RF0 Chapter 9

The door hisses open, and the room beyond is lit only by an array of monitors. A restless blonde in a lab coat is bathed in the glow. Alexia Ashford smooths her lab coat and types with shaking fingers, her cold eyes moving from screen to screen. There’s a jerky quality to her movements. It’s obvious to Alana Wesker as she enters the room, that Alexia’s not herself. She’s muttering something.

“What is so important that it couldn’t wait?” Wesker demands, speaking over her. “My operation is already underway. What is wrong with you?”

“They’ve exposed me to something. They won’t let me have it. The F-virus is mine,” Alexia grinds out, fingers flying across the keyboard.

“You stole it. And you were exposed to it because of your own sloppiness. The antidote isn’t ready.” It only fully clears the infection in perhaps a quarter of cases. “Be rational,” Wesker says, placing her hand on Alexia’s shoulder.

Alexia slams a fist on the keyboard. “There’s a leak at the mansion. It’s them.”

“Contain it. STARS will find the evidence we’ve planted. The people on the board of directors sabotaging your work will go down, Alyssa Ashcroft’s story will run, Jill Valentine’s crusade will end, and the way will be clear for you to perfect the F-virus.”

“There’s more! I can’t think!”

“We can’t develop the cure until RPD is fully diverted and—”

Alexia turns and kisses Wesker hard, grabbing her package through her trousers. Wesker freezes for a startled moment. Then her temper snaps and she grabs a handful of Alexia’s hair, jerking down sharply. Alexia’s knees hit the floor hard, but she hungrily grabs for Wesker’s trousers. In seconds, she has Wesker’s soft cock in her mouth and sucks lustily.

Wesker twists her hair and glares at the monitors. Messages flash about a train. Alpha Team knows that something is wrong. Wesker needs to get back to RPD; they don’t have time for this. The situation is salvageable, but she needs Alexia to do her part. Wesker can’t coordinate damage control and wrangle STARS at the same time. She’s only one woman.

She’s hard, and patience has never been her strong suit. Wesker hauls Alexia to her feet and all but slams her face to the console. “This isn’t the time for this,” she growls, pulling Alexia’s lab coat aside. She yanks Alexia’s skirt up and rips her pantyhose and underwear. Alexia is sopping wet, squirming and trying to thrash her way to being in charge. Wesker wrenches Alexia’s arm behind her back and stuffs her cock into her clenching pussy.

Alexia screams and claws at the keyboard. “Yes!”

Wesker fucks her with such hostility that each thrust makes the monitors flicker. She pounds Alexia until she drools and wheezes.

“Yes. Yes,” she says breathlessly.

Wesker pulls her hair cruelly.

“Yes!” Alexia howls. Wesker holds her down and fucks her harder, finally going deep and grunting softly.

Alexia lets out a reverent moan, and her pussy squeezes greedily.

Wesker stays inside for a moment, breathing hard through her nose. Then she pulls out, and a river of cum splashes to the floor. More trickles down Alexia’s stretched and torn pantyhose.

Wesker wipes her hair out of her face and polishes her sunglasses, then tucks her cock away and tries to smooth her uniform. “Can you be civilized now?” she asks.

Still breathless, Alexia’s blonde head nods raggedly. “I can. The train.”

“The one moving the samples off the property? What about it?”

“It’s compromised.”

“Accidental?”

“I don’t know yet.” Alexia stands up straight, gulping air.

Wesker shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. Loop it back and destroy it.” It’s an expensive write-off, but they’re facing an existential crisis.

“Take the rest of your people out there,” Alexia says with a groan. “Use them to tie up the loose ends, then take care of them.”

“STARS being wiped out will bring attention that even we cannot divert,” Wesker protests.

“With the right fall guy, and Alyssa Ashcroft creating the narrative, it can work. They go out as heroes. Corrupt Umbrella officials take the fall. Everyone wins.”

“Do you know this woman?” Alexia taps a key, and an image appears on a monitor: a slim Asian woman in a red dress. It’s difficult to make out more than that; the capture is grainy.

“I don’t think so.”

“She shouldn’t be here. I think Annette sent her.”

“It would explain the breach.”

“I’ll send a team to deal with the train. Get to work,” Alexia says, snatching tissues and wiping between her legs.

“Don’t give me orders,” Wesker says as she stalks out.