The Rebirth
The laboratory was practically silent, save for the humming of various machines littered all around the room, mainly monitors showing the feeds from the dozens of security cameras situated through the entire research complex, tucked away within the façade of a large mansion and its grounds, shielding it from public view. After all, if the public found out what Umbrella had been up to within these halls, then a lot of uncomfortable questions would be asked.
On the surface, Umbrella was one of the largest pharmaceutical corporations in the world, selling in practically every corner of the globe, and championing countless advances in medical science and technology. And here, in the Arklay Mountains region in America's Mid-west, they had founded their base of operations in Raccoon City, a small town with a population of around 100,000. They had even been instrumental in the city's development, contributing millions to various building schemes throughout the city, including the city's large transit system, and various other municipal developments.
But that was just a ruse, a mask. Umbrella's true power lay in the development and research of biological weapons, inhuman monsters created for military purposes. For the last 20 years and more, they had developed and experimented with a lethal mutagenic toxin known as the 'T-Virus': a virus that could alter a host's DNA, turning them into hideous mockeries of themselves. The same things that were now wandering the mansion grounds and the forest outside. Those loathsome zombies, and other creatures too horrific to imagine.
Sometime beforehand, the entire estate, as well as the nearby Management Training Facility, and a train full of Umbrella employees en route to the MTF to oversee its reopening, had been struck with an outbreak of the T-Virus. A deliberate outbreak of the virus, as it happened. The official reason of how it came to be spread was still unknown to most who knew about it, but he had a pretty good idea of how it started and who had started it. After all, he had been one of the only people aware of what had happened in that regard. He'd seen the video feeds of those leech-like creatures suddenly appearing in the facility's corridors, of that young man who had more than a passing resemblance to a figure from the past…
But that didn't matter now: the T-Virus had been unleashed, and sooner or later it would reach Raccoon City itself, and when that happened, the city would be doomed. Arklay Forest was just full of life forms ripe to be infected and pass the virus on to one another. There had been outbreaks before, but nothing on this scale. Umbrella would lose everything: that much was certain. So now he had chosen to put his plans into motion, much earlier than he had expected to.
Albert Wesker tapped at the keys on the console before him, reading off the streams of information given to him on the scrolling black screen. The subject's vital signs were stable, and it was ready to serve its purpose. He looked up at the massive storage tube to his left, and at the albino monster inside. It was a Tyrant, one of the most powerful creatures, or B.O.W's, created by the corporation. It looked human, but it was at least 12 feet tall, was covered in exposed arteries and sores, and its left arm had been replaced by razor-sharp claws. It seemed to be sleeping now, its eyes closed, but it wouldn't take much for it to be awakened once more. And when it did, it would attack anything on sight: just the way he wanted it to be when the time came.
Albert Wesker was a well-built man in his early thirties, with slicked-back blonde hair and icy blue eyes, and dark mirror shades that he constantly wore, a fact he had become somewhat infamous for throughout his recent career. He was dressed in black cargo pants, a black police tactical vest over a blue shirt, and black combat boots. A brass police badge was pinned to the front of his vest. In official circles, he was the captain of the S.T.A.R.S team, the R.P.D's elite police unit.
Or rather, what was left of it. The day before, Bravo team had been dispatched to investigate the gruesome murders that had taken place in the forest recently (all due to T-Virus infected creatures attacking unlucky hikers), and all contact had been lost with them. That's because most of them were dead, and Wesker had seen most of their bodies around the estate, or via the numerous security cameras he had been observing for a short while now. Their pilot, Kevin Dooley, had been killed by the 'Cerberus' dogs roaming the forest, while Kenneth Sullivan, Forest Speyer, Richard Aiken and captain Enrico Marini were all dead: Wesker had shot Enrico personally hours beforehand, because he had discovered Wesker's dirty secrets. And the sniper Edward Dewey was AWOL, but Wesker was certain that he was dead.
Alpha team had followed after them the previous night, barely 10 hours ago, and had nearly wandered into a massacre. Joseph Frost was killed by Cerberus dogs not long after landing, but the rest of Alpha team were still alive. Weapons specialist Jill Valentine was currently held in the prison cell on the lower floor, thanks to Wesker's efforts, while Chris Redfield and Barry Burton were still in one piece, and very near. In fact, Chris, regarded as Wesker's best man, was almost at the doors to the lab he was currently in. He was being accompanied by the new girl from the Bravo team, Rebecca Chambers. This had been her first mission, yet she was still alive. How or why, Wesker didn't know, and cared even less. Though he had to admit when he saw her wandering the corridors of the MTF the day before, he passed her appearance off as a minor inconvenience, that she'd soon be killed, her and that mystery young man she had appeared with. And yet she was here, still in one piece. She certainly had a lot of potential.
And then there was Alpha's helicopter pilot, Brad Vickers, but he was a notorious coward. He had flown off and left them behind when Joseph had been killed, and he was still flying around the forest somewhere, desperately trying to raise the rest of his team on the radio. But to no avail- Wesker had already sabotaged the radio units before they flew out here, so there was no chance of them calling the outside world.
Alpha team were always seen as superior to Bravo team, and that didn't bother him. They would live long enough to encounter and battle the numerous monsters running around the estate, so Wesker could collect the relevant combat data, as was asked of him. Despite the massive implications of this situation, Umbrella still needed the combat data for most of their B.O.W's, including the Tyrant, and they had ordered Wesker to retrieve it, even if it meant giving up his own S.T.A.R.S members. He had grown to know them over the last two years, but they were nothing more than expendable pawns in his overall plan, disposed as easily as he had lead them here. Self-preservation always took priority, he would always told himself.
He had already seen Chris and Barry battle several 'Hunters', the frog-like monsters with razor-sharp claws, and also a few 'Chimeras', the loathsome bug-like monsters that had infested the power rooms of the labs, and he had gotten some good footage of the battles, of how the monsters moved and attacked. Despite this huge mess, something good would at least come out of it. He was copying the data he had collected onto a data storage device plugged into the console, the latest of many copies.
Wesker hadn't been a police officer his whole life. No, he had started his working career with the Umbrella corporation, years ago, when he was young and naïve. Fully expecting to aid in the development of new medical advances, he instead found himself creating hideous monsters for the sole purpose of eradicating life. He had been shocked at first, but over time he had resigned himself to the facts. Over time, he left the corporation and founded the S.T.A.R.S instead, mainly as a way to spy on the police activities and to help in covering up Umbrella's more shady…'activities'.
He had come to realise something else during his time as a researcher as well: the fragility of human life. The zombies and other monsters created by the virus were superior to humans in every way imaginable, despite their hideous appearances. He was a firm believer in Darwin's theory of 'survival of the fittest', and had applied it to human kind. Humanity was weak and bringing itself closer and closer to self-destruction every day. And one day they would be eradicated, to be replaced by superior life forms. As far as he was concerned, his work with Umbrella wasn't destroying the human race: he was helping them. When human kind had been wiped off of the face of the earth, a new balance would be created, a world where harmony would reign once more.
No-one else would see things in the same light as he did, and he preferred it that way. He knew better than anyone else on this planet, and he wouldn't be told different. He was a smart man, a genius: so who better to lead the world onto a better path than him?
It was with this thought in mind that he had made his own plans. Umbrella had asked him to collect the combat data for the numerous B. in the estate, but he had no intention of giving it to them. He had forged many connections during his time as captain of S.T.A.R.S, and to some of these connections he had promised all of Umbrella's research data, as well as their ultimate creation, the Tyrant itself. The corporation could go to hell as far as he was concerned: they'd effectively signed their own death warrants, so it was better to abandon ship now, before it hit the hypothetical iceberg.
But still, if he were to betray the corporation, they would come after him and kill him for sure. So he'd have to make them believe that he was dead, which was where the next part of his plan would come into action. He picked up the needle on the workstation next to him and examined it carefully. It contained a sickly yellow liquid, swimming with black blotches, thick like writing ink.
He didn't know what it was exactly, but according to the man who had given it to him, William Birkin, it was a variation of the T-Virus. Unlike that virus though, it would only affect a dead body, so he could inject it into himself, and nothing would happen to him unless he were to die. And only then would the virus get to work, rejuvenating his body and bringing him back to life. And maybe, as Birkin had told him, also boosting his attributes beyond his normal thresholds. So in other words, if Wesker injected himself with this virus, and was then to die, he could essentially fake his own death.
In theory, at least. The virus had never been tested, and Wesker held the only known sample in his hand.
William Birkin was one of Umbrella's most promising researchers, joining at the same time as Wesker had done, and both men had become firm friends during their time at the Spencer Estate. Birkin was back in Raccoon City right now, continuing his research into the G-Virus, a more powerful alternative to the T-Virus, discovered during their day-to-day work at the labs. It had taken him years to get this far with his research, and he needed even more time to perfect his creation, the crux of his career as a researcher. Two days before, he had been with Wesker at the Raccoon lab, monitoring the situation at the forest facilities, and had remotely activated the self-destruct system for the management training facility and the connected water treatment facility, to limit the spread of the T-Virus. But that only bought them a bit extra time: the Spencer Estate remained untouched, and sooner or later the virus would hit the city, and then it would all be over. Birkin probably had 2 or 3 months, at the very least, before everything would be for naught.
Birkin was the only other person who knew about Wesker's plans for the future: but he'd made no attempt to dissuade him from doing so. Maybe he too knew the implications of what was to happen, and was content to let his old friend go his own way. Or maybe he had his own plans as well?
But whatever the case, Wesker was preoccupied with other developments, mainly the ones involving himself. Lately, he had started to look out for his own needs, rather than those of others, and it had worked out well for him so far. And so he'd continue to keep doing so.
He pulled the cap off of the needle and tossed it aside, bringing up his arm and finding a good vein to inject into. He readied the needle in his other hand, allowing it to hover it just above his skin. He took several breaths to prepare himself for the next step of his plan. After this, there would be no more going back.
He stabbed the needle into his arm, gritting his teeth slightly, before he pushed the plunger down with his thumb, injecting the unknown virus, a by-product of the deadliest biological toxin ever created, into his bloodstream. After a few seconds, he withdrew the needle and stood still.
Nothing happened. He felt nothing, aside from the chill of where the liquid had entered his body, but nothing else. He half-expected to transform into a zombie suddenly, or a Tyrant, or some other unknown horror, but nothing happened. He sighed in relief. Now he just hoped that it would work when his inevitable 'death' had occurred. Otherwise his plan would end then and there.
He casually tossed the empty needle across the room, into a dank shadow formed by one of the computer banks. He turned his attention back towards the rows of screens before him. He saw Chris emerging from the power room, having turned on the power for the main elevator that would lead to the lab Wesker was currently in. The front of his vest was splattered in dark blood and he looked none too pleased.
And so the final phase begins, thought Wesker to himself. He started to type again, at high speed, shutting down the various systems that were keeping the Tyrant in a stable condition, stopping it from waking up and breaking free. A simple glass tube would hardly be enough to stop that brute from breaking free. He could see the monster starting to stir in its storage, moving around in its cramped quarters, moaning slightly to itself. It had been in storage for at least a year, he reckoned.
The Tyrant was the crux of all the research undertaken at this facility over the years: there was a 1 in 10 million chance that a person infected with the T-Virus would become a Tyrant rather than a zombie. But with odds that low, any Tyrant that was created was a blessing for the corporation. They had created only one other specimen in the past, but that 'prototype' had proven to be too unstable, and it had been stored away in the lower levels of the Raccoon City underground laboratory. But this specimen, in front of Wesker right now…it was sheer perfection: a prime example of what was to come in the future, a future that Wesker had envisioned.
He looked at the wall of video screens again. He looked at the screen in the top left, the one that showed the image of the corridor literally just outside the lab he was in. He could see Redfield approaching the door now, his handgun drawn and a shotgun slung across his back. Next to him was the young medic, Rebecca.
Two against one…the odds seem against me, but I do have the Tyrant on my side. The wont stand a chance…
He saw the look on Chris' face, the mixture of determination and anger. Wesker had seen when Chris had gone into the conference room upstairs and had seen the slides of the various research projects undertaken at the estate, including pictures of the head research team…and Wesker was in every one of those pictures. In fact, there was plenty of evidence littered around that implicated him in the goings on, both at the estate and with Umbrella in general. But he expected that they would work out sooner or later of his involvement: the S.T.A.R.S weren't all idiots, after all. It didn't really matter now though, since they would all be dead within a few hours.
He heard the hydraulic whoosh of the door opening behind him, and of two pairs of footsteps on the cold concrete ground.
And so the end phase begins…
Wesker didn't even acknowledge the new arrivals at first, he kept typing at the keypad before him, listening to Chris' panted breathing from behind him. It was the sound of someone trying to control an incredible amount of anger.
"Wesker…" growled Chris. It was only then that Wesker chose to finally reply.
"Chris, I expected you to make it this far," he said, still typing away at the console. "But you are my best man, after all. Who else to make it this far?"
"Gee, thanks," scoffed Chris, the sarcasm in his voice clearly evident. "How about I just put a bullet in your head and end it right here and now?"
In a flash, Wesker grabbed for his own Beretta handgun from the desk next to him and spun his body round, pointing the gun's barrel at his two visitors. Now he could get a better look at the state the two surviving S.T.A.R.S officers were in. Chris looked an absolute mess, his vest as well as his combat pants covered in blood and other sticky fluids, while his young face was smeared with sweat, grime, and even a few blood droplets. His clothes were also torn and nicked in several places. He looked as though he'd been to hell and back several times. Next to Chris, the Bravo Team medic Rebecca looked a bit better for wear, though her green and white uniform was smeared with blood in a few places and her face was also covered in dirt. She looked incredibly weary from a distinct lack of sleep.
"Sorry, but I can't let you do that just yet, Chris," said Wesker, blankly.
"C-captain Wesker," whispered Rebecca, her voice barely a hoarse whisper. "Why are you doing all this?"
Chris smirked. "So how long has it been, Wesker?" he asked. "How long since they've been slipping you a pay check?"
Wesker smirked himself. "I'm afraid that I don't know what you're talking about, Chris," he said, maintaining his calm demeanour. "I've always been with Umbrella, long before I formed the S.T.A.R.S." Chris' face changed. He looked genuinely surprised.
"What? So that means we were all-"
"Yes, all just a part of my overall plan," explained Wesker, feeling he needed to enlighten his former comrades before he disposed of them, like any good villain would have done. "The virus the company was researching at this facility escaped and infected everyone who worked here. A total disaster of course, but they saw this as a perfect opportunity to gather the required combat data they still needed." His face remained totally straight during his entire explanation, since he didn't care anymore, not about what had transpired here so far.
"You all served your purpose, one way or another, but unfortunately your usefulness had been expended, so I have no choice but to…let you all go."
Wesker clearly saw the looks on both their faces, and he found them amusing to watch. Rebecca looked horrified and disgusted, and so did Chris for about a second, but it changed to a mask of rage. He slowly raised one of his arms and stabbed a finger towards his captain.
"You killed them all, just for this," he said, forcing each word out through his clenched teeth. "You callous bastard!"
Wesker smiled a little, seemingly almost pleased to be called such a thing. "Oh please, those monsters out there killed them. Well except for Enrico of course. I did kill him by myself." At that remark, Chris went for his handgun, but Wesker had him covered. "And you can drop your weapons as well. Both of you." Slowly, the two S.T.A.R.S members complied, as Chris unslung his shotgun and dropped it at his feet, closely followed by his Beretta. Rebecca did the same, her gaze never breaking with Wesker's.
"Enrico…" she whispered.
"He knew too much for his own good," explained Wesker with a slight snarl. "He may have been a good officer, but he'd long served his purpose. Yes, I killed your precious captain Rebecca. Just like this-"
The S.T.A.R.S traitor turned his aim away from Chris, towards Rebecca, and pulled the trigger. His face was remorseless.
BANG!
She cried out for a split-second, and then she crumpled to the floor, like a discarded puppet. Chris instantly went to try and save her.
"Rebecca!" he cried, but Wesker had already switched his aim back to cover him.
"Don't move Chris!" he ordered, his voice still calm as could be. Chris froze in place, half-hunched over as he was preparing to lean down to check on Rebecca "I'd hate to shoot you before you served your purpose."
Chris slowly straightened himself up and turned to face his captain, still clearly brimming with anger. "My purpose? What's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, you'll find out soon enough," explained Wesker, walking back towards the console, keeping his weapon trained towards Chris all the time. "But you will make a major contribution towards my future plans, seeing as how you're my best man." Chris scoffed again, in disgust.
"If you think I'm just going to stand here and help Umbrella out, after everything they've done so far, you've got another thing coming!"
"Umbrella?" asked Wesker, laughing slightly at Chris' comment. "I want nothing more to do with Umbrella, not after this! It's only a matter of time before everything is over for them, and I'll be glad to be out of matters when the end comes."
"Cut and run, eh?" asked Chris, shaking his head. "Not only are you a traitor, you're a gutless coward as well."
"Silence!" snapped Wesker with significant force in his voice, hitting a few keys on the keypad next to him. "And anyways Chris, I have something interesting to show you- the fruit of our labours here…the Tyrant."
Now Chris finally took notice of the albino giant in the massive storage tube, and the look of disgust and horror on his face showed what he thought about it. By now, Wesker had already activated the sequence to drain the monster's storage tube, and the pasty white fluid drained away, leaving the monster to stand in the tube under its own power. It was clearly alive now, breathing slowly, its exposed heart beating in a steady rhythm. It glanced around, as if considering its current position.
"The ultimate life form," explained Wesker, moving to stand in front of the Tyrant's storage tube. As he did, the monster slowly swivelled its gaze down towards him, soulless white eyes regarding him like how a lion might consider its next meal.
Chris started to laugh in disbelief. "You this freak is the ultimate life form?" he asked, shaking his head. "You really have lost it Wesker!"
Wesker looked up at the Tyrant, shaking his own head. "You'll never understand Chris," he said, raising his arms and spreading them either side of him. "Isn't it simply…magnificent?"
Chris made some remark about how 'magnificent' he thought the Tyrant was, but Wesker blocked him out. He locked eyes with the enormous monster: it was still glaring at him, possibly into his soul itself. And if that was the case, then that soul would likely be pitch black…or made from solid ice.
Now I have your full attention, he thought to himself, not breaking his gaze with the monster, his arms still spread either side of him. He couldn't show any fear, not now.
The Tyrant started to draw its clawed arm back.
No going back now-
The Tyrant's arm thrust forward, at a speed at odds with its considerable bulk. The claw shattered the glass with ease, and continued on, spearing through Wesker's stomach and out of his back.
The S.T.A.R.S captain screamed in agony as the Tyrant lifted him up and stepped forward, out of its cramped storage quarters, dripping his blood everywhere. Wesker was horrified with how much was coming out, out of his own body. His scream quickly faded away to a bloody gurgle, as he caught the horrified look on Chris' face, standing barely 10 feet away.
As Wesker's body went limp, the Tyrant turned to the side and tossed him aside like a piece of garbage. Wesker flopped into the far corner of the room, near to another computer console. The last thing he saw, before his head flopped to the side lifelessly, was the image of the cold concrete ceiling above him.
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Murky images swam all around him, showing various pivotal moments from his life to date. The day he graduated from university, top of his class; the first day of work he performed with Umbrella, the time he met William Birkin, his many progressions with the T-Virus research-
The incident with James Marcus, possibly the worst thing Wesker had taken part in his life up until that point. One of Umbrella's original founders, Marcus was head of the management training facility, and was the creator of the T-Virus itself, after years of refining the original 'Mother' virus into a more stable variant. But by then, he had become dangerous, threatening to use his findings to overthrow Ozwell Spencer himself, the company's CEO, and he needed to be dealt with.
Wesker had been there when the incident had occurred: there when Marcus was shot dead by Umbrella's special forces, there when his body was dumped unceremoniously into the water treatment facility, there when himself and Birkin took over Marcus' research. It was around that time that Wesker changed: he ceased to care about others anymore, only about his own interests. It had shown him what happened to those who dared to defy Umbrella, and spurred him into making his own plans in secret; to cushion his fall should something happen to Umbrella. And now that something had happened, his plans had been set in motion. And if he remained here, those plans would never reach fruition. He had to get up.
Get up… whispered the dark voice in his ear. He struggled to flex the fingers on his left hand.
Marcus' death had been the start of Umbrella's downfall. He had died years before, but he had returned to life somehow, and in a younger body than when he had died. It was the T-Virus, it had to be. Those damned leeches had infected him with it, and bought him back to life over the years. How exactly still eluded him, but the newly-returned Marcus had gone on to spread the T-Virus across the various Umbrella facilities in the woods, and on the train as well, as revenge for Umbrella killing him years before. And now thanks to him, Umbrella was doomed.
Get up… whispered the voice again, and Wesker flexed his fingers again, eventually clenching them into fists.
Marcus was likely dead again, incinerated in the explosion of the MTF orchestrated by Birkin, but the damage had already been done, and now he had to get out of there, otherwise everything would be lost.
GET UP! Screamed the voice.
Wesker sat bolt upright and gulped in a sharp intake of air. He continued to sit there, in a pool of his own blood, gasping for breath for a few more seconds, staring straight ahead of him. It took several more seconds for him to realise that he was still within the research lab in the basement of the Arklay facility, exactly where he had been before the darkness came crashing down on top of him…when the Tyrant had speared him on its clawed arm.
Quickly, he reached his hands down to his stomach. The tactical vest and his undershirt had been ripped to shreds, and blood was smeared all over him, on his arms, down his pant legs, and even on his face. But his stomach was still in one piece- there was no trace whatsoever of the hideously fatal wound he had just received minutes beforehand.
"Incredible," he whispered to himself. He had done the impossible.
He had cheated death and returned to life.
He continued to admire the unbroken skin for a few more seconds, before he had another thought and he quickly got to his feet- despite having just returned to life, he felt remarkably fresh and vital, not struggling at all to get up. Once he was stood fully upright, he looked around the lab. Most of the equipment was still in one piece, but blood and empty shell casings littered the ground.
The Tyrant was gone. And so was Chris.
Wesker quickly strode forward and looked towards the entrance. The spot where Rebecca had fallen was empty: she was likely still alive, especially if she happened to be wearing her Kevlar vest at the time. Wesker wanted to mentally kick himself for not realising that before, but there was no use doing that now. He looked towards the door again, and saw that the space where it should have been had been utterly torn apart: the steel torn back, and even the space above the door pushed apart, as though something huge had pushed through. Wesker didn't need to guess what had made this damage.
He guessed that Chris and Rebecca had fled the Tyrant, and it had pursued them. It wouldn't give up the chase until it had killed them both, and anyone else still alive in the facility. And that meant the other surviving S.T.A.R.S would be viable targets as well. Turning, he walked back up to the wall of video screens, scanning over them with quick eyes. He looked at the one that showed the staircase leading to the highest floor of the lab, and was dismayed to see Chris and Rebecca ascending them, clearly in a hurry. Then he looked up at the video feed for the prison area, and saw that the prison cell where he had imprisoned Jill was empty. He flicked to yet another camera, the one showing the view just outside the emergency escape hatch, and he saw Jill and Barry standing around, nervously waiting for the others to arrive. Looked as though Barry had set her free from her imprisonment...how admirable.
He took a deep breath. Things weren't going exactly as he had envisioned them, but it was just a minor hiccup: with the Tyrant of the loose, they wouldn't live for much longer anyways. But then a cool, feminine voice sounded on the various loudspeakers set into the corners of the room's ceiling.
"Self-destruct sequence activated. 10 minutes until detonation. All personnel please evacuate the premises."
Wesker cursed. It wasn't meant to happen like this. He was supposed to activate the self-destruct sequence only when the S.T.A.R.S had been killed and he had a clear route for his own escape. It looked as though one of the S.T.A.R.S had activated the sequence themselves, possibly as a way to prevent the virus from spreading further. Wesker gave them full marks for effort, but even with the destruction of this place, the virus would still reach Raccoon City. It would just delay the inevitable.
But his plan still wasn't fully ruined. All he had to do was-
A intense pain suddenly shot through his stomach, and he doubled over, groaning in pain as the agony spread to his arms and legs, washing over him in steady waves. He dropped to his knees, trying to control the pain, but it was engulfing his entire body.
"What's…happening?" he gasped, doubled over, his teeth gritted. "A…side effect?" That was all he could think off, even as another shot of pain coursed through his body, so severe he fell sideways to the ground, still clutching at his stomach.
And then as quickly as it had happened, the pain was gone. Wesker continued to lie on his side for a few seconds, before he finally struggled onto his feet, breathing slowly. As soon as he was, he looked down at his arms, but there was no visible change.
What's happening to me?
He looked around again, but something was different. He had perfect eyesight beforehand, but now his eyes seemed to be picking up tiny details he never would have noticed before unless he had really stopped to take a closer look, even through the shade of his sunglasses. The serial numbers etched onto the sides of most of the machines in the room, the descriptions on the labels of the numerous bottles of various chemicals on the shelves at the far side of the room, the sizes of every minute shard of glass on the floor: he swore he could even pick out the countless dust motes on the surfaces close to him.
His eyesight had improved somehow, become keener, more accurate. Was this also a side effect of the virus?
CRASH!
One of the steel gratings set into the far wall suddenly fell out of its place, and a pair of black, sinewy shapes slithered out and fell to the ground. Wesker regarded them with little interest. They were Chimeras, horrible bug-like monsters with clawed limbs, glowing white eyes and a horrible stench of chemicals about them. They shrieked at him and then were scuttling towards him at an unusual speed.
At an even more unusual speed, Wesker raised his handgun and fired twice.
BANG! BANG!
Both creatures crashed to the ground shortly after one another, each dead with a perfect headshot to their horrific visages, bubbling away into nothing shortly afterwards, a trait programmed into their DNA. Wesker stared at the rapidly-disintegrating for a few seconds, and then down at his smoking weapon. He considered himself a pretty good shot, not far behind Chris's marksman skills, but even he would have had to stop and consider before making perfect shots like that.
It had to be the effects of the virus. His eyesight and his reflexes had been boosted considerably, so what else could he enjoy now? He smiled to himself.
"Perfection…utter perfection," he muttered to himself. But then he remembered that he still had things to do, and couldn't just stand around marvelling at his new found abilities. He turned and walked back towards the console, retrieving the storage device with all of the collected research and combat data on it, slipping it into one of his pockets, along with the other devices, already filled with data.
He looked at the cameras one last time. It showed that several more zombies and other B. were still lingering on the upper levels, but it was nothing that he couldn't handle. He couldn't stop now.
He turned and ran off through the door, back towards the elevator, which thankfully was still there, but something had ripped the heavy doors out of their fittings and tossed like aside like nothing. He was already inside and pressing the button to go up. There was a screeching of steel as the doors tried to close, but in the state they were in, that wasn't happening. But the elevator still worked, and it ascended at a steady rate. Wesker stood in the middle of the space, just staring ahead of him.
The elevator had barely reached its destination when Wesker was already stepping off, onto the higher floor. The corridor was empty, aside from a pair of dead zombies lying on the floor just outside the staff rest room, bullet holes in their foreheads. And there was a third one, still alive and slowly making its way from the power room entrance towards Wesker's current position. It was one of the naked zombies, a by-product of experimentation with the T-Virus, and large areas of its skin were peeling away from the bone as it advanced, arms extended.
Wesker stared at the monster with little regard. Zombies held no fear for him, and in fact he wanted to try something out. Waiting for the monster to come a little closer, he stepped forward and launched a high kick at its face.
His boot connected with the side of the monster's cheek. There was an unpleasant tearing sound, and the zombie's entire head was ripped from the neck, flying backwards like a basketball and bouncing off of the ground a few times. There was a high gout of blood shooting from the severed stump, and then the body flopped to the ground lifelessly. Wesker stared down at the body as he bought his foot back round into the neutral position.
So…he could add superhuman strength to his list of newly acquired 'gifts', he supposed. He smirked slightly to himself, and thought again of the surviving S.T.A.R.S.
"I hope you all live long enough, so I can show you the full extent of my…power," he said to himself, standing up straight and grinning evilly. If the Tyrant didn't kill the S.T.A.R.S, he certainly would. He then looked at the door into the break room, and had a thought. He pushed through the door without pausing.
The room was an absolute mess, the chairs overturned and the table laden with all sorts of crap, but that didn't bother him. He was only interested in the mirror above the washbasin at the far end of the room. When he saw his reflection and the blood that was sprayed all across his neck and upwards, he didn't even blink in surprise. He'd seen worse sights during his time as a researcher, and his 'death' was a very messy affair.
Staring intently at his visage, he was glad to see that his human face was still intact, but still, something didn't seem right. Slowly, he reached up and removed his shades.
He hesitated when he saw what was staring back at him, and he dropped his sunglasses onto the floor next to his feet. His icy blue eyes were no longer there, replaced by something more…inhuman.
His irises were now a sickly yellow colouration, ringed with deep crimson, and his pupils had changed into thin slits and were much more sinister in appearance. They resembled some kind of reptile, or more precisely, the eyes of the Hunter bio-weapons.
This proved it then. He had cheated death and gained incredible power, but in doing so he had lost his humanity. Now he ranked among the B.O.W's he had helped to create over the years. But considering the powers he had gained, it seemed a reasonable sacrifice to make. A smile started to curl up on his lips.
"5 minutes until detonation. Please evacuate the premises."
He cursed to himself. He'd have to hurry up and get out of there. With one last glance at the reptilian eyes he had gained, he turned and left the room.
He ran now, kicking through the doors leading into the O-shaped corridor everyone using these labs had become accustomed to. His new-found strength meant that the doors broke off of their hinges and slid down the corridor away from him, but he barely regarded them. He jogged straight ahead, turning the corner ahead only to be met by a Chimera, face-to-face.
He nearly jumped out of his skin, but the monster swung one of its claws at him and he had to react quickly. He dodged sideways at inhuman speed as the blade sliced through the air, and he launched a viscous punch at its head. There was a sickening crack of bone and the B.O.W was flipped to the floor, its skull crushed, but Wesker ran on, colliding with the iron-barred gates that would lead upstairs and forcing them open. He ascended the stairs two at a time, passing over another zombie corpse, its head blown apart.
Upstairs he nearly collided with a trio of advancing zombified researchers, moaning in unison. He raised his weapon and tried to fire, but it clicked on empty. Cursing the fact he'd forgotten to keep track of his current ammo supplies, he tossed the empty gun aside and ran full-pelt at the monsters instead. Roaring in exertion, he launched a straight punch at the first zombie's face. Its jaw shattered instantly and it was spun away, the sheer force knocking it from its feet. Not slowing down, Wesker launched a spinning kick, tearing off the second zombie's head, and leaving the way clear for the third one to die. The monster tried to grab onto its intended prey, but Wesker ducked down and spun around to the zombie's back. In a heartbeat, he grabbed onto its head and twisted, snapping its neck through a full 180 degree angle.
It fell to the ground as Wesker was off again, breaking through the next door before the corpse had even lain still. He passed through the storage room up ahead and into the main shaft that would lead up to the heliport, moving faster than would be imagined for someone like him. This untested virus coursing through his veins was becoming more and more the miracle cure as the minutes passed.
In the main shaft, the heavy doors that would only unlock in emergencies were now wide open, and the corpse of a Hunter, its chest blown open, lay in the open doorway. It looked as though the S.T.A.R.S were fighting their way out to safety, even as the last B. in the place were calling for their blood. He stopped and looked in the direction of the escape tunnel, listening to the gunshots. They must have been a fair distance away from him, but the shots reverberated within his skull as though he were right next to them. And he could even smell the gunpowder discharge and copper stench of blood from where he was standing.
A very loud bang! Caused him to visibly wince, clamping his hands onto the side of his head. A few more loud gunshots nearly deafened him, and it was only when it was nearly too late that he heard a familiar animalistic shriek. He looked up to see a Hunter leering towards him through the open doorway, its scaly hide reflecting the light and its claws poised to strike.
He raised one of his arms even as the claws came down, biting into his exposed forearm. He cried out in shock, even as he punched out with his other fist, connecting with the frog monster's face, breaking its jaw and knocking several of its teeth out. It staggered backwards, blood trailing from its mouth, before it launched itself forward and took another swing at it, but Wesker easily grabbed onto its arm and flipped the monster over his head, popping its shoulder out of its socket as it did so. It landed on its back, and in an instant Wesker stamped down on its head, the boot reducing it to a bloody sludge.
He looked down at the fresh wound on his arm, and was surprised to see the cut seemingly healing itself, the skin knitting back together, even if the blood remained. After several seconds, it was as if the wound had never been inflicted, and he ran his other hand over the unbroken skin, smiling in admiration. Even after his return to the world the virus was still helping him out, although he didn't know if it could bring him back to life a second time, so he couldn't afford to be took complacent, especially not now since he was so close to leaving this doomed place, and close to the Tyrant, he presumed.
He pushed through the doorway and into the corridor, rounding the first corner to be met by yet another Hunter. It turned towards him, shrieking madly, but he silenced it with a savage spinning high kick to its face. The body was thrown away from him, slamming against the far wall hard enough to dent the steel; even as yet another green-scaled beast rounded the next corner. It took one look at him and then charged, leaping into the air with its claws bared. Taking a breath, Wesker jumped himself, flying up to meet the monster in mid-air with a clothesline to its neck. The B.O.W cried out in surprise as it was slammed forcefully to the floor, before its human opponent grabbed onto its neck and snapped it like a twig with barely any effort applied.
He got to his feet, staring down at the corpse, and at the other Hunter corpses laid out on the ground just ahead of him, shot to death. The S.T.A.R.S had definitely come this way.
"None of you will stand in my way," he announced, a smile rising on his lips. "Not after I've come this far!" His yellow eyes shined with a demonic glee, both at the powers he had gained and at how easily he could tear through his monstrous opponents.
From ahead, the gunshots continued, but now they weren't as jarring to his hearing. These powers would have been overwhelming for anyone gifted with them, but he'd have to become used to them, so he wouldn't be caught off guard next time something happened. The Tyrant was likely to be near, and he didn't fancy getting run through by its claws yet again.
BOOM!
There was a sudden explosion from ahead, the same place that the other gunfire had come from beforehand. The sound took Wesker by surprise, and was shortly followed by the sound of something wet splashing onto various solid surfaces. And beyond that, a constant humming sound, almost like…helicopter rotors.
"2 minutes until detonation. All personnel please evacuate at once."
Wesker didn't have much time left. He moved off again, rounding one last corner and coming up to the elevator that would lead to the heliport, the only one in the entire mansion complex. The doors were closed, and he didn't have time to spare. Punching his fist through the steel as though it were made of paper, he wrenched his arm to the side, forcing the door open with a squeal of tortured steel. He stepped inside and slammed the button to go up, clenching and unclenching his fists as he waited for the lift to start up. The sudden pain he felt on driving his arm through 4 inches of steel was already fading away. The lift finally came to life, lifting him towards the surface.
He squeezed through the opening doors and stepped out onto the helipad, where the light winds nipped at his exposed arms and face. The wide expanse was devoid of life. But Wesker's eyes were drawn to the scene in the middle of the helipad.
A pile of charred, bloodied body parts lay scattered around the helipad, all of them much too large to belong to a regular human. Where the flesh wasn't charred to the bone, it was a deathly pale colouration. When Wesker saw the remnants of a clawed arm, he knew that his worst fears had been realised.
The Tyrant had been destroyed. His main bargaining chip for his future, and it was gone.
"No," he muttered shaking his head. "How?!" he then cried, looking around. His eyes fixated on a box-shaped object lying discarded off to the side of the helipad, among several bullet casings. It was a rocket launcher, the same type that was kept in the two S.T.A.R.S helicopters-
He looked up and saw an object rapidly disappearing into the sunset. Even from where he was Wesker could see the S.T.A.R.S logo on the side of the vehicle. Brad…that was the only thing Wesker could think of. The stinking coward had actually come back to save his colleagues…how admirable, but he had also denied the other S.T.A.R.S the deaths they were due. There also happened to be a distress flare launcher lying on its side somewhere in the middle of the helipad as well, so they had signalled for Brad to come.
Wesker clenched his fists again, felt his anger rising, his teeth grinding together. He wanted to chase after them, to murder them all with his bare hands…but he had to get the hell away from this place right now, before he was blown to kingdom come. He could heal any injuries he recieved, but he didn't fancy seeing if he could survive complete immolation. He looked around at the tall concrete walls, looking for some way out, but there was none. Unless-
"Time to think outside the box," he said to himself, running towards the wall straight ahead of him. Remembering how he had leapt up at that hunter beforehand, he wondered how much higher he could go. When he was within 15 feet, he jumped.
He soared, almost as though he had wings, clearing the wall by at least 10 feet. He landed roughly on the other side, rolling forward as he impacted on the grassy ground, ending up on his hands and knees, looking back at the wall he had just cleared.
"Time to leave before things get too hot for comfort," he said aloud, before he got up and sprinted away, towards the treeline about 300 yards away from him. Remembering what had happened when they had first landed hours beforehand, the Cerberus dogs could still be roaming the forest, but he reckoned it was better to deal with those mangy mutts then hang around here and be blown to smithereens instead. He seemed to move like quicksilver, as a black blur that darted into the trees within about 3 seconds of moving off.
He'd made it about 400 yards into the forest proper when the self-destruct sequence finally counted down to its explosive conclusion.
BBBOOOOOOOOOOMMMM!!!!!
The explosive shockwave caught him in the back and pitched him forward, face-first, into the dirt.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
He was out for a few seconds at the most, pushing himself up quickly. Despite his recent exertions, he wasn't panting or gasping for breath at all. He still felt as though he could run a marathon.
He turned around, feeling the heat from an intense blaze on his back. Looking back, the area previously occupied by the Spencer estate, and the huge expanse of land surrounding it, were no more. A massive inferno lit up the early morning sky, smoke billowing into the sky in a mushroom shape. The stench of burnt wood and smoke lingered in the air, and it almost burnt his nostrils to detect. A bit slower, and he would likely have been among all of that.
"A bit of a close shave," he said to himself, staring into the flames for several more seconds. He continued to stare, before he finally turned and thrust his arm towards the nearest tree, breaking through the trunk and snapping it in half, as though it were a mere twig. The top half of it came crashing down next to him, and he threw his head back and let off a roar of fury that reverberated through the forest around him.
He had been so close. All that had to happen was for them all to die at the hands of the Tyrant, and then he could escape the damned place and everything would have ended swimmingly. But he had seriously underestimated the S.T.A.R.S capabilities. They had survived in battle with one of Umbrella's most powerful B.O.W's and had even succeeded in killing the damned thing as well. Even with his newfound powers, Wesker would have thought twice about taking on the Tyrant single-handed.
But either way, he'd lost his main bargaining chip for his future. His carefully-laid plans, thought out in his head a million times over, were staring to fall apart all around him.
He made himself stop, and to breath instead. He stood there for a few more seconds, slowing his breathing, bathed in the glow from the fire of the Spencer Estate. He had to stop, and reflect on what he had gained from this fiasco. The S.T.A.R.S believed he was dead, which was always a plus. And he still had all of the research and combat data he had managed to download prior to the confrontation in the lab. He reached into his pocket and removed the storage devices that had been safely kept there shortly beforehand. He smiled slightly in looking at the objects, before he dropped them into of his pants pockets.
The H.C.F would love to see this, he reckoned. Even if they didn't have a Tyrant to play with, he was sure that they would still like to have a look at the data contained on that stick. And what with an even bigger outbreak in the near future, he guessed that there would be more opportunities.
He took one last look back at the remains of the Spencer Estate and sighed. He'd become fond of that place during his career there, but every ambitious person had to move on the world, and he had definitely moved on in the world. It was time to leave the past behind. And in a blur, he was off, sprinting through the trees, moving like quicksilver between and around clumps of trees that stood in his way, in and of creeks and past ravines.
He jumped, soaring through the air, breaking and snapping branches as though they were nothing, and then he landed, dropping into a forward roll and coming up to his feet in the middle of a small clearing. He looked around, sighting another large tree, dashing up to it and throwing another punch that went straight through it with an almighty crack. He withdrew the arm and stared at it, watching as the countless splinters lodged into his flesh 'popped' out, the wounds sealing themselves up in the blink of an eye. He still felt the pain of the injuries he received, but the wounds didn't linger for very long at all.
He started to walk around, moving in a rough circle, laughing to himself, a low chuckle that gradually rose in volume, into an insane cackle that seemed to reverberate around the entire forest. All that time he had been learning of humanity's frailty, and of his own, and now he had surpassed all of that, to become something else entirely.
Something akin to a God.
He stopped himself. He still had to get out of this forest, and to start making preparations for the future. He guessed that it wouldn't be long before Umbrella's clean-up crews and hired soldiers would be along, to quarantine and investigate the area. Taking a deep breath following his laughing fit, he moved off again, this time walking up to the edge of the trees, emerging out onto a cliff overlooking Raccoon City itself, at least 4 miles away. The wind nipped at his exposed arms and stomach, but he ignored the chill as he focused on the sight laid out before him.
From here he could make out the thousands of twinkling lights all across the entire city, from a city that was beginning to arise for the day, and a city that was still oblivious to what had occurred in the forest the night just previously. And it would remain that way, apart for those who had directly witnessed it, and that number was very low. Even from here, several miles away, his enhanced hearing could still pick up the sound of car engines warming up, of early-morning traffic, and countless other minor noises. And then he glanced up, and saw the outline of the Alpha team chopper, ferrying its human cargo back towards the city.
They were all still alive, and all intimate witnesses to what had occurred over the last several hours. But of course, they all believed he was dead, which was a good thing, but chances are they'd tell their story to anyone who'd listen. But police chief Brian Irons had been on Umbrella's payroll for the last 5 years, so he would make an effort to prevent the S.T.A.R.S from making any further investigations into the company's activities. But if the story leaked out somewhere down the line, people would start asking questions. And those questions could lead to something more in-depth. And then Umbrella would likely move to silence the S.T.A.R.S. At least it would save Wesker having to worry about them. And among all that, they would probably be making plans to try and limit the damage that would be caused by the virus spreading to the city itself, shifting their 'products' elsewhere, and trying to make preparations for the worst. Wesker's actions would soon be the very least of their worries.
But whatever they did wouldn't make much of a difference. Wesker knew that the city was already doomed. For years, he'd always known that the Spencer Estate was in a bad location: if the virus were to get loose, the countless life forms in the forest would inevitably spread it towards the city. He'd bought this fact up with Spencer on several occasions, and each time he had dismissed the fear out of hand. Why exactly, Wesker never found out. And a part of him never wanted to know. Spencer's mental condition was always a cause of concern to Wesker when he worked at the labs.
But that wasn't important now. Raccoon City would soon face the worst disaster imaginable, and Wesker had to be ready for when that time came. There was still a lot of work to be done until he could achieve his perfect world. After all, success only came to those who put the hard work in. Finishing his thoughts, Wesker moved away from the clearing, heading back towards civilization. Yet something still niggled at the back of his mind.
Chris was supposed to have died back in that lab at the Tyrant's hands, but instead he'd managed to survive, and then he had gone on to destroy the damned thing into the bargain. He was the S.T.A.R.S best man, Wesker knew that, but in killing the Tyrant he'd demonstrated that his natural survival skills were of a considerable level. As far as Wesker was concerned, he had ruined the main part of his carefully laid plans. Rage started to boil up inside him, and he clenched his hands into fists.
The next time I see you Chris…you're as good as dead.
A/N: OK people, this is something a bit different from my usual 'The Fall of Raccoon' fanfic I've been working on for a while now (and which seems to be picking up quite a bit of popularity as well), but updates for that fic are on the way, as always.
But anyways, as I mentioned in the last update for that fic, I mentioned how Albert Wesker is due to make a return in Resident Evil 5, where he claims '6 billion cries of agony will birth a new balance', since he's ever the bad-ass, so this one-shot is sort of a homage to him, and for all of the Wesker fangirls/boys out there (which is likely to be 90% of all Resi Evil fans in the world).In fact, the part about mankind leading itself closer to self-destruction is another Wesker quote, from one of the RE5 trailers.
So I hope you enjoyed this. Feedback is muchly appreciated!