Spencer Estate
Undisclosed Location, Europe

It was a dark and stormy night when Kenny walked through the musky hallways of the ancient European castle. The only source of light came from the occasional flash of lightning outside, briefly illuminating the ornate detail of the walls; too much to notice in the split second they were visible.

Not that he actually bothered looking. Beneath the long black trench coat, his body shook with anticipation. Though it was left unsaid when Wesker ordered him to accompany him on this trip, Kenny knew in the pit of his stomach that something was going to hit the fan fast and hard. Hesitation slowed his pace and Wesker had, on more than one occasion, glared over his shoulder at him, ordering Kenny silently to hurry up.

Wesker walked briskly, tall body leaning slightly forward, arms swinging like pendulums at his sides propelling him onward. In the darkness, the sounds of his footsteps were Kenny's only means of knowing where to go, and the occasional silhouette when the lightning was kind enough to provide some visibility, however brief.

The castle was huge, an ancient brick and mortar maze of twisting corridors that reminded Kenny instantly of that adventure four years ago in Spain, in a castle a little larger than this one, but otherwise not all too different. It even had the same musty smell of aged incense; the smell that reminded him of the moment he surrendered himself to Umbrella's will.

Umbrella's fall did nothing to slow the movement of illegal bio-weapons in the black market. Instead, it had created a power vacuum with hoards of smaller companies trying to establish themselves in the field by sabotaging each others' attempts, progressing on their own independent research.

It was a dangerous field to be in – let alone as an intelligence spy. At least that's the term that best fit his job description – run here, steal that document, run there take these photos. What Wesker needed them for, Kenny had no idea nor did he question. It had taken a few years for Wesker to destroy any resistance he put up but Kenny was fully subservient now. He held out at first, hoping that Wesker would eventually fall with Umbrella, but the man was far more elusive and resilient than the company he worked for. Neither the STARS, nor the BSAA, not even specialized government agencies were able to find him, let alone take him down. Only a handful of people knew where Wesker was, and even then, only at different points in time. At this point in time, Kenny knew and it was in some castle in Europe on a rocky cliff overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.

Kenny came to a sudden halt when his face met with Wesker's palm. He'd stopped in front of a pair of massive double doors spanning the height of the hallway. The exquisite detail carved into the aged wood belittled even the hallway they had come from.

"Wait," Wesker ordered.

"Yes, sir."

"Nobody interferes."

Lightning flashed again, revealing Wesker's back, the ends of his trench-coat flapping at his heels as he walked through the double doors. Kenny didn't look to see what was behind them. Like a dog ordered to sit by his master, Kenny looked back towards the direction from which they came, down the darkened hallways and waited obediently.

After Wesker's footsteps had disappeared, Kenny finally had a moment to himself to take in the unfamiliar surroundings. And he realized then that his castle was fucking spooky. The slightest would travel down to the other end of hallway, amplifying as it went along. And that was all Kenny heard – at these volumes it was difficult telling what was loud and close, or muted and coming from far away. He fought the instinct to just up and jet out of here, a battle that was regularly waged in his head. And his discipline always won. Anything was better than facing Wesker's wrath. And he knew through and through that it was that fear of Wesker that kept Kenny doing what he was doing for him. He wanted desperately to break that chain but could see no reason to do so other than to end this torture. Without him, Kenny would have no job, no money, no food. He would have nothing. The question was, would having nothing be better than living in constant fear and danger? The fact that he hadn't outwardly defied Wesker but yet entertained these thoughts of doing so told him that he had yet to make up his mind.

Kenny regretted joining Wesker's cause but didn't blame himself for it. Life on the run from Umbrella had long since taken a toll on his then teenage body and he could keep going no longer. It was in a European castle much like this one where he hesitantly pledged his allegiance to Wesker. And in that moment, his plans for the future died. Kenny however still held on to the hope that his friends would come to his rescue; friends who shared more of a history with Wesker than he did, friends who wanted Wesker dead far more than he did.

He suddenly felt something though clasp over his mouth with a strong grip. Kenny was pulled off his feet and slammed onto the ground, knocking the wind out of his lungs.

"Fucker," he swore in his head and instinctively reached for a dagger sheathed in his boot. Kenny slashed upwards blindly with his short blade, only to meet with another blade coming downwards upon his. It was dark and he couldn't make out the features of his attacker, though the silhouette told him it was someone big and burly – and that likely meant a speed advantage for Kenny.

Kenny leapt back, putting a few extra inches between him and the assailant, crouched down and kicked out low and hard. His shin came into contact with his opponent's leg but failed to knock him off his feet. In this darkness, he had missed the kneecap which would've guaranteed a victory. Despite the missed target, the opponent yelped in pain as Kenny's booted shin came into contact with his calf.

As he got back to his feet however, Kenny a point of cold metal press against the back of his skull. His attacker's silhouette was in full view so the barrel of the firearm aimed at his head at point blank range from the rear would have been from a partner.

"One more move and I'll blow your head off." It was the voice of a woman – a gentle voice, though she spoke sternly.

"Who are you," Kenny demanded, raising his arms to surrender. "What business do you have at Spencer Estate?"

"The same business we had at the Arklay Mansion," the attacker replied, stepping out of the shadows and into a pool of light cast a single candle adorned with dried drops of melted wax. This one was male, strong jawed and densely muscled. The candlelight helped carve out the features of the man's now-familiar face. "The question is," he continued, "what are you doing here, Kenny?"

Kenny's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, trying to find an answer. "Officer Redfield," he stammered, "Y … you came."

Chris Redfield nodded to his partner, who still had the gun aimed at Kenny's head. "It's alright, Jill. It's just Kenny."

"Our Kenny?" the woman asked. She removed the gun from the back of Kenny's head, shoving it back into her hip holster. Placing both hands on his shoulders, she spun him around to get a good look at his face. It had taken a split second before recognition grew on her face. Her eyes, large with surprise, melted into an endearing smile, and she pulled his body into hers in a warm embrace. "God, what happened to that little intern who used to bring us coffee and donuts?"

"He got caught up in all this," Kenny replied, circling a finger in the air. Jill released him as Chris stepped forward, duplicating her gesture with open arms.

"Bring it in, Champ," he said. Kenny turned around to face him and did so, as Chris clapped a large hand on his back. "You've gotten a little bigger."

"Yeah, so did you," Kenny replied, knocking on Chris's arm like he would on a door.

"But the question remains - what are you doing here?" Jill asked.

"We're here for Spencer," Chris added, getting down to business after the pleasantries had been exchanged. He paused, putting two and two together in his head. "Kenny … you're not with Spencer, are you?"

"Worse," Kenny confessed. "I'm with Wesker."

"What …" Jill gasped. She exchanged worried glances with Chris.

"I'm sorry, I had no choice." Kenny's shoulders slumped, gaze downcast.

"There's always a choice," Chris said sternly, tone laced with disapproval. "And you chose - "

Kenny shook his head in violent protest. "No, Officer Redfield – I didn't choose anything. I ran for the better part of five years from him." He looked at Chris and Jill, silently pleading with them to listen to him while they only returned judging glares. "But he always knew where to find me. I couldn't keep running."

"You could have gone to TerraSave," Chris chided.

"And ask them to save me from what?" Kenny challenged. "They only help bio-terror victims and Raccoon was over a decade ago. My case would've been thrown out the window. Not to mention I'd be bringing Wesker to Claire's doorstep!"

"Enough," Jill said, raising a hand. "We didn't come here for an argument. We came here to bring Spencer in. So now, what does this mean? Do we finish our fight, right here and now?"

Kenny notice them subtly reach for their firearms. His knees turned to jelly upon realizing that Chris Redfield and Jill Valentine were in fact here, right now ready to shoot him when they had only been hugging moments ago. He leaned against the wall and sank into a sitting position. The opportunity to escape from Wesker's clutches that he'd hoped for had presented itself and he was going to take it.

"Well?" Chris asked, looking down at Kenny from where he stood. "What's it gonna be, kiddo? Are you with us?"

Kenny smirked. "Those annoying nicknames have GOT to stop sometime, Officer Redfield." He raised a shaky finger and pointed down the hallway in the same direction Wesker headed. "Keep going that way," he said, "past those double-doors. You'll reach a flight of stairs. There's another set of double-doors at the top and through those, you'll find Spencer. But be careful – you'll find Wesker with him too."

"Let's get him," Chris growled without missing a beat, and began down the hall with Jill stepping into stride behind him.

"Kenny?" she asked when she noticed he remained seated on the ground making no effort to follow them. He shook his head.

"Wesker," Kenny whispered, "he's not human anymore. I can't defy him. I … I'm so sorry." He reached into his buckle and took out a handgun, ejecting a full clip. He tossed the clip to Jill, who snatched it out of the air. "Use that."

"Kenny …"

"Don't worry about it, little buddy," Chris reassured him, "This ends tonight."

Only one of them would walk back out those doors tonight.