[TWD x Resident Evil] — Chapter 552 - Taking Control of Wesker

The outer perimeter of the Spencer Mansion.

Ada leaned against the SUV, eyes on the mansion in the distance.

Chris Redfield, Jill Valentine, Barry Burton, and Joseph Frost had all made it out.

The two Tyrants stood docilely a short distance away.

Chris had his hands braced on his knees, still catching his breath.

"Leon still hasn't come out." Jill checked her watch, brows drawing together slightly.

"Should I go back in?"

"Relax." Barry dusted himself off. "I could tell too — he's got more lives than any of us."

Joseph held his shotgun at the ready, eyes sweeping the perimeter.

Then the back door opened, and Leon walked out, hauling a limp figure by one hand.

Chris squinted. His eyes nearly popped out of his skull.

"Is that... the Captain?"

Leon dropped Wesker onto the ground. The body hit with a dull, heavy thud.

"Caught one alive." Leon dusted off his hands.

"Didn't you say you were going to kill him?" Chris stepped forward, staring down at Wesker's ashen face, the shallow rise and fall of his chest. "Why'd you drag him out?"

"He's still useful." Leon kicked Wesker's leg.

"It's pretty obvious what happened. He shot himself up with the good stuff — planned to play dead until you all cleared out, then resurrect and deliver your combat data to his new master as a gift."

Chris's fist clenched the moment those words landed.

Joseph just erupted.

"This bastard!" He stormed forward, foot already swinging toward Wesker's face. "I'm going to cripple him today!"

Leon's hand shot out and stopped him.

"Alright. Both of you, cool it."

"I'm keeping him. He's still useful."

Jill stared down at Wesker, her face cold.

"He really did play every single one of us."

"He belongs to me now." Leon turned to Ada.

"Did you find Sherry Birkin?"

Ada shook her head.

"I used the chaos to go through every corner of the Spencer Mansion. Nothing. No trace of her anywhere."

"My guess is she was transferred out beforehand."

Leon nodded.

Honestly, that tracked. Once Umbrella realized William Birkin had gone missing, they'd move to secure his family immediately. Classic leverage, as long as they held William's people, William wouldn't dare make a move.

"Alright. We look for leads later."

"Let's go."

Everyone moved fast.

They had barely boarded the helicopter when a violent tremor rolled in from the direction of the mansion.

The explosives buried deep underground finally cooked off.

A massive fireball punched into the sky.

Burning timber and chunks of masonry rained down like hailstones into the surrounding forest.

The Spencer Mansion, that monument to every atrocity Umbrella had ever committed, was swallowed whole by the inferno.

The shockwave kicked up a wall of dust and debris that hit the helicopter's windshield in a crackling, rattling wave.

Leon watched the column of fire climb into the sky.

A little wasteful, honestly. Umbrella's labs were a treasure trove, and every time things went sideways, they had to torch the whole thing. Couldn't they have left him something to pick through?

Wesker and the two Tyrants were loaded into one of the Umbrella vehicles. Leon took the wheel himself, not leaving that to anyone else, and floored it toward Atlanta Prison.

Ada sat in the passenger seat, watching the rearview mirror.

"You really plan on using him?"

"A double-edged sword." Leon kept one hand on the wheel. "Use it right and it's the deadliest thing you've got."

"H.C.F. wants combat data? Fine. We'll send them a live specimen."

Ada raised an eyebrow.

"Let him keep playing the mole?"

"Exactly." The corner of Leon's mouth pulled. "He loves playing spy. This time we'll let him play to his heart's content."

"Only difference is, his new boss is me."

"Wesker's really something now — running every front at once."

"H.C.F. has deep reserves. Wesker planted on the inside saves us a lot of headaches, and any risks coming our way, we'll know about them first."

"Don't worry. I've got this old fox locked down tight. No matter how much he hates it, he'll behave."

From the truck bed behind them, Wesker let out a faint, muffled groan. His brow was knotted hard.

The T-Virus was tearing through him, frantically knitting wounds shut, restructuring cells at a cellular level. But those fluids had already done the rest, burrowed into his neurons, fused into his central nervous system, woven into everything he was.

From this day forward, Albert Wesker could not betray Leon.

His life. His will. All of it, Leon's.

The outline of Atlanta Prison rose on the distant horizon, barely visible through the haze.

Inside the truck bed, Wesker's eyes snapped open.

The blood-red drained out of them fast, replaced by something flat and absolute.

He turned his neck stiffly and looked back at the tower of fire still clawing at the sky behind them.

The realization settled in, cold and total.

He'd been played.

A man of his caliber, and he'd been played.

➤ Next: The Real World