Winds of Madness

mains @hopewrought, @golgothac, @the4thsurvivor

portrayal notes: Psychology | Physiology | Relationships & Sexuality | Wesker's Beliefs & Politics

blog rules under the cut.

"Miss Ashcroft, I am afraid you may have to admire Mr Ryman's physique under different circumstances. While most of the team is enthusiastic to participate, I can't overlook the troubles he keeps bringing to our door." "According to a local bar owner, he's racked up quite a hefty debt at the joint. It is hardly an acceptable behaviour from an officer of the law, wouldn't you agree?"

(read more for 80s fashion choices and many images)

The warmth of the summer sun had lingered past its due, but vivid colours of the Mediterranean summer had mellowed around them as the season of harvest approached the countryside, making the locals fuss in preparation for it.

The ripening fruit in the gardens filled the air with a fragrant scent and it reminded Wesker of something he had long forgotten - it lingered in his mind, not quite as a memory, but as a shadow of the past. It was still strange to think he had once lived there; long before he could remember himself. To be here now, with William, felt like a dream. Tall, deep-emerald trees reached towards the flawless blue of the skies, swaying in the breeze, and the last of the summer flowers wilted in the wild grass. The vineyards owned by Vicari were immaculate, stretching towards the horizon in neat rows, with abundant gardens of produce and the farms that tended to them, expanding beyond them.

The world around him was peaceful.

It made him restless.

Suspicious.

It would be wise not to lose his head.

However, his suspicions and worries were his own to tend to, and Wesker had made a promise long ago, that he was lucky to be able to keep, now, late as he was.

It was meant to be their exit from Umbrella, then. He had wanted to bring William and his family there, to a home not dissimilar to the one they resided at, now. They would work together, again, and perhaps, that would be enough.

He had made his peace with how things had turned out, then.

And now, it was just the two of them, again.

So, then, why were things so difficult between them, still?

He steps onto the faded marble floor of the balcony, wearing a plain black shirt with matching pants. His clothes still stain through the bandages quicker than he can tend to them, and some of his wounds are taking their sweet time to heal, oozing glistening black residue from the virus still devouring his body, albeit, thankfully, much slower, thanks to Birkin's intervention. He opens a bottle of red wine that had been marked with their benefactor's seal, pouring it into a clear glass for himself and for Will, before taking a seat opposite from the other man.

"Vicari knows his wine, as expected." He smirks, enjoying the scent of dark cherry and ripe plums that hit his nostrils, as he pours the drink.

"Cocoa and pepper? An interesting choice." He ponders out loud, as he takes a small sip, looking rather pleased by the surprising taste, and that the meal he had prepared earlier was suitable for it.

It had been years since he had cooked himself; a small pleasure to experience once more, during this most unexpected and strange intermission they had found themselves, at.

"Lamb with rosemary, garlic, olives, and roasted almonds. The one we used to enjoy on occasion was far more modest, but given the kitchens here, I could scarce resist the temptation to do things properly."

The air was quick to turn humid as the sun moved above the horizon. Sprinklers turned on in unison across identical lawns lined up on both sides of their path forward, and a faint breeze that had persisted into the early hours of the morning, hit them both with a rather welcome gust of cool air.

It was a good moment to stop and take in their surroundings. Two of the six murders had taken place around this neighbourhood, and quite a few other Umbrella employees lived in the area. So far, every single victim was employed at Umbrella; but it was still difficult to parse a pattern beyond that, as their positions were vastly different; some were innocent workers that would have no knowledge of anything worth killing for, others, not so much. They had all been equally brutally dispatched. He had hoped to get a better read on the situation before he fully involved the rest of the RPD, but it was best to admit he wasn't getting anywhere, and not waste more time. Perhaps, he was overthinking it. Maybe, outsiders would have better luck with helping him piece things together. The world around was waking up; TVs buzzed to life in several homes, a few garage doors groaned loudly, people greeted one another and a few of them eyed the two of them with a degree of suspicion, until they took note of their RPD shirts, and averted their gaze.

Neither of them lived in the area. Wesker supposed it was natural people were on high alert after six deaths.

Frankly, the whole mess was disastrous for the RPD. Chief Irons was, perhaps, one more mention of Miss Ashcroft's name, from pulling a gun on whoever had reported her presence in the building, and S.T.A.R.S. would come under scrutiny if they failed to perform after such a hefty investment into the new task force.

He had briefed the others about everything he had discovered thus far; well, almost everything. The deceased warehouse worker having a card of a much higher clearance than he should have, was something he had kept between himself and the 'FBI agent' he had requested as an aid for the case. "23 and 32..." He pondered out loud, taking a deep breath as he stopped in his tracks. The numbers that had been marked on each crime scene, had bothered him, since the discovery of the very first body.

"Six bodies; a warehouse worker, two pharmacists, a nurse, an accountant, and a virologist. All employed at Umbrella and no other connections between them that we are aware of. Brutal scenes, from home invasions to roadside killing." The frustration in his voice is difficult to conceal.

"No offence intended to our esteemed colleagues, but I had wished to conduct this investigation between the two of us, before the next briefing."

Everything is in muted shades of grey, blue, and black, but well-coordinated. His fridge is full of prepped meals and nothing extra, but there’s several drawings by Sherry pinned to the door. There are no pictures on the walls or on any of the furniture. The book shelf looks like a collection of someone who looked at a list of acceptable classics and modern writing to discuss in polite society.

He owns a tv but there are no tapes and it’s only connected to local channels. His music player has a more personal selection nearby, and there are some books scattered around his bedroom that look less standard issue and more nerdy-as-hell.

For example, he makes the effort of negotiating Birkin’s retrieval with the organisation, despite his own position being tenuous there at that moment, but he doesn’t go to Raccoon City himself, because it’s essential to his plans for him to stay ‘dead.’

He just escaped Umbrella, so he won’t jeopardise his own position by making an appearance at the labs. He also kept silent for two months, instead of giving Will a heads-up that help was coming, because again, that could have exposed him.

He doesn’t just go after the G virus like everyone else, he does try to save Birkin, but this display of care and loyalty is very calculated and limited.

He sees Will as a valuable person. Possibly as the most valuable person. Thus, he will be valuable to him further, and he can convince others that he will bring something to the table that no one else will.

And he cannot conceive the thought of risking himself, even for someone he sees as this important.

And that’s important to me to show in my writing. It is something he regrets and something he had to live with. But ultimately it didn’t really change him. If anything, now he didn’t have that one tether to someone that he was attached to, and that loss of attachment made him even more selfish.

"No need. I believe he successfully consummated that affair, without our assistance."