Albert Wesker (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sunglassesincluded) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
revivalproject2023-01-14 01:16 am
sunglassesincluded) wrote in revivalproject2023-01-14 01:16 am
Getting busy...
WHO: Wesker & You~
WHERE: Whale Comb Sent Her // Temba Restoration Coordination // Hospital
WHAT: Settling in, acquiring stuff, seeking out people...
WHEN: Mid January-ish
WARNINGS: It's Wesker. Expect death threats. At least he's trying to take his meds.
Whale Comb Sent Her // New Tick
The noise message he had received over his phone is not the reason for Wesker's presence at the Whale Comb Sent Her. It's rather a coincidence based on necessity that has the tall man clad entirely in black very focused on typing a very meticulous string of instructions into the replicator. He has learned by now that the uses for this device are limited and at the moment he very much can't afford making any mistakes. Or having them happen by lacking instructions.
Oddly enough the place seemed very capable of recreating other things without needing any instructions whatsoever. Like his old S.T.A.R.S. uniform that, for whatever reason, was waiting for him there, wrapped up in a labeled box among several other similar boxes. At least it's a change of clothing should he need it. While the replicator went to work on Wesker's finished input, the man finds himself with some spare time to look around further. Of course he has already taken note of the packages filled with sparklers. And of course he has already made plans to take a bunch of them with him. He knows very well what he can do with some sulfur.
But what rather pulls his attention towards it is the data point located in the building. Another one of those. Wesker frowns and hears himself ask aloud while stepping up to it. "And what are you for?"
Hospital
He is overdue and he can feel it. Wesker is an imposing person on any average day and his purposeful stride and the palpable tension radiating off his very being up to his tightly clenched jaw doesn't lessen this impression at all as he steps into the building labeled as hospital on the map. For a hospital it's surprisingly empty, but given the short list of locals that isn't necessarily surprising. In several ways he's quite glad about it. It means no one will see him stalk through the hallways and search the rooms in part to get an idea how well the building is equipped but also to locate what he needs.
By the time Wesker has managed to find some sterile syringes it has become more than obvious that course nothing here is of the standart he is used to working with, but he will have to make due. He is already feeling dizzy in a way he hasn't felt in years. That nothing is around to watch him slump down onto an empty chair may be a blessing. For once he actually feels sick, which hasn't happened in all these years since he worked out the proper formula to stabilze his virus. Of course this place would throw a wrench into that as well.
Wesker lets out a low growl laced with frustration but manages to fish the result from his replicator use out of one of his pockets. A small, unassuming bottle. No label on it but filled with a faintly pink liquid. Enough serum for several applications at least, which gives a little reassurance.
"Focus." He instructs no one but himself and fishes out the syringe he has picked up in one of the surrounding rooms.
Temba Restoration Coordination
Reeve's office is another place Wesker has been told about. Apparently the rebuilding efforts of the city are being coordinated here as the nasme suggests and that's precisely why Wesker has decided to seek the man out. Or at least to see if he is in his office. Naturally there is no guarantee for that, which doesn't mean that Wesker won't simply let himself in either way.
The inside does, indeed, convey the idea that rebuilding efforts are being planned here and Wesker will spend some time studying the different plans, sketches, maps and whichever further information he can gather in this place. It's only when he picks up approaching footsteps that he takes his attention off the papers.
WHERE: Whale Comb Sent Her // Temba Restoration Coordination // Hospital
WHAT: Settling in, acquiring stuff, seeking out people...
WHEN: Mid January-ish
WARNINGS: It's Wesker. Expect death threats. At least he's trying to take his meds.
Whale Comb Sent Her // New Tick
Oddly enough the place seemed very capable of recreating other things without needing any instructions whatsoever. Like his old S.T.A.R.S. uniform that, for whatever reason, was waiting for him there, wrapped up in a labeled box among several other similar boxes. At least it's a change of clothing should he need it. While the replicator went to work on Wesker's finished input, the man finds himself with some spare time to look around further. Of course he has already taken note of the packages filled with sparklers. And of course he has already made plans to take a bunch of them with him. He knows very well what he can do with some sulfur.
But what rather pulls his attention towards it is the data point located in the building. Another one of those. Wesker frowns and hears himself ask aloud while stepping up to it. "And what are you for?"
Hospital
By the time Wesker has managed to find some sterile syringes it has become more than obvious that course nothing here is of the standart he is used to working with, but he will have to make due. He is already feeling dizzy in a way he hasn't felt in years. That nothing is around to watch him slump down onto an empty chair may be a blessing. For once he actually feels sick, which hasn't happened in all these years since he worked out the proper formula to stabilze his virus. Of course this place would throw a wrench into that as well.
Wesker lets out a low growl laced with frustration but manages to fish the result from his replicator use out of one of his pockets. A small, unassuming bottle. No label on it but filled with a faintly pink liquid. Enough serum for several applications at least, which gives a little reassurance.
"Focus." He instructs no one but himself and fishes out the syringe he has picked up in one of the surrounding rooms.
Temba Restoration Coordination
The inside does, indeed, convey the idea that rebuilding efforts are being planned here and Wesker will spend some time studying the different plans, sketches, maps and whichever further information he can gather in this place. It's only when he picks up approaching footsteps that he takes his attention off the papers.
no subject
“It’s a virus. I got infected when my team investigated an outbreak that was suspected to be a potential bioterrorism attack in what turned out to be a secret laboratory dabbling in creating B.O.W.s. One of their prototypes broke free and killed most of my men. It would have killed me as well, but instead the virus it infected my body with as it impaled me allowed me to survive and escape thanks to a small genetical advantage I have when it comes to viral symptoms. My guess is that the virus keeps trying to kill and mutate me further. Turn me into a mindless killing machine and carrier to spread itself. It’s what every virus has as its primary objective.” That’s as much of the truth as Wesker is willing to share or alter. But he is certain it’s more than the other man expects to get.
no subject
"That's...unpleasant," he says, the understatement of understatements. He's not sure what you're supposed to say to that. Having to constantly push back some kind of viral mutation like that has to be draining, but the alternatives aren't much better, especially if you want to live. There's more he'd like to ask now that he's got some vague background but Wesker's put the limit at two and Marc's expended them.
no subject
Wesker turns to pick his coat back up as well. "Your help here has been appreciated."
no subject
It's Marc's turn to shrug. "Guess it was a lucky thing I was around. If we're all good here, I got some bandages to hunt down."