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Thunder children

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"Turn on the light, it will keep the monsters away.
Oh, but what do you do when the monster is you?"
- Unknown -

 

Thunder children


 

#1 - dark

Suspended particles, molecules of a god.
Floating in nothingness, climbing on each other - without a order, without discipline.
They are nothing in the beginning, they’re everything in the end.
They are cells, tissues, organs - entire systems.
Beneath the eyes of the white-coated men a god comes back to new life - suffering from an agony mortals cannot even conceive.
He has neither voice, nor words; just (confused, delirious) thoughts.
There are others like him (failures), as the wheel hasn’t stopped turning yet.

“Subject number?”
“One hundred and thirteen, sir.”

Coming into the world hurts as much as passing away.

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#2 - rage

Lifeless, deathless.
A damp feeling underneath his fingers (on his skin) - wetness.
There’s no voice telling him where he is, no other noise apart from the ferocious one belonging to his heart.
He can feel his body -too little. Wrong.
He knows he’s in a regenerative chamber (he used it for Jill), he knows the required protocols (he wrote them for Umbrella).
He tries to move a hand - he can’t.
His conscience slips away and comes back, his memories clinging to it like jellyfish tentacles.
Albert Wesker closes his eyes and wonders if this is Hell.

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#3 - death

Umbrella collapses.
A foul monster, a rotten womb.
Umbrella falls on its own knees - a giant chained up and killed like a dog.
Umbrella is red and white, slivers of glass and blood.
It’s a shout lost among a thousand others, a name hiding horrors and miracles behind.
The powerless Cronus looks at his ambitions decline - a delusion that had eaten him alive.
Prometheus stands amongst the ruins, Persephone by his side.

Not for long.

Zeus and Hera gather what’s left and wait.

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#4 - discord

To accept means to comprehend. To comprehend means to evolve. To evolve means to survive.
This the BSAA psychiatrist had told him; this was his truth.

Bullshits.

Chris had accepted the murder of Dr. Roach at Jill’s hand, her escape from the BSAA (from him).
Chris had accepted his life as a sequence of failures one after the other, a tragic comedy of the absurd.

Zombie dogs and mutant spiders.

He had accepted all the shit war had thrown at him (the pain, the loss - the total surrender of any hope).
Truly Chris knew what accepting meant (to bite the bullet and keep going) but he didn’t want to comprehend.

He could not.

He didn’t want to evolve, to change.

He didn’t want to survive.

Three years later Piers will die to remind him what’s the meaning of standing up and fight.
Of living, in the end.

 

 

 

 

 

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#5 - wound

Excella has always been a vain woman.
Neat, healthy nails.
Long hair, as black as raven wings.
Full lips, thin waist: a generous body.

Bent to his longings.

Excella is beautiful.
She’s an indecent moan dressed in silk and diamonds, a fine present in as much precious wrapping paper.
Excella is a nice face - a rotten heart.

Beating just for him.

She smiles at him, baring her teeth - white and even.
Albert Wesker has always had a weakness for disgustingly expensive things.

 

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#6 - sadness

 

Leon has officially worked for Raccoon’s police department for just two hours; after that the apocalypse, like that of Romero’s films.
Raccoon City sinks into its own blood as he and Claire try to survive until dawn, running against time.
Sherry’s eyes are empty, transparent.
In her veins lies all that remains of the G virus, in her heart dust and ruins.
Leon looks for her hand, listening to her calm and incredibly mature weeping.
“They are dead.” she says, and this is no question.
“Yes.” Leon replies, and the sun clings to the night -burning it.
Sherry bends her head down, hiding - an unexpected shyness.
“Uncle Al too?”
Leon’s got no clue who she’s talking about.

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#7 - war

Days bear no significance anymore, time’s a limited dimension.
Alfred greets his sister from a distorted mirror, smiling at himself.
Delicate hair, as thin as golden threads: a lean and masculine body.
Alfred is alone in his own mind, Alexia’s a far and unreachable figure - a girl grown into a woman in the silence of the cryogenic sleep.
Strangers have come to bother them (danger) and now it’s up to him to protect her - to protect her from the world she rightfully owns.
Alfred inhales, exhales; he adjusts the epaulets on his jacket, checking his rifle (good little soldier).
It’s time to go to war.

 

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#8 - negativity

 

Claire is tired.
It’s been three weeks since Sushestvovanie, but the grip that place has on her still shows no sign of decreasing.
She rocks her leg beyond the arm of the sofa, a cup of cappuccino in her hands.
TerraSave was betrayed (her trust was).
Reports were filled in, explanations were given: no one questioned the words of Claire Redfield, sister of one of the original founders of the BSAA and survivor of the Raccoon City incident.

No one, but her.

Her phone vibrates, a message from Moira.
Claire looks for it underneath the only files she could find about Alex Wesker.

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#9 - obligation

Jill bends her chin down, swaying forward.
Fingers contracted as if they were claws, a bird’s face - Jill is like the gravedigger of the new century (glass eyes and dead skin).
A woman clings to her ripped belly, crying - pointing at her and the eyeless devil.
Wesker smiles - baring his teeth.
They descended upon them from the sky, making the land barren.
Kijuju’s hot air shakes the folds of her cloak, scratching her flesh.
Jill is a volitionless doll (isn’t she?), bent to a ruthless man’s needs.
Albert Wesker is the monster under the bed - in her bed - author of this hopeless tale without redemption.
“Jill.” he calls, and she answers.

Always.

Habit is a painless poison down her throat.

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#10 - hatred

Edonia is a land teaching you just two things: how to kick the bucket and how to hate.
Jake’s got his father’s eyes, his profile.

Perhaps even his body.

The only thing left of Aelita is the sanguine nuance of his hair, his full lips.
Her last words (your father loved you, Jake) her last smile.
Chris takes a second to study him - to remember him.
Sherry still looks like a little girl by his side, a lukewarm hand not fearing the snows Jake holds in his heart.
“I can see your father in you.”
“So you knew him?”
“Yeah. I did.”
Silence.
“And I’m the one that killed him.”
Sherry represses a sob, Jake draws out his gun.
His pupils thin, his mouth half-opened.
“It was you.” and his eyes speak to him - blaming.
“Tell me...” a movement on his left (Piers), no trembling in Jake’s hand “were you just following orders, or was it personal?”
Chris stiffens his shoulders, accepting his judgement - his punishment.
Both.”
Jake swallows, furrowing his brow.

Suffering.

Hatred is a spark in his eyes burning everything else.

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#0 - We are each our own devil and we make this world our hell.

Blood dripping, blood falling.
Amongst her own creatures Alex is nothing - a red and white monster.
All that blood slips on her arm, amongst the serpent’s scales, on her fingers clenched in a fist - a warning and her last will.
The tale is over, the joust has come to an end (and you have lost).
An infected slightly brushes her side, raising his chin towards her (ignoring her).

Dead flesh for dead teeth.

Alex is aware of Stuart’s voice calling her from the tower, understands the enormity of the events her actions triggered.

But she doesn’t care.

A woman sniffs her, black hair without a shade of grey.
Alex stares at her (empty eyes, once green), reflecting in that dead glance (as dead as hers).
The woman’s neck jerks to her right, her feet start moving again.
Alex takes a hand on her eyes, smiling.
The one thing truly dead in that destruction is her heart.

 


"I think cruelty is just loneliness disguised as bitterness."
 - Tom Hiddleston -