David was allowed entry into General Redfield's office by the guard stationed outside, inside it was just the general at his desk- no Colonel Moore to annoy him and his father this time. David sat at his desk and waited for him to finish his work, with the door behind David firmly shut David could finally have some private time with him after he tends to the stacks of paperwork cluttering his desk. They were disorganised.

It took nearly thirty minutes, but General Redfield finally finished signing and stacking his paperwork in separate piles going out and coming in. They were all going out. "What's on your mind, son?"

"Nothing much. You?"

"I was going to meditate after my paperwork. I can just do it later."

"It's been a long time, dad... a long time alone. Thought we could catch up."

"Sucks, I know. Listen kiddo; I've been getting complaints of anti-social behaviour in the barracks by some of our soldiers very early this morning. Not that it's any of my business, but would that have anything to do with you at all?"

"You accusing me of fucking around last night? Moi?"

"David..."

"It was Will and Lyannah."

"Damn it; now I owe Bardon fifty caps."

"You betted on me and Cass fucking last night?"

"I never said that." Redfield hesitated. "You'd want me to bet against you? Is that what you're saying? Betting against my own son?"

"I'm uncomfortable. Also, there's something you need to know about Cass; she took our name. Before you ask we were drunk, I couldn't even stop her."

"So she's… Mrs Wesker?" Redfield sighed. "She'd be the first person to take our name willingly. The pain and misery Wesker caused our family sullies our entire heritage."

"Is that why mom didn't take your name?"

Redfield put his feet up on his desk and relaxed. "She didn't mind at first, but I had to convince her not to take, the same goes for Cindy and Rebecca. Figured I was doing them all a favour."

"Well, he's dead now. Cass took our name, and the rest is history."

"Good for you. It's excellent to see you both happy; I could care less what name you pick, as long as you're both happy. Kinda also excited to have a daughter-in-law again. I know that you'll make a better name for us than Wesker ever did." Redfield placed his head in his hands with stricken grief. "I still miss him. Those good old times of him stealing my alcohol, flirting with Vivian, stealing my cigarettes-"

"Killing my friends," David interrupted, carrying on Redfield's memories, "attacking my family, fucking our maids, raping the dog..." Redfield glared at him very silently and did the stare. The stare. A stare only a parent can perfect. "What?"

"Only three of those statements are true, and you get the point. You don't forget times like that."

"And for a good reason! Wesker was a fucking psycho."

"He was different; he got his soul back. And he was the only parent I had, the one who raised your uncles and me. We had a decent childhood, considering the losses."

"What changed?" David knew the answer; at this point, he wanted to fuel the fire.

"My mother. The day... the day mother died, the man I used to call father died too, but he took it harder than I could possibly imagine."

"Wish I knew her." David sighed.

"Me too. Childbirth is a bitch, though."

"Tell me about it."

"At least your wife didn't break your hand during delivery." Zaac laughed and relaxed more in his chair. "Your mother had a helluva grip during Dean's delivery. Seriously, broke my hand like it was nothing. That's like... wow. It's still a shame I wasn't there for yours, though." He sighed again, like the last seven or eight times before. Cumbersome and long. "Claire… my poor Claire... Listen, as much as I love sitting here with you; I don't have much time to spare right now."

"Still preparing for the second battle?"

"Yeah." Zaac massaged the back of his neck before he went back to his terminal. He typed away super quick on the keyboard; multitasking was too easy. "I have files to send, soldiers to assign and among other things I have to plan a battle again."

"How did the last one go?"

"Surprised you heard about that one." Redfield ceased his typing. "The Legion assaulted the Dam when we least expected it; the Malpais Legate had the advantage when his forces swarmed our defenders at the time. Oliver, Hanlon and I considered a tactical retreat was in order, so, we had First Recon safely lead our forces across the Dam to bunker down at Boulder City. Eventually, our snipers picked off enough pursuing centurions, forcing the Legion to pull back."

"Way to think on your feet, dad."

"I wasn't expecting the legate to be so gullible to chase after retreating units, a more experienced commander would've taken the Dam right there. But he didn't; he spared half his forces to chase after ours. The men that weren't picked off by First Recon were wiped out by a minefield they had set out. With minimal losses, we effectively wiped out half the attacking forces."

"How did the legate react to that?"

"Not well. There were more than a hundred Legion casualties in the city alone." Redfield left his desk and rifled through his filing cabinets. "The loss of morale, men and timing was an excellent opportunity for the N.C.R. to counterattack the Dam. They never stood a chance. The legate was the only survivor; we routed his ass back over the river, and the day was ours."

"It's not gonna repeat itself again tomorrow is it?"

"The Legion would most likely have learned from their mistakes; they wouldn't play the same card again."

"After a humiliating defeat like that? I'm sure they won't."

Redfield took some files from his filing cabinet and paused in silence briefly. "One mistake and we'll be fighting on their terms. Different legate, different rules. Cannot assume anything."

"Guess taking House out of the picture was a good thing; couldn't really deal with the extra factors."

"Fighting people is one thing, but robots under the control of someone like Romanov is a completely different story?"

A lot of that was software, right? What happened to that chip?"

"Ah, yes, the chip." Redfield drummed his fingers. "Wouldn't be wise to simply destroy it. No. I shelved it in my armoury, in case its technology could be altered for a better cause."

"Nasty piece of work that could've been. The N.C.R. might lose against all those extra odds."

"True. When the N.C.R. was spying on Courier Six, we expected he would pursue the chip and deliver it as planned. I reckon Lyannah occupied most of his time once he bumped into her; guess it was love at first sight or some shit. We couldn't just take it away from Romanov, or rather, Mr House, you see, there's rules and boundaries to respect."

"Never applied to me there and then, didn't it?"

"Nope. Mercenaries can be very valuable these days."

"Not bad for an Old World STARS member."

"I'm glad to have you back in my life, son." Redfield slumped back into his chair. "I don't want to go another year alone."

"It was no picnic for me, either." David coughed; his voice was jagged and tore out his throat. Like he was dehydrated to ever-loving-fuck and ate nothing but crackers and cigarettes. It was hard for Redfield not to notice.

"Fuck, that sounded wretched. Are you sure you're okay, son?"

"I dunno. Since Thursday morning after my wedding, I've been feeling different. Haven't been feeling myself lately."

"How different?"

"Never felt the likes before, honest. I got hungover after the ceremony."

"For real?"

David nodded.

"I guess I can give you a check-up in the incubator if you want."

"Incubator?"

"Have you heard of something called an Auto-Doc, David?"

David sighed. "No."

"Auto-Docs are a miracle of pre-war medical technology – a device capable of performing even the most complex medical procedures without qualified medical personnel. But I'm the only one that has the very first of its kind, their predecessor if you will. Only a little something called a Nexus Incubator, something that Auto-Docs were based on."

"Another piece of Neo-Umbrella's junk."

"Unlike the Nexus Transformer, the incubator was a few of a kind. I have the very last one, a wonderful piece of tech that can actually be used for the goodness of others. I have a Nexus Incubator in my medical lab; it's still in good condition."

"Guess that explains why Romanov had one, even if it was more suited to preserving his life as opposed to saving it."

"People do the stupidest things under desperation; we're all guilty of that."

"Can I use it?"

"Be offended if you didn't."

Out of nowhere the wall to David's left, opposite the door disclosed a small room with shelves and lockers of medicinal items, chems and science-based equipment. One of which right at the back was the incubator, it was made up of a ventilated cylindrical chamber with a CRT control panel and monitor mounted on the side.

Not like the regular Auto-Docs seen in the Wastelands, as this one is from Dr Maxis' original design from before the First World War. He was the sole creator of the Nexus, to use for Nazi Germany at the time. It was very different to the one Romanov used, then again, he must have altered it to keep him alive, rather than to heal others.

To David's eyes, it was like a cylindrical shower with glass sliding doors with a computer system mounted on it. He felt around the incubator's glass cautiously. "How does it work?"

"You don't need to know. What you do need to know is that a full examination requires the patient to strip naked."

"Really? Right here, in public?"

"The door is locked."

"Uncomfortable much."

"Son, I'm your father, and more importantly, I am a registered doctor."

"Since when?" David chuckled.

"Since I found the incubator. Now get in."

David reluctantly undressed and put away his munitions to the side and got into the incubator; it felt no less than having a shower, only it was a two-person deal. Redfield strapped David into a thick leather harness, firmly holding him in place while he put a fine needle into David's neck, then a breathing apparatus over his mouth and nose.

After the closing of the sliding glass doors, he manned the terminal linked to the contraption. The incubator soon filled up with a thin green liquid, completely saturating and immersing David's body.

The fluid was clear enough to see David coping well on the other side, inside it was all mirrored. On the monitor, it displayed David's vital signs and current status. His limbs and mental state were perfectly healthy, which was a bit unusual for Redfield to see, his body was humanly perfect.

David shouldn't be human. His status shouldn't be human. The unique traits of the Prototype virus should be noticeable throughout David's body; he'd be the very least mentally unstable with some viral organisms.

With superhuman properties like perception, cell regeneration, strength and agility that would generally destabilise the body, none of that information was there. The screen just displayed a basic human body with signs of being infected with a strange virus; one Redfield suffered from.

Apart from that, David was a healthy human male, as opposed to superhuman. Though a concerned Redfield quickly drained the incubator and opened it. David was very limp; only the harness was keeping him up on his feet. He looked far too tired and relaxed and wasn't strong enough to remove the breather.

"How are you feeling, son?"

"I could go for a nap right about now." David yawned.

Redfield held David's head up under his chin. "Just checking for side effects."

David was still tired. "What was in that liquid?"

"Antibiotics and muscle relaxants are some… I wouldn't know the rest; I didn't make the damn thing. I do know it recycles, which is fascinating."

"Is there anything wrong with me, dad?"

"I'm going to be straight with you, son. You have lost a great deal of your metabolism, regeneration and power. Not only you're more of a human now; you're also infected with the Nexus virus."

"The Nexus is a disease now? Is there a cure?"

"No..." Redfield sighed. "No, there isn't. I took the full effect from the Nexus Transformer long ago, and I didn't think more than that. The way you entered this world must be the reason how you caught it."

"Can I pass on the virus?"

"No, thank Christ. I checked that theory out myself. Found it binds to one person, that's how advanced it is. Not like the Old World viruses."

"Shit man, that's unfair."

"I've read something like this happening to Sam, Clover and Alex."

"How the hell could something like this have happened to them?"

"The girls found some gadget that sent them twenty years into the future, or something like that. This was back in 2015; I was dead back then, so I'm a little hazy on the details."

"Right, and I was still in school, completely none the wiser. To think they were international spies while I was wasting my days hugging trees, acting and writing poems." David huffed, remembering how much of a snowflake he was. "I blame television."

"Anyway… Sam came to the theory that their bodies deteriorated over the passing hours they spent... wherever they were."

"That's my girl."

"I reckon the same thing's happening to you. Only a matter of time before you lose your strength and break down to a molecular level-"

Cold sweaty fear ran down David's face. "That's a nicer way of saying I'll fade away like a bloody Thanos snap!"

"Based on Sam's theory, a human would most likely deteriorate around the forty-eight-hour margin."

"But I've been out here for days!"

"Being a superhuman bought you some extra time. With your excessive power, your body can shrug off the process for a longer duration, but it's now all gone. If you don't get something to fight it off now as a human, you won't last much longer, and your wasted power would be in vain."

"So I'm human now?"

"Afraid so."

"Being human sucks. Am I gonna die?" David's lip trembled. "Like for real this time?" He sobbed, "I don't want to die again."

"I know how you feel... Death is dark, isn't it?"

David nodded. "Yeah."

"Could be argued it's all unrelated, however, I wouldn't go against Sam's theories. Based on her experience, you will die within the next day or so, yes, but you're not a common human. You were born a superhuman, with a mild strain of the Prototype virus coursing in your DNA - not all humans have that perk. If we can feed it some P-virus, it just might be enough to sustain you. You just need a little taste now and then to keep the process at bay until a permanent cure is made."

"You're gonna inject me with the Progenitor virus? Is that wise?"

"Better than the alternative."

"Is it even around anymore?"

"It's more plentiful than you think." Redfield let go of David's head and used his Pip-Boy. "I'm going to prescribe you some medication to use daily, in hopes it will increase your life duration."

"So an injection of P-virus a day or die."

"That's one way to put it."

"Won't I mutate?"

"Another problem for another day. Just unstrap yourself and meet me at my desk." Redfield turned away and walked out of his infirmary.

"Getting shrinkage standing here anyway." David pulled out needles from his neck, painfully tearing at his skin. "I hate the Nexus. At least there's hope for me."

Redfield was back to doing his paperwork that always seems to pile up on his desk when no one looks. He closed the blast door behind David. David's hair was still wet; he dried off the important parts of his body before sitting at his desk "Feeling better?" Redfield asked.

"Not really. How do I live as a human?"

"You'll spare the time to learn. Not like you have a choice."

David sighs and rubs his forehead. "Yeah, I work better like that anyway. I forgot to ask, how have you lived this long in the state you're in? Aren't Gods immortal?"

"I'm not Sarkis; he's immortal, not me… When the Nexus handicapped me, I personally aged at a much quicker rate. Superhumans like us could naturally live for a hundred and twenty years with a good life, the rate I was going, I'd be lucky to make it to eighty, or seventy."

"Tough break. What is there to do around here? I'm bored."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Family bonding isn't exciting enough for you?"

"Anything fun?"

"You'll have to find your own entertainment, son. On top of all my work, I gotta make meds for you. I can probably transmute a common stimpak to three P-viral injections."

"There's P-virus in stims?"

"Bet that never occurred to you when you used the one on my vertibird."

"That could've killed me."

"But it didn't. The broc flower is a direct descendant to the Stairway of the Sun. Though the bile within has evolved to a harmless one, it's still good enough for superhumans, protohumans and even pure-bloods."

"They're in broc flowers then? And stimpaks?"

"Stimpaks are made of broc flowers and xander roots. Mostly. The water in the incubator has chemical compounds comparable to the average stimpak. You'll be fine for the rest of today. You let me worry about your chems."

"Great! Now I can start relaxing and forget about this mess. Shame Hoover Dam such a bore-fest."

"What were you honestly expecting?"

David shrugged his shoulders and put his feet up on Redfield's desk. "A casino or a playroom at least."

"This is a Dam, not a pub."

"Time to start living like you're in one." David reached into his sack and took out a bottle of whiskey - the last one. "How about a drink?"

"Not for me, thanks?"

"That doesn't sound like you."

Redfield filed away the paperwork into one of his filing cabinets to his right and sat back in his chair. "David, David, David. I haven't eaten or drank anything since I first put this armour on."

"No shit, really? When was that?"

"In 2079."

"And you said you'd be lucky to make it to your eighties."

"I was... fortunate enough to survive to one hundred and two… Another couple of years after that, well, that's a different story..."

"And you haven't eaten anything for nearly two hundred after that?"

"I inject myself with nutrients and liquid once I put the armour on."

"For the last two hundred years?"

Redfield nodded. "Trust me, I'd do anything for a fat kebab right now but… this is my life now."

"That means two centuries without a drink. Couldn't you inject into your bloodstream or something?"

"Tried it before, it's just not the same. Mostly just injected water…"

"Ouch…"

"A living hell."

"What does your armour do?"

"Micromanages my survival, it's why I've lived this long. It controls my breathing, power levels and the evacuation of the bile and vomit that builds up from time to time."

"How does armour your do that?"

"A friend of mine engraved it with a sigil or two."

"A what?"

"She enchanted it. Even though it halted the degeneration process and extended my life expectancy, I can never remove it without killing myself. It taxes my power to function, but it's better than the alternative."

"So… someone enchanted it with, like, magic?"

"Pretty much?"

"And who did that?"

"China Sorrows. You wouldn't know her; she from a different planet."

David smiled, rubbing his chin. "Now that's a pity; she sounds cute."

"Try drop-dead gorgeous! That Asian beauty is just… literally to die for."

"Come on, how gorgeous are we talkin' here?"

"Try... Ada Wong, but with a slight Irish Accent and long, thick hair - dark as sin." Redfield murmured. "Bad to the bone..."

"Oooo, I like the sounds of that."

"China's a nasty piece of work - just looking at her could make you fall in love with her. Known to ruin a man's life, just by looking at them."

"Come now..."

"That's what Scatter-brains are like. I'd tell you to stay away from her but... there's no point."

"And this... temptress... made this armour for you?"

"Yup. Over there, magic folk live longer than mortals. While I can use some magic, I don't have the luxury of living as healthy and long as them. This armour changes that crutch, now, I can live as long as them, as long as I still have power which… isn't easy to gain."

"How long do these magic people live for?"

"Well, at eighty or ninety years old, they don't look a day over twenty. China was around… a hundred-something, but she's still as cute as a button. Meanwhile… I'm three hundred, and I look as terrible as you'd think…" Redfield sighed. "The only good thing to come from old age is a beard, and even then it's not worth it; takes up too much room in my helmet."

"So it never ends? Is the pain you mentioned worth that little power?"

"The last bit of power I have is for emergencies. Every time I take off my helmet, I vomit blood. If that happens too often, I'll loose that power and deteriorate quicker. My armour allows bypassing these phases with a painful, yet, safer alternative. That's why I have to wear this armour until the day I die… I could get something like this for you but the amount of constant pain I'm suffering, well, I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy."

"I wouldn't want the armour at all! Sounds hella expensive, not to mention, bad for my health."

"The price was fair. I did some odd jobs for China, and that was all. She did try to indoctrinate me into following her cult but I gave that a hard pass. I like to think she took pity on me, and I am okay with that."

"Probably never see her again anyway."

"We'll see… At the end of the day, it's a horrible way to live, and I accept the punishment." Redfield put his feet up on his desk again. "I'm sure I bored you to near death with my sad story, so why don't you go share that whiskey with your beautiful wife. Hell, why not spend the day together?"

"I haven't got much money right now."

"You don't need money to have a good time."

"True, but when you're broke as fuck opinions change."

"You're broke?"

"Broke the bank at the ceremony."

"That's Vegas for you. They take money from the young and stupid. Seeing you're my heir, I refuse to let you leave this office without allowance." Redfield reaches into one of his desk's drawers and takes out a bag of caps and chucks it to David. "That'll be enough."

David felt the weight of the back; it was like a big sack of coins. "How much?"

"Ten thousand, at least."

"W-T-F, dad."

"Not enough? I'll get you more…" Redfield opens the same desk, but David waved him off from giving him more.

"No, no! I'm fine, really."

"Only fitting you share a portion of my wealth, son. You are my only heir to my fortune and legacy. Once I figure out how to come clean."

"What fortune?"

"I'm an entrepreneur. Before the Great War, I sold blueprints of the weapons and armour I designed over the years, and I made good investments. I wasn't able to cash them in until recently, and boy, that was a good move. Pre-war money isn't worth spit these days. Made a few million from the stocks I own and some more in the value of gold bars I ransacked from the Sierra Madre. Those combined makes me one of the world's richest men."

"Nice!"

"Now go out there and have some fun. You and Agent Six will have a lot of work to do later."

"How much work are we talking here?"

"You'll have it cut out for you, that's for sure."

"I'll go meet up with Cass then."

"You crazy kids have fun." Redfield continued his work on his terminal.

Most of it was terms and agreements for N.C.R. munitions, and the rest were private conversations with other faction leaders. The ones he had on the line was Elder McNamara and Elder Lyons. The east and west coast Brotherhood sectors. They liked and even supported his rule and position.

"I still got some P-samples to make."

"Laters." David snatched the bag of caps and left the office.

Redfield sighed. "I could kill someone for a cigarette and some Irish coffee right about now. To have that freedom again…"