Umbrella Laboratory...Location...Far East...
Acid.
That's what she felt was coursing through her veins. Her skin was searing, sweat saturating the paper thin sheet which she lay beneath. Any brush of air caused her sensitive flesh to tense in response to the abrupt chill, muscle contracting in kind with sharp excruciating jolts. Alex commanded her arms to move, only to discover they refused her orders. Her eye lids refused to flutter open. Why couldn't she open her eyes? What the Hell was wrong with her?
The acrid stench of cleaner and other compounds which she couldn't find the word to label saturated her olfactories, sending waves of nausea through her core. A tiny groan broke past her lips, too faint for any of the people who were buzzing about her. While she couldn't see, their presences did not go undetected. How was she able to sense them? Was she dreaming? Was she dead? Was she in Purgatory?
"It's been 12 hours since it started and no signs of mutation."
"Really?" That voice. The low baritone notes carried across her perfect hearing. Her mind was violently jolted back to that night in the apartment. The night Albert Wesker assaulted, raped and drugged her. The night everything would change.
"We're continuing to run tests, but, initial results show the virus is bonding with her DNA. The sequence provides the perfect environment for the T-Virus to integrate and thrive."
"Interesting. This will be of great use to us."
Alex wanted nothing more to jump from her prison and strangle Wesker, to make him pay for the pain, angst, trauma and suffering he inflicted on them all; for Jill, Claire and Chris. But she remained a prisoner in her own body; at the mercy of whatever plans Wesker had devised. He always had plans and plans within plans. It was how he stayed two steps ahead of the BSAA all these years. It was how he succeeded in keeping his B.O.W dream going, shaping its legacy through different guises and entities, shifting its shape like a demon. Eugenics. The idea of using these viruses to selectively evolve a few and let the rest die. Yeah, Alex witnessed that ideology go up in flames that night in Raccoon City.
"What else do you have for me, Doctor?"
"Her bone density has increased 20 fold, muscle structure increased with a higher number of fibers than prior to infection."
Silence as Wesker absorbed this revelation. A tiny smile cracked the corner of his lips.
"Currently, an heavy sedative is being administered so we can study the effects of the virus."
"Begin to awaken her."
Time had no meaning as she lay there. All Alex knew was her body was growing lighter, the sensation of heaviness lifting off her body. Her arms and legs twitched, a good sign as feeling crept into those long sleeping extremities. She dared to wiggle a toe, finding it obeying her will and snapping back and forth. Next, her left index finger lifted partially off the bed then dropped. Whatever those bastards had drugged her with was extremely powerful as her fingertip was the only part that would listen and move the second time. Her skin coated with a rich seen of sweat, the third time that day she had soaked the pathetic gown, which was really two thin long bibs held in place by elastic snaps, leaving her body mostly exposed for anyone who walked by.
Where the fuck am I? Is Chris looking for me? Maybe Jill or Claire saw the carnage and...
The sudden arching of her body off the flimsy mattress felt like a sledgehammer against her body. Somewhere to the side, the heart monitor screamed as her pulse ran rampant, threatening to cause the machine to fail as the spikes read off the limit. Every cell from nerve to muscle danced in a twisted tango as the technician raced to get her stabilized. He watched her eyes flew open and mouth form a perfect circle of pain but no scream escaped as she bowed up, restraints keeping her from falling out, then flattened, then arched a little higher. The restraints bit into her flesh, bending her hands back with each violent surge. The technician could not see the metamorphosis occurring deep within her. Her immune system was at the will of the virus, cutting and slicing every cell it could, allowing T to reform the battered shredded piece of living materiel to its own design. Wesker barged into the room just as her body locked in a final struggle before collapsing in a sweat soaked deluge, limp like a doll dropped to the floor. Her temperature high enough to keep a human being, though, he sensed she was no longer human. An evolutionary dead end no more.
Ontogenesis.
He peered through his sunglasses, catching movement in her left forearm, traveling up a vein like a car on the road. His hand curled around, thumb pressing down on the minute presence. To his amusement, it flattened against the strain then regrouped when he lifted up. The angry welts bit into her wrists, collateral damage in the earlier struggle.
"So, you survived the infection, Alexandra, much to my delight. It appears you and the T-Virus have mated into this beautiful form. One in a billion and it was you. Now, you're mine."
Wesker peeled a glove away, hungering to feel the burning flesh with his. His sharp sight spied several alterations to her body. Fine lines defined the sharper tone of muscle in her arms and shoulders, where before, it had been a smooth canvas waiting to be crafted. Her thighs, poking from the top bib, curved along the top of the kneecaps before climbing up and leveling out. Grabbing a fistful of the green cover, Wesker tore it away, revealing smoother abs and pert breasts.
"Oh, Alexandra, how you will be of great use to me."
The hand caressed the side of her face, tears trickling down the corners of her eyes.
"Now isn't this touching. Tears are for the weak."
If Wesker couldn't have Chris, then he would take the next best thing.
"What can we do with a dog collar around that pretty neck of yours?"
She felt the fingers lazily playing around her neck before going around the shoulders, drinking in the sensations of skin to skin. They dipped lower, slower in their progression as they teased the erect nipples; a reaction to the chill in the room of course. The sedative was still coursing through her veins but Alex managed to raise a shaky fist, but the restraint kept her from striking. The man chuckled at this sad display.
"I commend you for your effort, Dear Heart, though you will quickly learn you can't beat me."
"Fuck...Off..." Her labored breaths taxed her ability to speak.
"Now that's rather rude," the room echoed with the sharp hard smack across her face. Alex's head jerked left from the violent assault. His stance softened slightly as he stood back up. "But, you will come to respect me soon enough. We have much to do, you and I."
She remained silent as he left there alone, helpless and naked. Alex could only shut her eyes to block the stares of any who entered.
Sometime during the night, Wesker returned. Alex was asleep, still tied down but covered with a blanket. Some damn technician probably. The monitor quietly beeped as her heart had steadied and temperature dropped a few degrees. He quietly released her from her imprisonment and waited.
Alex stirred and shot her eyes open, sensing Wesker hovering over the bed. She shot up, leaning against the back into the wall. Her hands and feet in a losing battle to get any distance between her and her assailant. His head cocked in amusement as the fear flooded her pores and eyes widened. Her floundering and fighting sent her off the bed and to the floor, skin smacking against the unforgiving tile.
"Oh, Dear Heart," he patronized her plight, "I admire your resistance but," in one movement, pinned her to the wall, slender fingers curled around the throat, "it is futile." They constricted just a little more, earning short hard gasps in kind. The smirk grew into a cruel smile as the blue and purple fanned across her cheeks then spread over her neck and forehead. Alex furiously clawed at his grip, succeeding in prying off two of his fingers. Air! She greedily gulped every precious bit, feeling her body heal from the latest assault. Her mind distracted with survival, only too late to feel the cold metal slamming between her breasts. Wesker reveled as Alex cried in pain, fighting until the darkness engulfed her. The last sound was that of a madman's laughter echoing in her perfect hearing.
Europe...Present
Piers covered his face with his hands, attempting to digest what he had heard. Jettingham sat mutely, having heard this tragic tale.
"I was trapped inside my body, watching everything that happened; everything I did..."
She paused and took a drink. They were gonna need more bourbon.
"Tri-Cell had stopped using P30 but, an accidental discovery created a new purpose for its use. Wesker decided I would be his little lab rat. I couldn't control anything, except what I thought. My body...my body was his to use as he pleased. And he used it."
Alex finished off the glass and poured herself another generous helping. She couldn't get a buzz, let alone black out drunk, thanks to the virus. It was more of the motion, a sense of normalcy in her otherwise chaotic world. A set of arms circled around her. It was Piers. Alex let herself be comforted by the young sniper, as he could sense this was difficult for her to bring up, especially in their current situation.
"You don't have to tell us anymore. You're already upset and stressed as is."
"No," she adamantly shook her head and took another drink, still in Piers' embrace. "I'm going to tell you, but tonight, this is a good place to stop. If I continue, we'll be up all night. Have to be somewhat rested for the next part of our search."
"Alex, I'm sorry you had to go through that. I can't begin to imagine the pain and suffering that son of a bitch..." Piers felt himself shaking harder with each word he spat.
She shrugged and set down her drink. "It helps with getting through it, talking about it, that is. The BSAA shrink told me that talking about it and opening up with ones I trust would help. Shutting out didn't work. Chris and Jill refused to let me shut them out. Took them a few months but they cracked the wall I threw up. I still don't remember some of the details. Shrink said it was my brain protecting myself from the trauma and I may never recall those memories. Maybe it's a good thing I don't remember those times."
"Hey," Jettingham caught her face, bringing her watery gaze to his sympathetic one. "You're a survivor; you're one of the most resilient people I know. I saw that in Raccoon City. Most people wouldn't be able to make it through the trials you were put through after. They would break. You didn't."
"When you find him, let me know."
"Will do," Alex and Jettingham shared a long hard embrace, the latter pressing a kiss to her forehead. "If you get any leads or hear ANYTHING, let us know. A rumor could be a lead."
"Piers," he turned towards the younger man, eyes hardening slightly, "Keep her safe."
"I have been since she set foot in London," he extended a hand which Jettingham clasped in a firm shake. "And will continue to do so."
"Bring him home," Jettingham bade them farewell.
Alex dropped on the couch, picking up where she left off on her drink. It didn't have the same appeal as when she started. Now it went down with a sour tinge against her tongue. She turned her attention to the map laid out on the small coffee table, marking an X through their latest destination. Leads had dried up for the time being and Alex was unsure where to go next. With most of Europe still in the icy grip of winter, travel would be limited in some regions. Still, Chris was resourceful after years of tracking Wesker down.
"Where do we go from here, Piers," Alex wondered aloud. She scrubbed her face with a hand, her mind refusing to function. "We have no leads or even whispers. I-I can't think."
"Alex, you look tired. You should try to sleep. We can regroup in the morning with clear heads."
"I guess you're right," she sighed. "It's just frustrating we can't find him. And I know, I sound like a broken fucking record."
"No," he shook his head and joined her. Piers grabbed her hands as he continued, "It is frustrating. We have nothing to go on right now. All we can do is look at where we've been, see if there's a pattern or something we missed."
"Right," Alex nodded. "Guess I'll get ready for bed. Doubt I'll sleep much." Piers watched as she dragged herself towards the bathroom, sleep shirt in hand. If she asked, he would crash on the couch. It wasn't bad sitting on it but a part of him hoped she'd offer a space in the bed.
"You're welcome to half the bed again," as if she was reading his thoughts, Alex casually threw the offer out as she crawled in one side, settling in beneath the thick duvet. No sooner had she closed her eyes, the dipping in the mattress alerted her. Piers buried himself in the thick covering, relaxing in the soft layers of cotton. Too bad his own mind wouldn't grant his body peace as he lay there, wide awake, staring into the abyss.
Some point, in the depths of the night, hand sought hand until fingers were laced together.
The dreams, rather, nightmares, had started a few weeks ago.
It was always the same: A woman with hair like night and skin that was pale like the moon reaching for him. Her eyes flooded with panic as she reached her arm outward, fingers curling in desperation for his. He would reach for her, finding the same desperation and need in kind. Tears would start cascading down her cheeks, staining her face and neck.
"Chris please! He's coming!"
Chris. She called him Chris! Was that his name!? Panic strained her voice as she continued to struggle to find him. Rings of cerulean met soulful brown, cementing his determination to get her back. The moment their fingers would brush then meet, a light warmth fanned across his body, starting in his fingertips before racing though his veins and filling his entire body.
"Please, Chris! Don't let me go!" Determination fueled his movements, his hand clasping with hers.
But fate would be a cruel adversary as a gloved hand shot out, snatching her back. Chris could watch as the hand and arm began to coil around her waist as a snake would its prey, turning into an oozing tentacle. The appendage pulsated and tingled against her. The connection between them had long turned to ice. He watched, helpless, as her body snap backwards as more tendrils shot out, encasing her further. He fought to go to her only to have an invisible wall block his efforts.
"NO GODDAMNIT!" His took his rage out on the unseen barricade, his efforts in vain. His fists would ache, throb in protest at his command. Always fighting with his emotions and zero tact.
She struggled, warred against her captor, only to feel him tighten his hold around her, constricting her tiring being. Fatigue was setting in the man felt her body start to slow, arms and legs falling limp within his dark embrace.
"Oh no, Dear Heart, I simply cannot let you go."
The sensation of his lips and nose brushing against her neck elicited a sharp cry of protest to which he violently bit at the junction of her neck and shoulder. Blood danced across his tongue, which he greedily lapped, refusing to let any drop escape. The man licked his lips, savoring the last bit of crimson sweetness.
"She's perfect! An alabaster goddess to revere!"
"WESKER!" The glass wielded to the abuse, shattering around him. Chris lunged through the shards, shutting out the sharp stings cutting through his cheeks and arms. Blood dribbled from the wounds, painting his arms in random streaks. The man, Wesker, smirked at this valiant deed. With his query secured, Wesker dispatched a parting a gift towards Chris.
The spiked tendrils launched across the abyss, targeting Chris. The instant the tips pierced his heart, lungs and abdomen the silent scream escaped his lips. The last living thought was of her...
Chris shot straight up on the filthy thin mattress. Sweat beading his forehead despite the chilled air of the dilapidated room. He could feel his heart slamming against his ribs, threatening to break the bony confines. He sat there for a few moments, his breathing erratic as if he had ran a marathon. Though the moonlight, his eyes spied trembling hands. Shaking his head, Chris retrieved the half filled bottle of cheap whiskey. Pressing his eyes shut, he finished its contents, letting the amber velvet glide down his throat, taking in the subtle warmth that enveloped his body like a blanket.
Wesker. The name Wesker...it sounded familiar yet foreign. Was it someone he knew or knew him?
And the woman. Her. She called him Chris. Chris. It sounded familiar.
The way he reached for her, as if his very life depended on it. Who was she? The man, Wesker, called her Dear Heart. No, something told him that wasn't her real name, no, it was a pet name perhaps. Chris glanced at the clock, noting it was 3:15. He had been asleep for only 3 hours. It felt like an eternity. Shaking off the nagging sinking feeling in his gut, Chris threw the bottle to the floor and turned on his side. As he turned over, he gasped in shock. It was her, laying on her side, eyes locked to his. The icy hues pleaded with him as a hand caressed the side of his face. Chris lay there frozen, letting the specter stroke his cheek and thumb play with his lips. Her raven locks fell in feathery layers, masking part of her face.
"Remember," she whispered. "Remember, everything."
Chris bolted awake, the sun now dominating the sky. His head shot left, the space beside him vacant. She had felt real. Her touch... Chris slapped his hand to his cheek, letting it linger where hers had the night prior. It had felt so fucking real.
No. She was some figment of an overworked imagination. He needed more whiskey to silence it.