#c. jake.

It never used to bother him, or at least, he told himself it didn't. And that didn't take much effort, either, because why should he give a shit about other people in a world where no-one left gave a shit about him? As far as he was concerned, people couldn't be trusted. Things like kindness and selflessness - they were just masks that hid the faces of traitors, people who refused to be honest; be it with him or with themselves.

In contrast, a nice, transactional relationship was something far more reliable. And yeah, maybe a few nice people might end up getting hurt by him because of that - but if it hadn't been him, it just would've been someone else, right? The people who paid him weren't people who'd stop just because he told them no.

In hindsight, it's starkly obvious just how much those cheap lines were nothing more than excuses. Probably, he'd known that all along, but it was only when Sherry came along that he'd been forced to confront the person he'd become, and how that man was someone he didn't like. But... even now, has he really changed all that much? Jake has his doubts. If all he wants is to be able to look at himself in the mirror, and for Sherry to see him with something other than disgust, then it's still ultimately selfishness driving him, isn't it?

Maybe that's fine. Maybe not. It's easy to shove it to the side when he isn't hanging around in a place like this, but here... here, everyone's got a look in their eye when they see him - like he's something dirty - that makes it obvious that the man they're really seeing isn't him at all.

"I've heard about you. You're that Jill that Redfield mentioned, aren't you?" Jake speaks first, not bothering to wait and see if she's the same as the rest of them. "I'd say sorry to show up uninvited like this, but... I bet you knew I was coming anyway."

Even before he knew his name; even never having met him... from as young as he can remember, the absence of his father was something he was always keenly aware of. It's funny, how much the lack of something can have just as much of an impact as something that's present. He remembers having always loathed him, blaming him for so many of his troubles in life - if dad hadn't left, his mother wouldn't be so sad all the time. If he was still here, they might be able to afford her medical bills - if he hadn't abandoned them, they wouldn't be struggling just to get by every day.

Those feelings never really wavered, even when his mother didn't feel the same. She always kept loving Albert, and she was never quite able to hide it, not even for Jake. Sure, as he grew up, there were moments where he wondered about him, wishing he could meet him... even fantasizing about the life they could've had together, as father and son... but those fleeting fantasies never lasted long, and after each one, Jake only found his hatred deepening further as he realized what he could never have.

If his mum hadn't mentioned him in her final words, maybe he would've been able to move on long ago... But after learning what a monster Albert Wesker truly was, it was like the wound his father had given him had ripped right open again, and he'd thought it might not ever go away. It hadn't felt like closure at all. And every file he eventually found on the man had only made him feel more lost, no matter how many he read.

So facing him now, it's a strange feeling that's overcome him. One half of him is anxious, not knowing what to say or do, almost as if he's become a kid again - yet the other half feels calmer than ever. As if some part of him knew it was always leading up to this. Maybe it helps that Wesker doesn't know who he is... or maybe his conversations with Sherry leading up to this helped more than he thought.

"Well, you look just like how I imagined you would." Jake says, almost nonchalant, but his gaze is too intense for that to be anything but a facade. "Can't say that's much of an achievement, but. Do you really wear those shades everywhere you go?"

It's just ridiculous. Laughable. But not the kind of joke that's funny - and instead of a smile, all it manages to draw out of Jake is hands clenched into fists, and teeth ground hard enough together to make his jaw ache.

What the hell is this, anyway? He'd been told his father was dead. He'd been forced to accept that, knowing that he'd never get answers to the questions that had hung over him all his life - to never get the chance to look him in the eye and prove he didn't need him; to spit in his face for leaving his mother behind. Nor would he ever have a chance to figure out what it was that she had loved about that man so much, even until the end.

But what pisses him off the most is how now, in the moment he's finally facing him down, Jake can't seem to keep his emotions under control. He doesn't know what the fuck he's feeling, but that doesn't stop him being rooted to the spot, clinging onto red-hot anger; the only feeling he can identify and that he can let himself acknowledge. And when Jake finally manages to speak, he doesn't even know if Wesker will hear him, barely able to hear himself over the rushing of blood in his ears.

"Do you even know who I am?"