David stood by Redfield's desk, waiting patiently for whatever reason. He couldn't even begin to list what was going to be said or done. In his traditional fashion, Redfield entered behind closed doors. With bated breath and a brief exclaim, Redfield had dropped his persona.

"Alone at last."

"Dad, is this battle as bad as it sounds?"

"I'm afraid so, son."

"Then I'm here to get suited up for some goodies for the battle, right?"

Redfield chuckled. "That's right."

"Not here to catch up then?"

"Maybe just a little. You might be pleasantly surprised by what I have in store for you." Redfield starts to fiddle with his Pip-Boy. After some button prompts and beeps, whatever he was doing, it was finished successfully. "We'll need to make a trip for this one."

"Where?"

"I'll surprise you."

"Okay..."

Ten minutes later, Redfield met David at his vertibird. The night was still cold, and the Dam was silent in wait for the battle that could change everything forever. The sounds of the sea brushing against the walls were soothing, the sweet sounds of the luxury of the beach life. The vertibird's hull was cold to the touch and still had a shine to it. The inside air was colder than the outside. With a flick of a switch, the lights were all on. The father and son duo manned the cockpit.

David watched his father flick on all the ignition turned and seen his focus fixed on the dials and buttons. He never liked flying aircraft; he felt like one jerk in the wrist could mean life or death. That was gambling for you. His uncle flies actual jets like a damned pro, and so does his father, those were big shoes to fill. The vertibird was something else; it soared through the friendly skies at record speed.

The hull was thick titanium and carried its weight regarding dealing damage with air superiority. David let his father fly on his own; there's only so much he could learn from flying an aircraft he had no idea about. Being copilot in a modern jet or helicopter was different than flying a vertibird of the future. One he doesn't reside in.

"Being here with you is more important than anything I can imagine right now." David smiled. "It would make my day to see you fight with us."

"I trust Oliver with my life; he wasn't lying about what he already said back in the war room. The worst part is he's right. I am getting too old for this shit." Redfield sighed and stared at another portrait of President Kimbal. This one was in a small photo frame.

Redfield felt bewildered of his path of morals and past. After some silence, he finally carried on, "Look at me… I'm three hundred and three years old, and I'm only as powerful as a regular human now. I'm an infant in comparison to Sarkis' brethren, and I have no idea how this story will end..."

"But dad…"

Redfield felt slight anger and gradually built up the tone of his voice to one that felt out of character. "Don't 'Dad' me, David. You just don't understand, do you?" He rotated his head to David's, calmly and with a softer tone. "It's Operation: Beverly Hills, in its simplest form. I don't need to tell you how that ended do I?"

"Christ, how could I forget? The mayhem, chaos and bloodshed all over the news. High school under attack, people were crying for help. Zombies and monsters. The worst thing I ever saw."

"You had it easy… The Raccoon City incident was even worse." Redfield fixed his eyes back in front, facing and focussing on the clouds of the airspace. He could only fly blind for a single minute, that's more than anyone else before him. "Just like me, though, you died…"

"And unlike you, I was sent to the future in the arms of a homicidal psychopath."

"Well… I was incarcerated in military custody against my will, and experimented on for months."

"Mine's worse."

"This isn't a competition, son. My point is that only you were too gullible and far too arrogant that day of the incident."

"How did you expect me to react?"

"Not to go in way over your head, for one thing. Just like your mother - God rest her soul - you can't leave well enough alone."

"Right… and that war between STARS and Neo-Umbrella was all your fight and not mine?"

"The war between Umbrella and I was raging long before you were born. Ever since Raccoon. However, this is one incident we're gonna win this time."

"This time?" David mumbled to himself. He had questioned the outcome several times in his head in a loop. Who actually won during Operation: Beverly? "Where are we going anyway? We've been flying for ages now."

"One, we've been airborne for…" Redfield checked the clock on the terminal between him and David. It was a tick after 6:20 PM. "Ten minutes. Two, we're heading to my private armoury in my secret vault."

"You have a secret vault? Come on."

"Okay, it's no secret. I say it like that, so it sounds better. In there though I have a wide assortment of weapons and armour of your wildest dreams."

"How wild are we talkin' here?"

"You'll see. They will all see."

It was nearly 7 PM, still quite dark. The problem with David's armour the coltan had a thermos effect; it insulated from the outside. When it was hot or cold, the armour would match it for the user; it was another design flaw. From that David was feeling cold. From the inside of the cockpit, the lights from the settlements below were faint, campfires and torches were great signs of life.

They were safe among the clouds, David's fear of flying was anti-air, and he felt like aircraft always explode or get shot down. The pop-culture paranoia didn't help. His father said they have left Nevada and entered the airspace of Oregon, the south side of the northwest Commonwealth.

They passed over the two large cities of Arroyo and Shady Sands; both had lights shining bright and made no effort not to show off their size and merit. Arroyo brought the snowy image of 1980s Moscow to mind, and Shady Sands was a large settlement that was ten or even twenty times the size of Goodsprings and was bigger and better regarding crops and people. Wasn't very advanced compared to Arroyo, which was a claimed hotspot for tourists.

Redfield landed the vertibird in the crevice of some rocky red mountains, on the flat land separated the hazardous terrain. With a twist of the wrist, the vertibird went silent and lost all its heat.

He went to the locker behind David and took out a large UV light from the cabinet in the middle. When the duo stepped outside, they were greeted with the bitter cold that only David could feel, even inside his helmet David could tell his father was smug he couldn't feel the cold because of his armour's insulation.

While Redfield strayed off in another direction with the only available light source David was disoriented from the absence of life and the sounds of wolves howling at the moon above. Apart from the temperature being fifteen below zero, the sounds were chilling. Redfield called David over to a massive cast iron door that looked like a giant cog with the yellow number 13 on. He was on his PDA as there was no way to open it in plain sight.

Then the vault door rolled to one side. It was open… The lights were all lit up inside. Rows of lockers were tightly stacked side-by-side. The floor and ceiling and some open portions of the walls were solid stone; they were smoothed down flat.

Walking down the corridor, David noticed that the lockers all had their labels; all were different weapon calibres. All sizes were there from smallest to largest, .22LR all the way up to .50 BMG. Around a corner to the right was a small open room with three walls.

The walls all had weapon racks above small lockers all around a small metal table and workbench. It was a secret chamber, not unlike his secret infirmary, only this one was more aggressive and more of a museum of weapons, armour and munitions.

A secret armoury came to mind. The secret armoury of General Redfield. Weapon racks of assault rifles, submachine guns, machine guns, shotguns, explosives, sidearms and even a fair amount of energised hardware, all across the left side.

"Remember to look with your eyes, not with your hands; there's no time for a tour."

"Where on God's green Earth did you get all this?!"

"I collect and manufacturer my fair share of weapons. I'm no Gun Runners but a man's got to have a hobby or two, not like there's much for me to enjoy out there…"

"Just feels a bit overkill…"

"Is it any different than the bottle caps you and Michael collected? I can still remember the nightmares of those freakin' things clogging up the drawers."

"Sorry about that."

"Boys will be boys, I suppose."

"Is there something I can use for the battle?"

"Let me surprise you."

"Please do."

"Let's get you suited up then."

David walked past an open room on his right. There were a table and a wall of lockers opposite. On the table was a glass phial filled with a strange orange liquid. He picked it up and stared at it with curious eyes. On the side, it said "4D". There was a petri-dish with more of it inside, along with a microscope next to it.

"David. Don't. Move."

David froze, hearing his father's voice.

"Good… Put. That. Phial. Down. Slowly."

David felt tense but obeyed Redfield and set the phial he was holding slowly and gently back where he left it.

"Thank you. Now get over here."

David turned around to see his father gripping his holstered revolver. "What's wrong?"

Redfield sighed and waved his son over to him, and he did. "That is another virus I'm experimenting on. It's highly unstable and would be the end of us if it was mistreated."

"Then why are you tampering with it?"

"To understand it better. I'm the only one qualified to experiment with the Old World viruses, and I want to see if they can be used for good. I decided to take a break from that one in particular since it's giving me a headache."

"Seems more trouble than it's worth. Why don't you destroy it?"

"It's so dangerous I don't think it's possible. The tiniest drop could wipe out the entire planet."

David chuckled. "You're bullshitting me. Really?"

Redfield shook his head.

"No… Then why is it here?"

Redfield turned away to the door behind him. "Because this is the safest place for it. Sealed completely and I'm the only one that can get in here."

"Where did you get that virus?"

"During the Raccoon City Incident." Redfield walked David away outside the room.

"I've witnessed enough viruses already; why's that one so dangerous?"

Redfield stopped and sighed. "Have you seen John Carpenter's The Thing?"

"The film with that alien thing that assimilated people? Yes."

"Well, that virus assimilates living organisms just like the Thing does. That's all that needs to be said. Too dangerous to be simply destroyed."

"Fuck…What the hell is that?"

"The Executer Virus..."

David looked back on the room and kept the questions to himself, following his father around the left corner, and around another one to an actual armoury. He looked back over his shoulder and shuddered. Just hearing about something so vile felt ominous.

This room housed lockers and workbenches; they were all along the walls again. Right in the middle was a power armour frame with the exoskeleton of a power armour suspended by chains, it was almost ready for action with some pieces missing. They stopped at the power armour, and Redfield picked up a blowtorch and hammer.

"I'm sorry about that; the virus is so dangerous I couldn't let anyone touch it other than me."

"My bad for being curious. This is a secret armoury, after all."

"Let's leave it at that."

"Sure. I'll remember not to ask too many questions and keep my hands to myself."

"Good boy."

It took some time, but Redfield rummaged through several racks and lockers for separate pieces of power armour plates and assembled them onto the exoskeleton. Once he fused on the thickest chest piece onto the exoskeleton's chest Redfield straightened up some loose bolts.

It was a good few minutes in where Redfield had stacked plenty of metal plates near the exoskeleton. There were pauldrons, shins, thighs, triceps and every part of the body you could think of. The torso was the largest piece, built from smaller plates and servos.

"Finished!" Redfield exclaimed.

So… this is power armour?"

"Yeah. Power armour has been around since before the Great War. After Operation: Sunburst, I found this exoskeleton and frame in an abandoned Brotherhood bunker; it was in good condition, so, I had to take it for myself. Printed the N.C.R. logo on it and made it mine to use."

"On top of being stupidly rich, you're also a thief."

"I took it to understand the Brotherhood and their relationship with technology; it was a time of war and knowledge was power. Once all this Hoover Dam nonsense is over with, the Brotherhood and N.C.R. can talk about settling our differences."

"I'd like to see that. Too many wars to count as it is."

"Tell me about it. Before I give it back as a show of good faith, it would be a shame not to use their superior armour against the Legion." Redfield rubbed down the power armour; it was almost pristine. He started playing with his Pip-Boy. "With the right wiretapping, I can link this armour's HUD to the war room's terminals - get it to work like the old STARS network."

"Great! The kill-cam for my combat armour was kaput ever since I arrived in the Mojave."

"It would do that." Redfield finished using his Pip-Boy's custom settings and pressed a cable into the power armour's helmet. "We can keep in touch out on the field and even provide some support if push comes to shove."

After a minute, Redfield quickly left the room with a small jog. David's eyes were overwhelmed by the power armour's sheer excellence. There must have been blast pockets somewhere in the plates, with the padding of kevlar padded somewhere within. What baffled David was the material. Could it be coltan or titanium?

The gyros and the support structure of the joints of the elbows and knees looked fresh. Whoever last worn it must to have been able to withstand a ridiculous amount of PSI and heat. David didn't even get to the part about the diamond welding, there was a very shiny layer on top.

Redfield returned with a red minigun and a large ammo drum loaded underneath. They looked heavy, but his father had a firm grip on them and set them on the table. David's hands were getting sweaty, and his fingers were itching.

David shuddered. "That is a big fucking gun..."

"This is a CZ57 Avenger, one of the biggest weapons on this side of the country. It's hard to improve an outstanding weapon, but I did. Enjoy."

"Colour me excited. What did you do to it?"

"Not much. I rifled the barrels and changed the calibre, while leaving everything unchanged. I used a somewhat uncommon big gun to create something beautifully rare. The most fun I had was converting the small 5mm to the larger 7.62mm FMJ. I call this beautiful piece the CZ98 Avenger!"

"Avenger's boring."

"Okay… The CZ98 Redeemer!"

David smiled. "I like it."

"A thousand rounds a minute, superb at medium to long range with a tight cone of fire. Won't find anything better to use against legions of raping savages."

David picked up the Redeemer, grunting slightly. "It's heavy."

"It's twenty pounds, the armour itself is four-fifty on top."

"Christ..."

"The aerodynamic gyros located around the joint structures allows the user to push themselves harder while carrying ten times their weight. No problem."

"Can't wait to use these!" David rotated the Redeemer's barrels. After a quick spin, he looked around the armoury. The walls and floor were the remnants of a cave. "Is this place a leftover cave or something?"

"This was where Vault-Tec was going to make Vault 13, though after some problems with the Great War it was unfinished. I seized it sometime in 2156 as a safehouse, then a secret armoury."

"Is it safe?"

"My Pip-Boy is the only thing that can open the vault. If I wanted to, I could activate the self-destruct system. Can't have anyone I don't like snooping around my weapons and viruses."

"I'm sure you know what you're doing."

"Now, back to the programme. Power armour was designed to tank more sustained conventional arms fire and explosives compared to most modern armour. This trade of agility for added protection has left the armour slow and clanky, so, you won't be winning any marathons anytime soon. The extra size leaves less room for weapons, unfortunately."

"Come again?"

"You can't bring anything else with you. Might get away with two sidearms, rifles and some ammo but meds are a no-go. Usually, a power armour user has a full team to compensate, though you have a team, I don't think a medic is one of them."

"I trust my friends will watch my back."

"That's good." Redfield leant on the table and folded his arms. "The strongest defence is all you really need."

"Either way, I'll take my M4, Model, Browning and my knife. The armour has pockets for ammo, right?"

"There are two compartments on the rear that you can use for the extra ammo. With the durability of the armour itself, chems aren't necessary either. There just isn't much storage space."

"Good. I'll leave the rest of my stuff here."

"I have some specialised ammo for your weapons to compensate for the lack of offence." Redfield strayed from the table and left the room again. David knew he went back to the weapons area to collect more goodies. It was five minutes late when he came back. When he did, he had a pump-action shotgun and a metal basket of ammo of various coloured boxes.

"This is my compensation?"

"Ammo for your M4, and for another shotgun you can use instead of the Model 1887."

"I'm fine with the Model. The quick draw is a good idea."

"I know it is, but I have a Remington 870 you can use." Redfield placed the new shotgun on the metal table and pointed at it, instructing David to do something he was dreading. "Lay out your equipment on the table there; you need to get organised." David groaned in objection.

With great reluctance, David emptied his sack's contents onto the table. Ever so neatly, he organised it from weapons, aid then ammo. It wasn't much. Firstly were his primary weapons next to his sidearms, few stims and an open space where his whiskey and other alcohol would be – turns out David drank the last few bottles of alcohol on the flight.

Finally was his ammo, scraps of everything, from .308 rounds to 40mm grenades. It was a clusterfuck amount; even David had no idea how much he was carrying on his back. Never weighed him down, so it wasn't a factor.

Redfield was confused about how little David cared about his wares. "I don't even know where to start," Redfield said, rubbing his helmet he thought was his head. "Half this ammo you don't even use... You get your hoarding from your mother."

"That good?"

"Bad… I blame myself for the way I ran STARS. You, like most, prefer to have your ordinance planned out for you." Redfield chucks David the shotgun. He caught it after a few fumbles. "Get a feel of that."

"Sure." The Remington was 870 model; loaded with eight rounds of 12 gauge, provided stronger range, damage and reliability. Okay, it's better than the Model.

"Here's how it goes. You'll be using the power armour and Redeemer tomorrow, with the M4 and Remington 870 as your secondaries. Plus what else you can carry, so choose now."

"I learned the survival knife is always important. Some explosives would be nice, so I'll take some flash grenades."

David took his gold Browning HP from the table and holstered it back in the pouch connected to his waist. The knife was sheathed back over his left side of his chest. The flash grenades were tucked into pocket opposite his handgun - four in total. The four pouches on his lower back remained empty.

"Is that made of gold?"

"Yeah." David takes the Browning from his holster and shows it to Redfield. "Got some woman engraved on it; looked cool, so I stole it."

"Lady of Quadalupe, David."

"I'm not good when it comes to religion."

Redfield sighed. "She's the Virgin Mary; the mother of Christ."

"You say that like I should know," David replied with a raised eyebrow.

"Wasn't religious education in your school curriculum?"

"Nope."

"You didn't steal it because of the gold, right?"

"A guy had it on him before I killed him."

Redfield felt concerned. "David... you can't just go around killing people…"

"Chillax, dad. The guy was an asshole." David holstered Maria and slung the Remington where his Model once was and M4 over his other shoulder.

"Still… I'll put the rest of your things away for you to collect after the battle, they'll be safe here. I have your specialised ammunition." Redfield placed the basket on the table next to David's unused munitions. The scraps of unwanted ammo and resources.

"What's so special about the ammo anyway?"

"I still manufacture ammunition from time to time." Redfield introduced the ammo to David, starting with the black boxes and ending with some red ones. "Two boxes of 5mm FMJ and 12 gauge flechette. The Legion will most likely be moderately armoured, while the Redeemer can tear 'em apart, regular 5mm and 12 gauge won't cut it."

"No probs." David packed the special ammo into the empty pouches on his rear - a box fit in each one. From the lack of .308 and 20 gauge, the clutter left more room for better rounds on otherwise limited carrying capacity. He was full but had the benefit of having top quality over scraps.

"I'd give you more, but you're running on borrowed space; only so many compartments to spare. Travelling light has its issues."

"Thanks."

"Don't thank me yet, I have some bad news. Power armour, requires proper training to use effectively - which takes hours to cover."

David whined. "Do I have to?"

"It covers everything, from general maintenance to wearing it right. People have broken bones trying to put it on without any regard, I can't let you do the same."

"For fuck's sake, dad! Why'd you show me this knowing full well you're gonna keep me up all night with this 'training' bullshit?"

"Power armour can be simply worn without training, it just means you can't repair or modify it while on the field. And it would be very uncomfortable. Clanky. Stubborn..."

"Let's try to skip all the boring parts; I just need to weak something more protective. Can't be too hard."

"While you don't need training to simply wear power armour, you do need to wear the right under-armour."

"Meaning?"

"You'll need to put on a light armour before the power armour, for optimised comfort, ability and control."

"What about this one?"

"Can't wear combat armour under it, only light armour or no armour."

"Just gonna put in a locker then, let it rot a bit."

"Wastage, I know. Have you got a better use for it?"

"Could I lend it to someone to use for the battle?"

"Who do you have in mind?"

"Cass. I can't have her out there without any armour on; she'd get hurt. She's my wife. I can't let her out there the way she is now. Between you and me, she's not dressed to kill."

"I offered some armour to your group; all of them declined." Redfield leant on the table. "I'll respect their opinion, but I will give them an extra weapon or two."

"Still... can't let her out there without better armour."

"That's your job; take the damage while they deal it."

Redfield walked away to a locker that was just full of light armours. It was packed full, and he took out a compact light armour with grey ballistic plates. He came back and presented it to David for him to take; it had hardly any thickness and protection to it. The limbs were made of treated black leather with the metal plates only covering the chest.

David knew he should honour the armour from the fact his father took some time trying to find it. The damn armour was made of paper compared to the one he was wearing

"I'm not wearing that."

"You are."

"Not being funny, dad but I'd rather go out there buck-ass naked than wear that. No offence."

"You did that once, remember? When you streaked around the department."

"I was drunk."

"And lucky to keep your job. Now, do I have to force you to put it on, or are you gonna be a big man and do it yourself?"

"Don't remind me." David took the armour from Redfield's hands. "That all?"

"There won't be time to make many trips, so you'll need to armour up now and bring it all to my office. Weapons, grenades, armour, everything must go."

"Okay..."

After placing his M4 and Remington on the table, David stripped down. While the tight recon armour, felt disgusting, he also felt a bit itchy. David had to position himself behind the power armour like he was climbing into a harness.

The power armour opened up after a small rotation of the crank, the inside looked like it was one size. It soon collapsed all over David, but with the recon armour, it was very comfortable with plenty of cushioning to spare.

The finishing touches were just the heads-up-display. Weapons, ammo, vitality status and interactive mapping were all there on all the corners of helmet's interior. Redfield checked out his Pip-Boy.

"What you see is what we'll see back at the war room, once I get it done."

"Doesn't power armour run on batteries or something?"

"That they do. They run on something called a fusion core, it was like a long-term nuclear battery; very efficient consumption rate I heard. I don't have the tools to measure the charge but you should be able to see it on the bottom of your HUD. Is there a percentage?"

David looked down at an invisible heads-up-display. "Yeah. Forty-nine percent."

"Okay, that should be good for a dozen years or so."

David gulped. "That's a long time..."

"Depending on the size of the machinery, the cores could last as little as ten years to over two hundred. On average, power armour could last between twenty and a hundred years. Now, step out of the frame and break a leg, see how it feels."

The slow footsteps David took out of the frame were heavy and full of impact. With each thud and clump that echoed throughout the cave, the sounds of the footsteps could easily strike fear into the most seasoned veterans of war.

David was dumbfounded to how much power he had with the armour on, took no effort to master the movements, despite the reduced flexibility. The strength was near Godlike, the gyros were flexible, and there was nothing to it; he felt like a Demigod himself.

"Holster your weapons and equip up the Redeemer for me."

David slung the M4 and Remington over his shoulders and gripped the Redeemer in his big hands. He spun the barrels excitedly with a soft hold of a button near the grip. "The minigun is very light with the armour on; I feel the power… I feel like I can take on the world!"

"Turn around; you need to feed the damn thing." Redfield placed the large steel container on David's back and fed the belt of ammunition into the Redeemer. It was a storage unit holding over five thousand 7.62mm FMJ, with a belt connected to the weapon.

"I'm so excited!"

"I'd make you more ammo, but you don't know how time-consuming it is to make 7.62mm FMJ from scratch. I only have so much free time a day."

"Am I ready to fight?"

"Are you?"

David took his gold Browning from his combat armour and put it in a small compartment over his right leg with some ammo for it in the left one. Then there were the empty four on his lower back. He put the specialised ammo into each of them; the compartments were larger than the pouches and allowed him to stuff the flash grenades inside too.

"I'll find a way to carry the knife but I'm as ready as I'll ever be," David clarified.

"Yes. Yes, you are. Now we can bring all that shit to my office for you to get into the fray quickly and humanely as possible."

"Everything will be fine like this, right?" David and Redfield made a mess of things in the armoury. Scraps of ammo, meds and some assortment of weapons were disorganised without a care on the table.

"I'll get the night guy to clean that up." Redfield took David's burlap sack and packed David's combat armour, inside. He walked to a few of his weapon racks and threw in a hunting rifle and a grenade rifle for good measure. "I suppose there's no harm offering this stuff to Cass."

"I'll find a way to convince her."

With the sack over his back, Redfield and David both walked out of the unfinished vault. The bag weighed nearly thirty pounds. It was a slow walk through the same-looking corridors.

Redfield asked David to wait for him on his veritbird outside. Naturally, David obliged, hoping the power armour wasn't too heavy to have inside the aircraft. The darkness surrounding the vertibird was silent; the howling of the local wolf was no longer audible. Inside the bird, he noticed the cockpit was considerably smaller.

"What if I needed to fly in full armour?" David grumbled to himself. "I won't even bloody fit."

"That's why some people rather not wear power armour in cockpits."

David tried to sit down on a fold-out chair. It supported his weight and groaned as if it was going to break, so he decided not to bother. "Suppose that's a good idea."

"Power armour is mostly used by the Brotherhood and Enclave. You can find the Brotherhood in the Capital, Commonwealth and here in the Mojave."

"And the Enclave?"

"Their last base of operations was destroyed at Raven Rock a few years ago. History will forget them, just like Navarro. I'm hearing very distant rumours about their return in the Frontier but I cannot give an opinion on.. questionable sightings."

"Frontier?"

"My problem, not yours." Redfield flicked on some switches, and there was a slight humming sound coming from his side. "I like power armour, might consider using them for our forces, if these wars still rage on that is..."

David looked down at his chest and noticed an N.C.R. logo; clean and proud over his right nipple. "I hope they don't. In a time like this, we really can't afford killing each other."

Redfield shrugged. "I wish it was that easy."

During the always smooth ride back to the Dam, David had time to think to himself in silence. David couldn't ride copilot because he's been drinking and he couldn't even fit, so sitting in the back was all he could do. Wasn't really sitting, it was more standing due to size.

David stared at the back of his father's head and the floor by his feet; he was thinking about something deep. Redfield never got much respect for everything he did for the world. In the days of the Raccoon City, he'd be the first one to die for the people in the name of good and righteous. He goes on about it a lot, but it really meant the world to him.

He was a legend in the short-lived days of the R.P.D., they moulded him into one, and he delivered. Started as a humble yet eager police recruit and he then was one of the captains. Now, he's a bit of a war hero, one people take for granted.

People remembered and adored him because of his legacy and merit as a reliable member of society. People respect and stand by Redfield and talk about him with the highest opinions, but how many of them thanked him?

"Dad," he called, lightly. Redfield turned his head but still faced away. "Thanks... Thanks for everything."

"Pardon?"

"Thanks for everything. If there is any chance something bad happens tomorrow, I want you to know I love you for everything you did for me as your son…"

"I don't know how to respond to that." Redfield nodded, and his long heavy sigh filled the vertibird. It takes a father to know what another one wants. "Thanks, son. Not only you write mushy stuff sometimes, but you are also capable of saying it too."

One hour later…

David was back in the barracks soon enough, and everyone was asleep. His power armour and his weapons were all waiting for him tomorrow in the general's office. He only had his recon armour on his person and his sack.

Redfield tucked in some .308 JSP from his armoury to replace the vanilla .308; the rifle also had an extended magazine and a smoother bolt - better performance. Some extra grenades were thrown in for the M79 too, it was nice to see how much he cared for Cass' safety, even if it was on short notice.

Cass had a negative expression on her face, the posture of her laying on her side, facing away from the door spoke louder than words, and she was internally alone. He left her hanging again. David set his new armour under his side of the bed and placed his sack under Cass' side. This may be the only time for him to sleep.

From under the covers, David held Cass' naked body close to him. Some positive gestures and movement escaped her lips and hips, just showing how much she missed him. Was she feeling it now? Of all times? Still... If there was any day to stay close together with his love, it was tonight, before the battle. Because in war, anything can happen.