An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
fandom ➳ Resident Evil 4 (Video-game 2023)
warnings & tags ➳ Albert Wesker/Female Reader, Work-in-Progess/Multi-Chapter, Slow Burn, Phone Sex, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Masturbation
⠀⠀⠀➳ This work is rated 'R'; do not interact if you are under the
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ age of 18.
summary ➳ You survived the initial outbreak of Lord Saddler's tyrannical reign. Living off the bare minimum, you have stalked around in the shadows---unnoticed by the brainwashed villagefolk, in the hopes of one day escaping from the plagued confines of the island. However, as luck staggers steadily into your palms, a mysterious woman in red falls unconscious in your sights---leaving with her an ear-piece and ornery voice of whom harbours the patience of a worm.
Insults are exchanged. A deal is struck. Tension rises. This is a story of survival.
The toll of the church bell pealed like a dying mule. Visages of villagefolk you once revered began their usual, sluggish walk toward the grand and pious building up on the hill. You were frozen—stilted in time, hidden beneath forage as you devised your escape. But when the shadow of a shoe grazed past your straw alcove, a shriek nearly gave up your positioning. You knew that if you so much as cupped your mouth to forego any sort of cry, the shifting would make far too much noise. So, you merely bit at your bottom lip and allowed your vision to blur as you felt yourself disassociate from reality. Disgruntled groans and cries from familiar voices sounded between the hovels and farm animals. You did not recognise anyone. Their faces, now pallid and devoid of life, stared unwavering up at the church. They had been beckoned, and that was all that mattered. Like parasites, all they knew was how to survive.
Following closely behind—rolling under fallen trees and hopping carefully over precarious terrain, you hid yourself amidst the vegetation of the woods. Silently, you watched as the villagefolk stalked up the dirt path to the looming place of worship—a building you renounced long ago—as they moaned and toppled into one another. However, something else quickly caught your eye.
An amalgamation of cherry red, twigs, and detritus lay toppled on the path. Slipping through the shadows of bark and other vegetation, you almost missed the peculiar blend of colours entirely. As you got closer, you realised it was a woman---dressed elegantly in red---that had captured your attention; certainly not from the island. As silent as a cat, you stepped over fallen branches and aged leaves, warily finding a position at her side. She was unconscious. Had she food? Looking around, you could not discern the cause of her fall. But you knew that leaving her here, en route to the church, would be her demise. Grabbing hastily at both heels, you began to drag her backward until you hit a stump. Her body did not exude much pull, and you made quick work of hiding her amidst the flora.
Had she... No... The bell only rang when intended.
As confusion continued to settle in, a muffled voice began to penetrate the otherwise still and stale air of the narrow pathway.
‘Ada—co... in... Luis... lost... Sitrep?’
Another person—of sound mind, no less. Autonomy. Defiance. Were they here? Shakily, your hand hovered above the mysterious woman’s unmoving frame; a half-wit attempt to discover the provenance of the voice. Ghosting your fingers over every hump and concavity of her body, your fingers eventually grazed over the shell of her ear.
Some sort of advanced technology?
Carefully—so carefully—you flicked off a tiny, apricot latch, allowing the miniscule device to fall into the palm of your hand. Then, with a tenacious breath, you lifted the little thing to your own ear.
Nothing.
A crow cackled in the distance; a wooden door flew open in the wind.
Ducking down beside the woman’s motionless frame, you whispered into the open air: ‘Hello?’
Again, nothing.
Deciding against lying low without proper cover, you hobbled quickly back into the tree-line; you could experiment with this odd device somewhere safer—anywhere but the pathway leading to the church. Giving one more look back at the unmoving woman, you felt a frown begin to form on your lips. She would not be the last.
It wasn’t until you found yourself in the dank of a small cavern beside the lake when a voice—baritone, quiet, confined—whispered into your ear.
‘Reveal yourself.’
A black bass struggled against your fishing line as you shifted awkwardly at the disruption in your silence. Tugging the resistant sea critter from the water, you grunted and chuffed in your own struggle. You watched as the bass’ gills began to widen, then close, then widen again. Practically yanking at it, now, you felt your feet begin to slip beneath you—but you did not care. Hunger plagued your body, and you needed sustenance. One more tug, and... The dissenting fish finally flopped from the lake’s murk. You chuffed again, proud of yourself for managing such a frivolous feat.
‘Who pillages a corpse and doesn’t tell?’
There it was. Again. That deep voice. It was so unfamiliar; so foreign. Staring down at the floundering fish at your feet, you finally spoke. ‘I pillaged a living body.’
Again, silence.
On your end, the black bass struggled all around your toes, and you had to prostrate to its whimsy as you attempted to scoop up its slick. ‘Fuck,’ you muttered beneath your breath. ‘C’mere, you.’
The silence seemed to break at the worst possible times. ‘Excuse me?’
Sitting back against the cavern’s coarse and protruding wall, you released a long-pent-up sigh. ‘Not you. The fish.’ Kicking off your hefty boots, you crossed your legs together as you hooked a finger beneath the bass’ gills.
It took another minute of awful silence for the voice to reply. ‘Are you alone?’ The fish floundered one, final time.
You simpered at nobody. ‘Painstakingly so. I fear I may be alone—truly alone—on this island.’ If this was the last human being you would ever speak to, so be it. ‘Lord Saddler has ravaged the minds of everyone I love. Everyone.’ You could feel heat rising to your cheeks—sweat settling in precarious divots, the constant click of your tongue. ‘I need a way off this island. Can you help me?’
Silence, silence, silence. All you had known for the last week was silence. Frustrated, now, you pulled past the bass’ gill, splintering its head as your remaining fingers smoothed over its prickled tail. Food be damned! You were going to die on this island—whether through natural or flagitious means, you would be laid to rest amidst voracious lunatics and heretical dogma. Blood began to trickle down your wrist, pooling quickly in the crevice of your inner-elbow. Hesitating, you sniffed at the sinewy trail.
That low, exotic baritone cut swiftly through your trance. ‘Do you know of the Amber?’
Easing a brow, you allowed the fish to hang between your thighs. Staring up at the oblique and dank stalactite, you wanted to laugh. Nary a caw nor howl could reach you now. ‘What are you, a hawkshaw? People are dying, and you’re worried about tree resin?’ The bass found its rightful place in the dirt.
There was no silence this time. ‘Are you religious?’
Your eyes narrowed on a small divot in the rock-wall. ‘My family is. I’m what they call a blasphemer.’ An aerated chuckle escaped your throat—forced, unnatural. ‘Now, can you tell me what the fuck this Amber is?’ Careful. You were growing quickly frustrated with the deep and monotonous lilt of his tone.
‘That explains one anomaly.’
Puzzled, you pulled yourself from the dirt, smoothing a hand behind you so as to steady yourself; though, the jagged rock did not offer much respite. ‘I’d say you’re more of an anomaly than I.’ Dusting off your rear, you felt the world begin to spin around you—a harsh malady of dehydration. ‘Can’t we ascertain a semblance of normalcy? For starters, we can exchange names.’
‘Negatory.’
Gritting your teeth, you began to make for the exit of the cave. ‘Favourite food?’
Silence. As you were about to rebuttal your own remark, he spoke. ‘How original.’
You really did want to laugh this time; only, the pit in your shrinking stomach began to prod egregiously at your core. ‘At least I’m trying.’
‘You seem to forget you’ve compromised my mission. Know your place.’
What a fucking asshole. ‘I’ll throw this device into the lake. I will. You’re at my mercy just as much as I’m at yours.’ When the silence spoke louder than his monotonous whispers, you continued. ‘I’ve survived amidst this cult for many moons. You haven’t seen the horrors this place has wrought upon itself. If you can get me off this island, I’ll do anything. I’ll do anything you ask. Because I know that what-ever awaits me on the other side of the sea—it can-not be worse than the hellscape I’ve witnessed in recent days.’
With bated breath—for the first time since hearing his voice—you waited with a hint of fervour. As you hobbled out from the cavern and into the dusk, a sonorous groan sounded around the shell of your ear: ‘Fine.’
