Albert Wesker and the Land of the Pony-folk

He'd failed. Failure was not a word that fitted comfortably into the vocabulary of Albert Wesker; he'd been conditioned from birth to be superior, to bring about a world free of the evils of humanity, with himself at the head. Once again, however, Chris Redfield, that meddlesome pest, had thwarted him and he'd resorted to his own creation in an attempt to finally gut the foolish BSAA member. Suddenly, the most recent events of Wesker's life flashed through his mind.

Uroboros... The volcano... The lava... Death?

His brain paused on the word, he was a god, he was power incarnate, he was above and beyond all of human-kind, how could he be dead? And if he were dead, how was he still formulating thoughts? Everything ached, it'd been a long time since he'd felt pain, true pain but now it felt like agony was making up for the lost time, he wasn't quite ready to face whatever situation he currently found himself in so he continued pontificating.

So arrogant, time and time again you had Redfield's life in my hands and you chose to prolong it for no other reason than your own megalomania, what were you trying to prove?

Wesker mulled that question over in his brain, he didn't have anything to prove, he was a god. Besides, once he'd killed Chris and his annoying partner then the release of Uroboros into the atmosphere would have been all the proof the world needed that they were at the mercy of a superior being. But now he had died, there was no doubt about that, he recalled seeing two rockets heading directly for his face while his lower body dissolved in molten rock and had known that this was the end. So where was he now? Hell? Purgatory? Wesker sneered at himself internally.

An afterlife? Hasn't witnessing your own mortality made you weak-minded?

The most infuriating part of his degenerating sanity whilst working on the Uroboros project was his need to split his thoughts into separate 'voices' in order to prevent the myriad of different thoughts from driving him to distraction, this particular voice he'd labelled as 'Critical' as it never overlooked an opportunity to undermine his plans or his thought process.

So what now, Albert? Do you keep your eyes closed and allow your thoughts to keep you company for eternity or do you actually do something?

Wesker decided that he'd been unmoving for long enough and decided to confront whatever this apparent afterlife had thrown at him; he shifted slightly in order to push himself to his feet before he noticed he was lying on grass.

Interesting...

He cracked open his eyes slightly and froze. Everything around was brightly coloured and cheerful, it looked as though there was a peaceful village on the horizon from where he sat, on a large field, his brain processed this information almost instantaneously before his intellect drew his attention to another, far more important matter.

I'm a horse.

Wesker stood stock still, in the middle of a field as his considerable mind attempted to process this new information, he slowly raised one hoof in front of his eyes and thought briefly about going back to sleep and chalking this up to temporary insanity. Instead of skin, he saw a pale coat of hair leading up to the indelicate appendage; he arched an eyebrow and decided to approach this situation scientifically.

I'm a horse... A horse. Four legs. Hooves.

He tentatively raised a hoof to the top of his head, then to his rear.

A mane and a tail.

He was acutely aware that he was simply listing the different body parts of a horse in order to distract himself from the current reality, another mental voice decided to bring him crashing back, it wasn't one that he recognised.

Hey Al, it's me! Your sense of excitement and joy, remember me? You're a horse now, isn't that awesome? You were always a fan of porridge, right? That has oats in, horses love oats! You're going to have a great time.

Wesker shook his head slowly, he didn't recall ever having a sense of joy and the only excitement he ever seemed to have revolved around scientific discovery and pushing the boundaries of bio-weaponry.

Weaponry, Shmeaponry Al, you've got hooves now, you can't do science... Unless there's people here who can delegate, that'd be weird, being told what to do by a horse. Haha, can you imagine?

He could imagine it, and he didn't like the implications one bit, if there's one thing that rankled Albert Wesker, it was being treated with anything less that the respect that he deserved. Who's to say everyone here wasn't a horse? Or that he was in some bizarre horse-centric land? Now that he analysed his surroundings, he did note that the colours and scenery seemed to have an ethereal, otherworld quality.

You ain't in Kansas anymore, Al, hahaha! This probably is your version of hell: Happiness? Peacefulness? You'll probably end up going on one of your monologues at all the happy ponies, "I... am... A GOD. MWAHAHAHAHAHA."

Wesker winced, his mental state had previously degenerated to the point where he couldn't recognise himself anymore, and it appeared that a couple of RPG's to the skull were what he needed to restore clarity. Well, some degree of clarity anyway, the voices that still resonated in his head were still evidence of his... unique circumstances. In order to stave off the relentless chirping of the voices, he decided to evaluate his senses to see if he had retained his superhuman abilities.

Hearing...

One of his ears twitched as he focused solely on the auditory aspect of his surroundings, he could hear the far off sound of owls hooting and the wind ruffling the leaves of the trees; he smirked.

As good as before.

He could already tell his sight was as sharp as it had been previously, he could see each individual leaf on the trees in the distance.

Oh, you can see and hear well, all hail Albert Wesker, God of us all...

Wesker rolled his eyes at Critical, before testing the attribute which mattered to him the most. Though, his aching body suggested to him that he was restored to the equivalent level of strength he possessed prior to the Arklay Mansion incident, which was still formidable, considering the attitude with which he approached his physical and mental well being whilst he was the Captain of STARS. He attempted a rapid dash forwards and found his new body lacking the capability; he also attempted a hoofed version of the Cobra Strike and once again saw his limb moving at a fast, yet generally possible pace. He sighed.

Unfortunate, Albert. It appears you are just a normal... horse. Good luck trying to establish yourself amongst equals once more, remember how fun it was last time?

Wesker frowned, even without his superhuman abilities; he was still superior, even if he felt exhausted and drained. It was time to confront the denizens of this peculiarly colourful land and find out what exactly was going on. He glanced around and found his eyes drawn towards a large farmhouse in the distance.

Fun fun fun, Al. Go and say hello to your new neighbours. Hahaha, 'Neigh'- bours. It's going to be amazing here!

Wesker rolled his eyes and looked up at the night sky as he began to trot towards the wooden farmhouse, he'd rather meet whoever was here than spend the rest of his life with these voices as his only company.