Wesker had been recreated, late in 2009, from scraps of DNA saved from the W Project and some found in the volcano– successfully cloned. He was then FF7 Jenova'd by the BSAA (by an ex-W-Project Scientist,) and used for creating cures, eventually cut to pieces and put in a pod when he became too much to contain, used for parts, for creating BOWs, for controlling an army of BOWs. Chris found him after 4 years of that constantly-awake torture and freed him. Exerpt below.
The liquid in the pod bubbles as air shoots through it as the metal plates slide away– the pieces closest to the center unshield first, revealing pale hunks of flesh stabbed through their centers with huge metal spikes.
Chris doesn’t want to acknowledge what it is, but part of him knows already. He knows what thighs look like, biceps, and he is staring at them now. Surgically removed sections of limbs with plates surrounding the open wounds, black cabling and wires connecting each segment of each limb to one another.
The plates all slowly retract, the biceps and thighs, followed by the calves and forearms, hands and feet, then, last, the torso–
When the torso's shielding slides away, the subject is being held open by splints, exposing the orange, vibrating heart, surrounded by that same black cabling, attached by diodes and thin wires to the sides of the tank, ribs and flesh peeled back for access.
The heart is moving– the readings of consciousness all around Chris are for this. It’s still alive. Decapitated, mutilated, chest propped open, and still conscious. Trapped inside its body.
And then the face plate, the helmet, cracks in half, sliding away, retracting, and Chris knows that face.
It’s like they pulled him right out of the corpse of Raccoon City. So lifeless and empty. The way he’d looked lying on the lab floor after his creation had gutted him.
Albert Wesker.
His expression is blank, his eyes closed, cheeks hollowed– his entire body is barely skin and bone. All the muscle and glowing power Chris had gotten used to seeing on Wesker, and it has all fallen away.
He looks like a ghost.
His hair, loosened from the helmet, floats in the liquid longer than Chris has ever seen it, a halo of pale gold around his shoulders and face.
He looks like an angel.
He looks mutilated.
Conscious. The word keeps ringing in Chris' ears. Conscious.
The Motherboard.
Wesker's brainstem is wired into the machines directly, his neurosystem hijacked, every part of his body used for parts or programming.
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