Claire bit her lip, raising her handgun. She trained it on the darkness before her, which was practically a superficial gesture. If she understood Albert Wesker as Chris described him, her odds of actually hitting him were low enough that being blindfolded wouldn't make much of a difference. The sound of Wesker moving overhead caught her attention and she trained her gun upwards.

The next few moments passed in a blur. By the time Wesker actually entered her field of vision, Claire had the time for only one shot. She closed an eye, attempted to align her sights, a difficult task given the circumstances, and squeezed the trigger. A shot. The sound of metal clanging in the distance told her that she shot wide, if not by much. By the time she had lined up a second shot, Wesker was upon her.

His punch was not unlike getting hit by a car. Claire's pulse race as his fist connected with her lower ribcage, sending her back a few week. She tensed, steadying her arm and realizing she must have dropped her gun sometime in the process. Wesker stood before her, no different than she remembered. The glow behind his glasses never failed to unnerve her. She took a deep breath. He stood before her, seeming content to simply observe her. Not wanting to waste the few precious seconds she was being afforded. Her hand reached for her belt, pulling out her knife. Taking a second to brace herself and shift the weight of her back away from her fractured ribcage, she readied herself for another exchange. While she wasn't optimistic about her odds, she'd be damned if she let Albert Wesker ever get the better of her without a fight.

The two exchanged a silent look before charging. Claire stayed back, she couldn't outmaneuver Wesker, and so her only hope was to catch him off guard. He rushed her, faster than she had expected. Closing her eyes, she swung at him, hoping to catch him in the ribcage. Her arm struck something hard. Opening her eyes, she saw that he had caught her by the forearm. A mere heartbeat passed before he twisted her arm, causing her to drop her knife. She swore to herself. With little visible effort, Wesker drove his palm into her stomach, throwing her back against the wall.

Claire barely had time to hit the wall before Wesker was upon her again. She attempted to lunge at him, but wasn't nearly fast enough. By the time she could even see what was going on, he had her pinned, his gloved hands pinning her forearms to the wall. Following a quick kick to her shin, she was helpless. She closed her eyes. As much as she hated to admit, she was helpless against him. She braced herself for whatever injury came next, and was surprised when none came.

A ripping sound filled the air, as she was relieved of her jacket. Hesitantly, Claire opened her eyes. She was staring directly into his glowing eyes. She shuddered. With another quick movement, Wesker's hand traced her torso, grabbing her undershirt and tearing it clean off of her body. She tensed, scared of what could be coming next.

Her fears were realized as Wesker snaked his hand along her chest, causing it to pant as it passed over her ribcage. She twitched slightly, realized the experience had left her slightly wet. She cursed the thought, determined to hold steadfast against him. As his hand reached lower, it undid the clap on her belt, a stark contrast to the aggressive treatment that her shirt had received. She heard a clang as her tools and weapons dropped to the ground beneath her. A light pant escaped her mouth.

Wesker's hand began to work its way lower, caressing the inside of her thigh. She gulped. It finally reached upwards, lightly rubbing between her legs. By now, he would no doubt be able to tell she was wet. She mentally cursed again. The last thing she wanted was for Wesker to get the idea she was enjoying it. She wasn't prepared for what came next.

Wesker jammed his hand upwards, a motion of which the speed was comparable to one of his feared punches. The force of which was more than enough to tear through her pants and panties. Claire let out a scream. Wesker's index and middle finger were inside her already wet pussy. She was tight enough that accommodating two fingers was a chore, and the tension of which left her back arching. In a twisted act of mercy, Wesker gave her a second to adjust to it before he started to move his hand, gloved fingers pumping in an out of her. Claire found a moan escaping her lips, an act she instantly resented herself for. As she stood here, pinned against the wall and helpless to resist his probing, Wesker extended his thumb, causing it to just narrow catch her clit each time he shoved his fingers inside her. A feeling began to well up inside of her, something she couldn't control. With a howl, she came on his fingers, her arched back beginning to slouch against the wall.

How fortunate she would be if such was the end of it. She let out a narrow sigh as his fingers exited her. Before she had time to catch her breath, he was already inside her, causing a second scream to fill the air. He was well endowed, big enough that his fingers had done little to prepare her. Her back arched, and a warped sense of ecstasy came over her, to the degree that her chest injuries seemed to melt away. Wesker finally pulled one of his hands away, allowing her forearm to helplessly hang by her side. With his now free hand, he lifted up her leg, tilting her slightly and giving him a better angle of attack. She moaned, the new angle giving him access to spots she herself was hard pressed to stimulate, and found her arm instinctively reaching around his broad shoulder, subconsciously pulling herself closer to him.

She could taste a trickle of blood. A cursory check revealed she had bitten her lip hard enough to make it bleed, a pain she hadn't noticed in her state of warped ecstasy. Suddenly, as soon as he had entered her, he pulled out, releasing her arm. Robbed of her balanced, she dropped to a heap on the floor. Wesker shot her a quick glance over his shoulder, his eyes glowing with the closest thing to appreciation she thought him capable of. In a blink, he was off.

With a grunt, Claire tried to raise herself, before becoming all the more painfully aware of her damaged ribcage. She made it a few inches up the wall before dropping to the cold floor. Defeated, she grabbed her jacket, now in tatters and did her best to cover herself with it. Minutes passed quietly before she found herself slipping from consciousness. The echo of boots in the distance told her that her help had finally arrived, although much too late to save her…