"Never thought I'd end up working for a zombie crime boss when I became a mercenary."
Wesker sighed. "I am not a zombie."
"But you are dead?"
"Yes." Well, he'd died. The virus had fully reanimated him: he still breathed, still had a heartbeat. But saying he'd been dead for a few minutes didn't sound quite as dramatic.
"And it didn't shut you up. You are... The Living Dead." Nikolai grinned as if that proved something.
"I'm undead, yes. I'm not a zombie. Zombies are slow, brain damaged, subhuman creatures. Not scientists. Or experts in martial arts. And I'm certainly better-looking."
"Zombies in that new movie are fast. Red eyes, too."
"Technically the film only calls them infected." Wesker had watched it out of curiosity, and had of course noticed many inaccuracies. "And since I'm not a fictional character, I think we should limit this discussion to real zombies."
"What are you, then? You're not a vampire, you don't drink blood. Though I wouldn't be surprised if you burst into flames in sunlight."
"Do we need a word? It's not as if there are others."
Nikolai laughed. "Last thing we need is more of you."
Wesker shot him a glare.