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.

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An absolute giant of a man, near seven feet in height, stood in front of the zeppelin 's lowered doorway, his eyes shaded by a cap hung low, his mouth blocked by a high collar.

He raised his head slightly, and his eye caught Wesker.

Albert arched a brow as the aircraft landed. Well, that was sure an escort - quite the tall man, a good foot higher than Wesker himself.

Odd, he never actually had the experience of feeling short.

"I am guessing you are my escort," Albert purred.

Slowly, the Captain nodded and stood to the side slightly, extending an arm, indicating that Wesker should enter in before him.

Albert said not another word and just walked in the direction the Captain was leading him. No questions needed to be asked, it seemed.

The place was designed for utility and millitary. Steel corridors, cameras, small remote controlled gun emplacements. The entire thing gave off the feeling of "You don't get in unless I want you to get in". They passed by a man in a three piece suit, smoking a long brown cigarette. He pushed up his hat with one finger and grinned, showing razor sharp teeth. He pointed to the door next to him.

"The Doc's lab. He's expecting you."

Albert's shaded gaze turned to the man in the three-piece suit and a smile came to his lips. Those teeth - they definitely weren't human and that, by itself, perked the Tyrant's interests. It seemed the Doc had made some sort of triumph in his own right and Wesker was terribly curious as to what sort of adjustments he had been working on. So, he made a mental note to bring up the subject at a later time. Right now, he had business to attend to.

Slipping past the well-dressed man, Albert nodded towards him and headed through the door.

"Danke," he murmured softly, as he disappeared into the next room.

The Doctor was waiting. Or not waiting. Waiting would have taken him away from his work for something tedious and pointless like standing around. No matter how intriguing Albert Wesker might be.

A fellow traveller. He hated the City in most ways, but the opportunity to learn from the various and extremely sundry people who came here was once-in-a-lifetime.

The blond man flicked through his lenses when he finally heard this new man approaching and stood up from his microscope. On the monitor next to him, some phage ruthlessly attacked the easily recognizable toroid of a human blood cell.

To say his attire was quirky was to do it a disservice. It was freakish. White trousers stained in blood at the bottom. Six fingers in each hand stuffed into gloves made for five. White lab coat spattered like a Pollock in red and browned blood. Peculiar midriff-baring white shirt. And the glasses with their multitude of lenses that could be flicked in and out of place like a wearable optician's apparatus.

Doc liked to think he made fashion happen for himself.

Most others were busy staring and then screaming.

Still, he smiled when Wesker approached.

"Come in. Ignore Alhambra."

Wesker stood a few feet inside the room, taking it in for the first time; it was a proper lab, it seemed, and the man in the center must have been "the Doc." He looked like something out of an old World War II film and it caused the old Tyrant to arch a brow over the frame of his shades. Despite all his calculations, despite all of his questioning, this Doc fellow had taken him a bit off guard and it had been a long time since Albert Wesker had been taken off guard. But he shook the feeling - no need to insult his gracious host. Still, something about the man wasn't exactly normal to Albert's standards. Then again, what exactly was "normal" now?

"You must be the man I talked to," he murmured, his accent purely European. Not entirely German, not entirely English, it was his own and he didn't mind flaunting it. He gave it little mind after that, however. He just extended his leather-clad hand to the blood-ridden individual before him.

"You must excuse, I did not dress for the lab."

"I think we have a spare lab coat in the closet," Doc said, after a pause reaching out to take Wesker's hand for a perfunctory, limp handshake.

"I am the Doctor, yes. Just Doc will do. Everyone calls me Doc." He was in his laboratory, his domain. Most of his twitches and affectations and nervousness disappeared in here. ~~Unless the Major dropped in.~~

And here he had his security. A touch of a button on the remote and all his problems could be dealt with.

"Did I see that you have met Szayel Apporo? Good man. Like-minded." His fingers moved restlessly while he talked. "I have not seen enough of his work, but what I have, I have liked."

After the brief handshake, Wesker undid the front of his jacket and shrugged it off. It was then hung over a nearby chair as he rolled up his sleeves. "Just Doc then - suits me well. Wesker will do just fine for myself." His first name wasn't something he just gave out, oh no.

"Apporo? I could have - I did not really gather many names." Wesker removed his leather gloves, revealing his pale coloration - he looked like death, his skin a horrible whitish-hue and his veins a blue-ish purple color. He resembled an individual that had been stuffed into a freezer for a long period of time, but he didn't seemed bothered by it at all. Instead, he just pushed up his shades with a naked digit and sneered as if nothing about him were off.

"It seems there are far more adventurous people here than cautious diplomats whose only interest is following order and law. I cannot say that is isn't a nice change. On the contrary, it is good to find other people...more like myself." He could feel it as he spoke - that animal nature behind his stoic appearance. It was peeking now that he felt happy - well, happy wasn't the right word. Perhaps content. Whatever the feeling was, it was making the Tyrant in him quite content and he could feel his eyes starting to pulse under his shades. He grunted a bit and rolled his neck to the side, distracting himself for a moment.

He had to remain calm, despite his slight excitement. He couldn't let his oppressed side come out and say hello.

Oh, there would be data collected on Wesker just as there was data collected on anything and everything. Partial lividity. Skin tone firm. Coloring pale. I've seen corpses with better blushes. Thoughts the Doctor would revisit as he reviewed the footage being collected by the security cameras. Infrared might have interesting things to say about this one, as well.

"There are those who will whine and complain, but they are disorganized. Weak." Doc begrudged the moment to open the closet and pull out a spare lab coat. It had faded, bleached bloodstains, but it was clean (-ish.)

"Tell me more of your work."

It was a quick gesture, but his eyes did flash behind those shades as the Doc moved around. Those viper-slits watched him, studied him and looked for anything that could be of interest. And Wesker, of course, found plenty to ask about later.

"My work-" He began. "-my work is mostly on the biological level. I was a virologist in my prime years." Albert placed the leather-bound journal upon a nearby table.

"Feel free to examine the files (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Resident_Evil_creatures#Resident_Evil) shown (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tyrant_%28Resident_Evil%29) in that journal (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lisa_Trevor). If you have any questions, don't be afraid to ask."

Doc gravitated to the journal immediately. He flipped it open without a further word and scanned each page, speed reading the contents and making occasional sounds of interest mixed with amusement.

Fascinating stuff. Similar to some of his work, in fact, although Doc would aver that his work was more artistic.

"Zombies... my early work was with ghouls. Some of the fruit of my later work escorted you to the lab."

"As I figured." Albert had his back to the Doc as he snatched up one of the extra lab coats. The suit jacket was exchanged for the white article and soon, Wesker was feeling like his old eighteen-year-old self.

"Obviously they aren't human, but curiosity slays this cat - what have you done to the man in the suit? His teeth are far more suited to a stalking hunter than your average human omnivore."

"Alhambra, you mean?" Doc asked while he pored over the journal, committing some portions to memory. "He's just showing off.

"He's a vampire, as are most of Millennium's soldiers."

Vampires; ah, yes. That pamphlet had said something about vampires, didn't it? Albert made a small noise in the back of his throat - he would have to find out if he could get a blood sample at some point, but not now. No need to rush things.

"Millennium?" The Tyrant eyed the other man.

"The name of our illustrious organization, of course."

While they had been talking, one of the many screens had been switched on. It was difficult to tell who it was the screen was showing, little could be seen aside from a shadowy silhouette, and a pair of gleaming lenses in the dark.

Doc snapped upright and straightened his coat with quick nervous movements.

"Major. This is Herr Wesker. He has some very interesting research."

Wesker didn't like being in the dark, nor did he like people talking to him over the intercom. So, it was only instinct to slightly lift his upper lip for a second or two. But that soon faded as Albert turned to gaze around the ceiling for a source.

"I was invited by your professor here. Though, I suppose I am being quite rude - my name is Albert Wesker. Pleasure to hear from you, Herr Major." The Tyrant purred. "I do apologize for not announcing myself earlier - you know how we scientists work. We're so terribly interested in learning information that we sometimes forget proper etiquette. Es tut mir leid."

Speaking German again felt so odd - it had been so long since he enjoyed his native language. But, deep down, it gave the elder man a deep satisfaction to rekindle part of himself.

"//Oh, don't worry yourself overly," the Major said, crossing one leg over another. "I'm quite aware of the proclivities of scientists, and you would not have come onto my home if I had not let you, knowing perfectly well you were here. A pleasure to meet you. You... have great promise,//" the Major replied in German.

Doc was lucky he'd even had the nerve to invite Wesker with as twitchy as he had been since Divia had had her go at him.

"Thank you, Major. I think we can have a mutually useful collaboration." Oh yes. Quite useful. Wesker's information already had the scientist's head teeming with ideas.

"Most excellent," the Major responded. "I'll leave you two to your science. But I simply had to greet our guest myself."

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."

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