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+--- Thread: Don't be a stranger (/showthread.php?tid=7182)
Don't be a stranger - Albert Wesker - 01-17-2018
"Are you done playing around, now? It's time to wake up."
The feeling of falling persisted, those words echoing again in his head. Then all at once it abated, and he felt something solid under him. As it did, pain returned with a vengeance. His skin felt aflame, long lines of red-hot fire scouring over his body in places.The acrid, coppery tang of blood welled up in his mouth. Sound greeted him next, after his body finished its tally of the overwhelmingly poor state he was in; muffled, as if from a great distance or through thin walls, but it sounded like a fountain.
It took a few moments for it all to settle in, and his mind to sort out his memory into proper order and format again. He was awake again. Out of whatever dream he'd fallen into after being nearly killed by Ada. The sound he could hear, it was...was the sound of the fountain, near to where they had fought.
A quiet groan of discomfort passed his lips as he shifted, bringing a hand up to his eyes, rubbing at them. Despite the very real agony and pain, he felt...less terrible than he remembered feeling, at the end of that fight. It was hard to say how long he had been out for, but it seemed like he'd already started on the path to the mend. Quite convenient, given the sorry condition he'd ended up in.
"So you are alive." The voice came from somewhere above and behind him. "Finally all done playing dead, then?"
Wesker's eyes snapped open, and he craned his head back to look at the speaker. What he saw gave him pause. He was staring up into the faintly luminous, red lenses of a gas mask. When combined with the other gear that was worn by the man in question, it took him only a moment to piece it together. The voice was a good hint, as well. "...Mister Death. How ironic."
The special agent's expression and reaction were impossible to fully judge, with his face entirely hidden from sight, but he didn't offer so much as a chuckle or shake of the head. Just merely leaned down, extending a hand to the downed man. "The god who died being woken up by the mortal who can't die," he remarked dryly, as Wesker grasped the offered hand and was hauled up to his feet. "I'm aware of the humor in there somewhere."
Wesker just let out a grunt at that. Though it pained him to admit, the man was right. Mister Death...the "Grim Reaper" of the Umbrella Security Service; Special Agent HUNK: the man who never failed, and seemed unable to die. He was capable; in a league of his own. Just a mortal man, an ordinary human with nothing special about him whatsoever, and yet he had survived such overwhelming odds and impossibility that it was absurd. "Just as sharp a tongue in that head as ever, I see," was all he said. The comment about the god that had died was something he would dwell on later; his memories before being pulled to the Omniverse were hazy, at best. Fragmented and in pieces. For all he knew, he had been killed at some point among that fractured haze, as impossible as it seemed.
But then again...Chris Redfield had been involved. The constant thorn in his side, and the man who had discovered Wesker's one weakness. And with it...maybe, just maybe that thorn had festered. Grown from a nuisance to a lethal infection, and finally brought down even a god. It was enough to make his temper rise and flare with such an intensity as to exacerbate the aches in his body — especially the dull throbbing in his head.
"By the way," HUNK spoke up again. "I found this on you, before you woke up." Held in his outstretched hand was a simple note, damp as if it had been laying in a puddle for some time.
The scientist took the note, staring down at it in silence. It was damp and wrinkled, the writing on it slightly smeared, but still clearly legible: Don’t be a stranger. ;-)
Slowly, his hand curled into a fist, crumpling the note into a soggy wad of mush. He recognized that handwriting. "So...you left me alive intentionally..." he murmured, his teeth bared in something between a snarl and a grin. "Returning an old favor...or just showing some of the mercy that rubbed off on you from your precious Leon?" He chuckled quietly, shaking his head.
"Well then, Mister Death..." He discarded the ruined note, turning to the special agent who stood silently, resolutely beside him. "What brought you here? That smiling, insufferable god-child, Omni?"
HUNK's faceless mask stared back at him, radiating an air of non-comprehension. "No clue. Just woke up here, looking down at what I thought was your corpse. Checked for life signs, found them. Barely. Did a little work to patch you up, stem the bloodflow. Then waited." He checked a watch at his wrist. "Been about an hour."
"....I see." Wesker digested that information. The greeting he'd received from Omni upon his arrival would be all but impossible to miss, even for someone possessed of a legendary lack of awareness. It could only mean that Agent HUNK had been brought here by something else entirely. An idea clawed at the back of his mind, slowly bringing itself to the forefront and piecing together. Anything you desire... was what had been promised was possible with Omnilium. A loyal subordinate was certainly something he always desired...but, from what he had gathered, using the substance to summon was an act which required great time and focus.
Could it be possible...that one could do such a thing unconsciously? While in a dream state, no less... It was something he would have to consider and look into. A difficult thing to study, but he would figure it out. "Very well. Let us be off, then."
"Where to?" the special agent asked. "This place is featureless."
"There are some sort of landmarks, forming a circle around this one," Wesker said by way of an answer. "Archways, possibly gates or portals of some sort."
"Exploring at random," HUNK clarified. "Finding some information to make gaps to be filled in in the first place."
"Exactly." A competent soldier was such a valuable commodity, really... "Give me a moment. I'll procure us some transportation."