[OPEN] Prick your fingers, it is done, the moon has now eclipsed the sun

[manufactured]

WHO: Albert Wesker (eventually) and whomever decides to join him (presumably you!)
WHERE: Dreamscapes.
WHEN: Slightly backdated to 8/24.
WHAT: Dreamdiving.
WARNINGS: Medical experimentation, brainwashing, child abuse, violence, body horror, depictions of self-harm, a general blanket warning that Wesker has been through Some Shit and as such this is probably going to suck on several levels.

[It's cold.

It isn't the familiar drop in temperature that might come from the weather, but a sterile, artificial chill, the sort associated with medical work - hospitals and laboratories and other places that bring with them a sharp, chemical smell and an unpleasant sense that you don't really want to be there.

Of course, the metal table against your back probably isn't doing much to keep you warm, either.

Trying to sit up will be a bit of a problem, given the heavy restraints locked around your wrists and ankles, your hips and your upper body; they're a combination of metal and leather, old-fashioned and imposing, clearly designed to restrain something very, very powerful, and they're keeping you from going very far. You can look around enough to tell that where you are is...probably not somewhere you want to stay for long - it is, in fact, a laboratory of some sort, full of instruments and vials and jars of things that don't look very nice, the metal walls giving way somewhere just on the edges of your line of sight, turning into something else - a sort of open entrance to what looks like a cave of some sort. Either way, it'll probably take you somewhere that isn't here if you follow it. Tipping your head back will show another potential exit to the area - a metal door in the wall near all the instruments and materials.

Of course, you can't really utilize either route if you're bound down, now, can you? You should probably work on figuring out what you're going to do about that, first.]

Comments

[manufactured]

[It's less a proper file and more a folder containing a few photographs in it; it's a bunch of Wesker's pictures that he's shown you, depicting the pictures of the members of S.T.A.R.S. - the individual pictures, the group shot at the airfield. The security photo and the Tricell pictures of Jill are absent; they're all S.T.A.R.S.-era pictures.

When you open it, the pictures will stay put a little more easily than something else that seems to slide out of it, clattering to the floor at your feet. Sounds like plastic, it didn't break or anything.]

[scythegun]

[Oh, he recognizes these. It's a bit strange that they're here... But more importantly, what was that thing that fell on the ground? Was it another card key?]

[manufactured]

[It was! Another black one with the Umbrella logo on it.]

[scythegun]

[Oh boy, he's gonna have so many of these... Is there anything visibly different about this one or do they just both look the same?]

[manufactured]

[They both look the same.]

[scythegun]

[Huh... Well, he'll hold onto both of them, just to be safe!

Moving on to the journal! What's in here?]

[manufactured]

[Entries written in what looks like your boyfriend's handwriting, actually. The first one looks like this.]

[scythegun]

[Ah, that's... Unnerving, really. Has Wesker already received this journal...?

He could keep going through the entries, but it feels like an invasion of privacy. He'll flip through it just to see if there's anything stuck in the pages or if any of them are torn or missing or anything of the sort, but he won't read any further (unless something really sticks out, then maybe he'll read it).]

[manufactured]

[It all seems to be entries like that, really; some of them seem blank or not complete, but generally it's all just text with no missing or torn pages, and nothing shoved in it.]

[scythegun]

[Hmm, okay! He doesn't really have a way to take this with him unless he wants to carry it, and since he needs both hands for his weapon, he's not going to do that. Is there anything else to note about this room or should he head for the stairs?]

[manufactured]

[You're free to move toward the stairs!

The stairwell is dark and narrow, leading up to a door with a mechanical lock to the side of it - the sort of lock that takes a pair of card keys to open, from the look of it, seeing as there are two different slots for them to be inserted in. The door itself seems sturdy, but the sound of wind can be heard beyond it - it seems as though it's leading you outside, most likely.]

[scythegun]

[Anything besides the sound of wind? He's not sure he likes that, but if there's nothing else, he'll insert those card keys and... hope they're the right ones. If he has to backtrack to find a different card key, he's gonna be mad!!]

[manufactured]

[Don't worry, there aren't any foreboding noises, and the door will open with the card keys you've got because how much of an asshole do I look like.

That said, though, the door will open into another stone stairwell that seems to wrap around the outside edge of the building you've been in; it looks like an elaborate stone manor from the outside, and the staircase in front of you will lead you up toward a balcony, which has an open door leading back inside just beyond it.]

[scythegun]

[listen i wouldn't be surprised

Anyway, he'll follow the staircase, and privately wonder who the hell designed this place. Why is it like this. Who does this. He'll pause once he gets to the open door to check it out and listen for anything strange before just entering - what's going on here?]

[manufactured]

[It looks like it leads you into a long hallway, leading you toward another bend in the path; the walls, however, look like they were recently smeared with blood of some sort - like people were thrown into them, like people may have been shot or stabbed in this area at one point.

Once again, none of it looks immediate, but it does look recent.

The hallway itself will likely seem...familiar to you after a while, however. Like something you've seen before.

Maybe in October.]

[scythegun]

[Ah, this does look familiar, doesn't it... That gets him to hurry. He's still paying close attention to any unusual sounds, but he'll keep moving.]

[manufactured]

[You'll eventually find that door you've entered in the past, the one where you probably believe you know what lies behind it - the large library where Spencer was talking to Wesker, dark words that no one really wants to hear echoing off behind a backdrop of high windows revealing a violent windstorm happening behind it.

This time there's no sound coming from inside the room; there's dim light emanating from around the closed door, but no sound.

Do you enter?]

[scythegun]

[Yes, of course he does. His grip is tight on his weapon in case he needs it; the silence has put him on edge. Wesker should be in here talking to Spencer, right? But if there's no sound... maybe everything's already over. He has no way of knowing until he's inside.]

[manufactured]

[It isn't over.

The first thing that's likely noticeable is that the wheelchair is gone, having been replaced by something less purposeful, a high-backed chair set up atop those couple of steps leading up toward the center of the room. There are still two people in the room, however; Spencer is present, not seated or bound down by any sort of medical apparatus - he still looks old but he looks like a good amount of his health has been restored, and he's standing to the right of the chair itself, his left hand resting on the shoulder of the person seated there.

And the person he's got his hand on is Wesker, because of course it's Wesker; he's dressed all in black, in the leather and the long coat that he wore that night he tried to unleash Uroboros into the world, and he's got his legs crossed and his hands folded in his lap and he's sitting very, very still, and even though he's got those dark glasses on, covering his eyes, it seems obvious that he isn't really seeing very much. He doesn't respond to your entrance, and even if you can't see his eyes, his gaze seems very solidly focused on the three inches of dead space in front of his face.

The wind picks up outside.

Spencer tips his head at you. He doesn't take his hand off Wesker's shoulder. In the end, he's the one who speaks.]

Good of you to join us.

[scythegun]

[He had figured for several different scenarios, but this certainly isn't one of them. For a moment he's just confused, but that quickly gives way to that same raw, untapped anger from earlier.

Spencer's done something to Wesker. Hell if he knows what, but this has to be his doing. He nearly asks, he nearly lets himself lose his composure and as good as it would feel to just be upset about all of this, he's got people relying on him and he can't afford to slip up now.

So he takes a moment to breathe and settle himself before speaking up.]

You'll have to forgive me for the delay, there was quite a lot to see on the way here!

[He's managing to keep his voice light and he's even smiling, but it's not exactly a pleasant expression.]

[manufactured]

I've always appreciated thorough people. People who ensure that they're doing the best they can, even if their best isn't good enough.

[Wesker still isn't moving or responding.]

[scythegun]

[He wants to snap, but eventually he settles on ignoring the jab.]

What did you do to them? Albert and the boy.

[manufactured]

Albert is fine. If anything, he's better than he was. He does have his life's work to carry out, after all... He'll be able to focus on it a bit more strongly now. He's gotten...distracted, nowadays.

[scythegun]

Your life's work. Not his.

[He can't manage to hold the anger back any longer and that's snapped out before he can stop himself.]

How did you do it? How did you get him to... "focus"?

[manufactured]

[Spencer laughs a bit at that, though the sound is quiet and thin.]

Our work is one and the same - or did he never explain to you what he was trying to do...?

[His grip tightens against Wesker's shoulder; he doesn't seem interested in answering that second question.]