Infectious
Prologue:
Spreading.
Half a year has passed. Albert Wesker sat in his office and stared outside the window. It was fall, it rained, and it seemed like this neverending rain was just fitting his mood perfectly. Through his dark glasses, no one wouldve guessed that the normally emotionless and cold man showed any emotions at all, but he actually did have a lot of emotions. Disappointment in its purest form. Uroborus, his creation, a Virus he sat on and worked on for ages, had failed bitterly, alongside with the clone he sent in, alongside with the team around him. That Excella would fall, was just expected. He actually just expected her to play along and be a good nurse to him. It was convenient to have a small alarm clock behind him who reminded him about his injections- but even she failed. Everyone failed him, even his very own clone. He was huffing in annoyance. This annoyance was lasting for half a year now. He had never been in a slump like this. It annoyed him, for it made him look like one of those nine-to-five human workers which have a motivational slump because of arriving „winter depressions." Idiotic. And the office, the office he was given by Excella, the former CEO of Tricell Africa, was just more or less a nice room with a lamp inside. Something normal, something he could at least pretend to have. Pretend to do something useful, pretend to have a normal job. He stared at the rain outside.
„How unfortunate", he growled, and turned back to his papers. He was trying to get something useful onto the paper. The viral structure of Uroborus was nearly perfected, but it seemed to lack stability. Much like the T-Virus, an infected person using the Uroborus Virus and surviving it, would need a refreshing of the dosage everyday. This somewhat huge lack of stability was nearly driving Albert crazy – it was so imperfect, an imperfect perfection, a misbirth of his own creation... How can a god create an imperfect creation!? He didnt want to be like the god many humans worship. A god creating something useless, something idiotic, and something so weak and imperfect like a human being. Basically, he was nothing else than creating something similar useless. Crazy! He was so angry with himself that he felt his blood boil. Angrily, he stared at the paper below him, grabbed it and tossed it into the next trash bin. How come he could've failed so badly? Not only that he needed to hide his presence now, no, hide his mere existance, because a slight hint of his very existance would lead into the BSAA being glued onto his ass again, no, not only this. He had to act completely incognito now to keep the illusion of Albert Wesker being dead and dust alive- how was he going to be incognito, when he needed someone who sponsored his next acts? The whole situation was driving him crazy inside, and he just stood up. „Fuck it." he muttered, a curseword which was nearly impossible to be heard by someone like him. He was standing up, looking at the structures of Uroborus again and again, thinking about how to eliminate Uroborus' flaws and limitations and make this virus even more contagious. How could he be able to make it more contagious... more dangerous... more fatal... more crucial... perfect? He was taking a deep breath.
„So, we have the contagiousness on the one side, and the stability on the other. It would make sense to increase incubationtime... in order to give the virus more ability to spread into the victims body..." He muttered to himself. He sat back down again, and started to scribble. Suddenly... it all made sense. With the scribbles, and the thought of a better world in his mind, a world where Albert Wesker was a god, he, who would choose who to live and who to die... where DNA was perfect, and being human was sin... with this thought in his mind, and the brilliancy of his intelligence, he was slowly creating something even more evil than Uroborus. A slow smirk appeared on his face, and it seemed that he got what he wanted. Finally. And, of course he did. Albert Wesker always got what he wanted. Albert Wesker was a god, after all. After five hours – it was 4:39 AM in the morning, Albert Wesker held his new creation in his hands. Uroborus 2.0 – the perfected version.
And outside, he could hear that the rain finally stopped.
