A God Among Men

[wesker]

The burning heat was rising up his body, ripping at his flesh, melting it clean off even as it tried to regenerate. The lava was pulling him down further, he was sinking into the molten goo, but no, not now, it couldn't end like this, rage consumed him, fueling his last act, with all his power he lashed out with his tendril like hand, its digits reduced to a black mass, latching on to the cretin's helicopter, set to drag them down with him. If they would deny him his dreams then at least he could destroy those that would stop him. The prospects of Jill and Chris ending beside him caused a slow smirk to rise, pain be damned.
Of course, he should have known that they would be prepared, Jill would not let her captor escape his final judgement, her only vengeance brought swiftly upon him, his creation lashing out. The rockets burst against what flesh remained and instead of screaming or wailing as many would, he accepted his fate, neither pleased nor vengeful, this was a good end, a finality he could not have forseen, but not something that was unpredictable.
Closing his glowing red eyes he let the cold, liquid wash over his....
Cold?
This wasn't right, his eyes shot back open and be stared into vast blue waters. Bubbles floated from his lips, he would need to surface, his lungs were scarred and pitted, hey couldn't be holding much oxygen in them, but he could feel his insides healing, slowly. Using whatever remained of his arms to clamber through the water he broke the surface in just enough time to gulp a much needed breath, water spluttering from his mouth as he struggled to live. The light seared his sensitive eyes making him hiss. His swimming was sloppy and ineffecient, but soon muscle and flesh began to cover his bones and he was able to pull his deformed body through the water to the not too distant land.
A dock, Wesker gripped it tight and yanked his top half onto the wood, water rolling off his exposed skin. Once all the way on he looked down at his torso and lower half, most of him was near finished healing over, the black tentacles of Uroboros non-present now. His legs had been through the worst of it, but thankfully he had not lost them completly and would most likely be able to use them in several more minutes.
Dressed only in the remains of his leather pants, nothing more than shorts now, Wesker tsked quietly, disappointed by his disheveled appearance. Casting his eyes about his immediate surroundings, the blonde noted a dock worker idly tying up a boat, glancing momentarily at the occupied man and studying his personage with vague interest.
Wesker figured if the man would not speak than neither would he, letting the warm sun dry him as he lay back, running his hands through his damp hair, he solid wood feeling good on his new flesh. Soon his legs were growing muscle and tendons and he could rise, albeit shakily at first. Walking was stiff and painful business, but necessary if was going to find out where he was. Turning to the dock worker he cleared his throat, swagger naturally filtering back in as his smirk snuck back on his lips.
"Where am I?" he inqueried in his rich, mellow voice, head lightly cocked to one side.
The other simply replied "Terra" and said no more.
Wesker lost his smirk and stared, he had never heard of this place, he had obviously been transported somehow, someone wanted him here, but who?
"Where can I find some clothes?"
The man pointed back towards a further stretch of land lined with a cobble pathway to the left of thm, most likely leading to a town or city of sorts.
Wesker let his golden, ruby eyes run over the man once more then pressed on, finding nothing more of interest here.
Things were already looking up, he was alive and was soon to look none the less for wear, not even the slighest scar and who knew what new strengths would blossom from the new virulent virus twisting within him. When he was dressed again he'd feel even better and he could search for more answers, yes these were good times. Reflexively a hand swept through his mostly dry hair again and his steps began regaining his confident stride, pale skin crawling over his exposed legs.

[conker]

Being the king of Panther Kingdom wasn't all it was cracked up to be. What is it kings did all day? Absolutely nothing. And nothing was what Conker did that day. He sat on the throne with a scowl on his face. The large golden crown that had been placed on his head was heavy and hung precariously over one of his ears. It was too big for him. The throne was too big for him. Conker was just a little squirrel in a place that had been build for a large panther.

Conker wasn't sure how many days he had sat on that red throne chair, sipping every now and then from the glass of milk he was given. He hadn't wanted to be king in the first place, but he was forcefully crowned by the other critters who had served the last king. He was surrounded by the other odd creatures he had met on his previous misadventures and Conker disliked each and everyone of them. Being in a room filled with people he pretty much hated put him in an even more sour mood.

God he needed a drink. So that very day, Conker left his castle and slowly walked all the way back to the pub he frequented. He pushed open the door and made his way to a bar stool. After climbing up on it, he rested his cheek on his hand and let out a sigh.

"So? What'll it be?" the large squirrel bartender asked.

"Em, scotch......single malt.......speyside......no ice," Conker responded slowly.

"A man of taste," the bartender said with approval as he brought out a bottle. He poured the red squirrel a glass and pushed it towards him.

"Leave the bottle," Conker told him.

Conker felt buzzed as he left the pub. He took a few steps outside, then stopped. Something was off. This didn't look like his town at all! From the time he spent in the pub, it should have been already night time, but it was a bright day. There was a town, but it was very different than the one he was supposed to be in. The squirrel suddenly felt sober again and looked around with a confused expression on his face. Where is the world was he? How did he get here? As he took a step forward, Conker noticed that the heavy crown was no longer on him. Good riddance.

As he walked around in a confused daze, Conker noticed other inhabitants walking around as well. He might as well ask one of them where the heck he was. The squirrel nearly bumped into someone and he immediately put on his breaks. Conker looked up and surveyed the guy. He was a large muscular sort of fellow and for some reason was wearing tattered clothes. Since Conker nearly walked into him, why not ask him where he was?

"Um, hello?" Conker raised his right hand and made a sort of waving motion with it. "Would you mind telling me where I am?"

[wesker]

He hadn't tried accelerating yet, he wasn't sure of the repercussions it might have on his still healing body, but nevertheless he'd made good time and was nearly at the town. The people he'd passed by seemed normal, but paid him little mind. This was a little interesting considering how much he stood out. Wesker wasn't out to start anything, yet, so he let it go, carefully mapping his route in his head, recording as much information about this place as possible.
Since he had been walking with his head held pridefully high he could not possibly have seen the figure that bumped into his shins, Wesker was even willing to think that it was just one of his new muscles misfiring, but no, as his evil looking eyes glanced downward he saw a red squirrel at his feet.
This squirrel was very different than the ones he was used to and his scientific mind began to run through a series of explanations and experimental theories. It was even wearing shoes and a shirt, perhaps it was an evolved species here, but no, it had asked a question, a question about its location, it wasn't from here, then where?
Insanity or delusion never crossed his mind as a reason for the squirrel, he was always sound of mind, he had been created that way, and would stay that way. If the squirrel spoke, he might as well answer.
"Far as I know Terra", his tone was even handed, but held an air of self importance, confidence, yet exemplified no emotion, "where are you from?"
It seemed a fair enough return inquiry, much better than a few others that were churning in his mind. With calculating eyes he surveyed the squirrel, mentally documenting it, than glanced at the stretch of road ahead of him till the town, it wasn't too far, a short delay wouldn't hurt, besides this was worthwhile research, if only he had some of his equipment, or even one of his viral samples. It was hard to hide the small smile that nearly broke out over his face when he thought of how many tests he could run on these people, these people who had no idea who he was or what he could do, why, with this many subjects he could even perfect Tyrant or the Progenitor Virus, his new world could be here!
Reigning in his mental euphoria, Wesker focused back on the squirrel awaiting his reply.

[conker]

“Terra?” Conker repeated, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Nope. Never heard of it.” For once, Conker had no snarky, sarcastic comments. He was far too confused about where he was and how he got there and all he wanted were answers.

“I’m from Willow Woods,” he added. Actually, he hadn’t been in Willow Woods for a while now. Conker hadn’t been there since he left that fateful night to party with his friends. Now all he wanted was to go back there and settle down in his house. That probably wasn’t going to happen by the looks of things. That seemed to be how his luck was.

Conker walked back a few steps and really scrutinized the guy. Since he was so big, and Conker was the size of an average squirrel, he had trouble seeing him clearly from standing beside his large feet. Plus, his neck started to hurt from having to crane it up at a weird angle. Once he was a good distance away, Conker placed his hands on his hips and peered at him. Perhaps he was one of those macho men who spent their days lifting weights, or maybe he was a wrestler! Like the kind who wore ridiculous brightly colored costumes. Anyway, whoever he was, he certainly didn’t look like any of the other villagers who were walking around.

“So, I take it you aren’t from around here either,” the squirrel said, swishing his tail confidently.

[wesker]

Wesker noticed the rodent eying him, he did little to indicate whether he had heard the squirrel's comment or not, but muttered to himself, "I wonder how many others there are?" It seemed unlikely that they were the only two lost souls here, as obscure as the details of where this place was and why they were there. Was this a limbo of sorts, no, he would not have healed, what point would there be to have him in one piece just to undergo mindless "torture", and even if this was the case, why would a squirrel be the one to accompany him?
A curious barrage of thoughts tumbled through his mind as he examined his reformed body and systematically flexed each muscle group. "Willow woods..." he muttered, it didn't sound like a normal place, but if he said he was transported form a volcano in Africa it would sound insane. "No" he responded, there was no need to elaborate, for the former reason of believability, and the fact that he was in fact talking to a squirrel, surely there was nothing the rodent would actually be suspicious about. Wesker stopped flexing and deduced that he felt real, whatever feelings were worth, and in his disgruntled state he let out a short snarl, looking down and addressing the squirrel directly he asked, "Are you dead?"
It seemed a silly question, but Wesker never would voice a query that he did not deem important. He had never believed in afterlives or second chances, but he'd been proven wrong before too, there was nothing here that could guide one's mind to any certain route of belief, it could be hell, or heaven, or another world. For some reason he could accept the latter the best, perhaps it was the scientist in him.
The people surrounding him seemed more like drones and servants than intellectuals so he figured it was time to test out his abilities, no point in standing around speaking to wildlife if it would not aid him in anyway.
Clearing his throat he looked at the squirrel with his cattish eyes, "Stand clear, I need to see something." Leaving only a few moments for the squirrel to move he braced himself, hoping his legs were fully healed, and dashed forward, the world melted around him into a blur of colors, slowing suddenly as adrenaline boosted his system and helped his brain analyze the passing shapes. A smile drew across his lips and he stopped, the world rushing to catch up with him as his feet planted twenty or so feet away from where he'd started from.
Yes, he was all here, whether this was limbo or a world created to serve a designated purpose, he was still a god among men.