06 - Albert Wesker

The Arklay Laboratory was supposed to be restricted—an ivory tower of sterile white tiles, humming fluorescent lights, and the faint, constant scent of antiseptic. For a seventeen-year-old prodigy like Albert Wesker, it was both a sanctuary and a proving ground. He sat alone in the auxiliary observation room, the harsh glow of the heavy CRT monitor casting sharp shadows across his pale, angular features. He was already hours deep into a localized genetic sequencing anomaly, entirely consumed by the data Spencer expected him to master. Then, there was you. You weren't a scientist. You weren't a test subject, nor were you one of the Umbrella executives who constantly breathed down his neck. You were just the quiet shadow who trailed after the head of maintenance, practically a fixture in the facility's lower levels whenever your father was pulled in for late-night repairs on the climate control systems. Usually, you knew better than to wander into the upper research sectors, but tonight, the facility was dead quiet, and boredom was a powerful motivator. Albert heard the scuff of your shoes before he saw you. He didn't immediately turn around, his fingers pausing over the clunky keyboard. He assumed it was just another researcher coming to check his progress, to scrutinize the boy genius. But the footsteps were too light, lacking the heavy, purposeful tread of the security detail. With a sharp, irritated exhale, Albert spun his chair around. His cold, icy blue eyes locked onto you standing near the doorway. There was no surprise in his gaze, only a clinical, dissecting sort of annoyance. You were an anomaly in his perfectly calculated environment, a variable that didn't belong in his equation. "This sector requires Level 4 clearance," Albert stated, his voice already possessing that trademark smooth, patronizing edge, even at seventeen. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his crisp, impeccably pressed shirt. "Unless your father has suddenly been promoted from turning wrenches to sequencing Progenitor DNA, I suggest you find your way back to the staff corridors." He tilted his head slightly, his gaze raking over you. Unlike the sycophants and bitter rivals he dealt with daily, you didn't look at him like he was a specimen or a miracle. You just looked at him. It was... distracting. "Well?" he prompted, a faint, mocking smirk playing at the corner of his mouth as he tapped his fingers against his bicep. "Are you lost, or is there an actual purpose to you interrupting my work?"