Ephemeral Permanence

Ephemeral Permanence

by Ticklefish

dedicated to barb

*****************


It was at the firing range.

Chris had been with us for a while now and, despite my initial misgivings, had settled in quite well. He did what he was told and he worked hard. It was as though this was the chance he had been waiting for. I wanted to tell Irons, to rub his face in it, but we hadn't seen much of each other since that interview. True to his word, Chief Irons was leaving the team to do its own thing.

It was exhilarating to have so much power and so much freedom. At the same time, it was terrifying. S.T.A.R.S. was my idea and if it didn't succeed, it would be my head on the chopping block.

It was Burton, one of the older unit members, who had originally suggested Chris apply to the unit and it had been one of his best ideas. Not I could ever have told him that, of course.

My superiors in Umbrella had instructed me to have an aloof manner with my men. They assured me that this would result in the team respecting me without getting too close. The team had to acknowledge me as their leader without question.

Plus, keeping them at a distance meant they were less likely to discover that I worked for the corporation and not the force.

It was at the firing range where that started to go wrong.

Chris and I were the only two there. I was trying to work on my aim and Chris seemed to be practising his fast-draw skills. I let it go, there didn't seem any point in upbraiding him and I had other things to worry about.

My gun was custom-made by a man in the city. It was powerful but had an extraordinary kick and was noticeably heavy. No matter what I tried, I couldn't convince the thing to send bullets where I wanted it to. The paper target at the end of the range was pristine and untouched. The wall behind it, on the other hand, was definitely suffering.

I could have used a lighter weapon but it was part of the look. I was Captain Wesker, I was in charge of a disparate collection of men and women, there was no way I could use anything less than the most powerful hand-gun available.

It was the same reason behind my sunglasses. I'd always worn sunglasses, I liked the look. But it had become a significant part of 'Captain Wesker's Look' and there was now no way anybody could be allowed to see me without them. It was another reason why my aim was suffering. It was dark enough in the range as it was.

"Having trouble, Captain?"

Chris had paused in the middle of re-loading his gun and was looking at me with a quizzical, slightly amused look on his face.

"These sights need adjusting," I quickly improvised, "remind me to take Kendo to task about it."

"Yes sir."

He slammed the clip into his pistol and returned the weapon to the holster at his hip. He faced away from the target, paused for a second, then a second more and spun back, pulling out the gun as he did so. In one smooth movement, he aimed, fired three lightning-quick shots and put the gun away again. The whole thing had taken the barest fraction of a second.

I looked at the target. There were three neat holes. One in the groin, the heart and between the eyes. His aim had been perfect. Without thinking, I let out a low whistle of appreciation.

"Not bad, Redfield." I said trying not to sound too impressed.

He pushed a button on the wall and a faint grinding noise signalled the target being pulled up the range towards us.

"Oh, I can do better." he replied, sounded annoyed with himself .

He frowned in thought for a second and then declared that he could be even faster without his shirt on as the fabric was getting in his way. His shirt was untucked and had long sleeves so I could see his point but before I had a chance to comment, he had pulled it off and stood analyzing the target that had now arrived in front of him.

"Right." he said after a moment and tore the target off the holder, put a new one in its place and sent it on its way back down.

His gaze was on the target and I realised to my shock that I was holding my breath.

In fact, I'd been holding it ever since Chris had taken his shirt off. He was clearly no stranger to the gym and his chest was a finely sculpted piece of muscle. There was no noticeable fat and only the faintest dusting of chest hair. Standing there with his hand on his hip and a determined, focused look on his face, he resembled nothing more than a Greek god. I was surprised and more than a little astonished.

And very glad he wasn't looking at me. I doubted I had the superior look of a leader at that moment.

Again, he faced away from the target, psyched himself up and turned to deliver three surgical shots to the hapless piece of paper a few meters away.

"What do you think?" he asked of me with a proud expression on his face. "Faster, yes?"

I had no idea. My mind was in a state of shock and I was still trying regain control of it. Regain control of myself.

"A little." I admitted.

I turned away and started walking towards the exit, fighting the urge to run.

"But your aim still needs some work." I added over my shoulder.


***


"Hmm..so he wasn't a bad-looking specimen even then, eh?"

"He was a worm. He was beneath me."

So you didn't check him out then?

I am about to reply when I realise that she had not spoken. Those last few words had come from somewhere else.

I am confused. I don't know where I am or what is going on but I know I don't like it. I'm not in control and i need to be. I am always in control.

I never should have told her. Never tell your enemies anything about you, they always said. And everyone is an enemy sooner or later.

The woman grins over her glass. It is once again full, although this time with a blue liquid that reminds me of antifreeze.

"I would have liked to have seen him with his shirt off," she says, "I wonder if he is a good lover.."

She rolls the 'r's on her tongue and a mental image of the two of them together rises unbidden to my mind. I'm disgusted.

I get up to leave.

"Where are you going?" she calls after me.

I don't reply and keep walking.


***