Over the horizon was the sun. It settled, slowly hidden away by the grey clouds of the early morn. Hoover Dam stood proudly between the former states of Arizona and Nevada once again. The blood, sweat and tears of the people under its care make life worth living and not just surviving. Two battles and it still stands as the user's pinnacle of dominance.
It was a slow start to the day for Colonel Moore since the Legion's defeat two years ago today. The second and last battle for Hoover Dam. Most enemies of the N.C.R.'s glory days have long since faded away into obscurity, leaving the war hero without any enemies to pass the time.
"Why did I ever bother coming into work?" she asked herself.
Alone in General Wesker's office, there was always something to do. Paperwork needed filing. Records updating. Stock handling. She never mentioned it was fun work. Indulging herself with the secrets on Wesker's terminal would fight the tedium of any size. The wonders she craved was in front of her.
Alas. It wasn't meant to be. An administrator locked his account. Fair enough. It'll be good to see what skeletons her superior had hidden away in the mainframe, but no matter how bored she was, she couldn't live with the guilt of snooping around in her husband's affairs. Loves him too much.
On her profile, she got a notification for a video call. It was an old associate of Wesker's. Ulysses… She enlarged the video image. It was just him on screen, and the background was too obscure to see any detail. They never met or exchanged words before.
"Colonel Moore," he said in his deep voice with a slight broodish undertone, "It's always an honour to meet a person of your calibre."
"It's a pleasure for ONE of us. I could hardly say the same, Ulysses."
Ulysses was a dark man with thick dreadlocks. His breathing mask was bulky and covered half his face, from the chin to his nose. His voice was clear, if not grumbly or profound. Moore didn't trust him as far as she could throw him. Ulysses may be a lone wolf of the Divide, but he still wasn't precisely a person to overlook.
Before he was the original Courier Six of the Mojave Express, he was a member of the Frumentarius of Caesar's Legion. A bad egg of the batch, as if there were any good ones. He was the one who convinced Caesar that Hoover Dam was the pinnacle of the Mojave. Inadvertently causing both battles for the Dam.
"Can I help you?" she muttered disdainfully.
"Personally, no. I seek an audience with General Wesker, and he's offline. Would you kindly acquaint us?"
"I'm happy to inform you that he's out of office right now," she sneered. "Can I take a message?"
His eyes rolled down and quickly back on eye level. "This is unfortunate. When is he due back?"
She sighed. "Today's his day off. Whatever problem you have you'd best to save it for tomorrow."
"The situation is dire."
"Then leave a message, and I'll pass it on to him."
"This is something that needs to be said in person. I will contact him the first minute he's available. Good day, ma'am." Ulysses' video chat collapsed, and he then appeared offline.
"The nerve of him." Her shoulders sagged. "This is a difficult time for Zaac, and this is the last thing he needs right now. What could be so damn important?"
The Dam looked beautiful this time of morning. The bright sun slightly hidden by grey clouds shed a warming ray of light onto the Dam's walls. They reflected as such. The wind ruffled through General Wesker's shaggy tousled hair. It was auburn and was dancing in the wind. Wearing his helmet and riot armour for over two hundred years made him miss the little things, like the wind on his face or the warm touches of a fine woman.
He was left with plenty of time to think about the rest of his young life. At only twenty-three years old, he had a good sixty left to shape up the Wasteland, only because in some ways, it was his fault it came to be. To redeem himself and fix his mistakes.
In the Old World, there was law and order. Police, businesses and proper marketplaces. Not these caravans, factions and these military forces that are more concerned with their own profit. Things needed to change, and he was the one who had to do it. Is there enough time for all that? That was a factor.
With the loss of Sarkis two years ago, Zaac had more time to think and be alone with his thoughts, without some false Demigod clouding his judgement. He was a manifestation of himself, only with different opinions, emotions and obligations. He was given a name, and that name became a separate entity. One he had stuck inside his head for centuries.
Zaac watched the waves below brush and splashed against the Dam. When he closed his eyes, it reminded him what it was like to be back at the beach. This morning was warm enough to convince him. But he wasn't outside to feel his humanity coming back to him; he was there for two reasons. One, he was on his day off. And two, he was visiting family. More specifically his son, David.
Two years ago, Agent David Wesker led a small team to take down Legate Lanius in his camp. With Hoover Dam's defences holding well against the Legion's advances, the team was able to achieve the victory conditions for the engagement. His team members were lucky to survive the confrontation with Legate Lanius, and the casualties across the entire Wasteland after the battle were significantly less compared to the first battle years prior.
Unfortunately, David's life was lost during the battle at the camp. He gave his life to cripple the Legion commander long enough for his companions to eliminate. Focused brute force and efficiency ended Lanius and brought an end for the Legion as their numbers dropped significantly all around the Mojave.
It was tough without him. Now that Zaac was human; he had no way of knowing how to live the rest of his life. Twenty-one years as a superhuman, two hundred and eighty-two as a Demigod, yet only two as a common human. If felt disgusting at first, as opposed to now. Words can only describe it as being inside the skin of something you don't belong in within the world you barely know anymore.
The human perspective was far too different than the young Demigod's before. He saw an infant world on the road to recovery, yet as a human, he can now see the futility of trying to restore the land that used to be. The world was rife with death and corruption.
The statue of the man holding Legate Lanius' helmet was all that was physically left of David's likeness. The right man, woman or thing at the wrong time or place can make the difference our Gods and masters expect from us. That's what the plaque said.
David died before the complications for survival ensued. If he were still alive his body would deteriorate, unlike regular humans, his body could still be sustained through Progenitor virus injections. Though that would make him vulnerable to spontaneous mutation. He would have wanted to die a hero, rather a monster.
Zaac knelt over David's grave; his knees didn't ache anymore which was nice. Having his mobility back felt fantastic. Zaac closed his eyes and reminisced about the old days when his family was still around. Days growing up with Claire in Raccoon City. Those days in Amsterdam and Paris, even moments in their adulthood.
Children coming along, and life were suddenly so good to the point of it seeming unreal. Then there was the problem with Umbrella. They never stopped. Not until now. The Horsemen of the Apocalypse are finally where they belong. Rotting in hell, along with any memory for that pharmaceutical menace.
"How you holding up?" a female voice said behind him. Sounded sweeter than usual.
"Better… Nothing is perfect, but things can always get worse."
Sharon Wesker. Cass smiled under the light. Her eyes were kinder, and her hair was cut recently, shoulder-length rather than a ponytail. Still a beautiful shine of blood orange. Hadn't aged a day since the first time they met at the Mojave Outpost, not in person, it was a business trip. She appeared younger. Fuller. Fresher.
Last anniversary Zaac arranged a little get-together with his son's old team plus his descendant Sunny Smiles. Though it was nice with the gang getting together, this time everyone had plans and showed up at different times. Cass was alone, William, Lyannah and Sunny were in the Dam's barracks, and Veronica and Boone planned to show up later.
Cass walked to the grave and stared at the magnificent statue of her deceased husband. Zaac still knelt with his eyes closed. Wasn't meditating, was he? "I miss him too, Zaac. Out of all my lovers, he was the best and I am glad to have had him in my life before he..." She couldn't finish her sentence. Didn't need to. He eyes flushed as she could stare at the statue no longer. "I'm sorry."
"You loved him, didn't you?"
Cass nodded. "I did. I don't know if it was just me being selfish or pathetic but… deep down I did."
"It's natural. People develop feelings they never knew existed in the time they spend with others."
"The last person to actually love me were my parents. I didn't usually care for that lovey-dovey stuff until my ma passed on."
"Least you knew her. That's not much, but that's more than others can say."
"And… you're the only one I can call a dad, and that's hard to tell since you're younger than me."
"Age is determined by how many years you've been born." He shrugged. "I don't feel my age."
"If I cut you open, could I just count the rings?" She chuckled.
He smiled and reared his head to Cass. He looked like he didn't have a care in the world. "That's something David would say. Though I'm three hundred and five, I could pass off as your younger brother." He lost his smile. "Those are the problems you get when you mess with the fundamentals of time."
"David told me about what happened in 2021. The Nexus Incident? Right?" Zaac nods. "What a disaster that must've been."
"It's people like Legate Lanius and Mr House you have to thank for that. Those selfish bastards wanted to rule the world, and guys like us had to suffer for it. All that stays in the past for a reason."
"Apart from that, how are you and Moore holding up? You know, kids 'n' all?"
"Things get better with age. It's not too hard for me. What about you? How are your kids?"
"What can I say?" She cupped her hands and idly walked back and forth behind Zaac with a puzzled expression. Then she found her answer. "They're the most obnoxious brats I had ever put up with in my entire life, but… They're my children, and I love them to bits." She stopped behind Zaac and looked the other way and her eye's flushed again out of sadness. "They're all I have to remember of… David." She turned back around and stared at the statue's face. It had David's smile, and it fit perfectly. "I have no parental instincts, if it weren't for you, I wouldn't manage to raise kids. Especially triplets."
"Those are the problems every new parent faces. Claire and I had these problems back in 2000, only we had four kids."
"It's funny." Zaac stood up and her eyes adjusted to his. She smiled. "I always pictured General Redfield as the fearless type."
"I never knew David was born until the year after in 1998. I died in Raccoon City and again the Christmas after. It was a dire time."
"You weren't ready."
He pouted and shrugged. "No one was at the time. We made do with the cards we were dealt. It paid off in the end as you can see."
"I hope I can catch a break." She and Zaac stared at the statue. It was hard not to. "I miss him so much. Such a gentleman."
"I'm proud he died doing what he did best. Fighting in the name of all good and righteous. He's at rest now with his family at least, and we should be happy for him. He's almost the lucky one… What I wouldn't give to rest in peace. Every day there's a new problem and I feel responsible to do what I can to fix it, only because my past still haunts me. Sometimes I wish I never exalted to Demigod… Sarkis' mere existence took a lot from me, but then..." His eyes strayed away from the statue and at the dirt. "I wonder what would happen if I turned it down."
"You have regrets?"
He blinked and met Cass' eyes. "Fewer than usual but that's normal. I was put on this planet to protect and serve, even in death. I'm only here because I wanted to do more to help."
"Hard to keep loyalty and persistence down. Right?"
"I don't like the term 'persistence'. That sounds clingy. I prefer determination."
"Feels bad man. Did I miss anyone here?"
"Veronica and Boone are coming later. Last I checked, Sunny and William are in back in the Dam."
"Was Lyannah with them?"
"Yeah. She changed since the battle."
"I know. She tolerates me now."
He smiled. "She's warming up to you, that's a bonus. It does my old heart good seeing David's influence rub off on people like you."
"He was a helluva dude."
"That he was." Zaac fiddles with his Pip-Boy. It beeped once, and he came off. "Chip off the old block."
"What's your secret? I want my sons to live in his father's footsteps as David walked yours."
He blushed. "I'm honestly a bit humbled. I guess it comes to traits like chivalry, respect and integrity. I believed there was a lack of real men in our biased world, so I raised my kids to be like me." A woman was coming from the visitor centre. A blonde woman in N.C.R. armour. She walked towards him and Cass. "Don't look now. The ol' ball 'n' chain is coming," he chuckled.
Cass turned around to meet Colonel Moore as she stopped just behind her. "Citizen," Moore greeted nicely. That wasn't usual.
"Colonel."
"Very good. Zaac- General, we have a problem back at the office."
"So much for my day off. Colonel, I'm off duty, I'm your husband, not you superior. What's up?"
"Apologies Zaac. That man Ulysses has requested to see you, and I don't know what to say."
"I just got the notification." Zaac groaned. "I'll go see what he wants."
"Thank you, Zaac. I can't deal with this guy. He's just so… mysterious."
"That's his problem. If you don't mind me, Cass, I have business to attend to." Zaac walked around Cass and went towards the visitor centre with Moore.
"I'll be out here."
Zaac reared his head, still walking on. "I'll get back with you. Colonel, did Ulysses mention any problems in particular?"
"No. He kept it brief. All he wants is to talk to you for whatever reason."
"Mysterious."
"That's why I don't like him, Zaac. He's a Legionary Frumentarii-"
"EX-Legionary." He and Moore passed through the double doors of the visitor centre and passed by many soldiers. Mostly Troopers. The inside was tidy which was nice.
"Frumentarius is my point. Like the bastards that attacked us in the war room."
"It wasn't a picnic for me either."
"Still… if it weren't for you, Oliver and I would be among the casualties."
"It's my job. You shouldn't hold your grudge for an ex-Legionary. Ulysses means well." He and Moore stopped outside his office. The guard outside saluted them and they shared one in turn and entered through the closed metal door. "He wants to bring America to its former roots, even if we find them questionable he isn't considered evil."
"I will tolerate him if it's necessary. Since he has a problem that concerns you, I will do as you say only to get the ordeal over with."
"That's a start. I want this to be over quickly. Sooner he's out of our lives the better. He's spoiling my day off."
"I made dinner plans today. He'd be wise to cut to the chase."
"Now that would be a major disaster." Zaac pulled out his chair and paused. "Sounds nice. Though I was thinking about going for a walk."
"Generals shouldn't walk the Mojave without an escort."
"I can make it work; I'm not like most generals. Could disguise myself."
"I would prefer you to have an N.C.R. escort. I want you to be safe, Zaac."
"I'd rather not." He sits in the leather chair; it squeaked as he got comfortable behind his office terminal. "If you insist, I suppose I could just hit up Vegas and stick around up north."
"Just be careful."
"If you mean that, I'm afraid you don't know me well enough. But if that's what you want, I'll bring Sunny with me. Would that make you happy Cassandra?"
"Happy is a strong word," she murmured. "I'm just relieved."
"You shouldn't vex yourself with me; I'm as powerful as ever. Luckily for both of us, I'm also better looking."
Moore blushed. Those rosy cheeks took away some of her pressing fear factor, something she takes pride in. It faded as quickly as she glanced away. "Let's just get Ulysses out of the way before we get ahead of ourselves."
"Right. That dragged on longer than it should."
Zaac signed into his account and found the invitation to a video call from Ulysses. The screen enlarged, and Moore stood behind him with folded arms, projecting that traditional N.C.R. glare. The background on Ulysses was dark; he was alone in a pitch black room from the looks of it. His eyes shifted as his guest finally spoke in his broodish tone.
"Ulysses, long time no see."
"General Wesker," he said in greeting.
"I hope you have a good reason to bother me on my day off Ulysses. I'm still not on good terms with your agenda. So please, make it brief."
"I have reason to believe that there is Institute activity in the Divide. They infiltrated not long ago and evicted me from my solitude. I have some intel to prove it."
Moore snarled. "The Institute? This far out?"
"Yes, Colonel. It is strange indeed. Gen-1 Synths are scrapping resources within a mile radius of my Temple, and a small team of Coursers already wiped out scores of Marked Men before their arrival."
Moore leant closer to the terminal. "Now why would they go out of their way to do that? It couldn't have anything to do with all those ballistic missiles you have stashed over there would it?"
"Those missiles were deactivated years ago when Courier Six arrived. They're harmless. Nothing but scrap."
"Now that scrap is in the hands of the Institute." Moore leant back and rubbed her eyes.
"The Institute has some of the smartest minds the Wastes have to offer. Cannot underestimate them in the slightest."
"The problem is why are they interested in the ballistics in your Temple if they're unarmed. This just brings up more questions."
"What is the intel you claim to have?"
Ulysses looked at his monitor. He was sat at a desk, that was apparent. "A video capture of my Temple's takeover. I'll show you the footage."
"Let's."
The footage was recorded just above the main entrance to the missile silo that Ulysses uses as his Temple to the Old World. The silo was the largest of the Divide. The fact it is capable of launching several nuclear missiles at once.
This was a huge problem for N.C.R. and the Brotherhood since it was a serious threat. All combined forces they sent to deactivate the silo failed as the Marked Men proved to be hard to kill and promptly trounced the invaders. William "Courier Six" Haydock walked the lonesome road straight to the silo, and the threat suddenly went away.
There were six missiles, three in holding frameworks in a pit on the left and the other three in holding frameworks in the pit on the right side. The main level had a universal array of consoles, plus the launch control terminal Ulysses once planned to use. Two circular machines were flying about the silo. They were known as Eyebots.
The entrance ruptured under an explosive force and blew the shutter door into pieces that scattered across the metal ground. The Eyebots instantly dropped everything they were doing and started firing upon the invaders with their laser blasters. Then they started to take return fire.
Quick beams of blue against the defender's red matched up in accuracy and efficiency. The attacking beams was more consistent and never missed a shot, whereas the angle didn't disclose the attackers, so their accuracy was an educated guess. There wasn't any sound so the guess would be even more biased.
The Eyebot on the left was taking most of the damage after a few seconds of suppression, then it sparked. Flames ignited, and it exploded. The attackers panned onto the last Eyebot, and it didn't fare any better. It was destroyed almost instantly. As soon as it did, the blue beams ceased, and the attackers poured in.
Two of the attackers stood on each side of the screen and scanned the area with another one in the middle. With the camera viewed the back of their heads, four of the attackers were hairless with an eyepiece with a single red lens. The one in the middle was dark with short black hair. While he wore sunglasses, all five of them wore thick clothing, most likely a leather armour or trench coat.
Zaac saw the eye pieces before. Back before the Great War, when S.T.A.R.S. was still around, Neo-Umbrella manufactured what they considered the most advanced supersoldier up to date. Something called a Soldat. Their successor - Exo-Umbrella - had an elite variant that was so powerful they were only used in a small team called the Immortals.
Rumoured only because they couldn't die and always stood at five strong. Their production never happened, thankfully. Though, one thing was relevant now. The lens of these soldiers on the footage matched the alleged Elite Soldats. Zaac hoped it was a coincidence. Single red lights cutting through the darkness.
The five invaders took a stance and paved the way for another two to almost strut into view. A man and woman. The man threw his arm out, and some orders must've been said. The soldiers secured the area weapons ready. Like them, he wore a suit only it was sharper and more expensive. His face was human, and he looked younger than Zaac. Short black hair and a violet tie. He had a violet and white badge on his right tricep, but it was too obscure due to the video quality, and the man moved too fast for Zaac to have a good glance.
The woman was a complete mystery. Long ginger hair and wore a white blazer, similar to some the Institute have with their jumpers. Face hidden; she was a stranger. They both stopped and talked, giving the camera full view of the man but not the woman. He smiled and nodded with a relaxed posture. Like they were close friends. Then without any change of emotion, the man shot the camera with a concealed handgun, and the footage was lost.
Zaac paused the very last frame of the footage of the man shooting the camera since the shot fired produced a big blast of light he went for the frames before that to get a clearer depiction of the man in question. The image was clear, the man was clean cut and was, in fact, wearing an expensive suit and a violet tie. He looked happy.
Zaac rubbed his chin and focused internally. "He looks familiar."
Moore glanced between Zaac and the monitor and zoomed in close before he collapsed it completely back to Ulysses. "Any idea who?"
"Nothing more than a hunch."
"And the woman?"
"Never seen her before. I've seen plenty of women from the back of their heads, and I can tell them all apart, but this one's a mystery to me." Moore slapped him on the back of his head. "Ow..."
"Focus. This is not something to take lightly."
Zaac reared his head to her. "It's my day off can I at least mellow out the mood?"
"It changes nothing."
"Do you have an active ID, General?"Ulysses finally asked.
Zaac faced the monitor. "No. Just a theory. Though, the woman is still a mystery to me."
"On another note, before the Marked Men were wiped out there were several rumours that Legate Lanius lives. Through graffiti and word of mouth they believed he was still alive and some claimed to have seen him before their brutal deaths."
Zaac's face went sour; he choked a little to hold his breath before taking a long sigh. "That's just a coincidence."
"It spurred up during their battles. Most Marked Men claim the man in the suit fights like an actual monster of the east."
"That's unsettling."
"I can guarantee you, Ulysses, that Lanius is dead. I burned his body to ashes. Hell, I made a set of dice out of his spine, tableware out of his ribs. Nothing more brutal than that…"
"That may be, General, but someone needs to investigate."
"I'll have someone to check it out immediately."
"I wish to solicit my services, General."
Zaac smiled. "Are you coming onto me?"
"He means could he join you and the answer is no," Moore said.
"Colonel, keep an open mind. Ulysses, what's in it for you?"
"These machines kicked me out of my land and forced me out of my home. I want to show them the horrors of the Divide, and their actions."
"You're a valuable asset. I'll make my decision now, and I'll keep you informed."
"I can wait."
Zaac muted the video call on both ends and collapsed the window. Ulysses was silent and heard nothing, as did they. Zaac and Moore faced each other and got to talking about his decision. "What do you think?"
"I don't trust him."
"Other than that."
"While his motives are believable, we can't trust him around our soldiers."
"What soldiers are you referring to?"
"You're sending in a team to investigate aren't you?"
Zaac shrugged. "No..."
"You're kidding… You're not going to the Divide alone are you?" Zaac said nothing; his silence made it clear of the fact he may venture alone. Moore didn't want that. She sat down at the desk opposite him and sighed. "Damn it, that's suicide!"
"If Six was able to walk the lonesome road on his own why can't I? I have been there before-"
"This is the Institute we're dealing with."
"I handled Coursers-"
"Not as a human."
"You haven't seen me fight as one before. How can you judge?"
She sighed. "You have an answer for everything. Don't you?"
"Don't give me easy questions."
"You're talking about going to the Divide and facing God knows how many Synths and Coursers. Including rumours that Lanius lives."
He leant back in his leather chair and sighed loudly and held his breath. "Lanius is dead. End of!"
"Why must you do this? Are you trying to get yourself killed?!"
"It's crucial we find out the Institute's motive. With the scraps of that ordinance in Ulysses' Temple, they could cause nuclear fallout."
"Then send some Veteran Rangers to intercept them, or at least send a team to investigate the silo."
"The last team I sent to scout the Divide were wiped out by that Deathclaw. Trooper Gleeson's distress beacon still haunts me."
"That's war for you..."
"Hundreds of years I sent people to their graves and it never gets any easier. A wise man of World War One once said 'War is organised murder and nothing else.'" He leant forward on his desk. "We're dealing with our own kind over little disagreements, and I refuse to send another team to their deaths for something so trivial."
"Generals have to make hard choices all the time. You know that… we all do because no one wants to make them but someone has to. We put our people above ourselves. And I'm sorry for being blunt, but a general cannot just go into the Divide on their own without an escort."
"That's the thing, Colonel. I'm not working today, am I? You can't stop me."
"No… No…" Some sad tears ran down Moore's cheeks as her eyes flushed. "You can't..." Her head fell into her cupped hands.
"Cassandra…"
Her hands separated, and her worried face looked Zaac's way. "Why must you torture yourself like this? Why? And don't tell me you deserve it. You're a different man now and-"
"I know I'm a different man now. That old life of mine ended when this one started. But that doesn't change how I think. I'm doing this only because I'm the right person for the job. With my health and youth, I need more fieldwork to keep up to date than I did when I was an old man, and this is a perfect exercise. It's better than sending soldiers to their deaths. That's something I refuse to do unless absolutely necessary."
"But alone?"
"I won't be alone, Ulysses will be with me."
"I don't trust him alone with you. People like him have too much to gain by killing you."
"Name three."
She raised her finger. "Crippling N.C.R. budget and resources." She raised another. "Widespread panic." She raised her ring finger. With that flawless gold wedding ring. "Loss of morale..."
"To be fair… everyone has too much profit to remove me from power."
"Answer for everything," she sighed.
"Let's agree to disagree. I won't be alone. That's all that matters."
She relaxed her shoulders. "All right then. It's pointless arguing with you anyway. Just be careful."
Zaac focused back on his terminal and enlarged the video call with Ulysses and unmuted him. Ulysses was still sat where he was as if he never moved at all. He was quite sad like that. "Glad you're still here. Let's organise a rendezvous."
"I'm listening."
"Is there anywhere I can meet you?"
"Hmmm, how do you intend to travel?"
"I know a shortcut. I can be at your temple within the hour."
"That's so soon, General. Are you taking a vertibird?"
"Lol. No. I'm fully aware of the anti-air platforms the Divide has, and I don't intend to get chewed up by the flak turrets there. I have my own exclusive methods."
"In that case, I'll meet you outside my Temple at..." Ulysses checks his watch. Wasn't a normal one. "Ten o'clock, sharp. I got word that the woman and the Institute's team of Coursers are securing Hopeville. They're not due back for at least a few hours."
"So that leaves the unknown man alone in your Temple."
"Indeed. That leaves us at an advantage. I'll wait for you outside within the hour. I wish you luck and safe travel, General. Good day."
"I'll keep you posted of any changes." Ulysses chat window disconnects and Zaac is left with an Empty screen. Moore stood up from her chair.
"How are you getting there?"
"That's a secret, Cassandra."
"I'm your wife. Aren't I entitled to know a secret or two?"
"It wouldn't be a very good secret now, would it? Can you give me some privacy? I need to make travel plans."
"You assume I'm not using the office?"
"Are you?"
She sighed and reared her head away from him. "No..."
"Then would you kindly..."
"Sure."
Moore stepped the door and just after she opened it, she never left. Negative thoughts were flooding her mind for some time now, and even though she hoped they wouldn't be true, they just kept coming back.
Since they married, they have somehow spent less and less time together than the times they were colleagues before the Second Battle. How does that work? She wasn't regretful in the slightest, but it wasn't all she hoped, and Zaac almost looked like he was going through the same.
At this rate, it was probably best for them to separate for a while and see what happens. But one of his traits was his determination and contribution, though, those could be considered a flaw, she loved him too much to give up. Things can change.
Moore left the office and closed the door behind her. Zaac leant back in his chair, and it groaned loudly under his weight. He got to thinking about some things on his mind. The travel to the wretched Divide and the ordinance he may need to protect himself if things go awry.
He was thinking about a certain compound that can be used as a last-ditch effort. Since the unknown couple has a team of Coursers that surpass the ferocity of the Marked Men he may have to consider the drastic measures.
It looks like he has to take a little trip to his secret armoury, his vertibird was waiting on the helipad, and he's on the clock. Zaac stood from his desk and left the office without another word from Moore who was waiting outside. Oblivious she was; she commandeered the office with a humourless smile.
On the helipad was Zaac's trusty steed, the good old vertibird. Though, it was only for transport purposes, it had enough space to offer some offensive capabilities. Would be spectacular to witness the automatic rocket batteries, this wasn't the time to. Could help wiping out some of the Coursers but Hopeville's anti-air platforms are always online. Time for a trip to the armoury.
Man was never meant to fly, but the speed of soaring through the skies was a hell of a drug. Zaac passed over the two large cities of Arroyo and Shady Sands; both had lights shining bright and made too much effort to show off their size and merit.
Arroyo brought the snowy image of 1980s Moscow to mind, and Shady Sands was a large settlement that came a long way since Zaac founded it. Wasn't very advanced compared to Arroyo which was a claimed hotspot for tourists. Always was an eyesore.
He landed the vertibird in the crevice of some rocky red mountains, on the flat land separated the hazardous terrain. With a flashlight in hand, he left his vertibird and approached what was supposed to be Vault 13. Outside he was greeted with the bitter cold that he never felt before. He took advantage of his armour's insulation. The temperature controls were removed with the life support system.
No wolves were howling this time. This morning was cold as it was bright but a man could still work on that tan. He goes to his armoury less often since his son died. Now that he was a married human, Zaac had less time to work on his ordinance and at one point must consider a housekeeper or a maid for his secret armoury. Then that reminds him of Vivian. She was the best maid he ever hired. Like all the others she was dead by a few hundred years.
He used Marcus' hacking tool and his PDA to open the vault door. The lights were all lit up inside. Rows of the same lockers were tightly stacked side-by-side. Walking down the corridor, around a corner to the right was a small open room with three walls. The power armour frame had his old S.T.A.R.S. power armour, the one his son died wearing. It was almost restored for later use. Zaac ignored it this time and went to the room opposite.
This room was a copy of the one opposite, though it just had lockers along the walls and some metal tables in the middle. A single locker had a password system installed, a four button code was required and a secondary security question after. The contents were too dangerous. Though the locker only contained a dull book bound in leather, there was a sizeable sealed satchel.
Inside the satchel were various phials of compounds. Infamous ones. Tyrant, Progenitor, Prototype, T-Veronica, T-Phobos, T-Abyss, Soldat, God and Chrysalid virus were just a few. The sickly mixed colours were despicable, though the worst one of the bunch was right there in front of him under a microscope.
The Executer virus… Just looking at it gave Zaac chills. He never touched it the last time David did with curious eyes. It was too damn dangerous. In a sealed room, however, it was adequate for the time being. Zaac left if and looked at the one he desired most.
The Prototype virus... When injected into a healthy human the powers it simply gives are something for consideration. Speed, vitality, stamina, intelligence and perception were just sooooo tempting. To be above humanity without any drawbacks.
The constant Progenitor virus injections would be a bummer. The exploitation of the superior observation was a pain in the ass. But if anything can deny death, it was the Prototype virus. Since protohumans and superhumans were biologically similar to regular humans.
Zaac felt he was better of as a superhuman. Might as well get an upgrade, at the cost of mandatory weekly injections. Took only two years as a human to leave a bitter taste for something he's not and never should be.
He loaded the injector with the phial of black bile and injected the needle into his left forearm where the veins ran. He hesitated. Zaac knew if he pulls the trigger, he will NEVER be the same again. Then he thought about his days as a young lad.
The best years of his life he was a superhuman, and not a regular human. He was used to it then; he'll be used to it now. Then he pulled the trigger with a smile… The general's howls of pain echoed off the dull walls as the virus compound re-written his D.N.A. with a burning sensation.
His left arm tensed. His muscles grew. His senses sharpened. Loosened his grip on the table and it left a handprint, scrunched up the edge. It was a thick table. The mirror. Zaac checked out the mirror in the locker behind the satchel and saw an old face. His eyes changed their colour, from green to gold. Blinked rapidly, they were solid. Just like that, he wasn't human anymore. "Hello handsome," he chuckled to himself, "Long time no see."
The worst part was out of the way, now was the matter of transport. His shortcut. The thick book. It was brown and plain; the pages inside were blank. Zaac ran his finger down the fore edge. "Show me the secrets of the Arcane Arts," he said. Once the book opened, words faded from nothing and were fully disclosed with images and diagrams. Some of it was unworldly, and the rest were some would say magical.
Words like summon, cast and various forms of mancy like Necromancy, Pyromancy, Cryomancy and even the lost school of Solomancy. It wasn't your usual book you'd pick up from the local library. One you would have to fight the Gods themselves over. Zaac was just nimble enough to outfox Phobos.
And what a glorious fight that was. Sarkis narrowed down the exact location of the Book in the ruins of an ancient Mayan civilisation. A city forgotten by time and claimed by nature. The people there treated the Book as a sign from the Gods - they were partially right. Sarkis was sent out to find it before Phobos does.
Phobos, the God of the Fear, had clouded intentions from the start. Legend says he shared a rivalry with Jesus Christ and was more than happy to go out of his way to frustrate him. That was his motive for the Book that day, and he was more than willing to kill a young Sarkis for it.
The part where Zaac came in was where Sarkis knew he was fighting a losing fight, and it made sense. Phobos had a brilliant mind and was more experience in combat than Sarkis was at the time. Zaac offered his unnatural skills to outplay Phobos and to claim the Book on the Demigod's behalf. By claiming it, Zaac owned it...
Teleportation was something Zaac wanted. Flicked through pages by the tens and found it somewhere at the start. A wise science-magic doctor once said, "Teleporters are a sneaky lot." People who could appear anywhere at any moment were people who can teleport. Those born with the ability were called natural-born Teleporters. There was a way to harness this power like many others in the book. The Teleporters on Fourth Earth have no idea their power could be harnessed by those who aren't natural-born.
There was an open jar of black ink and a small pile of paper in the back. The sheets were Chinese xuan paper, known for being soft and finely textured. Zaac placed the book and paper on the table and swirled the bamboo paintbrush with a generous amount of ink. The ink and paintbrush were of unique origins that even Zaac hardly knew, though it wasn't a regular brush. The brush doesn't drip, that's why.
The two symbols were Chinese. Zaac drew them on the special paper slowly and with perfection in the wrist. The strokes were solid black and were near enough mirrored exactly to the last detail. While he studied the diagram, there were instructions on how to teleport.
He didn't know much about Teleporters and how they get about, but the instructions were clear on the fact he has to be calm and at peace before using. This was mandatory for long distances or novices. He will develop along the way.
Zaac unsheathed his combat knife and ran it across his left hand's palm and drew his blood. He grunted under the smooth blade as his blood flew generously. The droplets had a thin texture. He dripped his blood over the symbols until they were fully submerged. The inked symbols absorbed his blood and changed to a solid red colour, and it glowed slightly under the light. Looked like an aura.
The paper was pressed against his left forearm, and that was the worst part. The pain. Zaac cried out as the symbols burned into his skin. The sensation could be described as irritating and scolding. Once it latched on, the paper couldn't be moved. It fused and became a part of his body. He breathed and saw the two Chinese symbols as a tattoo. Now all he has to do is find out how to use it.
Clear your thoughts. Free your mind. Be at peace. Meditating was so much easier compared to that of a human. Bliss. Like magic, teleportation was an art. You don't simply appear where you want to be, you move and manipulate the land to come closer to you until you reach your location. You move everything but yourself. The magic opens a rift, you picture the location and bring it to you.
Zaac thought about Hoover Dam. He strained his mind to become where he wants to be. A rule for beginners was to teleport to places you have been whereas people natural born – through stern training – can teleport anywhere they want effortlessly without any hindrance. Zaac wanted to go to his sanctuary within the Dam.
He opened his eyes, and he couldn't see anything. The faintest dripping was all he could hear. He was below his office in his hidey hole. The sanctuary. His shrine. It worked! He teleported. He stayed with his legs crossed and thought harder on his next location. Somewhere further. Like Vegas.
He opened his eyes again to the sounds of ventilation. He was on a metal catwalk above a dark abyss. The limited lighting suggested that he was back inside Lucky 38. Mr House's LS chamber was down here. Zaac peeked through the glass, and he was disappointed with what he saw. He was dead. Zaac wanted him to suffer. Not to die. Oh, well.
Now Zaac was back in his armoury. He was excited. The power to disappear and appear anywhere he's been before. No need to walk or fly. Now the trip to the Divide will be instant. That sounds better than a day's march. He had fifteen minutes to get combat ready. It was quarter to ten.
Time was a factor. Zaac put everything back where he found it and went into the room opposite to collect some wares. Could only teleport with what's touching him and vice versa. He had a loaded Desert Eagle in a holster under his armpit. A primary weapon was needed.
He took the first rifle from the assault rifle rack; an old R91 assault rifle was adequate. Silenced and had a medium-ranged scope. Six clips of armour piercing rounds should do it. Zaac swiped some flashbang grenades from the grenade section. Only had room for three. Had to keep it light and organised. As for protection, he was okay with his riot armour. The power armour was one of a kind and just plain overkill and was in serious repair.
Zaac closed his eyes and sat down with his legs crossed. Thinking hard and internally. The Divide was over a hundred kilometres away, and that was far. Focus. Breathe. Become one with the location. Zaac disappeared.
Ulysses got tired of standing around. The way the Marked Men and as of now the way the Institute made a mess of things outside his solitude was irritating. He bided his time by cleaning up the junk into a pile. Tin cans, trolleys and bottles were the smallest scraps. He left the plain couch to sit on afterwards.
After piling up some dead Marked Men, it was ten o'clock sharp. General Wesker wasn't here yet. Then Ulysses saw him walking from the main entrance. Naturally, he took this as someone else and drew his 12.7 SMG into his sights and quickly relaxed.
"How did you get here without me knowing, General?" Ulysses asked. Would sound soft but his tone was so deep.
"I told you, I had a shortcut," Zaac sneered. "It wasn't an easy one."
Ulysses grumbled. "You should show me sometime. Could come in handy the next time the Institute invades."
"That's why we're here, to make sure they don't."
"The very least they can do is tell me what they want." Ulysses slung his large SMG over his shoulders and kicked over a small pile of cans and walked to the main entrance. "The Divide is not for them to wander without suffering its wrath."
"Yeah… sure. Let's go see what this guy has to say about his colleagues." Ulysses brushed past his shoulder, and Zaac turned around and walked at his side. "Shouldn't be too hard for the both of us."
"You're overly zealous."
"Someone's got to be. This isn't a minor problem."
"We can interrogate one man. People of the Institute aren't known for their individual offensive abilities."
Zaac and Ulysses never met each other's eyes. Not even single glare was exchanged. They walked and talked automatically side-by-side. "Don't need to be when they have sentient humanoids doing everything for them. All that work paid off, and now they're just taking the piss."
The two passed through two metal doors, and the leftover scraps of some robots were scattered all over the ground. All the doors were open, and anything mechanical was scrapped not long ago. Controls terminals, vendors and Eyebots were the very few. "You see the destruction Courier Six brought on his arrival, General?"
Zaac stopped at what used to be a Sentry bot. Heavily armed and fierce battle robots. Nothing but a hull left of it. "No…"
"You best watch yourself around him. He's not entirely sane. There's dark in him."
Zaac brushed his chest. "Believe me, I know about what makes him dark. Has a history back in the Capital." He quickly met up with Ulysses' pace and stopped with him at another main entrance. Where the camera was shot on the video footage. "Here we go."
The man in black was unaware of the door opening; he was too focused on a computer terminal that wasn't cooperating with him. The calibration for the missile wasn't easy. A huge missile that touched the ceiling was thicker and longer than anything Ulysses seen or even used before. It was outfitted for travelling purposes; there was a glass dome that exposed a cockpit of sorts.
Plus, there was a ramp that leads to an open compartment. The missile was a rocket ship. More thrusters up high and down low, it was designed for space travel. But why? It wasn't a cheap knock off as it looked operational.
If this man were Legate Lanius, he would've heard the smallest of footsteps even if they were outside. The man's perception wasn't on par so it couldn't be Lanius. Must be something missing.
"Damn it. It's fuckin' Lanius."
"Impossible," Ulysses grumbled behind Zaac. "The N.C.R. cremated his body."
"I know, I was there."
"Lanius really does live. Just as those writings say."
"Those are the retarded scribblings of dying Marked Men, Ulysses. But the man behind the mask certainly lives. That's for sure. He's up to his old tricks again."
"Should we treat this imposter any different?"
Zaac stopped and turned. Ulysses stopped by him. "No. We find out what he's up to, and then we kill him."
"You always were the spying type, Wesker," the man said in a strangely familiar voice. One Zaac used to know from his youth. Like honey on sandpaper. "Prowling around where you're clearly not wanted."
"That's a voice I like and hate at the same time. It's been a while, Savage," Zaac called from behind. "You know. Since you last killed me."
Dorian scoffed. He still looked away from Zaac and Ulysses. The problem with the terminal was greater than the arrival of his foes. "Clearly it wasn't enough to last. You still stand. That which mocks me." He straightened his back and turned around to Zaac and Ulysses. They walked closer with their weapons in hand. "Can't I go one lifetime without you getting in my way? For God's sake, is that too much to ask?"
"That's the thing about me. Like my father and Chris, we are forever intertwined."
"Unlike Wesker, I intend to kill my nemesis, if you weren't so persistent, I would've succeeded too. Though your meddling begs for immediate destruction, you can wait. Nothing will change our plans."
"Well… since your plans involve the Institute, that is a concern for me and what a surprise you're in the middle of it."
"A concern for you?" Dorian sneered. He stepped away from the terminal and stepped onto the middle of the path. It was a higher platform. Faced them directly. "For a minute I thought that lapdog of yours went crying to you for help."
"You're referring to me, are you not?" Ulysses finally grumbled.
"Who else, Ulysses? Guess it doesn't take much to drag you out of retirement does it?"
Ulysses had no anger behind his voice. "You evicted me, Lanius," he said, "You can't expect me to take it lightly."
"Admit it; it was nice to see me. Been years since we last worked together wasn't it?"
"I do not remember you, nor that I want to. Frankly, you irritate me."
Dorian pointed at Ulysses with no bite in his bark. "That's why you were a mere spy, and not an equal."
"How are you still alive, Savage? Last I checked, your corpse is nothing but bones. Then you defy death once again and go crawling back to the Institute. Is the Legion not good enough for you?"
"My old employers may have disagreed with my actions, but that doesn't mean I am so quick to forget their utilities."
"Didn't figure the Institute lets strays back in."
"I'm not a stray!" Dorian snarled with his eye's flaring in intense colour. "I didn't come back to the Institute; I broke out."
"Why were you there in the first place?"
"Before my employment was terminated," Dorian said while he walked side by side with heavy steps, "I was working on a secret project. Gen-4 Synths. These models were to surpass their current Gen-3 Coursers and infiltration units. Their increased CPU storage would allow them to adapt, conquer and even impersonate emotions. So good, in fact, they couldn't be identified by humans or the Institute. Only the handler could control them."
"Sounds like an abomination of technology. What went wrong?"
Dorian stopped midway in his pacing. "The damned Institute uncovered my plans to use them as weapons of war and thoroughly escorted me out." He resumed his pacing. "The project was put on hold until someone with less malicious intentions come by to finish them."
Zaac rested his R91 over his left shoulder. Ulysses didn't move. "What good is that to them? Their Gen-3 are adequate."
"Yet they are only limited to their design. That's their flaw. The regular Gen-4 models will be exclusive for warfare and surpass any Synth, Supermutant and any human in their way." Dorian stopped again and looked away. "The human mind can process so much information regarding emotions and adaptive countermeasures, and I found a way to replicate that for the new Gen-4 Synths. Life after death with all their memories and emotions intact. It's a tricky process, so it is almost impossible to do without backing up the mind of the said person on a flash drive of sorts." He smiled and faced Zaac and Ulysses. Neither of them was smiling as he was. "The best part? I replicated two minds already. One for me and another for an old enemy of ours."
"You're a… Synth?"
Dorian's shoulders sagged. "That is true… You destroyed my organic body, what did you expect? Sure I can't blink, and my killing potential isn't what it used to be, but I can still look forward to the fact I no longer have my weaknesses."
"You share the Synths' weakness now. I killed plenty of Coursers to know how to kill them, and you are no different."
"That's Gen-3 you're talking about, not Gen-4. Even if it wasn't clear, I am still Dorian Savage, and you both are interfering with my plans. You know the drill by now don't you, Wesker?"
"That we try to kill each other? Yeah." Zaac pulled his weapon down and put Dorian in his sights. "Looking forward to it actually. Two years ago when you killed me, I still saw how you killed David back at your camp, and I got to say…" He paused to breathe and then he growled, "I'm not going to waste this chance to make you pay for killing my son!"
Dorian raised his arms in a mock surrender. "Ooooh, someone's a bit salty. Why don't everyone calm the fuck down? How many times did your son get in over his head?" Zaac said nothing. He stared at Dorian like he was drilling a hole through his forehead. "Messing with a weapon a person doesn't understand will always lead to consequences. Natural selection. Nothing more. Nothing less."
Zaac brought his weapon to his eyesight and Ulysses did the same. Both of them were ready to fire at will. "You're mocking my son, you asshole! You do realise you can't blink?" Dorian suddenly smiled. "Do you think you can dodge a bullet?"
"Let's not. My better half has just arrived. Why don't you two catch up?"
"What?"
"Poor naive Zachariah, so oblivious," a beautiful voice said behind Zaac and Ulysses. Her high heels were loud with every step, and her voice became more and more sinister as she spoke, "Oh how some people just never change is beyond me." Zaac turned around to face her, and all colour on his face went south. He lowered his weapon, and his eye twitched.
The woman stood with her one arm folded and the other resting under her chin. Her long, medium copper hair went below the shoulders and her white blazer covered as low as her knees. Her eyes matched Dorian's solid gold. With her red lipstick and gentle smile, she could pass off as a single independent woman that was too smart to be a psychopath. But in reality, she was as evil and unstable as Dorian. She stopped behind him and Ulysses while they almost gawked at her.
The woman smiled. "Long time no see, Wesker."
"Drusilla?"