A man stepped into the office and quickly closed the door. The man wore a different combat armour with a built-in gas filter, reinforced plates across the shoulders and chest, stabilisers, thicker materials and a study helmet with a gas mask and a vision filter was also personally fixed on the armour.

The idea of permanent life support came to mind, like Darth Vader from Star Wars back in the day, he spoke dark, deep and laboured like him too. Hard to see the emotion and feeling in his facial features, because of the helmet he wore.

The gold lens made him wonder if it was General Redfield or not. His armour's colour was fading, and the general's posture was slouched as if it was of pain, emotional and physical.

Moore smiled. "General, how was your trip?"

"If it wasn't a nice change of scenery, I'd chalk it up as a complete waste of my time."

"Any help at all?" Moore replied.

"Certainly eased some stress over there. The Big Empty can be rather soothing this time of month."

"We'll make do General; we always find a way." Moore stood up and gave up her seat for Redfield. "I'll just get on with that paperwork."

She was a lot meaner moments ago, David thought.

"This is the mercenary we talked about; he's our new agent." Moore sat down at the seating area behind David.

"Thank you. Moore." Moore smiled in response. "This is most excellent. The name's General Edward Redfield. As our only agent right now you'll be undertaking some important tasks for me, on the N.C.R.'s behalf. Any questions?"

David was astounded from actually meeting the famed general. "I don't know what to say, sir, uh… General." His head was soaring. Redfield was so friendly and courteous.

"Take your time, son; I get it all the time. It is a very reliable job and also an equally rewarding one at that." Redfield coughed and cleared his throat. "Why don't we start by being a bit more open? What's your name?"

Jeez, he's so nice. Is this the right time to declare a possible relation? We might actually be related. "My name's David Wesker, General." He held out his right hand, expecting a handshake from Redfield.

"The pleasure's all…" Redfield held back his hand and rejected David's handshake. "Excuse me...?"

Shit… How do I respond to this? David withdrew his hand slowly and became startled. "Uhh, was it something I said?"

"David Wesker…? That name." Redfield stood up. "As in theDavid Wesker that disappeared in 2021?"

He knows me? Oh, flip! It better not be who I think it is!

David choked. "Y-Yes?" Redfield checked him out, pacing around him. Looked almost like he was coming onto him. "I've travelled across the Mojave to find you… sir. I think we're distantly related."

Moore overheard the quiet conversation. "What? Like, siblings? Again, seriously? Is this true, Redfield?"

"Distant cousins… Very distant."

Redfield ceased his pacing. "How distant? What on God's green Earth gave you the idea we're related? I have no family! They… they're all gone..."

"My mother was a Redfield…"

"Waitaminute!" Redfield snapped. "Does your mother happen to be a Claire Redfield?" He took out a weathered photo from one of his pouches and shown it to David. "Like this one?"

The photo General Redfield shown was ancient, losing most of its colour with the edges weathered and charred; it was hard to tell at first. It was a man and woman, both in their early-twenties, both in formal wedding attire.

They held a baby each, the woman was expecting another, and they had an infant standing in the middle of them. David was petrified, he saw the photo before, more importantly, he was there and remembered it, and in a way, he always will. He was that infant.

Not unlike his photo he had in his wallet of him and Sam. The photo was hailed to be a conventional family tradition within the household, first started by Elizabeth Walker of 1955 – excluding the father, she was never officially married.

Every generation from her, it was always two newly-weds, one or more children and a date on the back, even Wesker followed the same family tradition. Yeah, even that psycho behind the Mansion Incident had a meaningful photo tucked away somewhere on him before he died.

A tear ran down David's cheek, from seeing a distant memory. "That's my mother all right."

"Is there something you're not telling me, Redfield? You know how I feel about being played. I mean… this could be another act…"

Redfield examined David's armour. "This is a STARS prototype stealth combat armour, one of a kind," he murmured. Redfield held David's head still by his neck and focused on his facial structures. Twisted his head slowly and it hurt a tiny bit. "The jaw… the neck… like your mother's… But you can't be… Oh God, I've been so blind!"

"This is tedious, sir. Do you two know each other or not?"

Redfield let go of David and stood firm. "Cassandra, my closest friend, it's time you knew the truth." He slowly detaches his helmet's tubing and wiring before removing his helmet, ignoring Moore's objections.

Redfield's face was almost all wrinkles with deep scarring all over his eyes and cheeks. The baldness and liver-spotted hell overcame his entire bald head. His beard was trimmed and tied with a black sash but was the colour of his hair was painfully white as white could be.

The gas mask filter in his helmet changed his voice too, no longer sounding like an evil Sith lord but now like a soothing old man, who seems like he takes care of himself, clear throat and styled hair – whatever is left of it – despite looking almost worse than a ghoul or a zombie.

His skin was wrinkled and sagging at the bottom of his chin. People should not live this long; he wasn't a regular person, though.

Moore couldn't believe her eyes, Redfield was actually human, not a ghoul or a Synth. Though she was amazed to be the second person ever to see his face, his eyes were solid gold. Felt ominous.

Moore was speechless but after a minute found her voice, and it was her softest one. "Oh… my…"

"Cassandra… This is my son. David..."

"Dad..." he uttered lightly. Tears ran down David's cheeks. "Dad!" he cried. He stood up and hugged Redfield with everything he got. A bear-like grip was required for this bittersweet reunion. Tears flooded his tired eyes, redraw. "I-I can't believe you're alive! I missed you so much!" he cried into Redfield's armour.

Redfield patted David's back. "We're not alone now… that's all that matters. Let me just get my helmet back on before we-"

As Redfield was about to put on his helmet, he abruptly and viscously vomited blood onto the floor. David and Moore went to assist him but was told not to with a quick wave of the hand; it was over long before it started. Neither of them has seen this happen to him before.

Redfield shrugged it off and put his helmet back on, despite how much it hurt him so. He was expecting something like that to happen and at the same time was taken by surprise.

"Now you see why I keep the helmet on, Cassandra."

"Wouldn't it be easier and less painful to let it all out?"

"Of course. But blood Is tough to wash out, and it only hurts when it builds up too long. Every blood cell I vomit the more energy I lose; it's vital for my survival. Plus no one likes seeing my old wrinkly face, and for my benefit, I like to keep it that way."

"Dad… I need to know what happened while I was gone. It's why I came all the way down here."

"We'll have time alone, son, I promise. I'd like to know how you got here, but right now isn't the best time."

"Dad… I travelled across the damned Mojave to find you, and I need to know."

Redfield groaned and faced Moore. "Cassandra, could you please give us a moment?"

"Father-son moment?"

"That it is. Could you?"

"Anything for you, Redfield." Moore picked up her files and left the office, closing the door behind her.

Redfield paced around his office before sitting down at his desk, with his face in his hands. After a short minute, he placed his hands firm on his desk. "I am so excited to see you back, David, I really am, but I only wish it wasn't right now. Got enough on my plate as it is."

"For reals?"

"It's not that I'm horrified to see you, son, it's just... Every day I missed you, during the lonely nights I was always wondering whatever became of you… Now you're here, all I want to do is hug you, and never let go." Redfield sighed. "You're your own man, though, and if you came here for answers, I'll do my best to answer them. What's on your mind?"

"The truth. Everything that happened after I disappeared."

"Oh... There's no time for all that right now."

"I don't mind having it fed to me in small pieces. One thing I would like to know more than anything is what happened when I disappeared?"

Redfield breathed and put his feet up on his desk, flexing his shoulders and relaxing his sweaty hands. They sweat inside his gloves. "How to make a long story short?" He stood up and paced around the office, paying close attention to the dust regions of his shelves and filing cabinets. He wanted the awkward conversation to be over, but the man asking was his only son - the single reminder of his past life.

Redfield sat back down in his leather chair and put his feet back up on his desk. "With my injuries," he continued, "there was no one strong enough to lead STARS against Neo-Umbrella, you were the one next in line… After Operation: Beverly Hills, Verkraft rose from the ashes as our new enemy. By 2040, more factions came into the fray and shortly after became a clusterfuck, a worldwide pandemic. Humanity suffered for it."

"God, it gets worse every time I talk about it. We need to talk about her, though, dad. Drusilla..."

Redfield stood up furiously and placed his hand on his desk with a slam. "What did you just say?"

Moore knocked on the door. "Is everything alright in there, General?" she asked from outside.

"We'll continue this later." Redfield opened the door for Moore to sit back down on the cream couch. He had a button under his desk for the door.

Moore had some files in hand, holding them tightly. "We have business to discuss."

"We're finished catching up for now. What are we up to now, Colonel?"

"Giving Agent Wesker here his first assignment."

"Of course."

"Agent Six has solved our King and Kahn issues, and I expect he's already on his way to the Omertas."

"It's not easy overlooking the hostilities in Freeside, but I know it was especially difficult to solve our differences peacefully with the Khans, and I thank Agent Six and you, Colonel. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, and I'm pleased the problem with them has ended without bloodshed."

Moore coughed. "Yeah… without bloodshed, right."

"All in a day's work. What's next on the radar?"

"Evidence suggests that Mr House is planning to make some move during our next battle, I have a feeling he won't be coming to our rescue when the Legion comes by. We can't take the risk of waiting for his first move."

"Has the N.C.R. Council came to a decision?"

"All agreed to the elimination or Mr House, myself included."

"He's been a reasonable man thus far. Daunting it may be, this was bound to happen sooner or later. After everything, though, what could he be up to?"

"Our theories all point to his motives of expanding his borders. Or to reclaim Hoover Dam."

"And what better way to do that, then to let the N.C.R. and Legion wipe each other out. Either he planned all this, or it's just a coincidence."

"Are they talking about Victor?" David said to himself.

"Is there any evidence to back up our theories?"

Moore looked down and shuffled her documents. "Only sightings of his Securitrons spying on the N.C.R. and Legion forces, and we estimate he has at least four times as many Securitrons as he did in the last month."

"You're right. He's clearly up to something."

"Someone needs to investigate."

"No doubt our actions will harm Vegas, to all interests and purposes, it's an acceptable loss."

"Long time coming, no more… no less," Moore said.

Should I betray Victor? David wondered if he should stay loyal to Romanov or to reveal him. "Dad, there's something I need to tell you about House..."