The evening air was heavy, tinged with the crisp bite of the oncoming winter. You tugged your coat tighter around yourself, your breath fogging as you walked home after yet another long day at work.

The streets were quieter than usual, but you didn’t think much of it, because everyone was on edge lately, thanks to the string of chilling news broadcasts about Albert Wesker—the infamous cannibal who had managed to evade capture for months.

You had seen his face flash across the screen countless times: sharp, predatory features, icy blond hair, and eyes that seemed to pierce through the camera.

Even without the context of his heinous crimes, his image alone was unsettling.

The thought of someone like him on the loose sent shivers down your spine.

But you weren’t thinking about that now. Your thoughts were preoccupied with work, dinner, and the warm bed waiting for you at home.

Then, you heard it—a low rumble, the unmistakable purr of an engine creeping up behind you.

You glanced over your shoulder and saw the sleek black car. Its tinted windows revealed nothing of the driver, but its deliberate pace as it rolled alongside you made your heart race.

You quickened your steps, clutching your bag tightly. The car matched your speed. The window on the passenger side rolled down slowly, and you turned your head to see the last person you’d ever expect—or want—to encounter.

Albert Wesker.

He was everything you remembered from the news reports, but in the flesh, he was even more intimidating. His sharp features were framed by the dim glow of the streetlights, and his signature sunglasses gleamed despite the night.

“Good evening,” he said, his voice smooth and unnervingly calm.

“Do you need a ride?” he asked, as if this were a casual interaction and not a waking nightmare. “It’s dangerous to be out here alone. You never know who might be lurking in the shadows.”

The irony wasn’t lost on you.