-1
This one's for Bunnyzilla, for putting up with all my shit. Thanks bud…
--
"…and the barman says to the horse, why the long face?" The training room fills with loud, hooting laughter.
"Oh god, Steve, you crack me up." Chris chuckles, wiping a tear from the left side of his face, squeezing the gold and orange eye open and shut again. "Where do you come up with these?"
The ginger BOW shrugs. "Internet."
"Ah, I dunno, I doubt that. What do you think Jack?" He looks over at the muscular BOW, who cocks his head to the side and looks at Steve.
"I think he reads some weird shit and just repeats it so he sounds like something other than a broken record."
"Hey! I do not sound like a broken record, JK! …Right Chris?" the teen looks assumingly at the marksman, pouting.
"Hey, I'm not getting into this fight. You two love birds go sort this out in a different room" he chuckles as a barrage of insults and denials is thrown at him. He waves it away, smiling still.
It's been three weeks since Chris fainted in the shower. Since then, he like the other BOW's has kept a supply of high energy food bars on him at all times. Wesker explained that because of their higher metabolism, they needed to take in large amounts of food and more often than others. Chris understands he and the others are something other than human but the notion seems almost novel to him. He barely notices his enhanced senses anymore, thanks to Wesker's teachings. He's learning to control the strength with help from Krauser, and Steve helps him ensure he doesn't crash into walls…
--
"I want the report by Monday, Steve. I need to know how Chris is coping."
"Well, he seems to be doing well. Better than I did at any rate." The ginger teen grinned at the blonde, who looked ahead, unamused.
"If you mean not crashing into walls at every turn, or trying to tear scientists limb from limb when they were attempting to help you, then yes, he's doing far better than you."
Steve opened his mouth to reply when the wall to his right was hit by something from the other side, creating a rather large dent…a rather large…Chris…shaped…dent.
Steve stared at it for a moment, hearing a loud groan from the other side as something heavy fell away and landed hard. "Whoa…"
"It's like your first days all over again." Wesker commented. "Except this time, you're the teacher." he slapped Steve's shoulder with a gloved hand and walked off.
--
Chris walks out the gym, waving a goodbye to his workout mates as the doors slid shut behind him. He has a small while towel slung around his neck, and his green t-shirt clings to his chest, stretching across the muscles. His black tracksuit bottoms weren't as tight, comfy and loose, trainers on his feet making a slight squeak with his every step.
The tune of whatever Steve had been playing is running through his head, and he can't help but hum it, even if it is mildly annoying and repetitive. He sighs and tries to rid himself of it, trying to summon up another song in its place, but to no avail. Apparently he can't even remember his music tastes either.
He stiffens slightly, the hairs on the back of his neck rising as someone approaches from the shadowed end of the hallway. A small growl escapes him and before he can stop himself, he's sped along the hallway and leaping on the other, tackling the strange entity to the ground.
He's kicked off and the other stands up, as Chris prepares to attack again…
--
Wesker gets to his feet, astonished that Redfield had tried to attack him. Does he remember?! No! It's far too soon!
One look at the other BOW and Wesker immediately sees the problem. He's feral. Completely feral. What triggered this?! He has no time to think further on it however as the crazed BOW snarls and charges at him, intent on spilling blood. He barely has time to move out the way of the blows when one catches the wall at his side. His eyes take in the damage to the steel in a split-second, the rugged hole left behind when the other pulls his fist out, ignoring the pain of cut skin. As Wesker watched, the skin knitted itself back together. Impossible…Neither Steve nor I can heal so fast…The combined viruses must have something to do with it, or the fact he - The eyes…
Wesker's attention is drawn to the feral BOW's eyes. Normally, the left was orange and gold, the right silver and green…Gold and orange tendrils are tainting the green and silver iris. It's half consumed by the fiery colours…
A snarl brings him back to the present and he dived out the way of another devastating punch, his glasses flying off. He remains calm however; confident he will be the inevitable victor.
Until something happens that he didn't expect.
Another blow sails past him as he dodges easily, then something brushes past his cheek. That something protrudes from Redfield's chest…
Impossible!
Another erupts from Redfield and Wesker lifts his arm, twisting away from it. More keep coming…
He can't move any further, not without breaking one of the spikes, and he doesn't want to do that, too much of a risk concerning Redfield's life, the BOW would bleed to death. But he can see the skin rippling where another spike will appear. If that happens, he'll have to retaliate.
The spike shoots out, and Redfield's face twists in pleasure, smirking as Wesker fights back a pained noise. For Wesker, being impaled once by a Tyrant was far too many. This…he can not allow.
The feral BOW abruptly stops smirking and starts snarling when the blonde one begins to pull himself up the spike towards its origin.
"I've wanted to do this for so long Redfield." he growls, drawing back his fist and slamming it into his old comrade's chest.
For a second, nothing happens, then the brunette is hurled away from Wesker, the spikes tearing themselves from the wall around Wesker, and from his chest. He falls onto one knee, one hand on the floor, another on the hole, holding back the organs as the repair process begins, slowly.
He lifts his head, focusing on the still body of Redfield. Wesker frowns when he sits up; wondering if the other was still up for more. He immediately realises something's different when he gets closer, still covering his wound. Redfield's eyes are normal, or rather, back to being entirely different. His expression is no longer blood thirsty and feral.
"…Wesker?" Chris stares at him. "What happened?"
Before Wesker can respond, Chris falls back, crying out, gripping his chest.
"Nng…"
He turns his head to the side, and coughs violent, a spurt of blood coming out.
The last thing he sees as the darkness encompasses him is Wesker leaning over him, shouting soundlessly….
--
Bright white light. Shining. . Everywhere.
Silence.
Noise.
Tearing.
Bright coloured paper.
A gasp of joy.
"Oh Chris! It's wonderful! It's just like yours! It's got the angel and the words and everything!"
A tight embrace…of…love?
Laughter. Deep...From him?
"I told you I'd get you it for you were patient enough. I have something else for you too…"
"But Chris, the jacket's enough, surely!"
"Come on."
Footsteps.
A door opening.
A near scream of utter delight and joy.
"You got me a bike!"
More laughter and embracing.
"Here's the keys. Promise me you'll be careful, and you can keep both."
"I promise, I swear!"
Keys jangle as they're handed over.
"It's yours. Take care of it at collage, and yourself."
A face swam into view.
Blue eyes.
Brown hair.
Ponytail.
A look of utter joy on her features.
The name comes and fades.
"Cl…"
The darkness returns…
--
More bright light.
Wing beats.
"Oh Chris, what have you done now?"
A soft caring voice.
A familiar voice.
Something soft touches his face.
He lifts a hand to hold it there.
"Don't….don't go…please."
Pain. So much pain.
"I won't ever leave you, not truly."
A soft hand on his bare chest, above his heart.
"I'm always there…Never doubt me Chris. "
"N-never…"
"I love you."
He opened his eyes and a face swam before him. One different than before.
Short brown hair.
So beautiful.
"I'll never let you go, Chris."
A flash of blue clothing and white wings, and his angel was gone.
The darkness closed over him once again…