Dante's Abyss Spectators

[Albert Wesker]

Slowly the world came into focus. Sound first, muffled and indistinct, lost among a wave of nauseating pain and aches as her body ran through a checklist of injuries and damage before settling into a general ache of "you messed up, but you're still alive". Not for the first time, and unless her luck suddenly turned right around far from the last time.

What did surprise her, though, was how remarkably well her recovery seemed to have gone. There was of course the lingering aches and pains expected of being injured so badly -- her head, especially, had a pounding, throbbing pain on either side, courtesy of being sandwiched between rows of stadium seating and bleachers; she was still in awe that she had actually survived that, likely in no small part thanks to whatever hardiness and durability Gildarts possessed and had brought to the table of that...strange, strange fusion predicament. But aside from distant aches and bodily reminders to not do that again she felt...fine.

The healing technology and means of recovery available here still amazed her sometimes.

She groaned softly, forcing her good eye open and hauling herself up into a sitting position. Not the first time she'd woken up from unconsciousness in a world of hurt, and again...probably not the last. She blinked away the stars and riot of swimming colors from her vision, looking around to orient herself. And as her gaze swept over the room what she saw made her blood run cold.

A white suit. Hat pulled low over an eye patch. Green hair, immaculately disheveled. And a single gold eye, staring. Piercing right through her.

Her heart jumped into her throat and she shook her head, blinking several times to make sure she was seeing right. And there was nothing. No sign of him. No sign of Mikado. The tension which had seized her entire body slowly, agonizingly bled away, leaving her feeling even more exhausted and worn out than she already was. "Of course he's not here...there's no way he would be."

As she took a shaky breath, the next thing that caught her eye was her phone, laying conspicuously on a table near at hand. And looking remarkably intact and untouched. There was a single unread message on it, like it was waiting for her. Leaning over, she picked it up and pulled up the message in question.

From an unlisted contact... 'That we can't have a perfect record is no reason not to strive for one, kid. I'll be watching. Let me see how well off you are here. Don't disappoint me.'

Again, it nearly made her heart stop. She knew very, very few people who would talk to her in such a manner. "Mikado..." The last of her direct family, as far as she knew. "You are here. You...you bastard..." She clenched her fingers around the phone, her lips pulling back to bear her teeth in a silent snarl. "You would end up following me, even here..." Always he had been there, looming over here and spurring her onward. A constant source of motivation, for which she was grateful, but in a way it had been a relief. Coming to the Omniverse, escaping his shadow. His expectations.

Years of being free of that, and now all at once it was right back again. Weighing her down. And really pissing her off. "I'll show you what I can do, old man..." she seethed, her good eye closing as she tried to relax. She needed rest, and to finish recovering before her next match. Getting worked up like this wouldn't do anyone any good.