Resident Evil 6: Remake
Chapter one
Pain. Pure and simple. It was all he could feel really. Even the simple act of breathing was tainted by the burning feeling of pain, almost as if his lungs where filled with molten lead. It was humorous really. He couldn't even remember who he was, what he was doing there, or why he was in so much pain. But as he lay on some sort of sandy or gravely beach of some sort small snippets of his life slowly drifted back into his searing white hot consciousness. After remembering what happened to him he could only wonder as to how in the living hell he was alive. Certainly he couldn't be human to survive the ordeal he went through. But it probably didn't matter, after all he was alive. That was enough for him.
As he lay there consumed with utter agony he heard or rather felt a thrumming feeling in the ground below him. He couldn't exactly hear what would be blades and a VTOL landing on the gravely shores of his own personal hell, because of the shrill ringing in his ears. Courtesy of the explosives he presumed. But then he suddenly heard muffled voices as well as the sensation of being moved. Oh how he had been so wrong. Personal Hell had not done his previous condition any kind of justice. Being moved in his condition, THIS was hell. His pain had increased tenfold. Oh how he wished it would just end. But he would endure, just as he always has. After all, he was a survivor. He would last till the end of time and he would make damn well sure of it.
Let it be known that the bio-terrorist Albert Wesker was a brilliant man. Despite worming his way into the corporation Tricell, he had made sure the pharmaceutical corporation had not absorbed his smaller agency HCF and made sure he had stayed in charge of it. Or rather he left someone in his stead. This person was a Russian man at the age of 45. His hair was silver in color and slicked back, paired with blue eyes and a scar running up the left corner of his mouth. He was dressed in a grey thermal, green tactical vest with the HCF logo, brown pants, combat boots and fingerless gloves. Strapped to his right thigh where two ammo clips for his SIG P226 and on his vest's left side a holster for said gun. The man's name was Nicholai Ginoveaf. He was currently sitting in a VTOL dispatched on Wesker's orders to track down his assault bomber should it crash and release its emergency signal. The Russian man was tapping his foot nervously and biting the nail on his thumb. A nasty habit for sure. As Nicholai stared out into space his attention was only taken by the piolet informing him of their immediate landing. As the hunk of metal touched down the HCF member threw open the side door and rushed out onto the smoldering, black, volcanic sand. He didn't have far to run to find the almost charred body of Albert Wesker. The second in command barked orders at the medics that where brought with him to secure his boss and long-time comrade. The medics of course snapped to attention and grabbed Wesker's body bringing him aboard the VTOL and hooking him up to an IV and blood.
Only now did Nicholai get a good look at they burnt tyrant. His legs below the knee where almost non-existent as was one of his arms. Several burn marks graced his flesh, crawling over his chest and face, black as charcoal. But what was perhaps even more disturbing was the several black oily tentacles worming their way into his skin. Nicholai didn't dare remove them just yet for fear what would happen to either himself, crew, or Wesker. But after making sure Wesker was at least somewhat stabilized with an oxygen mask over his face, Nicholai sat down with a sigh.
"I'm getting too old for this shit…"
Two hours had passed before they had arrived at one of the HCF bases. The moment the VTOL touched down the medics and Nicholai rushed Wesker to the emergency room in order to get him patched up. But in the time it took for them to get to the base the Uroboros worms had already completely receded into Wesker's body and broke down, fusing with the human tyrant prototype. Uroboros had reacted positively to Wesker's progenitor strain and completed its RNA sequence with its own. As such the tyrant's regeneration kicked back in full throttle. The doctors had taken notice to this and placed Wesker into a medical tank with an oxygen mask to heal himself. After the doctors did this Nicholai had sauntered up gazing into the tank at the almost relaxed looking Wesker.
"What's his condition?"
The doctor posted at a desk next to the healing tank snapped to attention at the sound of the tired Russian's voice.
"Stable and improving sir."
"Has he received his usual PG67/AW shot yet?"
"No, he has shown signs of rejecting it and for some reason his virus maintains its stability. My coworkers and I have a hypothesis that this has something to do with the Uroboros virus he was coated in when we found him. He may wake up better than ever or completely feral. Only time will tell."
Nicholai released yet another tired sigh and walked out of the room seemingly satisfied with the doctor's explanation flopping onto his own bed after entering his private chambers within the bowls of the facility. It would pain him to kill his comrade should he emerge feral but he would cope, just as he always has.
It didn't take long for the pain to go away. No as his senses came back to him one at a time he was in fact almost overjoyed. And yet at the same time he was oh so very pissed off. Christopher Redfield had once again thwarted his plans to an extent. But no matter, Chris was mortal and would eventually die, be it age or no. Oh but Albert Wesker would just love to plunge his hand into Chris' chest cavity and yank out his sentimental heart. But first there was one thing to do.
'Open your eyes.'
On command the tyrant slid his eyelids open gazing around the room from the inside of his tank. He looked down at his hands and legs finding them a dark red color.
'Fresh tissue and muscle. I must have only just regenerated…'
The humanoid tyrant shuddered at the memory of plunging feet first into searing hot lava. He was only able to ignore the pain and grab at Chris out of sheer hatred. But when those rockets hit he blacked out. He had no idea as to how he managed to crawl to shore. Glancing around he noticed how his body was still whole and complete without any .. additions. Uroboros must have sacrificed itself for its master. Indeed the tyrant felt even stronger than he had in the first place. Wesker flexed his hands and placed one on the glass of his container. Looking around he gathered where he was. The sterile while walls, floor and ceiling. The medical equipment on gurneys strewn around the room. A single desk in the far left corner with a computer and paperwork stacked on it. A few stretchers and a medicine cabinet tucked away in the corner. Yes quite obviously he was in the med lab.
Nicholai definatly was not expecting his rude awakening. The doctor assigned to Wesker has shaken him awake, pale and rather sweaty. The Russian grumbled as he followed the pale stick of a doctor to the med lab to check on Wesker, but when he arrived he found the tube opened and a familiar figure sitting on the desk dressed in only spare scrubs and a lab coat. The arrogant figure of Albert Wesker slicked his blonde hair back and cracked his neck before leveling his red and gold slitted eyes to Nicholai's.
"Good to see you . We have some work to do it would seem."
To be continued..