I crouched in front of the bloodied and bruised Russian, wiping my hands on a towel, "C'mon Nik, gotta give me something, you give me information on White Umbrella, and I promise you this will end."

Three days we'd been at it, three days I'd rotated with Connor, mercilessly beating the shit out of the Russian asshole. When he stayed silent, glaring at me with the one eye he had left, I knew it was time to get a little more serious. I snapped my fingers, and Connor rolled in with a hand truck carrying a car battery. Nikolai's terrified glance let me know I all but had him.

Jumper cables and steel wool gets 'em every time.

I hooked up the cables, rolling the wool together, the almost red hot metal spitting sparks all over the concrete. "So, do you feel like clueing me in? Or do we have to see how reliable this off-brand Walmart battery is? Say no, Nik, I kinda want to go on this adventure together."

He shook his head; I shot a quick nod to Connor, and a bucket of water was dumped over him.

"Fine, let's see just how much juice we've got, tovarisch." Without another word, I slammed the steel wool into his bare chest.

The screams echoed around the room, bouncing off every surface, his cries turned weak after a moment, so I eased off, smelling his charred skin. "Got something for me, Nik? Where's that big dick energy you had when you led your guys to die?"

A soft sob left him, small and almost involuntary. But he didn't speak.

So I hit him again.

He finally broke, screaming, three hours later. The guy promised me all kinds of things, gave up solid gold information, links in the Umbrella chain that we couldn't ignore.

Nikolai sobbed; I think it had finally hit him that he wasn't ever gonna be the same man, between the broken bones and his missing left eye, he was gonna be crippled at best. But I think he was starting to cotton on to the fact that his life was over, right here right now.

I stood behind him, adding to the man's terror; I felt nothing for him; he was instrumental in the murder of so many innocent people.

"Please, I did as you asked, l-let me go."

That little hitch confirmed what I'd suspected, the man was a coward to the bone. I pulled a knife from my belt, the wicked-looking blade glinted dully, bending down and whispering in his ear, "Nah, Nik, you died back in Raccoon with all your victims, you just didn't know it." He shook, more tears spilling down his face, "But I can promise you one thing, you won't be lonely for long where you're headed.

I straightened up, grabbing a handful of his hair, prying his head back as he frantically tried to stop me, pulling his chin into his chest, but what was coming was inexorable.

He tried to kill Jill.

I got a good grip on him and pulled his head back.

"NO! PLEASE!"

I slammed the well-sharpened blade into the side of his neck, his body jerked and spasmed, trying to breathe around six-inches of steel; I left it there for a second, let him really feel it, before I punched my arm forward, slicing through both arteries and his windpipe, stepping back and kicking his chair over. His head slammed into the concrete floor, twitching and screaming horribly through his torn throat; after a moment, his motions became more sporadic as shook, and blood loss took over; a moment later, he was dead.

Good riddance to bad fucking rubbish.

I walked out of the interrogation room/slaughterhouse, peeling off my bloody gloves and tossing them in the trash. Frank stood off to the side, waiting for me.

"You think he was being honest?"

I shrugged, "Dunno Frank, but I can tell you this, he believed, right up until he died, that all he had to do was talk. I think we can bank on most of what he said."

Frank sighed, "Well, that's fucking terrifying."

"Yeah, but it gets us closer to stopping these motherfuckers. Listen, I, uh, need to grab a shower and go check on Jill. Do you need me for anything else here?"

Frank shook his head, "Nah, kid, we have what we need; the analysts are verifying and coming up with an operations playbook. You've got plenty of time. There's one more thing I wanted to tell you before you go."

"Hmm?"

"Chief of Station in London made contact with Redfield and Burton, offered support, told them you sent him. That true?"

"Oz, listen, there's two guys in your city, ex-cops looking for info on White Umbrella. They're friends of mine, good guys, anything you can do for 'em?"

"For you, Mike? I'll get it done."

I nodded, "Yeah, Frank, if we're gonna take these fuckers apart, we need all hands on deck."

"Well, Redfield sent a message back. He wants to meet you."

"In London?"

"Yeah, in a week, at the Embassy."

Apprehension welled up, Chris had been a friend, but he'd believed Wesker's line faster and more completely than I'd thought possible. So why did he want to meet all of a sudden? Maybe Oz filled him in on the real story?

"Well, I'll be there, I want Becca and Jill along for the ride."

Frank nodded, "I'll make sure they get cleared for it."

"Thanks, man," I pulled the door open, a flurry of activity outside greeted me, "For everything Frank, I mean it."

He smiled and waved me off, "We're damn near family, Mike, I'll back your play all day long, go see your girl."

I stepped out into the afternoon sun, smiling as I took the short walk from our hastily erected tent city to the infirmary building. Peterson had come alive once word had truly gotten out. Marines had the perimeter, Army and Air Force had the interior, checking and re-checking the survivors, guards posted around the living areas.

But I knew from personal experience that they would have shown signs by now.

I crossed the lobby, waving to my nurse buddy from the other night, and hit the elevator. Ever since Jill and I had reconciled, being away from her was damn near painful. Blood work and every other test under the sun were the norm until they were sure that the virus wasn't a threat anymore. Isolation and twenty-four-hour observation were presented as options… until I'd reminded the lead physician that I could kill him with my pinkie.

A change of policy had quickly followed.

Jill was sitting up, reading one of the books I'd grabbed for her. Her brows were furrowed, she was so deep in it.

It was a good book.

I leaned against the doorframe, just taking her in, a smile playing across my lips. The months of uncertainty hadn't put a dent in how I felt about her. I watched her lick the tip of her finger and turn the page, but she must have felt something; those blue eyes flicked up and locked onto mine. She set her book down and wordlessly patted the empty space next to her, a soft smile on her lips.

I crossed the room, sliding up onto the mattress and pulling her close, gently kissing the top of her head as she melted into me.

"Hey, baby."

"Hey you," She cuddled into my side even further, and I breathed one of the many sighs of relief I'd allowed myself over the last few days; I half expected to come in one day to her changed mind, never to see her again.

I held her for a long moment, "We have to head to London, I talked to Frank, Chris and Barry are there, they want to meet."

Now I had her attention, "Why London?"

"That's where they landed, I called the Station Chief, an old friend of mine, and had him scoop them up, give them support. Things are changing, Jill; CIA has our backs now. Management wants to help us take out Umbrella. The world before all, this may have been fucked, but there was a balance. Umbrella is fucking up that balance."

She leaned against me a little harder, "So we destroy them and everything they've built."

"Exactly. For Bravo, Joe, everyone who died in Raccoon, and everyone that will die if we don't act." I leaned right back, gently rubbing her shoulder, "I love you, Jill."

Her eyes sparkled up at me, "I love you too babe," in a flash, her face turned into that warrior that she'd always been, "Let's go get these motherfuckers."

"Contacts have arrived, meet is set, ring the bell," I whispered into my sleeve, surreptitiously scratching my nose. Rebecca was three tables over, glancing more at the door than at the menu.

Gotta get her out of the habit.

After I'd gotten everything I could've out of Nikolai, Frank had made good on his word and gotten the clearances sorted; two days later, the Air Branch boys ferried us across the pond. Which led us here, to the Old Crowne Pub in the heart of London, waiting on Chris and Barry, the owner was…Sympathetic. It was as good a place as any; Security saw a few odd types milling around the Embassy, rolled one up, and found that Umbrella was watching us just like we were watching them. In the interest of keeping them guessing, we opted to meet in the city.

Jill sat across from me, idly sipping tea, her eyes running over my face as I looked over the lunch specials. From a distance, we looked like a couple enjoying lunch; maybe Jill was deciding if she was still mad about our fight the other day? Who knew.

"Street is clear, bringing them in now."

I nodded, the perimeter team could see me well enough, "Fish and Chips it is. Are you gonna eat, sweetheart?"

She shook her head, smiling coquettishly, "Watching my figure babe."

"My job, no?"

The doors opened, bringing the evening snow with it, a gust of cold air into the otherwise cozy pub. Chris came. First, Barry on his heels, Oz brought up the rear, his eyes flicking around the room, never turning his head.

Nice to see the office hasn't made you soft.

We locked eyes, and they made their way over; Jill had shored me up on the flight; she knew I was nervous at the prospect of the team being back together.

Chris slid into the booth next to Jill, Burton taking the open spot next to me. Oz walked over and hugged Becca, sitting down as they started chatting animatedly, Becca slid right into her role.

Proud of that kid.

"Kelly," Redfield said with a nod, but his eyes were hard; he'd changed since I last saw him, aged somehow. I looked over at Barry, and he gave me a warm smile.

I'd thought long and hard about what I'd say to Chris when, and if I ever saw him again, watching him across from me, almost fidgeting in his seat, I knew the direct route was the best.

I opened my mouth to speak, but Chris cut me off, "Your friend filed us in, I-Mike I can't begin to apologize, and I don't expect you to forgi-"

"You want a beer?"

He looked at me like I was growing another head; Barry chuckled.

I continued, "And their Fish and Chips? Best in the city, Redfield."

I held Chris's troubled gaze for a minute, and we said it all in a flash; finally, he smiled, scratching the back of his neck, "Ya know, Mike, a beer sounds great."

Barry started laughing, shaking his head, reaching over to slap me on the back, giving my shoulder a squeeze. Jill smiled widely, throwing an arm around Chris, reaching across the table and grabbing my hand.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Rebecca. Watching us with tears in her eyes.

And just like that, Alpha Team was back in business.

In the end, the high note was short-lived. Chris's sister, Claire, unbeknownst to any of us, had been in Raccoon during the outbreak, fighting her own war alongside a rookie cop. They'd made it, but Claire had gone looking for her brother. Barely a month had gone by before he got word that she had been captured by Umbrella, imprisoned on an island in the South Pacific. Jill and I were on the other side of the world when he raced off after her, tracking down another source.

I walked down the sidewalk, wearing a linen shirt and a pair of cargo shorts.

Cuba was still warm this time of year.

I passed a cafe, my target was sitting outside, reading the paper, completely oblivious, I walked by and then stopped, allowing an expression of recognition to cross my face, "Doctor Foster?"

He glanced up at my voice, and from the way, his eyes trailed over me confirmed that his wife was probably in another hemisphere.

"Do I know you?"

I smiled shyly, "I was at Doctor Sather's conference when you spoke. I have to say that your ideas of molecular restructuring are simply…Sublime."

He smiled, flirtatiously at that, and motioned for me to take a seat, "Perhaps we could discuss it over some Sangria, Mr.?"

"Shane, Shane Adams," I added a borderline nervous giggle as I took the open seat.

"So," He said, a warm, almost predatory smile stretched across his face, "What was it about my little presentation that… grabbed you?"

I rubbed the back of my neck, willing a blush to my face. "I have a confession doctor, I really just wanted to meet you, your ideas have merit, but you yourself…captivated me."

His smile only widened, "Well, let's say that I find myself more receptive to the idea than you might think." He finished with a wink.

I let the playful, flirty note drop in an instant, my voice losing the almost feminine edge. "Oh, I know Doc, it's why I'm here." I reached into my pocket and pulled out photo prints, flicking them across the table.

His expression had gone from aroused to confused, and finally settled on horrified when he saw what I was peddling.

"I can't imagine that your wife or the rest of your friends in the church would appreciate those in the same way you probably did at the time, got a little acrobatic, didn't ya Doc?"

"Y-You-"

I cut him off, "I represent a party that you'd rather not run afoul of, I assure you, and I've been led to believe that you have intimate knowledge of certain Umbrella operations. I want that information, if you refuse to cooperate, I will make sure that the copies I've made find their way to where they'll do the kind of damage you can't fix."

His face was ashen; it's not every day that your life comes crashing down in the space of five minutes. I felt for the guy, having to hide who he was, but the sympathy stopped there; he was instrumental in the Bio-Weapons Division, which made him complicit in horrors unimaginable.

"I-please, I'll lose my children."

I leaned back in my chair, "That's your call Doc, not mine. I'm just the grand facilitator here."

He stared at the photos and came apart a little, tears edged into his eyes, and I knew I had him.

"What would I have to do?" He whispered.

"I need everything you can smuggle out of White Umbrella, as for the where and when? Someone will be in touch. Just remember, if you fuck me on this, these pictures go out, you decide to grow some balls and tell your bosses? I'll make sure they're plastered across the evening news after I hand-deliver them to your wife. We clear?"

The now broken man across the table nodded, his eyes dull. He'd played the game and lost.

"Glad we understand each other, expect a phone call."

I stood and walked away, leaving Doctor Foster to his fear and uncertainty.

"You know Mike? I believed that act, maybe a little too much, should I be worried?"

I leaned against the wall next to the balcony, the Cuban nightlife stretching out in the streets below, a cigarette smoldering in my hand. Jill was reclining on the bed, a flowing dress that hugged her body in all the right places made it difficult to form a rebuttal.

This was something we'd needed, an op combined with a mini-vacation. In the days leading up to the meet/ambush, we'd barely left the room, drinking rum and…making up for lost time.

I smirked at her, "Hey, he was a good looking man, might switch teams on ya, Val."

She didn't answer but hiked her dress just high enough that I could see that "commando" wasn't just a notch on her resume. A come hither look shone in her eyes.

I flicked my cigarette out the window and sprinted to the bed; Jill laughed, a musical sound that echoed off the walls.

Until I got my hands on her, that is.

Long hours passed, we had our agent in Doctor Foster, a Case Officer was set to run him; as the SAD Officer on-site, my job was to roll on whatever targets he pointed out, so, for now, we played the waiting game. Jill slept peacefully, wrapped around me tightly, her hand rested on my chest, our fingers intertwined.

The weeks following our escape from Raccoon were some of the most amazing of my life. All the fear and doubt had evaporated the instant I'd held Jill again. She moved against me, a soft whimper slipping out of her throat; I held her tighter and felt her relax again, the tension draining out of her muscles as she drifted off.

I was all too familiar with nightmares.

I gently unwrapped my hand from hers, grabbing my smokes off the nightstand, adding a gentle orange glow to the darkness, and wondering where we went from here. I looked down at Jill; maybe she'd be willing to hang it up with me when this was all over; we were both fighters with enough fighting for a few lifetimes over. Once Umbrella was gone, maybe I'd ask…

My phone vibrated on the nightstand, jerking me back to reality, Frank's number flashed across it. I leaned over and scooped it up, trying my best not to wake Jill.

"Hello?"

"Standby…Line Secure."

"Mike?" His voice immediately set me on edge; something was wrong.

"Yeah, Frank, what's wrong?"

"Redfield just made contact; he had a message for you and Valentine. "

"I'm listening."

"Albert Wesker is alive."

Shock, and more anger than I was prepared for flashed through me, the phone almost slipping from my hand, I sprang out of bed, Jill waking with a start.

"How, Frank? Is Chris okay?" My hands shook as I paced.

"Redfield is fine, a little beat up but alive, the extraction team scooped him and the sister, Claire. As far as Wesker being alive? I don't know, kid, Redfield said something about the virus keeping him alive, but you'll have to ask him. You and Jill are on the first Air Branch flight out of Cuba tomorrow morning. Private strip outside the city, I'll send a car."

I took a deep breath, getting my anger under control, " See you soon, Frank, thanks for the heads-up."

I killed the call, shaking hands reached up to run through my hair; Jill watched me with wide-eyes.

"Mike, what's going on?"

"He's alive."

"Who?" Her expression edged towards disbelief; my girl was no fool.

"Albert Goddamned Wesker. Something happened with Claire, Chris rode to the rescue. Frank is extracting us tomorrow morning; we'll get to Langley around the same time as Chris, he has more info."

Jill's face had hardened, all the hatred for our former Captain etched on her face, "How could he have survived? The mansion came down around him."

I shook my head, "I don't know, apparently Chris does."

She scorched up leaning against the headboard, murder in her eyes, Jill the cop was gone, Jill, the hardcore Delta Enabler had entered the group chat, "Well, it looks like we're gonna have to kill him again."

My little Valkyrie.

I nodded, "Fucker is going down for good this time."

The rest of the night was spent in an uncomfortable silence as we held each other, both of us humming with murderous energy. Wesker had been the architect behind the deaths of our friends, and in all this chaos, we still hadn't forgotten; I doubted we ever would.

But a conversation with Rebecca about the airstrike came bubbling up, reminding me of Frank's words.

The virus kept him alive.

I'd grabbed Becca before Jill and I had left for Cuba, intent on asking some questions, I'd found her in her agency supplied apartment, knocking on the door, which she opened after a beat, a broad smile on her face.

"Hey, Mike!" She stepped in to hug me, which I returned.

"Hey Bec's, listen, I have to talk to you about a couple of things that happened in Raccoon; you're the only one I trust with this."

She indicated a recliner, taking the couch for herself. I filled her in on the strike, the building collapse, my snapped in half rifle, and the fact that I had escaped not only alive but with almost no injuries. She didn't respond for a long moment, her brows furrowed, clearly working on something in that brilliant mind of hers.

"Mike, I've learned more about the T-Virus than I ever wanted to over these last weeks, and I can tell you this, it is so much more than zombies and monsters; the ultimate goal was to create people who were stronger and faster than anyone else, able to do things most were incapable of. But it's number one function was regenerative, to repair dead tissue, after death this results in zombies, but before, it begins to alter the host DNA to the degree that will take years to fully explain."

She looked unsure if she should continue, but did, "If the mutagenic processes are arrested, as they were when you were inoculated, it is entirely possible that those regenerative effects were brought to the fore without the…undesirable end-state."

"So, you're saying that the virus saved my life and what healed my injuries?"

She nodded, looking troubled, "There may be other effects that we're not aware of yet, I can assure you that you're not infectious anymore. But we should be on the lookout for any other signs."

I was floored; the virus saved me, and now what? I turned into Wolverine? Healing immediately from any injury? Instead of exciting me, it scared me. Hopefully, it was all benign and helpful, and I wasn't going to suddenly turn into a Tyrant.

I yanked myself out of the memory, Jill had fallen asleep with her head on my chest, her chest rising and falling. I willed myself to the same place, my own eyes slipping closed, and sleep finally claimed me.

The rush to the airstrip came up quick, and before long, we'd landed in Langley, an Agency sedan bringing us to the Campus. Formalities were in short supply as the SPS guys checked our IDs, thirty minutes later, and we were in the SCIF, waiting on Chris and Frank.

Jill squeezed my hand as we sat at the enormous conference table, I squeezed right back, we both knew what came; next, we hunted Wesker down like the animal he was and made him beg before we finally ended his miserable life.

Frank arrived moments later, with Chris in tow, the latter looked as though he'd been through a meat grinder, ugly bruises marred every inch of exposed skin, bandages wet with blood told the story of a fight that had been too close for comfort, Jill walked up and hugged him, I followed suit, "Glad you're alive brother, Claire okay?"

He nodded, his voice sounding like broken glass when he spoke, "She's alive, but so is fucking Wesker," He said the man's name like a curse, I agreed, "Something happened to him, he's faster and stronger than any man has any right to be, something to do with the virus, G, I think he said. Saved him from the mansion and the Tyrant, made him almost superhuman. This just got a whole lot more complicated."

I shook my head, "No, it just got a lot simpler, we need to shut Umbrella down time-now, then we drag Wesker out of whatever hole he's hiding in, and we burn him alive, virus or no virus. Frank?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"I need to meet with POTUS, can we do that?"

"With the President? I can make the arrangements."

"Good. We need to impress upon him what we're dealing with."

Frank nodded, "I'll get it done; expect the meet in the next few days."

I nodded, "Just let me know when."

I'd been in the White House only once before, a briefing on some high-level High-Value Target, National level, in a country that begins with an R. Suffice to say it was redacted until the sun explodes. Now I tapped my foot outside the situation room, waiting for the nod from Frank. I had my presentation from all lined up and Rebecca's assurances that I was on the right track. Everything was a go.

Frank poked his head out the door, "C'mon kid, he's ready."

I hooked into the room, and there stood the most powerful man on earth, Grey hair and a severe expression behind his dark eyes, "Mr. President, it's an honor, sir," I stuck my hand out, and he shook it with a small smile.

"Mr. Kelly, the feeling is mutual, I've heard that you've done quite a bit for this country; you have my thanks for that. I understand you've come here today to tell me a few things."

I nodded, shifting the report from under my arm into my hand, setting it on the conference table, "I do, sir, the situation has become a touch more complicated. Please sit if that will make you more comfortable, but I promise not to take up too much of your time."

He nodded, sliding into a high backed swivel chair as I began.

An hour or so later, I had laid the basics out, including Wesker's capabilities. The President had listened without speaking; he seemed to be a cut above the average politician in that respect.

"As you can see, sir, what we have here is an individual who is relentlessly driven to accomplish his goal, which, if my associate is to be believed, is the forced evolution of every human being on the planet. What's more troubling is that he has the intelligence and means to see it through."

For the first time, he spoke, "So what do you propose, Mr. Kelly?"

I cleared my throat, "I propose that we eradicate Umbrella, the same way we eradicated ISIS, with prejudice, immediately. We clear them from the board and then turn our collective attention to Albert Wesker."

He leaned back in his chair, "And this virus, what proof do we have that it can do what your associate says it's done to the man?"

Showtime, "Allow me to demonstrate, sir?"

Graham looked confused but nodded, "Proceed, Mr. Kelly."

I stripped off my suit jacket, rolled my shirt sleeves up, and without preamble, grabbed a pen off the table and jammed it into my arm so hard I felt it hit bone, the pain came on quick and then ebbed away into nothing just as fast.

The President recoiled, "Jesus, Kelly!"

I pulled the pen out, and the hole slowly began to close as he watched with a horrified gaze, "It affects everyone differently, but the end result is the same, our Subject Matter Expert theorized that with ninety-nine percent of people, death, mutation, or reanimation is assured, and that even with the vaccine, only ten percent of survivors come close to what's happened to me."

"I'm living proof, sir, infected, and then saved by the vaccine in Raccoon City. Wesker has a virus that has hundreds of times more potency, that was refined and tweaked to turn the infected person into a living weapon."

Graham's ashen face slowly morphed into one of resolve.

"Mr. Kelly, pick your team and get it done. We cannot have a madman running around with that kind of power. You'll have all the support this country can give you short of nukes, and even then, I'm flexible. Stop Umbrella and this Wesker character, no matter the cost."

A smile spread across my face, relief flooding through me. "Consider it done, Mr. President."

Frank and I shook his hand in turn, then walked back into the hallway, leaving the President to give the orders.

"Jesus, kid." Frank breathed, "I knew it was bad, but what it did to you? I wasn't ready for that."

"Neither was I Frank, scared the fuck out of me, still does. But I'm not hangry for people, and I have no designs on world domination. And hey, I'll always be the most interesting guy at parties."

Frank chuckled and then laughed, loud enough that a couple of passing staffers gave him odd looks, "Christ Kelly, you're a sick, sick man."

"Hopefully not."

That set off another round of chuckling as we were out-processed by the Secret Service, a short walk across the grounds later, and we were getting into our car and heading back across the river.

The ride back to Langley was gonna be a long one with traffic, so I leaned back in my seat and tried to get comfortable, running over the implications of what had just transpired.

The President was behind us; he understood the threat and was going to help us meet it with every tool in the box. I drifted off with a smile on my face, jet-lag, and tension, finally taking their toll.

"Hey Mike, we're here."

I popped off the seat, flashed my ID to the waiting gate guard, and we rolled through.

"Everyone's assembled, minus Burton, he's in a safe house with his wife and kids as we speak, guy earned it. But Chambers, Valentine, and Redfield are waiting on the word."

I nodded, blinking the sleep from my eyes, "Well, let's go give them the good news."

You could feel the tension in the air as Frank and I keyed into the SCIF, Rebecca, Jill, and Chris sitting around the table. Jill flashed me a smile, mirrored by Becca, and Chris gave me a nod as we walked in.

Frank sat while I opted to stand, addressing my team, "I won't keep you in suspense, the President is on board," Relief flooded the faces of my friends, and a collective sigh rippled through them.

"I showed him a few things that he couldn't ignore, we now have full authority to prosecute any and all Umbrella related targets. Full backing of DOD and the Intelligence Community, the DOJ is working on making a case based on the evidence we've provided to wrangle them here at home."

Chris spoke up, "So, where does that leave us?"

"Abroad will be our wheelhouse, I've asked, and Frank has agreed, to bring you all in as contractors for the Agency. We'll have support, safe houses all over the world, and access to networks that we've cultivated official and illicit. Equipment, top of the line weapons and gear that you can't find anywhere else."

He seemed more than satisfied, a grim smile spreading across his face, doubtless thinking of all the ways we would make Umbrella pay.

I raised my voice a little, I wanted this message received, loud and clear, "The President asked me to pick my team…I can't think of any other group of people I'd want by my side, we've suffered together, fought against this shit side by side, damn near didn't make it. You guys are so much more than teammates to me, you're family, and no matter the strait, no matter who tried to break us apart. We always came back together. Alpha till the end, right?"

They were serious now, nodding somberly as I continued, "This fight has always been STARS' fight to finish; we owe our fallen that much. I know I don't have to ask, but I will anyway. Are you with me?"

Rebecca spoke first, "You all took care of me, kept me alive when I was just Rebecca, the scared kid so far out of her element that survival seemed like a fever dream. I trust you with my life. Let's finish it."

Jill cleared her throat, "I can't imagine walking this line with anyone else," She smiled at me, pouring love and respect into it, "I've got your back, babe."

"Always." I finished with a smile of my own.

Chris nodded, "We're a team, but Mike is right, we're family too, for everyone we lost, let's burn them to the ground."

I felt pride, respect, and love for my team well up inside me, "We have our orders, we have our targets."

I smiled evilly, "Let's get it done."

Weeks turned into months, turned into years. Alpha had traced a path of destruction through Umbrella that they weren't prepared for. CIA hit them abroad, and the FBI hit them at home; I partnered with Delta operators and SEALS, taking down lab after lab, snatching Umbrella leadership, and either turning them or killing them. Chris, Jill, and Barry tugged on threads in their official positions as contractors for the Agency. They ran with a privately funded anti-BOW agency as their cover, sort of a 501c for taking down monsters the full support of CIA at their disposal. Rebecca worked with the DOD and CIA to develop effective countermeasures for the men and women in the field.

And we searched for Wesker, to no avail.

Two years to the day since we'd sat in the SCIF and vowed to end these bastards, I found myself in a rundown little bar fifty miles outside of Baku. I pulled my jacket tighter around me, cold despite the fire roaring in the corner. The latest piece of the puzzle had led Chris and Jill to Russia; they'd infiltrated a base hoping to find the final nail in Umbrella's coffin. I'd been messing around in Africa when I got the call to back them up.

Kigali housed a facility whose director was fond of kidnapping local children, trying to find viable hosts for the Golgotha Virus. I'd tied her to a chair and introduced her to an angle grinder for that one, the D-Boys sat around and made jokes as Connor, and I cut her apart, she'd given up a few juicy tidbits of information before we'd let her die.

Umbrella researchers were jumping ship like rats; we'd have to race to get them all before they sold their skills to the highest bidder.

So here I sat, Connor in the far corner, watching my back. We were the backup and extraction team; Chris and Jill would rally with us here when the op was complete. We'd been waiting for two days, staying in the little inn upstairs; I'd met with and paid off the owner the first night, so we had no problems.

The door blew open, bringing some snow with it, and a group of men walked in; my bells were ringing almost immediately, the way they dressed and the way they carried themselves told me all I needed to know.

These weren't locals.

The group walked up to the bar, one of them taking the stool next to me, offering a thin smile as he sat down, the bulge in his jacket made itself known, sloppy work, but they weren't here for subtlety. The man ordered a drink in rapid-fire Russian, and when it arrived, he downed it in one go, regarding his glass for a moment before he spoke, his accent thick.

"You know, my friend, it is far too cold a night for this."

I nodded at him in the mirror over the bar, "Much too cold tovarisch. But I suppose there never is a good time, hmm?"

He laughed, "Blyad'…No, never a good time."

I watched his guys fan out behind me; Connor was still in the corner, it didn't look like they'd noticed him, but I sure noticed the short-barreled AK he had pointed from under the table.

I knocked back my whiskey, feeling the burn sliding down my throat, filling me with some much-needed warmth a second later, "Well, I suppose we'd better get on with it, I am a busy man after all."

His eyes turned stone-cold, "Da, as am I."

I'd been easing my Glock out of my ankle rig since the door had opened, it came free just as his hand shot up, a Stechkin automatic pivoting for my face; as soon as I cleared the holster, I fired twice, both rounds finding their mark in his left thigh. A scream tore itself out of him, and he slipped off the stool; I pushed myself off and fired five more times, walking the rounds up his chest. A deafening burst of automatic fire ripped through the air behind me.

Connor.

I spun, searching for a target.

And the last Russian alive shot me in the throat before Connor mowed him down in a spray of wood chips and blood.

I staggered, blood filling my windpipe, spraying to the floor in obscene gouts, making it almost impossible to breathe. My ears were ringing, and my vision tunneled; Connor was at my side in a flash, screaming words I couldn't hear.

I collapsed into the bar, sliding to the floor as the lights went out.