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He strolled through the parking lot at a leisurely pace, feeling himself relax as he passed by two patrolmen sharing some banal chatter. This assignment was necessary for Umbrella’s goals, and more importantly his, but he hadn’t thought police work would have been so insipid. Except for the occasional sound of a nine-mil handgun, muffled by concrete walls, the place was quiet.
As expected.
He’d been careful about scheduling this lesson. Bravo team was out drinking, Chris had mentioned something about seeing his sister, Barry had asked for the day off weeks in advance because he had some function for one of his daughters at school or something. Besides he didn’t practice on the RPD range. He and Jill were tight with Kendo, which meant if they wanted some off-the-clock practice, they were always welcome elsewhere.
Timing things right was just another bit of the challenge, but all things considered, he’d put this off for long enough and didn’t want to deal with any distractions tonight.
She didn’t hear him come in—between her focus on the target out at the other end of the room, the gunfire and her ear protectors, she was dead to the world. They’d have to work on situational awareness… albeit after tonight she might keep watching her back.
He stood back, observing. Definitely had improved her stance, he noted as his eyes drifted up and down her body. He circled around to the controls for the range equipment. Waited for her to finish up and begin to change magazines before flipping the switch.
She practically jumped as the machinery whirred and the paper target drew closer. Whipping to his direction she quickly stood at attention, whipping off her ear protectors. “Captain!”
“At ease, Officer. Chambers” Wesker said, eyes roving over her. His habit of wearing sunglasses at all times was a topic of some joking at the RPD, but he wasn’t going to break it. Always was helpful to disguise when he rolled his eyes at the small talk, or when he was observing talent.
“Nice shooting.” Wesker said, staring past Rebecca at the paper target. Everything in the black this time—much better than her first time on the range. About half the holes she had drilled through the target were solid center-mass, tightly bunched together. The remainder were all over the silhouette. “Practicing on your own?”
“Yessir!” She said, with a nod, an aside glance. She didn’t say it, but he could imagine her earnestly saying “Aw shucks, thank you for noticing.”
When he first met her, he almost thought it was an act. Playing at being the disarmingly guileless wunderkind. Which would’ve been an interesting challenge. Still, he hadn’t been disappointed when she convinced him that she really was nothing more than met the eye.
Rebecca was eager to please. Insecure about her usefulness to the team—he threaded the needle between letting her know how subpar her shooting was and encouraging her to improve. A few after-work lessons here and there. Sidling up behind her to correct her foot position when firing from a Weaver stance.
She had tensed at that, but then realized that he was her superior. Adult supervision. Someone she could trust. And so he’d work on her, let her know how she needed to improve, but he could see her potential. She wasn’t used to being dead weight, but obviously was thrilled that she had a mentor, someone who was trying to help her develop.
For as obviously smart as Rebecca Chambers was, she was an idiot.
Still, she made for an interesting hobby.
“I’m glad to hear that. You’ve been putting in a lot of hard work.” Wesker said, putting a hand on her shoulder and give it a gentle squeeze. A little twitch in her mouth, suppressing a smile, perhaps. With the glasses on, he couldn’t really see if she was turning red.
For some reason she really liked praise from an authority figure. Something both Birkin and Irons had commented on.
One of the few times he’d felt his temper flare at William was when his old friend noted he seemed to gravitate towards women eager to please and inexperienced as they recounted their workdays—something to do while waiting for something to happen. William joked that Wesker had a type. That was not the case. If William identified some similarities, that was only from a sample size of two. And they weren’t the same.
Irons’ baser insinuations as to why he selected the eighteen year old girl of all people to serve as a medic was also not the case. Not entirely. Albert Wesker was not made of stone, and there was definitely appeal in something that innocent. But she was more than just a pretty face and some holes to fuck.
“Thank you, sir.” She nodded again. Her face scrunched a little, and she nodded. “For everything. For giving me this chance, and all your help with this.”
“I saw quite a bit of potential in you.” He said, nonchalantly lying as usual. She was quite intelligent for her age—maybe had potential in a lab. He wanted something else out of her.
She beamed. Yes, Rebecca Chambers was attractive in an ‘cute’ sort of way. No, he hadn’t hired her entirely for her looks or naivete. In between insipid days at the RPD, he needed a challenge. He wagered that he could’ve had her horizontal on his desk within ten minutes of knowing her—that would be a distraction. One he could bore of quickly. To pass the time for a longer stretch of insipid administrative police work, he needed a project. Something to build up, even if it was ultimately disposable. A challenge.
The challenge with Rebecca Chambers was not having her, it was actually making something competent out of her. When the resume crossed her desk, eighteen years old, no prior military or police background, actually having a biology degree with a pre-med focus. Enough material to work with, but he’d have to work for it.
He stepped in close. Since hiring her, he’d taken to making contact with her. Playing a game of P.I.G. on the basketball court, brushing up against her in the office when others weren’t around. She had never told him to stop, and hadn’t seemed uncomfortable. He leaned in close…
“Reload and do it again.” He instructed, breaking contact to set up a new target, then stepping back to observe. Rebecca waited a second, then complied. He leaned against the wall as she stood, in a weaver stance and opened up.
He supposed it was a good sign that whatever doubts Enrico and the rest obviously had that their medic wasn’t old enough to drink, they didn’t voice them. They definitely complained about it—he’d read the surveillance reports—but nobody had done more to his face than diplomatically suggest some other candidate might’ve been better—they all knew Ryman had tried for S.T.A.R.S. and washed out. Saying he was absolutely not qualified as a medic was enough to shut them up.
He was the boss. He didn’t need to try too hard to impose his will. Alpha team honestly protested more than Bravo—possibly Barry due to his kids, Chris his sister, and Jill as a fellow woman? They didn’t push too hard either. Whatever their hangups, he was trustworthy.
It was almost boring how little work it took to get S.T.A.R.S. to dance to his tune. Playing chess with a bunch of children who thought they were playing tic-tac-toe. And… Raccoon was a quiet enough town that being the commanding officer of a tactical police unit had almost no action. Nothing to challenge himself with. Thankfully, there was a lot of work to be done on Rebecca herself.
Bravo team needed a sixth member. But if Umbrella, and by extension their competitors, wanted anything resembling valid results, Rebecca needed to be more than just a warm body. S.T.A.R.S. was to test the efficacy of B.O.W.s against trained and equipped personnel. A green team member could be acceptable, but if she didn’t have a minimum level of competence, she’d be as useful a data point as if they put a badge on a steak and left it in the lab.
Umbrella needed a competent sample of a tactical unit. He needed something to do to break up the monotony. Rebecca needed to learn.
Everybody won out. Even if the game was rigged and he’d be walking away with all the spoils.
Fifteen rounds, and pulling the target in to evaluate. Not quite as on point—maybe performance anxiety while being watched. Distracted, maybe. Unfortunate that her nerves might interfere with her performance, but it was gratifying musing at the effect he had on her.
“I… uh.” Rebecca said, clearly getting that she hadn’t done nearly as well as she examined the target—grouping all over the place.
“You need to work on consistency.” Wesker nodded. The shots would drop a man—passing grade for a patrol officer, but not quite the performance he’d want out of S.T.A.R.S.
Still, it was interesting watching her improve. Seeing if he could get Rebecca to shape up. No real downside if she cracked under the pressure and left the team—there were always backups he could rely on. But building her up was an interesting task, even if was solely so she could be knocked down.
To give her a break to collect herself, he handled the next target. Three shots—two center mass, one in the middle of the silhouette’s head. Holstering his beretta he turned the floor over to Rebecca.
“Yes sir.”
Eager to please.
This time she fired a little more slowly—he considered chiding her that in the field she’d need to react and the line between survival and death could be milliseconds, but settled on nodding and noting that this was her best performance yet. “Try it again. This time, pull from your holster.”
She was not a quickdraw. Still was on target this time. There was something about this—watching her progress. It was… almost something like pride. Almost. Rebecca was shaping up to be useful. Like winning the office football pool on long odds. Ultimately trifling, unimportant, but it was still a success.
“Good job, Chambers.” He said, stepping in close. She was smiling again, happy that her hard work was paying off, that her commander was proud of her. That she wasn’t just a useless rookie. “Marksmanship has definitely improved.”
She nodded and thanked him. When she asked if he wanted her to go again, he shook his head. No need, he supposed it was time to do something else. She holstered her weapon and waited for instructions. And he let her wait.
When she opened her mouth to ask what, he rushed in; the look on shock on her face as he hooked a leg behind hers, shoved her off balance, kept a grip on her to keep her from hitting the concrete.
She looked terrified, staring up at him as he straddled her, pinning her down. “Captain?!”
“In the field, you have to react to threats, Officer.” He said, glad to see she hadn’t froze but instead was trying to pry him off. She was putting up a decent fight—but at the end of the day he had practically a full foot of height and one-hundred pounds on her. “Need to be prepared to expect anything.”
If Rebecca wasn’t so guileless, he’d be worried about planting the idea that maybe she shouldn’t trust him, that she should be on guard. But he was pretty sure he had a read on her. The shock on her face, the struggles—this was fun. An indulgence.
His interest in Rebecca wasn’t purely physical, but the devil made him press the advantage.
After all, his acquaintance with Chambers was ultimately going to be brief, and even though he’d hired her as a challenge, since it was looking like she was shaping up, he might as well get some other use out of her. He got up, offered Rebecca a hand. Embarrassed, she reached up and took it, and he yanked her to her feet, maintaining a grip on her wrist as he pinned it behind her back.
The clink of metal around her right wrist as he cinched the handcuffs made her freeze—good enough to let him pull her other arm back and cinch the cuff on that wrist, too. “You froze, Rebecca.”
“Uh… I.” She began, looking at him over her shoulder. She had no idea what was going on, was running scenarios in her head. Trying to convince herself this wasn’t happening? Thinking that she should scream, should make some noise? Taking a deep breath, she said. “Understood. Sorry, sir. What should I have done differently?”
“Expect the unexpected. Don’t assume someone is unarmed, or is harmless. Make sure.” He said, deciding to move on to a different lesson in policework. He marched her against the wall and began to pat her down Shoulders, up a pant leg, then the other. His hands lingered on her sides. “You’re tense, Officer.”
“Is this really necesa…” Her question became a squeak when he pinched her. She went very stiff as he leaned in, snaking a hand around in front. She worked up the nerve to speak up when his hand hell on her breast. “Captain Wesker I…”
“You’re a lovely young woman, Rebecca.” He growled in her ear. “I’m sure you know that.”
She whined a little as he played with her. This was a major escalation, but also a decent enough test to see just how much he’d read her right. Small town girl, good grades, all alone in a big city. Fresh out of college—desperate for the approval of an authority figure. A pat on the head and telling her she was special, and she’d listen.
At least that was the theory. Ah well, if he read her wrong he’d cross that bridge soon enough.
She was trembling in his grip. He played at imagining the thoughts going through her head. Afraid? Excited? Both? Between surveillance he’d had done on her, along with his own private snooping, he knew she read some trashy bodice-rippers—had a few in her locker in the precinct even. “You’ve done well, officer. You deserve a reward.”
Whatever reply she had turned into a yelp as he pulled her away from the wall, taking her down, gently again.
She protested as he rolled her over, forcing her into a sitting position while he crouched behind her. “Sir this…”
“You’re a big girl, Rebecca…” He hushed her, slowly. Hm. Perhaps he could’ve chosen his words better—‘young woman’ perhaps. Make her feel mature. She went very still as he groped her through her shirt, and groaned a little.
He fumbled with her belt, then her fly. She tensed as his fingers found their way underneath her underwear. She trembled, shuddered, tried to say something but couldn’t. He kissed the side of her neck. “You’re doing great, Rebecca.”
Praise. Praise was the key. Subject responded well to positive reinforcement from male authority figures.
“Uh… sir?” She barely managed to squeak.
She shuddered and whined as he fingered her, mixing instructions to keep it down, admonitions that if she made noise someone might find them, and copious praise. She was a lovely young woman—leaning in on how mature she was for her age, that was the right call.
“We can’t… this is… not… you’re my boss.” She whined. We can’t. Like she had a vote here—that was ammo she was giving him. This wasn’t him, this was a we. Trying to be proper, keep this professional maybe. “Sir.”
“I’ll stop if you want me to, Rebecca.” He growled. Part of him wanted to yank her hair and tell her to keep it down. To throw her around, bruise her up. But that would ruin it—he was already rushing things, but he couldn’t push it too far. This was a we situation between him and Rebecca. “You’re giving me reasons to stop. But you’re not saying you want me to stop. Do you?”
She stammered a bit.
Given how slick his fingers were inside her, he’d guessed she wouldn’t. He wondered if any teacher took advantage of her—young, a bit naïve, clearly loving attention from older men. Say the right words, she’d rationalize, at least for a while. Maybe harbor doubts, know this was wrong but keep quiet, at least for a while. She was an open book.
It wasn’t like this was going to be a long term thing. After all, she was just a project while waiting for the opportunity to test he against B.O.W.s. Maybe something to release the tension building from the constant days of dealing with Umbrella and Irons. To his satisfaction, he read her right. She relaxed, resting her head against his shoulder as he fingered her, hearing her moan and whine. In his grasp, she even started to rock against him.
Then she gasped when he pulled his fingers out.
Standing up, circling around, he looked her over. Pulled off his sunglasses to see her red-faced, dazed. “Want to keep going? We can call it a night if you want.”
He paused. He’d indulge her if she asked—again pushing her too far would mean he’d have to deal with a headache, and it would waste all the time and effort he put in this little project. It would be awkward, but he could reasonably be sure she wouldn’t bring it up to anyone. After all, he was the only one in S.T.A.R.S. who was making an effort, giving her attention as something other than the rookie who had no business in a tactical police unit.
He took a knee. She was trembling slightly, flushed, doing her best not to make eye contact until he called her name. “Rebecca.”
“Um… I’m good.” She said, meek.
“I know you’re good.” Wesker said, doing his best to grin warmly. “Do you want to continue? Want me to uncuff you?”
She nodded.
Hm… it would’ve been fun to keep her in cuffs, but as she wished. He figured if they still had more time before he needed to dispose of her, he could see just how far he could get her. She’d look good in rope.
He helped her to her feet. She was unsteady, and her pants had fallen to mid-thigh as he circled around and uncuffed her. She moved to pull her pants back up, before freezing and looking at him.
“If you want to.” He nodded.
“Are you sure nobody will walk in on us?”
Repeated late-night firearms training, close contact, and nobody had interrupted. Still, if it made her more comfortable…
“We can head up to the office if you want.” Wesker said, giving a slight reassuring grin. “I can lock the door.”
The elevator ride was quiet, Rebecca clearly having a million different thoughts. He could tell the way she tensed, relaxed, tensed. Still, she leaned in on him in the elevator. He locked her in with him and headed over to his desk, looking at her expectantly.
Standing in front of his desk, she awkwardly, haltingly gyrated a little, before undoing her belt. Uncomfortable, but thinking on her feet. Didn’t have to order her around. He cleared his desk carefully while she stripped, her too much in her own head to much notice. Her shirt and bra joined her pants and underwear on the floor, as she turned to face him, but kept her eyes off of him. Red faced, clearly having a lot of thoughts. But compliant. Things were working out wonderfully.
“You must have get a lot of attention from the opposite sex, correct?” Wesker said, noting that she moved her arm up to cover her breasts before pausing and letting it drop to her side. “Don’t be embarrassed Rebecca. You’re beautiful.”
Maybe that was hyperbole. She was ‘cute’, not stunning Definitely appealing either way. And flattery worked so well for her.
“Did you…” She began, voice small.
“Hire you just to do this?” He said, letting some faux-shock drip into his voice. He shook his head. “Why would you think that?”
“I… I know I didn’t have the right background.” She said. No prior experience for a medic on the team. She was a smart girl—she picked up on her own lack of skill day one but was determined to fake it until she made it. “And I know everyone else…”
It was not terribly hard to maintain the thought that the rest of the team looked down on her, that her only supporter was her Captain. Once she realized how out of her depth she was, a few perceived slights, and she was desperate for tutelage—Barry or Chris or Enrico could teach her how to shoot, but Wesker had made sure she was her only safe harbor.
“Nonsense.” Wesker said. Right now, he didn’t want to have this discussion, but he supposed he had to get through it to get what he wanted. Besides, even if she did think he hired her for her body—well, letting her believe that was better than the truth. “You’ve got an unusual background for a cop. It was intriguing…”
He left it on that, let her think about it. She intrigued him. As an interesting hobby that was ultimately disposable, but she didn’t need to know that portion of it.
“…you didn’t have any experience. But you had potential—survival is responsiveness to change.” He said. Mangling an old Darwin quote—she had used the full quote to lead a reasonably decent paper she’d written in school. “And you’ve improved… downstairs, you’ve made so much progress.”
After a long pause, he looked to the side, did a theatrical sigh, and then looked at her “I… you’re right. I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist. Moment of weakness. We can stop if you want.”
She was too eager to please and satisfied by his assurances to put the brakes on. Naked as the day she was born, the little lamb stepped to his desk. After a pause, he undid his fly and pulled his cock free.
The wall-eyed stare Rebecca had fixed on him was quite adorable. “Um…”
“Lay down.” He rapped the desk with his knuckles as he got up and walked around. When she hesitated, he added “Officer.”
She followed her orders. She sat on the desk, then laid back, looking up at him expectantly. He took position between her legs, and looked over over, appreciatively. Didn’t hire her just for her body—but if he were that kind of man, she would’ve been perfect for that. “Um… do you have a condom?”
“Trust me.”
Somehow, that was sufficient, and she relaxed, looked up at him. He leaned over her, slowly pressing his cock against her, as she nervously smilled. He pushed in slowly. Made sure to praise her—she was wonderful. That was actually his honest appraisal.
Tight and warm against him, soft as he leaned against her and pushed in. He kept a slow, even pace as she whined and moaned, making sure to let her know how well she knew how to treat a man. He kept up the praise, how she had made a lot of progress, deserved the attention.
He fucked her like a whore over his desk, and a few kind words made it seem like she thought he had treated her like a goddess. For her part, she seemed happy enough, clamping a hand over her mouth to stifle little noises she was letting out with every thrust. Her free hand gripped his bicep, nails digging in hard enough to hurt.
She shuddered and moaned and whined. Like with everything with Rebecca Chambers, this was a project. Make sure she had a good time, and she’d hopefully be less likely to let things slip—make it less likely she’d think about ‘jeopardizing’ her or his career.
He supposed it was smart to have had some soundproofing installed when Umbrella had foot the bill for renovating the RPD and giving him this office.
It was over soon. He felt the tension building to a peak and pulled out suddenly, leaving Rebecca to look up in surprise. “No condom, remember?”
Not that she would be sticking around for nine months, but it would be a lot easier if he need not worry about fathering a child. Not that he thought he would get attached, but it would be an unnecessary complication.
He walked to the other side of the desk, collapsing into his chair, breathing heavily. Siting down, leaning on an armrest, cock hanging out, it took Rebecca a moment to realize she still had a duty to perform.
She wasn’t great at giving head, as she awkwardly, shakily got off his desk and knelt before him. Shame that this would be a rare enough occurrence that he couldn’t really be confident in training her skills in that arena. Still, he was close, and she was putting in effort. He pulled her in close and came with a groan, gripping her hair tight.
She swallowed and he let her pull up for air. Still kneeing, she rested her head in his lap, running a hand up and down his leg. He watched her like a hawk, trying to parse out what was going on. He was pretty sure tonight had gone well enough it wouldn’t be problematic, but then again, she might yet surprise him.
“Uh… sir?” He averted his gaze as she picked her head up to look at him.
He kept his eyes off of her, running a hand through his hair. “I mustn’t look at you too much or I won’t be able to take my eyes off you at all.”
Kafka. Never actually bothered to read the man beyond some selected quotes—trying that line out one the Kafka fan he knew had her laugh and correctly guess he was trying to flatter her. She was a very, very different challenge than Rebecca, who probably was thinking it was deep. Commander, scientist, and student of literature.
He got up and helped her to her feet, feeding her a line about keeping a cool head under pressure. Admitting he himself failed that challenge—she was irresistible.
Perfect bait.
He drove her home, evaluating. Maybe he had gone too far. Probably not, as she began to gush, how she did have a crush on him. But that she didn’t mean to go this far. This was our decision, not his. He was conciliatory. This was fun, but it would have to be kept quiet.
The project was coming along nicely.