Chapter Text
Uroboros, the snake that eternally swallowed its own tail, constantly trapped in an interminable circle of beginning and ending and then beginning again, rising up from the destruction of its own body like a phoenix from the ashes. Eternity, infinity, a loop, a cycle, never end never stop never die never live.
Chris had been born and lived for thirty two years in the first part of that continuous loop, rising from the tail and curving around until he'd finally formed the full circle with a struggle and a broken window and a fall and a shot, blue green liquid sliding into his veins and giving him new emotions and a new purpose and a new life.
Chris had lived two lives, one for thirty two years and one for three, and now the cycle had been completed again, his tail caught in his mouth once more as he crawled from the fiery wreckage of a jet that was now Claire's funeral pyre.
Around him, the world was on fire, lava flowing through cracks in the ground and bubbling up dangerously to the surface, flames licking at his clothes and face as he crawled along the scalding ground, his bruised body largely unresponsive save for his right hand, which held Wesker's old gun in a death grip.
It was surreal, the fire and the heat and the gun and the wreck, all of it blurring together into a haze that made it seem almost impossible that four minutes earlier, he'd been on the plane aiming the gun at Claire's head. It seemed so far away from where he was now, a nightmare or a hallucination, all of it maybe just an elaborate dying dream playing out in his head as he lay bleeding and broken on the grounds of Ozwell Spencer's estate.
Had any of it really happened?
The look of absolute, purely real horror on Sheva Alomar's face as she limped backwards away from him, her trembling hand over her mouth and her breathing unsteady, almost choking, provided him with an answer.
Four minutes ago, Wesker had told him to stop Claire. He'd told him to pick, to choose, between a lover and a rebirth or a sister and a life he'd once led.
And in that instant, he'd made his decision. He'd killed Claire and damned everyone on earth to what was, even now, spreading out from the detonation point like a cancer, silently infecting everyone it came in contact with as they went about their lives in total ignorance of what was about to happen.
He'd sacrificed six billion lives to be with Wesker, crashing past the point of no return with a shot from the gun in his hand, which he abruptly released, throwing off the edge and into the swirling red-orange lava.
The Samurai Edge melted gradually, the silver metal liquefying until all that was left was the grip, the S.T.A.R.S. symbol staring up at him mockingly until it, too, burnt away, one more link to his first life forever gone.
Perhaps Claire had been the last thing truly tying him down to those first thirty two years, a strong, choking chain around his neck to tether him even as he was destroyed and reborn. She had embodied everything he'd cared about, everything he'd fought for, the reason he hadn't just laid down and let himself die after the Mansion Incident.
But in the end, the chain hadn't been strong enough; Wesker had pried too many of the links loose over the years, and four minutes ago, it had finally snapped, shattered by an ultimatum and a decision and a gunshot.
how far would you go for me how far would you go
anything anything anything
Somewhere in the distance, a helicopter roared. Chris looked up and saw that it belonged to the BSAA, saw Alomar climbing a rope ladder up into it.
But even as he watched, he could feel stirrings inside his blood. He was infected, they all were, and he doubted anyone was going to be getting very far.
Wesker staggered over to him, falling heavily to the ground beside him and pulling him into a tight embrace, their chests heaving together. He murmured soothingly in his ear, his voice unusually gentle as the stirrings intensified and the mutation began.
Chris had sometimes wondered what they had all experienced, Lisa Trevor and Alexia Ashford and even the zombies, as their cells were overwhelmed by something they had no control over. What was it like, to lose yourself entirely?
It was warm. Very, very warm, a slow, numbing burn searing out from his chest and through his limbs, paralyzing and energizing all at once. Inside, he could feel things shift and liquefy and change, every cell in his body compliantly yielding to the new coding in his DNA and reforming him as it saw fit.
It was warm, hot, burning, searing, scalding phoenix fire turning him to ash, the eternal cycle completed, the snake's tail caught in its fangs once again after three years of long, difficult transition from one life to the next.
He was no longer a brother, or a friend, or a hero, or even a villain—
Now he was just . . . a monster.
Anything for you, Wesker.