𝕷𝖊𝖙'𝖘 𝖏𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝖘𝖆𝖞 𝕴'𝖒 𝖆 𝖌𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖙…
Indie + Selective Albert Wesker from Resident Evil, commanded by Kreatchur.
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@cynicalmastermind
𝕷𝖊𝖙'𝖘 𝖏𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝖘𝖆𝖞 𝕴'𝖒 𝖆 𝖌𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖙…
Indie + Selective Albert Wesker from Resident Evil, commanded by Kreatchur.
[ ✘ ] RULES || [ ✘ ] ABOUT || [ ✘ ] NAVIGATION
@prctctype continued from [ x ]
There'd be two survivors of the Wesker program if Alex had survived her own ordeals — was she attempting to follow in his footsteps? To find freedom and purpose and newfound abilities through death? Some part of him felt that she was still out there, somewhere, though he knew not where to look, or even if he should. He was different now, far different than he was the last time they met. She might not even recognize him anymore, nor he her, should she still live.
"You did before." Albert states matter-of-factly. "Though, I'd like to think we've worked past it." He cannot ignore the fact that he had initially hated Zeno too and for nothing more than being the spitting image of himself. But they needn't focus on these things now that things were much happier between them. Albert tilts his head as Zeno speaks, immediately intrigued. He leans over to see the photos as they are presented to him and... no, could it be?
Like before, Albert looks up to Zeno's face for confirmation and, once again, Zeno's sparkling eyes tell him everything he needs to know.
"Zeno, I... Congratulations. I don't know what to say..! Have you picked out names yet?"
She wished she had stopped. His chuckle was surprising, it almost sounded really genuine. But it was gone in the same second it had appeared and Claire felt guilty for that. As much as she felt wronged by this man and the far-reaching impact of his decisions in her life, she did not believe in returning like-for-like.
And then he made a counter offer, the type of offer she needed for this to succeed.
Her smile fades, replaced a level, painfully open and honest look that echoes back to the other Redfield in his younger years with the STARS. They really did wear their hearts on their sleeves in the family. If he wanted the charade cut, Claire was more than willing to work with that.
"I want to know more about the work you did at the Spencer Estate. Not to haunt you or taunt you. The opposite, really. See, Wesker, you're the best resource there is for virology research; not to mention the most stable, walking and talking specimen of your own work."
The tablet is set back on the table, swivelled back with her finger hovered over the words 'Tyrant Virus'.
"I want to know how you tick. I want to know what you know about virology. I want to understand all of it - all of you."
There was a gamble he put the pieces together and outright refused or, worse, obfuscated her mission. But even if he gave her the basics of how the original virus operated...that would be more than they had before this meeting.
Tch. Did the family have the capability to make themselves look like the saddest beings on the planet? His eyes narrow, but out of a pang of guilt instead of his usual hostility. Dammit. Hearing her words did little to lower the walls, but he appreciated her honesty. It was true, there were very few in his field that managed to live as long as he and survive their own experimentation on themselves. If one wanted some expertise in the field, they need not look any further than Albert Wesker.
Spencer had chosen his specimens well.
He looks down at the tablet, looking at the words just beneath her finger, ears strained to hear her words and his mind swarmed with memories of that vile place. That's where everything changed — the night he betrayed the team he had grown rather close to with the intent to sacrifice them for combat data of all things. Chris, Jill, Barry, Enrico, Rebecca, Richard... two years he spent getting to know his teams, forming strong relations so they would not suspect him of a thing. At some point he had forgotten that the intent was to cover Umbrella's tracks — they became more of a found family than professional partners... and he had to sentence them to death.
"Why?" He asks, eyes glued to the screen though he wasn't acknowledging what the tablet displayed, lost within memories. "Why do you want to know about it? I'm more than willing to play don't misunderstand, but I find it rather odd, Ms. Redfield," Albert then looks upward at her with very little emotion upon his features. "That you would want to know of the thing that nearly killed your brother — nearly killed you. Understanding how I work now that I can understand, but my work? Explain your reasoning to me and I will tell you what I know."
❝Oh, Albert . . .❞
Excella instantly makes haste to be by the other's side in attempt to offer COMFORT.
Manicured hands hovers over his tense shoulders before resting on them. Slim fingers massage there, hoping it'll melt the TENSION right out of Dr. Wesker. As she does this, almond-coloured eyes scan the DAMAGE done to this specific lab.
Hundreds-- No, THOUSANDS of dollars of equipment down the drain because of the blond's tantrum. Fortunately for him, money is no OBJECT for the Regional Director. Still, she was hoping for a little more . . . DISCRETION in how he conducts himself. Nevertheless, this doesn't diminish the SPARKLE in her eye that she has for the man.
❝Don't worry, I'll SEND for someone to straighten everything for you. In the meantime, why don't you take a BREAK?❞
She meant well, he knows this, but it does little to alleviate the guilt gnawing at his stomach. He's how old now, and this was his response to a little stress? Too old for it and too professional and all done where his superior — because that's what she was — could see him. As she massages in small circles against his shoulders, Wesker attempts to rub the shame from his eyes and heaves a heavy sigh.
"I'm sorry," He mutters behind gloved hands, refusing to look at the damage or anything else. "No one else should have to clean my mess, I can..." Another sigh, but this time he has removed his glasses and is looking at Excella over his shoulder. It was clear that this man had not slept in quite a while and it was certainly affecting his temperament and his judgement. "Give me a chance to repair what I can, please." What kind of partner would he be in this business if he let the other pick up the messes he's purposely made, nevermind how they were created.
"I will take a break after, that I promise."
Having him here now and in front of him, Arias had a plethora of thoughts running through his mind. Wesker looked far different than the articles showed; although, the injuries adorning his features were an obvious sign of intense burns. A sliver mask muffled his words, yet the voice definitely belonged to Wesker; what he wouldn't give to take it off and see his true face.
The sound of a bird tweeting echoes in the room, but it was just a fake as the flower petals falling around them. Everything reminded him of Sara, and even having Wesker present reminded him of when he'd greeted guests for his wedding. He hopes...things would be different; a hope that Wesker would accept his proposal to cooperate, to change the world in their own image. Wesker held the same resentment for the world as he did, it would be foolish to ignore their destiny together.
"Everything and more, Mr. Wesker." Another firm shake of their hands before he releases Wesker's gloved fingers.
"I've poured over every article, every paper containing your name in the hopes you would share my feelings regarding this world. It's...grown disgusting, hateful, and I want to repaint it. Your research and skills fascinate me; so, when I'd heard of your passing, I was quite devastated. I was quite surprised to stumble upon you randomly-- it's destiny at work, Wesker. Destiny is telling us to be together, side by side."
He's ignoring Wesker's attempt to change the topic; annoying, but he can play this game a little longer. In truth, some part of him was enjoying the attention, creepy as it was. His silver face is void of all emotion save for the eyes that, though cast in shadow, still glow a bright red and sparkle with delight.
"You agree then that this world is in desperate need of a clean and better slate?" Even if Arias agreed and desired to cooperate, Wesker knew he had to hold him at arm's length, lest he be blindsided by an inevitable betrayal — people in his line of work never kept their partnerships for long if they ever had any at all. It would have only been a matter of time before Albert betrayed William for his research; how long would it take him for Arias?
"Randomly," He parrots, turning his attention to the walls of the room mimicking a lovely and quiet day. "I feel like that's a fib, Arias. One doesn't randomly meet me of all people, especially after I was declared dead. It's okay to admit you were searching for me." He waves a hand, motioning to the room. "What is all of this, then? Seems rather peculiar for a man to have a room like this."
@tenkoseiensei replied to your post “"A happy Pride to all of those out of, or still in...”:
i'm not hiding in any of your closets but i'm definitely close!
what—
getting closer .
@tenkoseiensei replied to your post “"A happy Pride to all of those out of, or still in...”:
i'm not hiding in any of your closets but i'm definitely close!
what—
"A happy Pride to all of those out of, or still in the closet."
Baseball Wesker for my friend..
I used a baseball jc leyendecker piece as a reference!
The evil cockroach fairy has finally been caught, thanks to Chris's generous help.
OUR MUSES sneak through an area crawling with danger.
ʜɪɢʜ ꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ ► accepting
The mission was simple; enter the facility, extract the DNA, destroy the building, then leave. They were adequately prepared; a team of good men and women handpicked by Wesker, Albert Wesker himself, and a new recruit who showed great promise. The plan was simple.
However; due to unforeseen circumstances — dangerous BOWs roaming the halls of the forgotten facility; the mission was anything but. They hadn't located the sample yet when they were overrun and now more than half of his people are dead. Wesker barely had the time to grab the newest recruit before she ran into a room of death.
"Do not go in there," He warns, pulling her to his side. "There are too many of them for you to handle on your own." But even with the two of them he was reluctant to proceed. He had wished to achieve his goals here with little to no damage, a foolish wish but he was still adamant on trying. They would have to find another way around; the sample was still in here... he could feel it.
"Keep close and keep quiet."
does this count as a new icon—
@griefkill continued from [ x ]
It was rare that Albert was provided an opportunity to really test his skills. Blessed was he to have an opponent this sparring lesson that could keep up with him, which was impressive by itself, but the ability to make decisions when given so little time to do so was what really caught his attention. Not many could perform so well under pressure and she even managed to get the upper hand on him for a moment, but a moment was all he needed to turn the tide of the fight. He takes advantage of her overconfidence and flips her onto her back, pressing her into the cool concrete harshly.
When she relents, Albert does too and releases his grip on her, standing up and offering her a hand.
"Don't worry about that, you did remarkably well." His mind was already busy with determining how to best utilize her unique abilities. "Though it is not a bad idea, to feed more. Perhaps next time you will beat me." Considering that this wasn't her at her best, she may just. The idea excited him, but also left a bitter taste in his mouth; he didn't like the idea of someone being better than him.