Resident Evil Series Fan Fiction ❯ Resident Evil Blood ❯ Chapter 6 – Ultimatum ( Chapter 6 )

Yoh! Disclaimer: I don’t own nothing’. Except an over active imagination and a will to rather write this than do homework. Resident Evil and it’s many AWESOME characters are all property of Capcom and I am simply borrowing their likeness to fulfill my internet obligation of Rule 34.

Resident Evil Blood

Chapter 6 – Ultimatum

It was torture. Pure. Unadulterated. And utterly indescribable.
It was Wesker.

I have to… To be careful...

Chris looked up from where he lay on the bunker. It was early morning. Even inside the bowels of the BSAA complex, he could still smell the dew condensing and gathering the first grey glints of fresh white morning light. Even in this nightmarish future of war and bioterrorism, filled with death and undeath, each morning, the sun rose and shone steadily and brightly. And each morning a distant sweet mingling of bird songs filled the air. Chris sighed a soft smile. He ignored it. But he knew. He could hear it. Each morning he heard oit. And each morning he ignored it…

And there it was. The logic preceded the explanation. It was unfathomable. It was ridiculous. And yet, somehow, it made sense. Wesker’s mechanizations had amounted to a cacophony of circumstance held in place by a single spider’s web; the strongest filament on earth known in relation to its own size, and yet, a simple touch from a child’s fingers could destroy it. But who was the spider that spun the thread? And who maneuvered the fingers of fate that could control destiny?

Chris sighed as he reached across the empty space and plucked his shades off the night stand. He kept his eyes fully closed until they rested flush against his face. He looked around the room. It still looked exactly how it had when he’d first been escorted there earlier that night.

He’d gotten, what, one, maybe two hours of rest? Not sleep, just rest, and honestly, if it could even be called that? He signed again, standing up from the small bed letting the standard issue white sheets cascade off the side and pool at the floor.

Enough of this poetic bullcrap. God. The trash my brain regurgitates in the early morning.

The BSAA “guest room” was comfortable, but seriously lacking in privacy. As if the obviously “hidden” camera wasn’t obvious enough, the second even more obviously “hidden” camera was no better. Not to mention the two posted guards outside the door weren’t a total give away to the governments inclination to confidentiality.

But whatever. Like I can blame them. I’m a ghost. They have no idea where I’ve been, what I’ve done, why I’m here…

Chris thought of his mission. He thought of his alliances. He thought of what he was about to have to do… He thought of Wesker.

He sighed and let his body go limp. He fell backwards into the bed sheets, inciting a quick squeak from the old springs. He bounced his body on the mattress as he got comfortable and closed his eyes, suddenly tired again.

Honestly…. What the hell am I doing?

Chris tossed his head back and re-thought of a million and one reasons as to why he should and should not proceed at that point. A billion reasons actually. And yet, despite the urgency and agreement, Chris sighed again and simply lay on the bed. He didn’t even bother taking the red tinted shades off this time.

Chris rolled to his right side. Funny, that just now, after the long hours of a restless night, he should suddenly feel exhausted, as if the more he let his mind wander, the more it drained him of his energy. And despite the need for focus, Chris let it go; let his mind wander. It was useless to do otherwise. And it was no surprise that it instantly turned to Wesker.

Chris sighed one last time… He felt a blanket of mental fatigue sweep his thoughts, covering every neuron in a deep pocket of mental anguish.

Wesker… It always comes back to Wesker…



Somewhere in Paris. Five years after Raccoon City.


“Ahhgh, ah, agh – Ah! Hagh, hagh, agh… Ah!” Chris slumped to the flood in a dark gelatinous pool of his own blood. Wesker stood over him, both of his fists painted in bright red.

The surreal scene was amplified by the cherry colored liquid’s continued presiding assent up Wesker’s arms and across his impossibly toned chest. Even his head bore evidence of Chris’ blood, staining the man’s lips and slashed across his face, matching the demonic red glow of his devil slit eyes.

Chris lay naked and unmoving, crumpled in a pile of his own awkwardly contorted limbs. Wesker wore nothing but his tight black pants and a fiendish smirk – and Chris’s blood like a deranged red body tattoo that spoke of impossible deeds. He had removed his dark leather gloves in favor of being able to better physically feel the other man’s weakening pulse giving in. Indeed, the tactile touch of Chris’ taunt flesh; the stickiness of his spilt and drying blood; the warmth of his breath on his soft split lips, all made Wesker shiver at the impeding culmination of his actions.

But all that would have to wait, as much as it irked him. He needed to finish this somewhere a little less… Public.

We have guests.

He left the heavy breathing and immobile Chris Redfield for the moment and turned to confirm the computer’s display. The screens all held camera surveillance images of the A-1 BSAA unit making their way down the corridor that would eventually lead them towards his current position.

No doubt they’re looking for Chris.

The original plan had called for a quick disposal of the former STARS member Chris Redfield, which Wesker had almost accomplished until the inciting “incident” made for a quick, albeit surprisingly pleasurable, change in plans. Unfortunately, the new plan, AKA: “torture and humiliate Chris until death” plan, now called for an unknown extension of time, which Wesker did not have to spare as he saw the rest of the BSAA team quickly moving to find Chris’ location.

In other words, Wesker now saw he had three options: 1. Kill Chris now and be done with it. Wesker immediately dismissed this course of action. He was having FAR too much fun with his former STARS agent to simply end it now. 2. He could go to the trouble of sending BOWs and other such problems in the path of the A-1 unit, in an effort to buy more time. But honestly, that would be so far not worth the trouble really. And it would eventually result in a confrontation, and the timing would be up in the air and, no. Just no. Too random. Too unorganized. So that left option 3. Simply relocate himself and Chris to a new area. And then continue with the new “Torture and humiliate Chris Redfield” plan.

Wesker turned to face the now stirring body of Chris as he still lay slightly trembling on the floor. The other man had proved to be far more resilient than he had expected, but them again, he could never underestimate Chris Redfield.

Yes, more time spent torturing him would be the best course of action. That would work out quite nicely. I could take my dear sweet time breaking him until he’s nothing but a shelled husk of his former self.

The former STARS captain grinned. He just formed a brilliant strategy.

“Chris!” he shouted and chuckled as he visibly saw the younger man flinch at his distinctive voice. It sent slight shivers up his spine that served to feed his overly developed superiority complex. “Chris, here,” he continued as he moved to the side allowing Chris to glimpse into the monitors. “Look familiar?”

Chris raised his body a few centimeters off the ground, as painful as it was, high enough to allow his vision to gaze into the computer screens. Immediately, his eyes widened with hope. It was his team! He could recognize Jill on the screen as she looked from right to left and spoke into the walkie-talkie on her shoulder. They were here! Through his hazy vision, he could recognize the corridor that he himself had passed through not over an hour ago. Finally! He would be rescued!

His vision was abruptly cut short by the presence of the other man as his eyes refocused on Wesker standing not but inches from him. “I can see it in your eyes, Chris. So bright and still so full of life.” Wesker grinned. “Do you really think I’m going to let you go so easily?” He laughed. “Hope.” Chris saw the other man move his hands up and he immediately felt his heart sink at the sight of Wesker’s magnum. “Allow me to crush it for you.”

Shit! No! It can’t end like this!

Before Chris could say anything, Wesker had already appeared next to him, covering his mouth with his large blood soaked hand. “Shhh, not so quick,” he explained. “You see, any minute now, your beloved team is going to walk through those very same doors you so carelessly stumbled through. Only…” Wesker bit his lips. “Before they find you, before they realize what’s going on, I’ll have picked them off…” Wesker lowered the magnum down and traced the monstrous barrel across Chris’ shoulder. “One. By. One.” He ended the barrel against the other man’s head. “I won’t kill them though,” he continued. “I’ll just blast each of their limbs off. First their hands so they can’t try anything, then their arms just to see them scream louder,” he chuckled sadistically while continuing to trace the gun down Chris’ cheek bones towards his forehead. “And then I’ll take out their feet so I can see them drop to the floor and flop about like drowning fish,” he slowly let the magnum drop to Chris’ mouth. He relished the way the other man’s trembling lips sucked in air as if afraid any second now would be his last breath. Wesker leaned in closer and whispered the rest as if it were a secret. “And finally I’ll blow off their legs so I can laugh as I see them wiggling like the useless worms that they are. And I’ll leave them to wither in pain and bleed to death. Who knows, some of them might even survive. Of course,” he smirked absolutely transfixed by the look of utter heartbreak in the other man’s eyes.”For how long? Well, heheh, BOW do have that nasty tendency to show up at the most inconvenient moments.” Wesker didn’t bother trying to suppress the Cheshire cat grin that splashed itself across his face as he could feel Chris trying to speak while shaking his head. “Meanwhile,” he licked his lips. “I’ll come back for you,” Wesker ran the gun’s barrel up the side of the other man’s cheek bones again and let the cool touch of steel rest against Chris’ face. “And amidst your fellow soldier’s cries of pathetic agony, I’ll show you, Chris, what I’m really capable of.”

The momentary hint of desperate hope that had flickered so dimly all but extinguished itself in Chris’ brown eyes. And Wesker saw it. He felt it; the slump in his shoulders; the drop in his head; the broken look of utter defeat and uselessness as his body drop it’s resistance and fell heavy to the cold, dirty floor. Wesker felt it all. It felt wonderful. It was his first taste of Chris’ broken spirit. And he found he liked the flavor.

He raised the magnum to the double doors and removed his hand from the other man’s mouth. “Call to them Chris. Go on. Bring them to their death.”

Chris didn’t know what to do. No matter what he said or what he did, the outcome would result in the same. The moment he spoke out, he knew his teammates would rush in. They would enter the room and Wesker would shoot them all with lightning fast speed. In their current dingy darkness, t would be impossible for them to shoot back, not that it would matter against Wesker’s insane super human reflexes and with his ungodly ability to see in the dark, it would be like shooting fish in a barrel.

“Useless…” Wesker mussed as if reading the BSAA agent’s thoughts, then suddenly paused as if thinking. “Unless…”

Unless? Unless what?!

Chris looked up at Wesker. He knew the man was a spiteful cesspool of venom and lies, but at this point anything was better than the current situation. Anything. And if Wesker was propsaing any type of alternative, he was ready to take it. “Unlegh, akgh,” he choked on the mess in his mouth trying to clear it. His voice sounded strained and low, but that was to be expected from the damage no doubt tied to his throat. “Unhhless wahat?” he managed to say.

Wesker’s lips curved in a way that let Chris know he was walking into a trap. Still, given his limited options, he was desperate.

“Unless, you give me… a reason to not blow off their body parts.”

Oh.

Chris had no idea what that meant. Frankly, he didn’t care. Anything was better than the death of his team. He thought of Jill and of Carlos. They had survived the horrors of the Mansion and of Racoon City and of countless missions after that. And he though of the rest of A-1; of Boyd and Kowalski. They were new, but still had their whole life ahead of them. None of them deserved the torture Wesker was about to impart on them.

The decision was simple enough. The ultimatum obvious. Chris could see the end result of this conversation. He could see the trail of thoughts that Wesker was currently moving through. The choice was not pretty, but it was better than seeing his friends massacred in front of his eyes. He knew he was backed into a corner, in front of him a monstrous demon and behind him walls of fire. But it didn’t matter. He felt the pain intensify throughout his entire body. With every word he spoke, he felt the open sores on his skin burn and the bruised muscled in his body ache. “What ever… Whatever you want. I’ll do…” Chris looked away. “Whatever you want.”

““I told you Chris,” Wesker narrowed his eyes as his lips parted, the evil mirth saturating every syllable. “I want to play a game.”

The room suddenly felt like it dropped 50 degrees in temperature and Chris distinctly felt each and every last one of those degrees whip down his spine and across his exposed body, ripping into every wound, and tearing away his resolve of survival. His stomach turned as a wave of nausea hit him and he fought the violent urge to vomit. “You win.” He closed his eyes in resignation. “I’ll play your game.”



Present day

The sun rose. And the birds sang. Chris sighed a soft smile as he tried to forget that day. He looked away. He ignored it. But he knew. He could hear it. Each morning. He ignored it, but he knew. He could hear it. Each morning, when the sun came out and the dew glistened, each morning, he could hear it. There were less songs in the air. Each day; each morning, the bird songs dimmed. And lessened. And faded.

And the sun flickered on.




***************************** Author Time! *****************************
Yoh!
Not much to say. This chapter was a little depressing now that I look back on it… Oh well, that’s how the story goes. Bit by bit, we’re starting to learn how Chris got to be were he is in the present day story line. The next two chapters should finish off explaining it (not to mention will have some crazy hardcore yaoi *blushes*). I’ll try my hardest to whip out another chapter as soon as possible (in about a week). In the mean time…

R/R please! Let me know what you think so far! Reviewing makes me want to update more often, so the more reviews, the quicker the next update!