Somewhere near Mount Everest, passing over Nepal. Tuesday, 10th March, 2009, 11:13 pm.

The respected B.S.A.A. Operative Chris Redfield was flying in the airspace nearing Mount Everest with trusted copilot Chief Zachariah Wesker of the L.A.P.D. They were flying the friendly skies in a B.S.A.A. C-130 Hercules, a large four-rotor plane used for transportation.

The two men recently finished a mission in Africa. Weapon smugglers and terrorists unleashed a terrible biohazard that ravaged the populace - something called Uroboros. The unique strain of plaga corrupted the townspeople and stirred up quite a mess the B.S.A.A. had to clean up.

They weren't alone, Zaac offered his help from the L.A.P.D.'s very own S.T.A.R.S. team, a spiritual successor to the R.P.D.'s original. It was Zaac's first significant mission since the kidnapping of President Graham's daughter in 2004.

The outbreak was put into motion by the evil plotting of Albert Wesker, in another attempt to achieve Godhood by using unstable mutagens. Chris, Sheva Alomar, Jill Valentine and Zachariah Wesker were all there to end Wesker's plans once and for all, thus saving billions of lives across the globe.

After his bomber failed to reach the altitude to deliver an infectious payload around the world, Wesker stood his ground to fight his pursuers to the death. What they thought was a final showdown, Wesker was saved by General Savage, disappearing from the rocky volcano outside Africa. He was defeated, not terminated.

Even though Wesker was an heir to Umbrella; he cared little for the corporation as he had to share the director's seat with four others – one being his sister. They were to share the advisor Derek C. Simmons and had to prove themselves to the throne. Wesker only desired the seat to milk the resources of the entire company; to some extent, it was working out for his research on Uroboros.

The involvement of Tricell was duly noted, the problem was the fact no one knew what their true intentions were to ally themselves with Wesker's ambition. There were deeper intentions hidden behind those sunglasses. Chris was disappointed that Wesker got away, but Dorian Savage's presence always has mixed effects unaccounted for.

All that mess was finally sorted out by the B.S.A.A. and other groups of enforcement. The death toll was high for Africa, but it was better than the deaths of billions. Umbrella was getting more and more confident. Zaac already had a bone to pick with them over the years leading to 2009; now things were escalating quicker and in bursts.

Apart from the two of them, they were alone. There wasn't anything in the cargo hold apart from the usual parachutes and the few fold-out chairs. It was built for transportation, but today it was just a vehicle that needed to report back to base.

Being in the Bioterrorism Security Assessment Alliance, Chris needed the aircraft to secure a more natural way to transport troops or supplies, Zaac volunteered to be his copilot as it was a long trip to be alone for. The estimated travel time was three hours at the least.

It was already nearing midnight, the storms above Everest was diabolical with the dark skies. Then again, the soft hum and steady nature of the flight was a pleasure he shared with Chris, even if he was an amateur in comparison.

Mount Everest was in sight, and the heavy weather bombarded the plane with snow and ice. Just some typical turbulence the veterans shouldn't worry about. Communication to headquarters was out because of the signal's weak strength, but they still weren't concerned. Everything was optimal.

Chris and Zaac had reason to believe that Umbrella's CEO Victor Romanov was hiding out in a safehouse somewhere in Russia. Before he was killed, Oswell Spencer felt the integrity to inform Zaac that there four "New Age Founders" planning to succeed him, four more people he had to put down for good.

Spencer was the hardest man to track down; the only upside was knowing that the crusade to locate his associates would be more comfortable. The new founders, their general, CEO and advisor all had to die for the world to be at peace. All must die.

Albert Wesker was first on the list because the incident in Africa left him open for retaliation. Zaac had an ace up his sleeve, but things had to be executed with a certain amount of finesse before he could finally put his estranged father to rest.

"I hate this weather," Zaac mumbled.

Chris flicked an overhead switch and adjusted his headset. "We won't be out long; we're not too far off B.S.A.A. headquarters."

"Haven't been home for weeks now." Zaac's eye twitched, and he looked far out the window of the cockpit. The blizzard was worsening. "I wished it would snow like this for years, but this is ridiculous."

"I hate the cold."

Zaac stared at Chris. "The cold brings people together." His focus drifted back to the skies. "Nights like this reminds me when I took the boss out for a coffee on that cold morning. I think it was a Saturday."

"Who?"

"The ex-police chief, before she was… you know..."

Chris pouted his lip. "Rachel was the best chief I ever met. Absolute tragedy."

Zaac sighed. "If only we got there sooner… I'll sure miss her, though." He focused back on the flight, with a firm hold of the tight controls. "Long trips sure bore me. Do they bore you?"

"A bit," Chris admitted quietly. "I like the sound and feel of jets personally. Transport planes don't interest me."

Zaac glowered. "Big planes and cruisers bother me."

"Why?"

A red alarm lit up the cockpit as a siren blared. A warning symbol crocked up on the controls. "How did the rear hatch is open?!" He desperately pressed a button that should close it, but it wasn't working. Had to be done manually. "Fuck manual!"

"Get it closed!"

Zaac unstrapped himself from his chair and ripped his helmet off. "Better be a good reason for it to open like this!" The blaring alarm abruptly ceased. Zaac stood at the door and checked the icon next to the button he pressed earlier, the image for the cargo door wasn't lit up. "Did you do that?"

"No..." The alarm came back on, and the warning icon started flashing again.

"Must be a door malfunction."

Quickly shuffling past an old item box, Zaac slid through the sliding door into the cargo hold and practically felt the level of the plane slipping a tiny bit as he was off-balance, only in the slightest. The door closed behind him. The hatch in the very back was wide open and blasting cold air at him like a politician; it was pitch black outside apart from the bit of snow that gets by. Some snow was getting inside, and Zaac felt the pull.

Zaac took a few steps forward and suddenly felt something hit him hard in his lower back; he was caught off guard and tumbled across the floor. The speed he was going made it hard for him to get a grip on the slippery floor.

Just after panicking, Zaac kept himself at arm's length away from the open air. He breathed, and he was dragged backwards by his right foot, his hands scratched up the ice. Zaac whipped his body around to see the attacker.

"Why am I not surprised to see you?" he said, unsurprised, "Of all the places, Wesker…"

Zaac's father raised his chin and looked down to Zaac. "Oh, I'm sorry, did I break your concentration?" Wesker mocked with his shady voice.

"Not as much as this'll do!"

Zaac whipped out his magnum revolver and aimed at Wesker, but he anticipated his quick draw and lifted him quickly, throwing him head over heels. He landed on his belly and immediately began to slip from the suction. He had seconds to get a good grip on the icy floor but panicked between that and his revolver.

Zaac's magnum launched itself out the cargo room and was gone from sight with Zaac trying to reach out for it. He had his left hand on the very edge of the floor with Wesker stepping over to him; he stood to enjoy his struggle to keep himself from falling out the plane.

"Nothing quite like a bit of fresh air, don't you think, Zaac? You look like you might fall. Tell me, have you ever fell from a building before?" Zaac gritted his teeth and raised his other hand to join his left one. "Falling from a moving plane is much worse. I can't imagine the mess you'll leave behind when you plummet into the ground."

Zaac growled. "Thanks for the vote of confidence." It did feel like he was holding onto the ledge of a building, wind brushing through his hair and armour. He strained his back muscles and pulled his body into the cargo room and threw himself at Wesker.

Wesker's left hand slid around Zaac's left arm, and he used his right to roll Zaac over his shoulder and dropped him to the floor. Thudding like a sack of potatoes, Wesker stomped on Zaac's head and pulled his right arm. Zaac began to cry under his mighty boot. The side of his head cracked against the floor.

Zaac ripped his arm free and rolled back up to his feet to charge at Wesker with his right shoulder, crunching into the old man's chest. Wesker staggered back, and Zaac pulled out his other handgun from his right hip and took aim. It was his family Colt M911 in its nickel-plated glory.

Glowering with his cat-like eyes, Wesker reached out for Zaac's arm to raise it over his head. He twisted his body into Zaac and threw him to the ground, allowing him to snatch his handgun. Wesker aimed at Zaac while he was still distracted.

Zaac growled. "Let me guess… you're here to kill Chris?"

Wesker smiled and brushed his chest. "Aww, you remembered." He wore a woven leather trench coat, and what looked like a kevlar vest and thickened combat trousers underneath. All black to complement his sunglasses and shady nature.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you would be the most persistent stalker I ever met."

"It's your own fault for getting in my way."

Zaac huffed. "If it's not me, it would be someone else."

"Really? Why would they send in your place?"

"Anyone strong enough to do what's right and stare pure evil in the face."

"Pure evil? Moi?" Wesker sneered.

"Killing innocent people, even your own sons-"

"I couldn't kill you, Zaac, there's nothing substantial to gain by killing you for table scraps."

"Then I'm not worth the bullets? How rude…"

"On the other hand, you are standing in my way… You do understand I take a huge offence to that."

"Then why haven't you pulled the trigger?" Zaac smirked.

Wesker shrugged. "Partly because my father's handgun feels good to be back in my hand, then again, just for you to digest a message. If you continue to get in my way, Zaac, I will hurt you really, really bad, just to teach you a lesson. However, when it comes to Chris, my demands are simple: step aside or die."

"That handgun isn't even loaded."

"What?"

Zaac held no emotion even in spite of being held at gunpoint, almost bored of what's to come. The Colt was his secondary and would you always need to keep them loaded? Wesker wasn't sure; they never underestimated each other's wit. Wesker folded first and quickly glanced at his gun.

Wesker's legs were swept from underneath him, and he landed on his left shoulder, Zaac made his move to disarm him. A round was fired that ringed past his head, and Wesker bent his leg to kick Zaac, crunching into his abdomen and pushing him back. After a quick flourish, whipping around his legs, Wesker practically flew back to his feet and aimed.

Neither of them was left-handed, Zaac grabbed Wesker's hand to keep him from firing another round and swung his right elbow into the side of his cheek and back again that crunched into his face. Wesker's head rolled back, and his grip faltered a tiny bit, but he ripped his hand from his son's and backhanded his face with the Colt.

Zaac yelled out and took another pistol whip to his forehead. A fierce straight kick flattened Zaac out on his back, near the rear hatch that started sucking him to the outside.

Zaac scrambled to his feet and built up speed to throw a right hook at Wesker that he effortlessly ducked under and twisted his body to the right to avoid his left uppercut. He saw Zaac was going a right jab and before he moved, Wesker dropped his gun into his right hand to grab Zaac's right jab.

He applied crushing pressure on Zaac's fist, causing him to falter enough for Wesker to spin him around and launching him against the wall behind the cockpit with a slight strain.

Zaac cried out as he impacted the wall and scrunched onto the floor. Wesker had the upper hand with his Colt, aiming at the young man. "Sloppy display." Wesker smiled. "I taught you better than that." The cockpit door slid open.

"What the hell is going on back here?!" Chris yelled. He didn't notice Zaac on the ground to his right, Chris' eyes passed over Wesker and took immediate action as his aim directed to him. Chris twisted back into the cockpit and narrowly avoided a shot that struck a stray piece of electronics.

Wesker focused on his nemesis more than his son, so Zaac got on his feet quickly to wrap his arms around Wesker's waist to take down. Wesker snarled while he and Zaac tumbled across the floor with him being thrown over Zaac's shoulder nearer to the rear hatch; he landed on his feet like a cat with plenty of range to shoot back at Chris who was taking a stance behind Zaac. He had his Beretta handgun.

Zaac reached over his back and unsheathed a sword that glimmered in the limited light; Sally was a little over four feet in length with a razor-sharp double-sided edge. He raised the hilt to his head level and pointed the blade down, keeping a firm footing. "You want Chris; you're gonna have to go through me first!"

"You shouldn't play with swords… you might lose more than an eye."

"Try me..."

Wesker fired at Zaac, and Sally blocked the bullet, it broke on impact as he fired another two more quickly after. Zaac deflected the last two shots as he ran at Wesker to twist a swing that intended for a quick beheading. Though it was almost impossible to see along with some shots by Chris, Wesker had more instantaneous reactions to dodge and promptly ducked to step away to Zaac's left.

His neck snapped to Wesker, and Zaac thrust Sally right at him before he could reach for his concealed handgun. Wesker wasn't there as he dropped his back to the floor to kick out Zaac's right shin that was too far forward with that thrust.

As Zaac was about to fall, Wesker kicked his underbelly with the opposite boot. Just like that, Zaac was off the ground entirely and in the air. He wouldn't let him relish that for long, Wesker twisted his body to kick Zaac again.

The force of Wesker's kick to the side launched Zaac at Chris, his back knocked Chris down and sent Zaac at the far end of the cargo room. Sally dropped from his hands. Wesker got back on his feet from the leftover momentum with Zaac already rushing past Chris, Sally flew into his right hand, and he swung.

Sally struck into the ground since Wesker anticipated his sloppy nature and made the careful decision to step to his right, but Zaac went too far forward. Wesker moved closer to Chris, when he passed Zaac he kicked his rear end without a single glance.

Zaac flew towards the rear hatch and struck the left side with his shoulder ramming it before tumbling across the ground on the rebound and being sucked out. Luckily, he caught the hatch with his right hand, Sally was out of his reach, but he still had a combat knife sheathed on his chest.

Zaac pulled himself up and had to do something since Wesker was throwing jabs and punches at Chris; he couldn't land a shot at his inhuman speed and dexterity. Chris was raised off his feet by Wesker and struggled for air in his grasp; he felt Wesker's grip tightening. Zaac heard Chris' wheezing and gasping and quickly reached for his knife to break it up. It was life or death.

A roar escaped Wesker's snarling voice when the serrated knife dug into his right tricep. Wesker was always the type to turn his back to his sons. Chris fell to the ground and gasped for air by the mouthfuls and Wesker had a nastier red glare from his feral eyes when he turned around.

Firstly, Wesker grabbed Chris' collar and threw him back into the cockpit, he crashed into an overhead cabinet and slid off a control panel – still gasping for air. He was hardly a threat now, but Zaac was rubbing him the wrong way. The door was closed behind him, and Wesker ripped the knife from his arm and chucked it away.

Wesker snarled. "You're starting to get on my nerves, boy."

Zaac almost had a grin, since he bought Chris some time to recuperate. Wesker picked up Sally and threw it out of the moving plane. After some faint whistling, it was gone. Zaac lost his grin and shook his head with grief. That sword was legendary.

With a small outburst, Wesker caving the sliding door with a single shoulder ram, denting it around the middle where the valve was. He punched out the door's circuitry and effectively kept it from opening with the huge dent also contributing to the fault.

"I'll deal with you later, Chris!" Zaac saw him coming closer to him; at this point, he had little strength to pull himself up with the brisk air dragging at his legs. Wesker stepped to the manual switch to close the rear hatch on his far left. With a grin as heinous as ever.

The hatch door strained to lift with Zaac's weight pressing down on it, but it still tried to close slowly. Wesker watched Zaac decide to let go or lose a limb or two; he went for the secret option. His magnum, Red Hare.

Just like that, Zaac had his magnum and fired at Wesker when he least expected it.

Large rounds thundered through the air. The door was nearing the top, and his head was almost touching the ceiling, but he made all three shots count. With his right arm holding him still, Zaac fired a round through Wesker's left shoulder that made him curse loudly.

The second round hit his other shoulder that spun him around, and while he was reeling the third shot struck his hip. All rounds went through him like paper. Wesker's arm reached out with his handgun equipped and fired back with wicked accuracy at the man that was nearly about to lose his right arm.

Wesker's Samurai Edge had enough force to shoot the magnum from his son's hand and enough speed to take out Zaac's crutch; his other arm. Zaac had no armour on apart from his hand and elbow, eventually enough meat and bone was plastered with gunfire that forced Zaac to let go as the door sealed shut regrettably.

It was silent inside the cargo room. Zaac was most likely falling to his death; Mount Everest will kill him. It was hard to see, but Wesker actively avoided confronting Zaac in case he had to kill him for reasons unknown. At least this way he never indeed killed him. The mountain did.

Thud. Something substantial caved in the roof above Wesker's head as if something just latched itself on. He stopped moving to hear better, and as he did something instantly tore and pulled apart the hull from the outside. Snow and a freezing blast of air whooshed in, Zaac dropped in covered head to toe in frost.

Zaac shivered while he shook his shoulders dry. "Didn't care for that cold shoulder you gave us, Wesker."

Wesker confronted Zaac and raised his handgun's sights. The wounds he endured have since healed up, to Wesker's expense. He packed powerful slugs though… "Stand aside."

"I'm taking a huge risk showing up unarmed." Wesker assumed whatever Zaac has to say would be funny, so naturally, he smiled and gave him his undivided attention. "Zachariah understands the problem you have with this Chris, Wesker, but as a neutral party, I must ask you to lay down your arms and surrender."

"Must you talk in the third person?"

"You mistake me for Zachariah, Mr Wesker. I'm afraid we've never met." Instead of golden eyes, only one was the same as before, whereas Zaac's right eye was solid crimson...

"Doesn't matter who you think you are. You're wasting your breath. Why do you think I care about anyone but myself?"

"You hold back when you face Zachariah and his brothers, you are capable of killing them without any effort if you so choose, yet they still live. Mr Wesker… this is our final plea to you. Stand down and let your son arrest you; he will judge you fairly-"

"You would sooner execute me."

"There is no other alternative." Zaac paused to digest some words to use. "Should you refuse, I'll destroy you myself. I take no pleasure taking lives, but it's for a good cause."

"This song and dance is getting old now, Zaac."

Zaac shook his head. "Your soul is not worth saving." He moved his hand to reach into his back pocket.

Wesker thought Zaac was going for another weapon and shot at Zaac several times. A small volley of 9mm rounds scratched his chest plates and drew some blood in his armour's unprotected areas. Wesker hit his arms and his neck once, he didn't see Zaac snap his hand in the air.

Then the air rippled, and Wesker was shot across the room and crashed into the rear door. He rolled all the way down and took some time getting his posture back. Zaac went to the door to the cockpit and took a firm hold of anything he could get his hands on.

The valve was broken, and the door was the feeble type of metal, so he dug his fingers into the door and ripped it off the hinges. Chris looked better than he did a few minutes ago; he had a parachute rucksack on his back. They were happy to see each other.

"Did you… Did you just rip the door off?"

Zaac shrugged. "Maybe... Got a parachute?"

Chris tugged the backpack's strap. "When you say jump, I'll jump."

Wesker didn't have his sunglasses on and stood with his maniacal glare. He was getting frustrated. "Might be sooner than expected..." Zaac groaned and stood between Chris and Wesker.

"Step aside."

"So you kill this good man while we watch? Not happening. This is how it's going to go. This human walks away while we settle things once and for all. Whoever dies… dies. No more holding back."

Wesker sighed. "Still third person..."

Zaac glowered at Wesker and breathed slowly. "You think we're surprised you're here? No…" Wesker let Zaac take a small device from his rear pouch. It had a single button and a long one on the grip. "Zachariah staged the whole thing. The plane, Mr Redfield here, and the C-4 he planted on the plane's hull outside."

Chris' eyes dared to Zaac; he gnashed his teeth. "You used me as bait?"

"If it's any consolation, Zachariah means it in the nicest possible way."

"You're bluffing."

"All I need to do is hold this button, and everything goes boom."

Wesker smiled. "Why, Zaac, how delightfully treacherous of you, never thought you had it in you. Putting your life in the name of good and right. A fool's path."

"If God wills it; we do what we must."

"I must admit you got me pretty good, but I won't let Chris escape when I'm so close to ending it all."

Zaac scoffed. "Is killing this particular human really worth your life, Mr Wesker?"

Wesker brushed off what appeared to be dirt of his coat's collar. He was smug. "I have nothing to lose and everything to gain, and I'm not going to ignore that chance."

Zaac shook his head wistfully. "It's pointless then..." He reached out, and something dark and horrible lingered around his fingertips.

A stream of black shadows shot from Zaac's palm and slammed into Wesker, looping tendrils around his torso and restraining his weapon to his side. He twisted his body and pulled back as hard as he could to remove Wesker from the rear hatch and pressed him against the wall behind him and Chris. Wesker was flattened with his body stretched over the wall above a large crate, with shadows looping around his limbs.

Zaac was straining something awful, when he turned his head to Chris sweat trickled down his brows and cheeks. "I don't know how long I can restrain him," he said calmly, "Time for you to leave, Mr Redfield."

"I'm not leaving you."

"I'm the only one that can handle him. Zachariah wants you to go. Now!"

Chris shook his head and saw the stress in Zaac's eyes; he was struggling to keep his father in line. He was too powerful, and whatever he was doing it was faltering quickly, Wesker was resisting Zaac's pressure. Chris folded. "If you so wish." He ran to the rear hatch and opened the door, looking back one more time, finding it weird he was still referring himself in the third person.

"Don't worry about Zachariah, Mr Redfield." Zaac smiled and gave Chris a thumbs-up.

"I wasn't; I was just…" The sound of the alarm made Chris feel uneasy. Gave him a strange feeling that this would be the last time they see each other. Someone is going to die, but Chris couldn't think that way. Zaac was hard to put down. "Don't die on me."

"Never planned on it..."

Chris nodded, his body was almost freezing over form the cold air sucking at him. Ruffled his hair and stole his breath. When he was at the peak of his confidence, he stepped off the platform, leaving the cargo room. The door slowly closed after a few seconds, and Chris was already soaring through the air.

When Zaac checked on Wesker a live round brushed past his neck, then a second bullet struck the other side of his neck. Zaac staggered and cut off the shadows he used to restrain his father. Wesker rolled off the crate to regain his footing and kept on firing at Zaac.

Several bullets landed on their mark, striking the weaker parts of his blue combat armour. The lower stomach and neck were lightly armoured, whereas his triceps and biceps were bare. Zaac registered the muzzle flash from the direction of Wesker before he felt the impacts to his belly. Not all shots were at centre mass; he felt a sharp pain on his left arm that turned him away. A good hit for his face sent Zaac sprawling.

He should be dead. Zaac felt around his left eyebrow, and there was a bloody, suckling hole. Wesker reloaded his gun, and Zaac swung his arm out and sent three sharp black objects that had a razor-sharp edge, they were like small shadow knives.

Two shadow knives struck each of Wesker's shoulders with the third passing straight through his chest; it was so quick and sharp that there was only little sharp pain. Wesker dropped his handgun and collapsed a bit; he leant on the wooden crate behind him.

Zaac rushed at Wesker with a straight punch, but Wesker was prepared to counter him and used his left arm to swat his fist away. He threw an uppercut to Zaac's chin that rocked his head back. Before he could grasp the pain, Wesker grabbed his collar and swung him into the crate.

Zaac didn't stop until his head hit the wall in the back; he destroyed the crate as his head, neck and shoulder rammed straight through. His neck crunched something awful. He moaned loudly under the scattered planks of wood. Wesker clutched his belt and threw him to the back of the room. He laid out on his back, holding his bruised forehead.

Wesker looked for a weapon and had to settle for a crude iron pipe. Around two inches in diameter and a meter in length, He picked up Zaac by his neck and threw him to the wall on his left. It sounded like he was going to say thank you, but his voice was strangled.

The pipe was swung at Zaac's left cheek and again on the receiving end that collided with his nose and teeth. Zaac cried out but still kept his balance by holding onto the wall, then Wesker brought the pipe to the back of his head. The end was like a club that cracked into his head. The pipe broke…

Zaac fell on his hands and knees. Wesker discarded his weapon and threw Zaac again at the other wall opposite. The blows sent colourful shapes and stars floating around the rim of Zaac's eyesight. Felt nice lying down though…

A firm grip formed around Zaac's collar and just like that he was lifted off his feet out of the blue and brought back to Wesker's ugly mug. He wasn't smiling, and his cat-like eyes were flaring up, like a predator to the prey. This is what he wanted: to finish the fight.

To do his duty, he had to set aside Zaac's parental instincts and put this Wesker to rest and out of everyone's misery. Despite his Godlike power, he never stood a chance against Wesker's determination and little regard for others. Those were his strengths that countered Zaac's weaknesses. Then it hit him…

Wesker rammed his hand through Zaac's chest, right between his armour plates. The kevlar, chain mail and blast pockets hardly softened the thrust as Wesker's hand finally ended on the other side of his back. Zaac's voice was hoarse and sputtered just short of gasping, he felt his heart explode, his eyes bulged, and blood crawled back up his throat.

Wesker smiled, his gloved hand and tricep were coated in Zaac's blood. As he drummed his fingers, he felt something he thought was satisfaction, like the same feeling he got when he killed Lord Spencer in his own cell. His hand brushed past Zaac's spine and ribcage when he ripped his arm out of his second son's torso.

There was no more sound. Zaac hardened while blood flew from the hole in his chest and mouth. His eyes darted around like they wanted to escape his head, bouncing from side to side. His numb fingers dug around in his chest cavity, volumes of blood coursing over his fingers told him that he was dying at an alarming rate. The brutality of Wesker's determination proved to be too much...

"That hurts us… Fuck…" Zaac's voice softened, wondering if he could survive, he felt his legs collapse, and he scrunched against the wall. "I… failed…?"

Dripping blood was audible when it trickled through Wesker's grasp and onto the floor. "Plans change, and shit happens. Deal with it."

"Zachariah…" Blood dripped from Zaac's torn lips. He blinked rapidly to stay conscious and closed his eyes one last time. His body slid down the wall.

It was no easy task, but it was done, Wesker finally killed Zaac, and he will trouble his plans no more. Chris was a step down in comparison, so there won't be any problems killing him after today. What should be felt like a victory over a worthy opponent, Wesker wasn't feeling the emotions he was expecting, probably to do with the fact he punched a hole through his son's chest with his hand. That'll do it.

He didn't know what to feel. Joy? That he swatted a pest that always interfered with his plans? Satisfaction? That he killed an opponent that almost rivalled him in power? Or perhaps regret… Zaac was the only person that despised him the very least and actually had some hope he would change his wicked ways. The hole in his dead son's chest suggested not only he crossed the line, but he also smudged it and spat on it.

"You chose your side, boy…" Wesker sighed. "Such a waste of potential."

Wesker walked to the cockpit to see if he could commandeer the plane for his personal use in tracking Chris. He was most likely on foot right now, and the tracking systems in the plane could single him out if he was nearby.

Wesker wouldn't admit he wasn't spectacular with planes and aircraft, but he just didn't care for the usage of them. Computers were more his thing. He assumed the role of a pilot and got comfortable. There were too many dials overhead and not enough options to initiate what he wanted: to track down any moving objects within the area of the plane.

The altitude was high, passing well over Mount Everest but no sign of moving objects such as man or machine. There was nothing the radar could pick up this high since there wasn't anything out there apart from a vacant building stationed at the peak of Everest. Umbrella owned it. Wesker saw it since his eyesight is phenomenal.

Could take the plane and crash it somewhere like the B.S.A.A. headquarters or a Verkraft facility. Damn. Autopilot was on. Couldn't switch it off. The terminal displayed an error of a man with glasses wagging his finger and spouting a patronising "no, no, no" and stating he didn't say the magic word. Scott… That man was too smart for his own good.

The alarm came back on. It looked like it was another stowaway. Wesker whipped his head around and jumped from the chair to investigate the cargo room. The rear door was opening slowly with a groan, Zaac leant on the wall and had a rucksack on his back.

A parachute. His body was slouched and had a sway; he didn't even bother addressing the wound in his chest and back. He left a trail of blood from the pool where he sat earlier.

As fresh air was getting sucked into the room, Wesker grabbed Zaac and threw him to the back of the room. Zaac was a wreck; he couldn't get back on his feet and slipped a bit on his hands. "Didn't I… kill you earlier?" Wesker sighed. "That still wasn't enough?"

Zaac strained and groaned. "You have no idea… what we're capable of… Just give us a minute, and I'll show you full well..."

"You don't have a minute."

Wesker shot and fired at Zaac rapidly with his handgun all across his body. Bullets skipped, skimmed and struck his body in several places. The bullets broke upon impact of his armoured plates, while the shots to his belly and back hurt like hell. Zaac screamed, changing pitches while the bullets made furrows in his skin and flesh.

Zaac writhed on the ground like an insect in a frying pan, bleeding with every subtle move. "Your armour is somewhat adequate, but that won't save you from a few headshots, will it?"

"I can take it..." Zaac rolled onto his hands and knees and collapsed. Wesker took the parachute from his back. The door behind was fully open.

"Ah, looks like I am done here. Chris will be next soon enough. Tell me, how far could a man his age get? I don't have time to waste-"

Zaac rolled back over with his fingers flexed out, both hands snapping to the air. Then the air rippled, and Wesker flew back again at the ceiling with twice the force and velocity. He growled and scrunched on his back, wondering how Zaac keeps doing that.

Zaac launched himself on Wesker and pinned his neck with his strongest tricep and kept the pressure on him. Wesker couldn't budge him with his son's hand over his right arm. Stronger than usual...

"How the hell do you keep doing that?!" Wesker snarled.

"You don't know what we're capable of." Wesker allowed him to continue; he earned that right.

"Zachariah is not the same person since Rockfort… since Veronica… since Ashford. He is a changed man, and that apotheosis has birthed me!I promise you; I will fight to my last breath to protect and serve humanity. Even if I have to kill you, a poor excuse for a father-"

Wesker lost his smile. "Like I care."

"You should; because of your bullshit, you gave us no choice." Zaac took out the detonator he had hidden in his rear pocket and shown it to Wesker. He wasn't happy. "When you get to hell, tell 'em Sarkis sent you; you'll get a discount."

Wesker whipped his right elbow around and struck the side of Sarkis' head. He stumbled and dropped the detonator. Something loudly cracked and his howling was fractured. Wesker turned around and grabbed Sarkis' neck and slammed the back of his head onto the metal ground.

Sarkis' skull caved in and bled all over Wesker's fingers. He threw his limp body as hard as he could far away behind him, Sarkis' head struck a low-hanging bar and turned him over. His bent back was laid down, flat out and exhausted to some extent. His bones started to ache.

"Sarkis? Is that what you're calling yourself now? This Sarkis will be sending me to hell? Please… Heaven and hell are just stupid stories that handicap fickle-minded humans."

Sarkis rolled his body onto his left side, slowly. Blood leaked from his mouth and all around his head. "You'll soon know that now, won't you? I've seen things beyond humanity, Mr Wesker, and your actions lead to a place worse than hell."

Wesker scoffed. "You are not the one to decide anyone's fate but your own."

"Eternal damnation awaits you..." Sarkis whipped his hand, and in a black blur, something white appeared in his hand. The detonator. "Game over." He pressed the button, and all sound blurred out.

All the C-4 detonated in complete unison, under and above the plane's hull. The wings and rotors came apart first in a fireball of explosive force that controlled the detonation. Intense flames caught fire as the fuselage exploded and the air caught aflame.

The sound of it was deafening. The cockpit did a nosedive while everything else was shattered into a hundred pieces, along with everything inside the plane. Only the rotors and engine was marginally salvageable.

Sarkis barely survived with only a few burns and broken bones, thanks to his armour. One leg was broken, his arms torn apart. Left bicep was all bone. He tossed and turned around in the air before hitting a jagged side of Everest; the impact tore out his shoulder and hips of their flesh. Luckily he was unconscious.

Sarkis rolled over several times and covered himself in layers of snow and frost. He finally stopped at a ledge of a cliffside, thousands of meters from the peak and a few thousand from the ground. The sky was dark with no stars to brighten it, Sarkis felt bliss and relaxation staring into the night's sky.

A horrible metallic crash thundered the air, the cockpit landed. Hard. The sheer destruction of the plane warranted a full mortality rate, not only for Wesker but for Sarkis too. His eyelids were getting heavy, and his breaths were slowing down. Death was only a few seconds away; he found an average the last time he died.

Twenty seconds. If that explosion didn't kill Wesker, nothing will. Sarkis was sure though, only someone with supernatural powers could survive a burst of controlled explosions on an aircraft as such. Sarkis was almost buried in a blanket of snow. He lifted himself on his good arm and broke the surface.

Ten seconds until death. "May your actions forever haunt you, Mr Wesker..." Sarkis murmured. He smiled once and fell limp on his stomach, letting the snow slowly claim him.

Zaac woke up, he instantly feeling his heart ache. "That… did not… go according… to plan..." He rolled onto his back and took one final gasp of air before more blankets of ice-cold snow covered him. He closed his eyes. "Damn it… Sarkis…"