He pushed. A fast, hard strike, yanking Aunamee off his feet, smashing his face against the bumper. A light tap - by Wesker's usual standards.

"None of that," he sneered, pulling the man back up, rolling him into the yawning trunk like so much garbage. A boneless sack he meant to drop off at the dump.

"Remember your place, Aunamee." He reached for the lid, eyes burning rubies. "This is where you belong."

And the lid slammed home. Locking Aunamee away in the dark, alone. Nothing but the distant wails of the dead for company.