NOTES; sorry so incredibly short. I'll make it long next chapter.

this chapter is dedicated to Tyrant Hamster. 3

Science vs. Fantasy


Krauser's vital signs were steady; the panoramic panel on the wall revealed his status. The long beeping noise of a heart beat, coupled with the plaga inside his body gave them security that Krauser is too strong to die. The scientists were amazed how his DNA actually embraced the virus in a unique way, and perhaps just like anything else, it could have been due to blood type, inimitable chromosomal sequences, inheritable traits, mitochondrial dna bearing endiosymbiotic hypothesis. They could hear his heart beat, and at first, the faint, rhythmic thumps came in a monotone series, like thunder in the distance. Now, it thumped loudly, giving them indication that perhaps the plaga itself was fighting to live, or….tear out of its host's body.

They wondered about his ability to dream, as this was connected to his mental state. The small group of scientists in their pristine laboratory coats were armed with white hoods, bearing a plastic covering on the faceplate to keep their inner facility sterilized. Now that their test subject was exposed from the inside out, they had attached several small wires to his frontal lobe as well as the rest of his cranial construction. Waiting took awhile. In the meantime, their analysis proved to be sufficient enough with the drawing of his blood; now encased in small tubes, held up by a plastic holder. Krauser's blood contained a high amount of glucose and this startlingly increasing lively adenosine 5'-triphosphate: energy - hordes of it.

It wasn't just that, it was the fact that his metabolism was skyrocketing. Despite having a figuratively normal intellect, Krauser was anything but insufficient in all other areas.

Finally, the American soldier's brain activity came into view – a status came up in the form of a holographic type screen. This only gave them visuals in terms of color, solid and distinct forms that seem to play either against each other in a dramatic display equipped for a theatre. The colors, however were the most important as they noticed the distinctive aggression- showing symbolic attributes.

Krauser's mind on the other hand, unaware of the probing scientists, had now come to a full visual on his part. He was as per usual – fighting.

Most would think, in that psychological screwed up approach - that he was fighting his demons, but to Krauser, no fucking way. If they even were lucky to look closer, they could see the maliciousness displayed; the hard line of his lips turned up, revealing a very pleased possessed man. Standing on top of a dark conical shaped mountain, with the clouds of doubt swirling around him like a dark coffee laced with an ecstasy drug; Krauser's dark shadow against them showed a man with an arm reaching to the pinnacle of his throne. His throne was his own private Idaho. Nothing like flowers or shit like that. If they did fall down in that insanely false pretty manner from his mind they instantaneously disintegrated into skeletal figures, materializing with bony hands clutching weapons that could bludgeon someone severely.

He liked music. Yes, Krauser loved the sound of a strumming metallic guitar blasting in rhythmic thumping to the electric thunder in his dream. A zig zagging lightning cloaked the blackened sky of his fantasy world; he was sincerely happy that the 'demons' of his fancy clambered eagerly up to his majestically wondrous Soldier-self. And coincidentally, the drums pounding in that far off distance matched the deep fear of jungles too scary to delve into – giving birth to cowards who were afraid to venture into. It only paralleled the intensity of the insanity going on into the core of his being.

He could in this unreal world say and do whatever the hell he wanted, and he did so with a gloating expression. Krauser's lip curled: "Come on, motherfuckers! Come and show me what you got!"

One threatening fist slammed into a skull that had ambled itself around his feet, while his other - plaga infested arm took great initiative to slice and dice like a French chef making pate' on a hot summer's day. Throwing his head blond head back, the all too proud soldier laughed with your typical villainous loud roar; he had no worries; his arm fiercely pounding with true American blood; a mixture of everything from his ancestors who struggled and fought their way to live and die on a new world. The skeletal figures possessed no real bones as Krauser rushed at them, crushing them in two, always impatient and too randy for his own damn good.

He slashed, kicked, ducking mercurial slick from the attacks, and with deft swift moves avoided every slash from a large metal hammer or a chain with a deadly ball, equipped with pointy spikes. A few of them managed to hold him from behind as his battle moves focused on the frontal group attacking him, but he relented, broke their arms into pieces which only miraculously rewound itself back to their host. Krauser was elated. This would last a good long while. He really liked that. The grin on his scarred face widened as he felt the blade of his arm gut through several bony figures like a shiskabob.

Meanwhile, the scientists were amazed at the activity his brain was producing. His vital signs pulsated, reaching high and still steadily beeping. They noticed that he twitched; turning into a violent jerkiness, an indication they all agreed that these were merely muscle spasms. The plaga from his body would be extracted, because it was combined with his precious blood, and with that, they would be able to perform more tests to procure their own vision, scientifically beneficial – of course.


Ada saw it too.

She was glad for the release on her person, because then, she wouldn't be able to grab onto her grapple gun.

Taking an aim towards the ceiling, she had the opportunity to look up earlier while being incarcerated. That's where she'd get her freedom, to put distance from herself and the now approaching deadly lasers. In this terrible black hole they fell down to, it looked like something that portrayed a semi-greenhouse; equipped naturally with Dr.O'Neil's special treats.

Wesker heard her grappling hook take an anchor to the very top of the ceiling; there was a small crack that indicated that was where they were previously.

"Coming with me or are you going to stay and fight the good fight, Wesker?" She drolled out; her dark lashes lay distractingly sublime on the tops of her flushed cheeks for a moment.

"Saving my ass, Miss Wong?" He seemed to scoff inwardly at that, his silencer put away now. In another second, he had a pair of incendiary grenades. "I think I'd rather you stay with me, but do as you wish." And in another swift action, threw the grenades into the oncoming lasers. Upon the blast, fire spewed upward; it managed to surprisingly halt the red beams, honing into the flames like a wielder on its work.

She was not too surprised as she looked back at him. "Heat?"

"This sort detects heat in anything, their sensors were activated when we dropped down." He kept his shades on, she noticed, even in the subterranean area where they were at. He continued with that brisk dry tone, as if he wasn't overly concerned with their situation. "In a few minutes, the fire will eventually go down, and I don't think I'd like to be cut through."

Wesker's sensual lips sent her a slight smirk. "And those are your grenades, young lady. For shame you didn't think of it first."

"Hah! While I was on my back getting the best hug of my life?" Diverting her attention elsewhere, Ada glanced up again. "I'm taking my chances above. You should have saved one grenade to keep them at bay."

With that, she tugged on the wire, making sure it was firm enough and before she went spiraling upward, Wesker's gloved fingers gripped her waist. They both went up as the sound of a wire zinged.

Just as they reached the top, Ada grunted at the weight of his body. "Wesker, mind climbing up to open the hatch?" They hung there, looking like a couple of dead giveaways to now approaching lasers.

"Shit!" Wesker cursed beneath his breath. "Be right back."

"Wesker – what!" Ada yelled out, half afraid of what he'd do, but she knew he'd never put himself in the line of fire. It wasn't his nature. He would as soon put her on the front lines if it came between him and another human being. He'd never play the hero.

But she watched as he landed on the ground, fearlessly facing the lasers. In one fluid and rapid movement, he took off his sunglasses.