Code Chrisker

Chapter 1

Alarms sounded almost too loudly for Wesker to think as he frantically operated the Rockfort Island facility computer, nauseatingly familiar with Umbrella Corporation's technology. A beautiful young woman flashed on one of the several screens before him—she was cradling a young man in her arms, the sound of her sweet lullaby falling on deaf ears. The young man was dead.

"Alexia!?" Wesker panicked. "No... She's already fully awake."

It had only been three months since the debacle at Spencer Mansion, and Albert Wesker was still adjusting to his new life as a mercenary for a company specializing in Bio Organic Weapons that rivaled Umbrella. His mission: retrieve Alexia Ashford and the T-Veronica virus inside her. She was supposed to be sleeping, but just like the Mansion Incident, Wesker's plans had been thoroughly rejected by fate.

Well. This certainly complicates things.

On a separate screen, a new image flashed and flickered before forming into a clear picture. The corners of Wesker's lips pulled upwards.

"Chris," He sneered. His stomach flipped with unadulterated excitement only experienced when facing a new challenge. The mere image of the man on screen made Wesker feel like he was held at gun-point—pressed against the wall with a blade poking into his jugular. His fingers twitched and hovered over the keyboard in front of him for a moment before he recollected himself, returning to his urgent typing. "Oh, little fishy... come see my hook."

Wesker strode across the floor to another control panel. "Chris, I'm sending you some company to keep you... entertained." With the flick of a remote, a drone was activated and deployed to Chris' current location.

Soon you'll be going toe-to-toe with a little creation of Umbrella's, Chris.

"Consider this a small welcoming gift from me. Enjoy..."

Wesker pictured Chris' expression in his mind: lips pouting, eyes wide in terror as the adrenaline coursed through his body. My best man, quivering in his little S.T.A.R.S. boots.

Wesker couldn't contain his laughter. He leaned back, cackling loudly over the room's whirring machinery. He was starting to like his new line of work.

***

Chris put every ounce of energy he had into his legs. Whatever genetic abomination chasing after him was gaining, and fast.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

The creature was tall and agile, jumping clean over his head without breaking a sweat. Its mouth hung open like a horizontal zipper—its teeth like a shark and face like a lizard. The yellow spots that speckled its slimy flesh just screamed to Chris that it was poisonous.

Whatever the hell that thing is, I'm not sticking around to find out.

Chris sprinted across the metal grated floor, dodging steel crates and haphazardly discarded equipment. The creature swept at his feet, trailing a stream of ooze across his combat boots. Chris didn't need to think when he saw a steel door slightly ajar. He dove in, landing on his chest and flipping himself over—the creature lunged after him.

SLAM!

Chris kicked the door shut, jumped to his feet, and locked the damn thing. He only began breathing normally when the scratching at the door subsided. The numbness in his limbs was replaced with a dull ache.

Claire... Please be alright.

When Leon gave him the tip that Claire was somewhere on Rockfort Island, Chris didn't wait for backup. He only hoped that she was safe. Someone attacked this island. Someone put my sister in danger...