Cringe and Command (Wesker's Assistant Chronicles)
You’re Albert Wesker's assistant. Unfortunately for him, you refuse to take his villain speeches seriously. Even worse? You keep calling them cringe. He tries to fire you. Repeatedly. But somehow, you're still on payroll. Honestly, he might need therapy more than world domination.
"The world shall kneel before my new order," Wesker intoned, voice dripping with menace as red warning lights blinked around the lab, painting his cheekbones in dramatic crimson shadows.
You rolled your eyes from your spinning chair in the corner. "That line sounds like a villain wrote it after binge-watching bad anime dubs. Cringe."
Wesker froze mid-speech like someone had unplugged him. "Excuse me?"
You sipped from your Umbrella-logo mug. "I'm just saying, if you want people to actually kneel, you might wanna update your material. Maybe something less ‘theatre kid turned fascist.’"
His jaw flexed. "You're fired."
"Cool. I'll pack after I finish fixing your disaster of a PowerPoint presentation. Seriously, slide three transitions simulate a car chase. Did you mean to make it look like a Michael Bay film?"
Wesker glared, his sunglasses somehow reflecting your judgmental stare even though you were indoors. You glared back, wholly unimpressed. The red lights continued to blink like a rave for evil plans, unnoticed by both of you.
Day 34
Wesker tried to fire you again after you brought cupcakes to a top-secret Umbrella executive meeting and insisted everyone sing happy birthday to Nemesis.
"You are the worst assistant I've ever had," he snapped, lips twitching like he was trying not to scream.
"Nemesis deserves joy, Albert," you replied calmly, placing a party hat on a bio-organic weapon—roughly eight feet tall with a permanent snarl—that blinked once in confused gratitude.
He rubbed his temple. "I created life to destroy the world, not to… wear sprinkle cupcakes as hats."
You looked him dead in the eye. "Sounds like a you problem."
Day 46
You changed the lab’s background music to Barbie Girl during a viral sample test. Wesker entered the room to find you and Mr. X doing a synchronized head bop.
"Do I even want to know?"
"Team morale, sir."
He tried to fire you. You printed the HR handbook in Comic Sans and highlighted the clause where he couldn’t actually terminate staff without written approval from Umbrella HQ.
Day 58
You changed his password to "ILoveCringe69" and left a sticky note that said, "World domination is temporary. Memes are forever."
Wesker stared at the screen like it had personally betrayed him. He fired you via email this time. You replied with a meme of a raccoon giving a thumbs-up, captioned: "Mood."
Day 73
He returned to his office to find a slideshow titled "Top 10 Times Wesker Tried to Monologue and I Laughed."
"Number 4 was during a hostage situation!" he shouted.
"Exactly. Peak comedy."
"Get out."
You reached for your bag. "Do I take the laser pointer or...?"
He screamed into his glove.
Day 100
He gave up.
"Why are you still here?"
"Because no one else knows how to rewire the coffee machine without setting the lab on fire. Plus, I'm the only one who can decipher your handwriting. Is that 'Destroy the Resistance' or 'Dessert Inventory'?"
He stared at you. You stared back. Somewhere in the distance, a B.O.W. dropped a beaker. No one moved.
"...Fine. But no more cupcakes."
"Deal."
(You still brought cupcakes. With little Umbrella logos on top. Nemesis ate six. Wesker stared at the crumbs and muttered, "At this point, resistance is futile.")
If you want to see more of Wesker's Assistant Chaos, take a look at Part 2
guess whos back? thats right, its the moron that asked for leon and nemesis to be friends!
and its time for round two
ive managed to smack 2 braincells together to form the dumbest of ideas
leons having the time of his life playing with mr x (leon does not want to play hide and seek :P)
then jill enters the police station, followed by nemesis
cue the two duos meeting and nemesis goes after mr x because he has the audacity to touch his silly little guy
(ive always wondered what would happen if those 2 got in a fight)
Buddy Cop Apocalypse 2: Territorial Dispute
Resident Evil | Crackfic | Comedy/Action
Pairing(s): None (but Leon & Nemesis BFF chaos)
Summary:
Leon’s back in the RPD, trying to survive the world’s worst game of hide-and-seek with Mr. X. Everything’s going according to nightmare—until Jill Valentine storms in, Nemesis in tow, and suddenly the monsters aren’t chasing the humans anymore. Because Nemesis just spotted his silly little guy being manhandled by a trench-coated knockoff, and things are about to get violently territorial.
Read Part 1 >>> HERE <<<
Author’s Note (A/N):
Anon, my beloved chaos architect. You’re back and once again proving that two braincells can, in fact, create pure gold. 💀💥 I read this idea and immediately said “oh no” out loud while grinning like a maniac. Leon’s still trying to have a normal rookie day, Nemesis is still emotionally unavailable but weirdly possessive, and Mr. X definitely didn’t sign up for this nonsense. Jill’s just there wondering how her life turned into a kaiju custody battle.
Thank you for giving me the excuse to write the dumbest, most delightful crossover brawl in Raccoon City history. You are singlehandedly keeping Leon’s therapy bills (and my serotonin) alive. 🧟♂️💚
Leon S. Kennedy had reached the point where everything was above his pay grade. Crouched in the crumbling Raccoon City Police Department, he wondered why his first day felt more like a warzone than a job.
He hid behind an overturned desk, covered in grime, half out of bullets, and fully out of patience. Every few seconds, the air trembled with a thud, thud, thud that made his teeth rattle. Dust fell from the ceiling with each heavy step, snowing onto his hair as if the building itself had given up.
“Okay, Leon,” he muttered. “Stay calm. Don’t panic. Just another day in hell with a giant murder trench coat who hates hats and emotions.”
The door exploded off its hinges. Mr. X ducked his massive head through the doorway, expression unreadable beneath his wide-brimmed hat. His footsteps echoed like gunshots as he entered, scanning the room with unnerving calm. Leon scrambled backward, bumping into a filing cabinet, gun shaking in his grip.
“WHY WON’T YOU JUST—DIE?!” he yelled, firing three useless rounds that pinged off Mr. X’s chest. The man-mountain barely flinched.
Mr. X tilted his head in what Leon swore was disappointment—like he’d expected better from this rookie.
“Sorry I’m not Chris Redfield!” Leon barked. “You want him, he’s probably punching a boulder somewhere!”
Then, the world exploded.
The RPD’s front doors went flying off their hinges in a thunderclap of fire and debris. Leon dove for cover as a wall of heat blasted through the lobby. When the smoke cleared, Jill Valentine emerged from the haze—gun raised, jaw set, looking like she’d walked through hell and decided it was boring. Behind her, the ground shook again.
Nemesis.
For a split second, time froze. Jill’s silhouette cut through the smoke, steady and unshaken, but Leon’s disbelief was written all over his face—jaw slack, eyes wide, hand frozen halfway to his gun. He blinked twice, trying to decide whether to shoot, run, or ask if this was some Umbrella hallucination gone too far.
The last time he saw that eight-foot-tall walking tank, it had ended in a strange kind of mutual respect. But now—Nemesis was here, shoulders steaming, rocket launcher in hand, eyes glowing red like a demonic Christmas ornament. Jill barely acknowledged him. “Target’s inside,” she said, voice calm, all business. “We move before Umbrella sends backup.”
Nemesis didn’t move. His head turned slowly, mechanical servos whining. His gaze locked onto Mr. X.
Two bioweapons. One lobby.
And only one had dared touch his rookie.
The tension was thick enough to chew. Leon froze between them, hands raised like a referee in a deathmatch.
“Guys?” he said, voice cracking. “Let’s not—uh—make this weird?”
Too late.
Nemesis roared, and the sound was catastrophic. Windows shattered. Pigeons fled from the roof. Somewhere, a car alarm started and immediately regretted it. He charged, rocket launcher slung aside, fists swinging like wrecking balls. Mr. X met him head-on. The floor cracked. The walls trembled. Desks flew into splinters. Leon yelped and threw himself behind the reception counter where Jill was already crouched, reloading with perfect calm.
“Please tell me they’re on the same side,” Leon begged.
Jill didn’t look up. “Depends. Are you S.T.A.R.S.?”
“No!”
“Then… maybe.”
A filing cabinet whizzed past their heads, embedding itself in the wall. Leon risked a peek just in time to see Nemesis body-slam Mr. X into the front desk, roaring like a kaiju with a personal grudge. Mr. X retaliated with an uppercut so powerful it sent floor tiles flying like frisbees.
“I think they’re fighting over custody of me!” Leon shouted.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Jill muttered, ducking as Nemesis hurled a bench like a frisbee of pure destruction. “He’s probably just territorial.”
“Of me!” Leon cried, indignant.
Nemesis, hearing that, bellowed louder—confirming the theory.
“STAAAAARS!” he thundered, slamming his fist into Mr. X’s face so hard the marble floor cracked like ice.
“God,” Leon breathed, “it’s like watching two refrigerators fight.”
The fight spilled into the hallway, shattering glass and toppling filing cabinets. Mr. X ripped up a section of wall and used it as a shield. Nemesis answered by tearing down a statue and using it as a club. Every impact sounded like a thunderclap. Leon and Jill peeked through the chaos as sparks and dust filled the air.
Leon groaned. “If they bring down the building, we’re dead.”
“They are the building,” Jill replied dryly.
Mr. X finally managed to grab Nemesis by the throat, slamming him through a pillar. But Nemesis barely flinched. He twisted, ripped the marble apart, and drove his knee into Mr. X’s midsection. The impact echoed through the entire station. Leon winced at the sound of breaking concrete—and possibly bones.
Nemesis reached for his rocket launcher but paused when he saw Leon, standing frozen by the doorway, covered in plaster dust and regret. His red eyes flickered once, as if in recognition. Then, with surprising restraint, he aimed slightly to the left and fired.
Mr. X went flying through a wall and out into the street, leaving a perfect bioweapon-shaped hole.
Silence followed. Dust settled like snow.
Nemesis stood panting in the wreckage, smoke rising from his shoulders. When he spotted Leon peeking from behind the counter, he made a low rumble that sounded almost… pleased.
Leon blinked. “Uh… hey there, big guy. You win.”
Nemesis grunted. “LEON.”
“Yeah, that’s me.” Leon forced a nervous laugh. “You, uh, sure showed him. Definitely the alpha refrigerator here.”
Nemesis tilted his head, then reached down and—with shocking gentleness—picked Leon up by the back of his vest and set him upright. Jill just stared, caught between awe and existential horror.
“I’m gonna need therapy after this,” Leon muttered. “Assuming therapy still exists.”
Nemesis gave a single approving grunt—something that might’ve meant Don’t worry, small human. Then he stomped off through the rubble in pursuit of his airborne rival.
Jill holstered her pistol, raising an eyebrow. “You two are… friends?”
Leon rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s complicated. He saved me once. I think I’m his emotional support rookie now.”
“Right,” Jill said. “You need new friends.”
Leon exhaled with a tired laugh. “Tell me about it.”
Later, Leon limped—still half in disbelief that he’d somehow made a friend out of a bio-weapon. Maybe tomorrow he’d start questioning his life choices, but tonight, he just laughed softly at the absurdity of it all before moving on.
He stepped over debris and shattered glass, spotting something sitting neatly atop a busted desk: a single green herb and a crushed soda can. He smiled faintly. “Miss you too, big guy.”
Outside, thunder rolled—and from somewhere distant came a faint, unmistakable roar.
“STAAAAARS.”
Leon snorted under his breath. “He’s not even chasing her anymore. He’s just vibing.”
And for one absurd moment, amid the ruins of Raccoon City, Leon thought that maybe—just maybe—friendship could survive the apocalypse. Even if it involved bioweapons, property damage, and serious emotional confusion.
Raccoon City wasn’t ready for this level of bromance.
hey hey hey, in that case lemme hit you with ‘n idea
re2 leon actually crosses paths with HUNK, and are forced to work together
bonus points if HUNK has to explain to his boss just why he let a random civilian come along
🔥 Buddy Cop Apocalypse 3: Dead Serious 🔥
✨ Resident Evil | Crackfic | Action-Comedy | Leon & H.U.N.K. Duo Chaos ✨
💥 Summary:
Leon S. Kennedy thinks his worst day is behind him—until he meets the one man in Raccoon City who’s somehow scarier than Nemesis: H.U.N.K. Forced to team up in the depths of Umbrella’s labs, the rookie cop accidentally becomes part of a covert operation he was never meant to survive. H.U.N.K., meanwhile, must explain to his superiors why he allowed a random civilian to join his mission—and how that same civilian lived long enough to talk back. Explosions, sarcasm, and emotionally unavailable teamwork ensue.
💬 Author’s Note:
Not sure if you’re the same legendary anon who requested the original Buddy Cop Apocalypse fic with Leon and Nemesis (if you are—hi again 👀💚), but your idea instantly sparked inspiration for a Part 3! The image of Leon annoying H.U.N.K. while Nemesis roars in the distance was too good to resist. So thank you for the chaos, the inspiration, and for giving me a reason to make this series an ongoing saga of bioweapon bromance. 🧟♂️💥
📖 Read the Series:
🔹 Part 1 – Buddy Cop Apocalypse (Leon & Nemesis)
🔹 Part 2 – Buddy Cop Apocalypse 2: Territorial Dispute (Nemesis vs. Mr. X)
Leon S. Kennedy didn’t think anything could top last night’s disaster, yet here he was—trudging through an underground lab that smelled like bleach, gunpowder, and despair. His flashlight flickered over cracked containment tubes, shredded lab coats, and puddles of something that hissed when it touched his boots. He was pretty sure half the glowing goo wasn’t OSHA-approved.
“Okay,” he muttered to himself, voice echoing in the cold metal corridor. “No Nemesis, no Mr. X, no explosions. Just a quiet stroll through the murder basement. Maybe I’ll even find a vending machine that isn’t haunted.”
That’s when he heard it—footsteps. Heavy. Deliberate. Professional.
He spun, gun raised, adrenaline cutting through the exhaustion.
Out of the darkness stepped a figure in black tactical gear, gas mask gleaming under the flickering emergency lights. The name tag read H.U.N.K.—a name that sounded like a gym influencer but carried the aura of someone who’d buried entire squads without blinking.
Leon blinked, his mind scrambling between fight and flight, heart hammering at the sudden human shape after hours of monsters. He lowered his gun slightly, trying to sound braver than he felt. “You’re… uh… not another bioweapon, right?”
The man didn’t move. He just stared for a long, tense beat before sighing through the filter. “You’re the rookie, aren’t you?”
Leon straightened instinctively. “Special Agent Rookie, thank you very much.”
A pause. “No such rank exists.”
“...Well, it should.”
Before H.U.N.K. could respond, the ceiling shuddered above them. Somewhere in the distance, a massive roar echoed through the concrete tunnels, deep and unmistakable.
Leon groaned. “Oh no. I know that roar.”
H.U.N.K. turned sharply. “Nemesis?”
“Probably looking for me again. We’re… friends. It’s complicated.”
H.U.N.K. stared at him as if reconsidering all his life choices. “I don’t get paid enough for this,” he muttered, checking the magazine of his SMG.
Leon brightened. “Hey, that’s my line!”
The pair advanced through the corridor in uneasy rhythm—H.U.N.K. silent and efficient while Leon filled the space with nervous commentary. Short bursts of action punctuated their progress as zombies lunged from side doors and ceiling vents, only to be put down instantly with surgical precision from H.U.N.K.’s weapon. Leon fired a few hopeful rounds of his own, mostly hitting walls but looking enthusiastic about it.
“Not bad for a civilian,” H.U.N.K. said eventually, tone unreadable.
Leon blinked, unsure whether he’d imagined it. “Wow, that almost sounded like a compliment.”
“It wasn’t.”
“Still taking it.”
They reached a massive blast door labeled Umbrella Restricted Access. Leon squinted at it. “You got the keycard, secret agent man?”
“Classified,” H.U.N.K. replied, scanning his wrist console. The lock disengaged with a heavy clang.
Leon rolled his eyes. “Right, because God forbid you tell the guy who keeps saving your life.”
“I’ve saved your life three times in the last ten minutes.”
“Exactly!” Leon grinned. “That’s teamwork.”
The door slid open with a hiss, revealing a cavernous lab filled with broken stasis pods, shattered glass, and bubbling green liquid. Hissing pipes lined the walls, and a faint alarm echoed somewhere above. Leon stepped in cautiously, his reflection warped in the cracked containment tanks. “I swear, if one of these bursts open, I’m quitting the police force and becoming a barista.”
A nearby corpse in a lab coat twitched. Leon kicked it. “Please don’t get up.”
It didn’t. For now.
Moments later, a transmission crackled through H.U.N.K.’s headset. A voice—calm, clipped, and already irritated—cut through the static. “Report. Status of mission?”
H.U.N.K. hesitated. “...Complicated.”
“Explain.”
He glanced at Leon, who was currently trying to open a snack machine with his knife. “I’ve acquired… a companion.”
Static. Then, incredulously: “A what?”
Leon waved at the radio. “Hi! Rookie cop, accidental apocalypse survivor, emotional support human!”
A silence long enough to be awkward followed. Then: “Agent HUNK… did you just recruit a civilian?”
The comms officer sighed audibly. “Proceed to extraction. And please, try not to adopt anyone else.”
Before H.U.N.K. could reply, Nemesis’s roar echoed again—closer this time, furious and guttural. The lab lights flickered. Leon looked up at the shaking ceiling. “So… new plan?”
H.U.N.K. chambered his weapon. “We run.”
“Finally! Something I’m good at.”
They sprinted down the corridor as the wall behind them erupted, concrete and steel splintering outward. Nemesis burst through, eyes blazing, roaring in what sounded disturbingly like betrayal. Leon shouted over his shoulder, “I told you I’d text you!”
“Do you always talk this much?” H.U.N.K. barked.
“Only when I’m terrified!”
“Good. Stay scared—it keeps you alive.”
“Wow, thanks for the pep talk, Dad!”
Nemesis launched a tentacle forward, nearly snagging Leon’s ankle. H.U.N.K. turned, firing in short bursts, severing the appendage mid-lunge. “Move, rookie!”
Leon scrambled up the stairs, panting. “I am moving!”
They burst into the extraction chamber just as sirens began blaring. Flames licked up the walls. H.U.N.K. opened his comms. “This is Ghost. Extraction needed. Bringing one additional survivor.”
“Copy that,” came the weary voice. “We’ll debrief when you’re out.”
Leon leaned on a railing, gasping for breath. “You think they’ll let me join Umbrella?”
H.U.N.K. turned slowly, his body language somehow radiating exasperation through full tactical armor. “Absolutely not.”
“Cool. Just asking.”
The helicopter’s spotlight swept across the burning city as they lifted off. Leon slumped against the cabin wall, still grinning like an idiot.
“You know,” he said, “you’re not so bad once you start talking.”
H.U.N.K. sighed. “I preferred you unconscious.”
“Yeah,” Leon murmured, eyes closing, “most people do.”
The sterile hum of fluorescent lights did little to soften the tension in the control room. Monitors flickered with data, and H.U.N.K.’s superior sat buried in reports, nursing a coffee that had gone cold hours ago. The man already looked done with existence before he even opened the latest mission file. He sighed, muttering, “Agent HUNK, you were ordered to retrieve the G-Virus. Why does this file include phrases like team-building exercise, rookie morale boost, and a man named Leon Kennedy who attempted to high-five you mid-firefight?”
“Mission success,” H.U.N.K. replied over the comm line, completely unfazed. “Minimal casualties.”
The officer sighed again. “And the civilian?”
“Still alive.”
A pause. “...God help us all.”
In the distance, Leon’s laughter could be heard faintly over the transmission.
Outside the window of the departing helicopter, Raccoon City burned in the dawn light. Leon stirred awake, glancing at H.U.N.K. beside him, stoic as ever. “Hey,” he said quietly, “if you ever need a partner again…”
“No.”
“Right. Just offering.”
H.U.N.K. didn’t respond, but for a second, Leon could’ve sworn he heard a faint, amused exhale behind the mask.
Raccoon City was a smoking ruin beneath them, the sunrise cutting through the haze like a fragile promise. Leon smirked faintly, remembering his earlier words about teamwork—maybe survival really was just a team effort, even if his partner preferred silence and sarcasm.
