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Independent & Selective Excella Gionne from バイオハザード

[biohazardml]

RESIDENT EVIL DIRECTORY.     this  is  for  everything  resident  evil:    the  games,   the  movies,  original  characters,  multi-muses,   anyone  with  verses.     make  sure  to  add  your  character(s)  in  the  tags  and  if  they’re  canon,  original  character  or  a  verse  or  you  won’t  be  added.

[practicalal]

   OPERATION: DAYLIGHT, A RESIDENT EVIL STORY ARC. 

Locating the bioweapon E-001 “Eveline” leads to Umbrella II’s fateful research into “The Connections,” the shadowy and powerful entity behind the creation of Eveline. Eventually, it is discovered that Eveline is the latest in a series of failed lines of child bioweapons, created for the purpose of inducing mind control after infiltrating enemy lines. Eveline’s success, controversial as it is, proves that the future of bio-warfare has arrived – but at a terrible cost. Lines A-D had involved countless children, used and abused for the purposes of fitting the demands of the project. 

This project is the spiritual successor to Project W, the illegal eugenics project that created W-013 “Albert Wesker.” 

In current day as Albert and Umbrella II research further into the debacle, he discovers that his own Hive-Host Capture Force ( H.C.F. ) had aided The Connections back in 2000 when they had been but a fledgling scientific organization working on a revolutionary new fungus, two years post Albert’s defection from Umbrella officially.

Said fungus is what The Connections would later use to test on their child subjects. 

Upon discovering his unknowing involvement in aiding them, Albert is driven into an unknowable, dark rage and sorrow – feeling proper guilt for, perhaps, the first time in his life in the knowledge that he had helped to repeat the kind of project that had destroyed his own childhood and taken away his very identity, the kind of project that had destroyed the lives of countless children just as it had during Project W.

Disappearing off the grid entirely to grieve, he leaves his allies on Umbrella II’s board and other connections in confusion and turmoil. Law enforcement conduct an international search to retrieve him safely, to no avail. Having disappeared for months, Albert Wesker is considered dead to the world – once again.  

In reality, by taking advantage of an unguarded, grieving Wesker and drugging him with the Daylight Vaccine ( the most powerful and effective vaccine used to combat the T-virus in all of Resident Evil canon ) The Connections has him captured and taken to a remote black site, where he is kept under constant surveillance and tortured for seven days. As he is a virus, with no biological need for food and drink or any other biological functions that debilitate humanity, it is remarkably easy to keep him in a constant state of mutation and de-mutation with Daylight used to erode his Uroboros virus as soon as it manifests. This drives Albert into a state of numbness which he combats with every shred of willpower that he has. 

The Connections’ goal is to break Wesker’s mind and turn him into a complacent weapon. They intend to use him as their final project and unleash his despair in the form of mass destruction on the world, a destruction so great it is capable of killing billions.  

PARTICIPANTS: @urobouros, @anisopterra, @aheriii, @aanimality, @gunnshot, @allwaltend, @manowcr, @burneddivinity, @ruthlessmeans; 

Seeking more RE characters and pan-fandom characters, original characters and canons alike. Duplicates welcomed.

THIS LIST WILL BE UPDATED AS MORE PARTICIPATE. [ art credit. ]

[aheriii]

RE MORTE:

THEY ARE PROMPT, SWIFT IN their movements. La Cosa Nostra’s representatives incline their heads as Albert nods his acknowledgment, proferring a silent thanks for arranging his bonus meeting with Tricell’s ex-heiress. Excella is a shadow that follows swift as his long strides carry him from the locale. He is, once again, patient as he awaits the woman’s return once she leaves to pack her things. There is no point in wasting time, and they’ve a flight to catch – the private airstrip in the dead of night is a welcome sight, and their jet takes off without need for another word to be exchanged between them. 

He peers out the plane’s window, chin propped up in his palm, noting their ascent in altitude – Italy falling away to nothing as they make their return to Stati Uniti and the city that never sleeps. After a beat, he chooses to make their eyes meet – the glow of his bioluminescence aptly dim in his calmness.

❛ Age suits you. ❜ He finally speaks, watching her over the edge of his untouched wineglass, long legs extended in a relaxed ease – this is his demesne, after all, and it is after hours; by no means does he deign to converse with her, she’s earned her keep, enduring an unfathomable punishment in a flawless duality with his own. ❛ Your markers were strong enough to lead me to you, even in your isolation in another country. Escape is not what you wanted, however. ❜ It is not easy to escape ‘love’ ( entire civilizations have been destroyed for it, and great landmarks and monuments erected in the name of it. ) ❛ We are past old platitudes, Excella, are we not? Your lips against my body were what showed me your truth. The last night before you defected, they were hesitant, and your eyes were filled with sorrow. ❜

It was like a whirlwind -- at first she’d merely overseen the sale of assets at the private gathering, and now she fell into stride with the most powerful man on earth once more after retrieving her personal bags. 

It was a familiarity that came as a comfort.

His gaze was felt before it was seen, a gentle molten glow that was soft despite the unending power beneath it. She was aware too that in the din her eyes would be like liquid gold, her infection heightened from being in proximity to the source and his rich voice complimenting her change since their last encounter. True, as a carrier of Uroboros -- chosen to live -- she didn’t technically age any more outside of what she chose to portray, to blend and be umano more or less, but her style overall had adapted to what a few more years of wisdom had garnered. 

His comment about their last night together fast drove a stake into her chest though. 

“I did want for escape -- at least, I thought I did,” she mused airily after carefully considering his words, crossing one leg over the other in a well practiced motion. “A part of me could still feel you; I knew then that the reports from the watchdogs of your firey grave were not to be trusted.” 

Excella curled her fingers against her collarbone, tracing where he’d worshiped her skin all those year ago, the stake driving deeper. She’d been so young -- ingenuo -- and had the pressures of ambition and the family crashing atop her all at once. That night she’d mourned what the hours to pass afterward would bring, and regret had followed in full swing once her plan had unravelled. 

With Uroboros, that regret had became agonising sorrow until her ‘death’ from the two “heroes” of Kijuju. 

She let her gaze wander to the windows of the plane, to the darkness and the pale moonlight, her voice almost a whisper as she admitted, “I didn’t want to lose you.” 

[aheriii]

RE MORTE:

IN HER HEART OF HEARTS THE woman knows there can be no escape, that he will always return for what is rightfully his. His outward expression does not bely the horrific nature of what was done to him and he portrays that practiced patience and poise that has brought to him all the fruits of his labors in due course, the very same that attracted her in the first place. 

❛ Piove sul bagnato. ❜ When it rains, it pours. ❛ You know where it is you belong, Excella. ❜ Fingers graze along her collarbones, over the side of her neck. He is no stranger to theatricality, though it remains subdued now in comparison to the past. Clearly, il monstro is done playing games, if the way in which his fingers move to wrap around the delicate column of her throat speaks for anything ( however, he is certain that unhinged side of her enjoys this wicked dance; temptation is temptation, in the end. )  

He does not squeeze, constrict. His coils remain unmoving yet, as he chooses simply to instruct, knowing she will understand – from host to aheri, this is for her benefit as much as his own.  ❛ Come with me to New York. Surely, you know what is happening there. Tricell has no sway left in the community. It is time for an old name to resurface once more – and many would kill to be a part of such a venture. ❜ Pestilence does not choose favourites, she is correct; it swallows and adds to its form as it blankets the living. She is a part of him now, an extension. She can never return to what one may call ‘normalcy.’ Power, however, is what she has gained in exchange for supposed mortality, and in lieu of empty hedonism, she can enjoy the sacrifices made to deities. Blood makes for better wine than wine itself.   

❛ This is what you truly desired. ❜ He moves back, chuckles. ❛ Would you look me in the eye and disagree? ❜

Impossibly long fingers danced across her flesh, familiar and alien all at once, a grasp that is neither soft nor firm toying at her throat. Feeling impulsive actions that were human at their core and unconscious: the way she swallowed thickly, how her heart trembled a staccato despite it no longer pumping beyond what was needed to pass off as human. Thrumming. Ticking up into her jaw that clenched in trepidation. 

Aheri revelled in it. Drank deep the ichor that oozed from his words, his touch -- sang in joy for being one with the host once more just by presence alone. A duality of chaos in her heart and mind at the proposition. 

                                                      Un'altra opportunità.

This was meant to be; to run now was to accept death once more. Such an offer was not made lightly. Albert didn’t offer second chances, and yet he was willing to take her in once more at his side, despite what she had done to him. What she had done at the behest of the family to see to it that Tricell would thrive for decades to come. 

The very same company that had just seen the last of its major assets sold to him as the highest bidder. 

“It is,” she whispered, the gold in her eyes shimmering with delight in the low ambience of the garden. Gazing up at him came easier this time, the sonorous unity her entire being felt even as he stepped back impossible to ignore. “You said we'd change this world together, but it wasn’t meant to be back then.”

When she’d been younger, foolish. Under the pressure of her family and her personal ambitions.

She took one step forward boldly, and this time when her skin grazes against his own as her fingers traced the sharp line of his jaw she swore she felt warmth.

Together.

“If you will have me, amore, I am all yours -- no more games.” 

[aheriii]

RE MORTE:

Only two individuals in all of existence would be able to ascertain immediately the nature of his terrible metamorphosis: Alexandria, to whom he had given Uroboros in the hopes of assisting her debilitating illness despite remaining physically apart, and Excella, the lady Judas, her adaptation to the virus something she had only been allotted upon the acceptance of her punishment. In the end, both of them had been ravaged, his bones and organs, his very flesh all melting down to nothing – the entirety of what had been physically Albert Wesker dying for good. Chris Redfield had gotten his wish, putting down the adversary and sending him to hell. As the winds of madness became no more, the dawn approached: all would be well once more. 

However, the fail-safe that was the intricate fully-harmonized combination of Mothervirus and Uroboros, the healing factor and capability of revival from the dead, had activated and worked in tandem to ensure the continued existence of the former host: even if in a vastly different manner. The mortal coil could not be saved, but the consciousness, the knowledge and memory, they had managed to transfer to Uroboros itself. The virus, semi-sentient as it had been, then proceeded to gain a mind ( a mind of uber-brilliance that had once again planned the worst of abominations to the self imaginable if only to continue onward ) to further strengthen its intelligence – until it had re-formed in the shape of its creator, paying a macabre homage to the deceased.

“You were a young girl who dreamed of too much too soon. You had yet to learn the value of patience, nor did you choose the winning side,” He drawled, stepping forward ( the closer he moved, the more the virus would call – from host to host, dominant strain to Aheri. ) “It was only a matter of time until I found you again, Excella. There was never any use for you in staying away.” A shark-like grin, and then, he, it, was there before her, arm wrapping around her shoulder and pulling her slender form close enough so that a gelid hiss may enter her ear, close enough that his markers would show her exactly what had happened to him after her swift dismissal:

“N͟on ríćord̡a͜r ̨i͜l̷ capés̸tro͡,̷ ́in ca̧s̨a ̶del̷l'̢i͡m̨p̴iccato͟.” 

Her breath hitched high and sharp, a human reflex that she didn’t need anymore, and yet his presence becoming all consuming elicited it from her as he easily closed the gap that had been kept between them. The coil of his arm came with the coolness of a cadaver, all the fire contained inside him glowing beneath his shades; in the words that pealed as bright as a cathedral bell by her ear. 

She wanted to pry herself away — to run, to find solace and refuge once more on another continent away from the beast-once-man — yet uroboros writhed at the presence of the host to be complete once more. To let her body gel with his once more. Hard angles and soft curves, they should be such opposites, and yet she melted into his cool form. Not submissive, but compliant.              

“Mio Dio.”

He’d lost all humanity in the fires of hell, a shell cast off, abandoned, leaving nothing but the unending coil of the serpent in its wake. Binding. Constricting. Ensuring that she could never escape the omnipotent reach her had as he devoured the world anew from the depths of the shadows; the myth of Apep chasing Ra to consume the light of the world in the flesh.

For she was the light, consumed by the maw of chaos.

“What would you have of me?” she wearily asked, voice low and insistent. Albert Wesker didn’t play favourites. Everyone in his web were an asset and she’d been drawn right back into it. “Am I to be l'impiccato once again for my crimes?” 

He had her in a pinch; the queen’s defence gambit falling to pieces against his controlled counter-play.

                                                             Scaccomatto.

[aheriii]

RE MORTE: 

Even after all this time, she continued to deem herself ‘worthy.’ In his presence, no less, whispering sweet nothings in an ear that was long-since used to anticipating knives. Excella, for all her prodigy and aristocratic bearing, had been unable to grasp the truth. A shame. A woman worth so much, a woman among women who, in the end, had allowed greed to surpass decency; it was karmic retribution, however, one big cycle that wound them all together in the games they played. Just as S.T.A.R.S. and Umbrella had fallen victim to his hunger, in the same vein had Excella chosen her path. Saboteur. To attempt at manipulating the chessmaster among chessmasters, that never would end well. 

“As we speak, Tricell’s remaining assets are being torn apart by the wolves and divided among black market contenders. Our little debacle was easy to pin on the company, as well as that pathetic little urchin of an ‘oil tycoon.’ I must inquire, however…how had you not foreseen this entering the fray –” The fall of another era in the story formed thereafter Umbrella’s liquidation, a domino-effect to follow all other pharmaceutical establishments that dabbled in the corrupt practice of human experimentation and, ultimately, bioterrorism. Human beings were adaptable, his acknowledgement of their perseverance in the face of horror was a given – despite existing as the embodiment of apotheosis, it would behoove him to remember his roots. 

If anything, that human past life in itself was what made him all the more dangerous.

“Were you so blinded by the stars that you could not see what was happening on earth, bella?” He murmured, then, subtle amusement lacing his tone, as if he were utterly ignoring the horrid nature of their conversation and the events it detailed. He wasn’t. Even in the fits of madness, he had been self-aware. All along, he had been in control, and accepting of himself, beast and man alike. Perhaps now, the woman might come to know the true him – after all, she certainly hadn’t known before.  

She felt the heat of anger coil in her gut like a cobra preparing to strike at his words. That he would dare insinuate she’d been that blinded by him —! 

True, she had enjoyed what Albert had brought to the table in their partnership, in more ways than one, but Excella had attempted to usurp his hold on everything in an intricate game of chess over the course of a year to skew toward her own gain ultimately. What she hadn’t counted on was that she’d been playing against the gran maestro the entire time. Hubris had shrouded the game in a fog of war, her ultimate downfall in the end, but after crawling out of what was to of been her coffin she had thought his grander vision had died along with him back in that damnable Kijuju. 

“Do not think me so stupire,” she hissed low and shrill. “Most of the liquidation has been at the hands of my family, for the sake of our future. While I had expected many things, you were not one of them.” 

She felt the bite of her nails against her palms, willing everything to stand rooted to the earth; to not flare the hood of a cobra in an act of war. Before her was a man more dangerous than she’d ever known, reborn from fire itself, and uroboros made it clear to her that it would be futile to strike. 

                                      ( For who was she to try take on the King. )

Her jaw ticked, Excella huffing as she soothed the rage and became the cold, cunning business woman who had caught his eye so long ago. Hooded gold-flecked eyes stared him down from beneath long lashes, her lips curling just-so with the hint of a strained smile.  

“I will admit, I had... misjudged your prowess,” she remarked at first. “My mistake was thinking I could harness that for myself. I knew there was more beyond Uroboros, beyond Kijuju and all of Africa, but I didn’t see it.”

Her youth, their passion, had blinded that in a way. 

A part of her hated that he still could make her feel that way, after what he’d done. 

“But your plans have changed, amore. Working from the shadows once more. Just like you have changed. Qualcosa in te è morto in quel vulcano.”

[aheriii]

RE MORTE:

KIJUJU AUTONOMOUS ZONE, AFRICA. YEAR 2009.

To bite the hand that feeds. Hardly an unfamiliar concept, one which he had executed himself for the sake of the greater picture – a world freed from the shadow of the mad eugenicist Lord Ozwell E. Spencer and his mad establishment, one wherein those scorned would have what they deserved from the beginning. Raised in an environment where the screams of the living-turned-undead rang in his ears regularly, where assassination and sabotage among the inner workings of the corporate entity was commonplace…it was hardly a surprise when three years prior at the Kijuju autonomous zone – wherein the initial testing of the original strains of his Uroboros virus had been conducted – one Dr. Excella Gionne had decided to usurp all of Tricell all on her own. With the finalization of Uroboros as a weaponized virus, the vast sums of money provided by oil tycoon Ricardo Irving as their middleman, and Excella’s own storied lineage – making her rightful heiress to Tricell’s empire – Albert had anticipated the rise of the woman’s ambition over all other logic and ties.

Her assistance and willing cooperation during the research and bio-engineering process of Uroboros had been instrumental in achieving his goals, causing the tyrant to believe the Italian beauty an excellent asset, brains apparent before her physicality. Backstabbing the man she had been in bed with however, ( in all senses of the term ) was unacceptable. He had turned away from the horrific view as Excella’s DNA was rejected by Uroboros, causing her to mutate beyond control. Hundreds of former test subjects’ corpses piled in the area only aided toward the carnivorous B.O.W.’s towering stature and as the tyrant had departed, vitriol rising as bile in his throat adding to the rage already consuming his mind. Six billion cries of agony would serve as a reminder to everyone who still dared to defy his will: those that would remain would be the worthy ones. Excella Gionne had already proven herself unworthy by action, despite her words otherwise. No matter how things would end, he would remember the choice she had made.

CHIOSTRO DEL PARADISO, AMALFI, ITALY.

YEAR 2012. 2200 HRS.

Representatives from La Cosa Nostra had agreed to discuss matters of import at the garden of the Chiostro del Paradiso di Amalfi, a few hours away from Sicily itself, regarding the operation of the Italian branch of Callidus Pharmaceuticals – and the upcoming changes to the establishment as a whole. The puppet C.E.O. to Callidus had been provided by the mafia in good faith in exchange for the chance of future investment in what would become known as Umbrella II – ergo, the meeting had gone rather well, as was to be expected. Turning his back to the departing men and women of the family, Albert prepared to make his prompt return back to the states; a familiar scent, however, caused him to pause.

At the other end of the garden stood a lone woman, in shades of creme and gold, viral markers present and indicating – …

“Hm, hm…what a surprise. You are just full of them, are you not, Excella?” Acerbic words from otherwise stony features.

@aheriii​ / THE ESTRANGED, FALSE QUEEN.

Often called the monastero del paradiso, the lavish and meticulously manicured gardens closer to the monastery of Chiostro had offered solace in the crisp evening air away from the talk of business -- and had allowed her to breathe (as much as she did these days) once she’d learnt of the family’s chosen guest for discourse.

                        Someone who had meant to die in the fires of il inferno itself. 

She had meant to as well. Had done so, until the coil of uroboros had ripped her from the chrysalis of aheri; denied the right to die and burdened instead to live, a Regina torn from the throne and cast off. Reborn, but chained down by the ichor that now flowed in her veins and writhed in her gut. 

She had been worthy -- only after surviving a trial by fire. 

Excella had managed to secure safe passage back to a more civilised part of Africa out of the Autonomous Zone before the cani of the BSAA caught her in their cleansing of the area, and promptly tore down the very company she had aspired to claim all her own. The writing was on the wall -- the BSAA had all the intelligence they’d needed to pin everything on TRICELL and see to it that they crumbled under the weight of their crimes, so she saved them the effort. The Gionne-Travis families all too easily blended back in, casting the crimes off onto the shoulders of others outside of their inner circle, and in doing so Excella had found purpose once more. 

Shame it’d caused her to cross his path once more.

She knew that save for outright leaving, she was only buying herself moments to steel herself in her seclusion. One didn’t work with Albert Wesker for over a year without learning that there was never an escape from the ombra della morte; that she couldn’t deny the way a primordial chord wound taut as she felt the threat of him everywhere. 

(Nor the way his voice, richer than the finest wines, made her skin prickle.)

“Albert,” his name lilted off her accented tongue like honey. “I, too, could say the same of you tesoro.” 

Excella turned to face the very man she’d been avoiding all evening, the motion elegant and sweeping. Effortless. The extravagant gold beading of her Versace gown glimmered in the low and warm lights of the garden, much like the gold flecks in her eyes did, her lips parting in a soft gasp as she took him in proper. He still was all hard angles -- chiselled from marble by God himself, yet beneath his ever-present glasses she could see the fire. She could smell him:  cologne that was subtle to not overstimulate his own senses, and yet something more — 

                                                            Progenitor.                                                              Uroboros. 

“It seems we both were worthy in the end, but at such a cost,” she sneered, face contorting haughtily for a mere moment before she dared lock her eyes with his own shaded ones. “I see your plans have changed somewhat from Kijuju—?” 

[aheriii]

                                                   “ Don’t expect any thanks ”

[aheriii]

[ under construction ]