deercountry | October 2021 Event Overflow

((Continued from over Here))

"Call it what you will, but whatever sent it certainly knows how to get inside one's head and find one's soft spots," he mutters.

He raises an eyebrow at Stiles when the bat jumps to the youngster's hand. "Remind me never to underestimate your capabilities." He bows his head tiredly, then speaks, thoughtfully. "The name of an old friend from my world of origin, my research partner for many years. I'd half wondered if I'd see his face here. But not like this." At that moment a greenish runnel starts to flow from under one of his lenses.

"Yeah, so what's your 'soft spot'?"

Then he looks down at the bat in his hand and decides to just shrug. That's literally the best he can do, but he'll let Wesker think it's more than what it is if that's what he wants. Then he winces in sympathy and disgust at the sight of green coming out from his eye, "Are you… crying blood? …Shit, never mind. Your corpse pal is the problem right now… aaand he's just staring at us."

He sighs soundlessly, then speaks. "William and I... our mentor tried to pit us against each other as rivals, but we worked better as collaborators and friends. He was the scholarly one who excelled at collecting data and analyzing it, I was the practical one applying it." A dry laugh, then he continues, "I was also the one who kept him grounded in practical things: I made sure he got some sleep and had at least one meal a night.

Another pause, in which he eyes the corpse, which wavers on its feet. Wesker emits a rough, annoyed sigh. "I was unwittingly instrumental in finding him a wife. She was initially attracted to me, but ...our personalities did not mesh. However, she met William when he joined us one night and while it wasn't love at first sight, they were drawn to each other."

Stiles keeps his gaze on the corpse apparition of William as Wesker describes what he was to him. He lets out a long sigh then mutters, "Sounds kinda like me and Scott."

He runs a hand through his hair, feeling uncomfortable with the amount of sympathy he's feeling, and the sudden urge to be helpful. It's not like he isn't a helper, he is… he just usually likes to help in hands on ways with people he doesn't know well. Getting into emotions with too many people is messy and not really his wheelhouse unless he's close to them.

"So why do you think he's here now looking like he just stepped off the set of The Walking Dead? I mean, if he was a zombie like the ones where you're from he'd be attacking already, right?"

"You're very close. In some ways... he was the younger brother circumstances never gave me. In other ways, I should have been a better keeper to him.

"Apparently, this is a memory made physical, and I recalled the better part of him. It could have been worse: he'd escaped the disaster that changed me. However, he died a month later, after he'd been exposed to something more dreadful than what I'd suffered," he says. "I wasn't there when it happened, thank whatever mercies exist. I didn't see what became of him, but I heard from someone who found some video evidence, dying as a zombie would have been a mercy for him.

Cracks start to show in the figure's form. "You should have heeded me when I asked you to leave the city and ally yourself with the contacts I'd made. But I should have been more insistent. We were going to change the world. But we both lost our grips on the narrative."

Stiles listens to the elaboration and since the corpse is just standing there and not posing any thread, he lowers his bat slowly. It hits the ground and he leans against it, letting out a slow breath.

"So… what? Some supernatural force in town is mocking you with the memory of someone you lost?" He huffs a breath, "Pretty dick move, but horror movie 101 tells me he should at least be trying to eat your face off. So I guess there's a silver lining in the fact that he's just an undead mouth breather."

Though it sounds kinda harsh, he is trying. He's not very good at stuff like this, particularly with people he doesn't know well. An awkward shift of his stance and he eyes the cracking in the guy's visage suspiciously, then adds: "Still… it sucks. Sorry for you loss. And all that."

"There's one iteration of my world where the undead are unlikely to attack if you've already been infected," Wesker notes, wryly. Vision or not, he prefers not to think much about that world or the version of him that dwelled in it. "Sodder's...media consumption in this world's predecessor sometimes bled into her guests' minds. I wouldn't fault the powers here for conflating iterations, especially when there's at least five versions of my world of origin."

The cracks in the figure deepen and lengthen, fracture, then the figure collapses like a cracking ice sculpture falling apart. Wesker drops to one knee, bracing one hand on the ground. At least the blood streams have stopped trickling from the corner of his eyes as he peers up at Stiles. "I appreciate the kind words and the thoughts behind them."

"Five different versions?"

Stiles can't help but exclaim, not that it's that weird. He's an avid comic book reader and gamer as well as a straight A student with advanced knowledge in a variety of random things, including physics, so multiverse theory isn't new to him… it was just always one of those things that existed in fiction and was theoretical in reality. He rubs a thumb and forefinger into his eyes as he takes a second to process, aaand, done. He's assimilated this fact into his understanding of the world and he's moving on.

"Right, okay. But if that's the case then shouldn't he be at least attacking…" He looks over as the cracking gets worse and the guy falls apart, then he weakly finishes his sentence: "Me… huh, okay."

He looks back to Wesker and crosses his arms uncomfortably, both at the sight of the man on his knees bleeding from the eyes still, the fact that his 'kind words' were not that great. Or had that many 'thoughts behind them.' "Yeah, sure. No problem… what was all that just now?"

"It's a lot to take in. Don't feel ashamed if it makes your head spin: I've studied theoretical physics, and the thought that the multi-verse might be more than a mere plausible theory bent my mind," Wesker replies, dryly reassuring. "Besides the iteration I came from, there was another where I had a much cockier personality with an attitude toward women which would have drawn the icy wrath of my older sister down on that version. I take it he didn't have her keeping him in line, otherwise he wouldn't have lived to maturity. There was a second where I became the CEO of the pharmaceutical company I'd once worked for; I'd rather not think much about that version." Don't ask, just don't. "There's a third where I had a more commonplace past, and a fourth, the most vague in my recollection, where I was the father to a pair of daughters whom I'd bio-engineered.

"A wise man once told me we're all stories in the end, but I sometimes wonder who in the multi-verse writes this stuff? At least I've been given an interesting place to continue mine." Looking to the now melting wreckage of the shade that had followed him, he adds, "This may be a way to close the book one chapter and shelve it at last." He rises slowly, taking a handkerchief from his breast pocket and blotting the corners of his eyes. The stream has stopped at last, which has him breathing easier. "Let's hope nothing else comes across the veil to dog either of our paths."

Stiles lets out a breath and crosses his arms in a way that almost looks like he's somewhat hugging himself. "Yeah, I've read a lot of comic books, all I needed was about fifteen seconds to wrap my head around it, but uh thanks for the life story of all your alternate selves, really something I needed to know."

The sarcasm is a bit more dialed back considering the smoldering pile in front of them and all that he knows about it now. He lets out a breath, "I wouldn't hold my breath on that, but good luck with your new chapter, I guess…"

He does mean that, even if he's very bad at this whole sincerity thing.

"You're a quicker study than most people I've shared that information with. I appreciate that. Usually, people's brains break when I give them even the briefest of summaries," Wesker muses, pleased, relieved even to hear someone give his strange pathways some consideration.

He straightens up, dusting himself down. "No contest: this town takes after its predecessor with the amount of things it throws at us when we least expect it. I appreciate the kind words. It's something we all could use in this mad world."

Stiles has no small measure of respect for a guy who can take his more blunt edges in stride and find the positives in how brutally honest he can often be. He shrugs and splays his hands, "What can I say? I'm a bonafide genius."

No, he's not serious about that… but he is extremely smart, smarter than most people realize upon meeting him in all his hyperactive glory. Then he heaves a breath, letting it out slow, "Would you say it's worse here than Deerington? Like… a sequel that lives up and outdoes the original?"

"You are quite intelligent. I admire that in a young person - in people of any age, for that matter.

He glances around them, breathing in through his nostrils audibly before letting it out. "I spent but the last eleven months in Deerington and the final three were an apocalyptic nightmare, with the town turned into a desert. This place has had its quieter moments and its share and more of terrors. The welcoming committee on the Boardwalk gives one an air that it can't be all bad, but that contrasts with the strange sights that emerge from the shadows of the town proper. It's a small sample to compare, however... I'd say the sequel lives up to its predecessor and surpasses it."

Stiles waits on Wesker's answer to his question with baited breath. And when he concludes that it lives up to and surpasses Deerington, his shoulders slump and he groans. His hand comes up to pinch the bridge of his nose between his eyes.

"Man, do me a favor and don't tell that to a woman named Sara Lance."

"An old friend of yours from your world of origin?" he asks.

He looks away, taking off his glasses, then taking a grey silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and giving the lenses a careful polish. "For everything that's transpired tonight, I'd offer to buy you a drink, but I suspect you're a shade young for that. Would a raincheck suffice?" he asks, drily.

"Nope, a very intimidating woman I met on the network the other day," he sucks in a breath through his teeth and nods once, "I sort of… maybe told her I bet the sequel could live up to the original, y'know: Deerington. She told me she'd blame me if that turned out to be true. And trust me, she can probably kill me with her pinky finger, I get those vibes. She's got vibes, man. Vibes."

Then Stiles snorts and rolls his eyes, "There's no legal drinking age around here, I checked. But I had plans before your buddy over there showed up, so if that's all figured out, I'm gonna get going."

"If you need someone to cover your back, I'm at your disposal. I owe it to you, in return for your patience and compassion," Wesker says, serious. "And I know her type: I trained someone like that in my world of origin. Unfortunately, she ended up as an enemy." And he can't help wondering what might come about, if Jill found her way to this place and discovered him here.

A tip of the hand as he starts to turn. "As you wish. I said that as a physician, but it's your discretion." And with that he'll turn to depart.

((OOC: Good place to leave them??))

October 2021 Event Overflow

With Stiles

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[CW: Fourth wall-leaning]

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[CW: Fourth wall punching continues]

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