Author's Note: I have to admit I'm as happy as a puppy getting a thorough belly rub. XD Weird, right? I'm happy for two reasons! One is that yesterday I got a brand new LED 39' HD TV for my game room. A Westing House TV that now has the nickname Westy. This TV is literally made for high quality next gen gaming! Skyrim and Mass Effect 3 are beautiful on this TV and I can't wait to see how awesome AC 3 will look on it!

The number two thing that is making me so happy is how awesome this story is turning out to be. All the reviews I'm getting are heartwarming! Most would say twelve reviews isn't that much, but each and every one of them are very important to me! Is that too gooshy? Oh well, I don't care! I love you all!

Not only that, every day I get new ideas for more twists and details to add to this story! I'm just having one heck of a time writing it! The added bonus is that other people are enjoying it as much as me! ^_^

I'm also really glad everyone liked Darwin and everyone has an equal hate on for Lockheart! That's pretty freaking awesome! The Snake Ender fight did turn out better than I had hoped; originally I'm not so good with battle scenes, but sometimes I get into it and it turns out better than expected.

This chapter probably won't end up like what anyone had in mind, it sure surprised me!

PS; the time line in this story is whack, I'm not really paying attention to the dates so much. I hope it's just clear enough that this is before that, or that is after this, and so on. Just pay attention to the journal entry numbers.

Special thanks to the reviewers:

Fox Mew Brittany: The order that the Elite, Chosen, and God have going is confusing. I wrote the first part of this chapter to hopefully explain it a little better, but just in case I'll run the idea of it by you. God is obviously head honcho; Lord General whom is the top Elite is second in charge. The Chosen are completely different though, they're still under Wesker's orders but other than that can do whatever they want. They're as powerful as Wesker too, yet oddly accepted him as they're leader. The Chosen are a thousand times worse than the Elite, but aren't as self-righteous. Does that clear things up a little better? I'm really glad you liked the last chapter, this one might not be as awesome 'cause its filler, but don't worry, all in good time on the rest of that stuff. ^_-

Pancoon: XD I know I've read a lot of those Mary Sues too and I can't stand it when they're all gooshy for Wesker and fall in love with him when clearly he's a sociopathic madman Hell bent on destroying the world! It's the opposite for Angel, she's Hell bent on killing him and avenging the Earth. Makes more sense right? I'm glad you like the way the story is going and the Devil Angel thing, I enjoyed putting that in the story, my characters have always been known to have odd names with hidden context to them. ^_^ It's a thing I do. I hope you continue to enjoy the story! This chapter is mostly filler, plugging in gaps that needed filling. Also, you're very welcome, to tell the truth I write stuff like this for practice before working on the novels I work on.

BMD-X: Most definite angst. It seems everyone liked Darwin and wants Lockheart dead. John's gonna die but Darwin's going to be an off and on character. You'll see!

SinglePringle15: No, not quite yet. Wesker won't show up for another three or four chapters and when he does show up, well; you'll see. ^_^ Thanks for reviewing; I hope you continue to enjoy the story!

-X-

Dog Days of Post-Paradise

Chapter 3: Journal Entry 8; "Truth is Never Enough"

Journal Entry 8: April 20th, 2015.

Status: Taking shelter….

I write in this journal so that I never forget, so that I can better remember the people who I have forgotten.

My sister and my father, the memory of them is in my mind, hidden, and I am determined to uncover it. I remember small details about them now, large memories coming to the forefront of my mind here and there, but I still cannot remember their names or mine.

I click the pen multiple times, my hands restless and itching for something that I don't know of. The closer I go north the more my body reacts to certain things. I feel my nostrils flare even at the smallest smells, my muscles tighten suddenly at random intervals, and I just feel like my blood is bubbling in my veins. I do not understand why I feel this way, these weird thoughts in my head, or some of the urges I have. Truly, it feels like a bee hive of bees are stuck under my skin and in my mind.

I let my body tremble out the strange urge and I shake myself so that my mind comes back to reality. I feel the cold grip of the silver pen in-between my fingers and come back to the view of my journal. I sigh, feeling exhausted even before the day had begun. The farther North I go the less sleep I get, the stranger I feel, and the more I think as if I should just go south, run away from these feelings. But I know better than that, running away from something I don't understand won't help anything. I have to find out what's causing these feelings; going further north is all I can do. So, I push away those thoughts and continue to write.

It's been several days now since I have been out among the sands of the desert. The farther North I go the worse the monsters and sick mutations of the world get.

I have avoided the outside world due to my fear of what I might find. Something inside of me is telling me that I will find something far more powerful than I myself over the next sand dune.

This is a terrifying feeling, because so far I have been the worst monster among the wasteland that I have seen so far. That, of course, doesn't include the Enders I have come across.

Enders are monsters, mutated creatures, that used to be normal animals or bugs. What has mutated them I don't know, that information is what I'm looking for.

The last city I was in, really it was more of a small human gathering, I asked around about Doomsday. Everyone who knew anything about it told me the same thing.

"Truth Lies in Hope"

When I asked what the Hell that meant, the people pointed North.

So, here I am, hiding in the shelter of an old destroyed Super Market, trying to force myself to continue onwards.

"Shit." I stop writing, my hand trembling again. I feel a cold sweat break out above my brow. My body shakes as my skin quivers. It's cool in the dark corner of the large abandon Wal-Mart. I shiver, a cold wind spiking up my spine and under my newly acquired black button up shirt.

I close my journal and put my pen back in its pouch on my leg. I sigh and hold the black and white journal in my hands, the cover in which is covered in a sketch of large black and white angel wings. I hold the journal tightly, looking at it long fully. Day after day I look at it, either writing entries in it, which come far and few in-between, or I open it to see the memories I can't remember and read the text that makes no sense to me in my new mind set.

I hold it and feel how heavy it is emotionally, holding so many important things to me in it, yet how light it is to me physically. I take a deep breath and crawl over to my backpack a few feet away from me. The room is pitch black, yet I can still see as clearly as daylight, if not even better. I pick up the backpack and unzip the pouch in front, then I put my journal back inside and zip the pouch back.

After putting back the journal I let my body fall back, my head hitting my arm instead of the concrete as I lay back. I look up at the ceiling, old broken lights hanging down by thin wires hooked to old electric outlets near skylights leading back to little black boxes. I try and relax while lying isolated in the dark, no monsters out to get me or any humans to try and poke me with long and sharp sticks. Don't ask.

I try and relax, but I can't. All my muscles are tense again, every hair on my body standing on end, my legs twitching in eager anticipation to move. I grit my teeth and toss and turn. My heart doesn't want to leave the comfort of the dark, my mind knows I need to leave to get answers, and my gut's pushing me forward. It's an all-out war inside of me.

"Damnit!" I yell, pushing myself up. I comb down my hair with my palm, and I tug on the roots with my fingers. I shake my head rapidly, a head ache coming on. Then I push my arms out wildly. "Fuck it! I'm going!" I decide as I reach over from where I'm sitting to grab my dark grey cloak, which just happens to be lying beside me. I stand up and push my arms into the sleeves as I toss the cloak around my body, my knife sheath and holster having been left on me. I pick up my backpack and put it over my shoulders.

I double check everything before walking to the front of the store. There, in front of me, were the double glass paned doors of the entrance. I gulp, a twisted knot in my stomach as I open the door and let in the sunlight. It burns my eyes badly, and I have to stand there, arm covering my face, for at least ten minutes before my eyes adjust. I look out to see an almost literal ocean of sand and heat waves. I know that as soon as I take this first step out of this shelter I will end up running into some deep shit.

'Oh well.' I end up taking that first step anyway.

-X-

It's hot, really fucking hot. The sun is completely over cast above me in the sky, its rays hitting me like I'm being cooked in an oven. But with the radiation I'd say it's more like a microwave. I've hiked a ways since I last stopped for shelter. At this point I know I should have died from heat stroke, yet I go on like everything was just fine and dandy, my body not giving out once. Sometimes I wonder what I am, people having so many different names for me, but the longer I stay like this, with these glowing eyes, the less I care. It's like growing an extra limb or something, you just have to get used to it.

I wipe the sweat from my head, pieces of my dark highlighted hair sticking to my forehead like glue. I take a deep breath and roll my shoulders. I hear them pop as I grab for my canteen. I gulp down as much water as I can before I cap the metal cup again and clip it back to my backpack. I look up then, seeing another large sand dune standing before me like a tall hill. I sigh and climb it, sand slipping under my feet, my heels digging in.

I reach the top by getting on all fours and climbing the rest of the way up. By the time I reach the very top I'm covered in both sand and sweat, some parts of it mixing to make dirt that clings to my skin. I blink the sand out of my eyes as I stand up and look beyond. Suddenly, as if the heat waves dismissed themselves from the horizon, I see a small town. The town seems alive, as I see actual horses and people walking about. It looked like another one of the towns that had domesticated into western times, a saloon in the middle of it along with other rundown buildings.

In most towns like this anyone can walk in and out without being questioned. They won't ask about my sunglasses as long as I don't cause a ruckus. I sighed happily, ready to find a place where I could shower and get something musty to drink. Originally I imagined I had never drunk alcohol before, but a few weeks ago a man had given me a whiskey on the house, instantly I was addicted to the warm burn it had created in the back of my throat. Thing was, no matter how much I'd drink I'd never get drunk. This had actually disappointed me.

I started walking again as I saw the sun begin to lower. I nearly toppled over as I made my way back down the sand dune, the sand coming out from underneath my feet. But I kept steady as I finally reached the tougher ground. It was a bit longer of a trek before I got to the town. It seemed to be made out of ruined houses, old shops, and the saloon had been built in what used to be a catholic church. I actually smiled at that, the irony of it all. After no biblical apocalypse happened all those who prayed just started to drink, spirits becoming their new Trinity. It was sad but true, faith becoming nothing but dust in the wind.

I found myself in the town then, horses tied up to posts, people hiding away from the sun. The town was as quiet as ghosts when I walked in, almost as if they sensed what I was. Walking into the town's perimeter, the horrible sense I had been getting while traveling north had doubled. At this point I was ready to down as much whiskey as the bartender had.

I ignored all of the stares and headed straight for the white picket fence church. I made my way inside, fans going here and there as all the chatter stopped. Men and women alike, of all ages were gathered inside the bar. They whispered and murmured behind me as I went to sit at a barstool at the front bar. The young bartender eyed me, but seemed too content to care how strange I looked.

I pulled down the hood from my head as I got comfortable. I tossed my hair back and tried to get the dirt off my face. The look on the bartender's face changed considerably as he was able to see my face instead of a shadow casted by a hood. He smiled and walked over to me, leaning against the bar. The bartender had golden brown eyes, black short hair, a good tan, and a strange scar down the left side of his lip. The guy seemed to be checking me out, yet I felt comfortable with that. Hmm? I wondered why.

"You see something you like?" The bartender asked cheekily, trying to come onto me. I rolled my eyes and looked at the drinks he had in stock on the mirrored shelf behind him. He had brandy, bourbon, wine, beer, vodka, and Blue Grand 1911 Whiskey. Oh! That sounded pretty damn good!

"Yeah, Scar." I nodded and the guy raised a brow at the nickname I gave him. "I'll take that entire bottle of whiskey." I pointed, then put my hand in my pocket and pulled out wasteland currency; bottle caps. Oddly enough, I felt a strange sense of déjà vu when I thought about the bottle caps. I had a hand full of them, more than enough for the whiskey. I had had my fair share of run-ins with old ruined Wal-Marts full of bottle caps. So it was cheated money, basically, but no one cared. Currency was still in place just to keep some slight illusion of order. I think if everything had fallen to pieces after Doomsday everybody would have just gone crazy. It was humanity's way of hanging on.

The guy raised both brows, looking from the money to the whiskey. "You got a drinking buddy I don't know about or are you planning on drinking yourself to death?" He asked seriously as he sized me up, not imagining someone that looked around eighteen or nineteen could drink all of that without almost dying.

I chuckled; hand on my face as I shook my head. I looked back up at the guy and gave him a very serious dead pan expression. "You question all of your customers or just the ones whose pants you want to get into?" I asked, quickly doing a one eighty, going back to lightly cheerful so as not to cause any problems. I really didn't plan on going through the same thing I did last time in the last town. Those damn pitch forks hurt!

The guy shook his head and shrugged, handing over the bottle and taking the bottle caps in turn. It seemed to me that he didn't want trouble either. Smart man. I popped the top of the whiskey as soon as it was in my hands and downed it, drinking at least five gulps of it before putting it back down so I could breathe. The burn hurt yet felt soothing and good at the same time, I loved it, it was the closest to sex I'd ever get again.

I looked back at the bartender and his mouth was hanging open. His eyes were wide as he just had the cutest look of disbelieve on his face. Now that I thought about it, he was pretty good looking. I'd consider having sex with him if I wasn't worried he'd freak out about my eyes or that I'd accidentally kill him in a moment of ecstasy. At that thought I took another three gulps of the liquor, ignoring all the eyes that were on me.

"You got one heck of a stomach for hard liquor." The bartender mentioned, motioning to me as he went to pour another glass of beer for the guy furthest from me at the bar. He was gaping like a fish too and I really didn't care. But the bartender was laughing now and I felt a sour feeling inside of me seeing his cute smile and realizing that I'd never get to kiss another mouth again. I felt a darkness in me, as if maybe there had been someone special to me that I used to kiss that I couldn't remember. At that feeling I downed the entire rest of the bottle. "You must be really sad to drink like that." The guy stated his observations as he leaned opposite of me.

I felt a sad lost frown on my face, emotions hiding in the darkest part of me, wanting to ride up and drown me in their depths. I sighed through my nose as I just stared down at the bar, feeling as if everything was going to will its way up if I wasn't careful.

"Here." A tall cup full of something I couldn't recognize by sight or smell was placed in front of me, and I just stared at it. "It's on the house, one of my own concoctions. It always makes me feel better." The bartender said, pushing it further in front of me, prompting me to take a swing. I did indeed take that swing and it was pretty good. It tasted like a different assortment of tasty sodas mixed with the hard liquor of rum, bourbon, and scotch. Not only was there the soothing burn, but also the tingling that came with drinking soda. He was right; it did make me feel better.

"Thanks." I said, looking up at him again as I took another swing. The guy just smiled as he watched me finish down the cup. I was smiling a lot by the time I was done, a little light headed, as if I was just barely starting to feel the effects from the amount of alcohol that would have killed a three hundred pound man seven times already.

"'S okay." He nodded to me. "You look like you've lost someone really important to you. I know how that feels." He spoke sympathetically, his own eyes distant as mine had been earlier. But then he snapped out of it and put out his hand. "My names Desmond, what's yours?" He asked, holding out that inviting hand that was so scarred yet welcoming.

I sighed even deeper, nonchalantly shaking his hand. "I don't know." I admitted and he laughed lightly giving me a confused look, as if he didn't believe me. But as he was about to ask me how someone could not know their name, yelling started to come from outside. Instantly the whole bar went dead silent, the sound of horses trampling over some guy's poor body sounded, as pained screaming filled the air. The screaming lasted for a while, echoing so loudly it hurt my ears. As the noise stopped and the sound of someone getting off that horse was heard I felt my heart rate speed up by a million.

It felt like the worst thing in the world was walking toward me. Every hair on my body on end, my gut twisted up in knots, my heart about to come out of my chest, and my hand twitching near the hilt of my knife. I looked back toward the bartender; Desmond, as he held my hand tightly, us never letting go of each other from the handshake. I want to ask him what's going on, but the look in his eyes tells me enough. I felt like suddenly I was tossed into an old western movie, me being Clint Eastwood, about to kill the corrupt soul terrorizing these poor people.

Usually I'd avoid the whole thing, but I'd kill whoever just slaughtered that person outside with their horse. I'd do it for Desmond and his amazing mix of alcohol that actually made me light headed for a few seconds. I'd do it for him because he'd lost someone too.

I let go of Desmond's hand then, as I got up from the bar stool, Desmond gave me a pleading look, as if he knew exactly what I was about to do. I got up anyway and turned toward where the terrifying person that had silenced and froze so many people with their mere presence came in. I gripped the handle of my knife, and inched my finger to the grip of my gun. The first thing I saw was long curly blonde locks, what looked like a long white silk dress, and bare feet. It was a woman, a young one at that, and the front of her white dress was stained with fresh human blood.

I growled deep in my throat, suddenly overcome with the urge to kill. A mantra of the word bounced off the walls of the inside of my head. 'Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill!' The tingling sensation inside of my mind kept saying over and over again. I felt my hands fist, the instinct to rip the woman's heart out in front of me so strong I trembled again. There was that returning feeling, the one that made everything in my body go crazy. The same feeling that pushed me north. I'd never felt such blood lust before, not even around Enders. It felt so strange, so sudden.

When the woman finally turned her pale and delicate features towards me, something inside my brain broke. For the very first time….I saw red glowing eyes.

-X-

My body shook violently and the woman's gaze landed on me harshly. But before she could walk over to me a middle aged man threw a bottle at her. The brown glass shattered at her feet, to normal human eyes it would look like the man simply missed her, but I had different eyes, and I saw how fast she moved to dodge the bottle.

"Get out of here you Elite bitch!" The old man yelled, angry and very very drunk. Everyone froze in terror, petrified, as the old man stood. The blonde woman, who had been wearing a poker face since she came in, glared at him with blood red eyes. Before anyone but me could blink, the man was dead, the blonde standing next to him, with his heart in her hand. The heart beat for one millisecond longer before she destroyed it, juices and blood going all over her and the people around her. The expression on her face did not change, not even as the lifeless body of the old man fell onto the table in front of him. Bottles fell and shattered on the floor, every human in the room looking everywhere but at the woman.

What had that man called her? An Elite? What was that? She was so much like me, yet so different. What is she? Am I anything like her in origin? I wondered. I just stood there, mouth dry, in all honesty gaping like a fish. I'd never seen anything like her before and if she was anything like me she would be really hard to kill. If I could kill her at all.

The woman suddenly sniffed the air and I stiffened. She walked around, dancing almost, as if she owned everything. "I can smell it!" She yelled, her voice like silk as she marched around the glass covered room in her bare feet. "I can smell my kin! Yet," She pauses, sniffing the room again as I sit down. My heart was about to burst, it thrumming faster as she got nearer. 'Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill.' The tingling in the back of my head was about to drive me nuts! "It doesn't smell like my brothers." She stated whimsically, and started to walk over to me with a stride in her step. "It smells more like," She stopped her pace, her thumb rubbing her chin as her red eyes looked distant in thought. "It smells more like Lord Father, God!" She yelled happily, her expression and tone like that of a five year old. She almost seemed excited about something. She spun then stopped again abruptly, sniffing the air once more. Her expression stiffened and then suddenly became dark. "But it also smells like Freaks and Undead! Blugh!" She made a throwing up motion as she spoke about how I smelled to her.

Later I'd analyze what she said about God, but for now all I could think was; 'You don't smell good either Blondie.' As I settled I went to grab a left out full shot glass on the bar, the movement was zeroed in on by the Elite girl. Before I could blink, my ears perked, and I found myself on the other side of the room, downing the shot as I saw the barstool I had been sitting on was destroyed.

"You smell strange." The blonde Elite girl was at my back, her nose in my neck as she sniffed me. I snarled at the movement and glared at the girl with red eyes that was touching my skin she was so close. "I bet Lord Father would love to meet you! You smell really similar to him!" She grabbed at my arm and tried to snap it, but before she could she was left alone on the other side of the room, as I was at the bar getting another drink. The girl pouted and was next to me again in a second. "Come on! Just let me break your bones a little! I feel so much like killing you! Something inside me wants me to see your insides out! But I'll try not to, Lord Father wouldn't be happy if I killed some of my kin. He really doesn't like it when we do that." She giggled, as if she was a child and that what she just said wasn't sickly wrong. Her long blonde hair hung over my shoulders, her chin sitting in my neck as she hugged my side. All she could keep doing was smelling of me, and I shivered at the touch of her cold skin on my enflamed skin.

I snarled very loudly then, her being so close driving my instincts up the wall. 'KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL!' The tingling got so much worse then, and because it was beginning to hurt, I whipped around, spinning, and forcefully tossed her off of me and into the wall. She went through it and so did my sunglasses. Because my brain was so broken I didn't care people could see my eyes, all I wanted to do was kill Blondie! So I threw down the shot glass and jumped through the hole Blondie left, and I walked out into the desert wasteland outside of the bar. The girl was standing already, wiping off her stained with blood white dress. After she was done with that she put her hand on her hip and pouted at me.

"Is that any way to treat your kin?" She asked darkly, glaring at me with her red eyes, when she finally noticed my own eyes. "Oh my! Your eyes are yellow!" She sounded astounded as she tilted her head at me, the two of us separated by about a foot. "I've never seen that before! All of us are red eyed! Well," She paused again and shook her head, a smile on her lips. "That is, all of us but Lord Father, he has yellow and red eyes!" She giggled again and twirled her dress around, lost in her own imaginations.

"Oh for fucks sake!" I yell, dashing at her with speed a human couldn't see. As her back is turned to me I pull out my knife and mid-dash slashed her, ripping her dress and putting a large cut across her back. She screamed, but not loudly, as she turned around suddenly and grabbed my arm. Before I could blink I was being kicked, a rib cracking, and then I was several feet away on the ground. 'What the Hell?' I tried to get up, shake it off like I always do, but this time it wasn't so easy. Blondie was actually really strong.

Before I knew it I was being lifted up, a hand grabbing the front of my cloak, and lifting me off the ground like it was nothing. Dark red swirling eyes that looked very deadly and very angry looked back at me. I grit my teeth at her, a sneer on my lips, snarl on my tongue. "You're not very nice. Lord Father says were supposed to be nice to our own kind. You're disobeying Lord Father. He wouldn't like that; I guess I should punish you." I open my mouth to mock the girl, even though her dark tone is very chilling, I feel anger and sarcasm fill me. But before I can say anything, I hear the sick sound of cracking bones, the slurping of blood, and the disgusting wet slap of flesh against liquid.

I don't even have time to scream before my body is let go of and I lifelessly hit the ground. Everything is fuzzy and all I can do is smell blood. My ears are ringing and everything is numb, no pain but the feeling of cold. I look down at myself, scared but I do it anyway, and I see a huge gaping hole where there should be a stomach and gut. I look up, no more color in my slurred vision, and I see Blondie's hand is covered in my blood. She's smiling evilly, my blood all over her face.

"Oops, looks like I punched you too hard." She shrugs as if it's nothing. "Oh well, if you die so easily, surely Lord Father wouldn't care too much for you." Blondie then turns and starts to walk away as blood dribbles from my open mouth and down onto my chin. I try to move my arm to reach out for her, I try to grab her, but I can't move. "I guess you'll just have to die like all the others." She announces, her only a few feet away from me now.

Something in my snaps, more into place then out. Imagines of memories I can't grasp play through my mind. I see the barrel of a gun, blood on streets, the full moon, my sister's face full of worry and concern, and then a familiar darkness. I feel something in me wake up, dormant until this point. I feel it stretch, I feel warm again, and I feel skin grow back along with organs and bones snapping into place. I feel myself float onto my feet, something stretching out behind me. All I can do is feel though, I have no control of my body, and my vision is still blurry. I feel flesh and blood in my hand suddenly, I hear Blondie's blood curdling scream, and I watch her body drop.

It feels like there is mist covering my eyes as I see the Elite's profusely bleeding body at my feet. I feel like tilting my head but I have no control. I look over to see that the saloon's doors are open, and I finally feel all of the gazes all around me. All of their faces are full of shock and surprise, yet there is no fear. I wonder why, but I don't have long to contemplate it, as something inside of me, the same thing controlling my body, lulls me to sleep. The last thing I see with my blurry vision is a feather, two actually. There on the ground, one is black the other white.

From that day on humanity's folk lore nicknamed me Yellow Eyed Angel.

-X-

Journal Entry: None; Unknown date.

Status: Half-conscious in some Umbrella Lab.

"Ugh." The bad taste in my mouth was the first thing I realized as I started to come back into consciousness. I clicked my tongue behind my lips, licking the roof of my mouth, and had the sudden urge to spit. My tongue tasted something like old dried beef jerky. Yuck.

But that's when something hit me, hard. My eyes were closed but I could still see images. It took a moment for me to understand what had happened to me, but then I was able to grasp the images with my mind. Memories flashing around like a Las Vegas light show in my head. I remembered that I was captured by that lying bastard John Lockheart, that I had met an Elite who didn't want to rip my throat out…anymore, and that the last thing I remembered was the shock collar on my neck sending so many volts through me I ended up unconscious.

The bad taste in my mouth was of my own nearly cooked flesh. Double yuck.

I tried to roll my shoulders, like I always do after lying somewhere for a long period of time, but my bare shoulder blades ended up hitting something cold beneath me. It wasn't the linoleum floor from earlier, when I fought that Ender, and it certainly wasn't the mattress I had fallen asleep on what could have been hours ago. It was cold, like touching ice, and it felt smooth. I reached out to feel it with my hand but I found I couldn't move my arm. Something else just as cold was keeping all of my limbs pinned down.

I want to admit right now that it takes a lot to scare me, Hell even being in an Umbrella lab doesn't scare me, but this; what was happening right now, scared me to the point my body was trembling in fear. I was also shaking 'cause of the cold, so my body was basically vibrating like a massage chair on steroids.

I blinked open my eyes, instantly my retinas burn and I close them again. There is a flood light on over my head, and from what little I saw it was pointing directly at me. So for me to actually see with that type of light pointing at me I have to allow my pupils to dilate to an extreme extent. For a normal person that would be easy enough, but it was a lot harder with my new eyes, and it hurt like a son-of-a-bitch.

I grit my teeth as I opened my eyes again and looked down, trying to see what I was lying on. To my utter terror, I was strapped down on a metal operating table. The light pointing at me the only one in the room, and because of that light making my pupils shrivel down to the size of a grain, I couldn't see through the veil of darkness. That wasn't even the worst of it, as I was strapped down to the table, unable to move at all, I found I was also completely nude. I haven't even seen my own bare skin for about a year now, let alone anyone else! This was also pretty terrifying, I felt vulnerable, and I hated that feeling.

I closed my eyes again after analyzing what I could; getting a reprieve from the massive migraine that was coming on in my head. Then I began to struggle, I tried to pull the restrains from my arms, but the metal was stronger than I was. This table was obviously made for infected specifically. Umbrella are the only people that'd ever have stuff like this. At that point in time I vowed I'd blow this last Umbrella base to Hell before I left.

A door opened then, my ears picking it up as I had to keep my eyes closed. I heard everything in the room with extreme precision. I heard the air vents, the shafts rattling as cold filtered air came in, I heard boards creak, the place old and falling apart. I heard leather bond shoed feet walking towards me in an arrogant stride, I heard the owner of those feet's heart pounding in their chest, not of fear but out of excitement, adding to that I heard his pants constrict too. I sneered with my eyes closed, a growl in my throat as I smelled far too many things I never wanted to smell.

"You know, if you wanted to play like that, all you have to do is put down these restraints." I said sarcastically, a snarl deep in my throat as I heard him get closer. The sound of a moveable table added to the noise, the wheels squeaking on the floor, instruments on it wobbling around. A deep and dark seeded laugh echoed in the room, those footsteps right next to me now.

"I don't think so Yellow Eyes. I'm not foolish enough to fall for that." I hear metal things knocking together, I smell chemicals, and last of all I smell virus. It's a strong smell, not bad or good to my nose, and really I sense it more than smell it. It's strong, so strong I kick out, as if I'm bucking like a skittish horse. The restraints keep me in place, but my heart picks up a beat, and I feel something inside me struggling. The virus inside of me recognizes the virus near me now and it knows that if injected into me, the virus inside me now will be at war with it. I sweat; both me and the thing inside of me fighting against my prison.

"Sshhhh," John soothingly pets my hair and runs his hands down the side of my jaw. I growl furiously at the movement. "I plan on sedating you before I inject you with this." I can hear the syringe rattle, the deadly liquid inside of it swishing back and forth and I know he knows I can sense what it is. However, his words and motions no more calm me than if a dog bit me on the ankle. "No worries." He added, his hands still on me, sliding further down to my neck.

"If you plan on keeping that hand I suggest you get it the fuck away from me!" I lash out, eyes still closed, I see the man with my other senses and try to bite him. I can't get close enough, my motions like that of a leashed animal. He chuckles, finding my struggles amusing.

"You are a strange one," His hand cups my jaw, his thumb rubbing my cheek. "And you're quite the beautiful find." His hand traces down again, rubbing the upper part of my rib cage, the touches teasing. "I'm so very lucky you collapsed on basically my door mat. You can imagine my surprise when I see you open your eyes and they just happen to be yellow! It felt like fate." I shiver as he begins to rub parts of my body he should never even see, let alone touch. I jerk around, but all he does is start petting my neck, trying to get me to be still. The really weird thing is, my body, like an angry animal, actual reacts to the touches and stills. This only makes things worse.

"You're a fucking bastard, you know that? I feel real sorry for David, growing up and having a sick fuck as a father." I spit at the man, and from what I can hear the wad of saliva lands on his lapel. He grimaces then marches around me, playing with something behind my head. I try and open my eyes again to see what it is, but I'm just blinded in the process.

"David? Oh poor David is no longer with us." The man says so nonchalantly it makes me sick. My stomach churns violently, my heart stops, as I think about poor young innocent David. The cute kid that listened to my stories and tales of adventure, the kid with big blue eyes that reminded me of my little sister's. I grit my teeth again, anger bubbling beneath the surface. "He found out what I did to you and threatened to turn me over to the BSAA if I didn't release you. Poor child, I had to kill him, he just wouldn't understand." John said with a shrug as if he didn't even care about his own son. The man spoke with no heart what-so-ever and just continued to play with the thing behind my head.

I felt angry sad tears fill my closed eyelids. I bit my bottom lip as I saw flashes of David's warm smiling face behind my eyes. He was the first person that had wanted to be my friend even while knowing what I was. He had the gift of a warm heart in such a dark era. He was so young and happy and at peace, he just wanted to have an adventure, just like all kids his age do. Yet, yet this cold hearted creature that called himself the boy's father killed that poor innocent kid without even feeling a little remorse.

"Hey, could you tell me about what it's like out there?"

"Maybe we could be friends?"

"Hey, wanna go play outside with me, there's this really cool playground in the middle of town?"

"So, you're really like those Elite guys? But you seem so different, so human."

"You're not a monster! What monster cries?"

"That's not it! It's just, Hope is so boring, 'ya know. Well, you wouldn't know but- I just want something exciting to happen!"

"Then what does that make you! They say the Elite can't stand humans! They say all Elite just obey the guy they call their God and that Chosen don't even leave their home base! So what does that make you? Why are there so many rumors about you, Yellow Eyed Angel?"

I swallowed a lump in my throat as I bit back a sob. My anger bubbled under my skin, my sadness swirled around in the darkness behind my heart. It felt like I was being ripped apart, trying so hard not to show emotions in front of this sadistic man. I gulped down one last sob before exploding.

"YOU BASTARD!" I yelled at the top of my lungs, struggling ten times more now, just trying to hit the man that had walked back around to my front. "WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU I'M GONNA MAKE YOU SUFFER!" I can't help the crack in my voice, tears slipping out from under my eyelids to slide down my cheeks. "I'LL KILL YOU FOR WHAT YOU DID TO HIM, YOUR OWN SON YOU SORRY FUCKING FUCK!" I wiggle and kick, and smash and whip, and try everything I can to hit the cackling man over me. "I'LL MAKE YOU BEG FOR MERCY AND FORGIVENESS THEN KILL YOU WITHOUT A SECOND THOUGHT LIKE YOU DID HIM!" My throat was starting to hurt now, it being dry from days without water. I had to stop or else I felt like I might die from fatigue. I couldn't put up a struggle anymore, or shout, or cry, I was just too tired. That's when I felt the needle under my skin, the bastard must have been playing with the sedative, and now it was constantly being administered to me on a drip. Damn.

I let my body go lax beneath me, my muscles just smoothing out like a blanket on a bed. I felt light headed and dizzy even though I wasn't moving. I felt so tired, yet I couldn't sleep, my virus was fighting back against it, I could feel it. It knew as well as I did that as soon as I was unconscious again he'd insert that other virus into me.

The man's hands were on me again, wiping away the tears I had cried from on my cheeks. "You are strange, to be like the Elite but so different, so emotional." John's voice was serious now, analyzing like a scientist's voice should be, but it did not lack his usual undertone of amused insanity. He kept stroking my neck, and the virus purred like a cat under such attentions. This scared me as I grit my teeth against releasing unknown noises. "I suppose it is because you are the mutt of the viral infected world." He admitted, his hand steadily stroking me no matter what he said. My eyebrows narrowed and a question formed on my lips, but I kept my mouth firmly shut, not wanting anything but words to come out, which I was unsure I could accomplish such at that moment.

John must have seen the questioning look on my face, so he decided to answer my unvoiced question. "The reason you have yellow eyes, the reason you react so differently to things than the Elite, is because you are a living cocktail of viruses. You have no one pure virus in you; you have multiple ones that have molded together inside of you, using your strange genes to come together as one." He explained, his tone so astonished, so admiring, it made my stomach churn. "It'll take the sedatives a moment before they are fully able to kick in." He stated, his warm hand disappearing from my neck, to instantly reappear some where he REALLY shouldn't be touching. I'm ashamed and overly embarrassed just thinking about it. "In the meantime lets have some fun."

I ground my teeth together, other noises wanting to come from my throat, that area of my body not being touched in such a long long time. Instead I vocalize something else. "What..-ahhh-…are you planning on injecting me with?" I try and ask seriously, but my voice and tone drop and raise with the way his hand moves. It sickens me, but I'm too tired to scream or fight back, so I do the next best thing, get answers.

"Oh, I thought it was obvious." He laughs, mocking me as if I'm an idiot. "It's the anti-virus tailored to your altered DNA structure specifically. If it works right, it should kill you." John explains more than happily, delightedness in his tone. My heart just drops, having nearly stopped three times now in the last few minutes. I was beginning to be exhausted; it was getting very hard for me to stay conscious.

"That is what we do here. We're engineering a weapon to kill all of the infected plaguing this world, you and that last Elite the only ones we haven't finished with or killed just yet." John stops what he is doing and a whine tries to wiggle its way out of my throat. Lockheart walks over to where my head is and leans down, his breath on my cheeks. "But you will both die, then we'll use the data we've collected from you to wipe your scurg off the map for good. Albert Wesker is the only one truly in our way, well, that is until we retrieved bits of A/W virus from your blood. I wonder, how did you become infected by the Wesker virus when no Wesker child was around you? That virus is none spreadable, Lord Spencer made sure of that. You're just so peculiar." He explained; the madman in love with his own voice. "Oh, you're asleep, oh well." I can hear him shrug as the syringe is in his hand again; and I cannot move as my physical body is asleep, I feel the needle under my skin as I do officially lose consciousness.

Oddly, my last thoughts weren't of anything I thought they'd be of. They weren't of my father or my sister, or even of David. My last thoughts before the plunger went down on the syringe with the needle under my skin was of Darwin, his smile, and how I broke the deal I made with him. An invisible tear rolled down my cheek as I felt guilt for leaving him to die in this hell hole all by himself.

'I'm sorry; I the end, Truth wasn't Enough.'

-X-

End Note: Dun dun duuun! Cliff hanger! Will she die, what will happen to Darwin, how did Angel get infected with the Wesker Child virus? What did those images/memories Angel saw when she was dying by Blondie's hand mean? So many twists, but I'm not telling 'ya a thing! Sorry if this chapter left you scratching your head or if it wasn't what you expected. -_- Next chapter will probably be even better, but I'm still not telling you anything about it!

I know this chapter wasn't as twisted as I intended it to be, but I think that's a good thing!

So R&R please! Angel's life might depend upon it. XD