"You look like you've seen a ghost." She was right; Zaac's eyes had no soul in their glare - for a moment, he looked so weak and frail.

Zaac's voice returned, an irritated one. "You can't be alive!"

"Is that all you have to say after all these years?" Drusilla held her chest with a mocking grin. "I'm heartbroken."

"That's not bloody fair!"

Drusilla rolled her eyes and walked closer towards Zaac; her heels made her footsteps louder. "Where's the fun in playing fair? I play to win." Instead of walking to Zaac, she passed by him and stood at Dorian's side, wrapping her arm around his shoulder. He was at least six inches taller than her, and it showed. "I trust my partner here filled you in on the blanks?"

"Someone has to." Dorian chuckled. "He thinks we're here on Institute business."

Zaac did not comment; he was struck with a sudden shock. He couldn't move any part of his body; he was petrified.

"How trivial," Drusilla murmured, facing Zaac. "No. This is, in fact, a wonderful day for us all. For you and us."

Zaac said nothing. He was silent, just staring at her.

"Nothing to say, Zaac?" Dorian raised his chin. "Just a few minutes ago, you refused to shut up. Cat got your tongue?"

"How…?" Zaac uttered at long last.

Drusilla sighed. "Pathetic."

"You're both Synths!" Zaac screeched. "How did you bring her back, Dorian? Are you that freakin' stupid?! She's insane!"

"I'm not insane," Drusilla replied, "I'm just voluntarily indifferent to conventional rationality."

"Or lacking thereof..."

Dorian suddenly stepped forward with rage in his eyes and tone; this made Ulysses step back. "Don't you dare mock her in my presence!"

Drusilla patted Dorian's chest, and his anger dissipated. "Now now, Dorian," she cooed, "save your anger for later."

"Yes, mistress."

Drusilla faced Zaac. "Zachariah, be reasonable. Did you think I wouldn't have a backup plan the last we faced?"

Zaac's shoulders sagged. "I was hoping you didn't..."

"And that's why you lost - too much hoping, not enough action." Drusilla let go of Dorian and stared at her hands. "I knew I wasn't long for the world once I witnessed my plans come together." She drummed her fingers, mimicking rain. "Those missiles soaring through the air all at once warmed my bitter heart. That last mushroom cloud that wiped out Boston was nuclear perfection; I cried over the sheer beauty up until that same nuke claimed me as a victim too."

Drusilla lowered her arms and presented herself with a flourish. "A few days ago," she continued, "I was born anew." She patted Dorian's chest like he was a pet. "All thanks to this wonderful man and his Institute knowledge."

Dorian blushed. "You flatter me."

"That didn't answer anything!"

Drusilla let go of Dorian. "The Institute was built from the Commonwealth's Institute of Technology. While you and my cretinous father hunted down, Brother Dante, you gave my dear master time to reach the Commonwealth - C.I.T., to be precise. What does that mean to you, Zachariah?"

"That Verkraft Industries founded the Institute… The Master..."

Drusilla slowly clapped for Zaac's sudden contribution to the story. Mocking him, intentionally. "Exactly..."

"After I came online," Dorian added, "I learned that 'Richard Grey' had the decency to leave behind old schematics and codes buried within the Institute network, you know, before he went crazy. They worked marvellouslyfor my research to recreate the building blocks of life after death, even if Drusilla was the only test subjectthat survived." He turned his head and rubbed his chin, mockingly and out of habit.

"That makes you think, doesn't it?" Dorian continued, "If I was just left alone within the Legion, I wouldn't be dead and have a shiny new body to play with. Neither of us would be here." He glared back at Zaac with a crude smile. "Your group of mindless fools ended me, and now I am reborn," he reached for Drusilla's hip and pulled her to his, "and I brought a friend to enjoy the rest of my life with."

Dorian and Drusilla kissed, making as much sound as possible for the sake of pissing Zaac off. It worked; he didn't need to see that. "This is wrong on so many levels," Zaac said, almost gagging.

Drusilla had her arm around Dorian's shoulder. "You are so immature, Zachariah."

"We came here to find out what the Institute is planning to do in the Divide, and you two are in the middle of that investigation." Zaac relaxed his arms and used his R91 as a crutch. "Enlighten me, please."

"You are such a pathetic creature. You know that, right?"

Zaac grumbled. "Spare me the commentary."

Drusilla let go of Dorian and reached out for Zaac. "As I stated earlier, this is a wonderful occasion. You outlasted us, and we give up. Congratulations, you win."

"I won?" Zaac scoffed. "How the fuck am I a winner here?!"

Dorian sighed. "Some people just can't take it on the chin."

"We have fought and won many battles with you, Zachariah, but you won the war. Therefore, we quit our vendetta against you."

"Speak for yourself. You won't quit; it's not in your nature!"

Drusilla smiled. "The crux of the matter is that we are leaving this pitiful planet in search of a better one."

"I can see that from here," Zaac said while he glared past Dorian and Drusilla. The missile in question was hardly made for nuclear warfare; it had been altered to be a shuttle. The technology seemed familiar to him... "There are only so many planets out there, and they're all void of intelligent life."

Drusilla folded her arms and smiled. "Who said anything about the planets in our solar system?"

Zaac paused to digest what he heard, and his jaw almost dropped. "You… You're leaving the actual solar system? You can't just pick up and go as you please!"

Drusilla held up a finger. "Oh, I disagree with you there. I have reason to believe that someone crashed here in the Mojave a few weeks ago. The pilot in question wasn't of this world and can only be described as a 21st century American badass, stereotypical, of course. A muscle-bound idiot that is known to be vulgar even by American standards."

Zaac gnashed his teeth and growled. "That's classified information! How the hell do you know that?"

"It's wonderful what spies can accomplish these days; they can turn the tides of war and dig up juicy secrets. I only wish I had more of them to command." Drusilla rubbed her chin. "If I recall, Mister Torgue came from the neighbouring solar system to ours; his arrival weakened the rift separating them. So all we have to do is make contact, and then we can begin anew."

"Why? What's in it for you? This is a ridiculous risk you're taking, and for what?"

"An alien vault of treasure. Through this idiot's broadcast, I learned a corporation called Hyperion are seeking 'vault hunters' to ravage, pillage and kill for loot beyond the human imagination. That sounds like a perfect opportunity to turn a new leaf and not be tied down with our troublesome history here with you."

"Do you know how fuckin' retarded that sounds?! Not only it's a gamble at best, but you can't just leave the planet to pursue your selfish greed. That's not who you are."

"Who are you to declare who we are, Zaac?" Dorian growled. He let go of Drusilla and wagged his finger at Zaac. "As hard it is for you to understand, we quit. We don't revolve around you. Now is a time for us to do something for ourselves." He clenched his fist. "Starting with cold hard cash."

"Advanced alien technology. Power. Fame. Fortune."

"Women. Don't forget women."

Drusilla glared at Dorian and still smiled." Behave yourself, Dorian. I am the very best you deserve."

Dorian lost his smile and adjusted his eyebrows with a suggestive stare. "Still, the thought itself just pales to what actually lies in the vault. We must make preparations to vacate."

Drusilla nodded. "Agreed." Still, with that menacing smile, she stepped forward and addressed Zaac. "Well, Zachariah, this is where we bid you adieu. There are civilised worlds beyond our solar system that could do with a bit of War and Conquest."

Zaac clutched his rifle's butt tightly. He tried his best to hold his fury behind; some almost slipped out. "If what you say is true, then this is the only chance I can make you pay for the torment you caused me."

"All you talk about is pain and suffering. Get over it and stop being so pathetic."

"I'm pathetic?!"

Drusilla nodded. "A bit, yeah."

Dorian tilted his head. "There's no way you're letting us leave without a fight, is there?"

"Over my dead body."

"Excellent choice. It would be my pleasure to kill you again."

Zaac brought gripped his weapon as did Ulysses; each of them stood their ground.

"And when I do, I want you to remember all the people you let down and how you couldn't save them."

Zaac's blood was reaching the boiling point; the mere mention of his failures by the woman who caused them made him want to lunge at her. Of course, that would be a suicidal move, but the idea was more tempting as she went on and on.

"I can take a hint, Drusilla," Zaac muttered. "If you want me to fight, just say so. I know you want it."

"That's funny… I didn't need to say anything last time to get you to fight. All I needed was to break you." Drusilla curled her tight lips. "Got any more wives for me to kill? I'm feeling a bit nostalgic."

Zaac was about to vent his rage as he brought his rifle into his sights, but before he could open fire, Dorian charged at him and rammed his left shoulder into his chest - charged at him like a bullet. Zaac flew at the front door, crushing the door's frame and crashing into the ground.

Ulysses brought his SMG to his hip, and as he hovered over the trigger, Dorian grasped the weapon and raised it over their heads. Then a short burst of rounds peppered the ceiling above. Dorian's left elbow struck against Ulysses' stomach; a second strike forced him to loosen his weapon's grip.

With the SMG in Dorian's hand, he punched Ulysses' face, and the strength alone threw his body to the left side of the silo. He hit a metal railing before falling on his face.

Dorian turned to Drusilla and adjusted his sunglasses. "Are you hurt, mistress?"

Drusilla smiled. "Aw, you're too kind, Mr Savage. It pleases me to see you defend your queen."

"I couldn't stand by and let Zaac lay a finger on you."

Drusilla stepped to Dorian and kissed him on the lips. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Dorian smiled and instantly had his charm back. She had her arm around his shoulders. "That I would; I'd personally enjoy it more if you were safe."

"Forgive me, my king; I just had to taunt him for old time's sake. After all, it's been over two hundred years since I had this much fun provoking him. He's just so easy."

"I really don't want to spoil your fun, but I need to know if you have the thrust control modules." Drusilla dropped a small green chip into Dorian's hand. It was no bigger than his thumb. "Excellent! Where did you find it?"

"General Retslaf had a spare in his desk."

"I don't know who that is, nor that I care."

Dorian let go of Drusilla and stepped back down to the control terminal for another check. The chip fits into an open space on the platform's electronics. The previous one was destroyed in their trial run, and the one before that was stolen by Courier Six.

The small bulb on the motherboard lit up, and a window popped up - the one he needed to activate the space vessel. After inputting a launch code, a siren would count down from a minute before launching missiles. In this case, it was a single homemade shuttle.

"How long have we got until we can leave?"

The terminal's green glow reflected off Dorian's sunglasses. He shrugged. "We can leave whenever you fancy."

Drusilla clapped cheerfully. "Splendid! Let's have another dance before we leave; this will be the last we'll ever see of them."

Dorian stepped into view and regained his stance behind Drusilla. He was as happy as she was. "That it will be. You can have Zaac; Ulysses is mine." Dorian walked away.

"You no partake?"

"I had my fun during my Legion days." Dorian stopped and turned his head back. "Zaac's all yours."

When Dorian came over, Ulysses was thought to be dead if he wasn't blinking or breathing quietly. He was staring at the ceiling; there was nothing special about it, though the man was always a mystery wrapped in an enigma. His complex thoughts could break the toughest of individuals.

"Your impersonation of a throw rug is unrivalled, Ulysses. Why haven't you bothered getting up?"

"I'm thinking."

"Does it pay well?" Dorian squatted down. "You see, while hard-working folk like us are out here working, killing, robbing, you get to sit around and think all day. I always wanted to spar with you since I missed my chance with Graham."

"Then I will gladly oblige. I will answer the Divide's call." Ulysses never moved. His arms spread out, and he was comfortable enough to rest on the ground."

"Well?"

"Give me a minute."

Dorian smiled. "I've waited long enough for this moment..."

Zaac was on his elbow and knees, doing everything he could to muster up some strength to get back on his feet. He knew there was either a significant dent or a large cavity on his back, maybe a severed vertebra. The feel in his limbs was there, so he wasn't paralysed, but he still needed time to recuperate even with his advanced metabolism. His wound was too severe to shrug off.

Drusilla frowned upon Zaac's attempt to get up, looked down at him in disappointment. "Oh my, you can barely get up. For shame." Zaac growled in response; his throat was burning. "Is your back broken? Aw, poor thing. You'll be out of your misery soon enough."

Zaac grumbled. "You're all talk, Dru."

"Am I?"

Drusilla kicked Zaac's stomach and threw him on his back near the very back door. The point on her heeled shoe dug into his belly. He clutched his gut and forgot about the pain in his back. She kicked and stomped on his torso repeatedly. Zaac tried to protect himself, but the kicks were coming in all over; he tossed and turned under her wrath. Like kicking a lump of meat, it wasn't fun for her.

"Come on! Get up and have some dignity, at least."

"So you can kick me back down?" Zaac growled. "No... I'll get up when you least expect me to."

"After breaking you, I only wanted a challenge - to fight a Demigod. But, needless to say, I was disappointed. I heard all the legends, the feats and the potential this Sarkis left behind, and I was not satisfied when I faced you."

"Why me? Why my family?" Drusilla kicked Zaac's gut; he lost his breath and cursed lightly.

"Why not? I was disappointed, so I took it out on the ones you love. Look at you. You're on your hands and knees, clinging to your insignificant life. Every time I even think about you, Zachariah, it is always the same thought. This. This is an all-powerful Demigod-"

"I am not Sarkis..."

"Let's not get into details." Drusilla arched her back closer to him. Zaac still struggled to get his energy back. "It's no surprise to you that all I want is to carry on Alexia's legacy, but what good is any of that without a challenge of sorts. I got all excited for once in my life, and all I got was a feeble old man who couldn't save his family – let alone the Redfield siblings."

"I was seventy-seven years old; give me a fucking break!"

"What is age to a Demigod?"

"I am not Sarkis! You ignorant bitch!"

Drusilla smiled. "How rude..."

Zaac breathed slowly and stared back at her with fury in his eyes. "Even I admit, some Ashfords weren't all that bad, but nothing justifies Alexia's actions. Especially a manufactured freak of nature-"

"I may not have been created equal, but I am an Ashford, not like those pretenders. Priscilla and Cordelia were not fit to call themselves my matriarchs."

"They did your family a service-"

"Those heretics?" Drusilla gave a bitter laugh. "They went against the family's true obligation; Alexia's vision. They deserved to die. I hate them, and I hate your family for taking them away from their family heritage."

"Alexia was mentally unstable, to blindly follow her-"

Drusilla kicked Zaac's body; he held his tongue after a light grunt. "What proof do you have? I am not a martyr for the Old World as you imagine yourself to be." She placed her small hands on her pale cheeks. "Oooooo, I'm a psychopath, I'm misunderstood," she mocked, running her hand through her hair. "I have standards and needs to satisfy, as all of my predecessors had - being disappointed was not one of them."

Zaac tensed. "Life's full of disappointments..."

"In your pathetic life, they are. You probably thought, after I had killed you, I carried on with my plans. But no... After your embarrassing attempt at a rescue mission, I was angry, so I took my frustration out on your lovely Claire."

Zaac's face went pale as he reached out for Drusilla in a blaze of furious glory, but she kicked his face in and toppled him over on his back. His mouth and nose bled, and his sight was hazy.

"It's actually laughable. If you weren't so weak to satisfy me, I wouldn't feel the need to take it out on her. I would've moved on, or at least made it quick, but I didn't. So in a way, it was all your fault, and I doubt she was the first to die in your failure."

Zaac covered his face. "Stop pinning it all on me!"

"The Redfield's killed my queen, and since you're here, that means you're back on my list."

"I'll tell you what you already know; Alexia brought it on herself-"

"As did you and the Redfields. The glory of the Ashford family will be reborn sooner or later; you know that. It's futile. I just need a fresh start; we all do."

Zaac rolled onto his stomach and got back on his hands and knees. It was hard getting all the energy he lost back into his system, a problem when caught off guard. "You're not leaving this place alive, Drusilla."

"Bold to assume you'll last longer than a few minutes, Zachariah."

"That's all I need..."

"Is that what you say to all the women? You know, the ones I haven't killed yet?"

No more games. "One for the ages, Drusilla; I'll see you dead!"

Zaac roared and sent a right hook that missed Drusilla's face; she stepped back and let him follow through. After a left cross, she raised her arms in defence. Her block turned to a strike to the throat, as sudden and savage as she was. Zaac lost his breath and stepped back. He kept his guard close, protecting the head, but faltered when Drusilla kicked his chest in, cracking into his ribs.

Her next kick was a feint and turned into a step, and Drusilla swung a punch in, but Zaac caught it, his left hand closing around the woman's right wrist. Even with his strength, he couldn't break her hand; felt as solid as a rock. Zaac surged upwards and threw a straight punch aimed for her chest.

Drusilla caught onto the danger and intercepted his blow with her left forearm, which released her hand from his grasp and left him reeling. Next, she threw a right hook at Zaac's face, messing up his nose and breaking it upon impact. He staggered back but was able to block her left hook.

Drusilla twisted her body around into a backspin kick, but Zaac disappeared, her heel hitting nothing. She felt two hands wrap around her head and into a lock; she couldn't move. She grabbed Zaac's forearms and tested his strength, pushing herself hard to unravel his arms around her head.

Zaac couldn't best Drusilla's strength. She peeled his arms away, almost with ease and pressed her hip into his. After that, she tensed her body and threw Zaac over her shoulders, slamming him into the wall to her left.

Zaac flew into a discarded metal cabinet, and then he rolled onto a metal table. The office clutter was untouched for years, and Zaac broke everything with his mass. He scrunched by the table and got back on his feet.

The table was missing two legs; it was still a weapon. Zaac swung it at Drusilla, swooshing through the air left and right. Both times he missed her. The third swing she blocked, which broke his weapon, and she returned a punch to his face, cracking against his chin.

I'm losing… Zaac thought.

Drusilla twisted her body and kicked his chest. He fell back against the wall and sat on his one heel. Then she moved in and threw a straight punch. Drusilla's fist went through the seemingly thick wall, stopped somewhere below her right elbow. Zaac rolled away to her right and out of sight while she struggled to get her arm free from the hole she made.

Drusilla huffed. "Pathetic..."

Zaac latched himself on Drusilla's back and wrapped his arms around her throat; he towered over her in height. It wasn't easy to get the strength to break her neck; she resisted his influence. Instead, his hands fuelled Drusilla to rip her hand from the sturdy wall.

She jerked her head against Zaac's face, and his head rocked back, blood trickled over her hair and shoulders. Hit him like a wrecking ball, and he cried out, which gave her time to slip from his arms and out of his sight. She twisted her body and kicked Zaac with her right heel, and he grunted. Her ruby-red lips curled into a sneer.

His hair whipped his face; Zaac reached out and felt something moving for him fast. Suddenly his throat felt constricted. Drusilla's hand clutched his jaw and neck, and then he was lifted off his feet. She cheered and dropped his weight onto the ground, her strength piled on and then he heard a loud crack in the back of his head as his head was pressed into the ground.

I'll die if I don't do something, Zaac thought.

Zaac cried out as the world inside his head faded to black. It rocked around and felt cracked. He drooled. Drusilla gripped Zaac by the collar and belt and raised him above her head, cracking him onto her right knee. After a loud crack, Zaac knew she broke the bat, crunching his hip into her firm knee. He lost all feeling in his legs momentarily, so he cried out louder and with tears in his eyes.

One last hoist, Zaac was limp above her head. She threw his body down the middle pathway into the silo behind her. Opposite the main entrance is where Zaac finally stopped tumbling. He was still conscious. She took one last disappointing walk to him.

Drusilla got a call on her earpiece; it was Dorian. "Our Soldats are awaiting orders outside, my queen," he said.

"Excellent! Have them stand guard."

"Will do."

Drusilla wasn't finished yet; Zaac was on his hands and knees, still alive. "On your knees clinging onto your dear life again, Zachariah?"

"No..." Zaac whispered.

"I'm sorry?"

"I can't..." Zaac gasped. "Fuuuuuuck!" He slammed his fists into the ground; as he did, shadowy tendrils lashed and looped all around him. "I'm so sick and tired of losing!"

Zaac slammed his hands down again; some darkness shot at Drusilla; the shards would have shredded her apart if she didn't cartwheel away. Then, over Zaac's entire body, covering him head to foot in vantablack, the tendrils were no more, and Zaac was gone. In his place stood something wicked...

A shape formed and became solid, at Zaac's exact shape. His golden eyes shined bright, gleaming in contrast to his pitch-black armour that absorbed the light. Even his cape was darkened. "You want a challenge, Drusilla?" he said in a higher pitch than his usual voice, "Then come get it." He stood perfectly still as dark flames danced around his entire body.

"Zachariah?" Drusilla lost her smile and rose to her feet slowly with caution. "What is this?"

"A parting gift reserved just for you."

"Sarkis…?"

"Isn't this what you wanted, Drusilla?"

Drusilla didn't move for a few seconds; she shook her head as if to wake herself up. "You've already established that you're not Sarkis; as boring as he was, you can never hold a candle to his potential..."

"You're right; I'm not Sarkis... I'm worse!"