Author's Note: Update that is due. I appreciate everyone's support and opinions on this story; it means the world to me. Now, a few things may be cleared here, some others may not, but all in due time. We start with a bit of a gripping event that will twist how everything's turning out so far. Not a lot else happens on this chapter, but you'll see. Enjoy!^^

Disclaimer: The usual.

Thanks to Chaed, Divine Arion, Ultimolu, Nyx Nightshade and Skiptrix for their wonderful reviews!^^

II

The Bigger Picture

Essential

No matter how much they begged for mercy, no matter how many they sent to stop him, the last few minutes would repeat themselves: more bodies would fill the conference room. The smell of dry blood was noticeable, faint even, but it wasn't any stronger than the stench of monotony, the stench of homogeneity. All of his victims had been the same, falling almost in a straight line as he shot them down one by one; same went for the security guards. They had tried to stop him, and they had failed. The crimson-stained floor was the evidence and more.

I never thought you'd agree to do it. Look at this mess...

"It's what I had to do. Now it's only a matter of time until this disaster hits the headlines... and then they'll know. Marco comes next."

Somebody might hear you, might take it the wrong way.

"My words fall on deaf ears; they'll take no notice of it," Chris scoffed as he ejected the empty magazine and replaced it with another full one. "I'm curious to know exactly why I've had to do this, kill all these executives, but I don't dare to ask any more questions."

It's a head-start for them, in an ironic way. What comes next?

"Waiting, see if they take the bait. It won't be long until they get wind of it."

Then, Chris sighed, rubbing his eyes. About ten people killed in a single night; Maria Greene went without saying. For once, he hadn't felt that hesitation, that regret that a few killers were haunted by: it had been a mission, nothing more. Back in his time at the BSAA, all criminals Jill and him had arrested had been taken care of by someone else, not them; they needn't get their hands dirty. Whenever the job fell on them though, it had been a different matter: Chris, despite his sense of justice -now extinct-, would've hesitated and stood down if it wasn't for his obligations, obligations Jill had also had present. And so, he'd had to do it.

But now, that naive sense of justice that had lived within him was gone, replaced by a stronger one, a more twisted one. He could see things not many people could through points of view nobody could ever picture due to their unsuitability.

And it felt wrong.

The sound of the door opening caught his attention and Chris then found himself staring into the eyes of another board member, this time a woman, who didn't even gasp at the sight: she just stood at the door, gaping at him with a face so white it seemed made of porcelain and eyes wide with horror. His orders were to shoot anybody who belonged to the board on sight; despite that, Chris remained perfectly still, not breaking eye contact for a second. Something had clicked in his mind, an alarm had gone off. He couldn't believe who he was staring at, was about to check when-

Snap out of it or she'll sound the alarm!

In just two movements he was next to her, the woman cowering in fear when Chris looked at her again. Her eyes darted between the gun and his own gaze, her entire body shaking like a leaf. But Chris thought it over many times, more than his mind could process, and in the end he put away his weapon. His would've-been victim gasped now, a sound perhaps torn between relief and disappointment, but she said nothing. Chris frowned, releasing a shaky breath, and went past her.

"What am I supposed to say?" the woman exclaimed in forced English. "If you've let me live, how am I supposed to deal with this?" Her eyes went to him again as she stood, her legs quivering. Chris held her gaze for a moment, then,

"Say what feel like, say whatever crosses your mind... but don't say anything you might regret."

"You want me to hide this?" she shrieked. "You want me to face the police without telling them I saw you?"

Chris nodded. "Exactly. I know who you are," he stated flatly, "and I can come after you. Isn't letting you alive enough for you? Or are you asking me to end your life just to avoid being blamed? Be sensible, Miss Ribisi. I think you'll do the right thing."

With that, without waiting for an answer, Chris turned on his heels and walked down the hall, leaving the woman known as Carla Ribisi to wonder what to do. As he paced, he closed his eyes, his chest seizing up in pain. He was leaving one of the board members alive either to allow her to tell the tale or just leave the event as water under the bridge. It wouldn't end smoothly, but that wasn't the reason why he hurt so badly.

Why did you let her live? You were supposed to kill every single one of them, you idiot!

Chris hesitated. "For a moment... I saw her: it was Jill..." His hand started shaking, a few more pieces falling into place. "...Staring at me."

She just doesn't leave your head, does she? Forget about her, she's history! She's betrayed you, remember?

Chris gave no reply to that furious question; he didn't need to. There was no reason to justify his actions, no reasons to explain why he'd done what he'd done.

That hallucination will cost you your LIFE!

"Not if Marco still wants me," Chris snapped, picking up speed. "Besides, I can do what I please. You've got no say in this!"

Oh, alright. Then who has kept you sane all this time? I could've easily let you drown in your own misery, you bastard!

"I'm not standing because of you."

I HELPED YOU, you ungrateful son of a bitch!

Chris didn't hesitate a second time: with a swift movement, the muzzle of his own gun was trained against his temple, eyes closed and breathing steady. This calmness belied his inner rage and turmoil, images of his past life flooding his mind.

You think pulling a gun on yourself will help? Face it, you're lost.

Chris bit on his lip as he reluctantly lowered the weapon, a familiar voice echoing all around him. That was a nasty hallucination, oh yeah. Having quelled the storm inside him, Chris continued to walk.

A sigh. Let's get back, shall we? Let's not waste any more time or Marco will really ask this time.

But then he pulled the trigger.

–

September 3rd, 2009

8:15 am.

"Miss, the change!"

Rebecca shook her head and slung her purse around her shoulder. "It's okay, keep it."

She left the Dodo Café after receiving a kind 'thank you' in response and stepped into the cold morning of New York. It was early, September had just begun, but it was oddly breezy; Rebecca smiled dryly at such a fact. She started down the street, taking random sips of her coffee as she headed back to Brooklyn Bridge. For once she had been able to get out of the underground complex and see daylight for a couple of hours; it had been a mere four or five days since she'd 'left' the surface, but being under there for so long made her nervous. Also, keeping her stomach full was in her day-to-day agenda.

Her cell phone suddenly buzzed a couple of times, making Rebecca wonder who could it be. When she flipped it open, she didn't expect a message from Jill, which read: Where're you? Just wondering. Rebecca smiled at such a short message of concern; she sent her reply and picked up the pace, almost forgetting about the warm drink in her hand. But then, the kiosk a few meters in front of her caught her attention, since there was an unusual amount of people gathered around it. Perhaps they were just there for small talk, was Rebecca's first assumption, but when she went past it having a glance at the day's headlines, she stopped in her tracks at the sight of a specific one: "Unexpected murder in Florence: A blow against Tricell?"

With a knot in her stomach, Rebecca approached a middle-aged woman and asked, "Excuse me, do you know when these came in?"

She received the answer from the attendant, a black woman with a worried expression. "The papers just came in, hon. You askin' about the headline?" Rebecca nodded. "The article's pretty recent; journalists say it happened today's morning, and pretty early, too. Seems nothin' out of the ordinary, but I think otherwise."

Rebecca frowned, lowered her gaze to the article. She didn't hesitate: she bought a The New York Times issue and this time ran at full pelt up South Street, ignoring her desire to read the article in the middle of the street. Everything involving Tricell meant trouble at this time and if there had been a murder and if it was somehow related to Tricell, then it meant Marco or somebody else was involved... perhaps even Chris. Her heart skipped a beat at the assumption. Rebecca was at the entrance to the complex in less than five minutes, near Knickerbocker.

The ride on the elevator seemed to take ages and when the doors finally opened, Rebecca literally bumped against Claire who, when they straightened, chuckled amusedly. "What's gotten you so worked up? And where do you come from?"

Though breathless, Rebecca managed to make out an audible sentence, "Are... is everyone up?"

Claire's face changed. "Yeah. Sleep's not easy to get around here, looks like. Why?"

"Then we gotta get everyone together. There's something big going on," Rebecca told her, waving the folded newspaper in front of her face, "and it's related to Tricell."

"Tricell? Then..."

"Yeah! It must be something relevant, definitely!"

"Sherry's in her office; the others are all together, except..." Claire's voice trailed away, which let Rebecca see her annoyance, "... except Wesker, whose whereabouts are still unknown."

"What do you mean 'still'?" Rebecca felt a pang of concern despite the circumstances.

"I mean he's been gone all night, that's the thing," Claire said, hands on her hips. "Knowing him, he's fine, but now would be a very good time for him to be here... Odd of me to say that, right?"

Rebecca cracked a light smirk, then headed to Sherry's office with Claire. They met Leon and Jill along the way and the group was once more complete. Claire knocked on the door twice, which earned her an intent 'Yeah?' from Sherry. Claire was the first one to step in, allowing Rebecca to get a glance of the inside.

"We've got news, and it's important," she stated, not giving anybody time to react. Through the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Wesker, who was standing 'in the sidelines' and half hidden in the dark. She heard Claire mutter something in annoyance, to which she smirked inwardly.

"Okay, sure," Sherry agreed as Leon and Jill stepped inside. "What's going on?"

Rebecca proceeded to explain herself. "Well, whilst I was outside for reasons you'll all consider natural, this article caught my attention as I went past a kiosk. The same moment I saw Tricell mentioned in the headline, I knew it was related to Chris."

Everybody was suddenly tense, more than ever before. The atmosphere could be cut with a knife.

"Tricell?" Leon echoed. "What does it say?"

"'Unexpected murder in Florence: A blow against Tricell?'" Rebecca read aloud. "That's what it says. There should be a photograph inside or something; I didn't have time to check."

"It is possible, considering one of the main labs is in Florence," Wesker intervened. "About the victim, is there any information?"

Rebecca sensed Jill creeping up on her, standing beside her to check the article over Rebecca's shoulder. Rebecca had a thorough look at the pictures: one was of the murder scene, blood spatters matting the ground, and then next to that one was that of the victim. She was red-haired, her hair resting at shoulder length, and dark eyes gleaming with something similar to anxiety. A loud gasp left Jill's lips afterwards, drawing the rest's attention to herself.

"What's wrong?" came Sherry's question.

It took Jill a few moments to reply. "...It's Greene. The victim's Maria Greene."

"That... that's not possible!" Sherry argued, her eyes wide. Even Wesker seemed to have been stirred out of his usual impassiveness. As the conversation went on, Rebecca skimmed through the most important parts of the article.

"Greene?"

"One of Marco's closest associates," Sherry explained. "She's completely irrelevant for those outside our circle, the circle encompassing Rho, Tricell and others. For her name to have gotten out to the public, that must've been the journalists' doing... But why?" Sherry leaned on her desk, her head lowered. "Of all the people that could've been chosen…"

"Identity-wise, her documents must've been looked up, most likely; that's not a far fetch," Jill stated, nodding.

"And most importantly, who did it?" Leon piped up. "Though... we can go to the worst case scenario and stick to it, because I for one wouldn't like beating around the bush."

"The press isn't usually to be trusted, but I certainly don't think this is an article written just to entertain the public," Wesker said, turning to Sherry. "For some unfathomable reason, Marco has had one of his most trusted people killed. I can only suspect it's a job he left to Chris."

Claire stiffened, a fleeting moment of shock across her features. "That's a bit of a quick change in trust, isn't it? It hasn't even been a week since Chris left with him and they're completely in cahoots now? I don't trust this."

"If we consider the time window and the few associates Marco has, it's pretty plausible," Sherry stated. "Perhaps one of the reasons was her involvement with David, but I don't think he ever told her anything..."

"Unless he let his tongue slip," Wesker interjected pointedly, "which wouldn't be surprising."

Sherry frowned at his words, her lips thinning. "We all make mistakes once in a while; we had compromised a lot of things, I admit so."

"So the whole 'A blow to Tricell' thing is something the press made up..." Jill reasoned to herself, rubbing her chin. After a few seconds, she said, snapping her fingers, "He's got to be prompting us."

"What?" Rebecca breathed out, surprised at Jill's assumption. The others simply stared at her. "How? I don't see a reason why. What would he prompt us for?"

"There doesn't have to be a reason, Rebecca, that's the thing," Jill countered, firm. "The whole murder itself doesn't make any sense! It's like Claire said: the balance has been shifted much too quickly! Unless it was some kind of sick game Marco's playing with Chris -or even with all of us-, then it's perfectly sensible. Okay, Marco may very well be a quick thinker, but this is too sudden. This has to be a sign."

"A sign?"

Jill nodded. "Yes. There's something more to this. This is a plan Marco's got going, nothing more. The murder was planned to either attract our attention or divert it; whichever the case, I think he's got us right where he wants us."

Rebecca lowered her head, tempted to bite at her thumbnail like she usually did when nervous. More that the fact of Marco moving against them and fast, Rebecca was afraid of knowing that it had been actually Chris who had murdered Greene -someone she had never heard about-. Chris would've never killed an innocent; he would've never killed anyone, be it innocent or not, in cold blood or not. She sighed, feeling her legs go weak all of a sudden, and closed her eyes.

"Do you think it was Chris who did it? ...Really?" she asked, feeling like an idiot afterwards.

"Nobody else. Marco wouldn't get his hands dirty," Claire replied, crossing her arms. "I'd say it's been to test him, to see if Chris is up for the task." Then, in a flash, Claire's face fell in horrified shock, shock she passed over to Leon when she looked at him. "Oh, dear God… It's not true..."

"...What task is that?" he asked her, his voice low.

As if on cue, a soft rapping was heard and Jean-Jacques tentatively went inside. He also seemed flustered, a frown across his features and anxiety in his eyes. "Miss Birkin, we've got a problem: it's Tricell's executive board... they're all dead."

Rebecca could've been about to throw up if it wasn't for her self-control; her stomach had knotted up and then churned. The levels of tension spiked incredibly, without mercy.

"...That task, it seems," came Wesker's remark, cold and amused at the same time. "I knew that strike would come. If that's their plan, then they're going nicely."

"B-But why?" Leon intervened. "Killing the executive board would only mean sinking the company."

"Which... would allow Marco to keep a low profile," Rebecca said this time after long minutes of silence. "That's why he had Greene killed!"

"Like it happened with WilPharma... letting it sink so that other companies buy it," Leon reasoned, nodding in reluctant acknowledgement.

"It was clear WilPharma was going to sink," Wesker added, scoffing, "but this is just too much. Eleven lives in a single night? This sounds very planned to me. Perhaps one or two, but eleven and with such a narrow time window?"

Maria Greene, one of Marco's closest affiliates, and now the executive board. If it was a prompt, then it might as well have been a joke. Rebecca released a long sigh, trying desperately to calm herself down before anyone noticed. She imagined how the murder could've taken place out of instinct, which made nothing to settle her uneasiness down. It was unimaginable... To think that your best friend and mentor was now a hired hit, killing to obtain a reward nobody was sure that actually existed.

She glanced up at Claire who, unexpectedly and not even caring about the people present, stormed out of the room and out of sight. Leon called after her, then left at full pelt in hopes of catching up to her. Rebecca didn't know what shocked her the most: the past events or Claire's reaction. She'd seen her so impassive, so strong and unwavering, so changed that Rebecca had never expected something such as that. She didn't even notice Jean-Jacques leaving and Jill closing the door to allow unwanted ears to overhear.

But why did they want her to remain with them? Weren't Leon and Claire as important as her?

"She's not taking it too well, it seems," Wesker said about Claire. Jill shrugged, shaking her head slightly. "And I can see you aren't either."

"How do you want me to take it?" Jill snapped back with what Rebecca noticed to be fierceness. Wesker frowned, his lips forming a thin line. "How do you want us to take it, huh? I know it hasn't been long since we last saw him but it's horrible to see the first news we come up with are those!"

"We just need to accept and use them to our favor," he replied, calm. "Perhaps they've moved to Florence this time and not Venice. There are infinite possibilities concerning how it may have turned out, but I'd wager this is their first message. It may not be the last, though."

"They could've picked a better presentation, don't you think?" Sherry scoffed, smirking bitterly. "In any case, at least we've got something. We can start moving."

Wesker shook his head. "I wouldn't recommend it," he said, stern.

"We need to make sure it is Florence where they are," Rebecca stated. "We could split up but it's a reckless option."

"Not with Chris in his state, yeah..." Jill acknowledged, running a hand through her hair. "So it's a bit more of waiting for us?"

"I'm afraid so," Sherry spoke with a reluctant nod, "but this is a start, a lead. We just need to follow it accurately so we don't get lost."

"Slightly Alice-esque, but yes."

Rebecca looked at Jill who, judging by the direction she was facing and how narrowed her eyes were, was looking at Wesker, and it was certain he was returning the look. She didn't have a lot of knowledge of how they'd been faring -she didn't need it-, but it was clear the situation was precarious. Jill's tone sometimes had proven to be stern, hard and unusually cold. Rebecca then felt as if an anvil was hanging from her chest: it became heavy, heavier than ever before, which made her lose her composure again. Tears pricked at her eyes; she fought them back. She had to get out of there.

"I'm going to check up on Claire, okay?" she told everyone.

She received a nod from Jill, a firm 'Okay' from Sherry and Wesker's usual silence; with that, it was obvious she had a green light. She tried to exit the room as calmly as possible but the way she turned right betrayed her inner feelings and thoughts; that much she knew for sure. And then, when she was alone, the lump that suddenly formed at her throat made her tears flow, reducing her to a state she had long thought forgotten. She was a doctor, an official Ph.D with many surgery and hospital experiences in her resumé, and hospital staff were known for seeing life in a very different way, to reject emotions when necessary. Rebecca had gone through many deaths of some patients at the hospital she'd been working until now, deaths that hadn't moved her, but it was different this time. This time, she could afford to cry.

Instead of checking on her friends, Rebecca headed for her room or some other place where she could be by herself. Along the way she sobbed silently, repeatedly wiping her cheeks dry because of the annoying sticky feeling. She felt alone, more than ever: seeing everyone torn apart was the salt being rubbed on her own bleeding wounds. Part of her wanted to blame Chris for everything, for leaving them in such a state right when he was needed the most, but on the other hand Rebecca knew help didn't last forever; Chris wouldn't always be there with them. It was impossible to blame him for actions that weren't even fully deliberate, actions that had been dictated as though protocol, actions that went against his own nature. And she missed him, she missed him terribly. The feeling she'd had when she'd seen him after Jill's funeral three years ago returned and more intense than before: back there, she'd felt Chris had had his heart torn in a half; now, she felt as if he'd had it ripped out of his chest.

Unfeeling... cold.

Rebecca let her tears flow and sobs painfully rack her body. Nobody heard her.

Nobody could hear her.

–

He had never seen such a stern gaze.

Wesker had barely broken eye contact with Jill, whose eyes were close to being ice walls and had a glint of fierceness, even defiance, in them. Perhaps there was also rage, frustration, but that knowledge was reserved for her alone. Which made him think, why couldn't he figure out what she was thinking? Why was it that despite he saw that which her eyes harbored, he couldn't tell what was roaming her mind? He was no mind-reader, but the eyes were often the reflection of the mind and soul. Wesker had to admit the prospect of losing his skills frightened him.

His eyes felt heavy all of a sudden, his shades hiding involuntary movements that would give away his current state. His strength was almost unmatchable, but even three nights in a row without sleeping could deal blows to it, and they were already showing off.

The silence went on for a bit longer until Sherry said, "I suppose you're in good company, so I can very well say that you should get some rest." Wesker snapped his head at Sherry, who smirked. "You're not made of glass, you know. I heard you going out last night and you just got here an hour ago, so go rest."

Wesker was tempted to sigh at his apparent -and then obvious- lack of choices but held the gesture back; instead, he nodded and asked before leaving, "I trust you'll handle everything?"

It was Sherry's turn to nod this time. "Sure. I'll be on the lookout, then put you up to speed," she reassured him, tucking a strand of blond hair behind her ear. "You can count on me. I haven't done this kind of thing in donkey's ages, but you know me: observe and adapt."

Wesker turned and left, Jill following behind him after a few seconds. He faced her and said, "Something the matter?"

"I've been worried about you," Jill replied, placing herself in front of him. "This is the third night, Wesker, the third night you haven't even closed an eye."

"It's merely a rough patch; there's nothing you should be worried about," he told her, trying to sound as convincing as possible so as to get her off his back. But as he suspected, Jill didn't let the matter go at the first reply she got. "I will be fine; sooner or later it happens."

Jill said nothing, remained staring at him in distrust and worry, and Wesker didn't move to leave. Instead, he waited; he knew she was going to say something, but what? And most important... did he care? "Is it because..." She sighed, her facade dropping. "This is all getting to you, I know it. I don't have a say in how you should take things, I know, but-"

Wesker stiffened almost unwillingly. "If you're assuming I'm taking this personally, I'm sorry to disappoint you." With that he walked past her, unable to stand her presence any longer.

"You're contradicting yourself, can't you see?" Jill asked, shocked. Wesker faced her, slightly baring his teeth at her in a low hiss. In spite knowing how unnatural of him it was to do that, to show his feelings so easily, he nevertheless did it. "I know how you're reacting, Wesker; dammit, even you told me!"

"Then I will take that back if it's necessary, but I will not stand for this!" he snapped back. "You don't know me as much as you claim to, Jill; that I can guarantee you." Jill was still reeling from his words, eyes wide and brow furrowed. "I will do whatever it takes to see this through, whether it's to your liking or not."

This time, Wesker did put an end to their argument: he turned on his heels and walked back to his room. He didn't know if Jill demanded something from him afterwards or not... he wasn't even sure his own words had made any sense. Once inside the space he could consider 'safe', Wesker rested his back against the wall and knocked his head twice against it, feeling how the pain somewhat numbed his inner turmoil like ice on a wound. Something wasn't right; whether it was with him or the world around him, he didn't know for sure. Uncertainty surrounded him; he didn't know anymore, and it was the perfect scenario for a throbbing headache to settle in.

Madness, obsession, lack of self-control.

What's happening to me...?

A/N: Alrighty, we got some instability floating around everyone like a dark cloud raining over them. They'll clear off, yes, but some will in unexpected ways. Just you wait till you see what's going on with Wesker and Chris; you shall see.

Reviews are appreciated!^^