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Optio	By : Ripsi Category: +M through R > Resident Evil Views: 8319 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Resident Evil fandom/franchise or any of their characters. I make no money from this fanfiction. It is merely a piece of fiction written by me.

Chapter List
- 1-Annus Novus
- 2-Domus
- 3-Calor
- 4-Posco
- 5-Ludus
- 6-Felix Dies Valentini
- 7-Desiderium
- 8-Dormientes
- 9-Curre
- 10-Gravatus
- 11-Vita
- 12-Vigilo
- 13-Arcanum
- 14-Phasma Phasmatis
- 15-Possessio
- 16-Mutatio
- 17-Anniversarium
- 18-Monstrum
- 19-Lues
- 20-Vita Post Mortem
- 21-Iterum
- 22-Eam
- 23-Fidelitas
- 24-Veritas
- 25-Pacisco
- 26-Mundus Novus
- 27-Febris
- 28-Chemia
- 29-In Aeternum
- 30-Frater
- 31-Historia
- 32-Familia
- 29
- 30
- 31
Optio
Chapter 30: Frater
April 9, 2002 Tuesday 7:06 AM
Subject: Redfield, Chris
Location: London, England
Status: Conscious
Waking up in a hospital wasn’t something I was accustomed to anymore, and I was ashamed of it. This was what an amateur experienced when they made an amateur blunder. I was better than this, getting knocked out from behind in the middle of an encounter… It was mortifying to be beat by him in a fight that wasn’t even that; the man that trains you owns you. I’d worked hard to hone my skills, which was my biggest mistake. You see when you want to beat your master you don’t hone the skills that they teach you, because then you’re only barely as good as them or as good as them. You make your own way, your own style, and because of my failure to diverge from the ways that were hammered into me I failed. Of course Wesker had been right about one thing: I let my emotions cloud my judgment and mentally remove me from the moment. I wondered if Wesker had done to Claire what he did to me.
He taught me to think like him, to fight like him, but never to react like him. Though he reprimanded me on my temper he never taught me a coping mechanism, and therefore he would always have a one-up on me. Had he shown Claire a different world and all the things that were possible? Did he exploit the weaknesses he chastised her about so that she would always look to him for guidance? Maybe I was just making excuses again because I was thinking like a brother, with my blood and my heart.
Jill removed the lid from my plate of hospital food almost angrily before taking a seat next to me and tearing open a bag of potato chips. She glared at me as I tried to avoid her wrath by pretending to inspect the old, lady lunch of mashed potatoes, peas, and Salisbury steak. Not even the chocolate pudding looked appetizing, but if it meant escaping the verbal lashing that I was in for then I’d pretend to be hungry enough to eat that slop. I’d managed to get down maybe half of my peas when I heard Jill start her rant, going from zero to one hundred in no time. “You’re killing yourself Chris! You’re killing yourself and you’re not going to be able to help anyone if you’re dead!”
Prepared for battle I asked, “and what good am I to the world if I can’t even protect my own sister?” I threw down my white, plastic fork onto the cheap plate and snapped my head in her direction.
“She doesn’t need protecting! She made this decision! She is an adult and she made a decision! Claire has lived! Claire has saved lives, Claire has drunk until she couldn’t see straight, and Claire survived Raccoon City, Rockfort, and the Antarctic outbreak!” As her head shook so did her dark, brown hair that was now reaching her breasts in length. It was parted down the middle, a sign that she hadn’t put much effort into making herself presentable this morning. A long-sleeved shirt loosely fit her body, the cuffs engulfing most of her hands, and then I realized that it was an old shirt of mine from my short stint in the Air Force. Only a woman could hate you and wear your clothing articles out of sentimentality at the same time. “Your little sister has fucked and she got pregnant. She fucked your enemy. It wasn’t Stockholm, it wasn’t rape, it was consensual sex and that wedding was consensual.” The final part of her rant caught me off guard, leaving me speechless. My heart monitor beeped just a bit faster, something Jill must have noticed because she shook her head and dropped her gaze to the yellow bag of chips in her lap. “It’s like you don’t even want a life of your own. You’re always chasing other people,” she added in a hushed tone. “Then again why am I surprised?”
My heart broke just a bit for her. I didn’t tell Jill where I was going, I just told her that there was a hit on Claire in Europe. Though it was too little too late I stared down at the food I wouldn’t finish prepared to tell her the things she should’ve known days ago. “An old buddy of mine in the FBI had told me that he got a hit on Claire and Wesker. It was a public, record alert. When he showed it to me I couldn’t believe it… They were married. Her signature was there Jill. The flow was perfect; it wasn’t coerced or even hesitant. So I went with a few guys, they skipped around Europe for a while before making the mistake of settling on some island…”
This was the last stop they’d made and according to my people they hadn’t gone anywhere else. There was the possibility that we had simply lost track of them but the sight of a stationary helicopter meant that someone had to be here; who would leave a helicopter to sit and rot on an island? So far no one had made visual though, and I waited patiently as one of my party of six worked carefully to pick the lock of the two story house. For the last two miles we had to row the boat here so what was one more minute of waiting going to hurt? Yes, my sister was here somewhere but I wasn’t going to get her back by acting rashly.
It was so quiet on this small island that the sound of my clothes against the brick wall seemed like an explosion, but I knew better than to psych myself out. It would’ve just been better if a bird would caw, if a cricket would chirp, or if the waves would grow just a bit to amplify the sound of their crashes. Then I heard it, the locks turning over, the only sound that was more comforting than any that nature could provide. Guns at the ready, we opened the door, filing in one by one into a quaint living room with mahogany floors. I scanned the area only to find a red rug and a white loveseat that faced a wall with a mounted television, surrounded by bookcases.
One of the men -I think his name was Peters- looked at me with a questioning stare.
I walked over to the table next to the loveseat and snatched up a photo frame that was turned away from me. I twisted my wrist around and looked down at the photo that was held between the wood and glass. Claire was sitting in a seat by a window, staring out a window at a rainy background wearing nothing but a long-sleeved sweater and a pair of underwear. One knee was bent with her hands clasped over it, the other leg stretched out. Someone had had the photo filtered to give it a black and white coloring, but despite that I could tell that her hair was much darker. With that long, black hair that was pulled over her shoulder her mood appeared to be pensive. I had no idea what she truly was feeling in the picture but much to my disconcertment it appeared that despite her mood she was comfortable in her setting. Claire didn’t have black hair the last time I saw her and it most certainly was never that long. As I remembered that I was supposed to be keeping quiet I grit my teeth and set the photo down, fighting the urge to fling it across the room. Relax Chris, this could be some sick obsession he has with her, I told myself.
“Sir?” I barely heard the whisper from Laurence. He was standing by the right bookcase where I could see more photo frames.
Making my way over to him I steeled myself for what I would possibly see. Of course no amount of preparation could brace me for the picture of Claire in a white, wedding dress, kissing Albert Wesker sans his trademark shades. For some reason that detail alone made my stomach turn in disgust. The other photos were candids of Claire doing things like starting a motorcycle, walking down a set of stairs in a fancy dress, smiling while seated in various places, and one was of her sleeping with a smile on her face. These photos were all retouched to look professional but I could tell that she had no idea that none of these were being taken; many of them were of her with her natural hair color. These were from before she disappeared. I felt my lip twitching in anger as my grip tightened on the picture of them kissing, and I felt the glass cracking from the pressure of my thumb.
Laurence took the photo from my hand, placing it back on the bookshelf while watching me closely.
After a few more seconds of internal seething I looked back to him and nodded quickly. I pointed to Peters, then to the kitchen, and then I signaled for Kevin to go check the hallway behind us. Laurence, Brice, and Pearce followed me up the set of red, carpeted stairs that led us to the middle of the second floor hallway. One door at the left end was slightly opened and so I sent them to check the other rooms while taking that one for myself. If anyone was going to find my sister in a compromising position, I hated to say it, but it would be me. Though anxious I took my time in reaching the doorway, peeking through the opening to get an early view before stepping inside. There was an unmade bed with deep, red sheets strewn about it and a wooden nightstand with another photo frame. I felt that queasiness all over again but this time it crept up my stomach and threatened to reach my throat. I pushed that feeling down and pushed the door open. The room was simple, a bed, a dresser, closet doors, but no television. There was a sitting area with a coffee table that held a laptop and a few books.
I could see that one book was an English to Russian dictionary and another was a book with a Russian title that I couldn’t decipher. Rather than investigate the laptop immediately though I walked over to the bed and stared down at it, feeling disappointment that threatened to overwhelm me. The sound of a shower starting had caused me to jump around in a flash with my gun raised, but I didn’t move.
“Claire?” I whispered unsurely. With a swallow I reached behind me and blindly searched for the handle of the nightstand, pulling it open slowly. I needed to know everything I could before I engaged what was now nothing more than a suspect to my organization.
“Circles, with no end…”
At the sound of my sister’s voice I stopped dead in my tracks, my mouth agape in spite of knowing that she could very well be here. It was all made real by the sound of her singing. Claire never sang unless she was happy where she was whether it be a physical or an emotional place. A gasp escaped my mouth, my torso shook as a sob threatened to escape me, and the pain was so bad that I fell to the floor. Teeth clenched, I gripped at the red carpet desperately, my breath caught in my lungs as I tried to get a grip over my body.
“No match, no match, no match, for your fingerprint. No substitute, no other you.”
While I took in the fact that she was probably singing about him I felt another sob threatening my convalescence and the effort I had been into my stealth. But I forced myself to get to my feet and open the dresser drawer. A single manila folder was inside and I threw a glance out the doorway before opening it. A bunch of papers were held together with a paperclip, documents of medical jargon in black print that mentioned statistics and probabilities. There were mentions of a “Motherland,” and rapid development. As I tried to make sense of the first page I heard my sister’s voice raise.
“Cause there can only be, one. There can only be one.”
Though I wanted to continue reading I couldn’t once I heard her sing those lines. Something inside of me had just snapped in that moment and I dropped the folder on the bed, raising my weapon once more as I prepared to confront my sister.
“Chris?” Jill’s face told me that she was afraid of what happened next in my recollection.
“I went to confront her. She didn’t deny loving him Jill. You’re right.”
Jumping to her feet the brunette leaned down over me, unblinking she demanded, “Tell me you didn’t hurt Claire.”
My silence was not intended to confirm her accusation, but it was a means to give me time to think. I couldn’t remember…
“Chris,” she seethed, “tell me you didn’t hurt Claire.”
“I think…” I replayed the moment in my head from the start, only to realize that it would have been much better had I never remembered. “I didn’t mean to Jill.”
“Chris there was blood staining your clothes when they found you. What did you do?” she almost screamed, tugging at my hospital gown.
“I stabbed Claire,” I admitted bluntly, and I felt her grip weaken as she fell back into the tan, faux leather chair behind her. “But it doesn’t matter-” My face was stinging as a result of the slap I never saw coming, but I didn’t grab my cheek as I should have. Instead I just turned to look at Jill, now gripping the armrests as she tried to hold herself in place when I knew she wanted to lunge at me and throw more than open-handed slaps.
“I can’t- why would you do that-”
“Jill there’s something you need to kno-”
“You hurt your sister!” she shouted back, eyes welling up full of tears.
“Jill there’s something you need to know,” I repeated, only to be cut off again.
“No, there’s something that you need to know Chris! Claire was-”
“SHE’S NOT HUMAN ANYMORE!” Finally Jill had stopped talking, and it was for the better. “I did hurt her Jill but she… I stabbed her and was fine. There was a hole and then there was nothing.”
Suddenly she jumped to her feet and began rummaging around in a bag on the floor. “It doesn’t matter what Claire is Chris.” After she fished around for a few more seconds she presented me a manila folder, tossing it down into my lap. “Because she’s pregnant.”
For some reason her words didn’t register and I opened the folder and was met with the sight of a sonogram. Shaking hands gripped the ultrasound tightly, crinkling the edges of the paper. There it was, something so small yet it could cause the largest impact the world would ever feel. I wasn’t sure how to react, because I was furious, the rage was causing me to quake from within, but at the same time I was afraid for my sister. She had no one right now other than that psychopath and she was pregnant with his child. The blood of my parents had been mingled with that monster’s and Claire had just put me in a position that required action from my end. I would not alert the lab to test Claire’s blood, I wouldn’t alert anyone in my organization of her possible status, and I would handle this on my own. Claire was coming home and if she was forced into government custody, then so be it. Now all I needed to do was find The Motherland.
April 9, 2002 Tuesday 7:52 AM
Subject: Wong, Ada
Location: Classified
Status: Fine
In my day I’d done many things, killed a lot of people, and I’d thrown even more under the bus for a paycheck. Never had this been an issue for me, betrayal was just something that came with the territory of freelance work, but some people were not the ones to be crossed. Albert Wesker was one of those people. In the past I had indeed considered it but as fate would have it there was more money to be made at his side than behind his back, but it seemed there was always someone with more power. Better yet, there was always someone with more ambition. I don’t know where Dr. Seaborne acquired the funds he’d wired me but I wouldn’t ask him any questions because the less I knew the better. However, this was something I’d never dealt with before and perhaps some instruction would have been for the best, but I think I was expected to just wing it.
The tall, slender doctor handed me the bundle carefully, and I accepted it hesitantly out of fear of causing any harm. Brilliant blue eyes stared at me sleepily, possibly even frightened as I frowned at the tiny, bald newborn in my arms. He looked somewhat like his father.
Seaborne adjusted the hood of his onesie to cover his bare head, and before taking his hand away he placed his palm against it in adoration of what was probably considered to be his greatest creation. The doctor sat across from me on the seat to dig through the baby bag he’d brought onto the train that he’d bought out just for me and Wesker Jr. At least I called him that.
While it was on my mind I asked, “What’s his name?”
For a moment he paused, holding a bottle of formula in one hand and wipes in the other. “I hadn’t thought of that…”
I could now see why he worked for the kind of people he did. This baby was merely an “it” and a science project to him, and he’d probably been referring to him as “baby” since his birth. Although I’ll admit I’d done so in the past I felt worse for this infant because he wasn’t going to get a name from his parents, he wouldn’t even get to be held by them, and it would be because of my treachery. The baby yawned, showing nothing but gums and a mouth full of drool that was ready to spill out onto my leather jacket. Before that could even happen I set him in the car seat next to me that would serve as his cradle during the long trip.
“I have formula, wipes, diapers, burping napkins, an extra blanket, a change of clothes, you name it,” Seaborne said quickly.
I was still staring at that baby though. He looked like Winston Churchill. “Claire and Wesker didn’t do a good job with this one,” I muttered, not expecting the mad scientist to hear me.
With a laugh he said, “I’m more interested in what he can do. I’m sure the other one will be gorgeous but utterly useless. Though it’s still growing at a rapid rate this one just couldn’t wait any longer. And I believe he’ll be up and walking within a few months.”
The pride with which he spoke was disgusting but once again, I was no fan of babies, and in this job I was paid to do and not think about the ethical treatment of one. Still, his comment was certainly alarming. “A few months?”
“Did you believe his rapid growth would decrease so quickly?” His tone was condescending and I would not allow him to speak to me the way Krauser or Maritza did.
“I’m not one of Wesker’s halfwit bodyguards that you can speak to however you see fit.”
“No, but a halfwit with loyalty is better than whatever you call yourself Ms. Wong. Your services are available to be bought out and therefore so is your character.” His voice did not waver, he demonstrated no fear, and after I failed to retort he even smirked. “And due to your latest display of insubordination to your highest bidder I feel it safe to assume that you read the documentation meant for the child’s surrogate mother…”
“Yes,” I admitted, glancing back at the baby that was close to falling asleep. The documents gave a false story, one that made no sense but what child ever doubted the existence of absentee fathers? Despite knowing that Albert Wesker had no desire to sire offspring before his little love fest began with Claire, this child would believe that his father courted and impregnated this woman from a country no one knew existed. She would tell him someday that his father was a busy man and that he didn’t have time to come back for him but perhaps when all was said and done he would return. This boy would never know that the woman who raised him was actually complicit in his kidnapping and robbing him of the opportunity to be raised by his biological parents. To make matters worse (but better for us traitors) should this child ever be found it would look as though Wesker had simply abandoned him as the woman I would meet would claim. M., as she was referred to in the files, had supposedly had a very, short fling with Wesker in the early nineties, and if this child grew rapidly as Seaborne claimed it would then there would be no questioning this story.
What could this do to them?
As if it could take back me signing on the dotted line I whispered, “I was just at their wedding…”
Standing up, the doctor sighed, “Yes. But loyalty cannot be bought Ms. Wong.” He walked to the door and turned his head to look back at me, “So we’ll be keeping a close eye on you.”
When the train started I stared out the window, watching Seaborne watch us depart, and his gaze told me that he intended to follow through on his threat. Hours passed by and I still thought of it, and at this point I was hoping that the kid would wake up to take my mind off of it. Since it was a newborn though I should have known better than to expect him to be up with me; I think they needed a lot of sleep. Yet as his eyes opened narrowly I found that he was fighting sleep, and this often led to an inexplicable urge to cry in babies. Before he could though I said, “I’m sorry.”
Almost as if he was already having some understanding of language his eyes fully opened and he stared at me in bewilderment.
“I was born in Chinatown, a neighborhood in Chicago. My father actually did abandon us. There was some shame in him conceiving out of wedlock with a poor, Chinese woman, and his family was determined to keep their fortune away from our kind. The underprivileged, the immigrants, the ones they believed to be intellectually and genetically inferior. My mother never pushed me in school though, not like my father’s parents probably assumed she would, but I pushed myself. My mother forced me to work jobs that involved less than savory characters, and if joining the debate team, Key Club, or cheerleading was what I had to do to stay where I felt safest then I’d do it. But school didn’t pay off quick enough… the drugs and gangs did. I got my first job in backstabbing when I was busted at fourteen; our very own United States Government offered me a deal to take down my own and save myself.
The doors that opened for me... My past, including my name was erased, and I’ve been more free than anyone could ever claim to have been. Because the US Government created me though, they can’t take me down without spreading out their guilt for all to see. I haven’t seen my mother since that day that I took down that gang, and I never mentioned her name in my confessions. My father? He’s on his fifth wife and is still having children that will drain his bank accounts before he’s in the grave. All of this happened… because I didn’t have a stable upbringing.” With that revelation now spoken for someone to hear -whether he could comprehend it or not was irrelevant- I felt an unsettling sense of morose. “And so I feel sorry for you because you had a chance for a somewhat normal life, your father found a way to actually fix his mistakes, but because of my parents you don’t get yours. And because of that you will more than likely live my life, chapter for chapter. Your father left you and your mother was left alone and embittered, and that’s all you will ever know.” As I concluded the parallel of our lives he began to frown, his already wrinkly face scrunching up and becoming red as a tomato and his fists began to shake as he strained to muster up his response. This was why I didn’t have children.
April 9, 2002 Tuesday 1:00 PM
Five hours had gone by, each one’s passing had been watched closely when I wasn’t changing a diaper or trying to see if his cries were for that foul-smelling formula that Seaborne had made especially for this lab-grown bundle. Finally I had given up, until got a banana for myself and he perked up at the sight, and just like that lunch was taken care of. While I was trying to feed him he’d grabbed my hand, using his other one to pinch the piece of fruit between his fingers, and even I knew that this was a milestone that he shouldn’t have already reached. I also found that the reason for his random outbursts were the tiny white teeth that were just barely protruding from his gums. I was sure at that point that he recognized me as if he’d been knowing me for months, and when I handed him off to disappear back west he’d probably throw the biggest fit a baby could manage for the rest of the day while he adjusted to the stranger. This wasn’t my problem. I tried to keep telling myself just that.
An old, white van picked us up from the train station, and we rode for maybe thirty minutes before stopping at what I figured was a nice apartment building. Everything else in Edonia had seemed rustic and abandoned, but here it was obvious that there would be running water. The rest of the neighborhood was clean, the streets paved with a reliable material, and the other buildings were well maintained. The car came to a halt right next to a brunette woman who stood on the sidewalk suspiciously with her arms folded as she looked expectantly down the street.
Once she realized that we must have been who she was waiting for she gave a small smile and opened the door for me. She wore a puffy, white jacket with animal fur lining the hood, a pair of black pants clung to her legs, displaying how tiny she was. Her long, brown hair hung down to her waist, and her hooded eyes that were deep green were alight with joy at this stolen chance that had been promised to another. It was sickening. Yet I was responsible.
I ducked back into the van, unbuckling the car seat and preparing myself for the final goodbye. Before I handed her the seat I gave her the baby bag.
Gently, she took the carrier from me, staring down happily into eyes that belonged to a man she once knew. “They sent me everything else he would need,” she informed me in a thick accent that was obviously thanks to a Slavic language that served as her first tongue. “I was so-”
“You don’t get to speak. If his real mother ever finds out, you’re dead. I don’t want to know about you or how you feel.” I didn’t look to see if her feelings were hurt, I just turned around, ready to get back to a real city.
“Well what is his name?”
Without glancing at him I could see his face; it would be on my mind for some time to come, and it came to me just like that. “Jake.” It was a simple name and I hoped that he would have a simple life. I heard her whisper the name to the infant but I couldn’t bear to look. I had something else to take care of before I could take my next vacation, a final loose end that could bring everything crumbling down. There was a man who dug too much, who had a knack for sniffing out abnormal activity where no one else saw it. He would be coming soon and he would jeopardize what Seaborne worked so hard to conceal. He would jeopardize what I had been working to conceal. I’d already wronged Claire, and now it was time for her brother.
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