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There were four pictures of Christopher now in his possession. The first he’d gotten had left him with a mix of unsavory emotions. Pleased at seeing the man who’d killed him dying with blood trickling down his chin, but disappointed because the man he loved was in anguish. It left him disgusted with this weakness inside of him, seeking to kill Chris himself in the trials in order to rectify this. So far, his attempts were in vain.
When he held up Chris by the throat and felt his quickening pulse, it only served to remind him of when he’d held him close and felt those same thumps against his chest. It further angered him, and he was glad the entity allowed him to kill the man using uroboros.
The other three were better, with Chris unharmed and taken off guard. The last one he’d acquired from the masked killer was perhaps his favorite one, a perfect shot of the agent smiling and holding out a med-kit to an outstretched hand. Still as generous as remembers him being.
Wesker kept it inside of his coat, alongside the array of glasses the entity had provided for him.
He hadn’t been able to appreciate the image when Ghost Face first handed it to him, much too distracted by the killer’s appearance. His mask was distorted, elongated, with a bright yellow serum dripping off him.
“That fast son’ofa bitch,” Jed had moaned out. “Told.. ‘im not too. But he got me from behind,” he twirled, showcasing a thick syringe embedded in his back. “Fucking hope the entity fixes this soon. Anywho, here ya’ go lover boy.”
A drop of the serum had landed by the corner of the photo. Ghost Face shrugged in apology when Wesker raised a brow. Wiping the picture clean, he brought his gloved thumb up, inspecting the liquid. It’s warmth seeped through the leather, humming against his touch as if it were alive.
It immediately piqued his interest.
Wesker continued to stare at the serum, transfixed. “Where can I find the one responsible for this?” How this liquid completely disfigured the man in front of him was extraordinary. It nearly made him long for the umbrella lab, to study and find all he could.
Ghost Face spluttered, then laughed, the sound gurgled and distorted. “You’re a maniac.”
The Hag was sitting on the floor, staring at the Trickster who was giddily solving a cube. The Cenobite stood beside them, watching in mild interest.
Trickster waved an arm over when he caught a sight of him, “같이 하자!”
Wesker cocked his head in curiosity, seeing the sparks flying off the cube, the way the Cenobite seemed to be eagerly waiting. Perhaps he should stay and watch, see what happened to man, but his stained glove seemed to burn him, reminding him of what he was here for. “Do any of you know the direction that’ll lead me to the Blight?”
“지루한!”
Silence came from the Cenobite.
Hag leaned down and drew an arrow on the dirt.
Wesker tipped his head in gratitude and made his way to the right.
Bright, yellow flowers were protruding from the floor, lighting up the stoned path towards the ancient building. The smell of vile rot wafted his senses as he came nearer, the scent of death and old blood.
“Disgusting,” Wesker muttered as he stopped by the entrance of the building. Inside was a sad excuse of a lab, not fit enough for him. Ruined, burnt books and crumpled pages littered the dirty floor. A hunched figure stood behind a table, facing away from him, erratically writing onto a ripped sheet of paper.
He made himself known. “Talbot Grimes, I presume?”
Blight stilled, frozen in place, the coal dropping from his hold and falling onto the ground.
He’s fast, he caught me off guard, Ghost Face had told him.
Wesker was a superior being with perfect genetics, a God. Uroboros accepted him with open arms, to think anything could overcome him was laughable.
When Blight moved, he was ready.
It was upsetting how easily he dodged the attack, having dashed a good feet away from where Talbot slashed through the empty air. Still, he could appreciate the attempt.
“Remarkable. But did you really think you could get me?” He sneered, allowing Uroboros to extend from his arm. “I expected more of a challenge, how disappointing.”
Blight turned back towards him, tilting his head and letting out a confused gurgle.
“You’ve no need to capture me,” Wesker grinned, “I’ve come on my own will.”
The Blight serum took well to him, not having altered his appearance as much as he’d seen from the others in photographs Danny had shown him. As it was expected of course, he was made for such things. He was born with exceptional genetics. Talbot seemed nearly disappointed, which was of no matter.
Wesker felt stronger, even faster than before. His senses had been refined and though he knew it wouldn’t last forever, it would do for now. Talbot had proven himself to be resourceful, he’d have to communicate more with the man and give his own input to improve the serum.
To say a spark of glee ignited in his lower stomach at the wide-eyed look Chris gave him when they met again was a complete and utter lie he’d deny till his dying breath.