AN: Good news for anyone still caring to read this story to the end. I am going to focus on writing this until it is FINISHED. No more whole years between updates.
I began this almost a decade ago, intending to write a single imagined two chapter scenario where I put Chris and Wesker crazily together. It evolved from there because of all the readers interested, asking for more. This was also one of the first stories I ever published online, and there's writing that feels subpar to me in the earlier chapters which makes me cringe a little bit. So thanks for reading anyway!
SIDENOTE: I also publish my stories on AO3 under the name ResiGamerGirl.
***Please go there if you would like to read the additional chapters I had to cut out here because of graphic and explicit sex. (Still counted as chapter 21, with section titles.)
I didn't need to go into detail to make clear what happened for the effect on the main character/plot... But I did. I totally did.
I got carried away and wrote a ridiculously long scene of pure and awful smut/erotica.
\ O_o /
The additional chapters do solely involve Chris and OCs, so hopefully if I did them enough justice, readers will enjoy. Otherwise remember, you have the power to SKIP! Continuing on to the rest of the story will be without detriment. Hope you like!
WARNING: Miles and Jonah should come with their own warning.
Uncomfortable subject matter ahead. You have been warned.
Choice
As they were crossing the lobby, Chris tried to stop a moment when he noticed blood leaking from behind the reception counter. Miles didn't let him stall long, but there was enough time to see several bodies strewn about the large area. At least one of them had been dismembered, an arm laying across the Umbrella logo. These were not the people to be taken by.
The thought to attempt a run entered his mind. There was really no chance for success but fear and anger were beginning to grow in him. He was so sick of the dying and infected and torment everywhere the Wesker children went.
Chris turned his hatred of monsters into a punch. It jolted Miles's head sideways and he received a smile from him, seemingly pleased at the move. A backhand struck him when he barely knew it was coming his way, putting him on the floor. Memories of the times Wesker easily handled him in a fight passed through his head, pissing him off more. These guys were so strong and fast, taking blows that would cripple an ordinary man, leading anyone who opposed them at a major disadvantage. Without a plan, some method to do real injury to them, it really was futile.
He got up and threw a punch which the other caught. He winced when the man squeezed the trapped fist, still holding that damn smile. Fuming and in increasing pain as the grip tightened, he clenched his teeth tight to avoid making any sounds of discomfort.
"Let's start with a broken hand then, yeah?"
He focused all of his energy on a glare. It was what he had left. Pathetic. What did someone need to do when sheer determination wasn't enough?
He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, distracting momentarily from the pain. Wesker shot into view, slamming his elbow into Jonah's side at full speed. This sent him across the room and the man rolled up onto his feet in the next instance. Fully intrigued by someone other than Chris, Miles released his fist and turned for a confrontation.
The two Wesker children faced their interferer while he stood stoically by, sole movement his fists clenching and unclenching at his side. He did do stoic rather cool. Wait, why think that? Don't think that. What was he thinking again?
Wesker. Right. Wesker had shown up and a fight was likely to ensue. Could he take on two people like himself? Guess he would find out.
He went for Miles first, nearest to Chris, nearest to himself. His eyes were glowing and he looked furious. Maybe he was as sick of all the bullshit as he was. The two men matched brutal swings and kicks, one equally adept at avoiding or shrugging off hits as the other.
Jonah joined in and he was impressed to see Wesker more than capable of dual-fighting the both of them. They were skilled fighters though, so how long he would keep it up was in question. Well, he could stand by and watch this, or better yet, run with the opportunity.
The scene before him blurred and he found himself having trouble remembering just what was happening. Why? What? Irritated, he struggled to regain his grasp on what he was seeing. It took a moment but then he did, and he was watching Wesker in his stand off before the conflict began.
Wesker went for Miles first, nearest to Chris, eyes glowing with ferocity. The two were equal in combat skill as well as superhuman abilities. One had to be the luckier or more intelligent tactician to win this fight.
Jonah joined in and Wesker proved able to fight them simultaneously. The thought occurred to make a run for it. He desperately wanted to be free of these dangerous and sociopathic monsters.
He slowly stepped closer to the entrance. The three were far too occupied battling one another to notice him right now. If he could get to a vehicle, he could get away. Wesker had given him his chance.
Once he was outside, a genuine smile came on his face. He would leave this place, locate Jill and Sheva to be sure they were okay and safe. Then he would find his sister and if she had really been taken, he'd kill anyone responsible. They had it coming.
Driving down the freeway, he looked over to Jill.
"So she was never taken? Alex must have been lying to try and rattle me."
"Yep. She was pretty surprised to hear you believed she'd been kidnapped again. I mean, come on, Chris, how many times can someone get kidnapped, right?"
He laughed. "Yeah, guess you're right. I gotta stop looking at the negative in every situation."
"And maybe take a vacation?"
"Look who's talking, Jill. You took, what, one week before coming back to work?"
"I missed this too much. Now you have to deal with me. You okay with that?"
Chris grinned. "I think I can handle it."
"That a boy."
Wait... Did it make sense? How was Jill free to be here with him now?
As much as he wanted his partner back, he knew typical procedure was to quarantine anyone potentially compromised or infected. The organization would have to until certain the person was no longer a potential threat. This didn't make sense.
Thinking made him think about everything going on. Chris gave a quick look to his partner as he drove along the highway. Jill was wearing her BSAA outfit. The blue one she was wearing when they investigated the mansion where Spencer was believed to be hiding. He glanced down at himself and saw he was dressed in similar attire but green.
This wasn't right. Discomfort twisted in his gut. How did he come to be here? Why were they here now? He was confused and uncertain. This was wrong. Fear surrounded him.
He woke shivering and alone.
Of course Albert Wesker would somehow become the man of his dreams. He'd had nightmares of him in the past, ever since the horror of 1998. Wesker playing the role of savior in his dreams, rescuing him? It was laughable imagining the real man would ever bother to come save him.
What did it say that he wished he would? Chris loathed Wesker. How could he ever go so far as to wish that?
Weeks had gone by since they took him. He couldn't recall how much time had passed. There weren't clocks where he was now. No sunlight.
The hunger faded after a while. They didn't feed him much, providing only water regularly to sustain him. Pain consumed his thoughts most of the time. Humiliation and misery often replacing the pain.
Chris kept his eyes closed. He didn't need to open them to know he was in a bare, white walled room. It was freezing in here. He preferred it to the other rooms. This room required him to endure extreme cold, but it was quiet and he was by himself.
Another room they switched him to was unbearably hot with blaring music to deprive him of sleep. As much as that room made him exhausted and dehydrated, it far exceeded the third room. The third room was for personal torture at the hands of his two captors.
An electric rod was frequently used on him, suffocation, doused in water, and when they wanted to have a more "intimate" play time, they injected him with something that made him desperate for sexual contact.
Resisting didn't work. It left him helpless and mortified on the floor with an erection, practically mewling and whining for release so he could think straight. They waited him out until he couldn't take the immense discomfort and scratchy, burning sensations shocking throughout his body from the drug.
Ashamedly, he begged them to fuck him. He was the aggressive one telling them to touch him, screw him hard. And they would, rough and brutal like he was a thing to be used. Whatever was in that drug cocktail was pure evil. It could make a person plead to be raped repeatedly for hours on end.
The heavy door was opening. His mind told him to get up and hide in the corner of the room. His body didn't follow through, too worn and beaten down from interminable poor treatment.
Hands pulled him up off the floor. His feet refused to stand for him so he was hefted to lean onto a strong shoulder. Jonah murmured to himself how pointless this resistance was serving to be.
He disagreed in his head. He wouldn't do as they asked. They could start cutting off pieces of him and he still wouldn't do what they asked.
Set on a chair in the third room, the worst room, he opened his eyes for the first time.
There was a woman sitting in the chair opposite him. She was tied to the chair and gagged. His hands automatically moved to cover his private area. The kidnapped people they brought here could likely care less that he was nude, but it continued to remain a gesture he did regardless.
"You know the score, Mr. Hero," Miles said, pushing away from his leaning position against the far wall.
Jonah shut the door they'd come through. "Two men and a woman are dead. The second man was barely out of his teen years, hardly a man. You watched us torture them to death. You didn't even try to save them."
The woman's eyes widened with raw fear, gaze flickering across her surroundings in distress. He tried not to look at her much, nor did he attempt to ease her terror. There was nothing he could promise and hold to in his own grave circumstance.
"That's not true," he managed to say.
His numb appendages were beginning to tingle, waking to the much more agreeable temperature of this room. It felt like needles beneath the skin. He rubbed at his sore jaw, a terrible reminder of what they put in his mouth, forced down his throat.
He willed the disturbing memories away. They didn't beat him and they shaved and cleaned him regularly. The other day they insisted on trimming the hair on his head which was starting to get a little long.
Why they were keeping up his appearance had to be for their own pleasure or for some other reason. It had no purpose he could see.
"We gave a choice," said Jonah, walking over to stand before him. "Kill them quick, a bullet to the head, or watch them die slow."
The woman whimpered, tears leaking down damp cheeks from previous crying. He sympathized for her, he did. But he couldn't save her.
"I didn't choose either!"
"Not choosing is a choice for the latter."
"You're so full of shit!"
He stared at the man's brown-blonde hair poking out from beneath the hat, or the v-necked t-shirt interchangeably. It was harder to look him or Miles in the eye anymore, so he looked anywhere else.
Jonah observed his anger. "That emotion will do no good. Why don't you try to rise above such base feeling?"
"Oh yeah, cause it's so goddamn easy!"
Breaking his assumed silence, Miles sighed regrettably. "Suppose it's the child challenge."
The what?
Miles rubbed a hand across the back of his shaved skull, expression disagreeable. Quick strides brought him to the door. He rapped his knuckles against the metal surface. A few moments passed and the door opened from the outside.
The woman he remembered to be Felicia, was standing there in knee-high boots and a tight dress that extended just above the footwear, showing a thin line of light brown skin. She stood with her hands resting on the shoulders of a young boy standing in front of her. Looking at Chris, she didn't talk or smile or react.
"Child challenge," repeated Miles. "Would you save a child from an excruciating death? Drowning sounds fun."
Chris stared at the kid. He didn't seem to know what was going on. Guessing the age, he was thinking maybe seven years old. Blonde bangs fell slightly into curious blue eyes searching the room.
Freckled cheeks grew bigger as he peered upward at the tall woman behind him.
"Can I have more ice cream?"
"That's up to the man over there," she told him, pointing to Chris.
The boy looked, frowning at his body and meeting his eyes with utter puzzlement.
"Where are your clothes, mister?"
"Let the kid go. I swear if you hurt him…" Trailing off the ineffectual threat he could not back up, he went on. "Don't you dare hurt him."
Felicia patted the gun holstered to her hip. "You can save him from suffering. Show him mercy."
"Did they get dirty?"
Oblivious to his situation, the kid was still trying to work out the mystery of his nakedness. Goddamn monsters. Why do this?
The first person they brought into the room was a man in his mid to late thirties. When he refused to shoot a man in the head, Miles tied him up to prevent interference. Jonah systematically applied shallow stab wounds until the man bled out. It took a long time and the man… It was hard to see that.
The second was a teenager they strangled with a chord, loosening and pulling it tight until finally finishing him off completely. The third victim was a woman they broke the bones of, working up from the toes. The teenager's eyes as the life left them… Her agonizing screams…
He was tempted to kill them to end their suffering after the first few minutes passed. Chris knew he couldn't help them though. They would die either way, and he refused to compromise his beliefs by murdering an innocent. Giving in to terrorist demands was never the answer.
Part of him knew his inclination to end them had nothing to do with the person hurting either. It hurt him to be forced to watch, a selfish motive. And it didn't matter if he demanded they do it to him instead. They tried to explain for that very reason, they couldn't. He didn't understand.
"Brian really needs you to make a choice, hero," said Miles, stroking his light beard while he scrutinized Chris over the rims of his shades. "He's waiting for ice cream."
Was that the new code word for death? He glared at each of them, settling his infuriated gaze on the man in the baseball cap looking down at him from a foot away.
"I'm not taking innocent lives. You can forget it."
Miles grinned, hand falling away from his face. "You can forget the drowning. Do it or I rape the kid to death."
Jonah didn't react, but Felicia had the decency to be surprised and appalled. Across from him, the woman mumbled something indecipherable through the gag, squirming and straining to free herself. There was no escape from this, no rescue.
He got up when Felicia pushed the boy forward into a sadist's waiting arms, however, Jonah shoved him back into the chair. Sliding around to the back of it, he firmly positioned his arms so they held his body into the seat. The man leaned into his cheek.
"Is your self-righteousness really worth the lives of these people?"
They were going to die regardless of his choice. He didn't want them to suffer, but murdering anyone wasn't something he thought he could do. It was a cruel, callous fate either way.
Miles hooked his fingers into the loops of the child's jeans. "Kids don't do it for me. Frankly, it's disgusting. I mean, they're so helpless and stupid and soft. I'll have to think of you while I'm destroying his anal cavity, tearing him open and bloody. How can letting that happen be the right choice?"
The kid continued to remain clueless. He turned to the man touching his pants, curious what he was doing. He received an empty smile, dark shades hiding the eyes that would likely freak him out.
"If you want ice cream, Felicia needs you to take a bath first. Could you take off your clothes for her?"
His face crinkled into a hesitant and unhappy frown. "Do I have to? Will my mom have ice cream with us too?"
Peering over the boy to him, Miles continued to smile that false smile. "Oh, I think you'll be with her real soon."
"Don't you fucking touch him! Sick bastards! Don't you fu-" he broke off when his pissed tirade drew the boy into the man's arms, frightening him.
Miles wrapped his arms around him and slid a hand beneath his shirt, stroking slowly along the skin of his back. The child was crying, asking for his mommy. The wandering hand lowered to his bottom, pressing lightly against it. The boy didn't comprehend the sick intention behind his touches.
He's a kid! He's a fucking kid! He couldn't murder a kid. He couldn't!
Despairing, he stared the sick fuck in the eyes best he could with the sunglasses concealing them. "I won't kill someone but anything else, please. I'll do whatever you want, just stop this."
"You do whatever we say?"
The boy was wiping away tears, peeking toward him in confusion. He didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
Felicia held out her hand. "Come on, Brian. The bath can wait. Let's go get some ice cream."
He hurried to leave the room, taking her hand. Definitely sensing something was weird and not good now, he seemed to see the woman for the first time. He paused, attention on the frightened woman gagged and tied to the chair looking at him. Brian was young, but he knew enough to know she was in trouble.
Jonah released his hold on Chris and strolled over to her, standing her up.
"Go with them," he ordered.
She practically ran to be out of this room. There was no way for her to know if the female captor would be any better than her male counterparts, but they were going somewhere outside a room child rape and murder were discussed. He couldn't blame her for the eagerness to leave.
The kidnapped left with Felicia, Chris's eyes following them for as long as he could. He hoped they would be safe, but worried once out of sight she would kill them. He had absolutely no power to make a difference here. It was beyond horrifying.
Jonah turned to face him. "Sex of your own volition."
"Why?"
He choked on the word. To them it was probably proof they'd selected the right action to order of him. The physical torment and injury he could take all day long. His stubbornness denied his ability to give up or cease fighting to endure. Torment of a sexual nature worked a little different. It affected on a deeper level. One that didn't heal or wash out. Oh God…
Chris breathed in, exhaling slowly. They'd already raped him. Krauser raped him. This would just be another kind of rape. One where he was fully participating and… He really hoped the day would come when he had opportunity to kill them both.
"What do you want me to do?"
Smirking, Miles started to undo his belt. "On your knees. Let's teach you how someone can put their own mouth to work."
Didn't want to use it as a mere hole this time, huh? Lucky him… He knew pretty much nothing about blow jobs. Life and then work kept him busy. He didn't have interest in porn, and the few occasions he had time for sex, he'd never asked or expected a woman to do such a thing for him.
He stood up and approached Miles, extremely apprehensive and reluctant. A glance over a shoulder informed him Jonah was shedding clothing. How long would they expect him to obey?
Swallowing hard, he forced himself to just do. He got down on his knees. He wouldn't hesitate. Hesitation would show fear, shame, and anger. All of which he was feeling. All of which they wouldn't get the satisfaction of seeing.