Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil

Alfred Ashford opened his eyes, and they were immediately stung by the harsh, viscous fluid he was suspended in. He could hear his sister calling his name. "...Alexia? Where are you," he thought, unable to speak because every time he opened his mouth, the foul-tasting liquid would enter. Alfred. Soon he realized that he wasn't hearing the voice with his ears, he was hearing it through his mind. He tried to move his arms, but they were being restrained by something.
"What is this," he thought to himself. He was attached by wires and cords to the top of the tank he was floating in, and as his eyes traced the cords he realized they were hooked up to a machine. He felt like a marionette, what with all the strings. It wasn't until after he tugged at the offending strings that he realized it might not have been the best of ideas. His throat started burning, bringing to his attention that he was no longer recieving oxygen. Just as everything started going dark, a man wearing a blue trench coat entered the room.
"You idiot!" he shouted, a look of surprise on his face as he noticed what was going on. Despite the act that Alfred was drowning, he still felt his blood boiling at the disrespect. The man in the blue trenchcoat ran over to the tank and pressed a button next to it, draining the fluid. Alfred fell to his knees and immediately began coughing, choking up whatever the fluid was that he was floating in. His blond hair was sticking to his forehead as he looked up at the man in blue. The man had long, slicked back white hair and ragged scars going across his face.

"Who...are you?" Alfred gasped through labored breaths. The man chuckled and grabbed a white lab coat off of the back of a chair and threw it over him. It was then that Alfrede noticed that he was naked, and he quickly covered his scrawny body with the coat. "My name is Sergei Vladimir," the man announced with a thick Russian accent. "And you are lucky that I arrived at such a moment, seeing as you pulled out your oxygen line."

"Where am I? Where is my sister?" The blond man snivelled, looking down at his hands. They were significantly larger than he remembered...The Russian must have taken notice of this, for he started to fill Alfred in on the happenings. How Alexia Ashford had placed him in stasis just before she herself was getting ready for her slumber, so she could bond with the T-Veronica virus. Alfred vaguely remembered this, knowing that his sister had wanted to save him the indignity of watching over Rockfort Island, a meer warden of sorts for the prisoners that were kept there. For the only reason he had been kept around was for his lineage, and his sister's genius. Sergei filled him in on his replica that was sent to watch over the island in his place, and Alfred couldn't help smiling at how right his sister had been about them sending him there. But he was also infuriated, not only because of the fact that they would have sent him to the prison island, but because of the situation he found himself in.
"I'm sitting in a pool of filthy water on the floor, and hiding under a lab coat," he thought to himself, snarling outwardly. This was no scenario for an Ashford to find themselves. He attempted to stand up abruptly, only to find that his legs were not stable enough to walk on. He fell back to the floor with a grimace.
"Your muscles have atrophied," Sergei informed him. "It will be some time before you can walk properly. " He looped his arm under the blond's armpit, and assisted him to the chair that the coat had been hanging off of.
"Russia?" Alfred questioned, remembered the plans that he and his sister had set out before going into stasis. Sergei nodded. "How long?"
"Fifteen years, comrade."
"Fifteen years?!" Alfred exclaimed, a look of shock on his face. "How could it have taken fifteen years for my dear Alexia to bond with the virus? Where is she? I must see her at once." The russian shrugged.
"Haven't heard from her," he responded. Just then Alfred realized why he had woken up to begin with. That voice. He sat up straight as he heard it once again. "I will be with you soon, my brother. Be wary of the soviet, he is not to be trusted." He looked up at the man with the scars on his face and shuddered.

A/N: So it's been about 3 years since I even thought about continuing any sort of fic, and I just remembered this one. It had an interested concept to begin with, so I'm rolling with it. Review?