After spending the night at the Old Mormon Fort, Zaac had the rest of the next day to rest in bed. Sharing a tent was great; talking to other people nearby killed time outside of sleeping. So when Zaac slept, he had plenty of time to reflect on things rattling around in his head.

When it arrived, the evening was cold; it was raining a bit and left a nasty chill when the wind brushed against Zaac. Everyone, excluding the guards, was already in their tents for the night.

He felt his chest without the bandages on, and it was great; his wounds were gone completely. It was disappointing that he still had a piece of metal stuck in his heart, though.

Julie brought Zaac his armour and sat down next to him. She felt confident that he was healthy enough to go back home but insisted on helping him get dressed.

The armour he wore for two hundred years was falling apart since the scuffle with Drusilla and Dorian; it was in dire need of repair. The reinforced platings over his limbs were fractured, and the armour around the chest was hardly there, leaving a gaping hole over his chest.

Zaac gave Julie a bag of caps and a handshake before he left the Mormon Fort. Zaac pulled up his collars and made a quick right turn into a small alley. Only a few people were on the streets, covering their heads from the rain and shuffling along quickly. No one noticed him even despite having an N.C.R. logo on his cloak.

Around a little corner, Zaac sat down with his legs crossed and closed his eyes. He started thinking about Hoover Dam. His office. His sanctuary below his office, a good place to teleport out of sight.

When he opened his eyes, he couldn't see anything. The faintest dripping was all he could hear, and just like the first time, he knew he was back in his sanctuary. He took a short walk to the portrait he had on the other side and found everything remained untouched the last time he was there with Moore. He flashed his Pip-Boy's light to shine his way through.

It was eerie staring at the portrait of him and Claire, like an old photograph of two people he barely knew. Zaac didn't have Sarkis anymore, and Claire was just a memory, harsh it may be, but their time was over.

Zaac shook his head and went to the elevator; his sanctuary started to feel a bit alien to him now. The elevator came down to collect him, and before he knew it, he was now in his empty office.

It was dark, somewhere around 1:15 AM. Zaac walked the empty corridors to the barracks, on the southern side was his private room that he shared with Moore. The desktop was messy, and Moore's clothes were chucked without care at the clothes cabinet. Zaac kicked up her bra and took off his broken armour to set aside quietly at the bottom of the bed.

Moore was undisturbed when Zaac slithered under the sheets; he wasn't tired, but the body heat his wife generated was soothing. Moore had her back to him, so Zaac decided to spoon with her; she noticed and made it obvious. She was getting a nasty idea, and Zaac just had to do something about it.

The Sun brightened up the room, waking Zaac up at the lovely time of 11 AM. He overslept, and Moore was already gone. The shifts he and Moore share is a simple plan. Zaac gets Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays while Moore had the latter; Mondays were their only day off.

Today was Thursday, Moore was covering him in the office. During a peaceful night's sleep, she recommended he take the rest of the week off and come into work on the following Tuesday. In the end, he was recovering from open-heart surgery. But, after having his way almost all the time, he obeyed his wife. Especially after the warm welcome she treated him the night before.

Zaac didn't put his armour or his Pip-Boy on and went straight to the wardrobe. Inside was a full-size mirror covered in clothes. Zaac looked for a piece of chalk in his desk and uncovered the mirror. He decided to teleport again.

Zaac vanished for a few minutes and came back with a bit of paper with a symbol jotted on it and a holotape. The xuan paper showed an eye in a circle with a wavy line through it, something a dead friend wrote for him to try one day. He went to the closet and used the chalk to copy the symbol on the mirror; then, some words got jumbled in his mouth.

"Surface speak, surface feel, surface think, surface real." Nothing happened. Rub the symbol off numbnuts. "Oh yeah." He rubbed the symbol off with a spare change of his underwear and touched the mirror.

Zaac hesitated when he pulled back, but when he did, his reflection did not. He watched in surprise as his reflection blinked as if it woke from a dirt nap or a trance of sorts. Then, looking around casually, it dropped its arm to the side and stepped out of the mirror as Zaac stepped away with a long face of awe.

"Looks like I owe you one, Skullduggery," he murmured as the reflection joined him. "It works!" Zaac quickly ran to the door and locked it, not wanting anyone to disturb him. "I can't believe it!" He peered closer at the reflection. "Say something."

The reflection looked back at him. "What do you want me to say?" it said, sounding perfect, albeit toneless and empty.

"Anything you want. How about a compliment?" The reflection looked as if it had never heard Zaac's suggestion. "What's your name?"

"Zachariah Wesker."

Zaac laughed suddenly, then clapped a hand over his mouth. "I'm sorry, this is just weirder than I thought," he said through his fingers.

"I weird you out?"

Zaac removed his hand from his mouth, just held it in the air, and began to stutter slightly. "You're just so shredded, bro! You're handsome as fuck!" He took a short breath. "Never knew I was that hot, but still..."

"I cannot help it."

"Fuck it; it doesn't matter." He chuckled. "Let's be serious here; I know it's been a long time, my friend, but I require your service again. I'm trusting you to have my back here, and... Damn it; I don't know how to how to say this."

"It's not easy talking to yourself. You practically communicated to your thoughts and memories."

"I know, right? This can't be good for my health at all." Zaac frowned a bit. "Now listen up reflection, do you remember what your prime functions are?"

"Yes."

"Good." Zaac nodded. "I brought you here because I need you to cover me in my absence again. The story is that I'm planning a trip, and the problem I'm having is that I don't know when I'll be back."

"Oh, my. Just the usual?"

Zaac shrugged. "Yeah. We're not in Los Angeles anymore, and the family is... gone. I need you to get a feel for things around here and do what I would do."

"That isn't a problem. However, I have a question."

"Ask away."

"What do you expect me to do when your family attempts to interact with me?"

"It's just Mondays to worry about, really, but living together does spell some problems. Fake a smile and stick around long enough for them not to worry or suspect anything strange." Zaac folded his arms." Everyone knows how involved I get in my work, and they'll just think I'm just my usual self. It's a solid strategy. Can you smile?"

"You want me to try?"

Zaac nodded.

The reflection smiled for the first time, and it was the scariest thing Zaac had witnessed. It bared too much of its teeth, and it curled its lips a bit too much. There were even wrinkles forming in places they shouldn't."

"It's… best you don't do that around my kids," Zaac said in the nicest way possible. "I don't want them to need therapy too."

The reflection stopped smiling.

"Keep practising it, though."

"Okay."

" Anything else?"

The reflection shrugged lightly. "Not that I know of."

"Good, now the declaration. Do not get involved in any fights unless it's indispensable. Second, when you go out in public, hide your face. And lastly, stay away from people, especially Lyannah."

"Only the usual rules."

"Wonderful. I'm sorry I couldn't use you any sooner, but since I have no idea when I'm coming back from this trip, well, now's the time." Zaac's shoulders sagged. "There might be a chance I may never come back at all."

Zaac breathed and still felt a bit worse. He took his Pip-Boy from the nightstand by his double bed and gave it to the reflection. It put it on over the left forearm. "If I'm not back within a year," he continued," then I'm not coming back at all. If that's the case, I want you to carry on my life and make sure my family and people enjoy theirs." He lost his smile. "The people need leadership that cares for them."

"I understand. If worst comes to worst, I'll put more effort into my emotions to reflect yours."

"That will take years too, so hopefully, the family will have warmed up to you a bit by then. I don't want them to worry or question me; they should never know I left. With you in the picture, they'll be less inclined to do so." Zaac took the holotape and gave it to the reflection. "If the family start to get dangerously suspicious around you, I want you to play this holotape to your accusers; it should explain everything. I don't want people to grieve or get hurt, not even you."

"This is good," the reflection said with the holotape still in its hand, "We know my functions, and I have a failsafe if things go wrong. What should I do if you die?"

Zaac shuddered. "Please don't say that. I only said if I'm not back within a year, I'm not coming back at all. I never said I might die."

"The survival rate for people who go missing after a year is minuscule. Just exploring all possibilities."

"I just don't feel comfortable hearing that from you in my voice."

"You think that way. Therefore I do too. Is that all?"

"Should be everything, yeah." Zaac stepped by the reflection that refused to move to pick out a pair of trousers and a shirt to wear. Couldn't go wrong with black and white.

"You still have conflicted feelings."

"I know." Zaac pulled the shirt over his head.

"There's only one way to fix them, and that's where you're going, correct?"

Zaac cleared his throat. "Yes."

"I must remind you that this risk you're taking is catastrophic. Not only you may be setting yourself up for disappointment, but you might also very well die this time; you must know that."

"The odds never favoured me anyway," Zaac answered back, keeping his voice low. He put on his trousers and took a black jacket from the cabinet behind the reflection, one it remembered Zaac found a long time ago in a bin. It was a warm black with a hood. "I hate leaving things unfinished. The pain and humiliation will never leave me alone."

"You didn't let go?"

Zaac stood up and hesitated. "I did… but refuse to let it end like this. I want the last word; only then I will be at peace." He put on some boots and dusted himself off."

"I see… Your thoughts are too complex to handle as it is. Will this adventure ease your mind?"

Zaac gave his most unconvincing shrug ever. "I sure hope so."

"Will you be teleporting to the location?"

"There is no location; I'm teleporting to them directly. As long as those bastards live, I can find them."

"You're not considering-"

Zaac stood straight, closing his eyes and locking his fingers by his chest like he was meditating. "I'm going to Elpis," he said with closed eyes, "and I'm going to kill the Horsemen once and for all!"

Zaac vanished one last time, leaving the reflection to carry on his duties.

THE END

THANK YOU FOR READING!

DB