~ Wilted ~

Surprises

October 1997, Umbrella Lab Side Room, 25 miles outside Raccoon City – Subterranean:

I stare at the ceiling, the horror of the past few days overwhelming, though I would never dare admit it out loud. I had come to believe I knew my keepers, understood the levels to which they would sink to, and yet, they manage to surprise me.

Fire. Why had I thought I would be exempt from it? They'd tried so many other ways to destroy me. I'd been shot, stabbed, poisoned, my vital organs removed. I'd been drowned, suffocated, bled dry.

But I had never been burned...

Lying in my cot, I curl my knees up to my chest and shudder. I can still feel the heat from the flames, still smell the nauseating odour of my own skin crisping. It was agony, but I did not die, no matter how much I begged for it. When they finally pulled me out, a monster returned to my room. I'd caught a glimpse of it's ghastly image reflected in the glass. It had screamed, and I realised that the monster was me.

That was days ago, and true to character I have already been reborn from the ashes, my skin once again pale and unblemished. The only physical reminder of what happened is my hair. My locks fall in loose curls to my jaw, but they are not the long dark tendrils I am accustomed too. Though the 'Coats' assure me they too will return.

I scoff loudly. As if I am vain enough to care about such things.

The intercom crackles above me, interrupting my painful reminiscing. I do not look up to see who is here to talk to me. I am passed caring.

"Rose?" Starchy's voice echoes across the room. "Rose, I have some news that might interest you. Could you sit up, please?"

I ignore her request, but my ears prick up at the mention of news. It usually means something different is going to be happening, and that is always a relief to the monotony.

Though, it does carry a slight gambling element.

Starchy clears her throat. "Very well. You rest, I'll talk." She takes a breath. "We have been advised, that a transfer request from here to Arklay has been approved. You will be moving to your new setting at 0600hrs tomorrow."

Despite my previous conviction, I sit up, staring at her with an incredulous frown. "You're moving me? But I've barely even been here a year."

"Dr. Spencer has approved it." She says, as if that settles things, and yet there is an element of disapproval beneath it all. "You will be transferred to Arklay tomorrow, and remain there under the care of Dr. Birkin and Dr. Wesker, until informed otherwise."

I can feel my eyebrows knitting together in deeper confusion. "But… why? All they do is collect samples."

Starchy shrugs. "I can only assume that they are at a point in their research where it has become necessary to have you on site."

"And Grandfather has approved this?" I question, unable to keep the surprise out of my voice. He is the master puppeteer, after all. He usually doesn't respond well to puppets tugging their own strings.

After a pause, she nods. "He has."

I subtly shake my head, my own mind whirring, and I am struck by a thought. "Who was it that requested this?"

She looks at me, puzzled. "The Arklay lab, Rose, I've already told you."

"Yes." I agree impatiently. "But specifically, who was it at the lab? Was it Dr. Birkin or Dr. Wesker?"

She frowns at me like I have suddenly grown two heads. "Does it matter, Rose?" Despite her irritation, she quickly glances through the forms on her clipboard at my behest. "Dr. Wesker. Happy?"

I nod slowly, thinking. "Ecstatic." I mumble, and I can feel the dark grimace that is already twisting my features.

My previous interaction with Wesker had not been a pleasant one. On some level the memory troubles me more than being being burned alive by Starchy and her friends, and all it had involved was a simple touch.

You are genetic perfection… what a waste it would be to ruin such pretty packaging.

Wesker's words come back to haunt me, and I shiver, remembering the way his fingers had purposefully travelled my skin. No one had ever touched me, not like that, and without thinking, I place my hand over my arm. If I thought about it, I could still feel the slow path his fingers had traced.

I swallow hard, turning my torn gaze back to Starchy. "So… what do they have at Arklay?"

The grim expression on her face tells me all I need to know.

R&R!

I know, this was a bit of a bridging chapter. I'm excited to get to Arklay! I hope you're enjoying the story. Is there any interactions you're hoping for? Let me know. Thank you for the favourite-ing! X X