A/N: Hey, I know I've been gone a while... and The Supermen will be continued one day but it's on hiatus for a while. Instead I bring you a weird AU premise! Originally written for the r/fanfiction zine. And I'm already working on a second chapter!
Wesker crouched on the warehouse roof, watching the streets—lit only by the moon and stars, darksight goggles the only way to see through the soot-darkened air—for any sign of the Doskvol City Watch patrols. At the docks below him, Krauser loaded boxes of stolen military weapons onto their small sailing barge ( Phoenix , since Will had insisted Wesker name the boat).
Ada kept watch from another roof, crossbow readied, while Will and Alex surveyed the docks. Alex looked especially out of place at the grimy docks, even disguised in a bird-like mask-only Wesker and Krauser weren't wearing one-with a black cloak instead of her usual white suit.
Wesker watched Krauser with a frown. He needed to hurry. Doskvol's docks were heavily patrolled; there were mere minutes between one group of officers passing and the next. Killing them would draw attention towards the crew—better to avoid them whenever possible.
A few seconds later, the blue-uniformed Watch patrol appeared from around the corner of one of the narrow streets. Wesker leapt lightly down to the ground next to the others, signalling to Ada to join them.
"We need to leave now. The Watch will be here any second." Keeping his voice low.
Will glanced around nervously, scrambling aboard as soon as Krauser had loaded the last box onto the boat. The others followed. The wind was picking up, and the sails flapped as Ada and Krauser hoisted them.
Will crouched down to untie the boat, but his hands were shaking, eyes wide with panic under his mask. Wesker took it from him. He untied it as fast as he could—the patrol had just arrived at the docks. One Watch officer pointed to Phoenix, said something to the others—
The ropes finally slipped free. The wind caught Phoenix's sails, and Alex sped them down the canal. The Watch officers had no boat and were powerless to stop them. Now, all they had to do was transport their cargo across the city to Irving, and collect their payment.
The wind howled through the tunnels under the city, carrying Phoenix along the canal network. At least, most of the howls and screeches that surrounded them were probably the wind. The tunnels weren't quite as dangerous as some superstitious citizens of Doskvol believed, but of course there was always the chance of encountering a vengeful ghost.
So far, the journey was going smoothly, giving Wesker time to brush the worst of the soot off himself. (It said something about Doskvol's docks that the air was cleaner underground.) It was all rather pedestrian, until a sleek, dark blue-grey sailing boat silently slid out from around a corner of the canal.
"Albert—" Alex kept her voice low— "it's the Watch."
"Not more fucking Bluecoats," Krauser growled. "Since when do they patrol around here?"
Wesker turned towards the boat, as a familiar grey-haired man in light armour threw a grenade towards Phoenix. Wesker smirked. The last time he'd fought Nikolai Zinoviev, Wesker had been only human. The man would have no idea what had hit him.
Coat billowing behind him as he jumped higher than any human could, Wesker leapt forwards, effortlessly catching the grenade in mid-air. His aim was to grab onto the jagged roof of the underground canal, then throw the grenade onto the Watch boat. But as he caught the grenade, Nikolai drew a pistol and fired at him.
Wesker twisted in mid-air, narrowly avoided getting shot—missed the handhold he was aiming for—
And landed on the Watch boat, along with the grenade.
Several Watch officers surrounded him, hands on pistols. Wesker kept his expression as calm as possible, making sure not to betray any of what he was thinking. At least he'd managed to land on his feet and preserve some dignity.
He didn't have long to consider his options: the grenade would explode any second. Wesker drew his break-action pistol and shot the nearest Watch officer. Before he could reload, the others reached for their pistols—the small boat left him with nowhere to dodge-
The nearest Watch officer fell to the ground with an arrow in his stomach. A bolt from Ada's crossbow barely missed another, who rushed towards him-Krauser shot that one too, a bloodthirsty grin on his face as he readied yet another arrow.
While the Watch were distracted, Wesker leapt towards Phoenix— and the grenade exploded. His leather armour shielded him from the worst of the blast, but burning pain still shot through his face as heat flooded over him. He landed face-down on the deck with a crunch and a jolt of pain, ears ringing.
Someone was touching him. Who was it? Wesker could only see blurry afterimages. He tried to pull away. The pain made it hard to think, the world spinning around him…
Another hand on his shoulder. Wesker snarled, lashing out with a punch—
Will tried to dodge, but wasn't fast enough. The punch sent him sprawling backwards. Head aching, slightly dazed, he scrambled to his feet—as did Al.
Al was breathing heavily and harshly, his posture hunched, eyes blazing red and teeth bared. His face, as Will had feared, was badly burned, and blood was pouring from his broken nose, but that wasn't the worst of it. Black tendrils gathered around his clenched fists, growing out of his arms and twisting around him.
When he saw that , Will froze. Dizziness swept over him, heart pounding, breath too fast and shallow. He felt his legs might collapse under him if he tried to move.
Fuckfuckfuck this was bad. Al clearly didn't recognise him, either in too much pain or too concussed. They were trapped on a small boat with a wounded, potentially dangerous part-demon.
Why the fuck had they done this? Only a lunatic would steal from the Imperial Military, of course it would get a fucking army of Bluecoats after them. Will wasn't made for this—he was an alchemist, for fuck's sake, why did he keep getting involved in Al's cloak-and-dagger bullshit?
"William. Are you going to do anything useful, or were you just planning on staring at him?" Alex's voice cut through his panic.
"Well, do you have a plan, master strategist ?" He snapped, remembering how legs worked and backing away from Al.
"Is there anything you can do to treat his injuries?"
Will shook his head. "No vitality potion left." He'd run out a while ago and hadn't been able to make more—the ingredients were too rare and expensive. "And there's not much more I can do, not on a boat without the proper supplies. I'm not a physicker, that's Annette's job."
Al growled, lashed out towards Alex, a tentacle aimed at her throat—she dodged, backed away further.
Turning to Will. "So treating his injuries will have to wait. For now, can you drug him to stop him attacking?"
"Uh...I have trance powder? Not sure how well it will work on a—whatever Al is now—"
"Try it."
"All right—stand back!"
The others hastily backed away. Will shielded his face with his laboratory coat as he threw down the vial of trance powder. It shattered on the deck, sending a glittering blue cloud into the air. Al slumped forwards, Will running to catch him before he hit the ground.
The Watch boat was almost sunk. Most of the Bluecoats had disappeared into the dark water, but a few had managed to scramble onto land. Will was pretty sure he'd spotted Zinoviev among them. They'd be heading back to the nearest Watch station, returning with reinforcements. Shit. Killing this many Bluecoats was going to get them in serious trouble.
"Alex, please tell me you have a plan."
"Of course I have a plan. But first we need to get Albert somewhere safe—can you carry him into the cabin?"
Will couldn't have carried Al at the best of times. "Come on—Krauser, help me out here."
Together, they moved him into the tiny cabin in the bow of the boat. Krauser headed back onto the deck, while Will stayed watching Al as Phoenix sailed onwards. He didn't need to be there—Al had survived far worse—but he couldn't bring himself to look away, just in case something went wrong.
Alex steered Phoenix out of the underground canal and into the open air—more accurately, the pouring rain—of Nightmarket. She moored the boat to the narrow wooden jetty, and switched on the electroplasmic lamp attached to her belt.
The entire Watch would be after them now. They needed to get the cargo to Irving quickly and stealthily; they wouldn't have the chance to make more than one trip. With the aid of Krauser's inhuman strength, the crew were able to carry almost all the crates at once, but had to push the last one into the river. Better lose out on some coin than risk the Watch discovering any evidence.
The group headed towards Irving's run-down gun shop. But before they could reach it, the footsteps of a tall man in heavy boots approached close behind them.
The deep, accented voice was all too familiar. "You know, I'm almost impressed with you. I never thought I'd see a crew of smugglers prove a match for my officers. So I decided to deal with you personally."
Alex turned around to face the man who loomed over the group. He wore the long blue coat that gave the Watch their nickname. The glimmer of the electroplasmic lamp revealed wild grey hair and a scarred face. Sergei Vladimir, Commander of the Doskvol City Watch.
"Hand over the traitor Albert Wesker," he growled, "and I might just let the rest of you live—this once."
Alex couldn't say a word to him—he'd have recognised her voice instantly. Sergei still didn't suspect Alex Wesker was anything other than a loyal Imperial strategist, and she wanted to keep it that way. But before Alex could make any move, Ada stepped forwards.
Wesker opened his eyes slowly. His blurred vision spun and eventually swam into focus, revealing the boat's tiny cabin. Will knelt by his side, mask removed, pale, sweating and dishevelled, watching Wesker as if he might vanish if Will blinked.
Wesker's head, and every limb, ached, but the pain was less than before. The injuries must have started to heal, but he was still disoriented, barely awake. Evidently, he had been drugged; he didn't remember anything after landing on the deck—he turned to Will, gaze scanning over him—was Will injured? He didn't appear to be.
Will was still crouched tense on the floor next to him. Wesker glanced down at himself. He was probably a rather worrying sight—the tentacles had retreated under his skin, but through the holes in his burned, ragged clothes he could see veins raised and black, along with the burns and blood.
"Will"—struggling to speak with his nose still broken- "there's no need to look quite so terrified. I'm alive." A thought occurred to him. "Well, arguably I've been undead since the ritual, but you've had plenty of time to get used to that ."
Will stared at him, then a slow smile spread over his face and he broke into shaky laughter.
"You want to know where Albert Wesker is?" Ada's voice was calm, casual even. "I can tell you."
Alex watched her with narrowed eyes. What was she doing ? Alex had never entirely trusted the spy—for obvious reasons, she was a spy after all—enjoyable as she had, on occasion, found her company. Was she about to betray them all?
Alex had a pistol concealed in her sleeve. If Ada betrayed Albert to the Watch, it would be the last thing she did.
Wesker dragged himself to his feet—stumbled, nearly fell, caught himself—leaned against the wall until the world stopped spinning, then started to climb the ladder onto the deck.
Will stared after him. "Al, wait—you can't just—you're still injured, and the trance powder...how the fuck did you wake up from that so fast anyway? It's meant to last hours—" He shook his head. "I mean, I guess it's because you're a—whateverthefuck you are—where are you even going ?"
"I'm not about to leave Alex to face the Watch with only a thug and a notoriously untrustworthy spy to help her." He smirked. "She needs the crew's most brilliant members on her side. Otherwise, she'll either get killed, or somehow succeed without us and gloat over it interminably, and I'm not sure which is worse."
Will scrambled up the ladder after him, shivering as he stepped out into the rain. Wesker glanced at him. "We need to catch up with the rest of the group. Head through the side-streets and don't let anyone see you. I'll be taking a different route."
With that, Wesker climbed onto a nearby roof, threw a grappling hook up to a taller building, pulled himself up, and leapt onto the next roof from there. He paused to survey the area.
He soon spotted the rest of the crew, not far from the gun shop. Alex, silent and motionless with Krauser next to her awaiting orders, both carrying crates of cargo. And Sergei Vladimir, pistol drawn and trained on them.
Ada was talking to Sergei. Would she turn them in to the Watch? Wesker wouldn't put it past her. He climbed onto a lower roof to better hear the conversation. He'd positioned himself on Sergei's blind side; no-one gave any sign they'd spotted him concealed in the darkness.
"If you waste any more of my time, I'll shoot all three of you." Sergei's voice was full of barely-contained rage. "Just tell me where Albert Wesker is."
"Well, if you're sure…but I've already warned you, you might not like the answer." She was bluffing, stalling for time. Not a traitor, then-on this occasion.
" Where. Is. He. "
"He's been on the roof behind you throughout this conversation," Ada lied, nodding her head towards a roof behind Sergei—the opposite direction to the roof Wesker was actually on.
Sergei snarled, spun on his heel to survey the buildings. Wesker drew his pistol. His hands shook, vision starting to blur again, head pounding as he squinted through the cracked lenses of his darksight goggles, aiming at the back of Sergei's head.
He fired. Missed his mark slightly. The bullet hit Sergei in the right shoulder, and he dropped his pistol. Close enough. Wesker turned and raced towards the gun shop, leaping from roof to roof—almost falling at one point when another wave of dizziness hit him, barely catching himself in time.
The gunshot rang out through the street. Sergei stumbled, grabbing onto a nearby wall for balance. Where had the shot come from? Alex couldn't tell, but this was their chance. She turned and ran, indicating for Ada and Krauser to follow.
It wasn't long before rapid footsteps and ragged breathing behind her told her Sergei was pursuing them despite the bullet wound. The Commander of the Watch had a reputation for never backing down; there were rumours he wasn't entirely human, and it wouldn't have surprised Alex if they were true. The crew were carrying heavy crates, slowing them down. Sergei was gaining on them.
William stepped out of a narrow side-street. He'd clearly been waiting there for some time: he was soaked with rain, hair plastered to his head. Why hadn't he stayed with Albert?
"William?" She fought for breath to demand an explanation (running had never been her strong point). "What are you doing here? Is Albert still on the boat?"
"Later. Just—run, get out of the way, I can slow him down, but you need to be as far away as possible first." William drew a vial of powder from his bandolier—Alex recognised it instantly as Drown Powder. She nodded, then ran, Ada and Krauser still following.
Behind her came the sound of shattering glass. She quickened her pace. The wind would blow the powder around the street—William was endangering himself by throwing it at all, and Alex had no desire to risk it herself.
Sergei fell to the ground, choking, gasping for breath. The swirling wind blew some of the dust into Will's face—his mask shielded him from the worst of it, but he doubled over, coughing. He stumbled away from the dust, accelerating into a run as his lungs cleared. He joined the others at the gun shop just as Al leapt down to meet them-his landing heavy and pained.
Alex, leaning against the wall and breathing heavily, turned to stare at Al, then shook her head. "My brother is out of his mind. Running around on roofs and shooting people, while injured and drugged with trance powder."
Al grinned, twirled his pistol lightly in one hand. He ran the other hand across his rain-soaked hair, because of course Al would be thinking about his hair right now. "It's certainly been an interesting evening."
"Anyone else would be dead a hundred times over doing that shit," Will muttered.
"I'm glad to see everyone's suitably in awe of my abilities."
"All right, no need to be a smug prick about it." Will couldn't put any real bitterness into it—he was too relieved they were all alive.
Stepping closer to Al, Will could see he was still dazed, his movements slower and clumsier than usual. Will reached up to put a hand on his shoulder, with a concerned glance at him.
"Will. I'm fine."
Will lowered his hand, but stuck close by Al as they entered the gun shop.
A few hours later, the crew had returned to their lair in the caverns under Nightmarket. In his laboratory, Will scowled at his research notes. He was probably too tired to make any progress, but he needed to get something done.
In the other room, the steady thumping of Krauser at his punching bag made Will twitch. Alex and Annette were outside, sharing a packet of cigarettes and a small bottle of whisky—and complaining about Al "getting himself blown up again", as Annette put it. Ada had disappeared, probably to visit that Inspector she had a thing for.
Al had recovered from the trance powder and most of his injuries by the time they'd gotten back, thanks to the whole "inhuman demonic being" thing. Burns took longer, but Annette had cleaned and dressed them; they'd be healed in a few more hours as well. He'd taken his daily alchemical injection, and the two of them had stayed inside drinking coffee until the worst of the early morning smog lifted. After that, Al had disappeared to do who-knew-what.
Someone knocked on the laboratory door. Will sighed, leaving his research neglected again to open it. Al, wearing an unbearably smug expression and a new black leather coat.
"Don't tell me you spent our hard-earned coin on a fucking coat."
Al shrugged. "With what Irving paid us, I hardly think the price of a coat matters. I can't walk around in a half-burned, ragged coat like some common beggar." With a grin. "You have to admit I look good in it."
He did, distractingly good, but that wasn't the point. "Did you knock on my door just to show off the coat?"
"Of course not. We need to plan our next move."
The crew gathered around the main table—Ada had returned at some point without Will hearing—with Al at the head.
"The entire criminal underworld of Doskvol is talking about what we achieved tonight. A small crew, stealing from the Imperial Military..." Al smirked, steepled his fingers in front of him. "We're gaining quite the reputation."
Alex frowned. "Which is all well and good, except the Watch will no doubt be talking too-about how they'll hunt us all down." She raised an eyebrow. "You told me you had a plan for dealing with them. Care to inform us what it is?"
Al's smirk widened. "We're going to frame Sergei for involvement in the theft."