Well, here is the second chapter. I hope you all like it. I worked kinda hard on this one. Stayed awake past 6:00 in the morning trying to figure out how to write it. Anyway, in case you are wondering why it's all italicized it's because this is a flashback Piers is experiencing. I'm sure it'll make more sense in the next chapter. I was just about to tell you exactly where he's having this flashback, but I did not want to ruin anything for you. So I'm afraid you will have to wait for the next chappie!

~Only For You~

With his foot Piers Nivans jabbed at the Strelat lying silently in a grave of its own life blood. He looked upon it with feigned composure while inside he was teeming with revulsion.

"Come on, Piers. It's dead," said his ever poised captain, Chris Redfield.

"I'm just making sure, Captain. Can't take the risk."

True to his word, Piers aimed his MP-AF weapon at the grotesque Strelat's head and pulled the trigger. The sound of it being fired ricocheted throughout the vacant edifice encumbered with abandoned storage boxes and other cargo. In a lovely but blinding flash of orange and red flames, the Strelat disintegrated into colorful sparks that eventually vanished into the atmosphere.

One down… and the good Lord only knows how many more to go.

"Damn thing nearly tore my head off," snarled Piers.

"Damn thing nearly tore all of our heads off," retorted Chris. "But it's meaningless to hold a grudge now that it's undoubtedly dead. We should proceed forward before those monsters decide to make another unwarranted appearance."

"Yes sir."

Piers glanced sideward and grimaced as he met the scrutinizing gaze of a cryptic woman called Ada Wong. Sometime after their arrival they discovered her hiding in the shadows in a room littered with hypothermic needles and syringes used to inject the C-Virus into whoever was unlucky enough to test it out.

Ada is beautiful with her curvaceous form and wearing an azure dress that exposed her cleavage unashamedly. Even Piers can see the allure she would have on men. However he did not trust her from the second he had first laid eyes on her. Though she claimed to be a hostage of the J'avo and was pressured by Chris to divulge some valuable information, it was her catty cinereal eyes and sultry voice that impishly concealed any of her machinations. Basically, Piers is not at ease around her.

The team assigned to this precarious mission had been comprised of six BSAA men in total with Chris and Piers included. They each possessed their own extraordinary skills that they willingly utilized for the sake of completing the mission. Chris couldn't have asked for better soldiers. But as he eyed each of them—making a head count—one in particular caught his attention, a youthful rookie named Finn Macauley whom was so enthralled to finally be a member of the team. As a pyrotechnics expert Finn had a slight advantage over the others, but he still wasn't as talented in the art of combat so he required a sturdy backup. Chris succeeded in retaining a keen eye on the rookie as if he were one of his kin.

'Nobody is expendable,' he thought. 'Nobody.'

The halls and various rooms were dim with merely a few candles burning softly on the walls to assist them as the team's captain guided them in silence. The warmth of the candles' fires briefly reminded Piers of home and a hot steak, which he could use right about now since his hunger pangs refused to end. But in such a somber circumstance sustenance is the least of his concerns.

Quiet. It was too quiet. The familiar clacking of Ada's heels were no longer audible within the stillness. An ominous sensation suddenly overcame Piers and he gritted his teeth in frustration. How could this have happened?

Turning to Chris he said, "The woman, she's gone." He then called Finn's name, who went through the entrance and into the hall they had just came from. When he returned a second later, clearly shaken, he said with a quivering voice, "I don't know what happened. She was just here a minute ago!"

Piers sighed inwardly. That's why a rookie should never be given the job of watching after a suspicious individual. But he couldn't blame Finn entirely since the captain had also given that very order to him. Maybe if he hadn't been lost in contemplation and walked behind Finn… No, maybe not even then. That woman was crafty and Piers had an inkling that no matter who had been assigned to watch her she still would've found a time to slip away.

An acute metallic clank interjected Piers' musing and he looked up in time to evade a metal gate from crashing on top of him and Chris. With the entrance closed off they had no method in reaching Finn and the others. Finn turned and quickly ran for the only entrance left opened. But like the other side it too was closed off by another metal gate. Finn and the three men ensnared between the gates all stared at each other with fear in their hearts.

They were trapped like rats.

Meanwhile, as Chris and Piers tried working their way around the bars, the clacking of heels neared and Ada reemerged from the shadows with a lethal smirk on her pretty face.

"Ada," growled Chris, raising his assault rifle and prepared to shoot her point-blank if called for.

"Thanks for the escort boys," she purred, a smug grin yanking at her lips painted the same shade as the crimson scarf around her neck. Piers wanted to strangle her with it. "Here's something to remember me by."

With a flick of her arm she tossed what appeared to be a silver bomb through the bars. The next few minutes seemed to slow in time as the volatile object drifted serenely through the air. When Piers inhaled a final unsteady breath the circular bomb emitted one beep and there was a quick flash of light as his comrades broke out into agonized screams. The explosion had propelled several syringes from their nooks inside the bomb like soaring razors, which resulted in their serrated edges being thrust into the soldiers' skins as if they were stakes.

But it wasn't the bomb or the pained screams of his men that would haunt Chris forever.

"No," he nearly whispered. He pounded on the bars with his tight fist. "Goddammit, no!"

Finn and the others kneeled on the ground, their arms swathed around their abdomens in anguish as an excruciating pain coursed through them. It felt as if their bodies were on fire. This terror became truth as smoke emanated from each mass and coiled in serpentine trails toward the stagnant air. Each man screeched as his body was unexpectedly engulfed with flames so scorching they literally melted the flesh from the muscle. They simply self-combusted without an explanation. Chris became nauseous suddenly from the aroma of broiled skin that wafted into his nostrils.

Despite the sickness and horror exhibited, Chris persistently rammed into the bars with his full weight but the action was ineffective. No amount of human strength could bust through those secure gates, not even the captain who is said to be built like an bull. And even if by some miracle he could it was far too late to save any of them. All he and Piers could do for them was observe in hopelessness their comrades' transformation into Chrysalids.

"No, not like this!" exclaimed Chris. It was too much even for him to handle. After all they had endured as a team, as a united family, just so they could die in such an atrocious manner. No one deserved to die like this. No one.

Finn—still in the tormenting process of becoming a Chrysalid—feebly reached for the captain he had once gazed upon with such great regard. By then Finn's body—like the other soldiers—had started to exude a putrid slime that had a green-brown sheen to it, until he was nearly enshrouded in it entirely.

"Cap… tain…"

"Finn!" yelled Chris as he grasped for the rookie's liquefying hand. So frantic was he to break through that barricade.

Finn had panted his last word wretchedly, the expression on his countenance being one of a suffocating despondency and the overpowering compulsion to continue living. But there was no sign of resentment for the woman who betrayed their trust or the man who led them there. Perhaps it was Finn's innocence and ability to easily forgive that tortured Chris in the end. That and his fruitless efforts to rescue his team.

Piers was stunned. Or mortified. He didn't know which at the moment. What he did witness was the hardened shells of his former comrades cracking apart as creatures of a massive size and immeasurable strength liberated themselves from their enclosed chambers.

"Captain, we gotta move," he said, the urgency in his tone obvious at this point. The gate just happened to choose that specific moment to raise, permitting the Napad to run free without limitations.

"Now, we gotta go!"

Chris elevated his assault rifle to shoot at the Napad, but hesitated as Finn's complacent, smiling face automatically substituted the hideous one of the Napad. However, it disappeared as swiftly as it had come. But within those few seconds it was all the Napad needed in order to hurl Chris against the wall and hammer into him senselessly as if he were nothing more than a ragdoll. As he smashed against the concrete floor he could feel it shattering underneath where his skull had made forceful contact. Everything after that became a blur of white lights and noises.

"CHRIS!"

Piers would be damned if he permitted his captain to die here! He hustled over to where Chris was lying on the uncomfortable floor, near the border of unconsciousness. Piers did what he could in fending off the brutal Napads while towing Chris along the ground by the back of his vest. The Napads continued in their sluggish but rhythmic promenade, unremitting in their pursuit to kill.

Finn—or what used to be him—raised his transformed arm, ready to strike at any time. Piers did not waver; rather he proceeded to shoot at the weak areas he knew to be located on the creature. If they were going to die, then it might as well be together as partners.