~ Wilted ~

Welcome to Wonderland

October 1997, Arkly Lab, Arkly Mountains, Outskirts of Raccoon City

The journey to Arklay is more eventful than my previous transfers. Usually I am sedated, and I wake up in a room relatively similar to one I have recently vacated. This time the drug I am given is merely a relaxant, some psychotropic that's purpose is to keep me pliant. I admit that it seems a waste. Yes I have proven my unbreakable durability, but I am no super soldier. Combat training has always been defined as an unnecessary risk, and I am no stronger than some well trained athletes. I would be no issue to the soldiers that surround me; members of Umbrella's private military, should I decide to cause a scene.

I laugh inwardly at the ridiculousness of it, but whatever makes them feel better, I guess.

The Arklay Lab is situated in the belly of the mountains, just outside Raccoon City I'm told, and it doesn't shock me when I feel the cold wind bite tauntingly at my skin. We are nearing the end of October after all, and these are high altitudes. What does surprise me however, is the ornate mansion I am being lead into. Even in my drug addled state, I make a mental note of how this doesn't quite tally with my expectations.

One of the soldiers is holding my arm, while another speaks into his walkie.

"The package has landed at the rendez-vous. Waiting to be received. Over."

A familiar voice crackles over his mic, and I try in vain to focus, but I don't understand what is said.

Luckily for them, the soldier does. "Yes, sir. Over."

We wait, and I am unaware of the minutes that pass, when the doors in front of us slowly open, and I am lead into a well embellished entrance hall. My head tilts up, following the room from floor to ceiling in awe. The drugs make the rich mahogany's and fine décor glow temptingly before me, and I grin stupidly. I must have said something, because one of the soldiers passes comment.

"At least someone's having a good time." He jokes. "This place gives me the fucking creeps."

The rest of them snigger, and I join in, though I don't really understand the quip.

"Everything gives you the creeps, Sanchez." One of them says. "I'd feel the same too if I had to wake up to that ugly face."

More laughter, and I giggle, suddenly transfixed by my fingers.

"Captain Wesker, Sir!" A voice calls out from our little troupe, and I feel myself frowning.

Wesker isn't a captain, he's a doctor. Yes, of course he is. I try to focus, try to see him through the fog, but the light distracts me again, and I resign myself to listening.

"I trust there were no issues?" A familiar voice drawls.

Someone in sunglasses is taking my arm, and I drunkenly deduce this must be Wesker.

"No issues, Sir." The soldier holding me replies, releasing me to my new keeper. "She's pretty out of it. They gave her something before we picked her up for transfer."

"Good. Then we should have a quiet night."

I feel like I should argue, but I cannot find it in me to care, and I feel myself being pushed into a chair. A handful of white coats surround me, and I realise the chair has wheels.

"Wesker." One of them says. "Clemens is looking for you. He's not happy you didn't consult him before bringing the girl here."

"And as I said to you, and your astounding colleagues, Sife, the research around the girl is need-to-know. If Clemens has a problem, then as Chief of Research, he is more than welcome to take it up with Dr. Spencer."

This appears to put an end to things, and the conversation falls flat. I feel air on my face, and after a few minutes, I feel myself begin to descend, and I realise we are in an elevator.

"Where are we going?" I mumble, feeling some agitation at being jostled about. Perhaps the drugs were wearing off?

"We're taking you to your new abode, dear heart." Wesker says softly. "Do try to be a good girl, won't you."

I glare blindly at the patronising snub, and try to stand, only to have a rough hand force me back down again. I shove it off, realising after that it isn't Wesker. It's a pale, skeletal man, that quite frankly gives me the creeps, and to save myself the trials of his attention, I resign to being pushed.

The doors ping open, and we move out into a white corridor. I can hear the familiar bleeps, and murmurings, sounds that tell me we are in a lab, but it isn't one I am used to. Even the laboratory in Europe was more elite than this. Arklay wouldn't have seemed out of place in a Shelley novel, with it's dark corners, flaking paintwork, and iron doors. Wesker must have noticed my expression, because he coolly moves to explain.

"Arklay was the first lab Spencer built for his more… ambitious research. The work done here overshadows, or is at least the catalyst for all over projects. But I'll admit, it isn't the easiest on the eye."

I nod, though I can feel myself getting more and more tired, after effects of the drug Starchy gave me no doubt, when suddenly I hear a guttural cry come from one of the nearby rooms.

I start. "What was that?"

"Nothing that concerns you." Wesker replies, but stops to take the chair from the creepy man that is pushing me. "Sife, go and check they're alright in there. The last thing we need is another incident."

"Indeed." Sife replies ominously, and it is then that I realise Wesker and I are the only ones left out of the coats.

"You've lost your friends." I say, thought part of me is still preoccupied with the horrific sound I have just heard.

A dismissive grunt. "They're my colleagues, not my friends."

I nod. "Where's Birkin?"

"Birkin spends the majority of his time at another facility."

"Doing what?"

Wesker says nothing when I press, steering me instead through a dark secluded corridor to the back of the lab. He reaches a door, and scans his card, pushing me inside with a lazy sigh. Clearly he thinks play Porter is beneath him.

"This will be your quarters, Miss Spencer. I hope you find them… comfortable." The amusement is clear in his voice, even if it is a drawl.

I look around, and steadying myself, I slowly get up from the chair. The room is dingy at best. There are no observation windows, so the only light provided is from the dull overhead bulb which flickers. The tiles look grubby, as if they were once coated in something that refused to be completely removed, and there is a distinct smell of iron in the air.

My stomach churns.

"What's that for?" I say in quiet alarm, noticing an iron shackle chained to the end of a small metal cot.

Wesker chuckles. "There's no need to sound so concerned." He replies knowingly, leaning beside the door. "That was a necessary evil for the room's previous occupant. For their own safety, of course." He adds, noting the incredulous look on my face.

I scoff darkly.

"Of course." I repeat, the sarcasm in my voice more than obvious. Something large slams against the wall in the room next to mine, and to my shame I just about stifle a scream.

"Relax, Miss Spencer. That is reinforced concrete. Nothing can get through."

I look at him as though he is mad, he probably is, and then I look at the wall and listen. Nothing. My gaze spins back to Wesker. "What's in there?" And then I remember the conversation I had with him and Birkin the very first day I met them, and my heart sinks. "One of your monsters?"

"All in good time, my dear." He says cryptically, and it quickly becomes apparent he is leaving. He hesitates by the door. "Though, I am surprised you're so jumpy. You're basically immortal, Rose, what can you possibly have to fear?"

I feel my lips pull back in anger. "It still hurts."

He nods slowly, understanding. "So, you fear pain? Interesting. We can work on that."

I'm certain that I don't like the sound of anything he's saying, but I say nothing, barely trusting myself to speak, should a cry manage to find it's way out.

I refuse to appear weak.

Wesker gives me a casual wave as he turns, unconcerned by the squalor he is leaving me in. "Try and get a good night's rest, Miss Spencer." He says. "You have a long week ahead of you."

The door shuts, and I am left with nothing but four iron encrusted walls, and a terrifying neighbour for company.

R&R!

I think you guys are liking this fic… maybe? If you can let me know before I post again? Or any pointers if not. It really helps, when trying to write something you hope people will like.

At Arkly now. So things should pick up.

Take care chickens x x