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“There's a chilling absolution that we're given from our birth
A powerful delusion and a plague upon the earth.”
Wesker ended up having a lot of regrets in his life. He thought that when that rocket shot through him, it was over. Things were done. That was it, off to feed the worms. He woke up a decade into the past, though, and he wasn’t about to give up this golden opportunity.
Wesker sits in the helicopter hangar, the dark engulfing him from every side. He had been staying late at the R.P.D. for weeks—since he returned to the past—to make sure no one messed with the helis. The first time, he had done it. He had punctured the fuel tank, leaving team Bravo’s helicopter to fall out of the air over the Arklay mountains, a bird with clipped wings.
Wesker knew very well that time was a finicky creature—his decision to do better, to save his team, would cause a cascading effect not even he could plan for. That’s why he couldn’t trust anybody .
The man is tense as he watches over the silent hangar, only the quiet buzzing off the industrial fans kicking on and off filling the air. Until the door to the hangar creeps open, and in steps a figure. Wesker bristles, lip curling into a snarl. As time for the Arklay Mountains incident grew near, Wesker’s anxiety rose. Already, there were reports of people being killed by a ‘cult’ in the mountains. Within the next few days the Bravo team would be called in and it would be Wesker’s job to figure out a way to get backup there for them once they landed.
The silhouette approaches Bravo’s helicopter, and Wesker slips from the shadow of the machine to block them. “What are you doing here?” He says coldly, and the person freezes. For a moment he thinks they’ll flee, but then they speak, and Wesker’s mind roils in confusion.
“Captain? What’re you doing here?” Chris. Why did it have to be Chris? His best man, the one Wesker trusted. Wesker knew Chris was the reason team Alpha escaped with any members left at all, and now… There was no reason for Chris to have come here, unless he had a malicious purpose.
“Me? I’m checking on the helicopters. It’s my duty to make sure everything is properly in place, especially with how things have been lately. We could be called out at any moment.”
Chris tilts his head to the side, and Wesker wishes he could read his expression. “You’re working in the dark?” Shit. Wesker had been so focused on catching someone in the act of sabotage that he hadn’t thought about his alibi. Wesker scoffs, looking away.
“You have no need to question me, Christopher. I was getting ready to leave, that’s why the lights were off.” He knows Chris is suspicious, but the man has no proof of that being a lie. Umbrella must’ve gotten to him somehow. The thought makes Wesker sick to his stomach.
“Oh. Okay, well if you’re done, let’s go.” Chris nods his head towards the door, the floodlights from outside bleeding in through the crack, “It’s getting late, and you know how Chief Irons gets when we have too much overtime.” Wesker has no recourse. There’s no way he can weasel his way out of this.
“Very well.” Wesker strides past Chris with his head held high, and the brunet follows. Wesker is thankful his expression is partially obscured by his glasses, because he doesn’t think he could explain away the way he was glaring at Chris.
The door shuts behind them, and the rock in Wesker’s stomach only grows larger. As long as Chris is with me, he can’t mess with the helicopters. That thought was the only thing keeping Wesker’s heavy limbs moving away from the hangar and back into the R.P.D. proper.
It had been less than a day since Chris and Albert had met in the hangar, and Wesker was now communicating with Enrico in the air. “All good so far?” Wesker asks, a bit agitated. His fingers tap on the wood of his desk rapidly, an attempt to self soothe. Wesker had preemptively called in Alpha team this time, that way precious hours weren’t wasted on getting everyone together. They sit outside in the main office, chattering to themselves about their captain’s odd behavior.
“Yeah. We’re looking for a place to land now.” Enrico says through the walkie, “The forest is so thick, it’s difficult. We’re not seeing anyone on the ground, either.” They had made it further than they had in his previous life, which makes Wesker feel a bit better.
“Good. Keep me updated.” Wesker says just as the blaring of an alarm comes through his walkie. “Marini? Marini!” He can hear yelling on the other end, and the Bravo team’s captain attempts to speak to him, but it’s incomprehensible over the yelling and alarms.
Wesker slams his hand so hard down onto the desk his mug falls off and shatters on the floor. There’s a loud crashing noise and then static, and nothing. The blonde doesn’t hesitate, hauling himself out of his chair and shoving his gun into his holster.
His office door slamming open makes everyone jump, but no one gets a chance to question Wesker before he snaps, “Round up. We’re leaving in ten minutes. I lost contact with team Bravo.”
Harsh gasps come from everyone except Chris.
“They’ll be fine, right?” Jill asks quietly, “they didn’t crash?”
Wesker just looks away, moving over to the S.T.A.R.S. gun storage to retrieve extra mags. The silent confirmation sends everyone scrambling. Vickers grabs up his stuff and heads out the door to get the helicopter ready, adrenaline rushing in his veins.
Chris sidles up beside Wesker, eyeing him suspiciously, blue eyes glittering. “Why do we need so much ammo, Captain?”
“Better to be safe than sorry.” Wesker says gruffly, very not in the mood for the traitor to be messing with him. He had no proof. He needed proof.
Wesker fears he won’t, not until they end up face to face deep underground, a B.O.W. between them.
Ten minutes pass and the entire team is huddled in the helicopter, Wesker idly clipping and unclipping his magazine. He needed to do something with his hands—he can’t remember who even has a chance of being saved. The pilot—Edward Dewey—died on impact. Enrico ends up chased underground. If team Alpha is fast enough—if Wesker is fast enough—maybe the rest will survive the Spencer Mansion Incident.
“There. Prepare for landing!” Brad barks over the roaring of the engine and beating of the blades, dipping the Heli low. Wesker doesn’t even wait for it to properly land, throwing himself out of the helicopter as it roars. Jill shouts at him, telling him off for being stupid , but there’s no time to waste.
“Fuck yeah. Let’s go, cap!” Joseph follows in his captain’s stead, eyes shining brightly. He already has his rifle out, ready to fight and defend. At least his blood was running. Wesker impatiently waits for the rest of them to clamber out—with the exception of Brad, who stays behind to keep the Heli ready in case of evac—and Wesker lifts his hand, crushing it into a fist to attract the team’s attention.
“Stick close. No one leaves the crash site, understood? Stay within shooting range of each other. Do not break line of sight.” He turns his head pointedly towards Joseph, already knowing how this story ended.
Not on Wesker’s watch. The team fans out across the crash site, carefully avoiding blazing piles of debris and hot metal. Jill is the first to reach the blazing remains of the cockpit. She lets out a strangled cry, even though they all knew there would be deaths from the moment they spotted the wreckage. “No… Edward,” she whines, “What could’ve gone wrong? Why—Why’d they crash?”
Wesker peeks in beside her, cheeks burning with fury, hidden by the heat. “I don’t know.” He tears his eyes away from the burning corpse, searching for Chris. Do you feel guilt? He wonders as he lands on the brunet’s lean form. Chris was just a foot away from Joseph, scouring through the wreckage nearby for any bodies.
“It’s clear over here,” Barry calls, “I see a bit of blood but no bodies or body parts.” He carefully picks his way back over to his Captain and Jill, flinching as an ember flies into his exposed arm.
“That’s a good sign.” Wesker replies, “Only Dewey is over here. He got trapped in the cockpit.” Jill pushes away her tears, shaking her head in disbelief. Though they all had military training, it was hard to become jaded to death. Dewey was someone they all drank with, hung out with outside of work. Bonded with.
“Hopefully the rest made it out.” Barry replies, but the latter half of his sentence is drowned out by shouting. Wesker snaps his head in the direction of Joseph and Chris, hand already on his gun. He was still getting used to his lack of strength, forced to pick his way through burning rubble as opposed to simply hauling his ass through it and taking the burns with no problem.
No super healing yet. Maybe not ever.
“Frost!” Wesker barks out, unable to hide the panic in his tone, however faint. That moron!
The sound of gunshots fill the air and in moments everything goes to hell. Chris unloads his entire clip into a Cerberus, watching in muted disbelief as it doesn’t go down. Joseph manages to dodge out of the way of one, nearly getting his arm bitten by the other before Wesker shoots it in the head. “Frost! Retreat!” He orders, slamming a magazine into Chris’ hand.
The bandana clad man yelps as a bullet wizzes by his shoulder, Jill coming to supply cover fire. He manages to bolt past them and more Cerberus emerge from the woods, bloody foam dripping from their jowls.
“Follow me!” Wesker orders, taking off. The rest follow, bolting for safety—for their lives. The mansion comes into view and Wesker is relieved that his hazy memory pulled through this time. “Head for the mansion!”
Wesker is the last to enter the mansion, firing off a few shots at the drooling beasts at their heels right before the doors are slammed shut by Barry and Joseph. The team takes a minute to breathe and recuperate, Jill leaning against one of the white walls to support her shaking legs.
“Do you think any of team Bravo could’ve survived whatever those things were?” Barry asks, wiping sweat from his forehead as he gasps for air. Wesker is a bit better off than the rest, breathing only a bit more labored.
Things changed this time. Both Chris and Joseph are here; there’s safety in numbers. “If they stuck together, yes.” Wesker replies, “New plan. We need to find a way to get out of this mansion and to safety. Jill, Barry, you take the left side of the mansion, and Joseph, Christopher, you take the right. Do not leave each-other’s side for any reason. There’s no telling what is lurking around here.”
Jill nods as Barry goes to join her, adjusting his bulletproof vest. “Sounds good to us, Wesker.” There’s relief in her voice, grateful to not be alone.
Joseph gives Chris a light-hearted elbowing, promising not to jump into danger again—a lie—but Chris just stares at Wesker with scarcely hidden anger. “What about you, Captain?” he asks, voice tight. Wesker blinks, giving a hum in response.
“I’ll be conducting my own investigations. Be safe, all of you. Keep your walkies at the ready.” Chris can’t question him again, not without cause. Not in front of all of these people.
Wesker turns away, eyebrows furrowing. He must be seeding doubt within the group so he can blame his crimes on me . I won’t allow it.
Chris watches Wesker walk away, bristling in anger. He had made a mistake in not returning to the hangar the night before to make sure everything was fine. He had just assumed he’d caught Wesker in time.
This is my fault.
“C’mon, Frost.” Chris finally nods, motioning towards the right side of the mansion. “Let’s go explore. Good luck Barry, Jill. Stay safe.” He gives them a handwave, and Jill smiles at him weakly as they disappear into the dining room.
Joseph had brought his lockpicking kit with him, so getting into locked doors was a breeze. “These things are so weak we probably could just kick them down.” he muses, eyeing the next door in their way as if he truly wanted to try.
“Save your strength.” Chris tells him, “we don’t know what we’re dealing with here.” He gets a huff in response but Joseph listens anyway, instead beginning to work the lock.
The door creaks open and just as Chris suspected, reveals Rebecca and Richard of Bravo. “Richard!” Joseph lunges forward, dropping to his knees beside the two of them. “What happened?”
“He got bit by a snake,” Rebecca sniffles, “A really big snake.” Joseph pats the man’s sweat and tear soaked cheek, trying to rouse him.
“What can we do?” Chris asks, approaching them both with a small frown. His heart aches for the man, asking even though he knows very well what they need.
“We… We need an antivenom. I saw some in a room with—with other medical supplies. But it needs to be quick, or he might die.” Rebecca tells him, “Here. I have a map of the place. I’ll mark it for you.” Chris goes to take the offered paper but Joseph snatches it before he can.
“I got this. Don’t worry about it. Chris, you stay here and protect these two.” Chris opens his mouth to tell the other just how bad an idea that is, but Joseph is gone within a heartbeat.
Chris sighs, flopping down onto the floor beside Richard. He reaches out with trembling fingers to twine their hands together, squeezing slightly. “The entire Alpha team is out there looking for the rest of your team,” Chris promises, “we’ll get out of here. All of us.” Rebecca smiles at him, stroking Richard’s hair as his head remains in her lap.
“We got separated from the others,” She says softly, “I hope they’re all okay. I wish I could help more.” She was just a medic, after all. She had no real training—just out of college. A prodigy in her own right, but just a little girl. Chris gives her a reassuring smile.
“I’m sure they’ll be fine. They’re strong.” Chris lies, the words rolling off his tongue like sand. “And you’ll be a big help once we can move Rich to that medical room you found.”
They sit in silence for a while after that, when suddenly Chris’ walkie blares to life. He flicks it on, immediately tense. “Hello? Hello, Joseph?”
“Need backup! Need backup now—!” The walkie cuts out and Chris bolts to his feet, not even bothering with a good-bye.
He’s too slow. By the time he finds Joseph’s location—the main entry room on the left—a pair of zombie dogs had torn him apart. Chris lets out a howl of rage as he guns them down, giving one a kick for good measure. It yelps and falls still, and Chris drops to his knees, rifling through Joseph’s pockets.
He did have the antivenom. He was just unlucky. Blood stains Chris’ hands as he silently travels back to the pillar room, head lowered.
Rebecca has a deep frown on her face, eyes watery. “I shouldn’t have asked…” she croaks as she injects the antivenom into Aiken’s neck, fingers shaking slightly.
“It’s not your fault.” Sometimes destiny can’t be fought. Chris watches numbly with his knees pulled up to his chest, using them for arm support as they watch Richard. He hopes he was quick enough bringing it back. “Joseph left without me. We shouldn’t have split up.” I should’ve followed him.
Chris let his guard down. He couldn’t do that anymore. He had to treat every turn as a threat, regardless.
Rebecca sniffles quietly, running her fingers through Richard’s hair. “I know… still… He… he…”
Chris is too emotionally drained to reply. Reliving the worst day of his life was definitely making the second on the list of worst days.
Wesker wanders through the sewers, trying to remember where he last saw Enrico Marini.
Where he killed him.
The doors are heavy when he breaches NEST, though he has easy access due to his prior knowledge of the mansion.
Wesker follows a winding hall, water leaking from the ceiling. This isn’t where Marini was before, but… Wesker could assume plenty of things would change based on his actions alone.
The Bravo captain sits with his shotgun between his knees, shaking from blood loss. “Enrico!” Wesker calls out, “I found you. Finally.” The man’s dark eyes snap up to meet the newcomer, and he weakly reorients his gun.
“Traitor.” Enrico spits, “you sent us here to die!”
Wesker flinches behind his glasses, but he holds steady. “Let me help you. You’re confused, Enrico. I didn’t send you here to die.”
Enrico sneers at him, about to fire—the gun wasn’t even properly pointed—but a bullet is put in his head. Wesker snaps around as fast as he can, but the person is gone by the time he can bound back the way he came. “Chris,” Wesker snarls, “that bastard.” He grips his gun tighter, knuckles going white. How did he get away from Joseph?
He probably killed him!
Wesker wouldn’t let him get away with it. He tracks the man all the way to NEST, using his own keycard to access it from the sewers. Chris always seems just two steps ahead, until finally the elevator doors open to the innermost laboratory room. “Chris,” Wesker spits, stepping inside and expecting to see the brunette, but instead his eyes settle on a blonde. Alex?! She doesn’t show up for years after the Arklay Mountains—What was she doing here ? “What? You’re not Chris. Why are you here, Alex?”
“I’m your replacement, of course. Don’t think Spencer didn’t notice your behavior before his disappearance. I came here to make sure your job got done. Oh, and get rid of you, of course. Weakness has no place in Project W!” Alex slams her fist down on the control panel and the water drains from the tyrant’s tank. Wesker hardly gets a chance to react as it bursts from the glass, gunning for him. It’s torturer. Wesker fires off a few shots before bolting back into the elevator, the door sliding shut just moments before the tyrant is on it, clawing and slashing.
The self-destruct signal goes off. All personnel evacuate immediately. Five minutes to self-destruct.
Fuck. Who could’ve set that off?! Why now?
Wesker quickly backtracks to the outer edges of NEST, where the emergency exit door is already open. The rest of the team, whoever is left, must already be headed for the helipad. He can hear the tyrant’s roar behind him, and he only takes a second to look back when he realizes it’s on his heels.
A few more shots slows it enough for him to bound up to the final elevator, fuses put back into place. Relief. He slams the button to open, but it’s painfully slow. The tyrant lumbers toward him with unnatural speed, giving him just enough time to get inside the elevator and slam the shut door button before it claws at him. He presses his back to the cold metal wall, teeth gritted. That was way too close.
It would be coming right behind him with Alex, he was sure.
Wesker bounds out of the elevator as soon as it opens, squeezing himself through the opening crack. He pants, ears aching from the overwhelming hum of rapidly spinning blades. He takes stock of the remaining survivors, heart dropping when he realizes Joseph isn’t among them.
Chris helps Rebecca up onto the copter, turning and pointing his gun at Wesker as the man approaches. Wesker freezes, tensing up. “You’re not getting on, traitor.” He snarls, “You’ll die with this place.”
“Chris, please,” Wesker rasps, “you misunderstand. I didn’t do this.” The elevator doors fling off their hinges behind them and the tyrant roars. Wesker spins back around, stuck between a monster and—well, his best man.
Alex steps out from behind the tyrant, a smirk stretched across her beautiful face. “Prove you’re still worthy of the Wesker name, Albert, or die.” She motions the tyrant forward, and it lunges for him. Wesker moves out of the way so it doesn’t target Chris, quickly checking how many bullets he had left.
Not enough. The older blonde glares daggers at Alex, firing off a shot into the tyrant’s chest. “Go to hell!”
“Only if you go first,” she calls out to him, amusement burning in her eyes. The tyrant swipes its large claw at Wesker and he stumbles backwards, his second shot missing terribly. The third lands on its arm, but it doesn’t react.
Wesker pulls out another magazine, preparing to reload, but he’s too slow to react when the beast slams its other clawed hand into his side. He goes flying, his samurai edge and magazine slipping from his hands. Wesker groans in pain as he lands on the hard concrete, vision spinning.
“Good-bye, Albert,” Alex coos, backing up to the edge of the building and jumping off, presumably no longer fully human. Wesker shuts his eyes, accepting his fate. There was no way he was going to get out of this without the progenitor virus on his side.
Bang! Bang! Bang! The tyrant roars and backs off, stumbling. Wesker’s blue eyes snap open wide and he shifts his head to the helicopter, where Chris is waiting, half hunched out of it. “C’mon,” Chris yells out to him, and Wesker groans, hauling himself up with the last of his flowing adrenaline and strength. He definitely had broken bones.
Chris keeps the B.O.W. at bay while Wesker limps to the helicopter, giving an unsteady jump into it. He lets out a pained grunt, belly slamming into the side, but he’s quickly hauled up by Barry and Forest, fingers dug up underneath his armpits. Brad finally pulls away and the building explodes moments later, the helicopter just out of range of flying debris. The heat, not so much. Wesker pants, clutching his side. He had lost his sunglasses at some point during the fight, sensitive eyes half-lidded in an attempt to block out the bright flames that he can’t seem to look away from.
“I told you the Captain was no traitor,” Jill snaps coldly at Chris, and Chris shrinks in on himself, guilt thick in his expression.
“Leave him be,” Wesker rasps, “He made an educated guess during a stressful situation and it turned out to be wrong. It wasn’t malicious.” He couldn’t blame Chris for thinking so, either. Wesker had been acting odd. Jill huffs, turning away but she seems to accept Wesker’s words as fact.
The rest of the flight is silent, quiet mourning in favor of their lost comrades.
In the end, Wesker was left with just a slightly lower body count. His attempt to save Joseph had only saved him for a few more hours, and Forest managed to survive alongside Rebecca. It wasn’t good enough, but there was no way Wesker was going to kill himself to attempt this again—if ‘this’ was real at all.
Once back at the R.P.D., Wesker forced everyone to get checked out by medical—except himself. When he was sure no one had been infected, he wandered back to his office.
Wesker collapses in his office chair, letting his head fall back and his eyes close. He knows he should go home with the rest of the team, but…
There was so much work to do. His mind didn’t want to settle.
He didn’t want to see the bullet that killed Enrico Marini again.
How am I going to replace all those people on Bravo?
Before Wesker can force himself into working, however, there’s a knock at the door. “Come in.” Wesker rumbles, voice just loud enough to be heard. He straightens back up, wincing in pain as his abdomen is jostled. In steps Chris, slowly, body hunched as if he were a dog about to be shouted at.
“Captain.” Chris breathes, “I’m so sorry. My actions put you in danger, and I–”
“Shh. I don’t blame you.” Wesker puts up his hand to silence the other. “I thought you were betraying us as well.” He frowns. “I thought you came to the hangars that night to mess with the helicopters.”
“I—no, no, I would never. I thought you were messing with them.” Chris croaks, pupils dilating.
Wesker huffs in amusement, resting his cheek in his hand. “I guess we were both wrong in the end. I’m glad you aren’t a traitor, Christopher. You’re the best soldier I’ve got.”
Chris finds himself approaching, startled by the warmth pooling in his captain’s eyes. “That means a lot… after this.” He mumbles. “I… I’ll never question your motives again.”
“I don’t want that.” Wesker corrects him, reaching out to encircle the man’s bruised wrist with his gloved fingers. “I want you to question me. To keep me in check. No one else will, with Joseph gone.”
Chris flushes slightly, a smile finally forming on his face. “I’ll do my best, sir.” Their eyes meet, blue on blue, and before Chris can truly register it, a hot mouth is pressed against his. The adrenaline rush over the last torturous days left both men extremely wired, and neither had yet been able to unwind.
Chris wraps his arms around Wesker’s neck impulsively, breaking the kiss to mouth at his sharp jaw.
This time, no questions are asked. They both wanted this, so badly it hurt. Chris is reminded of his juvenile crush on the captain—his old captain. The one who would do anything for his team.
It seemed Chris had stumbled across the one timeline where his Captain didn’t turn into a monster desperate to create a new evolutionary line of the homo sapien.
Wesker sighs, lifting one hand to stroke the back of Chris’ head. He bears his neck for the other, for once relenting in his need for control.
Chris groans agreeably, lapping at the man’s sweat soaked skin. He tasted of dust and smoke, but it was intoxicating in some way; maybe because it reminded Chris of the Wesker he’d spent his life chasing. His little nips and suckles turn to full on bites as they shift down Wesker’s muscular throat, teeth sinking into his sensitive flesh just above the collarbone. Wesker audibly hisses, curling his fingers into Chris’ short hair but otherwise not preventing it.
The brunet grinds their hips together, shuddering as he feels Wesker’s bulge press into his own. “I have three broken ribs,” Wesker groans, “We can’t go all the way.” Chris nods, only a little disappointed.
“Let me make that up to you. It’s my fault you’re hurt.” Chris mumbles, satisfied that Wesker’s neck was thoroughly marked. Wesker huffs but doesn’t say no, leaning back in his chair as Chris leaves his lap. Wesker is only a little disappointed by that; the pressure was nice. Warm. He missed the touch of other people.
Chris undoes the man’s slacks, gently coaxing his cock from his boxers. Wesker chokes down a whine as Chris presses his warm lips to his red tip, breathing heavily over it. He then flicks his tongue out, teasing the slit. Chris doesn’t press too far, but he does give special care to that area, tasting Wesker’s pre as he coaxes it from him. Salty and thick, but definitely not as thick as cum.
Chris pulls back to spit on his hand, using that as lube to stroke the parts of the blonde’s cock not in his mouth. Slow, deliberate strokes—Chris smirks as he hears Wesker’s soft groan of frustration, and finally takes the head into his mouth, careful to avoid scraping it with his teeth.
The man bobs his head, hollowing his cheeks to create suction and allow Wesker in further. Wesker rolls his hips but Chris presses his free hand against the blonde’s thigh, discouraging that behavior.
“Christopher,” Wesker draws out, voice thick with lust and warning. Chris laughs around his cock, creating lovely vibrations that make Wesker’s mind spin out. Chris picks up the pace, drooling all over his captain’s dick as he swallows it down, pushing past his gag reflex to settle the tip in the back of his throat.
He swallows, the pulsating feeling earning a few more droplets of pre, and Chris’ tongue draws its way up Wesker’s length as he pulls back, just to drop back down until he hits the man’s pelvis, tracing circles into Wesker’s bare skin with his thumb.
The blonde grips the arm rests of his chair tightly, eyes shut as he tries to stuff down the pathetic, much too human noises bubbling up inside him. He fails terribly as Chris works his dick, the gentle touches just the straw that breaks the camel’s back. “F-fuck,” Wesker whines, toes curling in his boots as his cock twitches, cum spurting from the tip.
His mind fogs, overtaken by fuzzy warmth as the heat in his belly spills from him. Chris chokes the cum down, eyes watering as he does so, and laps Wesker’s dick clean after so there was no mess. A line of cum mixed with drool flows from the corner of his lips, which he swipes away. “So well behaved,” Chris teases, delivering a gentle bite to Wesker’s thigh.
“I wouldn’t be if I were in proper form,” Wesker says back, trying to seem fierce but there’s no heat to it. He sighs, running his fingers through Chris’ hair and mussing it up. “If you sit in my lap, I’ll help you with your own problem.” An offer. Chris hums, nuzzling against the man’s warm thigh.
“You’re injured. I might hurt you. How about we make it an IOU, and I cash in later?” Wesker is a bit disappointed by Chris’ reply, but the thought of getting to have Chris for real next time is much too enticing.
“I can go with that.” Wesker purrs in reply, stroking behind Chris’ ear. “You just wait for me.”