Vengeance of the Crow-Resident Evil 5

Chapter 16

The door that opened invited the three of you into a room full of various monitors looming overhead. The screens displayed various green graphs of locations in continents outlined in bold red or blue, blue screens detailing various data in red or white words. Old notes scattered the control panels to the screens, detailing dates and info on Project W, which you suspected was Wesker himself, or the other siblings that seemed to have died off.

"What're we looking for in here?" Sheva couldn't help but ask, her attention reaching towards an open briefcase littered with notes. She approached the case, her fingers gripping ahold of an old leather journal, the words written in hasteful yet elegant writing.
"I don't know," you confessed, your fingers finding your keycard which was now in your front pocket. You slipped it through the control panel, the red lights on the door flashing green before opening, allowing you to quickly walk inside. "A clue, a weapon, Hell, even Wesker if we're lucky."

Sheva quickly followed after you alongside Chris, keeping the journal in her hands to read through as she walked down the hallway, going up a set of stairs towards the main Bridge, where much more monitors glowed and showed camera footage of certain places all around the ship. "I knew he wouldn't be here," you put your gun away, proceeding towards the various screens to see if any signs of movement showed up.

"(Y/N)," Chris spoke, joining your side at certain points after watching you run from various panels and examine pieces of paper before discarding them. "Hmm?" You didn't look his direction just yet, your eyes glued to a monitor hanging above the windows looking out at the ship deck.

"I need to ask about what happened back there, before we split up." His words broke your attention, having you automatically shake your head. "Can this wait?" You pleaded, your eyes locking onto the next screen, your mind quickly forgetting what he asked.

"No," Chris's band grabbed yours, catching you completely off guard. Your head snapped downwards, your skin prickling immediately at the contact. "Now. At least answer this one question."
Your gaze slowly traveled up towards his face, connecting with his eyes that made your heart ache. It felt rather awkward to recall the last time a man touched you like this, at least one you didn't feel the need to blow their brains out for. Damnit Chris, why did you have to remind me of him?

"Fine," you turned your head away, gently yanking your hand away from his. "What is it?"

"The photograph. You said they used you, what do you mean?" Memories of those days flashed before your eyes, faint clicks of medical tools rang through your ears, the faint echo sending shocks down your freezing spine when the cold metal table never seemed to warm to your tiny body. "When I was little, I was kidnapped," you began, not bothering to meet the gaze of Chris or Sheva. "I was ten I think, can't exactly remember the age, but I remember being confused. They examined me like.. a little mouse lost from home, except that I had no-" you shook your head, letting out an annoyed sigh.
"Umbrella was attempting to test random chemicals on me. To this day, I have no idea what they injected me with, and where my records went. All I found out is that the precise amount of chemicals followed by my certain genetics evolved into a.. um," you waved your hand, unable to give a specific word for it. "Think of it as an antibody and a virus, all in one. My blood can be modified into a cure, and act as an enhancer for any virus possibly more dangerous than the Flu."

"Are you immune to this?" Sheva called out, receiving a look from you. "To Uroboros?"

You huffed a bit, followed by a chuckle as you shook your head a bit. "As far as I know. My blood is what was used to help create Uroboros."
"That's impossible," Chris was in awe, taking in your words as if they were the stories of the Bible come to life once again. You turned away from the monitors, heading towards a clipboard containing awkwardly hanging bits of paper.