No one called him that anymore. There was no one left to know it, no one left who dared if they did. He was their Chairman, their President, their God unrealized....
Eva... had called him that. In the garden as they'd stood beneath the sun, weighing the uses of good men. The sweet scent of dying flowers - drooping red and white blooms in the elegant glass vase in his quarters.
There were no flowers in this place.
They were back there. Out there.
A cerebral celebration, the mouthpiece had said. He heard the echo again, a whisper inside his head, fighting over the hiss of the virus.
The ruby glow dimmed, faded.
Wesker blinked. Focused.
Straightened, the mandible curling - cracking it folded slowly back between his lips, swallowed down.
The laugh was rough, his throat ragged and burning. As guttural as a growl.
no subject
No one called him that anymore. There was no one left to know it, no one left who dared if they did. He was their Chairman, their President, their God unrealized....
Eva... had called him that. In the garden as they'd stood beneath the sun, weighing the uses of good men. The sweet scent of dying flowers - drooping red and white blooms in the elegant glass vase in his quarters.
There were no flowers in this place.
They were back there. Out there.
A cerebral celebration, the mouthpiece had said. He heard the echo again, a whisper inside his head, fighting over the hiss of the virus.
The ruby glow dimmed, faded.
Wesker blinked. Focused.
Straightened, the mandible curling - cracking it folded slowly back between his lips, swallowed down.
The laugh was rough, his throat ragged and burning. As guttural as a growl.
"It would seem... I'm not the only one."