Albert Wesker (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
manufactured) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
recolle2018-07-09 12:11 am
manufactured) wrote in recolle2018-07-09 12:11 am
Entry tags:
[OPEN] I'm wide awake the more I sleep
WHO: Albert Wesker, whomever decides to join him (presumably you!)
WHERE: Various
WHEN: Throughout July
WHAT: One big "family reunion", spanning several dreamscapes and a meeting in Bosuma.
WARNINGS: Violence (primarily strangulation), blackmail, chemically-induced brainwashing, other delightful things one would expect from the Resident Evil villain's memories? There is a blanket warning for "this is gonna suck" over this whole thing, though if there's anything more severe than what's been listed here it will be warned for in comment subjects and this heading will be adjusted accordingly as we go.
[DREAMSCAPE - BARRY BURTON]
( cw: blackmail/coercion )
[The mansion you find yourself in is large.
Honestly, for those of you who aren't strangers to Wesker's dreams, this place may seem familiar; there's very little visible difference in design or atmosphere from the Spencer estate. It used to be grand once, you can tell that much easily; you first become aware of the foyer, the high-ceilinged scale of it intimidating and speaking of former opulence that's been left to go to seed over the past few years, all cracked walls and peeling wallpaper and odd, dark stains on the floor that one certainly hopes aren't blood. There's a chandelier hanging over your head, huge and golden and ornate; once in a while it shakes gently with the settling of the building, the crystals dangling from it clinking softly together, and the whole thing just bears with it the aura that you should probably move before it comes down.
There's no definite indication that it will, of course, but do you really want to chance it?
The stairs are in just as much disrepair as the rest of the place, cracked and broken in their grand sweep up to the upper level of the building; the wainscoting on the walls is cracked and covered in what looks like water damage, and from the look of it the brass-sconced lights aren't working very well, all of them yellowed and flickering with age.
There's a hallway to your right that seems clear but dark, and another to your left that seems better-lit but your path is impeded by a set of heavy, wooden crates standing about waist-high.
Will you explore?]
[DREAMSCAPE - JILL VALENTINE]
( cw: chemically-induced brainwashing )
[The room is empty.
It's large and expensive-looking, all marble floors and tall columns stretching up toward the ceiling, but it's alarmingly, oppressively empty in a way that sets one's teeth on edge - like there should be something here, you can almost feel it, but there's quite simply and inexplicably nothing. The initial gradeur of the room seems to fall away the longer you look; the floor is pockmarked with bullet holes, one of the walls to your left is broken open in places, revealing a dark hallway beyond it, and the entire area is bathed in dim light streaming in from the double doors on the second floor, visible behind a thick railing up a set of stairs. The stairs, too, bear battle scars from bullets and strange, long gauges alike, but they're sturdy and pose no threat of collapse.
If you listen long enough, however, you'll find that it's likely you're not alone.
It's difficult to tell where the sound is coming from, distorted though it is by the hollowness of the room; it may take a moment to place, but it's the soft sounds of someone in pain - someone breathing heavily, the exhales accompanied by a quiet, involuntary sound that's both determined and deeply pained.
Something obviously happened here. It's just difficult to say precisely what, at this exact moment. Or who's left.]
[DREAMSCAPE - CHRIS REDFIELD]
( cw: violence )
[The place you're in is dingy, lit with the occasional fluorescent strip above that flickers and blinks dangerously from time to time but never properly goes out. It's straightforward, this place - just one long, narrow corridor stretching on in front of you, and leading back into the distance if you turn around; the walls are all mottled grey and made of metal, and the floor is covered in hollow grating that trembles and clanks as you walk.
It doesn't offer you anywhere to go, should there be trouble from either in front of or behind you.
Somewhere down the corridor in front of you, echoing softly off the metal and the dead, tight space, you think you can hear something - it sounds like a woman singing. A soft, high melody, unaccompanied and untrained but not unpleasant to listen to, even if it's at enough of a distance that you can't make out any words.
Underneath that, however, there's another sound - quieter, but perhaps more ominous in nature - a mechanical whirring, the light clink of something moving toward you.
That latter sound is coming from behind and above you.]
[BOSUMA - WILLIAM BIRKIN]
( cw: none )
[The last time Wesker had been in these woods, it hadn't gone well.
He's never been the sort to be afraid, and while that incident had shaken him he isn't one to remain complacent in his uncertainty; he's out here today with the handgun and the rifle and a fully-charged phone this time, and if something happens he's got something he texted himself with pulled up already - a crash course in who he is and what he was doing here, lest that get stripped away from him again.
The guns are for the monsters he may run into here; depending on how things go, the guns might also be for the witch. He doesn't like that idea, but it's the one he keeps coming back to; he'll keep it in his head where it belongs for now. But eventually there's movement in those woods, and the movement looks like a person and he's got Samurai Edge out and he's pointing it directly toward the person's face when he quite suddenly realizes who he's looking at.
To his credit, Birkin doesn't flinch.
The man looks exactly as Wesker remembers him; it isn't enough to get Wesker to put the gun down. Seeing Birkin is...alarming, it's a sign that is either very good or very bad, and Wesker can't seem to decide which this is; his grip on the gun is tight, and it remains that way until Birkin addresses him.
He doesn't speak when it's a very bad sign.
The words are easy, shifting around in the way that Birkin's voice always does - he's always been the talkative sort, and he's never as cold with Wesker as he is with the others. "You're acting like you don't know me," he says, and he shrugs a little, and he leans back a little as he says it. "You do know me, don't you? It hasn't been that long."
"Put the gun down," he says, and Wesker's already lowering it before he can finish the sentence; "Come on," he says, "just for a few minutes. We've got a lot to catch up on," and when Wesker pausess he looks like he's seriously considering.
This whole thing is surreal, it's... He breathes deeply.
"You've always liked this, right? Just like we used to."
He takes a little longer to exhale than he'd like, his breath leaving him in a rush; he isn't saying yes, but he isn't saying no, either.]
WHERE: Various
WHEN: Throughout July
WHAT: One big "family reunion", spanning several dreamscapes and a meeting in Bosuma.
WARNINGS: Violence (primarily strangulation), blackmail, chemically-induced brainwashing, other delightful things one would expect from the Resident Evil villain's memories? There is a blanket warning for "this is gonna suck" over this whole thing, though if there's anything more severe than what's been listed here it will be warned for in comment subjects and this heading will be adjusted accordingly as we go.
[DREAMSCAPE - BARRY BURTON]
( cw: blackmail/coercion )
[The mansion you find yourself in is large.
Honestly, for those of you who aren't strangers to Wesker's dreams, this place may seem familiar; there's very little visible difference in design or atmosphere from the Spencer estate. It used to be grand once, you can tell that much easily; you first become aware of the foyer, the high-ceilinged scale of it intimidating and speaking of former opulence that's been left to go to seed over the past few years, all cracked walls and peeling wallpaper and odd, dark stains on the floor that one certainly hopes aren't blood. There's a chandelier hanging over your head, huge and golden and ornate; once in a while it shakes gently with the settling of the building, the crystals dangling from it clinking softly together, and the whole thing just bears with it the aura that you should probably move before it comes down.
There's no definite indication that it will, of course, but do you really want to chance it?
The stairs are in just as much disrepair as the rest of the place, cracked and broken in their grand sweep up to the upper level of the building; the wainscoting on the walls is cracked and covered in what looks like water damage, and from the look of it the brass-sconced lights aren't working very well, all of them yellowed and flickering with age.
There's a hallway to your right that seems clear but dark, and another to your left that seems better-lit but your path is impeded by a set of heavy, wooden crates standing about waist-high.
Will you explore?]
[DREAMSCAPE - JILL VALENTINE]
( cw: chemically-induced brainwashing )
[The room is empty.
It's large and expensive-looking, all marble floors and tall columns stretching up toward the ceiling, but it's alarmingly, oppressively empty in a way that sets one's teeth on edge - like there should be something here, you can almost feel it, but there's quite simply and inexplicably nothing. The initial gradeur of the room seems to fall away the longer you look; the floor is pockmarked with bullet holes, one of the walls to your left is broken open in places, revealing a dark hallway beyond it, and the entire area is bathed in dim light streaming in from the double doors on the second floor, visible behind a thick railing up a set of stairs. The stairs, too, bear battle scars from bullets and strange, long gauges alike, but they're sturdy and pose no threat of collapse.
If you listen long enough, however, you'll find that it's likely you're not alone.
It's difficult to tell where the sound is coming from, distorted though it is by the hollowness of the room; it may take a moment to place, but it's the soft sounds of someone in pain - someone breathing heavily, the exhales accompanied by a quiet, involuntary sound that's both determined and deeply pained.
Something obviously happened here. It's just difficult to say precisely what, at this exact moment. Or who's left.]
[DREAMSCAPE - CHRIS REDFIELD]
( cw: violence )
[The place you're in is dingy, lit with the occasional fluorescent strip above that flickers and blinks dangerously from time to time but never properly goes out. It's straightforward, this place - just one long, narrow corridor stretching on in front of you, and leading back into the distance if you turn around; the walls are all mottled grey and made of metal, and the floor is covered in hollow grating that trembles and clanks as you walk.
It doesn't offer you anywhere to go, should there be trouble from either in front of or behind you.
Somewhere down the corridor in front of you, echoing softly off the metal and the dead, tight space, you think you can hear something - it sounds like a woman singing. A soft, high melody, unaccompanied and untrained but not unpleasant to listen to, even if it's at enough of a distance that you can't make out any words.
Underneath that, however, there's another sound - quieter, but perhaps more ominous in nature - a mechanical whirring, the light clink of something moving toward you.
That latter sound is coming from behind and above you.]
[BOSUMA - WILLIAM BIRKIN]
( cw: none )
[The last time Wesker had been in these woods, it hadn't gone well.
He's never been the sort to be afraid, and while that incident had shaken him he isn't one to remain complacent in his uncertainty; he's out here today with the handgun and the rifle and a fully-charged phone this time, and if something happens he's got something he texted himself with pulled up already - a crash course in who he is and what he was doing here, lest that get stripped away from him again.
The guns are for the monsters he may run into here; depending on how things go, the guns might also be for the witch. He doesn't like that idea, but it's the one he keeps coming back to; he'll keep it in his head where it belongs for now. But eventually there's movement in those woods, and the movement looks like a person and he's got Samurai Edge out and he's pointing it directly toward the person's face when he quite suddenly realizes who he's looking at.
To his credit, Birkin doesn't flinch.
The man looks exactly as Wesker remembers him; it isn't enough to get Wesker to put the gun down. Seeing Birkin is...alarming, it's a sign that is either very good or very bad, and Wesker can't seem to decide which this is; his grip on the gun is tight, and it remains that way until Birkin addresses him.
He doesn't speak when it's a very bad sign.
The words are easy, shifting around in the way that Birkin's voice always does - he's always been the talkative sort, and he's never as cold with Wesker as he is with the others. "You're acting like you don't know me," he says, and he shrugs a little, and he leans back a little as he says it. "You do know me, don't you? It hasn't been that long."
"Put the gun down," he says, and Wesker's already lowering it before he can finish the sentence; "Come on," he says, "just for a few minutes. We've got a lot to catch up on," and when Wesker pausess he looks like he's seriously considering.
This whole thing is surreal, it's... He breathes deeply.
"You've always liked this, right? Just like we used to."
He takes a little longer to exhale than he'd like, his breath leaving him in a rush; he isn't saying yes, but he isn't saying no, either.]
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Yeah, you know what, climbing over them is going to be much faster and it's not like he has anyone to pretend to be dignified in front of, so just give him a moment to get over these things and land on the other side. Alright! What's the rest of this path look like?]
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That said, there's a door at the end of this hallway; judging from the way the light bends around the frame, it seems like there's a light on inside, which means possibly people. Attempting to get closer?]
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Anyway, he really doesn't like the noises the floor's making, but there's light at the end of the hallway, and that's a good enough reason for him to carefully pick his way over there, doing his best not to stay in one spot for too long just in case the floor gives way. So! Can he get the door open once he's over here?]
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It sounds like there are voices coming from inside, though. Definitely people. Sounds like two of them?]
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Your boyfriend sounds like he's in the middle of explaining something, much in the overly-patient sort of way that one would explain something to a child.
"You know I can't do anything to help you, if you don't cooperate with me. And neither of us really want that, do we?"]
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The man that sounds unfamiliar to you will actually be at least vaguely familiar in appearance, judging from the photographs your boyfriend has shown you; it looks like Barry, one of the people Wesker has mentioned knowing from when he was a member of S.T.A.R.S. The other person here is in fact Wesker; he's wearing something you've seen before, though not in any sort of regular capacity. The room itself looks like a study of some sort - it's narrow, with a desk set up against the wall and a chair pulled out in front of it; Barry is occupying the chair at the moment, while Wesker is leaning back, half-sitting on the desktop itself, his posture decidedly more casual than Barry's is.
If either of them have noticed you coming in, they don't seem aware of it; they don't seem aware of much of anything.
"What I'm asking is fairly simple, I think." Wesker's words are easy; he's toying with his sunglasses between his fingers, the motion idle. His eyes are that odd, bright shade of blue that they used to be before the virus. "Of course, it's all according to what Umbrella wants - it hardly matters if you make me happy, it all has to be to their standards. You understand, I'm sure."
"Yes, sir." Barry's voice is timid by comparison, the sort of thing that's deep and trying to sound confident but shaking just a little too much for it to be convincing.
"Good to know, because I really would hate for anything to happen to anyone. You have a lovely daughter, you know. Let's ensure she stays that way."
"Please don't- "
"Just ensure that they go down easy and I'll see to it that your family doesn't all have something truly unfortunate happen to their pretty faces. Simple. Straightforward. You know I prefer things that can play out like that, don't you?"]
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And then he actually listens to the conversation. Jaeger's free hand goes to his chest without thinking and it takes him a moment to remember to breathe.
He knows Wesker wasn't a good person in his past life. He knows, and yet hearing something like that chills him to the bone.
He doesn't move from where he's standing by the door, not yet. Do either of them have anything else to say?]
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"Be a good boy and keep Jill company for me in the meantime, won't you? She's been a nuisance lately; why don't you go let her meet Lisa? You remember her. I'm sure she'd love some company."
Barry doesn't say anything; he just shrugs Wesker's hand off and gets up, the motion abrupt. He doesn't leave by way of the same door you used to get in here, Jaeger; it seems there's another one further back in the room, hidden in the relative darkness.
And once he's gone, Wesker will just be unholstering his gun and leveling it at your face; the motion is smooth, fluid, with no hesitation behind it whatsoever.]
Of course, I can't simply let you leave that easily.
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Ah, and here I was hoping you'd remember me...
[That'd just make things too easy, wouldn't it?]
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Whether I do or not hardly matters. Not when compared to the situation at hand.
[His head tips to the side a little, gently.]
You understand.
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Ja, of course! There's no telling what I might let slip; it's not as though you know my loyalties or anything of the sort!
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[God, he sounds so fucking satisfied with himself; there's a lot of ice in his words, but there's a definite undercurrent of enjoyment underneath it. Pleasure.]
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It's not nearly as straightforward as some people make it out to be, is it?
[...This is either going to get him shot immediately or buy him some more time to come up with a better plan, and he's not sure he likes those odds. He's got nothing better though, so...]
Even your own allegiance to Umbrella isn't quite set in stone, ja?
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Umbrella... Good old Barry certainly does seem to be afraid of them, doesn't he.
[He'll be cocking that gun now, if you don't mind.]
They've been...good to me. Convenient.
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Have they really? It was my understanding that they've been... difficult to work with, to put it lightly.
[He's still managing to keep his voice light and the smile present but he has never been more certain that he's going to die.]
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[He doesn't seem to be bothered by the assertion; mildly amused by it, perhaps, but not bothered.]
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