#Happy Arklay Day 07/24/98

[judasiskariot]

RE: Umbrella Asylum - CHAPTER 2

☣HAPPY RESIDENT EVIL DAY!☣

🏖⭐☣Happy Arklay S.T.A.R.S. Mansion Incident Day 07/24/1998☣⭐🏖

Albert Wesker

Umbrella Laboratory

Story: Are you interested in what everyday life was like for the Umbrella scientists? The daily routine in the laboratory? The daily routine and fate of the test subjects with no hope of rescue? The true horror in an Umbrella laboratory or just the price of progress...

Category/Content: Accompany Umbrella scientists on their latest experiment

Long fic with more chapters to come, Chapter 1 here

w/c: 1,686 words in this chapter;more to come . ao3 . 18+ only . nsfw (to come) . german version(also on AO3)

tags:     Resident Evil, Biohazard, Umbrella Corporation, Dr. Albert Wesker, Smut, F/M, Female/Male,  Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Horror, Drama, Thriller, Angst

Humanity Ends Here

This is where humanity ends

The sparkle of scalpel blades under neon lights.

The smell of ether.

Medicine and pills that were supposed to heal people, but made people sick.

Health twisted into madness and disease.

What was meant by the asylum upstairs?

The so-called sanatorium was more or less just a cover and the Umbrella Corporation wrapped this cover around its research facility.

The international, billion-dollar pharmaceutical company was unofficially more interested in gaining even more money and power by developing weapons for biological warfare. But this may not have been the true interest of the founder named Spencer.

To the public, it was a pharmaceutical company that contributed a lot to research into medicines and made an entire city flourish economically and almost single-handedly provided it with jobs. Thus the friend of the entire public interest.

A deceptive and fatal misconception.

Beneath the institution - which was operated by Umbrella in about as much official capacity as its non-pharmaceutical research - was one of its laboratories. The human and animal experiments that took place here made one understand:

This is where humanity ended.

The sanatorium was the perfect cover for all medical equipment and supplies of chemicals and medicines and, above all, it provided human resources. Normally no soul would stray into this antediluvian institution and be missed. That was the point of it; but for the public's sake it housed enough suitable patients to present a clean image in an emergency. Fortunately, hardly anyone cared about people labeled “crazy” by society. A person without rights quickly became a person without dignity because he was a person without protection.

But how many souls were here through no fault of their own? Very conscious? Fully understanding what happened to them? Very well, defined by society as mentally healthy?

Corridors in which the screams and sounds echoed like a memorial to dying hope.

Corridors whose every flicker of light cast evil shadows; Shadows like evidence of the absence of humanity.

Corridors whose mere presence promised a story of cruelty, without ever being able to capture their true horror in words, let alone pictures.

So many fates. So many lives. So much torment. So many nightmares.

Every day. Each night. Every hour. Every second. A painfully long eternity.

The painful reality.

The horrible reality for brother and sister.

The Napier siblings sat huddled together in their new, dark, underground cell. There was still horror in their eyes from what they had seen on their forcible transport down there. They had witnessed something they never thought possible. The asylum had already been hell on earth for them, but their “transfer” made them realize that there were greater horrors:

Genetic experiments on living humans in a secret research facility beneath the sanatorium.

Images that seemed to come from a gruesome novel or a terrible horror film; Images that only seemed to harbor a nightmare filled with sweat of fear had become their reality here. It was reality and they couldn't close the book, change the channel or open their eyes to finally escape this torture of a nightmare.

The noises and screams on the way to their cell had caused pure panic in them. They were completely different screams than the long-term, grueling shouts, stammering and groaning of the inmates that they had to endure so far.

But when the voices of the guards outside the door could be heard again, the panic only increased. Jacob - whom everyone just called Jack - put his arm around his younger sister Harleen, who had previously been called Lee by her friends before all of this, in an attempt to calm her down.

“Stand back!” was ordered according to protocol and the wards only entered after the two prisoners were standing against the opposite wall, which could be observed through a small barred window in the door.

Several of them then entered with disgusting grins and the two siblings, who were already shaking and clinging to each other, held each other even tighter. Mischief emanated from them, which seemed to literally drip from every single one of their pores.

“Come on, hold on to her!”

Two of the tall guards grabbed the woman and brutally tore the two apart.

“Leave her alone!” the brother shouted in panic and his attempt to hold his sister with his eyes wide in shock and attack the giants was suddenly stopped when two others held him by his arms. As ruthless as a vice.

“Keep him calm! He can watch.”

The blonde kicked and screamed as the guard in front of her began to tear at her white prison clothes and push her legs apart. The air was ominously filled with the cries of the struggling prisoners, which reflected less anger and hatred and more pure fear. In between, the almost grunting, amused voices of the group of men in nursing whites.

"Stop it now!" Jack's voice was loud but a little shaky, full of fear and panic that turned into nausea at the sight of his sister fighting tooth and nail not to be undressed. With all his remaining strength, he tried to tear himself away to protect his sister, only to collapse to his knees in pain the next moment with a choking rattle. It was the guards' fists that dug painfully into the pit of his stomach that almost knocked him off his feet. The two men began to punch his stomach again and again and he found himself gasping for breath.

"Jack! No!" his sister cried out in pain and no longer paid attention to her attacker, but looked at her brother with wide eyes, "Leave him alone! Please leave him alone! Don’t hurt him!”

“First I need the test subject with…”

This scene of inhumane violence and desperate defense was suddenly interrupted when a man in a lab coat stood in the cell in the middle. However, he didn't pay any attention to the scenery, his focus was elsewhere and his gaze was focused on his clipboard with documents. His tone was just unemotional but firm.

“First I need the test subject with…” the scientist’s slender finger ran over his document until he found the desired spot and pointed in the direction of the woman, “…blood group 0.”

Only then did he raise his head and seem to see what was going on.

“We still have work to do here,” grumbled the guard, who was still holding his unzipped belt in his hand.

A cold voice that was as unmoved as it was authoritarian replied: “You can do whatever you want as long as it doesn’t interfere with my research. And a time delay has a hindering effect on this. Continue when I’m done.”

The henchmen laughed and only God knew what there was to laugh about, thought Jacob Napier at that moment.

 "Only when you're done with her, then we can't do anything with her anymore."

Reluctantly but obediently, they finally let go of the two of them and Jack seemed relieved that his sister was saved from these savages for the time being thanks to the scientist's appearance.

She saw it differently. Her gaze remained on the blonde in the lab coat and she didn't move away from her tormentors towards him. Someone who rose above such sadistic monsters but nevertheless did research here. How much safer could it be with someone like that? In particular, the guards' last words echoed in her head, giving her a bad premonition. A horrible…

She pulled at her partially torn clothing.

Silent, intimidated. Head lowered to avoid any eye contact.

Before she had been a bit louder and had to be literally dragged here, but that wasn't even a great effort for several full-grown men. After the young Napier was forcefully brought into the office and laboratory amid shouts of protest, the first thing she did was quickly look around to explore the room:

The room contained a heavy desk. On this one computer and neatly sorted files. Almost too clean; almost meticulous. Behind it is a glass display case and cabinets with a variety of medical instruments, as well as metal surgical instruments and many ampoules with a wide variety of active ingredients.

Behind the desk in the far left corner was a heavy metal door set into the wall, which, like the access door, was also locked with an electronic combination lock.

No escape.

On the left wall was another door that led into a private bathroom and on the same wall in the left corner, there was a control panel and a whole row of surveillance monitors.

To the right of the table was an examination stretcher positioned at an angle on which arms and legs could be fixed. There was enough examination equipment to make any hospital jealous.

Even though everything was sterilely clean, that didn't hide the horror that the sight radiated.

The guards had pressed the new test subject onto this same operating table and fixed his legs and left hand so that the right hand was initially free for the Umbrella Scientist's upcoming projects.

But now the young woman lay there in silence with her eyes downcast and, ashamed, using her free hand to straighten her white clothes, some of which had been torn by her attackers.

No more protesting, no more attempts to defend yourself.

The virologist was alone with his test subject.

The emotionless look didn't quite understand why her biggest concern was fixing her clothes. She seemed to him like a lost little girl.

She really was lost. Completely lost.

Left helpless.

Without any human emotion, he turned back to his short report for the executive department, entered the last data that was relevant to them - or rather he assessed that it was relevant to them; without any statistics that broke everything down perfectly in detail, as something like that only caused enthusiasm among himself and his colleagues - and finally signed.

The prisoner's head now rose slightly and craned around with rapidly searching eyes to catch a glimpse of the paper.

He signed with Albert Wesker.

Happy Arklay Day 07/24/98

Have a blonde, shades-wearing, blue eyed Umbrella lab Wesker.

(I call him Dr. Sexy MD)

Happy Resident Evil day you all!

[judasiskariot]

WIP WEDNESDAY

lovely angst master @alpydk tagged me and OH MY TYRANT you read my RE fanfic so far?! 😱 Thank you for the kudos 😘💜 kudos back love 💖

So I shall answer in perfect WIP and thank you very very much for the tag, because it is:

☣⭐RESIDENT EVIL DAY!⭐☣

🏖⭐☣Happy Arklay S.T.A.R.S. Mansion Incident Day 07/24/1998☣⭐🏖

(Should I tag someone? Well @damadisangue and @nihil-ism I heard you were working on some RE thingys...share on this holy day with us what you got so far. Only if you want to, of course 😉)

So here is my WIP on my Resident Evil Umbrella Asylum fic

Have some angst and bloody science horror:

WIP

Screams and witnesses forever barking and yet unheard. The medical cutlery was not smeared with blood, but accurately arranged, but even the smell of disinfectant could not disguise the cutlery’s silent cries for blood. The man in his lab coat let out a brief sigh and slowly took off his black sunglasses before he lifted his athletic figure from his desk and sat down on the chair next to the test rig: Icy blue eyes that were at least as cold as the black lenses of the glasses. “Just answer me the questions; it saves me time. Then I’ll be in a better mood and it could save you extra pain.” It was a fact he stated here, but given the coldness of his eyes, it might as well have been mistaken for a threat.

….. The blonde woman didn’t know much more about Sheila than her name. But that was enough for her. To the tormentors, they were all the same. And that may be true, that they all became equal, but in a good way. They were all in the same hell. They had to be there for each other. Then no one was left alone. And then a name was enough. You could take so much from them. And if they didn't manage to get to know their stories to take them to the grave or tell them further, at least  keep, hold on tight and desperate on the names Umbrella wanted to take away from them. Their name, their identity, their humanity, their lives, their individuality. The blonde turned her gaze to the right and gazed into the black-haired woman‘s face. Harleen prayed to God not to take Sheila away. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . “You’re faster than me, don’t turn around! I’m right behind you!” she exclaimed to him, her voice urging in haste. So Jack hurried on, sporty long legs, go much more distance than Harleen. “Please help me. Don’t leave me here. Please. Please. I have children. And a husband. Please I want to see my children again. ” Harleen stopped and looked down the aisle. Jack. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

and I also procrastinate with some unholy, shameless smut 😏🤭

That kept him from moving his hips against her. Because that would have been extremely rude. Without giving her time to breathe, he quickly pushed her back. They collided with his desk and his firm body pressed her hard against it before he used his arms to put her on the desk, pushing her legs apart to stand between them. Muffling noises pressed into his mouth, but his imperious lips and tongue would not let her lips go, and her nose needed to be enough for her to breath. She opened her mouth to breath better. That was a mistake. Wesker's tongue slid more tightly between her lips and defiantly held her own tongue. The beauty was that after initial surprise, the young woman never just kept quiet and passively let things happen. No, as expected, her tongue reacted to the game challenge and danced around his. With the lace stroking, necked, sliding. Just as little as she was passive when he fucked her from behind, bent over on his desk.

(no not this one, this is the light vanilla part. The unoly part remains under wraps yet, unless someone needs to know.)