So! Wow. Chapter 3! Goodness gracious, this one has been a long time coming.
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Ahem.
Anyways! I received a lovely note in my inbox this last May that spurred me to continue writing this fanfic. This is a lot shorter than the first two chapters, but I promise it will only get longer from here. I, unfortunately, do need to get back into the groove and don't want to write any good stuff without getting into the Wesker mindset! And that, as we all know, is a very terrifying mindset indeed. So! Without further ado. Thank you all for reading and enjoy!
He'd always known.
.
For the pathetic waste of breath that she was...
.
There truly was something unique about Jill Valentine.
Albert Wesker had made little progress as his footfalls crushed through twig and mulch alike. The wind howled through the treeline, begging him not to waste his opportunity to disappear without a trace. It pressed against the tears in his shirt and chilled the sweat and rain dripping down his collar bone. And yet, with every passing second, the muscles and tendons that were once so frayed had almost completely healed.
.
Even he was impressed at his body's regenerative skill. Fighting his prized subordinates, then taking the plunge off the cliff were no small feats. And even then, he'd had to fight off the venomous advances of a pathetic excuse for a research specimen.
.
It would almost have been laughable had that very same creature not stolen away something of his. Wesker paused, turning those ruby orbs across the clearing between the trees. He was nearing the edge of the wood. Closer than ever to Spencer Castle. Was the beast taking its prey back to some nest it'd created within the confines of the structure?
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The heavens above let loose another wail, hurtling raindrops the size of marbles across his frame. And as the blond breathed in the crisp night air, he barely made it out. A singular groan off in the distance.
.
His body froze.
.
He listened.
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Again. That singular moan. And a scent buried beneath the rain's bitter protest. Knuckles popping, fury stirring in his chest, he shot forward. Two steps later and Wesker had closed the remainder of the forest, stopping just behind the last remaining trees. It was there that he saw it. The harsh, heavy lights of numerous military units pouring down the long, narrow pass that led to the castle.
.
Reinforcements.
.
Had he truly been out after the plunge for so long?
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The man spun on his heel and lifted his head to the storm around him. The scent was so close now. He could almost taste rotting flesh on his palate. His head twisted and his eyes scanned the earth. There. A singular boulder jutting out from the ground. Wesker advanced, knuckles tightening under torn gloves.
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The bile rose in his throat. Half discarded remains from other mutant experiments and decayed wildlife scoured the grounds around the rock. And at its base was a hole. Wesker trained his gaze. Two beady orbs peered back at him, sizing up for an attack.
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The audacity.
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In less than it took to take in a breath, Wesker had his fingers gripped into the creature's eye sockets. Its screams were muted when the blond's free hand reached for its jaw, tongue in tow, and ripped it downwards. onto the corpses of previous victims. The mutant man thrashed and moaned, digging its heels into dirt and bone piles. Blood spilled down its writhing front until, finally, it let loose one mighty thrash, careening its head into the boulder above, and dropped to the forest floor.
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Wesker kicked its limp body out of the way and knelt into the harsh soil. He trained his gaze into the darkness that was the shallow cave, reached in, and yanked.
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Valentine's blood soaked frame pooled into his arms, her head lopping against the dead man's wretched stitches. The blond's gaze trailed from her neckline to her chest, navel and hips, then legs and feet.
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Not a bite. The failed experiment hadn't taken a chunk out of her yet. Satisfied, he pulled her weight against his taut frame and stood. In the distance he could make out the faint lights of the BSAA. It wouldn't be long before they began their search along the rocks. A futile effort. Wesker smiled and set his sights on his prize.
.
No. He may not have finished Chris off, but Wesker could envision Redfield dashing along the rocks at low tide where two bodies should have been. He'd never find his fated enemy. He'd never truly know if the man behind the Umbrella Corporation had been vanquished.
.
But, in truth? That was nothing. A blip of agony next to the sweet layers of guilt, and despair Chris would freely embrace when he'd find shattered glass along the shore. Shattered glass, but no lifeless blue eyes to close. No broken body to take back home for a proper burial. He'd never have his other half in the line of duty back.
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Wesker rubbed a trail of blood off the brunette's pale cheek.
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No. He'd never have his Valentine.
And there we have it, folks!
The end to Chapter 3!
Again, I do apologize for how long some of you have waited for me to make updates and for how brief this chapter was, but I felt that I should begin with a fresh start and end this scene a little abruptly. Hopefully it wasn't too abrupt for everyone's tastes, but I do plan on getting some good work into the next chapter! My magical inbox friend filled me with determination enough to whip this out in an hour and I was like "now or never!" and hit submit! Well, I did look over it once... ;
Anyhow! I do hope to continue with this piece and will be making weekly updates. I don't know on what day, but you'll know when I do because I'll be uploading these right away! Maybe if I work hard I can even make a bumper! Wouldn't that be grand?
See you all next week, if not sooner!