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The Price of Perfection

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𝐈 - 𝐀 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

He is three years old when they arrive at the house.
Black-clad and serious-looking, despite being intelligent for his age he knows not what to make of them. There is a faint curiosity lacing the far-corners of his infant mind, while he looks on to the adults surrounding him, unable to understand why the woman is fidgeting with a handkerchief, or why the man next to her puts an arm around her.

A while back she used to pick him up constantly, carrying him around or letting him sit on her lap. Then one day the phone rang, and after that, she barely ever looked at him.
When she did, she’d often start to cry, so the boy soon assumed, without further context to explain the situation to him, his presence somehow was the cause of it.

He, on the other hand, hardly ever cried - even when he fell over and hit the floor.
The man seemed to be proud of that, so he continued, best as he could, to remain in a way that would grant him positive attention.

Now they don’t look at him at all.
The strangers hand over a large stack of green paper, then they tell him to come along with them.

No one carries him anymore.

𝐈𝐈 - 𝐀 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐲

They give him a name.
It’s not the name the woman called him before, but it is his now.
It feels foreign, almost uncomfortable, like shoes that are too big, or clothes that fit too tight - but they say it is special, an honor.
He doesn’t know what that means.

They call him Albert Wesker.

𝐈𝐈𝐈 - 𝐀 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

He just turned five when they announce he would be allowed to join classes.
It is a privilege, the next step on his path to greatness, they say. And he has promise, they say.
It also means there won’t be as many syringes for a while.
Or so they say.

Many children came and went in those two years.
Sometimes he sees what looks like sleeping bodies under white, large blankets being carried out on stretchers. The day after, usually a kid is missing.

He doesn’t know what death means, but he feels nauseous thinking about lying under such a blanket, being carried away.

No one has carried him in years.

He wants to keep it that way.

𝐈𝐕 - 𝐚 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

At age ten, he has forgotten he ever lived anywhere else.
It seems to be unimportant anyway.
His grades surpass most of the other children, some of which become sick after a while still. Few disappear, just like they did years ago.

He got used to the stretchers, the blankets.
But he also is more assured than ever that he will never end up like this.

He is better than that. He is perfect.

The years passing after his eleventh birthday only solidify this belief.
Along with regular visits of a man that seems to observe him closely.

They don’t talk much, if at all, but something inside of him feels calmer when the man is around.
He introduces himself as Sir Oswald E. Spencer.

When he looks approvingly at him, Albert Wesker feels accomplished.

As if to prove his worth to the man, he starts working on his doctorate in virology when he is only fifteen.
Soon after, the company financing his schooling headhunts him and he is enlisted in their program.

𝐕 

Discipline.

Obedience.

Unity.

𝐕𝐈 - 𝐀 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲

When he is seventeen, Albert Wesker makes a friend.
At least he thinks sitting next to each other and being able to talk about the same things, eating lunch together and playing chess in the evenings is what makes someone a friend.
He wouldn’t know.

His name is William.

He is not like the kids from the other place. The ones that all had the same last name as him. The ones whose faces he can’t remember.

William is clever, someone that challenges him, and debating with him is fun.
At least he thinks talking endlessly about genetics, biology and stratagem is supposed to be what fun is.
He wouldn’t know.

William laughs a lot, and when he does, his eyes crinkle, and his teeth show.
Albert Wesker doesn’t understand why this is considered unthreatening, when animals use this same grimacing of the face when they want to impose their opponents, instilling fear in them.
People at the Training School say he has shark eyes. Cold and scary. Emotionless.

William jokingly suggests he should just wear sunglasses.

The next day, Albert Wesker decides to buy a pair.

No one will see his eyes for a long time after that.

𝐕𝐈 - 𝐀 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

A year later, William doesn’t laugh as much anymore.
They don’t talk much, either.

Dr. Marcus assigned them each a task, and now they compete for his attention and approval.

Wesker knows he is better than William.
Better than anyone.
No chess game and no toothy laugh is worth losing his standing.

He doesn’t need any of that when he can have an outstanding career.
Or so Dr. Marcus says.

Wesker wonders if what people call hate and love are maybe one and the same.
Does that make love and violence the same as well?

He follows instructions, completing his goal.
He refuses to fail.

He will not end up beneath a white blanket.

𝐕𝐈𝐈 - 𝐀 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞

A decade later, Wesker has seen more white blankets than he can ever count.
More bodies.

He is used to the smell of death wafting through the Arklay Laboratory by now.
He exchanged any perceived weakness for opportunities along his way.

Dr. Marcus is dead.
Sometimes he wonders if someone carried him on a stretcher, underneath a blanket.

Most people he sees passing nowadays become something different, unworthy of even the white sheets.

William is a rival now, working in his own laboratory.

When Sir Spencer decides to give his attention to William’s work, Wesker leaves.

He doesn’t know why the knot in his stomach grows ever-tighter the farther he moves away from everything he knew for most of his life, but he is determined.

No one will look down on him ever again.

𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈 - 𝐀 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

His smile was almost as bright as William’s once was, painting a glow onto his features.
Charming and boyish, but… warm.

Wesker immediately finds himself intrigued by everything about him.
The quick wit. The effortlessness with which he joined their team.
How soft his hair looks when the afternoon sun sets through the window.

He has to have him.
As ravenous and starved like an animal forgotten in a cage for too long, he craves to consume him, for it feels like only then will he be complete.

For him he will take off his shades, show his eyes.
He wants to see, and be seen by him.

And there are arms, for the first time in uncounted years, that will hold him.

His name is Chris Redfield.

𝐈𝐗 - 𝐀 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

Hatred.
Searing.
Consuming.
Burning him from the inside out.

His flesh tearing, the virus devouring him.
It had been eating away at his mind for years now, and finally he can feel himself slip.

Into what, he doesn’t know.
Godhood?
Perfection?
Is this what Sir Spencer had planned for him? Is this his ascension?

And in his way - he .
The one who once made him soft, made him weak .

No longer.

He is Albert Wesker.
He is a God.

He will not be carried away on a stretcher, covered in a white blanket.

𝐗 - 𝐀 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡

Molten fire consumes him.
He can see the weapons approach him from above.
He can feel how his body is falling apart.

Not a God.
No Ascension.

This is death.

And there will be nothing left of him to be covered with a white blanket…

⸻ ⨯ ⸻