Disclaimer: I do not own RE.
I don't know why… I have no drive to update- And Then There Were None…
Groggy…
Exhausted…
Bloody…
Confused…
All of these things were plaguing Claire as she awoke in a dank cell. It was no larger than a half bathroom and on farthest wall were steel bars that out looked into another cell. She saw someone passed out in the corner, their head was low and arms loose with the spite of unconsciousness the victim appeared to have.
Claire scrambled to her feet when memories from the hotel came rushing back at her. Wesker tied down with his virus on a temper and men from… oh what was it… HCF! There it is. Mikhail and his thugs with British accents, Wesker being bashed on the side of the head with a toilet tank lid, blood covering the majority of his face.
And then she was being taken…
Now she guessed that she was taken here.
Claire walked over to the bars and clenched them with either hand, peering into the other cell. She squinted, trying to get a good look at the other captured soul. A jolt of reassurance mixed with the slightest hint of terror shot through her body, she was staring at Wesker.
"Albert!" Claire whispered loudly, trying to wake him up. "Albert wake up!"
His name on her tongue sounded foreign yet Claire kind of liked it.
He stirred ever so slightly, groaning and brining his hand up to his head. "Claire?" His voice was husky and tired, a sigh running through it. He stood upon weak legs, trying his best not to fall over and bleed to death. Blood loss was a very crucial matter and right now, Wesker was down for the count.
He stumbled over to the bars and leaned against them heavily. Claire was able to stick her arms through and hold his face in her hands. "Are you ok?" She asked him. He didn't answer her. Maybe it was a pride thing and for all Claire knew it could just be the fact that he hated himself right now for being defeated, beaten down into submission. His head rose and he bore his crimson eyes into her blues. He wasn't looking at her like she wasn't there nor was he looking at her like he was trying to look through her, but Albert Wesker was looking at Claire with the utmost apologetic look in his hellish pools.
She let her arms drop back to her sides and then panic set in.
What in the hell were they supposed to do now?
They were trapped in Mikhail's fortress and with little to no hope of escape unless Wesker's body kicked it into gear.
And those chances were also slim.
He was dying.
The mass amount of blood loss combined with improper care for his body and virus was a nasty ass brew of straight up death.
He knew… as did Claire.
Wesker wasn't afraid of death, he was annoyed.
It was just another sharp stick poking his side until he could deal with it no longer and gave in.
But not yet.
Today, Albert Wesker would not perish in the hands of an enemy.
A/N: This is just a crappy filler. I have to study for exams now, tata!
