Redfield was sat at his desk alone, wasn't doing anything outside of drumming his fingers repeatedly on his desk. He had buzzed for Moore to come to his office for a private talk, the ones she usually likes, about their social lives. They had a complicated friendship. Before she could even question him, Redfield closed the door behind her and stood up from his comfy leather chair. She wasn't ready for bed just yet.

"Great timing."

"Redfield, you called?"

"Moore, we need to talk."

"You know I'm here for you. What's bothering you?"

"It's easier to show you."

Moore pointed to a brown bag on Redfield's desk. "What's in the bag, Redfield?"

"Nothing special."

Redfield used his Pip-Boy's interface to open another door inside his office, the one opposite his desk, not the med lab to his right, the secret wall opposite him. Another room that had some filing cabinets and cardboard boxes with a single light bulb, shine constant sound of the bulb buzzing could drive a man insane.

Seemed innocent at first, just small office storage to Moore's eyes, apart from a single bulb. Redfield picked up his small brown bag and went straight to the nearest filing cabinet. An ordinary metal filing cabinet, no different than the other five or six, hidden a small numeral digit pad inside one of the drawers he slid open.

He then entered code; it was over twenty cyphers. After a faint beep, he held Moore's hand and waited for a few seconds. The way he massaged her hand with his was so warming she had to take slow breaths; it was so soothing.

The distinguishable metal floor was so that there were two shades of grey steel, with the darkest one being a circular dead in the middle. Soon the floor gave away, sliding open like a secret elevator that went further into the Dam. There were no safety rails, so Moore held onto Redfield tightly, the first time he saw her mildly shaken in a long time. She hated heights.

Down below was almost pitch black; only the faint sound of dripping water was noticeable. It was a room, more like a large open area. Redfield shined his Pip-Boy's light and walked towards a fireplace at the back. He took an oiled oak club next to the mantle and lit it up aflame with a flip lighter, illuminating around him and Moore. It was like a secret passage, one that could be used as an escape. That's what she'd use it for if she was a general.

Moore was in awe when she saw there was like a small shrine to something, a purple curtain covered an old painting next to burnt-out candles. Redfield replaced the old candles with new ones he removed from the bag he was carrying.

They were fantastic candles, last well over a few weeks. Moore picked up a picture frame by her feet and gazed into it with a smile. It was a young couple in their early twenties; the setting was just a casual photo with casual wear.

"What is this you're showing me, Redfield?"

Redfield ignited the wooden logs and started the fire. It roared nicely without growing too large. "What do you know of Christianity, Cassandra?"

"Redfield…"

"What do you know about Christianity?" he repeated.

"I never personally delve into religion, Redfield. I live and act as my own person."

"I respect your answer, but that's not what I asked."

"I know you're Christian Redfield, but what are you showing me exactly? Like these people in this picture. Who are they?"

"That is a picture of Zachariah Wesker and Claire Redfield."

"Wesker and Redfield? Wait. These are the same people in that wedding photo in the portrait on your desk."

"That is correct."

"Wesker… Redfield…" Moore placed her hand under her chin and thought to herself. She took the picture out from the frame and examined it top to bottom. Something was written on the back, it said, Forgive me, never forget me. Please love me… One last time… "Just out of curiosity, are these Agent Wesker's parents?"

"Yes, they are."

"But you say Agent Wesker is your son..."

"Because, in reality, he is."

"That means… you're the one is this photo?"

"Yes, I am. I'm just… really old."

"How is that possible?"

"Oh, that's the fun part."

Redfield pulled down the purple curtain, exposing a great portrait of a religious figure. It was a male angel with flawless feathery white wings, stood gracefully with its arms folded. He looked like he was barely out of his forties while looking healthy for his age, with long flowing auburn hair and beard. A black scowl covered his nose and mouth.

For some strange reason, Moore knew the figure's identity from legends of the Old World. The discoloured eyes were a notable feature - gold and crimson. It was mostly in folklore she heard as an eager child on those boring Sunday evenings.

"I've seen this before."

"Really?"

Moore took the flaming torch from his hand and shined it brightly into the heart of the portrait. "One thing I do know about Christianity is that there was a herald by the name of Sarkis - a Demigod. He lived along with humanity in secrecy, but no one believed it to be true. It was written that he served Jesus Christ himself as his apprentice in the ways of being a God. As his herald, student and friend."

Redfield glared at Moore. He was more confused than she was if she was at all. "How would you know?"

"There was a legend behind him in some old books I used to read as a child. Most of them were pre-war Bibles, guess my parents wanted me to follow their beliefs." Moore continued over Redfield's question, "One day there was an accident, before the Great War. War, one of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse, challenged Sarkis to a heated battle for the sake of the world, the battle that would decide the future of the human race."

"But a great tragedy happened," Moore continued, "War defeated Sarkis and started the Great War, forcing Sarkis into exile for his defeat. Rumours suggest that Sarkis still walks the Earth, with the sins of his downfall weighing him down, longing to be judged by the Elder Gods he failed."

Redfield was blown away with Moor's words; her knowledge was impeccable. "Fuck me..."

"This was all from a Bible before the whole religion died out. Felt like a load of shit while I grew up. The War wasn't decided by superstitious nonsense."

"I'm impressed that you know this much. I came down here thinking about how to explain everything without stuttering." Redfield took out scraps of paper out of his pocket and discarded them. It was a few scraps, more than a handful. "Prepared a speech and everything. Not getting those two hours back."

"Unless you wanted to show me you're some Sarkis fanatic, is there anything else you wanted to add? It's getting pretty late." Moore gazed upon the majestic portrait of Sarkis and the picture of David's parents. The couple stood proudly together. What a beautiful couple.

"The legends are true, Cassandra," Redfield murmured. "Sarkis still lives." Moore glared at him with a questioning look.

"What are you talking about?" Moore said, shaking slightly.

"It was 2054 Sarkis battled with an Ashford, a Drusilla Ashford. The bitch that caused the Great War and the one who wiped out my family. She wasWar."

"Your family? What are you saying? Were you there or something?"

You must realise that if you reveal me, a heavenly voice whispered into Redfield's head, my position would be compromised. That would put us both in danger.

This is what I want. Moore has to know the truth because she deserves to, as did my son.

I understand. This is your life, not mine. I had my time and failed, least I can do is let you live yours.

Thank you, Sarkis. You were always the better part of me.

It was inside you all along. Sarkis chuckled lightly. You birthed me, after all. I hope this pays off.

Could you do this for me?

I am sworn to carry your will.

Redfield took off his helmet and stood in between her and the portrait of Sarkis; his baldness caught her attention enough for her to focus more on his different eyes, the eyes she never noticed. His left is pure gold and the other being blood crimson like the eyes of Sarkis. His skin was dry, wrinkled and lifeless with deep scars compared to Sarkis' younger, fuller face and body tone.

"Redfield what are you doing!? Put your helmet back on."

"This is what Redfield wanted to show you, Cassandra. Look at the portrait and now back to me. What do you see?"

"Your strange eyes and his..." Moore focused her eyes on the fire's flame then slowly stared at the portrait, finishing back to Redfield.

"Look into Sarkis' eyes and then back to me. What do you see?"

Moore's eyes shifted and darted between Redfield and the portrait of Sarkis, paying more and more attention to their eyes. They were the same; the resemblance was uncanny - flawless gold and blood crimson.

"Sarkis?" Moore whispered with shock.

"That I am, my child. Now back to the picture frame in your hands. When you see the couple, what do you see?"

"Zachariah and Claire..."

Redfield placed his hands over his temples and closed his eyes. After some seconds, he opened them, and his eyes changed. They were both solid gold. "Look into my eyes again, Cassandra…"

Moore backed away slowly from sudden grief. She couldn't even. She couldn't even understand. She was talking with a Demigod, who was her best friend this entire time. "But you can't be Sarkis; you can't be… You're dead..."

"Cursed, not dead. He was a part of me this whole time."

"I've gone crazy… I'm talking to a God… This… can't be true…"

"Search your feelings; you know it's true."

"And what of the photo?"

"That was of my wife and I." Moore focused more on the beautiful, red-haired young woman. "Claire Redfield was the love of my life. I slept with many women back in my time as a superhuman, hell, even Sarkis had some fun back in his day. But my heart belonged to her. After our death against War, the things Ashford did to her..." Redfield sobbed quietly; they were stifled, with salty tears running down his wrinkled face.

"I couldn't even recognise her remains," he continued in his shaky tone of voice. He started to cry, but only for a few seconds as he wiped away all the tears. "I changed my name to hers as a form of remembrance."

Moore felt heartbroken over Redfield's trauma and shed some tears of sympathy herself. Such a poor unfortunate soul, reduced to such misery was gut-wrenching. She felt useless. "I don't know what to say, Redfield. Only that I…" She sighed heavily.

"That is what I wanted to show you, Cassandra. The fiery passion and love I once had was ripped away from my heart, hundreds of years ago. I can't go through the pain of loving someone, not again…"

"And where does that leave David?"

"My eldest from before the War." Redfield put his helmet back on before he started to feel the burning urge to vomit. The movement was swift. He took time to master a good equip of his helmet in case of this moment. "I showed you what I needed to. To why I cannot love you, and why there's no future for us."

"You loved me?"

He hesitated. "I cannot, not after… I can't begin to get involved in a relationship, knowing the pain it'll cause."

"But Redfield, I always liked you more than a friend."

"After everything I said, Cassandra? I have an exiled Demigod carrying the burden and sins of his past living inside my head, and I'm ten times your age. Hell, I have an adult son with a wife of his own… I'm living a lie as Redfield and not Wesker. Knowing all that, how can there be a future for us together?"

"No one is perfect. I'm feeling it every time I'm around you..."

"Feeling what?"

"Your determination and love for what's good and right. You've always been there for the N.C.R., the people and... and me..." Moore took a deep breath and finally admitted with heart, "Wesker... I love you... All of your burdens makes you a better man, a man I want to be with..."

The general was a loss for words.

In the barracks, late morning, David was just waking up from his slumber. Just as the satisfaction of sleeping with loved ones was very much appealing, it was time to wake from the comfortable beds. The suns spoiled the morning by shining brightly through the thick windows.

David was expecting a meaner wakeup call, like alarms or gunfire, the battle hasn't started yet. As usual, Boone was wide awake in full armour before David could even rub the crap from his eyes. He appeared to be keen and peppier than the day before, still wasn't enough to crack a smile from him, though — a better alarm than gunfire or explosions.

"Rise and shine, David. Ready for the big day?"

"Boone, again? Seriously?" David yawned.

"I got you. I'll wait for you outside." Boone exited the barracks quickly.

"Great… Another battle." David sat up and groaned. "I am not looking forward to this."

Cass sat up and stretched. "Might be fun, Dave." She yawned adorably.

"Having you at my side is all I need." David smiled; his comment had made Cass blush.

"No one lives forever." She kissed David and sprung out of bed. "I'm sure as hell ready for whatever those Legion pussies send my way." She got dressed quickly, starting with her socks and torn jeans.

David got out of bed and placed his recon armour on the bed before putting on his casual boxers and shirt. "Do you know what we're up against?"

"Not a clue. It takes a lot to surprise me, though, which is exciting. With you taking charge and the rest of us backing you up what could go wrong?"

"I die again?"

Cass buttoned her blouse and cardigan and glanced at David. "Come now, don't say that. We'll be fine, you'll see." She slung her Caravan shotgun over her shoulder. "I'm ready for anything. Keep calm and be careful, and we'll both leave this battle with a smile."

"Not without winning."

"That too." Cass walked to David. "What's the point of a good fight if you don't win?"

"My thoughts exactly." David places his hand softly on Cass' cheek and kisses her lips."

"Suppose we better go find the bosses?"

"Actually there's some armour under the bed for you."

"I'd rather keep my gear light."

"It's my old armour."

"Really?" Cass picked up David's S.T.A.R.S. combat armour from under the bed and compared it to her body. "Will it fit?"

"One size fits all."

"If it makes me half as sexy as you, then that's all I needed to hear." She took off her cardigan and put on David's combat armour. Even though it felt tight at first, it was a perfect fit. "It's still warm, luv."

"I'll show you how to use it."

"I used combat armour before, Dave."

"Not this one." David stepped behind Cass and held her right arm up. "I customised it myself. A long time ago."

Cass enticed David and let him do his thing. "Be gentle…" She bit her lip. His breath caressed the hairs on the back of her neck.

David chuckled. "You know how to push my buttons, don't you?" He stepped behind Cass and held her right hand and showed a small red button on her palm. "Press that, and mind your fingers."

With her middle finger, Cass pressed the small red button. Upon activation, two blades shot out of her wrist, reaching at ten inches. Cass was scared as much as she was surprised, the edges were smooth on one side and serrated on the other, not your everyday steel.

"Holy shit! That's nasty."

"Done it up myself."

"What is this?"

"Wrist blades. Ten inches of solid steel coated with a ceramic layer."

"How do I sheath them?"

"Press the button again."

Cass pressed the button on her palm, and the blades shot back into the compartment over her wrist. "Wow… so sensitive."

"Yeah… be careful. Don't want you to lose a finger now, might need them for when I'm not around."

"Hilarious..."

David reached for his helmet and put it over Cass' head. There was plenty of room in there. "The headset and cloaking systems are kaput, but the armour itself will keep you safe; saved my life more than once." He kissed Cass' cheek.

"What about you?"

"I got new armour." David reaches for the recon armour and tests the weight in his hands. It felt even worse. "I think of it as a temporary downgrade."

"This I gotta see."

With great reluctance, David put on the dark skin-tight light armour in front of Cass. The sheer feel of it was underwhelming, very light, tight, thickened leather and not the same as his original. The steel plates on the chest, knees and elbows were decent but couldn't even be compared to the durability of his prototype armour. The thickened leather could barely stop the edge of a blunt knife.

Cass laughed. "That looks way too tight on you!"

"I feel icky."

"You look damn sexy."

"I figured." David rummaged around under his side of the bed for his burlap sack and took out his hunting rifle and M203. He let Cass take them from his hands. "These are for you too."

"Wow. Thanks, luv, I may need them." Cass slung the hunting rifle over her other shoulder and holstered the M203 in a rear holster on her armour.

"How about something for the road?" David snickered and swept Cass of her feet, delivering a kiss. "I meant ammo, but that'll keep me going the whole day, you animal." She purred, biting her lip.

"Easy mistake." David emptied his sack over their bed and boxes of .308JSP, and 40mm grenade shells tumbled out.

The tips of the grenade were all different. Two of the six were red, another two were yellow, and the last two were grey - fire, acid and conventional. He hoped Cass knew the dangers of explosives and using them. General safety, 101.

"Here are some grenades."

"Really?" She picked up a red-nosed grenade shell. It fit in her hand and generated heat. "Fire. Right?" She slot all six grenades in a bandoleer over her left forearm; they fit perfectly. "I'll be careful with them."

"You just about ready to get this show on the road?"

"You bet! Let's make history. I'll, uh, see you in the war room handsome."

David let Cass back on her feet and let her out the door, though he caught her attention again by slapping her firm ass. Cass pointed to David with a grin, thinking of something witty to say but just left with a defeated giggle. Couldn't think of anything witty to say.

"Yeah… I know how to pick them alright. Wives make the best of friends, or do friends make the best of wives? Both?"

David firmly believed that the ones to an early start have an earlier finish and what better way to share that than to wake up William and Lyannah. They look much rested in each other's arms; it was cute.

Who knew such a brutish woman looked almost adorable, in the arms of a decent fellow like Will. She shows a lot more joy around him, that's for sure. What was his secret?

David called out Will's name aloud to no avail, but Lyannah woke up quickly almost on instinct. "Oh, dear me. My head is spinning," she mumbled breathlessly.

"Rise and shine sleepyhead. Burning daylight."

"Daylight? What time is it?"

"Half-eight. We should meet up in the war room while we can, the battle hasn't started yet."

"No problem Agent, we'll be there," she said with bated breath. David leaves the barracks. "Good, we still have time."

William wakes with a yawn. "Lyannah? Time to get up already?"

"Correct."

William retracts his head and sighs. "Let's just get it over with."