WHO| Wesker and OTA
WHAT| Wandering/Resting
WHERE| The Haunted Mansion Graveyard
WHEN| The Night of the Cornucopia
WARNINGS/NOTES| It's Wesker. That should be warning enough. Note wise, he'll be making his way to Tomorrowland and his powers soon, so if anybody wants a chat at time when he'll be less likely to kill you, now's your chance.



His ribs were broken.

Using ones own hands to determine which was an inexact science, but if he had to guess, numbers eight and nine - the vertebrochondral, the false - on his left side.

He treated the knowledge clinically as his flesh burned - every breath, each and every step, a heated stab of pain that raced across his chest and back. A message from his body to his mind - we are injured - and nothing more. It would not stop him. He would not dwell. He needed only to find the location of power in this arena - surely there would be one - and he would be back on track. It would all once more be as it should.

In the meantime, it was a mere complication. An extra step. He accepted it as such and deferred to it, as he would any other hurdle they might throw his way.

Lingering in a graveyard, he sheltered beneath the outstretched wing of a faux-concrete angel. His nostrils flared to catch the light breeze as he listened to the night and counted the slow-even beats of his own heart.