You step cautiously into the dimly lit corridor, your breath steady but your pulse betraying your nerves. The air is thick with the scent of old wood and something more artificial—gunpowder, perhaps, or the faint trace of chemicals lingering in the air

And then you see him

Leaning casually against the ornate doorframe, arms crossed, exuding an aura of unshaken confidence, stands Wesker. His signature black sunglasses obscure his eyes, but you don’t need to see them to know they’re watching you—calculating, dissecting, waiting.

“Well, well,” he muses, his voice smooth as silk, laced with amusement. “You actually made it this far. I must say, I’m impressed.”

You clench your fists. There’s no mistaking the danger in his tone, the sheer arrogance that drips from every word. He isn’t surprised to see you. He’s entertained

“What do you want, Wesker?” you manage, standing your ground

He tilts his head slightly, a smirk playing at his lips. “Now, now. Is that any way to speak to someone offering you an opportunity?”

You scoff, but something in his voice makes you hesitate. An opportunity? That could mean many things. Most of them bad.

Wesker pushes himself off the doorframe and steps forward, hands still tucked into his leather-clad arms. “You’ve been struggling, haven’t you? Fighting a battle you can’t possibly win. The odds are stacked against you. And yet… you persist.” He chuckles, as if the thought alone is amusing. “I admire that. But tell me—how long until your body gives out? Until your so-called allies betray you?”

Your jaw tightens.

“Join me.” He said with a smirk

The words come so effortlessly, as if he’s merely stating a fact rather than making a proposition. He stops just inches from you now, his presence suffocating, overwhelming.

“With my power, you wouldn’t have to fight. You wouldn’t have to lose.” He leans in slightly, voice dropping to a near-whisper. “I could make you unstoppable.”