Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or it's characters
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Thud. "Mother FUCKER!" Thud. Claire Redfield had just attempted to kick the door down, but all that had managed to do was give her a hurt ankle and a fall onto her rear.
When she was seized from the "hospital" room, she had her arms and legs bound and was carried by 3 men. They weren't taking any chances this time. It may have been a bit overkill, but better safe than suffer the wrath of an already pissed off Wesker.
The room that the former TerraSave associate was currently locked in wasn't terrible as far as imprisonment went. It had a single bed, a side table with a lamp, and a replica of Vincent Van Gogh's painting "The Starry Night." Claire found the tame setting to be more irritating than if she had been shut in the basement.
She'd been in the room for about half an hour now, and no matter what she tried she could not get the door to budge. Groaning as she stood up, she walked to the opposite wall and rested her forehead against it as she slammed her fist into the wall in frustration. That hurt, too. It was discouraging that she had let herself get to this situation, and now there was nothing she could do about it. Limping over to the bed, she sat down, feeling defeated. Resting her face in her hands, she allowed her mind to wander to what had happened in the "hospital" room.
Wesker had pulled her out from under the bed and made a snide remark before looking as if he had forgotten what he was doing, and then he had thrown her across the room. It just didn't make any sense. Maybe she had imagined the expression on his face? But why had he recoiled away from her? The man summoned his soldiers to come take her away, couldn't he have done that himself?
Claire brought her feet up onto the bed and laid her head on the pillow, staring at the ceiling. What would Chris think if he knew that she had allowed herself to be captured? She thought he would be disappointed for sure, and definitely upset. What was going to happen to her? A loud thumping on the door startled her out of her thoughts.
"Get away from the door," came a gruff voice from the other side. "Back against the furthest wall, hands where I can see them." She paused, wondering whether she should comply or try to take on whoever was at the door. "NOW!" the voice barked.
Standing up, the redhead walked to the wall across from the door and stretched her hands out to either side of her. The was a clicking sound and a short beep before the door opened to reveal one of the island's many soldiers. He was dressed in black tactical gear and his dark eyes beamed out from above his 5 o'clock shadow. There was a tray in his hands, which he immediately sat down and slid across the floor before retreating backwards through the door. Never once did he take his eyes off of her until the door was securely locked and she was once again by herself. It pleased her somewhat that they knew she was not one to be trifled with.
On the tray was what appeared to be a pork chop, mashed potatoes, green beans, a plastic fork, and a bottle of water. She picked up the pork chop with her finger tips and examined both sides. What she was looking for she wasn't sure. Maybe a trace of poison, some sign of obvious tampering. She set it back down and sighed.
What if it was drugged? What would they do to her? Experiment on her with all sorts of viruses, put her in a tank for all to see? Then again, if that's what they had wanted, they could have done it already. Wesker was more than capable of overpowering her. Maybe you want him to "overpower" you, her mind chided. Wait, what?! That was not okay. Sure, he was attractive and mysterious, but he was a very, very bad man. She was his prisoner. She lightly hit herself on the head to turn her thoughts to something else. Food.
Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrugh. Claire's stomach was rumbling. Eh. Fuck it. Might as well eat, there's no sense in starving yourself, she thought. Once she had made the decision, the food was demolished within a few minutes. She let her food settle for a couple of minutes, then started looking around for anything that could be used as a weapon. This wasn't exactly a prison cell, so there were options. Her eyes traveled around the room.
There was the lamp. But if she were to take it apart, she wouldn't have any sort of lighting. There was no window, and she wasn't too keen on the idea of sitting around in total darkness. That left the painting, the side table, and the bed. The gears in her head began to turn.
Lying on her back, she scooted herself under the bed and began feeling around. The bottom of the box spring was covered with a thin layer of fabric, so it wasn't too hard to reach up into it. With some maneuvering, she was able to remove one of the metal coils that was inside. Crawling out from underneath, she set the large spring on the bed and moved on to the painting.
The Van Gogh replica was framed by four rectangular pieces of wood. She pried one of them off and stashed the remaining pieces of the frame and painting under the bed.
It took all of her body weight to straighten out most of the coil. The thick metal wire bent beneath her feet. Part of the strand got wrapped around the top part of the piece of wood, which was about a foot long. The straightened part of the wire stuck out about 3 tore off a part of the pillow case and wrapped it around the wire that was wrapped around the wood, to keep it in place. Claire Redfield had herself a shank.
On screen, Leon could be seen making his way through the brush in no particular direction. He'd already dispatched a few of the undead, but was going in the opposite direction of the facility. Wesker had a couple of his men monitoring his movements, with orders to intervene if he got too close. If that were to happen, he would be dealt with promptly.
After making certain that all of his affairs were in order, Wesker decided to take a stroll around the mansion to clear his head. A large portion of the mansion was uninhabited, being as there were quarters located near the labs for his employees. Not to mention his well-known distaste for other human beings (they preferred it by the labs). His movements were on autopilot, and his mind started wandering.
The Redfield girl had seen him in a moment of weakness. This appalled him. He was far from weak, mentally and physically. He could be a god. If this were an older civilization, he would have been worshiped as one. Then what happened in that hospital room.
He was trying to dissect his thoughts, figure out what had gone wrong. It was that smell. It had him feeling some sort of way, but he couldn't acknowledge what it was. He had felt the same feeling for a moment when he was looking at the picture on her phone. Something clicked in his head. It's not me. It's her. There was something about her.
This was much easier to accept than the idea that he was responsible for his loss of control. Whenever Wesker's mind started to toy with any other reason, his thoughts were subconsciously diverted to something else. He scanned the hall to see where he was, and was almost startled to find that he had made his way over to the hallway where she was being held.
But that didn't matter, right? She held no sort of power over him. He would see her, if for nothing else than to prove a point to himself. But I must take precautions.
Exactly 100 carpet squares, 2 spiders, 1 picture, and 1 table. Claire had been locked in this room for about 3 hours now, though without a clock it was hard for her to determine just how long it had been. To take her mind off of her thoughts, which grew increasingly more depressing, she had counted everything in the room. Twice. She heard footsteps that broke the silence.
The door opened and Albert Wesker stepped into the room. His sunglasses hid his eyes ,which made it hard to read his expression. To be fair there wasn't much of an expression on his face to begin with.
"What do you want?" the redhead snapped, pasting an irritated look on her face.
"Nothing in particular," came the reply, and Claire found that her arms were covered in goosebumps at the sound of his smooth voice.
"Shouldn't you be stealing candy from a baby or something?" He smirked at the attempted insult. Before entering the room, he'd snorted a chemical that made it impossible to smell anything. Sure it burned a little, but it wasn't anything that he couldn't handle.
"Your flattery will get you nowhere," Wesker replied sarcastically. "There aren't any babies on the island anyway."
"Good. You'd probably eat them," Claire muttered as she moved to the furthest side of the bed, back facing him. Her face turned slightly so she could see him in her peripherals as one of the questions that had been burning in her mind came bubbling out. "What is that? That place, I mean."
"A research facility, what else would it be." Ah, there's that Redfield stupidity.
"It's a research facility that looks like a hospital?" she responded incredulously. After everything she had seen, the redhead shouldn't have been surprised. Yet for some reason, life didn't seem to want to stop throwing curve balls her way.
"It is still a hospital, technically speaking. But there is research being done here as well." Another curve ball. Honesty? From Albert Wesker? Or was he just winding her up?
"Does that research involve how hard you have to throw a person before you break their spine?" she quipped.
"Are you that surprised that there were repercussions to your futile attempt at departure?" Wesker asked monotonously. It was meant as a rhetorical question, but of course she had a response.
"Is that what what it was?" she goaded, back still turned to him. He bristled slightly. I could have my hands wrapped around her neck before she can take her next breath . One of his fingers twitched. It was almost tempting to end this new nuisance right then and there, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. I need her to get to Chris. And he desperately wanted to feel him die by his hand.
Claire was made anxious by his silence, and she thought about the situation she was in. Alone in a bedroom with the tyrant that had led Chris's friends to their deaths. But what could she do?
"If I were you," Wesker drawled, "I would choose my words more carefully. You're lucky I've allowed you to stay alive this long." She shot him another dirty look. He turned as if to leave. "Oh, by the way, Dearheart. Your brother says hello."
That was it. She sprung over the bed, reached under the pillow. and grabbed her makeshift weapon, charging him with it. It wouldn't kill him, but it would sure as hell hurt. He grabbed her wrist with inhuman speed as she tried to drive the thick wire into the base of his neck. "Well aren't you resourceful," he chuckled, more amused than annoyed. He twisted her wrist until she was forced to drop her weapon made from the picture frame and box spring.
"What did you do?!" Claire demanded venomously. She tried to get him with a left hook that would have knocked those sunglasses right off that smug face of his, but he caught it with his other hand. He had predicted an outburst, though not one quite so violent.
"I've invited him for a visit, as it were," he said dryly, effortlessly wrenching her right arm up to the middle of her back and pushing her face first against the shut door. She cried out in pain and had to stop fighting to prevent him from pulling her arm out of it's socket. He leaned in until his lips were almost touching her ear, and she shuddered. She could feel his breath against her skin as he muttered softly, "We're going to have a family reunion." Claire felt her blood run cold. He closed his eyes as he caught scent of that alluring smell once again.
His olfactory receptors must have healed from the chemical that had saturated them not too long ago; he couldn't stay a moment longer. Rather than losing his composure again, he released the Redfield girl and stepped back. She immediately made her way to the opposite side of the room, though this time she wasn't going to risk turning her back to him. It turned out that it didn't matter.
Without even sparing her a second glance, the blonde man used a small device to open the door and stepped through, the door closing behind him. Claire was once again left alone with her thoughts.
A/N: I didn't get many reviews on the last chapter, but that's alright; I know that I picked this up again after an extended period of time. But I was able to make this chapter a bit longer, and I'm excited to see this story come together.
What do you think?
