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Apicem Rapax	By : Ripsi Category: +M through R > Resident Evil Views: 2157 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Resident Evil fandom/franchise or any of their characters. I make no money from this fanfiction. It is merely a piece of fiction written by me.

Chapter List
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“The bird of Hermes is my name eating my wings to make me tame.”
October 21^st, 2014
11:14 PM
It seemed my meetings with an old colleague had become quite clichéd in the past few weeks; work had been keeping me away from the labs and any extra duties I had taken upon myself during such a crucial time. Thus far the ruffians we had hired to bring a touch of chaos to Raccoon City had been fulfilling their end of the bargain, but I was not certain that they could continue for the allotted duration. The probability of eyewitnesses was growing more each day and it would not look good if we were to simply bury the stories, and if we were forced to take them off of our payroll the city would return to the tranquility that much of America yearned for in their own backyards. We couldn’t run the risk of hiring too many, trusting just anyone to work for us when social media gave the public a false impression that what they had to say mattered. However if we could not keep the distractions up then what really mattered would undoubtedly come to the surface soon after. People were missing. Not many, only a dozen or so, and the frequency of disappearances increased near the time of Lord Spencer’s return. Suspicious indeed for an old man who hid himself away in an estate that he would only reveal to the precious quasi-elites’ eyes for the first time since its construction in 1983.
Yet, he’d been getting away with much worse for much longer.
For a moment I was surprised, something that did not occur with frequency, as my colleague eased into the opposite side of the burgundy booth. The call for my shock was his wardrobe, and I could not resist but to voice my opinion on the pleasant yet unsettling deviation from the norm. “Nice hoodie William. Take it off,” I added before taking a gulp of the over sweetened coffee that had been thrust upon me by a too-eager waitress barely out her senior year in high school.
As he looked around I gave a sigh of annoyance, an act that perhaps prompted him to at least peel back his hood. A black hoodie would only draw attention to the Captain of STARS and his intentions of meeting with a pale, odd, skittish man that no one in town could recognize. “I just wasn’t sure if it was safe,” he nearly stammered, checking behind him.
I blinked slowly, knowing he could see thanks to the low, hanging light fixture above the booth.
“Al you have no idea who could be watching-”
“Watching what William? Two men who could possibly be old roommates meeting up for a late, decent dinner at the best café in the city?” This seemed to settle him a bit. “Now what are you having?” Perhaps I should have left that to the waitress because he seemed to become nervous all over again. This was causing me to doubt selecting this venue, and maybe I should have opted for one of our usual meetings in Chief Irons’ office or the patrol car. There he would feel safe as he would have felt if he were allowed to wear his too-large lab coat. Of course that was easier said than done when one had a whole team constantly questioning their leader’s position on leaving twenty minutes before their scheduled departure. William also lacked something: a Redfield. More and more had that buffoon been visiting the gym, attempting to lure me into a premature rematch that would prove to be nothing more than a waste of his time and money when I finally decide to break his nose.
“Oh, your friend’s here! Are you ready to order?” The perky, brunette had returned. I could tell that her not wearing a hat was bothering William slightly, and as she cocked her head to the side her short ponytail swung with ease.
With a grimace my friend said, “I think I’ll just have the Chef’s Salad.”
“House dressing?”
“That will be fine.” He handed her his unused menu.
“And your Panini was noted by the kitchen previously so we’ll have your orders out shortly.” She smiled at me before walking off to return to being unseen. However as a couple with three small wild children came through the front door I realized that the waitress would soon be bouncing back and forth often now.
The hostess at the front had looked in our direction and just as the brunette reappeared I raised my hand to summon her back over.
William followed my gaze to the front and whispered angrily, “I would never have Sherry out this late on a school night! What is wrong with people?”
I reached into my wallet and took out a twenty to hand to the girl. “Don’t seat them next to us,” I ordered and after thinking about it I took out a fifty and added, “as a matter of fact seat no one near us during our visit.”
Her eyes grew wide and she smiled larger than she had before, happily agreeing with fervent nods.
We watched her intercept the family and lead them to the other side of the café. The mother looked offended as she stared William and I down but I merely smirked. We did her a favor; she and her husband could suffer in peace on the other side. It was a good thing that I had brought a sweater to change into; it would look odd that the Captain of STARS was paying off waitresses for seclusion. The city had before questioned my choice in personal vehicle, the area in which my home was located, and exactly how much that home cost. I assumed though that this mother did not know my face as people who typically did taught their children to treat the STARS unit as if we were some type of gods when the reality was this: we worked five days a week and had only been taking up patrol work to have something to do. There had been emergencies, we had been loaned out, but for the most part we were draining their taxes- or so people were to believe. The truth would do me one service though: I would no longer have to evade sticky-fingered children that wanted a picture with me or to ask elementary questions.
“Down to business.” William said quickly, indubitably ready to return to the labs. The faster he dealt with that business the faster he could begin returning home at an acceptable hour. “The virus is problematic.” This was bound to be the case. “I don’t even see where Lord Spencer found it.” He paused for a moment, exhaling. “Do you think you could ask him-?”
“That is out of the question,” I snapped. I had no desire to speak with that man more than what was required at the party. I would put on a show for the guests, display nothing but kindness and admiration for him, but as soon as it was done he would become nothing more to me than a hated employer.
“You should have never gone into IB,” he lamented.
“I go where I am most useful.”
“But you could be set Al! If money is now your main concern all you need do is go to your-”
“William!” I hissed, managing to stop myself from banging my fist into the table. Once I realized that his idea was my fault I sat back and sighed. “I should have never told you.”
Silence passed between us, neither of us able to look at the other. Until finally he asked, “Have you still been getting calls for physicals?”
“Yes. There was one just yesterday.”
“It’s happening more isn’t it Al? The booster injections?”
He was correct in his assumption and I only nodded in response. When I left the labs I had figured that I would no longer receive as much attention in terms of physicals and injections, but it was quite the opposite. At first it was every six months, then four, then three, and now it was a monthly appointment. I’d experienced nor observed any differences in myself and so I’d not suspected much was going on other than Umbrella’s desire to monitor me more closely. They believed that a breakthrough was near and they wanted to be sure that William and I had no intentions of crossing them.
This talk caused him to become nervous once more. “The Batna virus is killing every female test subject it touches and the men are becoming... zombies.”
I had to hold in laughter as he whispered that word with such fear.
“It’s not funny Al!” He leaned in to begin one of his whispered rants. “The dogs are becoming the same way when exposed! We have been working with many animals, most of them display tremendous growth and increased aggression but the dogs are becoming more territorial and somehow obedient. The women are dying once they are infected whereas the men want nothing more than to rip things to shreds and devour or infect others. And when we introduced Ebola it only made the chances for infection skyrocket. We know of Progenitor, we know of the leeches but where were they from? How did it create Batna? There was one man though…” He trailed off, seeming to be bothered by whatever he was about to divulge. “One man woke up normally.”
“What became of him?”
With a sharp sigh he looked me directly in the eye and laughed, “The other subjects ripped him to shreds!” He pushed his hair back and tried to compose himself. “And the only female that was somewhat alive after being infected was Lisa.”
I scoffed. Lisa Trevor had been long considered a failure until she showed us that she was useful in another area. Lisa was a special case that had managed to take away William’s attention when Batna refused to work just because he wanted it to.
“And then there’s Alexia…” It seemed Dr. William Birkin was once more showing his jealousy for the child that outdid him all those years ago.
“You still bear ill will for a girl that has been assumed dead for almost 15 years.” This time I did laugh at him, surprising my worrisome friend. His scowl did nothing but cause me to laugh more loudly. “Calm down Will; Alexia is dead and her brother with an IQ that was half of her own is building up castles on that Rock he was sentenced to but is so delusional that he believes it to be a foundation for his kingdom. The Ashfords are done and they have lost their power and they can do nothing to us.” And that was the best news the world could have received.
October 31, 2014
7:26 PM
As the time to depart drew near I found myself in front of the mirror once more, adjusting the corset that made my breasts look larger than they truly were. Though my outfit wasn’t going to look as fancy as everyone else’s I had no intention of looking as stuffy as them. They could call me a Ripper Era whore for all I cared but I refused to cover myself up like I was my mom’s age. The corset was black, boned with lace that covered a bit of my cleavage at the top. On the bottom of the sides there was a veil that ran from the top of my hip to a bit farther down my thigh and it also ran around the back but it stopped just below my behind. I’d managed to fashion one side-veil into an inconspicuous pocket to hold my phone, and partygoers would be none the wiser. My skirt appeared to be the lower half of a dress, just how I wanted it to pan out, and thanks to modern fashion it was made to puff out without the aid of an uncomfortable bustle or crinoline. The skirt possessed only a few layers of ruffles, just enough so that I wouldn’t look like a gothic bride, and it was long enough to hide the somewhat hideous but accurate rendition of Victorian booties that laced up the front.
My hair was not so Victorian as I’d deemed most of the styles ugly and if I was going to pay to get hair extensions then by God they were going to be seen. My hair was parted down the middle, the top layer pulled back and braided before being twisted into a beautiful bun that was nothing more than the result of a lovely illusion. The bottom layer of my deep, reddish brown hair fell past my breasts in tight ringlets achieved through the use of so much hairspray that I was warned about lighting up. A few black beads were clipped on here and there to give me the look of elegance that I’d been missing but truly didn’t desire. I completed my outfit with a large necklace that was in the shape of an upside down triangle and the point stopped just at my cleavage with black beads woven into the shapes of flowers with purple beads that represented the stigmas. Hiding the clasp and haloing the actual necklace were black feathers, a few of them purple and deep blue. Never had I put so much money and effort into a Halloween costume, but this wasn’t just some drunken party hosted in someone’s backyard. No, this was the Spencer party in a mansion that the public of Raccoon City had yet to see, and so I would act as if I were someone that mattered.
One more time I peered in the mirror, admiring my work with the new mascara I’d bought that made my lashes touch the bottom of my manicured eyebrows. My deep, red lipstick clashed with the cool, blue color of my eyes, and just as I was about to get caught up in appreciating my look all over again I felt my mom tugging me away from the mirror set into the foyer wall. I was so glad that this outfit came together the way I’d imagined, because honestly I wanted to look nice for someone. Ever since he’d strong armed my brother into inviting me I couldn’t help but think of Captain Wesker. Something about that man had captivated me and it wasn’t letting go. I’d wanted to go back up to the precinct but I didn’t need to be looked at as Chris’ love-struck sister with an obsession with the captain. If there was one reason I was looking forward to this it was because of him.
“Let’s go Claire,” she groaned. “Aaron!”
“Geez Charlotte,” I muttered.
“Claire, it’s cold outside!” she nagged. Too bad; I wasn’t covering up my corset. My mother had taken cues from movies and she looked less authentic and more so Kirsten. I’m also pretty sure that she was wearing a bustle in the back of her flowing, pink skirt. I wasn’t sure how that was supposed to work out in the car. My father and brother wore long, dark-gray, Chesterfield coats with a shoulder capes, matching slacks, freshly shined dress shoes, and black Broadway hats. To complete his look he carried a thin, black cane that was meant to make up for his lack of a monocle. It was almost creepy how they almost looked like twins, but he was his father’s son so that was expected. However, Chris had one accessory my father didn’t: a holster with a loaded gun. I wasn’t expecting that we’d even need STARS to be there tonight but if it made the guests and the host feel better then I guess there was no harm.
Despite being Chris’ plus one I rode with my parents, not wanting to be burdened with the awkwardness that would be involved with riding with my brother. For some reason he didn’t want me there but when did I ever listen to him? As we rode down the dirt trail my mother commented that it was a good idea to take my dad’s SUV. When we arrived there were cars parked throughout the clearing that served as a yard and parking lot. Luckily for us the other guests had decided to take it upon themselves to park in an orderly fashion, and because they had made so many rows we were able to park not even half a mile out. We all followed the lights that were the only illumination besides the moon, and as we reached the front doors a large, bald man who must have been security stopped us.
“Names?” he asked in a booming voice.
My mom stepped up and said, “Charlotte and Aaron Redfield.” He checked the list, light provided to him through the crack of one of the doors.
He checked his list and checked off the names before he nodded and looked to my brother and me.
“Officer Chris Redfield and Claire Redfield.”
Once more he went down his list, checking off the names. “Enjoy your visit.”
For a moment we just stood there, until my mom groaned and pulled open one of the doors herself. I was glad she did because as much as I hated to admit it I was freezing. Upon entering the mansion we saw a dozen or so people walking around the brightly lit foyer, coming in and out of the doors to the left and to the right. From the left door I could hear classical music playing softly, people chatting away and probably enjoying the feel of having accomplished stepping foot into a Lord’s home. The foyer had a marble tiled floor that was gray in color, immaculately cleaned and shined so well that it was almost like a mirror. The long, narrow carpe that we stood on was a deep crimson and it stretched on up the stairs set into the middle of the room. There was a large portrait hanging at the top of that first flight but I couldn’t make out what it was, and on either side of it were two other flights of stairs that led up to a wooden walkway. There were so many doors, so many rooms in this house that I was sure I wouldn’t be taking a tour.
“Most of the doors are locked!” I heard someone yell out right on time. Then I’d feel no need to pry.
Under stairway I made out another area that led behind it, and just then two guests stumbled out looking a bit disturbed. “Did you hear that?” the male whispered as they made their way back towards the room to my right.
“Well let’s go,” Chris said impatiently, heading towards the music.
We came upon a long and spacious room with a black and white tiled floor, two chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and the pillars beneath the walkway upstairs held little lanterns that were brightly lit. The walls were white, engraved with intricate designs and ended halfway down with the best wood paneling I’d seen, and I hated wood paneling. To my right a DJ was setting up his booth, dressed plainly in a black shirt and dark jeans, and I had guessed that he wasn’t subject to the dress code. Since the DJ wasn’t responsible for the music I heard it was safe to assume that it came from a speaker somewhere, and I couldn’t wait until he shut it down and played something more contemporary. Maybe two hundred people were at this party, not all of them in this particular room, many of them were heading to the “art room,” as I heard someone call it. This caused me to notice that portraits were lining the walls of this room, and they made no sense to me. I guess Spencer was just a fan of anything that looked fancy. Everywhere I looked I saw up-dos, a few powdered wigs, and men dressed in odd tuxedos from the Victorian era. Some of the men wore fake moustaches that looked a bit silly on them but everyone was here to have a good time and I wouldn’t spoil it by laughing at their costumes. The other women here were dressed as colorfully as my mother, making me stand out amongst a sea of pink, red, yellow, and green. That was fine by me.
Against the wall I saw Forest waving to Chris, and my brother immediately excused himself to head on over. Interestingly enough Jill was also waiting for him, her short hair tucked beneath a wavy, brunette wig that was pinned up in ringlets. Her deep blue dress clung to her arms, exposing her shoulders. She seemed a bit uncomfortable but she had no choice but to bear with it and stick it out until the party ended. As they waited for Chris to get over to them she turned around and picked up her plate from the white, clothed table behind her. A few lined the wall holding such things as sandwiches and fruits, and there was a whole table dedicated to champagne and wine with a server happily handing out crystal glasses with the guests’ choices.
“There’s Dr. Spencer,” my mom whispered, pointing towards the center of the room. He was staring up at Captain Wesker, who smiled half-heartedly at the elderly host. My parents were already heading towards the two men and since I knew one of them I decided to grab hold of my mother’s dress and follow behind her. We approached the gentlemen who were also dressed in one of those silly, old tuxedos, immediately interrupting their conversation.
“Well hello.” Honestly, Spencer sounded like he smoked five packs a day. His hairline was receded so badly that it was now near the back of his head. His skin was wrinkled and dry from the years of weathering and he had puffy, red bags under his eyes, yet when his thin lips spread into a smile I could see that all of his teeth were real. The strongest thing on this man was teeth it seemed, and had he not sounded as though he needed the aid of a respirator he would have had a strong voice as well. It was deep, his dialect laced with regality that he had been blessed with by his parents. “I am Lord Ozwell Spencer, welcome to my home.”
The home you’re barely at, I thought evilly.
My mother shook his hand eagerly, “I’m Dr. Charlotte Redfield,” she announced happily.
My father shook his hand next. “Aaron Redfield. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
Spencer nodded throughout their introductions and once his hand was finally free his eyes settled on me. “And who is this?” His inquiry had caught me off guard; I’d been looking up at Captain Wesker who had been smirking at me.
When I failed to speak up my mother piped in, “This is our daughter Claire. Tonight is her 19^th birthday!”
“Well happy birthday Claire!” he said excitedly.
Formality dictated that I extend a hand to him, and as his closed around it I felt an odd sensation creeping over me. His hand was cold to the touch and his eyes seemed to pierce through me into my soul. “Thank you. It’s nice to meet you.” My tone was flat, confused, and I seemed to be star struck which was not at all the case. There was something off-putting about our host and I couldn’t quite put a finger on it.
Wesker must have sensed how awkward the moment had become because he suddenly informed Spencer of our relation to Chris Redfield, one of his finest members in STARS. Hearing him say that had surprised me so much that I made a mental note to tell my brother of his declaration.
Spencer seemed delighted to hear this, and he patted Wesker on the shoulder. This seemed to bother the captain but I would not look too far into it. It just seemed to me that Wesker wasn’t too fond of physical contact and older people seemed to love just that.
To save him from his awkward moment I asked him, “Where is the rest of the squad?” I hadn’t seen any other officers tonight but I knew that they had to be here somewhere.
Stepping away from Spencer just a bit he said, “Barry is taking his girls Trick or Treating. The others are guarding other areas of the mansion to ensure that after this is over Lord Spencer will still feel a sense of security. You must understand that he lives here alone save for a few employees. It’s important that everyone’s privacy is protected.”
“Yes, but for Thanksgiving I will have a showing of the mansion; it has been without me for too long and therefore not ready to be scrutinized by the citizens of Raccoon City.” The old man’s admission seemed to be one of vanity to me. Why was he so concerned with the public’s opinion of his home when he had maybe ten of these mansions around the globe? His money and influence was why they came, and perhaps to hear about Umbrella but he seemed more interested in throwing an actual Halloween party. These people that had come here with the intention to network themselves were now left to do nothing but get drunk on his wine and eat his food. Were we here to acknowledge that he was alive and that he had the money for all of this but he could also choose to section us off because everything was too valuable to allow the unwashed to see it? Nice to know that he came back to have a few parties rather than extend the hardworking people of this city any help in expanding their businesses and opportunities.
Just as I was about to embarrass my parents by questioning his motives behind this seemingly pointless gathering I heard a loud, shrill laugh cut through the air. Everyone had quieted at this, and I turned around to see a young man strut into the room with an eerie grin upon his face.
His blue eyes darted around wildly as other guests moved back to allow him through, and one woman that refused to move was shoved roughly to the side. His yellow hair was slicked back and down closely to his scalp, and he wore a red uniform that appeared military. He had a long, thin nose and pouty lips that seemed to have some red tint to them but I already had drawn the conclusion about him that if any woman were to have been responsible then it was more than likely coerced. Something about his appearance screamed insanity, but I would keep my mouth shut about whoever our host decided to put on his guest list.
As the man neared us we all stepped away from Lord Spencer, Wesker being the only one to remain in his spot.
“If it isn’t Old Spencer,” the intruder said in a high-pitched voice that was painted up with an upper-class British accent.
“Alfred,” he began, “I wasn’t sure that you’d make it.” Spencer showed no signs of fear, but this whole encounter was odd to everyone present.
I looked up to Wesker who was shaking his head at my brother across the room and found that I wasn’t the only person who questioned Spencer’s safety.
“Well it’s not a party until an Ashford arrives, isn’t that right Uncle Spence? I’m sure my grandfather would be very disappointed if I turned down an invite from one of his best friends.” Alfred’s voice was laced with sarcasm and he showed incapability of expressing any genuine care or like for Spencer. “Also, I know Alexia adored your events.”
I saw Wesker tense at that statement, and Spencer held an arm out over his chest. “That’s all right Albert. Perhaps Mr. Ashford would like to join me in a private chat.”
With a nod Wesker said, “Yes sir,” and backed away from us. “Happy birthday Claire,” he said before turning around to disappear into the crowd.
“Toodles Wesker! Don’t think I’ve forgotten!” he shouted while waving wildly, bringing an end to my short-lived smile over Wesker’s birthday wish to me. As he took hold of Spencer’s arm the blond glared at me, smirking as they walked over to the other side of the room. Though I wasn’t sure what I had witnessed I thought it was best that I forget. Whoever these people truly were, I was sure that I didn’t want to know.
8:49 PM
Captain Wesker had been eying Dr. Spencer throughout the night, but his observations became more intent when the odd, blond he addressed as Mr. Ashford entered the party. Amongst a few of the partygoers I heard whispers about him, some stating that he’d gone mad when his sister disappeared, some questioned the validity of his invitation, and some stared on at him with an inexplicable measure of disdain. He’d already broken dress code by attending in a red, general’s uniform, and now he made a scene with his high-pitched cackling that seemed to unnerve our host. While I watched the awkward interactions taking place between Dr. Spencer and Sir Ashford I seemed to phase out the rest of the party. At times it seemed Ashford would sneer cruelly, but the elderly, estate owner seemed impervious to his expressions that told a story of hidden hatred. I was just ready for this night to end now that I’d had my champagne and fancy finger-food because this music paired with this older crowd was bringing nothing but second-hand embarrassment upon me. Despite my complaints I found some positives about my visit such as catching up with Jill on some town gossip about this estate. It seemed that there was way more to this place, but in the dark in the middle of the woods it was impossible to see all of the work the late and great George Trevor had put into it. Supposedly there was a private graveyard here for the most respected employees within Umbrella and even a residency here for trainees. Of course I had no intention of leaving the warmth of the mansion to hunt in the dark for locked rooms and a spooky graveyard. Although that would have made for a great idea rather than keeping everyone confined to three rooms.
Jill provided me with much needed company up until Forest and Chris forced her to tag along to check out the art room, leaving me alone with a bunch of lawyers and doctors. Many of them were nice though, recognizing me as Charlotte’s daughter and I even got the scoop on Alfred. He was the son of the late Alexander Ashford who was the son of Edward Ashford, one of the three founders of Umbrella. Edward had passed mysteriously, leaving a young Alexander to bring what many considered ruin to the Ashford family name. Because of his destruction of the family legacy Alexander’s disappearance bothered no one, not even his employees or Lord Spencer, but it bothered me. Because Alfred had a twin sister named Alexia, and she disappeared almost fifteen years ago as well, and this loss was one that he did take hard. The circle I conversed with also found it odd that the family was plagued with unexplained deaths and inexplicable disappearances. The family was truly an oddity though; I’d never heard of a family so proud of a matriarch that they shed their true name to uphold her memory, but I suppose it was also progressive. All this pressure to live up to the Ashford name seemed to have a positive outcome on Alexia; she graduated college at 10 and became a head researcher at Umbrella. It was sad to see that that genius was now gone from this world as I was sure that someone of her intellect was probably capable of great feats. Now we were left with her brother, another disappointment to the Ashford name from what I’d heard. He owned a research facility of his own but it yielded nothing beneficial as of late, and just by looking at him I could tell that perhaps mentally he was inept when it came time to rise to the challenge.
“Claire?”
Almost as if I’d been caught spying I jumped around to see Captain Wesker holding out his hand towards me, silently requesting this dance. The upbeat music had come to a stop, and now a haunting song began to play. Although I was sure this would look inappropriate I accepted his offer. As he pulled me in by my waist I felt fluttering in my stomach, and I smiled nervously as I brought my hands up to his shoulders. I glanced around to see quite a few of the guests using the same technique, and I couldn’t imagine how mortified they’d feel once they heard the lyrics of the song. However, these were the rich, the drunk rich, and they didn’t care about some lyrics that were more suited for their rebellious teens. Even when an uncensored Beyoncé song played they seemed more interested in not stepping on their partners’ feet rather than attempt to figure out what she was doing with a surfboard in the tub. As the start of the verse drew nearer I peered over at my parents who were on the sidelines speaking to another couple, filling their little plates with finger sandwiches and strawberries. Then I looked for Chris in the crowd, but he was nowhere to be seen.
As I convinced myself that it was merely a dance I looked into my partner’s blue eyes, feeling a bit awkward based on my theory that he was attracted to me. I considered my crush to be the equivalent of a young girl’s on an older person, the kind of crush that was supposed to be founded on their admiration of them. Yet something in me knew that… I couldn’t think about these things, not with the whole STARS squad here. When these situations occurred it was impossible to hide the look in your eyes, the meticulousness of your every move, and the uncontrollable smiles. Why’d he have to be so nice to me? I’d told myself before this party that I’d try to limit our contact since I couldn’t stop thinking about our conversation earlier this month, but the whole time I was here I really just wanted him to come talk to me again.
In the land of gods and monsters, I was an angel, living in the garden of evil.
I wanted this to not feel awkward, to not feel like I was doing something wrong. After all this all started innocently, it was just the circumstances. The only thing that would make it look bad would be if I looked at him but I instead focused on everyone around us, searching faces for the slightest expression of disagreement.
No one said a thing, no one raised an eyebrow, and it seemed that I was getting away with something that was… wrong. At the feel of his grip tightening on my waist I licked my lips and my eyes fell to his torso.
Put your hands on my waist, do it softly. Me and God, we don’t get along so now I sing.
“Interesting choice in music.” His statement made me look back up to him.
Once more an unintentional smile took over my lips. “I think the DJ is used to a younger crowd.” I dropped one of my hands to his chest, forcing me to notice that we were so close that my propped breasts looked even larger and I felt that maybe I should’ve worn a shawl. I wanted to hide my nervousness behind idle talk but chats should be avoided; it was best that we only stuck to meaningful conversation.
No one’s gonna take my soul away. I’m living like Jim Morrison. Headed towards a fucked up holiday, hotel sprees sprees and I’m singing, “Fuck yeah give it to me this is heaven, what I truly want.” It’s innocence lost. Innocence lost.
I tried to glance over at my parents, but it appeared that they had moved, and Chris was nowhere to be seen. I did, however, see Dr. Spencer surrounded by a group of women, they were all attractive and in their thirties, laughing so loudly that I could practically see down their throats. Odd as it was I would make a note to give him a thumbs up later.
In the land of gods and monsters I was an angel, looking to get fucked hard.
I couldn’t hold in the laugh that exploded from me, causing my chest to heave against his. “I’m sorry.”
He actually smiled at me, and I felt one of his hands inch lower.
Hard as it was I ignored the feel of the palm of his hand pressing against the small of my back. “I just can’t believe everyone is okay with this. There’s no outrage, no one screwing up their faces…”
The blond leaned down, his breath tickling my ear as he said, “I think everyone here is having a very good time.” When he pulled back I saw that he was still giving me a genuine smile, not those smirks and grins he’d given at the RCPD, and honestly this suited him.
“Are you?” I asked, unsure why I even inquired.
For the briefest moment he placed a hand on my chest, and I was certain that he felt my heart pounding inside its cage. Three beats later his hand brushed over the skin of my collar bone, taking with it curled strands of my hair in a well-played move. “Most definitely.” The bass in his voice made me burn within so hot that before long I felt my cheeks growing warm.
You got that medicine I need. Dope, shoot it up, straight to the heart please. I don’t really wanna know what’s good for me. God’s dead, I said, “Baby that’s all right with me.”
We weren’t even dancing anymore, we were just standing there. Had things been different, had he not been who he was, we would’ve kissed. We would’ve snuck off in the middle of the dance and gone somewhere secluded in the mansion. This wasn’t how the night would end though, and perhaps it was for the best. At some point the song had ended and as the DJ began to attempt to pump up the crowd we stepped back from each other, but I could sense a hint of reluctance on his part. I don’t think anyone would’ve noticed if we hadn’t though; the crowd had been drinking for a while once they realized that his party was just that: a party that would have no talk of business.
“Yes I hope everyone is enjoying themselves!” Dr. Spencer was maybe ten feet away from us, shaking hands and thanking his guests for coming.
Once again though, I saw Alfred walking towards him, his steps hurried as he excused himself while pushing through the crowd.
Wesker and I looked at each other, probably both questioning the eccentric man’s behavior throughout the night.
“Lord Spencer!” Now that Alfred once more had Dr. Spencer’s attention everyone else turned their gazes upon the pair, the immediate area quieted and made the room seem as though it was only half full. “For Alexia!” Quickly he reached into his jacket, pulling out a pistol and taking aim at his target. Before anyone in the crowd had the chance to scream he pulled the trigger, and only then did I hear the sound of panicked guests cutting through the air. Spencer fell to the ground and I felt Wesker grab onto my waist and attempt to pick me up to turn me away from the scene.
As I saw the room whip by me I became dizzy, but I didn’t struggle against him. Some people ducked, some pushed against others as they tried to escape the area, but I felt completely powerless. Then another shot sounded out, a loud boom, and I saw the floor coming up at me. As I lie on the floor I heard another shot, however, what was more disturbing was the fact that an arm was still around my waist. Behind me I heard my brother yelling, Alfred’s shrill voice protesting at being held. Then I thought I heard Jill telling people to call an ambulance, that Spencer was conscious but wounded.
“Someone else was shot!” a woman shrieked, and for some reason I saw dozens of feet surround me.
I could still feel a limb on my waist, heavy, almost dead weight. As I rolled over I felt a pain in my wrist, but it was soon forgotten when I saw the second victim. The very man that had shielded me lie on the floor, his once perfect hair disheveled from the fall. Stupidly I reached over to rouse him, but the sight of crimson staining the side of his head stopped me. “Wesker!” The voice didn’t sound like mine yet I knew it was, and I felt my body go numb as I brought a hand to his shoulder uselessly. The sound of Alfred’s cackles were muffled as I stared down at my savior who was bleeding out.
“Paging Dr. Birkin!” As I turned to see the madman being carted away he sneered at me, and I realized that he was the true definition of mad.
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Apicem Rapax