So here we are, back once again with another Writing (r)Evolution, with a revisit to The Diary of The Wasteland Bear God.
In this episode, (or entry, whatever you want to call it) we have the clash of titans: Albrecht Wesker, the Crimson Tyrant, and Ben, our beloved Mirelurk friend. Now, the reason why I gave Wesker the title of The Crimson Tyrant is mostly because of Tyrants have that lovely fleshy color…not really because of that, but because of Crimson Heads! Ah, yes, Crimson Heads…where the zombies get sent into a frenzy at the scent and taste of blood, become evolved into a fast moving, rage on your face, ripping you apart beasts. You gotta love Resident Evil, folks. Even if it’s to love to hate it. Also, Wesker. I mean, if I have to spell it out about Wesker, and why Wesker…I don’t know if we can be friends.
Mirelurks, on the other hand. They’re dag nasty, ugly misshapen crab beasts, mutated from tons of radiation. Enter our buddy, Ben. They have that lovely exploitable weakness—their face. Soft parts tend to be easy to exploit in a fight. As such, our crustacean friend here gets pounded like a piece of beef on a cutting board and a mallet. What? Did you expect a “prom night” and “virgin” analogy? Come now… I am better than that. *snicker*
Anyway, since we have Rubricon and the Bear God on standby, watching and seeing how things go down, we have their observation, remarks, and all that fun stuff. Then we have some transformation bits…because how can you not? Luckily, Albrecht turns out to be short on the transformation bit, takes a dump, and there are no nude transformation scenes. Cry about it. Do it. Too bad. Ben’s evolution mimics that of Pokémon, and such, he is now considered a water type. I made that up, and I don’t feel bad about it.
So, there you have it. Episode 29 has some good parts, and it rolls over into 30…and 31. Maybe a little more. Where the Writing (r)Evolution ends? Soon.
Until next time,
The Diary of the Wasteland Bear God
Season One: Episode Twenty-Nine
[Evil May Be Able to Evolve, but So Can I]
As Ben unleashed his anger upon Wesker, the “Crimson Tyrant,” he had become so blinded with rage that he couldn’t see he was bleeding out from within. He was dying, yes, but only being kept alive by the rage that lived within. He levitated in the air while controlling the raging winds, thunder, and lightning with his claws.
The Wasteland Bear God knew his Mirelurk companion was failing, and fast, however, to step in now would probably piss the Lord Mirelurk off incredibly.
He cracked a grin at the thought. “Alright, Ben, playtime’s over! It’s my turn!”
The winds howled louder and started to push the Bear God and Rubricon off the roof.
“I said he’s mine!” Ben roared; furious, and the skies let loose a roll of thunder and a tremendous bolt of lightning that struck the Crimson Tyrant.
With all the wind and debris, it was near impossible to see what was exactly going on in the eye of the storm, except that hopefully, Wesker would be dead soon, and they could maybe. . .move on to bigger things.
The moment of pondering came to an end, when Wesker erupted to where Ben was. Newly applied scars littered the brute’s body.
Albrecht yelled at the top of his lungs, “This has been all so very cute, my little lobster friend, however, this is your end!”
With a swift backhand to his face, Ben was sent crashing through the roof of the genetics building, down to the lobby on the ground floor. The Bear God’s Herald laid motionless. The rest of his life was knocked out.
Wesker smacked his lips hungrily. “I will rather enjoy devouring him. I don’t even have to get a pot boiling!”
“We’re still here, you know,” The Bear God commented.
“Oh, yes, yes, where are my manners. My apologies, gentlemen. I just got lost in the moment. I am sure you know how it is,” Wesker replied apologetically. “Your friend tried so hard—what a shame. Well, no sense in mourning his loss, for you two will be next!”
The last standing duo readied themselves for a battle of their wits, skills, and for their lives.
“I wouldn’t count on us being pushovers just yet, bud,” Rubricon stated.
Wesker grinned wickedly. “No, no, of course not. I expect you both to go all out and have a proper beat down.”
“Let’s get this going because I do have a laundry list of shit to do,” The Bear God commented.
“Eager to die I see. Very well, you can go first, but first. . .let me show you, gentlemen, what’s in store.” Wesker replied.
The crimson brute hunched himself over and clung to his sides—thick leathery wings sprouted, while a set of horns erupted from his forehead, each longer than one another, and each one more pointy than the other.
“Please don’t say, ‘me so horny,'” Sin commented.
“Oh, don’t worry. I am not even finished,” Wesker replied casually with a grin.
Next, a long tail erupted from behind him, its end adorned with spikes.
“Now?” Sin asked.
“Not yet. . .” Wesker grunted.
“How long is this going to take? Please don’t say several episodes. . .” Sin sighed.
After several moments of ‘changes’, the Crimson Tyrant stood before the mighty duo. He grew several feet more, had more razor-sharp claws on his hands, and elbows, while his feet seemed to mimic a Deathclaws.
“I have to say, that was the most boring transformation I’ve ever seen. Wouldn’t you agree, Rubricon?” Sin commented.
“I would have to. I mean, when we fought, that one time was even better,” Rubricon added.
Wesker’s face had a serious look on it. “Enough! I will kill you both, devour you and your pathetic crab friend, and then go out into the Wasteland and devour the rest of its denizens.”
“Uh oh, I guess Al here is getting upset with us. Look, pal, if you need to talk about some issues you’re having getting it up. . .” The Bear God verbally attacked the red brute.
“I am not your pal, bud.”
“Well, I ain’t your bud, bro.”
“I’m not your bro, friend.”
“I’m not your friend, Steve.”
“MY NAME IS ALBRECHT,” Wesker roared furiously.
“Ooh, I think we hit a nerve here, Rubricon! Watch out! We got a badass over here!” The Bear God chuckled.
Unbeknownst to them, far below, there had been a transformation taking place. Ben no longer was the Mirelurk he once was. . .
You could hear a whistling sound fast approaching the rooftop as if something was coming. . .
“I said, that asshole was MINE!” Ben roared, uppercutting the crimson beast in the jaw.
“Holy shit! What happened to you, Ben?” The Bear God looked at his former crab comrade.
Ben stood before them now. He was no longer the Mirelurk he once was. He was a hybrid of a Ghoul and Mirelurk, with his right arm as a mighty claw. He was above average than a typical man would be, but smaller in stature than his mighty Mirelurk form. His back was blackened, tough, and it came to wrap around his head—a new shell, if you will. No longer did he have the eyes of a Mirelurk, he had the black eyes of a Ghoul. To all of them on the rooftop, he was fuck ugly. Almost as bad as Wesker was at first, or any other Ghoul they had encountered.
“I’ve evolved,” he said.
“The fuck is this? Pokemon now?” Sin inquired.
“Nope. It’s just how I work. You’ll see more, in time.” Ben replied.
He turned his gaze to Wesker, “As for you. . .I told you I was gonna tear your soul out. . .I mean to see to it.”
Wesker grinned malevolently. “I can’t wait to see you try, small fry.”