Kindheit
My name is Albert Wesker.
Though, it isn't my actual surname…
Wesker was the name assigned to me and 13 other unfortunate children of gifted genes.
Project Wesker was named so after the director, Alex Wesker, himself.
I was manufactured… so to speak.
My peers and I had undergone various, complex tests that pushed our mental capabilities to the limit; I, of course, faired rather well compared to the others, my I.Q. was proven to be the highest that they'd had ever seen in any child before.
That means nothing to me now.
In truth, my name is Albert Dietrich.
Albert Hektor Dietrich.
I was born into a wealthy, high-prestige family of intellectuals who hailed from Western Europe.
My father, Konrad Dietrich, was a scientist and medical researcher who immigrated over from Nürnberg, Germany in 1955 to work for a major pharmaceutical company over in America known as Umbrella.
Umbrella, rather the founder, Oswald E. Spencer, took particular interest in my father's research on Virology; therefore, my father was employed on the spot.
Shortly after, he met my mother, Lena Ellington-Jones, a fellow researcher in his department; the two fell in love, married and on December 6th, 1960, I was born in Raccoon City's Municipal Hospital.
My mother and father called me their blessing; it's ironic now, isn't it, to call me a blessing?
I am the spitting image of my father, with his handsome features, a strong chin and jaw-line, wide, thin lips, and sharp-bridged nose all adorn my face. My skin is as pallor as my mother's but I inherited my father's fair, blonde hair and his intense, light blue eyes.
There was much potential in the newest member of the Dietrich family, so it seemed.
My father saw that I was gifted and he couldn't have been more proud, he used it to its full advantage; I received the highest education possible and for the few years that I had lived with my parents, I studied with a private tutor in the many areas of Art, Mathematics, Science, Philosophy, Psychology and even German.
Memories of my parents are vivid in my mind, I do not recall much.
However, the one memory that has come to haunt me to this very day is my mother.
Yes, my mother…
No, she wasn't abusive or anything of the like, rather, she was a very kindly woman.
In all honesty, I had loved my mother, her grace captivated me and, at the time, no other woman could compare. Her beauty was radiant; she had ivory skin that shone gently like some other worldly creature, long locks of a soft, chocolate brown that flowed down her back, but her eyes…I dare not speak of.
She was gifted, more in the arts than with science.
My mother was very fond of a Grand Piano that was in the ballroom of our house; my father often would like to entertain fellow scientists from time to time.
She was much attached to that piano as if it were her own flesh…
In the late evenings at our estate, you could hear the keys of a piano resounding softly throughout; it was very lovely and often lulled me to sleep when I felt restless.
That woman would continue playing on into the late night.
There were two songs that she played for me.
One that brought sorrow to the heart…
And one that brought a sort of stillness…
When she wanted to put me to sleep, she played "Aria Da Capo", a very soothing piece written by Bach.
I knew she was upset whenever she played, "Moonlight Sonata"…
In her erratic state of emotions, my mother was able to play that song as if she was at peace.
I hated that song and feel much the same way now…
It will play itself over and over in my head when I sit in solitude…
Over and over…again and again…
Never stopping…
Listening to it now, I could compare it to the screams of agony from countless damned souls in the infernal…
That's probably where she is now…
It doesn't matter to me…
It's funny how I spite her after admitting my devoted, undying love to her…
Yes, quaint as it is…
I believe the reason I hate her now is because of how much I treasured a particular feature of her face…
Those eyes…
Those beautiful, deep blue eyes…
There were much unlike my father's; his were cold and calculating, no love to be found in his small, beady orbs.
My mother's eyes…I loved to stare at them…looking further into them, finding pleasure at seeing my reflection.
It scared her even…heheh…
I was worthy of those eyes when I saw myself…
So beautiful were they, I almost wanted them to die…
Wither…
It excited me…
An anomalous fascination on my part…
I abhor such a feeble sentiment…
Though, I cannot deny the chills of gratification I got when the light faded from those brilliant, azure eyes…
I feel the Goosebumps on my skin as I recall it…
Her lifeless body on the floor bleeding in the parlor, no life to be seen in her eyes…a dimness clouded over…
My world was torn asunder all in one day…
I was, oddly enough, indifferent to everything that had happened.
Umbrella's intricate scheme was nothing more than Greed-filled intentions carried out by a crack-pot of an Old man with a Narcissistic personality disorder…
I was away that day, when it all occurred, visiting with Mr. Spencer; he was showing me shrewd business techniques.
My father was pleased that I was learning from the best…
Quite selfishly, my father always wanted to maintain a grandiose reputation with the public and the media.
That poor diluted fool…
During the time in which I was away, my father and mother were murdered in their home.
I was of 8 years at the time…
You're probably wondering how someone of such wealth and power could be overthrown in such a secure setting…
It wasn't a surprise…really, the manor that my father, my mother and I had lived in was owned by Umbrella.
The guards at the front entrance of our home worked for Umbrella.
It was safe to assume that they had played a role in it…
As I had mentioned earlier, Spencer sought to it that a project be run to create a superhuman race that served him; the Wesker Project.
He wanted to be a God…I scoff at his efforts.
Umbrella was quick to cover up any suspensions that would lead to murder; a meticulous clean up did the trick.
Spencer was able to hush the Raccoon City Police force and other political figures in town… his riches assured that.
The case was filed as a suicide…
I knew better than to believe it was a mere suicide…
Upon the tragic death of my parents, the Law decided that Spencer would be my legal guardian and I was soon adopted as his own; they figured he'd be most suitable since my father had close ties to him…
I was pampered and treated very well at one of his very mansions that were just outside of the Raccoon City limits; my every whim was met hand and foot by dozens of his servants, there was no need of a mother or father to aid in my development.
During those years, however, I was put through many tests, mostly that of I.Q. tests and at random a physical; I was surprised to find out that I wasn't the only one that Spencer had adopted.
I will admit, many had potential, yet they lacked the sheer determination that made for a suitable candidate to be at Spencer's side…
Not only determination….actually,
They were not commendable by any means…
The inoculation, yes…that was the real trial…
The trial that determined our worth to Spencer…
All 13 of us were injected with the Progenitor Virus…
All the other children died of exposure with the exception of myself…
And one other…
Alex Wesker.
By the time I was 14, Spencer and I had grown to be closer than ever…
He was like a father to me; anything he said was absorbed ravenously by my ever hungry mind.
I wanted to be like him…a less than admirable dream I admit of…
All thoughts of my childhood were erased from my mind, I wanted to start anew and break myself from any previous ties that I had with my family…
Unfortunately, my subconscious had always been weaker in that area…
I'll always remember…Mutter…
Those eyes, now rotten from their sockets, had come back to me…
Reborn anew in this world…
Just as lively and magnificent as they were before…
I remember when I revisited the place of my birth…
A simple business transaction between Spencer and the hospital was taking place…
I did not pay much attention to it; the meeting between the elderly was quite dull….so, I permitted myself to go wander about the Hospital…
There wasn't much to see, the sick, the dying...
Nothing at the hospital had caught my attention, that is, until I reached the nursery ward.
I heard yelling, a distinct yelling… no, crying of an older man.
My curiosity was piqued…
I investigated further…
An older man near in the lobby was ranting and raving, throwing chairs and turning over tables while many a doctor and nurse tried to hold him down…
It was to no avail…
His words were agonized…
He was nothing more than a savage beast…
I remember the conversation distinctly…between that man and the doctors.
I watched from behind a wall…
"! Please, you must calm DOWN! MR. VALENTINE! PLEASE!"
"YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP; YOU FUCKING BASTARDS DIDN'T DO ANYTHING TO HELP HER! DON'T TELL ME TO CALM THE FUCK DOWN!"
"Sir, we...did all we coul-…."
"DON'T TELL ME THAT YOU PIECE OF SHIT, YOU DID . NOTHING!"
"Mr. Valentine, she was having complications during procedure…we were lucky to have even saved the child, your new baby girl..."
He stopped his violent actions suddenly, grumbling angrily between breaths…
"I….want to see her, my daughter…."
So, the child lived, hmmm…?
My eyes followed their movements as they made their way into the nursery.
I stood behind the rectangle of glass, watching with some anticipation…
It served as entertainment for me at that present moment, much better than boring myself to tears at Spencer's meeting with the Hospital Administrator and the equally dull members of the board.
For some reason, that to this day I cannot fathom why, I get excited… by distress…
As I watched the dramatic affair from beyond the glass, I found myself grinning madly; perhaps… it was because I expected the child to be deformed in some way.
I guess having been born into a privileged family had gone straight to my head…I was becoming haughtier than I had been before.
The nurses lead the man, , to the bedding that his daughter lay.
His face twisted into both sorrow and pure joy as he took the baby gently in his arms…
I caught a glimpse of the youngling and was surprised to see a healthy, pale skinned baby.
She was sleeping so peacefully…that is, until the voices of the nurses awoke her.
She didn't cry…she cooed softly as her eyes gazed at her father; a Kodak moment, if you will.
The moment was all too touching and I was about to take my leave, until, the baby's eyes wandered over to me…
Our eyes met…
My mother was looking at me.
Not literally, no…
Her eyes were exactly like my mother's in every way.
The hue, the texture, the shape…all too familiar…
I couldn't break myself from her gaze…
I basked in their glory, a pleasure I haven't had in quite a few years…
The silence was broken when a nurse inquired what he would name her…
He paused for a moment, staring at his offspring…
"…Jillian."
He smiled, pleased with his choice.
The nurse took it down on a clipboard she had with her.
I repeated the name to myself subconsciously…
"Jillian…Jillian Valentine."
I liked how it rolled off the tongue…
Those eyes were burned into my retinas…
I drank deeply from that image…
I was deterred from thoughts when I felt a hand on my shoulder; it was a secretary of Spencer sent to inform me of the meeting's dismissal.
As I was about to walk away, I stopped to look over my shoulder back at the nursery; I was hoping to catch one more glance at that baby.
"Pray that our paths will never cross…Ms. Valentine, lest you want those pretty little baby-blues ripped from their sockets."
Serious story is serious.
It's just my take on his childhood; the fact that Capcom never really gave any detailed back-story about his childhood bugs me…
Thus, this came into being.
It took a while to think about and piece together, but I think I did alright.
I was laughing really hard when I went over it; I put SO much emphasis on his obsession with his mother's eyes. Don't question it. If you don't like it, well…I'm sorry.
R&R
(Rave and Rape)