Former RPD captain Albert Wesker skulked through the darkened streets of Raccoon City, intentionally taking the long way to his destination at 2AM. He was dressed in complete black, the colour covering him from the boots up to the turtleneck, along with black gloves on his hands and a similarly-dark mask hiding his face.

Knowing that he had to avoid being seen, especially by the occasional patrol car that drove by, he made sure to not walk under, or even next to, the well-lit streets and sidewalks. He thus depended on the unlit areas, those providing a sanctuary of shadows when he used backyards, parks, empty lots, and the like to make the long way to his destination.

The camouflaged man was initially glad at the ease with which he evaded the attention of patrols done by his former RPD subordinates. However, halfway through his journey, it occurred to him that the car and foot patrols by the Police Department hadn't increased at all since that fateful night he flew to the Umbrella mansion.

Wesker fought the urge to criticise the department that clearly had not listened to his advice to saturate the city with patrols in an effort to prevent further murders by the zombies that were threatening the mid-sized metropolis. Doing so would've been a waste of time, of course, and the former Umbrella agent had too many important tasks to accomplish for that.

It was several more minutes of travelling, in the process dodging another standard patrol car, and several drunks who were loitering outside the Blackjack bar, that he reached his target outside uptown Raccoon City. Stealthily entering Fox Street, he made his way to the house that was numbered 42, keeping himself pressed against the walls, and finally reached that objective.

First, he was lucky enough to find that the first-floor house had a window that wasn't fully covered via curtains from the inside. So Wesker glanced through the gap that was only a few centimetres wide, easily being able to see the darkened bedroom on the other side. As expected, he could tell the difference in the details there as easily as one who was wearing night vision goggles, which was the main reason why the former captain hadn't a need for any special equipment since the mission in the forest anyway.

Second, he had to make sure that the occupant of that rented house was still agent Chris Redfield, and that the young man hadn't moved away like officers Vickers and Aitken before him. He was glad to see that the marksman was the person who was asleep in the bed, though Wesker was surprised that Redfield wasn't alone, as he identified agent Valentine who was sleeping next to him.

So Redfield and Valentine were now a couple. A small part of the former captain's mind curiously wondered if they had been together before he led them into the Umbrella mansion, but such factors weren't important now. However, it would've been grossly inappropriate if they had been a couple while following him on the same mission, as doing so could've caused a distraction.

Wesker, nonetheless, made his own mind that such matters were trivial and best ignored, as Redfield and Valentine possibly lying about their relationship surely wasn't as big a problem to the RPD as him not informing anyone that he was an Umbrella spy all that time.

With the confirmation that this house was the correct one, he then took the greatest care in proceeding to the front door and quietly placing three separate documents through the mail-slot. With each of the three folders being about 50 pages long, and full of details about Umbrella's work, it was important that the STARS members knew those contents if they wished to even begin a battle against the corporation.

So with each document having landed on the carpeted floor on the other side of the door with a soft thud, the agent in black then hastily left that area, just in case one of the two STARS officers woke up from the sound.

He was glad this small mission was over, just as he was that Redfield and Valentine were still alive, in addition to not giving up their pursuit of his former employer. But for now, he had more things to do, so he made his way back to the cabin in the forest as quickly and quietly as possible.

It was half an hour of avoiding further lights and jumping on dark rooftops that former captain Wesker got to enter through the front door of his cabin.

The first detail he noticed was that there were two candles on, even though whoever was already there didn't bother turning on the generator-powered lights, as was the careful thing to do so as to avoid being seen from a distance. Already guessing the identity of his visitor, he proceeded inside while hearing soft snoring noises emanating from the living room.

Not surprisingly, the sight of the slumbering redhead greeted him as she was lying on her side on the largest sofa there, using several other cushions to partially cover herself. With both her hands turned into fists, and one of them underneath her face, with the second one gripping the first wrist, she didn't hear him entering the dwelling and closing the door behind himself.

Now that he was within the enclosed cabin, he could hear her snoring even louder, before she opened her mouth while sleeping and drool dripped out of it.

Wesker reasoned that she must've come here immediately after her shift at work, as she was still dressed in the RPD uniform, and finding him not there, she laid down to wait for him. Regardless, though, the urgency of what he needed to do, and his lack of need for rest for a few more days, prompted him to wake her up now. So he withdrew the mask off his face and nonchalantly let it fall on the nearest couch, and then gently shook the young woman's arm with his right hand. The result was that Shakahnna wrapped both arms around his right wrist, uttering "No, Chino, too tired. Just five minutes".

Achieving a moment of understanding of her boyfriend's life, Wesker felt some sympathy for officer Chisholm, as he was sure that the rookie cop was going through the same experience every time he tried to wake her up. So he decided to be as patient as possible, letting her sleep if she so needed.

Thus, Wesker sat down on the other side of the living room, waiting for the young woman to wake up. Going through with his previous plan of acquiring his rifle with the sniper scope would have to wait, as would dealing with a member of Umbrella who couldn't be approached without making his presence known. After all, the teenager wouldn't have come here if she didn't have a good reason, and it's not as if he was unhappy to see her. Quite the opposite, in fact, as he enjoyed her company.

It was just that he had other plans for now. Important plans, in fact. And the longer he waited, the more Mr Joel Kirkcope got to live, continuing to be Umbrella's head financial analyst, doing work for that company and never being away from two bodyguards at all times. Not that Wesker would've had a difficult time incapacitating two personal sentinels, of course. But he had found no proof that either guard knew of Umbrella's true work, and there was too much of a chance that one of them would describe his appearance to Kirkcope's employer. Thus, the financial analyst had to be dealt with from a distant at his job tonight, as was Wesker's intention before the sun rose.

So with those plans on hold for now, all he had to do was sit back and wait for his friend to wake up, and look forward to the antics she would delight him with once she was awake.

Except, she wasn't awake now.

And why was he feeling impatient for the first time since he originally learned that there were scores of high-ranking Umbrella executives whose address he knew, and all of whom he wanted to kill on the first day?

Wesker folded his arms, then unfolded them. He then folded and unfolded his legs. He then adjusted his new sunglasses. He then smoothed out his hair.

Finally, he shifted to another seated position while looking at his wristwatch, and realized that exactly two minutes had passed.

That was close enough to the five minutes she had asked for.

So this time, he walked to her again, and picked her up by her clothes with one hand, easily levitating her a few feet over the sofa, till she groggily woke up. Once he saw that her eyes were indeed open, Wesker let her land back on the couch, but the dazed state Shakahnna was in caused her to be unbalanced and she fell onto the floor.

The loud thud was followed by a scream from her as she instinctively kicked him in the shin, and then scowled up at him upon realising what happened.

"Pardon me, miss Warren", he started with a standard greeting as she rubbed her eyes and moved herself back to a seated position on the couch.

"Hewwo", she yawned once, "Surely, there be's be'd a better way of doing that".

"I do apologize, but I was in a hurry with plans for tonight", he admitted, annoying her with his lack of joy to be seeing her, like he should have been.

"Do you want me to go?", the redhead flatly inquired, not bothering to go through the normal process of playing with words or using a specific voice to get what she wanted, not when she was this tired, "Chino's asleep at home anyway".

"Depends on your ability to wait approximately thirty minutes", the former captain informed her as he was already in the process of arming the sniper rifle, "If so, everything else for tonight could be procrastinated till another time".

"Sure", the new cop let him know, "But one question before you be's going, Weskie".

"Yes?", he adjusted the scope on his weapon and stopped moving while facing her direction so she could ask.

"Raccoon City authorities suspect they are dealing with a serial killer", she told him what he should've already known, "Unlike Umbrella fatcats, these victims aren't buried by Umbrella, and unlike the zombie killings, they're not gruesome and random. We apparently have a serial killer who has a taste for medical doctors. That makes, what, fourteen doctors dead in the last week. Would that happen to be you, Weskie?".

"Yes, but I'll explain more when I get back", he gave one of the grins that he only seemed to come up with when recalling one of his acts of revenge against his previous employer.

Shakahnna only groaned and felt a stressed cramp in her stomach as she laid horizontally on the couch, knowing this would be one of those interesting conversations in about half an hour where she wouldn't like anything she heard.

"Sooo keeping a low profile then. That went it be too boring Weskie, and it's why you're trying so hard to get on the news now?", an annoyed Shakahnna asked her companion later on that night, finding them both sitting on opposite ends of the living room, with several candles and the rising sun illuminating the area.

The fact that she hadn't napped long during his absence and was still physically tired didn't help her feel better, as was evident by the bags under her eyes, her dishevelled hair that was partly out of its ponytail, and tie that was loose around her collar. However, she had already insisted that she wasn't procrastinating this conversation in favour of several hours of sleep, as the man in the sunglasses had suggested. Besides, she suspected the offer was done partly due to him still not being tired and looking forward to working further towards his macabre goal while she was passed out to the world. And there was no reason why he should get what he wanted.

"I don't know what you mean, miss Warren", that usually charming grin made her growl this time around, "Mr Kirkcope's demise will be hidden by Umbrella. I doubt the populace will even be informed of his passing".

"You know that's not what I'm talking about!", she snapped back, "How many doctors has it been in the last week? A dozen?".

"That would be fourteen medical practitioners, and in the last nine days", he corrected, much too proud of his accomplishments.

"People are starting to be afraid again because of you!", she let him know, "In fact, the zombie killings aren't the talk of the town any more, since people are worried they have a serial killer roaming the city who hates doctors".

"It couldn't be helped, miss Warren", at least he stopped smiling, finally appearing to not enjoy something she said, "Umbrella's remaining high-ranking executives have been moved to other living and working locations. I suppose the vermin finally understood that it couldn't protect its precious own after a while. But regardless, my problem is unchanged, as I don't know their current whereabouts any more. That had to change my objective, moving it lower down the food-chain, if you will. But I assure you that every medical professional disposed of has been confirmed to take part in human experiments, but more so as freelance employees of Umbrella who contribute towards it part-time. It turns out the Hippocratic Oath isn't all that relevant when one is working for Umbrella, as wasn't the Social Contract".

The redhead bit on her tongue to keep from rolling her eyes at the mention of the last two words.

"So eight doctors executed in the parking lot of their hospital or office, two more killed in their home, and four more killed in restaurants", she recalled from the newspapers headlines, "Personally, Weskie, I don't think doctor Develle's and Ropowski's families appreciated them going to the bathroom and not coming back out because they had their necks snapped in the toilet".

The older man actually laughed out loud at the last recollection, which prompted her to put her hand in her pockets, feeling as if she was more close to tears than laughter due to the way the older man was taking part in his hobbies.

"I must admit, miss Warren, that while rewarding, I have more fond memories of the other two doctors who were, um, confronted in their restaurants' parking lot", that constant smile had returned to his face as he recalled.

"You mean waiting till the valet brings his car around, till he's behind the wheel, and then fatally punching him through the window on both occasions?", the rookie cop clarified.

"Those would be the ones, yes", the former captain was glad to confirm, "I see the press is doing a good job of sharing my tactics with its readers".

"It's not, Weskie", a frustrated teenager told him, "Only reason I know that is because I was one of the people who carried that last body out of the car and into the ambulance, but minus the upper half of his head".

The smile finally vanished off his face.

"Really, miss Warren, what you would have me do in this situation?", he intentionally stopped, waiting for her to give him a better option than the murder spree he was following.

"It's not just the murders that be's the problem", she mentioned after several seconds of silence, "It's your glee at bathing your hands in all that blood".

"So you cannot think of a better option", the former captain calmly pointed out, "And all this protest is…".

"Since when did not being able to come up with a better alternative mean that I approve of what you're doing?!", she interrupted, "Hell has no fury like a woman scorned".

He sighed once.

"That is a meaningless statement in general, especially as it makes no sense in this particular discussion", his flat demeanour countered yet again.

"You're acting like Umbrella's ex-wife!", she snapped, and she could see that he rolled his eyes even from behind the shades, "Except that you have a gun".

"Your colourful descriptions notwithstanding, it's noteworthy that you still don't have a better idea than what I should be doing now!", his tone of voice rose by a slight pitch, the first indication that he was annoyed at the continuity of this argument, "Oddly enough, if you believed that doing nothing would be better than my current path, you would've easily said so now. Yet, you remain quiet on that issue".

No response from the teenager at first, the rookie cop only staring back at him with an irritated expression.

"If I told you to do nothing, would you do it?", she finally blurted out, causing that smile to return to his face, if only for an instant.

"No, because you don't believe that's a better option", Wesker countered, "Not accepting my course of action does not mean that swinging 180 is any kind of a solution".

Another uncomfortable silence.

"Unless, of course, you wish for me to follow procedure", he actually scoffed at his own remark, which may have been the first time Shakahnna heard him doing so, "Maybe arresting one executive or doctor at a time, while twenty others use the knowledge of my movements to go into hiding, and then bringing him in front of a magistrate in this city, and hoping that the judge on the bench isn't in bed with Umbrella and won't drop all charges on a technicality that he himself found".

"What about just a good beating?", she sighed, knowing she had nothing else to mention on the topic, "Just cripple them or something".

At least that led to him laughing again.

"Miss Warren, if you're missing both rest and time with Chisholm so you can talk to me about my tactics, I'm afraid you're wasting your time", the former agent flatly stated, "It should be noted that every one of those fourteen had a habit of selling live bodies to Umbrella. Apparently doctors' salaries weren't enough for their bank account. I know because I came across their contact information after I rummaged through this place since your discovery of the Unetchloride. Since you left, I've been searching through this cabin, in case my, other half, left anything else here".

"And…?", she was less critical and more curious now.

"My hearing had improved enough to find a hollow spot in the floor where a safe was located", he informed her, "It would've usually been the kind of container where one would need either a combination or explosives to get through, but I'm happy to say that a pull of the door made it happen for me. And I was able to shrug off the release of nerve gas after breaking into it also. So what would be so precious to protect, other than his contacts? Such as one of them who sold HIM a certain Mr Rodriguez".

"Who?", the redhead asked.

"Long story", he mentioned while reaching for a spot that was near his couch, "And these. Do they mean anything?".

Shakahnna gasped without realising it when he handed a silk container that she hadn't seen since her nightmare days in the Umbrella labs. Just the sight of that bag made it so her small headache intensified several times worse, since it was the container of runes that her kidnapper had used to immobilise her.

Initially, the young woman was torn between wanting to examine those horrible items and tossing them away to never lay eyes on them again. But after several seconds, and several stares into Wesker's direction to confirm that his tense body language confirmed that he was still the former Police captain, she decided to examine those items further. If nothing else, they could offer a study of what made her who she was, so the opportunity to find out should not have been missed if possible.

First, the teenager accepted the bag, even as she brought one of the lit candles closer to her. Then, reaching within the container and withdrawing one of the runes, she placed the item into the flame itself, and wasn't surprised that it wouldn't show any damage from the fire. Still, it didn't keep her from feeling a sickened sensation in the pit of her stomach, probably due to her memories of them.

"Here", she gently tossed the rune in his direction before he caught it, "Try to crush it".

"If you're sure", Wesker replied as he began squeezing the bone fragment between his right thumb and index finger, expecting to feel it crumble right away.

Instead, he narrowed his eyes with curiosity when the shape of the fragment didn't change at all, even when he began applying more force after a few seconds.

Looking back at the young woman, the former Umbrella spy placed the rune between both his hands, using two sets of thumbs and index fingers to apply as much strength as was possible from his seated position. But seeing that the object still showed no sign of being damaged, he then examined it for an instant by lowering the sunglasses, and still found nothing unusual about it, except that it had proven to be tougher than steel or stone.

"Would you care to explain what this is?", he threw it back at her.

"It's magic", she simply let him know, and saw that he was about to criticise her for such an explanation as he returned the sunglasses to their usual place, "No, really. It's magic".

"You mean the kind that makes you who you are?", he reasoned.

"Well, you see, the shadow guy indicated that everyone where I'm from, where apparently shadows are allowed to be people, because apparently that's all OK", she began explaining, "Everyone's like I am. Which means conventional weapons don't work there".

"And where is this?", he arched his eyebrows.

"I don't know. What countries allows shadows to be people?", she didn't mean for her answer to be sarcastic, which was good that he didn't take it as such.

She picked up the bag while placing the rune that couldn't be burned or broken back inside it.

"But these do bad, bad things", she remembered distastefully, "But I don't know how to use them".

"Does he?", it didn't take much thought to know that he meant the other personality.

"Oh, yes!", Shakahnna nodded as she noticed that sunlight was illuminating the room further, "He had a fucking field day".

The teenager spilled the bag's contents on the cushion next to her, casually looking through the runes, and disappointed that none of them sparked a memory in her mind.

"They have names, but I don't know what those are", she admitted after a few moments, "I don't know if they're meant for me or for use on me. So your friend and the shadow guy may the only ones who know how to use them, and I don't know where the shadow guy went".

"Well, in another time and another place, I would've mentioned that I'll put the best resources from Umbrella on the task of researching them", Wesker shrugged, "But I'm afraid that option is no longer here".

"I think it'd be best for all concerned", she collected the runes back into the bag, "And by all concerned, I mean me, if I kept them".

"Of course", he nodded.

"Give me your hand", Shakahnna surprised the older by extending her hands towards him, "You're in the same body as him. It's worth a shot".

As he did, she dropped some of the runes in his open palm, and covered them with both her hands, and then breathed in and out when nothing happened.

"Think of fire", she suggested next, to which he closed his eyes so as to imagine such.

In response to the new stimulus, the runes in their hands began to glow, but then ceased doing so as soon as she gasped at their change, and Wesker opened his eyes as a result of her reaction.

"Definitely something here to play with", she thought out loud with a yawn as she collected every item back into their silk container, "But am gonna love you and leave you, Weskie. Chino should be waking up any time now, and him and Alfonso Hindley Brady will be wondering where I am".

"Of course", he agreed as he stood up and stretched, "And who's this?".

"Alfonso Hindley Brady, Weskie", she stood up in her own turn and gave a wide smile, "That be's the newest member of the family, acquired from Raccoon park".

"Miss Warren, what have you done?", he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Just this duck that obviously wanted to come home with us!", Shakahnna quickly explained, "And he's been living in the bathtub since then. At first he didn't like it, but then he started being fed bread with jam, especially if there's a bit of butter on it, and he just rolls over now and lets you pet his stomach whenever you feed him".

The grin grew even wider as she recalled her pet.

"Uh, right", he lowered the sunglasses towards his nose and rubbed his eyes, "Well, give my regards, or should that be my sympathies, to Chisholm".

"You should see it", Shakahnna kept smiling, "He pecks at Chino, and Donnelly!".

"I very much suspect I should not, miss Warren", he mentioned as he withdrew his .50 calibre Desert Eagle from where she did not see, "But you should get home and get some rest, while I continue my training".

"Who's the target now?", the redhead stopped smiling as she headed towards the exit door.

"No one you need to worry about", the taller man petted her on the head as he followed her out.

Once outside, she enjoyed the scent of a cool morning as he visually surveyed the area around him.

"You should at least clean up your own corpses this time, because if I have to do it again, I'm coming back here and kicking you in", she gave a comical warning.

"I'll keep that in mind", he nodded again, "Will you find your way back home without trouble?".

"Yeah, definitely", the rookie cop told him, already looking forward to the warm bed she could share with her boyfriend once she got to their apartment.

"In that case, see you when you return here", he uttered next.

"Yeah, I'm not sure when that will be, but you'll find a way to keep yourself entertained", she heard a whoosh of air behind herself as she finished talking.

Turning around, she saw that he was already gone, having jumped vertically through the air, and probably over the tops of the nearby trees. All that impatience to get to his next target before his victim got to enjoy one last breakfast.

"Show-off", she uttered before making her way back to the city.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The dream was eerily familiar, as if it was a long-lost memory of a place that had been visited before, though only done so centuries ago. In a large, rectangular holding cell, the night environment outside would've made the entire place be enveloped in darkness due to the lack of artificial lights, if not for the sickly green glow from the rune stones.

Walking further into the area, past the only entrance and exit door, the numerous holding cells that were available on the right made it apparent that the green illumination was not an intentional source of light. Not surprisingly, it was made obvious that the eight rune stones in each holding cell were there to ensure that the small room's possible inhabitants didn't get out. As such, a glowing stone was placed in each of the four corners on the floor, as well as one kept secured to each of the four corners of the ceiling.

Without knowing how, there was an understanding that these secure areas were designed to restrain against both magical and standard efforts. The eight rune stones were meant to keep the cell's prisoner from using magical abilities to escape. In addition to the enchanted restraints, the regular metal bars that separated each cell from the others were meant to prevent non-magical humans from helping the prisoner escape if they ever found this place.

Lastly, while each small room was lavishly decorated and furnished, with a hand-carved bed that had drapes surrounding it, and several heavy blankets everywhere due to a lack of central heating, there was no question that such comfortable luxuries were only artificial. Beneath the surface, there was a repulsive air in the environment, as if an unnatural and dark magic was clearly practiced in this rotting building.

Dream logic was often beyond an explanation, but the feeling was understandable nonetheless. It wasn't the time to wonder how such an innate knowledge was obtained, especially as there were distractions here and now.

That was because while most of the holding cells were empty, a single one contained one prisoner, who was a young woman with pale skin and jet black hair. Her dress was expressive of a style that was in fashion centuries ago, with fitted bodice and a hoop skirt with several layers of petticoat underneath. The ornate outfit seemed to be exceptionally heavy, as the number of jewels within it weighed down the wearer, even if it was only done so to portray the status the person carried within her society.

At the current time, her left wrist was badly slashed, and it bled profusely while that arm hung limply by her side, staining the left side of her skirt before red dripped on the carpeted floor. With some of her strength drained from that wound, the aristocratic Lady supported herself against the right palm that was leaning on the wall.

Due to the pain and disorientation, she didn't hear the chanting that emanated from outside her locked cell, as two creatures clad in a dark purple robe which hid all their features paid attention to her status. Several inches in front of her two watchers floated a metal tray that had six indentations within it, its contents being regarded with diligence by the guards also.

The two spectators kept their bodies and faces still, their palms flattened against each other as if in prayer, though they constantly watched their detainee, and then switched their attention to the large, flat plate itself. As the compartments on the tray were full of the prisoner's blood, after she had previously been cut open and had her wrist held over all six of them to collect the fluid within it, the chanting slowly caused that collection of crimson to be changed.

Soon, the blood became more dense, and the harder substance shrank until it turned into a circular form that was only an inch in diameter. Finally, the six indentations no longer had liquid within them, but instead contained a circular-shaped jewel, each piece of newly-fabricated glass reflecting the dim green light from the detention areas.

Their short-term task completed, the two shadow priests in the purple robes each took three of the jewels from the floating tray, and themselves hovered towards the cell that contained their prisoner. The cell's barred, metal door opened at their command without needing to be touched, and both priests calmly glided inside.

At seeing them there, the woman pushed herself away from the wall that she was leaning against and began drawing a symbol in the air between herself and them with her right index finger. Before she was finished, however, the first shadow priest gripped her right wrist and slapped one of the circular pieces of jewellery on the back of that hand, having it attached to her skin on contact. The result was that she pulled her arm out of his grasp and continued gesturing the strange symbol as before, except that her right arm now drooped by her side, as useless as her injured left one was.

The mixture of the previous pain and confusion only being made worse by the sudden ineffectiveness of her right arm, the young woman swayed for a moment, before she was caught by the two guardians. Both priests worked quickly to place the other five gemstones on the back of her bloodied left hand, her forehead, just below her neck and on the outside of her ankles. That caused her to become more agitated, as she staggered through the small cell, crashing first against a wall, and then against the side of the decorated bed, while she moaned and tried to pull the jewels off herself, but to no avail.

With their task finished, the two shadow priests exited the room, though they left the celldoor open behind them. Contrary to escaping through the unlocked metal barrier, though, the completely exhausted captive merely slumped against one of the stone walls of the cell, slowly sinking towards a seated position on the floor.

No rest was allowed, however. Two other beings marched into the room, these individuals having to walk on the floor, their heavy steps echoing as each person was twice her size and clad in armour, carrying a spear while their face was covered in a metal mask resembling a wolf's head. Without saying a word, the two new guards retained a grip on their spear and used their free hand to grasp each of her arms, and easily picked her up from her slumped position.

Holding on to her upper arms, the masked watchers lifted the young woman off the floor while her legs and head hung in a limp fashion, and marched out of the holding cell. While still conscious, she had no energy except to remain awake while not knowing where she was taken.

The young woman was unceremoniously thrown towards the stone floor, landing with a muffled scream as she came to a painful stop. She heard her two guards walking away behind her even as she first caught her breath, the cold stone below greeting her face as she breathed in and out.

Eventually, she struggled to rise on her hands and knees, drops of blood still dripping below her left arm as she did, and heard that a door was closed elsewhere in this new environment.

Finally being able to get on her feet, the captive turned around, careful to remain upright as she still felt very light-headed, first from her earlier injuries, and then the effect of the jewels which only exacerbated her weakened state. She then stopped when she noticed that whatever door her watchers had used to exit this place was now gone, as she now found herself in an enclosed stone temple that had no way to enter or exit it.

At least her sentries were gone, so she breathed out a sigh of relief. And as long as she was alone, she could work on a way to get out of this problem, starting on the removal of those damnable gemstones which kept her from casting spells.

So the former captive began to look around this place, doing her best to stay calm while pain and fatigue threatened to render her unconscious. For starters, she noticed that this place was lit by dozens of red candles, which was a welcome change of light, especially in comparison to the prison where only those ugly, restraining green runes shone everywhere. There were also some pretty-looking stained glass, made in the image of a fork-tongued dragon, though no light was shining from outside them, indicating that it was still night-time.

She told herself that she could try to break the glass later, assuming she didn't find any other way out of here first. So her search for clues led the young woman to the altar in the middle of this temple, and she brushed the dust off its surface, indicating she was the first person who'd been here in quite some time. She recognized the symbols on its surface, but she initially couldn't understand what they truly meant.

Until suddenly, her facial expression froze in a panic when she understood what the altar was and what purpose it was used for. The drowsy female carefully backed away from it, keeping her eyes on its exterior as she did, until her back met the farthest end of the temple.

She tried to cast a spell again, gesturing a particular symbol in the air with her right index finger, and while the sign she intended to make appeared for an instant in front of her, it then vanished. Out of desperation, she copied the movement with her injured left hand, but received the same result.

Unknown to her, the dreamer could see that the woman's movements were being watched via a yet-mysterious source by three individuals who were outside the temple. Those were the two shadow priests who were stationed behind and on either side of an Asian man who was dressed in a red ceremonial uniform. With his two custody guards having been sent on their way, the individual in charge crossed his arms behind his lower back, clasping his own left wrist as he clearly didn't expect to keep waiting for long.

The Asian man now approached the young woman while his two underlings stood her up, and he tried to pull an unseen object out of her face and torso, and seemed increasingly frustrated when nothing happened. Irate, he swore in an unknown language and then addressed his two followers, who then used green light to carry her without having to touch her.

Following the antagonist and his two men as they used their magical ability to transport their insensate cargo, the dreamer watched the dark, purple sky as patches of fog blocked part of the background. Passing the decrepit buildings that stood out of the skyline, the only one that appeared within a walking distance was a small dwelling that was a short distance away.

Coming closer, a courtyard filled with green liquid and four surrounding statues was soon made visible as the trio came closer to it, but they ignored what was obviously a normal sight for them as they proceeded inward.

The nightmare scenario concluded with the dreamer finally seeing something that caused an involuntary gasp, as rows of thousands of clear glass containers were lined up in giant clusters. Inside each glass case was the frozen body of a person, each of them being young and female, much like the human freight that was brought here, to be forever held in stasis.

Shakahnna Warren woke up with a gasp before she realized she was sleeping face-down on the bed that she shared with Chisholm.

Elsewhere in Raccoon City, Albert Wesker woke up in his cabin with cold sweat running down his face. His first reaction was to reach past the Desert Eagle that was under his pillow, and he wrapped his fingers around the wristwatch. Lifting the small piece of equipment and lighting it, he realized it was almost 4AM, so he had been asleep for an hour before this mysterious dream had roused him.

The redheaded teenager considered indulging in the melodramatic measurement unit that she had come to label as the goth-o-meter. While making sure to not wake Chisholm, she carefully came to a seated position on the bed and wondered what that vivid dream meant.

Was it her own background? But if so, she did not recognize the woman who was first rendered insensate and then imprisoned, though the aura she received from the leader of the pack who caused the imprisonment clearly left a bad taste in her mouth. There was something wholly abnormal about that Asian man, as if he invoked the displeasure of Nature itself by his actions.

Just what had he tried to take from her, which caused him to be extremely annoyed at failing? But for an unknown reason, Shakahnna was so glad at his lack of success, as that man being happy at his achievement could've only meant a new dreadful consequence had befallen others.

The young woman rubbed her face with both hands, telling herself to not think too much about this dream. After all, she had nightmares like this before, and ones that were much scarier, in fact. So maybe she shouldn't worry too much about the consequences of this particular dream, not this early in the morning, and definitely not when she needed her rest before the start of another long day at work in a few, short hours.

She quietly laid back down on the bed, intentionally closing her eyes and hoping she'd be able to get some sleep, as she could see hints of daylight beginning to form in the sky even now.

And under the cold, hard light of day, things were always different.

Wesker sighed in annoyance as he wondered how many of his other half's crimes he was going to have to atone for.

The vision he saw in his sleep must've been the actions of the sadist who lived in his body, back when that man was collecting humans and other creatures. It could not have been anything else, as Wesker knew that he rarely dreamt.

But who was that Asian man who was so prominent in the nightmare?

Wesker rubbed his forehead, hoping it would help him remember. Unfortunately, he wasn't surprised that the action had no positive effect, as he was still having a difficult time in recalling any of the memories that the other personality had.

Maybe the mysterious man in charge was his other half's second in command, or an ally in equal terms from elsewhere in the world.

Whatever the reason, the former RPD captain quickly decided to try to track that Asian individual down, reasoning that finding him would lead to further discoveries about his actions in Umbrella at least, or lead to him taking down a dangerous predator at most.

He fought the temptation to look at his watch a second time, knowing that the time on it wouldn't have changed, so he grudgingly acknowledged that his rest had been interrupted, probably for the rest of the day. As fascinated as Wesker was by the influx of new information, though, he couldn't help but be annoyed at the fact that it kept him from reaching the full respite he wanted. After all, rest was rare when he had so many missions to be on and so many Umbrella connections to eliminate, so why couldn't he have it uninterrupted?

So he had more characters to chase after now. But first, he would have to find this strange person's identity, and only then atone for the other Wesker's crimes.

For an unknown reason, the thought that there was no rest for the wicked entered his mind, and it only annoyed him further as he had to remind himself that he was not the wicked character here.

Not that he had anything to atone for himself. Not that he felt any kind of remorse over his continuous murder sprees. So he opted to stop wasting his time and gear up to leave the cabin, as long as he was already awake and unable to fall back asleep.

Those Umbrella people weren't going to kill themselves, after all.