Chris, Leon and I have come to face down Viper—real name, Ada Wong—about the conspiracy to overthrow Red. My worst fears have come true, though. Viper has forced my hand and now I'm staring down the barrel of a locked and loaded pistol.

Status Report 18: Resolve

"You're a what?" Rage. Absolute rage. Chris' grip on his gun increases as he keeps it level with me. Moving around the desk, he strides over, shoving the gun against my chest. "This is all your doing!?"

I quickly shake my head, "I promise you, this has nothing to do with me. Wesker betrayed the CIA too, I swear."

"Oh, you swear, huh? You swear!" He puts the gun to my left shoulder, pulling the trigger with a loud bang. I can't contain the scream that escapes my lips as he digs the tip of his gun into the new wound. "That pain is nothing compared to the pain I've gone through to keep this throne." He jabs harder, making me yelp. "Nothing!"

The weapon is pulled away only for one hand to grab my collar while the other punched me across the face. For a moment, all I can see are stars before the world fades back into place. I give a hiss of pain as old bruises are reawakened. Chris is livid as he speaks, his voice a knife against my skin, "You think you have a right to it, Cole. That you can just march in here, fuck with me a little and stab me in the back!?" Another punch goes across my cheek, my brain racked in an explosion of pain. "And you call me a monster!"

He brings his knee up, connecting with my stomach. The wind rushes out of my lungs as I collapse to the floor, coughing and wheezing. He kicks me again and again in the ribs, making me cry out in pain. "I trusted you, damn it! I fucking trusted you!" Another and another and I can't even breath anymore. "Fuck, I even…Damn you!" Another sharp kick and finally there's commotion above me as Red is forcefully pulled away from me.

It's Vice's voice I hear next, "Get ahold of yourself, Chris, she's getting away!"

Red's voice is hardly human, more animal than anything, as he yells, "I don't care!" He rustles out of Kennedy's grip, screaming, "I have to make this fucker pay for what he's done!"

"There's time for that later," Leon's voice is muffled as my hazy mind is deadened with pain. So much as moving an inch causes me to gasp. I know that, for sure this time, he's broken a rib. "Ada knows where 3 is, she can take you to him. The Director of the CIA, Chris." A moment of silence. "Doesn't he deserve more hell than this one?"

A long moment passes as I struggle to breathe through the pain. Finally, Red speaks, his voice completely cold. "Find her, Kennedy. I want Wesker. Now." I can hear Leon shuffle out of the door, shouting orders as Chris' heavy feet come towards me. I tense, knowing I'm about to be hit again. So imagine my surprise when he kneels down and almost sweetly takes my chin in his hand, gently lifting it. "You stay here. If you're gone when I get back, I'll do much worse than kill you." His eyes, his voice; it isn't even human. Mechanical, frozen. It's Red's voice. The killer. The gang lord. It isn't the man I woke up with this morning. "Understood?"

He stands, stepping past me and out the door. I can hear him slam it shut. Nothing but silence finds me now and I can't hold it back. Just like in the hummer, that stupid hummer, I begin to cry. And it's not out of fear. It's not out of pain. I'm not entirely ready to accept the reason I'm crying, actually. I just tell myself it's because my cover's been blown and now I'm going to face a very slow, agonizing death. But deep, deep down I know that's only partly the reason for these stupid tears. I've only admitted it once to myself and that made me feel all-too-vulnerable. But now, I don't see any reason not to. It's not like I'm gaining anything by keeping it wrapped inside myself. It's not like he'll care even if he did find out.

Goddamn it, I fucking love him.

I don't know why. He's a warlord, he's a villain. He fucking murders people when he pleases. But there's just something, a reluctant and tired look in his eyes, that tells me he hates himself as much as the world does. And those genuine moments I've seen him, as short lived as they are, tell me if things had been different then maybe, maybe, he wouldn't be so fucked up now. If one single thing had gone right in his life, he wouldn't be Red. He'd just be Chris.

I guess there's a part of me that just wants to save him. Not unlike Jill. She saw all of this, too. She loves him, just like I do.

Fuck.

The tears keep coming but I worm my arms under me, my shoulder screaming from the current and previous abuse, and push myself into a seated position. Leaning against the wall for support, I heave in a tired breath and close my eyes. My head is spinning and I just want it to stop.

My good arm gently lets my hand probe my ribs and stomach. The ribs I'd previously bruised now feel like they're on fire—great. I'll once again be as purple as a plum. And yup, one's probably broken. But nothing's punctured. That gives me a little wiggle room. But not much. My hand touches my face next, my entire body wincing—and then regretting that reaction—as my fingertips gently press against the broken skin. I fucking feel like a train has run over me and judging by the way I feel, I don't think I look much better then that.

Bloody, broken, bruised and beaten. Oh, with tears. Talk about hot. It doesn't matter.

Using the wall as a crutch, I push myself to my feet, stumbling a little when I finally get my footing. "Fuck…" Is all I can manage. Going over to Kennedy's desk, I lean on it—and half tumble into it. "Alright, get ahold of yourself…"

For several minutes, I let the tears dry up and my racing pulse slow. Taking calming breaths, I finally succeed in clearing my head of the pain and fear, allowing for my entire being to relax—a little. It's then I feel the heavy metal of the handgun in my belt. It's still there, not unlike the assault rifle I've got strapped to my back. It's a good thing Chris was in a rush. He'd have taken my weapons otherwise.

I could do the easy thing. End it all now, one quick, clean shot to the head. And for a short second, it sounds appealing. It'd all be over. No more pain, no more suffering. Hell, Insane City wouldn't be my problem anymore. And for that long second, I really think about it.

I've seen what happens to outed individuals. I witnessed it firsthand in Kahazakstan. I've seen videos of it before being sent out on assignment—getting to know my enemy and finding the resolve to end it before they can if it comes down to it. Hell, I've even assisted in torturing my own teammates, the ones who were stupid enough to get themselves exposed in the middle of a mission. Yah, I've seen what happens to those people. And it fucking scares me.

My hand travels to the gun in my belt but I don't pull it free. Jill still needs me. If I die, she's as good as dead. Insane City needs me. No one else is looking out for them.

Hell, Chris needs me rather he knows it or not. I can drown my sorrows and pity at the bottom of a bottle later—assuming I get out of this mess. But right now? I'm not ready to end it. I'm not ready to turn around and face the hell I've left behind me. My hand moves from that heavy gun and back to the table.

For a long moment I'm frozen there, breathing in and out slowly, the weight of my decision grounding me to dust. It isn't until there's a massive explosion outside that I break from my trance.

Shoving myself upright from the desk, I half-walk, half-stagger to the window. There, I can see large, angry plooms of smoke rising from several blocks away. Red's territory. Shit.

Turning, I head towards the door and open it. I'm not greeted with the usual gathering of guards. Instead, it's Vice. He gives this stupid smirk—one that's got confidence and sadness in it. I can't believe he's actually feeling sorry for me.

Speaking up, I ask, "Aren't you supposed to be chasing after Ada?"

He shrugs, "It's covered." I raise an eyebrow at him, to which he responds, "What?"

I can't keep the small, satisfied smirk from my face. "Nothing." I push past him, heading towards the elevator.

"I can be a nice guy, you know."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

He scoffs, "You don't believe me? I'm not bringing up how I heard you crying like a pussy, am I?"

I just raise another skeptical eyebrow.

"Well, I hadn't until you started questioning my sincerity." There's a long pause of silence and I'm pretty sure it's the first time I've really seen Leon sweat. "Just know it's your fault I even mentioned it."

He follows me to the elevator. Once he steps on, I press the lobby button. The elevator jerks to a start, beginning its slow descent. No turning back now. "Do you know what's going on?" I ask.

"You mean that explosion? Not a clue. I'm guessing the anaconda plan has officially begun, though."

That's what I feared. "And Chris?"

"Still chasing after Ada." Of course he is.

Grimacing as I roll my shoulders back, I press a hand to the bloody injury. Kennedy looks at me before his attention goes to the opening elevator doors. "Let's patch that up first." I'm honestly in no position to argue. Going out there and facing God knows what with an exposed, bleeding wound and a broken rib sounds like a great way to fill a shallow grave.

Leon guides me out the high rise's doors and into the chaotic mess. It's obvious there's a manhunt brewing in these mean streets as Vice's men run past us without a single salute to their leader. It doesn't seem to bother the blonde gang lord, though, as he leads me to another building—much smaller—and pushes the door open. Medical supplies are stacked on shelves in old boxes. It looks like a mess but Leon quickly locates the boxes he's looking for, pulling them down from the shelves. And, to my genuine surprise, he actually knows how to treat a wound. Despite his stupid grin when I take my shirt and jacket off—sick pervert—he doesn't waste any time spraying it down with anti-bacterial before treating it. He's no surgeon by any means but having the wound dressed is a lot more comfortable than having it exposed in this disgusting city. The wraps up my ribs as well, and the extra support feels nice after the assault I just faced.

When it's all said and done, Kennedy puts the boxes back as I pull my clothes back on. He turns and gives me a smirk "Better?"

"It'll have to do," I state. "I need to find Chris."

Leon leans against one of the shelves, the metal swaying meekly. "He's still looking for Ada. He might have followed her back to her hole." He gives a sigh, his look serious. "He'll kill you, you know. You weren't supposed to leave that room."

A confident smirk covers my face. "Isn't that why you waited, though? You knew I wouldn't stay down?"

Kennedy gives an honest-to-God laugh and I'll admit it, he has a nice laugh, "I like your resilience, Cole. You're like a real gangster."

For the first time since coming to this hellhole, I grin with true sincerity, "After all of this? I'd hope so." I get the assault rifle into my hands, quickly checking the clip and clicking on the safety. Heading towards the door, I look back at Kennedy. I know he's not coming with me. He's got his own men to protect. And for once, I can respect that. It's a strange feeling, knowing I might never see him again and feeling almost sorry for it. He's not unlike Red. Different life, different circumstances, and maybe we'd be sharing a beer together instead of raising hell.

Before I go through that door to whatever fate has in store for me, I know I've got one more thing to say to this man. "Kennedy." I state, earning a curious eyebrow from him. "It's Piers."

With that, I head out, leaving the small building behind.

Its hell on the streets, people running around, kicking down doors, ravaging building after building. It's all for her, too. I can't help but think of the Ashland gang, their streets glowing a deep red as everything was set ablaze. People running, screaming, trying in vain to escape. It's all going to happen again if I can't find Ada and Chris. But this time it won't be just one small gang territory, it could be all of Insane City.

I do my best to block the screams and cries of innocents as I rush through the streets, recalling Viper's location from the maps I've seen of the territory. Small but powerful. Not a gang to be messed with. An outer region.

It doesn't take me long after that. When I get there, I can see a fortification already built along the boundary line. Vice's men are positioned, taking aim at an entrenched position of Viper's snipers. If there's one good thing about a war breaking out, it's that maneuvering will be easier for me. With everyone distracted, I can weasel by and find who I'm looking for. I just hope he hasn't gotten himself killed.

The eruption of sound echoes all around me, bullets spraying into buildings, screams of the wounded and the distinct sound of a cold, dead body hitting the ground. So many times I've found myself here. So much senseless killing and violence. And for what? Power.

This all ends here.

Without stopping to assess the engagement, I run down a thin alleyway, climbing the chain-link fence there—easily going over the razor wire—and dropping to the other side. Only stumbling when a building I'm passing goes up in bright flames, I hurry onward. I have no idea where Viper's headquarters are, but I've got an idea. She and Vice are one in the same. And both like a good view.

There, in the middle of the violence, is a tall black tower.

That's where I go.

The deeper I go, the quieter it gets. The acrylic stench of fire the only one following me. Staying in the shadows, I work my way through the empty streets. Viper must have everyone on call. Good.

When I reach the tower, I quickly and efficiently find a window to break open. As quietly as I can—since, you know, breaking glass is loud and all—I create an opening and worm my way through. Looking towards the front door, it's tinted glass shimmering dimly in the low light, I see four senturies. For a long moment I watch them…

They don't know I'm here.

Eyes looking around the room, I spot the elevator. Too risky.

The next best thing: the stairs.

Staying in a low crouch, I head towards the stairs, going up them silently until the first floor is nothing but a memory. Taking two at a time, I bound up them, gun still heavy in my hand.

It isn't until I'm within reach of the top floor that I hear pounding and the distinct bark of Chris Redfield. Well, I was hoping to run into him on better terms—like after this entire conspiracy was overthrown and the Director was in custody. But I guess this will have to do. Carefully lifting my assault rifle, I know there's only one option left.

With each bootfall, I become even quieter, my years of training kicking in. Nothing but the sound of breathing and Chris, my body moving in time with his shouts and hits. He doesn't even notice I'm there until I'm upon him, the safety switching off. Instantly, he turns, eyes drilling into me and only sharpening when he registers who's standing behind him.

"I shouldn't have trusted you." He growls and it hurts more than I'd care to admit. "Going to finish the job, then?"

I just shake my head. "Chris, this isn't about you."

He spits back, "Everything's about me, Cole. I'm the goddam king of Insane City."

"A king who's about to be overthrown, unless you let me help you." I state, mentally willing my entire body to come off as nothing but sincere. "And it's Piers."

That catches him off guard. "What the hell are you—?"

"That's my name. Piers Nivans." I raise the hand on the trigger, slowly lowering the gun to rest against my chest. "No tricks this time, Chris."

He only positions his gun more pointedly. "No tricks? You really think I'd believe you?"

Carefully, I pull the strap for the assault rifle up and over my head, throwing it behind me. It clatters down the stairs noisily, skidding to a stop somewhere in the darkness below. "Yes, I do." Both hands are raised above my head. "Because you're smart, Chris. You know that if I really wanted you dead, I would have shot you were you stand."

There. Right there. His resolve falters ever so slightly. Just enough to show I'm making progress. I don't push my luck though, keeping my hands well away from my body. If he spooks, I'm dead before I reach the bottom of the stairs.

"Tell me," Chris states, his voice different than before, "Why?"

I take a deep breath because I know what he's asking about and I know it isn't about me betraying him. I've just now admitted it to myself—and it was fucking hard, too. Admitting it out loud, and not just out loud but to his face.

I swallow hard, "Jill did the same thing, didn't she?"

The mentioning of her name, just like before, instantly stills him. "She did." His face hardens. "So, is that your gimmick? Is that how you're trained to gain trust?"

I take a deep breath to calm myself, reminding myself why I'm bothering with this at all. All it takes is listening to my racing heart—the part that isn't racing from standing so close to the barrel of a gun and an itchy trigger finger—to know why I'm still struggling. "No." Is all I state. "You opened that door for me when you raped me, Chris. But I didn't know what would happen to me when I used your sin against you."

"Happen to you?" It's angry and it's curious. His gun lowers just a fraction of an inch.

"Yes, Chris." I take another deep breath, forcing myself to the resolve I've never been at before. Forcing myself to open my entire being up before a man hell-bent on killing me. "Somehow, Chris, despite your past and who you are now, I started caring for you. I've never felt this way for anyone and I hate myself for every minute that I think about you, especially when this is what you really are." My arms gesture towards him, the animal before me, "But I can't help it because I've seen you, Chris. I've really fucking seen you. And, goddamn it, Chris, I fucking love it."

I will myself to say it, too finally be free of the shackles I've made for myself. Of the fear of having these feelings and knowing that nothing I do will change what is bound to happen. That even in my dying breath, I can't be with him and he can't be with me. Finally, I say it. Out loud. In front of him. In front of myself. "I fucking love you."

A/N: And the truth has been revealed! I'll be honest, I'm was nervous about this chapter. I certainly hope you guys enjoyed it! It's been a long time coming, not unlike Piers' identity being revealed, and I hope I handled it well. This is how the scene played out-vastly different than how I first envisioned his reveal, mind you. So I hope you liked it!

I want to thank everyone who reviewed the last chapter! Your words mean a lot to me and encourage me to keep going!

See you next chapter,

Emil Lime