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The explosive blast of the rocket was a clap of sound against Chris’ ears. The heat from the flames burned his already sun burnt skin from days of running beneath the African sun. He still couldn't fathom how on earth Wesker was able to brush it off the way he did. His former Captain took a step towards them, his knees dropped to the ground. A painful thud against the metal floor. There was this look in the elder man’s eyes like he was fighting to stay conscious after such a blast. It was a brief flash through the warped frames of his sunglasses. No matter how durable they were, they couldn't stand up to the heat.
Unable to stay on his face any longer, they tumbled off of the bridge of his nose to the ground. Chris didn't let this moment slip by. He doubted they'd get another chance as he lunged towards his former boss. Locking Wesker’s arms behind his back, he put his old Captain in a full nelson.
“Quick! Give him the shot!” Chris cried out. His chest pressed firmly against Wesker’s back. He had to adjust his stance as the older man started to regain his bearings and fight the hold the soldier had on him. The fatigue from days of endless fighting had his grip starting to slip as Sheva darted towards them. She had the serum in hand as she stabbed it quickly into the exposed curve along the side of Wesker’s neck. There was a stifled gasp from the man, his body jerked in Chris’ embrace. Something hard brushed against his sternum through the layers of leather and protective gear when his former boss arched back as the last of the dose entered his veins.
Both he and Sheva jolted away quickly, more than aware enough of how mutations had a tendency to go. They gave Wesker a wide berth as they took a few more steps away from the man.
“Agh-” There was pain in his voice. A sound Chris hadn't heard since the night he watched a tyrant’s claws pierce his Captain’s body like rending through wet paper.
Wesker tried to get back to his feet. His legs were unsteady. His stance was all wobbly and lopsided. Another cry of pain was ripped out of his throat.
“Did it work?” Sheva looked uncertain at Chris’ side as they watched, and waited, anxious to see the monster Wesker will inevitably become.
“I think so.” It was painful to listen to this. His old Captain clutched at his head with both hands as if he could claw through the tender flesh that remained between him and bone. He fell back to his knees. His head dipped down, tucking close to the floor as Chris watched his former colleague curl up on himself. His screams of pain had started to subside, whittled down to desperate gasps and heaves for air that didn't sound like it was coming on right.
This kind of slow suffering was making him uncomfortable. He considered ending this now as he raised his handgun until his sights lined up with Albert’s head. His finger came to rest on the trigger as he started to squeeze.
“....Chris….” He froze.
His finger hesitated, loosening its grip on the trigger as he watched his old boss. The breath stilled in Chris’ throat. The sound of his name on Wesker’s tongue was so terribly wrong. Distorted by pain, gutted by desperation but there wasn't an ounce of malice or hatred in his tone.
It sounded crazy, and Chris wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't just heard it with his own two ears, but Wesker sounded afraid.
The elder man’s shoulders rose and fell in quick heaves. He didn't budge from his spot on the floor at their feet. There weren't any new signs of mutation running their course just yet. Maybe they needed another dose? Sheva shifted uneasily as she lifted her own gun towards the man.
Chris held his hand out to stop her, urging her to lower her handgun.
“Chris…?” She was puzzled, turning her attention to the soldier. Whatever look was on his face at the moment was enough to silence any further inquiry or protest. She lowered her handgun and Chris took a tentative step towards his old boss.
“Albert?” That particular name sounded strange coming from his own tongue. Even when he served in S.T.A.R.S he rarely used his Captain’s first name. It felt odd, lacking a level of respect back then. It felt too personal. Wesker had always liked to keep his private bubble, maintaining a professional distance from everyone else. Back then they thought nothing of it. Their Captain was just like that but in hindsight, after the incident at the Spencer Mansion, Chris had realized it was Wesker’s attempt to distance himself and avoid unnecessary connections. It inevitably failed. He had left Chris alive, his prized soldier, his top man, the best of the best S.T.A.R.S had to offer, as Wesker had put it. Chris still felt some pride in those words because those same skills Wesker had valued so deeply back then were what kept him fighting this war and brought him here.
One hand remained buried in disheveled ash stained blond hair. Wesker’s other hand groped blindly across the metal framework he was kneeling on in search of his glasses. One of the lenses had shattered when they fell. The frame had cooled and cracked, turned fragile after their assault. When gloved fingers found them, Wesker’s head lifted a fraction to look at the mess they'd become. There was blood glistening on his lips. Dark red stains that dripped down the pale stretch of his chin. Those eerie inhuman red eyes peeked past heavy eyelids. Blond brows furrowed, strained and struggling to focus as he dragged the broken remnants towards himself. Blood and saliva dripped from the older man’s mouth before it curved in a painful grimace. Crimson stained teeth were bared as another wave of pain shot through the older man.
“I….need….” His lips struggled to form the words through the great gasps that were drawn from his chest. Chris took another step closer. Wesker’s hands found the floor as he scrambled back like an animal scurrying away on all fours. “Chr-” A cough rattled through him. “Chr…sss.”
“Albert.” Chris called for the man's attention, trying to make sense of what was happening. Wesker twisted away from the soldier and lunged towards the cargo doors of the plane. Desperately he tried to get the strength back to his feet, leaping with inhuman power over obstacles but the otherworldly grace was absent. He stumbled on every landing, sprawling back across the floor only to claw his way back up on all fours. His hands shoved against the ground and he'd manage to get back on his feet long enough to cross yet another obstacle.
“We have to stop him before he gets on that plane!” Sheva cried out. Chris was already racing after the man long before he realized his feet had started moving. Sheva was close behind trying to keep pace with him. He saw Wesker duck into the cargo bay and disappear. They climbed up the steps taking two at a time as the plane’s engines started warming up. Chris expected it to start taking off but it remained on the landing pad. The ear splitting whir of it slowly building up was both familiar and nerve-wracking for the soldier.
“Wesker!” Chris barked out as they stormed up the ramp into the cargo hold of the plane. “This is the end of the road-”
His voice cut short when he found the man kneeling on the metal floor of the cargo hold. There were blood smears on the keypad next to him as he tried to punch in some code. A large red error and access denied came up on the screen. Wesker had his face buried into his hands covering his eyes as he sucked in air like it was the last breath he’ll ever get to take. His body was shaking. Chris took a cautious step towards the man.
‘Something is wrong.’ It didn't take a genius to notice that of course, but even for Wesker this seemed a bit too easy. Their past encounters had proven that more than enough times. He still wasn't mutating. ‘Is he fighting it?’
He knew the man was resilient but even this was a bit much.
“ Not……my…..God…” The words were uttered bitterly between breaths. Barely audible over the rumble of the plane and the ambient noise all around them. “Not….your.…pawn…”
“Wesker?”
“Chris, he's really lost it now.” Sheva blanched, leaning a little closer to the soldier as they closed the distance between them. She was hesitant to get too close. She kept shooting Chris quick glances, uncertain about whether he should really be doing this.
He was close enough to touch the man when he finally stopped. Just barely within arm's reach of his former Captain. There was blood splatter down the front of the elder man’s chest, large thick globules that collected and cooled across the leather. It stained Albert’s neck a sickly red where it had smeared down his throat from his sporadic coughing fits. Chris kept his gun trained on Wesker as he studied the man. Even so, he wasn't prepared for what came next.
In a flash of motion, Wesker lunged towards him, one bloody hand caught Chris’ wrist where his gun was held and redirected it to fire the round off at the locked door beside him. It pinged off the metal, ricocheting dangerously to the floor next to them. Wesker’s other hand grabbed the handle of the soldier's knife and pulled it free of the sheathe it was kept in. He shoved Chris back with a knee to his chest, causing the younger man to lose his balance and topple back to the metal grate beside Sheva. She had her gun trained on Wesker and another hand extended to check on Chris while he recovered quickly, shifting his weight to kneel with his gun raised towards the unpredictable man.
Both of them stopped in their tracks as his old boss turned the large sharp blade, not on them but back on himself. Chris’ instincts trumped any logic in his brain as he shouted. “NO!”
The blade cut cleanly through the leather front of Wesker’s coat in one smooth stroke. The material fell away from his shoulders to lay in a blood stained heap around his feet. Baffled by this choice, he could only stare in shock and confusion as Wesker rose unsteadily to his feet, growling under his breath.
“Cut….you.…out….of….me.” He turned the knife back on himself once more, tipping the blade as he reached behind himself, lining it up to settle perfectly between his shoulder blades before he arched back into the edge. It pierced the skin with very little pressure necessary. The blade was made specifically for dealing with the tough hides of B.O.Ws.
Sheva took an uneasy step back. Her face paled with a look of sickness rising in her. Chris felt his stomach drop out as blood dripped to the metal beneath Wesker’s boots. The man grimaced through the pain, trying to angle the knife like he was looking for something specific. Chris couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't stand by and watch this happen. He crossed the short distance that remained between them once more and seized the arm that was holding his knife first. Wesker tried to fight him for control, thrashing and screaming as he swung both their bodies around to slam into the wall. It hurt as his shoulder was slammed into the cargo door, but the soldier grit his teeth through it and re-doubled his efforts. Chris was stubborn enough to keep his hold as he twisted the elder man’s arm around into a shoulder lock. He forced Wesker forward, keeping him bent in half so he couldn't reach Chris to fight back.
With this new angle, the soldier couldn't ignore the mutilation the man had inflicted on himself. There was blood pooling down along the length of his spine with damaged flesh cut to ribbons like it had a bad encounter with a butcher. Amongst it all, there was something blinking back at Chris. A tiny red light on something small, white and shiny. No bigger than his pinky nail, it was situated just above the bones of Wesker’s vertebrae. It was in such a strange spot that the elder man was struggling to reach it even with the aid of Chris’ knife. He just barely managed to cut a piece of skin away to reveal the very edge where the blinking light was.
“What the hell?”
“Take…..it….out….” Wesker groaned. Every word was a fight to reach his tongue. “ Please…..Chr….ssss.”
“What does it do?” Chris asked, alarmed and taken aback by the man's plea.
“Please….” It barely left Wesker’s lips. A whisper. A breath. His body was twitching beyond Wesker’s control. Chris feared he was fixing to have a seizure. With one more glance at the little red light, Chris’ jaw tightened in the face of the knowledge of what his next move was going to be.
“Sheva, I need a hand.”
“Do you really think we should trust him?” Sheva was reluctant to get close to the elder man. Her gun was still trained on his head. Blood and saliva drooled from the corner of Wesker’s mouth making a puddle on the floor. His chin jerked, fingers twitching unnaturally where his body was forced into an uncomfortable pose by the soldier.
“Every bit of information we can get in this fight is worth it.” Chris rationalized. He wanted to know what this device was and what it had to do with Wesker. “He can't move right now but I don't know how long he’ll last like this.”
Chewing on her lip in contemplation, she eventually conceded with an uncertain nod. “Alright.” She holstered her gun and stepped around Chris to get behind Wesker. The cautious side shuffle of her boots on the ground click on the metal. Wesker’s head jerked at the noise and movement in his peripheral. “I'm trusting you.”
“I appreciate it.” He meant it. Especially after everything they'd been through together, and what her home went through. This was a really big request on his part to be asking of her.
“What do you need me to do?” She asked, still not looking very happy about this.
“I’ll hold him still. Can you extract that little device with the light that's flashing at us?”
“How on earth did that get there?” The alarm was apparent in her voice. Chris grunted back with.
“I don't know but maybe we’ll find out if we analyze it.”
Reaffirming her resolve, Sheva appeared to brace herself for the unpleasantness of what she was about to do. Leaning past Chris, while being careful not to bump into him, she reached over Wesker’s back towards the little device. Her body tensed when her fingers first came in contact with the warm blood pooling up around the elder man’s wounds. The mutilated flesh was already trying to piece itself back together. The awkward slice that had revealed the anomaly in the first place was warring with Sheva’s fingers over the device.
“I can't-” She started, trying to dislodge it from the spot. The more force she put into it, the more Wesker started to stir out of the half dead stupor he was slumped in. He started to thrash about, squirming and jerking against Chris’ hold with enough force that the soldier feared he was going to break bones or dislocate the man's shoulder any second now. Which wouldn't do either of them any good. Using her nails to really dig at the device, there came a wet squelch as the flesh tore around it. Blood welled up more quickly, making her fingers slip. A few seconds more and it finally came free, rousing a scream from Wesker’s chest. There was a small zap of energy that jolted between the device and the location it was pulled free from.
Sheva nearly dropped it, fumbling around to keep her hold on it as the sizzle of energy hummed then faded. She jumped away from Wesker like he was a venomous snake ready to strike. Chris didn't let go of him immediately. The tension wound tight in his arms had them both locked up and tangled into one another. Chris started to unwind himself, letting his hands slowly slip away from their painfully tight grip on the man’s shoulder when Wesker’s body slumped forward. The soldier attempted to guide him there with a little more care, at the very least keeping his head from hitting anything on the way down. It had proven to be somewhat futile.
His body started to tremble and jerk in unnatural spasms on the ground. The eerie red eyes that Chris had become so familiar with over the years rolled back in the elder man’s head. Only the whites remained. Blood and saliva mixed, creating a pink froth that leaked from the sides of his mouth.
“God damn it.” Chris blurted, hands hovering, unsure of what the hell he could possibly do in this situation. “He's having a seizure.”
Sheva stood uneasily behind Chris as they stood by, watching, waiting for the convulsions to eventually stop. The most he could do was use his hands to try and cradle Wesker’s head so it didn't hit the ground. Everything else just felt so strange to him. Chris came here with one thing in mind. He fully intended to permanently end Albert Wesker’s life. Now here he was trying to save the man against his better judgement.
The spasms started to subside. Wesker's body went limp and still on the ground. The mutation was still trying to slowly piece his body back together. It was the only comfort and assurance that the man was still alive. For some reason, one that was unbeknownst to Chris, he had adjusted Wesker’s body so he could lay more comfortably across the floor. He used the discarded leather coat to fold up like a makeshift cushion to support the elder man's head. Of course after searching the pockets for any potential clues or weapons. Chris found a blood stained keycard with five digits on the laminated code. He had Sheva test it on the keypad Wesker was trying to get access to.
“That's strange.” She remarked when she approached the mechanism.
“What?” Chris didn't budge from his spot on the ground at Wesker’s side. He was hardly willing to take his eyes off of the man for even a second.
Sheva pointed at the keypad as she explained. “He kept pressing the wrong code. There's blood smears on the keys he tried to use. Only three of the numbers are correct.”
Chris wasn't all that surprised given the shape Wesker was currently in. His breathing was slow. He still wasn't moving. The soldier dreaded the moment he'd wake up and what fight that may entail now that the device was removed. “Can you still get into the system or did the security lock him out?”
“I think I can get in.” She assured him. The mechanism beeped as she swiped the card through the reader then punched the actual code in. The magnetic security door slid open to permit her inside. “Here we go.”
“Good job, Sheva.” He praised easily with a sigh of relief. “You investigate the rest of the plane. I'll stay here and keep an eye on Wesker.”
“Okay.” With Sheva on her own task, Chris felt like he could finally catch his breath in the moment. Eleven years of this built up to this one confrontation, this final showdown between the two of them, when Chris would finally get the justice their comrades deserved after all this time. Yet, here he was. He couldn't even end it.
It didn't feel right. Something was bothering Chris. It made his instincts feel strung out and anxious like he was trying to follow too many leads that were all meant to go to one specific place but he knew it wasn't the one he wanted. Or maybe he didn't really know what he wanted. The doubt, the conflict, the anger- it was all real and all very powerful. All these years, Wesker had been the enigma Chris had tried time and time again to figure out only to fall short each and every time he thought he found the final piece. The puzzle kept growing and Chris didn't know how much more of this he could take. He was exhausted. Not just with this assignment, but everything as a whole. Eleven years was a lot. It left him with a lot to hold onto and it hurt, like gripping barbed wire as a life line, it hurt him more to hold on than it ever really felt worth doing some days.
Wesker was his end goal. But here he was- saving the bastard's life.
Their fallen brothers and sisters will get their justice in time. Chris was sure of that. He also knew that the means to an end didn't always make it right. He came here prepared to kill Wesker, but what would that accomplish now? It didn't make him any better than the cold soulless corporations he was trying to take down. When war leaves no room for compassion then that is the day the world has completely submitted in defeat against the greatest evil of all. That was a world Chris didn't want to live in.
All the files and data they'd collected over the years were a constant buzz in the back of his brain.
Project W.
The list of Wesker children.
Spencer's experiments.
Albert was caught up in the middle of it all. It stuck with him for all these years. Every step, every choice, all of it had been monitored and recorded. He tried to erase his tracks. He tried to destroy everything Spencer had built but to what end? What exactly did it give Albert at the end of the day?
Chris’ gaze was drawn towards the little device they had extracted from Wesker. It bore a striking resemblance to the same microchips that they had recorded being used to control Tyrants and various other highly intelligent B.O.Ws since the very early days of Umbrella’s experiments. Was this just another of those chips being used to control Albert all along? He could imagine a man as paranoid and narcissistic as Oswell E. Spencer would have a security fail safe that was more than just another self destruct sequence. It hadn't saved Spencer from his gruesome demise, but perhaps he wasn't expecting that particular betrayal. Albert had served his whims dutifully for decades.
Maybe it had been freedom that Wesker sought all along. A freedom to escape Umbrella’s leash only to end up walking the exact same path over and over again. He had seemed content in S.T.A.R.S, Chris may even go so far as to describe the man as satisfied. Even if S.T.A.R.S was simply a pet project from the get go, it was something solid that had been his and his alone. Chris had been his and his alone.
Chris had spent years studying every bit of information, every last conversation and mission he had that involved Wesker. He went over it until it was the only thing running through his head out of some desperation that one day he would finally solve this confusing case. Could this chip finally be the key? Would it finally give him the answers he wanted after all these years?
The real, more daunting question he should be asking himself is, would it ever be enough? He didn't know. Chris didn't know how far he had buried himself into this case, and where the line was in the sand that told him when to stop. He was afraid to find out.
“Chris!” Sheva’s voice startled him out of his thoughts. Her hasty footsteps approached the cargo hold, his first glimpse of her was obscured by the bulky attache case she had in her hands. “I found the neutralizing agent.”
“The what?” He blanked.
“Excella made a back up plan just in case Wesker overdosed on the serum. It's a neutralizing agent that will neutralize the effects and reverse the mutation before it can cause irreparable damage to his body.” That was news to him. Chris felt a sudden wave of relief wash over him as Sheva popped the case open to reveal the little clear vials. There were detailed instructions to accompany it that provided numbers for the correct dosing. It was just as finicky as the serum itself which made him nervous.
“We don't know what it could do to him in this state.” She added after a heartbeat. “He could go back to being his old self, whatever that may be, or it could possibly kill him.”
Chris tensed. His stomach swooped anxiously at the news he really didn't want to think about. “I understand.” He assured her. “But we have to try. We can't let him die like this.”
It didn't feel right.
Sheva studied him for a moment before nodding. “I understand.” She prepared the correct dose, taking the time to make absolutely certain the measurements were in alignment with Excella’s instructions. Chris watched as she extracted the medicine from the vial to fill the accompanying syringe then passed it over to Chris to take in hand.
“It needs to go directly into a vein.”
‘Well, shit. No pressure.’ He wasn't necessarily the medic here. Sheva was deeply aware of that fact and offered her assistance. There was a rubber tourniquet for wrapping around the arm to make the veins easier to feel. She applied it to Wesker’s arm then directed Chris with a little more cautious probing. Excella had everything they needed to make this go as easily as possible. Even the accompanying alcohol wipes to clean the location beforehand. Chris cleared away the dried blood, less for the sanitary concerns and more specifically so he could actually see what he was doing. His nerves had his hands shaking more than they really should be. After a few more uneasy heartbeats, Chris found his mark- he hoped- and sank the needle into the vein. He applied pressure to the plunger and prayed he was doing this right as he delivered the neutralizing agent into Wesker’s body.
When all of the agent was given, he withdrew the syringe and returned it to the case for the time being. They watched and waited patiently for any sign that the medicine was going to work. Several agonizing minutes passed by. Chris had adjusted Wesker’s head so his hands were cradling his face. His index and middle finger were resting against the elder man’s pulse point as he felt the nearly imperceptible resting beat start to slowly pick up to a more normal pace. His breathing started to stabilize as well, becoming a more natural flow with every rise and fall of his chest.
The relief was almost enough for Chris to collapse on the spot with the pent up exhaustion but they weren't out of the woods just yet. They still needed to get off this damn ship and get back to safety with Wesker in tow. With Sheva’s help, and a bit of scrounging around back out in the hangar, they were able to find a proper stretcher to place the elder man on. His wrists were bound to the frame should he wake up at any point in time. Chris returned Wesker’s jacket to it's place tucked under his head for a modicum of comfort as he and Sheva carried him deeper into the plane where they could better keep an eye on him. They closed the rear door, opened the hangar doors and prepared to finally make their escape. It only took Chris a couple minutes to familiarize himself with this particular vessel before their eagerly anticipated departure.
Sheva contacted Josh to let him know they would reunite with him back at headquarters. To both their surprise, he and Jill were together and already en route to a chopper that was prepared to pick them both up.
“We’ll see you both soon.” Chris called over his shoulder as his hands steadied the plane. The turbulence was a little rough at first but she shook it off like a champ and settled to a smooth ride from that point on. He was pleased with the break in his luck as he cast a glance, first towards Sheva where she sat comfortably in the co-pilot seat. The fatigue of these last few days was finally showing as she sagged back and let the tightly wound tension in her body finally bleed out. Her smile was faint as she greeted his gaze. Chris returned the look, his was more a combination of relief and weariness, accompanied by a touch of uncertainty that nagged at him. He turned his attention back over his shoulder to check on Albert once more. The man was still completely out, but thankfully still breathing. Chris just hoped he could keep him that way.
They needed to have a very long talk just the two of them.