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punkpandapatrixk · 10 months ago

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⛩Lion’s Gate Portal to Xxx ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

Happy Lion’s Gate Portal to Xxx…! From X (infinite possibilities) to hyperspecific manifestation of things, events and people that are meant to inspire, excite and serve your Highest Intended Good! What collective do you belong to? What timeline of Humanity are you on?

Laced with the aenergy of the last Full Buck Moon in Capricorn/Aquarius (21 July), this Lion’s Gate Portal is ushering in a general sense of excitement like you’ve just graduated an important chapter of spiritual education~\`★_★`/

From here, you’re in a brand-new Reality offering brand-new sensations, experiences and opportunities. There is a mega-influx of high-vibe money, non-slavery work opportunities, spiritually-inclined connections and mutually-beneficial friendships for those who have taken it upon themselves to transcend above silly ego-driven drama default to this Matrix of misery. From here, Integrity is your Key to creating a perfect existence.

Enter the Neo Reality. Let the day begin!

SONG: Let the Day Begin by Black Rebel Motorcycle Club

DOCUPUNK: Punk: Attitude | Full Documentary | Qwest TV

deck-bottom: 5 of Swords, Gold Astrologer (Simon Forman), Priestess of Integrity

[PAC Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings] [buymeaboba]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – Opened a Whole Portal to a Perfect Existence!

‘Listen. I’ve got this dream. I never told anyone and it acquired dust. But I can’t ignore it anymore. I’ve decided not to look away from the innocence that is myself!’ – Get No Satisfaction! by Sakamoto Maaya

chapter of triumph – Page of Wands

Of all the Piles, I feel the most ‘orderly’ aenergy from you. In spite of passion and motivation, there’s a strong sense of ‘control’ and order in the way you’re creating your new Reality. This sense of order and control isn’t of the egoic control-freak variety; rather, it is a result of your having complete trust in the flow of Divine Timing.

You’ve entered this Reality where everything you’re able to perceive is nothing but a possibility. So yes, as long as you want it, it can be possible for you. You’re now in a flow state of choosing only those possibilities that serve your highest good whilst contributing something meaningful to your immediate surrounding. In essence, I think you’ve become a true spiritual master!

From this chapter onwards, your stories and events and rendezvous will serve as a mirror to reflect back how much you’ve grown as a spiritual being in a Human body. You will be serving your purpose more closely to your original Blueprint. Many of you will find yourself being a teacher, healer or guide of some sort in many of your daily interactions.

cells full of Light – Knight of Pentacles

And yet, here you are teaching and guiding others, but you’re also gaining even more new perspectives from the people you’re helping. So you’re both nourishing and inspiring and amplifying each other. The people you’re guiding and helping are truthfully also on their own way of learning how to teach and guide others beyond your scope.

So this is the kind of Neo Reality you’ve stepped into. An almost immaculate circle of good souls empowering and teaching each other. You’re actively building a more positively-oriented Reality that on a spiritual level goes far beyond what can be seen on the physical plane. This is your Soul Work, in essence.

From here, I see that money and other ‘types of abundance’ that will make Life easier on a material level will naturally trickle down your Reality in tandem with how you’re redefining your ‘sense of place’ in this new world. This new world where most of us are wired towards healing and becoming a much more joyful, psychologically-liberated versions of ourselves~

shifting straight into Xxx – 7 of Cups

There’s a sense of needing to choose your Reality. I should say, a sense of needing to choose certain elements and aspects of your Reality. At this point, you don’t have to worry about choosing wrongly. There’s practically nothing you could choose wrongly. Everything is a possibility, of which purpose is to be manifested and experienced.

Whatever happens, that’s for your highest enjoyment in this theatre of a Human Life~ Many of you will soon or probably has realised that quite nothing in this Universe is as serious as it seems. It’s all a play. This world is an illusion just like movies aren’t real. Just like video games aren’t real. We’re playing in it just for our Soul’s pure enjoyment.

The moment you become crystal clear about this is the moment you become absolutely clear about your manifesting abilities. And from there, you’re Doraemon. You can literally call forth any kind of experience or a sense of adventure by reaching into the pocket of your subconscious mind~

What’s contained in the subconscious often comes through in daydreams and fantasies, right? ;) Those are all your possibilities. You can entertain whichever you want and it’s yours!

DESIRED REALITY🔻🧡

collective dharma – Red Magus (Edward Kelly)

unmatched charisma – Priestess of Fertility

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – Held on for Dear Life, Now, You Can be Happy, Shorty~

‘I want to have more faith in myself. Someday, just like a flower… I want to offer a prayer to my future self. May you be happy.’ – Remedy by Sakamoto Maaya

chapter of triumph – King of Swords Rx

This collective is one that has had to learn to tackle the shackles of their logical minds hahah Too much logic means little to no magic! You got it? I’m reminded of this idea that ‘you can’t plan around Luck’. Luck comes to your aid when you have complete faith in your endeavour. Lady Luck loves those who are confident and courageous.

That’s been one of your biggest life lessons in terms of your spiritual evolution. At the present time, I’m getting that you’ve pretty much managed to let your logic take a backseat. Of course, it’s still there and it’s very necessary for rational reasoning! But your logic is an observer who tends to counsel you when you need to be realistic about your next steps.

At this present time, I see that you’ve managed to let your higher heart—your intuition—take the wheel of your physical fortunes. You may be seeing a lot of angel numbers and other signs of SYNK. You’re in sync with your Higher Self and team of Spirit Guides. Your faith in them—and in where you’re going—is actively opening many pockets of Luck in your current timeline!

cells full of Light – 6 of Wands Rx

Part of why you clung to so much logic before was that you lived amongst super judgemental bitches. Basically, society. Society for the most part comprises of very small minded, jealous fucks who don’t get happy when someone they know is met with fortune, right? That’s why society has a tendency to mock or underestimate those they deem ‘lucky’.

Society hates ‘lucky’ people; they instead LOVE those who struggle and suffer. I think in many ways you’ve had to deal with so much difficulty because you either let those types of mindsets affect your flow of manifestation, or, you yourself wholeheartedly believed that your manifestations and visions and goals could only be worthwhile if you crawled and worked under immense duress to get them.

That’s all in the past now. You’ve let all of that silly mindset become part of a dying paradigm. You ain’t playin’ like dat no mo. And those who can’t understand your level of chill can also die in that old paradigm. You aren’t the least bit concerned about what’s ‘normal’ anymore. From here, your Life is magick! And those who can understand you, will only find you inspirational, if not aspirational😉

shifting straight into Xxx – 7 of Wands

So there’s a sense of having ‘worked so hard’, but you understand that this is mainly your having worked so hard on shifting your internal paradigm. You held on for dear Life! Now, you’re in a completely different bandwidth of Reality. Upon finding this PAC, you may still be dealing with a feeling of always being ‘close’ to your goal. Just about there… Or, not enough effort yet… Not quite there yet…

But literally, this is just an echo of how you used to think about when and how your manifestations should come to your doorstep. Sooner than later, you’ll find yourself not caring anymore about the when or the how things are going to be presented to you. You’ll simply have the faith—the knowing—that what’s meant to be yours will never miss you.

Right now, if this is your main pile, you’re being advised to take it easy and plan little by little. Take as much time as possible to recover first from the stress of survival before you push yourself towards your goal again. From here, it’s not a warzone. It’s no longer you vs the world. From here, it’s Animal Crossing’s flower gardens LMAO Enjoy where you are. Enjoy this Reality you’ve worked hard to arrive at!

DESIRED REALITY🔻💜

collective dharma – Gold Astronomer (John Dee)

unmatched charisma – Priestess of Luck

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – Stepping Out into the Open Sky, It’s A Brand-New World of Comfort

‘Blessings flowing over me, glowing, rolling over and over. Never want to go back to the way it was before. I hear someone whisper into my ear. I turn around but find nothing there. Until I look up and see colors of love raining down on me.’ – Colors by Sakamoto Maaya

chapter of triumph – King of Cups Rx

This is the Pile that previously dealt with an insane amount of psychological drama, karma, and trauma. It’s possible that you’ve indeed been given so much trauma by this world—this disappointing, disappointing world—but the main thing I’m getting is how you’ve triumphed over so many different streams of crazy in your head. I hope that illustration makes sense to you ^^

You’ve calmed down a lot. You’re no longer slave to your intense emotions that had often caused crippling anxiety. You had a lot of fears. You were possessed by so many demons. None was your fault tho. The world had given you so many reasons to be doubtful, and that made you incredibly fearful about some certain things that people take for granted.

But dang, you’ve simplified, haven’t you? You’ve learnt to do less. You’ve learnt to expect not so crazily—from yourself and others and even the Universe. You’ve truly learnt spiritual detachment, or soon to master it. You’ve realised now that you’re only responsible for how peacefully you can live your day to day every day~♪

cells full of Light – 6 of Swords

I see that you’ve left a lot of things, people, situations and places in the past. Do you feel somewhat lonely? It’s only normal but just so you know, you’re sailing above calmer waters, and by the end of this sailing, on some new land you will be meeting your Soul Tribe, and possibly even your romantic Destined Person ^^ So this is really only temporary no matter how long you feel you’ve been sailing in this ‘isolation’ mode.

‘Feel the world around you. Feel the world surround you,’ I think my music is saying that XD (I think it’s Ciggies After Sex) Truly a lot of things have changed and that you’ve become much stronger both in faith and your conviction. You jumped a fucking timeline and you’re not even existing in the same bandwidth of frequency as those things and people that used to scare you so much.

Just like The Fool in major arcana, you’re crashing and falling into this stream leading you towards true spiritual happiness and abundance~ There is nothing from the past that can follow you because the frequencies are simply different. And when you look up you’ll see the colours of Love raining down on you ^^ All is a shower of blessings from your Higher Self, Spirit Guides, Ancestors and Soul Tribes, as well as your Destined Person ♥︎

shifting straight into Xxx – Queen of Pentacles

For all of the spiritual work that you’ve done on yourself—which really echoes throughout the ages back and forth, affecting the past and the future positively—material abundance is yours to access. Some people who don’t truly understand ‘spirituality’ may think it’s funny how spiritual work is rewarded with money and other material possessions, but I’m sure you know better that we live in a material world XD

Having an abundance of munny, of currency, is proof that you’re living peacefully in the currents of chi. There is not so much resistance now between you and the whole of the abundance of Gaia. Best you do is maintain balance so you don’t fall out of the currents, right? Yes, as long as you maintain balance, in everything that you do and think, this material abundance is always going to be yours. Just…don’t go insane like those overnight millionaires who’ve ended up bankrupt in just 2 years. YKWIM?

I’m sure you already know how to strike a sane and sensible spiritual-material balance now and that’s the reason you’ve shifted into this prosperous paradigm. I see that you’re now able to afford whatever whenever you want. Keep reminding yourself of this: ‘My money bags refill faster than I can spend.’ Being financially abundant is such a beautiful thing because when you have more, you have more to share as well ^o^/

DESIRED REALITY🔻💗

collective dharma – Gold Historian (Raphael Holinshed)

unmatched charisma – Priestess of Enchantment

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

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discoscoob · 8 months ago

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⋆⭒˚.⋆ PHANTOM

˙ ✩°˖📀⋆｡˚ Tom Ludlow x Hacker!Reader x Neo Anderson

VOLUME 001

CW: fem!reader, strong language, alcoholism, stalking

Synopsis: Veteran detective, Tom Ludlow, leads the hunt to find the hacker responsible for a cyberattack on the city’s police department with the assistance of Neo, a criminal hacker who he keeps out of jail in exchange for information. 4.0k words.

⋆｡°✩ Note: Reader has a hacker alias, like Neo, that she is referred to however this is not intended to be her real name. Although the story takes place in 1999, some creative liberties have been taken with the advancement of the technology but I tried my best to keep it realistic. I did some research but my knowledge of technology, American law enforcement protocols and hacking is limited/non-existent, so I apologise in advance if anything I’ve written is completely inaccurate. And finally, since I decided to set the story in Chicago, Tom works for the CPD rather than the LAPD. I think that’s all.

˙ ✩°˖📀⋆｡˚

CHICAGO, NOVEMBER 1999

The door chimes as you step into the refuge of the intimate coffee shop, escaping the deluge of the late autumn thunderstorm. Folding up the damp newspaper you had been sheltering under, you’re greeted warmly by the gentle aroma of freshly ground coffee and cinnamon. Beaded raindrops slide off the hem of your black leather trench coat, leaving a trail of droplets over the rustic floorboards on your way towards the counter.

Exploiting the vantage point, you subtly scope the room, scanning for the individual you have arranged to meet. Amidst the ordinary and familiar, a lone hooded figure hunched in the farthest, darkest corner catches your eye.

Cradling the steaming mug of coffee you ordered, warmth flows from the porcelain, melting the chill from your fingers as you weave through the bohemian maze of tables and chairs. Upon reaching the table occupied by the hooded man, you grab his attention by tossing your damp, tattered newspaper on the cherry-wood tabletop before sliding yourself into the chair opposite him.

“Impressive.” his low rasp flows above the bumble of chatter, the whir of the espresso machine and the clatter of the crockery, as he drums his bitten-nailed fingertips over the smudged headline of the dampened newspaper.

‘CYBERATTACK CRIPPLES CHICAGO P.D.’ it reads in bold font across the front page.

You conceal your troubled frown behind your cup of coffee, sipping slowly. Despite your best efforts to hold yourself with casual confidence, your stomach squirms with nerves as if contaminated by worms that coil and twist, leaving a weight of knots that only grows heavier with every glance over your shoulder.

When the man opposite you lowers his hood, you peek over the brim of the mug. The faint amber glow of the overhead lights casts a warm hue upon his pale face, revealing his buzzed haircut, sharp grey eyes and a cursive tattoo above his right brow that reads ‘escape.’

“I can see why you’re interested in some additional protection.” his hushed tone is laced with a knowing edge, as he leans forward, elbows resting on the tabletop, assessing you with a tilted stare.

“You got it?” you waste no time with false pleasantries, uninterested in conversation, you would rather keep this brief. Disregarding his attempt to assert control, your cool exterior remains unflinching as you nonchalantly trace your middle finger along the edge of your mug.

You catch the shift in the muscles of his cheek as he clenches his jaw and leans back into his chair. Grudgingly, he reaches into the pocket of his dark hoodie and pulls out a nondescript disc case. The clear plastic gleams under the overhead lights as he drops it on top of the newspaper with a sharp huff.

You quirk an eyebrow at his insolence, offering no more than that before your attention is snatched by the disc. Picking up the case, you turn it over in your hands and examine it with narrowed eyes.

“This is the only copy?” you double-check while opening the case with a soft click. The disc glimmers as it catches the light, momentarily illuminating your face.

“It’s custom software. No trails. No backups.” he affirms, crossing his arms over his chest.

Satisfied with his response, you scope the room once more, noting how the other patrons are too absorbed in their own lives to notice the rolled up wad of cash you slip into his waiting palm.

“Always a pleasure.” he appears pleased with the payment and stuffs the money into his pocket before he pulls his hood back over his head and leaves the table. As you take a sip from your coffee, the chime of the door echos and the draught from the storm sweeps in as he disappears into it.

˙ ✩°˖📀⋆｡˚

The glaring artificial light from the monitors reflects off the lenses of Neo’s metal frame glasses while his long, jittery fingers click furiously across his keyboard. The perpetual clacking of the keys blends with the low hum of Mezzanine by Massive Attack echoing from the stereo system through the dull and bleak apartment, drowning out the sound of the storm outside. Cables snake across the bare floor, intertwining with the wheels of the worn desk chair. Neo is hunched over his chaotic desk, littered with discarded snack wrappers, empty coffee cups and energy drinks.

Locked in the digital labyrinth, Neo navigates it with unblinking eyes, the code mirrored in his pupils is no doubt permanently scorched into his retinas. The heavy shadows under his eyes are a testament to the endless caffeine-fuelled nights he spends sitting at his computer.

A heavy, insistent knock at the door shatters Neo’s focus, tearing his gaze from the monitors with an agitated groan. The distinct knock and the late hour of the visit tell him exactly who’s at his door.

With a huff, Neo turns off his stereo and pulls himself to his feet, stretching his arms over his head to relieve the tension in his stiffened joints. A satisfied moan rolls from his lips and his black T-shirt rides up, revealing a sliver of his pale, sun-deprived skin as his bones click and pop. He pads softly towards the door on socked feet, stepping over tangled cables and discarded wrappers along the way.

Just as he expected, he opens his door to find Tom Ludlow in the dark hallway, leaning against his door frame with a stretched arm. The hardened, veteran detective invites himself inside without waiting for an invitation, the pungent scent of vodka clings to him and wafts into Neo’s dreary apartment as he enters.

“You look like shit.”

The gruff remark comes as no surprise, Tom isn’t exactly known for his sunny disposition.

“You don’t look any better.” Neo kicks his door shut with a grumble before slouching back into his desk chair, returning his attention to his monitors and diving back into the digital labyrinth. Meanwhile, the seasoned cop noses around the cluttered apartment with a disapproving frown tugging at his lips.

Tom lets his heavy body sink into the cushions as he drops onto Neo’s worn two-seater with a long, drawn out sigh of relief. It’s the first time he has had an opportunity to relax all day. He takes a moment to appreciate it.

“That might have something to do with the fact I just spent the last twelve hours dealing with a fucking cyberattack that’s got the whole damn department by the balls.” Tom rests his head down on the back of the couch and closes his eyes as he rubs his hand over his weary face.

“What’s your excuse?” he pauses, lifting his head, letting his eyes trail from Neo’s socked feet to his tousled, unwashed hair. “You’ve got all the time in the world, you could at least attempt to make yourself look half-decent, if you stepped away from that computer for two goddamn seconds…” Tom trails off, realising his frustration might verge on cruelty if he lets himself continue. Instead, he shifts his focus to the murky apartment. “You know, I’ve raided crack dens cleaner than this…”

“So the cyberattack really pissed you off, huh?” Neo turns in his desk chair without acknowledging Tom’s insolent remarks.

“Of course it fucking pissed me off! The entire network is shut down, there’s an encryption or something, I don’t know, blocking access to all the files and data. The Captain’s on my ass to solve this shit internally and find the bastard responsible before the Feds start poking their noses in with all their red tape and bureaucracy bullshit. You know, I always said, you can't rely on computers. The whole damn department is falling apart because everything's digital these days. A cyberattack can bring down an entire system. You couldn’t hack a piece of paper. No, you'd have to burn down the whole damn building or something to get rid of all the physical files.” Tom throws his head back on the couch again and stares up at the stained ceiling, while Neo discreetly rolls his eyes at Tom’s drunken rant and aversion to modern technology.

“Dude, I hate to tell you this, but you’re in way over your head. You’d be better off saving yourself the hassle and leaving this one to the Feds.” Neo advises Tom, clearly doubting his ability to uncover the hacker.

“What do you mean?” Tom leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“You’re basically looking for the Banksy of cybercrime. A ghost. They’re completely untraceable. There are entire forums full of conspiracies — people think they’re ex-CIA, others are convinced they’re not even real.” Neo’s enthusiasm as he talks about the mystic hacker is met with an unimpressed glare from Tom, who rises from the couch and stalks toward him.

“Believe me, they’re real. A real fucking pain in the ass.” Tom grumbles sourly, hands resting on his hips. “What else do you know?”

“Just that they call themself Eris.” Neo softly mumbles, looking up at Tom from behind his glasses.

“And you found out all this on your forums?” Tom narrows his eyes while vaguely gesturing towards Neo’s monitors.

“Yeah, pretty much… I’ve been following it ever since the news broke. They’re going crazy.” Neo glances over his shoulder towards his monitors before returning his focus towards Tom when he is suddenly hit by a fresh wave of realisation.

“Hold on… you knew nothing? You mean, you’ve been chasing your tails for the last twelve hours?” Neo raises an eyebrow while barely managing to stifle a laugh.

“It’s been pretty fucking hard with the entire department’s network shut down!” Tom immediately snaps defensively. “What do you think I came here for?”

“Okay, I get it, you want my help.” Neo lets out a deep sigh, gently swaying his desk chair side to side as he bounces his leg and avoids Tom’s fierce gaze. “But Eris isn’t just some run-of-the-mill script bunny, we’re talking about a master. It’ll be virtually impossible to track down their identity.”

“So you’re telling me you can’t do it?” frustration seeps into Tom’s tone as he folds his arms across his chest and leans against Neo’s desk, causing the empty coffee mugs to rattle.

“I didn’t say that.” Neo perks up and straightens himself in his desk chair as if trying to shake off the weight of his own self doubt. “Listen, I’ll try, okay? But I can’t guarantee that I’ll find anything. You’re asking me to find a ghost.”

“Even ghosts can leave traces, Neo.” Tom offers Neo a firm, encouraging pat on his shoulder before dragging himself back over to the worn two seater couch. Exhausted after a long, stressful shift and subdued by the vodka, Tom collapses onto the cushions horizontally.

˙ ✩°˖📀⋆｡˚

The faint click of keys is broken by the sharp hiss and pop of another energy drink opening as Neo scours forum after forum. The glow from the monitor is the only source of light in the room as he reads through endless streams of contradictory information and preposterous conspiracies. His attempts to reach out to fellow hackers has been predictably futile — dead ends, dismissals and wild goose chases.

When the deep repetitive rumble of snoring begins to flow through the room, Neo glances back at Tom, who is passed out cold with his arm dangling off the side of the couch. With a huff, Neo shoves his headphones on and blasts The Downward Spiral by Nine Inch Nails loud enough to drown out the sound.

Hours pass, punctuated by the clicks of his keyboard. His head feels foggy from exhaustion and the streams of meaningless data he has sifted through. But then, a pattern begins to emerge from a series of recurring orders of high-end custom encryption software from underground markets, all linked with the same digital fingerprint. A breadcrumb trail. His heartbeat quickens as he runs the information through a data-mining algorithm, leading him deeper down the rabbit hole. That’s when he finds it — an encrypted communication between Eris and a known cyber dealer.

The message is brief but reveals a meeting took place just a few hours ago at a local coffee shop, finally giving Neo a physical location to place the illusive hacker. With his pulse hammering, Neo hacks into the security cameras and pulls up the footage for the exact hour the meeting was scheduled.

Neo’s fatigued eyes scan the pixelated footage, searching for the possible suspect. His breath catches at the sight of a woman wearing a leather trench coat, walking with a confident stride. She tosses a newspaper on a table occupied by a hooded figure, before sliding into the chair opposite. Neo zooms in, every detail sends a jolt through him — her pretty face, subtle confidence, the quirk of her brow, the way her middle finger traces the rim of her coffee cup.

She’s perfect. So perfect and stunning.

Neo’s heart throbs, for once, it’s not due to the obscene amounts of caffeine in his system. A mixture of fascination and desire floods through his body and the hunt for the high-profile hacker slips to the back of his mind. He loops the footage, letting his mind drift until something in the video yanks him back to reality. He watches the man hand her a nondescript disc. After a brief inspection, she slips a thick wad of cash into his waiting palm in return.

Neo shakes his head, in an attempt to clear the haze of desire clouding his judgment. He replays the footage again, rewatching the exchange several times, until there is no doubt in his mind that she is the one he has been searching for.

Neo slumps back into his chair, defeated and elated all at once. He hadn’t expected this. Not only is she brilliant, elusive and smart but also gorgeous. It’s not fair. Staring at the frozen image on the screen, his mind races. The initial plan to assist Tom vanishes in a wave of wild impulse. Eris isn’t just another faceless criminal anymore. She is no longer a mystic ghost that exists only in the depths of endless conspiracies on hacker forums. Now, she is real, tangible and absolutely captivating. Neo knows he can’t just give her up.

“Fuck.” he groans, pulling off his glasses and burying his face in the palm of his hands with his elbows resting on the few clear spaces left on his cluttered desk. He tries to process the whirlwind of emotions flooding through his mind.

“What’s wrong?” Neo hears a faint grumble. His head snaps up, panic surging through him. He nearly gives himself whiplash with how fast he turns to look behind him. Tom, in a half-dazed state, sprawled on his stomach, his cheek pressed against the cushions and his arm dangling off the side of the couch, is just barely starting to come to his senses.

“N- Nothing… just…” Neo’s tone wavers with panic, his jittery fingers scramble to urgently close the security footage. He feels his face flush as he blurts. “I was… uh… I- I was watching porn.”

Neo freezes, his eyes widen and his face pales after those words leave his mouth without a trace of forethought as he wonders, out of all the possible excuses, why the fuck did he say that?

Still half-asleep, Tom huffs as he sits up, groaning at the throbbing ache in his skull from his hangover. He pauses, trying to process Neo’s words.

“You were… what?”

“I- I mean, no, I wasn’t—”

“Neo, are you being fucking serious?” Tom growls, his voice raising, along with his stress and frustration, his expression hardens with disbelief. “You’re telling me, instead of tracking down the hacker, like I told you to, you’ve been sitting there jacking off — while I’m right here! — like some kind of fucking creep. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“No! It’s not like that!” Neo pitches in desperation, his cheeks blazing red, realising what a freak he just made himself out to be.

“I haven’t got time for your bullshit excuses, Neo. I’ve got to get back to the station and do some actual police work.” Tom shoots up from the couch and paces, distractedly checking his pager for any updates from the department. “I should’ve known better than to trust some wannabe hacker, you can barely make it in the virtual criminal world on your damn computer, never mind the real world. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Neo jolts in his chair at the slam of the door, surprised it’s still on its hinges with the way Tom roughly swung it shut behind him after storming out. He knows Tom is stressed, frustrated, and hungover — a toxic combination — but that doesn’t soften the sting of his cruel words. They cut deep, no matter how much Neo tries to tell himself that Tom probably didn’t really mean them.

“Well done, Neo.” he mutters bitterly to himself, the sound of his own voice barely above a whisper in the now-empty room.

˙ ✩°˖📀⋆｡˚

Neo is fully aware that what he is planning to do isn’t exactly sane or rational. After Tom stormed out, he spent hours combing through more of the security footage, discovering that you frequent the coffee shop almost daily. You always settle in the little nook by the alcove window, overlooking the bustling city streets, with the same order: a coffee and panini. Now, on impulse, he has decided to visit the café himself, hoping to catch a glimpse of you in person.

Water droplets cling to his freshly showered skin, trickling down his pale frame in slow, meandering paths. A dark towel is wrapped securely around his hips, where faint tufts of dark, coiled hair peek out from beneath the terry cloth on his lower abdomen. He rifles through a haphazard pile of clothes on the floor, lifting several shirts to his nose, inhaling deeply before discarding them, searching for the freshest one.

Neo trails his sunken eyes over his reflection in the smudged mirror, a shaky breath escaping his moistened lips at the sight. His jittery fingers pat down his slicked back hair, pushing stray strands into place. The contact lenses — a change from his usual glasses — feel heavy on his tired eyes, sharpening the fuzzy edges of the world around him.

The sight of himself so neat and put together feels strange and offbeat — like a Halloween costume, if the costume was ‘Normal Guy.’

When Neo arrives at the coffee shop, he makes a sensible choice and orders decaf. He is jittery enough without the added rush of more caffeine racing through his veins. This coffeehouse isn’t his usual haunt — he tends to stick to instant coffee at home — but he can understand why you like it here. The cozy warmth and hushed ambiance even manage to unwind some of the tension coiled inside him as he settles at your usual table, the one tucked away in the nook by the alcove window. He hopes you’ll glance over to check if your favourite spot is taken — and see him. That would be enough. Then he will know you’re aware of his existence. Neo’s plan doesn’t extend much further than that for now.

The coffee, however, sits untouched as Neo anxiously taps his foot, his focus flicking between the door and the clock on the wall. His unsettled heart spasms with every chime of the door — half longing, half fretting — that it might finally be you, stepping over the threshold.

He wipes his palms on his dark jeans, feeling the contact lenses prick against his tired eyes.

Then the door chimes again.

Neo’s breath hitches. His heart leaps.

As soon as he lays his eyes upon you, the world ceases her rotation. The hushed chatter, clattering mugs and hissing steamer blur into a distant hum, drowned out by the pounding of his throbbing heart against his ribcage. You step through the door, carrying yourself with effortless confidence that, to him, seems otherworldly. There’s something magnetic about you, every cell in his body feels the tug, luring him toward you.

You haven’t noticed him. Not yet. But you will.

Suddenly, there’s too much saliva pooling in his mouth, he swallows thickly, desperately trying not to choke and make a fool of himself. His fidgety fingers twitch, reaching for his untouched coffee cup just to keep them occupied and anchor himself. He fears he might float away, like an untethered balloon, if he doesn’t hold onto something solid.

It’s an overused expression, but he truly can’t believe his eyes. You’re real, standing right there, only a few feet away. Adrenaline surges through his quivering body, sending his pulse into overdrive. His thoughts glitch and stutter, suspending him over a chasm of indecision, caught between yearning to get closer and the impulse to crawl under the table before you notice him.

Before Neo has the chance to do either, the door chimes once more.

His eyes widen at the sight of Tom following behind you.

What the hell is he doing here? What the hell is he doing with you?

His mind floods with questions that twist his anxious stomach into knots. Did Tom figure out who you are? Has he caught you already? It doesn’t look like he’s arresting you. Perhaps he is just questioning you.

Panic coils around Neo’s heart like barbed wire, his fingers tighten around the coffee cup. Neo’s eyes bounce between you and Tom, trying to piece together an explanation, but it only leaves him more confused, more anxious.

This doesn’t make any sense.

His heart hammers against his ribs, dangerously hard, as Tom leans in, speaking to you in a way that’s far too casual, far too familiar. Neo’s mind spirals. Tom doesn’t look suspicious of you — he doesn’t seem suspicious of anything. In fact, he almost seems… apologetic.

The detective's lips move with words Neo desperately wishes he could hear, he wants to know what makes you stop and listen. Neo gulps, trying to force the air trapped in his throat back down to his lungs as he watches you process Tom’s words. Whatever he said, causes the faintest smile to tug at your lips, and Neo feels an unfamiliar twist in his chest, bitter and sharp.

It only worsens when he watches a rare curve appear on Tom’s usually rigid face. Since when does Tom smile like that? It’s all because of you…

You’re… amazing. Neo knows that for certain now, you had to be to crack someone as hard as Tom. That’s why Neo is so drawn to you, your power, your allure. No one else possesses the power to soften a man like Tom. No one but you.

But what do you see in him? Jealousy coils tighter in Neo’s gut, while his admiration for you grows with every second. You’re remarkable, strong, gorgeous, untouchable. And Tom? He doesn’t deserve any of it. He doesn’t deserve your smile, your time, your company. Neo hates it.

His jaw tightens when Tom pays for your order. What do you do to him? Tom isn’t charmed by just anyone. Neo’s thoughts churn, his unsettled mind runs in circles and his grip on the coffee cup tightens as he watches, helpless, waiting for the pieces to fall into place. But the puzzle remains a mess.

Then, your eyes shift.

Neo’s heart stumbles and drops like a rock and your gazes lock. His body freezes and his tumbling heart quivers with a racing pulse. No… no, no, no…

You saw him.

Neo quickly diverts his attention, but it’s too late. That one moment, your eyes locking, that was enough. An icy shiver crawls down Neo’s spine, melting at the base as dread seeps into his veins. She caught me staring? What must she think?

Neo’s chest tightens as you lean closer to Tom, he can’t hear your words, but the way you nod subtly in his direction makes his throat go dry. You’re telling him. You told him. Panic spreads like wildfire as Neo’s eyes dart around, wondering how quickly he could bolt to the exit without making a scene, but before he can act, Tom turns. The soft smile is gone, replaced by the sharp, hardened look Neo is more familiar with.

Tom’s gaze lands directly on him. Oh fuck. Now you’re both looking at him.

˙ ✩°˖📀⋆｡˚

⋆｡°✩ Note: I’m sorry this part is very reader lite but don’t worry reader is in the next part from start to finish and I’ll introduce the third mystery keanuverse character! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it enough to come back for more! VOLUME 002 will be posted in November!

#keanu reeves #neo anderson #thomas anderson #the matrix #tom ludlow #street kings #neo x reader #neo anderson x reader #thomas anderson x reader #tom ludlow x reader #neo x reader x ludlow #neo anderson x reader x tom ludlow #my fics #my fic #keanu reeves fanfic

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craziechwiv · 8 months ago

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NNN - 3 (Silent Knight)

Jaune was scoping out a perfect beach spot on a crowded beach, hopefully to not be seen by anyone he knew that'd make him fail the challenge. Once he found a good place to relax, he let his guard down and set up a nice comfortable spot for him to chill at. Once he was laying down on a beach towel be packed however, he couldn't ignore the sudden faint footsteps making their way towards him, looking up to see the mysterious triple scooped flavor haired mute looking smugly down at him.

Jaune: Neo...

Neo: c:

Jaune: Who put you up to this. Was it Cinder? Emerald? No...Penny?! And we all thought she was so nice and bubbly.

Neo: If you stopped guessing the worst choices and try to use your head, maybe I'd tell you who.

Jaune: Alright, alright. So, you just wanted to have some fun teasing me, huh? Neo: Bingo~. But now that I'm here, I wanna have some actual fun with you~.

Jaune: W-What do you mean by that?

Neo: How bout you lotion up my back then we'll see if you hit the right spot to make me make a sound~?

Jaune was already packing up his beach stuff and was running away, as Neo just chuckled at his attempt to flee.

Jaune: SORRY, MAYBE SOME OTHER TIME WHEN I'M NOT TERRIFIED OF YOU!

Neo: Oh, that guy. He's so lucky I love to give him a head start~. Welp, time to claim my prize~!

#rwby #rwby shitpost #jaune arc #rwby neo #rwby neopolitan #rwby silent knight #silent knight #nnn #rwby nnn

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viv-hollande · 2 years ago

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Ok, so this is a post that I should have made sooner. I've been somewhat out of the loop with regards to current events and the state of discourse on this website courtesy of a pretty serious depressive episode from which I am only just now recovering. As I have emerged from this state I have been pushed towards a conclusion about this website and the state of discussion around the ongoing Israel-Gaza War that I had thus far avoided due in part to my barely possessing the energy to keep myself alive and due in part to my denial that the conclusion could be true. But that denial can no longer hold.

It has become openly apparent that the pro-Palestinian camp on this website has become popularly infused with a degree of blatant, aggressive antisemitism that I, in my naivety thought impossible in the days just after October 7. I am trying to avoid turning this into a mea culpa because that would be unproductive and feel self-serving, but I do feel an obligation to admit that I disregarded prescient warnings from Jewish users whose warnings I dismissed as over-blowing a problem that I felt was real, but more limited in scope than they made out.

I'm neither an idiot nor am I ignorant. I am well aware of the long history of antisemitism in leftist politics and in the Palestinian Liberation movement. Back at the beginning of this crisis I was prepared to see the occasional instance of antisemites using the inevitable, overwhelming Israeli retaliation as an excuse to air their hateful politics. I was prepared to see both the well-meaning but ignorant and the malicious alike sharing tweets from antisemitic pro-Palestine accounts, spreading and normalizing low-grade, subtle antisemitism. Make no mistake, this should have been condemned. Antisemitism, like all bigotries, has no 'safe' level. There is no background level of antisemitism that society should just accept as normal. But I was more focused on the inevitable cacophony of suffering that Israel would almost certainly begin meting out, and so I failed to act.

The fatal blow to my denial was the increasing prevalence of the use of quotation marks around the word "Israel" and "Israeli". The first few times I saw this, I didn't really understand what it meant. Still laboring under the belief that antisemitism was a manageable problem on the left, I was certain that most of the users on this site, well-intentioned, goodhearted, critically thinking people that they were, would have recognized and called out even disguised antisemitism before it took over a good 20-40% of all posts about the conflict. I was a damn naive fool. For those, like past me, who have not cottoned on to the meaning of the quotation marks, they have become a way to express the denial of the legitimacy or even existence of, individually or all together, the State of Israel, the Israeli people, or the right of either Jews or Israelis to identify as Israelis.

CONGRATULATIONS TUMBLR! You have successfully revived from depths of 4chan neo-Nazi boards the (((fucking echoes))).

Are you serious? Are you fuckers for real? This, right here, encapsulates the pitch-black absurdity of this whole situation and why I remained in denial for so long. Never, in a million years, would I imagine that the proudly pro-Social Justice, anti-fascist, 100% Certified SAFE-SPACE(tm) website would end up using the same language as the goddamn Nazis on 4chan. I thought this website was smarter than that. But noooo, it turns out that I was a damn naive fool.

This was where the post was originally going to end. I say my piece, hope to change a few minds, and commit myself to actually fighting antisemitism instead of sitting back and dismissing the problem. But I figure, while I'm here and while I still have the driving forces of anger and guilt pushing me along, I may as well put pen to paper and spew forth my other thoughts on the ongoing crisis. I am thus compiling a much longer post detailing my thoughts on some aspects of the current situation. [EDITED ~1:25 AM GMT, 5 Dec 2023: add link to finished post] That post will definitely be long, probably be angry, possibly wrong on some aspect of fact, and will absolutely be pretentious, preachy, self-righteous and hubristic to a positively Hellenistic degree. Brief, non-comprehensive summary so you can decide whether or not get mad at me ahead of time;

Israel does apartheid, or near enough for government work.

Israel is definitely conducting a campaign of forced displacement, possibly amounting to ethnic cleansing, but I remain unconvinced of the claim of genocide.

Hamas may or may not be a anti-colonialist revolutionary group, but it definitely is an antisemitic terrorist organization with genocidal aspirations and actively supporting them is morally indefensible. Yes, this includes the Al-Qassam Brigades.

Anti-colonial and other revolutionary movements do in fact have fundamental moral obligations and suffering oppression does not give you carte blanche to do terrorism, even when an oppressor attempts to render peaceful opposition impossible. There is a middle ground between peaceful marching and 850+ dead civilians; aim for that.

The left is just as prone to unhinged conspiracism as the right.

Verify your sources, for fuck's sake.

Use nuance. It won't kill you.

There's more, but it's a little difficult to summarize an unfinished post. If you want to argue with any of these points, go ahead, just keep in mind that a longer, more comprehensive post is in the works that might have the answer to your argument/complaint/insult/intellectual disagreement. If that post isn't up by midnight GMT on Friday, assume I forgot about it and argue away. In conclusion, antisemitism is bad, apartheid is also bad, Tumblr is a hellsite (derogatory), "From the river to the sea" is, in fact, antisemitic, seriously, stop saying it, take Jews seriously when they warn you about antisemitism instead of writing them off like a damn naive fool, and last but not least, free Palestine.

#viv rants #antisemitism #israel gaza war #israel #palestine #fuck hamas #politics #leftism #free palestine #israel palestine conflict #misinformation #here goes nothing #kicking the hornet's nest

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alexanderwales · 7 months ago

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Pitchposting: Tradwife

Alright, usually I do pitchposting when I think a concept has legs but I don't have the time or inclination to actually write it. I'm not sure about this one though.

The premise is that it's an isekai, but our protagonist is a Gen Z late-teenage girl who is deep into a neo-conservative neo-traditional mindset that she's picked up from TikTok or whatever. She gets thrust into a fantasy world with their own conservative traditional gender roles, and the story happens from there.

I guess I have to start with what appeals to me: this is a fish-out-of-water clash of cultures story that's premised on the protagonist assuming that this is what she wants. It's "weeaboo goes to Japan". That basic pitch is a classic one, though much more rare than "naïve fish-out-of-water knows nothing", and usually the narrative path is disillusionment followed by some kind of synthesis where either the world changes because of the protagonist or the protagonist realizes that the world has its own merits that are different from the naïve notions that they came in with.

And I think you certainly could tell a story where our tradwifelette protagonist was instantly disabused of the notion that tradwifery was what she was imagining, or where it's instantly shown that she doesn't and cannot fit in, that she is ill-prepared for this world she's been dreaming of, simply does not have the material and emotional skills that she needs, etc. And I think that this would be somewhat boring to me.

So what I'm pitching instead is the textured approach, one where we try to slowly pick apart our protagonist's psyche rather than flash-boiling her. We're not ripping this sweater in half, we're pulling at threads until the whole thing is undone. She gets courted (somehow), and gets married, and her husband is not abusive, and she isn't locked away, but there are expectations and she is confined in the way that she had wished to be confined.

(The central example of an aspirational tradwife wants to be transported into the world that mostly existed in 1950s adverts for kitchen appliances. It's a fantasy that's at least partly about prosperity and leisure, and having someone take care of you. I think "woman transported back to the 50s" is something that could work, but is not to my tastes for a variety of reasons. The central example of a tradwife influencer has a bunch of kids, lots of support, puts on a happy face, and hustles like hell to work on photos and videos and stuff. The difference between the influencer and the false reality the influencer is peddling is interesting, but beyond the scope of this idea.)

Anyway, I feel like there are a ton of romance novels featuring women transported back in time so they can get in romantic entanglements with brooding, muscular men, and the romance genre is so wide that there are many different types of men, and many different types of protagonists. So probably this has been done, and been done many times. But there's something that tickles me about giving our hypothetical Zoomer everything she wants and then watching the ways it makes her dissatisfied.

There are obviously some pitfalls to watch out for here, and I think if I were writing this, it would be with the intent that I get at the fantasy and what makes it appealing, then at specifically the ways in which that fantasy offers its own internal paradoxes, rather than the ways in which it's unrealistic or impossible or whatever, the external paradoxes.

And this would take a lot of research, I guess, because I have some inklings about what makes the Zoomer wannabe tradwives tick, but the point would be to deconstruct it from the inside (hard), rather than from the outside (easy).

#pitchposting

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oscconfessions · 4 months ago

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algebralien splatoon weaponmains because i’m losingit (dont even try to tag all the characters in this)

one - e-liter 4k scope. she will find you

two - snipewriter 5B. i think they would like it because of the design of the weapon mostly

three - carbon roller deco dont ask why its just the vibes

four - the most RABID inkbrush main ever. i think they target people if someone squidbags him

five - nautilus 79 i think. again, the vibes

six - octobrush nouveau

seven - goo-tuber or neo sploosh-o-matic? i thhink they’d have some goofy name weapon like that

eight - foil flingza roller idk why

nine - splattershot jr. surprisingly good at the game

ten - hero shot replica

fourteen - mint decavitator

fifteen - luna blaster

zro - reef-lux 450 deco

x - undercover brella

i. hope that i findsomeone who matches my freak with this

#confession #/bfdi

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ask-aunt-spoon · 1 hour ago

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Hey there, squidkids~! It's sure been awhile, huh?

It's been a WILD few years, but now that things have settled down again, I'm super thrilled to report that Ask Aunt Spoon is back!

Hope to see you all again in the asks, and remember to stay fresh~!

A Note from Teapot: Hey, folks - sorry for the long hiatus. It has definitely been a long few years since Splatoon 3's initial release, and I've had the pleasure of enjoying most of it even through some rough times. There have been a lot of ups and downs on my end, and I'm sure that rings true for a lot of you folks as well.

To start, I'd like to thank everyone for sticking around as long as you all have, and whether you're an old, loyal follower or new to the blog, please know that all of you are the reason why I continue AAS!. I really, truly enjoy running this blog, and even through the long hiatus I've wanted to continue and revive it, even if I had no real motivation or desire to physically draw replies.

Admittedly, I was extremely daunted by how involved some of the replies got, as extended OC cast exponentially increased the scope of both the asks and subsequent replies. This led to some long and often times complex planning and paneling that I very quickly ran out of steam trying to finish, eventually culminating in just not finishing anything at all.

Additionally, I was also unsure how to navigate the continued universe of Splatoon 3 while it was still actively updating in case I accidentally contradicted something new, so I inadvertently ended up just waiting until live content updates were over.

That being said, the blog going forward will continue as always, though I will try to better learn my limits and decrease the scope of replies as much as possible. I've moved from SAI to CSP, which has helped smooth out my workflow, and overall I feel more confident in my ability to draw quickly. The extended cast page will remain up for now, but I'll probably either pare it down or remove it completely at some point just for brevity's sake. After all, this is a Callie blog. However, if you have a tangential interest in the OC portion, feel free to shoot me a message or ask about it, and I'll direct you elsewhere.

There will be some updates made to the FAQ, as well.

As for old asks, I will probably end up just purging most of them just for a fresh start. Sorry if I missed your ask - but, if you really want it answered, feel free to ask it again!

Planned cast updates and appearances: - Marie (Knife Mom) will continue to stay, for obvious reasons - Cap'n 3 (Sunny) and Neo Agent 3 (Bee) may cameo, depending - Team Agent 4 will likely not return - Agent 8 (Toko) may cameo; her brothers will likely not - The Elites will still cameo depending on circumstance - Off the Hook may cameo depending on circumstance - Deep Cut may cameo now, depending on circumstance - Acht (dedf1sh) unlikely to cameo, sorry; not a calf1sh blog </3

TL;DR - Sorry for the long hiatus; Ask Aunt Spoon is back! I've moved to CSP, will be cutting down the cast, clearing old asks, and starting fresh. Please continue sending asks, as always!

Cheers, --Teapot

#splatoon #squid sisters #callie #aori #art #announcement

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wil-o-wispy · 1 year ago

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The Wife, the Lover, and the Bastard Son - Part 4

Chris Redfield x Fem!Reader (he'll be in the next part)

Summary: Your past comes back to haunt you in more ways than you thought possible.

Contents: Major spoilers for RE6, canon typical violence/swearing, mentions of blood being drawn, improper use of a syringe as an improvised weapon, angsty Jake content, angsty plot content, descriptions of blood and violence, dialogue heavy chapter. Reader is referred to as 'Doc' and is the wife of (dead) Albert Wesker and is a former Umbrella scientist.

a/n: Hey peeps. It's me ya boi. I regret nothing for the events that are about to unfold. Thanks for reading :)

w/c: 10.8k+

There is no feasible way out of the cell that you’re confined in. After an indiscernible amount of time being unconscious from the gas released in the specimen room, you woke up here. As far as prisons go, it’s not half bad; a spacious white chamber with a basic cot with white sheets in the middle of the room. In the corner across from it is a security camera with a red light. What makes this room different from your handful of previous kidnapping quarters, are the metal shutters to the right of the entrance to the room that takes up the entirety of the wall. Given the room you were in reminded you of chambers for infected test subjects, there was a likely chance you were being observed through the camera on the other side of the wall.

There’s a second difference as well. You woke up with the crook of your arm wrapped in gauze and a cotton swab. These people had drawn blood from you while you were knocked out. Probably to test if you were compatible for the new virus you’re sure they’re making.

All you can do is wait and see if you’re right.

You aren’t too worried about your involuntary confinement. Not yet anyway. These people evidently want you alive and in one piece. You’re not too sure if Jake would be given the same courtesy though. If he was as skilled as he said he was, you would be willing to bet he was already long gone. If that boy had any sense, he would be trying to find a radio right now to signal for help.

You don’t have to wait too long with your thoughts. A short time after, you hear white noise hum from the speaker and the familiar higher pitched male voice echoes around the chamber.

“Good day, Dr. Wesker.” The voice is the same one you heard from the thin silhouetted man when you first arrived. He speaks in a slow, deliberate tone.

“Hello.” You answer back looking directly into the camera, keeping your tone neutral.

“I understand you had a little -detour- on the way to your room.”

“I did.”

“I would encourage you not to indulge in your wanderlust again, but you strike me as the type to take that as a challenge.”

You narrow your eyes at the camera and purse your lips. You don’t want to give anything away that would confirm the man’s assumption is correct. When you continue to be silent, the man speaks again.

“Forgive me, we haven’t made a proper introduction. I am Youju, one of the head researchers for Neo Umbrella. Welcome to my facility.”

You can’t find it in you to even care who he is. It doesn’t matter in the grand scope of things. As far as you’re concerned, Umbrella (or Neo Umbrella) was still just a terrorist organization that made bioorganic weapons. You don’t care about the specifics of what that means unless it’s relevant to preventing an outbreak.

“Will you just cut to the chase?”

There’s a pause from the speaker. “Pardon?”

You sigh and cross your arms, still looking into the camera. “I’ve done this song and dance multiple times and I have no patience for the dramatics anymore. What do you want?”

Silence from the speaker. You let out an annoyed huff.

“Do you have a new virus you want to test out on me? An old one you revamped? I’ve been proposed with job offers before but I’m letting you know right now-”

“No, no miss. Your purpose here today is much more… personal.”

That can’t be good.

“So I’m here for revenge? You’re going to have to specify. Albert had a lot of enemies, and I couldn’t be bothered to keep up with them.”

“You misunderstand what I mean when I say personal.” You can hear an underlying tone of deviousness in that statement. Youju continues.

“Tell me doctor, how have I gone all these years without knowing Albert Wesker had a son?”

You stand in stunned silence. Wesker? A father? The thought makes you want to laugh in disbelief. The only thing that stops you from doing so is the confidence in Youju’s voice.

What kind of ploy is this?

Is he trying to get you to admit a secret you don’t even have? You spend the next few moments thinking over what the man had just said, when you hear him tap the mic, which results in your ears being assaulted with high pitched feedback and you reflexively covering your ears.

“I’m not a patient man, doctor. Answer me.” Youju’s words are drawn out with a mocking, sing-song voice.

You lower your hands and stare directly into the camera, making a conscious effort to keep your tone even. “We never had any kids.”

Silence falls over the chamber again. Long enough that you think Youju must have left. However, you hear his voice again, but this time you hear a smile in his words.

“… well this is quite an interesting development. I have someone I want to introduce you to. Mrs. Wesker.”

The tone in his voice clearly indicates he doesn’t believe you.

A deep metallic click sounds through the chamber before the metal shutters next to you begin to raise themselves up, groaning their whole journey to the ceiling. As they ascend, the shutters reveal a window to another room. Although surprisingly, there aren’t any Neo Umbrella personnel behind the glass. Instead, the panels reveal an identical chamber to yours, except it’s Jake on the other side of the glass sitting on the bed and leaning on his knees. The bottoms of his pants are covered in dark mud, a part of his sleeve looks scorched, and there’s a sizeable gash on his temple that had scabbed over next to his buzzed ginger hair. Blood that has long since dried had trickled down next to the large diagonal scar on the left side of his face. In other words, he’s much worse for wear than the last time you saw him. Whoever came into the room to investigate the alarm really did a number on him.

You see a discarded bundle of gauze with a slightly bloody cotton ball in Jake’s room. These people took blood from him too.

That grating voice over the loudspeaker interrupts your thoughts.

“Mr. Muller! I hope you’re finding your accommodations acceptable.”

Acceptable was a stretch, but at least your rooms had the bare necessities. You can’t say the same for your past accommodations with other organizations.

Jake shrugs and leans back, taking a look around the room. You hear his voice come from a hidden speaker near the window.

“Not bad, asshole. Feels like I’m shacking up at the Shitz Carlton.”

You would have smiled at that if that nagging sense of familiarity from earlier wasn’t still wracking your brain.

Where have I seen him before?

Youju quips back with that knowing tone over the speaker. “Even when cornered in the lion’s den, you still have something witty to bite back with. Just like your father so I’m told.”

Jake’s carefree demeanor grows more rigid; shoulders squared, clenched jaw and sharpened expression. The man’s family is a sensitive subject.

“Where are my manners? Dr. Wesker have you had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Muller?”

It was hard to tell, but you could have sworn you saw Jake perk up at hearing your dreaded last name. You stare at him a moment longer.

“Can’t say I have before today.”

“Really? Are you certain?” The way Youju says that makes it seems like he’s trying to make you doubt an obvious answer to a trivia question. You stare at Jake, and he stares back, unblinking.

You turn back towards the camera.

“I would remember the scar. I haven’t met this man.”

“Interesting. Why don’t you look closer?”

The man from the speaker obviously wants to get some sort of point across to you, so you humor him. Sighing and shifting your weight, you turn to Jake. You look past the grime, the evidence of fights lost, and modern clothes.

You look at his face, his eyes…

You stop breathing.

You thought about what Youju had said before. Albert Wesker had a son.

Your mind races with a cacophony of scrambled thoughts over the next few seconds.

How did these people figure out Wesker had a son before you did? He looks like him. How did he go this long without being discovered? It’s likely Jake’s blood is special like Albert’s, so they’d want a promising candidate for virus injections. Who is his mother?

You don’t know where it comes from in the moment, but all you can picture is a displeased Albert holding a ginger headed baby, with his nice work shirt covered in spit up while another woman takes a picture and laughs.

It starts as a giggle, but the longer you think about this scenario, the more ridiculous the thought becomes and the harder it becomes to keep your shoulders still.

“So tell me doctor, what are your thoughts?” Youju replies smugly, waiting for your response.

You can’t help it. You start laughing like an insane woman. Jake’s existence was the cherry on top of an already stressful situation. Your body is exhausted from the journey here, you’re still processing the emotional whiplash from seeing and destroying the Uroboros sample, you’re mentally and emotionally done with everything that could possibly relate to Wesker and now you find out he has a son that isn’t yours? You just find the whole situation so absurd that you can’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it.

It's clear that Youju doesn’t find your reaction amusing. His tone is cold and controlled when he speaks next. “Enlighten me Wesker, what could possibly be so funny?”

When you finally catch your breath, you look at the camera again with tears in your eyes from laughing so hard.

“This… establishment is really scraping the bottom of the barrel for bright and promising imbeciles, aren’t they?”

Silence, then the sound of a throat being cleared.

“Oh really? And why is that?”

Youju’s voice is flat. Controlled. You had struck something sensitive, and you intend to use it to your advantage to get a moment alone with Jake.

“Because this is ridiculous! Albert Wesker? A father- his father? Are we talking about the same Wesker?”

“His blood sample suggests otherwise-”

“And how do you know that exactly?”

Silence.

You let out a deranged cackle.

“I think I understand now. You found this stranger helping me in the middle of your ocean getaway, you thought he looked like Wesker, and your only plausible conclusion was that he has to be my son. So you’re comparing his DNA to mine because Wesker’s genome is impossible to find. Is that it?”

Youju struggles to stay composed under a guise of false confidence.

“Well we… any reputable institution would confirm hypotheses by… conducting their own independent tests and gathering their samples directly from the source.”

You hum and step a little closer to the camera.

“You know, Umbrella used to check their homework before going through the trouble of kidnapping persons of interest. Just goes to show that the copy is always going to be a letdown from the original.” You made sure to look straight into the camera when you say that, and it has the desired effect.

“You…I-I’ll know you’re lying one way or another soon Wesker!” Unlike before, there was no trace of confident humor. Instead, the voice spits out the words with prideful fury.

“Then by all means, do it. Waste everyone’s time. Hell, I’ll even volunteer for another blood sample when it comes back negative.”

It’s silent for a long time until the white noise from the speaker cuts out and all you can hear is the fluorescent lights above you.

You hear a muffled voice on the other side of the glass. “Hey Wesker!” Youju must have switched off the window speaker.

You let out a sharp breath through your nose. You turn to the window. Jake stands there, forearm resting on the glass above his head and observing you like a slide under a microscope. “Like I told you before, just Doc is fine.” You respond, annoyed.

You look up at the camera and see its beady red light still trained on you. You look between the camera and Jake. No use being stealthy. You walk over to the window with a determined look on your face, already in problem solving mode.

“We both know that test is going to come back negative.”

“Uh huh… and?” Jake responds, unimpressed.

“Personnel are going to come back eventually for another sample. Make it count and make it hurt although based on your current state-” You gesture to Jakes muddy and burnt clothes. “-your technique needs some work.”

Jake scowls. “My ‘technique’ is just fine.”

“Then prove me wrong.”

It doesn’t take too long for your assumption to come true. After a long stretch of time that you try to fill by pacing your room, you hear several sets of footsteps outside the room. A moment later, you see two men in lab coats accompanied by one guard armed with an electric baton and one armed with a pistol enter Jake’s room on the other side of the glass.

Jake deals with them in a similar quick and efficient fashion to what you saw before when you first met him, except his moves are much more violent and incensed. Nothing like the cool and confident rescuer you first thought him to be.

The men in lab coats gesture for Jake to roll up his sleeve. Jake complies and one of the men puts a band on his upper arm to cut off blood flow. When the other man goes to do the blood draw, Jake grabs the syringe and plunges it into the man’s eye, causing to scream in pain and stumble back. The other scientist is frozen in fear as the two guards spring into action. The guard with the baton reaches Jake first, but he’s prepared to duck under the guard’s wide swing and he easily kicks the guard’s feet out from under him in one graceful move. As soon as the guard’s body hits the floor, Jake wastes no time grabbing the back of his head and chin and forcing his neck to an unnatural angle, immediately making the guard go limp.

The other guard is yelling something in that unfamiliar language while pointing his gun at Jake, but Jake doesn’t even acknowledge it as he charges at him with full speed. The guard is only able to shoot once, barely missing his shot, before Jake unleashes a flurry of blows, his skill in hand-to-hand combat evident in the way he dodges all the guard’s attempts at defense with ease.

While Jake is busy with the other guard, the remaining scientist finally comes to his senses and begins to run out of the room. But by the time he makes it to the door of Jake’s chamber, Jake has already disarmed and shot the other guard in the head. By the time the scientist opens the door, Jake has already lined his shot up perfectly and shoots the scientist dead in his tracks, blood leaking from the bullet wound on the back of his head.

The sight in the other room is grisly, but nothing you’re not already used to from the lifestyle you’ve lived. Once the last scientist is taken care of, you knock on the window to get Jake’s attention. He turns to you, breathing heavily and ripping off the rubber armband from earlier.

“Grab all their keycards! Can’t hurt to have them just in case.”

Jake nods and grabs the keycards from all the bodies, then exits the room. Shortly after, there’s a ping from your door and it opens to reveal Jake on the other side of it.

“Let me see?” You request, briskly walking outside the room and holding out your hand for the keycards. Jake plops them in your hand, looking at you closely. You ignore it and flip through the keycards, trying to discern security level but failing because the only difference between the two are the colors; red for the scientists and black for the guards. You halve them and give one of each back to Jake, which he pockets. He’s still holding the pistol he got from the guard at his side.

“Guess we’ll find out which have higher clearance when the time comes.”

Jake is still looking at you with that analyzing expression. “So you-” Jake is interrupted by an ear piercing alarm and the room is bathed in a foreboding red light.

“Time to move!” Jake grabs your upper arm before you can protest and runs out a door and down the hallway, half dragging you behind him while you struggle to keep up with his pace. You don’t know where you’re running to and Jake doesn’t appear to know either. You both keep running until you reach a four-way hallway where the alarm isn’t as loud and the lights are normal. Jake pauses, taking a moment before deciding where to run. You take the opportunity to yank your arm back, rubbing away the sting of Jake’s harsh grip.

“Wait, why aren’t there any guards? Or people?” You say, not quite sure where to go. Maybe it’s residual memories from working at Umbrella, but seeing the nearly identical hallways so empty is setting off alarm bells in your head.

“That’s what you’re worried about right now?” Jake replies, irritated, taking a few steps to look down one of the hallways trying to decide where to go while he holds his pistol defensively, ready to fire at a moment’s notice.

“There’s no people! You don’t find that weird?”

“We’ve got bigger problems right now!” Jake snaps, looking at you with a cold stare. Not a second later, the ear-piercing alarm cries overhead and the lights flick to red.

“We’re going left.” Jake says, running down the left hallway with you tailing right behind him. As you’re running, you notice the grating on the floor.

You realize it’s like the flooring in the specimen room, and suddenly more details about this place make sense.

There’re no people around because they use the knockout gas as a security measure.

The guards wear gas masks so they don’t lose consciousness during breaches.

The alarms and lights warn employees to get to a safe place or avoid the area.

Unfortunately, you put all of this together in the middle of the hallway when the security doors at both ends light up red, rise up from the floor, and close with loud metallic clicks. You hear loud hissing from below you, and you realize with dreaded clarity that the hallway is starting to fill up with gas.

You quickly scan the hallway and see a door with a red marking on it like the one on the scientist keycard.

“Red door on your right! Move it!” You command, already running to the door, keycard in hand.

You don’t need to tell Jake twice. Jake wastes no time dashing into the suggested room once you scan the card. You follow Jake into the room right on his heels. The second you’re through the threshold of the door, you scan the keycard to close the door and engage the emergency lock, emergency protocols drilled into your head from your time at Umbrella taking over. The door beeps and hisses shut just in time to cut off the gas from invading the room you and Jake just entered. The room appears to be some kind of office with several desks around the room. The alarm on the other side of the door is barely heard in this room. You’re safe. For now.

You take a shaky and labored breath while leaning against the door, trying to get your bearings.

Too close.

Your break is quickly interrupted by an accusatory comment from Jake. “You knew him well, huh?”

You stay silent and finally look at Jake. His expression is a cocktail of anger and frustration, even as he’s trying to catch his breath. You glance at Jake’s hand by his side; he’s gripping his pistol tightly and his face is grim and cold. It doesn’t help that you’re looking at Jake with an exasperated and annoyed look.

“You of all people should know why I don’t freely give out my last name.”

You give Jake a ‘what the fuck are you doing’ look and Jake tightens his grip on his pistol as he lifts it a few inches like he’s thinking about aiming it. A few seconds pass and Jake takes a deep breath as he sheathes the pistol.

“Fair enough. But I have questions.”

You let out a crazed laugh and start to feverishly pace the room, still in disbelief at the sudden appearance of your husband’s bastard child. “I’m sure you do! I’ve sure as hell got some!” Your tone comes off as angry, but in reality you’re frustrated.

“I’m not too happy he’s my dad either lady!”

“That’s not- ugh. I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you. You’ve done nothing wrong. It’s just-” You take a breath and try to relax your shoulders, so you don’t snap at Jake again. “The B.S.A.A. and I have a deal. I tell them everything I know, and I help their scientists deal with bioterrorism. In exchange, I’m supposed to get protection and they keep me in the loop. Simple right? But then-” You stop pacing and gesture to Jake. “-I get kidnapped, again, and I find out my dead husband has a whole ass… grown… child! In their organization! That’s a pretty major development if you ask me!”

You stop pacing the room and plop down in a chair and put your head in your hands, then run your hands through your hair. What else aren’t the B.S.A.A telling you? What isn’t Chris telling you? Did he know about this? He has to. You haven’t done anything to your knowledge to warrant them keeping something this big from you. Did they think you’d not take the news well? Take it out on Jake? Leak the information out of misplaced anger for Albert being with another woman?

“I don’t care what kind of bullshit deal you’ve got with the Bioterrorism Boy Scouts. I’ve got questions and I think considering everything, I deserve some fucking answers.” Jake’s steely look from the chamber is trained directly on you.

“You-” You stop. You’re about to tell him now isn’t the time and that you both need to prioritize finding a radio to call for help and come up with an exit plan, but you don’t. You can’t deny that you want to know more about Jake. He’s rightfully demanding answers about a father he presumably never knew. You know the B.S.A.A hasn’t been forthcoming about new information to you, so they probably haven’t disclosed much to Jake. You also know they won’t be too pleased about you spilling top secret intel about Albert to his son.

“You’re right. He’s your dad, you deserve to know. You didn’t hear this from me, okay? I don’t need more reasons for B.S.A.A.’s finest to dislike me.”

Jake silently looks at you, then nods his head. “Deal.”

You nod back. “Alright. You first.”

Jake leans against the wall, looking at you with a serious expression. “What kind of man was Albert Wesker?”

You look at him, confused. “I’m assuming you already know what kind of man he was.”

“I do. I’ve heard a hell of a lot about my old man, but not from the woman who knew him best. What kind of man was he?”

“An intelligent psychopath with a god complex.” You pause. “Well... the god complex came later. But still.”

“Intelligent? That’s not what I heard.”

“What did you hear then?”

“That he was crazy and he tried to destroy the world.” Jakes voice drips with disdain.

“Crazy and intelligent aren’t mutually exclusive traits. Are you positive that these people didn’t know who you were before they tested your blood?”

Even with everything that had just happened, you still couldn’t wrap your head around why you were brought here. To your knowledge, Neo Umbrella didn’t know Jake existed before an hour ago, let alone know that he was Albert’s son. How they knew he was Albert’s son is still unclear to you since his genome is highly classified information. The man on the speaker said your purpose here was personal but didn’t give any indication that it was related to revenge. What did he mean by that? How does this all connect?

“Hundred percent. If he was like that, why’d you marry him then?” Jake’s tone is accusatory, and a scowl that eerily reminds you of Albert adorns his face.

You’re annoyed with the one-word answer and his tone, but you keep your feelings to yourself. You know Jake has complicated feelings when it comes to his father, and he’s dead. You’re the next best thing when it comes to closure. After a moment you calmly and neutrally respond to Jakes question.

“When I first met him, I thought he was a very different man. Sure, he was stoic, cold and all business at the Umbrella Labs, but with me he was romantic, charismatic, and thoughtful." You feel like Jake’s gaze is piercing into your soul, so you look away and stare at the ground instead. “Three years I thought that. Then the mansion incident happened, and everything changed for the worse.”

“Romantic? Hmph. Yeah sure…”

You frown and let out a resigned sigh, shoulders slumping in the process, and you respond in a tired tone. “Has there ever been anyone in your life that you trusted with your whole being and they ended up being someone you didn’t even recognize?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jake cross his arms and scowl become more prominent. Another sensitive subject. You move on.

“He was unfathomably good at making you believe he was someone else. He did it with me. He did it with his S.T.A.R.S. squad at R.P.D. He even did it to Umbrella. In the end, he was just a power-starved monster.”

“R.P.D? He was a cop too?”

You turn your head back towards Jake in surprise. You would have thought that Albert’s previous jobs were easy pieces of information to get ahold of, but then again, Jake may have not cared enough to know. Jake’s expression is still unreadable apart from his voice dripping with contempt as he asked that question. You keep your answer clinical and to the point. “Yeah. He was a scientific prodigy and worked at Umbrella as a researcher really young. Then one of his projects stalled and he became an Umbrella spy and worked in the U.S. Army and then became the captain of the Rescue Service at the police station. After that: bioterrorist.”

You stop and wait for any follow up questions. When Jake only continues to stare you down, you ask your next question.

“Who knows that he’s your father?”

“Couple of guys in the B.S.A.A. and a handful of government agents. Everyone else who knew is dead. What happened after the Mansion Incident? Between you two? There has to be more to that story.” Jakes expression grows darker and more serious.

The thought crosses your mind that you should lie about how you felt, but you have a feeling that you needed to be open with Jake. He deserves the truth, no matter how unpleasant the answer will be.

“I was devastated. When what was left of his team returned from that mansion, I simply didn't want to believe it. I didn't even know he worked for the R.P.D. before that day, and they’re telling me he led his team to die at a mansion in the mountains with a secret Umbrella lab I didn’t know existed? The whole thing sounded crazy." You stop and choose your next words delicately before continuing.

"You have to understand that I loved him at the time. I was in denial. I was mourning. I didn't know he survived the mansion until the Racoon City incident. He could have let me die in Racoon when everything went to shit but he didn't. Instead, he sent a mercenary after me to rescue me and kept me with him until he was killed."

Jake gives you a long look when you finish, his eyes fixed and unblinking. You can tell he’s digesting your every word as his jaw tenses and his knuckles whiten from the force of his fists clenching with his arms are still crossed.

“… so he saved you?”

His voice is icy, and there’s a dangerous edge to his tone that you’ve never heard before. Each word sounds like it’s taking great effort to force out. “Why?”

A pang of fear goes through you at his change of tone. You hit something sensitive, and you don’t even know what it is, which only makes you more nervous. “I don’t have a good answer for that.” Your voice comes out softer than you intend, but you do a good job of masking how intimidated you are by Jake in the moment. Logically, you know he’s probably not going to fly off the handle and do anything to you, but his eyes and expressions are so similar to Albert’s that it’s instinctively putting you on edge.

Unless Albert told you directly, knowing the inner workings of his mind was a challenging task even for you. You’d asked yourself that question and reflected on a possible answer countless times over the years, and each time you came to a slightly different conclusion. On the occasional day where you really missed your marriage before the Mansion Incident, you thought he may have been fond of you in some way. On days like this, your theories were a bit more realistic. You were a means to an end.

Either way, Jake’s eyes are boring into your soul as he’s waiting for you to answer his question.

“At the time, I thought it was because he loved me. But now-” You pause for a moment, desperately trying to gather your thoughts to present them in a way that won’t upset Jake further. “-I have two theories. Either he saw me as an asset with my virology knowledge and kept me close just in case, or he just saw me as something that was his. He almost always used possessives when he addressed me. My darling, my dear, my love. That kind of thing.”

Jake remains silent and his body language still has that edge to it like a cord dangerously close to snapping. You opt to ask a more neutral question.

“How long have you known about Wesker?”

“A year. So he saw you as an asset? You helped him with his plans?”

“No! Fuck no. He definitely wanted me to, but I refused every single time. I still looked at all the lab results and things the he left laying out to stay up to date on what he was planning, but I never gave him feedback.”

“If you refused, why the hell did he keep you around?” Another accusatory, but valid question. Albert wasn’t exactly the forgiving type if he didn’t get what he wanted.

“I think he thought he could wear me down or change my mind eventually. I work fast. I’m good at seeing patterns and remembering small details. My guess is that he didn’t want to get rid of me if there was the possibility of me being useful.” You catch yourself becoming slightly defensive, so you make a conscious effort to reel your emotions in before you ask Jake your question. “Where’d you grow up?”

“Edonia. If you were so against helping him, then why did you stay, huh?”

You’re starting to feel anger boil up in you.

“I was just happy to have my husband back at first! I tried leaving when I realized what he wanted to do. I really did. But by the time I took off the rose colored glasses, I’d seen too much and I was either locked up or he had someone babysitting me so I couldn’t run off. And Edonia? Really? That’s a long way from the U.S. Is that where your mom’s from?”

“Why do you care, huh?” Jake snaps at you, fire in his eyes and nostrils flaring.

You’re slightly taken aback with Jake’s combative response. “Because if anyone finds out she’s associated with Wesker in any way, she’s going to be in danger and needs protection.”

“Don’t need it. She’s dead.” Jake’s face holds no traces of relaxed cockiness like earlier. His expression has morphed into an explosive combination of wrath and pain. “And you know why? Because daddy dearest wasn’t there to pay for her medical bills. He walked out and didn’t fucking look back, yet she still acted like he was this exceptional man who could do no wrong.”

The atmosphere of the room is thick with tension. Even through Jake is a few feet away still leaning on the desk, you feel small and defenseless sitting in your office chair. You feel like the energy in the room could snap at any moment, so you keep your tone sympathetic, but firm.

“I’m sorry about your mom. But you need to believe me when I tell you that you are lucky he was never in your lives-“

“Lucky? That psychopath sent someone to a city that was tearing itself apart to save you but couldn’t send a damn check to save my mom?”

You’ve been patient throughout this whole exchange, and you were resigned to be Jake’s verbal punching bag. But suggesting Albert would have helped Jake’s mother without consequences? That’s the final straw that inevitably makes you lose your composure.

“Did you grow up feeling loved?” The question is sudden. Blurted without thinking of what could come after.

Jake’s angered expression morphs into confusion. “What?”

You know you’re playing with fire with this line of questioning, but you don’t see any other option that will be as effective. “Did your mother… tell you she loved you, make sure you had your coat before leaving the house? Hug you goodbye? Tell you bedtime stories?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“Did she?” You don’t back down. You need to make him understand.

“Yeah! She did!”

You nodded. “Good! You wouldn’t have gotten that with Albert. Far from it!”

“Oh yeah? And why do you think that Doc?”

“Is that your question?”

“Answer it.” Jake spits, anger boiling to the surface.

“Do you know anything about Project W?”

You take the silence as a no and continue.

“Albert was a product of one of Oswald Spencer’s projects, founder of Umbrella, headed by Dr. William Wesker. It was a eugenics-based plan to create a race of more intelligent, more fit more whatever superhumans. Your father was essentially raised in a lab.”

You pause to make sure Jake is following your words and keep going.

“There were hundreds of kids in this program. When they were adults, Spencer weeded out a group of thirteen including your father. All of them were given the progenitor virus whether willingly or unknowingly, and only Albert and another woman I’ve never met survived. Albert was the only one who gained superhuman abilities.”

Jake is silent for a moment, then responds, “When you say willingly or unknowingly-”

“Some of these kids didn’t know they were in the program.”

Silence.

“That is where your father came from. You want to know what kind of man he was? He was opportunistic and manipulative. I have no doubt that he would have used you as a guinea pig just like he was. He would have framed it in a way that made it look like he was doing what was best for you too. If he had stayed in your life, you would have been living in a lab waiting for him to shove a needle in your vein as a bonding activity.”

More silence. Jake’s expression is unreadable, but he doesn’t appear angry like before. His eyebrows are scrunched together and he looks at the floor, deep in thought.

“Jake?” You say, gently. He doesn’t respond.

“Jake. Please look at me.” You try again a little louder, and he turns his head to look at you, Albert’s - Jake’s - pale blue eyes look more understanding.

“Do you understand everything I just told you?”

“Yeah. I just-” Jake pauses. “I don’t know what I was expecting to hear, but it wasn’t that.”

You nod and give him a sympathetic look. “I know it doesn’t make it better, but I don’t think he knew you existed. He would have seen you as an asset and tried to find you otherwise.”

Jake doesn’t say anything, but he nods his head to let you know he heard you.

“Loving him came at a price. Be thankful for the anonymity you have.”

“What was your price?”

Everything.

“My future.” Jake looks at you with an eyebrow raised, so you continue. “Because of the relationship I had with him, it’s impossible to live a normal life. I’ve tried, but there will always be people trying to find me to recruit me or kill me because of that.” You say this off-handedly. You’ve become used to this kind of life to the point where happenings like this feel routine.

You and Jake sit in silence. Jake’s presence doesn’t emit that aura of anger anymore.

“That’s not fair to you.”

You give Jake a wry smile.

“It’s not fair that he’s your father. We can’t change the past. But we can try to make the future a bit less shitty.” You quip.

Jake chuckles a little at that comment, and his smirk finally returns.

“You’re not-” Jake stops, and you wait for him to finish, “-how I expected you to be.”

“…thanks?” You reply, not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

Jake snorts at your comment. “And uh… sorry I got heated for a minute there.”

You give Jake a dismissive wave. “Hey, it’s not the first time I’ve gotten my ass chewed out because of Wesker, and it’s not going to be the last. At least yours was warranted. You love your mom. I can’t fault you for that.”

“Appreciate it.” Jake replies, his smirk disappearing after a moment.

“I’ve got one more… personal question.” Jake looks at you, a dark intensity to his gaze.

You nod. ”Go for it. You deserve to know.”

“Do you have any children?” After a long, silent pause, Jake’s eyes lose their intensity and he gives you a small, sympathetic look.

You give Jake a sad smile. “No. No we… everything I said before about bonding activities? That’s not anecdotal. Just conjecture. Just-“ You gesture to Jake. “You.”

That I know of.

You clear your throat. “How old are you, by the way? I’m just curious-”

“You don’t need to finish that, I get it. Twenty.”

“You look older.”

“Mercenary work and a civil war will do that to ya.”

“Sorry I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay.”

You shift in your seat from the awkward turn of events and say your thoughts out loud. “Let’s see…” You do the math in your head. “That would’ve been ’92. I met him in ’95. We got married in ’97...”

“And everything with Umbrella went to shit in ’98.” Jake finishes.

You feel the side of your mouth curl into a half smile. “You’ve done your homework.”

The alarm outside the room suddenly stops, and you hear a hissing noise from the hallway outside. You look to the door, then back at Jake. “I’ll tell you more later. We gotta get moving.”

You stand up from your chair and check the panel on the door. Still red. It’s going to take a minute or two for the gas to filter out of the hallway. You look over your shoulder at Jake.

“Did you end up finding that sample by the way? Or a way to contact the Tokyo base?”

Jake frowns and checks his pistol. “No, but I have a better idea of where those things could be.”

You sigh and shake your head. “Better than nothing, I guess. Any theories?”

Jake shrugs. “Half this place used to be a military base and the other half an Umbrella lab that’s had some renovations. The old lab holds the old samples-”

“So the newer part of the lab should have the new samples and the military part should have a radio?”

Jake smirks and points at you. “If everything goes right, we’ll be outta here by sunset.”

The office door panel beeps and lights up green. You smile and slide the red card and the door swooshes open. You look back to Jake. “I like the sound of that. Let’s go.”

As you both walk back out into the hallway, you notice it’s still eerily empty. However, the security doors are still engaged at both ends of the hallway. You and Jake walk over to the door you were heading through before the lockdown. You scan the red keycard and it declines. You huff and scan the black keycard, and you hear the lock disengage and the security doors split open and return their respectful halves to the floor and ceiling. You look at the black keycard with a stern look as Jake walks though.

“Only guards can open security doors? That sounds like a shitshow waiting to happen.”

“You an expert on security now too? C’mon we’ve got a schedule to-”

Jake is cut off by a loud buzzer, followed by the security doors slamming shut so you and Jake are on opposite sides. Jake hurries up to the doors and looks at you through one of the small windows in the middle.

“What the hell? Try the card again maybe it’s a timer thing.”

You scan the black card again, but it returns an error message. You shake your head in annoyance, but then it turns into concern when you hear shouting and footsteps from the direction of the observation rooms you were held in.

“It’s giving me an error message. Try yours on that side!” You shout at Jake through the door.

You see Jake’s face as he scans the panel on his side but based on how Jake grits his teeth in frustration he’s probably not having any better luck than you. You hear shouting and footsteps growing louder. Jake notices and tries to pry open the security doors with his hands. You scan the red card again, but it also returns an error message.

“Shit! Jake, they know which cards we took and deactivated them. They’re no good!”

You throw down the cards and take a few steps back to get a better look at the hallway to find an alternate route or some structural weakness in the door arch, but you notice nothing. The sounds of guards shouting and running are getting even closer. Your only chance of getting out of here is Jake. He can’t be here when you’re ultimately discovered.

You hurry back up to one of the windows on the security door to shout at Jake. “You need to go, now!”

Jake ignores you and keeps looking for purchase on the door, but it’s too smooth to get a decent grip to pull it open.

“Jake!” You scold.

Jake pauses to look at you, scowling.

“They obviously want me alive I’ll be fine. You find that sample and radio for help. I’ll stall for as long as I can.”

Jake’s scowl on his face deepens as he tries to open the mechanical door again, but his efforts are fruitless. He finally slams a hand on the door and lets out an annoyed huff and looks back at you through the window.

“You’re sure you’ll be fine on your own?”

More yelling and bangs echo down the hall.

“More than likely, yes. Just be quick about it. I’d rather not be a lab rat if I can help it.”

Jake takes one more analyzing look at the door and gives you a curt nod, clearly not happy with the new set of circumstances.

“Don’t say anything that’ll piss em’ off more.”

“No promises, now go!”

You turn around at the sound of the opposite security door opening, and you hear Jake’s footsteps grow further and further before they disappear and are replaced with the stomping of a battalion of gas masked soldiers. A group of eight quickly block off your only exit and train their semi-automatic TMP’s on you. Seeing as you’re heavily outnumbered, you put your hands up in surrender.

As you do, a wiry man a little taller than you walks leisurely through the intimidating crowd of masked faces. He wears a suit under a pristine white lab coat and looks at you with cold eyes through a pair of square glasses.

“Where is Muller, Doctor?”

You recognize the lilting voice immediately. This is Youju. Your immediate impression is that he’s much too young to be the director of this facility. But then again, Umbrella is chock full of young prodigies. Time to buy Jake some time.

“I could care less about where he went. As I told you before, he’s not my son.”

“I see.” Youju walks a few steps past the line of guards towards you and looks at the mechanical door behind you, skeptical.

“Why stop here Dr. Wesker? Why this door?”

“Because your security system needs some work. It closed and it can’t be opened.” You reply, curtly.

“Then why didn’t you run?”

“I’ve been in enough scrapes to know when I’ve been backed into a corner.” It’s not a lie. Even though your main goal is to distract these people, you know when you’re beat. Especially when you have an overwhelming handful of guns trained on you.

Youju frowns. “You still haven’t answered my question. Where. Is. Muller?”

“I. Don’t. Know. We went our separate ways when it became convenient.” You reply condescendingly, already tired of answering Youju’s questions.

Youju narrows his eyes at you, calculating his response. “Very well then. Since you’re so keen on seeing what amenities this facility has to offer, allow me to give you a guided tour.”

“I’d rather go back to my room. I’ve had enough cardio for today.”

Youju waves his hand and the guards put their guns down, save for one who quickly positions himself behind you with his gun still aimed at your back. Youju gives you a chilling smile. “I must insist, Doctor.”

As Youju walks back through the crowd of guards, he announces one more command to the crowd of guards.

“Find the other one. Alive. Maim him if you must, but ensure he is brought to me in one piece.”

Not ten minutes later, Youju and his guard lead you deeper into the facility, seemingly with one destination in mind for your guided tour. Youju leads the way in front of you, while the soldier trails behind never once lowering his weapon. He seems to be leading you into the newly renovated parts of the lab. There are no windows into the many rooms you pass so you have no inkling of what could be going on behind closed doors, but Youju ignores all of them in favor of the main lab at the center of the facility.

He scans a white key card and a large lock disengages from the mechanism in the middle of the door, spinning until it’s completely free before the doors finally open to reveal another set of sliding doors. Youju scans the card again and enters with you and the soldier right behind him.

It's a room with several scientists checking over miscellaneous machines and monitors, as well as fridges with multiple different colored chemical substances. All of them periodically glance over their respective stations and into the observation chamber below through the window that takes up the entire expanse of the wall opposite the door. A handful of soldiers line the wall in the back of the room. Youju saunters in and stands by a monitor that flickers to show a different part of the facility every fifteen seconds or so. A microphone stands idly next to it. Youju trains his dark eyes on you, a barely noticeable sly smile on his face.

“Welcome to the inner sanctum, Doctor. I would like your thoughts on my latest and greatest project.”

You cross your arms defiantly and shift your weight with a bored expression on your face. “As I said before, I have no interest in any job you have to offer me.”

“I didn’t offer you employment. I only ask that you take a cursory look. I assure you, he will be of great interest to you.” Youju speaks in that same, know-it-all tone from when you were stuck in your quarters. Like he wants you to figure out his point.

Better yet, who’s ‘he?’

You roll your eyes and humor him.

You look over the consoles and into the chamber below. There are illuminated chambers filled with substances you don’t recognize and over a dozen machines tracking something you can’t discern from this distance. The cylindrical tank in the middle of the room is the focal point of the observation chamber. It glows with a foreboding orange light, illuminating the space in between itself and you. At first, you can’t tell what the tank holds with the light emanating from it shining in your eyes. When your eyes adjust to the light, one by one you notice features of the creature inside; you see the outline of a man. Then notice one of its arms is much longer and darker than the other. The scar tissue across its chest. Then, most devastatingly, disheveled, slicked back blonde hair.

Your heart drops and your annoyed expression shifts into something much more terrified.

“Where… that’s not…”

But it was. Behind the glass in the chamber below was the body of a mutated Albert Wesker floating in a liquid filled chamber. His chest and legs are overtaken by burnt scar tissue, but otherwise look about the same as the last time you saw him; although you don’t like to think about that series of events.

The bomber. The volcano. The helicopter that he almost pulled down into the lava with him. Any one of those scenarios could have easily ended with your death, the world ending or Uroboros in your arm. Not that the three were that different regarding the death part.

The last time you saw Wesker, he had mutated into the monster he had become on the inside. His snake eyes glowed red, black Uroboros burst from beneath his skin around his eyes, worms of Uroboros completely overtook his chest and arms, which he could stretch to great lengths, and he was altogether consumed by rage. Rage against Chris for besting him once again, rage against himself for underestimating him, and you were certain rage against you for betraying him.

You stare blankly into the chamber as the reality of the situation sets in: Youju went to great lengths to find Albert. You didn’t know how he could have found him after so long, but you knew this man had to mine through volcanic rock at best and perform an underwater excavation of a volcano at worst to exhume him. Whatever he has planned, it can only spell doom for whatever unfortunate soul falls in Albert’s wake. Your body can’t bring itself to move, so you stand frozen by the console of the observation room overlooking the chamber Albert is in.

“The union of Wesker and Uroboros is truly a remarkable miracle of nature,” Youju says smugly, relishing in your shock.

All you can do in the moment is gape at your husband in horror.

“There’s nothing natural about this.” Your voice comes out small. Rattled. Nothing like how you planned when you stepped into this room.

“Natural? That’s a matter of perspective, Doctor. We are seeing evolution in real time.” Youju is enjoying your torment, but there is a pit forming in your stomach that is screaming for you to talk sense into him. You know in your bones that this is a bad idea, but you can’t articulate it into words that will break through to the Director. You knew men like him. He won’t listen until it’s too late, but you try anyway.

“Whatever you’re planning is not worth the consequences you’re going to reap from playing God.” You still stare at Wesker’s peaceful, mutated face.

“I assure you it will be. Your husband is an incredible case study. He was medically dead when we found him, but you know as well as I do that the dead don’t tend to stay that way for long in our profession. Uroboros preserved his brain and nervous system better than any modern medical instrument you or I could have hoped to have at our disposal.” Youju explains with pride.

“Weapon, DNA, or emotional blackmail?” You reply cooly, still staring at Wesker in the chamber below.

“Whichever has the highest bidder. Although I think the value of a subject like him transcends material wealth, so I’ll hold off on an auction for now. I have more pressing plans first.”

You break your gaze from Wesker’s body in the chamber and look at Youju with a cautious expression, curious as to what he means.

“We know his brain is showing activity, but he hasn’t woken up you see. All the regular avenues for breaking comatose states have been exhausted.”

Youju turns to the chamber and puts his hand on the window thoughtfully as he speaks.

“Sure, we could harvest his DNA and easily make our investment in excavating him a drop in the bucket. As you’ve said, his DNA is one in a trillion. But it’s not just his DNA that makes him unique, it’s his mind as well. He was- is- the greatest mind manufactured by man. By Oswald Spencer himself. What I would give to speak with him! To know his thoughts on my research. To continue where Spencer was forced to stop.”

The Director looks away from Wesker and back to you, with a giddy look you know all too well. It’s a dissecting look of a scientist attempting to peel away the mystery of an unsolved problem.

“But then one of my researchers had an interesting hypothesis. This is not a regular subject so normal avenues are more than likely going to prove fruitless. Perhaps Wesker needs a familiar face as an extra incentive to chat with us. Someone who knew him much more personally than anyone else. Someone like you. We’ve already tried recordings of your voice, and they’ve yielded positive results, but not the one’s we’re looking for.”

“The saying ‘you should never meet your heroes,’ definitely applies in this case. You need to quit while you’re ahead. You’re inviting nothing but trouble by indulging this fantasy.” You warn, unable to wipe the look of barely contained terror on your face.

Youju tilts his head and gives you a mocking pout.

“Awww… what’s wrong Dr. Wesker? I thought this would be a happy reunion for you. After all, you survived him. He respected your intellect. It’s not every day that a genius offers his lover a place beside him in a new world. And don’t deny it. I’ve seen the footage of him offering you Uroboros on multiple occasions. I’m not a betting man, but I’d say those weren’t the only times he tried to convince you.”

“Director, you need to stop-”

“Not until I get what I want.” Youju’s gaze turns cold and he flips a switch on the console in front of you both. A red light above it switches to green. The guard behind you raises his gun to your head. Youju turns his face towards the microphone but keeps his eyes on you.

“Albert Wesker, you have a visitor. A personal visitor. Go ahead and say hello my dear.”

You avoid looking into the chamber and keep your mouth shut while staring down Youju. You would rather die than awaken that monster.

“Your wife is here to see you Dr. Wesker. Mrs. Doctor Wesker, if you know what’s good for you, please speak into the microphone.” The tone the Director uses reminds you of a car salesman; sleazy and said with a gritted smile. Attempting to get you to bend to his will no matter the cost if it gets you to sign the metaphorical dotted line.

When you keep your mouth shut, Youju motions to the guard behind you and you feel the cold steel of the muzzle of the gun on the back of your head. Your breath becomes unsteady, but you stay silent. He needs you. He wouldn’t kill you so quickly when he needs you. You’re sure of it.

“You know I’m not a patient man dear. Speak, or I will make you.” Youju spits out the warning, his patience already wearing thin.

You clench your jaw and stay silent. You fully intend to stay quiet, even though the urge to call Youju a dumb motherfucker is strong. You see a flicker on one of the cameras on Youju’s monitor. A figure. You weren’t going to pay it any mind, but even out of the corner of your eye you recognize the large scar on the side of Jake’s face.

Youju lets out an annoyed huff at your continued silence, currently unaware of Jake’s presence. “I wanted to avoid making this messy, but it seems you’ve left me with no other option.”

Youju turns around and starts to bend down towards a drawer below the monitor. You panic. Jake is your only hope in getting the B.S.A.A. here. You can’t let his stealth go to waste.

“Albert!” You spit out the name without thinking. You already feel sick to your stomach at your choice of action, but it has its intended effect immediately. Youju snaps his attention away from the monitor’s direction and back to you, then back to the chamber, then to a monitor off to the side that you now realize is displaying brainwave activity. His brainwave activity. You hadn’t noticed it before because the brainwaves were barely perceptible, only small mole hills on a nearly straight line. Now, like a rising tide, the red wave on the monitor grows in intensity along with your heartbeat.

Youju stares at the monitor with you in awe, then turns his attention to the chamber while speaking to you. “Go on. Tell him to wake up.”

“Albert dear?” You pause to take a shallow breath of air. The red wave rises higher on the monitor. “I need you to wake up.”

The more the red wave rises, the more animated the other scientists in the room become. Youju most of all. Everyone buzzes with excitement over their machines and data displaying on the screens, but all you can do is stare at Wesker in the chamber with a lump in your throat.

You have an idea on how to get the upper hand. It’s stupid, suicidal, and against everything your brain is telling you not to do, but if it works it’s an almost guaranteed way for these people to lock you in your room again until the B.S.A.A. can get here with proper reinforcements.

“Albert help me they have a gun to my head!”

Almost immediately, beeping sounds emanate from each and every machine in the room. One by one, every piece of machinery has warning lights on their displays and nervous chattering erupts from the scientists. The red wave on the brainwave monitor devolves into jittery valleys and peaks. You see Wesker in his water chamber twitching, and his peaceful face morph into an angered scowl that you know all too well.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Youju scolds as he switches off the microphone. He grabs your shoulder in a tight grip and walks you back closer to the door away from the window seemingly the only one not concerned with the sudden uptick in activity on the monitors and more peeved at your little stunt.

“That’s enough from you for now Doctor.” He turns his attention to the guard behind you. “Take her back to-”

Youju’s command is interrupted by the sound of glass cracking, a rush of water and metal screeching in the chamber below. Youju’s eyes grow wide and he immediately rushes back over to the window. He turns his head to say something, but before he’s able to, a pipe breaks through the glass of the observation chamber and into Youju’s skull with so much force that blood splatters on you from across the room and you stumble to the floor in your shock.

All hell breaks loose. Some scientists scream, others duck and cover, a handful try and fail to open the door to the hallway, the soldier leaves your side and open fires on Wesker in the chamber along with the other ones in the room.

You can’t seem to escape from the bloodshed. No matter where you turn, more blood splashes across your clothes but you manage to keep your escape in mind: grab Youju’s white keycard to get out of the room. You do your best to block out the grisly sight of Youju’s head as you army crawl across the floor. The white keycard, now stained crimson in some places, hangs precariously from his belt. A black and blonde blur dives into the room from the chamber and the screams grow louder and more frightened. You grab the keycard and you crawl behind a large cabinet that got overturned in the chaos in the corner of the room and make yourself as small as possible by hugging your knees to your chest. You clutch the keycard for dear life.

Meanwhile, in the background, you hear Wesker spewing insults as he tears through the room.

“Ignorant cretins! Worthless, self-righteous chaff! Inferior good for nothing fools!”

Something in Wesker’s voice puts you on edge, and it has nothing to do with the fact he’s seething with rage or leaving a trail of blood and viscera and broken machinery in his wake. You can’t quite describe it, other than that it sounds wrong. The voice is Wesker’s, but the tone and intonation are just… off. Your Wesker spoke in a much sharper and eloquent manner. This voice is direct and garbled in some places.

In the moment, you don’t know which voice you’d prefer. You don’t have time to think on it when you feel a presence behind you. It’s only now that you realize the screams and cries of pain have gone silent. Your blood runs cold when you hear a familiar, yet unfamiliar voice in your ear that makes the hairs on your neck stand up.

“My dear? Oh, how I’ve missed you my sweet…”

You freeze. His tone is uncannily gentle. He’s so close, you can feel Wesker’s breath on your ear and neck. Everything in your body is screaming at you to run, but it’s like Wesker’s words have you under a paralytic spell.

“How dare they touch what’s not theirs…”

A wet, slimy and black tendril slowly makes its way into the corner of your vision and gingerly tucks a flyaway hair behind your ear. You can’t bring yourself to move and you heart feels like it's about to burst out of your chest it's beating so fast.

You sense Wesker move his head closer to yours until you can feel the damp heat of him over your shoulder. Glass breaks on the other side of the room and he whips his head towards the sound. There’s one last scientist left. She’s trying to climb into the observation chamber, but she stepped on a piece of glass and now she’s gaping at Wesker in fear.

Wesker attacks her with the bloodlust of a wild animal, plunging his Uroboros arm into her chest and not stopping his assault until it reveals itself again when it pokes out through her mouth. She doesn’t even have a chance to scream. Only gurgle sounds of pain.

The grisly sight finally breaks the spell, and you bolt to the sliding doors and run the second the door registers Youju’s keycard.

You don’t stop when you hear Albert calling your name behind you.

You don’t stop when you see other guards and scientists coming out into the hallway to observe what caused such deafening, monstrous noises.

You don’t stop when you hear more screaming and gunfire erupting behind you.

You have no destination in mind when the hallways become unrecognizable.

The only thing consuming your thoughts is the fact that your psychopathic husband is alive, and that you’ve doomed the world because you destroyed the only Uroboros sample in existence to stop him in a misguided attempt to save it.

a/n 2: How's that for angst? More juiciness in the next part :)

If you've made it this far THANK YOU and sorry for this part being long I thought it would ruin the flow to split it up into two parts.

Tag List: @killerwendigo

AO3 Link for this part.

#resident evil fanfiction #chris redfield x reader #but not in this part (again) because MORE PLOT #no beta we die like men #albert wesker #no use of y/n #angst #chris redfield #jake muller #resident evil #resident evil 6 #resident evil 6 spoilers #The Wife the Lover and the Bastard Son #resident evil 5

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