Whew! Finally found some time to start translating/writing this fanfic again! So sorry it took a while! And thank you to those readers out there following/favoriting my works, to the new followers Apex hunter and Abuzzman405. Flashbacks are almost done. Here we go!

A certain day of a certain month, 2004—

Viper's eyes flew open as he sat up sweating with a knife in one hand that was hidden under his pillow, searching frantically for an enemy. Then he noticed the rusty tin roof and walls through a fuzzy vision. The deep blaring horn from a freighter reminded him where he was: an unused warehouse near the wharf remodeled into a warehouse. With a sigh, he jammed the knife back under his pillow where he had hidden it before going to sleep. His watch indicated the time was 3:30 a.m. "Goddammit, not this again." He grumbled in annoyance. The night's sweat made his shirt grimy and uncomfortable. Getting up, he quietly tiptoed past the couch where Beltway was sleeping with Four Eyes lightly snoring as she snuggled on top of him.

The weather was bleak, with cold rain falling from the sky, but Viper liked this kind of weather. It was quiet, and the sound of rain calmed him down, allowing him to focus. The rain washed away his sweat, making him feel slightly refreshed. It had been over five years since the "incident" in Raccoon City, but like a film reel, everything had been burned into his mind, replaying over and over in his dreams.

The smell of gunpowder residue, the groans and moans of the infected, the battles against the mutated B.O.W.s, the impact from the blast of an explosion, and the pain from claws and bullets all come back vividly. Viper thought that the stress would make him go bald or make him have a psychotic breakdown before he hits puberty.

Viper returned to the warehouse and tossed his soaked shirt into a basket, each filled with men's and women's clothing, respectively. He moved towards the designated kitchen area where Vector, Bertha and Spectre were playing poker using matchsticks as chips. Spectre was in the lead while Vector seemed to be in the middle of a losing streak. Six years had passed, and they all had aged, but their skills and overall abilities, however, have not.

"Guten Morgen, Viper. Care to join? It's getting a little boring right now. Vector isn't exactly a shrewd gambler."

"Thanks but no thanks. I had the dream again from back then."

Spectre looked up from the deck of cards he was shuffling expertly, his face crinkled into a worried countenance. "Again? Seems very frequent nowadays."

"What makes it worse is that they're all lucid dreams. The smell, the sounds, the touch, all of it feels disgustingly real. And I can't fucking sleep after that dream." He pulled out a cold bottle of water from an old fridge and guzzled the entire bottle before tossing the empty bottle away.

"I have sleeping pills if you want some," Berth a offered.

"Appreciate the offer, but not thanks," Viper shook his head as he ran a hand through his hair. "Habitual use has its consequences. I'll stay awake."

"Straight, nine to king," Vector showed his hand. His lips were in a tight line, but there was a child like, triumphant look that was obvious in his eyes.

"You have got to be shitting me." Spectre snorted in disappointment, pushing the pile of matchsticks in the center of the table towards him. His hand was four of a kind with eights.

"Well, it's about time if you ask me," Bertha sighed. She tossed her two pairs of aces and kings onto the pile of discarded cards as she stood up and nonchalantly plopped herself down onto Vector's lap.

"So, what're your plans?"

Spectre frowned, turning his head to one side. "Plans?" He echoed.

"For the future from this moment on. Before we were on the run while taking apart whatever location or people there were related to Umbrella in any way, shape or form. Now that Umbrella's gone, so I think it's high time we start thinking about what to do with ourselves."

Spectre remained silent as he tossed the deck onto the table quivering, holding in his laughter, but soon he began guffawing, clutching at his sides from the pain. "Really, now….The Wolfpack is a pack of misfits that even the other misfits avoided like the plague. What makes you think we can have a steady job in a company somewhere? And what to do with ourselves in the future? Isn't it obvious? If there is a battlefield to be fought in, we go there. That's how we earn our paychecks."

"Working at a hospital or any place related with medical work is a no-go for me, especially after getting my license as a doctor was revoked. Besides, the pay was horrible. I would go for it again if I could, but it'll take lots of time, preparation and money." Bertha swept the matchsticks back into the box and leaned backwards against Vector's chest.

"Okay, I get it, we're sticking together. But, need I remind you, we are fucking BROKE! And we're down to our last mags for our guns too. Even if the idiots that come after us are ten-cent wannabes with guns, if they have the numbers, we won't last a day in the worst case scenario."

"Fair point. What do you suggest then, Lucky Boy?" Spectre inquired as he leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the table.

"We start with the undesirable population of the human race. Drug dealers, arms dealers, pimps, gang members, mafioso, the run of the mill scum that the underbelly of human society has no shortage of."

"I like where this is going," Vector nodded.

"Sounds fun too," Bertha agreed, continuing to stroke Vector's hair with her fingers.

"We start small but once we blow them away to kingdom come, the ball will start rolling. We use their resources as our capital. Killing without leaving evidence is our area of expertise, so the press and police will just think of it as rival organizations communicating in a very meaningful way. We could do mercenary work again as well, but only when the time comes. But we need money to continue this status quo we've kept and some extra funds to leave the country. Oh yeah, and fake passports and ghost accounts."

The three of them looked at each other. It was the perfect plan. Criminal activity was steadily climbing ever since B.O.W.s and its creators have fallen, their secrets exposed. Wherever crime was on the rise were convenient fountains of weapons, money, information and other useful materials.

"Every now and then he impresses me, but not like this. I like this idea." Spectre nodded thoughtfully."

"I do as well. Executives in organized crime and even terrorists should have high-value intel. Oh, why don't we try tracking down most wanted criminals? They have rewards for that too."

"Ooh, good one. Mind if I take charge when we do that? I want some spending money of my own."

While Spectre and Bertha voiced their approval and enthusiasm for Viper's plan, Vector remained silent. "Bertha, your beau seems to want to rain on my parade. Mind persuading him to our side? Work your magic and all?"

"I am not against it," Vector grunted as he picked Bertha up and repositioned her into a position more comfortable to him. "It is a good idea. I'm sure Beltway and Four Eyes would approve as well. The one that I'm worried about is our about Lupo? She's a parent, a mother with children, unlike us. And Viper has no next of kin. It would depend on what she wants, but you two will have a shot at a…..how should I put this….a less bloody, less turbulent life."

But Viper shook his head in response to Vector's option. "I'm staying with you. All of you."

"That's fine, and I won't stop you. Let's hear Lupo's opinion on the matter."

"My opinion on what matter?" Lupo spoke up as she crawled out of her sleeping bag. She was already in her mid-forties, but her appearance told everyone otherwise; she looked no older than mid to late thirties.

"Viper was just making a proposition on how we would go about our lives from now on, and that we should give some people a chance at a normal life should they choose to accept it."

"You're talking about me." Lupo said with conviction, sighing. She stood up and started loosening her body up doing some stretching exercises. "True, I had children. But they are gone now. They have been for a while now." The room was immediately plunged into an icy silence when those words left her lips.

"And you didn't think to tell this to us, why?" Bertha stood up, grabbing Lupo by her shoulders, her nails digging into her skin. "We are your brothers and sisters in arms, but they're your flesh and blood. I've never been a parent myself, but I know parents will do anything to protect their own."

"We worked together for Umbrella, for money, but this is different. Yes, but I couldn't ask you to fight and die for them. You don't gain anything from it."

Viper sat there in shock as if someone had landed a direct blow to his brain, still discombobulated by her words. They're dead? Her children? The children that she always bragged about every now and then when she got drunk?

"That is who they are, aren't they? Any traitors, no matter how deep in the inner circle they are, are dealt with. And a normal life as a mother? I can never lead a life like that, not now or ever. The only life I know is the tightrope of life and death, the life of a soldier. When I left the special forces to start a family, even when I was with child, that part of me has tried to surface so many times. That part of me was always there. I was always afraid to show that side of me to my children." She grabbed a mug and poured herself some coffee and downed it quickly, scrunching her face in disgust. As someone used to making her own coffee starting with grinding the beans, this was unacceptable. "Tuition, living expenses, medical funds for emergencies, my pay from Umbrella covered all of it; in exchange for my life. But this….you six are all I have now."

Nobody said a word, cleared their throat or uttered a grunt. As Lupo was the only one with a family, the loss and the pain was insurmountable. Nobody else dared to say anything to console her. It would only result in adding insult to injury. There was not a trace left of their captain, the "Wolf Mother" that would make even Beltway cower in fear.

"Then whyn't you jus' roll with it?" Beltway mumbled waking up. Four Eyes rolled off of him onto the floor, digging the heels of her palms into her eyes and yawning. "I got kicked out of the army because of who I am. Once Umbrella picked me up and put me under your command, I wasn't too happy, but I grew to like it and have fun. I even picked up new tricks because I rolled with you. I won't stop you if you go your way, but I'd want you with us. That's my vote. Besides," he looked embarrassed and uncomfortable at the next words he was about to utter. "Your pestering no-nonsense attitude kinda remind me of my dead madre. Takes me back you know? Plus your grub is fucking amazing."

"Ooh, someone's a mama's boy," Bertha giggled, pointing at him teasingly. "Who would have thought?"

"Oh fuck you, Bertha. Thanks a lot for ruining the mood." He flung the cushion that he was using as a pillow, but she batted it out of the way.

"I'll throw my vote in with Beltway as well," Four Eyes stood up, brushing her hair out of her eyes. I have enough data and intel about Umbrella's viruses and B.O.W.s thanks to Bertha and Spectre. I've done enough experiments and tests, and we have been moving around a lot but I'm finally getting somewhere with a prototype of a vaccine in case we have to go through that again. There's no point in going back to academia. Besides, Bertha could use another hand to sew us up."

"Oh, Four Eyes, this is why I love you." Bertha blew several kisses at her and winked.

Silence fell again. Only it was something more comfortable. They all traded glances, smiling and nodding at each other.

"Beltway, I'm hungry,"

"Alrighty then, let's go," He deftly picked Four Eyes up bridal style and started to leave the room.

"No junk food though. My stomach walls can't handle all the grease. My stomach feels flabby too…"

"Ah, come to think of it. I didn't check wire transfer from our last job. Laptop should be charged by now." Spectre folded up the newspaper and hurriedly went for the stairs.

"Vector, we're going shopping,"

"I'm not buying clothes."

"Oh, will you come on and stop being a baby?" Bertha huffed impatiently as she took Vector's hand and led him off outside, leaving Lupo alone with Viper.

"Remember the first time I got shot?" He broke the silence first and lifted his shirt, revealing two scars from bullets in his left side. "I was bringing up the rear when I took two 5.56mm rounds. One went through and the other shattered when it hit a rib. I had bad internal bleeding and you threatened Bertha with a hatchet to use anesthetics before you pulled the shards out of me."

"She may have her principles, but she had to make an exception with you. Unnecessary pain inflicted on an immature body would leave long lasting repercussions, and the shock would have killed you. Why did you insist on not using it."

Viper averted his gaze, chewing on his lower lip. "When I started working with you six, I knew you didn't treat me as an equal. I had to work to earn your trust. Your respect. If everyone else could hold out—"

"Nobody would have thought less of you." Lupo shushed him gently, cupping his face into her hands. "Do you understand? We all have been your age once. Even me." She held him close, kissing him on the forehead.

"You held my hand while I was out, didn't you?" Viper asked, his voice muffled due to his face being pressed into her bosom.

"….You knew?"

"Yeah. I didn't see it, but my right hand felt a lot warmer than my left. It was just a guess, and then process of elimination. It's too small to be Beltway, a bit bigger than Four Eyes, Bertha was working on me, and Spectre and Vector don't seem like the sentimental type." Hearing these words, Lupo felt an inexplicable sense of joy leaping in her chest, and she hugged the boy tighter as her motherly instincts reared its head. The boy who never knew the concept of being a mother's child, who held a weapon in his hand, killing since he could remember, being treated as an adult; a soldier.

"If….if you were not a child soldier, this would be what a son would get from a mother and more. She would take you places, care for you, kiss you, protect you, and spoil you rotten."

"I like that idea. I'd like you as a parent, I think. Mom." Her heart skipped. A small gasp escaped Lupo—-Karena LesProux— tightening her already vice-like hold on Viper even tighter. Tears started streaming down her face as she sank down to the floor on her knees, crying harder than she ever had in her life. All there was was a mother, mourning her children death, whose body and soul was tattered from the sacrifices, the fighting and the sorrow.

Once she had cried for roughly an hour and released Viper, the back of his shirt had a solid wet spot of tears. "Sorry," she sniffled, "I'm not used to….having people see me cry."

"Oh, don't worry. Remember the time you got a serious concussion and you were just….out for two days straight? I thought you died and I cr—-shit."

"I think I know why you're our good luck charm, ma cher. You have a good heart. And now that I'm refreshed, I'm going to sleep." She flopped down on the couch opposite from the one Beltway was sleeping on and held Viper close like a child snuggling with their favorite plush toy.

"Whoa whoa, wait. Like this?!"

"A child that sleeps well grows well. Be quiet and stay like this for a while. Please. For me." After the lucid dreaming of the hellhole called Raccoon City, Viper was never able to sleep a wink, but by some miracle or another, this new blanket-like warmth from Lupo slowly made him doze off into a deep slumber.

"Merci, mon fils," Lupo whispered, shedding another tear of joy before closing her eyes as well.

It was high noon already, but that did not matter.