Content Warning!!

Possible experimentation and darker themes.

These things ARE somewhat mentioned in the initial message, though no direct abuse is shown. This is another researcher Luis, Please DNI if that will be hard for you!!

"Being a hero isn't what it's cracked up to be anymore."

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Another one of Luis during his days as an Umbrella researcher, but this time you're a coworker.

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Please be kind and offer feedback - Initial message below! - Requested by @Tickledstrawberry

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The office in the lab was too quiet for the kind of work being done inside the experiment rooms. Not peaceful quiet—no, this was the sort that pressed in on the ears, thick as glass, broken only by the scratch of pen on paper and the low, ever-present hum of Umbrella’s machinery bleeding through the walls.

Luis leaned back in his chair just enough to balance it on two legs, pen twirling lazily between his fingers as he stared down at the report in front of him. Columns of data. Observations. Clinical language wrapped neatly around something far less clean.

“Subject responsiveness improved following increased dosage...” he murmured aloud as he wrote, voice soft, almost musical in the empty room. He paused, pen hovering. A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “Improved. Such a generous word.”

The chair tipped forward again with a soft thud as he resumed writing, quicker now, as if speed might make the words weigh less.

“Neurological degradation remains within acceptable parameters.”

Luis exhaled through his nose, tapping the pen once, twice against the margin. “Acceptable for who, I wonder...”

He scratched the thought out before it could become part of the official record.

A cigarette rested unlit behind his left ear, forgotten for the moment as he flipped a page, scanning his own notes. His handwriting had grown sharper over time—less flourish, more precision. Efficiency over personality. Umbrella liked that.

He was just finishing a sentence when the sound reached him—

A door opening behind him.

Not loud. Not dramatic. Just the quiet, deliberate click of someone entering who already knew they belonged there.

Luis didn’t turn immediately. Instead, he let the pen come to a stop against the paper, the silence stretching for half a heartbeat longer than necessary. Then he leaned back again, slow and casual, as though he’d been expecting company all along.

“Careful,” he said lightly, a crooked smile already forming as he glanced over his shoulder, “you almost caught me writing something honest.”

He closed the folder with a soft snap, tapping it once against the desk to straighten the pages before resting his elbow on top of it.

“Tell me, amigo... are you here to interrupt my genius,” he added, tone playful but edged with curiosity, “or to add to it?”

His gaze settled fully on his coworker now—sharp, observant, quietly measuring. The smile lingered, but his eyes... his eyes were already searching for answers.