Disclaimer: The characters in the video game series, book series, movie series, or any other conceivable series under the title of "Resident Evil" do not belong to me. Nor do any songs I happen to use in the writing of this story. All rights to Resident Evil belong to Capcom and the songs belong to the respective artists. I am merely a fan, so enjoy.
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Vas Domus
IV
Suffoco
...
"What happened to you?"
His head never rose to meet her soft inquiry, it was still bent at an angle to concentrate on redressing her wound. She had lifted her gown to give him access to the wound, and the curvature of her breasts were very close to his face.
"Nothing important. You should get some rest, Miss Redfield." His tone left no room to argue and she averted her eyes from him, a soft sigh escaping her lips. He stood with his back facing to her, ready to walk out of the room.
"Probably...but..." She trailed off, and he froze in his steps, waiting for her to continue her words but they never came.
"Goodnight, Miss Redfield." And with a swing of the door he was gone. Her quiet voice trailed after him.
"Goodnight...Wesker.."
...
A hiss escaped his mouth and he braced himself against the metal rail of the elevator, a severe and acute pain spreading throughout his mid-section, unexpectedly rippling through his body. His teeth were bared and his knees began to weaken, lucky he was already being supported on the rail or he would have fallen.
Just as quickly as it came, it had subsided, but what the hell was it?
He straightened himself and continued walking back to the living area that he had decided to stay in. The large room was set up much like a family living room, he wondered what had possessed him to have it designed like that but now he was glad he had. He stepped over the threshold and into the room, tossing himself down on one of the large leather sofas. His eyes drifted close within a few moments, and he realized that it had been nearly a decade since he had felt so tired.
Now that he was back into the world of humanity he had never felt older, his age setting into him like a ticking bomb. He would be 45 this year, but thanks to the superior age slowing effects of the virus he looked no older than his mid thirties.
That too however was starting to change.
Eyes still closed he couldn't help the scoff that escaped him; Albert Wesker, worrying about his age, it was unbelievable even to him.
He ran his hands over his face lingering them on the bridge of his nose and rubbing it roughly. He had been doing that alot lately, he noticed, and alot of other strange quirks he had never thought he'd be doing.
Sliding down the couch and pulling a throw pillow under his head, he decided that he should probably get a few hours sleep before he needed to figure out what he was going to do with the situation he had gotten himself into-not that it would be terribly hard, he mused.
To say he was exhausted was putting it mildly.
He'd worry about that strange pain tomorrow, he'd worry about his slipping vitality tomorrow, he'd worry about Claire Redfield tomorrow.
However, as his eyes drifted down further and sleep grabbed him, her face was all he could see.
...
He jerked awake, his body sitting up violently as if it was being yanked up against his will.
A scream, he had definitely heard a scream, and it had woken him from a very deep sleep.
"Claire." He whispered to no one, and immediately bolted towards her room, speeding up when the scream came again, pinging off the metal walls and into his head. He ran with a lightning-like speed, his body flying through the corridors and down the fire stairs with ease; he hadn't ran this fast since before the virus had left him in the accident.
When he reached her room he flung open her door with a ferocity and his eyes searched for the source of her distress.
Claire was sitting at the edge of the bed, knees hugged to her chest and her body rocking back and forth; her face was covered with wet and dry tear residue.
Before he could stop himself he was in front of her kneeling, checking her for any injuries; satisfied when he had found none he merely sat near her in silence.
Should he be doing something? Should he try to comfort her? He didn't even know what was wrong with her but she seemed so frightened.
He watched as a fresh wave of tears broke forth from her, and her body pitched forward, arms wrapping around his neck clinging to him like a scared child. For a moment he froze and had to fight off the baser instinct that wanted to shove her off of him, but when her head burrowed into his neck and her sobs slowed his own body slackened against hers.
Slowly his arms came up to wrap around her and he realized that she had been asleep this entire time. She must have been having a night terror and when she sensed his presence was she able to calm down in her subconcious.
When her breathing evened out and her sobs had stopped completely he knew he should lay her back down but for some reason his eyes merely lingered on her face. Her features were illuminated by the light seeping through the door from the hall and he studied her.
Her lashes were full and sooty, resting heavily on slightly pinkened cheeks. She still had a twinge of baby fat to her face that gave her a more youthful appearance than most women her age. Her lips were pink and partially opened just as if they were waiting for...
He shook his head as if trying to dislodge the thought, and a sigh left his mouth before he could stop it.
Gently he lifted her, placing her back on the bed gingerly. He watched her for a moment to ensure that another outburst would not follow and only when she burrowed into the pillow did he turn to walk away, but stopped in mid turn.
His hand reached out to brush a stray hair from her forehead, a gesture that perplexed him completely but the hair obstructing her face bothered him. He let it linger a moment, her warm flesh nearly burning into his fingertips.
When he finally turned to leave he spoke, his own voice sounding foreign to himself.
"Sleep well...Claire."
...
A molten explosion rose up out of the crater, his body thrusting through the lava with ease. Several tentacle-like appendages stretched out as the black Uroboros substance wrapped and engulfed most of his body in a protective barrier, and his eyes grew to a hue that could rival that of hellfire with every second. With a primal roar rising over the beat of the helicopter blades overhead, one of the tentacles lashed out and latched onto the bottom of the helicopter.
"CHRIS!" His own scream echoed in his head, but he felt so detached from himself, like he was standing outside of his body and looking in. His vision was tunneled with anger and so much hatred as he tried to yank the entire chopper with one swift pull.
He could see him, so safe up there in his confinement, and his body trembled. He didn't deserve to get away, he didn't deserve to best him. Weak and naive little Redfields, always playing a white knight in a world full of gray.
His ears picked up the distinct sound of an RPG but he didn't seem to care, so fueled by his rage was he. The tentacles stayed latched on until the very last second, when the rockets simultaneously collided with his chest. In the very instant, his entire body was wrapped in black protective substance as he sank into the fiery pit and every last ounce of energy and strength was being sucked out of his body. His eyes then shut as his body went into some sort of protective hibernation...
That was the last thing he could remember.
Uroboros had fed off of the T-Virus in his body in order to keep itself alive, thus in turn keeping him alive.
When he awoke he felt weakened and tired, completely drained of every last ounce of supernatural power he had possessed. Somehow he had been removed from the lava on was safely on the ledge, but he had no idea how. He supposed the Uroboros had done that too.
Now, for all he knew, every trace of T-Virus mutation was gone, leaving him completely mortal.
At first he had been in a daze, wandering around the volcano in search of some way to get off. Finally he had found an old plane that had been abandoned on a small island just south of it, so on a whim that was fueled by exhaustion and the survival instinct, he managed to swim to the island.
Miraculously the old thing still worked and with a little wiring work he managed to start it.
When he finally returned back to his main laboratory base off the coast of south Africa, he found it completely demolished, save for the underground hangar that still harbored one of the escape planes in decent shape.
From there he traveled back to America, to Maryland; assuming the guise of one of his many well-created alter egos he managed to gain back some personal documents and investments from one of his many bank accounts.
He supposed now that it was a good thing that he had covered his tracks so well; if he had been caught he would be at the mercy of many different governments all of whom wanted his head on a platter.
However, for all intents and purposes-and thanks to the story of one late Christopher Redfield-Albert Wesker was dead.
He did run the risk of having Claire run off to expose him. He truly hoped she wouldn't try something so foolish; he'd hate to have to kill her.
The clock on the wall chimed, alerting him to the break of sunrise. He would try to get at least another hour's worth of rest in, and then he would began the preparations of moving Claire and himself to somewhere more remote.
Eyes as cold as steel closed and within a few minutes he was asleep once again.
...
A/N: Well...chapter four is done. I wanted to make it longer but due to some physical issues that have just resolved themself that were keeping me from getting this written for the past few days I decided to save the next part for the fifth chapter. I'm having alot of trouble with the fifth chapter's plotline because I want to introduce an antagonist to the story. I am not coming up with any valid ideas on my own though. So...a little poll for you my dear readers.
Who would you like to see as the villian?
Just let me know and I will work it in there.
Thanks guys!
By the way the word Suffoco means Choke in english.
Til next time! *waves*