ResidentEvil-CodeVeronica [EPILOGUE (End)]

EPILOGUE

MILES AWAY, WESKER HEARD THE EXPLOSION,

and could see the smoke rising shortly afterward, thick

black plumes of it. He thought about circling the jet

back, but decided against it; there was no point. If

Alexia wasn't dead, his people would find out soon

enough; hell, the world would find out soon enough.

"I hope you were in there, Redfield," he said softly,

smiling a little. Of course he was; Chris wasn't bright

enough or fast enough to have gotten out in time...

... although he might be lucky enough.

Wesker had to concede that much; Redfield had the

luck of the devil.

It was a shame about Alexia turning him down. She'd

been something, terrifying and evil, but definitely something.

His employers weren't going to be happy when

he came back without her, and he couldn't blame them;

they'd shelled out plenty for the Rockfort attack, and

he'd practically promised them results.

They'll live. If they don't like it, they can find themselves

a new boy. Trent, on the other hand...

Wesker grimaced, not looking forward to their next

meeting. He owed the man. After the Spencer fiasco,

Trent had - quite literally - pulled his ass out of the

fire, and arranged for him to be fixed up, better

than new. And he'd been responsible for Wesker's

introduction to his current employers, men with

real aspirations for power, and the means to obtain

it.

And...

And he'd never admit to it out loud, but Trent scared

him. He was so smooth, well-mannered and soft-spoken,

but with a glitter in his eyes that made him always

seem to be laughing, like everything was a joke and he

was the only one who got it. In Wesker's experience, the

ones who laughed were the most dangerous; they didn't

feel like they had anything to prove, and were usually at

least slightly insane.

I'm just glad we're on the same side, Wesker assured

himself, believing it because he wanted to. Because

going up against someone like Trent was a bad, bad

plan.

Well. He could worry about Trent later, after he'd

made the proper apologies to the proper agents. At least

Boyscout Redfield was dead, and he was still alive and

kicking, working for the side that was going to win

when all was said and done.

Wesker smiled, looking forward to the end. It was

going to be spectacular.

The sun had come out and was reflecting against the

snow, creating a brilliant radiance, blinding in its perfection.

The small plane shot away, its shadow chasing it

across the sparkling plains.