((I'd like to start this chapter by saying that I was thinking about zombie
knife fights one day...This is relevant, I swear. You'll see.))

Sliding down the seemingly-endless ladder with thoughts of Jill and Rebecca in his mind, S.T.A.R.S. brats they may be but they were still quite to his liking physically, Albert Wesker received a rather rude awakening from his daydream. Namely, the ground. He landed rather quietly, soles of his boots gently pressing to the composite tile floors of what must've been a lab room, his half-gloved hands gently uncurling their fingers from around the two poles that formed the ladder's sides. He turned around, finding himself to be in a room that was surprisingly well-lit, perhaps even a bit bright...And that was with his shades on. He figured that normally, the place must be blinding.

A quick scan of the area revealed that it was medium-sized, enough to comfortably fit four or five researchers and allow a decent workspace for each. Rather roomy in fact, as all the various medical shelves and such were pressed to the wall, with a few tables scattered about the area. For a post-infection laboratory, the place looked grand. That is, until his eyes fell across the reason that no human or monster would dare touch the place. Directly in front of him, perhaps a good thirty feet away, was a chamber built into the wall. A containment chamber, in fact. The front of a long vertical tube of alloy construct, with a small porthole for viewing the creature within at about head level. The window was far too murky to get a decent view. Knowing full well about the evil beings Umbrella kept inside of these containers, he figured it would be best to leave this room immediately.

However, something caught his eye before he could even make a single step towards the door to his far left. The small light built into the containment chamber was red. And he knew what that meant. If it was green, it meant that all systems were in check and the electronic locks and other measures of quarantine were in working order. If it was yellow, then there was a flaw or error. If it was red...

And then the pounding began. Sounding from the internal area of the chamber was a banging of what sounded like fists, making a steady metallic -thud- against the weakened containment door. He raised his pistol, taking up his typical two-hand grip, right hand taking trigger duty while left steadied his aim to a deadeye shot. He aligned the pressed aluminum sight of his weapon with the chamber's porthole, and fired off a clean shot. The noise was terrible, a cracking of powder and metal against metal in perfect unison with the round that tore out of the weapon's barrel. It spiraled through the air at 1,100 feet per second, and punched a neat hole into the small viewing window. The pounding immediately ceased, and a combination of sickly orange nutritional fluid and brownish blood spilled out. It kept pouring for quite a while, leading Wesker to believe that the tank was full of it.

Then he heard it- whirling around to his left side towards where the slight -kink- sound came from, he discovered that the shell casing from ejected from his gun had only just hit the ground. Unusual...It seemed like a lot more time passed than just a second. Either way, he holstered the pistol idly, and began walking towards the tank. Paydirt. On a table next to it was the 'plans' of the creature within, so to speak. He flipped through the file idly, looking for pictures. What he found was a divine example of Umbrella craftsmanship.

Six feet and four inches of fury, this thing looked like your average zombie. It was, however, something far from it. Blessed with an especially sleek, lightweight frame, the gray-skinned terror was made for assassinations. It was intelligent. A lesser Tyrant. He scanned through the various features of the thing, reading aloud to himself in a mumble. "Codename: Achilles...Brain located in heel? Now that's unusual, must be made to confuse enemies. Hm. Clever. Possesses incredible regenerative-" He cut himself off right then and there, bolting backwards and resuming his former stance. He drew his knife instead, however.

As he had suspected, the thing immediately burst forth from its chamber, the thick steel door sent flying atleast five feet as the orange fluid flooded the room. A lean creature stepped out, and only then did Wesker get a good look at what it truly was. Mottled gray skin, wiry build, wrapped in treated gauze from neck to toe like a mummy. Must have some sort of skin condition that has yet to be fixed by the R&D team. It grinned, revealing a mouth full of small, pointed, and shockingly white teeth that fit together like a puzzle. Its long, apelike arms ended in fully articulate hands, each possessing...Weapons. Six-inch knives, triangular ones, ending in three points per blade. It used the same knife-fighting style he did, with the handle towards the thumb as to increase slashing power. The soaking monstrosity stepped out, and opened its eyes. The diseased orbs, of a pure yellow shade without iris or pupil, bathed the entire room in a gleefully malicious glare.

Wesker waited. Let the infectite make the first move, we already know bullets are relatively ineffective. He took note that where there should've been a bullet wound in the thing's head, there was only slight discoloration. Had to try and slash its brain- rather, its heel. But which one? Have to find out. Time to test those hand-to-hand skills at long last, it had been quite some time since last he used them...

Achilles screeched with grim anticipation, and vaulted towards Wesker. Mighty inhuman leg muscles sealed the distance between the two in no time at all, and as the beast descended it swung its arms towards each other, a neat cross-slash in a beautiful 'X' about to carve itself into Wesker's throat. Three feet from impact, two, one...Wesker however, found the creature to be oddly slow-moving, truly wondering to himself how it could even manage to travel through the air at such a pace. Wasn't that physically impossible? Either way, he read the movements that his foe's arms made- an X slash, eh? Act accordingly. He deftly hurled his blade- baring right hand towards one of the creatures knives, parrying before it even managed to gain much momentum. Halted about an inch from Wesker's neck, something of a close call. His left hand shot out palm-first towards the creature's wrist, which resulted in the second lethal blade being stopped in its tracks.

Bladelock. Or atleast it was, until Achilles, still in midair, brought its legs up towards itself and swiftly kicked off of Wesker's chest. From there the amazingly acrobatic infectite flew into a graceful backflip, landing on its gauze-clad feet and sliding back in the slightest. Perhaps five feet was between the two. Wesker found no choice but to stumble back from the force of that blow, although he was in no pain. Balance was quickly regained, a good thing since the beast was already lunging forth through the air at him again. And, again, it was so slow about it. Odd. The thing had apparently jumped into a spin, as its frame was curled up save the arms, which happened to be going into a spin with enough velocity to make two nasty gashes right through Wesker's armor. Can't allow that.

Of course, the two arms were some distance apart, which was just what the man needed to counter and save his own life. He simply dashed forth to greet the assault, his right arm darting out to preemptively parry the first of the triangular blades with his name on them. Still, this did not halt the Achilles' incredibly spin, which had gathered far more momentum to it than Wesker would've thought. As his steady parrying arm began to lose its steadiness, he decided other action was necessary. The split-second decision was reacted to with a split-second action, Wesker ducked down and went into a spin of his own.

The Achilles' blades passed right over the ducking man as Albert's own knife slid away in a shower of sparks, the monstrosity knowing something was wrong when its twin cutters sliced neatly through air and nothing more. Wesker meanwhile, having whirled 180 degrees, fired out his right leg heel- first like a cannon. His right heel shot through the air, landing squarely on Achilles' chest area, the end result being a concentration of kinetic energy that sent the bladed beast sprawling. If ever there was a time for Wesker to finish it off, this was it.

Achilles found itself crashing over one table, through another, and finally coming to a halt at its final destination, the nearest wall. At the very least it managed to come to a halt with its back to the flat surface, and, with inhuman spite for its first ever opponent, it leapt to its feet for some more punishment. That is, until it re-gathered its bearings and noticed something near its feet. Looking down to analyze the threat, it found the object to be a small, silverish rectangular sort of thing. Then there was light, and a horribly powerful bang. Blinding, horrible light and a burst of sheer cacophony. All it could see it white, all it could hear was a screeching buzz.

And then it heard and felt no more. Wesker, meanwhile, had made a mad dash for the thing, slid along the ground towards it, and gutted both heels in what must've been less than a second. Brain stem was reduced to a mulch, the creature dead instantly, Wesker's slice so clean that it remained standing on its own balance. "Suppose those flashbangs are useful after all." He muttered, not even breathing irregularly. Typically he would be, another mystery which he added onto the growing pile- the most prominent being how everything moved so incredibly slowly today.

He wiped off his blade on the former enemy's gauze wrappings, and sheathed it stylishly. Time to find his damn objective and get the hell out of here already, things were getting too strange- but mainly he just wanted to have a few words with his client...In person.