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"Pick it up. Pick it all up and start again."

-Daughter

Chapter 8: Evolve

His fist flew into the punching bag with all of the force he could muster, and still, he was not tired. His body did not feel worn down by the sheer force of his workout, his muscles did not strain as they normally would. No… this was different, this was all new. Wesker took a step back and rolled his shoulders before squaring up again. Shadow boxing against the stand-in punching bag, his thoughts raced. He thought of William, his sacrifice to his life. He though of Claire, her pain probably lapsing ten-fold. He thought of Spencer… the old fool was probably scurrying madly about. He hoped he was. Spencer must think that his last project had been drained away with the death of his last Wesker. Everything that he had worked so hard for had perished in the explosion. Wesker was now a ghost, a mere shadow of what Spencer had built him to be… what Spencer had programmed him to be. However, all was now lost to him and Wesker smirked at the very thought of the old man throwing a fit. He threw another punch as his thoughts on Spencer grew, making him irritable. His carefully close technique was a force to be reckoned with, his fists were like atom bombs, colliding with the punching bag with a force unmatched. Soon, his eyes burned like hell-forged jewels, his blood boiling, and his muscles contorting like a viper. With another hit, Wesker roared as the bag flew off of the chain and into the wall, cracking the concrete as if it were frail wood. Heaving, Wesker tried to relax but his nerves were like bursting electrical wires running through his body. He felt the raw power course through him like an unforgiving riptide. So much power.

Wesker huffed and shook his head. His eyes returned to their storm-like blue… Where would he place his newfound tyranny? He could bring down an entire country with the flick of his wrist. He would have companies upon companies writhing under his thumb, CEO's climbing over each other just to have him work for their multi-million dollar corporation. And yet, it all seemed petty. It all seemed as though he could do better, he could do more with all of this thunder beneath his skin. Wesker had obtained the T-virus by afflicting it upon himself and the G-virus was next. He knew all too well that William wouldn't hand it over willingly to anyone but maybe he could convince his friend to give it up. Wesker also knew all too well that as soon as Spencer got a whiff of what William was up to, he would try to shut it down. The G-virus was sure to be a powerful asset to Wesker's viral arsenal. However, he digressed. It was still too early in the plan to reveal his true intentions to William, something that the coy man would find quite despicable.

XXXXX

The irony of the rain was enough to make Claire begin crying again. She stood in the cemetery, shoes soaking in the grass and was protected by a black umbrella. She wore a simple and formal black dress, her hair was down and curled, and her coat black as well. She stood amongst other families and friends who sobbed silently into each others shoulders. What a violent and cruel scene this had become. The violence is what ripped these families apart, destroyed their loved ones in such heinous ways. The cruelty was the very thought of what had transpired in those woods… for beyond them was the mystery no one would tell the truth about. Umbrella wasn't the culprit, or at least everyone thought. The fact that such a large corporation would go out of their way to destroy a team of police was beyond them. To the families and friends, it was no more than a gruesome casualty. The remaining members could not convince a single soul to believe what they had seen there. Each was to their own now, rumors of post traumatic stress hanging through the crowd.

"They're just shocked…"

"A little confused too, probably…"

"I mean, why would Umbrella do something like that?"

"Do you think they're making all this up?"

Claire could hear them all but she knew… she knew it was that corrupted group of men and women who raised Umbrella on a pedestal. Who claimed them to be a wholesome company that fought for the people. But they were all lies, every syllable. Wesker had proved that to her. He was a slave to the machine that he helped build… but now he was just another casualty. Umbrella would forget about him, replace him with someone who could do his job just as well, and move on. There was no honor there, no family, unlike S.T.A.R.S. which had a very sustainable tie. Now there were five.

Chris Redfield.

Jill Valentine.

Barry Burton.

Rebecca Chambers.

Brad Vickers.

Their lips were sealed, unable to speak about the treachery behind shaded eyes. It was an unbelievable story and perhaps their name would be slandered, dragged through the mud. They couldn't have that now could they? Umbrella was a staple in Raccoon City, a seemingly white light, and an altruistic good. Claire shook her head as the service began, trying to disguise her tears with the rain.

Brian Irons cleared his throat and leaned into the microphone slightly. "I am deeply saddened by our losses." He began lowly. "These fallen soldiers fought for the truth. They have not, however, died in vain. Their efforts will live on through the survivors."

Irons waved his hand at Chris and the others who were standing to his left. They stood like marble statues, seemingly emotionless however, their eyes told a different story.

Irons went on, "I will begin to read off the names of our fallen brothers with a small insert from family and friends."

Irons cleared his throat again and shuffled through a few notecards. "Richard John Aiken, Bravo Team. Known for his big heart, Richard was always level-headed during crisis situations as well as a quick thinker. His fiancé Bridgett is here to honor him as well as his family."

"Edward Allen Dewey, Bravo Team. Despite his position as Bravo pilot, Edward was a skilled sniper as well as a father figure to younger members of The RPD. He will be succeeded by his son, Ashton Dewey and remember by his wife, Amanda."

"Joseph Regon Frost, Alpha Team. Joseph was a highly intelligent young man and despite his age, he had gathered plenty of courage while with the RPD. He was a mechanical specialist, aiding in the repair of several team vehicles including a helicopter. His family is here to honor him."

"Forest Drew Speyer, Bravo Team. Forest hails from a military family, the S.T.A.R.S. position was perfect for him. He was an excellent shooter and well acquainted with Chris through many a friendly competition. His memory lives on with his family."

"Kenneth James Sullivan, Bravo Team. He was known as an expert on bomb diffusion for his knowledge in chemicals was great. He was the oldest member of S.T.A.R.S. and is succeeded by his two sons, Arthur and Chance, and his wife Mary."

Irons put his notecards down and looked towards the silent crowd. They did not stir in the slightest. The rain had turned into a light mist but the sun was still hidden behind thick grey clouds. Claire knew what was to come…

Irons straightened his posture as he fingered the cards again, shuffling them into place. "I will now honor the brave captains of each team…"

"Enrico Martinez Marini, Bravo Team Captain. A veteran, he will be remembered by his impervious mental strength as well as his ability to lead for he was competent and capable. A well respected man by each of his subordinates as well as his peers and even those above him. Enrico was murdered by an unknown culprit however, he managed to speak to Chris and Jill before his untimely death. He will be succeeded by his son Felix, daughter Maria, and wife Lisa."

Claire closed her eyes as tight as they would allow. This was it. The bile in her throat rose again but she forced it down, tears on the verge of falling. That feeling in her gut churned like an uneasy tide and her breath was ragged and shaken.

"Albert Wolfrick Wesker, Alpha Team Captain. Wesker was a step under myself and I trusted the man with my life. He was a fine leader, his team diligent and always on top of their game. He was a brave man who sacrificed his own life for the sake of his team. Wesker had the skills of many however, his leadership will go unmatched. Unfortunately, he has no close family but his memory lives within his team."

Claire let out a breath that she felt she had been holding onto forever. The service continued with a prayer and finally, a twenty-one gun salute to the fallen members. The headstone and monument was a large spire jutting upwards about twenty feet. It reminded Claire of the Washington Monument in DC. The members of Alpha and Bravo were placed upon the monument as flat gold plaques which stated their names, position, and date of birth and death. The plaques were set in two separate columns, distinguishing what team they were apart of. Bravo on the left, Alpha on the right. Finally, the crowd had dissipated and Claire was left standing in front of the monument all alone. Her fingers reached high to place upon her lovers name and her head hung, eyes closed.

"Albert…" She whispered. "Albert you damned idiot." She clenched her jaw and her hand dropped to her side. Without any effort, her legs gave out and she landed on the ground, sobbing as quietly as she could.

"Claire…" Chris approached his sister and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Claire you gotta get up. You're gonna catch a cold being out here like this."

The younger Redfield shook her head. "I can't." She muttered. "I can't do this."

"Yes you can." Jill chimed. "Wesker would have wanted you to move on…"

Claire laughed to herself, they obviously didn't know Wesker as well as they thought they did. She managed to stand and disregard what her brother was trying to tell her. Every sound but the sound of the rain had drowned away. It was just her, her footsteps falling, and the rain. Wesker would have enjoyed this day. He liked the rain, he liked storms and cool weather. Said it always reminded him of his hometown… a simpler time. Claire had to force herself to stop thinking about him, it was only making her worse. Her drive home was unbearably silent and her hands were gripping the steering wheel tightly. As she made it home, Claire watched her neighbors flash her soft yet sad smiles. It was a simple gesture that Claire found utmost harmony in for a few seconds, harmony that was off put as soon as she stepped inside her home. It was quiet, the lights were off, and the rooms were cold. It did not feel like home. It felt like a strangers home and she was invading. These walls did not speak to her, the air did not welcome her. Setting her things down on the couch, she curled up there and closed her eyes. She tried her hardest to rid herself of his memory but she just couldn't shake him. Tomorrow, she would pack away his things and transfer the name on the lease for the home. It was paid for but she would still have to pay for utilities. Clenching her jaw, that would be quite expensive… she wondered if she should just sell the house and move back in with Chris. However, the very thought of leaving this place made her heart physically ache. There was just too much goodness here that she would be a fool to leave that behind. Sitting up, she slowly ascended the steps and moved into the bedroom. She flicked on the lamp on her bedside table and sighed heavily. A few of his clothes were lying about and she decided to start gathering them. Picking up the shirts and socks, there was one shirt that had made its way under the bed, kneeling down to retrieve it, her hand searched under the bed before it rested against something solid and wooden. Dragging it out from under the bed, it was a wooden box that Claire had never seen before.

She sat up on the bed again and placed the box in front of her, inspecting it. There was no lock, no code either. She found that quite odd seeing as it was most likely Wesker's. Opening it carefully, there was a small note sitting on top of the contents inside. The note read as follows:

Claire, if you are reading this, hopefully it means that you've found the box under the bed. Inside it contains just over twenty-five thousand dollars in cash. Use it as you wish. I thought it would be cautionary to have a failsafe if anything were to happen… and here we are. As I said, use the money as you see fit, I have no need for it. The gun below the money can be yours as well. Be safe, dearheart.

- Albert

"You cannot be serious…" Claire muttered with a laugh under her breath. Sure enough, every bill was accounted for, coming to a whopping twenty-eight thousand dollars. In cash. There was also the gun he had mentioned. It was the original version of his custom Baretta, before it had gotten the black ivory handle and the custom beaver tail. She admired the weapon for a moment and checked the clip; it was loaded. Claire smiled to herself, of course it was.

Claire shut the box and placed it on the nightstand. She would use the money to pay bills and then save away the rest. It was good money that Claire could fall back on if anything else were to go awry. She did not wish to dream of Wesker tonight but she knew she would be unable to do so. He was on her mind twenty-four hours a day. She still could not believe what had happened… all of that power that rested under him, he seemed unstoppable. All of that determination deemed him a leader. Her heart swelled like a tide at the very thought of what had become of him. Every second, every breath, every memory was shattered into pieces that could never be recovered. She had so much hope for them, so much hope for what they could have been. Now, they were shadowy thoughts that she could hardly hold on to. She felt gutless and yet, her stomach ached. Painful bursts of loneliness and anxiety sometimes ripped through her. Reality tried to tie her down again and its sharpened teeth and claws tried to tear at her. What would become of her if not him? She tried to tell herself over and over again that she was independent and she was strong but she herself would crush that idea. However, in the back of her mind, she knew she would come through, she knew she would best this. Wesker was a chapter in her life that ended abruptly, there was nothing she could do about that. But she would not let this be the ending of her story. She would not let his death close the book. There was so much more to live for that now, she found less luster in, but all the same, she still found exciting. She would move on, however long it took she would. Wesker would want her to…

The next few days would be filled with silence and Claire dreaded them. She had spoken to Chris a few times, he was concerned for her mental health. However, Claire assured him that she would be alright. Everything was slowly returning to normal, she was in contact with William, who she would find an unexpected friend in. He was a coy individual but he had a big heart. She enjoyed talking about Wesker with him, the younger man seemed to hold his friend in high esteem.

At the moment, they were at lunch together, a small diner that Claire remembered Wesker enjoyed. Claire was picking at a salad and William watched her quietly.

"You're having trouble… aren't you?" He asked calmly.

Claire laughed lightly and shook her head. "Trouble is an understatement. I can't even think straight and it feel ridiculous. I can't get this feeling off of my chest."

"Coming to terms with the death of someone you care so deeply for can take more time than you think."

Claire swallowed the lump in her throat. "Have you ever lost someone close to you, Will?"

He chuckled and nodded. "Yeah… my mom." He took a sip of his water then, wiping it away with the back of his hand. "She had cancer, I was twenty-three when she passed… still young."

"I' m sorry…"

"I appreciate your condolence, Claire." Will smiled. "My mother helped me become the man I am today." William shrugged and laughed a little. "Yeah I may be a little eccentric and shy but because of my mother, I know how to raise my family without any fault. And when she passed, I was broken… I was torn down. Albert was there for me… he knew what I was going through."

"He never talked about his family, really." Claire replied.

"His family was broken too. Not as prestigious as you would think. The man he is today is not because of his family but because of Spencer… he raised him."

"That explains a lot…"

"Albert was a rough beast but he had good intentions… despite his upbringing."

"My parents died when I was young… so I guess we're all a little wayward." Claire muttered. "They were murdered in a random shooting. Some maniac got ahold of gun and fired into crowd. My mom was shot in the stomach and my dad rushed to help her… the gunman shot him point blank cause he knew…" Claire swallowed hard. "He knew he was trying to help her."

William placed his hand on hers and gave it a light, reassuring squeeze. "Claire I'm sorry… you were so young and so vulnerable."

Claire shook her head. "But I survived. Chris took care of me the best he could and I think I turned out alright." She laughed a little and over her salad around with her fork again.

"Your brother is brave." William chimed. "I always wished for an older brother. Instead," William took a bite of his sandwich and swallowed, laughing to himself. "I got Albert. He was like a brother to me. Always protecting me from Spencer, fighting off backlash… we grew up together, we watched each other grow into the men we are today."

"I'm grateful for your friendship to him, Will." Claire mentioned. "I don't think he would've made it without someone like you."

"You might be right but… but Albert would have stepped up no matter what. He was the strongest of us all, he had the most vision… he had the power to get what he wanted even if he wasn't that deserving of it."

Claire cocked her head to the side a bit and her brows furrowed. "What do you mean by 'us'?"

William choked on his water and coughed violently for a moment before settling. "I said 'us'?"

Claire nodded. "I thought it was just you guys."

"Well…" William hesitated. "I'm not surprised he didn't tell you this… it's a hard thing for him to talk about."

"What do you mean? He told me everything about Umbrella."

William shook his head. "This is, well was, bigger than Umbrella. It was a project called the Wesker Children. Albert's father, Nicholas was one of the researches that created it." William leaned into the table, placing his elbows on it. "Basically the project was an experiment to test genetic fluctuations in children that were born to parents with heightened genes." William air-quoted heightened. "We were taken from all over the world, our parents were paid thousands of dollars to comply, they were told that they would be able to visit us anytime they wanted."

"So it was an experiment to create what exactly?" Claire blurted.

"At first, they weren't really striving to create anything. They just wanted to prove that humans could possibly hold special markers in their blood that could cause them to be susceptible to safe genetic mutation."

Claire frowned. "Super humans?"

William shrugged. "I guess you could say that. Nicholas and Spencer rallied hundreds of children between the ages of two and eighteen, testing their abilities is maths, sciences; almost any form of educational content was used to test the intelligence of the children. In the end, only thirteen of us made it, the others were returned to their families."

"You were apart of this?" Claire asked.

"Unfortunately yes… but I didn't make the cut and was let go from the project a few years later."

"What do you mean by that?" Claire retorted. "You didn't make what cut?"

"The last of us were injected with a potent virus called Progenitor A. It would alter our genes into almost mutant-like state. Spencer would tell the younger kids that were were going to be just like the X-Men… And it worked. We were all gifted with something, each of us were unique."

William seemed to grow uncomfortable but he continued his story. "I was defective… something didn't add up and I was tossed out. I turned around and went right into research because I wanted to put power like that to good use. I thought I could create super soldiers like Captain America… But it wasn't long until the last of them started dying… some of them went crazy, started whispering to themselves in the middle of the night or scratch at an itch that wasn't there. It scared the others, they thought it was gonna happen to them too. And it did."

"What about Albert then?" Claire asked quietly.

"Albert and his brother Alex were unharmed… Spencer said it just went to show that the weak would die off and the strong would prevail. But Alex went too far… he wasn't right in the head, never was. Spencer had him taken care of and alls that was left… was Albert."

"So the project just died out?"

"Pretty much." William said while shrugging. "Albert lost the abilities that Progenitor had granted him and Spencer thought it was a sign to give up. A few years later, Albert and I found out that Progenitor never died off, it just went dormant, waiting for the right time to manifest again."

"And it never did." Claire said.

William shook his head. "Nope. Hell, it might never have come back, it might have sat inside him for the rest of his life and never show a single sign… but I guess we'll never know." Will frowned. "Claire, the moral of the story is that I've seen good men spoil rotten because of power but Albert… Albert never let that influence him."

XXXXX

He could feel the ground beneath his boots, the wind in his ears… he could feel the blood rush through his body like currents in a circuit board. The cold air of the night raked its claws over his skin and yet, he could not feel its icy bite. Taking a deep breath, he could taste the night on his tongue, like it was a dark wine. His muscles contorted like a viper, he dug his claws into the dirt, he set his eyes on the vastness before him. Wesker was the wilderness. It was in him, it was apart of his very being. This changed self was a monument, a force to be reckoned with. His fists were like atom bombs, they could crush steel. His power could carry itself, it was the shadow tagging beside him. He was almost at loss for words describing what he had become. His power was jaw-breaking, his sheer force was as mighty as a thousand men. The immense construct of his being was godlike.

That was the word…

A God.

A/N: DON'T MESS WITH WESKER.