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Description
Unoriginal

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In 2006, everything changed.

Albert Wesker was smart, ruthless, powerful- everything a man wanted to be in his lifetime. He had manipulated companies, worked for his own dreams, created new ones, and tossed out old and dying ones. He was good looking, one of the best. He was different from everyone else, having been infected with a virus that granted him superhuman strength, speed, and regenerative abilities- after he had died for fifteen minutes, of course.

But all of these traits and things that made him special... all of it shattered into nothingness that fateful night when he met with Ozwell E. Spencer, the founder of the Umbrella Corporation. He’d found him in his mansion in Europe and flew there when he got wind of his location. Expecting to surprise the man, Wesker walked in unannounced and prepared to ask only a few questions about Umbrella’s former doings.

He got answers, all right. Not the ones he was looking for, but he definitely got answers.

Wesker had been practically manufactured for Spencer’s own purposes. For Umbrella. He wasn’t special at all- just a surviving piece of history, used for records and manipulated for the selfish purposes of a frail old man at Death’s door. He hadn’t been special for having the Progenitor virus in his system. No, he had just been a lucky survivor in the entire ordeal, under perfect circumstances and hand picked to carry out the plans of another man.

The desire for answers suddenly died, as did his plans for his viruses and creating a new Umbrella.

He wanted to nearly collapse. To crush his sunglasses hiding who and what he really was and forget everything he had just heard. His entire life had been one big lie- a simple façade, a pathetic game of chess. And he had been a pawn in Spencer’s little setup the whole damn time. Wesker was shocked, appalled, disgusted…

…and livid.

Here was Spencer claiming to be the next god of the human race, and he couldn’t even stand on his own two feet. Wesker had ten times the strength of a human, the smarts of any graduate from the best schools in the world combined, and the enhanced abilities of the T-virus on his side. He was special. Different. He had things no other person in the world could ever hope to attain. The blond tyrant was better than all of the human race, and Spencer didn’t seem to grasp this knowledge.

Nothing was stopping him from murdering the old man now. There was no Redfield, no Valentine… no one was about to get in his way. All he needed to do was just a simple move.

He watched Spencer turn to him, smirking. “The right to be a god…”

In a flash, a gloved hand shot through Spencer, and the frail old man gasped, collapsing forward onto Wesker while a flash of lightning flashed outside the windows. Blood began to gather under the old man's body, creating a puddle of sorts. The blond chuckled darkly, leaning forward and whispering in his ear. “…that right is now mine.”

All plans for creating the newer and stronger Umbrella Corporation- they disappeared in the moment he was told he had been a product of mass production. One of thousands of Weskers now dead and in the ground. He wanted to show he was something so much more than a product of an old man’s failed dream, to pick up the pieces and rebuild them for his own, becoming the real new god of the human world.

Albert Wesker stared down at his maker's body, smirking.

’I will show him. I will show EVERYONE how wrong they are about me...’

Description
Unoriginal

--

In 2006, everything changed.

Albert Wesker was smart, ruthless, powerful- everything a man wanted to be in his lifetime. He had manipulated companies, worked for his own dreams, created new ones, and tossed out old and dying ones. He was good looking, one of the best. He was different from everyone else, having been infected with a virus that granted him superhuman strength, speed, and regenerative abilities- after he had died for fifteen minutes, of course.

But all of these traits and things that made him special... all of it shattered into nothingness that fateful night when he met with Ozwell E. Spencer, the founder of the Umbrella Corporation. He’d found him in his mansion in Europe and flew there when he got wind of his location. Expecting to surprise the man, Wesker walked in unannounced and prepared to ask only a few questions about Umbrella’s former doings.

He got answers, all right. Not the ones he was looking for, but he definitely got answers.

Wesker had been practically manufactured for Spencer’s own purposes. For Umbrella. He wasn’t special at all- just a surviving piece of history, used for records and manipulated for the selfish purposes of a frail old man at Death’s door. He hadn’t been special for having the Progenitor virus in his system. No, he had just been a lucky survivor in the entire ordeal, under perfect circumstances and hand picked to carry out the plans of another man.

The desire for answers suddenly died, as did his plans for his viruses and creating a new Umbrella.

He wanted to nearly collapse. To crush his sunglasses hiding who and what he really was and forget everything he had just heard. His entire life had been one big lie- a simple façade, a pathetic game of chess. And he had been a pawn in Spencer’s little setup the whole damn time. Wesker was shocked, appalled, disgusted…

…and livid.

Here was Spencer claiming to be the next god of the human race, and he couldn’t even stand on his own two feet. Wesker had ten times the strength of a human, the smarts of any graduate from the best schools in the world combined, and the enhanced abilities of the T-virus on his side. He was special. Different. He had things no other person in the world could ever hope to attain. The blond tyrant was better than all of the human race, and Spencer didn’t seem to grasp this knowledge.

Nothing was stopping him from murdering the old man now. There was no Redfield, no Valentine… no one was about to get in his way. All he needed to do was just a simple move.

He watched Spencer turn to him, smirking. “The right to be a god…”

In a flash, a gloved hand shot through Spencer, and the frail old man gasped, collapsing forward onto Wesker while a flash of lightning flashed outside the windows. Blood began to gather under the old man's body, creating a puddle of sorts. The blond chuckled darkly, leaning forward and whispering in his ear. “…that right is now mine.”

All plans for creating the newer and stronger Umbrella Corporation- they disappeared in the moment he was told he had been a product of mass production. One of thousands of Weskers now dead and in the ground. He wanted to show he was something so much more than a product of an old man’s failed dream, to pick up the pieces and rebuild them for his own, becoming the real new god of the human world.

Albert Wesker stared down at his maker's body, smirking.

’I will show him. I will show EVERYONE how wrong they are about me...’