Chapter Text
Chris went straight for the stairs; his feet pounded against them as he went up and up. The red of the emergency lights made the white walls a bloody crimson. Sweat dripped down the back of his neck as fear filled him.
Was he going to make it out of this hell?
As he was thinking about his timeframe, he came up to another figure, his Glock pointed outward at the ready.
"Chris!" Claire was opposite of him, and he lowered his pistol,
"Claire."
She ran toward him and wrapped him in her arms, "You made it! You did it!"
He crushed his sister in his arms and embraced her. Chris couldn't tell if that was his body shaking or hers. All he knew was that his sister was safe. He buried his face in her red hair and muttered against her, "Of course. Come on, let's get outta here."
Claire followed Chris up the ramp; they began to run from the laboratory when they heard an unholy screech. They both listened to the sounds of warping metal. Chris shoved Claire behind him as a thick, green tendril shot through the catwalk.
The green goo from the tendril was acidic and corroded the metal quickly. Several tendrils shot up, and the railing snapped loose. Chris grabbed Claire and yanked her as she slipped from the broken catwalk. Chris made sure she was balanced before he pulled his Glock free. Behind him, Claire aimed her pistol at the thickest tentacle.
The thickest one hunched over, and the tip opened up like the Gulp Worm Chris had killed earlier. They both watched in horror as something slid out of the opening. It was a grayish creature covered in muck, slime, and mucus. The smell was horrendous, and the Redfield siblings took a step back.
"Chris-s… what the f*ck is that?"
Her brother could only stare at the creature. Its limbs were wrapped around itself, almost like it was in the fetal position.
There was a slight hiss as the creature stretched its limbs out. Its neck snapped backward before it let out a bloodcurdling screech. Chris noticed the roots on the limbs, "That's Alexia…"
Claire was stunned and silent behind him. "What happened to her?"
"Claire, I don't think we should try and find out." He tore his eyes away from her transformation. He noticed two twin failsafes. In an emergency, they needed to break a key to set off a rocket launcher.
"You take the left, I'll get the right, okay Claire?"
Claire looked toward her side, gave a quick nod, and looked determined. "Got it."
Chris looked at the creature's arm. It looked like roots had grown across its body, giving it an organic plant-like appearance. The roots reached down into the catwalk, holding Alexia tight. The creature's mouth snapped open and closed in rapid motion. The teeth were sharp and serrated, giving it the appearance of a wolf-like beast.
The roots were growing from all the metal grating, holding Alexia suspended. Tentacles of flesh writhed on the ends of the roots like tendrils of a sea anemone. Slime was everywhere, coating the walkway. He couldn't tell where the creature ended, and the organic matter began. He took off to his side, and Claire shouted, "Which way do we turn the keys?"
"Counter-clockwise on three."
"One."
"Two…"
"THREE….!"
The female robotic voice called out to them again. "Initiating energy injection. WARNING - The Safety Box will not be released until charging is complete."
Chris and Claire watched as Alexia rose to her feet and turned to face them slowly. Claire's eyes widened, and she noticed her different appearance from the beginning. What surprised her was the flamed arm.
Chris noticed the monster's golden eyes on Claire.
"I'll keep her busy. Just go for the emergency elevator!" He hissed through his teeth. Claire looked at the tentacles moving about behind the monster and in her hair.
Claire couldn't dream up nightmares worse than this one, "Chris, but…"
Her brother wasn't budging. "I can take care of this! Just go! I'll be behind you!"
Claire looked at him with watery eyes, "You have to make it… don't die on me…!"
He could hear the pain in her voice. He smiled as he pulled his Glock out, "I haven't broken a promise yet."
Alexia hissed loudly and swung the arm that ended in a tentacle towards Claire. It struck the glass hard, but Claire could see it was preparing to launch itself after her.
Chris cut in and fired a few shots into Alexia's head, but the bullets did nothing. They bounced off her, not even denting her skin.
Alexia screamed and whipped her arm towards Chris, who barely dodged it as it shattered the glass behind her. He needed to keep her attention on him rather than Claire.
Chris ran to Alexia's right side, shooting with every step. He fired at the roots that held her to the catwalk, but they continued to move and grow. The mutated creature snapped out, and Chris narrowly evaded her claws.
Her mouth opened, and a thick, viscous liquid began to pour from its massive jaws as she sprayed him with a caustic slime.
He ran to another part of the catwalk, jumping just before Alexia broke it.
"Chris, go!" Claire yelled to him while sprinting up the stairs to reach the emergency elevator.
Chris could just hear Claire's cries as he fought for his life below. "Run, Claire!"
Alexia's tentacles reached Chris and grabbed him, whipping him into each tentacle like a rag doll. Her teeth grew bigger and sharper as her eyes stared down at him. She looked like a wolf creature, ready to consume its prey.
Chris fired off more rounds into Alexia's face.
When she didn't budge, he rammed the butt of his gun into her face repeatedly. Alexia roared and threw him, and he bodily crashed into one of the metal walls and slid to his side. He let out a shaky breath of pain.
The creature sensed that Claire was on her move and whipped to find the young Redfield.
Chris slowly extended his arm and held the trigger down. His bullets did nothing but irritate her. "HEY!"
Alexia turned her golden eyes to him.
The monster screeched and rushed towards him, slamming into his form to pin him to the metal grate below them. Alexia tore at his body with her claws, cutting deep gashes into his Kevlar vest and his shirt. He tried to push her off, but she was too strong. She wrapped her tentacles around him, pinning him down and holding his arms at his side.
He tried to fight against her, but she held firm. Chris screamed out in pain and anger, trying everything he could to get away.
He closed his arms across his chest, ripping some tentacles from around him. The pain he caused her only made her angrier.
Much like he did back at the mansion, he unsheathed his knife. The S.T.A.R.S. logo flashed as he brought it down between her golden eyes. He twisted and forced it as deep as he could wedge it into her skull; his teeth were barred with effort.
Alexia roared and thrashed as he drove the knife in. Her arms flung open, and her tentacles snapped out of his grasp.
Chris took his chance and threw his fist into her jaw. She screeched once more, the sound echoing off every surface around them. She reared back and swiped claws across his chest, leaving bloody marks behind.
Before she could do anything else, Chris pulled her face closer by her other tendrils and rammed her head into the wall.
He snatched the knife out, watching her step back groggily and stumble to her knees. Chris scooted backward until he could climb to his feet. He hastily picked up his Glock and reloaded it with a fresh magazine.
Chris was sure she perished; instead, he watched her transform again.
The thing that once was Alexia appeared to have gained several new limbs. The new limbs sprouted from her shoulders and lower back, almost looking like wings. The new limbs were black and twisted like roots were bursting from her body.
Claire could hear her voice, but it sounded like several voices were overlayed. One was the same voice she heard over the microphone, but it was deeper and louder this time, almost like a roar. Another sounded like her voice, distorted and warped. She looked like an oversized ant queen with wings.
The tendrils shot out from her back and wrapped around his form, lifting him off the ground. She raised her head and opened her jaw in a horrifying display. Chris struggled against the tendrils, but they tightened around him like a snake crushing its prey. He tried pushing against them, but his efforts were futile. The tendrils slammed him to the ground hard.
Pain erupted from every part of his body as he took in a sharp breath. Blood pooled in every cut and gash that littered his body. He tried to push himself off the ground, but it was a fight he could no longer win.
He felt his consciousness slowly start to slip.
Chris shook his head.
Alexia continued to screech, sounding like a thousand voices echoed around the large metal room. This only further enraged the mutated beast. She lunged and wrapped him in an even tighter grip than before.
Chris struggled to breathe, but he refused to let go, and she started to crush him even more. He cried out in pain, but he was determined to survive. His will to live was stronger than his fear and pain.
He was not going down without a fight.
Chris' strength was fading now as he felt himself slipping away. He was so tired, so hurt, and he couldn't keep fighting. He was straining to raise his arm with the hand holding his pistol.
The tendrils reached out across the room, searching for Chris and Claire. Their movement was almost hypnotic, and Chris struggled to look away, even as she continued to crush the metal beneath her feet. The screeching was replaced by what sounded like a hundred voices, all chattering, hissing, and shrieking at once. The sound was almost indescribable, and the sheer volume was enough to hurt the ears.
A hundred voices came clear in his mind. They weren't victims or voices in his head. They were the flying ants that went into the lab. Her army was flapping, flying around, buzzing, stinging, and biting at his exposed flesh.
A welcome voice rang out. "THE SAFETY BOX HAS BEEN RELEASED."
Chris' eyes glanced over as his breathing became strangled. A large rifle-like gun was in the glass case they had unlocked. Chris took labored breaths as he tried to figure out how to get over there.
Then he realized Alexia loved throwing him more than anything.
He'd have to risk it.
Chris thrashed within the enormous creature's grasp, trying to get her attention. A few managed to wrap around him and throw him into the catwalk with a heavy crash. He tried to stand before, but the pain overcame him as he slumped against the railing.
Chris grimaced and shot at her wings and limbs, trying to do enough damage so he would have a chance. The pain was excruciating, and blood ran down his arms, legs, and face. He could taste blood in his mouth, but he had to keep fighting.
He was in too deep to quit now.
The giant insectoid queen started to screech and hiss; the voices of her insect drones joined her in a cacophony of sound.
Chris tried to block out the sound and swat some flying bugs away. He pulled himself along the railing, limping toward the transparent box.
Alexia sent a swarm toward him, and he was glad that his pistol could shoot through them like butter. He noticed some of Alexia's minions landing on his wounds and sinking their mandibles deep. He quickly shook them off before any could burrow in further.
The creature shrieked again, and another volley of insects came his way.
Chris pushed the insects away, but more came.
Alexia had gotten too close to him. He could smell her putrid breath, like blood and death mixed with rotting flesh. He fought through the pain and fired off a few more shots into her wings and her legs.
She screeched with a hundred voices as her legs gave way, and she came crashing down on the catwalk.
Chris tried to stand and limped towards his prize.
The insect queen's blood was acidic and burned through the floor. Her weight crashed through metal, and she fell to the ground below. The remaining tendrils on her body shot out from her and latched onto parts throughout the room. She screeched as more of her minions came and attached themselves to her arms, legs, and body. They swarmed her as if trying to protect her from harm.
Chris pulled himself up on a metal brace and looked down at Alexia, who roared up at him like some kind of demon.
He shuffled to the glass box and grabbed the weapon from the safety box. It was heavy, and he had to change his stance when he managed to get it into his hands. It looked like some kind of modified rocket launcher.
Alexia roared and sent another swarm at him to knock the weapon from his grasp. Chris dodged them, using the weapon's weight as a blunt force against the insects, crushing them easily.
More came.
Chris pushed them away again and fired off a volley of bullets into Alexia. This seemed to make her even angrier.
She screeched again, and a new swarm descended on him.
Another swarm hit Chris and knocked the weapon from his grip. He quickly grabbed it again, but the insects continued to pummel into his bloody and weakened body. Chris fell to his knees and used every ounce of strength to aim and fire at the mutated queen just a few feet from him.
Alexia hissed and let out a roar that shook Chris to his core.
He took aim once more and fired the rocket at her. The missile flew at incredible speeds and slammed into her chest. She looked down at the hole that had been made in the center of her chest and then up at Chris.
Her face distorted as her whole body turned a sickening electric blue. Her body expanded, and Chris saw rays of energy and light peeking from her. The swarm gathered around the light ball.
The ball of light and the swarm grew and expanded before finally releasing a massive shockwave that leveled everything in its path.
Chris ducked down to avoid being hit by the wave but could feel the heat of the blast wash over him. He could only turn his back to shield himself from her exploding body matter. It was a mixture of blood, slime, mucus, and other gunk in her.
The explosion was so massive that it knocked Chris off the catwalk and sent him flying. He crashed to the ground and rolled to a stop.
The ground rumbled with the blast, and the remaining parts of the catwalk were ripped out from underneath him. He looked around, and his eyes widened as a ball of fire started coming from the abyss and up toward him. He raced against the flames and down the metal stairs, his feet pounding as he jumped at the last minute to save himself from a crispy death.
As he jumped, he landed in a different part of the catacombs; this time, he was outside in some stone courtyard.
He put both hands on his knees as he hunched over, trying to catch his breath, "Holy sh*t. What the f*ck… God dammit."
He stood up as another explosion rocked the whole courtyard. The sound of metal screeching rang out as something came crashing down the path behind him.
Chris looked up, and his heart plummeted.
Wesker held Claire's arms behind her back and wrenched her head back by her hair, "CHRIS!" She called out in a pained whimper.
Wesker had his fingers wrapped around Claire's hair, and she was wincing. His body pressed against the length of hers. He gave her a hard push in the opposite direction, his voice low and growling. "Move."
Claire gasped and was shoved from behind and stumbled forward.
"Claire!" Chris yelled out and took a step forward, gripping the gun tightly, aiming the barrel at Wesker's head.
"Wesker, you bastard!" He growled, his tone dripping with hate. As he lined his shot up, Wesker and his sister were gone.
Chris' weakened body shook with anger and rage. He got her back just so she'd get retaken. He shut his eyes as tears threatened to slip.
He didn't cry.
She wasn't lost to him yet.
"Wesker!" Chris screamed, slamming his fists into each other angrily. He felt so weak, so useless, and it pissed him off, "Get back here, you coward!"
"I swear to god.. I'll find you. I'll find you, Wesker…" Chris said under his breath. He then turned to run as fast as his pain-riddled body could move. Chris ran down a long hallway while listening to the warning echoing throughout the complex.
He bulldozed his way through some zombies, his knife making quick work as he jammed it into their brains. "CLAIRE!!!"
The blaring of an alarm and an announcement shook him to his core: "INITIATING FACILITY SELF DESTRUCT MODE. T MINUS SIXTY MINUTES."
Chris stumbled through a fire-filled hallway, the ground shaking violently beneath his feet. Metal squealed throughout the complex as the building began collapsing around him. He ran down another hallway, following his gut, praying it would lead him straight to his sister and Wesker. But the path started shaking violently, with the sound of metal groaning under its own weight.
The ceiling came off the sides of the hallway and crashed to the side around Chris.
He shoved the double doors open and looked upward; he saw a huge plane flying over, which looked reserved for rescue.
On the unfinished roof, Wesker and his sister, Claire, stood before him. His ex-captain held Claire tight before him; his grip was iron and offered no resistance.
"CHRIS!"
Wesker held her head at an awkward angle because his hand wrapped around her ponytail, wrenching her head back.
"Well done, Chris. It turns out Alexia's work wasn't much of anything. So now, the only thing left… is revenge." Wesker purred right near Claire's ear.
She whimpered and tried moving her head.
"Now, Dearheart, you wouldn't want to dislocate your shoulder again. After all, I owe you for the inconvenience you put me through." Wesker's voice was dark.
Chris glared in their direction before shouting through clenched teeth, "DON'T YOU LAY A FINGER ON HER WESKER! LET HER GO!"
"Or, what, Chris? You'll shoot? I want you to know I've laid more than a finger on your, dear sister." Wesker says, his voice laced with smugness.
Chris could hear Claire cry out in pain as Wesker wrenched her arm back further. He aimed his Glock at Wesker with a determined look in his eyes.
The older man only continued to smirk, "Oh, do you think you could possibly shoot me?" Wesker said.
Chris's eyes welled up with tears, and his grip on the gun tightened. "I swear to god I will shoot you if you hurt her!" Chris said. "I'm not joking, Wesker! Get your hands off her!"
"I grow tired of this little game of cat and mouse, Redfield. You and your sister were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe you can take some solace that she'll be cared for once you're gone. It's the best you can hope for." Wesker's voice was thick with false kindness.
Claire squirmed in his grip and tried to elbow him; Wesker laughed before shoving Claire against the wall. She yelped as he pinned her to the wall with an arm. "You're so feisty, Dearheart. You play rough, and I'll play rougher." Wesker purred, pressing his lips to her neck.
Claire shuddered and grimaced, "f*ck you." She whispered through clenched teeth.
"GET OFF OF HER!"
Wesker smirked against her skin and glanced at Chris. "I think it's time for the last show. Claire, do you want to show your brother how much you like being in my arms?" Wesker said, his voice low and husky, filled with menace.
Claire's face twisted in anger and disgust as Wesker's lips lingered against her skin. She twisted and struggled against his grip, but his strength was unwavering. She glared daggers at him, her eyes full of defiance.
"I would never enjoy being in your arms," she hissed. "I'd rather jump into a pit of zombies than spend another second in your presence." But her words had little effect on Wesker. He was enjoying the pain on Chris's face, his smirk widening.
His hand tightened in her hair, his fingers curled against her head, nails digging in and pressing against her scalp. "You are so pathetic, Chris Redfield." He whispered before he pressed his lips into her ear, "You're so much less than a man, aren't you? You can't even protect your own sister."
"You don't want her, Wesker! You want me! I'm right here! Let her go!" Chris was damn near pleading, begging his ex-captain.
"You know what? You're absolutely right… I don't want your sister. I've wanted you all along… but you're not exactly my type, are you…?" Wesker purred, his lips pressing against Claire's ear. She trembled, her body shaking with tears.
Wesker inhaled the scent of her hair, "But your sister…" He whispered before dragging his teeth along her neck, making her whimper and gasp. Wesker's hand slid down her arm and gripped her by her hips before he pulled her close.
Claire's body tensed as Wesker's breath hit her ear, and she cringed as his lips and teeth trailed down her neck. Every touch made her skin crawl, but she couldn't escape his grip.
Chris's heart sank as he watched Wesker holding Claire, his grip tight and possessive. His eyes widened with horror and guilt, seeing the fear and resignation in his sister's expression. He clenched his jaw, the gun in his hand trembling with rage and despair.
"You sick bastard," Chris growled, his voice shaking. "NO! LET HER GO! LEAVE HER ALONE!"
"Dearheart, might you want to tell your dear big brother what we were up to in Raccoon City? Or might he need a demonstration?" Wesker murmured against her throat.
Claire's eyes widened in panic, and her breath hitched in her throat. She knew precisely what Wesker was referring to, and the realization sickened her. "You wouldn't," she whispered, her voice trembling. She could see the sinister delight in Wesker's eyes and felt a wave of betrayal and shame wash over her.
Chris was confused and alarmed. He noticed Wesker's shift in tone and Claire's change in expression. He took a step forward, his gun still aimed at Wesker.
"No! No, no, no! You don't make it her fault!" Chris demanded, his voice laced with urgency. "You know what you did. Wesker! You won't blame her."
Wesker chuckled, the sound low and mocking. "You really want me to take all the credit, Redfield? Your precious sister was very convincing and pleaded sweetly. I had no choice but to enjoy a close encounter in Raccoon City…"
Chris's mind reeled with confusion and anger. He searched Claire's face, desperately trying to read her expression. He could see the mixture of guilt and shame in her eyes, confirming Wesker's words. "No," Chris said, his voice barely above a whisper. "No, that can't be true... Claire, it's not your fault… it was him..."
Claire's face crumbled, and fresh tears streamed down her cheeks. She wanted to deny it, to tell him it was all just a sick game of mind tricks.
But the truth was written all over her face.
"Chris..." she began, her voice shaking. "I... we…" She couldn't bring herself to continue, but her silence was confirmation enough.
Chris felt as if he had been punched in the gut. His heart shattered, and all the worst thoughts he had suppressed now flooded his mind. The room seemed to spin around him as he stared at his sister, the shame and guilt weighing heavily on her shoulders.
"No... you were forced to," he whispered, the words barely audible over the ringing in his ears. "You didn't want to… you… this can't be happening… you… Claire…”
Wesker couldn't help but interject, the smugness thick in his voice. "Oh, but it is true, Redfield. Your sweet little sister has been keeping a secret from you."
"Shut up!" Chris snapped, his voice hoarse and shaky. "You don't get to use this against us!"
But Wesker merely smirked, clearly enjoying the pain he was causing. He continued to hold Claire tightly, his grip never faltering. "Oh, but I do, Redfield," he replied. "I get to do whatever I damn well please. You're powerless here, just like you've always been."
Wesker laughed, cold and deep. He bit the inside of her throat lightly, his tongue darting out, tasting her flesh, "And here I thought you were a real man…the way you always went on about justice and honor… I didn't know you'd become so weak, so spineless, so pathetic… you're nothing but a sad, weak excuse for a man…" Wesker said, the growl in his voice making it deeper, huskier. His fingers dug in and tightened on her waist, pulling her even closer against him.
Claire let out a strangled gasp as Wesker's teeth and tongue traced her throat. She felt nauseous, her body freezing in fear and disgust.
Chris watched helplessly, his knuckles white from how tightly he was clenching the gun. He wanted to shoot Wesker to end this nightmare. But he couldn't, not as long as Wesker had a grip on his sister.
"You're the weak one," Chris said, his voice strained. "You use people; you manipulate them. You have no honor, no morals."
Wesker chuckled, the sound dark and sinister. "Ah, you're still clinging to those tired old ideals. Honor and morals? They're nothing but illusions, Redfield."
He pulled Claire closer, holding her like a vice grip. His fingers dug into her skin, sure to leave bruises. "I take what I want when I want. And right now... I want your sister." Wesker moved his hand around to her stomach, making her whimper in his arms.
"Get off of me!" She cried out as a tear slipped down her cheek. Her hands grasped at his as it slid downward, and he pressed his groin against her ass. Wesker groaned as he breathed against her neck, smelling the pheromones in her sweaty skin.
Claire shivered and let out a soft sob, "You're so pathetic…"
He only chuckled at her assessment before shoving her harder against the wall; he glanced at his former officer.
Chris clenched his jaw as he watched Wesker pin his sister forcefully against the wall. He felt anger and helplessness wash over him, his eyes fixed on the sight before him. "You bastard," he growled through clenched teeth. "What do you think you're doing?"
Wesker just smirked in response, his grip on Claire firm and possessive. He continued to press against her, his breath hot against her skin. "Reliving some memories. You know, this was how she wanted me. The noises your sister made in the laboratory, Christopher."
Chris felt bile rise in his throat as Wesker's words sunk in. The images that flashed through his mind were so vivid and horrifying; it was like he was there witnessing the act. "You're lying," he choked out, his voice quivering. "You're making it up... She wouldn't... not with you..."
Wesker laughed, his breath fanning across Claire's neck. "Oh, but she did. She was so eager, so compliant. She craved it, just like she's craving it now."
He ran his free hand down her side, his touch a mix of possessiveness and mockery. Claire trembled under his touch, a mixture of fear and shame swirling in her gut. "Isn't that right, Dearheart? You missed me so much for the last three months that you skipped into my arms in the courtyard...?"
Claire shuddered, her body still shaking with uncontrollable tremors. She wanted to deny it, to claim that it was all a lie, but she couldn't find her voice. The memory of that desperate, shameful encounter weighed down on her like a millstone. "Y-yes," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I... I missed you."
Wesker's smirk widened as he heard her admission. He chuckled darkly, his grip on her waist tightening. "See, Redfield? She missed me. She came to me willingly, wanting my touch, my attention. She craved it."
Chris looked at his sister, his grip on his Glock wavering. "Claire..." His voice broke as he looked at his younger sister.
Claire looked back at him, fresh tears streaking down her face. She could see the anger, the disappointment, and, above all else, the hurt etched into his expression. The shame and guilt she felt nearly drowned her. "I'm sorry," Claire whispered, her voice a strangled sob. "Chris, I'm so sorry... I didn't—"
Chris shook his head as if trying to shake away the image of his sister in Wesker's arms. "Why... why would you... with him?" He choked out, his voice full of disbelief and betrayal.
Claire hung her head, unable to meet his gaze. She knew she had no excuse, no explanation that would ever be enough. "I... I wasn't thinking," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I wanted... I needed—" She couldn't finish the sentence, the words sticking in her throat like shards of glass.
"Christopher, she was thinking. Your sister jumped my bones. Who was I to deny such a stubborn little thing?" Wesker purred against her throat, his teeth scraping the skin there.
Chris clenched his jaw, anger, and revulsion coursing through him. He wanted to believe it was all lies, but the truth was staring him in the face. "You manipulated her," he growled, his eyes cold and fierce. "You used her... just like you've done to many others."
Wesker chuckled darkly, his body pressing harder against Claire's. He ran his tongue along her pulse point, his hand still gripping her hip with authority. "You give me too much credit, Redfield. She was all too willing. Eager, even. She knew exactly what she was doing."
Claire bit her bottom lip, her body trembling. She hated how her body responded to Wesker's touch, how the heat coiled in her belly despite everything.
Chris could see how she was affected, and it only seemed to enrage him further. He clenched his fists, his knuckles white. "You bastard," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You ruined her. I swear to god if you hurt her anymore—"
"Ah!" Wesker interrupted him with a loud sigh and roll of his eyes, "As much as I'd love to keep playing this back and forth. I'll gladly give you a short reunion before I take what's mine from your cold, dead fingers." He bodily threw her at Chris' feet.
Claire whimpered at how she landed; Chris was there to pick her up. His Glock still pointing in Wesker's direction.
"I'm in a pleasant mood. Today's turned out great. I came for Alexia. But killing you is even better. And I get to take home my favorite Redfield…" Wesker's head turned to Claire, who was hiding behind her brother.
Chris held his sister close, his body shielding her from Wesker like a protective wall. His gun never wavered, still pointed directly at the blond man. "Sorry to disappoint you, but Alexia is gone. I'm not dying. You're not taking Claire anywhere," he growled. "She's not your property. She's not your favorite anything."
Wesker chuckled, his eyes dark and mocking. "Is that so?" He said, taking a few leisurely steps forward. "You think you could kill me, don't you?" Wesker said, his tone laced with mocking.
He took a step forward and took the opportunity to admire Claire's form: "So weak… all bark and no bite. Such a shame. A man like you should be able to protect his own sister…" Wesker says with a smirk.
Chris tightened his grip on the Glock, his finger hovering over the trigger guard. "Try me," he retorted, his voice steady despite the fear coiling in his gut.
Wesker grins, savoring the challenge in Christopher's eyes. He loved to see the fire, the defiant passion in his enemies. It made his inevitable victory all the more satisfying.
"You know I love a good fight. You always gave me your best, Christopher," Wesker said, his tone almost admiring. "But this time…" he trailed off, a smirk on his lips. He took another step forward, closing the distance between them. His red gaze fixed on Chris, daring him to pull the trigger.
Chris' grip tightened even more on the Glock, his eyes locked on Wesker's. His heart was pounding in his chest, adrenaline coursing through his veins. "This time, what?" He asked, his voice laced with a mix of determination and fear.
Wesker laughed a low and sinister sound. "This time, I won't go easy on you, Christopher. I've been waiting for this moment for quite a while."
"Oh, and Alexia is no longer a concern. I have Steve to work with…" He watched recognition flicker in Claire's eyes.
Claire inhaled sharply, "Steve! Where did you take him!? I swear to god if you hurt him…"
She began before being abruptly cut off by Wesker. "Oh, Dear Heart, my sweet, don't worry. He's fine. But your brother will soon be gone. Permanently," Wesker said as he stepped towards them, his smirk growing wider.
Claire's sky-blue eyes were tearing up once more, "Wesker... Albert... please…"
Wesker chuckled, his expression both mocking and sad*stic. "Ah, look at you pleading. Begging me to spare your brother. But why should I? He's been nothing but a thorn in my side for years." As he spoke, he continued to advance towards them, his strides slow and measured.
Chris raised the barrel of his gun higher, his aim unwavering. "Claire, don't trust him…" Chris said, his voice tight with rage. "You really think Steve will help you after everything you've done? Not only to him and to everyone else, but to Claire?"
Wesker shrugged, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I suppose we'll have to see, won't we? Either way, I have nothing to lose and everything to gain." He continued to advance, his movements almost feline in their grace. "And if Steve doesn't cooperate… there are always other ways to motivate him."
"After all, I heard how beautiful young love was... Dearheart, the way he said your name. It was almost tear-jerking." While looking at her, Wesker said, "It's a pity he's interested in a taken woman…"
Claire's heart clenched at his words, guilt, and shame washing over her like a tidal wave. She looked down, unable to meet his gaze.
Chris clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing as he watched Wesker taunt his sister. "Shut up," he growled. "Don't talk to her like that."
Wesker chuckled, his smirk never fading. "Oh, Christopher. So protective," he said mockingly. "Always the big brother. But don't worry. I won't hurt your precious little sister."
He stopped just a few feet away, his red eyes gleaming with twisted delight. "Not in the way you're thinking, anyway."
"Where is he, Wesker?" Claire asked through quivering lips. Fear, uncertainty, and pain were all reflected in her eyes.
A sinister smile slowly curled at the corner of Wesker's lips. "He's nearby, Dearheart…" he answered, his voice almost a purr. "Safe and sound, for now." He paused for a moment, his eyes glinting with cruel amusem*nt. "But he'll only be safe so long as you behave yourself…"
Claire's blue eyes widened at the word "behave." She knew what that meant. Wesker wanted her complacent, willing. He wanted her compliant. "Don't do this, Albert," she pleaded, her voice shaking. "Please. You don't have to do this—"
Wesker's smile widened as he watched her plea. He loved seeing her like this, begging and pleading with him. "Oh, but I do," he retorted, his voice cold. "You're mine, Dearheart. You belong to me. And I will do whatever it takes to keep you under my control. If that means killing your brother, so be it. Torturing Steve, so be it. You did this to yourself; I'm not letting you go." His voice growling.
Claire felt tears fall down her cheeks, her entire body trembling now. She couldn't help feeling like it was her fault. None of this would've happened if she hadn't come to look for Chris or just stayed away.
Chris clenched his jaw harder, his grip on the Glock nearly white-knuckled. "You son of a bitch," he growled. "You're a monster. The fact that you're using him to save your own ass is pathetic. Using Steve and his feelings for Claire, trying to lure her into your web so you can do whatever you plan on doing to her… it's despicable. You don't care about Steve or what happened to him. You just care about power. Power over people. Power over the entire world. You're nothing but a sick, twisted bastard, and if I could throw you through a wall and kill you myself, I'd do so in a heartbeat."
Wesker chuckled darkly, enjoying the anger and hatred pouring off of Chris like heat from a furnace. It was like fuel to him, strengthening his resolve. "Such passion, Christopher," he said mockingly. "Like a raging fire. It's almost endearing, really."
He took another step forward, putting himself just out of reach of the Glock. "But you're right. I don't care about Steve. Or anyone else, for that matter. I'm after only one thing…" He leaned in, his voice lowering. "Your little sister. But then again, power is addicting, no?"
Wesker laughed, genuinely amused at their standoff. "Power and control are the driving forces behind everything we do. The only difference between me and you is that I embrace it. But you…" Wesker says, "You try and miserably fail to fight it. You try to make yourself believe that you're better than me somehow. But you're nothing but the same as me. A ruthless killer…"
Chris's grip on the Glock tightened even further, his knuckles white. "I am not like you," he said through gritted teeth. "I do what I do to protect people. To save lives. You do it just for the thrill of it. You take pleasure in killing and hurting others. We are not alike. I will never be like you."
Wesker smirked, shaking his head as he pulled his shades down his nose slightly, "Oh, Chris…you and I are more alike than you think…" Wesker's voice is a low purr.
Chris shook his head vehemently, the revolver in his hand shaking slightly. "No. No, we're not. I have a moral compass. I have empathy. I don't enjoy seeing people suffer." He paused for a moment, his expression turning into that of disgust. "You have no remorse, no guilt...not even a shred of empathy for others. You're a monster. A psychotic monster who will stop at nothing to get what you want. Stop trying to compare us because we're nothing alike."
Chris scowled at the older male.
The two were completely different from one another. The younger had no powers, no control over the world, and Wesker had nothing to hide; Chris had everything to lose.
The older man chuckled lowly, his voice echoing in the empty air and resonating within the confines of Chris' skull. "Don't fool yourself, Chris. We both know that you and I are one and the same. Killers. Trained and bred to kill anything and everything in our paths. The only difference between us is that I'm willing to admit it, while you're not…"
Chris's eyes widened slightly at the words, a flicker of pain crossing his features. Wesker had hit a nerve, and they both knew it.
Chris ground his teeth, his jaw clenched tight as he fought the conflicting emotions. "That's... that's different," he choked out. "That's a part of our jobs. It's what we're trained to do. We don't enjoy it. We do it to protect people. You... you're just psychopathic."
Wesker chuckled darkly, his smirk widening as he saw how his words affected Chris. He knew he was getting under the man's skin, stirring his deepest fears and insecurities.
"Oh, Christopher...such a naive little boy," he drawled. "Did you really think that those missions... that training... didn't change you? Didn't turn you into what you are today?" He chuckled again, his red eyes glinting with sad*stic satisfaction. "You're a killer, same as me. You just refuse to admit it."
"My brother is good! He's not evil! He's not you." Wesker's eyes flicked over to Claire, who was hiding behind Chris. She could see the bright red glow of his eyes and swallowed when his gaze zeroed in on her.
Wesker's gaze locked onto Claire for a moment, his eyes seeming to drink in the sight of her. His smirk faded, replaced by a predatory look that sent chills down her spine. "Not evil, hm?" He mused, his eyes returning to Chris and the Glock. "That's what you see, Dearheart... was I so evil to get you and Sherry out of Raccoon City? Was I so evil when I gave you the gift of life? Who's blood is running through your veins?"
Chris's grip on the Glock faltered slightly at the words, the gun dipping in his hand. The questions hit too close to home, stirring up suppressed emotions that he'd worked hard to bury.
But he shook himself out of the momentary lapse and raised the gun again, his expression hardening. "You did that for your own selfish reasons. Don't try to act like you were being charitable."
"Your sister lived, didn't she? I could've let the G-Virus destroy her from the inside out. But my blood is running through her body whether you like it or not, Christopher."
Chris's eyes widened at the realization, the truth of the matter hitting him like a ton of bricks. He knew it was true. Claire's survival had been thanks to the very virus that now coursed through her veins. The very same virus that had transformed his ex-captain.
He clenched his jaw, his expression torn between anger and guilt. "You didn't do it out of the kindness of your heart. You did it to manipulate her, to keep control over her. Don't try to spin this into something heroic."
Wesker chuckled darkly, his smirk returning once more. He could see the turmoil in Chris's eyes, the inner struggle between acceptance and denial. "Oh, Christopher..." he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "You think you're so smart. But deep down, you know I didn't have to save her. I could've left her to die in that city, but I didn't. I gave her my blood because I wanted her to live. Because I cared…"
"I-if you care...you said you have Steve… what are you planning on doing with him?" Her voice was a low whisper.
Wesker's gaze softened ever so slightly at the question, a flicker of something else crossing his features. "Oh, don't worry your pretty little head about that," he assured her, his voice sickeningly sweet. "Steve is a little...project of mine. Let's just say I have a special plan for him…"
"Albert... please..." Claire said with worry clouding her features.
Wesker chuckled at the plea, his smirk returning as he reveled in her vulnerability and concern. "Now, now, Dearheart...you shouldn't worry so much," he chided, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Steve is in good hands. Well, physically speaking, anyway…"
Wesker sighed while looking into her sky-blue eyes. He clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth, "I can never deny you, Dearheart. Inside his body, there's still a little T-Alexia Virus… he should be a good specimen. Maybe he'll come back alive, just as I did, and be able to see you."
Claire's heart leaped at his words, hope surging through her despite everything. She knew Wesker could be cruel and even sad*stic. But there were moments when he showed a hint of humanity, a sliver of the man he once was. "You... you'd let him live? Let him see me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Chris narrowed his eyes at Wesker before glancing back at Claire with a look of worry. "You can't believe a single thing this guy says, Claire…he probably doesn't even have Steve…" Chris says quietly.
She only nodded, her eyes slowly drifting up to meet Wesker's.
Wesker chuckled softly, amused by Chris's skepticism. "Oh, Christopher... you doubt me so quickly. But Claire here..." his gaze shifted to her, his expression almost tender, almost caring. "She knows better."
He stepped forward, his red eyes gleaming with mockery and fondness. "I have him. Safe and sound. For now. And he will live. As long as you do what you're told, Miss Redfield."
Claire's eyes widened at the implication. She knew well what he meant by doing as she was told. It was a familiar game they'd played before. Control, manipulation, domination.
Chris, too, clearly understood as his grip on the Glock grew even whiter, his knuckles standing out starkly against his skin. "You leave her alone," he growled lowly. "Don't you dare hurt her, you bastard."
Wesker turned and faced her fully, his expression predatory with a touch of hunger. "Oh, I'm sure Steve would love nothing more…" A slow grin split his face, the corners of his mouth curling in malice. He took a step closer, trying to close the distance between them. "He's been asking for you…" Softly said, "He's so excited to see you again."
Claire's heart raced in her chest, conflicting emotions warring within her. Part of her wanted to believe that he was telling the truth, that Steve was asking for her, that he was okay. But another part of her, who knew how cruel and manipulative Wesker could be, screamed at her not to trust him.
Chris noticed her conflicted expression and the turmoil in her eyes. "Don't listen to him, Claire," he warned, stepping slightly before her. "He's trying to mess with you."
Claire stared at Wesker over Chris' shoulder. "Please don't touch him… don't hurt him…" she pleaded with him.
"I'm sorry, Dear Heart…but my men have already taken him," Wesker said while slipping his shades back up the bridge of his nose.
Claire gasped at his words, a sick dread pooling in her stomach. She knew what he meant by 'taken.' Steve was no longer safe. He was now a pawn in Wesker's twisted games. "No...no, you can't...please, Albert," she whispered, her voice shaking. "He doesn't deserve this. He's just a kid. He hasn't done anything to you."
Wesker shrugged nonchalantly, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Deserve? My dear, the universe doesn't care about what anyone 'deserves,'" he said. "And as for Mr. Burnside, well, he happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."
Chris clenched his jaw tighter, the Glock still trained on Wesker's chest. "You sick bastard," he growled, his finger twitching slightly on the trigger. "Claire, you gotta get out of here…"
Claire's eyes darted between Chris and Wesker, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife. She knew she was caught right in the middle, a pawn in their twisted power play. "I-I...I can't just leave," she said weakly, her voice trembling slightly. "Not when Steve's life is on the line. I can't just abandon him."
Wesker chuckled darkly, his smirk widening at her words. "Oh, how very touching. And stupid," he said mockingly. "Such blind loyalty… it's almost admirable."
Chris glared at him, tightening his grip on the Glock, but for once, he kept quiet. Chris didn't take his eyes off Wesker, "As a surviving member of S.T.A.R.S. I have to finish this. I will find you."
Wesker chuckled again, amused by Chris's defiant declaration. "Finish this, huh?" He said, his voice dripping with mockery. "How heroic. But you won't. I was the S.T.A.R.S. captain… I picked the best of the best. It's nothing against you, Chris… I'm just the best there is. Better than any of you could ever be." The older man said, his voice laced with arrogance.
Claire hadn't turned to move yet, "You promise you'll find me if I go, Chris?"
Chris nodded, his expression serious. "I promise. I won't stop until I find you. No matter what it takes."
"She'll make a lovely gift. I can't wait to hear her whimper when I have her underneath me." Wesker said with a smirk, glancing at Claire, who looked over at him in shock and fear before looking down at her feet.
Chris felt his rage surging through him at Wesker's words, his grip on the Glock so tight that his knuckles were turning white. "You lay a single finger on her, and I swear to god, Wesker, I will end you…" he growled, taking a step forward. "You sick bastard… leave her out of this,"
Wesker chuckled darkly and took another step forward, his body inches from Chris'. "Oh, Chris… it's so cute how you think you can protect her. Such a valiant effort… Go run along, Dearheart; I'll find you after this."
Claire met Chris's gaze momentarily, worry and fear swirling in her eyes. She didn't want to leave him here, alone with Wesker, but she knew she didn't have a choice.
"Be careful, Chris..." she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Please..."
With one last look at the two men, she turned and hurried away.
"I'll end this once and for all. Say hello to my friends who you killed." Chris aimed his handgun at Wesker and fired two shots. The bullets flew through the air, but Wesker weaved through them effortlessly, his reflexes lightning fast.
The smirk on his face widened as Chris stared in disbelief. "You honestly thought that would work? Adorable," Wesker mocked. "I trained you better than that, you know." He pulled his dark shades off as he cracked his neck, "I don't know where you get your confidence, Chris."
Chris gritted his teeth as he aimed his pistol at Wesker again, his heart pounding in his chest. He hated how cool and composed the man was. "I could say the same thing about you, Wesker..." he retorted, his voice shaking slightly.
Wesker laughed as Chris fired at him, his voice loud and echoing in the empty area. Chris kept firing at the older male, but the older man dodged them effortlessly as if he were just toying with the younger male.
Chris kept firing, frustration and desperation growing with each missed shot. No matter how fast or precise he was, Wesker still dodged every bullet like it was nothing. It was as if the man was mocking him, dancing around effortlessly like a twisted game.
Wesker continued his slow advance toward the older Redfield. Chris kept squeezing his trigger until his Glock clicked. The magazine was empty. Chris backed away, his empty gun clutched tightly in his hand. He knew he was beaten, and the realization stung more than the pain from the injuries he'd sustained.
Wesker chuckled again, his smirk growing cruel. "Looks like you're all out of bullets, Chris," he taunted, taking another step forward. "What a shame…"
A dark grin split Wesker's face, his tongue slowly licking his lower lip. "You shouldn't waste bullets, Chris." He says, taking the gun out of Chris' grasp. He held the handgun in his palm, admiring it before tossing it off to the side, the metal echoing loudly in the open space. "I've always admired how you stand… strong and fearless… even though you know you'll die."
Chris didn't try to fight back as Wesker took his gun; he knew it was pointless. He stood tall, his gaze defiant. "I'm not the one who's gonna die here, Wesker," he shot back, trying to keep his voice steady. "You're just a damn psychopath with delusions of grandeur. But the joke's on you—I'm not gonna give you the satisfaction of seeing me afraid."
His gun was too far away to try and reach; he only continued walking backward, trying to put distance between him and his ex-captain. Chris bumped into a metal pole. He glanced down quickly as he wrapped both hands around it.
He brought it up to swing into Wesker's head.
Chris' eyes widened as Wesker effortlessly blocked his hit, the metal pole bending around his arm like rubber. It displayed his power and strength, and Chris knew he was in deep trouble.
Wesker let out a soft laugh, his smirk growing sinister. He slowly advanced towards Chris, his body moving with predatory grace. "That wasn't very smart, Redfield," he mocked. "Did you really think you could take me down with a metal pole?"
Wesker grinned as he felt the pole bend around his arm. His own strength, combined with Chris' attack, caused him to stumble back. Wesker's eyes narrowed to slits as he glared at the younger male. "Pathetic," He snapped, the snarl twisting his voice. "It's my turn…"
Chris stumbled backward. He knew he didn't stand a chance against Wesker but refused to give in. "Bring it on, you bastard…" he growled, bracing himself for the attack.
Wesker's hand wrapped around the pole as he snatched it from Chris' grip. He kicked Chris, and the force of the kick sent him flying across the roof and crashing into the concrete wall with a sickening thud.
Pain flared through his body as Chris slumped to the ground, his vision blurry and his head spinning. He tried to push himself up, to keep fighting, but his body protested vehemently.
Wesker watched with a smirk, his gaze darkening as he turned to face Chris. "You've grown soft," he said, his tone full of anger and malice as he moved forward. He stopped before Chris, reaching out and grabbing him by his shirt.
Wesker leaned down and grabbed Chris, lifting him by the front of his shirt. "Do you know what your problem is, Chris? You think too highly of yourself," he said, a dangerous growl echoing deep within his core.
Chris dangled in Wesker's grip, too weak to fight back. His vision blurred, and he could feel the pain throbbing throughout his body. "What… what's so wrong with that?" He gasped. “Better than… than being a power-hungry psychopath… like you…”
Wesker pulled him close to his face, his tone dripping with disgust, "Psychopath? No... I'm not a human anymore… I am a God." Wesker continued. "Just look at all my power."
Chris could feel Wesker's hot breath on his face, and he struggled weakly in the older man's grip, though he knew it was useless. "God?" He retorted, his voice strained. "You're not a god… you're just a monster wearing human skin."
Wesker's hand tightened around Chris' shirt before he roughly pushed the male into the wall, "Well, this monster wants you to feel pain, Chris. I want you to understand what real strength is like. I want you to feel it in every fiber of your being… I'm going to make you suffer…" Wesker says, his voice was dark.
Chris gasped in pain as he slammed into the wall, his body already battered and bruised. He could feel the older man's anger and malice radiating from him, and he knew he was in for a world of hurt. "You won't break me," he gritted out, summoning up what remained of his defiance. "I won't give you the satisfaction…"
Wesker said nothing, merely balled his fist up and swung his arm. His fist cracked into Chris' face, making the younger man's head snap to the side with the impact. The impact of Wesker's fist sent a blinding wave of pain through Chris' face. He could feel his lip split and blood trickling down his chin.
The knee to his stomach sent the air whooshing out of him, and he doubled over, gasping for breath. He couldn't fight back anymore, powerless against Wesker's brutal strength.
Chris dropped to his hands and knees, wheezing and coughing up blood. Wesker stood over Chris, watching as he doubled over, a sad*stic grin spreading across his face. "You were never going to be able to win against me, Christopher…" He says, a low chuckle slipping past his lips.
Chris was on his hands and knees, shaking and coughing up blood. He could hardly breathe, his whole body in agony as he tried to gasp for air.
Wesker's voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard. "You've always been a disappointment, Christopher…" the older man continued, relishing his pain.
Wesker waited until Chris looked up, his sky blue eyes electric with fury, blood staining his teeth; his ex-captain balled his fist up again and prepared to give him an uppercut. "You're not a match for me, Chris," Wesker said before throwing Chris a punch, connecting with Chris' chin.
Chris felt the world spin as the uppercut sent him flying backward. He crashed into the concrete on his back, the impact driving the air out of his lungs and a sharp pain through his spine. He lay there, dazed and disoriented, his vision blurry.
He tried to push himself up, but his body refused to obey him. He was entirely at Wesker's mercy.
Chris' head rested on the concrete and stared up at wooden planks suspended by a chain. To the left of Wesker was the lever controlling the chain's ability to ascend or descend.
"Magnificent, don't you think? How little I need to take you out."
The world spun around Chris as he lay on the cold concrete. He dazedly watched the chains above him, then turned his gaze to the lever. He struggled to move, but his body refused to cooperate.
"You... bastard…" he gasped out, his voice barely more than a whisper. "You call this… magnificent?"
Wesker chuckled, his voice dripping with the same smug malevolence. "You just can't accept that I'm stronger, faster, and smarter than you could ever hope to be." He says, taking a step closer to where Chris lay. "You're nothing but a weakling… a disappointment…"
Chris grunted, his face swollen and purple from Wesker's blows. Wesker laughed softly, shaking his head in amusem*nt, "I love seeing you on the ground, Chris. Broken and defeated. It brings me so much pleasure." He glared at Chris and jumped, intent on landing a killing blow.
Chris managed to weakly roll out of the way just as Wesker leaped towards him. His vision faded in and out, his body screaming in pain, but he refused to give in. He stumbled towards the lever, his hands shaking.
He could barely stand.
As he reached the lever, he grasped it tightly and used all his remaining strength to pull himself up.
Wesker's fist came down and destroyed the concrete around his punch. Wesker roared, looking over his shoulder at Chris. He growled angrily, the sound shaking the ground beneath Chris as he stood up slowly, "You little coward…" He hissed, his voice rumbling loudly as the ground shook.
Chris braced himself against the lever, his chest heaving. His body was so battered and bruised that he could barely stand, but he forced himself to straighten up and meet Wesker's glare. "Coward?" He repeated. "Maybe... but I'm still standing…"
Chris quickly got up, gripping the lever tightly in his palm. He looked back at Wesker, a determined look in his eye, as he pulled down hard on it with all his strength. Chris felt a rush of adrenaline as he pulled down on the lever. The machine started with a thunderous buzz, and the large planks started to rumble. The chains began uncoiling from the mechanism, and the beams and planks descended toward Wesker.
Chris could see the beams and planks descending towards Wesker, crashing down atop him. Heavy metal beams started to rain from the sky; all Wesker could do was look up. He wasn't able to move in time. Wesker's body was pelted with the beams and planks, his body falling to the ground painfully, each piece of metal slamming into him, crushing him beneath the force.
For a moment, Chris allowed himself to hope this would be it. He may finally be rid of Wesker once and for all.
Chris leaned against the lever; he couldn't believe it.
Just like that.
Wesker was done.
He shakily breathed, leaning back with a smile on his face. But the sound of the shifting beams and planks was like a cold chill washing over Chris. He watched as the metal moved and shifted, and his heart sank as he saw Wesker starting to move again.
"No... no, no, no..." he muttered, struggling to hold himself upright. He'd thought he'd won, but he seemed wrong again.
Chris stared in disbelief as Wesker stood utterly unharmed from the pile of beams and planks. If anything, he looked even more pissed off than before.
"No..." Chris mumbled. "How are you still alive?"
Wesker moved his arms around, popping joints back into place and shaking the bits of metal from his shoulders. "Nice try, Christopher…" he said, a low chuckle escaping his clenched teeth as he looked at the younger male.
Chris slumped back against the lever, defeated. He couldn't understand how Wesker could still stand after taking that pummeling. His last hope of stopping the older man had failed. "Why... why won't you just die already?" he muttered.
Chris stumbled to his feet; his arm held his stomach, still feeling the effects of Wesker's knee strike. They both stared at each other. Wesker was about to attack Chris when the explosion from the lab below caught up to them. The fireball blew through the double doors, throwing both men.
The explosion sent both Chris and Wesker flying back, but Chris recovered first. He watched as Wesker found himself encircled by a ring of fire, his face illuminated by the flames. Chris scrambled to his feet, adrenaline pumping through his veins. This was his chance.
Wesker groaned in protest, the flames licking at his clothes and threatening to set them ablaze. His skin was reddened from his close contact with the fire, and he couldn't help but hiss as he sat up.
Wesker looked down at the burns, his tongue flicking out to lap at the seared flesh. "Today's your lucky day. Next time we meet, don't count on another…"
Chris stared at Wesker, almost in disbelief. He'd had him on the ropes, pinned under a pile of beams and planks.
How the hell had Wesker escaped unscathed?
His thoughts were interrupted by Wesker's words. "Next time?" Chris repeated, scoffing. "You think we'll ever see each other again after this?"
Wesker smirked, the fire flickering in his eyes. His skin was reddened and blistered from the heat of the flames, but he seemed unfazed. "Oh, we'll see each other again... Of that, you can be sure."
