Over the course of a couple weeks, the four of them had to adapt to a handful of changes. For Piers, his schedule was inconsistent at best. Some days, he would sit up and try to walk around the room; other days he wouldn't wake up at all. Sometimes, the worst times, he would just scream and scream as the virus burned through his veins, stirred on for an unknown reason.
Whenever he had an opportunity, Chris would beg to stay with him. But, they were hardly more than prisoners here.
The remaining three agents were stuck on the third floor. They were able to wander around up there, which was pleasant enough, but the stairs were blocked off and the elevators were keycard activated.
More than once, Jake considered knocking someone out to get one of those cards. Not nessarily to visit Piers, but more because he hadn't had an opportunity to beat someone up in way to long.
Sherry spent most of her time in the Commons. There, she would be around other people. After being studied for most of her life, she desired just the presence of others. Didn't matter if they were judging her or what. And, if she was lucky, she'd be able to have a quick conversation with Chris or Jake.
'Speak of the devil.' Sherry thought. "Jake!"
He came to the Commons fairly often too, and not just for meals. Sherry didn't know why. But right now, he was in line with a bunch of other employees for their lunch. He heard her call his name, and looked back at her with a slight smirk.
After a while, when he finally got his food, he walked over to sit by her. "Hey Supergirl. What's up?"
She grimaced slightly at the nickname. "Not much, I guess. You?"
"Same. There's nothing that really happens here."
They fell into silence for a while.
Jake started poking at his lunch. "The food here sucks. This is supposed to be a hotdog?"
"Yeah," Sherry chuckled lightly, "that looks like it was made from an actual dog. Maybe one of the infected dogs." As Jake pretended to shiver, she continued, "That's why I always stick to the salad bar."
When Jake tried to think of something clever to say in response, nothing came to him. Nothing came to either of them. So they slipped back into silence, and just enjoyed the other's presence. Neither of them had to say how bored, worried, or just straight scared they were. And, for a quaint moment, they just sat and ate.
Between these quiet moments of respite, the days dragged on in a unceremonious, dull way. But as Chris grew ever more impatient and Piers grew ever more stable, the BSAA officials could see that something had to change.
About a week after they came to the hospital, Chris was doing push-ups on his floor, to pass the time. A B.S.A.A. officer entered his room, looking intimidating. Chris stopped what he was doing to stand at attention, facing him.
"Redfield." The man started with a solute, "You and Lieutenant Nivans are being summoned to the Administrator's office to discuss your next corse of action. Follow me."
He spun on his heel sharply, and led Chris out to the elevator. After an awkward, but thankfully short, elevator ride, he was led to Piers's room.
Piers was standing, silently looking out of his window. He was unhooked from most of the devices, except for an IV. The sun's setting rays bounced off his features, highlighting the edge of his scars, and washing out his skin, making him look artificially pale. "Piers?" Chris cautioned, "You ready?"
Piers blinked and rubbed his eyes slowly. Then, he turned around with determination on his face. "As ready as I'll ever be, captain."
"Can you walk?" Chris questioned, stepping over to help him. But Piers just nodded solemnly and refused his help. He used the IV stand almost as a crutch, but tried his best to hide it. Moving beside Chris, they let the gaggle of guards lead them to the Administrator's office.
When they reached the office, most of the soldiers looped behind them, while one held the door open. After Chris and Piers stepped inside, the door was shut with a definite click. They both sat down, and turned their attention to the man behind the desk.
He smiled grimly at their stone faces. "Capitain Redfield. Lieutenant Nivans. Good to see that you're both alive and well. Now, I bet you know what we're doing today."
They both nodded.
"Right." The administrator continued. "We don't want to rush you back into missions, but we can't seem to keep you stalled any longer. As Neo-Umbrella is still out there, we need as many agents as possible in the field. And you two are some of the greatest soldiers we have."
"First of all, you two will have to be separated. We don't know if the virus is only stable because you're in a non-threatening environment, Lieutenant."
Piers nodded quietly. He didn't like idea, but he understood it.
The administrator continued, "Because the threat of bioterrism is still so high, we need to get you two out in the field. We're so short on soldiers that we can't waste any of them. Obviously, though, I won't be assigning you to anything harsh, direct, or excruciating. We still need to keep you safe. So, you will either go on a short recon mission, or you will be stationed to do something close to janitorial.
"Wait, what?" Chris asked, doing the best he can to keep a growl from his voice.
"What?" Piers yelled over him, slamming his hands onto the desk. His eyes seemed to glow as he growled the director, showing everyone in the room that at some point, he had grown fangs. His pupils narrowed to a fine line. The lights in the room started to hum.
"We quite literally JUST saved the world, and the only thing you useless pencil-pushers can do is 'keep us safe'? We are more than qualified to kick Neo-Umbrella's virus-making mother-fucking ass!" He curled his hands into fists, and didn't notice the arcs of electricity leaping from his arm and eye.
The administrator kept eye contact with Piers, listening, but clearly unsettled. The lights in the room were getting brighter and brighter. Chris paled. "Piers."
Piers didn't remove his eyes from the administrator. "No, captain, I'm right! They can't, won't, keep us locked up anymore! I'm not taking-"
Chris slammed his hand on the desk and rose to face him. "PIERS!"
There was a loud shattering sound in the room, as Piers switched his eyes to Chris. The room was dead silent as the lights went out, except for Piers' clearly illuminated scars and iris. His pupils flashed from slits to round fear.
"Oh god." Piers whispered. "No. That wasn't me. I'm not… I'm not a monster." He slowly sunk down to in his seat. The room went pitch black.
After a second of silence, the administrator opened a drawer in his desk. The room was lit by a flashlight.
"I've seen enough." He sighed. "You clearly aren't well. Before now, there had been no reports of you acting out." Chris gripped Pier's stone cold hand, but said nothing. The administrator continued, "What I mean is, you need to learn how to control… yourself. I'm going to send you on an assignment, monitored by the best we have to offer."
Piers looked like he wanted to say something, but bit his tongue.
"I understand that you are in a… high stress situation, shall we say. So I am willing to overlook most of what happened here, but keep in mind that this, and every other move you make, will be on record."
He turned his attention to Chris.
"Redfield, you need to go somewhere calmer after that massive mission. I'm assigning you to a recon station in Gary, Maryland, which is currently headed by Director Valentine. We'll send the other details to your apartment. Do no other assignments until we tell you. You both are dismissed."