Disclaimer - I don't own the Resident Evil franchise, nor do I own the abortion of a movie they decided to label with the same title. Or the second one, either. If I owned Wesker...well, realistically I'd be dead.
Author's Note - Yes, I hate Alice. Yes, I like Wesker. No, I don't like the movies. No, this isn't the least bit serious. I enjoy parodies, and I randomly got the inspiration to write this for Dannielle. I hope everyone enjoys it and please, leave a review!
The silence was all-encompassing, almost preternaturally so, but that didn't even give Alice pause. After all, almost everything about her was enhanced – against her will, of course, else she wouldn't be able to utilize the angst angle at will – and she was determined to use every scrap of power to take down Umbrella, destroy zombies, and get naked as often as she possibly could.
Though, really, she did that last one even before her mutations.
A delicate, tiny nose wrinkled. She hated thinking of them as mutations, but that's what they were; she was simply spared looking like a gross monster like Nemesis. After all, if she didn't keep her dashing good looks, what use would she have been to anyone?
Besides, she was sexier than that hussy Jill with her hands tied behind her back. Pfft. At least Alice had shown her, trying to take away her status as Main Character. No one could keep her down. Absolutely nothing Jill had done could compare to the way she'd blasted into that church on a motorcycle and single-handedly destroyed those lickers. Nothing.
Except maybe the way she'd stood up against Nemesis. She was sure that bint would have fallen within seconds.
Suddenly, her senses tingled, and her eyes shifted towards the doorway. It was pitch black, like the rest of the Spencer Mansion currently, because she liked it that way. No other reason. Nope.
But someone else was there and, somehow, they were able to see in the dark, too.
Perhaps whoever it was was sexy. She briefly allowed herself a daydream of finding a tall, gorgeous hunk of a man who wouldn't be intimidated by her insane powers and would find a place for her in his heart. He'd sweep her off her feet and carry her off to a place that wasn't eternally infested with zombies, and they would marry and have a brood of super-powered children as pretty as her. He would appreciate the wondrous things she could do, and understand when she randomly ran off to perform acts of violence against undead creatures. They would make sweet love beneath the moonlight and profess their adoration for one another…
Then Albert Wesker stepped into the room.
She knew who he was by reputation only; she'd heard talk and seen files while she'd been poked and prodded in the laboratory. He looked exactly like his picture – tall, muscular, blonde and clad in his customary sunglasses – which was curious, considering how long ago the picture had been taken.
Even more curious, he could see in the dark. With sunglasses on.
He couldn't be more powerful than her; no one like that existed.
Her eyes narrowed. He clearly posed a thread. After all, someone else might think that, due to his outward appearance, he was better than her. Alice couldn't have that. Not to mention that he looked damn good dressed all in black. Her eyes were tracing his muscles, as if counting them, committing them to memory. Yes, she couldn't have that.
Wesker cleared his throat, looking calm as still water.
"What do you want?" Alice asked as she leveled her gun at him. She didn't even know what type it was, but she could recognize the ammo on sight, and magically knew how to use it; that was all she needed. Besides, one slug could kill a human as easily as a zombie, if one used it properly.
"You know what I am here for."
Alice blinked. Who had written his lines?
"Uhm," she replied intelligently, her eyes growing dim as her nature tried to take over. Growling, she pushed it back, drawing her Bad Girl persona around herself like a cloak.
That was better.
"You have the sample. I want it. Give it to me."
Well, wasn't he demanding, waltzing in there as if he owned the place. No one ever learned manners anymore.
"No?" Alice hadn't meant to phrase it like a question, but she enjoyed the way it came out, as if she were mocking him, treating him like a little boy even though he was clearly old enough to be her father.
Certainly not her knight in shining armor, oh no. He'd be needing his own personalized walker soon enough, and really, Alice didn't care for gray hair.
"No," he repeated, as if tasting the word, savoring it and coating it with venom. He didn't appear amused, though it was hard to read him, given the fact that his facial expression never changed. "I will not accept that answer."
"Well, isn't that too damn bad?" God, was she good at witty comebacks. She couldn't help but take a moment and preen. That was another point against Jill; Alice just kept piling them up.
Wesker shrugged his wide shoulders, flexing his fingers briefly. "Your choice," he replied coolly as he suddenly moved fast – faster than she ever had – and suddenly he was in front of her, fingers curled around her throat, lifting her up.
Angry, she kicked at his face, but he managed to avoid it. Growling – she was special enough that even when she was being choked, she had enough air to form coherent words and sounds – she kicked at him again. Still fruitless.
This wasn't fair! She was the one with all the power!
"Pity," Wesker murmured, one gloved finger gently tracing her cheek. "I thought you'd put up more of a fight."
It only took a little more pressure to snap her neck, and a slight bit of effort to toss her limp body aside. Wiping his hands as if he'd touched something dirty, he knelt by her corpse and dug around in her skimpy clothing, eventually pulling out a tiny vial she likely hadn't even known she'd been carrying.
Walking plot devices; they were all the same.
"At least this one had the good taste to die…"