Okay, now before I continue, I must point out a few things. Firstly, as stated, this story features many instances of profanity, so reader/grader beware.
Secondly, this is my first Gen V story. I am posting it now for I am busy at work tomorrow.
Lastly, please take into account that this is an ongoing story, so if something isn't as clear as it should be, it is because I don't want to go into everything with one chapter.
Anyway, here we go.
Death. Simple word? Heh, not really. Sure, you can go around “saying” it like it was fresh from the dictionary. But, you don't know what it really means. No, you can't know what it means until you have lived it. Until you have experienced it's cold hand gripping your soul as you slowly descend into the black pit of despair. Because of this, you cannot truly know what death is unless you die, which seems utterly pointless. After all, how can you feel death if you can't feel anything at all?
However, there are a select few in this world who have felt the true meaning of death. And, by a twisted turn of events, they all seem to enjoy bringing death unto others. Maybe it's because they want to bring to them the meaning, you may be thinking. Well, you'd be thinking wrong. No, it simply can't be for that, for living through the trial of death comes with a price. These people, these once ordinary people, are changed. No longer can they live their lives the way they so choose. Once death has touched you, you become its property. Survive, and your fate is forever sealed within his book of terror.
These people change, emotionally and physically. They become limber, stronger, faster. Of course, they become more maniacal, distorted, and overall just insane. Yet, there is one man who has felt true death, and somehow became more of a man than he previously was. Betrayed by his general, the one man he thought he could trust, destroyed him more than death had ever done. His name is Wesker Alan, the man who had died, and came back to live reborn.
“Hey, man, can't we just, y'know, talk about this? Like, like, like this is insane, man! Insane!”
“Shut the hell up before I gut you like a rabbit.” Wesker stood up from his chair. He stared blankly at the poor excuse of a male in front of him. This lowlife was tied to a chair, by Wesker of course. He couldn't let his job run out on him.
“Look, I don't know who the fuck you are, or whoever hired you to do this! I'm a good man! A good, honest man!” The man looked up at the towering figure in front of him.
“Sorry, guy, but I simply don't care. I couldn't give a rat's ass if you were the king of Sweden, I'd still hunt you down and kill ya.” Wesker smirked at his comment. He fondled his short white hair as he gazed at his victim.
“Please, please oh please, dammit, just let me live!” He started to bawl as Wesker aim his revolver into his cranium. “Oh god...”
“Sorry, chum, but this is the end of the line. You fucked with my client too many times to letcha get away without some...repentance.” Wesker's eyes glowed the deep red they usually glowed right before a kill. “Besides, there's some real good money to be made in this whole 'assassinating' thing.”
BAM! It only took one shot for the little man to slouch. His eyeglasses fell from his lifeless head as the blood trickled down. In a matter of minutes, there was a small puddle of dark red fluid surrounding his temporary chair of comfort.
Wesker walked out of the building. He didn't know what the building was, or once was. All he knew, and needed, was that it was abandoned and far enough away from the city. He looked at his watch. 12:15 am. Right on time.
Ring! Ring! Wesker's phone shattered the silence with its ear-piercing ringtone.
“Really? That can't be Brad already...” He flipped the phone open. Surely enough, it was Brad. “What is it now, Brad? Did ya miss me so much you had to call in the dead of night?”
“Wes!” exclaimed the deep voice in the phone. “The only thing that should be dead right now is that reporter. Did you kill that asshole or what?” Brad's heavy African-American voice boomed into Wesker's ear. He winced a little with every word. “Well?!”
“Yeah, yeah, Bradley, I got the s-o-b. It was easy, too. Found him walking home from work at around, oh, 11 or so. Followed him into an alley. He saw me, I chased him. You know how it goes, man.” He sounded calm and collected, as if he just saw a good movie instead of killing a man.
“Actually, Wes, I don't. Tell me, did anyone SEE you? You have to fucking make sure that no one sees you, dammit!” Brad sounded tense. Unusually tense.
“Bro, calm down for a sec. You don't have to worry. No one saw us. God, why are you so antsy right now? You aren't usually this bitchy.” Wesker kept walking. He didn't know where, but it seemed right to walk and talk at the moment.
“Alright, good. Good. I'm just a little nervous right now. I looked out my window and do you know what I saw? I saw around 10 of those Elite Ghost fucks, just looking around. I coulda swore I saw one of them aim at me. I don't know, man.” Brad seemed more fearful than anything. Wesker was worried.
“Wait, Elite Ghosts? Are you su-”
“Hell yeah, I'm sure! They had those skull helmets and those black suits and laser guns and shit! Exactly what you used to wear!”
“Ugh, don't remind me.” Wesker stopped walking. Time to be serious. “Anyway, who was this guy I just killed? Obviously he was someone important if I had to be hired to kill him.”
“Oh, yeah, right...The douchebag's name is Franklin Gersche. Free-lance reporter for The New Anaheim Times. Oh, wow. Look at this. Apparently, he was accused of child molestation and abuse, but was acquitted. Sick bastard.”
“Heh, too bad for him. A prison death sentence would have made him a lucky man.” Wesker starting to walk again, this time stepping out of the shadows. The warehouse was quite a whiles away. He was a fast runner, after all.
“Oh, shit Wes! Shit!” Brad was shouting into the phone. “His name is Gersche, Wes! Think about it!”
Wesker stopped once more. His eyes widened as he remembered the name “Gersche.” How could he forget?
“Wait, are you telling me...that I just assassinated the son of General Gersche, the leader of the Elite Fucking Ghosts?!” Wesker now had realized what he had done. “God-fucking-dammit!”
“Wes! Shit! I think they tapped the phones!” A sudden crackling noise could be heard in both phones now. “Dammit, Wes! Get over here! The Ghosts are gonna fucking kill me!”
“On it, Brad. Just sit tight. I'm coming!” Wesker closed the phone shut. Closed it with so much forced that it shattered in two pieces. Oh well, it wasn't anything fancy. He started to run at his abnormal speed.
“Good thing I know New Anaheim like the back of my hand.” Wesker smirked as he ran. It didn't matter to him that his best friend and partner-in-crime was possibly going to die. In fact, it made him more excited. He didn't usually get to kill more than once a night, after all.
Finally, he was back in the main city. Although he could run fast, he still couldn't go as swift as a hover car like the ones zooming beside him. Even in 2456's economy, an assassin couldn't afford a luxury like that.
“I suppose I gotta steal one again. Hah, Brad is gonna be so proud.” Wesker stopped and looked around. He spotted a parked, glimmering red Hoverghini across the road. “Perfect-o.” He sprinted across the road and smashed the window in. He climbed in as swiftly as he could. Reaching underneath the steering wheel, he etched the different coloured wires around until he head the electric motor starting.
“Bingo. Let's roll.” Wesker flipped down his iconic sunglasses. He drove straight ahead before realizing he was going the wrong way. Cutting off traffic, he made a sharp U-turn into the lane beside him and sped. He rolled down the hood, not caring if he was seen. His silver hair flung back as the force of the wind hit him. His red overcoat blew behind him. He looked up at the night sky. Perfect time for a big brawl.
In a matter of seconds, Wesker arrived at Brad's apartment. Something was odd though. There was no trace that a group of soldiers was ever there.
“Either that Bradley was lying to me or something real bad happened here...” Wesker quickly hopped out of the stolen vehicle and kicked open the door of the apartment. As he went up to Brad's area, he knocked on the doors. He noticed little signs on some doors and walls.
“Notice: Please leave the premises immediately. Members of the Elite Ghost Squadron #29032 will be investigating this area, as ordered by General Viktor Gersche. People not co-operating will be shot and killed.”
“Huh. So they forced everyone to leave after they found out I killed Frank. What a mindless set of gutbags. Good thing I ain't one of them anymore.”
Wesker kept going up the stairs. He would still see the notices, some torn, some stepped on, and some still fresh on the door. It had seemed that people left in a haste. Wesker hoped that Brad was one of them.
Finally, he reached Brad's door.
“Brad? You in there?” He knocked several times. “I'm coming in!” Wesker took a few steps back and rammed himself into the wooden door. Bam! The door was blown right off its hinges. “Guess I don't know my own stren-”
Wesker's words were cut off by a peculiar sight. And by sight, I mean nothing.
There was absolutely nothing in Brad's apartment.
“What the hell? But...but I'm sure this is his place. Wha...what the hell!” There was no sign of struggle, no gun shot holes in the walls, no clamoured shoe marks on the linoleum floors, not anything.
“Goddammit, what did that Gersche asshole do this time!?” Wesker went into a blind rage. If there were a chair near him, he would have a thrown it. But, as stated before, there was nothing in the apartment except Wesker himself.
“Gersche, I will find you, and I will kill you this time. I'm coming up to your little ship hideaway in space, and when I do, I will shit slam your face into oblivion!”
Ten Years Ago
“Welcome, graduates, to your final ceremony!” General Viktor Gersche applauded the soldiers that had completed his rigorous training. Although American, his heavy Russian accent was apparent. “It is finally time for you all to fight, to live, to breathe the war on terror, here on Earth, or in the infinite frontier of Outer Space! I congratulate each and every one of you, and I now proclaim you all members of the Elite Ghosts!” Millions of graduates clapped and cheered. All except a younger Wesker Alan. He simply smiled, holding his helmet in his right arm as he watched the opening ceremonies. Oh, how proud was he, to finally be able to fight for his planet against the treacheries of tomorrow.
After the ceremony, he sat down at a beautiful table in the redecorated mess hall.. At the young age of 20, people were shocked to see his abilities. He was no doubt the best of the best, and it came as no surprise to his fellow recruits that he was in the top 10 of the Elite Ghosts. Bradley Gumshole sat down beside him.
“So, buddy, how does it feel to be in the best of the best?” the young Brad asked, grinning from ear to ear.
“Well, Brad, it feels great. Great, but not entirely unexpected. After all, look at my records I set in boot camp!” They both laughed hysterically. Brad was Wesker's best friend, ever since High School. They both tried to join the army, but only Wesker was able to go on. Brad seemed to be the brains of the duo, despite his always tough exterior and bald head. Wesker didn't have much for muscles, but made up in flexibility and stamina.
“Private Alan, can I talk to you for a second?” General Gersche looked down at the two young men, sitting and reminiscing about the good times. Wesker stood up straight and saluted his superior.
“Of course, General Gersche, sir. What do you need, sir?” Wesker tried to hide the nervousness in his voice, the same nervousness he always got when he talked to the general.
“Walk with me boy. I need to show you something.” The aging general looked at the confused Brad, still sitting precariously at the table. “Excuse us for a moment, please. Now, let's go, Private.”
Gersche looked at the young man walking beside him. The short, silvery hair and soft face didn't seem to him like the right type of man to be in a war, but alas, he was their prized weapon.
“Now, Alan, I am about to show you something...revolutionary.” He led Wesker through a set of revolving doors. Wesker took a quick glance at the general. He could see the gray hairs sticking out from his otherwise thin black hair. His skin was beginning to wrinkle and liver spots appeared to be placed randomly on his face. Yet, his personality did not reflect his age or appearance at all. He still acted like a good soldier, and his scars on his body proved it.
The two were led into a dank room. Wesker looked at the behemoth behind the doors. All by itself stood a large cylindrical machine. A single door was located at its right side.
“Private Alan, you and I both know you are the best recruit I've seen in years.” The two exchanged glances at each other. “Now, what stands before you is a machine that will not only benefit our army, but our planet. This is the Atomitizer.” Gersche's smile seemed to light up the otherwise dank room. “Isn't she a beautiful work of art?”
Wesker was a little confused. “Erm, what exactly does this machine do, sir?” His curiosity killed the nervous feeling inside him. When Wesker needed an answer, all other emotions to him seemed dormant until he found out what he needed to know.
“Glad you asked, boy. Now, this machine, this Atomitizer, was my idea. See, what it does...” He went up a little walkway, seemingly leading to a power switch. He flipped it, and suddenly the Atomitizer shone a bright glow. “What this machine does is that it takes every single positive trait of a person, mashes it all up, and turns them into a bunch of little pills. Once someone eats ingests a pill, they gain those traits! Remarkable, ain't it!”
Wesker started to grin too as he listened. “Why, General Gersche, that is by far the most amazing thing I have ever heard! But, what happens to the person that gets the traits copied from?”
“Copy? Boy, weren't you listening? It doesn't 'copy' the traits, it takes them! It steals the traits from whoever walks into it and leaves them as a husk. A shell of a human.” He seemed to slow down. “What I'm trying to say, Private Alan, is that it kills them. It takes every possible good thing about that person and destroys the unlucky bastard who walked into it.”
“Wha-what? You can't be serious, Gersche!” Now, Wesker had his emotions back. He dreaded on what would happen next.
“I am serious, you maggot whore. And that is General Gersche to you!” He stomped his foot down as he sucker punched Wesker in the face. “Do you know why I am showing you this?” A maniacal, twisted expression now plastered Gersche's face. “It's because you're the unlucky fuck that's gonna go into that machine! Ahahahahahah!”
Wesker tried to run away from his psychotic mentor. Quickly, he dashed to the doors that led into this room of death. He was greeted with a pair of guards at the entrance-way. They didn't look recognizable to Wesker. Almost emotionless, he thought. He didn't have much time to finish his observations as the two grabbed him by his arms and carried him to the door of the Atomitizer.
“Oh, oh, oh shit! Oh shit, no! Gersche, stop this! General! Stop this!” Wesker shouted and pleaded to the man he once trusted as he was carried into the death machine.
“Oh, shut the hell up! Why can't you be happy for us? You have such unique talents that would benefit every soldier here! Just imagine, having an army of Private Alans to fight the good fight!” Gersche was as giddy as a schoolgirl as he watched Wesker being thrown into the Atomitizer.
“Yes! Yeeessss! Hahahah!”
Wesker looked out the small windows of the contraption as the lifeless guards slammed the steel door shut. He didn't have the courage to pound the windows, nor the door. He knew this was the end. He could slowly feel as the machine sucked up his energy. His personality. Himself. A bright light shone from the windows as he slowly drifted into a lull.
“I got...so far...” His body slowly began to deteriorate. The armour on his body started to feel heavier than he remembered it being. His vision was blurring as he looked at his arms narrowing to the bone. The little muscles he had were disappearing. He could no longer stand due to the increasing weight of the armour and the little amount of energy he had.
“I can't...give...up...” he said with the little amount of energy he had. With that consumed, he could no longer feel his nerves. He couldn't breathe. He wearily drifted away from the land of living. He died with that last breath of words.
“Hahahahah! Excellent!” Gersche exclaimed to himself. He walked over to a little cabinet beside the machine. Opening it, he extracted a smaller, silver box. Inside it were millions of tiny blue pills. “Terrific!” He looked back at the two guards accompanying him. “Come with me. I need you to escort the guests off the ship. Use the return pods so they can get back to Earth safely.”
“And what of the body in the machine?” asked one of the guards. “Shall we dispose of it?”
“Hmm. No, he can stay in the chamber. Sooner or later, that body will vaporize anyway. Now, go get the guests off the ship! Pronto!”
The two guards rushed out of the room, with Gersche slowly trailing them. He looked back at the machine.
“Sorry, Wesker Alan, but you see, people like you just don't...understand what I'm trying to do here.” And with that, the general walked out of the room. He could hear the Atomitizer shutting itself down automatically. “Good night, Private. Won't be seeing you again, heheh...”
“Wake up, Wesker.”
Wesker opened his eyes. It didn't benefit him any, as there was nothing to see. It was pitch black, wherever he was.
“It's me, Wesker. I am what some call a conscience. What others call Satan. But you, Wesker Alan, you can call me Death.”
Wesker tried to stand up in a state of shock. Yet, there was nothing for him to stand on. He wasn't falling, but he wasn't still, either. Whatever was happening to him, he wanted it to stop.
“Death...? Does that mean I'm...dead?”
“Oh, very much so, my naive Wesker. I know what you are thinking. You are wondering where you are.”
Wesker was astonished. How did this...this thing know what he was thinking?
“Um, yeah...I guess I am.”
“Oh, come now, Wesker. We both know what you are thinking. Thankfully for you, I will tell you. You are in my world, now. In the realm of decay. Of torture. Of despair.”
“A realm? But I thought I was dead?”
“I know you thought that. And you are correct, good sir. But, did you not think of what happens when you pass on?”
“I...I suppose not.”
“No one really ever does. See, Mr. Alan, this is where all people go when they 'bite the dust,' as some of you call it. It is here that they rest eternally.”
“Forever? But, why would good people be put under torture?”
“Oh, you had misunderstood my words. It is torture for me, Wesker, as I have to see all these souls are tended to in the afterlife. I decide what happens to them, and that is quite boring.”
“You decide what happens to people?”
“Of course I do. I am the like caretaker of the dead. I can send them to heaven, to hell, or to back from whence they came. I can-”
“From whence they came? Does that mean you can send me back to life?!”
“Wesker Alan, it is quite rude to interrupt. But to answer your silly question, yes it is possible for me to do so. However, it comes with a price.”
“Death, I don't care what that price is! I need to get back!”
“Really, Mr. Alan? You have no family, a few friends, and a general that betrayed your trust. What do you have to live for?”
“I, well I don't know. But, there is always something to live for! Now, just send me back! Please!”
“Hrm...very well, but let me tell you what shall happen. You will be reborn, but in the same state you were left in, personality wise. I will restore your body, but thanks to Mr. Gersche, you will have no positive traits.”
“Okay...okay, I can live with that.”
“Really? Then this next bit might be a kicker for you. While on your return visit to the realm of the living, I will instill a little, as you humans call them, 'demon' into your body. This demon will give you an insatiable thirst to kill for me.”
“You're going to put a demon...inside me? To kill other people?”
“Yes, that is what I had just stated. You will kill people for me, or else you will go to the bottom reaches of hell for all eternity. Death is a fickle thing, I must say. I get bored, yet I demand you to bring me more people to grow tired of.”
Wesker thought about Death's proposal. He weighed the pros and cons. He was convinced that this was not yet his time to die, but that could have been his mindset being focused on revenge. After a few minutes, assuming time exists in the afterlife, he had made up his mind.
“Send me back, Death. I will do as you wish.”
“Very well. So forth shall you bring great misery upon your people, for I am all but the granter of wishes. You were meant to die, yet you shall return to the living. Go forth, my steed, and bring me the wretched souls of the soon-to-be damned!”
“Wesker! Wesker, buddy, you're gonna be okay!”
Wesker was awakened by Brad's booming voice. The soldier was lying down in a hospital bed, stripped naked beneath a heavy blanket.
“Brad? Where am I? What the hell happened?” Wesker was dazed like a person under hypnosis. His body hurt all over the place. He could barely move, but that could have been more because of the blanket than anything.
“No one knows. Fuck, Wes, we were all leaving the ceremony when I saw you limping out from that room Gersche took you to. I thought that asshat did something to you, so I snuck you into an escape pod. Rushed you to the hospital when we landed back on Earth. Doctors don't know what happened. It just seemed like you were...drained.” Brad's eyes widened as he said this. He looked as scared as ever, yet he was joyful to know his best friend was okay. “Now you tell me, Wesker, what the hell happened in that room?”
Wesker sat up to talk, but it looked like his body didn't want him to. He threw up into the trash can beside his bed.
“Ugh...I'm just gonna lay down and tell ya.” Wesker explained to Brad everything he had seen, felt and heard. From the lifeless guards, to Gersche's intentions, to his intense experience with Death himself.
“Death? You're saying you have a fucking demon inside you?”
“Heh, yeah, Bradley. Now, please fuck off. I'm tired.”
Brad couldn't believe what Wes had just told him. He was his best friend, though, so he felt obligated to trust his words. He left the room Wesker was in, and went back to the city. After all, he was about to move into a nice apartment on the edge of the city.
Wesker sped down the streets on his stolen hover car. He needed to get into space, and he knew just the man who could get him there.
“That fucker Gersche is going to get a little present from me. Something he should have gotten all those fucking years ago.” His Hoverghini flew by the pedestrians, having a late night stroll. The force was enough to knock them back, hitting the sides of buildings. Wesker was definitely going over the speed limit, nearing 200 mph.
He arrived at his location in a matter of minutes. He stopped the car and parked it hastily in front. In front of him stood a somewhat small building. It looked like a laboratory, but it was in shambles on the outside. The paint on the walls were peeling. The metal roof looked rusted, which he didn't think was possible. The glass doors and windows had been smashed, covered with wooden planks.
Wesker went up to the wooden clad door and knocked.
“Professor? You there? I need you, dammit!” The knocking turned into pounding. Soon, he could feel the wooden board cracking as he repeatedly slammed into the door. “Professor! For fuck's sake, wake up!”
“Hold on!” replied an old voice from inside. Wesker stopped pounding as he waited.
Suddenly, an older man opened the door. He was considerably short, with very little hair, much of it being white. His glasses drooped to the bottom of his crooked nose. He was wearing a nightgown, shivering in the cold outside. His feeble hand pointed at Wesker.
“Oh, you. What do you need now, kid? Especially at this hour.” The old man was intrigued. He wasn't usually visited, after all.
“Professor James, I need your help. Gersche did something to Brad and-”
“You need to get to Gersche? Come inside.” James led the angry man into the lab. It looked much better from the inside, with professional looking equipment lining the walls and all over the floor.
Wesker had met James before he joined the Elite Ghosts. The professor had urged him to join, after seeing such promise in him. After the whole ordeal 10 years before, he was distraught. James loved the military, and didn't believe Wesker's story. But, he also didn't like Gersche all too well. No one really knew why, not even James himself.
James was like a father to Wesker. Since Wesker was an orphan, he didn't have anyone to look up to. When he was kicked out of the orphanage at the age of 17, James took him in. He saw that Wesker was a talented young man. Although he didn't believe in Wesker's story, he did go all out in trying to get him a pill, like Brad had asked of him. The logic was that if his traits, his talents, were in a little pill, taking one would restore them. Surely enough, they did, but no one but James knew how he obtained one for Wes.
Eventually, Wesker was shown a strange little device. “Here, I show you my latest invention. The Black Hole Bomb!” Wesker looked at the small bomb. It was circular in nature, with a knob at the top.
“Okay, so what does it do?”
“Well, do you know what happens when you are sucked into a black hole? After years of researching, I figured it out!” It was obvious that this discovery was hidden, and he was just dying to let someone know. “It transports you somewhere, somewhere far away!”
“Like Gersche's ship?”
“Exactly. Now, you better get yourself equipped before I send you up.”
“You know, Professor, you seem really calm about this. Like, this clusterfuck is just being rushed.” Wesker wasn't usually worried, but when it came to sending him into space via a bomb, well, anyone would be a little nervous about that. “And, I think I'm good for weapons. That Gersche is gonna die no matter what.”
“Don't worry about it, Wesker, my boy. Now, I can clearly see you have a pistol on you, as well as that silly longsword on your back. Are you sure that's all you need?” His glasses were almost off his face as he hurriedly readied the bomb.
“Erm, yeah. Now, thanks for this, Professor James...Wait, how will I get back?”
“Escape pods, I suppose. Now, hold on, Wesker, as I configure this thing to send you to the ship.” James opened up a side of the explosive. He tinkered with the screen inside and quickly shut it. “Now, I just have to twist this knob here...” He had troubles turning it with his old hands. “Here we go. Now, Wesker, go get Bradley. As soon as possible! Post-haste!”
A smoke was released as James threw the Black Hole Bomb. Wesker braced himself for it to go off. BOOM! Blackness engulfed the assassin as he travelled. He felt immense pain as he went through the spacial rift. He felt as though his body disfigured as he was transported. He couldn't see anything except every colour. It was like a water colour collage in front of his eyes. He didn't want to experience this anymore. He felt like he could just pass out.
Thwomp! Wesker landed on the hard ground. He felt the sharp stones pierce his tight jean pants.
“Ouch! What the hell?” He did not feel dizzy any longer. The only pain he felt now was the rocks on his behind.
Wesker stood up to look around at his surroundings. He could clearly see that he was not in Gersche's ship like he was intended to be. He was in a small clearing in a forest. However, most of the trees looked charred and burnt, some of them still on fire. There were several skeletons of unidentifiable creatures on the ground. It was dark outside.
The stench of decay hung low in the air, seemingly just low enough to fill Wesker's nose for every breath he took. The ever billowing smoke didn't help, either. He didn't know where he was, but he knew for a fact he didn't want to be here for long.
“Shit, I knew I shouldn't of trusted that bomb. Where the hell am I?” His train of thought didn't last long before it was derailed by a loud roar.
“Haaaaaax! Haaaaaxorusssss!” Wesker swiftly turned around to see the source of this terrifying screech. He couldn't believe what he saw.
A large, pale yellow dragon monstrosity looked down at the smaller human with the red cloak. Its scales and skin looked somewhat decayed, and its jawbone could be seen clearly from one side. Wesker couldn't help but curse his luck.
“What. The. Fuck. Is that thing?!” His instinct told him to reach for his revolver. Wesker held the gun in front of his body, trying his best to steady himself. He aimed for head on the zombified dragon closing in on him. “Well, whatever the fuck this thing is, I bet a good headshot will cure my problem.” He could feel his killing urge resurfacing inside him. His eyes glowed the familiar red once more.
“Haaaaax!” The dragon zombie was close now, within range of the powerful gun.
“Say goodnight, you creepy bitch!” Bam! Bam! Wesker quickly shot twice at the head of the monster. One of the bullets hit the jaw, completely destroying the brittle bones. The other bullet penetrated the skull of the zombie.
“Haaaahhhh! Orrrruuuuhhhh!” The dragon lifted arched its neck as it billowed in pain. Its voice was garbled due to the lack of a bottom jaw bone. It charged itself at the human in front of it.
“Shit. I just made it more angry. Let's try the long sword, shall we?” He put the revolver back in his holster. He pulled the longsword from his back with ease, showing nor feeling any fear. The moonlight and fire made the cold steel shimmer and shine. He rushed at the large creature towering above him.
Shwing! With quick movement and lightning speed, Wesker sliced the monster's entire left foot, separating the dragon from balance. Gravity took full force as it flung the creature to the ground. Crunch! The hearing of snapping bones could be heard, almost deafening to Wesker, who had moved away just in time. He took in a deep breath.
“Heh, woo. The season must be Fall here in this crazy place. Hahah,” he said as he put the sword back in its sheath. Wesker walked away to leave, maybe find a way out of this forest, but he was blocked by a rotting tail.
“Haaaarrr!” The zombie dragon screeched at the man whom dismembered it. The tail glowed bright yellow as it crashed into Wesker. He was sent sailing into the air until he was stopped by a tree.
“Ugh...how is this thing still attacking me...?” Wesker tried to retrieve himself, but he was in shambles. His eyes returned to their normal colour. “Crap...this thing is fucking invincible...” He was losing hope as the dragon crawled its way to him. Closer. Closer. He couldn't take it anymore. He extended his body, giving himself up to the creature.
“Tynamo, use Charge Beam!” All of a sudden, a concentrated beam of electricity beamed its way into the side of the zombie. Voom! Wesker was astonished as he witnessed the beam shot right through the monstrosity. It stopped crawling. Now, he was sure it was dead.
“Great, Tynamo. Now, let's go help this poor fellow, shall we?” Wesker wanted to move, to greet his saviours, but couldn't help but doze off into a lull. He fell victim to his number one enemy: sleep.
“Tynamo! Tyyy!” Wesker woke up with a deep sweat. Sunlight shone into his eyes. He was in an unfamiliar bed, face to face with a floating eel in front of him. “Tyyy!”
“Holy fuck! What is this thing?” Wesker exclaimed.
“Oh, good, you're awake. Tynamo, please, leave our guest alone.”
Wesker recognized this voice. He looked up and peered at the doorway. There, a tall man, with a rugged beard and well-fit body, stood.
“Who are you?” Wesker rubbed his head. “Urk! My head...shit. Where am I?”
“Settle down, sir.” The man said calmly with his deep voice. “My name is Charles, and you are in my little cabin right now.”
“Cabin...? Okay. But what the heck is that thing?” Wesker pointed at the levitating eel across the room. It looked back, containing a puzzled face as it stared at the man with silver hair.
“Oh, sorry about that. This here is Tynamo. He's a wild uninfected Pokemon I found. Been living with me for a month or so now.”
“I'm sorry, a Pokemon? What the hell is a Pokemon? Is it, like, one of those things that tried to kill me last night?”
“You don't know what a Pokemon is? Dear Arceus, you and I need to talk.” Charles began to leave the room, but stopped and looked back. “By the way, I took the liberty of washing your clothes. Your weapons are on the dresser, with your cloak and jeans. I'll be in the kitchen.” The man walked out the door. The Tynamo followed him.
Wesker looked down at himself. His wounds were bandaged up and he was in his undershirt and boxers.
“So, they must be the ones who saved me last night. Lucky me.” Wesker got up from the bed and placed his clothes on his body. They felt warm, and smelled recently washed. He equipped his sword and revolver and slowly walked toward the door. Saviour or not, he still didn't know if he could trust these two. He turned the knob and stepped outside.
The kitchen was right in front of him. Charles was sitting down, waiting for him. Tynamo was floating around, circling the table.
“Please, sir, take a seat over there.” He motioned for Wesker to sit down.
“Very well. So, please, tell me. Where am I? Besides a cabin, of course,” he quizzically asked. “Oh, and where are my manners? My name is Wesker Alan.”
“Okay, Mr. Alan. I will tell you everything I know. I figure that you aren't from this world, considering the fact you don't know what a Pokemon is. Anyway, you are in the Unova region. This here is Ushimi Forest, and that thing that tried to kill you last night was an infected Haxorus.”
“Haxorus? Fitting name for a creature of that calibre,” joked Wesker. Charles smirked at this remark.
“Hahah, yes, I think so, too. Now, let me explain to you what a Pokemon is. Pokemon are creatures that have been in this world since the beginning of time itself. It is believed that the great god Pokemon Arceus created our world, and every living thing in it. Pokemon have extraordinary abilities. Some scientists believe that us humans evolved from Pokemon, in fact. Before the incident, people used Pokemon to battle each other, catching them, raising them, treating them with the up most respect.”
Charles looked down. It was apparent that he was saddened.
“But now, us humans have to use Pokemon to...to kill the infected ones...”
“So, what you're saying, is that you used these things as pets, cockfighting each other and shit, and now, you're using them to kill zombie versions of them?” Wesker tried to be as serious as he could.
“In a sense, yes. I'm confused by the term 'cockfighting,' but I shall assume it means a Pokemon battle.”
“Yeah, let's go with that. So, how did these Pokemon of yours turn into zombies? Or, I guess, get infected?”
“Well, Mr. Alan, us ordinary folk have no idea. It started out with little news reports from Kanto and Johto, stating that some Pokemon contracted a viral disease. Then, it escalated, with news flashes on the TV almost everyday, stating that more and more wild and tame Pokemon were dying, yet coming back to life. The Pokemon would attack humans, sometimes even their own trainers. Others attacked the healthy Pokemon. Even if the healthy ones won the battle, they would eventually turn, as well.
The government put out a large quarantine on the two regions, but it was too late anyway. Flying Pokemon like Pidgey and Spearow took the disease to Hoenn, Sinnoh and here. Soon, the people realized that the government refused to help, and instead virtually disappeared. The military left with them. Trainers were forced to part ways with some of their Pokemon, but when they tried to kill the infected with weapons, they were succumbed to the might of their now zombified partner. People concluded two things: Firstly, humans were affected by the virus, but weren't reanimated once they died. Secondly, the infected were immune to re-death by force of objects, and would have to be killed in a new form of Pokemon battle.”
Tynamo squeaked, somewhat confirmed what Charles had said.
“Wow, that sounds devastating.” Wesker tried to make it seem like he cared, but his statement didn't come out the way he wanted it to. “I have one more question, though. I'm not of this world, this universe of Pokemon. Do you have any idea on how I can return?”
Charles shook his head. “I'm afraid not, Wesker. All of our scientists went on the down-low after the incidents. They were taking a lot of heat, and tried to hide from what happened. People judged them, blaming the scientists as a whole for creating this mess. Even those that had nothing to do with them.”
“Dammit!” Wesker shouted. He couldn't control his anger, and slammed his fist down on the table. “I need a way to get home!”
Charles was afraid of this stranger's force. “Now, now, calm down, Wesker. I can try to help you get home. Just listen to me.”
Wesker looked up in his frustration. “Fine. Talk.”
“Alright. Now, I know a place where there could be some people who can help you. It's called Biochem City. This city was known as the “Science Capital of Unova” before the scientists were shunned. People skilled in the ways of science would spend a lot of their time here, developing new things in their labs. There is a chance that some of those scientists are still there, still hiding.”
“Really? Well, I'll get right on it...wait, I need a map...” He stood up and turned to Charles. “Do you have one?”
Charles slowly stood up. “I'm afraid not. But, I can write out the directions if you need.” He reached for a piece of paper in a drawer. Pen in hand, he wrote it all out in half a minute.
“Wow, you sure know how to write.” Wesker was perplexed by this man's willing to help.
“Of course I do,” Charles said as he handed the paper to Wesker. “I used to be an author. In fact, the whole reason I'm at my summer cabin is that I was writing a novel when the infection hit Unova.”
“Hm. Fancy story. Well, thanks for helping me.” Wesker turned towards the door.
“Wait, you are going out? Just like that?” Charles was confused. “You aren't even prepared!”
Wesker turned towards Charles. “Of course I'm prepared! I have my sword and revolver. I should be good! I know-” Wesker cut off his own sentence. He remembered the battle the night before, and how he was unable to kill the zombie Haxorus. “Er, I guess that these aren't enough. I guess I'd need food as well.” He walked to Charles, wearing a confused expression. “Charles, could you help me...?”
The big man grinned and laughed. “Hahahah, of course I can, Mr. Alan. I was hoping you would ask. Follow me to the backyard.” Charles walked past Wesker and opened the door. “You too, Tynamo!”
“Tynamo!” The excited Pokemon exclaimed. It shot itself outside as well. Wesker shrugged and followed the two.
The trio left for the backyard, where Wesker was once again amazed. The “yard” was huge, at least stretching the length of a football field. The clearing was surrounded by 10 ft tall steel fences, with a plethora of Pokemon residing.
“Welcome to the Habitat. Here lives the largest collection of uninfected Pokemon, safe from the disease.” Charles grinned from ear to ear. “It is here that I will teach you how to battle foes with Pokemon, so that you are ready for the menaces you will encounter on your journey.”
Wesker felt a somewhat feeling of joy. He didn't know why, but he felt happy, true happiness. It had been such a long time.
“Charles, I barely know ya and I think you're a keeper.” He walked more into the field. “Yeah, yeah this is really nice. I can see it now. 'Bam! Slithery eel thing, shoot electricity at that candle creature!' Hahah!” Wesker pointed at a peaceful Litwick. Unfortunately, Tynamo thought Wesker was talking to it.
“Tynamo!” it exclaimed as it used Charge Beam on the Litwick. The ghost Pokemon sizzled. It was beginning to regret coming outside in the daytime.
“Lit! Lit....” The Pokemon took in a deep breath. “Wiiiiiiiick!” Woosh! With a burst of light, millions upon millions of small embers shot at Tynamo. Most of them hit the eel spot on. Tynamo fell back, trying to recover from the pain.
“Oh, shit! What's happening?” Wesker stood back as Tynamo struggled to get up. “Charles? Charles?!”
But Charles didn't seem concerned. “Hahah! A good old fashioned Pokemon battle! Tynamo must have thought you were talking to it!” The rugged man smiled with glee. “Give him the ole one-two, Wesker!”
“Wait, Charles I don't know what to do!” Wesker started to panic. It was odd, though. He had never felt panic before.
Charles didn't have time to tell him as the Litwick charged up again.
“Litwiiiiiiick!” This time, a stream of fire shot out at Tynamo.
“Tyyyy?!” The poor Pokemon shrieked.
“Tell Tynamo to use Charge Beam! That's all you need to know for now!” Charles told Wesker. He stood next to him, ready to help the man with his first battle.
“Okay, okay! Eel guy, use Charging Beam or whatever!” Wesker tried to remember the names, but in the excitement was unable to recall what they were.
“Tyyyyy!” The shocking eel charged quickly and shot a beam of electricity. The two streams collided, one of fire, one of thunderous power. Kaboom! The collision caused a large explosion, sending shock waves out. The two Pokemon were sent flying back. Tynamo recovered easily from the force this time, levitating in no time. The Litwick, however, was not.
“Okay, let's use this chance, Tytinno. Er, Tynannie. Tyranno? Fuck it, use Charging Beam again! All your might! Let's go!” Wesker's eyes shone red once more.
“Tynamooo!” The little eel channelled the electric power inside itself. Its whole body was coursing with pure energy. The Litwick looked up, whimpering from the pain. “Liiit...?” It saw Tynamo, charging itself. Litwick knew it had no chance.
Boom! The sound made by Tynamo's Charge Beam thundered throughout the field. The various Pokemon looked over at the source. Not even Wesker expected that. Then again, he didn't know what to expect in this world.
The beam of electricity shot out again at the candle Pokemon, however, it was much larger and more threatening than before. The course of energy hit Litwick dead on. It didn't make a sound as it fainted. It lied there, motionless.
“Hell yeah, Tynamo! We did that little fucker in!” Wesker jumped up and down. He turned to Charles, still in his killing state. “Now what, you big lug?”
Charles adored the enthusiasm Wesker showed him. It had been too long since he saw a regular battle like that. “Well, Wesker, I love your fighting spirit! Here, take this.” He shoved his hand into his pocket and retrieved a ball. “This is a Poke-ball. There aren't many around anymore, but I want you to have it. These Pokemon are all wild, and if you throw this Poke-ball at that Litwick, there's a chance you can catch it.
“Alright,” Wesker replied. He was ready now. “Hand me the ball.”
Charles placed the Poke-ball firmly into his hand. “You should know what to do.”
“Of course,” said Wesker, his eyes returning to normal. He threw the red and white ball at the fainted Pokemon. Woosh! He was amazed at the scene he looked at. He hadn't felt like this since he was a small boy.
The ball wiggled once. “By the way, Charles, I never told you how I got here. I-”
“Don't worry about that right now! Just watch!” Charles pointed at the Poke-ball.
The ball shook twice, more violently.
“What's going to happen...?”