"Ha! Combat data my ass. We are talking about the same guy I just put through the wringer upstairs, right? The only reason I'm down here now is because he threatened an 18 year old girl, and had to pull a gun on me. Wesker's no better than any of the other Umbrella freaks."
Chris takes a puff from the cigarette.
"I'll plow through anyone and anything I have to get to him. And I'll never give up. Not until I'm dead."
He hits the lock mechanism hard with the butt of the knife's handle, growing agitated, then gestures with the point to Birkin.
"After all, if I don't stop him, who will? We'll all end up like you and him. I'm not gonna let that happen. Not on my watch."
"Have you ever considered the reasons why he hasn't killed you yet?" He rose to his feet and pulled on his chains, causing them to shriek under his new strength.
"You're too wrapped up in your heroic bull that you miss the point. There are far worse men out there than Albert Wesker. Far worse. You just see through the thick blood of your precious S.T.A.R.S members; nothing more, nothing less." Birkin shook his head with a mild chuckle.
"Then, Mr. Redfield, you and your sister truly play with the same deck of cards." He slid his claws down the decrepit wall for emphasis.
"If you think you are just going to vanquish my friend of twenty-six years, I believe I will have to interject." He spat at the end of his sentence.
"Some friend. And for the record, not even Satan himself is worse than Wesker. At least with Satan you know right off the bat he's going to fuck you over."
Chris tosses the remains of cigarette to the floor and crushes it out with a boot, pitching the corridor into darkness again.
"You got stuck down without even a night light."
He smiles to himself, then taps the point of the blade against the bars on the cell.
"You're over there, and I'm over here. Let's keep it that way. For now, you're just annoying. Don't let yourself become a problem."
Chris sighs.
"You're still part human. Don't you want to be normal again? Don't you want to see your daughter?"
"That does not mean I cannot see." He pulled the cloak away, allowing his eyes to glow in the pitch-black cell. "I agree; your voice is beginning to sting my ears as well, and I don't-" He cut himself of.
"-Sherry." William frowned. "..The cocktail has already molded to my cells. Normality is no longer a factor, and I am sure Sherry would rather be in the hands of that wench."
However, Birkin couldn't keep himself from sounding upset. He knew he would probably never see his child or the mother that bore he again.
"The next time you call my sister anything but her given name, you'd better be prepared to back it up, fucko. Now, I suggest you shut up and let me get to work here if you're not going to offer any help."
Chris begins beating on the lock mechanism with his knife.
"You sister brings about the same feelings that Wesker brings abut in you. However, I am not as brash as you are."
That was all Birkin said before returning to a small seat in his cell. It was then that he snatched up a small packet on the floor and pulled out a series of injections.
Chris takes a puff from the cigarette.
"I'll plow through anyone and anything I have to get to him. And I'll never give up. Not until I'm dead."
He hits the lock mechanism hard with the butt of the knife's handle, growing agitated, then gestures with the point to Birkin.
"After all, if I don't stop him, who will? We'll all end up like you and him. I'm not gonna let that happen. Not on my watch."
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"Have you ever considered the reasons why he hasn't killed you yet?" He rose to his feet and pulled on his chains, causing them to shriek under his new strength.
"You're too wrapped up in your heroic bull that you miss the point. There are far worse men out there than Albert Wesker. Far worse. You just see through the thick blood of your precious S.T.A.R.S members; nothing more, nothing less." Birkin shook his head with a mild chuckle.
"Then, Mr. Redfield, you and your sister truly play with the same deck of cards." He slid his claws down the decrepit wall for emphasis.
"If you think you are just going to vanquish my friend of twenty-six years, I believe I will have to interject." He spat at the end of his sentence.
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Chris tosses the remains of cigarette to the floor and crushes it out with a boot, pitching the corridor into darkness again.
"You got stuck down without even a night light."
He smiles to himself, then taps the point of the blade against the bars on the cell.
"You're over there, and I'm over here. Let's keep it that way. For now, you're just annoying. Don't let yourself become a problem."
Chris sighs.
"You're still part human. Don't you want to be normal again? Don't you want to see your daughter?"
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"-Sherry." William frowned. "..The cocktail has already molded to my cells. Normality is no longer a factor, and I am sure Sherry would rather be in the hands of that wench."
However, Birkin couldn't keep himself from sounding upset. He knew he would probably never see his child or the mother that bore he again.
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"The next time you call my sister anything but her given name, you'd better be prepared to back it up, fucko. Now, I suggest you shut up and let me get to work here if you're not going to offer any help."
Chris begins beating on the lock mechanism with his knife.
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That was all Birkin said before returning to a small seat in his cell. It was then that he snatched up a small packet on the floor and pulled out a series of injections.
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