#Shady With Shades - Wesker
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🖋 Albert Wesker but as a catboy. You know. Albert Whisker?
"You nyah-haven't changed."
Albert Whiskers stared down at Chris Redfield, the tiniest of owo's on his face.
"Whiskers! You ARE alive!" Chris snapped, his firearm immediately going to point at the more pressing threat.
"This is Whiskers?!" Sheva asked besides him.
"We last met at the Spencer estate, was it? Well-" Whiskers sauntered forward, his tail gently cutting through the air as it trailed behind him. "-Isn't this one big family re-mew-nion?"
A pause as Whiskers looked from Chris to the hooded figure. He frowned at Chris' ignorance.
"I would have thought you'd be happie-purr to see us."
"Us...?" Chris tilted his head slightly.
"So slow to cat-ch on." Whiskers' claws gently caught on the back of the hood, pulling it away to reveal Jill, relishing Chris' expression.
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A Mistake: Chapter 9
Sweat covered her skin as the top of her head rocked against the trunk of Wesker's car. Every bump on the road jolted her body, rattling her clenched teeth. Cara felt suffocated in the plastic bag sticking to her skin with sweat. Wesker had insisted on no clothes, but at least he had the decency to turn around as she stripped fully before placing herself in this predicament. Not every girl who finds herself naked in the trunk of a car necessarily wished for it. Yes, she had begged Wesker for help, but that did not mean she will raise the negative star rating for this shady transportation trip where she was cargo.
Wesker told her very little about where they were going. In fact, he did not speak the whole way. She really hoped he hadn't forgotten about her. Her eyes kept drifting closed only to blink wide as the dispatcher spoke over the police radio. "Calling all available units. Hostage situation at Bernard 667. Back-up needed."
"Looks like I'll have to leave you with my contact. I am needed back at work," Wesker said, keeping his eyes on the dark road. It was bad timing, but he was forced to keep up pretenses. He will simply have to trust his contact to take care of things.
Cara recognized it as a street on the less fortunate side of town, a bank not two blocks from her apartment building. Something like this should not be unusual on that side of town, but there had been a massive decline in criminal activity in the city for years.... until now. Cara hoped this was a one-time thing and did not mean something larger. She asked nothing about who the contact was, knowing questions are often useless with Wesker.
The drive felt like an eternity, a suffocating one. Her motion sickness came in waves, crashing into her with powerful currents before receding. She dry heaved several times, but her stomach was emptied long before she entered the car. She was exhausted and dehydrated. Her muscles moved weakly, barely holding her up as she lay on her side.
Soon the gravel road became smoother and less bumpy as Wesker pulled into the garage of a house on the outskirts of Raccoon City. The doors slid shut after them, keeping out the only light in the space. Wesker did not exit the car nor turned off the car's ignition. Two men marched straight for the trunk and dragged a bewildered Cara out. To Wesker, she resembled a cat who was about to be thrown into a bath. It was a delicious sight he enjoyed behind his shades.
Cara pushed and shoved, feeling unfamiliar hands lifting her body as soon as the trunk opened. The darkened garage made it hard to discern the tools pinned to the walls or much of the men's faces. Her muscles tightened as she struggled to plant her feet on the ground. But no matter how hard her aching muscles fought, more hands griped her, restraining her movement. Catching Wesker's glare in the rear-view mirror, she froze. His eyes weren't reassuring nor held a touch of warmth. They threatened her, arresting her screams into muffled whines that barely left her lips. She looked away immediately, reminded by the amount of power he had over her life...and when it was time to die. The struggle left her, and she allowed the men to take her inside the home. No sooner did the door shut behind them did the car drive off. Swallowing the thickness in her throat, Cara's only wished to crawl into a hole and disappear.
Cara was led into the center of a pale white room with no furniture or windows. Before she could ask about where she was, a high-pressured hose blasted her with ice-cold water with a bruising force. She was left coughing, lips trembling as she weakly cried, "p-please s-stop."
No matter where she cowered in the small room, the water would still blast her. There was nothing to hid behind. She had only her hands to shield herself, but that could only do so much.
They didn't stop, only switching to blasting her with a strong-smelling chemical that had her eyes burn before it even made contact with them. Someone came in and scrubbed her nails, cutting them so close to the nail beds that they bled. Chemicals were forced into her mouth, and she was ordered to gargle but instead choked, burning her lungs. She soon realized she was being disinfected from all evidence of the day that lingered on her body. By the end of the ordeal, she felt as if she had lost layers of skin, standing naked, huddled, and shivering. By the time they were satisfied, her hair was rough and brittle, reddened skin scrubbed raw, not having enjoyed such a rough spa day.
Only at the end did they bandage her up, using the least noticeable means. A powerful ointment was evenly spread on the bump on her temple, already bringing the swelling down within hours. The bandages were very close to her skin tone. Strangers and possibly friends may not give it a second glance.
They coached her on what to say and do as a cover-up, a very aggressive acting lesson she would never forget. They created a story for her, drilling it into her mind. she felt like she was being forced to sign a false statement during an intensive interrogation. They didn't hurt her physically, but their words shattered the edges of her sanity.
The cover story was that Cara and Rick went for a hike in the Arkley forest. They had a good time and split ways just before evening. Cara had to go babysitting while Rick got a call from his dad, asking him to drive to the next town for a meet-up. His parents lived apart, divorced for several years. This was nothing new. Rick met his dad all the time behind his mom's back. He took the car and drove off, and that was the last time she saw him. Cara's alibi was that she was watching over Sherry for the Birkin’s. This was the story she was told to feed her friends and anyone who cared to ask. They assured her that the likelihood of any police officers approaching her with questions was low. They had people on all levels of the police force.
Given an ill-fitting pair of jeans and a dark sweater, she was again in the trunk of another car with no clue of the destination. She didn't realize she dozed off until the trunk popped open, and she was roughly shaken awake. Unfocused eyes blinked against the bright light before focusing on her surroundings. She recognized Wesker's garage, feeling a ting of relief at the familiar surroundings before more uncertainty filled her.
Stepping out of the car on shaky legs, Cara almost fell but held onto the car for dear life. As soon as she was no longer behind the car, it pulled out of the garage, silently driving off. She stood frozen, numbly staring even after the car was gone and the garage doors slid shut.
In a trance, her feet carried her inside, roaming through the home only to find it empty. Despite knowing Wesker had to go back to work, she half expected him to be home waiting for her. she felt as if she had been with those people for years, but it likely had been only a couple of hours. The only sound was the pitter-patter of her feet and her occasional sighs.
She sat on the living room couch, her back straight and her hands folded on her lap. Blankly she stared at the TV's pitch blackness, and what began as a tiny giggle became full-blown hysterical laughter and sobbing. Her reflection on the TV was the funniest joke she had ever seen.
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By the time Wesker had arrived, STARS had already infiltrated the bank neutralizing all but one robber. Wesker tsked, leaning against his car with a frown. Behind his shades, his eyes burned into the vehicles used by the STARS members.
They should have had everything under control hours ago. Wesker admits he may have been too lax on them the past few days due to a... particular distraction. Hating the inferior desire to justify failure with excuses for the incapability of his squad to take care of such a minor incident, he promised himself to go harsher on them.
While he usually had his emotions under control, he couldn't help but tap his foot, arms crossed. He wanted to check on Cara. The Robins were affiliated with Umbrella, and they weren't known for being tender with kids. Umbrella rathered, silencing than keeping silent. It was much easier to kill the loose ends. Still, Umbrella did employ the Robins' cleaning services from time to time.
If Cara wanted to survive in this world, she would have to endure and continue to endure. It would be a fun game to see whether she would leave his house and try to run. He loved cornering her, watching as she helplessly looked for an escape.
Forcing his thoughts to the present situation, Wesker gave an unkind smile. Several fools made the mistake of thinking that such a peaceful town had no way of protecting itself. All they likely saw was a city belonging to no other criminal organization, a free turf for them to set up shop for their business. With the misconception of an underfunded police department, they were too blind to see the monsters lurking in the deep waters they jumped into. No lifeguard could save them now. They were already dead. Wesker smirked, already knowing which potential project he will 'volunteer' them for.
His smirk disappeared as he glanced down at his watch, realizing his team took yet another ten minutes to do the job. This incompetent behavior was wearing him thin. Tomorrow they will pay for this, first thing in the morning.
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Wesker didn't have to look very hard to find Cara. His eyes were drawn to her as soon as he stepped into the living room. Plopping down beside her on the couch, Wesker placed an arm on the back of the couch behind her. He regarded her with a knowing look, "Rough night?"
"Sherry was wild today. Running after her was exhausting." without looking his way, she answered in a practiced voice, already using what she was forced to learn. she could almost feel them breathing down her neck, waiting for a single slip of the tongue to put a bullet between her eyes. "Some boy tried to kiss her at the school playground, and she didn't like it. she was very upset took it out on me."
"Someone most definitely taught that boy a lesson, didn't they, dearheart?" he glanced at her with a knowing look.
"He definitely won't ever try that again. His lesson was too real." her voice grim, eyes cast on the ground. She brought her knees to her chest and hugged them, resting her chin on top. She couldn't help but shiver, feeling the room lose a few degrees.
"Kids these days need better parenting, thinking they are entitled to everything only because their parents made them believe they are special. Every year, I am forced to entertain pathetic, talentless children at the annual school field trip to the police station. It's ridiculous how many of them simply believe they are cut out to be police officers simply by wanting it."
"That’s a dark outlook, especially from a dirty cop. You're not exactly a model officer." she couldn't help but smile. Oh the irony.
"Contrary to what you believe, I do my job too well. Except for tonight, offenders have either been dealt with or they up and left the city to work elsewhere. We don't leave a single crack for them to even dream of continuing operations. I created and trained a team of the best there is, and if it wasn't for them, the hostage situation would have ended very differently tonight."
"Did anyone get hurt?" she whispered, dreading the answer despite how everything that happened today. She still felt worried for Chris. He was all Claire had.
"Only those who deserved to," with a gloved finger under her chin, Wesker lifted her head to meet his eyes. His words struck Cara deeply, stealing her breath. She knew he wasn't talking about STARS. He meant Rick.
"But that's-" a gloved finger pressed against her lips.
"If it still bothers you, I can hug it all better." flames lit Cara's cheeks that even the faint glow of the living room couldn't hope to shield it from Wesker. He never misses any details, no matter how minute.
"N-no! That's not necessary." she stuttered, jumping to her feet.
"You're a mess. Come here." a firm tug on Cara's wrist pulled her against him. She pushed against his chest, trying to get off as his arms encircled her. She tried her best not to get distracted by the feeling of Wesker's muscles against her hands. His body wrapped her in warmth.
"Let go. I don't need a hug," Cara snapped, her voice embarrassingly weak and breathless.
"Did you say something, dearheart? I cannot hear anything over the pounding of your heart. It's almost going 90 a minute. tell me, what's the matter."
"Why do you have to be like this?"
"You mean supportive? Attentive? comforting?"
"How is this supportive? You're just messing with me." having been freezing cold for most of the night, this tiny bit of warmth allowed her endless comfort. After everything that happened today, she could use something as simple as a hug- even if it was from a well-dressed serial killer. It's not like she was innocent anymore. Her right to judge him is long gone. She sighed, releasing all the tension from her muscles as she rested her head on his shoulder. "Just don't complain that I'm too heavy. remember, you offered me."
With his hand tracing strokes over her back, several minutes of silence passed, neither of them changing positions. Cara's heart left the race, taking a rest from the overdrive. As much as she wanted to deny it, she liked how Wesker held her, touched her. No one had ever treated her like this before. She insisted these strange feelings and ideas were due to being in a state of vulnerability thanks to tonight's events. Wesker came to her in her moment of weakness. That had to be it. With that as an excuse, she snuggled even closer, savoring the scent of his cologne.
"I thought you were above skipping school to hook up with boys." he just had to ruin the moment. Cara did not miss the way his arms tightened around her, fully noting how his muscles shifted. What was his problem, she wondered? Was Wesker worried she would spill everything to some guy?
"I... I thought he was my friend.”
"Do not repeat this mistake. Everyone has their secrets. You can't ever know someone well enough to fully predict their every move."
"Ok, ok. I learned my lesson. No going to the woods alone with boys. I'll keep to the public spaces." Cara rolled her eyes, the last thing she needed tonight was a lecture on what she already knew.
"That won't do either."
"What? Am I supposed to quit dating just because of one super horrible date?" Cara pouted, crossing her arms as she glared at him.
"You forget your life is in my hands." Cara found his excuse ridiculous. He had no good reason to control her social life. She didn't go and run her mouth to anyone about what she saw, so why did he think he had the right to meddle in her affairs?
"Yeah, you like to remind me very often."
"Only because you seem to forget,"
"I think it's time I went home," she said, untangling herself with surprisingly no resistance from him. he let her slide off his lap, following her as she not so subtly rushed to the door. She was half expecting him to wrap a hand around her throat and end it all.
Before Cara could open the door, she was pressed against it. His arms caged her as she felt every contour of his body against hers. Her heart thundered in her ears, heat rising to color her cheeks before taking a detour to pool between her legs. Her body betrayed her, responding to the touch of a serial killer.
"You'll likely be needing a new place to live soon," he whispered in her ear, lips brushing her skin like velvet.
"What?" she asked dumbly, unable to entirely focus on his words with the way he leaned into her.
"How are your parents doing?" it was like an bucket of ice was poured over her head. She furrowed her brows, not knowing where he was taking the conversation.
"They're...fine. Keeping busy...somewhere," Cara lied, biting her tongue. But was it a lie? There wasn't all that much reason for them to be hurt. Wherever they went its was probably safer than here.
"If you see them, tell them I said hello," he said, stepping back.
Cara had to lean against the door to stop herself from sliding down, her knees shaky, her mind troubled by all these cues.
Why would he say 'if' rather than 'when' she would see them? Did he know something he wasn't letting on?
Why was he being so confusing? One minute he was cold, threatening, abandoning her with those horrible people and the next he was trying to hug her, stealing touches at every chance.
She just needed to get back home, there she could think more clearly.
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That night, Cara slept in her parent's bedroom, surrounded by their fading scent. Despite everything her parents did to her, she felt comforted on their bed, like a kid again on an overly large bed. A kid who knew nothing of the world's cruelty. A kid who did not have to kill for survival.
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More drama with Leon, Chris, and Wesker!
“It’s not you I don’t trust. In fact, I trust you with my life, but I don’t trust Wesker as far as I an throw him. He’s a shady asshole and I don’t like him.” Chris had his chin resting in the palm of his hand, looking over at his lover who was sitting in a similar position across from him.
They had decided to eat out at a small restaurant after the incident at the station involving Wesker. They had managed to work things out after Leon (quite successfully) persuaded him to drop the subject by sleeping with him. If that was one thing that Leon was particularly good at, it was using sex as a weapon.
Chris just hoped that he didn’t use it on anybody but him.
“I don’t trust him either but there’s really nothing we can do about him. He’s got more power in his pinky finger than you and I have combined. All we can do for now is just ignore him, so let’s just settle with doing that.” Leon stirred his drink with the straw, the ice cubes hitting the glass with a quiet clank while he tapped his foot against the leg of the table
There was a good reason for Chris to be concerned considering what Wesker wanted, though it would also do him some good to have extra faith in Leon. There was no way in hell that he would choose Wesker over Chris, because Chris was a genuine person who didn’t lie and steal his way into getting what he wanted.
“I know, I know… I wish I could kick his ass into the ocean. Or better yet, maybe off the planet?” Chris grunted with frustration, his eyes narrowing with annoyance at the idea of having that snake of a man come back and try to take away what he believed was rightfully his.
Not that he would actually tell Leon he thought that, but…
Leon chuckled, kicking Chris’ foot playfully under the table with a bit of laughter forming in his throat. He knew that his lover was upset about the whole ordeal with Wesker, though this dinner was something he was using to try and help him forget. The sex worked for a bit, but of course the moment he saw Wesker in the hallway of the building, it all came crashing down.
Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if Wesker hadn’t approached the pair again, a fake smile on his face while he spoke of a fake apology. He didn’t really care how Chris felt about him or what he wanted, clearly, judging by the fact that he had moved closer to Leon and stroked a rough hand against his ass as he walked away.
‘Sorry about before. Maybe I can apologize later without that oaf getting in the way and making things awkward?’ Were the words that Wesker had whispered (rather loudly) into Leon’s ear, evoking another growl from Chris. The only reason he didn’t get punched was because Leon held him back by the wrist.
“As much as I would love for that to happen, maybe you should wait until space travel becomes more advanced? It’ll be easier to get him into space that way don’t you think?” Leon watched Chris’ reaction, a smile slipping on to his face when he noticed that his lover chuckled a bit at the words.
The fact that their relationship had almost gotten to a really bad place after only a small bit of time made him upset, so he was glad that this was enough to make the other man feel better. Wesker clearly wasn’t ready to give up yet… That was made clear by both his words and the fact that Leon now had about half a dozen messages from him.
“That asshole needs to stop sending you messages. I want to reach through your phone and punch his face hard enough to break those stupid shades he’s always wearing. Why does he wear them inside? It’s not like he needs to hide his ugly face.” Chris pouted again, making it so that Leon let out another low string of laughter.
Chris could be strangely cute when he wanted to be.
“You and me both. But is it worth getting fired over? You need this job so…” Leon was about to say more, but his words died in his throat when he felt Chris reach his hand over and grip his tightly. His expression was deathly serious, which was enough of a reason for him to be concerned.
“It is worth losing my job over. If he wants to keep harassing you, I’d gladly lose my job if it meant protecting you from him. I can find another job easily, but I can’t replace you. Don’t speak so lowly of yourself and how much I really do value you.” Chris squeezed Leon’s hand, his expression shifting again so that he had a small smile on his face.
There was a moment of silence before Leon turned his hand upside down, making it so that he could lace his fingers together with Chris’. The words he spoke were strong and full of conviction, and he remembered at that very moment that this was the main reason he had started to fall in love with Chris in the first place.
He was strong, brave, kind, funny… He was even smart when he wanted to be. But most of all, he valued the things that were important to him more than he valued even himself. That included Leon, it seemed, and it made him happier than he ever wanted to admit.
“I’ll make sure that you kick his ass into space the next time he does anything to me, I promise.” Leon spoke those words with a teasing tone in his voice, managing to get yet another laugh from his lover. Those soft brown eyes always looked so sweet during moments like these…
And these were moments that Leon wanted to hold on to no matter what. Wesker wouldn’t be able to take this happiness away from him, at least.
#leon kennedy#chris redfield#albert wesker#chreon#less drama and more sweet stuff#i'm actually kind of proud of this one!#request
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(I can't like from a sideblog so let's pretend this is me liking the starter call ^.^ - lowqualityrp)
"Hm hm hm hm- hm hm hm hmmmm, hmmmm! Bum da da dum da dum dum duuuummmm. Da da da, Da da da da, da! Bum dum da bum bum da dum dum!"
Wesker half sings, half hums the tune, stuck in his head. He's been on a recent western binge kick in his free time and lately he'd found an old show, The Wild Wild West. It was his understanding there was also apparently 3 movies based off it, 2 to do with the source material, one a sort of reboot/remake. That was what he was off to do now, to pick up one of the movies he'd ordered online.
His fingers drumming on the wheel, he sighs softly. He sees an upcoming light turn yellow, and his foot presses on the accelerator in an attempt to clear the light before it's red. It should be fi-
The world spins as Wesker is t-boned and the car is sent spinning. Wesker's car is relatively small compared to the other vehicle. His life flashes before his eyes, then everything goes white as the airbag deploys.
Blood.
He's bleeding.
One eye goes red, then dark. The other spins, rolls around in a desperate attempt to make sense of the world as pain like an old friend, encases him.
Fuck.
@lowqualityrp
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"Well," Chris says, rubbing lightly at his chin, "I'd rather you sit on my lap than step on it, sir. Though I guess that'd be against protocol, huh?"
Son of a bitch.
Wesker swallowed heavily. Damn it. Fucking- Well, two could play at that fucking game.
"Are you really in any position to be calling protocol into this, Redfield? I'm surprised at you, given your-" he smirked "-unsavory past with us."
He cleared his throat.
"Besides. I'm on rather good terms with the people that matter. As long as discretion was used, I'm sure they would be...quite forgiving."
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🕯
[From the meme: Send :candle: and my muse will talk about someone from their past.]
Wesker stared down at the flickering candle in front of him, his fingertips pressed together. He takes in the sounds and smells of the local bar, the soft clinks of shot glasses on well worn tables. The smell of cheap alcohol and cheaper people, in more ways than one. His shades have been removed, placed to the side so nothing hides his cold, icy eyes.
"...Oswald E. Spencer." The name wrings a chuckle from the other's throat. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows heavily. His teeth briefly grind together as memories flash.
"A cold, ruthless, arrogant bastard with a God complex. So, in essence, everything I am. He lives on in me, every part of him. The good, and quintessential bad. Mostly the bad, but only because there was hardly any good to begin with inside that rotten apple."
He squeezes his eyes shut as he remembers. It's hard not to get caught up in the past, as much as he tries to avoid it.
"He took me from my parents and raised me to be one of his own. A good little mockery of everything he held dear. He was my father figure, and he was pretty bad at it. Like a fox guarding the henhouse."
His hands clenched, fingers interlocking together.
"He did things to me. Things that made me who I am. I don't hate him for what he did. But I won't thank him for the nightmares either."
Is he...shaking? No. Impossible.
But the way his skin crawls doesn't lie. Neither does the sudden watery gaze in his eyes.
"I'm glad I killed him."
#mrwesker#//hope this is okay!#//decided to use Spencer because he doesn't really remember a lot about your muse!#//Because of :star: suppression :star:#shady with shades wesker
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Chris' smile has only gotten wider since Wesker's whole tirade. Truthfully, he doesn't know if he's his type as much as he's the *reason* he has a type, but you can't beat blond, tall, brilliant, and "super cute when flustered". He's finished his doughnut and gotten his cheek in hand by the time Wesker finishes, and all he says in turn-- as remorseless as ever-- is: "Are you taking it as innuendo, Captain?"
Are you taking it as innuendo, Captain?
Are you taking it as innuendo, Captain?
Wesker stared in shock at the other. Shock, exasperation and just the tiniest bit of admiration, because god damn if that didn't take some impressive balls to so openly flirt with his Captain, especially after he just finished a rather extensive ramble on why he shouldn't.
"I-"
He blinked quite a few times before squinting at Chris.
"- That depends. Are you taking it as me taking it as an innuendo? Or an offer?"
Very dangerous game he's playing, and Wesker just went all in.
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@elizabeth-reid-rp-blog
To say Albert Wesker had a lot on his mind would have been an understatement.
Having just come back to life and escaped the manor before it exploded, Wesker had been on the run for a while. Now, he was tired, hungry and relatively sure he was in shock from what happened.
So, he went to most places people go to when they’re having trouble.
Entering the bar, Wesker looked like, and smelled like death. Still in his blood stained STARS uniform, he made his way for the bartender. He took his time, refusing to shamble even though it definitely would have been easier for him.
“One scotch.”
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“I have brought for you today, not a luscious rose bouquet, nor a daisy or lily~ So accept this peony, pleeeeease!”
Wesker held out the flower to the person as he knelt, bowing his head. His cheeks gently turning a soft crimson at the action. Internally the self deprecation has already taken place. God, he’s shit at singing. Does the other think it’s nice? Will they? Fuck. He was supposed to be getting to know people so he could have a plus one to the STARS Valentine Day party.
#Shady With Shades - Wesker#crack#open to all#open starter#kinda shippy?#resident evil rp#Shooting STARS - During/Post Mansion
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"So, in Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter the vampires are spread via drinking another vampire's blood. So, what if blood were taken in another way, such as a blood transfusion? Would the afflicted member still transform into a vampire?"
Wesker questioned the person next to them on the bus, said book that had propagated the question in his hands.
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@wristapled
The hairs on the back of Ethan's neck raised in alarm before the stranger even started talking. Somehow, when someone he was unfamiliar with knew his name, it always spelled trouble.
Ethan spend the rest of the question fumbling for his pistol, catching it, and raising the sights to the newcomer. Only catching roughly half of what he'd said. Though did it matter? His almost animalistic paranoia had him on edge from the guy's appearance, let alone how he talked and held himself. Bad news bears, this one. But he had to be better than Chris--
Which also brought more questions than answers. Not that he'd chatted extensively with the bear of a man, but... who WAS this guy? He cleary had beef with Redfield. Ethan did as well, but it was more petty hatred and annoyance than whatever bad mojo the stranger felt.
Finally shaken free of his thoughts, (confusion written all over his face) Winters cleared his throat and scowled.
"Don't really keep up with him as much as I used to."
"Why, he take the red pill instead of the blue one you offered?"
The fact a pistol was pointed at him didn’t seem to phase him at all. It wasn’t his first time on the business end of a firearm, and it wouldn’t be the last, if his luck had anything to do with it.
No, he just smiled instead. Knowingly, in that smug way when someone knows something you don’t, but doesn’t plan to directly tell you, instead simply mock you with the information unknown.
He adjusted his ever present shades calmly. Yes, something was definitely bad about this one. He carried himself with a stature that screamed ‘God complex’ and an unprecedented air of cockiness.
Winters’ comment makes him scoff. He refuses to show off any confusion. He is a God. A fallen one, but one nonetheless.
“Funny.”
It comes out as a sneer.
“Redfield would never take anything from me. Even when he really should have. Such a waste. But then, I suppose that doesn’t matter now, does it? I’ve found you, finally. The man who lived. Don’t worry, my friend. My plan isn’t genocide. Far from it. I want to save this Earth, and you’re going to help me.”
Wesker spread his arm out behind him as a sort of ‘Shall we go?’ gesture.
“Might I tempt you for a coffee?”
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@tacticalvest liked for a shippy starter!!!!
Wesker came around slow. He’d been here for a while, in the grasp of some self righteous idiots. Had to admit, they really were insistent on getting information out of him.
Wesker’s tongue ran over the absence of teeth they’d taken in the process. He bit his lip, flexing his fingers. They’d taken most of his nails as well. Broken a few bones. He wouldn’t be walking for a while, so they hadn’t even bothered tying him up anymore, his feet were that badly mutilated.
He weakly raised his head as he heard gunshots. Squinting, his vision blurry and spotty.
The harsh light caused him to squeeze his eyes shut when the door was kicked open. When he looked up from his place against the wall...
“...Chris...”
His watery blue eyes glimmered with hope. He couldn’t ascertain for certain that it was Chris leading the team behind them, but he still raspily cried his name with all the strength he had left, leaning forward.
#Shady With Shades - Wesker#tacticalvest#//hope this is okay!#//I had fun with this one#Leader of the Pack - Pre-Mansion
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"You're my type," Chris says, plain and simple with his mouth half-full of breakfast doughnut. Then he swallows and smiles. "Even if you're kind of a dork, Captain."
The remark comes unexpected, if the near spit take is anything to go by. Wesker can barely hold back from hacking out his coffee, and even then, some burns as it's blown out through his nostrils.
"Excuse me?!"
The response is indignant and shocked. Everything Albert Wesker normally tries to avoid being, but he'll set such inclinations aside for Redfield, as he usually does.
"Chris Redfield, that is unwarranted, uninitiated, unsightly, underhanded slander and I will not-"
Oh geez. Off he goes into a long winded, long worded rant, as only Albert Wesker could. You'd be hard pressed to find someone with such a hard pressed tongue to their teeth, even during such a fit. How did he remain so well spoken and affluent? We may never know.
It must have been 5 whole minutes before Wesker wound down.
"insubordinate and if I ever hear the mere notion of such foolishness again, I will personally put you in your proper place, under my heel."
A pause.
"Hhhhhhah, and that's not an innuendo for you to enjoy!"
#//this ask watered my crops and cleared my pores ncfkfkfkfk#shady with shades - wesker#leader of the pack pre mansion#tacticalvest#//wesker is :sparkles: flustered :sparkles:
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@matrite has 7 minutes...
Loiusiana. Dulvey, Loiusiana.
What a hellish place.
Swatting at flies, leaves, the occasional mosquito, Albert Wesker huffed softly. A noise of indignation. This was no place for a God like him. This was hardly a place for Redfield, as much of a mouth breather as he was. That, he thought, was saying something. If a place was not fit for Redfield, than it was rather poor indeed.
Still, he’d heard word of him here, so here he shall be.
Word had been vague. Something about a haunted mansion. 20 disappearances in 2 years. Rumors of a family, The Bakers and their son, Lucas, the original bad seed.
But of course, no mere human could be responsible for such carnage. Especially if Redfield was getting involved. Wesker could only assume that something in his area of expertise was going on.
The estate looked well enough as he walked up to the rusted fence. It was just barely illuminated by the setting sun.
A normal man would have had to find another way in, but he was no normal man.
Ripping the barrier asunder with only a grunt as a sign of exertion, Wesker went towards the front door. Locked.
Wesker sighed in irritation. Stepping back, he waited a few seconds before kicking the door in and entering the home.
Dusty...
Wesker’s head turned left and right. Quite the unusual decorations. And the doors...
Wesker moved towards the stairs, his ears open to every creak, every shudder of the house.
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@stabbinginthedcrk
“You sound like that priest that told eight-year-old me dinosaurs didn’t exist.” Then again, said priest probably didn’t know the person he was talking to at the time was a VAMPIRE. Nor did he know what one of his followers was doing to said vampire, but that’s not something he was gonna tell a complete stranger ever again.
Blues examined the older man briefly, flickering across his form, before they settled on the floor, as per usual.
“You gonna tell me that I’m an abomination of Satan and try to fuck me up with a cross, or are you gonna be smart about this? Whatever your goal is, I’m not...easily won over.”
Wesker scoffed at the other’s remark. He almost pitied the mortal soul. Clearly they hadn’t had the best education. To have to rely upon a religious teacher to tell them what did and did not exist.
But then, they would be the perfect instructor for knowledge on what didn’t exist, wouldn’t they?
Wesker gave the shortest of chuckles due to his silent insult. There was nothing quite like insulting something that was far beneath you.
“No, no. I detest the concept of religion. It’s all pretend. A simple and yet at the same time convoluted explanation for the world. The sheep, thinking they’re safe due to the shepherd, unaware the shepherd has their own machinations.”
Pause, for dramatic effect.
“But I’m not a sheep. I’m the wolf. My belly fills each night with those that would rather follow the crowd.”
Wesker tilted his head slightly, looking closer at the other. His shades obscured his eyes, but something was...off. Something about the way he stared the other down.
“You understand, don’t you? You’re like me. You must be, to have been cast out by those that can not understand.”
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@multi-muse-transect has been afforded a few minutes to play...
Wesker clasped his hands behind his back, surveying his prey behind his sunglasses. The tiniest smile slipped on his expression. Not too wide, not too small. Just right. Like Goldilocks, if Goldilocks were a cold, calculating, betraying fuck hat.
“Well, well, well. Isn’t this just one big family reunion? It’s nice to see you...Redfield.”
Jagged, sharp teeth exposed themselves as Wesker stepped forward, hands swinging around to his front to clap softly, the leather gloves crackling as he did so.
“You look just like him. I’m going to have fun tearing you apart.” He cracked his knuckles, then his neck. He stretched a bit. It had been ages since he’d had a good fight. He hoped Redfield would be as adept as his father had been.
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