Hi there!
Am I back?
Hmm, that's a weird question. Kinda?
Anyways, here's one of those stories I said I was working on...I'm actually getting it up. Le gasp!
Anyways, this one was definantly one big "What If?" taking on it's own life. It's a joint project with the lovely Nyaphlaire, who's going to be helping me write this by alternating chapters with me-I write the first, then she writes the second, ect ect.
Just gotta put an OC warning up front-hope that didn't scare you away. He's not a self-insert or anything even resembling one, promise!
Well, here goes nothing...

Chris Redfield understood pain. He had become quite well acquainted with all its different forms—physical, emotional, even spiritual (though it could be argued that Chris had stopped believing in that kind of thing a long time ago).

Of course, it wouldn't do to go without a few reminders once in awhile.

Being smashed bodily into the wall, feeling it break under the force of impact—it brought a sense of nostalgia that shot white heat through his nerves. Like every time before, he could feel the adrenaline rip through his veins like fire, pumping him full of power and fight.

And, like every time before, he knew it wouldn't be enough.

The pain was soon accompanied by a crushing force of leather gloves on his neck."W-Wesker…!" he choked, writhing in an attempt to break free of the death grip on his throat.

Wesker. It was always him. Every time his life had fallen apart, every time something had threatened the ones he cared about, this man was always behind it. Always pulling the strings, always working for himself, always, always coming back from the dead to haunt him.

Once-human eyes peered out from above his sunglasses, and that smirk crept over his lips. "I have you now, Chris."

No, it wouldn't be enough. Not against this monster.

He could feel the blackness eating away at his vision, and knew unconsciousness—and most likely death—would come soon. He vaguely wondered if Sheva, or for that matter, if Jill would be okay. He apologized to them both silently for letting them down again…

Then he was on the floor, gasping for air and clutching his throat. The darkness receded and his vision returned with an angry buzzing in his skull. He shook his head and looked around for any clue of what had just happened.

Wesker was still there. But he wasn't towering over him, triumphantly sneering at his weakness, ready to begin the chase again. In fact, he wasn't even standing anymore. He was on the floor nearby, curled up into a ball and…

…crying.

Wesker was crying.

No matter how long Chris stared at him, it was still definitely crying. His thin frame shook with sobs, and breath shuddering audibly. Small, pathetic gasping noises rose from his throat.

Chris pushed himself up onto his knees and readied himself for an attack at any point. It never came.

Confused and even horrified, he stood up and began backing away. Perhaps Wesker had finally lost it…

Chris resisted the urge to jump when he felt Wesker's hand snatch his pant leg, opting instead to point his gun at the man. But no renewed fight shone in Wesker's eyes—only tears.

"…Don't leave me…" Wesker whimpered, his grip tightening on the fabric desperately.

"Wha-"

"Chris!"

His head snapped around to see his partner at the end of the hall, looking more or less alright. Sheva…she's still alive! He thought, relief flooding through him.

It was cut short, though, but the sight of a familiar looking face looming behind his partner's shoulder. Sheva was saying something, but the blood rushing to his ears blocked it out. "Sheva, look out, Jill's-!"

He was cut short by a violent yank at his shoulder. He tumbled backwards, raising his gun instinctively—

And was face-to-face with Wesker. Orange-gold eyes stared into his brown ones, as if silently trying to speak with them.

…Wait, since when had he had brown eyes…?

"Al…" Wesker whimpered. "Al, come back. I-I can't do this anymore. Albert…"

What—?

Pain like he had never known before shot up his spine, causing his body to seize and his eyes to roll. He didn't even have time to process what happened before his consciousness slipped away.

Sheva was having a really shitty day.

She'd hiked through all of the nastiest places in Africa, gotten the widest variety of bites she could possibly imagine, been puked, spit, bled and slobbered on by every undead monstrosity under the sun, and to top it off she hadn't taken care of any of her basic human needs for the past forty-something hours.

It should have come as no surprise that she was downright murderous by the time they finally found Excella. She congratulated them for their hard work while clapping sarcastically with clean, well-manicured hands. If she weren't so important to the mission, she would have just shot the bitch right there and then.

But she didn't. In fact, it could have been considered surprising how well she was holding up, all things considered.

Then she met Wesker. And she knew things were about to go to shit.

And, true enough, it did. He and his partner (puppet? It didn't seem voluntary, from what Chris had told her…) were faster, stronger and more resilient than any human being had the right to be—so much so, that Wesker could take his time and focus on Chris and Chris alone while she struggled vainly just to keep up with him, let alone fight him.

Ooh yeah. They were in shit central alright.

Would you just leave me alone? She thought desperately, watching Jill from her shoddy cover behind a pillar (she had learned the hard way that speaking these thoughts out loud was a great way to get found). She fingered the trigger on her pistol, sternly reminding herself that she was on her last clip.

When she felt that she had enough leeway, she snuck out of her hiding spot and down the corridor, flicking her eyes to and from her map. Chris was close by, and she needed to find him. Lord knew how much the two of them could probably use an herb right then.

As she turned the corner, she heard an odd noise. A moment later she managed to place it. Crying, she thought, hurrying her pace.

Hope it's not Chris…

Shaking off her increasingly morbid thoughts, Sheva sprinted through the ancient maze. It was only after she had passed several more corridors that she found her partner.

Fortunately, he seemed unharmed. However, the same could not be said for his opponent—Albert Wesker was crouching in a pathetic mound on the ground, clutching Chris's pant leg like a small child.

She found Chris' eyes and they stared at one another, relief and confusion lacing both of their expressions. "…This is Wesker?" she asked dryly, fully aware of the ironic echo in her words as she stared down at the cowering figure at Chris' feat.

However, the relived look slid off of her partner's face as his eyes focused on something over her shoulder. "Sheva, look out, Jill's-!"

He didn't need to say any more. She was already turning and ducking simultaneously, shooting her leg out to trip the woman who had been coming up from behind her.

Not so easily overwhelmed, Jill leaped over the leg and flipped backwards, landing heavily in the mouth of the corridor. She snarled angrily and readied herself to execute another move.

Sheva swore loudly and readied her gun, glancing behind her to make sure Wesker hadn't made moves to eliminate her partner.

What she saw was probably the last thing she expected to.

Wesker had gotten up at some point and was now backing into a wall, staring wide-eyed at the slumped over body of her partner. Before she could react, Chris' body began to convulse violently. As if regaining some of his consciousness, he reached up and grabbed his head with both hands, groaning in pain.

As she watched, her partner's body began to shrink. His muscles seemed to disappear and his body became lithe and long. His clothes, now far too big for him, engulfed him as his fingers elongated and his skin paled.

Sheva realized that she had slowly begun raising her gun at him.

Finally, the shaking stopped. He took several deep gulps of air before slowly lifting his head. Albert Wesker stared pointedly at the doppelganger who was watching him, wide-eyed, from the wall.

"…Edmund." He muttered. "What the hell is going on here?"

Alright you guys. Be honest. Who saw that coming? Who even wanted to?
I thought so.
Okay, so this was inspired by a Batman parody trailer with Resident Evil charecters. No, really. I was over at Nyaphlaire's house one day and she was showing it to me, and I thought it was kinda funny how they used Chris as Bruce Wayne and Wesker as Batman. Then I laughed and said, "Omg, what if Chris WAS Wesker? Like, during the game?"
We then stared at each other in complete silence for five seconds before slowly winding up into a steady, excited stream of "Omg, omg, OMG, OMG! OMG!"
It actually kinda...worked. It explained alot of things-why Wesker was so interested in Chris (aside from sexual tension). Why Chris' eyes were randomly brown in the fifth game. And a whole lotta other stuff.
But it brought up a bunch of questions too. Like, how can they be in the same place at the same time?
Meet our OC-Edmund. You'll be seeing a lot more of him in the next chapters.
Please R&R, tell me how much of an idiot I am, ect ect. I always love to hear from you guys!