Welcome to chapter 2! And as ever please keep in mind this was an RPG! Mmori(Tumblr) or Morriganna(FF), is the one I did this with and she gets all props for creative liberty on this one. Hope you enjoy!


Nightmare? Something out of a nightmare? Chris thought he was... a nightmare. His chest ached just hearing the words, his whole body sheen with sweat as another ribbon of flaccid skin was drawn away, flopped into a dish already half full with blood and stained scores of flesh, drips of blood clinging and drooling off the side of his arm while the torturer, self named scientist, continued to pry away pieces, with the help of her henchmen. "Please stop... I can...," he groaned, biting the inside of his cheek, trying to force back another wave of electricity, swallowing it into his own body, destroying nerve endings and scorching muscle. Piers was taking every one of those jolts of fire into himself as best as he could because despite all they'd done, he was still trying everything in being not to kill these people with the force behind his own mutation. "I could show you, just let me up." The dark mutated flesh beneath threatened to surge fire through his whole body again, electricity waving over him, arching off the table as the doctor prodded the throbbing muscle of discolored flesh he'd revealed. "Stop... just let me," His voice was straining raw, dropping his head back as the scalpel drove into the skin beneath, peeling away more of it until there was nothing but blinding hot light, screaming out as a jolt surged through him and into the entire room, breaking every light and piece of glass until he was unconscious, the doctor flopping to the ground. His arm throbbed with the pulse running through it, the darkening color threatening his entire appendage as the team of 'scientists' entered tentatively, Wheeler chiefly among them.

"Get the rest of the skin off that arm... I want to see it, all of it. And get that corpse out of here and get more rods. Conductors so he stops burning through doctors."


Chris was lying on the floor of his home able to feel nothing but pain. The sedative that was given to him to knock him out had the potency to knock out ten elephants, or he was Nixon. Cotton mouth reared its hideous head, smacking his lips together trying to moisten his lips and make his salivary glands to function proper again. Humidity and the over powering urge to brush one's teeth were the usual signs of good hang over. Too bad this one hadn't been caused by a night at the local watering hole accompanied by his favorite bottle of Jack and his best friend Jameson; and was instead the side effect of five too many tranq darts to the back. Stupid assholes all jumped the gun. It wasn't like Chris would have actually killed one of them. Threatened, scared, maybe maul, but not kill. At least, not at that moment. Why had he gone off on those assholes again anyway... Tricell wasn't it? No, he remembered walking out after that. Stupid side effects. He didn't bother with his senses at the moment, sight, sound, smell, those would come back after he could think, at the moment it was more important to remember why he was face down in a puddle of his own drool on the floor. Stupid bastards... couldn't have even put him in his bed. Of course they couldn't, Chris weighed a couple dozen stones, why would they want to haul him around unconscious in his house in a hunt for a bedroom he kept locked because it was where his gun cabinet was. Whatever. Why had they shot him? All he'd done was shove his finger in some tight wad's face when he said... what exactly? "Urgghhh.." Saliva tasted muted in his mouth, smacking his lips again and scrunching his pursed lips in a circle. Oh hell, he needed a shave. He could feel his lips on the scratchy stubble that had almost exceeded its appropriate length, smacking a rough palm up to rub his jaw, grinding his knuckles into his eye sockets. If he didn't get up and shave he was going to hear it from Piers for being a bum. Speaking of his irate little house guest, where the hell was he? Better not be filming this and posting it on Facechat, or Youshit... whatever those things were. Social media had never been his forte... Piers either so that was little over the top of consider of his partner, but still he could at least help pry him off the...

SHIT! "PIERS!"

Chris woke up from his place on the floor and got up. The last thing he remembered was giving his report and being told... Piers was at B.S.A.A. Quarantine Facility north of Quantico... 'Not Piers, not after everything they'd been through!' Chris thought. He knew he had to get Piers back, that was never in question at all, he would get Piers back. Chris lurched off the floor, shuddering under his weight and smearing his hand in the puddle of fluid on the ground, stumbling into the side table that was used for holding his keys and crap. Toppling it under his impressive size, and kicking it over the rest of the way, swearing. He didn't have time for freaking side effects. What on earth was wrong with him?! He'd been shot with these a thousand and one times, and never experienced the loss of balance or coordination that was well connected with the tranquilizers that B.S.A.A. agents carried in their dart guns. Chris didn't carry a dart gun. Reminded him too much of Wong. Finished the world's circus behind his eyelids, the captain finally started his way across the house, snorting when he stopped at the wrong doorway, ignoring his weight set and setting off for the next. Chris could navigate his house blindfolded, damn residual side effects. He didn't have time for these, he needed his skills back now. Especially if he was about to go to war to get back his partner from the U.S. Government.

Backtracking, he grabbed the hunter green duffel from his weight room, dumping out the remaining: water bottles, sweat band, spare sweats. Maneuvering around the barbell, he just barely missed stubbing his toe, snorting a it before heading back down the hall, stopping when he passed his room, noting the flashlight from the muzzle of a 9-0-9. S.O.U. standards... Seemed he had his own personal guard. How caring... Chris rolled his eyes, finding his doorway, shoving passed everything else within pushing the laundry basket from in front of his walk in closet. Gun cabinet. Tossing down the bag and pushing back the flaps, he gathered what mattered. Packed the guns (9-0-9, assault rifles, sniper rifle that he kept for his partner, two other handguns, a colt .45 and other assorted goodies), ammo (never enough ammo), his combat knife (the machete from Kijuju), and other supplies he might need in a pinch. Everything he did, he did in the dark with no lights on and that was a detail Chris did not fail notice at all. Turn on the lights and you alret the men inside that you're up and moving around. If they were good they already knew, if they weren't there was no reason to help them. He should have had more trouble with this, finding the right boxes of ammo, the magazines, but it was surprisingly easier than he had imagined it would be. As he walked out of his room, he heard noises from outside. Chris heard footsteps and voices outside, so he went to the window to look, pulling one slot of the blinds up to peer out at them. He noticed four guards each were armed and in full gear. Not messing around about staying put were they?

Chris swore to himself and then he finally noticed something… How could he hear them from outside, when they were that far away?

Taking the time to notice the little things, the captain finally took the time to realize the speed he'd been using to achieve all this despite his misconstrued balance. His home was very dark, pitch black and it was a new moon tonight, meaning no extra light from the outside to aid him, and still he wasn't suffering to find objects throughout the house that he required for this fool's errand. He was moving around with no problems. The pain in his throat that had been bothering him in Brazil wasn't persistently pestering him anymore. He was hearing things that on the average he'd only hear with the gift of a little liquid courage, and there were smells he was sorting out that belonged to world outside that he should never have been able to smell through the outside. Worry gripped his chest and messed with his reservations about leaving, racing to the master restroom and flicking the switch on the wall, lights flashing on. Once it was it was done, Chris saw his reflection…

Dark vermilion, feline eyes were staring back at him, irises slit and narrowing with the addition of the bright lights flashing on around him, wincing and contracting in the mirror. Yanking away the fabric of his S.O.U. regulars that he was still wearing from South America, he jerked the collar down to expose his meaty neck. He was able to view a slit on his neck where Piers bit him, bigger than a tooth puncture. It wasn't even in the shape of the mouth mark he'd left him the day he left, healed completely but for the strange slit. His eyes were hard enough to look at... Albert Wesker's eyes. No wonder Jessica had said his name in the last seconds of her life, she could see his old S.T.A.R.'s captain in his eyes. He placed a hand over the wound, sighing with resignation at the state of his eyes, and felt something 'lick' his palm. The moistness freaked Chris out, jerking away his hand and staring at it incredulously, fluids coating his palm that resembled saliva and the slit in his neck was shifting in a repulsive way, but he knew he had to calm down. He had no time to consider himself now. No matter what has happened to him, he had to get to Piers. He had time to consider the things that had happened to him after he'd saved his partner from those butchers at Quarantine. He had a run in with them four years ago when they threatened Jill Valentine for her cooperation, after having been injected and mind controlled by Wesker. He knew some of those doctors at B.S.A.A.'s Quarantine Facility were complete batshit nuts and had no morals when it came to testing subjects. Some of them were just as bad as Umbrella's scientists were (and he wondered if some of them weren't from Umbrella's old facility raids).

Chris knew what he had to do in this instance, and once other people found out, he would be labeled as a traitor against the government at worst, and be served up on a platter for the brass, discharged and branded dishonorably discharged, but either instance he was willing to go through that to save his partner. Piers was a hero, he deserved better than this. He was Chris' everything now, the one person he'd managed to save in a lifetime of failures, he couldn't leave him now that they had been so close to victory. Baring down, he grappled the bag, turning away from his own scruffy countenance, and those orangey-red orbs staring back at him, leaving that behind along with his badge. Time to get to work. Peering out the window in the large empty kitchen, Chris spotted four new guards replace the ones he'd noted when he woke up. He'd knew he would have to go through the guards (or even kill them) before he could leave the base. Checking the other side of the house he spotted the other two guards, practically asleep on their feet, guarding the cellar door. From the base exit, Quarantine Facility B was only one hour away with a fast enough car. It was currently night time, 0300, and he had to get to the facility before morning came if he wanted the element of surprise before the generals raised security after his outburst at H.Q.. And on top of that... If he waited too long, who knew what horrors Piers could be go through?

The guards outside paced, rhythmically from one corner of his house to the next, covering them well enough that at any one point there should have been two sets of eyes for confirmation of any one instance. "Can you believe they put Captain Redfield on house arrest? Man's a hero. You know why they had him locked in here?"

The radio bleeped with static, buzzing into the other guard's ear. "Yeah, something about going off on the higher ups. Disagreeing with some order I guess... But hell it had have been bad if he was locked in there with orders not to free him. I mean, the captain is one of those guys you don't mess around with, he's been around a couple times, he doesn't disagree for no good reason. Don't know why he threatened insubordination over some stupid order though, he's never thrown such a stink before. All I know is we gotta watch the place, keep him on lock down until the general commands us otherwise." More buzz and static, one of them peering hastily inside the window when he saw the lights come on, before rushing back into position. "Guess he's up... Just saw the lights in the house come on, copy that?"

"Yeah, I saw it, location is near the bathroom. Probably throwing up his dinner after he got tranqed."

Chris was ready to make his move, no more waiting around to let himself get more concerned about this situation that it merited. They'd deal with him later, Piers first. He observed the guards at the front of the house for a while longer to figure out their patrolling pattern and once he understood it, he took hold of the duffel and slung it over his shoulder. Quick and careful, he'd be out of here without anyone the wiser. His truck was the question. He didn't have time to be running around all over the place, so he'd need to get out of here silently, but he would need to pick up a car to drive himself to Quarantine. Who knew what state Piers would be in, they couldn't be left with no get away vehicle. Opening the door would draw attention, so he used the east facing window, dropping his decoy bag from the window to draw attention and crossing to the front of the house, waiting for them to change position before exiting the front door, leaving it open behind him. He left his home silently. The guards would go in different directions, turn around, and then go back to their starting point, once they'd discovered the source of the noise. Chris wound his way along the perimeter and left his home, stopping face to face with a guard who had... for his part sadly stayed in position. Poor guy. He dropped him with one quick lunge, take out the legs and snap his neck, thudding the body to the ground. The noise would attract attention, and now secrecy was out the window. He went behind the first guard. He felt a small bit of remorse for the poor soul simply doing his job, but it was squashed when he thought of the pain Piers was undoubtedly going through right at this moment. Chris grabbed the soldier's mouth to muffle the sound, feeling wetness of saliva on his palm; broke his vertebra with ease and got to business. With those two taken down it left one blind spot for him, and in the effort of attempted stealth he dragged the corpse out of the way to hide it in the shadows. Chris noticed that it took no effort to snap a neck now but he had the brute strength of an ape. Still, remorse should have stayed his hand, or made it more horrific to kill his own men, but he attributed it to the glimmer red of his eyes and Wesker's haunting reminder that they were the same man; his strength increased greatly. He repeated this process with the three other guards.

Chris was forty years old, forty-one, yet he felt better than he ever had in peak physical condition. He knew it was unnatural, but he did not care. His only goal right now was to get to Piers and rescue him from HQ's Quarantine Facility, everything else came second. Chris had to leave the base unnoticed or else things would go to hell quickly. Once someone came to relieve those men, the bodies would be found and his cover blown. He knew he couldn't take one of the vehicles located on the base, even those that of his rank and higher given access to use. The general's head no doubt pegged his idea, so collecting one would be out of the question, and getting through the gate house would prove did however, have a truck in storage that was located in the next town. From his location, it would be five miles to get that, and he had maybe 3 hours until the sun started rearing it's head, optimistically. Luckily for Chris, his residence on base was located near the edge and tree line, he didn't like people and he had to keep Piers under his protection, so getting there wouldn't be entirely difficult, he'd have to think of a good way to get through security while on the run. There was probably something in his duffel for just the occasion, like the shock stick. Yeah, that would do the trick, turn the guy into a fried egg as an added plus. He kept to the shadows of the buildings as he went towards the exit, not an easy task altogether with the military compound being so well lit, but after fifty minutes of aversion there was one last obstacle: The guard on duty at the exit gate.

Normally, this would be an issue since the lights are bright in that area, motion activated so in case anyone was doing exactly what he was. Hefting his bag off his shoulder and preparing to rummage for his shock stick, Chris noticed the guard was distracted. Flashing lights from inside his station, flickering like his T.V. in the middle of the night when he could sleep. Damn insomnia. It was the sounds that caught his second nature to look again, coming from the guard house's location and it wasn't the sounds of general chatter or some lulled off soap that kept the attention while waiting through the long hours of the night; this was sexual. Nearing it carefully, he noted the T.V. on, some shitty 'B' rated porn, with bad sound, but the husky breaths and strangled moans were what he noted. The guard was fucking a hooker while on duty, watching PORN! If this was any other time, Chris would have grabbed that useless bastard by his waggling tongue and torn it out of his head and presented it to the board. He felt filthy just walking away, but it was a distraction, it got him a jump leap over the guard fence and outside the perimeter without notice while noisy, sounds of sloppy flesh and moist bits smacked together. 'Hope that guy gets prostate cancer.' Instead, he simply left the base unnoticed. Chris knew he had a good run ahead of him, no time for slackers in the S.O.U.. So he picked a pace he could follow and got to work.

The run to the storage facility to get his truck, was a bitch. Open terrain, meaning nothing to hide yourself with with nothing but a duffel bag at your back. Sweat was his first partner in the line of duty, Chris wasn't opposed to hard work, so running was just another one of those that came natural, so long as you had a steady gait and you were a well worked war vet. Chris kept thinking of himself as old in instances like that, but even now he knew he wasn't moving like the seventy year old man he felt like mentally. He was moving like a twenty-five year old, snuffing in cold and huffing out the heat, clothes staining with sweat and clinging his clothes to his muscled frame, thundering with each stride. Even though he was busy running; and the one out in the cold; running had another unintended side effect. It caused the mutated C-Virus in his body to not only burn the remaining sedative out of his system, but it sped up the process of his mutation. He could feel it, even if he couldn't see it. This must have been how Piers felt when he was infected initially, like a thousand bugs were crawling under his skin. hopefully he wasn't going to pop out of his skin and becoming a maggot monster with no control over himself except for some fat larva like, flying creature; like Marco... When Piers bit Chris on the neck before his mission, his teeth must have injected the mutated C-Virus into his system. Since it was a small amount, it took a lot longer for the effects to take place inside Chris. Thus why it seemed the men in the conference room during his debriefing hadn't said anything about his eyes. The interesting thing about the mutated C-Virus is that it was completely unexpected, it could adapt the bodies of its hosts to what they are supposed to be, or in Piers' case, he lost his arm, so it grew him one that would protect it's host no matter the situation. Well Chris wasn't injured.. except his neck, and that was seemingly healthy now, if you excluded the addition of a second tongue... So what other additions to his person was he going to suffer through?

Gathering up his pick-up and throwing in his bag, Chris ripped the tires up, burning rubber to lay waste to the base and finally getting a move on. Two more hours and he was going to have light to give him trouble. Driving gave him the time to note his own physical difference, and mental ones. He wasn't tired after that run and it was fair and at a high pace so it wasn't something to be underestimated. He wasn't tired anymore, his eyesight was great with the headlights out, and his hearing was amplified. He was stronger too, he could see it in his taut and tensing biceps and triceps. The alcohol had gained him a fair amount of thirst, depression, and put weight on his muscled body. Just looking at his wrists, he was burning fat way faster. His wrists were thinner and he was sweating off the metabolism side effects. He'd appreciate that if it was the only thing. The mental deficit, the only thing he could really identify was that he gave a rat's ass now about those people he killed. He knew he should, but he just didn't. There was too much at stake here knowing what was on the line. Piers, he was the other thing. After this entire experience he hadn't been able to think of anything else but Piers' well-being. Not his job that he use to care so much about, and hardly even considered, not the people he'd have to over ride, fight, or potentially kill, nothing. Just getting Piers away from that shit hole. Not to say he wasn't also completely pissed that he'd gone of Chris' head to go to that facility on his own after being directly ordered not to, but safety first. Then he'd kill the younger man. Only after he was once again able to look him in his mismatched eyes and make sure he was in one piece, then smack the smile off his curled lips and remind him who the captain was in this outfit. Once he reached the facility's perimeter, he parked it out of sight, running he rest of the distance to the gatehouse. He ran as fast as he could and it took him ten minutes from the gate, to the interior walls. Beyond no shadow of a doubt, Chris knew he was infected. He was stronger and faster than any normal human had a right to be (not as fast as Albert, but it was an impressive feat none the less); but right now, his focus was getting to Piers.


Piers felt the scalpel slide underneath his flesh that was stained by hideous scarring, feeling it split along the deep red tissue like a knife cutting tissue paper, swallowing back his protests in his throat and gagging on the pain, struggling to control his breathing. She had threatened to remove the whole eye if he kept throwing himself against the restraints, but he couldn't help the way the electricity kept dancing over his skin the higher his heart rate jumping. It wouldn't stop so long as they were tearing into him this way, a multitude of people having joined Wheeler in her examines. With the additions of the conductors he was least not killing people with the jolts that jumped of his arm, but it was his tissue she was so curious about; watching as the tissue seemed to cauterize itself shut from the arcs of tiny blue spark that kissed his skin, flaying him and charring at the same time. "Very nice... can you control that?" There was a faint shake of the head, and she nodded in acknowledgement. "And it reaches down into your ribs... How many of them were damaged in the transformation?" As the woman pulled away what was left of his shirt and uniform, something in Piers mind snapped, closing his eyes calmly while she dug the tiny knife along a rib all the way flush with the bone and tracing it. Lightheadedness was starting to settle in. They didn't want this, if he passed out, and he'd managed not to this entire time..., but if he managed to pass out, he wouldn't be able to control the electricity or the mutation from tearing his body apart and killing every one of them. A short prayer fell from his lips, words unspoken though they went in a mantra, on in his head. 'Forgive me Chris.' There was no apology that would help him live this down.

"The C-Virus..." his usual strong tenor lacked all its force, lips parting slightly as he fought to control the quiver that ran through his skin from another run of the knife, blood flooding into his eye where she'd sliced open the scar tissue that underline the silver one. He could only feel the wetness though, not see it, he hadn't been able to see with that eye since China. "There was a cure made... with Muller's blood. You can use it? On me? I know what I have isn't the same, but.. you can use it on me right?" Chewing the inside of his mouth he felt his body urging him to let itself free, to merely unravel in front of this woman and let the mutation take hold of him and send every last one of them to Hell. "This isn't permanent, is…FUCK!" He had so many questions but this woman was only interested in how his body was regenerating and making light of how the arcs of searing pain caused him to jerk against his restraints, or the meters reading the volts in the surges that rebounded the room. He couldn't help swearing when he felt her drag the knife along his bones, wetness falling in the trail it had formed from his tears, silently gagging away the urge to just shrivel up and die, noting the wetness on his sides as well, his nerves lancing fire at him with every breath, leaking more sticky crimson fluid all over the examine table.

"Your Captain said your ribs were exposed, front to back correct? These 'scars' then? And your eye does that retain function? Everything else seems to heal itself."

"It works when enough electricity is released, otherwise no. Tell me. There is a cure, right? You can use the antibodies in his blood to make me a cure." They'd had his blood; this was all some stupid experiment while they found a way to cure him right? That's what B.S.A.A. did; they destroyed B.O.W.'s and looked for a cure. To right the wrongs right? It was what he spent his whole life doing. Even though she was literally mutilating him on a slab with men observing every piece of his flesh, he hadn't attacked them, hurt them. He knew what he was, this wasn't some stupid, ill conceived idea that if he turned himself in fairies would come and encircle him and carry him into the land beyond. This was about his job. Special Operations Unit. He killed B.O.W.s, he was a B.O.W., and that meant this was where he belonged.

The woman laughed, leaning forward and putting a finger to his nose, the nail poking at his flesh like she would a child. "We couldn't cure you even if we wanted to my dear. I wouldn't even if we could. Neo-Umbrella has made a perfect monster here and I have leave from Headquarters to study it. It, being you." Fury blanketed through Piers body. No, H.Q. wouldn't hand him over without testing their resources, they would want to help him first, at least try! He knew the chances were slim, but they had to at least try, they would want... They weren't monsters, he wasn't a monster, he was a person, and he had saved Chris, just like he had wanted, saved the world like he'd wanted. This woman wasn't even going to try? They weren't even going to make an attempt to salvage his person. Hell they could cut it off for all he cared, at least make an attempt to fix him! "Now now, stop struggling, or I'll take out that eye of yours, remember? You wouldn't want that would you?" She waved the bloody scalpel and Piers felt the fighting go out of him, his chest constricting and his finger curling, the loss of blood, the loss of hope, the loss of everything flushing his system and leaving it bare for the voices that coaxed and cooed at the fringes of his mind to take hold, grinding his senses to the world and forcing his hand. "Such a hideous monster aren't you...?"

A monster..., a twisted, disgusting monster, that even Chris had to lie to to make feel better. Even he saw a monster, well... if that's really what they wanted… Lips parted as he snarled at her, a breath calming in his chest as every little spark of energy jumped into his almost stripped bare fingers, flesh instantly searing from his arm, flayed in strips. Bones cracked like branches snapping in half, echoing off the walls and caused him to shout in agony, the barbs embedded deep in darkened mutated flesh crackling with energy and licking his entire body until the room seemed to come alive with it. The conductors were serving no purpose, the barbed like shards of bone exposed and sizzling, the flow of electric culminating in his use to be fingers that were breaking into no longer accurate gunner's tools, but into broken tentacled fingers. The doctor's face had long since conformed from amusement into horror, reflecting the disgust and reverence that she hadn't thought to possess until that moment, watching the joints tear apart until his entire arm had exposed the deep veined tissue and hideous mutation that had inflicted him that day in China, restraints tearing to pieces. "Good God..." Anger was the best medicine. Jolts of electricity jumped from the barbs of bone and strained muscle ribbons of it searing marks in the wall. "Settle down Agent... you don't want something bad to happen here, do you?" No he hadn't wanted something bad to happen here, he'd struggled to maintain composure through well deserved torment, but he warned her time and time again he couldn't bear that much without losing his ability to restrain it, without the voices in his head dancing to the forefront and completely taking over. Her mouth quivered watching the electric show his body involuntarily put on, letting it over take his system as the silver in his eye locked on her, a twisted smirk pulling at the corners of his bow-shaped lips.

"I'll show you a monster..."


Chris slunk close to the HQ Quarantine Facility. He had parked his truck off-road near some high bushes, a good enough cover and close enough nearby that he could get Piers there even if unconscious. It was still dark outside,just barely, but there were soldiers crawling all over the place, like an aunt hill; well the rain drops were about to fall, and these bastards better scurry when he made his move or else they'd be some more collateral. He counted ten of them on patrol outside the northern entrance alone. He needed... a distraction...

It was then the lights outside and inside both began to flicker like dying insects just before going out entirely on the floors above them, haunting everyone outside. The entire building was going out, floor after floor from the tenth to the ground floor darkness enveloping the outside... and then the explosion. Glass rained down on the world in panes, powder, and shards, slicing through the air, the clash of these windows shattering over them resounding in the air, shocking whit blue jolts of lightning brighting the empty gapes of 5th story windows. There were screams muted by the falling shards falling and hurdling to the earth with gravitational force stabbing and slicing the ground, impaling men below with bloody gashes incurring cries from the men around him, tending their wounded and trying to pull the those dying with huge slabs of glass inside their shoulders and abdomens. Chris looked on at the display, eyes transfixed on everything becoming a massacre outside. A blood curdling screech came from inside the building and the soldiers outside were sorted confusion and fear. "Piers," Chris whispered the name to himself, rolling it off his tongue. He knew it was Piers causing this chaos to happen, people didn't know Piers, they hadn't seen what he was capable with enough ambition. The men outside turned their flashlights on starting to tend their wounded and searching for the source of the murder mystery. Suddenly, an armed soldier noticed Chris' shadow from off the wall, his hulking form obvious in the flashing lightning show. "STOP RIGHT THERE! HANDS UP!"

"Well, so much for subtle." Chris gave the man a smirk as he crossed the yard; ran in front of the man and punched in his head so hard it was removed from his pencil neck. It splattered teeth and skull around his own fist, cutting his flesh with shards and the rest of the body dangled by bits, limp and foul around his feet as he flicked his hand free of the menagerie of brain matter. The other soldiers could be merely witnesses to the atrocities committed, trembling in their cheap boots like the girl scouts they were. Scared as hell was an understatement when they laid their sorry eyes on Chris' form, standing in the flashing strobe of lights from above. Unknown to Chris, the adrenaline in his body surging, his eyes were glowing fire and he looked what could only be described as a demon beast from hell, the burning eyes of Cerberus; as he cracked those blood stained knuckles, locking eyes on his next target. "I am going to enjoy this," Chris' voice was a guttural snarl as he dismembered the remaining guards who had dared confront him. Chris couldn't help but let the virus fully take over and he had no regrets in doing so, feeling the efficiency of his body multiply exponentially while making short work of these able bodied men. In only took a few moments longer to clear the guards, so pleased with the fast paced work and so completely unworn by the excursion of his form that, Chris went into the facility while moving past the mass of limbs, blood, and gore that littered the ground.

As Chris went inside the facility, he could hear the screams of terror that echoed from the corridors, leading him like a map toward his destination; from the scientists and other employees, a non-discriminate death awaiting those who didn't run from their unparalleled end. He noticed flashes of electricity tracing along the walls, ceiling, and the ground of those places that seemed to all get stronger the further within they went. Those complete fools.. they confined Piers? A man capable of mass explosive electricity? The lances of lightning didn't bother him at all, he had experience dealing with Piers, and his natural defenses. In fact, it made things easier for the man; he followed the electric bursts to their source since the further he went into the facility, the stronger the electricity was. He knew he would get to his Piers and nothing, not even this virus, or these nightmarish scientists would stop him! As Chris moved along the walls down the electrified hallway, staff lost in psychotic horror as they were presented with a second monstrosity given to them even after escaping one Hell and into the next. They were in pain from the electricity flowing around them surprising the captain to note that the people here were being completely drained and near suffering a government funded execution without the chair to sit in or the device to keep them from biting their tongues off. And yet here stood Chris unaffected by those lines of constraining electric. There were two of these such people who dared approach the B.S.A.A. captain and one of them said, "Please help us! The monster in the lab, he's gone crazy! PLEASE SAVE US!" If the staff member took a better look at Chris' face, they would have seen the crimson glowing red eyes and the amused smirk that seemed to slowly creep over Chris' face.

"I would be more than glad to help you," he cooed coyly as he went towards the cowering staff members, his hand outstretched. As he got closer, both of them could see a better look through the flashing sparks around them and really see Chris' face and screamed as they saw the blood covering his body and his demonic looking eyes. "You called my partner a monster. I will show you the real monster…" It wasn't obvious anymore, it wasn't important anymore, the virus has affected Chris in another way as well, he was completely unable to see it: His mentality has totally changed. All he cared about was Piers and nothing else. His morals were almost non-existent and the only thing he truly cared about was his partner. Chris was already protective of Piers to begin with after all that had happened between them, but now, those protective feelings were in overdrive; intensified by a viral overload that moved him without the man and woman in the facility ran from Chris, rather stumbled away from what version of Chris was left, the bulbs in the inner walls of the hall slowly began to break, one after another in close succession, bolts of electricity leaving scars across the walls until finally they became trapped between the two, face a death like an insect, scorched by high wattage electricity or the bloodstained massacre that Captain Redfield offered them with a coiled fist.

Piers knees buckled, cracking a loud ugly noise as he hit the ground, the pain of it surging through his flesh and gnawing at him until finally his body gave out, the searing white of jolts of painful death seething out of his very pores until he collapsed. The mutation of his appendage was throbbing and twitching, the remaining sparks arching him off the ground as he grimaced in lightning white pain, his body finally free of the confines of people's who had tortured his person and capable of repairing itself until the muscles and destroyed limb once again resembled his own olive toned skin bones cracking and shifting, excruciating and exhausting his already ruined form. He was slick with sweat and the mucus left behind by the cocoons reminiscent of the ones back in China slathered over the fresh skin. Gasping on the ground, facility sparking and ruined, dark veins of the mutation still stealing over his body and haunting beneath new flesh and along his face, the silver of his right eye changing briefly back to its normal hazel as a seizure stole over his flesh gritting his teeth in pain. It wasn't until he had all but fallen unconscious that those scientists that were left made to beg from Chris to please to let them live. That they were horribly sorry, that life was too short. Every random excuse in the book in the face of certain demise, hoping to appeal to Chris' no longer obvious greater sense of morality.

But his own men were running from him, those two who he'd followed on their ill-advised return from the room that they had brought down their doom within. Chris saw the scientists run away from him and he gave chase, when he caught up to them, he was prepared to exact his revenge; to rip them limb from limb until he heard a loud thud on the ground in front of him and Chris finally laid eyes on Piers as he collapsed on the ground from releasing so much electricity and the effort of healing his body. The scientists who were begging for their lives saw their chance and ran away as Chris disregarded all; immediately hurtling to Piers' side. Gripping the near mutilated body, almost corpse like Piers and began prodding, hunting his body for the destruction they caused on him. He could see that Piers was barely conscious from what he just did, from what they had done and more over he he had expended trying to save his own body from destruction. He took a look at the room and saw the damage Piers caused along with the dead bodies that were charred beyond recognition. Chris also saw the remains of the bloody tools scattered and the dark blood stains on the ground, covered by newer ones from days of torture, those things that were obviously used on Piers along with what was left of the clothing on Piers and his anger peaked. 'Those butchers did this to my Piers!' Chris thought as he held onto Piers, refusing to relent his clutching grip on the slack body in his arms.

As he held Piers in his arms, the emergency lights finally began to filter on, spaking and broken in some places with a haunting red glow that illuminated their bodies and made the violent red in Chris' eyes stand out. Piers began to wake as the noise of sirens filled the building bouncing off the walls and the building itself outside and around the compound, lock down already begun.. The younger soldier's hazel eyes flickered open briefly, nothing but blur to relish his vision until he'd blinked several times and cleared the dark haze from his sight, correcting hours blood staining, sweat, and tears. Those perceptive oculars missed nothing as they stared up into the face of that stubbled, chiseled jaw line, up to those always captivating mahogany orbs, trapped on his visage. It wasn't until he noticed the fact that those deep dark brown eyes that he'd caught him with all those years ago for the first time were now a deep vermillion, that Piers' face seemed to recognize where they were. Blazing red eyes sent a shock over his form before Piers jerked away, all but scrabbling from Chris' arms despite his own destroyed physique, unable to fully stand. "Chris, God! What happened to you?!" His own eyes narrowed as he examined the man, blood stained and converted in front of his own eyes. His arm was aching with agony, but it didn't matter. It was holding his weight on rough palms against the cool of the tile floor. "Your... who's blood is that?!" He was immediately back to himself, despite the damage and the failed ability to fight the virus' urging to destroy through the use of that one horrific appendage. His hands were immediately back on Chris, doing exactly as the older man had done when seeing the state of his ruined partner; sliding fingers over his bloodstained abdominal and over both hands, before looking back up into his eyes. Chris and Piers had always roughly been the same height, but the young Ace always looked 'up' at his Captain. "I didn't... did I? What did I do to you?" The bodies that lined the rooms were haunting, seeing the scorch marks that littered the rooms and the piles of stinking, cooked flesh. It all made Piers feel his stomach climb ever higher in his throat, but what he saw with Chris made his head spin. He could have killed him, could have completely destroyed the one person in the world he meant to save from all of this. He belonged in this facility if this is who he was... He hardly remembered doing any of it, killing those people, hurting anyone. This was his country even if these people were merely experimenting on him. He could never go against them, never let himself loose on them. But Chris? Chris was the one good thing, the poetic justice to all evil. What had he done?

Chris' taut arms around his lean shoulders was more reassuring than words ever would have been, the feeling of being right, but still there was the bodies and the corpses. Those bodies were singed, burned, destroyed by his own inability to control the virus that coursed through his system, but the blood on Chris? Those weren't from injuries on his own person and he had healed. The blood on Chris was from someplace else. He'd killed people. Of course he had, he was a soldier. Piers had spied out people's features, searched and committed them to memory, and then shot their heads right off their shoulders whenever he had been asked as part of the B.S.A.A. But those were cleared, they were sanctioned hits. Chris had killed people, people on his own soil that they were suppose to protect. "Captain... what did you do?" Those eyes, the vermilion hue was haunting. That wasn't his Captain, not the man he'd grown knowing, those were from pictures of the past. Those were eyes that had demonized the human race since he was ten years old. Albert Wesker had had eyes like that. He remembered every detail from those stories that his Superiors had told. He was infected. By Piers? The bite? It hadn't been that long ago, but how had it plagued Chris so much? Piers had mutated in such ways that he could barely look himself in the mirror, it gnawed at his sanity. Was that what had happened to Chris? The man clutching him was holding fast, tight enough that his chest ached, but he couldn't help but let his fingers coil at Chris' sides, eventually peeling away from him as the red emergency lights lit the halls. Neon glow lighting their features, as Piers gazed at his savior's features, leaning forward and catching his lips with those pouted softer ones, relief waving over him. Whispering between urgent kisses, so overwhelmed to be back in those muscled arms. "Captain... we have to go. You can't be here. The S.O.U., Captain, the B.S.A.A. they can't know you were here. They'd," his lips caught Chris' again, slipping a calloused hand around that thick neck holding them close together. "I can't let that happen to you Chris." He couldn't accept his Captain becoming like him, not have the world change their view on the hero he was and look at the monster Wesker was.

"You did what you had to do Piers that was all," Chris replied seeing the horror stricken on his face at the desecration around them. Chris was sad when Piers jerked away from him, but he realized that Piers was confused when he woke up, he was always lost after those seizures blacked him out, or he spent too much of the electricity that resonated inside him. He went to where Piers was located and wrapped both arms about him. "You'll be okay, Piers. You are back with me and nothing will separate you from me... not even your stupid choices..." More than ever, Chris felt protective of Piers. He always felt that he had to take care of Piers and once they became lovers, those feelings increased. Piers was that piece of his life that signified some kind of victory. The one man who never died, who never left him, who never judged him as man unfit. He always saw the good in Chris and he needed that, even if right now the younger soldier evidently needed someone to see the good in him. Now due to the mutated C-Virus in him, his feelings towards Piers had magnified so much that almost nothing else seemed to matter to him anymore. He no longer cared about the B.S.A.A., his country, or almost anything else. He still loved his sister Claire and loved Jill as a friend, but those feelings for them were almost nothing compared to his love, his passion, his obsession for his Piers. Due to the virus, Chris was bonded to Piers in every way possible. Piers was literally EVERYTHING to Chris now and nothing else mattered.

Chris could get lost in those kisses, but he knew full well now was not the time, they'd been short and quick, reminders that there was a lot more here than just soldiers. Even if he had wanted to deepen it they had no time, he had just wanted to prove he wasn't blaming his subordinate for any of this. Not yet anyway, dumb boy was the reason they were here. "We are getting out of here right now. I won't allow anything bad to happen to you Piers…never again alright... just stay with me okay?" Chris was intense as he spoke, seeing the recognition in those mismatched eyes that read captain as his protege. The younger man was always a soldier first, and taking orders was how he lived his life, so it was how to get him off the ground now. He knew Piers was worried about him being mutated, he could feel it from him, but he did not care about that right now; alarms, surgeons, scientists, doctors, and solders all stood in their way, now wasn't the time for discussing private revelations. Now was the time to escape.


And as ever!

Piers Nivans and his actions and accountability (such as being a complete DERP for turning himself in and his insane moral center), were created by Capcom, but are relegated by my insanity in this fanfiction! That includes the doctors who experimented on him.

I'm also in command of scene editing, flow, and posting!

Mmori(tumblr) or Morriganna(ff) is charge of Chris and his now obvious bit of mental/physical changes! She is also in control of the mutated C-virus and its lovely little side effects!

She was kind enough to do the spell checking and editing on this piece as well! DOMO MMORI!