And in that instant, everything changed. They were no longer playing. He thrust a massively powerful fist into her face, his entire body weight behind the blow.

Fuck.

Her thoughts snapped closed with amazing accuracy as she shot backwards, a force like a typhoon throwing her whole body as though she was an ant being flicked away from the ground by a cruel child. The speed was bad but the impact was the clincher, the thing which was likely to break her. She wouldn't be able to move.

The wall did not disappoint.

Slamming into it with a brutal enough vigour to knock the wind from her, the break fall she executed was clumsy and did not do much to decrease the momentum as her body flew across the theatre. Landing on some chairs and then from there onto the ground was horrifically painful.

And the pain threatened to cause her to black out. She was so close until the captain looked up, her gaze wavering past him to someone who could never be replaced.

You need her. I'm sick of being on my own.

Wesker was looming towards Shakahnna with his back to the young doctor, every fall of his steel-capped boots bringing him ever closer with teasing malice to the redhead. He gave her prone body a rough kick, and she jumped back to minimise the impact. It did, however, still hurt like a whore.

And I don't want to be accused of premature ejaculation.

She leapt to her feet with a renewed burst of energy at her own unfathomable internal wit. He wrapped one enormous hand about her throat and lifted her clean off her feet. She hoisted herself up and wrapped her legs around his neck, twisting her body as if to perform a scissors move. The feint worked and he loosed his hold on her neck enough for her to pull into a sitting position and thrust her claws forward into his eyes. He raised his hand at the last second, the flat of his hand perpendicular to the bridge of his nose, but her claws were too long and they smashed through the tinted glass and into his eyeballs.

Temporarily blinded, he knew that his sight would return as rapidly as his other regenerative functions, but the move angered him. Enveloped in darkness, he stepped back, and was unable to see Shakahnna unholstering her Desert Eagle. She emptied a full clip into his face, before reloading and shooting him several times in the torso. Enraged, he charged at her and knocked her down, but she continued to fire from her position on the floor. Even without his sight, he could tell that she was smiling smugly.

He was correct.

She had several clips of ammunition, and only paused between firing to reload, emptying each one into his chest. It was the first time in a long time that Wesker could remember being in considerable pain, and it was the closest anyone had come in recent years to incapacitating him. It was a double edged sword. On one hand it was absolutely delightful to have his senses set alight in this manner, but on the other hand there was a distinct loss of control, and he was not happy at any shift in a power balance which was not in his favour. Occasionally he would concede, but inevitably that meant that the control never left his hand, because his concessions were of his own choice. As she ran out of ammo, the STARS captain looked at her gun with a ponderous expression, before hurling it at his head and bringing out a twin set of pistols. The fact that he was, at this moment, still standing, hit her like an express train at that moment, and she realised that things were starting to look distinctly bleak. She ran towards him to execute a kick, but he caught her ankle and twisted it 180 degrees, flipping her entire body over and slamming her face first into the floor.

Pinning her down, he pushed his face into hers. His body was riddled with bullet holes, his hair had become the colour of rust with dried blood, and there were two black sockets in his face, looking for all the world as through they were weeping tears of crimson in floods down his face. It was positively demonic. And as she struggled, she watched the black turn to white, penny shaped disks of gold appearing in the centre, as the first flicker of his reptilian iris returned. The skin on his face began to knit together, until all that was left was the smears of blood. He closed his eyes deliberately, and when he opened them, he shot her a wordless smirk, his eyes fully healed. The balance of power restored, he was feeling considerably more amicable, a state of mind fuelled by the fear which crossed the redhead's bruised face. He gathered up both her wrists in one hand and pinned them above her head, closing his other about her throat. She began to kick and struggle violently, her breathing coming in laboured draws as she fought for the simple act of pulling air into her lungs. But the more she struggle, the worse it got, until the only thing left to do was lie still and see where Wesker wanted to go.

-

Claudia watched the fight between Wesker and Shakahnna with utter horror. It had looked for a moment as though Shak had the upper hand, and, although she couldn't see Wesker's face throughout the whole engagement, it did not take her long to reason that his regeneration must have kicked in.

But her real panic set in as he began to throttle the redhead. She held her breath and watched helplessly as Shakahnna's form flailed.

And then she stopped moving.

Shak…Shak get up. You have to get up and fight…you have to…

Oh God. She's not getting up.

"Shak, you cretin!" she exploded, "I can't fight him. You're our best shot here."

Shakahnna continued to lie unmoving.

Claudia decided it was time for drastic action. If Shak wasn't going to take him out, then she would.

Or at least…um…sort of…give it a shot…

You're a cretin, Claudia, and this is the worst idea you've ever had.

Well you can get it up you.

She broke into a run across the auditorium. The sprint gave her some momentum and, taking a flying leap she launched herself at Wesker's back, wrapping her legs about his torso, clutching two hands pulling at his hair for grim life, a look of complete blind rage flushing her pale face.

"GET OFF HER!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, continuing to claw at his face and dig her heels into his sides. "YOU BETTER NOT HAVE KILLED HER, YOU BETTER NOT HAVE FUCKING HURT HER." Much in the manner of an angry puppy, she clamped her teeth down on his ear, and found that she could not in fact even break the skin, so resumed clawing like a wildcat and screaming not-very-cutting insults in his ear. "I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU, YOU'RE EVIL, I HOPE YOU DIE AND GO TO HELL!"

Wesker rose to his feet with a furious Claudia still clinging, and simply looked down at Shak. "You may get up at your leisure," he informed the police officer.

Shak looked up dazedly and gave Claudia a beaming grin and the thumbs up, despite the incapacitating pain she was in. She obviously had a gem of wisdom of her own to add to the spectacle, but she could not find her voice at that particular moment.

Wesker reached over and grabbed Claudia, who was starting to get tired out from her frenzy, by the scruff of the neck. He lifted her clean over the top of his head so that she was dangling in front of him, and walked with her to the other end of the room, where she had been standing previously.

She glared at him, cheeks flushed with rage, before spitting in his face. He gave her a sneer of utter contempt, and produced a handkerchief from his pocket with his free hand, wiped his face, and then dropped her to the ground.

"That is vulgar," he remarked.

She winced as she tumbled into a heap, and looked up at him to give him the full force of her scowl. "You have no right to talk to anybody about manners," she snarled.

"Well if you are so insistent of forgoing formalities," he said simply, lowering himself to one knee so that he was at eye level with her. Suddenly she didn't feel quite so brave. "While Miss Taylor catches her breath, if you will, perhaps I can entertain you with a run down of this evening's festivities. I will be entertaining my love to which you will not interrupt. If at any point I have use for you, you will come, you will do as I say, and then you will return here. But if there are to be no false pretences, then let me assure you, you will die this day, Claudia. And should you get any notions of further insubordination, all that will achieve will be a longer and infinitely more painful demise, because you see, Dr Graham, that is all you have left to hope for, the right to chose how you expire."

Suddenly Claudia was not feeling so righteously indignant any more. Suddenly, she was terrified. "I don't want to die," she blurted out as icy tears began to form in her eyes, but Wesker's reaction was caught short, and all she saw were claws going through Wesker's stomach, as Shak attacked him from behind.

"Then you need to leave. Now." The redhead met her gaze insistently.

But Wesker's words were still ringing in her ears. If she ran, he would catch her. He was right, if she was going to die, then she wanted it to be quick, and fear kept her rooted to the spot as she shook her head dumbly.

"Clauds, what is wrong with you?! Get out!" She ripped the claws upwards, and a single trail of blood spilled from the corner of Wesker's mouth. "Immediately!"

She looked from Shak, back to Wesker. His stance was impassive and his reptilian eyes were burning into her own frightened stare. He didn't need to speak, she knew exactly what he was telling her. She hung her head miserably and whispered, "No, I'm staying. Don't try and make me go. Cause I can't."

Shak suddenly dearly wished that when Claudia had been given the chance to leave with the helicopter pilot, she'd let her take it. She looked at the younger woman and shook her head, "I'm so sorry." Turning to Wesker, she said sadly, "Come on, this is no fun." Withdrawing her claws, she turned around, leading him away from Claudia. The BOW was well aware of what she was doing, but he could be back over in seconds if he chose, so he followed her willingly. She stood up on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear, "I've got a secret to tell you." Pulling the top of her t shirt down, she revealed her plan B. "You want it…"

She slipped her hand behind his hair and grasped a handful of perfect blond hair, using it to pull his head backwards sinking her teeth into his neck. From the neck to her waist, she was wired up with enough explosives to blast them all to Hell. And the detonator was in her hand, her finger poised.

Of course, time did not pass for Wesker as it did for everyone else.

As sly and fast as a snake that strikes in long grass, Wesker's hand shot out in the fraction of a second it took to comprehend what was undoubtedly intended to the be redhead's parting gift to him.

With a controlled agility which was almost breathtaking to watch, he wrenched the detonator from Shakahnna's hand. Once it was nestled safely in the palm of his hand, he relaxed a little and tutted in his customary mock rebuke.

"Now, now Miss Taylor, didn't your mother ever teach you not to play with fire..."

He shot a knowing glance at Claudia.

"...apparently not."

Slamming her against the wall so hard that the plaster began to splinter, he thrust his face into hers with a snarl.

"How dare you try and take away what is mine? Did you honestly believe that your kamikaze little plan would afford you and the doctor the mercy of a swift death?" he growled, before breaking out into a low laugh, "Well my dear, you are original in your endeavours if nothing else..."

He smirked sadistically as he slipped his hand under the fabric of her top, almost seductively, before giving an effortless tug and ripping a fistful of C4 away from her chest, tossing it to the floor contemptuously.

Claudia's jaw dropped. She hadn't understood what was going on at first, partly because she was too scared, and partly because Wesker and Shak were out of earshot, but the sight of the explosives on the floor made it perfectly clear. "Shak, what the HELL are you playing at?!" she screamed from her corner, "When did you become a fucking Arab?!" She hung her head.

Shak is supposed to be plan B. If she doesn't want to live, then neither of us are going to get out alive.

Shak began to laugh manically.

That was the only thing that was currently going my way. We're fucked. Up the arse. With a stick.

It had been her last resort. And it had failed. Spectacularly, casually and brutally. It had failed.

"Fuck this. I've had enough. I've been out here for a week. I'm fucking shattered. I want to go home to my bed. Note, the bed of my hostel, cause I can't keep down a fucking house, because you're a shit. If you're going to keep breaking my toys, I'm not going to fucking play with you," Shakahnna looked almost as though she would cry. Her words were characteristically flippant, but the sentiment was genuine. She had reached the end of her tether. About three days ago. There was no tether left. The tether had been terminated. Wesker had, in fact, urinated on the tether.

And even if her thoughts were manifesting themselves in a manner which could be considered comedic, it did not change the fact that she was currently sitting on the floor and refusing to get up.

"My feet hurt," she continued, "My back hurts. This is pish. I feel like I've been chewing on razor blades, and you can suck my cock because that's it. I've had enough. Fuck you."

And so she refused to move.

Wesker reached out and hauled her to her feet with one hand, snatching at her in rage. But she kept her body obstinately limp, and he let her fall to the floor again.

"You still have one toy left that's not broken," he reminded her dangerously.

"Couldn't you just pay someone to kick you in the nuts?" she asked, a weary tone in her voice.

He grabbed her arm and began to drag her across the floor, but she still maintained her cross legged position stubbornly. But Wesker was equally stubborn, barbarically so, in fact, and he refused to pander to her.

He saw no need to play such infantile games.

"Doctor, be an obedient little mouse and come over here," he threw over his shoulder.

She took a deep breath and gulped, before getting to her feet reticently. It seemed like such a long walk across the auditorium. Wesker gripped her arm, and she tensed, wondering why he was doing that.

"I'm not going to run away," she blurted out, hoping that he would let go.

Wesker merely smirked. A shot of genuine, cold terror ran through her, and she suddenly realised that the best thing she could have done was run. But of course, there was no where to run to. And as he hauled Shak to her feet with his other hand, she could tell that something really terrible was coming. He orchestrated them as though they were no more than dolls, and he was the puppeteer. And while Claudia was trying, in blind panic, to pull away from him, Shak had realised what was happening, and was struggling with real violence.

"It seems your protector no longer wishes to assist you Doctor. In fact, it seems as though suddenly the tables have been turned…" Wesker's voice oozed calm superiority.

"What do you…?" Claudia began, but she trailed off as she realised that the point of Shakahnna's claws were level with her stomach. "No…" She shook her head and began to kick out frantically, first at him, but then at Shakahnna too, as white hot terror took hold, and bile began to rise in her throat.

Shakahnna tried to close her fist so that her claws were pointing backwards, but Wesker simply squeezed on her broken fingers, until she was forced to straighten out her hand. He began to slowly inch her blades towards the frightened girl; Wesker saw no need for haste. As the first tip of Shakahnna's blades broke through her flesh, it was oddly unarousing.

Claudia let out an anguished scream as she felt the sharp, cold metal bore slowly into her stomach, cutting through her flimsy blouse easily and gouging five bloody indentations into her torso. She tried to grit her teeth, tried to be brave for Shak, but she just couldn't, her fear making the pain ten times worse.

"Stop...oh please stop!" the ashen faced girl wept as she felt the warm trickles of blood flow over the bruised skin, her eyes squeezed tightly closed as she fought to breath, fought to recoil away from the grip she was locked in.

The air was torn apart with screams, and Claudia assumed they were hers, but the reality was that the younger of the two was in too much pain to scream, biting down on her lower lip so hard that a tiny smear of blood was flowing over her chin.

The screams were Shakahnna's.

"For her?" he spat, a momentary lapse of self control, "For that?" He shook Shakahnna's charge roughly as the demonic smile left his lips and was replaced by a hard look of pure outrage which he fought to smooth down. "In that case, my dear heart, we simply cannot forgo the company of the good doctor, as I had originally planned..." he turned his attention to the scientist who was now bleeding profusely, "Do you hear that, Miss Graham? It appears that your company would in fact be most agreeable to my sweet redhead. Are you not glad?"

With the claws imbedded halfway into Claudia's abdomen, he slowly dragged Shakahnna's hand in a vertical line, slicing through the thin skin as if it were paper.

The auburn haired girl threw back her head and wailed, her face ghostly white and her skin clammy with the effort of simply breathing through the burning frost that ripped through her torso. Her body was rigid, as though a lack of movement would make it be over quicker.

"STOP IT! SHAK PLEASE STOP!" the words came in strangled howls, "PLEASE SHAK I CAN'T TAKE ANY MORE!"

"Come now, Miss Taylor, can't you see you're hurting her...?" he chided, before tightening his grip on the redhead's arm, forcing it to twist at an angle so that Claudia's efforts to stay still and prevent further aggravation of her pain were entirely in vain.

"Aren't you enjoying this?" he whispered into the redhead's ear. Shakahnna's response rang out loud and clear as the sickening crack of her shoulder dislocated, as she made a last ditch attempt to pull herself free. She sank to one knee, her arm dangling uselessly in Wesker's grasp, as her claws slid out as slowly as they had entered. He let Claudia drop to the floor, and turned on his former lover.

"Tsk..tsk...tsk..." he fretted sardonically, "This will never do, will it my love? I know how much you value your ability to take care of yourself."

With a look of pure concern that was utterly and completely insincere, he trailed his hand over her shoulder and gripped the useless arm, giving it a tug, just cruelly enough to make her feel the full force of her injury without actually inflicting further damage.

"Tell me where it hurts, won't you dear?" he spat before bracing her other shoulder and popping the arm back into the socket. It clicked into place with a sickening crack, as bone squealed against bone in angry protest.

This was horrible. Of all the places she'd been, and all the things that had happened, this was the worst. And it made her so scared, she thought she might throw up. It was with the snap of bone that it became all too apparent, all too blindingly clear, that tonight would be her last stand. And she was all for going out in a blaze of glory, but that wasn't what this would be. And every time she thought of where this was going, she couldn't stop shaking. The police officer remembered how she'd felt after she'd escaped from Wesker's complex the first time, she'd spent hours in the corner, just hugging herself. And right now, it seemed like the most alluring option in the world. She couldn't think straight, her thoughts becoming garbled rubbish. And she couldn't even save Claudia. The only thing she'd set out to do. It was just asking too much.

Claudia lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. This was not an irregular occurrence, but her posture this time was not a result of clumsiness, but malice. There was a steadily growing pool of blood around her shaking form, and her hands were pressed tightly to her stomach, her shoulders trembling with the effort of stemming the flow. She tried to cough, wanted to vomit, but her torn muscles would not allow it, and a pale coloured liquid spilled from her lips instead. She tried to concentrate, on something, on how they would get out, and how she could make things right, but there was a roaring pain clamouring for attention. It was a similar sensation to being on a train, trying to read the station signs as they flashed past, but only being able to make out the beginning of the word, before they were out of reach again. The room might have been spinning, she wasn't sure. Her face had taken on a ghastly grey tinge as, partly from horror and partly from pain, she began to slip into shock, the dim light of the theatre fading to black.

Wesker took offence at this. From one of the many pockets of his utility belt he procured a small vial, filled with rotten coloured grains and dipped his fingers into it. Stooping on one knee, he grabbed one of Claudia's pigtails and yanked her head back, smearing the salts across the lower half of her face with such force that the now grazed skin oozed blood in places. They had such a strong, vile smell that her drooping eyelids snapped open at once, just in time to see a dim shape hurtling towards Wesker's golden head in the form of a chair as wielded by Shakahnna.

She had taken a flying leap at his head and smashed it down with all the force she could muster. It barely dazed him but it had attracted his attention. He looked over his shoulder, his eyes moving just slightly quicker than his head. She raised the chair again and swung it across his face, snapping it to one side. He simply turned around, kicked her square in the chest, and sent her flying across the room. There was a very audible thump, but Claudia did not see her smash against the wall for the second time that evening.

Shak tried to remember the last time she had been in this much pain, but for the life of her, she couldn't think of it. And while she was telling her body to move, it wasn't responding, and her headache was so loud it was drowning out her thoughts.

Wesker had been aware that, at some point this evening, things may have escalated to the point of violence against either woman, as such that the supplement he was about to provide would be necessary. And as usual, he was not mistaken. Gripping Claudia's jaw between his thumb and forefinger, he forced her mouth open. She put up a small struggle, but for the most part was too dazed to comprehend what was happening. Had he been mere mortal, he would still have been able to manipulate her jaw with ease. It was not his own abundance of strength, rather her lack thereof. In his hand were two pills.

"There, there, Miss Graham, this will help with the pain. I'm not entirely heartless."

Such was the state of affairs that tears of gratitude rolled down her cheeks, despite everything, and she swallowed them readily.

Everything was coming back into focus, and…if they were for the pain…why did Wesker look so utterly pleased with himself? And why wasn't the pain going away?

"What did you give me…?" she choked out through gritted teeth. Where was that blessed dizziness, the nausea that was about to black everything out?

(And if ever there was an appropriate sentence to be met with the word false)

"Surely all that valuable medical expertise we instilled in you was not in vain," he responded.

So essentially "Figure it out for your fucking self"? She thought bitterly, Great, there are a million and one things he could have given me. God, I hope it's not a virus.

And then it hit her. The searing pain was as bad as ever, but she was able to see straight, and although she was still trembling, there were no dark spots at the edge of her vision threatening to crowd in. And it was no testament to her own physical endurance.

"Something to stop me going into shock…from passing out…?!"

And Wesker's smirk answered the question for her.

"You couldn't even give me that?" she breathed, "You couldn't even let me pass out…"

"If you are going to resent anything, resent your own weakness," he replied coldly.

And at that moment, she did. In fact, she resented just about everything. Even Daniel, for putting her in this situation. At least his death had been quick. For her, lying bleeding and in agony on the cold floor, death seemed such a long way off. And when those claws had pierced her skin, somehow the hope of making it out alive had started to vanish. She was glad that she didn't believe in an afterlife. It was too much to think that maybe Daniel could see her now. She was more ashamed at the sight of her own blood than she was at having slept with Jonathon. And the times she'd spent with the younger Lancaster had been both the happiest, and most miserable of her life. Maybe that was how these things worked. There was no black and white. Nobody was really a hero or a villain.

Except Wesker.

He was pure, unadulterated evil, and he oozed it as much as he oozed his innate charm as he strode towards Shakahnna. She was coughing into her hand, her sputum stained pink, and pushing up on one arm to struggle vertical.

"Allow me to assist, Miss Taylor," he offered genially, extending his hand. She responded by biting his fingers, drawing blood and spitting it onto the floor defiantly. He put both hands around her waist and raised her gently to her feet.

She gave him a murderous glare.

"If you would be so generous as to accompany me," he said, motioning to the front row of seats.

"I'll be so generous as to tell you, you can kiss my arse," she shot back. "In fact, what's the point in you even asking?"

He looked casually over at Claudia and shook his head. "Miss Taylor, you disappoint me. I would hate to have you force my hand into doing something as barbaric as breaking your friend's neck."

"I stand by my initial statement of why did you bother asking," she said, as she began to walk. She hadn't noticed before, but the middle seat had been reupholstered. While the surrounding seats were dingy and had fallen into disuse, this one was immaculate. There was a small cream card with "Reserved" written on it, in perfect italics.

Shak let out a hysterical laugh. It was as manic as her previous displays of mirth, but the sentiment behind it was one of genuine fear. "You've completely lost it! The lights are on, but nobody's home. We are missing the crisps in our picnic. There is a deck of cards without any aces. What the hell is wrong with you? I used to mix my drinks with petrol and this is the weirdest fucking thing I've ever seen." Sitting down, she clasped the hair at the top of her head and tugged on it, gritting her teeth and sighing deeply.

"Tonight the good doctor will be acting as our stagehand," he said, brushing off her insults nonchalantly.

There was a loud sob from Claudia, as fresh tears began to roll down her face. "I can't move," she cried, "You can't gut someone then ask them to move…"

"I would not like to ask Shakahnna to have to encourage you once more," he said, letting his gaze trail from the bespectacled girl back to his former lover.

She squeezed her eyes closed. "I can't…" she choked out, but blind fear was making her claw her way to her feet, holding onto a nearby chair for support.

Shakahnna gritted her teeth and stared resolutely at the floor, as a shrill scream rang out from Claudia as she tried to make her way to the stage.

In reality, the wounds were around an inch deep. Having gone in at an angle, the pain was excruciating, but without the potential to be fatal. Such was Wesker's finesse with blades.

Despite the fact that it had taken Claudia nearly ten minutes to reach the stage, Wesker offered no assistance, and repeated the same promises every time Shak rose to help. Once she reached the steps at the side, she collapsed, coughing and weeping violently.

"Enough!" Shakahnna sprung to her feet and barked the word out hoarsely.

Wesker looked down at her coldly and began to walk towards Claudia, stopping midway to procure something from his bag. He was loathe to waste them, he reflected, as he threw a roll of bandages towards the younger girl. "You're bleeding on my stage," he observed menacingly.

Claudia began to gingerly wrap them around herself, wincing as she clumsily tried to stem the blood flow. He was about to interrupt her touching little performance, when he noticed that Shak had sat back down. He waited until she was finished before sneering at her. "Those were supposed to be to clean up the stage," he said slowly, as though it should have been obvious. "You may use your garments instead." He spoke as though Claudia would somehow be aghast at her mistake.

She looked at him dumbly for a few seconds, her brow creased in pain and puzzlement, and more than a healthy measure of disbelief, before she burst into tears again, and began to shakily mop up the puddle of blood with the fringes of her skirt.

He glanced upwards briefly in an expression of resigned patience, before sighing. "That is…" She held her breath, "…acceptable," he finished. With an expansive gesture, he motioned to the pulley system which operated the curtains and smiled. "On my signal."

Shak was sitting in her specially prepared seat, clenching her fists at the sight of the mess Claudia was in. While the spectrum of their injuries were vastly different, it looked all the much more horrific on Claudia than it would Shak, or in fact any other soldier. It was almost too disgusting for her to watch, and she'd been so caught up in this fact that she hadn't even stopped to wonder what it might be that Wesker had for her. He was making his way to centre stage at that very moment.

"I would hate for you to think," he began, and although his voice was not particularly loud, it resonated throughout the hall, "That during our time apart, I had been frivolous in my endeavours. And as such, I have prepared a little montage, a small token of my affection, if you will." He signalled to Claudia, and there was a small whimper, as the curtains began to creep back slowly, the stage enveloped in darkness. He snapped his fingers, and illumination flooded the boards.

And Shakahnna began to scream.

Hysterically, loudly, violently; over and over again as audible bursts of grief left her body.

It was her team. Every single member of her team.

And they were all dead.

But not just her team, there was an array of faces from her past. Former colleagues, what little friends she had had, the young newlywed couple who had lived next door, now disgustingly decayed. Maggots squirmed in lifeless eye sockets, stunned by the sudden light. Angela was there too, and Herrison. All the corpses were arranged like marionettes, strings tied to each limb, holding them upright and twisted into grotesque positions, like broken puppets. They had all been executed in a different fashion, but one thing was consistent. They all had their mouths stitched shut. And on those who had faces left, it was all too obvious that this had been to silence their screams. Some had their throats slit, some their wrists. Others had been disembowelled, a ghastly crimson smile where they had no mouth, and entrails spewing forth from its lips. Decapitation with heads sewn crudely back on, dismemberment in much the same fashion. People who had been strangled, drowned, despite the heat of the lamps their skin could not shake the blue tinge, and their eyes continued to bulge as though they would pop out at any moment.

Shak began to throw up from the force of her screams, choking out acrid vomit onto the floor. Even through the sickness, she continued to scream, in between each retch.

It wasn't until the splitting screams began that Claudia looked up. In her time at OCRC she had seen bodies which were ravaged by some of the worst diseases known to man, but this surpassed all of that. This was grotesque in its artistry, a classical vision of Hell, brought to reality by an all too skilled craftsman. Not least by the fact that there were three bodies she recognised. Pierce, who had died by her own hand, Angela, who she hadn't even realised was dead, and Herrison…Hunk. Her protector. She had to look away when she noticed Herrison's corpse, staring reproachfully at her with desperate, dead eyes. "Alex…" she whispered, inaudible beneath the screams of her friend.

But then suddenly, the noise stopped. The screams cut out as abruptly as they had began. Wesker was looking accusingly at Claudia, as though whatever had happened was somehow her fault, and she began to cry, and actually wish for Shakahnna to scream again, because she couldn't take any more punishment.

But Shakahnna was motionless. Her eyes were glassy and her lips slightly parted, as though a fuse had blown in her mind. Her gaze wandered absently over the bodies, over Claudia, and finally to the good-looking male in front of her.

"Who are all those people?" she asked, confused, "Who is that girl? Why is she bleeding?" She looked up at Wesker as though she fully expected him to explain.

Wesker narrowed his slitted eyes at Shakahnna's query, registering the blankness on her face. For a moment he was puzzled, wondering if this was some desperate game she had concocted to try and catch him off his guard.

The thought of Shakahnna's mental breakdown. of her retreating somehow to a place where he would be unable to cause her further misery, was more than an inconvenience.

It was an outrage.

"Your obtuseness is a most unwise course of action," he informed her, his tone calm through his seething undertones, "Let us see if we can't give you a little reminder of your current predicament?"

He shot forward, a blur of motion due to his growing impatience.

I won't have this...I'll make her feel something...