Location: San Antonio Secure Laboratory (The Bunker)
Date: July 29, 2017
Time: 10:38 Hours
The stealth jet landed on the hidden airstrip with a heavy thud, the engines whining as they cooled down.
Alen Wesker didn't walk out of the cockpit; he stumbled.
The adrenaline from the fight in Moldova had faded, leaving him with a heavy burden. The A-Virus, stolen from Glenn Arias and injected in a moment of desperation, was now battling the Progenitor cells in his blood.
His skin felt like it was on fire. Dark veins pulsed rhythmically beneath the surface of his neck and arms, visible even in the dim light of the hangar. His muscles spasmed, locking up and releasing in waves of tremors that felt like an internal earthquake.
He ignored it. He had cargo.
Alen lifted the mobile cryo-container, his movements stiff but careful. He didn't head for the containment lab; he went to the living quarters connected to the facility.
The room was basic—a soldier's quarters. He set the container on his bed, unlocked it, and gently lifted the sleeping girl out. She was light, fragile as a bird. He tucked her in, pulling the heavy duvet up to her chin.
Alen staggered back, gripping the doorframe. His vision blurred, swimming with red static.
"Ronda," he rasped, his voice rough.
<< I am here, Master. Your vitals are critical. You need immediate stabilization. >>
"No time," Alen managed. "Activate full perimeter security. Lockdown mode. Watch the girl. If she wakes up… keep her calm."
<< Understood. Sleep, Alen. Your body needs to repair itself. >>
Alen didn't make it to the medical bay. He collapsed onto the spare cot in the adjacent room, darkness engulfing him before his head hit the pillow.
Time: 08:00 Hours (The Next Morning)
Alen woke up.
He didn't wake up groggy; he woke up instantly, his eyes snapping open. He lay still for a moment, waiting for the pain.
It was gone.
He sat up and looked at his arms. The dark, necrotic-looking veins had vanished. His skin was pale and unblemished. He flexed his hand. The stiffness was gone, replaced by a hum of energy that felt endless. The A-Virus hadn't killed him; it had settled. It had merged with the Wesker bloodline, improving the host.
He felt… better. Stronger.
He stood up and checked the monitor on the wall. The girl in the next room was still asleep, her breathing steady.
"Good," Alen whispered.
He looked down at himself. He still wore the tattered remains of his tactical gear, stained with dust from a collapsed mountain and the blood of a mold monster. He smelled terrible.
"I can't let her see me like this," he muttered.
He stripped off the gear, took a quick, hot shower to wash away the mission, and dressed in civilian clothes—jeans and a black t-shirt.
He needed supplies. This was a lab, not a home.
Alen grabbed the keys to his motorcycle. He rode out of the hidden exit, merging onto the San Antonio highway. He went to a local department store, moving through the aisles with the same efficiency he used to clear rooms of enemies.
Milk. Bread. Eggs. Fruit.
Clothes. A soft hoodie. Jeans. Sneakers. Socks.
Things a normal person needed. Things a human needed.
He returned to the lab an hour later, slipping back in unnoticed.
Time: 10:38 Hours
E-017 opened her eyes.
Her first instinct was to scream. She expected the cold steel of the cryogenic pod. She expected the stark white lights of the Moldovan lab. She expected needles.
Instead, she felt… soft.
She sat up, clutching the duvet to her chest. The room was warm. It smelled of coffee and cedar. There were no cameras on the ceiling.
She crept out of bed, her bare feet on the floor. She peeked through the open door.
A man was sitting at a desk, surrounded by computer monitors. He typed quickly, his back to her. It was the man from the cave. The Hat Man. But he wasn't wearing the coat or the mask. He looked young, with sharp features and dark hair.
He stopped typing. He didn't turn around, but he spoke.
"Good morning, kid. Welcome back from La La Land."
Alen turned his chair around. His blue eyes were gentle, lacking the predatory look from the night before.
"How are you feeling?"
E-017 stared at him, her lower lip trembling. "You… you came back. You kept your promise."
"I don't break promises," Alen said simply.
A sob broke from her throat. She ran across the room—not away from him, but to him. She collided with his chest, wrapping her thin arms around him, burying her face in his shirt. She held on with a desperate strength, shaking uncontrollably.
Alen froze. His hands hovered in the air for a moment.
He was a weapon. A ghost. A killer. He knew how to break bones and dismantle organizations. He didn't know how to do this.
It reminded him of Isabella, the way she would hold him when the nightmares got too intense. But this was different. This wasn't a partner. This was a child seeking a protector.
What would Jessica do? He thought. What did she do for me?
Alen slowly lowered his hands. He patted the girl's back, awkward but kind.
"Hey," Alen murmured, rubbing her back in circles. "It's okay. You're safe. The bad men are gone. I turned them into dust. They can't hurt you anymore."
E-017 pulled back, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She looked up at him with wide, trusting eyes. "You're a nice man."
Alen felt a pang of guilt. Nice wasn't the word he would use. Effective, maybe.
"I try," Alen deflected, reaching out to wipe a smudge of dirt from her cheek. "You're safe here. And you're normal, you know? Not like your 'sister', Eveline. You don't have the madness. You're just… you."
"Thank you," she sniffled. "For saving me."
Alen stood up, clearing his throat to shake off his emotions. "Right. First things first. Do you know how to use a shower?"
"I… I think so," she nodded.
"Good," Alen gestured to a pile of bags on the couch. "I bought you some things. Real clothes. Not that hospital gown. Go get cleaned up. I'll be right outside the door if you need anything."
He walked her to the bathroom, showed her how the taps worked, and handed her a towel.
"Take your time," Alen said, closing the door.
He leaned against the wall outside, exhaling a long breath. Dismantling a bio-terror organization was easier than this.
Twenty-six minutes later, the door opened.
She stepped out. The dirt and grime were gone. Her hair was damp and combed back. She wore the oversized pink hoodie and jeans he had bought. She looked small, but she looked human.
"Looking sharp, kid," Alen smiled. "Come on. Sit down."
He led her to the small kitchenette area. On the table sat a plate of toast, scrambled eggs, and a glass of milk.
"Eat," Alen said gently.
She didn't need telling twice. She devoured the food with excitement, wolfing down the bread.
"Slow down," Alen chuckled softly, pouring her more milk. "The food isn't going anywhere. Neither am I."
She slowed down, chewing thoughtfully. After a few minutes of silence, Alen leaned forward, his expression serious.
"I need to ask you something," Alen said. "Why were you hiding behind that desk? Why did the scientists want to terminate you?"
E-017 lowered her fork. Fear flickered back into her eyes.
"Because I was a failure," she whispered, staring at the table. "They wanted to make another Eveline. A weapon. But I… I didn't have the connection. I couldn't control the Mold. I couldn't hear the voices."
She looked up at Alen. "They said I was 'stable but useless'. They were going to kill me and take my organs to create E-018 and E-019. They just wanted parts."
Alen's jaw tightened. Rage flared in his chest—cold and sharp.
Just parts.
He recognized that feeling. He knew what it was like to be viewed as nothing more than a source of potential, a vessel for someone else's legacy. He looked at this girl—made in a lab, discarded because she had the courage to be normal.
He reached out and placed his hand on her head.
"You aren't parts," Alen said firmly. "And you aren't useless."
He saw his own childhood reflected in her. He had been a monster's son. She was a monster's clone. But neither of them chose to be born.
"Listen to me," Alen said. "E-017 is a serial number. It's not a name. And you need a name."
She blinked. "A name?"
Alen thought for a moment. He looked at the red LED light of the server bank, then at the girl. He wanted something that sounded precious. Something valuable. Something that couldn't be broken.
"Ruby," Alen said.
"Ruby?" she tested the word.
"It suits you," Alen nodded. "It means you're valuable. Just as you are."
A smile broke across her face—genuine and bright. "Ruby. I like it."
She finished her milk, then hopped off the chair and ran to him again, hugging his waist.
"Thank you, Alen."
Alen hesitated, then wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on the top of her head. He felt a shift in his chest—a heavy, grounding weight. It was responsibility.
He had spent his life trying to destroy his father's legacy. Maybe the best way to do that wasn't just by killing monsters, but by raising a child to not be one.
"You're welcome, Ruby," Alen whispered into the quiet lab.
Mission Update:
Status: Post-Mission Recovery.
Alen Wesker: Stabilized.
New Objective: Protection of Asset 'Ruby'.
Current Status: Father Figure.