Disclaimer: it's never really going to change, unless, of course, I somehow gain complete control over capcom; and I think the chances of that are pretty slim to none.
AN: Shadow Megaman: I explained in the story about Steve.
Shakahnna: You appear to be reading my mind.
Thank you for reviewing.
The feel of the air became thick with anxiety, and unbearably loud with silence pounding on their ears. The one sound to give release was the inhuman dragging; and even then it was an icy release, complimented only by dread. Crouching down, Wesker strained his ears, dropping his free hand to the grate below him to feel the minor rumble and vibrations. But, instead, his hand fell into a small pool of a sticky, cold substance. Licking his lips, Wesker looked up at McGuire coolly.
"Turn off your flashlight," he hissed, catching the look of horror that passed over the kid's face, before he curtly shut his off.
Not wishing to give the beast any more clues, the lights had to go off, especially in the reflective hallway. When McGuire's flashlight didn't switch off, Wesker quickly snatched it from his hands, fighting the urge to crush it in his bare hands out of anger. He didn't have time to babysit the fledgling, especially if he couldn't take orders. Setting the flashlight down beside his own, Wesker once more returned his attention to the small pool beneath him. Drawing his fingers to his nose, he sniffed quietly. Coagulated blood; human. Yet it was cold, and therefore old. Brushing his fingers over his black pants, he stood up. Apparently, something more than hunters haunted this base.
Clipping the two flashlights onto his belt, Wesker dug his hand into McGuire's shoulder; what existed of his dirty, cut down fingernails pinching the skin beneath. Yanking him forward, Wesker stalked down the corridor with a feline grace, practically dragging the unwilling McGuire with him. It surprised him, at first, that the kid had opened his trap yet, but then, perhaps he was mute with fear. You went into the wrong field, kid.
Even if he did, it only would have been the end of him. The hunter would be assured of their existence and would increase speed; and McGuire would pay for it with blood, as the former S.T.A.R.S. leader would have threw him to the creature's mercy to distract it. Blood-one of the strongest currencies the world ever knew. Stopping every few moments to listen and approximate where the hunter was, Wesker warily moved forward. It was a long hallway; it was possible they'd reach the door before they'd reached the hunter. But suddenly, it appeared that the beast caught the smell of them, for it picked up speed. Pressing his back against the wall before the corner, Wesker briefly steadied McGuire before holding up his handgun, fingering it tightly.
This was the moment; he could use McGuire, and be rid of him. The kid was a nuisance, anyway. But then, perhaps he would prove useful later as a distraction or extra strength to add to a task. Strength? I'm no longer human; I can handle anything put before me. Clasping McGuire's upper arm, Wesker looked at him one last time. Dimly, in the dark, he could see an outline, but not his eyes, surely haunted and terrified.
"It's not personal, McGuire," Wesker hissed in a mocking voice, the young man's body stiffening with each word as his senses came back to him. "Just business. You were dead the moment you walked into Umbrella's world."
And with that, Wesker threw the kid beyond the corner, watching him crash into the wall opposite with the sound of bones cracking and grinding. Coughing, McGuire moaned in the dark, but not for long. The hunter rushed up him and started to slash at him, tearing his face and neck open. There wasn't much time for screaming; not that it mattered. Wesker rounded the corner sharply and disappeared down the corridor through a pair of double doors. Quickly closing the doors, Albert locked them calmly, smirking almost as the creature banged against the doors in a vain attempt to enter. Turning around, he took in the room: a grand hall lined with knights standing eerily in the dark. But a few yards away from him, there was a lone chair, drawing an air of mystery about it. Ignoring it, Wesker walked forward and down the hall, not enjoying the look or feel of it.
But as he drew near the end, he noted a decimated metal gate, torn as if by a giant axe, or chainsaw, right through the center. The bars were bent back, and beyond it, there was a large hole in the wall, just begging to be observed, strange as it was. Claire, so this is where you almost lost it all… Wesker climbed through the bars, remembering this place from the video tapes he salvaged throughout the base. But it wasn't important now. Walking to the lone door in the compartment, Wesker pressed his ear against it, listening for any noise. A muffled moan; Well, there's the evidence behind the blood. Grasping the doorknob, he slowly turned it. Not locked, unsurprisingly. Quickly opening the door, Wesker stalked into the hallway, gun ready to shoot at anything remotely nearby. There, in the cell opposite of him, was a pathetic virus carrier, or "zombie", gnawing and banging on the bars.
It wasn't worth the ammo, but for a moment of entertainment, Wesker shot the creature once in the head, sending it to a fatal crash on the floor. It fidgeted for a moment before growing still. Satisfied, Wesker smiled slightly and turned away to explore the place further. But a room away, there was the final resting place of Alexia Ashford; the last place she was seen. And there, his hopes would be secured or destroyed.