Steve Burnside/ Trevor Grant - The Control Room

[Admin]

(OOC: This is a starter post for therealhero. More starter posts will be posted as more bios start to come in. The starter post is a prompt to get the story going. Some of you will start off solo, some of you in pairs or small teams. When your character enters the same room as another person, feel free to jump into their thread.)

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These aren’t your usual operational parameters. You’d prefer to be in the thick of things, fighting, but this isn’t that kind of mission. Wesker wants you ready at a moment’s notice, but ready for what you couldn’t say.

There’s something particularly dangerous about him recently. He seems roused, as if something has his attention. This is never a good thing.

You don’t know a lot about the people in the mansion, but you do know that they are the enemy. Wesker has told you as much. Even so, you wonder what he hopes to achieve from all this effort. For now, all you can do is watch the monitors in the control room while you wait for orders.

You sit and wait at the console. Screens cover the wall, offering every possible view of every room of the mansion. With a flick of a switch, you can zoom, pan and change the channel. You know the cameras are state of the art, miniscule, almost impossible to detect. It’s typical Wesker. He wants control of every variable.

You know he’ll be here soon.

[trollton]

Trevor yawned leaning back in his chair as he continued to fidget with his small knife. He'd been sitting the for hours just watching the monitors in silence awaiting his next orders.

He always got the boring assignments, he'd rather have been out in the field, in the heat of battle. But instead he was stuck sitting in a room keeping an eye on Wesker's newest guinea pigs. Pocketing his knife he sighed and leaned back in his chair resting his legs on the control panel in from of him. Watching the monitors waiting for something interesting to happen.

[King of Cunts]

Albert Wesker had gone to great expense and effort to prepare this game. He expected to be entertained.

It had been many years since he had set the wheels in motion, since the preserved body of an old nemesis had been delivered into his hands. Since then, the project had grown in scope and ambition. He had brought together so many elements in readiness for this day - so many new players had been added, some by intention, others on a whim. It was time to see what profit could be made from it all.

He entered the control room, knowing that the competitors were beginning to awaken. He was eager to see how they responded to the dilemma he had left them each with.

Mister Burnside was present. Yet another individual who had been thawed specifically for this occasion. No doubt he had already noticed that Ms Redfield was one of the competitors. The affection he professed for her was a potential irritant. He would be sure the monitor the younger man closely, the better to ensure his emotions did not interfere with his judgement. It was always an important factor to consider in others.

Not all others, of course. Mister Grant was a mercenary. He could largely be relied upon to focus on a single factor - his wage - at the exception of all else. It made him reliable, even if it did not necessarily make him trustworthy.

“Mister Grant,” Wesker acknowledged, inclining his head towards the other man, “my assistant has credited your account with your usual fee, as you desired. I have requested your detachment to be held on site in the event of an outbreak. Your official purpose here is simply to oversee the quarantine of the mansion. I may have other duties for you before this business is concluded. We can discuss additional payments at a later juncture.”

[trollton]

(OOC: Sorry it took so long for me to reply and I'll try to make them longer then this in the future.)
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Trevor nodded turning to face his employer "Understood."

Moving his feet from the console to the floor, he stood up taking a few steps towards the tall blonde man "What about him?" he said tilting his head motioning to man on the far side of the room "Anything I should know about him?" he said in a slightly lower voice so the other man wouldn't here. Normally he wouldn't ask many questions but he prefered to know who he was working with in situations such as this.

[King of Cunts]

“You needn’t concern yourself,” Wesker said, taking up a position at the console and surveying the screens covering the wall, “Mister Burnside has proven himself to be a reliable asset.”

That was true, though there had never been a situation quite like this before. Of course, he expected some form of emotional rebellion, some flicker of moral resurgence at the sight of his lost love, but he believed that it would vie with his sense of professionalism for a while longer. He still owed his life to Wesker’s organisation, and the conflict between duty and sentiment would keep him in line for the time being.

Mister Grant would discover that for himself before long, but Wesker did not make a habit of revealing his hand to others, particularly his employees. And he had neither peers nor superiors.

He cast a hidden eye across the players that had been gathered for the game - his brother and the two Stars officers that had been assigned to him; Chris Redfield and his dear sister; the military contractor; even an Umbrella researcher had been recruited for the game. They were separate now, but already paths had begun to cross. It would not be long, he was sure, before they turned their efforts towards escape.

“Tell me, Mister Grant,” he said, adjusting his shades casually, “in your professional opinion, which of these individuals will survive?”

[trollton]

Though Wesker reassured him that the other man would be trustworthy he'd be sure to keep an eye on him just to be sure. In his time working with the Umbrella Corporation he'd learned to always, always be ready for anything. Even if it was just as simple as keeping a quarantine in place there was always something.

Turning his gaze to the monitors, he examined each screen looking over each of the contestants watching as each of them worked on their individual challenges. Thinking for a while he played out each scenario in his head factoring in their physical appearance and the way they handled their challenges. Playing every scenario out in his head until he found his two finalists.

Taking a few minutes to decide which he thought was more likely to survive he came to his decision. Pointing to the third monitor in the center row "Him" he walked up to the control panel and zoomed in the camera into the man's face. He had dark unkempt medium length hair with scars littering his entire face giving it a jigsaw puzzle appearance.

Remembering the quick briefing he had been given before undertaking the mission he was able to put a name to the face "Ethan Burke, in my professional opinion he'll be the last one standing after all this."

[King of Cunts]

He suppressed the reaction, but for the briefest moment Wesker felt surprise tug at his brow. Of the possible candidates for such an appraisal, that had not been the individual he had expected.

Even now, Mister Redfield was escaping his confinements with minimal difficulty. Jonathan’s redheaded bodyguard had freed herself quickly, in spite of how he had incapacitated her, and even eliminated the small group of carriers he had installed nearby to test her mettle. Mister Burke would not have been Wesker’s first candidate for survival. Thus far, his performance had been singularly below par for a member of Stars.

Perhaps that was the factor that he was failing to consider, however. His modest survival abilities would see him live through the events of the night, without drawing unnecessary attention to himself from his host. That would have been a distinct possibility, had Mister Grant not made him the focus of Wesker’s malice.

“Would you care to elucidate?” he asked, wondering if he had surmised correctly.

His eyes scanned the images being transmitted, watching as another of his captives awoke. Cayden, and his beloved ‘aunt’ was nearby. Wesker had crafted the puzzle to have a very straightforward solution. If Cayden acknowledged his dominant genes - represented by the red gem - he would be freed. The blue gem - representing his weaker traits - would result in a penalty. The dichotomy between reward and punishment had been deliberate, the better to prepare Cayden to embrace his true role in events.

He had clearly misjudged the situation, however. He attempted to insert both gems simultaneously, and as such he received both outcomes. It was a foolish move. Wesker would need to educate him if he was to be given the opportunity to redeem himself.

Smiling thinly, he gripped the microphone in one gloved hand, speaking directly into the room where his progeny was imprisoned.

“I assure you that this ‘handicap’ is merely temporary. It should last no longer than a handful of days. Should you wish for a more expedient solution, however, you will find it in the laboratory. One of your fellow survivors knows its whereabouts. I believe you have already been acquainted. Though I should warn you that you are not the only one suffering from this unfortunate malady. As usual, your arrogance is most harmful to those closest to you.”

[King of Cunts]

An irregularity had presented itself. Several cameras appeared to have malfunctioned in the vicinity of the mansion's second floor, in the west wing. Though the technology was state of the art, it was still possible for natural entropy to take its toll, particularly with the numerous creatures infesting the mansion whose behaviour he could not readily account for. Their close grouping could have hinted at a broken circuit, but it was also possible that foul play was afoot.

It would be necessary for someone to determine the nature of the damage. Wesker mused on the correct agent to send. Mister Burnside was no technician, but he was a capable operative. More than capable of infiltrating the mansion unseen and assessing the harm that had been done. It would have been gratifying to observe his interaction with Ms Redfield, were their paths to cross.

On the other hand, Mister Grant's UBCS operatives would likely begin to grow weary with waiting. It would certainly be wise to give them a task to occupy them, sooner rather than later. If they were expended sooner, that would also be acceptable. There were other resources that he was eager to keep in reserve for later occasions.

In the end, Wesker allowed his own desires to inform the solution. He had been waiting for an excuse, however paltry, to enter the mansion, and now it appeared that the opportunity had come.

"I am going to the mansion,"he informed the control room's occupants, rising from his seat and striding towards the door, "I will return in due course."