Author's Note: Thank you so much for all the reviews and follows. I honestly had no idea that this little project would amass such a fan base. I have put it off for far too long. I apologize. Life has been so heavily busy as of late with the new baby and all. I want to apologize for neglecting to finish this story, and in turn, neglecting those who have grown fond of it's characters and plot. I will try to update this story with a chapter or two every couple of weeks when I can. This story is coming to a close and I feel it wouldn't be fair to any of you if this story was never finished.

|The New Spencer|

The call had ended just in time. Harley stood from the desk and almost began to pace when the door opened and Murray walked in with the dress draped over her arm. She had a smile on her face, plastered with false warmth and kindness. She offered the dress to her.

"Thank you, you've been too kind," Harley said as she took the garment and disappeared into the room.

The silk robe dropped to the floor and she began to slip into her gown.

"You know," Murray called from the other room. "I think we could conquer this patriarchal world together. I will hope that maybe if a business proposition were to come up in the near future that you would consider. We're very few surrounded by these brutes. If we don't stick together, they will snuff us out before we can get our footing."

The zipper of her dress hissed and she brushed out the fabric. Time to go. She stepped into the Den, her gaze meeting the older woman's.

"How did you survive?" she asked, in hopes that maybe this woman could be an alley amidst a sea of villains.

"You have to pretend you're giving them what they want. When in turn, you're taking everything from them. There will come a time when you become a cold hearted bitch in their eyes. But once they realize they can no longer walk all over you, you'll become a force to be reckoned with," she said, finishing off her glass of bourbon.

Harley mulled over the woman's words. Somehow she had to trick Alex into believing he was getting exactly what he wanted. But, how was she going to rip his foundation from underneath? There had to be something that could make the man crumble.

"Shall we return to the chaos?" Murray asked, motioning to the door.

Harley's hesitation was obvious, "If we have to."

With Murray's warm chuckle and a nod, she led the way out into the sea of hot bodies and booze once more. She met Alex at the bar, a tick in his jaw. His pet had strayed too far and suspicion gleamed in his eyes like hellish fire. Yet, he did not say a word.

"Miss Murray has been very hospitable. I think there are absolutely no traces of the champagne debacle," she said taking every chance to ignore eye contact.

"Very charitable on her part. Can't have the new face of the Spencer Estate looking like a wet mess. However, I'd step away from Patricia if I were you. She'll eat you alive if you let her. You're back just in time. The ceremony is about to start," he answered curtly as he ordered another drink.

"What's wrong, Mr. Wesker? Are you intimidated by another woman?" Harley teased as she turned to the sound of someone chiming on a glass flute.

An old, robust man was standing on the balcony overlooking the crowd. His cheeks were flushed from alcohol and mirth. The dull murmur of the crowd snuffed itself out as all heads turned to watch him.

"It's been a long and hard road to get us this far. And we've got nothing but sweet victory on the horizon. Together, we have created an empire. We have our pharmaceuticals," he said toasting the crowd.

In turn, there were several men who raised their glasses.

"We have our government security and shipping," he said, more glasses were raised. "And we have a new face to recognize. Spencer has been a very important part in all of our endeavors. Our mutual contributions has brought us together in a symbiosis of wealth and power. Now, in his absence, his daughter has stepped forth. Tonight, we welcome Miss Harley Spencer into the family. Tonight we celebrate you, Miss Spencer. The new face of Spencer's corporation. We expect many great opportunities ahead."

As he finished, she was bathed in a blinding light as the crowd turned in her direction. They cheered, raising their glasses. Like a deer in headlights, she couldn't really respond. The old man's voice was drowned out by their cheers and questions. Sweat trickled down her spine as they closed in. Alex, chose not to step in this time. Maybe it was his payback for her disappearance. The night drew on for what felt like an eternity. She had reintroduced herself to potential business partners too many times. Her voice was hoarse by the end of the party. Alex chose to sneak them out as Patricia Murray was bidding farewell. Refusing to thank her for her hospitality. Harley was beginning to think that there might have been something between them.

Harley just wanted to go to sleep. Alex, on the other hand, had a few more questions.

"So, what did you think of your first night amongst your fellow, corporate royalty?" he asked.

"It's exhausting. Pandering to the rich and conceded. How do you find the time for it or the energy?"

"In time it will be easier to just ignore. But remember, you're just here to look the part," he said, daring her to challenge.

"Then what's the point of me being here? I mean. If I'm just here to look pretty, why not pay some pretty model or some cheap whore to play pretend? Just let me go on my way," she said through gritted teeth.

"Can't just have you floating out there in the wild now, can we?" he said.

"I'm not here to be your pet, Mr. Wesker," she turned to finally meet his gaze. "I will be your business partner, but I will never be your pet."

Alex chuckled, "You are whatever I want you to be."

Harley stared at him, sleep pricking at her eyes. It took everything not to reach over and claw his eyes out like a hell cat. He was only planting a deeply seeded desire to watch him squirm. She'll find something. His distaste for Patricia Murray…that was key. Her only foothold she could use in order to survive until Albert's contact played out some sort of rescue mission. The helicopter thundered on through the night. She watched the city pass them by. A long flight back to Wesker's rich hovel in the mountains. As exhausted as she was, her mind kept rolling over the different scenarios in her head. What am I going to do? It's time to see how far she could throw her weight around…

The weight of the party still haunted her as she made her way back into the facility. Her feet hurt, blistered. So, she took her shoes off. The cold, industrial tile felt soothing against her bare feet. The corridors were long and sporadically equipped with small clots of heavily armed guards. They mostly ignored her. Some, however, even gave her a small salute. How many of these men adored my father? How many would swear fealty to me? She thought as she turned a corner. No. She wasn't heading to her shabby little cell. She was heading for the laboratories. She had to think of something.

"We are going to need some men on the inside, Miss Spencer," Miss Wong had stated on the other end of the phone.

"I will see what I can do, but I can't make any promises," Harley replied, hopeful.

"Miss Spencer…If we don't have anyone on the inside for us, this isn't going to work."

Harley thought about what Ada Wong had said. If she couldn't sway anyone on the inside to help them…Then all hope was lost. Until she could do this, they couldn't move to the next phase. Somehow she was going to have to create allies behind enemy lines. Once she managed to do that, somehow she had to contact Miss Wong again. She was going to need to find a phone or computer…and bodies. Harley had to kill that last thought as she came to the lab she was searching for. The doors were locked. No guards stood outside. She slid her key card through the reader and the lights flashed green. Stepping inside, she looked around. The lab equipment was still laid out. Covered by their protective covers to guard them from collective dust. She didn't bother to turn on the lights. A computer was locked on a log-in screen.

The refrigerated, glass specimen shelves lined the wall, a mellow light giving them a ghostly aura. The light was enough to help her find her way around in the forsaken lab. The thing that made her most uncomfortable was the black observation window. This had been Albert Wesker's holding cell. It was completely empty now. Had been for a couple of days. She wasn't entirely sure where Wesker had been moved. He was probably floating in a stasis chamber and locked away in a dark storage room. His absence, as odd as it was to admit, was profound. A cold sweat glistened off of her pale skin as she sat down at the station. Her fever was beginning to pitch again. They were coming more frequently. She looked back at the window.

An idea was slowly forming as she began searching the drawers for some tools. Sterile wrappers fluttered to the stations surface. She snapped the tip of the needle into place. It found its home safely in a vein the first try. Blood, hot and crimson, filled the syringe. A bead of sweat trailed down her jaw. Finished, she leaned back in the chair and looked at the specimen, rolling it between her fingers as the poor light glinted off of the liquid. She capped the needle and cupped in her hand, trying to hide it in a fist full of her skirt. Wesker wanted her to train as a demented queen for his little Hive. There was more than one way to create allies. Not all of them had to be volunteers. It was why she was here in the first place.

With her shoes fisted in one hand and the hidden syringe in the other, she made her way out of the laboratory and down the corridor passing by the guards and the late working scientists who had no choice but to stay at their stations. Walking for what felt like an eternity, Harley had only one person in mind. The office was dark and empty. She tried the door. It was locked. It was one of those lovely little locks that she probably couldn't pick if she wanted to. Alex Wesker was probably finishing up some last minute things before he retired to his comfortable, lovely bed. A guard passed by. She stopped him.

"I need you to open this door," she said.

There was no politeness in her voice. It was more of a command. The guard didn't ignore her. Instead, he did as she asked.

"Dr. Zimmer has retired for the night," the guard stated as he opened the door for her.

"Do me a favor. Call him in to his office. It's urgent. His boss is waiting for him," she said, brushing past him.

"Is that all, miss?" he asked.

"Escort him here if you have to. If he asks, just tell him you're under Wesker's orders."

"That's not really my jurisdiction, miss," he said, his brow furrowing.

He was young. Probably a new recruit. "It is now."

With that, he nodded and left to do as he was ordered. She closed the office door behind her, turning the light on. His office was smaller than his last. Harley laughed. He had sold them out for a small closet and a promise of a better position. She tossed her shoes onto his desk and began to sift through the papers there. She had taken her time rummaging through anything she could find. A file cabinet was stuffed in a corner. Locked. His desk was a neat mess. Stacks of irrelevant files were obsessively uniform. He no longer had the luxury of a safe to hide away his things. If she wanted to, she could easily pick the lock on the file cabinet. Maybe he hid her files in there. She wanted to see if he added anything to her findings. Or maybe the research they had been doing with this Hive Mind they kept hinting at.

Harley thought about the consequences of what she was doing. The pain and the chaos of having a stranger, outside of Wesker, tethered to her strange mental web. She was beginning to rethink her plan when she heard footsteps echoing in the empty corridor. How long had it been since she took the specimen. She was beginning to panic. What if the sample had expired while she waited? There was only one way to find out. She stood close to the desk, waiting for the door to open, eyeing the stack of files. Without thinking, she knocked it over. The files scattered. It was an avalanche of papers that smothered the tile floor. She would have chuckled had she not been exhausted. The door suddenly opened. Dr. Zimmer walked in, the guard not too far behind.

"Would you like me to stay, or may I leave? My shift is almost up," the guard asked.

Zimmer laughed, "I was expecting Wesker. What are you doing here? And, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"We don't need you. You can go now. Thank you," Harley answered.

Zimmer watched the guard leave, incredulous. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Oh," she said, looking back down at the scattered papers. "I got tired of waiting. It's boring in here."

"So, you entertained yourself by trashing my office? Do you have any fucking idea what time it is?"

"No, I lost track of the time after the ridiculously extravagant party I just came from," she sassed, throwing all composure out the door. "I needed to talk to you. This is probably the only chance I'm going to get."

"And it couldn't wait until the morning…without the mess?" He growled as he began to pick up the papers.

She couldn't help a small snicker, "I couldn't help myself. I mean, after everything you put me through. I figured this was the only payback I was going to get. Plus, while you're playing a game of Fifty-Two Pick Up times a thousand…it would buy me enough time."

He shifted, his head turning away from her as she slowly took a step forward.

"Enough time to talk about what?" he collected a small stack and began walking it towards his desk.

He brushed pass her and she pulled the cap off of the needle. It clattered to the floor as she tried to lunge forward. Harley faltered. The needle plunged into his shoulder, injecting the dark, crimson liquid into his system. She didn't manage force all of it from the syringe. He had reacted as he began to turn around. His instinctual reaction was to jerk back. The familiar prick of a needled made him panic. It could have been anything. His elbow connected with her chest, knocking her back and the wind out of her. There was a snap as the needle broke from the syringe, still stuck in his shoulder. The broken syringe dropped to the floor, small droplet of blood staining the files.

She recovered from the blow, just in time to take a sucker-punch. It was painful. It split her lips. She could already feel the bruise flowering on her face. Her teeth cut into her jaw. Blood began to trickle down her chin. Harley stumbled from the blow, nearly toppling over a chair and slipping on the paper. She whimpered, trying to hold back the tears.

"What the fuck did you just do?!" he shouted, his trembling hands moving to dig out the needle still stuck in his shoulder.

Harley had to take a moment, doctoring her lip as she stared at him with tear-filled eyes.

"I wanted to discuss your new line of employment," she stuttered.

"Is that blood? You didn't…" he hissed.

"I wouldn't be so vocal about it. We all know what happens around here when you suddenly become a walking culture. Take it from me. I know what it's like to become someone's science project."

Zimmer just stared at her. The whites of his eyes were eerily large with absolute terror.

"What do you want?!" he gasped, dropping the broken needle to his feet. "You have no idea how my system will react to this. Do you even know what you've done?"

"I'm more than sure you didn't even spare me the sentiments. You're going to take me to Wesker," she commanded with a shaky voice.

"You really think I'm going to walk into Wesker's fucking office if I'm infected?!" he gritted through clenched teeth, taking a couple of threatening steps towards her.

"No, not Alex. You're going to take me to Albert."

"And do what? You know Wesker's going to find out if he wakes up. You're not going to get far in this facility. It's heavily guarded." He was beginning to look pale and clammy.

"Oh, nothing too crazy. I just need him awake. If I'm supposed to step up to my father's shoes, then your boss is going to have to understand that he needs to step down."

Harley studied him for a while. Waiting for him to fight back.

"You have no idea what you've done," he sighed as he walked to the door.

"I know exactly what I've done. I know what could very well happen afterwards. But, I'd rather die than stay a guinea pig here. So, you can either help me, or I turn you into our next project," she said, following him out into the corridor.

"My word against yours. Wesker will see this as insubordination. Sabotage. He won't stand for it." A sweat broke out on his forehead as he clutched his shoulder.

"Actually," she quipped "It's my word against yours. Just look at what you left Tri-Cell for. A shabby office that could second as a janitor's closet. You got desperate. Distraught that you weren't getting the notoriety that you deserved, so you had a lapse in judgement. Desperate. Now, will you please cooperate?"

His eyes were blood shot. She could see the fever in his cheeks. He leaned in close, his breath beginning to sour with sickness.

"You will either fix this, or promise me immunity."

"Where was my remedy? My cure? My immunity?" she spat at him.

"It was already in your blood, Miss Spencer."

"Fine," she bit out.

With finality, he turned and kept walking towards the corridor. She followed in tow. It was a long walk through the facility. An elevator took them a few floors down. Heavily secured doors. Her state of disarray and his feverish sheen was enough to catch several curious glances. Yet nothing more. The waning hours of late evening slowly ticked away into the earliest hours or morning when Zimmerman swiped his key card and led her through the last batch of security doors.