Evil in REsidence

[Albert Wesker]

From his sitting posture, Wesker slowly brought himself up to stand. A long, arduous, painful process, and when he was finally standing it was on unsteady, wobbling legs. He sucked in a deep breath, hissing it out through clenched teeth as he paced slowly forward, to the edge of the fountain. He leaned forward, hands resting on the rim. Leaning out over it, he stared down into the water, to see his reflection staring back at him.

Terribly disheveled hair, hanging in a lank and unkempt mop. Horribly bloodshot eyes, gleaming red in the distorted reflection. His veins, standing out starkly against sickly, discolored skin. He was barely clothed, only covered from the waist down. And even that was scorched and burned to shreds. "What a mess," he said quietly. It just wouldn't do. His appearance couldn't be left in this sorry state. What was it the strange presence that had met him just before had said...? Omni. And this Omnilium substance he'd been given by the odd creature.

"Anything I desire, is it..."

It was a simply first attempt. He knew exactly what he was after. And as he put his mind toward wondering how to acquire it, thoughts dawned in his head. Just an idea, at first: focus on it. As his focus bent toward it, the single idea blossomed and spread into knowledge and information. Just as if he'd always known it, he knew how. Summoning things with this Omnilium substance. It came to him naturally, as easily as breathing. It took time, of course — several minutes of time, in fact — but it was easy.

Several minutes later, Wesker stood there at the edge of the fountain, using his reflection as a gauge to judge his efforts. Limbs still heavy and slightly numb, overcome with pain, made it hard to judge otherwise. Fumbling, unsteady fingers worked at buttoning up the shirt of his freshly-summoned suit. The tails of it were tucked slowly, carefully into the waist of his pants, belt drawn around and secured. His tie went on next, the act of tying it taking far too long and eliciting more than a few muttered curses. Finally, he secured it, reaching for his jacket. Over his shoulders, arms sliding gingerly into the sleeves, and the few buttons being fastened with movements ever so slowly growing more and more steady.

Gloves were pulled on next, fingers flexing slowly and working snugly into them. Virtually skin-tight, custom tailored. They wouldn't hamper him in the slightest. He reached down to retrieve his next article, the harness that would hold his long-used, personal sidearm. He fumbled it on, sliding his suited arms through the straps and securing it into place. He retrieved the pistol next. Hefting the gun in his hand, he looked it over. The Samurai Edge. Virtually a relic, but a reliable one, and one he had personally customized into a unique tool. Just like any of his other works, he wouldn't leave it behind. One of the magazines for it was picked up, and slid into place. A light twirl of the loaded weapon about one finger, snapping it up and into a ready position, taking quick aim down the sights. Just as sharp as ever. Into the shoulder holster it went.

The long, flowing coat, reaching to his ankles, was slowly pulled on next. He tugged it into place, adjusting its fall about his shoulders. Hands came up, pulling and tugging at the high collar to set it to properly frame his face. Spare magazines for his Samurai Edge were retrieved, placed in unobtrusive internal pockets of the long coat. Gloved hands dipped into the water of the fountain, reaching up to smooth and slick back his hair. Fingers ran through it, working out the biggest and messiest of the knots and tangles, wrestling it into some semblance of order and neatness.

Finally, he retrieved the sunglasses sitting on the edge of the fountain. A flick of the wrist snapped them open, and with a well-practiced movement he brought them up, sliding them onto his face. Immediately, the harsh glare of this strange place was cut sharply, and the stinging it delivered to his eyes was made bearable. He tilted his head this way and that, first one way then the other, cracking his neck. Fully clothed and presentable again.

"Now, then..." He turned from the fountain, already feeling much more steady and in his element with his proper attire restored, to survey where he'd ended up. A blank, white void, stretching on for miles. Distantly, on the horizon, he could see the faint indicators of...of something. It was hard to tell much from this distance, but as he turned to give the place a thorough once-over, he could count eight of them. The same general size and shape, he thought, though far from identical. "It seems I've got some...exploration to do..."

The only question was...which way to go first?