When Albert Wesker looked back to his life, and he made a point of doing that every now and then, especially after Spencer's revelations, he saw it divided in different phases, starting out as an exceptional. human, but still a human with the same kind of weaknesses that plagued the rest of the species, but growing past it, starting to see the truth, becoming able to think beyond the confines of the natural human scope that was still stuck to the mindset suitable for the hunter-gatherers of Pleistocene.
He very much belonged to the early stages of his life, before he had been killed and reborn as something more than just a human.
He was a part of his youth, childhood, even.
They both had died. But only one of them had risen from the ashes, stronger.
Stronger for the death of the other, getting rid of this final link to the times he was so much less. So much more human.
So when he looked upon the sleeping face that was not supposed to be there and then, there was the feeling of... something. Something different from the dull ever-present anger that was with him all the time these days.
"A clone?", he asked, making a mental note of how he wished that this was but a shell that shared the physical appearance of his old acquittance.
"No, the real thing. Collected from Raccoon City mere moments before it's destruction. How did they know where to look, well, I don't know"
Wesker had an idea.
Ada, so this was it. I knew you kept something from me. You were playing your own games, playing for all the sides.
He stepped closer, examining what the dishonoured FBI officer had stolen from her old facilities and now presented to him as a gift in hopes of joining this other organisation. Of joining the winning side.
She would be useful, for now. Wesker would find out what other things of importance she would have gotten her hands on, what inside information she could share with him, and keep her close with subtle promises of power, and when Uroboros was ready, she would be judged alongside the rest of humanity.
But for now she would be included in Wesker's plans, if even in a very small capacity.
She had already presented him with something of interest, after all.
"Someone you know, Albert?"
The other scientist did not look up from his work, not humouring her with a response. Excella already knew he and the comatose man had been colleagues, and close work-partners years ago, that much was easy to find out.
As for how much she knew about their personal relationship, or assumed, he did not know, and it didn't matter. That had been a different man all-together whose weaknesses the current Albert Wesker did not share.
So it didn't matter if William Birkin would be brought back to life.
It would be of no consequence.
But, having this reminder of what he had once been, was...
Unpleasant.
As soon as he would figure out how the G-virus had preserved the original host inside the mutated mass, this project would be terminated.
"I hated him"
He surprised himself for speaking his thoughts aloud, but as soon he had said it, he knew it to be true. Yes, this feeling was hate. The actual reasons behind it were unclear, and he was reluctant to dwell too deeply on this unsettling emotion.
He did not like the way this experiment was affecting him.
But soon, it would stop.
The need for sleep was one those human weaknesses he had left behind, but working so long without rest had a dulling effect on his mind nevertheless.
He should stop for a while, it had been long since he had worked like this, alone, without rest completely focused on one project.
It seemed that the G-virus in Birkin's body was almost completely dormant, and most importantly, unable to spread to new cells and take them over to replicate itself further.
Wesker had collected samples, although he suspected it wouldn't come into use with Uroboros. But knowledge like this was always useful, and even though he had never fully shared Birkin's fascination with the G-virus, it was definitely unique and full of surprises.
It was a wonder how it was possible, but it looked like the creature dubbed "G", had not destroyed Birkin's body, but grown over it, consuming the flesh of it's other victims and converting that to the mutated mass constantly reshaped by the perpetually evolving G-virus.
But the original subject had been regenerated inside this grotesque cocoon, the G-virus preserving his DNA, and in fact correcting any spontaneous mutations that naturally occurred, keeping him in this unconscious state.
It seemed like he had simply been kept on life-support in whatever FBI facility he had been tucked away these years, the government people not wanting to kill him, but not particularly interested in trying to restore him to consciousness.
Wesker wondered if waking him up was even possible.
Well, he could take it as a challenge.
Blue eyes fluttered open, staring at him with no recognition.
"William."
That unpleasant feeling again.
But wasn't this exactly the reason he had to do this?
He did not want to feel this way, but lacking any rational reason for it, he had to overcome this.
This feeling was a mere human remnant in him, something to be analysed, understood, and then cut off with emotionless scientific efficiency.
"Doctor William Birkin, can you hear me?"
Wesker frowned at the slight tremble in his voice. It was completely unacceptable. He shouldn't waste his time and resources to this, when there was still so much work to be done with Uroboros.
His hand flew to the life-support-machine, intending to shut it off. This had gone on long enough. What could possibly be gained from this little side-project?
"mmh."
Wesker's hand froze at the sound made by his patient.
In a daze he turned around.
"Sherry"
"William"
No response.
All Birkin did was stare at him with those dull blue eyes.
"You read them?"
Wesker pointed at the pile of files and newspaper-articles documenting the destruction of Raccoon city and the downfall of Umbrella.
He had given them to the other man without a word, and left him on his own, sitting on the hospital-bed in the small room.
"Yes."
Wesker didn't feel the need to press the issue. If William wanted to talk about it, or get more information, he would ask. And why would he care?
Although, it would be a waste to just have him sit in here. He had been, after all, one of the leading researchers of Umbrella. Even if his knowledge of his field was not up-to-date, he could still contribute something.
Yes, it would be a waste of resources to just keep him here.
"William. There is something I would like to show you. I call it Uroboros"
Wesker watched Birkin's expression gradually change as he stared into the microscope, becoming more and more animated with every sample he inspected, scanning through the files and lab reports Wesker provided as the other man asked for them.
"What do you think?"
Birkin barely paused in comparing the two slides of infected tissue:
"It's definitely interesting. But it's not perfect, there is still work to be done, yes..."
Drifting back to his thoughts, Birkin seemingly forgot about the other man again.
He was wearing the expression Wesker knew so very well. Birkin had gotten interested.
Behind his sunglasses he watched William take over the laboratory, driving a Tricell scientist away from the equipment and leaving her along with other researchers puzzled and unsure as to how to respond to this stranger who appeared out of no-where to give them impatient orders excepting to be obeyed and walk away with their samples and equipment to do who knows what, but as Wesker seemed to approve of this, they all warily complied and tried their best to stay away from the increasingly frantic individual who looked more like an escaped patient than a doctor.
Wesker soon found himself helping his old partner, holding out files and samples to him, and instructing him in the use the modernised equipment, although to his surprise William figured it all out more quickly he would have thought, and the two soon fell to the old, but so familiar routine.
No-one else had ever worked as well with Wesker, able to keep up with him. And even when they were intelligent enough, they would not have the courage to stand up to him or have different unconventional ways to look at the same problem at hand.
It was frustrating at times, true, William Birkin wasn't the easiest person to deal with, especially during his fits of paranoia and instability, but the results spoke for themselves.
And yet working alongside William again was also strangely unsettling, and so when he got the message from Gionne informing him of their little problem, part of Wesker was glad for this chance to get away from the laboratory.
Leaving Birkin to work in the laboratory, he strolled to face another acquaintance from the past.
Chris was, just as he had expected, shocked and distressed by the revelation of Jill.
Wesker thought, that in hindsight, he could have used the brainwashed and controlled woman much more efficiently to play with Chris' mind, perhaps even making him question his own sanity for seeing his supposedly dead partner alive.
He had actually thought of it, but in the end Redfield was hardly worth of all the time and attention a scheme like that would take, when his reactions would have most likely not been interesting enough, and the study of the psyche of such a feeble mind was hardly productive.
But since they were all here, he could just as well play with him a little.
"Now, let's finish this, once and for all. I think the odds are fair. Two on two, right Jill?"
This was easy.
There was none of the conflicting emotions he had been feeling lately.
He hated and despised Chris, in a clear and powerful way.
And it made sense he should. This mindless brute had the audacity to stand against him again and again, not even fully comprehending what he was meddling with.
He threw himself into the battle, playing with his prey, drawing them close, letting them escape in the maze of ruins and let Jill hunt them down, taunting Chris, reminding him just how badly he had failed, watching him trying to fight Jill without hurting her.
Making it obvious he was just playing with the brown-haired man, that he wasn't worth fighting seriously.
"I expected more of a challenge after all this time, Chris. How disappointing".
Indeed, his old subordinate had acquired more strength, but the muscle mass came at the cost of speed and agility, making him ridiculously easy to avoid for someone with Wesker's augmented agility and reflexes.
His skill with the gun was still adequate, and could have been even good had he not been so concerned with hitting his partner, and hesitating when it came to effectively facing Jill in battle.
Wesker's musings on foolish sentiments were interrupted by a ring from his cellphone.
The general number of the laboratories. They were supposed to call this cell only in case of an emergency, perhaps it was something those little pests had inadvertently released while ransacking his facilities?
"yes"
The voice that spoke belonged to one of the main laboratory workers:
"Doctor Wesker, he, the man who you brought to the lab. He- he's collapsed. I thought it best to consult you on-"
"Wesker, stop!"
But Chris was cut off by Jill's attack, most likely actually saving him from having his neck broken by the other blond for not understanding his place and distrurbing him when he was in phone.
"Nice move, Chris."
His stubbornness was almost laudable.
Almost.
Yes, he should have Jill dispose of him. That sounded like a fitting end for someone who depended on those he foolishly trusted even when faced with a situation where doing so put himself in danger.
"But now that your, partner," he almost spat the word out, "has arrived, I leave you two to catch up."
However, for his surprise, Chris' pleads seemed to reach the woman, and she loosened her grip on him, letting her opponent go, displaying acute physical discomfort.
Perhaps this was the result of the emotional distress for being forced to fight Chris?
Indeed, the human emotions, attachment, and romantic feelings caused by the brain-chemistry and dictated by genes shaped by the very inefficient natural selection served a useful purpose for those still clinging to the herd-mentality of the human species.
Those too weak to survive on their own.
Those unable to step outside the boundaries of their biology.
"Remarkable. Still resisting at such an advanced stage. Commendable. Yet futile. No more time for games, Chris. I've got work to do. Have fun watching Jill suffer"
Yes, having feelings for someone, for what advantages it might have, also left you vulnerable and clouded your judgement. This was an excellent example of that.
He could hear Chris shouting something futile at his retreating back before the elevator doors cut him off, but his attention was elsewhere.
If Birkin happened to die, that would solve a lot of his problems, wouldn't it?
He did not need anyone, after all, least of all someone who could challenge him intellectually, someone who had known him in his youth and remembered what a human fool he had been.
He had Uroboros.
There was no need for anyone else.
So why did he find himself hurrying to the laboratory?
Opening the door, and walking briskly to the collapsed form in a lab coat two sizes too big that made his thin form look even more fragile, seeing the staff retreat from him, uncertain of how they should react, lifting the unconscious form from the floor, barking orders to bring the medical equipment he needed.
Why was he relieved to feel the other man's pulse?
And why was he angry?
Angry at himself for leaving William there alone, angry for letting him get up from the bed at his state.
Angry for feeling guilty for something so trivial.
And yet, he still found himself doing his best to stabilise William's condition and feeling relieved when it became certain he was in no great danger and would make a perfect recovery given some time to rest.
He thought he would have to come to a decision once and for all, while going through the work William had done and the notes he had made before fainting.
What he could understand of them, anyway. Birkin had always had his own way of shorthand he had used for his notes partly to conceal their meaning from others, but mostly to accommodate his unique and fast thought-processes.
Wesker couldn't fully understand these notes that appeared for a casual observer just incoherent ramblings and scribbles.
But what he could understand was very interesting indeed. Birkin had taken a completely different approach to the research, starting from what he viewed as it's shortcomings and possibilities, partly differing from how Wesker or other scientists working on the virus saw it.
Wesker took a pen and started adding his own comments to the notes, separating the most useful and practical ideas from the more fanciful, expensive and less viable ones.
He would have to hold William in check and steer him away from the paths of research that although fascinating, would not be as important in the light of the final objective.
When the sedatives wore off and Birkin woke up, he'd have to take steps to guarantee he didn't neglect his health again like that and make sure he made a full recovery before being allowed to work full days.
He had done it before, he'd know how to deal with Birkin-
He stopped writing.
At some point, without even noticing it, he had made his decision. And now that he had, his mind was clear once more.
Despite being content that it was a decision reached by a perfectly logical reasoning, a certain though came to his mind.
Spencer never did like it how well William and I worked together.
In the small room with just him and the sleeping figure Albert Wesker allowed himself a slight smile.