tampered | (no subject)

(no subject)

When; This evening.
Rating; It depends; it could range from PG to R. Be warned.
Characters; Starting with Albert Wesker

viralexchange, the Doc

madsciencekink, the Captain

wolfsmercy, Tubalcain Alhambra

dandy_indeed, and the Major

warconductor . Others could be added.
Summary; Wesker meets with the Doctor; it's a log in process.
Log;

It was a slightly chilled evening and whether that was due to his own molecular composition or outside forces, he wasn't sure. It didn't bother him too much, however, though he did make note to button up the front of his cloth trench-coat. On a side note, he mentally remembered why he had dressed the way he had. He figured presentation was key in this whole affair and dressing to the dot would make some sort of impression. And if said impression would give him some sort of power in this backwater little city, he didn't mind putting more effort than usual into his appearance. Plus, power was something he was willing to flaunt his tail-feathers for anyway.

Under his arm was a leather-bound journal, full of the documents he had absconded with during the "Mansion Incident." It had detailed notes about the T-Virus and its manipulation to create such things as Lisa Trevor, the MA-121 products, Cerberus, and of course, the Tyrant. The individual he had spoken to seemed terribly interested in that sort of thing, so why not send his saliva glands wild? He knew how scientists worked, especially those incredibly obsessed with a certain goal - Birkin had been the same before his death and anything pertaining to his interests admitted a certain "drool" factor to the young man. Hopefully, Albert's hypothesis would apply to this "Doc" fellow as well. Hopefully.

Wesker adjusted his shades and eyed the skies for the zeppelin. It was in plain sight. However, as he waited, he became terribly curious as to who was going to escort him to the aircraft.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Replying back in his native tongue, Wesker flashed a slight smile. "I do thank you for letting me into your home, Major. A pleasure to be in your company, I assure you. I would not mind, however, if we had a talk face to face. I would rather meet my gracious host so that I may shake his hand."

The Tyrant gently bowed his head, as in some sort of respect. He liked this man far more than he liked Spencer.

Doc managed a smile as well, nodding to the screen. "Thank you, Major. I will brief you after we are finished."

[ooc: Sorry for the delay. Fourth wall curse ate my entire brain.]

"Very good," the Major replied. "Come by, Herr Wesker. I would meet you in person, if possible."

"I shall see you after, then." Wesker's stoic disposition returned as he shoved his a hand into the pocket of his lab coat. He wondered if now was the right time to show off his former companion's master work. He hadn't had a right conversation with the Doc yet and he knew he could be patient enough to hold back his trump card. But still, he wondered how the other scientist would react - would the Doc be repulsed by the fact that Albert had experimented on himself? Would he ask any questions? Or would they just kick him out as soon as he revealed his little secret?

All were right concerns in Albert's mind, so he just decided to put the idea on the back-burner for the time being.

"So," he stated as he closed the gap between himself and the good doctor. "Do tell me about your crew here - I am terribly interested in your progress; from where I come from, vampires and the such do not exist."

Doc straightened as the focus turned from his commander and back to the matter of his first love, Science. Always capitalized, always Science, never science.

And his work for Millennium was nothing short of magnificent. It was too rare that he could speak of it with someone who would understand the genius behind the advances he had made.

"The crew are mostly vampires created through science instead of the limited fashion of vampires in my world. Through my work, it is transmitted via serum to anyone, rather than through a bite that only turns virgins of the opposite sex to the vampire." His scornful look made it clear what he thought of such foolishness as virgin requirements.

The Tyrant snorted. "I am guessing that the regular vampire community is none to happy with that fact. I can imagine them quite territorial, if the folklore applies." He tapped a foot in thought. "But to generate a serum to do the job; that is quite impressive. It must have taken years to figure out all of the factors of the transformation progress to get such perfect results as your friends that brought me inside."

He gave a quick lick to his lips.

"I must say, congratulations. We only had one perfection in all of our trials and efforts, unfortunately. The rest didn't look all that human, as you can see from the pamphlets. But they did their job well."

Doc snorted and shrugged off the concerns of the "regular vampire community." With quick taps on a nearby keyboard, he brought up a timeline of Millennium's experiments, starting in the 1940s with those initial instructive sessions that ended in ghouls, not vampires.

"I pursued the 'holy grail' for decades before having true successes. The earlier vampire subjects were mixed successes - strong, fast, ageless, with a vampire's need for blood. But also weak. They could not endure the sun.

"The work required to overcome that weakness took more time, and requires superior base materials." Base materials being humans, of course.

Leaning over to examine the timeline, Wesker made a note of the date - 1940s. World War II.

"If you do not mind me asking, how long have you been working on this project? It seems you must have had people before you that started the whole thing." He was digging - digging for answers. Whether or not these "Millennium" folks were vampires or not, he didn't care. But if they hailed from the 1940s and if they were, in fact, German, then there was a bigger issue at hand.

But if they were what Wesker was beginning to think they were, he wouldn't and couldn't back out now. The Millennium Group was far too interesting and far too close to home to just abandon. Plus, it was a good platform to start an alliance with. Politics, even in the extreme Nationalistic sense, meant nothing to him, as long as he could gain some sort of working relationship with these men.

So, he patiently waited for an answer.

"I have been with the project since its inception in 1940. We started in Poland." He made a face. Poland had a wonderful supply of Russian soldiers to work on, but the noise, the smell, the filth. He hated that part of Poland.

"As the war turned, we left Poland and went to Brazil, working there for more than fifty years before reaching our goals."

Nazi was just a word. The swastika just a symbol. He didn't care about Jews or homosexuals or gypsies. The goal was simple and had nothing to do with something he, as a scientist, knew was just superficial. DNA didn't lie. The Master Race lay elsewhere than in blond, blue-eyed genotypes.

"You must excuse the curiosity - I had family in the party during that time period." So the Doc was older than himself, yet he didn't show age at all. Perhaps he too had experimented on himself somewhere down the line - it was intriguing, to say the least, but Wesker didn't push the matter.

"I have only been in the game for a while; twenty-seven years to be exact. I have some catching up to do, it seems." He waved a hand slightly before making his next move.

"I would like to show you something, however." He reached up to touch the edge of his shades. "Since you have been such a wonderful informant, I believe I should return the favor."

The sunglasses slipped down and Albert turned his gaze to the doctor; those viper slits of his were pulsating slightly due to partially at the thrill of getting a reaction. It had been a while since he showed anyone his true nature.

"This is what we accomplished. Not exactly as profound as your soldiers, but it is our own strain of perfection with the use of the T-Virus."

"No scientist should ever apologize for curiosity," Doc reproved. "We still have the trappings of affiliation to the Party." It didn't really matter. Doc didn't serve the National Socialist Party. He served the Major and his goals. He was their Führer.

Twenty-seven years. Another piece of data to be filed away with all the other very interesting things Wesker had been sharing.

He watched the reveal and beamed at what Wesker showed him. The eyes. Fascinating. He leaned closer, examining, looking from the eyes to the man's skin, mouth, visible pulse points, hair.

"Ausgeseichnet." Wonderful. "The Tyrant, then? Tell me more. Tell me everything."

"I am a Tyrant - a product of Doctor William Birkin's work. He is long dead, though." Ah, that was what he was looking for. Someone who wasn't afraid, someone who appreciated what he and Birkin had worked so hard to make. It was a wonderful feeling.

"I was killed be the T-002, the one in the data files. I let the beast attack me, knowing full and well that I was injected with the virus that Birkin synthesized for me - I am the first generation Tyrant to be able to think, act, and work as I did as a human. I am glad you like our work."

He smiled, showing off his pearly whites. "I am infected with the virus, but do not fret - you cannot catch it unless you happen to digest some of my blood. Even then, we do have a cure."

"Can I get a sample?" Avarice, curiosity, need showed naked on the scientist's face. Something new. Something immediate. Better to have a cooperative subject and Wesker was being so cooperative so far. He would ask before he tried to take.

To this, Wesker frowned slightly. The only person who ever got a sample of his blood was Birkin, and even then it had been when he was human. But the Doc was a curious man and he needed some people on his side. So, despite his cautious nature, he extended his arm.

"Do make sure it does not get out of this laboratory - I do not want to have an anti-virus made to try to use against me to kill me."

"Never," Doc assured him, bustling to retrieve blood collection implements, snap on gloves, and return to swab the man's arm. "We value secrets here. There will be no anti-virus to mar the magnificent work I see in front of me."

No anti-virus save the one that Doc would work on for Millennium's use, but there would be no need to bother anyone with that so long as Wesker remained as cooperative as he was now.

"And I must see how your virus can be used with my own work. A scientist can never rest on his laurels."

Wesker remained still, his eyes blaring now. It seemed part of him wanted to get away, but he stayed perfectly still as the Doc took his sample.

"Consider this an act in trust, Doc. I find your organization useful and much like my former corporation. I find your results fascinating and I believe an alliance with you would be useful. But do heed my warning; an anti-virus or any control mechanism that can be used on me will result in severe consequences and that, dear heart, is no jest."

Blood flowed into the collection tube to be exchanged for a second tube before Doc withdrew the needle from the man's arm. He didn't bother with a cotton ball or bandage for the pinprick. That would impede his ability to watch the subject's - Wesker's physical response to the minor wound.

"Of course, of course. An anti-virus would be tantamount to an act of war." Doc said it with a straight face, easily done when so much of his attention was on the crook of Wesker's elbow. Millennium's goal was war, but not with this man. Not now.

"But I think we will find our paths parallel, so there is no need for such things, is there?"

The small pin-prick was gone in a matter of seconds. Ah, the wonders of the T-Virus. Wesker had merely forgotten how quickly he healed.

"And I would rather not go to war. And trust me, I am far better suited on your side."

The Tyrant smiled and pushed his sleeve back down.

Doc took the precious samples. One to be frozen for later use, another to have a droplet withdrawn to be placed under the microscope. So much to do. So much to learn. So many possibilities. It was a chore, now, to remember the niceties of interacting with someone other than a test subject.

"I agree," he said, trying not to sound too absent. "You have already brought us something priceless." Quid pro quo, right? "What are you hoping to get from Millennium?"

"Mn. We'll see what your Major would want from me first before I start listing off demands. However-" He replaced his shades. "A place to reside in without fear of having my own test subjects or myself bothered would be wonderful." He made a gesture, by looking around the area. "And you have such an expansive area for a man like me to prowl in."

Albert slipped the lab coat off and pulled his trench coat into his grasp. "I wouldn't mind ammunition on occasion, though, I bet I could find something to fill my Lugers."

He slipped his sleeves into the jacket and pulled out his gloves.

"We shall see what happens when I talk to your superior. Who knows - this may be the last time we speak, Doc. Or maybe not.."

He shoved a hand into his pocket removed a pocket watch. Pressing a button on the side, he checked the time.

"Still listening, Major? I would like to make a request to see you in five minutes. Would that do you well?"

"Of course," the disembodied voice said. "If the professor can spare you."

Doc was already flicking through his glasses' lenses and leaning toward the eyepieces of his microscope. He waved a hand. "Yes, of course, Major. Thank you, Herr Wesker, it has been a pleasure."

"Quite the pleasure." Albert purred again as he popped the collar to his coat. "Good evening, Doctor."

He paused in the door frame. "Before I go, I should probably ask where it is I am supposed to go."

"Alhambra or one of the others will escort you. We wouldn't want you getting lost." The Deus Ex Machina II was enormous, after all. It sounded nicer than the obvious security concerns. Didn't it?

Whatever. Doc was already getting drawn back into the microscopic world.

"Indeed." Wesker snorted as he slithered into the hallway and awaited his escort. He felt like he was being passed around and, in truth, it was slightly like that. But he didn't mind much - he was a man of patience after all. As long as he got what he want, he would stay as long as he needed to or as long as he guests wanted him around.