Albert Wesker listened in on the pitiful scene from his nicely concealed spot underneath the main staircase, his shoulder pressed casually against the embellished wall. He held a knuckle underneath his chin in contemplation, and his eyes narrowed in slight annoyance behind his mirrored shades.
Hmm... Seems that idiot boy came back for them after all. This...complicates things. Hmph. The one time his cowardice would have actually aided me, and he had to spoil it with a foolish bout of bravery.
"Come on, then, we'd better get back up to Chris and Richard. After that, we're outta here." Jill's voice spoke, her tone slightly agitated.
He could hear the squeaky scuffing of shoes on the polished floor, and he quickly stepped over to the left, silently, pausing then peering stealthily around the corner. They had all indeed moved from their spot; and the wood of the stairs above creaked under their weight as they ascended.
There was a sudden small thud, and a startled yelp resounded around the hall. Wesker flinched a little, stepping backwards warily, limbs tightening defensively.
A few recovering gasps were heard, followed by a quiet female giggle and a lower-sounding sigh. The creaking began again as they carried on upwards, and Wesker curled his lip in irritation, showing a single, gleaming canine.
Tripped on the stairs... Jesus Christ...
He listened carefully as the footfalls died away, finally disappearing altogether with the slam of a heavy door on the left.
He waited a few moments more, to be sure, before stepping out of his hidden spot, approaching the front doors in a swaggering gait, a small malicious smile etched onto his strong-jawed face.
He pulled a long silver key from the breast pocket of his blue-black protective vest, engraved at the top with the red and black shape of an umbrella.
He stuck the key into the old, slightly rusting lock of the door, turning it sharply to the side with a small click. He tested the brass doorknobs to double check, and his smile widened as they stayed securely locked shut.
Wesker replaced the key carefully in his pocket, pulling the black zip shut smoothly. He strolled a little over to the right, placing a hand on his hip and holding the other up to his left ear, which a modern shortwave radio was hooked neatly around, a thin microphone protruding from it, hovering a few centimetres from his tight-lipped mouth.
He clicked a small switch at the back of the device, and twiddled a tiny dial beside it as an annoying static invaded the line almost immediately.
As it died down a little, he flicked another switch on the front of the radio, leaning back on the wall behind as he spoke in his unemotional drawl into the mouthpiece,
"Barry. I've secured the main doors. Are we still meeting as planned?"
There was a slight pause; and Wesker was frowning, ready to speak again as Barry replied in a low, gravelly tone,
"Yeah. I'm there already. Let's just get it over with, okay?"
Wesker grinned slyly as he answered, the sleepy light of the hall glinting off a platinum-capped tooth,
"Oh, Barry, can't you be a little more sporting about it? You're part of a rather magnificent scheme here, you should be grateful." His grin ended in a sneer as the line was terminated, cutting him out of the conversation.
He clicked the switch on his radio with a nimble finger before making his way casually over to the staircase, ascending the steps in threes with long strides. He paused in front of the back door: the small, slightly concealed door which he had spied Chris using to enter the mansion earlier from outside.
He'd been keeping a close eye on them all...
He used his master key again on the almost unnoticeable lock, pulling it out with force as it tried to wedge itself into the small keyhole. He shoved on the door a few times, satisfying himself of it's closure.
Heh... That'll sort them out. Theres no escape for them now, and they'll have to come to me, like little lost lambs to their caring shepherd...Ready for the slaughterhouse.
He circled over to the right, passing the single door in front of him and approaching the lonely door at the end of the walkway, tucked into a corner.
The door was a little hesitant to open as the cool air outside had caused it to stick a bit from constant exposure. Wesker shoved it open with a forceful push on the handle and stepped through, the misty wind surrounding him in thin waves, the coldness slicing against his faultless skin.
He continued in through the narrow, glass-encased corridor leading to a small terrace, his slender boots clicking rhythmically against the dull, stony floor.
He passed a scraped and cracked glass tea table, the chairs upturned and in disarray on the floor. Slimy-looking moss poked out between the aging brickwork on the outside wall around him, oddly placed plant pots overflowing with stringy weeds and crumbling leaves.
As he turned the corner onto the balcony, he spotted Barry leaning heavily on the railings, looking out over the thick, foggy forest, a kind of melancholy weariness straining his chiseled features.
A low, feeble roll of thunder echoed in the distance, and a few fleeting drops of rain brushed Wesker's cheek as he approached confidently, making little noise as he came to a halt a few feet away from Barry.
When he didn't move, Wesker coughed sarcastically, making Barry jump and whip his head round, his face creasing into an agitated annoyance.
"God Almighty, it's you. You sure know how to creep up on people." He sneered in distaste, "I guess snakes are good at that, huh?"
Wesker smirked unpleasantly, his posture open and swaggering again,
"Barry, Barry..."
He swiped off his ebony shades with a sudden sweep, uncommonly revealing his cold, deep-green eyes, encircled with the greyish whirls of sleeplessness. He exhaled his warm breath onto the surface of each lens, rubbing at them with the soft black leather of his gloves.
"You know, with your charming wife and lovely daughters in such a... precarious situation, maybe you should know better than to get smart-ass with me..."
He held his shades up to the flickering light of the suspended gas lamp above them, rotating them so they glinted with a bright sheen, before replacing them back over those dead eyes. He folded his arms over his athletically-built chest, his obscured gaze glaring in Barry's direction.
Barry sighed deeply, his stance melting into that of an introvert; a hand clutching at his arm awkwardly, his head bowed in anxiety. His eyes flickered upwards,
"Alright, alright, I'm sorry. Okay? Just tell me what you want me to do."
Wesker leered at him unkindly,
"I should think so. Right, I need to get down to the labs, get everything prepared for our little showdown. I need you to -"
There was the bang of a door from behind them, and Wesker broke off abruptly, glancing irritatedly behind him and fleeing almost unnaturally quickly over to and around the nearby corner, which lead to a dead end against the mansion wall.
Barry gazed after him, a little confused, before a solitary figure appeared from the connecting terrace. Barry saw him illuminated in the weak gaslight, and his face adopted a half relieved, half worried expression,
"Forest...?"
Forest Speyer approached shakily, his deep navy vest noticeably ripped and bloodied around the collar, a nasty-looking gouge wound deep red and ragged on his long neck. His usually silky long hair hung in uneven black clumps in front of his face, the layered roots and tips slicked with drying sweat.
His sky blue eyes were heavy with weariness, and a thick dribble of blood had slid down from a large splat on his forehead, running over his slightly stubbled cheek before a dark smudge showed evidence of it being wiped impatiently away.
"Christ alive, what happened!?!"
Barry's tone was concerned, but he stayed a safe distance away; his burly fists clenching and unclenching in strained reservation. Forest reached the balcony railings and slumped sideways against them, breathing heavily, his chiseled features gazing downwards tiredly.
His sleekly tanned right hand raised upwards to clutch at the gaping hole in his neck, grimacing when his fingers came away slippery with fresh, deeply scarlet blood.
"Bleedin' bastard son-of-a-bitch bit me," he spat venomously, his strong, southern accent clouded with pain, "Launched itself at me down in the basement, tore a great fat chunk right outta me, hurts like shittin' hell..."
He tailed off, leaning forwards and gripping tightly at the railings, the hot blood on his hand pressing onto the sturdy metal and starting a slow trail down towards the floor.
Barry still kept his distance, yet his small bleak eyes wrinkled in pity as he gazed over at the vicious-looking bite, still leaking small jets of blood onto Forest's torn collar.
"Jeez...Well, I'm glad to see that you got away okay. We've been looking around for you lot for a while now, you're the first... Ehh... Well, the first able-bodied one that I've come across..." Barry trailed off delicately, gritting his teeth and pursing his lips tightly.
Forest turned slightly to look over at him, tilting his head and frowning a little before a look of understanding crossed his face,
"Oh, you mean Kenneth, huh..."
He stared down at the floor, shaking his greasy head slowly and closing his eyes. He could still visualise Kenneth's sprawled corpse on the floor of the east corridor; his head, with that God-awful agonised expression, separated and laying a few inches away from his neck.
He'd discovered him only a short while ago; in his short, dazed wander through the ground floor after the attack.
The sight had sickened him thoroughly; and he had to stumble back out of the room in haste to avoid his insides churning out whatever was in there onto the lavish carpet.
"He was practically a kid, you know... Maybe not the friendliest, but he was damn good at what he did. If he'd just stayed with us, not gone gallivanting off on his own when that freakin' helicopter crashed..."
He turned away in shame, remembering how quickly Bravo team had fallen apart when that pack of beasts had flung themselves upon them.
Forest had nevertheless been one of the last to flee; Richard and Rebecca had wasted no time scarpering in random directions, screaming and whining like kids.
Enrico had attempted to aid Edward in fending off the hounds, but Edward was trapped under the snarling weight of two of the rabid bitches, shouting out in mixed pain and fury.
As two more of them turned their bloodthirsty attention towards Enrico, he'd dropped all defence and stumbled backwards, turning tail and running clunkily away into the woods, half-redeemingly firing a few more hopeful shots backwards as he departed.
Forest stayed back, raising his expensive, custom built Samurai Edge handgun and firing with good accuracy, but a little too hastily. This new distraction enraged the hounds; the two wrestling with Edward leapt forwards with the rest of their pack and flew towards him in a flurry of fangs and hot, panting breath.
Forest had ran then, giving up only due to the severe outnumberment. He had a naturally athletic build; and combined with his sudden adrenaline surge, his sprint speed left the dogs lagging behind in the dust.
He thought he saw the shapes and shadows of his lost team-mates often in the blurring trees around him on his journey towards the giant, looming mansion Richard had pointed out to them, but they disappeared fleetingly as he passed by at a dizzying speed.
Since reaching the mansion's apparent safety, most of his time had been spent wandering and exploring the basement area, and he'd found a quiet, secluded room full of old hunting trophies in which he'd slumped on the floor, forcing his wild, unwilling eyes into an uneasy sleep to regain his dwindling stamina.
The basement was vast; and he'd found a few interesting places which had puzzled and frustrated him in trying to work out how to access them...
Until that sneaky, rotting piece of shit had gotten ahold of him...
He had been on his last clip of bullets, having killed quite a few of the shambling monstrosities down there, and he'd used most of that on the bastard that grabbed him...
It had become more and more frenzied and violent as it's revolting, blackened teeth had bitten scrapingly into his softly-pulsating neck, tasting his warm flesh and salty blood.
His aiming had been poor; being in a huge amount of pain and contorting awkwardly around trying to escape it's deathly grasp, but the creature had finally slid off him and onto the damp concrete below, twitching unnervingly and uttering a mournful groan.
And he'd found his way back up to the surface; still stubbornly searching for any of his team that may still be alive and able to help him...
The deep bite stung and throbbed like crazy, the ragged edges beginning to itch with a burning urgency.
He pressed his hand up against it again, feeling his demented pulse pumping out yet more streams of blood over his exposed fingers, uncomfortably thick and warm on his skin.
He looked up at Barry again, his light eyes crinkled with pain, his flesh beginning to lose a little colour, taking a sickly pallor.
"It won't stop bleeding..." moaned Forest weakly, and Barry shifted to the side in anticipation as he stumbled over to a lonely garden chair sat to the side of the railings, throwing himself heavily onto it and leaning his head backwards.
Beads of sweat had begun to form under his stuck-together fringe, a few trickling gently down onto his drooping eyelids. His skin was tinging an unpleasant green; and his toned limbs fidgeted around in an unintentional-looking way, his features twitching slightly.
Barry could see a subtle movement approaching in the corner of his eye, and he sighed and walked away a few steps, perching unsteadily of the edge of a nearby bench loaded with various plant pots full of dead flowers.
Wesker snuck stealthy down from behind his concealed corner; his footfalls strangely light and faint, and he observed Forest's gradually deteriorating stance upon the chair with mild interest. Barry kept his gaze back towards the terrace, his posture stoical but entirely uneasy.
Wesker smirked with a dark humour as Forest sensed his gaze on him, and whipped his lolling head round towards him in a twitchy jerk. His distant, yet still bright, eyes widened with recognition, and his mouth opened wearily as he spoke in an oddly fatalistic tone full of resignation,
"Wesker..."
He grinned manically and chuckled at a higher pitch, his outward breaths pained and frantic. His unsettling grin widened still as Wesker approached, an unmistakably and maliciously amused expression passing over his shadowed face.
Forest spluttered a few desparate coughs through that frenzied look, and leered at Wesker for his final time, an effortless twinkle in his fading eyes,
"Go ahead, sir..."
Wesker's clenched fist was a blur as it collided shatteringly with the side of Forest's slicked head, reams of blood shooting from his high, straight nose and out of his still-grinning mouth. His neck fell backwards, his bloody, comatose head resting lopsidedly against the damp-stained wall behind. His arms went limp, hanging loosely at his sides, his combat-covered legs bent awkwardly outwards.
Barry was firm on his resolve not to turn around, and he didn't even look up to view Wesker strolling so casually past him a little way, his left hand massaging his aching knuckles on the right.
"Here's the deal, Barry. You'll keep your beady little eye on those other S.T.A.R.S rats still scurrying around, and make sure they don't get any smart ideas about scuttling away... Lead them down to me when I give the okay, and not before. Everything has to be ready... Do this little thing for me, and I give you my solemn word that your family will be in danger no longer."
Barry refused to look up at him, knowing the enragingly smug expression he'd be met with already, and he merely mumbled monosyballically towards the floor, forgetting to watch the attitude in his words,
"You'd better not be bullshitting me, Wesker,"
Wesker bristled, aggravated, but decided to let this one slip,
"My solemn word, Barry. Alright?"
Barry stayed silent, but nodded curtly, his suffering eyes closing in a guilty apprehension. The silence droned onwards, and Barry forced his gaze upwards fleetingly, only to see that Wesker had departed already, in that unnervingly soundless way.
It took only a few seconds to discover the reason for his sudden exit; as the tremendous sound of thunderous flapping and cawing became gradually audible through the misty night.
Barry gasped, startled, and sprang heavily to his unsteady feet, backing off towards the terrace as the ominous noise grew stronger and more violent.
He turned and fled back towards the main hall as the first of the black, glistening birds came into view, their circular eyes blank yet vicious, their sharp pointed beaks open and emitting loud, raucous squawks.
Barry permitted himself to turn only once to see Forest's still body sat there so helpless in the wake of the oncoming crows, and Barry's chest filled with painful remorse as ran for the door, wincing as Forest's terrible, newly-awoken screams split the air.
The disgusting sounds of violent pecking and chomping bore into the night, and as Barry threw himself through the door, he could hear Forest screeching his name, screaming, begging for help...
And the door slammed shut.