((Weskage.))
Wesker had continued to vigilantly track his opposition, taking special note of 90% of the team's low ammo count. He periodically fell back to ensure not being detected, remaining a room or two behind them at all times. As of yet, they had done all of the work for him. Now that was kind of them, wasn't it? Either way, his stony gaze fell across something unusual while traversing the place- three zombies clad in researcher's regalia, their corpses collapsed outside of an open broom closet. This warranted further investigation, without a doubt. He decided on making a final check of the team's progress before returning to check over this oddity.
That is, until he heard the stereotypical 'bing' sound of what was no doubt an elevator greeting him, and following that came what should've been too much gunfire and infected moans to fit into the span of five seconds. It managed to cram itself into that tiny window of time somehow. He allowed a minute to pass, and upon eavesdropping upon the captain's orders from around the corner, leaned slightly to his side and took a glance at the remains of the scene. There had been quite a fight. Two humans mauled, six zombies annihilated. The floor was literally covered in a thin layer of blood.
For some reason, it was right about then that the man began to contemplate sex. Hot, wild, uncontrollable sex. Passionate, but certainly rough. For the longest time, he hadn't had any. Now there was something awry. For his age, Albert knew that he looked damn good- must be all the operations like this keeping him in shape. He ruled out the possibility of his looks being the cause of the problem, although somewhere towards the back of his mind it surfaced. Capable, he certainly was capable, but it surprised even Wesker how little confidence he had. Not in just himself, in anything. He made a note to re-analyze his level of pessimism one of these days.
Something else then crossed his mind. Why hadn't he taken any time in, oh say, getting a damn date? Fear of rejection, perhaps? No, not just that... Some sort of fear of failure. That was the one thing he hated most, failure. Especially within himself. Falling short of a task so simple would be a blow from which it would take quite some time to recover. Nonetheless, no sex. Why not? Not even a one-night-stand sort of situation? There were plenty of girls attractive enough- and stupid enough, to settle for that sort of thing.
His mind halted right then and there, going over its wording. 'Settle for'... Had he contempt for those who were so shallow? Impossible. No way in hell he was just your average Joe, possessing that wretched craving for love that most of the human race shared. Still, things were always rather lonely for him since childhood, and he needed something to fill that emptiness-
At that point, he expunged the entire thought, disregarding it as an idle waste of his time. Albert Wesker needed nobody, end of story. "Yeah. Tell yourself that, see how far it gets you..." This muttered to himself quietly before he returned his focus to the task at hand.
It occurred to him that taking the elevator was about the riskiest and most idiotic thing he could possibly do. For all he knew they had posted guards at the elevator to guarantee a safe route out of the place, and as green as they were, they were easily capable of hearing the descending cables and reporting it immediately. There was no place to take cover in an elevator, and as much as he would love to pull off a few generic action flick stunts, Wesker knew that practicality was his key of surviving this place. He ruled the option of taking the elevator out completely.
This lead to backtracking, specifically over to that mysterious broom closet. Wading through three stagnant corpses and the semi-coagulated blood they had shed revealed, of course, a hidden door. A man-sized square consisting of compressed steel, with of course a large handle attached to the top seeing as the thing was on the floor. He had the feeling that normally this sort of emergency escape device would have been covered by janitor gear, but in their final desperation the three diseased men must've scrambled for an exit without bothering to cover it behind them.
It occurred to Wesker then that the vile stench of this entire compound was no longer bothering him. Must've been one of those things one gets used to with time, the mansion reeked of it fairly, but this place was teeming with the tainted air. Once again, he found himself praying that the virus was no longer airborne. Hm. Well, not even praying- hoping, really. Wesker was hardly what one would call a religious man, after a long hard look at the men he worked for and even himself, he more or less ruled out the possibility of there being a kind and noble god. If there was, Ozwell Spenser would have been dead long before he could unleash this hell upon the Earth.
Shoving all thoughts aside he pulled on the hatch, which yielded what he had expected. A vertical crawlspace of concrete construct, and a simple alloy ladder leading down the tiny space. With a sigh and a promise to himself to vacation somewhere quiet after this, he began to slide down the ladder.
The last thing that broke the surface of his thoughts before doing so was, once again, sex. And the mansion. That Valentine girl was a buxom example of womanhood, and even that runt Chambers was rather attractive. Great ass. Although the rest of her was a bit underdeveloped, there was just something alluring about her sheer naivety... No, no, no more thinking like that while on a mission. Especially not fantasies about those two harlots who just didn't know quite when to die.
He grinned as the light spilling into the closet vanished from view. Well, just one couldn't hurt...
Wesker had continued to vigilantly track his opposition, taking special note of 90% of the team's low ammo count. He periodically fell back to ensure not being detected, remaining a room or two behind them at all times. As of yet, they had done all of the work for him. Now that was kind of them, wasn't it? Either way, his stony gaze fell across something unusual while traversing the place- three zombies clad in researcher's regalia, their corpses collapsed outside of an open broom closet. This warranted further investigation, without a doubt. He decided on making a final check of the team's progress before returning to check over this oddity.
That is, until he heard the stereotypical 'bing' sound of what was no doubt an elevator greeting him, and following that came what should've been too much gunfire and infected moans to fit into the span of five seconds. It managed to cram itself into that tiny window of time somehow. He allowed a minute to pass, and upon eavesdropping upon the captain's orders from around the corner, leaned slightly to his side and took a glance at the remains of the scene. There had been quite a fight. Two humans mauled, six zombies annihilated. The floor was literally covered in a thin layer of blood.
For some reason, it was right about then that the man began to contemplate sex. Hot, wild, uncontrollable sex. Passionate, but certainly rough. For the longest time, he hadn't had any. Now there was something awry. For his age, Albert knew that he looked damn good- must be all the operations like this keeping him in shape. He ruled out the possibility of his looks being the cause of the problem, although somewhere towards the back of his mind it surfaced. Capable, he certainly was capable, but it surprised even Wesker how little confidence he had. Not in just himself, in anything. He made a note to re-analyze his level of pessimism one of these days.
Something else then crossed his mind. Why hadn't he taken any time in, oh say, getting a damn date? Fear of rejection, perhaps? No, not just that... Some sort of fear of failure. That was the one thing he hated most, failure. Especially within himself. Falling short of a task so simple would be a blow from which it would take quite some time to recover. Nonetheless, no sex. Why not? Not even a one-night-stand sort of situation? There were plenty of girls attractive enough- and stupid enough, to settle for that sort of thing.
His mind halted right then and there, going over its wording. 'Settle for'... Had he contempt for those who were so shallow? Impossible. No way in hell he was just your average Joe, possessing that wretched craving for love that most of the human race shared. Still, things were always rather lonely for him since childhood, and he needed something to fill that emptiness-
At that point, he expunged the entire thought, disregarding it as an idle waste of his time. Albert Wesker needed nobody, end of story. "Yeah. Tell yourself that, see how far it gets you..." This muttered to himself quietly before he returned his focus to the task at hand.
It occurred to him that taking the elevator was about the riskiest and most idiotic thing he could possibly do. For all he knew they had posted guards at the elevator to guarantee a safe route out of the place, and as green as they were, they were easily capable of hearing the descending cables and reporting it immediately. There was no place to take cover in an elevator, and as much as he would love to pull off a few generic action flick stunts, Wesker knew that practicality was his key of surviving this place. He ruled the option of taking the elevator out completely.
This lead to backtracking, specifically over to that mysterious broom closet. Wading through three stagnant corpses and the semi-coagulated blood they had shed revealed, of course, a hidden door. A man-sized square consisting of compressed steel, with of course a large handle attached to the top seeing as the thing was on the floor. He had the feeling that normally this sort of emergency escape device would have been covered by janitor gear, but in their final desperation the three diseased men must've scrambled for an exit without bothering to cover it behind them.
It occurred to Wesker then that the vile stench of this entire compound was no longer bothering him. Must've been one of those things one gets used to with time, the mansion reeked of it fairly, but this place was teeming with the tainted air. Once again, he found himself praying that the virus was no longer airborne. Hm. Well, not even praying- hoping, really. Wesker was hardly what one would call a religious man, after a long hard look at the men he worked for and even himself, he more or less ruled out the possibility of there being a kind and noble god. If there was, Ozwell Spenser would have been dead long before he could unleash this hell upon the Earth.
Shoving all thoughts aside he pulled on the hatch, which yielded what he had expected. A vertical crawlspace of concrete construct, and a simple alloy ladder leading down the tiny space. With a sigh and a promise to himself to vacation somewhere quiet after this, he began to slide down the ladder.
The last thing that broke the surface of his thoughts before doing so was, once again, sex. And the mansion. That Valentine girl was a buxom example of womanhood, and even that runt Chambers was rather attractive. Great ass. Although the rest of her was a bit underdeveloped, there was just something alluring about her sheer naivety... No, no, no more thinking like that while on a mission. Especially not fantasies about those two harlots who just didn't know quite when to die.
He grinned as the light spilling into the closet vanished from view. Well, just one couldn't hurt...
