(I OWN NOTHING.)

Wesker Lives His Life

Pilot

"My Kingdom for a Cheeseburger!"

"Chris!" Sheva exclaimed, watching in horror as Wesker advanced on Chris with superhuman speed and drove his hand clean through the BSAA agent's chest.

"Ooooh." Wesker laughed at Chris' pained expression. "Should'a called in sick today, buddy."

"Bastard…" Chris grimaced as Wesker withdrew his hand, covered in blood. "You're just a sick monster."

Wesker blinked at him. "What do you know of my work?"

Chris hit the ground, dead and Wesker laughed triumphantly. He put his fists on his hips and titled his head up, laughing even louder.

"You son of a bitch!" Sheva shouted, pointing her gun at Wesker and interrupting his laughing fit.

Wesker turned to Sheva and sneered. "I forgot about you. For heroes you two have filthy mouths. It's rather unbecoming for a young woman such as yourself."

Then he lifted a hand, curled it into a fist and punched a large red button on his side. Sheva inched back as a siren sounded and red lights bathed the cargo bay with a scarlet hue. Behind them the hatch of the plane began to slowly open, the roar of wind almost deafening.

Sheva fired a shot at Wesker, who moved out of the way so fast he was nearly a blur. The shot pinged off the wall behind him as he advanced on the woman.

She took another step back, clearly frightened. Her boot touched the ground and there was a loud crunch following it.

Wesker and Sheva both stopped what they were doing and looked down. Beneath her boot were the shattered remains of Wesker's sunglasses.

"Oh." Was all Wesker said upon seeing the destruction of his only friend in this world: his sunglasses.

He looked up at Sheva, who looked at him speechless. "You realize I am going to kill you now, right?"

With amazing strength Wesker grabbed the BSAA agent by her throat with one hand and, with the other, lifted her high above his head.

He turned towards the open hatch on the plane and said. "Well, this is your stop."

Wesker heaved and threw her out of the plane with only a fraction of his strength. It was enough, however, to propel her a considerable distance into the dark skies behind them.

He laughed once, putting a hand over his eyes in a mocking salute. "Ah, Chris, I'm sure she will be missed."

Grinning nearly from ear to ear, Wesker walked to Chris' body and wedged his foot beneath his body. He then unceremoniously kicked him off the plane as well.

Wesker patted his hands together, signifying a job well done. He then punched the button and closed the hatch before making his way back to the cockpit.

Once in the pilot's seat Wesker reached over and buckled himself in. "Safety first."

"Unidentified Bomber." A stern voice crackled over the comm. channel on the plane. "This is the United States Air Force. You are in violation of American air space. You have three seconds to comply and surrender before we are forced to shoot you down."

Wesker smiled and leaned back in the chair, folding his hands and placing them behind his head as he relaxed. Soon it will all be over, soon the world would be infected with Uroboros and he would rule over it as a GOD.

"Three seconds." The voice said.

Ah, he wondered what he would do first in the new world. Clearly this explosion wouldn't kill him. He surmised nothing short of being shot in face with two rockets at the same time while slowly melting inside a giant volcano could kill him.

First things first, he thought. I'll open up Fort Knox and melt down all the gold to make a giant throne. It'll have a HUGE W and I'll put it somewhere nice. Somewhere near a lot of restaurants.

"Two seconds. If you do not comply we will be forced to shoot you down. You will not have a second chance."

But even before that I'll have a cheeseburger. I haven't had a cheeseburger in, like, forever.

Wesker froze. If everyone was dead or some sort of higher evolutionary form, then who the hell is going to make him a cheeseburger? Or, for that matter, any food? Sure, Wesker didn't need food, but he'll be damned if he didn't enjoy eating. With his new world he would be a GOD, but, then again, what's a god without his cheese burgers?

"One Second." The voice said. "Preparing to fire."

Wesker jumped to a sitting position, he leaned forward and jammed his finger on the comm. button. "This is Albert Wesker of the St. Wesker class bomber. I'm standing down and ready to surrender, over."

There was a long moment of silence before the voice came back on the comm. "Roger that. We'll flag you down to an airfield. If you do not comply, we will open fire. Over."

Wesker sighed. Well, this threw a wrench into things. He was dead set on becoming a god and, when the moment came, he decided against it. He would get his giant, gold W throne yet, but it would have to wait. With that thorn in his side Chris Redfield gone for good when he DID decide to enact his plan it would go through, flawlessly.

Until then, it wouldn't hurt to have a cheeseburger and live his life a little.

Wesker leaned over and looked outside the windows on St. Wesker. He saw two fighter jets and, ahead, the airfield they were waving him to land on.

Of course, going to prison would be a problem. He had never been to prison before and he wondered how easy it would be for someone as amazing as he to break out. Probably not hard at all.

He would take care of the pilots before that ever happened, though, so no worries. All he needed was his shot.

Wesker patted down the front of his coat where he kept a spare syringe. Empty. He patted down his side pockets, then unlatched his seat belt and checked the hidden pockets on his coat. Nothing!

"Oh dear." Wesker said aloud. "Looks like prison will be a problem after all."

To Be Continued.

NEXT TIME ON WESKER LIVES HIS LIFE: WESKER BEHIND BARS!

"Come on, white trash!" The large black inmate growled at him, holding up his fists and ready for a fight. "Lets see what your skinny ass can do."

"Are you a lawyer?" Wesker asked, lifting his fists up nonchalantly.

The inmate tilted his head at the question. "What?"

Wesker advanced immediately and drove his foot in the inmates chest. The inmate was knocked back, his head bouncing against the prison bars with a sickening thud. He crumpled to the floor, dead.

"Because you just failed the bar!" Wesker sneered, pleased with himself.

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