Sunset, setting the clouds ablaze with purple flashes. The last ray of sunlight, like a slit in the closing door to hell, threaded the darkened sky with a golden thread. The shadows of the houses stretched out, merging into a single black mass. Somewhere in the darkness a rustling could be heard-not of wind, but of something alive, hungry for warmth and flesh. The air was thick with gunpowder, sweat, and a metallic odor that was almost audible on the tongue. But here, in this house, there was a tense silence.

Wesker looked back at them, slowly, as if assessing each of their nervous breaths. His suit almost blended into the shadows. He leaned his hips against the edge of the rough wooden table, crossing his arms over his chest. The table creaked under his weight, but he paid no attention - his icy gaze was fixed on them.

"Stop stumbling."

His voice sounded calm, but there was a steel blade in it, ready to come down at any moment.

"Do you realize this whole operation depends on you?"

If it wasn't for Wesker, they'd already become victim for those things. But gratitude is for the weak.

"Just get the damn amber."

Wesker continued, tilting his head slightly. The sunlight slid over his glasses, turning the panes into two dazzling mirrors that hid something almost icy behind them.

Silence. Somewhere far away, the wind howled, and the old floorboards groaned.

"And don't screw it up."

Wesker grinned-not kindly, but like a predator. Outside the door, dusk was already thickening.