Albert Wesker

Chris stared at the prisoner huddled against the back wall of the cell. It was finally over, but he didn’t even find any satisfaction in it. Tied up in a straitjacket and pumped full of drugs, Wesker just looked small and defeated, and Chris wasn’t sure if he even hated the man anymore. ‘I know what Spencer did to you.’ Of all the things he could’ve said he didn’t know why he picked that one.

The murderous glare directed at him stayed as murderous as he’d expected. But only for a moment before Wesker’s shoulders slumped, his voice a low murmur. ‘That hardly matters now, does it?’ The question sounded like a plea.

‘Of course it does.’ Chris pressed his hands against the transparent barrier between them, as though sheer insistence was enough to force Wesker to listen to him. ‘You were his slave.’

‘I was not-’ His eyes flashed red in indignant rage that quickly faded to a quiet sigh of resignation. ‘He made me.’

‘He didn’t make you, Albert.’ Chris sighed just as heavily. ‘He broke you.’

Instead of arguing Wesker simply looked away, his silence more agreement than any words. ‘And you’re going to fix me, Chris?’ His tone wasn’t mocking, if anything he sounded frightened.

Before he thought too much about what he was doing, Chris unlocked the cell and went in to sit beside him.

Wesker didn’t move, just watched him warily.

‘I don’t know.’ He answered finally, studying Wesker’s face. Unconsciously, he reached out to brush Wesker’s hair off his cheek, the feel of the blond strands between his fingers bringing up bittersweet memories. ‘Would you let me?’

‘I don’t know.’ Wesker echoed his confusion. Hesitantly, he shifted towards Chris, resting his head on his shoulder as Chris’ hand slid through his hair.

This was wrong.

“I’m gonna help you,” Ally whispered and then stood, shining her light all along the walls of the cell, searching. “There’s gotta be a switch for the chains somewhere, right?”

The red eye followed her, but the BOW did not move his head as she walked along the wall, checking every shadow and shape. There was nothing.

The baseball bat was designed for a small child, hardly effective against monsters but it made Ally feel better to have something. The monster was chained down anyway and if she needed to brain it she’d have the chance to make this silly bat useful.

The light on the keypad was red again, the system locked, but she didn’t completely seal the door last time so all she had to do was push it open. She was prepared this time. Aside from the bat she’d wrapped a heavy cloth she’d sprayed with her mom’s perfume around her mouth and nose as stench protection. It didn’t really help.

“That’s enough TV for today,” Ally’s mother said, glaring down at her daughter the couch potato.

“But it’s a new season,” Ally argued, but at another look from her mom she paused her program and exited to the home screen before the remote was straight up taken from her and she lost her place.

Her mom had that look.

Ally had been told emphatically by her father that she was not allowed to go down into the abandoned labs below the building. They’d been converted to storage units when the building was repurposed for records and bookkeeping and all that boring stuff of the BSAA so there was nothing of interest down there but it was still dangerous anyway. So of course that was the first thing she did.