Wesker Crows

By evolution-500

Genre: Humor/Horror

Disclaimer: Resident Evil is a property that belongs to Capcom. I do not own any of these characters.

WARNING: This story contains references to coarse language and creepy imagery. Reader discretion is advised.

* * * * *

The heat was getting to him.

Rubbing the sweat from out of his eyes, thirty-five-year-old Chris Redfield squinted as he raised a hand to block out the harsh glare of the sun overhead, the African air thick, oppressive and inhospitable.

Leaning against a wall of a dilapidated building, Chris tightly held his eyes shut as nausea set in, swallowing as he struggled to keep himself from falling over, the urge to faint overwhelming.

Jesus Christ, the heat here was something else!

Even though he was an experienced veteran within the BSAA who had survived no shortage of B.O.W.s and extreme conditions, this was the first time as far as Chris were aware where the heat took its toll on him.

Hell, even with a t-shirt on he was still sweating buckets.

"Chris?" Wiping his face with the neckline of his shirt, Chris turned to see Sheva as she approached, the latter looking at him with concern. "Are you okay?

"I'm-I'm fine," he muttered as he wrung his shirt. "Just trying to clear my eyes."

Chris watched as Sheva's mouth pursed, the latter retrieving a flask tied to her belt. "You should have something to drink," Sheva said, her eyes filled with worry as she offered it to him. "Here, have this. You're dehydrated."

Hesitating, Chris looked up at her, then back at the flask.

"Drink," Sheva urged.

Sighing, Chris finally relented, his broad shoulders slumping as he unscrewed the cap and took a sip.

Letting out a satisfied groan, he relished the cool taste as it sloshed around in different directions, his taste buds savoring the sensation.

Swallowing, he glanced tiredly in Sheva's direction, murmuring, "Thanks."

The latter smiled. "My pleasure!"

Rubbing his eyes, Chris shook his head slowly from side to side. "God, what the hell?!" he exclaimed, his voice dry and raspy. "How are you able to tolerate the heat down here?"

Sheva shrugged. "It's not easy. It can be pretty brutal sometimes, especially during the summer." She gave him a carefully measured look. "Are you going to be alright?"

Chris nodded. "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" she pressed. "You may be built like a wrestler, Chris, but just be aware, it wouldn't be the first time a big guy such as yourself gets heatstroke down here. Even you have limits, so don't push yourself, okay?"

Gulping down another sip, he handed the flask back to Sheva, wiping his mouth.

"I'll manage." Pushing himself away from the building, Chris rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck with a satisfied groan, raising his pistol as his eyes narrowed in concentration. "Let's get going. We've got a job to do."

* * * * *

Moving through the village of Kijuju had been a slog, and the more Chris and Sheva had traversed, the more he felt the heat bearing down on him.

Once or twice he wavered, and while he had tried to hide his discomfort from his partner, it was around fifteen or twenty minutes later that Chris suddenly found himself freezing in place, startled by the sight before him.

'...Wesker?!'

Blinking rapidly, Chris furrowed his brows in confusion, wiping the sweat from out of his eyes as he did a doubletake, the BSAA caught off-guard by the vision that greeted him and his partner.

Sitting on top of a crate beside a white fence to his left, was the Devil himself, former Umbrella researcher Albert Wesker.

In an instant, Chris snapped his pistol up and aimed, almost out of pure reflex, his index finger ready to pull the trigger...only to falter.

"...What-?!"

Puzzled, Chris shook his head, his brows furrowing as he struggled to make sense of what he was looking at, squinting his eyes before raising up a hand to block the sun out of his vision.

What the hell?

What am I even looking at right now?

Before him, Wesker was perched on top of a crate in his usual black on black ensemble, his dark sunglasses and clothing contrasted by his pale skin and blonde hair, his chiseled features handsome and youthful.

However, his shape was...wrong.

His body was leaning forward in an awkwardly hunched over position, but his head, Chris noticed, was oddly protruding from the front of his chest.

Staring wide-eyed, Chris' mouth parted, his brows crinkling.

"...Wesker?" he murmured, his tone uncertain.

His hated enemy said nothing, his eyes vacant, his form still, not even acknowledging his presence.

Giving Sheva a puzzled look, Chris turned back to his nemesis, stepping toward the latter with slow cautious steps.

"Wesker, is that you?"

As he drew nearer, Wesker suddenly squawked and wildly flapped both of his outstretched arms, each movement accompanied by a slight parting of the legs before he fluttered off into the air.

"Wha-?!"

Startled, Chris stumbled backwards, watching in stunned silence as Wesker flew away, the latter flapping his arms in the air by the wrists, cawing like a crow before flapping more fully in a T-pose.

As Wesker's form disappeared into the sky, Chris dumbfoundly stood watching for several moments, then turned to face Sheva.

"...What just happened?"

Sheva opened her mouth to say something, only for a loud caw to cut her off, drawing Chris' attention over to the right.

Nearby, five Weskers sat perched on various rooftops, telephone poles, wires and the exposed rafters of broken down buildings, looking like demented scarecrows or gargoyles sitting on a carcass, all of them identical, albeit distorted and monstrous.

"What is even happening right now?!" Chris muttered, watching as another flock of T-posing Weskers came fluttering from the sky, the latter cawing loudly as more started to join, the sky darkening.

None of it made any sense - Chris didn't see any wings nor feathers on their beings, let alone anything mechanical; instead, the Weskers were all flapping their arms fully, while others flapped at the wrists.

Raising his pistol, Chris carefully aimed his weapon and fired, watching as one Wesker plummeted to the ground, landing with a loud thump.

More Weskers drew near from all directions, as if spurred on by the sound of gunfire, forcing Chris to backpedal and discharge more and more rounds as they all swirled around him like a whirlwind of madness, casting shadows over him.

"FUCK! RUN!" he cried, firing off more rounds as a whole swarm emerged, covering the sky, the air filled with numerous cawing duplicates that glided through the skies in a T-pose.

Bodies dropped from the sky one after the other with each shot, the BSAA Agent feeling his head pounding and ears ring as the world around him.

He heard Sheva shout something, but he was unable to catch it over the noise.

Turning dazedly on his heel, Chris stumbled as he grabbed the sides of his head, overwhelmed by the heat and awful taunting, almost laughter-like caws, the world around him becoming overwhelmed with flying Weskers and darkness.

* * * * *

Chris' eyes fluttered opened as he felt a wet damp cloth wiping his face, staring up at the ceiling of the Bell UH-1 Iroquois' cabin, its propellers audibly thumping outside in a monotonously drumming beat.

Blinking in surprise, he turned to see both Jill and Sheva beside him as they both looked down at him with a mixture of worry and concern.

"W-What happened?" he groaned.

Jill shushed him, squeezing his hand in assurance. "It's okay, it's okay, you're safe now. You gave us a bit of scare for a moment there, Chris. I thought we had lost you."

"You had a bit of a heatstroke," Sheva explained, offering Chris her cannister. "Here, have some."

Sitting himself up, Chris weakly accepted the drink, the cool water providing a soothing relief for his chapped lips and dried mouth.

Once he finished, he returned the cannister back. "Thank you," he nodded.

Smiling, Sheva gave a thumbs up.

"Wesker," he said slowly, drawing both of their attention, "...we got him?"

Blinking rapidly, the two women exchanged looks before glancing back in Chris' direction.

Finally, Sheva let out a tired laugh, shaking her head. "We got him, partner," she assured, patting his shoulder.

Chris was quiet as he lied on the cabin seat, releasing a breath that he had been holding in.

"Good," he nodded, relief flooding him as he exhaled. "Good."

As silence filled the cabin, Chris turned his gaze over to the window, where he saw the sun rising in the horizon, casting its rays through the window.

After two to three days of fighting, after two to three days of intensive grueling struggle for survival, the mission was finally over.

Many of their comrades were dead, and a great many others have suffered, but Richard Irving, Excella Gionne, and Albert Wesker, the architects of this disaster, were all dead, the latter's plans now in literal smoke.

It hadn't been easy, but with Sheva's help, they were able to rescue Jill and save the world from a global disaster, which wasn't bad, all things considering.

Chris didn't know what the future would bring - there was still so much to do, especially in terms of reports, commission hearings, arrests and shutdowns, even providing relief for refugees - but with Wesker finally gone, the future never seemed brighter.

As he lied back down on the cabin seat, Chris listened to the propellers drone on, watching as the sun grew brighter, its light casting away the shadows of night.

* * * * *

Author's Notes: Annnd...done! So, the inspiration for this story came from a video on YouTube that had showcased a mod for RE5 where they replaced the skin for crows with Wesker. The video was hysterical, and it was while watching that I couldn't help thinking of this scenario as a result.

Shout-out to Egyptianmaus and Stuff-3 for their help - thank you so much, guys! You absolutely rock.

Stay safe and healthy, everyone! :D