(no subject)

[viralexchange.livejournal.com]

When; This evening.
Rating; R for violence. Extreme violence.
Characters; Albert Wesker viralexchange and Chronica throttle
Summary; Chronica finds out who Wesker really is; Wesker confronts her. The two duel it out and Wesker comes out the winner. Implied DNA taking afterwards. And look for a poly_extra post soon for more details. There is plot a-foot!
Log;

She wasn't one to particularly focus on ill fact and folklore, and that's what Chronica viewed the rumors of the fountain in the City being able to show truths to be: ill fact and folklore. However, the longer she was around that bizarre man who had taken the role of her boss in her second job, the more she was willing to make reaches to learn more about him. She didn't doubt his story about what he was; it was a matter of who he was that Chronica strove for.

She would have bothered Vash about it, since he seemed to know most everyone in the City, but he was more than busy with personal affairs. Livio's personality ruptured into that other... into Razlo, and they were all quite focused on that. It wasn't her place, and given the situation, she wasn't about to push her way in. Livio had proven to be quite the gentleman, but he wasn't in Chronica's set "domain", so to speak. Not when Vash was handling it. Though, she had found herself attempting to resonate more for Vash since following that incident, because she'd seen his post about the percocet, and she was no fool. Hopefully he would take the resonating in good gesture and actually afford himself the opportunity to regenerate.

Stupid brother.

However, Albert Wesker was perfectly set in her description of what to handle and what not to handle. Which was why she found herself standing awkwardly in her tactical work clothes (she'd learned to opt for those and not her manager clothes for Ryuichi after an unfortunate event a week prior) and staring at the water in that fountain. How was she supposed to do this?

Dropping on the ledge to lean with her chest, Chronica focused into the water in an attempt to see if that would provoke the information it was supposed to provide. After a moment, she dipped her hand into it and closed her eyes.

There were two men. One was, obviously, Albert Wesker - he was dressed from tip to toe in the usual tactical uniform with the S.T.A.R.S emblem plastered to the left shoulder. He wore a tight frown as he stood behind a set of screens. The other man was a frail looking creature dressed in a regular lab coat, a white-colored shirt, tie, and regular slacks. He had sandy blond hair and a beautiful set of bright blue eyes. However, those eyes were shaking as he watched over the monitors in front of him.

"The virus is out...we can't remain silent on this any longer? But how did the T-Virus leak? And why did it contaminate both the lab in the mansion as well as a train almost three miles away?" The smaller man spoke, his eyes turning to watch Albert. Wesker just hissed and grabbed a nearby microphone and smothered it with his palm.

"That's irrelevant; we have to make sure no knowledge of this gets out. Destroy the train. Completely." He hissed before moving his hand from the microphone. "How far away are you from the nearest branch line?"

The radio on the other end sizzled as a voice tried to break through the static. "About ten minutes to-" A scream cut the man off and soon all that could be heard was the constant drumming of bullets. Wesker's eyebrows knitted together firmly.

"What happened?"

Of course, he got no answer - all that came to him was more noises of desperation. But soon, even those stopped and the last thing that was received through the line were two solid thumps.

"..Albert," the man in the lab coat turned towards Wesker and bit his lip. "We're-"

"-going to deal with this on a personal note. It appears....Umbrella is finished." With that, he turned on his heel and began down the corridor. As he did so, the frail man sprinted from his seat. "You're..you're just going to walk away!? But our research isn't complete - we can make a more powerful virus!"

That stopped Wesker in his tracks. "The only remaining task is to collect combat data. I will lure S.T.A.R.S into the mansion, as planned." With that, he continued en route, leaving the scientist to return to the notes and the monitors. He slammed his fists upon the nearby desk and sent papers scattering in every direction. "Damnit! I...I have to make sure all evidence of this place is destroyed.."

Chronica was quick to tug her hand free with a spray of water from the speed of the pull, and her normally serious and unaffected eyes broadened just a bit at the actualization. At first, the conversation seemed to be typical of two professional men in a dangerous situation. However, by the end of the vision, it had taken a turn for the worst. Chronica was no stranger to the ways of endings being justified by means, but the concept was absolutely different. She destroyed those of her kind not willing to submit to protect human life. That vision, if true, meant that the Captain, Albert Wesker, felt it perfectly acceptable to kill for the sake of--in her opinion--already doomed research.

A hundred conclusions came to mind over this, as Chronica turned and plopped down on the edge of the fountain to think. She tapped at her lips and stared at the complex gun strapped to her thigh in a Western-style holster. She'd come to rather appreciate that position for the way she could perform a quick draw when she needed the weapon.

She didn't like him since the first day she met him. She couldn't perform an analysis. She couldn't read him, and yet nothing at all felt right. That only amplified with every time she reported for duty, and plateaued at the highest point that night in the Underground, where she met up with him when he was covered in blood and pulling a silencer from his weapon. He insisted it was an ambush, and insisted the silencer was normal. Why did he remove it, if that was something he always used? She refused to believe he had the time to screw it on when getting attacked by the vampiric creature he alleged.

Chronica lifted to her feet, ready to go. She'd go to Dr. Conrad, and seek his advice on the matter. That was her intention, anyway, until the eerie wafting sense of that man slammed into her like the proverbial ton of bricks.

"Seems even the brightest stars have their dark sides," the Tyrant purred. His arms were at his sides and he was wearing that trench coat again, save this time minus the blood. "You know, you really do irritate me, Miss Chronica - going behind my back to try to figure out who I am. Well, did you get the answer you were looking for? Did the pool give you your most profound desires? Greed is a sin, Miss Chronica and you just keep taking and taking.." His eyes flashed as he tilted his head back and smiled. "No doubt, now you will try to expose me with this...new found information. I do apologize, but I cannot let that happen.."

From a collection of crates nearby, a small RC-like device rolled out from its hiding place and flashed at the Plant for a few seconds. "Ah, I forgot to tell you about that little device, didn't I?"

Her hand swept down beside her holster, her index finger pressing against the latch there, ready to flip it up and rip the gun free at any point, her eyes focusing between the small device of technology she didn't recognize, and the man that had quickly turned into her target of investigation and subject for termination all in one after the insight of the fountain and his sudden presence.

"I don't 'expose', Wesker," she said as her eyes focused on him. That device was unnerving, and her eyes flitting to it beforehand said as much. "I rid of danger. Repercussions are not a concern. Have you been following me?"

Wesker eyed the firearm with mild distaste and sneered. "Now, it would not be wise of you to shoot me, lest you wish to infect this entire area. You would be responsible for the deaths of millions all because you're hot-headed and have come to a conclusion that is irrational." The Tyrant quickly had his own gun readied, in case she did decided to fire.

"Have I been following you? No. I haven't the time to follow you but.." He smiled again as he heard the familiar gurgle resonate behind him. "-he did."

The gurgling noise soon turned into a screech as something tore down the alleyway nearby. Pieces of litter and what-not sprung from the darkness as a large reptilian beast cantered towards both Chronica and Wesker, its yellow eyes wide and its fangs bared. Wesker only turned his gaze to the small beast as it neared and chuckled. "Seems you have an admirer, Miss Chronica. Shall I see if he wants an autograph?"

Chronica let out a small gasp, not expecting to see that of all things appear from the shadows, but her eyes soon narrowed and her gun was quickly drawn. Lines running down the barrel, grooves that would be dark and not even noticed in any other hand, flared up in a glowing soft blue as she began to channel her energies into the weapon modified directly to her hand. It wasn't a battleship, and she was no Vash when it came to shooting such basic weapons, but at least she still had the ability to amplify the weapons she held with her genetics.

If only enough to, in as quick a situation as the one she was finding herself in, to put more oomph into the blast. With one hand out for balance, she trained the weapon over and began to open fire on the creature. The sound of the bullets being hammered out of the semi-automatic weapon resonated in her ears at a deafening volume as Chronica aimed directly for the head of the creature. Her teeth gritted, and she hoped herself enough time to spin around and defend an attack from Wesker if it came, but...

The Hunter reared back as it was pummeled with the blasts only to be silenced by the critical blow to the head. The beast fell back with a wet thump, but the Tyrant didn't seem too bothered by it. Instead, he made his move to attack the Plant head on instead of waiting for the gun to recharge itself or perhaps for Chronica, herself, to recharge. He didn't want to deal with that type of wound, so he made damned sure to try to manipulate himself in a fashion that was away from the smoking barrel. Taking a step back, he let out a snarl and pushed his palm and upper body forward, careful to keep his head ducked as he did so. The "thrust punch" had worked quite well during the course of his history and he hoped it would come in hand yet again.

He was moving in just as she pulled her sight from the kill, and she saw the hit coming just in time to slide to the side and only get a connection of it to her left shoulder. A loud pop came from it and pain screamed through her body from it, and the force caused her to slide to the side. It would have knocked a normal woman down, but she was able to keep her balance by clapping her booted left foot against the ground to brace herself. There was a pause from Chronica as she felt muscles tear and give way from the blow. Under her flesh, growing warmth of internal bleeding began to spread, and she had to start breathing carefully to keep herself from going positively mindless. He was strong. Much stronger than a human; a human, even his size, hitting a human of her size wouldn't have done that sort of damage.

Regeneration could be either very painful or very pleasant, and sometimes a blur of the two. At least for her; Chronica had heard that it was a different experience for many. Fortunately for her, it was the very latter, allowing her to raise her gun again, this time at Wesker, towards his flank, to fire there and attempt to handicap him in much the same.

He should have seen it coming and he should have been a bit faster, but he had moved according to instinct and now, there was was nice-sized wound in his lower abdomen. He could feel the chilled liquid dripping down the front of his jacket and all he could do was hiss slightly. "That was a foolish mistake on your part.." He touched the wound with his gloved hand and smiled. "You do realize that you've condemned them now, correct?" He ripped his sunglasses from his eyes. "A fool would shoot someone so contagious.." With his shades in his hands, he casually crushed the frame work, splintering the metal and shattering the glass.

His eyes were ablaze and as he released the broken sunglasses, his grin grew. "I'm sorry, dear heart, but you shall be the the cause of much suffering for many people you may find dear. You are a villain in your own right." With that, he charged at her, allowing the Tyrant part of him to take over. He snarled as he got within range of her and tried to snatch up one of her wrists as his foot kicked out to try to snap back her knee-cap.

And still, Chronica didn't believe him. It was impossible for a blood virus to go airborne from blood spilled on the ground. It did mean it was imperative that she not touch it at all. Her outfit was fortunately much like her starship uniform in that everything from the neck down, and it was lined for protection from the cold and from water. A hiss of her own escaped her as he latched onto her left arm, as her right was swung out behind her to protect her grip on the pistol, and her body leant back.

One glimpse of the foot, and Chronica's teeth gritted together as, on reaction, she spun out despite the wounds in her shoulder. She was just beginning to regenerate back to having at least a mediocre amount of use in her arm before she had to do it, because the Plant absolutely refused to go down so simply. If she lost her legs, she lost her balance and would consequently lose the fight. It was disturbing how simply he brushed off that wound, but insanity knew no limits.

...said the young woman twirling and damaging her shoulder all over again as she leant around out of the spin awkwardly to swing her right arm, still clutching her weapon, right for his spine. She was using the momentum of her spinning to do so, her pain from her shoulder amplifying her need to strike him to release her and allow the regeneration to begin again.

Wesker felt the weapon collide with his back and he stumbled back a bit, releasing the Plant as he did so. His eyes were wide and his canines were bared now, showing off his impressive fangs. He turned back up towards the woman as he felt his own body begin to regenerate; he could feel the skin, the tissue, the blood - it was all beginning to come back together at a slow, yet sure, pace. But he didn't have time to rationalize anything nor did he have time to contemplate his regeneration. He could feel the monster in him taking over his brain and all he could do was let out a horrible noise that sounded something like a roar and a howl - something inhuman, something fitting for a Tyrant.

And then, he was off again, making a dart for the Plant, his fingers out like talons, going for her throat and the wrist with gun; he'd snap her wrist in two if he got it, that he could understand in his rage. And, just to get back at her for that knock to his back, he lodged a tooth in his lip, slicing it open. Then, sucking on it, he spat out a sample of his blood towards her face.

Chronica's first response was to quickly close her eyes and swing her head to the side to get her hair in her face. Blood plus the membranes of her eyes equaled sure infection, and she refused to do that. Even if Chronica wasn't wholly sure if a Plant could become infected with that virus, she wasn't about to risk a thing.

However, the distraction was well served because between that, she was also attempting to lift the blockers allowed to her talents to be lifted in order to start enhanced combative techniques against him, and was simply too distracted. Too distracted, and soon her airway was cut off with a painful blow as his hand wrapped around her neck. Her eyes flew open, and her body just barely processed it as her wrist was grasped and pain exploded in her right wrist. The wrist itself snapped in audible sound like a branch snapping in two, and she would have let out a yelp if her airway wasn't cinched tight. Her gun stayed in her hand, however, only as a result of her connection to it and for no other reason. The blonde attempted to swing a foot up, and planted against his stomach to push against his wound, and while forceful, it was nothing in comparison to before.

The Tyrant snarled as the food lodged itself into the wound, but he pressed on, his clutch growing a bit more forceful on the neck and wrist. He could feel blood gurgling up his throat from the constant pressure on his wound, but he decided against lodging it in Chronica's face. Instead, he let it bubble over his lips as he let a wicked smile flash on his face. His eyes were wild with rage and soon, he was leaning over so that is face was close with the Plant's.

"Just know I played nice, my dear. You are the one that dropped the atomic bomb, as it were. A fitting end, really. For something that should be protecting the human race, you have allowed the catalyst of their suffering to emerge. And yet, you point the finger and call me evil - call me the Devil. But, dear heart, your horns are so much bigger than mine.."

She wanted to object, to tell him that she was far more understanding of the works of viral infection than he was giving her credit for, and that simply bio-detainment via a HAZMAT team would have taken care of the problem without any sort of outbreak... but she couldn't. Her eyes were watering from the restraint, that would have surely done a human in, on her throat and she wished her left arm had the strength to reach over and gouge out his eyes. To push through them and straight through as deep as her fingers could go.

But as it was, her regeneration only allowed for the strength to clap her left hand onto the wrist clutching her throat and clasp down, as she lurched to push against his stomach moreso. Her lungs felt ready to explode, and she could feel her nose burning in threat to start bleeding as her head throbbed. Her vision was fading as well, but she continued to glare at him the best she could as she attempted to press tighter against his abdominal wound.

Releasing her throat, the Tyrant pressed his body forward; the pain was his fuel, after all, and he could feel the foot cutting deeper into the mending flesh. But it heightened his senses and it made him feel so alive that he couldn't help himself. "You're growing weak." He spat as more of his putrid blood came rolling down his skin. "Such a pity, but I do believe I shall end your suffering my dear.." With his hand now free, he made a fist and made a quick jab right for the her temple.

Her body involuntarily wrenched backwards, the brace of his holding her wrist and her foot planted by that point very literally inside his stomach, at the release of her neck and her body eagerly drew in air. And Chronica saw his blow coming, but it was through vision blinking in and out through vibrating reds and blacks, whites and grays, and there simply wasn't anything to do. The sound of the blow echoed in her skull and her eyes rolled back in her head from the shock of the hit.

Her lips allowed one more escape of air before her body simply... quit.