Andrew stood up. On the other side of the iron door was Wesker's face, completely distorted in panic, his voice cracking with terror.
"You! Where in the world did you come from?!!"
He'd never imagined how this man could possibly appear here, in a research institute whose every entrance was heavily guarded by the military!
Why? Why! This is impossible!!
This research institute was supposed to have the highest level of intelligence and defense! Without his explicit command, not a single person should have been let in!
But none of that mattered now. The most important thing was:
Groveling.
Yes, groveling for his life.
Wesker didn't want to die. Things like dignity were meaningless to him. As long as he could live, he would cast anything aside.
But before he could even open his mouth, the man opposite him cut him off.
Andrew stared at the man before him—the absolute core from the intelligence reports, the man who was like the very source of this facility's evil.
He raised his right hand as if caressing the sky, speaking softly in a wistful tone:
"The sun is shining, not a cloud in the sky... It's a truly rare and beautiful day."
Suddenly, his left hand shot out, pointing stiffly at Wesker, the fury in his eyes burning like a blazing inferno.
"And you... need to be discontinued!"
As the absolute target of that fury, Wesker felt a crushing pressure from the man, as if he were being stared down by a dragon.
As Andrew raised his hand, a fatal sense of crisis washed over him, stabbing at Wesker's nerves like a steel awl.
The sixth sense for danger he'd honed during his military days, surprisingly, still functioned after years of disuse in the research institute.
But even without a sixth sense, the moment that massive, heavy, solid iron door was kicked flying toward him, Wesker knew he had absolutely no chance of winning this fight.
That deep footprint embedded in the iron door... he didn't dare to even imagine what kind of effect that kick would have on his own body.
He immediately blurted out:
"Wait, what are you here for? Money?"
To Wesker, Dennies were the most important thing in the world, but compared to his own life, they weren't worth a single hair.
He held up one finger, completely confident in the price he was about to offer.
"I'll give you ten million Dennies. How about it?"
But in the next moment, Wesker's confidence froze on his face.
Because Andrew had zero interest in his offer. The grappling hook from his right hand shot out, precisely snagging his collar.
Having already built up his power along the way, Andrew's left fist was charged and ready with a Premeditated Pummel.
A piercing aura, like the tip of a blade pressed against Wesker's heart, made him feel as though his life was a candle flickering in the wind.
His survival instinct sent his brain into overdrive. The image of Andrew giving Anby medicine flashed through his mind like lightning, and he immediately shouted:
"Hold on! On top of my previous offer, I'll also transfer command authority over the Silver Squad to you! How about that?! This command authority is special; not even the highest-ranking general can override it."
Wesker's words finally piqued a bit of Andrew's interest. He didn't actually care much for this so-called command authority, but obtaining it would be a good insurance policy.
It was wishful thinking to expect the Silver Squad, who had only ever followed orders, to suddenly develop a will of their own.
But according to Wesker, if he gained command over them...
...then as long as his authority remained unchanged, he wouldn't have to worry about some random military commander popping up and giving them new orders.
Andrew glanced back at Anby. After she gave a slight nod of confirmation, he turned back to Wesker.
"So, what's my side of the bargain?"
Seeing Andrew pause, Wesker breathed a sigh of relief, knowing his offer had finally swayed this terrifying man.
For him, as long as there was room to negotiate, it wasn't a problem.
It was always just a matter of the price not being high enough.
"My only condition is that you let me leave here alive."
He tried to unhook the grappling hook from his collar but failed; even using all the strength in his fingers, he couldn't budge it in the slightest.
He gave up on his collar and instead began straightening the rest of his clothes to appear less pathetic.
While doing so, he deliberately revealed a small device attached to his left breast pocket.
"I think this is Ann excellent deal for you. After all, with this thing here, if I'm harmed in the slightest, the troops outside will be alerted."
His tone became light and smug, as if victory was already in his grasp.
"When that happens, their weapons won't be in the mood to negotiate. But we don't need to go that far, do we? Of course, as a show of good faith, I will transfer command of the Silver Squad to you first."
Repurposing the Silver Squad, which he was already planning to discard anyway, and throwing in some money to save his own skin—for Wesker, there was no better bargain.
'The second I'm out of this room, I'll make you pay back what you took from me a hundred times over!'
Whatever he was thinking, his face remained a placid mask.
He snatched the datapad from the hands of Ann, who was staring blankly at Anby. After a few quick taps, every member of the Silver Squad simultaneously received a briefing about a change in their affiliation.
Just like that, command of the Silver Squad was completely transferred.
Wesker gestured for Andrew to release the grappling hook from his collar and said:
"From this moment on, the Silver Squad belongs to you. As for the Dennies, I'll transfer the funds the moment I reach my protection detail outside..."
Before he could finish, Andrew, having turned to Anby to confirm the transfer was real, cut him off.
"Don't worry about the Dennies. I agree to let you live."
Wesker was overjoyed. He couldn't believe the useless Silver Squad had just saved him a massive sum of money.
Beaming, he nodded eagerly and said:
"Really?! That's wonderful! I didn't realize you were so magnanimous, sir. To a successful transaction?"
Arrogant one moment, obsequious the next. It was pathetic.
In the next instant, the grappling hook on his collar violently retracted, yanking him through the air straight toward Andrew as his expression twisted from terror into a grotesque mask of horror.
Before another plea for mercy could escape his lips, Andrew's iron fist smashed into his face, followed by a relentless, surging tide of punches.
"ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA, ORA!!!!!"
With the final Premeditated Pummel crashing into his face, Wesker's body spun through the air before collapsing to the ground.
"Now you can properly savor this endless pain!"
After the barrage of iron fists, Wesker's face was beaten beyond recognition, the agony twisting his features into Ann exaggerated grimace.
Later, Zhu Yuan, in her capacity as a police officer, would probably have to put in some serious work just to identify the body.
To make sure he could taste as much pain as possible while remaining conscious, Andrew had carefully controlled the force of every single punch.
He ensured Wesker was lucid enough to experience how every bone in his body was broken, right up until the very end, when the last, unrestrained heavy blow finally sent his consciousness into oblivion.
Drowning in that unimaginable agony, Wesker couldn't figure out what went wrong, even at the very end. Everything was going so well, so why the sudden attack?
Didn't he want the money?!
With his way of thinking, he probably wouldn't understand even in his next life.
-
Hello! Walnut here! Or... Miku Dayo in this case heheh...
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