* Beyond Divinity

THE ELECTRONS IN HIS MIND FIRE OFF HERE AND THERE , zapping his mind in all SORTS of ways . A lot like the sparks in his arm , BITING AND NIPPING at his muscles , creating a fried mess of anger and offense . Watching him walk away , cladded footsteps against vinyl floors . His eyes burned HOLES in the back of Wesker's head , licking over his teeth before baring them . Flinching forward as if ready to strike , his good hand clutching the arm of the chair he was sat up in .

❝ You are just a quack ! All of you are ! ❞

Unmatched eyes do not flutter , no tucking his tail in and laying down , not today anyways . The security card around his neck lays uneven over his chest , a REMINDER that he was a bit more than just a SCREAMING , KICKING and BARKING biological weapon .

However , no matter what he says or does or the memories pulled out by the handfuls , he obeys . Deep , furious breathing as he gives up his right arm , they like poking this one majority of the time . Nothing CLEVER to say , no fake SICKNESSES to describe , the tests come at a marching pace .

The band is too tight , the alcohol swab stings , as it was , it was NEVER easy . Watching , relaxing his arm to allow the needle entry to his veins , pulling up his INFECTED blood to test in every way imaginable . There was so much to learn from this , SHAME the host was so temperamental , teething like a puppy .

Unsure on how to describe his next action , usually the saying was to THINK BEFORE SPEAKING or acting , SO , Piers thought about what would happen if he slapped Wesker across his arrogant little face , right ?

❝ I ... It just felt right to do ... that . ❞

Piers was much like a rabid dog, teeth threatening to snap and maim upon any minor inconvenience. It was annoying at best and an utter nightmare to deal with at worst. Without a sense of cooperation, every little task and test took twice the amount of time, despite how often Wesker attempted to keep them on track, to not give Piers an inch to bite on. Firm commands could only go so far. 

“It is a wonder on why you’re considered fit for duty,” He simply sighed out, prepping Piers’ arm by wiping down the injection point with an alcohol swab. With that, the tourniquet was tied and the needle plunged in. 

What on Earth were the executives thinking? Why would they run their operation so sloppily? It was maddening, but what more should he expect from a copy cat of Umbrella? 

The P30 he himself had cultivated, despite its limitations, would’ve been much more effective than this, which was saying something. With its limitations, and its need to be pumped through the host’s body constantly, it was far from a perfect product. But, it would’ve made Piers easier to deal with. If the serum was simply improved upon, Piers would be much more susceptible to commands. Instead, this pathetic excuse of brainwashing left the former soldier in a perpetual state of agitation and distrust. It only served to hinder his progress, making his job unnecessarily inconvenient. He could do without the theatrics. 

However, it seemed Piers’ temper tantrum did not end with his screaming insults. The smack rang out against white walls, shattering what little stillness remained. So quick, so inconsequential, that the sting was only registered seconds later. A silence befell Wesker for a long moment, hands freezing in place, before that shaded gaze rose to stare directly at Piers. 

Even if his eyes were hidden, it did not block out the iciness leveled his way.  

“Oh, did it?” Dripping with a barely leashed rage before he struck much like a cobra, returning the strike with twice as much force. 

Until we meet again, Chris.

Finally drawing Wesker again!! 👀

Pinned in place, his form goes rigid. If he feels pain, or fears the thought of having his neck broken then it never surfaces. Behind the thick red lenses of his mask his dark eyes peer outwards, meeting Wesker's in open defiance.

"Don't know - maybe they just thought I needed a little vacation- nice lil' break from lickers and B.O.W's."

The comment is biting and sharp. Truly, he wouldn't have said the real reason he'd been sent no matter what. Though his breath labor against the pressure of the other man's hand he makes no attempt to break himself free. Both arms fall limply at his side, dangling there while he waits for some sort of response.

When faced with the threat of death, it wasn’t much of a surprise that HUNK retaliated by baring his fangs, instead of surrendering with his tail between his legs. Most would crumble, but when it came to carrying out Umbrella’s dirty work, Wesker supposed one needed an iron resolve. His lips twitched slightly up at the display regardless, as if he were observing a pitiful chihuahua. 

“Mm, I would say their idea of a vacation is rather cruel then. Though, Umbrella never was known for their generosity,” His own response was dry, hand tightening precariously around HUNK’s throat, “No matter, it’s telling in itself that you’re here to begin with.” 

With a flick of his wrist he could snap the mercenary’s neck, breaking it like a twig, and he’d have one less nuisance to worry about. The image played behind his shades for a moment, a stillness that was wrought with clinical assessment and consideration. The weight of a life would never cross his mind, but the usefulness of one would. And if there was use to be found, it would be a waste to snuff out the one dangling in his hands. If nothing else, Umbrella’s presence would serve as a nice distraction. 

If the both of them haven’t been discovered already. 

“Stay out of my way, and you can do what you like.” 

With that, HUNK was freed, gloved hand parting from him before Wesker took a step back. 

In truth, 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔽𝕒𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 was so simple in being, whilst simultaneously complex, that it puzzled even the most fervent devout or perceptive researchers. As much as they failed to understand HIM, they failed to understand Las Plagas. Progenitor was a family of RNA viruses. Mold was a genus of fungus. 'The Pests', alternatively, made no taxonomical sense as a NATURAL EXISTING ORGANISM. They were an otherworldly infestation & difficult to manipulate in a scientific setting. These.... THINGS, had no concrete form & the condition of their various manifestations were unknown. Their place of birth was inconclusive, & it was speculated they did not hail from this planet at all, for as much as they worshipped the sea beyond.

The line of inquiries from Albert stifled his anger, crashing waves becoming placid waters. Royal stature heeling in discomfiture, or mild wonderment. Such a revolting sentiment would NEVER exclaim from his mouth, but there was a crumb of respect to be found in an attempt to understand 'THE OTHER'. It was a courtesy he was never afforded being hunted for the nature of his birth. --- Regardless, defenses persisted to raise, for an outsider TRESPASSED.

" ℑ 𝔞𝔪 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔣𝔲𝔩𝔣𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞 𝔤𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔡𝔢𝔰𝔦𝔤𝔫 𝔟𝔢𝔶𝔬𝔫𝔡 𝔥𝔲𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔣𝔲𝔩 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔡𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤. 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔲𝔰 𝔡𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫𝔰. ℑ, 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔇𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔩. 𝔜𝔢𝔱 𝔴𝔢 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔶 𝔪𝔞𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔯𝔲𝔩𝔶 𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔞𝔪𝔬𝔫𝔤 𝔈𝔡𝔢𝔫. 𝔗𝔬 𝔟𝔢 𝔟𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔡, 𝔦𝔫 𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔬𝔫𝔶 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔞𝔩𝔩. "

Placing the blame upon insignificant, dull creatures made sense within a collective consciousness. In their unified mind, they were horribly misunderstood, unjustly punished & enlightened to the full scope of the universe. Albert desired to end humanity, but Los Iluminados NEEDED them to sow the seedbed, their goals of changing the world & revolutionization violently clashing. To willingly give one's life, to be reborn throughout eternity, was reaping the fruits of Paradise ( ABSENSE OF TEMPTATION & KNOWLEDGE ).

Bizarrely, Lord Saddler's answer did not end there. In a mystifying act, his attention directed to the sky above, where endless stars spanned for infinity. A single hand raised, as if he could grasp a fragment of the void within his sickly palm, just out of reach from his necrotic fingertips. The LONGING expressed in his eyes, as if he wanted to drift among the abyss, spreading this 'unification' among the cosmos, suggested a plot that did not end with world domination. But, perhaps, a plan to return HOME & preach their gospel among the heavens.

" ℌ𝔲𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔰 𝔱𝔢𝔩𝔩 𝔲𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔥𝔶 𝔬𝔣 𝔣𝔯𝔢𝔢-𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩. 𝔊𝔬𝔡 𝔰𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔯 𝔰𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔰, 𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔶 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔪 𝔱𝔬 𝔨𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯. 𝔗𝔢𝔩𝔩 𝔪𝔢, 𝔴𝔥𝔶 𝔰𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔴𝔢 𝔤𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔷𝔢? 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔞𝔭𝔞𝔟𝔦𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔶 𝔬𝔣 𝔳𝔬𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫? 𝔚𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔞 𝔟𝔞𝔯𝔟𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔠, 𝔳𝔦𝔬𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔰𝔭𝔢𝔠𝔦𝔢𝔰. " As if thrusting a dagger into his adversaries own ideology. As if Las Plagas breached through Osmund's own lips & spoke to him directly. How could you call them savages if they feast from each other WILLINGLY? If they lack the capability to fully grieve or understand that their actions are WRONG? " 𝔗𝔢𝔩𝔩 𝔪𝔢, 𝔴𝔥𝔶? --- 𝔚𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔢𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔶 𝔡𝔦𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔢 ℌ𝔢𝔩𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔫𝔬𝔴? "

To Wesker, the Eden Saddler had cultivated for himself appeared lackluster, rotting from within like a sunken in apple. A worm goring out the innards, replacing the vessel with bile. And while it was dissimilar to how humanity fattened itself up on complacency, how man bickered and killed, poisoning itself with its incompetence, there was an ugliness shared within the same vein. Las Plagas prided itself on having found the solution to humanity’s plights, yet it came at such a high price, the cons greatly outweighing what ever good it attempted to project.

Being enslaved by it, becoming one with it, assimilated until all that was left was itself. Immortality and undeniable strength that left the host with little to nothing else. What was the point of having power that consumed itself? A world ‘enlightened’ by Las Plagas was no better than the end humanity was inflicting upon itself. Saddler was just another obstacle, a blot in the path he was attempting to pave. 

Yet, even with their differing views and end goals, Wesker understood the need to fix the imperfect. Evidently, they had their own versions of perfection, but the same idea lingered underneath. Seeing humanity in great need of a guiding hand, blind to its own faults. If there was one topic the both of them had a chance to see eye to eye on, it would be that.  

“You’re not wrong, humanity is a barbaric and violent species, even with their frailty. A species that will eventually wipe itself out if something is not done. That, we can agree on.” Albert conceded quite easily, as if they were two god-kings, looking down their nose upon the pitiful state of mankind, “However, volition is needed in order to grow, individuality separates the strong from the weak. There is a difference between stifling a tree by taking away its sunlight, versus cutting off the dead branches that weigh it down.” 

Upon Saddler’s challenge Wesker’s arms raise from his sides, spreading out in an all-encompassing motion. 

“I would free them from their mortal shackles, the worthy would bear my gift and ascend to godhood. The curtain will close on man, all will be purged of their weaknesses, and I shall be there to guide them into a new age. While under my wing, there will no longer be war nor pestilence, violence nor heedless suffering.” 

It was up to him to separate the chaff from the wheat. Only he was capable of such an arduous task. 

“I seek to destroy these loathsome humans in an effort to create something far better. Your blessing would change them all the same, but what would be left when the dust clears?” A hivemind influenced by the same thoughts and will, unable to freely think or decide. To bask in the idea of being a mere martyr, of being chained eternally- For what purpose? All to ensure Las Plaga’s survival? To touch beyond the stars?

older doodles

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