*All RE characters Belong to Capcom

This is my first AU, and some of the characters will be slightly OOC (though I'll try to keep them in character as much as I can- I'm not a fan of OOC, lol) but there is a reason for this.

This is going to be a ChrisxWesker and ChrisxPiers. There are a lot of themes in this fic, and I don't mean to offend anyone. Please have an open mind when reading, and enjoy. ;3


A world where humans do not exist but each person is born with a virus. Into a class system, a hierarchy... Each person is born with their own properties, abilities and importance. BOWS and zombies still roam, however they are not considered humans, but mindless animals.

The system is strict, the lower class cannot be with that of the higher class. The Prototype virus is the highest of the virus, known to be the strongest, rarest and purest virus. Every virus born are to be under them. Depending on the person's class, they are held in different position and put into the class system.

There are small chances of a Prototype virus being born. They are considered pure, and rare. Not many are born this way. No matter which virus the parent has, the child can be born with another virus.

Prototype virus are to be with either their kind or any that is not the lowest class. The lowest class or bearly considered humans and do not warrant the attention of a Prototype virus.

/

The sun is barely out, its first rays filtering through the slightly ajar curtains- the wind blowing enough for the curtains to flutter.

Blue eyes open, as they take a few seconds to adjust to the morning light. The bed is comfortable, warm, even without the body that slept with him the night before occupying it. Shifting on the bed, the brunette curls into himself, bringing his feet up to his chest.

"Christopher." An accented voice, close to British, calls, the voice sounding irritated.

Pushing the black silk sheets off his body, Chris sits up, his brown unruly hair matted to one side of his head, from where his head laid most of the night, his bangs curled every which way. He's not wearing anything, the black sheets the only fabric keeping his body covered.

The young man doesn't dare look up at the man who called him, his blue eyes downcast, the sheets draping down his shoulder and exposing his naked chest and arms.

"Yes, Wesker." He says the man's name who called him, his voice low but enough for the person across the room to hear clearly. He does not like when people mumble.

Wesker turns over to look at Chris, his blonde hair already combed as if it were never messy from sleep, his cold red eyes going to the young man sitting on his bed. His eyes takes in Chris, his messy hair, thin arms, and tan skin. Wesker can see the boy's ribs as he breaths, the bones on his shoulders, thin arms and his sunken face. Unlike him, who is pale, with red dead eyes, blonde hair combed back without one hair out of place and his body close to that of perfection.

"If you're awake, get out of my room." he says coldly, while buttoning up his black shirt, the only color his wardrobe seems to have. Wesker is known to wear black from top to bottom, black shirt, pants, belt, shoes, jacket and even black shades. The only other color he alternates to is blue, but those are in rare occasion and sometimes his white lab coat and even then it is a rare sight to see. The fact that the mansion is not painted black is honesty a big surprise.

Chris bites his bottom lip, but he doesn't object. It's something that has become close to that of a routine. Wesker comes and gets him from his room, and Wesker does what he likes with him. In the morning, the blonde man wants him gone.

Is Wesker just using him, or is there a possibility of something more? With Wesker, it is almost impossible to tell. He is stoic, cold and commanding. But it's to be expected… after all, he's Wesker. That alone explains everything.

"Wesker?" Chris calls the man's name. He needs to know if Wesker really wants him or is just using him. But before Chris could say anymore, Wesker's intimidating glare has him bite his tongue.

"Did I tell you to speak?" Wesker asks, his fingers halting in buttoning up his shirt. The blonde man walks over to Chris, and with a hateful glare he grabs at Chris' chin and yanks it so he is looking up at Wesker.

Even though Wesker is holding his chin up, so Chris' blue eyes can look at Wesker, the brunette avoids all eye contact with the blonde older man, knowing that if he does look at Wesker it will only get worse.

"Did I tell you to speak?" Wesker asks again, his voice dangerous, almost like a snake ready to attack and hissing with a clear warning. Wesker doesn't miss Chris' tense jaw and the small beads of sweat forming on his skin. "Answer me." He says, a satisfying smile taking his lips when Chris answers with a 'no' once Wesker gave him permission. "Good." He says a little calmer. "Remember your place, J'avo." Wesker says the last word with so much distaste Chris can practically feel it roll off the man's poisonous tongue.

Wesker roughly releases Chris' chin, "Don't make me out as the bad guy." He says to Chris when he sees the young man lower his gaze and his body slump, almost looking like a kicked puppy. "It's the way things are." Wesker brushes Chris' brown hair back, the hair strands slipping through his fingers because of how silky they are. "As long as you know your place, you'll be ok." He tells him before he steps away from Chris.

With Wesker's back now facing Chris, the brunette finally looks up at Wesker, seeing the man's back. What he normally sees. If it weren't for the many nights they spend together in bed, Chris would have forgotten what color Wesker's eyes are, the shape of his nose and the thickness of his lips.

But who is he to complain? Chris pulls his feet closer to himself, his eyes going to the bruises that decorate his body. They have it worse than he has it. Wesker treats him good.

At the sound of Wesker buckling his belt, Chris slides off the silk bed, one foot at a time, the sheets draped on his body falling to the floor. He can feel Wesker's eyes on him, but he tries to ignore it as he picks up the article of clothing dropped, flung, and ripped from his body the night before.

Without looking up at Wesker, Chris dresses himself, feeling his cheeks flare the longer Wesker stares at him, but Chris does not say anything. With a bow, once fully clothed, Chris starts to head towards the door. It's the unexpected touch that has Chris' eyes widen, and the hard pull that has his body collide with that of Wesker. The blonde man is behind Chris, one arm wrapped around his thin waist, and the other wrapped around his arm, the hand he used to yank Chris.

"Christopher…" Wesker calls Chris' name in a way the young brunette has never heard before. It makes him want to respond, turn around and look at Wesker, to know what he wants to say, but he knows better than that, and the knowledge and what the consequences are keeps Chris in place. His jaw tenses, his eyes downcast as he leans his body onto Wesker's in a silent way to tell the blonde man he is listening, since his words will not do.

"I… I lo-" Chris' eyes widen at the words that are coming out of Wesker's mouth. Is Wesker saying the word that Chris thinks he is about to say. Chris' body tenses with anticipation, his heart flaring with hope, and another feeling much deeper. He's been waiting so long...

But the word is cut short and that has everything around Chris halt for a few seconds as the blonde man behind him moves away, releasing his hold on Chris. His world feels unsteady with Wesker's body gone.

Chris stands there, his eyes wide- staring at the tiled floors and wanting nothing more than to turn around and tell- no- demand Wesker to complete what he was going to say. His heart is racing, and his body is trembling, and without Wesker's touch, Chris can feel himself caving into the words that Wesker left unsaid, the words he wants to hear. The words he's been wanting to hear, needs to hear, but were not spoken.

"Leave."

The word 'leave' hurts more than they have in the past. Chris nods once, and without looking back he steps out of his room. He wants to turn around and look at Wesker, and try to read his expression, but he knows Wesker would only get mad at him if he does, and it's not like he can read Wesker. The man is a close book, locked with a key no one seems to have.

"Took you long enough to come out, runt." A female accented voice, that can be closely associated with Italian, drags out, a small laugh closely following.

Chris looks to his left and his eyes land on a tall slender woman, wearing a white dress that is cut so deep part of her bust are showing, her dark raven colored hair is in a high bun and her green eyes accentuated by her dark eyeliner and pale skin.

"Morning, Excella." Chris greets, before he gives her a quick curt bow.

Excella rolls her green eyes. "Like I want a bow from the likes of you." She says in an annoyed tone before he flicks her hand in a dismissive manner. "I'll be seeing Albert now. You are not needed."

Chris nods once before he's on his way, leaving the woman to talk to Wesker.

Excella watches Chris leave. "Ignorant child." She says more to herself before she's turning to face Wesker's door. Fixing her hair, she knocks on the door. "Albert." She calls, taking the risk and opening it. To her surprise the man is standing right in front of the door, seeming lost in thought.

"Albert?' She calls once again, stepping in and closing the door behind her. "Albert?" She calls a little more tentatively. Moving around the tall blonde, she seductively moves her fingers on his shoulders, her other hand moving up his side. She can feel the raw power under her fingertips, and she loves it.

He's too quick for even Excella to react, the blonde man seeming to snap back to reality. One second he is gone and the next he is holding the woman by her chin, pulling her up and making her go awkwardly on her toes, the back of her heels off the floor.

"Albert." She says the man's name again, hoping Wesker will release her, but to her chagrin the man keeps his hold firm, even when he recognizes who she is. "Albert, it's me."

"What have I told you about meddling in my room?" He asks her, releasing his hold roughly, forcing the woman to look away.

Excella says nothing at first, her green eyes cast to the side, almost in embarrassment, before she composes herself. Slowly, she turns to face Wesker, "They are talking." She says simply, and seeing the blonde man glare at her, she continues. "Each time you bring that bastard here." She finishes with a slight rise of her head.

"Now, now Excella, don't call him a bastard, you are his mother."

The woman lets out a hearty laugh, "I only raised him, and you know that Wesker." She walks around the room, her eyes landing on Wesker's bed. "And I did it because you commanded it. If not, I would have fed him to the dogs long ago."

It's the death glare Wesker sends her way that has the woman shut her mouth. Swallowing deeply, she lowers her gaze, "People are starting to talk, Albert. Why do you keep a J'avo in the mansion, and allow him to sleep in the same room as you?"

Wesker doesn't answer Excella as he walks towards the open window, leaning his weight on the edge as he looks out. The sun is out, but the blonde man can see dark clouds closing in, and feel the wind picking up, promising rain is approaching.

Of course Excella noticed the bed. It's messy from the night before. She is smart, but even she knows better than to provoke Wesker.

Excella watches the him for a few seconds before the italian woman is moving closer to him, cautious as to not agitate him like last time. "Albert." She calls him again, this time receiving a reaction from the man. Wesker turns slightly to look at her, his face stoic, unreadable.

"You know you can't keep doing this." Excella pauses, testing the man before she continues when she sees Wesker just look at her and not aiming death glares her direction. "He is a J'avo, and no matter what you do, that's what he is. Why don't you just let him go?"

Wesker once again moves his gaze back to the skies, seeming darker now that the clouds are closing in. The wind is picking up, making the temperature in the room colder, and the curtains flap vigorously and noisily.

The blonde tyrant knows she is right, and that makes him furious- his hand curls around the edge of the window enough to break and cracks its edges. If it weren't for Excella's hand on his, he might have torn the whole thing out.

The Italian woman looks up at Wesker, but she can't see his eyes, hidden once again by the dark shades. It makes her wonder if he hates to show his eyes, even though it is a sign of power. He should not be ashamed, ever. It only means he has reached great power, his full potential- something Excella is very hungry for.

"He is a J'avo."

Wesker frowns. Everyone knows that, even though Chris does not look the part. J'avo are almost considered monsters, with their deformed body and limbs. Some with more than two eyes, large limbs, animal parts replacing their human's limbs, rotting teeth- hideous to say the least. But Chris… He's not like that at all. His skin is smooth, eyes a bright blue, and his hair silky and soft to the touch. He had never seen a J'avo like that in his life, and Wesker had taken Chris in, ordered Excella to take care of him. He knew Excella did not want, but she did what he said. And maybe he did mess up, brought their relationship to another level when he started taking Chris to bed, but now…

How can he be with a low life, it's never been heard of. He has crossed a boundary no Prototype should with a J'avo.

"You, Wesker-" Excella walks around the man, her eyes taking in Wesker, a hungry look taking her eyes. "-Are above all else. Born as a Prototype- you should not be wasting your time with a J'avo. You are rare, and powerful." She stops once she is on the other side of Wesker, and she can see his face again. "A god, some would call you."

Wesker looks at the woman next to him, before he grabs her by the chin again. "You will mind your own business from now on." Excella yelps in pain with how hard he is holding her. Letting go of her face just like last time, the blonde tyrant makes his way out.

Excella reaches for her chin, rubbing the throbbing spot. "What are you getting yourself into Wesker?" She asks herself, before her green eyes drift to the messy bed. A frown takes her lips, anger creeping up her veins at the thought of that J'avo sleeping in the same bed as Wesker.

"Albert…"


A/N: Thank you for reading! The next chapter should have the hierarchy system so it can be better understood where some of the 'viruses' are when it comes to power/authority. Everyone is born with a type of 'virus', and each fall in different places in the class system.