((Continued from
here. Permission given by Max-mun to use him in the post.))Edison paced, mentally reviewing his hook. He checked his camera again; it was fine, as it had been twenty seconds ago. He ran over his hook again, decided it sounded like crap, and changed a few things. Then he realized that Max was getting impatient, and an impatient Max
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Needless to say, he wasted very little time returning to his room in order to slip into some proper clothing, check that his gun was in working order, and then walk briskly into the terminal in pursuit of...well. In pursuit of the reporter or the prospective villain, whichever showed their mug first.
It turned out he nearly walked right by the former, bent over in a chair as he was. But when he did recognize the reporter, he stopped and pulled up in front of him.
"Mr. Carter, isn't it?"
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"Well, I know he scared Max pretty bad." Edison pointedly did not mention how Wesker had scared him. "And...his eyes glow. Red." A touch embarassed, but also a touch defiant. After all, they had proof of that. "What you saw was all I got out of him, though. Max was the first one to meet him; he can replay that for you." He glanced around. "Assuming he's not hiding somewhere. Hey, Max!"
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She'd never met Edison. She hadn't even known he was here. She kept a blanket over the television in her room, in case Max should ever pop up. She'd happened to be walking for exercise and passing a bank of monitors when this broadcast aired.
"You're the one who was on the television, yes? Edison Carter?"
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"I couldn't say, really," he replied, apologetically. "I think Wesker's dangerous enough to be telling the truth about it, though. His kind don't tend to exaggerate." They don't need to.
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He adjusted his lapels as he came to the door, twisted his head slightly releasing any kinks in his neck, and gave a good slick to his hair; why look sloppy at an unannounced meeting? That wouldn't be proper at all - not for a man of his caliber, anyway. Man, Tyrant; whatever.
The knock was a crisp one and as he pulled his hand from the door, he pushed his sunglasses up and tightened his lips into a thin, small frown.
"Mr. Carter; a word?"
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And froze. And bristled. "Mr. Wesker," he greeted stiffly. He was kind of wishing he hadn't blocked the screen now. Oh well. Max could still hear. He silently prayed his alter ego would keep quiet about being there, though.
Assuming he even was there.
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"Ah, nice "pad" Mr. Carter." Albert padded forward, his hands now in the deep recesses of his pockets. "Now." He turned sharply and took a seat near the television. "I think you should have a seat."
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