction after setting off several other belted grenades, causing the ceiling and part of the floor above to cave in, cutting off their original escape route. Their escape had to be improvised as they made their way through the fifth floor, trying to get to the lift. Zimmer had to admit that Desmond was starting to get heavier and heavier as they moved along. Time was running out and they had yet to make it out of the Level-A facility. A better half of the facility was on lock down, and it was hard to tell what had been damaged in the explosions and what hadn't. There was an angry tick in Wesker's jaw as he trudged along side them. He had been trying to fish through memories, attempting to recall everything he could. _Chris_…Chris was going to pay for destroying his magnum opus. He was weakened. Somehow he had been weakened. He had infected himself with the Uroboros strain inside that volcano thinking that it was the end. If only he had been able to drag the helicopter down with him.

What good would it do him now that he was still alive? He had lost everything in the mouth of that hellish mountain. He was barely a fraction of what he was before with his body still trying to recover and Uroboros still trying to hold on. He was struggling to concentrate as they travelled the corridors. It was taking everything in him to keep from tearing them apart. That sharp pain became a dull throb at the base of his skull. They had barely started to pick up the pace when a group of Tri-Cell security came barreling at them, guns blazing. The mercenaries dropped to their knees and opened fire. Wesker's face contorted into a snarl and his control snapped. He blinked in and out as he rushed the armed guards. The world slowed around him as he dodged bullets with inhuman speed, making his way to enemy number one. His fist made contact with the man's head, exploding the helmet and skull like a soft melon. Blood sprayed, painting the walls and showering his fellow soldiers.

Using the momentum of his first swing, Wesker spun in a smooth motion chopping a second man in the throat with his other hand. He blinked out, appearing behind a third. He grasped the man's jaw in a firm grip and violently snapped the man's neck backwards, the force pulling him off of his feet and splaying him out onto the tiled floor. The motion happened so fast, his grip had seized around the trigger, firing his automatic rifle into the ceiling and wall aimlessly before his body slipped into death. A fourth Tri-Cell guard fell to a spray of bullets from Zimmer's mercenaries. Wesker had the last enemy in a chokehold, his grip crushing the man's airway. All control was lost. He felt it mentally before her heard the small, feminine yelp in the direction of the mercenaries…

Zimmer hadn't really meant to be so rough with her, but she had grown so heavy in his arms and he wasn't the young man he used to be. He dropped her on the ground as he tried to take cover behind his hired guns and she had slammed hard against the wall, her injured shoulder connecting with the painted cement bricks first. He was about to examine her once he caught his breath, but he never got that chance. It hadn't been more than a second after she had let out a pitiful sob that Zimmer suddenly found himself lifted into the air. His shirt was balled up in a large fist, jerking him up and away from Desmond before slamming his back against the cold, hard floor. The air was knocked out of his lungs and he found himself staring into the raging eyes of Albert Wesker. Uroboros stained his skin, rippling just beneath its surface. His serpentine eyes glowed on a canvas of black as the secondary virus had reawakened, reflected in his eyes. Zimmer would have laughed if he could.

The Mercenaries took a second to recover, their weapons trained on Wesker as he knelt over the doctor. Zimmer gasped for breath as he tried to find his voice. Wesker was ready to plant a fist into the scientist's skull for a finishing blow when Zimmer finally spoke.

"Wait, wait, wait! It's okay, Wesker. Easy. I just dropped her that's all. I couldn't carry her anymore. She's fine…just look at her. We've got to move, or we're never going to get out of here," he pleaded, but his words seemed to be falling on deaf ears. "Please, Mr. Wesker. We need to get Desmond out of here if she's going to survive. She's all that's left of your little project. I'm sure you won't want to lose that."

The doctor watched as the light flickered in Wesker's eyes, a sign that his last few words may have triggered a response. Wesker let out a horrible scream, his fist releasing Dr. Zimmer's shirt and clutching his head. It felt like someone had taken a drill to his skull as the Uroboros strain finally relinquished its hold on him. The black tendrils receded from his eyes as the secondary virus returned to its dormant state. Wesker's breathing was ragged and labored when he glared daggers at the older scientist.

"What did you do to me," he growled as spittle flew from his lips.

"I will explain later. Right now, we've got to get the hell out of here before we all become a part of Tri-Cell's little experiments," Zimmer said as he scurried over to Miss Desmond.

Harley was in and out of consciousness, a fever spiking as the virus worked itself deeper into her body. Wesker had never lost control like that before. The last thing he remembered was holding the guard's neck in his hand, ready to kill him. The next thing he knew, he had collapsed on the floor next to Zimmer. Uroboros hissed in the back of his mind as stood there, staring down at the limp figure of the female. So weak and helpless. She could prove helpful later when he made it back to his personal lab. He'd cut her open and extract what he needed. That would be the end of it. He tossed her limp body over his shoulder, and followed closely behind the mercenaries. They were slowly running out of time. It was at least ten more minutes to get to the trolley, and then another twelve to get to the surface. With the facility on lockdown, the trolley's power had been shut down.

They were going to have to walk the tracks back to the lower level facility, where they were sure Tri-Cell security would be waiting. There was no other way out. The Mercenaries advanced ahead of them, and a firefight erupted. It was just as Zimmer had expected. He prayed Wesker's affiliates had gotten their money's worth with these men. If they couldn't make it past the tunnel, they weren't going to make it out of the facility. Bodies dropped on both sides of the fight. Zimmer watched the seconds tick on his watch as they took cover behind a downed trolley. The sound of the gunfire was deafening as bullets pelted everything.

"We've got to get inside the trolley!" Zimmer shouted at Wesker over the warzone. "We've got to get inside and take cover, or this whole tunnel is going to cave in on us!"

Zimmer watched as the Tyrant scaled the front of the trolley, busting through the windows there and dropping to a crouch on the floor. The emergency light flickered as it bathed the interior in a mellow glow. Bullets slammed into the side of the small vehicle with an echoing "_pang_". A passenger window exploded as it was caught in the middle of the fight. Then there was the explosion. It was louder than the others, and close as the ground rumbled around them. Several tons of concrete and steal collapsed behind them and on top of the little trolley car. The front end of the small car was crushed under the rubble as Wesker had managed to take cover under one of the benches. Zimmer wasn't far behind. The car bucked off of its tracks as the weight of the rubble caused it to shift. Metal shrieked in protest as it was violently tore, folding under the pressure. All was silent for a moment as the aftershock of dust and debris settled. It wasn't shortly after that they could hear the moans and screams of men in pain.

Wesker climbed out, using his shoulder to push up on the caved-in roof. The sound of grinding metal was brutal on his ears as he forced the opening to widen. He crouched, moving close to an opening in the side of the trolley to survey the surrounding area. Lights flickered, but the virus gave him the site of a hawk. He could easily pick out figures moving around in the dust and weak emergency light. Everyone had scattered, caught unawares from the blast. Both Tri-Cell guards and mercenaries lay in the rubble, some crushed and buried. A mercenary had pulled himself to his feet, firing his gun towards a small group of Tri-Cell guards standing in front of the doors to the station. He had managed to drop two before the firing squad shot him down. Wesker looked down at his chest. The bullet wounds dotting his torso had finally healed. The tyrant counted the heads of the Tri-Cell guards remaining. _I could take them all_, he thought as he watched them comb the disaster looking for survivors. He may have been out of commission while in stasis, but his godhood was still in his grasp.

"_Shit_," Zimmer hissed from behind him. "We have a team waiting for us on the surface. All we have to do is get up there."

A soft moan sounded from underneath the trolley bench as the female scientist began to stir. She had awoken, dazed and confused as she clutched her shoulder. The pain was excruciating, sending shockwaves of agony through her body as she tried to figure out where she was. It was enough to make her see stars. Zimmer watched the burning light in Wesker's eyes flicker, yet again, as Uroboros awakened. Black began to bleed into the whites of his eyes. It was obvious the tyrant was trying to fight it off, but it was just as he had thought. Zimmer sat back and watched Wesker pull Desmond from the small opening in the rubble, his large hand clapped around her mouth to muffle her yelp of pain. Blood was beginning to soak through her wrappings. Her lids were tinged with red as the infection continued to dominate her system.

_Yes_, Zimmer thought as he watched them lock gazes for a brief moment. Alex had been right. Wesker's strain of Uroboros was pure chaos, but when introduced to its sister strain, U-EV23, it had reformed itself. He was watching the beginnings of a new evolution. U-EV23 had created a means to harness a more docile form of the Uroboros. Even though the virus had a pseudo-intelligence of it's own it had been uncontrollable. Harley had inadvertently created the conduit in order to harness Uroboros completely. How had Wesker not seen this before? Uroboros had evolved into a "hive mind"…and Wesker was a part of it whether he liked it or not. He was shocked out of his reverie at the sound of someone yelling. They were suddenly blinded as a flashlight's beam glared at them.

"Show me your hands!" the man in uniform shouted with his gun raised.

Harley watched something snap in Wesker. She _felt_ it snap…a faint echo in the back of her mind as she watched him react. His actions were impossible to follow with human eyes. The guard hadn't been able to react in time as the tyrant ripped the gun from his hands, jerking him into the trolley with them. The dead guard slumped to the car's floor in a sick, twisted display. With a swift kick, the jammed door to the trolley flew off of its steel fastenings. The Tri-Cell guards opened fire on him as Wesker flickered, disappearing before a bullet landed in his shoulder and was gone before the blood could splatter the ground. Harley was afraid to move—too weak to move, really. She listened to the screams and the deafening gunfire until it was swallowed by eerie silence. Harley trembled. It wasn't just from the pain. In the back of her mind, something writhed. A horrible rage swelled deep inside, and she knew that it wasn't her own…

* * *

|Surface|

The fight to regain control over his body hadn't been as difficult as the last, but it enraged him. He was no one's puppet, and he sure as hell wasn't going to become Uroboros' little bitch. It was taking every ounce of concentration to keep the secondary virus at bay. _Fear_. It was something he hadn't felt in a long time. The last time he had known fear had been when the T-002's deadly blow took his first life…his human life. So much fear and pain. It clouded his thoughts as he watched Zimmer drop from the destroyed trolley to the loading dock, helping the female down from the rubble in turn. She dropped to her knees, dry-heaving. They need to get out before reinforcements arrived. With the facility on lock down, their best way out was through the elevator maintenance shaft. Getting there was going to be the hardest part with the humans in tow. The affiliate Dr. Zimmer had mentioned earlier could be one of a number of different people, sans Excella. With her dead, it obviously left no one involved with Tri-Cell

Wesker had to admit that he was intrigued. The Order's loyalties lay with him fully, so it could have been any one of those benefactors. He didn't like being left in the dark. The only surprises he liked were ones had had planned. Running a hand through his stray, and wild hair, he regained his composure as the two scientists made their way to him. They were going to have to pick up the pace and he was wasting precious time on them.

"Any ideas? I was expecting us to be half-way to the surface before those explosives went off," Zimmer said with an arm wrapped around Desmond to keep her on her feet.

"From what I recall, the elevator maintenance shaft would be an easier route to the top. We could get closer to the surface fast without resistance if you can keep up."

The older man nodded. And so they proceeded, Wesker using his strength to pry the doors open and allowing them passage into the next building. He could hear them coming before they rounded the corner. They were just inches from the maintenance shaft doors as Tri-Cell security appeared at the end of the corridor. He already had a grenade in hand, primed. With his inhuman strength, he launched the small explosive with a force that shattered the helmet of one of the men. Before they could raise their guns, the grenade exploded, scattering the team. As those who remained were trying to recover, Wesker had already pried the doors open.

"I'm getting too old for this," Zimmer muttered as he started to climb the ladder.

"Obviously," Wesker retorted turning to fire at the men rushing him.

They dropped one by one, barely getting off a few rounds before they met their demise. Wesker followed suit as they ascended floor after floor. She didn't want to go any further. She couldn't go any further. It was hard to climb a ladder with one hand. They were only half way up, and she had lost her energy. Between the infection and blood loss, she had lost the will to keep moving. She attempted to grasp the next rung on the ladder and, instead, slipped. Harley flailed in an attempt to grab onto something, but Wesker was too fast. She blushed with his hand on her rump; steadying her enough to wrap a securing arm around the ladder. He climbed up, his huge figure smothering hers as he leaned in close. His breath was hot in her ear as he spoke.

"You're falling behind, dear heart," he said, his voice laced with a sinister purr.

She wanted to retort something, but couldn't find the words. She was embarrassed, angry, and in so much pain at the moment. It wouldn't have fazed her if he just let her fall. What would it have mattered? She was leaving one company to become a little guinea pig for a rival. She would be lucky if she were gunned down in the courtyard.

"I hurts too much," she finally muttered.

Wesker's eyes scanned the shaft. There were at least three more floors above them. An elevator had stalled just thirty or more feet above them in its neighboring shaft. It was obvious the girl wasn't going to last much longer, and the doctor was starting to slow as well. He was tempted to just leave them and make his way out on his own. He would only need to contact one person and The Order would swoop in and pick him up. However, as much he wanted to, he did the opposite. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he hoisted her over his shoulder and began his ascension again…

They had stepped off onto the platform closest to the downed elevator. Zimmer had muttered something breathlessly while Wesker painfully dropped Desmond on her ass. Without warning, Zimmer suddenly found himself dangling over the edge by a fist full of his clothes. His confident, yet winded, demeanor had vanished as he flailed and pleaded.

"What are you doing? Wesker, put me down! You need me to get out of here," he screamed.

"I don't need _anyone_!" Wesker growled, his words bringing back flashes of memory in the cargo hold of an aircraft…_Chris_. "Who's the benefactor of this extraction?"

"He wanted to stay nameless until he met you personally. He's got a proposition. Said you two go way back. Please, just put me down. I'll explain everything later. You need me to get you two out of here. I'm part of the package deal, come on! Just put me down."

"_Who…is…the benefactor!_" Wesker growled into the old man's face.

A sharp pain ran down his spine. Uroboros hissed in the back of his head as that cold, familiar emotion returned…fear.

"A…A…Alex. The benefactor is Alex Wesker. Your brother," he stammered.

Sweat glimmered off of his face under the emergency lights of the elevator shaft.

"You're lying!"

"No! I swear! Alex Wesker set all of this up. He tried to get you out earlier, but Tri-Cell wasn't going to give up their newest project. He demanded they hand you over, but with Excella missing and the original batch of Uroboros lost, the board voted to keep you until it was decided to terminate the project."

"What project!" Wesker yelled, shaking the old man.

"They were using you to culture samples of your original virus and the Uroboros. That's why I'm here…that's why she's here."

With that, Wesker threw the doctor onto the top of the elevator, swooping in on Desmond. He was on her in seconds, pinning her to the cold, steel surface by her throat.

"What do you know!" he demanded as she fought against his grasp.

The pain in the back of his skull intensified, creating a pressure around his brain that was unbearable. He lost his composure as he battled with himself. He wanted so much to crush her throat—to throw them both to their death in the elevator shaft, but something kept him from following through. He felt like a chained animal. Harley watched, choking as his eyes bled black. His grip released and clutched his head, roaring in agony. The tyrant was sick. She could see it in his crumpled form. He was a broken version of what he once was. Nothing was more terrifying than watching a man of power lose all control.

"I.." she stammered as she forced herself to sit up. "I don't know anything other than what I used to work on you. I don't know anything about this Alex person. The only think I do know, is that someone wanted you alive, and were willing to do whatever it took to get you out of here. I just got caught up in the middle of it."

"She played a bigger role than she knows. But right now, we'll worry about this later. We're wasting precious time," he said as he pulled Desmond to her feet.

Wesker recovered with a furious tick in his jaw and a raging fire in his skull. Climbing up to the elevator doors, he pried them open and they continued their adventure towards the surface…Someone was going to pay.


	7. Heir

_**Author's Note: Hi, everybody. I'm sorry about the time between the chapters. I kind of took a little hiatus between them because me and my gaming group are getting ready for the big community bash that gearbox is hosting on Borderlands 2. ALL the loot! I know it's been more than just a few days, so I figure I'm going to make it up to you guys with some juicy chapters. When we last left off, Zimmer finally named the affiliate who was backing the extraction mission...things are about to get interesting. This story isn't for the impatient. I'm writing it as it comes to me and there's a lot of research that still has to be done. This is probably the hardest story I've had to write because: 1] I'm using characters that are not mine. 2] I'm using a universe that is not mine. 3] I HAVE to stay true to the original characters. I'm trying my best to not trample on this great, original survival horror that Capcom owns, but I've also come to the conclusion that I will not be able to please everyone. So, for those of you who have become fans of my personal fanfic, thank you for sticking with me. Thanks for all of the feed back. And, most importantly, thank you for taking this crazy adventure with me. **_

_**PS, this chapter is probably due for some serious revision, but it is very late. I will do that tomorrow as well as get to work on Chapter 8. **_

* * *

|Second Wind|

Her body ached as they drug her into the surrounding forest. When they had breached the surface, it had taken one small radio call for mercenaries to swoop in and pick them up. They stood by, holding off Tri-Cell security as they were escorted off of the premises. The benefactor didn't cut any corners. Harley stared at he place she had once called home since she started working there. Half of the building was gone and ablaze. Dust and smoke made it hard to see, but gave them ample amounts of cover as they skirted around buildings, making their way to the outer perimeter. Helicopters with Tri-Cell insignias on them thundered overhead with gunners shooting down anything that wasn't wearing the company uniform. The noise, the smell of smoke, and the screams of agony made her stomach roll. A spike of adrenal spurred her forward, running to the cover of the trees. A distraction had been set up at the front gate, allowing them to slip right through an opening in the perimeter fence with little resistance. The forest engulfed them as they ran for their lives. Ran for their freedom.

A little voice in her mind kept screaming at her. _Run! Get away! We could slip into the forest; lose them while the Mercenaries escorted Wesker and Zimmer to the pick-up site_. But where would she go from there. She had no idea where this Tri-Cell facility was based. It was obviously somewhere near the equator. The forest was tropical and the hot, humid weather bore a heavy cloud of insects. That left only two possible locations in the world. She was either in South America or near the coast of Africa. She could either chose to get lost in the jungle hear and either wait for Tri-Cell to find her, the jungle to consume her, or she could ride Zimmer's 'copter out of the area and take a chance at another time. If a second chance even presented itself. Her heart thundered in her ears as they quickened their pace through the trees.

It must have been the adrenaline. Somehow, she had managed to keep up with the decently sized group. That extra boost of energy was the only thing keeping her going now. Her body felt like it was on fire from the fever. Her shoulder was stiff and caked in drying blood, but somehow, she managed to trek onwards with the rest of them. She felt like a rabbit hiding from a hawk as Tri-Cell helicopters scouted overhead. This is how they cut their path through the forest, making their way along two miles worth of terrain covered in thick foliage and a sharp downgrade. The Tri-Cell facility had been nestled on the side of a mountain surrounded by heavily dense forest to help keep it hidden. Only one road cut up the mountainside to the facility and it was blocked off by the company's security. Only certain vehicles could pass to and from the facility. Those who meandered too closer were shot on site or taken in as prisoners. The nearest village was fifteen miles south.

She scanned her surroundings, taking in the types of plants and insects that might look familiar. Birds and small monkeys chattered in the canopies above them, panicked by their intrusion and the chaos they had left behind. She stumbled, falling face first into a particularly thick portion of underbrush. There was a nest of some sort cradled somewhere inside. A Mercenary, catching her by her coat, had managed to steady her back on her feet. A cloud of buzzing, angry creatures surrounded her with the sickly sweet odor of decay. Her ears rang with the buzzing of thousands of ears as she swatted them away as the creatures bombed her face mindlessly. Flies. Not just any flies. The Tsetse flies bombarded them as they made their way through forest. These flies could only be found on one continent, and even then, in a certain part of that continent. She was somewhere in Central Africa. They were out in the middle of Africa's nowhere. The tsetse was a carrier of disease. It was something they had worked on in the past year. Part of her wondered if the specimens had been plucked from the surrounding forest. Another part of her wondered how many of those specimens had been released.

The trek had taken hours as they traversed the inhospitable environment. The radio had buzzed to life as they neared the helicopter. When they had neared the small clearing, the engine roared to life as they were filed into it. It was Zimmer, Wesker, and then her as a few of the mercenaries jumped in with them. Those that were left disbursed into the forest, never to be seen again. As the helicopter lifted she felt a sense of relief as the forest fell away. The sun was beginning to set as they headed north. They flew over the small mountain and made their way out. She watched the pillars of smoke from the burning facility disappear, the remnants of a lost chapter in her life.

Her eyes darted to the figures of Wesker, Zimmer and the mercenaries while she settled into her seat. Zimmer gave her a smile, a devious gleam in his eyes. She clawed at her bandages, trying to scratch an itch as his gaze made her feel uncomfortable. He fiddled with something in his hands.

"Good job, gentlemen. You know, Miss Desmond, Alex is going to be very happy when he sees you. Albert here was the main goal of this operation, but when he found out about you, he had to have you," he said, tossing something to the mercenary sitting next to her.

She caught a glimpse of something that was eerily familiar. The burning in her leg had subsided to a dull throb. Her attention was back on Zimmer as he fingered a second item in his hands.

"When you wake up, I'll explain everything," he said as she felt a sharp pain in her shoulder.

Panic rose as she struggled away from the syringe, but the drug took affect within seconds. Wesker shifted in his seat, reaching for her as she began to slide to the floor of the helicopter. He was distracted as Zimmer smashed a syringe full of sedatives into his shoulder. He managed a decent struggle before the drugs took affect, knocking him unconscious next to Desmond. Alex Wesker was going to be happy with him. He couldn't help but feel pride. He had been waiting to do this to Albert Wesker for a long time. After all the hell he had endured working for him under Excella Gionne's orders, he was glad that he could repay it using the monster's brother. He just wasn't sure if he was trading his soul to a more sinister devil…

* * *

|Sweet Brother|

Her head ached, nausea sat in the bottom of her stomach, and her mouth was so dry that it was hard to swallow. Her eyes burned as they fluttered open. Struggling against the bright, fluorescent lights that beat down on her like an artificial sun. Her head felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. She knew the symptoms enough to put two and two together. The syringe had contained a tranquilizer. Harley looked around, her eyes having trouble focusing on her environment. The strong smell of antiseptics and sterilized surfaces burned her nose, as she started slow. She was laying on something soft. It wasn't the bed of a five-star motel, but it was a bed nonetheless. Reaching a hand to her forehead, she pressed her cool palm over her left eye, hoping that applying some pressure would alleviate the throb there. She was startled as a voiced cracked out of nowhere, echoing around her in the bright room.

"Good morning, Miss Desmond. I was beginning to wonder if you would ever come back to us. How are you feeling?"

She didn't recognize the voice. It had a strange accent to it. Like the voice of a refined gentleman. However, it seemed oddly familiar. She rolled over onto her side, pushing herself up with her only good arm. Her fogged gaze dropped to her cleanly bandaged shoulder. Her patient's gown slid off of it, baring it to the world. It was still tender, but she guessed that some sort of painkillers had managed to dull it to a fraction of what it should be. She sat there, letting fog in her head settle as she focused her gaze on the tile on the floor.

"Like a I was hit by a truck," she muttered.

"I'm sorry to hear that. I've made arrangements to ensure that we make your stay here as comfortable as possible. You're probably upset about your currently rooming conditions, but I promise we'll have that fixed as soon as we can stabilize your condition. Your infection has had some small complications, but we'll get that fixed as soon as we can. Zimmer has filled me in on your many endeavors, Miss Desmond. I must say, it's an honor to meet you finally. I don't know if Zimmer mentioned it, but your family and I go a long way back."

"Then why do I feel like we're meeting for the first time?" she asked through gritted teeth as she took in the observation room.

_I'm in a lab!_

"Your mother was an acquaintance of mine before she took her sudden leave of absence from Umbrella when the company was in its prime. We had the honor of working with your father. The honorable, Mr. Oswell E. Spencer. I find it an odd twist of fate that our paths crossed while I was searching for my brother! Don't you?"

Her brow furrowed. She felt anger and fear as she took in the words the faceless voice said to her. Mr. Oswell E. Spencer. That was a name she hadn't heard in many years. Her mother had warned her about these people. For over a decade, her mother had toted her across the states in the guise of so many different names. She never had an identity until her mother broke down and told her the reasons why they were constantly on the run. Janice Koehler once worked on a case for Mr. Spencer. She had opted to become a surrogate mother for a special project Spencer had been working on. It was his backup plan if something went wrong with Project W. Janice, unable to follow through with the experiments had run off with her in tow. It had been a hard decision on her part. But, with the help of a co-worker, she had managed to slip through Umbrella's fingers. Marcus Desmond had stuck with her in her travels, doing everything he could to help her hide. The pair had eventually married, and she in turn called him father for years.

Marcus had been in and out of their lives, going out on errands for several weeks at a time before showing back up to check on them. He had kissed them good-bye and was out the door to work a nameless job…but never returned. His final disappearance had made her mother distraught. For years she had went into a depression. For the longest time, she had just thought he was a dead-beat dad. It was when Janice had finally filled her in on everything, that she realized the true implications of Marcus's disappearance. She had been fourteen at the time. He hadn't disappeared because he was done with them. He had disappeared because Umbrella had found him. Where Janice had dropped her guard because of Umbrella's demise so did Marcus. He lost his life because of it. She knew very little about Spencer, only that he had been the evil mastermind behind the corporation that had destroyed so many lives.

"I feel like I'm at a disadvantage," she said as she glared at the mirrored window. "You know everything there is to know about me, yet I don't think we've been properly introduced."

"Oh, where are my manners!" the voice exclaimed over the intercom.

A light flashed on behind the mirrored window, revealing a small team of scientists. Zimmer stood at his side like a good little lackey. The man leaning into the microphone looked strikingly similar to Wesker. He could have easily been mistaken for the tyrant had it not been for the slight differences in his features.

"Forgive me, Miss Desmond. My name is Alex Wesker," the man said with the most sinister grin…

Wesker had taken in his surroundings long ago. It was a familiar place, not unlike the old laboratory design the Arkley facility had many years ago. He had broken his restraints and was no pacing. His ego whimpered like a lost puppy when he found that he couldn't force his way out. Somehow, his strength had weakened here. These doors and walls had been reinforced like it had been prepared for him. Above him was a glass walkway. It made for a nice observation area, and it wasn't empty. He glared up at a face that hadn't graced his presence in many years. The years hadn't been too kind to him. Although he was the youngest, he had aged over the years, unlike Albert. The virus had preserved him as he had when he died. _How is this possible?_ Wesker thought as he stared up at the man in the black suit.

"Hello, big brother. So nice of you to join us. It seems you've been a very busy bee…" Alex Wesker said, his voice laced with animosity," since you murdered Mr. Spencer.

"He was past his prime. It is as it should be. Spencer could no longer finish the project. I only put the man out of his misery," Albert sneered, as he watched his brother saunter overhead. "It is the natural order of things. The younger and stronger candidates will always overcome the old and weak. It looks like, even after all these years, Spencer had his secrets."

It was Albert's turn to smile.

"Yes, Spencer had his doubts about you. He thought it would be best this way in case…you know. He wanted to test you, Albert. He wanted to make sure that you were the one. But in case you were to turn around and bite the hand that fed you all these years, he put me in charge of his last operation. He knew he would come for you eventually, Albert. Why do you think it was so easy? He made sure that you caught wind of his last hideout. He _wanted_ you to find him, because he thought it was time for you to know. I warned him, but Oswell didn't listen. In the end it cost him his life. Killing him was your first mistake, brother. Your second was entrusting Uroboros to Tri-Cell. We could have been great together. You and I, we could have reshaped this planet. We could have changed the face of humanity. Instead, you took off with this insane idea to release this beast of a virus into the atmosphere. Tisk, tisk, brother. You used to be smarter than that. You're the workings of a mad scientist. You are a lunatic that is too smart for his own good."

"And you had a better idea? Sitting in your little laboratory playing dead all these years was actually making progress for Project Darwin?"

"I was, in fact. I've been sitting here, buying my time and waiting for you to screw up. With your help, Tri-Cell has proved a distraction to the BSAA. With them out of the way, I am free to do as I please. Neo-Umbrella is almost finished and we have Oswell's only heir to the throne. Miss Desmond has proven herself more than capable of taking her father's place. We just have to clean up the mess you created. I'm hoping she will step up to the challenge. If not, I'm more than happy to keep my title as leader. She will prove useful elsewhere. We still have yet to delve into the mystery that is U-EV23. With both of you infected, we'll have more than enough samples and specimens to gather data."

"Oswell has a daughter? How is that possible?" Albert asked, taken aback by the information.

"Oh, that's right. Oswell wasn't about to let that information fall into the wrong hands. Oswell had a back-up plan if Project W fell through. With his legacy riding on the only surviving two children, he chose to create an alternative in case something were to happen. Harley Desmond, the beautiful young lady that flew with you last night, is Oswell's test-tube baby. Willingly or not, she's going to help us bring Neo-Umbrella to fruition."


	8. Caged Birds

_**Author's Note: I know this was a long time coming. I've been caught up in the Great Loot Drop for Borderlands 2. Please forgive me. I hope this makes up for the loss of time. I'm already working on the next chapter. I've got one target t finish tonight before Week 2 for the Loot Drop starts. On top of that, I'm having to get ready for National Novel Writing Month [November]. It's just around the corner and I'm not ready for it yet. I promise, I will try to get this finished as well as I can before I have to dedicate most of my writing periods to Nanowrimo. Thanks for your patience, dear hearts. Don't forget to review. Your feedback helps to keep the story going! **_

* * *

|Concupiscence|

The last couple of weeks had been debilitating and Alex Wesker, or his scientists, hadn't helped make it any easier. They took blood test after blood test while they studied her like a little project. She had been confined to her little room with the window since she had been here. Mostly bed ridden and delirious as the virus overwhelmed her body and mind. She could hear it, writhing and whispering in her mind. A second entity that fought for control over her. Not once did Alex offer a cure or information if one even existed. She was angry, trapped, and forced to bow to the man's will and whim. On top of everything else, she had been plagued with strange nightmares. In her confined area, she had found her mind wondering into the strangest of places. A pair of familiar reptilian eyes, tainted with the black of Uroboros, hunted her in the shadows. She could barely remember the details of the nightmares. Only the fact that she always woke up short of breath, flushed, and a heart rate that thundered in her ears.

The whispering in the back of her mind, the tightening of Uroboros around her brain, was enough to make her go mad. That and having to stare at white walls, and a window with lights blaring down on her almost 24/7. She paced her cage. Sometimes she raged. She would rage against the thick observation window. She would bloody her fist and scare the scientists. She was no longer Harley Desmond, renowned scientist of Tri-Cell's highest level. She was Harley Desmond, illegitimate child of a monster and newfound project of one Alex Wesker. She hardly even recognized herself as she stared at her sullen reflection in the window. What stared back unsettled her. It was her, and then it wasn't. A strange, alien glint flashed in her eyes. Her unkempt hair and sweat soaked gown reminded just how much she needed a shower. She glanced down at her knuckles, blood crusting overtop the already healed wounds she had finished beating on the doors earlier. The skin was still tinged pink from the fresh, new skin.

It sickened her. She had become the thing Marcus had died to protect. She had walked into the proverbial arms of her father's company. Harley had managed to do the exact opposite her mother had begged her not to do. Her suffering had been for naught, and it was all of her fault. It was a twisted fate she had. In the end, she had managed to follow in her father's footsteps whether she had intended to or not. A door on the other side of the observation window slid open and Alex Wesker sauntered into the room. Zimmer followed closely behind with a solemn expression on his face.

"So nice of you to visit, Mr. Wesker," she hissed bitterly at the window.

"I was off taking care of some business with the organization. I've heard you've been very unhappy with your accommodations and that you've been giving my staff a bit of trouble as well. Is there something I can help you with, Miss Desmond?"

"Yeah, a hot shower, a decent meal, and a day where I don't have to be your little science projects," she snapped, brushing her greasy strands of hair out of her face.

"That can be arranged," he said unblinking. "Only if you can do one simple thing for me."

"Ok, I'll bite. What do you want?" she asked as her stomach twisted from nerves.

"If you can behave yourself, I was wondering if you'd be interested in taking a walk with me. I'd like to show you what your father was working on before he died. I'm sure you'll find it interesting, especially if it means you get to leave your _containment area_. Wouldn't that be a nice change from your current status?" he asked with a cocky sneer.

He was everything like his brother. There was no denying their brotherhood. Harley could see it in his eyes. The man could be as sadistic and calculating as his Albert. She could trust him as far as she could throw him, which probably wasn't very far at all considering his tall and fairly muscular build. Alex and Albert could almost be twins. They had the same, chiseled features and stern brow. Where Wesker had his iconic blonde hair, Alex's was a little darker, dirty blonde and his eyes were ice blue. Harley caught herself wondering if Albert's eyes had once been that same color. His face was heavily lined by age. It added a sinister depth to his already stern demeanor. She paced, taking in Alex's features for the second time. He was definitely the type you couldn't trust. Harley's eyes dropped down to the little gown fisted in her bloodied hands. Those hazel eyes caught his gaze once more.

"Can I get a change of clothes first? Maybe something a little more presentable for a grand tour?" she stuttered.

She felt so vulnerable and trapped within these walls. She would give anything to have even a slightest piece of her humanity returned to her. Every alarm was going off in her mind. Uroboros recoiled at the sight of him, sending a sharp pain through her skull. She turned back around, sitting down on the edge of her bed.

"I'm sure we can dig up something," he said as he snapped his fingers at one of the assistants.

She watched him mumble something to the young woman just outside of her ability to hear. She plugged something into the small touch-screen computer in her arm. Before disappearing through the doors. She watched a wicked smile slide across his lips.

"I'll see what I can do, Miss Desmond. Why don't you get some sleep? You look like you've had a long and gruesome day," he said before the lights were shut down, leaving her and those behind the observation window in darkness.

She tossed and turned. The images flashing through her head strange and almost sickening. Wesker was there. Not Alex, but Albert. His face was blurry, but she knew those predatory eyes when she saw them. That ethereal, hellish glow that emanated from them. A horrible concoction of rage, confusion, and lust smothered her as she felt herself running. There was nowhere to hide. She felt a small tug in the back of her mind, like someone pulling an invisible line. Every time she turned to see, Wesker was there. His face was contorted in rage as he thrashed, clawing like a rabid and wild animal. Everything was fogged and warped by the caustic air of mixed emotion. She couldn't tell where hers ended and his began. Like a strange connection that she couldn't even begin to understand. But it was all in her head…_right?_ She couldn't stand it anymore. There was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. So, she turned to face her attacker. Tears streaked her face as she lifted her hands up, preparing for impact as he rushed her. _Please, stop!_ Her imploring thoughts echoed in the darkness. Harley was jarred awake as she fell out of her bed, twisted in that bleach-white, starchy sheet.

Her head ached, her cheeks were flushed, and a cold sweat beaded on her skin as she scrambled to get her bearings. She was still in her containment room. A mild light shown on the other side of the observation glass, a few silhouetted figures could be seen hunched over monitors as they kept a nightly vigil over her. She sat on the floor, letting the cold of the tile bring her back to reality. Her breath slowed as her heartbeat began to calm down. The images still ghosted through her mind as she still felt that light tug at the back of her head. Wesker was still there, whether she liked it or not. If she closed her eyes, he would return just as angry as he had been before. The nightmares were getting worse as the nights in there stacked. Sometimes the nightmares would slip in unnoticed through the day. It was the violence that unsettled her. No, what disturbed her the most was that warm sense of lust that she felt when she caught a glimpse of him. She blushed as she thought about it. It's impossible. Surely there was a psychological explanation for this.

She hadn't been laid in a while. Not since college. But it was no excuse to lust after a deeply disturbed, if not psychotic, tyrant. It never failed that her life would get screwed up every time she came in contact with him. Look at her now. She was a prisoner in some science facility now all because she was caught up in more of his chaos. Given, she could have chosen to walk away and never got involved. Where would she be then had she not opened that file? Would she have been somewhere else, safe and stuck in a "B" level research floor? Could she have been anther Tri-Cell casualty during Wesker's rescue? She wasn't for sure. She was beginning to think being buried miles underground with Tri-Cell would have been a much better fate than what she was enduring now. Harley crawled back up into the bed, her eyes fighting exhausted as it clawed at her brain. She made a second attempt to sleep that night, her visions full of strange, erotic, and violent images all clashing together like a broken movie…

* * *

|Web Weaver|

Water splattered against the ivory-white tile at her feet as the shower beat down from overhead. The heat was almost scalding, but it was a little sliver of heaven. She scrubbed herself from head to toe time and time again until she drew blood as she tried to was the horrible, dirty feeling that twisted her gut. She wasn't allowed a moment of privacy as two heavily armed guards stood watch at the doorway and a young assistant stood waiting with a small stack of folded clothes. She waited with a surprising amount of patience while Harley showered, determined to let an eternity pass before she turned it off. She ran her fingers through her soggy, auburn strands before she decided to turn the water off. Covering herself with the towel, she shot an angry glance at the guards before snatching the clothes out of the poor assistant's hands. Harley would have felt an ounce of guilt had the woman not been a part of the team that had so happily drained her of several quarts of blood. Years of playing with needles and sharp objects and she was suddenly starting to fear them now that the tables were turned.

She scratched at the spots where they had poked and prodded her. They had long since healed, but the memories still remained. She sat down on the edge of the long bench, facing towards the wall full of open shower stalls as she began to pick through the clothes. She could tell just by holding up the khaki cargos that they were too big. She'd be lucky if she could walk without them falling down. The little brief undies were a size too small and were almost embarrassing to pull up over her fairly round ass. She wasn't overweight to say the least, but he wasn't skinny either. She pulled a little red tank top over hear head, covering those perky little breasts. She slid on a pair of large socks before she tied on some shoes and stood to look at herself in the long mirror. Harley swallowed as she took in the site before her. It was something she hadn't seen in a long time.

The person in the mirror was much older though. She looked a lot like her mother, her soft feminine features. The image before her brought back old memories to the days when her and her mother were still on the run. They were frantic nomads, trying their best not to stay in one place too long. She never got to wear decent clothing. They were either too big or too small. Not to mention that they were always used. Her reflection took her back to those days as she noted the way the khaki pants wanted to slide off one hip. The tank top was ridiculously long and a size too big. It hung a little too low in the front, but thankfully fell down over the waist, covering the fact that her pants were struggling to stay up. She tussled her slightly curling hair as it began to air-dry before she tugged on a small lab coat and turned to the assistant. The redhead lead her out the door, prancing at a ridiculously fast past. Harley was having trouble keeping up.

Her eyes took in the sites as she was led this way and that through a maze of corridors. It was nice to be out of the confinement area. She wasn't completely free, but she was no longer staring at white walls. Instead, she was staring at doors, lights, and ridiculously long corridors. Alex was waiting for her on a second floor catwalk overlooking a large room. He was dressed in a tailored suit that fit his large fir perfectly. Unlike Albert's heavily gelled hairstyle, Alex liked to keep his well trimmed and less saturated with bottle chemicals. He was looking out over the metal railing as small forklifts and large trucks moved huge, unmarked crates. Some of the items looked like empty stasis tanks, similar to those back at Tri-Cell. There were men and women working diligently in unmarked uniforms, lifting and sorting the goods in the large warehouse. Alex greeted her with a smile. Those blue eyes taking in the sight of her like a bird of prey.

"So nice to see you in a different setting, Miss Desmond. I hope you find yourself in a better state than before?" he said as a matter of fact instead of a question.

"I still feel like a prisoner, but more human if that's what you're asking."

Alex gave a sardonic chuckle, "We had to take the necessary precautions. What Zimmer did was careless. I worked very close with your father before he died. He was a smart man. A little eccentric, but what man with a dream isn't? Like, my brother for example. The man is a complete lunatic. He saw your father's idea and took it for his own," he said, offering the crook of his arm to her.

She hesitated for a brief moment before accepting this alien, old-fashioned gesture. She warily hooked her arm around his and he began to lead her down the walkway gesturing to the large room.

"_This_ is not even a fraction of what your father dreamed. He dreamed of taking human evolution to a new era. Forcing Darwinism as it were. He wanted to save humanity, but in order to do so he had to get into bed with man's greatest nemesis. He found the answer to everything in the Progenitor virus. It was found inside a flower. A simple, little flower that somehow managed to produce the key to humanities future. Of course there were casualties. There are _always_ casualties. But it was all for the greater good. Spencer became greedy, but he didn't let it take over everything. His first mistake was trusting Albert. I had a bad feeling about him from the start, but Oswell wouldn't listen. We were his only hope for his legacy. He was getting too old to continue on himself. So, entrusted what he could with me. This was after we thought you long dead. Oswell was furious when you mother left. He had trusted her with one important task and she turned around and betrayed him.

"I can almost feel for her. She didn't understand. She thought she was saving her child. In turn, she set the gears of Umbrella's fall. When she disappeared, Oswell set his fate in the hands of Albert and myself. In turn, Albert betrayed him, but not without Oswell setting in place a counterstrike. What Albert didn't suspect was myself, working in the shadows to rebuild from the ashes he left behind. Your father was tired. He didn't want to hide anymore. Feeling a sense of desperation and an obligation to set Albert back on the right path, he thought telling him the truth would fix everything. He didn't want to come to terms that my brother had gone rogue after all these years of loyalty and training. You see, we were created. The only living Eugenics project that Umbrella had. Being the only survivors, the weight of Oswell's demands was completely on our shoulders. We were the future of humanity, including the Progenitor virus. Wesker, of course, had been the only one to take the original Prototype before we were able to cultivate more specimens.

"He disappeared into the night as the Arkley estate was left in ashes. Your father knew better, but he had staked everything on Albert that night. For a while we thought him dead until he showed his face. We watched in silence was Wesker began his decent into madness. Spencer hadn't foreseen this side effect though. The virus consumed him, body and soul. My brother became mad and greedy. When Oswell finally decided to confront Albert and his madness, it proved to be his demise. I was not there, so I can only speculate. My guess is that Oswell's confession wasn't enough to sway Albert back over to our cause. Instead, it must have angered him. BSAA were the ones who had pulled Oswell's body from his manor. It was then that I knew the truth. Albert didn't feel the same as I. He wanted to play god and all I could do was wait. When Zimmer discovered you, I couldn't believe that I had found Oswell's illegitimate daughter trapped in the bowels of a rival company…Alive and well," he finished.

It was strange, the webs that we weave. She thought to herself as Alex continued to describe the current facility. He showed her just a glimpse of some of the levels. The containment facilities, the laboratories, and even introduced her to his lead scientists. She was looking at her father's legacy. The legacy of a monster. What did Alex Wesker expect from her? Albert had killed her father. She remembered that day his picture flashed across the news. It had been a good day. That was all the information she had. If Albert had killed her father, then she hoped that he made the old man suffer. For all the pain and horror he had caused her mother, this bit of information made her happy. Even if it was for Albert's selfish reasoning, she couldn't help but feel a bit of gratitude towards him. He had unknowingly done her a favor.

"Where is your brother? I'd like to shake his hand," she said, her voice laced with a tinge of bitterness.

There was a familiar tug at the back of her mind as albert's raging features flashed across her thoughts.

"I'm sorry, Miss Desmond. I understand that you might not see your father in the same light as I do. Which is completely understandable. I will not deny you your feeling toward the man. But I do ask that you keep an open mind. He was doing it for humanity with the best intentions. As for my brother. Well…we've been having trouble containing him. We've been running a few tests on him to ensure that Uroboros isn't trying to eat him alive. But the Progenitor is growing rapidly. It won't be long before his body starts to mutate with the new strand. The serum Zimmer has made for him is sure to help keep that at bay, but it's hard to get my dear, old brother to take it. It's strange looking at him now. He looks the same s he did the last time I saw him. It's like time can no longer touch him now that he's become one with the Progenitor. However, seeing his mental state, I know longer feel jealousy. The consequences seem to outweigh the benefits. But, if you wish, we can go see him."

Harley nodded and he guided her through a large set of doors. They walked and he talked for a good long while as he explained some things. Even shared what he remembered about her mother. Things she didn't really care to know. Harley took in all of her surroundings as he tugged her through a maze of rooms and corridors. Alex didn't take her far. Albert was contained in a room that was a little bigger than hers. She couldn't help but feel a little jealousy. There was no furniture of any kind, however. There was nowhere for the tyrant to sleep, eat, or even a lavatory. Was this how Wesker had lived these past couple of weeks? Albert looked irate, a tick in his jaw throbbed as his eyes settled on his brother, before catching her gaze. The monster of her nightmares was standing below her as they watched him on the observation deck. A sneer graced his lips.

"Hello, Miss Desmond. Or is it Miss Spencer? I've heard a lot about you. Oswell never mentioned having a daughter. I pictured you being a little older, seeing as how the man was nearly a living corpse confined to a wheelchair when I killed him," Albert's voice was stiff, as if he were trying to hold his demeanor.

"It's…D-D-Desmond," she stuttered nervously. "And you obviously haven't heard enough, or you would already know this. I'd shake you hand for what you did to my father, but…"

She paused as a strange gleam flashed in those tyrant eyes.

"_But_? Strange that someone would celebrate the death of a loved one."

"I guess he wasn't very loved, then. I'd shake your hand, but I hold little trust in certain Umbrella employees…past and present," she said the last with a glance over at Alex, who paid no attention.

Albert couldn't help but laugh. It was a low and sinister as his gaze followed hers. Alex, however, wasn't amused at all. His face bore no emotion as he stared down his brother.

"So, _little_ brother. To what do I owe this visit?" Albert bit out as he paced below.

"Just dropping in to see how my sibling was doing," Alex said, giving Harley's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "As you can see, Miss Desmond, we've been having a little trouble with him. But, Like you, he's growing weary of his confinements. He hasn't accepted our conditions of taking the serum, and we can't afford him mutating. So, we have little choice but to run one last experiment before putting him in stasis until further notice."

He turned to her, offering something in his hand. She took it without hesitation.

"Unless you're _very _interested in that handshake," he said with a wry smile, his voice only loud enough for her to hear.

"You want _me_ to administer this to Wesker?" she hissed, rotating the chilled syringe in her fingers. "There's no way!"

The older man walked her off of the observation deck.

"As much as I hate what my brother has done to soil Oswell's legacy, Albert is still my brother. If I can't get him to trust me, then maybe I can get him to trust you, seeing as how you two are connected in such an unconventional way. Your Uroboros strain. You hold the key to humanity's future. Like Wesker, I think with some training and research you may be able to harness your U-EV23. From what we've gathered, it works as a hive-mind. According to Zimmer, the strain you doctored during your research took a different evolutionary path. Where Albert's Prototype virus had to bond to a certain genetic pattern, and was only activated on death, yours tries to create a bond using what is available in the living tissue without devouring it completely. It may not always be the perfect outcome, but it has a higher success rate than my brother's Uroboros. We have yet to find a way to make it cope with his Prototype, so his body is at war with itself. Both viruses are vying for control and if we don't find a way to level them out, his body with burn out or he will be forced to evolve in a violent way."

"And this is the serum that will do that?" she asked, not even trying to mask her skepticism.

Alex nodded.

"Forgive me if I have little faith in what you're telling me. I don't feel like being bait to that monster in there. And I sure as hell don't feel like being a pawn in your little game."

"Understandable, Miss Desmond," he said, leading her into a small laboratory. "But, a scientist always recognizes their own work."

He motioned to the small microscope at the workstation. Placing the syringe in the cradle, she sat down in the chair, flipped it on, and looked through the lenses. She swallowed hard as she pulled away.

"I'm assuming Zimmer brought this with him when we left Tri-Cell behind," she said, looking up at Alex.

"You would be correct. Zimmer brought the last couple of samples you both were working while you were still cultivating the second, stronger Prototype. If he doesn't take a serum soon, the second generation Prototype will get out of control and I will lose everything your father worked so hard to protect. Zimmer infected you with U-EV23 because he needed an incentive to get you to come with him…and we needed a viable vessel to go with it. Who better than the designer herself? He also went out of his way to infect my brother with the same strain, hoping that it might curb the chaos that is the Uroboros. Tell me, have you heard of the T-Veronica incident?"

Harley shook her head, as her mind rolled over the information that she had been given.

"Doesn't surprise me. Not very many people caught wind of the incident on Rockfort Island. Anti-Umbrella organizations made sure to cover up what was left. All that we know is what we've gathered from my brother's Intel. Albert had the place bombed in hopes of destroying most of the research there. He was doing everything he could to take down Umbrella before BSAA decided it was their job. So much of the original research on T-Veronica was lost save fore the field notes Albert had. Veronica was a side project and Umbrella affiliate until his daughter purposely infected herself with it. It was a virus that had developed its own sort of intelligence. It needed a host of course, but it managed to retain it's separate entity while keeping the host alive. Alexis may have lost a better part of who she was, but she discovered something we never thought possible. What data we managed to get from Albert's Intel, Veronica was the beginning of what we like to call a 'hive mind'. Like a group of entities controlled by a single leader. Zimmer saw the same characteristics reflected in his recent studies of U-EV23."

"So, what does that mean for me?"

"It means, Miss Desmond, whether you like it or not, you're a part of this. So, you can either work with me, or I can have my researchers dissect you like an elementary science project," he said with a poker face.

Harley bit back the tears. She would die before she let that happen. She was going to have to think of something. There was no way in hell that she was going to stay in here. Spencer's "legacy" didn't mean anything to her. She was just going to have to play along until something else happened. Zimmer had called Alex Wesker Albert's affiliate…but something told her that an affiliate wouldn't have a colleague locked up like this. Then again, look at the plutonic relationship between her and Zimmer…No, she was in trouble. Harley was going to have to figure out something during her stay here. She'd take everything in stride for now. It was time to find out what Wesker knew…


	9. Blood Deep

_**Author's Note: Hello, dear hearts. Here's the next chapter. Reminder-These last few chapters have been strictly rough drafts. I've decided to save the editing for another time. Right now. I'm more worried about completing the story. All revisions and editing will more than likely happen when I find the time. In the meanwhile, enjoy this little morsel.**_

* * *

|Blood Deep|

"What do you need me to do?" she asked him as she tagged along behind him, syringe in her hand.

"We'll fill you in as soon as we get you inside. You will be fitted with a small device. A Bluetooth to hide under your hair. If I remember correctly, Marcus was a very good man and a strong soldier. He wouldn't have left you with the only option of running, unless he was more stupid than I thought."

"He was more of a man than you ever will be," she spat at his broad back.

She didn't see his smile as he used a keycard to open the sliding door in front of them. Guards stood on either side, armed to the teeth and dressed in uniforms not unlike those of the mercenaries that had infiltrated Tri-Cell. Their fully automatic rifles looked cocked and ready to go. She followed Alex through the pressure-lock door and found herself in a laboratory. Small, equally spaced windows lined the wall looking into the circular room holding Wesker. The glass was at least ten inches thick, but she could see that one had been horribly cracked. Men and women diligently worked at their station as Alex walked behind them. An older gentleman walked up to her, reaching for her face a little faster than she was comfortable with. She flinched, involuntarily smacking his arms away. Startled, he jumped back as something small skittered across the floor coming to a halt at a guard's foot. His rifle was trained on her, taking her reaction as a threat. Alex raised a hand, motioning for the guard to relax. He walked over to the small object, showing it to Harley.

"It's perfectly harmless, I promise. We're just going to slip this over your ear, brush your hair down over it and that's it. We'll be able to communicate with you through this little thing. We'll be able to listen in while you're in there. It'll make it easier to keep his attention on you. Which will be hard because he's not completely with us right now," he said as he pointed towards the nearest window.

Wesker was just recovering from ramming into the reinforced wall just opposite of the windows. His blonde hair hung in his face, dirty and unkempt. It was strange seeing him like this. The man normally had it well groomed and greased back out of his face. Instead, he looked like a wild animal, pacing and thrashing against the wall. She was more than sure now this was how one of the windows had taken damage. She was beginning to rethink this idea.

"I think this is going to work. What if you're wrong? His virus could have easily severed this _tie_ you've been talking about. I'm risking my life in there," she said as he slipped he earpiece in place.

"You're just getting cold feet. We're standing by if anything happens. If you start feeling yourself panicking, you know the safe word. If you can't get him to take it, at least distract him enough so we can revert to plan B. He can't kill you, but I will give you fair warning. He could dish out a good beating. But, remember Harley…you're at his level now and there's a fighting chance."

"That doesn't make this any easier, Mr. Wesker," she muttered as he pushed her towards the double, pressure locked doors.

She went through the first one, finding herself in a small, glass containment area. Everyone seemed to be staring at her as she waited for them to grant her access through the second door. She was beginning to feel claustrophobic as the seconds ticked by. There was a soft click and a hiss as the doors unlocked, sliding open to grant her access to the large room on the other side. She found herself staring at Wesker's back, his shoulders rising and falling to the rhythm of labored breaths. Harley was frozen in absolute terror. There was nothing separating them now. How had Alex managed to talk her into this again? _Oh…right_, she thought to herself as his voice erupted, startling her out of her reverie.

"I'd start moving if I were you," Alex taunted from the other side of the glass.

She gave herself a little mental nudge as she stumbled through the doors, slipping the capped syringe into her pants pocket. The door closed behind her as soon as she passed the threshold. There was no turning back now. Wesker stilled, his back straightening as his head tilted to one side. He recognized that stench anywhere. Or so that's what he wanted to call it. That sickly sweet smell of infection, mixed with the heat of living blood. The spice of absolute fear, and the undertones of…_female_. There was that humming again. An incessant thrum of sound, like the irritable white noise that emanates from a machine in complete silence. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. As if he came to close to an electrical charge. He knew he wasn't alone. The sound of the airlock clicking back into place was his first clue. The change of atmosphere was his second. A wicked, hungry smile turned the corner of his lips.

"Sending a woman to do a man's job. Sounds just like my little brother. He never liked confrontation, or doing the hard work. Why would he start now?" Wesker said, not even turning to look at her.

He rolled his shoulder as the bones snapped back into place. The pain was insignificant. He had been in excruciating pain all day. This was just one more ache to add to the collection. It wouldn't be long now. He could feel it. The same achy feeling when he was behind on a serum, except this was several times worse. He needed to get a hold of the Order. It was his only hope of getting out of here. Alex couldn't be trusted. His hands itched to shatter his brother's skull. He had wanted to do so for a long time. Instead, he had been told the virus had taken him. And now, Oswell's daughter was trapped in the same room with him. _What else had the old man lied about_? Wesker thought to himself as he slowly turned around. He began to pace, a hellish light flashing in his eyes as the virus raged inside. He'd been dealing with this for years, but this had been his last couple of weeks…nothing but pain. He'd almost give anything for it to stop. For a second, everything stalled as he began to wonder what she felt like from the inside. Was she as squishy and frail as Oswell? Would she leave a bloodier mess than her old man?

"Still looking to shake my hand, Miss _Spencer_," he said as he paced just ever so closer to the female, flexing a trembling fist.

Her features stiffened at the title and her brow furrowed in anger.

"It's Desmond, Mr. Wesker," she said tersely. "I figured you might like some company."

Wesker growled through clenched teeth as another wave of pain pulsed through his body.

"I highly doubt this is a friendly visit," he said.

As he inched closer, Harley found herself side-stepping away. She didn't realize what had happened until he was between her and the doorway. He was herding her away from the only escape she had. It was hard to keep an equal distance from him. She tried to direct herself back towards the door, but Wesker ensured that it wasn't going to happen. The intense, bright lights that glared overhead blurred her form. Without his sunglasses to filter the light, his overly sensitive eyes struggled under the onslaught. She looked absolutely terrified as she frantically looked around the room, no doubt looking for an escape. As he stepped closer, she moved back. It was a slow, methodical dance between them as they spoke.

"I'm sure it's friendlier than most?" she stuttered, her eyes transfixed on him now.

Her hand came to rest over the small lump in her pocket, comforted that the syringe was still there, although it offered no protection at all. It gave her a false sense of hope nonetheless.

"A _friendly_ visit from Oswell Spencer's only, biological child? I find that very unlikely. You know, I always knew there was something about you. At the time, I didn't quite know what it was, but know I know. I could smell Oswell on you. The same scent of desperation. The same human mortality. I brushed it off thinking it was just the fact that you humans always smell the same. A rotting, desperate bunch. But now that I actually know that the ancient, old man had managed to spawn an offspring…it all makes perfect sense. Tell me, whose idea was it for you to graduate in this area of expertise? Was Tri-Cell your way of getting back at your father? Was this all part of your glorious plan?" he said the latter maliciously, gesturing to the room.

"No, not at all. It just happened. Like some strange twist of fate. I grew up hating my father, but I shared the same interests as my mother. She taught me everything she knew. She didn't want me to work for Umbrella, and Tri-Cell hadn't existed when I had made my decision. I chose to go into this to help the government. I was going to wage my own war against my father's monstrosities. Instead, I made a deal with the wrong devil. I had no idea what I would be doing until after I became a prisoner. Tri-Cell hadn't been planned. I loved my line of work, but I wanted to help the human species…not destroy it. I didn't plan this. I'm in as much _shit_ as you are, Wesker. I wouldn't be here if I didn't have to," she said, her voice trembling as she tried to gather every ounce of confidence she could muster.

There was a brief pause as he bowed his head, pressing his fingers against his temple as pain sliced through it. She swallowed hard, as the earpiece buzzed to life and Alex's voice purred in her ear.

"That's it, keep him going. If you can't get him to take the serum, at least distract him long enough for us to get ready…"

Suddenly, Wesker was on her. He blinked out of site as she was distracted by the little voice in her ear. First he was gone, then he flashed a couple of feet closer to her left before he flashed out again. Then, she was pressed against the wall with her throat in a vice grip. She struggled against him for the longest time, gasping for air and kicking, trying to get him to loosen her grip.

"_Hold on, Desmond. Just a little longer!_" Alex coaxed through the earpiece.

Wesker's eyes burned not her with a hellish fire. She could see it in the fine lines of his features…the man was in severe pain. His pupils dilated as they focused on her face. His mouth was contorted in a grimace of animal rage. Out of desperation, she clawed for the syringe in her pocket. Her frantic hand fumbled for the little item as his other hand fished for the earpiece. _How did he know?_ She thought as his mouth twisted into a horrible sneer.

"I also have a strong doubt that this is just your conscious. What has my little brother put you up to?" Wesker growled as he leaned in closer.

With his back towards the windows, he towered over her like the tyrant he was. Which meant…if she couldn't see them, they couldn't see her. She clapped her free hand over the earpiece, hoping to smother the little microphone from picking up sound.

"I don't know what he wants," she managed to choke out as she pressed the small syringe against his stone-hard chest, "but I do know that you need to take this."

"I've already denied my brother. What makes you any different?" he growled, his voice low and threatening.

A light sheen of cold sweat broke out on his forehead. He had to loosen the grip on her throat because the buzzing headache had almost knocked him on his feet. Like a conscious that refused to die, Uroboros still refused to release it's hold over him, especially when it involved violent actions towards this woman…The spawn of the only other man that Wesker hated with a passion besides Chris Redfield. He wanted so much to put an end to her pitiful existence right then. He wanted so much to paint the room with her entrails—to take away Alex's new trophy. His little brother was chanting something in the little earpiece buried in his palm. With a simple flex of is hand, he crushed the device and let its remains drop to the floor. She tried to pull away from him, but he wasn't about to let go. His thoughts whispered through his head, choking on what little grip Uroboros still had on it. If he were to go through and kill this pitiful thing, would it silence the intruder?

"Look, I understand. I don't trust you and you don't trust me. If it were up to me, I'd leave you here. But right now, we are the only people we have right now. I made that myself while synthesizing the secondary Prototype strain that saved _your_ life. I _know_ it will work," she said, just above a whisper. "If you don't take it, there will be no way you're getting out of here outside of a body bag. _You're_ taking me with you because I'm the only one that can remake the serum from scratch. Alex said if you refused, he'd put you in stasis, which I believe is what they're preparing. We're running out of time."

She was insistent, breathless and shaking with fear. He was having trouble denying the fact that she was being truthful. He was right. She was a creature of desperation right now. He grabbed the syringe in his hand as the pressure-lock door slid open. Uncapping it, he stabbed the needle into the flesh of his forearm and jammed the plunger home. The solution was cold and burned as it entered his system. The sound of sure, booted feet interrupted the eerie silence. Pitching the spoiled syringe, he turned to greet his new visitors. A handful of heavily armed guard stood at the doorway, their rifles ready and pointed at them. Albert's face was placid as he released his grip on Harley. She shivered—the heat of his presence gone.

"That's more like it, big brother," Alex taunted from behind the guards. "I was beginning to think we'd have to take you down with force. I see Miss Desmond managed to change your mind."

"Only because it is in her best interest to assist me," Albert said, giving her a sadistic little smile as she stared like a deer in headlights.

"Well, it is in your best interest that she stays in one piece…sort of," Alex said as he drew a nine-millimeter pistol from the holster of a guards belt.

The barrel aimed at Wesker for a short time, a crooked smile stretching the corner of his mouth.

"Wait, he took the serum!" Harley gasped.

"And I thank you for helping us with that small obstacle, but I still have one more test to run. However, I can't do it without creating an _incentive_," he said, moving to aim at her.

Her lips moved to speak, but she wasn't given a chance to utter a word. There was a flash as the hammer struck the igniter and a deafening _boom_ as a bullet discharged from the chamber. The bullet crashed into her chest like a boot, knocking the air out of her lungs. Blood spattered against the tile as her back connected with the wall. An incessant ringing in her ears followed shortly after the retort of the pistol. Slumping to the floor, she watched blurry figures rush around them. Wesker had launched himself from where he stood. She couldn't see the change, but she could feel it. The pain clouded her mind, but deep within that skull of hers, she felt it's echo. U-EV23 reared its ugly head. That gossamer thread tugged angrily…painfully as a wave of uncertainty and a cacophony of emotions cracked through her mind like tendrils of white-hot lightning.

A rain of bullets slammed into Wesker's body, each resulting in a spray of blood. It took several to make him stumble. Blood stained the sterile, white room as Alex sauntered over to him. His steps were sure and methodic as he produced a syringe from his pocket. This was filled with a milky substance and a large quantity of it. With one downward thrust, the milky, white substance was injected into the shoulder of Albert. It took mere seconds for the anesthetic to take effect.

"When you wake up, you're going to have a lot of work to do. Let's hope this experiment goes well for both of your sakes," Alex said as everything faded to black…


	10. Dear Heart

_**Author's Note: I know this was a long time coming. Thanks for the amazing reviews. I can't believe all the positive feedback. You have no idea how much that means to me and this project. A bit of guidance for this chapter. You'll notice some dialogue that will be italicized. This is to signify communication using the Hive Mind...which is currently just Desmond and Wesker [Albert] communicating using "thoughts". Nanowrimo starts tomorrow...not even joking. So, not only am I going to have my hands full with trying to finish this story, I've got to get to work on another one as well. the goal for the month is 50k words. Like last year. I figure if I can at least average about 2k words a day, I can push out a chapter every other day. So, if I keep at it and work back and forth, I might be able to alternate both this fanfic and an original Sci-Fi Horror book I've been meaning to write since I was in high school. Thanks for all of your support. And I promise, I will not forsake this story. It's been a hell of a ride and it's helped me work on my technique as well as my presentation. It couldn't have been done with out your feed back and positive reinforcement. 3 you guys!**_

* * *

|Quintessence|

Everything had worked out perfectly. The testing facility had been set up according to Alex's architectural demands. He _needed _this to work in order to proceed to phase two. He didn't feel an ounce of guilt as he looked at the limp figure of Harley Desmond strapped to the bed. The sedatives would be wearing off soon, but with a concoction of drugs to induce partial paralysis he only had one thing to worry about…Albert. His brother paced the small, dimly lit room. The anesthesia had worn off a long time ago. A small collection of doctors was attending to the Alex's protégé on the other screen. His brother, however, had healed himself and was now raging inside the new cell. He had muted the sound on the monitor, tiring of the incessant noise and commands from his older brother.

He was counting on her to refuse his offer to pick up the operation that her father left behind. He was more than confident she wouldn't. Her hatred for Spencer was enough to deter her away from the thing he loved the most. If anything, she could prove a danger, but he needed to keep her close and earn her trust. She needed some coercion and this was just the start. With a heavy sigh, he turned on the microphone and began the process. His voice echoed in the small room, interrupting Albert's tantrum as he beat against the reinforced, steel walls. His fiery, reptilian eyes were tinged with black as they scanned the area in search for speakers or a camera.

"I must admit, brother. Your composure has deteriorated over the years. I wouldn't have recognized you had you not been frozen in time by the virus. I've been watching you over the years. I have seen you rise and fall through adversity. I've also watched you bastardize the original work of the honorable Dr. Oswell E. Spencer. But, I must thank you. Hiding couldn't have been made any easier without your little antics. I knew it was a matter of time. _Just look at you!_ You're nothing but the shell of the man you once were. You became more like Spencer than you could ever dream. It took his old age and deteriorating mind to realize that his nightmare was becoming reality. He didn't want that for us, but the night you killed him his burden became yours. I warned him about your creeping madness, but he was so desperate that you were his only hope. Now, you're here. Only because _I_ saved you. I find it ironic that the almighty alpha wolf has suddenly become the intrepid, little beta."

Albert's retort was muffled over the monitor's speakers.

"I was the only one making progress," he roared against the walls of the locked chamber. "It was _me_ who took the project and made something of it. I did what Spencer couldn't!"

Spittle flew from Albert's lips as he yelled, clutching a head that felt like it was being split open. It took too much energy to muster up his next sentence.

"Had it not been for Chris and his meddlesome BSAA, I would have succeeded!"

"Had it not been for your carelessness, BSAA wouldn't have caught you in the first place," Alex said as he glanced over to Desmond's monitor. "Now, if you don't mind. I would like to get started."

"I _will not_ be your _guinea pig_," Albert hissed as those blackened, fiery orbs scanned the room a second time.

"Oh, yes you will. How did you put it? 'It would be in your best interest to assist me'," Alex said with a chuckle. "The first thing I would suggest that you do, is pick up that small head set to your left."

As he finished his sentence, a small panel hissed as it slid away, revealing a small cubby. Just as he said, there was a small headset. A contraption of sorts with a webbing of sensors lined all over the surface. He had seen one of these before. It was almost the same model as the one he had used before…on a certain young man named Steve Burnside. It was used to monitor the brain as the body went through different exercises. Wesker had used it to track how the T-Veronica virus had affected the brain and its functions. Albert picked up the piece of technology, turning it in his hands for a quick examination before smashing against the wall. With a malicious sneer, he turned to the empty room.

"And if I refuse?"

"You know that's a very expensive piece of equipment…" Albert said before switching over to a small radio. "Drill two centimeters."

Harley, barely conscious struggled to focus on the familiar voice. Bright lights glared overhead as shadowy figures moved about her. The _beeps_ of the machines were annoying as they echoed around her. Their voices were distorted. A small line of oxygen hissed in her nostril, cold and uncomfortable. Her heart raced as anxiety set in. Her head felt hot and her vision was doubled. The room was extremely cold and no one offered a blanket. She felt hot and cold at the same time. Harley had already tried moving, but her body felt like it weighed several hundred pounds. It took everything just to wiggle a finger. She could feel the IV pumping a concoction of something chilled into her veins. The sound of a small rotary engine made her flinch lethargically. This was what it was like on the other end of the table. If this was hell, she deserved it.

A scientist stepped up to the head of the slab. Two assistants placed their hands to anchor her face as he placed the small tip of the drill against the top of her head. Alex turned down the volume of her monitor, saving his ears the trauma. Harley's lips moved as she mumbled something slurred and incoherent, but her protests were cut short by the sound of the drill. Although she was partially paralyzed, he made sure that the concoction of drugs being flushed through her system wouldn't dull her pain receptors. The scientist drilled into the top of her head, producing an earsplitting scream from Harley as the bit ate into the flesh and bone of her freshly shaved head. Alex leaned back into his chair and watched the scene unfold. It literally was only seconds into Harley's scream that Wesker followed in his own vision of pain and turmoil. It was true. The pain of one infected with U-EV23 echoed into another who was infected. The drill stopped and the scientist pulled away.

Harley sobbed, her hoarse voice barely audible as she pleaded for the pain to stop. It was unbearable…something she had never felt before in her life. She'd give anything for it to stop. The assistants released her, allowing her head to lull this way and that. It was then that Alex chose to speak. His voice came over the small intercom in the room. Wesker raged on like a wild animal, Uroboros completely contaminating his eyes with a sheen of black and sprouting in bruise-like patterns on certain areas of his skin.

"Good morning, Miss Desmond!" he said in a sickeningly happy tune. "It's nice to see you with us again. Can you understand what I'm saying?"

She didn't answer, unable to think clearly with a hole in her brain. Tears streaked her face, hot and sticky as they collected in her hair.

"Doctor, I think she needs some more motivation. If you would please…"

The sound of the drill whirring to life once more almost made her vomit. She let out a fearful scream, panting and gulping as she began to hyperventilate.

"Let's try this again," he said, his voice less cheerful. "Can you understand me, Miss Desmond?"

"Y-y-yes!" she said, her voice barely a whisper.

"GOOD!" his voice echoed over the intercom. "Now, I know this is going to be a challenge, but I'm sure we have enough to motivate you. Right now, we're running an experiment. You know when I mentioned a little something about your strain of the Uroboros being fairly similar to what we like to call the _hive mind_?"

Her head lolled to the side as her brain swam with a warped menagerie of thoughts and emotions. At first, she couldn't answer, but she was easily motivated as the assistants placed their hands around her head to steady it once more. She began to sob as her words came out as a desperate plea.

"Excellent! I'm glad we're on the same page. We've got a lot of work to do. Right now I need you to concentrate. A little redundant to say, I know, but I at least need you to try. You're a key part of this process, Miss Desmond. I'm sure, as you already know, that your body has been going through a lot of changes. Today we're going to exercise some of those changes. We're going to start with what's been going on in your brain right now."

"It…it-it hurts," she tried to say as he teeth chattered against the cold and the pain. "I _can't_…"

"Oh, I would try a little harder, Desmond. We've got a schedule to keep."

So, she did her best to describe the chaos swimming in her head. That gossamer string that had been ghosting in the back of her mind since she arrived was pulled taught. At the end of it was a wispy darkness that raged like a caged animal. There was something horribly familiar about the beast at the end of that ephemeral rope. She called it an illusion. A fallacy that her mind was making up to cope with the pain she was in. Sweat made her gown cling to her form uncomfortably. It felt like her stomach was clawing its way up to her throat. Urges and motivations that had floated to the surface. The same urges and motivations that terrified her in her nightmares…made her blush when she rolled out of bed. She didn't find much importance in sharing those at the moment. If anything, she couldn't find the words to describe them…because she wasn't even entirely sure if they were her own…

He felt like he had been travelling through this maze of rooms and corridors for hours. It didn't help that Alex was still taunting him over the intercom. His brother was turning this into a game and Albert had caught on a after the first couple of incidents. It enraged and sickened him as Harley Desmond's pain echoed in the back of his head. This wasn't possible, but it didn't take long for him to come to the same conclusion as Zimmer at Tri-Cell. _No!_ Wesker didn't want to accept it. Alex had advised her to use the connection to communicate directions to him. If she passed wrong information, his brother drilled another hole in her skull. It had been a long time since something made him double over. It had taken everything he had to keep control. Uroboros was itching to take over, but he wasn't going to have any of that. _Albert Wesker isn't a puppet!_ It was like the dreams he had where he could see her, hear the whisper of her voice, and feel her…_every inch of her_. His temperature rose as he thought of those visions. Rounding another corner, he came to a door. It was stronger now. He could _feel_ her presence as if she were right there.

Whatever this connection was, it was getting stronger. It has taken a few hours, but she had nearly mastered the basics…Something Steve Burnside had taken days to do with his T-Veronica infection. Wesker was trapped inside a Hive Mind…and his brother was learning to control the _queen_. All this time he had been trying to understand the secondary strand of U-α. It was his fault. Had he actually taken the time to look at U-EV23, he might have discovered this little diamond in the rough. He would have had Desmond as a specimen long ago. He would have cultivated a different Uroboros, and he wouldn't be in the situation he was in now. The world would be his and he would be its god. He was going to have to buy his time and play Alex's game. _Please hurry. It hurts so much_, he heard her plea. Her thought, felt like a broken memory as it passed to him on that ephemeral link. He could feel her growing weakness, exhaustion, ire, and pain. He could feel it as if it were his own. But, to top it all, he felt one thing that he hadn't felt in a long time. Not since he picked up Jill's broken form from the fall at Spencer's Estate.

Was it empathy? He couldn't quite remember the name of this archaic, human emotion. He didn't like having the feeling. How it invaded his mind like everything that was Desmond. He could tell he was close. Because he could feel her excitement, a tight ball of anticipation the swelled in his chest as he loped to the door at the end of the corridor. _I'm sorry_, he heard in her voice murmur in the back of his skull. With it, she felt her suddenly pull away, as if she had glimpsed that hopeful image of him snapping her neck. Something he had been itching to do when he felt the second drill…if only it would stop the pain for a minute. He growled as he landed a powerful kick to the door, tearing it from its hinges. It was a simple, alloy door with a simple bolt lock. It was too simple…too easy. He thought as he stared at the empty, brightly lit, and open room. He should have known, but he hadn't really had the time to think about the situation entirely.

The pressure lock door had slid open, but instead of Albert standing there, Alex sauntered in with a cocky smile on his face. He clapped sarcastically as he neared the bed. Her stomach twisted painfully as disappointment flooded her. Mentally, she reached out and tugged on that strange link. He was there—barely, but he was still there. The feeling was almost comforting even if she could feel his rage and animosity. She stared Alex's blurred figure down as he came closer. His voice was starting to become annoying. A sound almost the equivalent of nails on chalkboard. He was sadistically happy with her. The man waved the scientists out of the room so that it was just the two of them.

"Congratulations, Miss Desmond. You're first lesson was a success. I hope this doesn't dampen the relationship between us. I think the two of us can become good friends. You know how these things are. I'm just finding motivations that work for the both of you. It seems to help. Now that you're understanding what I want…maybe the next exercise won't be so harsh."

"Please, no more," she cried, hot tears running own her pale cheeks.

"Oh, come now. We're just starting. I promise, the next session will not be so harsh. I also apologize for your new makeover. We needed your head shaved for this process, and the neurosensory device works more sufficiently if there isn't much hair in the way. I assure you, it will grow back in no time…" Alex said as he lifted a syringe full of sedatives from a metal tray nearby.

Wesker raged through the room, pounding his black-stained fists against the reinforced walls. Roaring his hatred to everything and nothing at the same time. He could feel her anguish. It reverberated through him. Albert knew his brother was with her. Somehow he knew. He was taunting her. Threatening her…baiting her as her body used its energy to heal her wounds. Her anxiety rose, her emotions rising as fear pierced through him like a cold dagger…but it wasn't his. Something was wrong…and then she was gone. The thread was eerily calm once more as if that little, flickering light had been snuffed out. As Uroboros finally began to calm, Wesker felt something he had never felt before…_alone_…

* * *

|Endearment|

Weeks had passed since that first exercise Alex Wesker had run them through. The wounds had healed quickly, but she still remembered the hum of the little power tool…the feel of the metal bit grinding into her skull. Her hair had slowly grown out to a boyish cropped cut, but at least it was growing back. She stared at her reading glasses, cracked and contorted. Alex must have produced them from her old clothes when she first arrived. They had been in her pocket of her lab when Zimmer had asked her to administer to Wesker's stasis tube back in Tri-Cell. They must have been crushed in the excitement on their way to the surface. They sat on a small desk before her, next to a stack of papers. Alex had rewarded her with a job well done. Every time the experiments were a success…she gained a freedom. However nice the gifts were, she still hated him with a passion.

Alex had set her up with a decently sized chamber. It was like a small one room apartment building. Monitored, of course, but she didn't feel like quite a lab rat anymore. She was still a prisoner, no matter how Alex tried to convince her otherwise. She was the man's new play toy. She stood from the small desk, dropping the pair of glasses to her desk and plopped into the bed. Curling herself into a fetal position, she began to think. That strange mental link between her and Wesker had grown even stronger with the exercises. It was like a new muscle she was learning to control at will. Like a child learning to write. Closing her eyes, she gave it a little tug. She didn't expect him to answer after a long and grueling exercise. He was there. She could feel his frustration and pride as he gave her a silent, cold acknowledgment. Harley hesitated for a moment before she finally decided on what she was going to say. She was angry and sick with fear…and she knew that echoed in her thoughts. It took a moment for her to concentrate so the message wasn't broken or worse.

"_Wesker, promise me something_," her words echoed in her mind, floating along the strange, ethereal bond—yet he didn't answer. "_If I can get you out of here, promise me you'll kill Alex. Make him pay for everything he put us through_."

She paused, listening to the deafening silence. For the longest time she sat and waited. Mentally, she pulled away, suddenly regretting her bold request. What was she thinking? She had asked a man to kill his own brother. There was a wave of guilt that washed over her. _Maybe he didn't hear me_, she thought as she pulled the covers over her head and fought to get some sleep…

Her morning began with a wake-up call like every other day. Wesker had demanded that she be the only one to examine and administer his daily serum. Which she did ever morning after breakfast. She went though the routine on autopilot. Barely even touched her meal as she tried to prepare herself for confronting the Wesker brothers. She didn't even glance at Alex, or the glass observation window that Albert sat behind, hunched over in a chair while pinching the bridge of his nose. It took everything not to look at the tyrant on the other side of the wall. Alex offered her a bright, and happy morning greeting to her back as she trudged over to the workstation. She pulled one of the specimens from the "fridge" and plopped down into the seat, using the digital microscope check the serum. _Everything is fine_, she thought to herself as she inspected it for a second longer. Anything to keep from looking at them.

"We've got a special treat for both of you," Alex began as she slowly stood from her seat.

She didn't like the gleam in his eyes or the smile on his face. The tone of his voice was like a warning. An alarm that notified how much they weren't going to like the "special treat". She took the vial from its cradle and fitted it into the syringe, clicking it into place. She gulped nervously as he motioned her towards the small pressure locked chamber that lead into Albert's holding cell. It added a little protection in case she was rushed at the doorway. The double doors allowed for extra protection for the lab and it's occupants. She would be a sitting duck, however. The only thing protecting her was the fact that Albert needed her to get a message to someone outside of Alex's facility. But, he hadn't told her who she was supposed to contact or why?

She walked through the door, flinching as it loudly closed shut behind her. Her eyes stared at the floor as if it were her lifeline. She could feel him more strongly now that they were barely in the same room together. It was like she was too close to an electrical charge. The emotions that reverberated from his side of the mental tether nearly knocked her on her feet. He was a strong creature. One that felt deeply…dangerously. Those eyes locked on her when she stepped into his chamber. Fiery and predatory, they watched her every move with a droll stare as she slowly made her way to him. She halted when his gaze didn't waver. His intense gaze made her blush as he shook wildly at the end of that mental tether like a wild animal. On the outside, he was a calm and calculating creature, but the virus shared between them—the Hive Mind—splayed him open for her to see. This man was dangerous and probably more so than his brother. She wondered if he felt as naked as she with the virus leaving hardly any secrecy between them. He wondered if he could glimpse into her thoughts and her dreams too.

She placed a trembling hand on Wesker's arm, pulling back his sleeve before uncapping the needle. Her goal was to administer the injection quickly so she could leave. As soon as the needle hit his skin his other hand grasped her wrist with inhuman speed. His grip was strong, almost painful. At first, she refused to meet his gaze…but she wasn't the only one learning how to tug on that mental line. He didn't just give it a tug. Wesker gave it an excruciating yank. She involuntarily shuddered as she looked up at him. It made her question who was supposed to be controlling who. The corner of his mouth curved up into a malicious sneer. When he spoke, his lips didn't move. His voice purred in the back of her head as if he were whispering in her ears. It made the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand on end and sent chills down her spine.

"_Ask me again, Miss Desmond. I want to hear those words again. The same words as last night_," he said, his tone so deep and personal that it made her blush.

She felt her face grow hot and a catch in her breath at his demand.

"I…" she stammered loudly.

"_NO! Tell me like you did the other night. I want to feel the words again. I want to be sure that I heard you correctly_," Wesker's voice echoed once more along the mental current.

His euphoria was almost maddening as it bled into her emotions of fear and…_was that desire_? His gaze grew hotter, if it were even possible, as his smile grew. How was it that, even fully clothed, she felt so bare and naked around him? She swallowed what little pride she had. Wesker was her only hope and she needed to play her cards just right. If she couldn't get him to taker her with him if his allies came in for a rescue, then she could at least get him to exact some sort of revenge. Surely he wanted justice for all the horrible things his brother had put them through.

"_I…If I help you do this…I need you to promise me something_," the words slid around in her mind with false bravado.

_"And what would that be, dear heart?_" he purred as she mashed the plunger of the syringe home.

"_Promise me that when you get out, you'll make Alex Wesker pay for everything he's done…_" she finished as tears pricked her eyes.

She was less than sure she was going to make it out of here. Wesker didn't owe her a thing, and she doubted him as the type that would go out of his way to do something selfless. But, she liked to think that she could at least have this. If not her freedom, then vengeance. He pulled her wrist back away from him as she still clutched the empty syringe. His other hand came up, to cup her jaw firmly and stood. Wesker leaned in dangerously close, his hot and feverish breath against her lips as he spoke.

"Is that all, my queen," he spoke aloud, making her heart race and her mind reel.

"Y-y-yes," she gasped as he pressed in closer.

He chuckled deeply as he felt her shiver in his grasp. But what amused him the most were her words. They were enough to make his groin ache and his pants tighten painfully around the slight bulge that pressed against the zipper of his trousers.

"_As you wish, my queen_," his purr reverberated through her thoughts as he slowly released her, noting that sudden giddy emotion flooding through her.

Those moments he had with Jill during their time together, he hand never experienced this before. It took everything to prevent himself from pitching a tent in his pants right there for his brother to see. Its not like he really wanted to hide it. He had other things to worry about. He had tried ignoring their mental connection since Alex had pointed it out. He had no need for her pitiful, human emotions…but Uroboros was more than fascinated with it. It writhed like a happy little puppy when she reached out. Jill was nothing but a brainwashed doll he had used to get back at Chris so many years ago. He may have had something for the woman when he was human, but it was nothing for now. He hadn't known lust for so long he had forgotten what it felt like. It had to be something chemical. She was cute in her own little way…brilliant in her field. But there had to be a logical explanation for this animal attraction…


End file.
