Author's note: I didn't get as much writing done as I'd have liked to, but since Christmas is only a mere few days away, what better time to update? Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. :)
8. Big Bad Wolf
Sheva's hand hovered over the silver handle, breaths having halted at the moment of anxiety. No wonder Isaac was scared to see Wesker… she thought to herself before finally rolling her shoulders and swiping her hair behind her. Upon checking her reflection in the shiny metal of the door she stood before, she deemed she was presentable enough to see Albert and grasped the handle with a tighter grip than she meant. Cool air blew at her as she pushed the door open, bright LED lights invading her still groggy sight. It took a moment to adjust, but once she did, she ducked when a glass petri dish flew at the wall next to her, shattering on impact and falling to the floor in shards.
"Just give him the food and run," she whispered for only her ears to hear. "Don't let him insult you."
Taking a large step over the broken glass, Sheva's eyes landed on the tall figure at the back of the lab, his back to her. Even though he was fifteen or more feet away, she could see his back rising and falling with heavy breathes, but knowing Wesker he was probably growling. His muscles were visibly tense as his shoulders hunched close to his neck as he leaned over the work table he stood by. Taking a quick glance at the broken petri dish, Sheva closed the door behind her and slowly stepped towards the man who seemed to be radiating heat from across the room.
"You're not going to throw any more stuff at me, are you?" she asked with a tiny voice, her steps becoming smaller as she grew closer.
"If I were throwing stuff at you," Wesker started with a snarl, "the dish would have hit you."
"Oh, so you're just throwing a tantrum?" Sheva bit her lip as she set the wicker basket on the table next to him, standing with her hands clamped together above her navel. She could almost feel his gritted teeth gnawing at her courage. Before he could meet her gaze, she turned to pull the cloth from the basket and retrieved the thermos. "Isaac asked me if I could bring you your breakfast. Uh, are you hungry?"
Like a temperamental child, Wesker offered no reply but stared at her with narrowed eyes burning her skin as he grabbed the basket and threw it across the room to meet the broken petri dish. Sheva watched as the biscuits rolled around, most still in fine condition save for the banana bread that had broken into pieces like the glass. Sheva's brows knitted as she held the black chrome thermos in her hands, the corner of her lip falling into a frown.
"You know, there are kids in China starving and they would have appreciated that food," Sheva said to him with sarcasm she had no intention of using a moment before. Wesker scoffed and tried grabbing for the thermos in her hands, but she held the metal cylinder to her chest and twisted slightly away from him, looking him up and down.
"Child," he muttered and went back to the plentiful files and photographs he had before him.
"I'm not the one throwing food around," Sheva muttered back. "Do you want the coffee to drink or to paint the walls with? Because if it's the latter, I'm taking it with me for myself."
"Take it then," Wesker slowly looked back at her, making her cower away slightly. "Take it and leave." His voice raised a decibel, his towering figure looming over the girl with intimidating height. Sheva didn't bother looking him in the eye when he repeated for her to leave, nearly hissing at her.
"I think I'll just drink it here," Sheva announced, surprised with her own audacity. She brought a stool from a nearby table and brought it next to Wesker's standing figure. She took a seat, twisted the cap off the thermos and poured herself some coffee into the cap that could be used as a cup. As the hot beverage slid down her throat, she hummed quietly the approval the warmth gave her chilly body. She smacked her lips together and gave them a quick swipe of her tongue before grinning up at Wesker.
With a quirked brow, Wesker could feel the anger rising even more to the surface as she took another sip of java, her little content hums annoying him to the point he was curling his fingers. She brought her legs to cross on the stool, her eyes scanning the files he was previously looking over. He could see that she knew he was glaring at her, but she didn't comment.
She looked like her mother, fortunate for her. Though, when she showed expression, her brows would furrow just like a Spencer. When she'd speak, her nose moved slightly with her lip, reminding him of Elliot to a certain degree. But she got her mother's face, eye, mouth, and nose shape. Her colors were mixed between the races of her biological parents, resulting in skin that was a shade darker than the creamed coffee she drank now, her eyes were not the bright blue of a Spencer, but not the dark brown of her mother's, a light shade of hazel that was borderline the color of honey. She definitely got her mother's figure, not the shape of a rotting apple like Elliot and Oswell had. For such a disagreeable man, Elliot managed to produce a lovely young woman, all thanks to the genes of her mother.
As Sheva reached her hand over, Wesker could see the freckles and marks on her arms as she grabbed a file that interested her, her small hand shuffling through the papers. When he finally took his eyes off her and to the folder she held, Wesker leaned over her and snatched the file away.
"Wait! I wasn't done looking," Sheva pouted, reaching as Wesker took it away and from her grasp.
"Yes, you were," he replied with no emotion in his low voice.
"Why are you looking at the file of my blood tests?" When he didn't respond, Sheva's spine stiffened with uncertainty. "Are you planning something I should know about? Something bad?"
"If I were, Miss Alomar, I wouldn't tell you, now would I? And what you look at as bad, I might see as good. Think you're questions more thoroughly next time," he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, giving a single shake of condescending disapproval at her.
"I'm glad to see sleeping for four years hasn't changed your grumpiness, Bertie," Sheva leaned to rest her head on her knuckles with her elbow supporting her weight on the table. At the nickname, Wesker froze for a moment, his glazed gray eyes looking ahead at steel cabinets as if he was staring into another time. After a moment, he flinched, those glazed eyes changing for anger as his brows furrowed into an angle of ire.
"What did you call me?" he growled.
"Bertie. You don't remember? I used to call you that all the time after Kijuju," she sighed when he crumbled a small pile of papers into a ball in his tight fist. "Then I started calling you Albert," she murmured, her eyes lingering on him when his face seemed to soften for the shortest second, but she saw it. "You used to call me Little Bird."
When Sheva lifted her left hand to his hair and was a few inches from combing a stray hair back to his usual perfect 'do, Wesker's hand gripped her wrist, squeezing tight enough for her to shift uncomfortably and sit straight, her eyes turning to a look of discomfort and grief.
"Little Bird? How degrading. And you liked that?" he sneered, his lip curling slightly to show his clenched teeth. "Pathetic."
"Can I have my arm back?" Sheva requested with a firm voice. When Wesker loosened his fingers, she slipped her arm away and rubbed where his hand had been gripping, messaging the skin as blood began to circulate in her arm again. She slid off the stool, her hand quickly swiping any tears away. Well, Sheva, he insulted you and you let him get to you. Good job.
Not satisfied with how this had gone, Sheva wanted to leave her mark like Wesker had. He always had to have the last word and she wouldn't let him this time. His eyes were on her, she knew, as she locked the cap in place of the thermos and set it aside. When she turned, he was still glaring and she sighed, her heartbeat increasing quickly. As she stepped to her tiptoes, the look on Albert's expression was almost funny. Almost.
His golden brows knitted when Sheva was quick to grab the collar of his black pullover sweater and brought him closer, causing him to grunt. Before he could really react, Sheva rested her hand on his cheek and pressed her lips to his, her head tilting as Wesker turned to stone. As if he had just looked Medusa in the eye, Wesker made no movement when Sheva's hand left his collar and went to his other cheek, holding him still as if he'd actually move. His eyes remained open as saucers, staring at her closed lids as her lashes fluttered with the movement of her lips. Blood rushed all over his body, gathering to that certain spot bellow his hips. But as his hands began moving to her waist, she pulled away and opened her honey eyes to study him, her lips red and a touch swollen with the heat of the kiss and her brows raised as her eyelids drooped with seduction that suddenly made Wesker boil, the situation hitting him like a rocket to the face—pun intended.
"I liked it when you called me Little Bird," Sheva confessed, her hands falling to her sides. A yelp slipped past her full lips when Wesker's hands gripped her shoulders, his fingers sinking into her flesh. She was sure she whimpered when he blinked and his eyes seemed to suddenly glow grayish blue and a stripe of red in his left eye. His lips formed in a fine line as he held back the growl creeping up his throat.
"Ow! Stop, Wesker!" Sheva pleaded, her feet moving involuntarily backward when he began leading her by the clutch on her shoulders towards the exit of the lab. "Stop! You're hurting me!"
"How dare you even touch me," Wesker let out the growl. "I have the right to be a God and you kiss me?!"
Sheva clawed at his arms, her nails breaking skin that laced back together in moments. A low and dangerous chuckle came from his mouth, pleased to see his strength was back as was his accelerated healing abilities. It was as she cried again for him to stop that the chuckles and sneer vanished. He wasn't getting the usual pleasure he'd get when he'd torture someone. Her shrieks rang in his ears as she clawed at him, her face showing pain but also persistence to stop him. He slowed a tad as he brought her closer to the exiting door. But his feet stopped completely when she cried one more time, really calling for him.
"Stop! You're hurting me! Please, Albert, stop," she begged another time, her eyes squeezing shut when his grip loosened slightly. Instantaneously, he released her shoulders but his hands were quick to slip under her arms when she wavered and her knees buckled beneath her. Holding her up, Wesker had the sudden urge to pick her up and set her on the tables, examine her and patch the small wounds he had just inflicted to her skin. That was until she found enough strength to lift her knee and brought it to hit him in his groin—hard.
It was Wesker's turn to yelp, a little less strained and pained than her, as his own knees gave out and he collapsed to the tiled floor, Sheva falling with him and to his side. Her legs were entangled with his as she groaned and he wheezed, his hands going to cup his crotch as he rolled over to his side and soon to his knees. She sat up quickly, her shoulders throbbing as she watched him hunch over, his breathes deliberate and careful.
"Yeah, you're a God all right," she muttered as she lifted herself up and strode for the door.
Wesker's breathes, soon turning to growls, filled the silent room, his anger heating the space around him. The steel door closed behind Sheva as he gripped the leg of the closest table, using all his strength to throw it at the door she had just walked out of, joining the broken glass and cold biscuits. The crash banged in his ears, momentarily distracting him from the fading pain shooting from his thighs and between. He slowly stood, hunching over with one hand cupping his manhood in case the girl came back to kick him another time.
Taking a seat on the stool Sheva had been on moments before, Wesker saw his faint reflection in the steel tables, his eyes almost seeming to dim. He snatched an impeccably kept metal pallet that was used for mixing purposes that also gave him a clearer reflection. Pulling at the skin bellow his eyes, Wesker watched as his eyes faded from glowing blue to a tame gray, the red changing to a dull maroon, and his pupils returning to perfect circles from what resembled a feline's pupil as his breathes came slower at a calmer rate. His heart stopped hammering, his head still ached slightly, and as he curled his fist, they didn't feel as strong as it did a second ago. His brain racked with confusion at his body's behavior, questions roaming his mind like riddles.
He was broken from his contemplations when a small beeping repeated; alerting Albert that the timer he had set before Sheva had come to give him his breakfast had finished its duration and the wait was over. Stopping the timer, Wesker stepped to another table that a computer and microscope rested on. After clicking some keys on the keyboard, a page of results for a blood test appeared, results of his blood. His brows met in irritation and his teeth gritted behind his lips as his back to normal eyes scanned the lines on the screen.
The results were none to satisfying, on the brink of puzzling. A small strain of the Prototype virus remained in his blood stream, but so miniscule that it only showed on the results that the smallest percentage lingered. This must have been why he wasn't in need of PG67A/W, a Progenitor-based serum to keep the Prototype virus stable and keep his cells from mutating. His body may have been acting fine without the serum or with the small strain of the virus, but to his disgust, his body was acting human. But then there was the mystery of the moments his strength would come back, like they had moments before with Alomar.
Wesker jotted notes onto a blank white sheet of paper, scribbling in neat handwriting his hypothesis of the situation at hand. His theory was that though there was a small amount of the virus in his system, it'd acted accordingly with his cellular makeup and gave him the strength he used to obtain constantly only now when he'd grow angry or rile himself up in some way, his body heating and heart pounding that it worked Prototype in his veins. Then, as he calmed, the virus would go back to being basically dormant and his body would return to the state of humanity.
Wesker guessed this could be fixed if he just increased the levels of the virus by injecting himself with Prototype and return to the consistent dosage of PG67A/W. However, the lab he stood in and the only one he had access to had no supply of the virus or serum, and not all the ingredients to make such chemicals. At the reminder, Wesker grabbed a tray of glass slides meant for the microscope and threw it at the wall. His hands gripped the edge of the steel table, his hands steaming up the metal. As his eyes roamed the lab in bored glances, a light bulb went off in his head when his eyes landed on a certain manila folder.
He snatched the folder, opening it up to see a photo of Sheva Alomar and her information on the first page, the rest of the file pertaining to her own blood test results. The outdated results weren't very helpful to learn what exactly happened to her cells when introduced with a virus. Murphy Bollard must have purposefully skimmed over facts to piss Wesker off. But if Wesker was able to obtain a sample of Alomar's blood, he could start his own research and tests concerning her DNA and cellular make up. And maybe, if he worked his magic, meaning his inhuman intelligence, Wesker might find a way to benefit from her cells and how they bonded with the viruses, creating a serum that could bring his body back to Godly righteousness.
One of those low chuckles worked its way up Wesker's throat, the corner of his mouth smirked as his eyes lingered on the photo of Sheva. He looked to the digital clock on the far wall, counting how long he should wait until he approached Alomar so he could catch her when she wasn't fuming nor did she have a trigger knee to kick him again. Wesker shifted on his feet uncomfortably, trying to forget the pain that had swarmed his entire body minutes ago.
He rubbed the side of his neck, deciding he'd pay Sheva a visit soon enough. He reached to retrieve a cardboard box that held plenty syringes and held one between his forefinger and thumb. A sigh of satisfaction hummed inside his mouth as he smirked. "I hope you're ready for this, Little Bird."
Author's note: In the first story, I kind of made a booboo in facts. All right, I made a lot of booboos, but one that I'm mentioning here is that I wrote that Wesker depended on Uroboros (I don't know what was going through my noggin), but really it was PG67A/W he depended on in the games. So, please excuse the mistake from the first and I'll try to get it right in this one, hehe.
Sasuskui: Haha, I've never watched Being Human, but the people I know that do watch it are always so excited for new seasons and episodes. It's hard not to be slightly suspicious of Piper, right? Alyssa better watch out, Chris is a taken man!
Comix777: Aw, I could never tear you apart for hating on my OC. You don't like her, that's alright, haha. Yeah, Piper had definitely hit rock bottom and self-respect was way out of her grasp at the moment. Life gets hard, we all deal with it differently, I suppose. Believe me; I couldn't wait sharing the conversation Sheva and Wesker had and the little…mishap? Thank you. :)
agnesreed: Haha, I don't blame Alyssa for wanting some Chris-meat!
Auktober: Hmm. I can't say if the people in Sheva's dream are Wesker and Jake or Piper and Flynn or even one of each… I must keep some mystery, though I want to spill everything! I just realized that everyone besides Sheva and Chris, in this story, has blue eyes. Ha, adds to the unknown! Haha, that's what I was hoping someone would say to kick my butt in gear to write. It adds to the motivation, so thank you! And hey, crazy people have the most interesting things to say. :)
I think this chapter is my favorite yet. Is that conceited of me? Hey ho, I like it and I'm proud, haha. I'll try to write some more Shesker moments soon because I not only love to read those moments, but I love writing them. Please review! :)
-Sarai