Chopper blades whirred in the wind, massive wings biting the wind and turning it in swirls of an upward cast tornado, until it hovered and kissed the ground with a perfect touchdown. Separated. They wanted them separated, and just under a few hours time they had made the airborne choice to greet with another chopper, each one bound for separated locations. Like that Piers was gone, again. After all the shit, after every effort to get him free him from this eternal hell and they had walked right to Lucifer's door. Without so much as a good bye. His own chopper went along with Jill and her crew, back to meet with those men he'd served to insult by breaking away. No doubt in want of an explanation. He'd give them a goddamn explanation. The helipad was at the backside of B.S.A.A. Headquarters, not a place meant for interrogation that is for certain. No... they were going to take Chris to see the bigwigs. The top dogs. The men he'd insulted by his breakaway. Once there was touchdown, several soldiers began the long dubious march to cover all the exits, sealing off the area before there were any compromises in their situations. All had to be prepared before they were given leave to exit the chopper. Jill led Chris off the helicopter, followed by the remains of Alpha team. The remains that were more like a skeleton of a great team once comprised of many worthy soldiers. It did not go unnoticed by all, that only half their men returned with the captain in tow, and no bodies were returned. The young rookie was giving his commanding officer a look of curiosity. Of the time that Riley had been on Alpha after the incident, he had ben in action along with both Captain Redfield, and A.T.L. Nivans, both whom had shown their true colors easily. Chris and Piers were mentors for most these men and now they were monsters, but that didn't stop some of them from questioning command for what they were asking them to do. Piers had done nothing wrong when they came for them, and had quickly thrown up his hands even though they knew full well that with just Alpha Team going in after them, things could have turned into a true firefight. These orders to separate the sniper and his captain, and then bring them in for... questioning, was very suspect for men who knew them. Watching the captain, alone without war in his eyes, that was a sign.
Jill was speaking sweetly in Captain Redfield's ear, trying to appeal his human nature, that nothing would happen; trying to demand him to be civil for the higher ups so that he could 'explain' his actions to the Director. To make things right. Perhaps if things went smoothly, and all arrows pointed to the virus making him 'act out of turn,' then she could get him exonerated of the charges against him. Chris could still imagine the look on his Piers face when he shot a look at him upon their separation, one of apology. But of acceptance. He knew the older man could feel his emotion, his conviction to do this with as few casualties as possible, to make do with what they had. He was willing to let the depravity slide so long as he knew that they were doing the right thing. He was a soldier first, and so was his captain. They would follow their own protocols. For meeting with any of consequence, they would want to be imposing, using the main facility, since he destroyed Quarantine, and laid it all out on the line.
Without hesitation, Jill gave the orders to secure all levels; a firm grip upon her old partner's beefy shoulder. "Come on, Chris."
Chris knew that once they all landed that all bets were off. Jill was talking to him and telling him to be nice to the top brass, but Chris knew what was in store for him. Piers was already gone; off to some unknown location to an area to be interrogated and experimented on..., as though that wasn't unsettling enough. He was their 'prized lab rat' and Chris knew that H.Q. would want to get started on Piers as soon as possible, it was a sure bet they weren't going to care what the captain had to say to them, unless it meant their own salvation. Like an offer to go in quietly for his own experiments to be done. Piers' bravery was something of legend. His conviction, enough for both of them. A thing he could feel no matter the situation, that personally built love for his country and fellow men. Even if the captain could no longer feel those things for others, he did know what made his partner proud, and that much he could do. Through the maze of the building, corridor after secured passageway, he could feel the impending concern growing in his own mind over what it truly was they would do here. He had no fear of what they could do to him, but the things that the men of the B.S.A.A. had all learned the important art of twisting words to suit their truth. Formalities. It was all about making the proper formalities. Toward the conference room where Generals and the Director were located, all there conversing and deciding a man's fate. His fate. Piers' fate. As though they had the right to determine such a thing.
Jill led Chris to the meeting room; worry clearly read on her once immaculate features, now tired and drawn. Of the years spent together there was nothing that she could remember ever having regretted so much as leaving her friend's side, and to see him now, her heart had broken. Barely a word said to her even in aid of replying to her own statements, pleas for him to act himself and give this charade up and ask for forgiveness. It drew speculation to her mind, if there was any way to cure Chris of this sudden outbreak, bring him back to the man he was, or if in fact they were now trapped with this ruined version of the man. The hallways were not clear not all of them, and everyone who was present for the return of the 'great and ruined' Captain Chris Redfield could see Jill escorting Chris. Could see him, in the face of his elite headquarter's branch of men, designed for such protocols, giving scoff to the very name of Anti-Terrorism. As he walked down the long hallway towards the conference room, the captain's head held high; those red, serpent-like eyes on display for the world to see. 'There was no way he is a monster like Wesker was. I will bring him back to me. I will save you Chris!' Jill's thoughts to herself paraded in the same circular logic, seeing the confusion and disbelief on those around them, all those already who had given up hope, Chris as some kind of lost cause. He was not. The Generals and Director were waiting for them as Chris was escorted within conference room A, Jill shortly behind to wave away those onlookers whom would attempt a peek or hear a word or two of dismissal on the part of a long time hero. Once disposed of she entered as well, observing the somber silence that held, waiting for her as she escorted Chris to the middle of the room. On display like some animal.
He was still restrained with hands drawn back behind the small of his back. He observed all through mutated eyes, a couple of the Generals unnerved and shifting in their padded chairs hoping to avoid eye contact with the man who once been a founding member of this branch of military. Jill began her report, all attention on her and each unhidden word over how the extract had gone. The most interesting part being what they were compiling in the way of the captain's growing abilities. That, the Generals were very interested in, not so much the loss of their own men, or Chris' surrender, but how he had come to slaughter those people with such dramatic ease. Of course, they would make sure that Chris paid dearly for the cold-blooded murders he committed, but not until after they'd heard all they wanted of Captain Redfield's fall from grace. As Jill finished her report, she pleaded for Chris, making the case that he refused to do for himself because of his ego, or because of hatred she didn't know. He was such a stubborn man, she didn't care, she had to plead. "Generals, Captain Redfield is a well respected member of the bioterror task force, he is and always has put everything first. We built this company from the ground up, we are the ones who put these regulations in order. This is our responsibility, to fix it. He is not responsible for what he's done! He was infected by agent Nivans, never once before then has he acted in a manner less than expected of his rank. Please, you have to under-"
"Captain Valentine! You are dismissed," General Stephens bellowed, waving the captain off with meaty had, bringing it back down upon the table before him with a thundering clang. Jill a worried glance passed between them, but didn't stay, escorted out by the soldiers that flanked them, door banging in its frame. Once the doors creaked closed, the Director's nefarious eyes met with the captain before him, fingers steepled, prolonged silence penetrating the air around them. "Well, well, Captain Redfield..., it seems we find ourselves in quite the predicament. Please..., have a seat." Nothing. "No?" And extended hand toward the only empty hair slowly returned to its strange construction, nodding. "As a hero of the B.S.A.A. captain Redfield I am predisposed to believe that the crimes you've committed against this organization, were committed without your own metal capacities... You are infected captain. Of course you will understand why we brought you in in such a manner, why we must do what we must do. As a veteran member of this organization, this meeting, is a courtesy. We are going to do everything in our power to save you from this disease, to cure you... as it were." They were empty words, the same ones he remembered hearing when Piers was brought back from the brink of death. They'd met with him, still screaming and trying to remove the thing from his shoulder with a scalpel. Before he'd come to accept that Chris actually saved him from that Hell. Knowing he was infected. And they'd come even then, before he'd figured out how to control his sanity. And they said the same things they were saying now, taking advantage, asking for you to sign over your lives. "You have killed men, good men of the B.S.A.A. Kidnapped Agent Nivans from quarantine. A place designed to help men like you. You're partner. We are trying to cure him, yet you have become a..., butchering beast. According to Captain Valentine, you butchered five members of your own beloved Alpha Team, all of whom wanted nothing more than to bring you back to the me you've served, to save you..., from yourself. You are heroes, the both of you." Sarcastic smiles laid out on every man in the room, each one nodding pleased, encouraging with their lies. As though they believed any of it. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
"Say for myself? You people, have dictated where I go, who to save, what missions we've all gone on for years. You've dictated our suicides. You blame the soldier, turn us into monsters. And then what? Bring us home, experime-
"You are charged with manslaughter captain! A charge we can not overlook. We've asked you here-
"Dragged me here!"
"You've been brought here to atone for your sins, captain. In hopes that part of the humanity that you used to build this organization might still exist. In fact, some are calling you and I quote, 'the demon from hell,' the 'devil itself.' It's clear the virus has already corroded your mind captain."
Chris listened to what the Director said to him and he smirked at him and everyone in the room. He knew damned well that these men and women in here were more evil than he could ever be. The blood on each person in here was monumental and the things he has done was nothing compared to their crimes. Chris stood proudly in the middle of the room; sense fear, revulsion, greed, and anger from everyone in here. He didn't give a shit about these men, about their politics. Piers however, did. So he would do more to restrain himself from killing those who didn't deserve it. Instilling fear would help in that endeavor and he could feel doubt from some of the agents in the B.S.A.A. about what the top brass was doing. Chris chuckled at the Director and the Generals in the room. "What is so funny Captain Redfield? You will be interrogated and treated for what you've done!"
"Cut the bullshit, Director. I know what you and the other fuckers in here are doing. I know that all of the conflicts we have been sent to since the start of the B.S.A.A. were of your design. Yours and the backers of the B.S.A.A. To create and control B.O.W.s for your own uses. You bastards are guiltier than I can ever be. You are more of a monster than I can ever be and the blood on your hands could fill oceans. Treat me? You're going to experiment on me, on Piers. " Chris met eyes with each person in the room. He knew they would get angry at him, punish him for it.
"Captain Redfield, you will be interrogated and given the fullest extent of ... treatment, we can provide. By the time we are done, we'll have pulled every part of that..., that mutation, from your body, even if it kills you captain. We will... liberate you, in death." They would torture him, to death. The Generals were in awe of Chris. His physical prowess. If he could be given those capabilities by infection of the mutated C-virus from Agent Nivans, there were potential experiments to be done later. Who could survive that kind of infection? Why wasn't it the same as Agent Nivans' and could it be replicated by just a single bite? It raised another question. Piers hadn't given anyone any reason thus far to fear him. As far as they were concerned, the virus inside his body was stable to the point he could control it. He wasn't a risk at biting people, or his team mates, everyone could attest to it. So how had Chris gotten infected by the younger soldier in the first place? Evidently there was more to the story than Chris or Piers were willing to admit, but there was a reason that the Captain had gone after his second-in-command and it was time to find out just what connection the virus had between them. "General, send a report to the Doctor in charge of Agent Nivans' care. I want him questioned about the nature of the virus, how his thinking has been affected. Find out if this mistake with captain Redfield can be replicated. Find out how he infected the captain, and do it again. Whatever it takes."As for you captain…" The older man turned in his larger, leather chair, resting elbows on the table and leaning imposingly against them, resting his face on those older wrinkled hands. "You will be questioned, thoroughly. And make no mistake, if you do not cooperate than we will happily use extreme measures. Now that you are no longer considered humanoid, it's time we did away with the normal pleasantries. You will divulge what we want to know, and you will do so willingly... or not. But we will have our answers. Send him to the cells."
4 hours later...
Chris let them take him to the prison cells. In fact, the cell he would be occupying was supposed to be for Albert Wesker according to those involved. Someplace beneath the mountains in Colorado. Of course. There were half truths involved in everything. So they weren't hiding an Alien in the desert, just B.O.W.s, which they now categorized their heroic captain. Ironic that Captain Redfield would now be held inside that very cell intended for his former captain. He was taken to the cell, dragged there in irons, like a prisoner. Who was he kidding, he was a prisoner. They wouldn't hold back with C-Virus running through his system? Thrown unceremoniously into an iron wrought chair, soldiers secured his wrists and ankles with metal cuffs that were attached to the chair, nipping his arm hair just the slightest with twitch of discomfort. Chris knew Piers was taken somewhere else, but their bond still worked, he could still feel him, alive. Three hours in the dark, in a cell, chained up and left there to rot in silence, and soon the doors were cranked open to admit two interrogators, both he didn't recognize, though he was certain he would get to know very well. Doctors William Burton and Kyle Rice. Both men recruited to give interrogations that would violate the Geneva Conventions, without concern of the oaths once given. They certainly were not going to take their time with the captain. Apparently, the generals had chosen to forgo normal procedure with the captain, just wanted their answers without concern of how they go them. He was ready for that, not the tools that were brought in and if he was still human, he would feel a bit of worry. Scalpels, knives, needles filled with drugs to enhance pain, metal gloves, a couple of electric saws, picks, pliers, and a few other tools of the trade.
Chris took a look at the tools and then at both men in turn. He felt absolutely no fear at all. ' "Alright then Captain Redfield... where shall we begin?"
8 hours later...
"Why did you leave house arrest and kill the guards outside your home?" Chris was silent. "Why did you butcher the guards outside the Quarantine Facility? Why did you kidnap, Agent Nivans?" For every question asked, there was silence and a sickly smirk from the captain, his head lulled against his chest while another rally of questions bombarded him. As though these same tactics hadn't been taught to him in the U.S. Air Force, or when he joined league with the B.S.A.A. Chris wasn't stupid. They knew he could handle questioning. "Answer the questions!" More silence. Both interrogators knew the standard line of asking questions wasn't going to work, and harsher methods would be used, after they'd finished milking the Name, rank, and serial number, that Chris continually repeated. If they were going to treat him like a prisoner, then he would act like one. Doctor Rice brought over some of the tools of their trade; flashing metal before his eyes whilst turning the blade over and over in the mini sun headlight dangling over Chris' head. "For every question you do not answer Captain Redfield, we will use these on you," Brought over, a needle filled with unknown liquids. "This should work on a monster such as yourself," Doctor Burton cooed, leaning close to the captain whilst his partner lifted the needle for him to see. "It enhances the pain you'll feel, with a magnitude of five times the natural amount." Lowering the needle to the nook made by Chris' forearm and bicep, amused until the needle broke when it was thrust to his skin. Both men glowered, a quiet nod for them to try again. "Defective needle, Will, I'll use another." There were three needles total, two left. "Use them both on this monster. It's no less than what this butcher deserves." Both needles broke in turn.
"I thought you were supposed to interrogate me."
Both men put on some gloves, eyes narrowed in frustration. "We have just started, Captain Redfield, and you won't be smiling once we are done with you. Since it seems that you will not answer any questions, we will just get down to the real business then."
1 Day later
William grabbed a pair of pliers. Chris' mouth, forced wide with an age old device that was once used for prying the jaws apart; and once crammed apart; eked the metal tongs in, centimeter at a time. Probing his mouth, metal clacked against enamel, taking hold of the first of many teeth; starting pulling teeth out one by one. The noises the tools made, loud and crunching as his teeth were being pulled, blood welling from the gums. Kyle grabbed a vial filling it with the drool and blood that gurgled out his throat around the device in his mouth and pliers yanking ferociously at the molars in the backs of his maw. "We can at least give this to the researchers." They wanted to try and replicate the mutated C-Virus, or at least study it's effects on those who they had designated monsters in their captivity. There would be a nasty surprise for them if that was the case. They could wound and maim however they pleased, but in a few hours, their dreams of making a study out of C-Virus, would come to a screeching halt. Torture lasted for three more hours before the interrogators became too frustrated too continue. A break was in order. Chris refused to answer any questions and no matter what sort of torture was inflicted so far, he showed no signs of pain, unwavering steadfastness. It was unnatural. "Will, time for a break, lets go see what the research team has dug up." Relieved of their presence however, revealed what he had not been able to feel before. He could feel Piers in pain. The Captain closed his eyes and concentrated on his Piers. 'No matter what they do to me, I will be fine. Don't worry about me, Piers. You must stay strong.' Chris knew that he could deal with anything the torturers here did to him, but he was worried about the former sniper, not on his own personal wellness.
2 Weeks Later
It has been two weeks since Chris was placed inside his prison cell and the torturers still have not succeeded in making him answer any previously asked. The intentions shifted from the will to gather information on the captain's plans, to what it was that made the mutated C-Virus react. What it was that were the extents of its changes to the human form. When the Captain did speak, it was to taunt and mess with those scientists that dared to join in the provocation of his condition. The funny thing about it, was that Chris deliberately hardened his skin, so when the interrogators came in to cut him with an electric saw, the blade broke, other implements just as easily dispatched. So it was that they got more imaginative with his treatment; and they tried other things such as metal spikes. Even when heated, the instruments of destruction were bent and broke on Chris' skin. Fingernails were pulled, yet Chris never grunted in pain, never showed that he was in any form of discomfort. Of course, why would the Captain show any signs of pain when he didn't feel any?
Researchers were puzzled. Captain Redfield could bleed, but he felt no pain? They had removed teeth and all of his nails, yet he had no reaction other than to ponder their actions aloud to himself, their superfluous attempts to elicit responses. It was then that theories became more extreme, Doctor Reese removed one of Chris' eyes with a scalpel, fascinated with how it looked. Chris let her take the right eye and as soon as it was fully removed from the socket, the orb itself withered. In shock, she removed the left eye as well, no longer concerned with trivial matters of human rights; curious of the lack of emotion given toward such an action on the captain's part. Who would not fear losing one of their key senses, and in such a manner? Yet, even with the Captain fully awake, he showed no signs of discomfort. "Captain Redfield, it looks like you are blind now, nothing to say to that?"
3 months later
"If I was blind, then why do I see your research staff moving off to the left. Or how his hands are shaking?" Doctor Reese could see her staff members look at her in shock, curiosity taking over where fear began. Lifting Chris' eyelid, nothing was revealed in the gaping hole but red. A glowing orb of some sort. Grabbing her scalpel, she inserted it inside that eye socket to see if she could remove it, but then a 'ping' sound was heard. With more pressure, the scalpel broke. "Was that supposed to hurt?" Researchers were baffled at how Captain Redfield could be under such torture and not feel pain. When they returned to his cell the next day, Chris looked fully healed. His teeth, nails, and eyes were back in place. This fascinated Doctor Reese further because if this could be replicated, then soldiers would be unstoppable. The next few weeks were more of the same as far as Chris' torture went. Acid was used at one point and while it did burn away Chris' skin, the Captain still felt no pain. This was insane and just impossible until the interrogators saw something black on the Captain's leg. "What the hell?" Kyle said. Another researcher was in the cell and after the acid was washed away, they could see an obsidian 'skin' on the Captain. "Aww, looks like you jokers finally found out. It only took you nearly two months," Chris said in jest to the others in the room. "What the hell is that!?" William said. Kyle tried to use another electric saw on the exposed 'skin' and the blade broke immediately. Heated instruments failed as well. Even more acid was used and nothing harmed the area. Chris gave them all an amused look and everyone realized they were played for fools. Captain Redfield knew all along that nothing they did would physically hurt him. Kyle was so upset that he grabbed the remaining acid, opened Chris' mouth, and made the Captain drink it. "That will fucking kill you! You fucking monster!" Kyle said in anger. The acid did burn… until it stopped. "You know, that tickled," Chris said in a distorted voice. The other occupants in the cell left in a hurry.
The researchers were getting desperate. They even had Chris' mouth open and a steady stream of the most corrosive acid they had was sent into his body for over an hour. The Captain felt no pain, no discomfort. Nothing. When they finished, Doctor Reese looked inside Chris' mouth and could see the burnt flesh inside. Yet, Chris felt no pain and when she moved back, he laughed. The laugh sounded so alien and surreal. Frightening. Horrifying. "You know, that was the first liquid you guys gave me in weeks." This was said in jest and the humans inside the room were so scared. The Captain was starved intentionally and it didn't work. He was still in the same seat and never needed to use the restroom or remove waste from his body. And as far was replicating the virus in others? It was an utter failure. It certainly wasn't due to a lack of blood since Chris bled constantly. It was due to the nature of the mutated C-Virus.
The Research Department had several "volunteers" to test the mutated C-Virus. It was a dismal failure with seven men dying due to their bodies being turned inside out. It was slow, painful, and each man died in such a horrific way. "Why did your blood cause such a reaction, Captain? Answer me!" Kyle demanded. The entire team was in the room this time and they wanted answers badly. Chris looked at each person inside his cell in amusement and lowered his head. Of course he knew why they failed, but he sure as hell wouldn't tell these idiots anything. Especially since he could feel every bit of pain his Piers was going through right now. What Piers was going through was horrific, and as much as Chris wanted to break out of here, the time was not now. Not yet. 'Hang in there Piers. Stay strong!'
