Chapter Text
“Agent Muller.”
“Agent,” Jake repeated, closing the fridge door with his hip as he opened his next drink. “You’re hilarious, Ingrid.”
The F.O.S. agent’s sigh was clearly audible, even through the phone. “I’m preparing to divulge government secrets to an active mercenary currently three White Claws deep into his girlfriend’s fridge. I’d like some plausible deniability.”
Jake paused, his eyes immediately flicking to the open laptop he’d left on the kitchen table, the webcam light decidedly on. “Spying on me. Well played. Are you at least enjoying the view?”
“… What do you want, Jake?”
Jake took a swig, then said, “what do you know about a man named Zeno?”
Ingrid spluttered. “Damn it, Muller. You’re worse than Leon.”
“Is it true?” Jake asked. “Is he a clone of my father?”
“How the hell do you even know about him?” Ingrid asked.
“Who fucking cares?! Is it true or not?” Jake snapped.
“I took your call as a favor to Agent Birkin,” Ingrid replied, her voice firm. “But I’m not divulging classified information until you answer me. How do you know about Zeno?”
Jake rubbed his temple, counting to ten in Edonian before he spoke. “Mia Winters.”
“You— how do you know about Mia Winters?” Ingrid cried.
“Chris Redfield assigned me to escort her and the baby through Eastern Europe, so the Umbrella and the Connections wouldn’t track them,” Jake explained.
“He doesn’t have the authority to- god, never mind!” Ingrid took a deep breath. “Mia Winters told you about Zeno?”
“No,” Jake said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not… directly. She told me I reminded her of someone she used to work with. I’d been hearing… rumors, so I showed her a picture of Wesker. She told me that a man called Zeno Wesker was the one who hired her, and supervised her during the… the mold thing.”
“Mold thing,” Ingrid repeated, incredulous.
“She didn’t know anything else about him,” Jake continued. “That’s why I called you.”
Ingrid sighed. “Goddamnit, Jake.”
Jake waited, his fingers tapping the counter rapidly.
“We have data from Lucas Baker’s lab and from Mother Miranda’s hideout, both referencing a high ranking Connections employee called ‘ZW’, with Miranda’s notes going back to 1999,” Ingrid said, her voice low. “From Lucas Baker, we have financial records that show the Connections funneled nearly $50 million into a project they called ‘W. Echo’ in 1998.”
“What else do you have?” Jake asked, his throat suddenly dry.
“Nothing,” Ingrid said pointedly. “Like the rest of the Connections, Zeno is a ghost. There is no proof whatsoever that he is a clone of your father. There not even proof that he’s related to any of the other Wesker children. There is no reason to believe he’s anything more than a pretender, using your father’s name for the reputation it comes with.”
“How do I find him?” Jake asked.
“You’re kidding.”
Jake exclaimed, “I’m not going to—“
“Stop talking. I don’t want to know,” Ingrid interrupted, the clacking of her keyboard floating through the phone before Jake’s computer dinged. “He keeps a penthouse apartment in Downtown Wrenwood. Expensive place, with impeccable security. We don’t have eyes or ears inside.
Jake clicked on the email, looking down at an online map with the penthouse clearly marked. “Got it.”
“If anyone catches you inside, Connections or DSO, I will bury your ass before you can even say my name. Understood?” Ingrid hissed.
“Yes, ma’am,” Jake said with a sly grin. “Thanks.”
❧
It was 4:00 PM when Jake stepped off the bus, walking quickly in the rain and wind down the crowded blocks, until he arrived at the modern-style building looming over Wrenwood.
He adjusted his clothes, then strode inside, headed directly for the front desk with a familiar lie falling off his lips.
“Hi, ma’am. Name’s Jack Smith. I’m here to visit my aunt in Apartment 814, but she forgot to give me her elevator fob-“
Five minutes of smooth talking and fake smiles later, Jake was picking the lock to the top floor penthouse, and letting himself in silently, both surprised and relieved by the lack of cameras.
The apartment was… gaudy. As he stepped further inside, Jake felt out of place in every sense.
The full-length windows were stunning, as were the walnut floors and grand piano beside the living room.
The couch was massive and shaped like a kidney bean, creamy white and made of velvet with a glass coffee table and matching side tables, each adorned with fresh flowers and antique books.
The kitchen was sleek and modern, while a built-in bar was opposite the couch, stocked with liquor so expensive Jake could feel his head spin.
The penthouse was a loft, the bedroom up a set of wooden stairs, but Jake wasn’t chomping at the bit to go snoop around the man’s underwear drawer, whether they were blood related or not.
So Jake perched himself on the edge of the couch with his handgun on his lap, closing his eyes in a sort of… meditation.
It wasn’t 30 minutes before he heard the sound of expensive shoes down the hallway, and Jake stood, aiming his sidearm squarely at the door.
A key turned in the lock, before the door swung open, revealing a tall man with short white hair, sunglasses, and a three piece white suit with a black overcoat hanging from his shoulders. If he saw Jake, which he almost certainly did, he showed no sign, closing and locking the door behind him before draping his black coat on the coat rack.
Jake cleared his throat, and the man sighed, turning to face him.
“Is that really necessary?” Zeno asked, reaching a hand into his coat pocket, which made Jake step forward, bringing his free hand to the handle of the gun. Zeno didn’t let the movement intimidate him, continuing smoothly only to pull out a pack of cigarettes, one of which he plucked out of the box with a gloved hand.
“I think we both know that it is,” Jake said, circling Zeno as the men drew closer. “My name is Jake Muller, and I—“
“I know who you are,” Zeno interrupted, pulling a lighter from his pocket and bringing it to the cigarette hanging from his lips. “Jake Albert Muller, son of Dr. Albert Muller and—“
Jake pulled the trigger, shattering the bottle of Sanguis Virginis on display on the marble bar table. A few drops of crimson wine splattered on Zeno’s white dinner jacket.
Zeno didn’t flinch, but his lip curled into a snarl as he flicked open the lighter and lit his cigarette with his single gloved hand.
“Keep my mother’s name out of your mouth,” Jake hissed, returning his aim to Zeno’s chest. “You know who I am. Tell me who you are.”
Zeno sighed, but he crossed the room with a measured calmness, sitting down across from Jake and crossing his legs, removing his sunglasses to reveal burning gold eyes that stirred a distant memory in Jake.
Jake kept the handgun leveled firmly at Zeno’s chest, but he sat as well, leaning back with his legs spread.
“In 1998, the Connections saw Umbrella’s failure in Raccoon City as their chance to—“
Jake pointed his gun at the fancy vase beside Zeno’s head, but as soon as he pulled the trigger, he felt a gust of wind and the entire side table disappeared, the bullet lodging in the wood floor as Zeno blinked back into place.
The man carefully placed the table and vase back down on the floor, then returned to his seat in another flash.
Jake’s eyes widened, the gun nearly slipping from his grasp. “You are like him.”
“So I’m told,” Zeno said, taking another drag of his cigarette. “They named me Zeno Echo Wesker. I was made from a sample of his DNA obtained after the Prototype Virus had altered his genome and given him his enhanced abilities.”
Jake’s eyes widened, and he stared into Zeno’s unnerving golden gaze for several long moments, before the ex-mercenary tossed his gun aside and rubbed his face.
Zeno raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. If Jake didn’t know better, he’d call the emotion genuine surprise. “Why are you here, Jake?”
“Fuck if I know,” Jake muttered. “To see if it was true. If you are who they say you are.”
“Of course,” Zeno said, taking another drag. “That’s why you’ve taken an interest in me. That is not why you risked your life and your career to break into my home and hold me at gunpoint.”
Jake snorted. “What, a man can’t try to form a brotherly bond with his father’s clone?”
Zeno smiled, his lips thin enough to show sharp teeth. “You came because you need something from him. Something you hope that I possess.”
Jake grit his teeth, looking down at the floor.
Zeno paused, the slightest hint of hesitation slipping past his suave exterior. “The Connections have kept my origins a closely guarded secret. If Umbrella knew about my existence, tensions between the companies could spiral into all out war. But you and I… we share blood.”
“Is that your way of saying I should trust you?” Jake asked, looking up with a pointed glare. “What, do you think we’re family?”
“If I was going to hurt you, I would’ve done it as soon as you put down your gun,” Zeno said. “Besides, I stand to lose as much as you do if you betray my trust.”
Jake closed his eyes. “I doubt that.”
Zeno said nothing.
A car honked below them. Rain pelted the windows. The couch creaked. Jake could hardly hear any of it over the sound of his heart pounding.
“Fuck it.” Jake opened his eyes. “My wife is dying. I need you to cure her.”