Chapter Text
‘I must have been exhausted.’ The thought had crossed Albert's mind as he opened his eyes through the grogginess that clung to his vision. In the darkened office, he spotted the familiar outline of the S.T.A.R S. banner behind his desk. The photograph of his division sat proudly beneath it. A ghost of a smile hovered on his lips. His entire body ached in protest as he stretched the stiffness out of his shoulders and mid back. It had been another long day at the R.P.D. The poor weather lately wasn't helping matters. Alpha team had back to back rescues and extractions in joint operations with the Raccoon City Fire Department. Brad had to carry out two medical evacuations while Chris and Jill repelled down a cliff side to secure a vehicle with a tow line and a secondary support cable. The drivers lost control on the wet mountain roads and fishtailed. They spun off the edge, blowing through the rickety guard rail and hovered on the very ledge of a steep slope near an unstable cliff.
It was an extremely stressful operation, but Alpha team managed to carry it out beautifully. Chris took charge of the situation as he harnessed up with total calm and guided himself and Jill through the situation while keeping the occupants in the vehicle calm and still. His easy going charming personality disarmed their fears and made the people feel at ease.
Albert could still feel the soreness in his body after holding Chris’ line for nearly two hours. Joseph had Jill's while Barry and Brad operated the winch with the other rescue units from the fire department. They were split between one team extracting the victims in the second vehicle and trying to get the first vehicle's victims to safety. Only one victim had severe head trauma and another had several bone breaks. Thankfully, they were in the second car. The paramedics could get to them immediately and airlift them with the main medical chopper. Once Alpha team got the first vehicle's occupants free, Brad flew them with another firefighter and paramedic to the hospital before returning to collect the rest of the team.
Chris was having trouble walking after dangling in a harness for so long. Even Jill had been icing her hips and thighs with the gel packs from their department freezer where the pressure points of the harnesses left bruising. He couldn't necessarily blame them. They weren't made to be worn like that for extended periods of time. His shoulders protested when he sat up. Even the muscles in his forearms complained when he peeled himself off of the hard plastic frame of his armchair. He didn't even know what time it was. Albert checked his watch but was puzzled when he noticed it was no longer ticking.
“Did the battery die?” That shouldn't be the case. He only had this watch for a few months. Alex had gifted it to him for their shared -private- birthday celebration. “Don't tell me it broke from today.”
That would be just his luck. How disappointing. With a resigned sigh, he decided any time was far too late to be sleeping in his office. Enrico should have arrived for the next shift already. Unless he took Bravo team down to the shooting range to give Albert a bit more quiet and privacy. As embarrassing as that revelation is, he appreciated the forethought if that were the case. Forcing his body to move against its will, he stood from his seat with unsteady legs. It was eerily quiet today. He blamed that on the extremely late hour as he headed for the door of his office. It was too dark to see anything of note as he surveyed the claustrophobic space. Just outlines and silhouettes. The lighter colored shade of his desk lamp stood out against the shadows. He shuffled towards the door with clumsy legs too tired to work properly. His boots dragged across the freaky floor as he flicked the office light on.
Nothing happened. Albert frowned as he tried again. Still nothing. Now that he was up moving, he noted an uncomfortable chill in the air.
‘Is the power out?’ It must be. Typically the heaters would be running at full blast filling the space with a stifling warmth. Instead there was a cold dampness in the air that was common with the rainy season this time of year. It gathered in his clothes causing a shiver to race over his body. ‘I guess I really should go home then.’
This is a problem for someone else. Albert reached for his coat on the coatrack by the entryway of his office only to find it empty. Confused, he could have sworn he hung it up there like he always did. This made no sense. It was a strict part of his routine. He would come into the office, remove his coat and leave his backpack on the floor behind his desk. As Albert turned back towards his desk, he stalked towards it in search of his backpack. The floor was empty. He nudged the space where it always sat with his boot for good measure. Yet nothing was there.
‘A prank?’ Surely his team was teasing him again. While ill timed, he wasn't surprised in the slightest if this was the result of Frost’s and Redfield’s usual shenanigans. He reached for his belt to retrieve his flashlight to search around in the dark, half expecting to find it placed upon his filing cabinet again or hidden in the gear lockers. He hoped it wasn't the latter. His house keys were in that bag. As he swiveled around the office in search of his personal belongings, Albert stalled in place. His desk was empty. His computer was gone. His name placard had fallen to the wayside on the floor where something had knocked it down. There were pens and his usual coffee mug scattered beneath the desk. The other seating chairs he kept in his office were also gone. Everything was covered in a thin layer of dust. The carpets looked grimy under foot as he stepped. Small dust clouds stirred around his boots to his bafflement.
“What is going on?” He balked. Leaving his office didn't prove to secure any further answers. Half of the office appeared to be frozen in the middle of being packed up. Cardboard boxes littered one side where Enrico’s team were situated. A few of the desks were completely cleared off. Others were frozen in time from their last use. An open magazine on Jill’s desk with her S.T.A.R.S. beret resting on top of it. A small medical satchel he didn't recognize hung from a hook next to another mostly empty desk. Chris’ had CDs toppled from their usual neatly organized stack. The CD player was gone, as was the security modem that permitted entry into the armory. The door was stuck open where something had forced it. Everything in the armory was gone. The lockers were empty. All of their personal effects were absent. All of it was gone.
This felt far too unsettling to be real, but far too real to be a dream. Albert turned back towards the entrance to S.T.A.R.S. in an effort to get some answers. Perhaps Irons was involved in this in some manner. He didn't understand how he could have been involved, but if anyone had a vendetta against his division, it would be Irons of all people. Albert was determined to get an explanation out of that bulbous whale of a man even if it meant he had to strangle it out of him. His hand turned the handle to the main office door and threw it open with immense force as he charged through the entrance into the hallway.
Albert nearly stumbled back in alarm as he came face to face with the blinding light of day. Where a sturdy wall and numerous shuttered windows had once been was now a large gaping hole where the wall and part of the ceiling had collapsed in. He clicked off the flashlight beam as his eyes adjusted, one hand was held up like a visor to deal with the brunt of the sun. “What happened here?”
As his eyes adjusted, he took in the disturbing view beyond the chipped and cracked brickwork of the R.P.D. For miles, all Albert bore witness to was the desolate landscape of the thriving city he once called home. Broken buildings completely reduced to heaps of rubble like small trash heap hills and mountains against the towering silhouettes of leaning skyscrapers and the shattered remnants of bustling high rises. Their gleaming bodies still refracted the late afternoon sunlight back like shimmering corpses. The Arklay Mountains burned beneath the sun as a scorched shawl stretched around the outskirts of the city beyond as crippled trees stood like haunting visions in the far off distance.
He couldn't believe it.
This made no sense.
Albert didn't understand what had happened here to cause this. To wreak so much destruction on his home. Yet he remained untouched by it all.
“This can't be real.” That was an irrefutable fact. Logically, none of this made sense. None of this could be real. It had to be a figment of his imagination or some farfetched dream -nightmare more like it- of the world around him. He was still sleeping at his desk back at the real R.P.D., surely that was the case. He would wake up eventually. Now that he was well aware of his circumstances, that would be the next predictable action. He was going to wake up. He was going to open his eyes any moment now and be faced with the scent of stale coffee and the throbbing discomfort of tired eyes against the harsh fluorescent lighting.
He did not wake up. As Albert picked his way through the R.P.D., he was faced with the remnants of old horrors. Documents about turning the institution into an emergency shelter as infected individuals swarm the streets. The deaths of other officers that were caused by people they were simply trying to help. A virus that spread out of control. Old newspaper clippings and reports from September 26th, 1998 about a state of emergency. A city wide evacuation.
An incident of total chaos and inevitable destruction in his near future. Just a few months away.
“Umbrella did this.” The newspapers said nothing of the sort but Albert wasn't naive in any sense of the word. He understood the implications. He knew something terrible was brewing among their arsenal and it was just a matter of time before it broke containment.
The t-virus was the most likely cause if he had to guess based on the symptoms described by the remaining accounts of fellow officers. Officers who he had just seen this morning refilling their coffees in the break room and chatting about local office gossip. Marvin had been telling Albert about a potential new hire he was looking forward to after getting a heads up from the Police Academy. He was hopeful that he could nab the newbie for the open slot in his department. Judging by the banner in the West Office overlooking Marvin's desk, the Lieutenant had succeeded in his efforts to draw in a new promising member. The memo to the rest of his team as they slyly organized the celebration under Irons’ nose told Albert there was a lot of promise with this one.
Judging by the date on the surrounding documents, he may have never got the chance to see them in action. The halls were in a state of disrepair. There were hastily erected barricades cutting off entire sections while stairways collapsed and doors were blocked by fallen rubble. The entire main hall was in quite the state with the gaping holes in sections of the roof and the entire rear wall peering out at the surrounding buildings behind the R.P.D.
The lady of Justice stood in silence like a memorial to the many dead that once served this institution well.
He found no mentions of S.T.A.R.S. among the chaos. The state of their office gave him no comfort despite that fact. How many of his men died protecting this city against the scourge that Umbrella unleashed on them all? How many lives were lost in service to the people? He feared knowing the truth. Had Christopher survived that hell? Or Jill? What about Barry and his family? He trusted their skills but their skills can only serve them so far when facing the hellish creations of Umbrella’s darkest secrets.
The weather was pleasant today. A cool wind blew through the ruins as the city fell to a comfortable calm. Not even the Garmr howled their haunting songs into the evening. The sun was starting to descend behind the highest peaks of the Arklay Mountains casting the sky into an array of gold and amber like the low simmering embers in a fire. They stained the wispy clouds around them, lightly toasted in gentle tans that softened the beautiful blaze. Zeno was perched atop a roof not far from the R.P.D. As the sun began to anchor itself towards the horizon, the chill of Autumn’s encroaching shadows nipped the air. He adjusted his second jacket to shield himself from the cold breeze as it rustled through his hair.
Smoke from his cigarette was carried on the brisk wind away from his body. The ember shuddered as Zeno drew a deep breath and slowly dragged out the burn of the nicotine inside of his lungs. His head buzzed with the familiar fuzzy high as he released the smoke and relished in the soothing burn in his veins. It always felt good to take a moment to take it all in like this. This world, however small his fragile kingdom was, was his to roam at his leisure. His to know and explore every dark secret within. His to rule. It was the little moments like these that reminded him that he still had control in his life. The Connections couldn't take this feeling away from him. It was all his and he reveled in it.
As he raised his cigarette for a second drag, his golden eyes slid across the landscape as he surveyed the desolate city he called home. Distant movement caught his attention as a dark silhouette ran along a cluttered path of rubble separating two buildings. It squeezed through a rusted chain link fence as a staggering figure followed. Zeno's sensitive hearing caught the raspy growls and snarls of the infected undead that chased potential prey. The -is that a man?- judging by the build in the shoulders, he suspected it was a man, raced across the old parking lot between rusted cars. The infected continued to follow. There were two now as they slowed long enough to figure out how to clamber up over the fence to get at their prey. He raced between the cars to use their decrepit husks as a barrier between the hostiles. A quick glance around led him towards a section of the fence that had broken away as a rusted metal pipe laid on the ground. The man snatched it up into his grasp as he wielded it with the expertise of a seasoned fighter.
‘Interesting.’ Zeno noted he wasn't wearing the typical gear expected of the units that had taken to infiltrating the city in their search for ARK and Elpis. Tactical black cargo pants and boots that had once been polished to a shine most likely before they sullied themselves in the dust of the city. He had a tactical belt but very limited gear. No weapons. A black tactical vest covered a dark blue uniform shirt that had some sort of patch emblazoned on the sleeve of his bicep. Zeno couldn't catch it as the man swung the pipe on the first zombie, cracking it hard across the skull causing it to drop to the ground from the sheer violence of the strike. He followed it up swiftly with a second strike that smashed the cranium against the asphalt.
He didn't linger to admire his successful kill as he stepped back to build more distance between him and the second hostile. He kept glancing around at his surroundings, his head consistently on a swivel to inspect his environment. He swerved around one of the cars to get the creature to follow around the hood of the vehicle. The man slid over the trunk to quickly get behind it as he kicked its leg out forcing it to hunch over the hood. Using his boot, he planted his heel against the creature's back to keep it pinned to the vehicle as he prepared his next swing. The collision of the pipe with the rotting skull caused it to cave quickly. The man shuffled back as he let the body slump to the ground in a useless heap.
Satisfied with the successful kill, he shook the gore off the end of the pipe and turned in the direction of Zeno's perch to survey his surroundings. This one was intriguing but needed to be put down. Zeno couldn't have them wreaking havoc lest they draw the security teams out of the ARK to investigate the deaths of numerous bioweapons. He couldn't risk that unnecessary intervention. As Zeno drew a final drag of his cigarette, he noticed the man began to move again.
To his immense surprise, the stranger turned to lock eyes with Zeno where he was standing on the nearby roof enjoying his evening smoke. An unsettling chill skirted along his spine as Zeno took in the face before him. Dark sunglasses and slightly disheveled blond hair shaken from their previously tidy styling drawn back from his forehead. A face so eerily familiar stared back at Zeno like looking directly at a ghost. His skin crawled. The man lowered the pipe but raised his hand in the air. Dark leather combat gloves protected his palms from the rusty stains of the metal as the man beckoned to him, curling two fingers in the air calling for Zeno to come meet him face to face. This man showed no fear. He certainly wasn't a bioweapon. His pheromones were absent as he cautiously sniffed the air that stirred around him from the man's direction. Intrigued and uncertain, Zeno snuffed his cigarette under his boot then leapt down with ease to land on street level with this unsettling apparition that loomed over his entire life.
The city was silent.
Only the quiet tap of his footsteps on the broken dusty asphalt disturbed the ominous energy that had settled like a fog between them. The man was calm but Zeno could see the tense set of his jaw as he waited, alert and wary of any ill intentions from the other man, as he approached. When they were only a few paces shy of each other, easily out of arm's reach but only a quick lunge short of Zeno ending this man's life should the need arise, did they come to a standstill. His golden eyes did not deceive him now that he was close enough to drink in the man's appearance.
‘Albert Wesker.’
But that was impossible. He was dead. He died 17 years ago. Chris Redfield killed him during an outbreak in Africa. Yet here he stood, a man like any other, holding a bloodied pipe as if it were the norm. His shoulders were tense. The muscles wound tight. Albert held his head proudly like Zeno had come to expect of the prodigal son of Spencer’s great legacy. The man who defied the world yet it still feared the shadow he left upon it.
“I appreciate the courtesy of not using that when my back was turned.” Albert noted Redemption where it hung from its holster on Zeno's belt, almost completely concealed beneath his jacket as Zeno followed the nod towards the weapon in question.
“You have sharp eyes.” Zeno praised as he straightened up to greet the man properly. “I assume you have a reason as to why you called me down here?”
“I have questions.” Albert was quick to get to the point. Something Zeno appreciated in a person when his time was limited and his patience was even more so. He had a sunset he was admiring after all. It was a rarity that such pleasant weather would roll through that would allow him such an opportunity. “You seem to be the most competent person I've run into by far capable of answering them.”
Zeno stifled the snort that threatened to come up as his lips twitched into a phantom curl of a smile. That was clearly an understatement given the alternatives. Schooling his expression to that tight neutrality he often adorned, he urged. “Go on.”
Albert appeared satisfied with that response. “It would only be right that I extend the basic courtesy of manners, so my first question is what is your name?”
He expected nothing less from a man that was, to an extent, just like him. A wiggle of amusement curled in his gut as he answered. “Zeno. Do me the favor of returning it?”
“Albert.” The man answered that which Zeno already knew, yet the confirmation left something sour in the back of his throat. Zeno swallowed it back and nodded his silent approval.
“What happened to the city?” Zeno was confused by that question. His platinum brow rose a fraction above the frame of his glasses as Albert puzzled at him. Surely this man was joking, right? But the seriousness of Albert’s expression told him otherwise. Zeno was beginning to wonder if this was the same Albert that Chris had killed, or another clone fitted with Albert’s earliest memories and set loose in the city as a test. He didn't think such a feat were possible yet without the assistance of Elpis to revolutionize the process, but then again, a lot of information was being kept from Zeno by the Connections throughout this whole assignment. He wouldn't be surprised anymore to find out if they had successfully accomplished that which he was previously told was impossible, and went behind his back for it. He was left with the sudden urge to be far more guarded around this one.
“There was a viral outbreak in the city and the government issued a missile strike to cover it up.” A lie, yes but it was the most well known basic truth spread across every gossip column and newspaper in the world in the following years. There was a substantial enough presence of that lie to be mistaken for the actual truth.
Albert's brows narrowed. “Who caused it?”
Zeno noticed how the question was for a who and not a what. ‘Very perceptive of you.’
“Umbrella pharmaceuticals.” Albert didn't appear at all surprised. Just mildly disgusted. “Is there anything else you wish to discuss?”
“What is the date?”
An odd question to ask. But Zeno was willing to indulge the man. “September 20th, 2026.”
“2026?” Albert echoed the year with the look of a man shaken to his core. He had remained unbothered this entire conversation, expecting every answer that Zeno gave as if he were merely confirming suspicions, but this time it had clearly struck a chord. Albert had paled. His footsteps faltered as he staggered back as if Zeno had struck him with his own hand. There was something keenly human about Albert that his previous depictions never showed. Something innately flawed. Something that Zeno had always been marked as the failure for, that had drawn both his curiosity and his sympathy.
In the distance, as the sun settled behind the shadowy peaks, the Garmr began to howl. Night was falling and their hunt would begin soon. The streets weren't safe for those that were unprepared. Albert may be able to fend off a simple infected with a rusty pipe but the bite force of a Garmr would treat it as little more than a piece of straw between their teeth.
Albert was unsettled even more. Zeno could see his mind working as his body coiled on the defensive. He was weighing his odds against an unknown opponent. The ghostly howls of the Garmr were unlike any wolf. Their sounds echoed hauntingly through the ruins, distorted off the stonework and whistling through the empty halls of long forgotten abodes.
His next decision was impulsive, but Zeno was well aware that Chris’ actions had begun to color his own as of late, as he directed sternly. “Come with me.”
“What?” Albert balked in alarm as Zeno turned to leave. He paused in his steps before shooting a glance back over his shoulder.
“If you wish to survive this city, it would be better if you followed my directions and asked fewer questions.” There were no further comments as Albert nodded and fell quickly into step in Zeno's tracks. Their approach to the secret entrance of the ARK facility was a slow one with the very human companion trailing at his heels. He had grown far too accustomed to being surrounded by bioweapons that having Albert by his side steering his choice of direction on the way back, was tedious and a notable test of his patience.