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sadlittletiger · 5 years

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Hey friend. Do you enjoy anyone with Arias?

Heyyyyyyyy. I like Arias! I wish we could have gotten him in a game.

So, I had a chapter planned for our semi-abandoned story “To Be of Use”, in which Wesker considers... letting go of his business partner, Excella, and bringing on brand new pharma-terrorist, Glenn Arias. Glenn climbs aboard Wesker’s yacht just before the events of RE5, and a wild, evil threesome ensues. So I guess I could pair Glenn with whoever?

Here’s a little bit of that:

April 2008.

It was a beautiful Tuesday afternoon when Jill met the man who should have killed Albert Wesker.

She was laying on her stomach, dozing in and out of dreams, under the brilliant Tunisian sun. Sea birds called and turquoise water lapped at the hull of the yacht. She shaded her eyes and watched a large fish bob up and down in the gentle waves, it’s great mouth gulping at a piece of driftwood. It was an idyllic Mediterranean day - the warm breeze fairly humming with a lazy kind of possibility.

A motor approached - she heard it before she could see it. It was a speedboat coming out to them from the distant, hazy coast. She sat up, tying the straps of her bikini top behind her neck. Her breasts felt heavy and hot, throbbing in protest at being pressed beneath her and now restrained by the bathing suit. She looked down past the red scarab, past the blinding diamond necklace, and studied her deep cleavage, frowning at the latticework of thick blue veins that ran like a ghost highway under her skin. She would need him soon.

As the boat drew nearer, Wesker emerged from the cabin below, his open shirt billowing in the breeze, his feet bare and bronzed on the gleaming white deck. His hands moved to the pockets of his sailing shorts, and he nodded to his majini who gathered at the railing on the side of his boat, ready to help their esteemed guest aboard.

She watched Wesker. He was every bit the fateful captain, staring off at the horizon on the helm of a beautiful yacht.

He was Ahab… chasing his own murderous whale.

Only the whale’s name wasn’t Moby Dick.

It was Glenn Arias.

——-

Mr. Arias was a rising star in the world of bioterrorism. His reputation for cruelty almost surpassed Wesker’s, which was impressive to say the least, and he was rumored to be developing a multi-stage virus that would effectively put the rest of the major players in bioengineered warfare out of business. Forever.

At 35, almost fifteen years Wesker’s junior, he was thought to be worth something just shy of a billion US dollars, and his list of clients might have included a few first world governmental bodies.

Regardless of whether any of it was true, he had enough of an aura to pique Wesker’s interest, and that alone struck fear into her. Wesker himself had grown quite restless in the past few months, imagining that his partner, Excella Gionne, was actively plotting his downfall. Jill hadn’t noticed much of a shift in Ms. Gionne’s behavior or her cool temperament towards Wesker, even after the diamond incident.

But perhaps she was planning his demise.

Good for her, Jill thought.

In the meantime, Wesker was quietly seeking a new business relationship, one that might be looser with its purse strings, one that might be more forward-thinking than an old guard like Tricell… one that lacked any semblance of a moral code.

He hoped to find what he was looking for in Glenn Arias.

______

“Beautiful rig.”

It was the first thing Jill heard Arias say. He had a bright, confident voice, not in the least villainous - nothing like Wesker’s cultivated rumble.

She watched as an athletic man jumped off the speedboat, pulled himself up the steps to the yacht, his hand out. At the top, Wesker shook it, one quick, professional pump and then a well-practiced release.

But Arias… oddly enough… pulled him into a hug. He thumped his back twice, as if they were old friends meeting after a long absence.

Jill held her breath, the corners of her mouth threatening to turn up in a smile.

Wesker stood very still, his spine rigid with shock. “Thank you,” he managed.

———-

Despite the presence of company, she found herself in the usual position at Wesker’s feet. The handcuff around her right wrist jingled against the leg of his stately chair. She felt Arias’s heated gaze on her every time it made a sound. She stared at the golden tassels that decorated the edge of the velvet pillow she reclined on.

Wesker had at least had the decency to put her in a lacy chemise at the dinner table. She reminded herself, bitterly, to be grateful for any allowances, no matter how small. Just months earlier, Wesker would never have granted her clothing during leisure. Her… emotional acquiesce was paying off in increments.

Arias studied her, his chin in his hand. “Do you mind if I speak to… ?” he asked from the other end of the table, his lips turning up into a sly smile. He gestured, as if he was unsure of the appropriateness of using a pronoun on Wesker’s pet girl.

Her jaw clenched.

“Of course not,” Wesker replied.

The fire in the glass hearth flickered and cracked behind Arias. “Hello, sweetheart,” he greeted her directly for the first time since he’d boarded the boat. Condescending, but warm.

She took a deep breath and raised her gaze to meet their guest’s.

“My God… those sad beautiful eyes…,” Arias said in a hushed voice.

Jill glanced up in time to see Wesker smiling mildly, almost proudly, at her. He reached down and gently adjusted the diamond necklace. It felt like a dog chain around her throat.

“Does she talk?” Arias asked.

“Yes.” They answered in unison.

Arias raised his eyebrows. “And you two… communicate, through the device on her chest?”

“Something like that,” Wesker said, leaning back in his chair.

“I’m sorry to pry… but this is just… so fascinating,” Arias continued, almost excitedly. “The whole thing. So you hear his voice? In your head?”

She regarded Arias, unblinking and cold. “Yes.”

“But you have free will?”

She lowered her eyes.

Wesker waited a moment before he spoke for her. “She has… negotiated free will.”

“Negotiated free will.” Arias turned the words over slowly. “No disrespect meant, of course, but what good is a slave —“

“She’s not a slave,” Wesker interrupted him. She felt herself start at his words. Her body, of its own accord, seemed to draw closer to his legs. He looked down at her, his hand coming to stroke her face. He cradled her jaw.

Arias rubbed his mouth, silenced.

“Absolute obedience was never the goal… not at all,” Wesker went on carefully, and he stared at her as if he was speaking only to her, only for her. “There will always be… parts of her I cannot reach. I will try though. And we will suffer passionately in two separate bodies, for eternity.”

#glenn arias #resident evil fanfiction #WeskerxJill #Weskertine

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