Power
folder
+M through R › Resident Evil
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
6,591
Reviews:
23
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
+M through R › Resident Evil
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
6,591
Reviews:
23
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Resident Evil and I don't make money on this stuff.
Preview
Power
Have you ever had the growing need to be in control? Have you ever felt the satisfaction of knowing that people just had to do what you told them? Have you ever made those around you quake in fear at the sound of your bellowing voice? No?
Pathetic.
That's another thing I hate about this pitiable human race. If someone has control over a race of people, they're deemed psychotic. War mongers. Socialists. Well, I guess Socialism isn't that bad. If you think about it, this pathetic nation is slowly, but surely spiraling down into a deep dark pit of socialism. Beautiful isn't it?
My name is Albert Wesker. My age is irrelevant. My race, date and place of birth, blood type, etc, is all irrelevant. What should interest you, dear reader, is what - or rather who - I have to show you.
He's like a doll when he sleeps. They all are. All five of them. Leon Scott Kennedy, Billy Coen, Luis Sera, newly patched and now alive once again, Carlos Oliveira, that rat bastard who helped Jill escape Raccoon City, and my favorite one, my.... "star pupil" if you will. The best member of the S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team, Chris Redfield. Now, don't get me wrong, I like women too. It's just that I got sick of the high pitched whines and cries. Sensitive ears. I like the lower voices, the choked back sobs, the bite marks they leave on their lips as they try not to scream.... yes..... it's so arousing.
Highly sedated and held down on their respective beds securely, the five "dolls" sleep, fully clothes in whatever it was they were wearing when I snatched them up; Leon in a grey muscle shirt and black jeans, Billy in a black makeshift sleeveless t-shirt, showing those wonderful arms, Luis in the same apparel worm during his death, just much cleaner, Carlos in a white tank top and grey sweats (lazy bastard), and my dear Chris, in a skin tight black t-shirt and tight blue jeans. The only articles of clothing I removed from them were their footwear. No one like to sleep in shoes, now do they? I stroked their hair, I caressed their cheeks, I tasted their soft lips, and I realized how much each one of them cares for their appearance. They take very good care of themselves almost to the point where you'd call them metrosexual. I sat in my chair, crossed my legs and rested my chin on my fingers. Tonight, I will make all five of them mine.
Have you ever had the growing need to be in control? Have you ever felt the satisfaction of knowing that people just had to do what you told them? Have you ever made those around you quake in fear at the sound of your bellowing voice? No?
Pathetic.
That's another thing I hate about this pitiable human race. If someone has control over a race of people, they're deemed psychotic. War mongers. Socialists. Well, I guess Socialism isn't that bad. If you think about it, this pathetic nation is slowly, but surely spiraling down into a deep dark pit of socialism. Beautiful isn't it?
My name is Albert Wesker. My age is irrelevant. My race, date and place of birth, blood type, etc, is all irrelevant. What should interest you, dear reader, is what - or rather who - I have to show you.
He's like a doll when he sleeps. They all are. All five of them. Leon Scott Kennedy, Billy Coen, Luis Sera, newly patched and now alive once again, Carlos Oliveira, that rat bastard who helped Jill escape Raccoon City, and my favorite one, my.... "star pupil" if you will. The best member of the S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team, Chris Redfield. Now, don't get me wrong, I like women too. It's just that I got sick of the high pitched whines and cries. Sensitive ears. I like the lower voices, the choked back sobs, the bite marks they leave on their lips as they try not to scream.... yes..... it's so arousing.
Highly sedated and held down on their respective beds securely, the five "dolls" sleep, fully clothes in whatever it was they were wearing when I snatched them up; Leon in a grey muscle shirt and black jeans, Billy in a black makeshift sleeveless t-shirt, showing those wonderful arms, Luis in the same apparel worm during his death, just much cleaner, Carlos in a white tank top and grey sweats (lazy bastard), and my dear Chris, in a skin tight black t-shirt and tight blue jeans. The only articles of clothing I removed from them were their footwear. No one like to sleep in shoes, now do they? I stroked their hair, I caressed their cheeks, I tasted their soft lips, and I realized how much each one of them cares for their appearance. They take very good care of themselves almost to the point where you'd call them metrosexual. I sat in my chair, crossed my legs and rested my chin on my fingers. Tonight, I will make all five of them mine.