Project W Subject 013 ("Albert Wesker") (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
subject_013) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
deernet2022-05-26 12:42 am
subject_013) wrote in deernet2022-05-26 12:42 am
[Transmission 06][Omni Malfunction]
[CW: Resident Evil-typical violence and mild gore, canonic character death, pain referenced.]
[Red and white static fills the screen, then clears on a view of a basement laboratory space, a life support tank containing a monstrous humanoid figure, which some of the Sleepers may recognize as the creature that broke through in April. The view shifts back to a lab work top terminal, someone wearing tactical-looking black leather half gloves typing what seem like access codes.]
[A dark-haired, fresh-faced young man in drab green tactical gear, pistol in hand, hurries into view, ready for anything, but from the look of shock and dismay in his pale grey-blue eyes, he hadn't braced for what he sees.]
[A confrontation, a first-person view of a scuffle, ending in the viewer holding the young man on his back at gun point, looking down into his eyes and noting the fear and dismay in the other's eyes.]
[The fluid drains from the tank. The beast comes to life, striking the glass with the heel of its hand, cracking it in one blow, then shattering it in the next. Its other hand, larger and thicker with long, bony-looking claws whips out. The view swings up, looking down at the beast as if the beast has lifted the viewer clear of their own feet. The edges of the view turn slightly grey and blurry. Blood spatters through the range of sight. Everything tumbles, chaotic, a whirling view of the lab space that stops abruptly, as if the beast has tossed the viewer aside, as an angered child might toss aside a broken toy. The view shows the basement ceiling, ductwork and wiring and metal stringers, all growing more and more blurry, then fading into darkness.
[The view cuts to red and white static, then the image of Wesker's face, almost painfully close, fills the screen.]
Did the device record any of the procedure? [A harassed sigh and he glances slightly to one side as someone off-link complains noisily about lost data.] Cypher, did you have a hand in that?
I didn't do a fing, boss. It just... did that.
Yes. And now the whole town saw it. [He reaches in and taps at the edge of the screen.]
[The view goes to red and white static again. Then the display fills again with a confused view: first person on
[A plastered ceiling fades into view, blurry, clearing, then blurry again before it finally clears. He looks down, along himself as he lays atop the covers of a comfortable bed, then peers about the room: a wicker basket and a metal briefcase on the bureau.]
[He sits up slowly, looking down at himself. Reaching down, he untucks his cashmere jersey-style shirt and lifts it almost to his armpit, uncovering his badly bruised flank, which he stares at for a long moment, as if expecting the bruises to fade.]
[Except they don't. He lowers the shirt, then lifts his forearms, sleeves rolled to the elbows, before his face, revealing a set of antlers freshly tattooed on the skin, the skin red from the recent work.]
Is this someone's idea of a bad joke? What have you done to me? What do you hope to accomplish? [He speaks, his voice slightly deeper than some may recognize.]
What and where is this place? [He asks with an annoyed sigh.]
[Then the door opens and a cheery young-looking man with spiky brown hair and soulful brown eyes far older than the face that holds them enters.]
"Deerington. You're in Deerington."
[The view goes to red and white static again, then an angled view of Wesker looking away from the device almost thoughtfully. Or embarrassed. Or both.]
That was something no one needed to see but persons involved.
((OOC: And another casualty of the memshare player plot. If you want a random memshare to break through, feel free to ask, just specify if you want canon, personal canon, or Deerington CRAU things.))
[Red and white static fills the screen, then clears on a view of a basement laboratory space, a life support tank containing a monstrous humanoid figure, which some of the Sleepers may recognize as the creature that broke through in April. The view shifts back to a lab work top terminal, someone wearing tactical-looking black leather half gloves typing what seem like access codes.]
[A dark-haired, fresh-faced young man in drab green tactical gear, pistol in hand, hurries into view, ready for anything, but from the look of shock and dismay in his pale grey-blue eyes, he hadn't braced for what he sees.]
[A confrontation, a first-person view of a scuffle, ending in the viewer holding the young man on his back at gun point, looking down into his eyes and noting the fear and dismay in the other's eyes.]
[The fluid drains from the tank. The beast comes to life, striking the glass with the heel of its hand, cracking it in one blow, then shattering it in the next. Its other hand, larger and thicker with long, bony-looking claws whips out. The view swings up, looking down at the beast as if the beast has lifted the viewer clear of their own feet. The edges of the view turn slightly grey and blurry. Blood spatters through the range of sight. Everything tumbles, chaotic, a whirling view of the lab space that stops abruptly, as if the beast has tossed the viewer aside, as an angered child might toss aside a broken toy. The view shows the basement ceiling, ductwork and wiring and metal stringers, all growing more and more blurry, then fading into darkness.
[The view cuts to red and white static, then the image of Wesker's face, almost painfully close, fills the screen.]
Did the device record any of the procedure? [A harassed sigh and he glances slightly to one side as someone off-link complains noisily about lost data.] Cypher, did you have a hand in that?
I didn't do a fing, boss. It just... did that.
Yes. And now the whole town saw it. [He reaches in and taps at the edge of the screen.]
[The view goes to red and white static again. Then the display fills again with a confused view: first person on
[A plastered ceiling fades into view, blurry, clearing, then blurry again before it finally clears. He looks down, along himself as he lays atop the covers of a comfortable bed, then peers about the room: a wicker basket and a metal briefcase on the bureau.]
[He sits up slowly, looking down at himself. Reaching down, he untucks his cashmere jersey-style shirt and lifts it almost to his armpit, uncovering his badly bruised flank, which he stares at for a long moment, as if expecting the bruises to fade.]
[Except they don't. He lowers the shirt, then lifts his forearms, sleeves rolled to the elbows, before his face, revealing a set of antlers freshly tattooed on the skin, the skin red from the recent work.]
Is this someone's idea of a bad joke? What have you done to me? What do you hope to accomplish? [He speaks, his voice slightly deeper than some may recognize.]
What and where is this place? [He asks with an annoyed sigh.]
[Then the door opens and a cheery young-looking man with spiky brown hair and soulful brown eyes far older than the face that holds them enters.]
"Deerington. You're in Deerington."
[The view goes to red and white static again, then an angled view of Wesker looking away from the device almost thoughtfully. Or embarrassed. Or both.]
That was something no one needed to see but persons involved.
((OOC: And another casualty of the memshare player plot. If you want a random memshare to break through, feel free to ask, just specify if you want canon, personal canon, or Deerington CRAU things.))
Video; un: darkness
I'm guessing that brush with death made you what you are today. [Then he sighs, looking a little sad.] I do miss that Doctor. So few people have ever wholly been on my side right from the start but he was one of them.
[Video][UN:<Undefined>][CW: Quarantine as metaphor]
That would be the seminal moment when the man I had been died and the being I am now arose. [A small smirk.] I suppose that statement applies to both events.
I miss him as well: He was a good person who willingly listened to my philosophizing, though he deeply disagreed with my position. I think... it was stalking his protective addition to that conversation which led me to adding my own word. I've wondered what he would make of this place and its peculiarities, had he lingered here. Hopefully his travels have taken him to some place as full of wonders, and that companion of his hasn't driven him to distraction.
no subject
[Maul is a bit curious as to any sort of genetic rewriting that could have allowed one to survive impalement. Even Maul, tough as he was, would have been hard-pressed to survive a blow like that.]
He saw the good in me and I know now how terribly rare that can be. [A wistful look comes over Maul's face.] I am certain that boundless curiosity of his would have found many ways to be temporarily satiated before moving onto the next new wonder for him.
no subject
[He resumes typing for a moment, then pauses, thoughtful, his hands folding one over the other.]
Perhaps it is that boundless curiosity of his, which gives him the power to see the nuances in everyone. He seemed to have no biases as to how people ought to act or live, or rather... he accepted that different species might have differing moral codes or might acquire them as they evolved. [Considering what he has become, he's doubtful that typical human morality applies to him now.]
no subject
[He's never more thankful Sidious had no desire to tamper with Maul genetically than when he hears about what his brother has gone through. What a horrorshow that would have been, to have his very being subjected to such things on top of everything else he'd been through in his childhood.]
He is very old and I think that helps as well. He's seen so much that even what the likes of you or I are capable of doing is still not near the worst of what he's encountered in his travels.
no subject
[An inbreath and a slow outbreath, thoughtfully, but not quite a sigh.]
He's seen much of the universe, along with much of time and space. That has to broaden a person's outlook as well as their acceptance of their fellow sapient beings, whatever the color of their moral code.
no subject
[Maul is always interested in hearing about Wesker's life before he showed up in Deerington.]
I suppose it does if you live a long time. I've seen a great deal of my galaxy and sometimes still feel so closeminded.
no subject
[A pause and an in-breath.] She was another of the old man's proteges, taken at a young age, a physically frail girl suffering from a chronic illness that left her body weak. But she had a strong mind, more intelligent than mine and cleverer. More dangerous, even. Close friendships weren't encouraged by our caretakers, but she and I circumvented that. Our work took us in different directions, with her going into psychology and I into virology. The viral agent that made me what I am healed her of her frailties, but it caused her to develop another illness, affecting her lungs, which could potentially become terminal.
She was running research into the physical side of human fear, when she vanished, some months before the event that lead to my arriving in Deerington. I sought a cure for her, and had attempted to contact her, but the usual routes had gone dark. Since she had been our keeper's favorite, or one of them, I sought out the old man to determine if he had communicated with her. He was of no help, outside of revealing the precise nature of our upbringing. I've wondered he'd intended to rattle me to the point of rage, as a diversion or to goad me into attacking him. I suppose we'll never know, but I can't say that I care to have an answer to that.
no subject
Maul's eyes flash with anger at the mention of Wesker's manipulative keeper. They go from a more golden color to the sickly Sith-yellow that most have when they are very angry.]
I'm glad you killed him. He was a horrible creature and deserved death.
[He remembers seeing that memory of Wesker's and knows that old man had been along the same lines of Sidious in his thinking. Only instead of stealing one child he'd kidnapped a number of them, all in the name of furthering his efforts at playing God.]
no subject
[He gives Maul one of his rare true smiles.]
I've wondered what might have happened if I had gone with my original plan, of throwing him onto the mercy of some colleagues turned enemies. No doubt, they might have shown him clemency on account of his age.
no subject
At least you were able to get closure with her.
[Maul hadn't known his mother was a Waste until she was already dead. All he and Savage could do was give her a decent burial.]
As if age excuses wickedness. Sometimes it seems to me the older one already evil gets, the more likely they are to commit atrocities.
no subject
[A dry, nearly inaudible snerk, but his face remains stoical]
It's known that people often start to lose their regard for the sapient minds around them as they grow older: some to cut the remaining ties with a world slipping away from them, others out of a sense of entitlement for their grey hairs. But when someone was cruel for its own sake from the start, they're more likely to grow even more set in their ways and double down on it. But I'm preaching to the proverbial choir, in saying this to you.
no subject
[She'd known, of course, otherwise she never would have given her life to save her son in their own universe. But it still hurt.]
Of course. My master stays just as wicked from his first breath to his last. Yes, there is that sense of getting settled into one's ways and not wanting to change. By the time they are ancient, the idea of killing is just as easy to do as ordering lunch for them.
no subject
I wish you could have had that opportunity. You require some blessings to balance the deficits you've known, particularly in this place.
no subject