"I desire the things that will destroy me in the end."
- Sylvia Plath -
Eat you alive
Come on and lay with me,
come on and lie to me.
Chris Redfield has been dead for three days and six hours when Uroboros reaches the American coasts.
Swallowed by his own war, Chris Redfield died as the good soldier he was: straight shoulders, chest out, all the hero's courage in the eyes.
Albert turns a milky and opaque orbit in his fingers, let it dangle from the optic nerve like a grotesque yo-yo.
He liked Chris's eyes; they challenged him, and made him feel alive - fierce.
§They never lowered, rejecting a role Wesker had written for him long time ago.
He smiles, staring at a dead, dilated pupil - crystallized in one last, tragic, surprised expression.
The Uroboros senses the Master's joy and advances.
Tell me you love me,
say I'm the only one.
Sushetovanie collapses.
The sea, the sky, all become black.
Uroboros fills every visible corner of them, swallows and chews and assimilates.
Under the Tower the people yell, ask for help, for her pity.
Alex ignores them, closes the heavy doors that leading to the main terrace.
The virus filters underneath them, and looks for her - swings in her direction, poking the tip of her shoes, her ankles.
"I know you can hear me." and the Uroboros climbs along her calf, around her thigh.
"I know that inside all of this there is your mind."
The Uroboros clings to her shoulders, runs through the tense line of her vertebrae, wraps its arms around her breasts.
"It'll kill me, Albert."
Outside, the screams are damp, choked.
"The Progenitor is too weak."
I'm too weak.
Inside, the Uroboros shakes - rolls around her throat, puts her head back (a gesture she knows - she had loved.)
Alex closes her eyes, breathes.
She dies.
The Uroboros collects her bloodless body and takes her to him.
Experiences have a lasting impression,
but words once spoken don't mean a lot now.
The god of the new world is a man - like them.
The god of the new world has a name - Albert Wesker - a face - like them.
The god of the new world laughs when he kills, and it is a terrible sound - free and cruel.
The god of the new world ripped off one of her arms, one leg - he reduces her to a creeping stump in the dust.
The god of the new world bleeds from his eyes, burns - he is someone she has already met (in another life, in another skin.)
Claire Redfield tries to get up, leans on her left knee - blood between her fingers, in her mouth.
"You." she says, and gives him a look full of anger.
Wesker smiles, bends to her miserable height.
"Me."
Plotch.
Claire vomits a stream of blood and bile, falls forward - she is caught by arms folded in black and leather.
The last thing she will remember will be his hands through her chest.
Belief is the way,
the way of the innocent.
Not dead, not alive.
Alexandra Wesker is a pale profile in the silence of the room, a virus that screams - fights the invader.
"Let it go."
The Progenitor rises - denies.
Albert leans a hand on Alex's chest, presses - his heart shines a quiet orange in the middle of his chest.
"She'll make it."
The Progenitor shakes, uncertain.
"I did all of this for her."
The virus sniffs, rejects any contact.
"For us."
The Progenitor studies the Uroboros, a son it never wanted - a strange progeny.
"I'll bring her back."
The Progenitor slides between his thoughts, vibrates - searches.
"You know I'll do it."
The Uroboros waits, silent: a monstrous and loyal beast.
Alex is silent under his hands, and Albert runs along the soft line between her breasts with the tip of his fingers, turns around the navel, goes down and stops - he waits.
"I'm not wrong."
I can't be.
The Progenitor rummages between his memories, breaks down his words - it values them.
It sees an absolute and ruthless truth.
The Progenitor lowers every defense, observes the Uroboros reactivating and advancing - conquering spaces, eliminating diseased cells, regenerating damaged tissues.
Winning where it had failed.
Alex's heart releases a first, weak, beat.
And when I say innocent,
I should say naive.
He had never been the hero of the story, nor the protagonist.
The devastating prince, mercenary of justice, Leon shoots - lets the Uroboros swallows them, his last bullets.
"We have to go." and Ada's voice is frenzied, anxious.
"Now." she urges - begs him.
"It's his fault." Leon whispers, an empty gun between his fingers and behind him a blackish and liquid tide "It's Wesker's fault."
The man you work for. For which you betrayed me. For which you have lied to me.
Ada tightens her teeth, ignores him - jumps, inviting him to do the same.
Leon follows her (always), runs away - because he is not the hero of the story, nor the savior.
For the first time in months, he remembers (he wants) Chris Redfield and his blind courage.
So lie to me,
but do it with sincerity.
Broken sequences, rearranged genetic material.
Under his eyes Alex becomes nothing, returns to everything.
Pale, almost transparent.
Behind her eyelids new, strange eyes.
Albert observes her evolution, her change.
The Progenitor is still; it lives with the Uroboros, engages it like a snake - fulfills his role as mother and father.
It supports, maintains, structures: the Progenitor was the first, Uroboros will be the last.
Alex breathes is flat, lips white and full.
Albert leans toward her face, seeks her - her hair, her mouth; the kiss of awakening for the fairytale princess.
Alex dies and rises thousands of times in the arms of the cruel monster.
Make me listen,
just for a minute.
Burton remembers a different man.
Burton remembers a man; broad shoulders, arctic eyes.
He remembers a man who liked playing poker, black coffee.
He remembers his half smile, the hardness of his voice.
He remembers what he ate for lunch (roast beef and salad) his betrayal.
He remember, Burton, and doesn't understand.
He studies the black tide that swells in front of him, opening like a fleshy and obscene flower, releasing something - someone.
"Barry."
Burton raises his gun, shoots - the Uroboros inhales the bullet as if it was nothing.
He has the same voice as always, years before.
He has the same blond hair, the same broad shoulders.
He gives him the same half smile.
The man in front of him burns, a heart that underneath the fabric of his shirt looks alive and grotesque and terrible.
Barry seeks his eyes, clenches his teeth.
"Son of a bitch."
Wesker broadens his smile, tilts his head in his direction.
"My friend." he murmurs, and the Uroboros crawls - it wraps, clutches, suffocates.
Offshoots of the new god, extensions of his hypertrophic ego - a neural network that responds to one mind, a single will.
His will.
Snap, it's just a moment - an almost gentle gesture.
Barry's neck stretches, falls to his side - a deformed swan.
Wesker lets Uroboros devour what remains of a man and his mission - of a hope.
At his feet the leftovers of the last BSAA resistance collapse miserably.
Make me think,
there's some truth in it.
It's the first time dying doesn't hurt.
This is the first time Alexandra feels alive - complete.
She opens her eyes, releases a broken whisper - rough.
Her body reacts first (hunger) and the Uroboros almost melds - it slips under her skin, in her muscles, between her thighs.
The Uroboros stings, a tingling sensation that shakes her from inside, an electric current in the middle of her chest.
Alex contracts her fingers a couple of times, looks around - she seeks him.
Something is changed; something has shifted.
She rotates her ankle, then her leg: she touches incredibly pale skin, almost transparent.
She breathes, and the smell of the disinfectant hits her with a stunning force.
She feels everything.
She perceives the small imperfections of the floor under her feet, the consistency of the aseptic air of the lab.
She sees the profile of the machines in the darkness of the room, the lines of the laptop on the mahogany desk on her right.
She can smell herself, what remains of him - maninka and leather and more.
She pops her tongue against her palate, curls her lips in a grimace of disgust - smoke and flesh.
The Progenitor is a quiet, reassuring voice; the Uroboros an excited, voracious roar.
Alex puts her hands on the steel door, presses - she smiles when the structure breaks.
The future can no longer hurt her.
Promises made for convenience,
aren't necessarily what we need.
I wonder if William would be considered worthy.
It is an isolated thought; nostalgic.
Albert finds himself asking about him as he perceives his daughter being eaten alive from the other side of the world - a lost hole in the north of the former Soviet Union.
He plays for a few minutes with what remains of Redfield's eye, now a whitish and lousy mash.
"Have you enjoyed the show?" he asks, throwing his eyes in the air.
"I hope so." he adds, then opens the palm of his hand and catches the orbit.
"Social class, race, sex, everything is the same for the Uroboros."
Chris's eye flushes out between his fingers, drips.
"Diseases, wars, injustices: nothing matters."
Plotch, plotch, plotch - dead and disrupted cells.
"Only genetics matters: only a handful of bases that already tell us everything we are - what we will become."
Redfield's cornea sticks to his thumb, the optic nerve rolls around his middle.
"It was a long journey, Chris."
Liquid, crushed; Wesker gets up, wiping his damp fingers in the high grass.
"But I think it's time to say goodbye."
Sherry Birkin dies, with her the legacy of the only person he had called friend.
Wesker accepts the judgment of the Uroboros and walks away.
Truth is a word,
that's lost its meaning.
Ada survives in a black and black world.
She drags herself and Leon through empty roads, looks for shelter in ruined buildings.
Everything falls, everything dies.
Uroboros tears the sky, lands the ground - it doesn't grant any grace.
Trembling, relentless, grotesquely fascinating, the Uroboros is the natural extension of its creator - a man with whom Ada had played more than a hand of poker.
"Take it." Leon offers to her, brushing her shoulder "You have to eat something."
Ada can't look away from the square, she is captured by a black and red arc that breaks the horizon - Uroboros and human carcasses.
She stares at the tuna can that Leon gives her, she feels her stomach tighten, stretches out.
I'm going to throw up.
Kneeling, Ada is nothing more than a lump of regret and fear.
The truth has become
merely half-truth.
She is not in her room.
She is not where he left her; where she should have been.
Wesker represses a worried grin, extends the Uroboros, evokes the Progenitor.
Find her.
The Progenitor roars, explodes; at its side the Uroboros is a faithful, unstoppable dog.
Find her, he repeats, and they run, bent - tamed.
Wesker accelerates his pace, marches for empty labs, silent corridors.
"I'm here."
Wesker turns around, sees her - recognizes her.
She is naked in the center of the experiment lab, a profile that the lights reveals with unexpected force.
She touches one of the showcases in which lies a failed experiment, an unworthy one.
Pale, transparent; Alex looks younger - timeless.
She turns around with a curious, careful look.
A hand still on the glazed glass, the other inert along her side, Alex exhibits a diaphanous, sharp beauty.
She approaches him, and Wesker perceives her heat, her strength.
She runs along the edges of his heart with her fingertips, beats a couple of times with the index finger on the orange luminescence that shines under his shirt.
She smiles, Alex, a little girl who has found her new favorite toy.
"Uroboros." she says, and looks for his eyes - the truth.
"Yes."
"It killed me."
Wesker nods, rolls a lock of her hair around his thumb - so blond to be almost white.
"It brought me back."
"Yes."
Alex's hands stops at both sides of his heart, she frowns.
"I'm different."
Albert breathes in the fold of her neck, tastes her flavor with the tip of his tongue.
"I've changed."
He claws the nape of her neck, tightens - searches for her mouth in a bite that wants to hurt.
Alex turns her head back and laughs.
So lie to me
like they do it in the factory.
They thought he was dead.
They thought he was a story buried, the ugly copy of the Babadook.
They thought he was a fool; a stupid man with a mid-life crisis.
They thought he was a delusional man who had played god - a complex that wasn't so rare among them.
A colossal imbecile, according to Carla.
Simmons runs - stumbles in his own intestines.
The Uroboros has assumed a human form for its ultimate strike (him) and follows him without hurry, calmly.
It abandons blackish prints behind, blood and more - a parasite that even the blood of that little boy had failed to stop.
Jake Muller; a lost bet from the start.
"Siiiiimmons." it hisses, and Derek speeds up - ruins poorly to the ground.
"Siiiiimmons," it repeats, and is a snake, a monster, a nightmare - a man.
The Neo-Umbrella leader loses his footing, everything that has protected him reduced to nothing - rubble and dust.
"It will not save you." says the voice, and points to the gun clasping between his hands "not it, nor the Family."
That thing pops its tongue, and Simmons can recognize the profile of a man he only knew through secreted documents and deleted files.
"I killed them one by one; they prayed for pity, for the woman they had at home, for the children with whom they had infected the world, for the life they wanted to have, but they didn't deserve."
Blop, Simmons watches a bubble of blood bloom on his left side, then lost along the exposed ribs.
The thing smiles, it's tongue a gloomy fold between soft and dark teeth.
"Uhm." it contemplates, bending to his height "You're the only one missing, Derek."
Crack.
The thing breaks his ribs, grasps the discovered bowels, pulls them - empties him with a dry blow.
Simmons has the time to vomit blood and bile before the agony ends - to feel his body liquefying, sphinxes discharge, and then nothing, the gentle silence of oblivion.
It studies what is left of a miserable and pathetic man, it tells to the Master - lets him see, hear.
You've been good, the Master says, you did the right thing.
Uroboros rolls on himself, satisfied.
Make me think
that at the end of the day
some great reward
will be coming my way.
Alex groans on his mouth, against his skin.
She bends under his hands, a pale and wet curve.
Albert lifts her, senses Alex's muscles stretch, roll, tighten and...
"No." she says, throwing him on the floor "Not yet."
Albert gives her a bare look, takes her chin between his thumb and index finger and bites - she laughs, and laughs.
She is white, Alex; on the skin, in the hair, even along the delicate pubic line: but in contrast to this her eyes burn, reptile pupils, bleeding iris, a dark and vibrating sclera - the only tangible sign of Uroboros' infection.
She is white and red and black, an reverse fable - Snow White who bites the poisoned apple and lives.
She licks the heart of the Uroboros, slips lower - open, she orders, and he follows - obeys.
Little and shiny nails that affect his thigh, a wet mouth that asks, claims, demands - Alex crushes his desire in her mouth, surrounds him with her lips, her hands, go on, he pleads - a kneeling god.
Albert stiffens in her fingers, Alex studies him, runs with her thumb along his erection - collects his pre-cum and...
She withdraw herself from him - a wet curve that leaves him uncomfortably excited, to the limit.
"No." she repeats, and opens her thighs, wider - she invites him.
Wesker bends for her - between her legs.
He follows a translucent and damp wire, licks a desire that has his own flavor.
Alex closes her eyes, raises her hips against his mouth - shakes, and Albert knows she is close, so close, and...
He bends under her hands, she pushes him back, crushes him to the ground.
She sinks suddenly on his mouth, between his thighs - suppresses a moan that surprises both.
Wesker releases an obscene groan, looks at her as she pleases herself.
She flips her fingers on his chest, swings back and forth - she takes him so deeply to give him a painful pinch at every thrust.
Albert gets up on his elbows, touches her breasts, her hips - he seeks her between her thighs with his fingertips, strokes.
He draws a profile of flesh and blood, follows a desire that Alex doesn't hesitate to take - to conquer.
She closes her mouth, kisses him - licks his lips and abandons herself to an instinct that tells her to continue, to go on, harder.
He clutches her neck, tugs - opens, sinks, invades.
Alex scratches the thin skin of his abdomen, yells - she comes, an orgasm that the Uroboros extends, amplifies.
A liquid current that the virus accepts, releases.
Outside, the world continues to collapse.
Come on and lay with me
Come on and lie to me
Tell me you love me
Say I'm the only one.
A white profile wrapped in red sheets, nothing more.
Wesker runs along her ribs one by one, the line of her hip.
He breathes between her hair, against her breasts.
He doesn't know how long they are in that position, he doesn't care.
Alex looks at him under her eyelids, a half-mouth smile on her face.
He opens her thighs with his knee, kisses her forehead, her cheeks.
He thrusts into her, finds her still wet - ready.
She greets him with a sigh, she rolls against his chest.
There is no anger in this moment, no hurry.
Albert moves slowly between her thighs, tears from her a different orgasm - a liquid lump that melts suddenly and makes her feels weak, wet with her own fragility.
The Progenitor is a quiet subtle buzz, the Uroboros a satiated beast.
Alex presses her forehead against Albert's shoulder, welcomes him - his desire, his quiet thrusts, so soft to destroy her.
He takes away her breath with his mouth, his tongue; she listens to him comes, a sound that is lost in her throat, between her thighs.
She breathes, and the Uroboros gives to her every smell, every flavor.
"It's yours." he murmurs on her lips, "It's ours."
Alex nods, an elegant curve that holds him with her - in her.
For the first time in years Wesker closes his eyes and rest.
I feel you, your precious soul
and I am whole.
I feel you, your rising sun,
my kingdom comes.
Alex looks at the world with new, curious eyes.
She stretches her arms in front of her, bends the horizon - expands a virus that opens like a blackish, dripping rose.
The Uroboros responds to her new Mistress with a voracious fervor - ravenous.
It kneels at her feet, prostrated - enchanted.
It is no longer his, the Uroboros (it has never been) and gives itself to Alex with an unexpected grace - Zeus and his gift to her Hera.
Alex breathes, exhales; she sees herself reflected in the showcase of an abandoned clothing store.
White and white, a non-color - Hera with white arms.
She touches her cheekbones with the tip of her fingers, pulls - she studies a skin flawless.
"They are all dead." she says, and it isn't a question.
"No one survived your dream." she adds, and picks up her hair on her neck - turns her face first to the left, then to the right.
"The Uroboros told me." she turns, seeks him.
"It showed it to me."
"That is its purpose."
"Show me?"
"To serve you."
Alex raised her chin slightly, tilts it in his direction.
"Two are missing."
"I know."
"Not for long."
Alex smiles, and Wesker stares at that full and red line - he imagines her around his erection, along his body (wet with her saliva, damp with his orgasm).
Alex perceives his thoughts, broadens her smile.
There are no more secrets, no words unspoken; the Progenitor had whispered, the Uroboros, on the other hand, yells - a neural network that engages all the synapses, every recondite anfract of their minds.
She is perfect, Alex.
She is what she was always intended to be.
Wesker touches her face, her lips - strokes them under his thumb.
Alex bites, and the Progenitor laughs, because the woman that is in front of him is really Hera and all her terrible strength - her tenacity, her jealousy.
Wesker releases a throat sound, full; he kisses her, and listens to Leon die - Ada gets massacred, breaks apart.
She shapes herself to his body - a languid, fateful profile.
The world is silent, dead.
Purified.
The silence has their voice.
"I wanted to destroy you.
You are mine to ruin.
Something so beautiful
should only exist for me."
- AVA -