A/N: Here's the next chapter! Thank you so much for the reviews, faves and follows. You are all awesome!

If you want something good to read while waiting for me to update, check out Endorphins, Oxytocin and Pheromones by Clockwork Echo. It is my current addiction and a fantastic (and deliciously smutty) Nivanfield chapter fic! I promise it won't disappoint!

Anywho, enjoy!

Emil Lime

Jill Valentine is alive. It seems she was sent here by the CIA to take down Red after the failure of Operation: Cohort. Whoever or whatever this 3 is, it ratted her out just like Henry. Jill and I suspect that this 3 is behind the Anaconda plan and that 3 is aiming to take down Red. The more I learn, the less I like it. I've got to put a stop to 3's ambitions before I can take Red down.

Status Report 12: Eyes of Monsters

There are signs—warnings—a CIA agent should be aware of when involved in an undercover operation. One is these is the target's attitude. Understand the target's behaviors and mannerisms quickly and get in sync with them. If they waver or change suddenly, always assume the target is onto you. It's basic training 101, learning to read and understand non-verbals with accuracy. It takes a lot of practice and a lot of retraining your brain to reread situations (we always think we're the best at interpreting body language and we seldom are). I always scored in the highest percentile during training. I'm good at this. Which is why Red's sudden change in demeanor has struck a nerve.

He's readied a large portion of his men, the young boys giggling like a group of school girls with anticipation. The distinct sound of automatic rifles being loaded fills the parking garage as these children sling their heavy guns over their shoulders.

The man behind it all, Red—Chris—is standing at the front of the group directing them and I'm just standing to the side watching it happen with contained horror.

I knew giving Chris this information would mean trouble but there was no way around it. Despite the gleaming smile on his face, I can almost taste the blood. He's barely holding on to his maturity, ready to lash out and take down whatever comes between him and his goal—destruction of the enemy and first gang to take up the anaconda plan, the Ashland gang.

Headed by twins Alfred and Alexia Ashford, the two are small time wanna-be gang landers looking for a bigger score. According to the files Henry left for me, these two were the first of the dominos to fall against Red, siding with whoever is planning on instigating the Anaconda Plan. Chris seems to have taken particular interest in them, an otherwise tiny and insignificant gang owning a tiny and insignificant portion of land. And I know why: he wants to send a very clear message to those who stand against him.

I know this can only go horribly wrong.

Walking up to him as he funnels more boys towards the weapons, I speak calmly, "Sir, are you sure this is a good idea? Aren't there better ways of sending a message?"

He turns towards me, his smile only growing, "You're still new to this, so I can't expect you to understand. But trust me Cole, nothing says command like wiping out another gang." He turns back, effectively shutting off the communication and any line of reasoning.

Well, fuck.

Backing away and heading towards the cement half wall of the parking garage, I lean over it and look down below. We're a floor up, the heads of the people below carrying ammo and grenades in and out bringing an icy feeling into my stomach. Looking past the huddle and up the street, I can see the heavy artillery being set up. Military style hummers with mounted guns and boxes filled with what I can only assume is contraband. Red's got big pockets…

On the inside, it's like two devils locking horns. I could slink off and warn the people in the Ashland gang area of the impending doom and risk the possible alert of Alfred and Alexia. It could blow my cover, or at the very least they'd capture me and interrogate me—I cannot take any more beating right now, my body is still screaming from everything else. On the other hand, I can gain points with Red by fighting beside him, shooting down militant children to take out a gang he couldn't care less about.

Sucking in a breath, I harden my resolve.

The lives of the many outweigh the lives of the few. Going over to the boxes of illegal weapons, I pick one up and load is expertly. It's heavier in my hands than any other weapon has ever been.

It isn't long after that that we all start walking down the streets of Red's territory with one goal in mind: Ashland. I can see the reflection of faces in the windows of the tall buildings around us before they duck away to hide again. The few people on the streets who aren't soldiers in the gang immediately scoot out of the way and bow their heads to Red. He's their king—their dictator—and they know better than to wrong him.

We cross through Vice's territory easily enough, the shaky alliance the two have earning us passage and little to no name calling from the other gang members. It didn't take much persuasion from Red to get his men to shut their traps and keep on marching true. It wasn't much longer after that, though, that we reached Ashland and a cold chill ran across my spin. The buildings are much smaller, the occasional office building surrounded by diners and home grown businesses. The Ashland soldiers didn't expect to see us at their boarder and the sick smile that crossed Red's face as he watched the soldiers' eyes widen chilled me to the absolute core.

"Go get them boys."

In an eruption of chaos and gunfire, the streets are ablaze with bodies and screams. The massive army floods the streets, breaking into buildings and pulling people out only to slice their throats or pump them full of lead. Woman are thrown to the ground, their clothing torn from their bodies as their screams do nothing to stop what's about to come. Worse than the destruction and killing is the sound of laughter from the boys pretending to play god. As their clips unload into Ashland soldiers and civilians, they cackle with a dark gleam in their eyes, a gleam I've only seen in the eyes of monsters.

Red's beside me amidst the chaos, a hand on my shoulder, "Let's get going." I follow him through the destruction, moving between pockets of death as we zig-zag towards the heart of the Ashland territory. Red's got his handgun out, shooting at any soldier who manages to get close to him. I've still got my assault rifle but I haven't fired a single round.

All around us Red's soldiers are throwing homemade molotovs into buildings, some with people still inside. Their roaring screams and the devilish laughter that follows is enough to make me want to throw up. The stench of death and smoke is heavy in the air, making me gag as we keep running, the sound of mounted machine guns whirling through the air now as the massive hummers make their way into the streets.

What's probably the most disturbing thing, though, is the fact that despite the fire, the chaos, the rioting, there is no sound of sirens. No police officers, no fire fighters, no militant force to break up the fighting. This city is literally defenseless from the lawlessness within it. There's a reason it's called Insane.

I push it out of my mind—as well as the screams and pleas for mercy—and keep running beside Red. It doesn't take us long to reach the large, ostentatious mansion, blood already coating its steps as some of Red's men stand at the door, shooting down anyone of the opposite gang who comes close. "We've secured the entrance, sir!" a teenager no older than 13 shouts, grinning proudly like he's just won a prize.

"Good work, soldiers. Are they inside?"

Another boy nods, probably 15. "They are, sir. They've barricaded themselves inside. Not that you won't be able to handle it." The kid pulls from his pocket a package of C4, a large smile painting its way across his blood and sweat stained face.

"Nice. I like the way you think." Chris takes it before smirking at me, "let's get these sons of bitches." He plants the C4 on the elegant and elaborately carved wooden doors. We all step back as the door is blown open, bits of fine oak splinters showering over us. Red, nodding towards his men, heads inside. I follow after.

The inside is plush and fancy, creating a harsh contrast to the blazing outside world. Red's animalistic grin widens, "Come out, come out, wherever you are you bastards!" He knocks a vase from its stand, the bits of fine glass shattering. His strong hands grab at the paintings on the wall, tearing them down and tossing them to the floor. He's having fun intimidating his prey. "Where's the pair of balls you had when you agreed to turn against me, huh?" The harsh crash of a metal frame hitting the tile ground echoes through the foyer as Chris throws it down.

Up above, standing on the balcony then, is a young man and woman, both with light blonde hair. The man, Alfred, speaks, "Is this your idea of negotiations, Red? Hardly civil."

The man in question chuckles as he pulls out his handgun, turning off the safety and cocking it. "Being civil was never on of my strong points." He holds the gun up, leveling it with Alfred's head. "So let's get straight to the point. We're here because you've joined a little conspiracy group against me."

Alexia crosses her arms, "A conspiracy?"

I speak up, "The Anaconda Plan. Don't try to deny your involvement. We've got documentation."

Alfred lets out a shrill laugh, "Really? Documentation? Why would I be stupid enough to write anything down if I were involved in a conspiracy? Ever heard of the Know-Nothing Party?"

Red scoffs, "Ever heard of the I-Don't-Give-A-Fuck Party? Who approached you about cashing in on this conspiracy?"

The twins don't move—still as death—as they regard us. It's like they're gauging to see if this is all really happening, if Red is truly a threat to them. His gun stays trained on the two defenseless gang lords, never wavering. I look at him, seeing the venom there and the enjoyment. He's getting off on this game. What a sick bastard.

"Red," I mutter, "Maybe if we weren't pointing guns at them, they'd be more cooperative?"

He chuckles and whispers back, eyes never leaving the two blondes above him, "You been in situations like this before or something, Cole? You seem to have a lot of peaceful negotiations for everything recently."

"No," I say, biting back a vicious retort, "but people don't respond well under pressure. Take away the pressure, they'll talk."

"Apply enough force, they'll pop." Red states back mockingly. I'm clearly not getting anywhere with him. God, the faster he can resolve this matter, maybe the faster he can call of his men. I've got to do what I can to rush this conversation along.

Finally, Alexia speaks, like she's deemed this entire bothersome affair something she'll have to deal with sooner rather than later. "Even if we told you, you're doomed anyway. No one in this forsaken city will come to your aide." She gives off an equally as annoying laugh. "The Red Empire is about to fall and a new king shall take your throne."

Alfred smiles, "And he will rise to power as a savior for not only this city but the entire region. He will unify the land and we will all rule."

Wow, whoever this main conspirator is must have taken a page from Marx. "You really think he'll surrender his power to you?" I ask, frowning.

The young woman nods, "At the very least, it will change the course of Insane City's history. Down the Red Empire will fall and we will all have a chance to take what's rightfully ours." In other words, an absolute blood bath. Is this the real reason for this conspiracy? Not to take over but to set this entire region into chaos and turmoil?

I'm barely containing my anger. "You'd really be willing to fight to the death for power over this damned city?"

Alexia only smiles, one that reminds me of the animalistic smile Chris is wearing, "It's a start."

Raising my gun up, I level it with the two on the balcony. "You're twisted!"

Alfred mocks, "And you aren't? You serve a tyrant who has already done this to Insane City once. Do you think his takeover was bloodless? Peaceful? He came to power after a coop of the old leaders, taking all of it for himself. Are you really better than us?"

I am. I'm not a monster. "Surrender and talk!"

Red looks over at me again, smirking, "Sorry Cole, I've let you try your method… And I don't take prisoners." He unloads his gun, the bullets lodging themselves into the massive portrait behind the two as they hunker down. Red hurries towards the stairs up to the balcony, bounding up two at a time. The twins see him coming, so they stand and head across the balcony. Where they plan to run, I have no idea, but my CIA training kicks in at that moment. I raise the assault rifle, putting the head of Alexia in my sights. Letting out a calming breath, I pull the trigger back as I move the gun in perfect sync. It's not even a heartbeat later and Alexia's head is splattered against the tapestry behind her.

Her brother startles, stopping in his tracks to turn towards the bloody remains that are his sister's head. Letting out a gasping scream, he kneels down to her, gathering up her body in his arms like she's a broken toy. He's wailing, sobbing, and I can see Red stop right where he stands, leveling his gun with Alfred. I can see the wicked smile across his face, no doubt going over how utterly poetic it was to kill Alfred while he cradles his dead sister in his arms. I can't let him do that. We—no, I—need information. I hurry up the stairs, "Chris, no!"

I slam to a stop beside him, hand grabbing the top of Red's gun and pushing it down. "We need him." I need him. I need to know what's going on with this conspiracy.

Red turns on me, glare fiendish, "I won't allow mercy for traitors! He had his chance!" He pulls his gun from my grip before shoving me against the balcony almost hard enough to push me over the edge. As I stumble and catch my balance, he turns back to Alfred, leveling the gun again and making read to pull the trigger. "You had your chance, Alfred. Now you can go to hell just like your sister."

If he kills Alfred, this violence won't end here. Red's on a war path, he's seeking blood for the betrayal of the gang lords of this city. He wants—no needs—to see vengeance be done, even if it destroys him in the process. But I can't let him.

Rushing him, I manage to catch Chris off guard as I slam him against the large portrait that stands behind us. Taking advantage of the surprise, I grab the gun from his hands and belt it, holding the now furious Chris against the wall. "You kill him and we have nothing, Chris. I know you're pissed but killing him won't solve this—it won't stop the person who's really behind this conspiracy!"

It doesn't take long before the muscular man I've got pinned to the wall overpowers me, grabbing me roughly around the neck as he slams me against the balcony, leaning me over the edge as his fingers dig deeper into my throat. My grip around his wrist is like iron as I choke in every breath I can manage.

"I do whatever the fuck I want to, Cole!" His fingers press harder, causing me to see black spots. I'm pushing back now, trying to avoid behind shoved over the side of this goddamn balcony. "This is my city and I do whatever I fucking please. You'd be best to shut the hell up and do what I say!"

I choke out, "If you really control this city, prove it now." Gasping as his grip tightens, I continue, "Don't kill the pawn; kill the king."

As his grip tightens, I can only glare at him as I try to communicate the grave mistake he's about to make. It's a long moment staring, death gripping each other, before he finally loosens his strangle hold. Red leans back some, allowing me space to hold myself against the balcony rail and wheeze in a couple of breaths none to elegantly. The look on his face has changed some, still stony and resilient, but thoughtful. As I let out a couple of coughs and rub at my tender neck—those goddamn bruises are still there from a week ago—Red turns to Alfred, who's still cradling his sister's corpse.

"You're coming with me. I'm getting those answers out of you, one way or another." Roughly, he reaches down and pulls the grieving man up, the body of his sister collapsing to the ground. The blonde man screams, tears flying from his cheeks, desperately reaching for his fallen sister. Red won't allow it though. He drags the man down the stairs, handing him off to the sentries he posted at the front door. It takes several of them to contain Alfred as the hysterical man claws at them, desperately trying to return to Alexia's side. It isn't long before he's carted off into the distant sounds of destruction.

I watch the entire display before my eyes return to Red, his brown eyes staring back at me. He quickly looks away, averting his eyes. Had he been staring at me? And why? "Let's get going." The man says, motioning for me to follow.

Giving one last glance at Alexia's corpse, I mentally say a prayer. I don't think she deserves it, honestly. From what I know about her, she's a sociopath who's committed her fair share of atrocities, but I do it anyway. Nobody deserves to be forgotten after death. Heading to the stairs, I jog down them and join up with Red. He gives me a look, one I recognize instantly but I'm not sure I like, and walks towards the door. As he steps through, the violence around us stops. It's as if his very presence commands the end of the horrid acts. The boys stop what they're doing instantly and follow after him, the group growing larger as we pass through the territory. Corpses, mutilated and broken, lay around our feet as we march on. Desolation is painted upon the buildings and the survivors of the horrific incident shuffle away into what's left of their businesses and homes, hiding from their conquerors.

As we make our way back to Red's turf, there's an excited energy hanging between these boys. Their counting their kills on their fingers, bragging about their most gruesome murder. These kids should be talking about which girl they're asking to prom, not about how long it took to decapitate someone. I can feel the insides of my stomach turn violently but I somehow manage to keep my composure as I listen to the stories being told around me.

When we return to the massive mall, the boys disperse save one. He stands and waits for the others to go about their business—which is surprisingly organized considering they go and divide themselves into groups to start putting away all the machinery they used. Red turns to the boy, no more than 16, and speaks, "I take it Alfred's been locked away?"

"Yup. He's in prison 8." Red nods, which is enough to send the boy on his way. He turns to me then, frowning.

"Well Cole, since it was your idea to bring him in for questioning," I can already feel my gut twisting into knots, "You get to interrogate him."

"Interrogate, sir?" I've done interrogations—or interviews, as we call them in the CIA, because it sounds less violent than it actually is—before. I'm not sure I want to do one for Red, though.

"That's right. You're going to carve that bastard until he's screaming the answers at us." Without another word, Red walks past me. "I'll be waiting for you in prison 8. Do whatever you do to make peace with this kind of shit and get down there." He stops, turning towards me, "Remember, I'm not a patient man."

With that, he's gone, disappeared into a crowd of boys working on collecting all the guns. I heave an internal sigh. Do whatever I do to make peace with this kind of shit, huh? Without a word, I go into Red's office, lock the door and begin to cry.