Julie Farkas was working hard in her office, a dingy tower that doubled as a bedroom. With the flow of N.C.R. dollars sustaining the Followers, she had the wages to manage her available doctors for years to come. The victims they treated were declining ever since she received that advanced Auto-Doc - the Nexus Incubator.

She came down the stairs and went outside; the open air was refreshing after being holed up in a guardhouse. It was a cold evening, hard to tell what time it was as each day was the same. Julie had a clipboard handy and checked on the patients in the tents around the courtyard.

Two of the six were stragglers that overdone their last few drinks, and another three was family of slaves. Courier Six saved them from the Legion; they spoke fondly of him when she gave them a little check-up.

The ruler of the addicts was a member of the Kings. Pacer. He was carried into a private tent just hours ago since his "condition" was flaring up again. Julie prescribed Pacer with some fixer and sat down, jotting down a reminder to update the next delivery.

Julie tried to feel proud that she was saving lives as opposed to hurting them, but every day there were more people to treat and not enough people to help. She remained jovial that she lived in a world of violence, which meant that her people would never be out of a job. Money just made it easier to save people from themselves, even if it was a cause behind peoples' pain and suffering.

The fort's doors outside suddenly opened with a loud thudding sound as if they were kicked open. A sudden scream split the cold air. "Help!" someone shouted, "We need a doctor over here!"

Julie sprung from her dull chair and swatted away the tent's flaps, looking left and right. The Follower guards steered a wounded man to find a doctor with a stretcher. She wasted no time and took the nearest one she stashed away inside an occupied tent to her left.

She set the stretcher down and helped her guards place the bloodied man on it; he was more cumbersome than he looked. Julie waved two doctors to her location and escorted them into the west guardhouse. They rushed along as surgery was required.

The medical area inside was dimly-lit; Julie flicked the extra lights on. The therapeutic area had a table large enough for the man, but she struggled to get him on, even with two extra pairs of hands. Julie barked at the doctors for some medical supplies, med-Xs, morphine and a doctor bag.

The man's face looked like an exploded tomato, and the bruising on his face was the worst shade of purple. Then, with their surgical masks and gloves on, the doctors started with the unusual problem the man was having.

Zaac had a pipe through his lung and, most likely, his heart, yet he had a pulse, and his breathing was under control. He was under local anaesthetic, so, the surgery commenced. Julie revved up a ripper to saw through the pipe. While sparks flew everywhere, the bent end of the pipe came off with an inch to spare.

The excess end protruded from Zaac's back. Once the ripper made contact, there were few sparks since the length was coated entirely in blood. Then General Wesker was able to lie down straight. Now the tricky part was nearing - the open-heart surgery.

Her assistants took off Zaac's armour. It started with a ten-inch incision over the chest; General Wesker's skin was like treated leather; it was challenging and took some elbow grease. She peeled the flaps of skin away from the chest wall and cut around the pipe.

Julie wheeled a pre-war bypass machine she found years ago over to Zaac and flipped it on; he needed a cardiopulmonary bypass. Some people use an electric saw to get through the ribs; the ripper was adequate even though she presumed it to be clumsy.

The teeth struggled to rip into his sternum and yelled out for someone to get a ripper with sharper teeth. She severed the ribs off one by one to the last two on each side and lifted his sternum away. The pipe was untouched and rested next to the pieces of bone.

Julie wrapped her gentle fingers around Zaac's heart and felt his soft heartbeat pulsing. Even with the pipe shafted through it, she could feel his vigour. While it was larger than a typical human's, what mesmerised her were the three symbols etched onto the organ. The craftsmanship in the grooves, lines and shapes were so fine and smooth, it appears to be a strange mix of blueprints and abstract art. After a delicate adjustment, she noticed some letters.

N… Y… E…? Julie thought to herself, No mere person could've done this...

Julie shook her head, not thinking much of what she saw. She needed to sever the pipe on both sides of his heart and take it apart piece by piece, without disrupting Zaac's natural flow.

Julie wrapped her gentle fingers around Zaac's heart and felt his soft heartbeat pulsing. Even with the pipe shafted through it, she could feel his vigour. She needed to sever the pipe on both sides of his heart and take it apart piece by piece.

An oddity occurred. The organic tissue fused to the metal, becoming part of Zaac; it was like trying to pull out a tooth or a limb from the socket. One of Julie's assistants passed her a superheated scalpel to cut through the pipe; it was hot enough to melt through the simple iron. Moreover, she needed accuracy and precision, that of which the ripper lacked.

One assistant wiped away Julie's sweat above her brows while the other managed her patient's breathing. She got in deep to cut the pipe and held his heart in place, doing her best not to nick it, but she had to cut as much of it as possible off to get it out. After a gruesome minute of cutting, the pipe broke off; then the same approach again.

Julie noticed a slight complication; the leftover pipe was still through Zaac's heart. She wriggled the pipe's leftovers, and it was solid, solid like it was a part of his heart. Fused as one. By any means, she couldn't remove it; the smallest attrition could end Zaac's life. So she had to leave it there for the time being.

Julie smoothed down the edges of the pipe before she called it quits. That gaping hole was niggling at her like a loose tooth, but the heart refused to let go. The beating and blood flow was healthy as can be, so she decided not to disturb it.

A compound was spread over Zaac's sternum and ribs to fuse them good as new; it was a mixture of glue and typical repairing agents - a rare concoction. Finally, his ribs were made whole, and her assistant dabbed away the cold sweat from her brows.

The cavity was still there when she stretched his skin flaps to meet each other, leaving a faint reminder of her defeat. The stitching wasn't the problem; the small crater it left behind from the raw damage was. The skin will heal over and thicken up where it's thinning. Zaac just has to live with the fact he has a piece of metal lodged in his heart indefinitely.

The surgery was a success; the patient was going to live. Julie thanked her assistants for a job well done, eventually asking them to help her undress Zaac and strap him into the incubator's harness. The doors closed and a fine green liquid filled the space inside.

Zaac had a breathing apparatus, and through the lime colour, he was still unconscious. Julie flicked on the terminal linked to the machine to see what she could learn.

The biosignature all over Zaac was the colour amber; his chest was a critical crimson colour. That was his heart damage, but Julie shrugged that off since her patient was still alive and no heartless machine could top the opinion of a top-class doctor.

The yellow colour was moderate damage, the cuts, scrapes and blunt trauma all over him. Those details were blatant, though under them was another problem. The incubator identified an illness ravaging all over Zaac's body, but it didn't have a name, despite going over the dozens of viruses and diseases catalogued within.

Her assistants took some notes on his status while she went to her terminal. Since Zaac's wife was his emergency contact, she had to log into a private N.C.R. chat room. Julie could only tolerate Colonel Wesker since she was a killer and a bit of a warmonger.

Neither of them was particularly happy to see each other in the video chat, but Moore folded first when she found that her husband was going to live. She thanked Julie and ended the call.

Colonel Moore arrived within the hour with a small N.C.R. escort that waited outside the fort while she met Julie outside the west guardhouse. Zaac was patched up and had a plaster cast on his broken arm; he was resting in bed while Julie and Moore talked outside the room.

Zaac got to thinking while he was slowly losing his unconsciousness. Most thoughts were serene and silent, but things took a turn for the worst, as everything else does. He thought of a mansion on an island, during a cold week before Christmas, long ago in 1998.

Staring at the ceiling can only go so far. The guardhouse was dark, and the single bulb above started to buzz. There were voices outside, two women.

Colonel Moore talked to Julie Farkas; she didn't even get all the blood off her scrubs. "A pleasure to see you, Colonel."

"How is he?" Moore asked.

"I don't know how, but his condition is stable. He's more than lucky to be alive."

Moore let out a breath of air and instantly sounded relieved. "Thank goodness."

"The amount of raw damage your husband endured far exceeded anything I experienced. I cannot stress how lucky he is to survive."

"I expected as much," Moore said curtly. "No offence, but this isn't what the Followers are used to, is it?"

Julie tried to stay calm and kept her tone humble and honest. "Though we educate to heal people as opposed to killing them, Colonel, I have to agree," she uttered softly. Moore knew what she meant, and showed her disapproval with a short curl of her upper lip. "The Followers have hardly any experience in open-heart surgery and have diminutive opportunities to learn from them."

"Surgery? How bad was he?"

"Let's see…" Julie looked down on her faithful clipboard for further details. "I, for one, don't understand how he survived with such a large cavity in his heart, but the blunt trauma all over his body and the few broken bones will heal over time. He's in a coma right now, and by the time he wakes up, he should be back to his usual self."

"You never mentioned a coma." Moore sighed and rubbed her eyes. "I don't know what to do with myself if something was to happen to him, Doctor. I know he can be over his head sometimes and make… wrongful decisions, but I love him because he cares for his people."

"He's truly an inspiration to us all. However, his heart wasn't the only problem I had with him, Colonel. When I put him in our incubator, we discovered an illness all over his body."

"Is it dangerous?"

Julie sighed. "I'm not sure. When it comes to things the machine discovers that I simply do not understand, I go to the one who manages it. But, unfortunately, that manager is in a coma. I have no idea of the severity of this illness or how it will affect his future."

"Zaac's been a lot more lively since the Second Battle for Hoover Dam, so I don't think it can be a common illness."

"For the incubator to not identify a 'common illness', I'm inclined to agree. Even the broken bones baffle me."

"He's broken bones before-"

"But how many men walked three days with an iron pipe through the heart, Colonel? That's including the ribs and lung..."

Moore gulped. "That should've killed him."

"There are so many questions about his health that has no deciding answer. I'm beginning to question his humanity, how he even functions…"

"He's… mostly normal, but this is too much to be swept under the rug."

"I'll ask him about the illness when I get around to it. The structural damage, however… who could've done that to him?"

"Zaac went in search of a monster. But now the monster is gone. The monster has changed..."

"A monster is a polite way to put it..."

"How long will Zaac be in a coma?"

"It won't be permanent, but I'm not sure when he'll regain consciousness. So I think it's best if he stays that way for now because not only has he suffered critical wounds, I fear he may be psychologically damaged."

"Are you telling me he needs more therapy?"

"That's only a possibility. It's only a recommendation because I want Zaac to be healthy just as much as you do. He has lost more than anyone could possibly imagine."

Moore thought long and hard in silence. Julie was feeling a bit impatient and fondled her pen and clipboard. "Will you be treating him?"

Julie smiled. "Of course; I still have his file."

Moore waved her hand low and showed a tiny smile. "Please do. Zaac will make it worth your while."

"I'm not in it for the money, Colonel."

"Then I will consider it a personal favour, Doctor. Anything you want from the N.C.R., and I'll do everything in my power to grant it."

"Will you stay?"

"Yes. I'll wait as long as it takes."

"Follow me, Colonel. But, I warn you; it's not pretty."

Zaac was resting on a medical bed, covered in clean bandages across his naked torso. His right arm had a medical brace, and there were bandages over his face. Only his mouth and left eye were visible, and his mouth had a life-support apparatus.

The stitching was on point, not a drop of blood was on him. Julie was the one covered in Zaac's blood over her chest and sleeves. The scene was needlessly graphic.

Moore covered her mouth. "Oh my God, he looks worse than I thought."

Julie closed the door behind Moore and frowned. "He's certainly seen better days, unfortunately."

"This wasn't a case of someone trying to kill him; this was torture."

"Hopefully, he can shed some light on that." Julie stepped to Moore and placed her gentle hand on her shoulder. "The coma isn't permanent; he can wake at any time, but we cannot force it."

Moore brushed Julie's hand off her and held Zaac's hand. "Zaac, you awake?"

Moore shook him, and he was still asleep; she expected nothing to happen. Zaac whipped his head around and roared, "Boo!"

Julie and Moore shrieked, and Zaac painfully laughed, like it was the funniest thing he ever saw. Moore glared at him, and his laughs were turning a bit hysterical. Finally, Zaac lifted himself with his unbroken elbow and sat up, moving the apparatus from his mouth.

Zaac cackled. "Psychologically speaking or not, that was funny."

Julie patted her chest and took a breath. "Good, you're awake."

"Could have done without the scare, to be honest..."

"How are you feeling, Zaac?" asked Julie.

"Like a million bucks," Zaac said clearly.

"Are the painkillers working?"

Zaac scoffed lightly, in a nice way. "Barely. I'm not in agony, so that's a bonus. Thanks for that."

Julie raised her clipboard and took some extra notes. "How's the arm?"

"The feeling is coming back as we speak."

Julie made sure to write that down. "As long as you don't move it, we shouldn't have any problems. I did what I could, and I'm glad to know you're not suffering anymore."

Zaac grinned. "Speak for yourself."

"What happened over there, Zaac?" Moore asked. After some silence, she pulled out a chair to sit by Zaac, holding his hand. "You already told me most of your secrets already; I just want to know what happened to you."

"Cassandra..."

"General, you're safe now. We just want to help."

"If you saw what I've experienced, you'll understand why I'm a bit hesitant to accept therapy."

Julie looked up from her clipboard. "You knew?"

"I heard you both talking outside."

"Oh."

"I couldn't help it, Julie; you were too loud for me to ignore. On another note, I'm not sure if I want to talk about what happened."

"It's N.C.R. business to know what happened, Zaac; you can't just bottle it up."

Julie stepped closer, now stood right by Moore's left side. "General, you walked three days with an iron pipe wedged through your heart and sternum. Don't you think that deserves a rational explanation? Something to do with an unnamed illness, perhaps?"

Zaac held his breath and let go of it quickly. "You put me in the incubator, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did. I still need practice."

"Zaac, the way Julie described your condition, I almost broke down in tears." Moore's small smile faded away. "I… never seen you so hurt before, and I need answers. Starting with the Institute."

Zaac huffed under his breath. "Fine. For the record, what I say stays in this room. Are we clear?"

"Of course."

Julie nodded. "I will never tell."

"Okay." Zaac glanced at Julie. "It began a few days ago when Ulysses' contacted Colonel Wesker and I about the Institute suddenly invading the Divide." He frowned. "They were ransacking the missile silo, to which where he lived. Then he mentioned Legate Lanius..." He stared at Moore. "It was him. Lanius lives!"

"Impossible! He is nothing but bones-"

"Cassandra, he's a Synth! A new Gen-4 Synth, only with the mind and likeness of Lanius. That bastard Dorian Savage!"

"So, he was the man in the footage."

"After Ulysses and I found Dorian, his partner arrived at the scene. When I searched my feelings, I knew it was true." Zaac sighed. "Drusilla Ashford. She, too, also lives..."

"Who is this Ashford?" Julie asked slowly.

Moore's face twisted with disgust. "War - one of the Horseman of the Apocalypse."

Zaac nodded. "Drusilla Ashford, the Fourth Countess of the Ashford Family, was the one that caused the Great War. The bitch that wiped out my family and the bastard that killed my David, both within the silo." Moore felt his hand grip tighter, in his state though; it wasn't firm. His tone faltered, he continued brittlely, "She… tortured me, verbally and emotionally…"

"She's supposed to be dead!" Moore added. She looked to Julie and back at Zaac. "Right?"

"I… I don't know when, but Lanius found her likeness while still working for the Institute. He uploaded her mind and memories onto a blank Gen-4 Synth, thus bringing her back."

"Of course." Moore growled, rubbing her forehead and nearly gnashing her teeth. "The only thing I can agree with the Brotherhood on is the usage of Institute Synths. They're bloody abominations!"

Zaac sighed. "The last I ever saw of Drusilla was when I lost control and threw everything I had at her, right at the Great War's climax. I... I was the last line of defence and... I failed to save the Old World."

Zaac sat forward and pulled off the bandages over his face, despite Julie trying to stop him. The damage over his face was gone; he had his good looks back in all their health.

"Even as we speak, she has Dorian Savage helping her; she's unstoppable."

"It can't be… No, it won't last. It can't..."

"She was fearless, and even crazier than him," said Zaac, "Drusilla was his queen, and God help anyone who dared to disrespect his queen… Bloody never expected the two to be so… tolerable of each other..."

"If there was more time we could've, I dunno, send in a squad of soldiers. Hell, even a whole army of rangers-"

Zaac let go of Moore's hand and brushed it aside with a gentle wave. "I witnessed this woman slaughter dozens of the local authorities, and several of my best men and women without a sweat. Dorian's rap sheet pales in comparison to hers, but we all heard the stories of Legate Lanius from the Legion and most of it is true – the worst ones." He turned his head away with his back resting against the wall. "It would be a suicide mission even the Dead Men wouldn't survive."

"Dead who?"

Zaac snapped his head back to Moore and darted his eyes quickly. "Forget it..." He waved his hand. "You wouldn't know them."

"Right… Does any of this involve the Institute?"

"No. Dorian and Drusilla were orchestrating everything themselves. The Institute had nothing to do with their motives; more or less a stepping stone."

"That's the first." Moore stood up. "It's good to see you're back to your usual self, Zaac."

"I agree," Julie added behind Moore. "Your face healed up nicely." She walked to a nearby tabletop and rifled through some papers next to some empty jars and beakers.

"What were these two monsters planning anyhow?"

"They were using Ulysses' scrapped missiles to craft a space shuttle. Looking back at it now, I recognised bits and pieces of the components they've assembled; it's very similar to the tech the Enclave used back in the Frontier."

"How the fuck did they get a hold of Enclave tech?!"

"Never had time to bring it up. I just wonder how Dorian and Drusilla had the time to salvage, or even, steal tech from Colorado and hike it all back to the Divide."

"They must've been using the Institute to infiltrate the Frontier."

"Maybe… Infiltration units could've gone right under Frontier N.C.R.'s noses and shipped the tech right at the moment their Coursers wiped out the Marked Men."

"Makes sense, considering the Enclave are the only faction powerful enough to develop space travel using common vertibirds."

"Another reason to take the Institute seriously; they have their hands in more pockets than we thought…"

"Are Dorian and Drusilla gone?"

"Yeah… Didn't take them for rocket scientists, but they were bloody good at it; went off without a hitch…" Zaac frowned. "I was... unable to stop them."

"Do they still pose a threat?"

"No…" Zaac said, unsure and slowly. "They're someone else's problem now."

"Sounds like there's nothing more to be done now." Moore sighed. "If only we knew what you were up against, couldn't begin to imagine what they put you through."

"Don't worry about it too much, Cassandra," Zaac said, smiling as if nothing was wrong, "It was hard at the time, but while I sat in that coma and slipped slowly into madness, I had plenty of time to think."

"Julie believes you need therapy."

"I always need therapy."

"I'm serious, General," Julie said from across the room; she was looking through some documents with her back facing the two.

Zaac looked at Julie's back. "Oh, I know that, Julie, but you don't need to. I was able to sort myself out."

"Just like that? How can you be so sure?"

"I just am. No one knows more about me than myself-"

"That shouldn't be the case," Julie interrupted with a sigh of grief. She turned around. "People need to vent… to express their problems to get better."

"I'll prove it by recalling everything that happened over at Ulysses' Temple."

"Please do Zaac," Moore said lightly. "This business needs to be wrapped up."

"I'll do my best." Zaac slowly reared his head back on his pillow. "Drusilla, Dorian and I got to talking at first," he said loud enough for Moore and Julie to hear clearly, "then before I knew it, we were at each other's throats. Drusilla kicked my ass again, Dorian kicked Ulysses' ass, and after he died, I got mad and kicked both of their asses-"

"Wait. Ulysses is dead."

Zaac nodded.

Moore sighed. "That's… a damn shame."

"Drusilla got cocky and said something to me, a rare combination of words she used before the War..."

Zaac frowned heavily after reminiscing the last time he heard those words she said. The first time just before she killed Chris and Claire Redfield, and again before the nukes rained upon the land. Synonymous with fear, isolation and rage.

Zaac continued speaking with his modulated otherwise sad tone of voice, "The words she used were the very same her grandmother used to scar me long ago in 1998. Just hearing those words blinded me with murderous rage! Although I can resist the temptation, sometimes... I fail... and hurt the ones I love, if not, cause wanton destruction."

"She has a trigger word on you?"

"Yes..." Zaac sighed. "That's how she keeps beating me! Me losing my foresight and acting on pure aggression and primitive, feral instincts."

"That's why we need to talk, General," Julie said across the room again in her gentle voice. She was rifling through her drawers now, looking for an item that wasn't there. "The fact you have a trigger is a problem. If you get triggered in the wrong place or the wrong time, it will spell trouble for everyone around you."

Zaac gave Julie a hard look with his squinting eyes, solid gold eyes that could charm a woman. "I doubt anyone could replicate or mimic the words of a British noblewoman, one that time forgot long ago."

"But-"

Zaac sat back up. "I don't want to hear it! The words don't bother me; it's how they were said with a certain amount of snark and superiority. Alexia and Drusilla are gone… along with the anger inside of me."

Julie turned around with a different clipboard and leant on her tabletop. "Just like that?"

"Yes, Julie. The pain and misery the Ashfords left me is gone now. I didn't sit in that coma for show, it was there for me to heal, and that's what it did."

"You can't just bottle up and hope for the best, damn it!" Julie cursed, almost loudly and not like her caring self. "Triggers are not mere inconveniences." At this point, Moore assumed Zaac and Julie were arguing like an old married couple, almost reflecting on how she and Zaac have their fair share of quarrels.

"This isn't like the last sessions we had over Tandi and David; this is completely different. Something I had to do personally." Julie had nothing good to say because he sounded so confident. "I'll prove it to you right here and now by telling you my trigger word."

Julie folded and pointed her finger at Zaac. "You must not," she said with a strident tone, "that isn't wise, General."

Zaac chucked his revolver to Julie, and she caught it with her right hand after a short fumble; her thumb ran down the smooth, rubber grip. It was beautiful in her soft hands; the nickel colour was flawless, almost brand new. He knew giving Julie some peace of mind with his gun equipped would convince her, but that was questionable.

"No tricks this time; I'm convincing you whether you like it or not."

"This is not how triggers work!" Julie breathed. "I… I can't just shoot you..."

"That's for your protection if I go in the slightest way insane and try to harm either of you."

"We shouldn't take the risk-"

"I'm telling you anyway."

Julie stepped forward. "No!"

"There was a friendly but naive king who wed a very nasty queen," Zaac sang in a slightly feminine style, almost mimicking lullaby, "The king was loved but the queen was feared."

Moore reached for the 12.7 handgun in her holster and took a stance with Julie. "Zaac, stop!"

Zaac ignored Moore and Julie's frightening demeanour and continued to sing, "She had a secret kept from the king to rule the kingdom as her own. The king knew not; his bride seemed good as gold. 'Till one day strolling in his court, an arrow pierced the kind king's heart. He lost his life and his lady looooove..." His heavy sigh tore through the silence shortly after. "I don't feel it working anymore. The words almost mean nothing to me now."

Julie lowered Zaac's gun, as did Moore with hers. "That was a stupid idea, even for you, General!"

"It worked, didn't it? The trigger words mean nothing to me; it was the woman, not the lullaby. You believe me now, Julie?"

Julie sighed. "This isn't how people should deal with trigger words-"

"But it worked, didn't it?"

Julie huffed. "Maybe, for now."

"Wonderful. I'll have my gun back, and we can wrap things up-"

"We need to talk about your illness. I trust you know what I'm referring to?"

"Ah… There's that."

Julie pressed her reading glasses closer to her eyes and read from the clipboard she was holding. "In the time you were incubated, I discovered a strange illness not documented within the incubator. Care to explain?"

"The 'illness' you speak of simply doesn't have a name because it's a by-product, not a common illness or virus. It's comparable to a birth defect, if anything else. I was born this way, much like my son David."

"So it's genetic?" Julie folded her arms. "How far does this congenital disability go back?"

Moore gripped Zaac's hand, visually irritated. "You never mentioned anything about this! Zaac, for Christ's sake, we have children!"

Zaac stared at Moore. "I assure you, they'll be fine." He looked back at Julie. "To clear this predicament, we're gonna have to start from the top."

"Back in the 1970s," Zaac continued, wistfully, "my father, Albert Wesker, injected himself with a compound called the Prototype virus. Then he met a woman a few years after, and thus, my brothers and I were born. After that, however, the term selective offspring came into effect, and I was the one worthy enough to carry on his superior genes."

"To which you passed on to David, correct?" Julie asked.

Zaac nodded. "Yes."

Moore glared at Zaac. "And our children?"

"One, if not, both."

"The reason I bring this up, General, is that we need to know what measures we can take to secure this illness."

"What you call an 'illness' is nothing more than a gift and a reminder of my family's legacy."

"What if it spreads? Gets into the wrong people-"

"It's not a contagious virus; it's genetics! You cannot remove or cure it any more than curing obesity or autism! The point I'm trying to make is that I am a carrier of a by-product, yes, but that same by-product made me tougher. It's superior genes."

Julie leaned her head closer to Zaac, showing more bite in her words. "I refuse to believe that."

"I know what I'm doing. It was because of those superior genes I survived the impalement. It was how I survived this long. For fuck's sake, it's the reason why I went to face the Horsemen in the first place! I was strong enough to survive! Your theory was correct; isn't that enough?! I'm not lucky; I'm bred to survive! To live!"

Julie listened to Zaac's rant as she had nothing to argue. But, unfortunately, to some extent, he was right.

Zaac's golden eyes flushed, looking like he was on the verge of tears, but he simmered down. "Rather than send good people on a suicide mission, I went to the Divide alone... Why? Well, I just told you."

"All because of superior genes?" Moore growled, slapping Zaac's left foot in frustration. He winced under her heavy slap. "Went out there just because you're, what, more qualified?"

"It's better I face the Horsemen than anyone else-"

Moore was ready to argue with her husband. "You have no idea how important you are to the N.C.R. and the people! If you showed any responsibilities, you would understand the fact that soldiers are replaceable! Not you."

"We are not discussing my choice of actions, Colonel-"

"Look at you! You're killing yourself!" Moore practically yelled. "This isn't me talking to you as a colonel, this is me nagging to you as your wife, and what you did is beyond irrational!" Her voice and tone softened up a bit as her stance weakened.

"Human life is sacred-"

Moore interrupted Zaac's little whimper. "And yours isn't?" she said with a wave.

"Your wife has a point, General," Julie tried to say.

Zaac ignored Julie. "I'm just doing my job, Cassandra, to protect and serve. If you don't like that, then I'll relocate back to the Capital. After all, you and General Oliver can manage things here so well without me..."

Julie stepped forward and tried to get the lovers attention. It worked with a little wave. "May I butt in?"

Zaac blinked several times and shook his head. "Of course you can."

Julie placed Zaac's revolver on the bed next to his leg, never liked killing if it couldn't be helped. "General, your selfless gestures always have good intentions, but you must realise that you are a carrier of something relatively unknown. We must talk about these serious health issues."

"It's fine! All the carriers lived good lives, not without the daily strife, but it was all fine. David grew up to be quite a perfect specimen, and so did I."

"There are so much to be explained here about your... unique genes, General. For the sake of your children, I implore you to be ready for interviews besides your therapy sessions. The more information I have, the better."

Zaac sighed. "Fine. Not like it can do any harm having that information uploaded to the incubator at long last."

Julie nodded. "Exactly."

"Let's be clear. All your beef stems from the fact that whatever I have in my DNA is undocumented; that was always the case. It's a by-product, not a virus."

"What' benefits' do these genes have to offer?" Moore muttered.

"Well, it saved me from the brink of annihilation, at least a few times, for the most part. Apart from superhuman senses, I have a stronger metabolism and stamina, nothing much else."

Julie was expecting a longer description, but after some silence, she grew anxious. "No drawbacks at all?"

Zaac wanted to lie; however, it would just bite him in the ass. "Just some minor mental instability."

"How minor?"

Zaac chewed his lip. "Prone to being over-emotional and perhaps eccentric. The family doesn't make a monster; the world does."

"I don't know what it's like living in your shoes, Zaac," Moore finally said, "so I'll just wait for a detailed report. I need to know more about your health if there's going to be a future for us."

Zaac's face sagged. "I promise you; it's not as bad as you think it is."

"I wouldn't normally suggest this, Colonel, but if you want to join in on our therapy sessions, you can."

"Yeah..." Moore wiped her face dry. "Yeah, I think that might be best."

Julie looked back at Zaac. "Is that okay with you, General?"

"It would certainly kill two birds with one stone."

Zaac grinned, knowing that doing so would save the time separating two bits of information from one another. However, Moore knows the whole Sarkis shtick, and that nugget is staying where it belongs, in their office.

Moore leant on the bed's frame beneath Zaac's feet. "On the business side of things, the N.C.R. needs to know if the people that hurt you are going to be an issue for us."

Zaac nodded and smiled more. "That's up to them, but as far as I know, Drusilla and Dorian are out of the picture - for how long I cannot say. Other than that, nothing's changed."

"Good. I don't know about you, but I am seriously pissed off with the Institute right now! The fact they had the minds of two of the world's biggest assholes known to man on their mainframe is unacceptable!"

"The harsh reality is that they could even come back. So what's to stop this from happening again?"

"We will, if not us, it would be someone else, but we cannot sit by and do nothing. So I will clamp down on Oliver and Kimbal to establish some N.C.R. settlements in the Commonwealth to combat this menace.

Zaac was attracted to strong women, and Moore was raising his mood. "Ohhh, I love you."

Moore stepped to Zaac and kissed him for a few memorable seconds; sensually, he could feel the heat radiating off her. "Get well soon, honey." She patted his leg.

Zaac smiled. "Already on it."

Moore looked like she had lifted some weight off her chest. Her smile was fuller. "You're a difficult one, Zaac." She looked at Julie. "Call me when he's ready to come home. The kids miss him." She saluted and left quickly through the door behind her.

Julie stepped to Zaac's bed with her clipboard. "I can see why you love each other; you share so much chemistry and care for your people." She looked down on her feet, musing to herself, "If only I could find someone like her."

"Her?"

Julie's head snapped up, and her cheeks went rosy." Uh, you know, someone like her… A man, and stuff…" Idiot.

"That was an odd thing to say."

"Yes."

"Ah, yes... Now, what do I owe you?"

Julie waved her hand quickly, dismissively. "I'm not in it for the money. I'm just sick of people killing each other."

Zaac raised his head back. "For your overwhelming generosity, I could, I dunno, donate a few things to your people. I'm sure your doctors would appreciate a little pay rise. Once I get back into working order."

Julie bowed her head slightly, smiling. "You're a grown man, General, and I cannot stop you." Everything was just getting a bit better for everyone, apart from Zaac's bank account.

"What good is money if you don't spend it?"

"We might be able to let you go tomorrow evening once that arm heals up."

"It's amazing what time can do to wounds."

"You might be home for dinner if you're lucky." Julie lost her smile and flipped over a few pages of her clipboard to an old sheet. "Now, how about a little interview?"

Zaac rolled his eyes and huffed. "Must we?"

"The more information I have, the better."