Author's Note: Here you go, new chapter. In this one, we finally get to know what's happened to Chris (although you can pretty much expect it) and last, but not least, we'll get wind of what kind of plans Marco Gionne is cooking; also, you get to know how he looks like and, as I mentioned in the previous chapter, Janssen's and Greene's role in this story. Enjoy! Don't hesitate to leave any constructive criticism, by the way, but no flames, please.

Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or any of its characters, only my OCs

XI

Melody of a Nightmare

'Whom men fear they hate, and whom they hate, they wish dead.' Quintus Ennius

Isn't it difficult to accept the truth? Yes, especially when you expect it and you don't expect it at the same time.

There was no way he could hold himself back. Above Sherry's pleads, without listening to even himself, Wesker grabbed the sharpest object he had at hand and inflicted a long, horizontal gash along Chris' chest, watching how the blood seeped through the large wound and stained his ashen face, but that amount of the crimson substance was not enough: he had to see much more. To his horror, the flesh knit itself together again with rattling wet sounds, forming a black line that faded away within seconds.

Regaining a bit of rational thinking, Wesker threw the scalpel against the wall with all the force he could muster before he saw himself as a maniacal killer with no purpose. He stepped away from Chris, forcing himself to calm down and adopt his natural cold demeanour once more, but with the horrible truth still in his mind the task was impossible to accomplish. Please, why would he lose his cool and give in into anger in a moment like this?

Because Wesker had the right to be furious this time.

"This shouldn't be happening... This shouldn't be happening!!" With no consideration of the pain that would follow next, he slammed his fists on the table, feeling how a part of his rage disappeared and was replaced by ridiculous helplessness. "Isn't there anything I can do against this?!"

"Wesker...?" Sherry uttered, her tone ginger. Wesker knew better than to snap at her, so he took a few moments before replying with a calmer tone.

"There hasn't been a rejection," he explained, attempting to keep his anger at bay. "Uroboros is merging, it's continuing to blend with his DNA. The adaptation was instant... He has the DNA of the humans I was looking for..."

Speak about irony, huh?

"Good God..."

Good Satan would be more appropriate, that's what Wesker would say! Was this the way it was supposed to be: no matter how hard he tried, Chris would always survive one way or another?! If that was the case, it was pointless to keep fighting! Chris would be as good as invincible if the adaptation process was successful until the point of being utterly perfect!

"I'm surprised you can still say that, Sherry," Wesker uttered, "because I think there's no-one that can and wants to hear you."

xx

"Wait, what?!" Jill exploded, her voice filled with horror. "Are you saying Chris is a viable host?" Wesker pulled a small grimace, hating to be reminded of the morbid surprise... even though he had speculated about that.

"Believe me, I still can't quite digest it," he said, folding his arms across his chest. "You've told me he was infected two weeks ago approximately; well, during this period of time, Uroboros has continued to multiply within him and it's kept adapting itself to his genetic sequence. There's no stopping it now; we'd kill him if we attempted to do something against the process."

Jill lowered her head, releasing a heavy sigh, all whilst Wesker watched her. There was a positive side to all of this, now that he realized, even though it was a very difficult side to see. It could all be summed up into one word and one word only: irony, irony of the most cruel of ironies. Of course: whilst it had been a hard blow for Wesker to see how his nemesis was still alive and kicking, he could also find wicked pleasure in that. How would Chris react when he regained consciousness again and saw what the virus had done to him? It was ironic to see he was becoming that against which he had fought his whole life.

"What can happen during the bonding process?" came Jill's question.

"That's something that slipped my mind during the research, and with a good reason," Wesker replied, frustrated. "I didn't come across any viable subject in all the experiments I carried out, so this is only a matter of observation. He's been the exception. What I can guarantee is that he's not going to die, not yet."

"Is it possible to estimate how long the process can take?" Sherry asked, intervening at last. "This virus is much different than T or G or any kind of variant strain, and it certainly isn't like the virus my father gave you." The bitter memory came to Wesker's mind.

Oh yes, the infamous Progenitor experimental strain...

"That's correct, but we still can't estimate it."

"So it's a matter of waiting?" Sherry questioned, although it sounded more like a statement. Wesker nodded, catching sight of Jill lowering her head again, crestfallen.

"Anything can happen," he said, getting her attention. She met his gaze with a cold, impassive one of her own, something that Wesker found somewhat quaint.

Since having remembered everything about Chris and her, he could say he knew Jill like the back of his hand. In spite of that, and in fact having in mind that was an optimistic and resolute individual, he couldn't say the same about her now. Sure, the fact that Chris was undergoing severe and ironic changes was still hard to accept, but the gleam in her eyes told Wesker it wasn't only because of that. Her hues were almost dull and tired, yet they were still intense and gleamed with derision and the undying hatred she felt towards him.

All of a sudden, Wesker felt as if his head had been shaken and banged against the floor many times, dizziness and pain coming in as a harsh wave. It clicked, and he cursed inwardly when he realized why the unhealthy condition. At the same time, Sherry checked her wristwatch and her expression was then one of surprise as she lifted her head at him.

"It seems you've read my mind," Wesker said, not avoiding the hints of amusement.

"I'll go get it," Sherry said with a nod. "We can't afford skipping a dose." After that, she was gone from the room in a dash, leaving Wesker and Jill in an uncomfortable silence. Then, she broke it with a light chuckle as she stood up and walked a few steps away from him.

"It seems you're getting a bit sloppy now," she remarked, caustic. Wesker shrugged like nothing was wrong.

"Everyone has their time, don't you think?" he said, casual. This wasn't the Jill he had known for so long; regardless of the past, she wasn't the same.

'You think as if you had been with her her whole life. Nothing far from the truth though, but you get my drift.'

"Strange words; I thought being in this kind of condition was something you couldn't afford... So, what's going to happen after this? Are you going to make me stay here, again like when you kept me in captivity?" she then questioned, turning half-way to face him. "Is this another game in which I'm the pawn by default?"

"A pawn? You amuse me, but I see you have caught the concept correctly," Wesker replied, his tone light. "So far, it's like that: I can use you now, but I know you'll use me as well. Why waste the chance? And returning to the earlier question, where can you go, I ask? If you return to you earlier residence, it'll be a risky move and you'll endanger your life, not to mention Redfield's. You know everything it'll imply... and I believe there's no point in risking your dear friend's life."

Jill sighed, averting her gaze.

"Why am I not surprised? I suppose you'll have me under your watch at all times?"

"Interesting. What makes you think I would?"

"Well, you're someone who likes having everything and everyone under his control," Jill stated naturally. "You're always well-prepared; it wouldn't be a surprise."

"I'd take that as a compliment, if that was your intention," Wesker half-teased, knowing the casualty of his tone would be getting to her nerves sooner or later. Jill responded to his remark with a stone silence and a piercing gaze.

"I won't say that it was or that it wasn't; take it as you like."

Wesker cracked a smirk that belied his inner wish to step over to her and strangle her, to throw her aside with all the strength he had, to see her suffer again. He wasn't going to put up with her snappy attitude, although time rewarded the patient -not always in the best way, but it did after all. Wesker knew that he just had to wait.

"Say, have you thought of the answers I asked for?" Jill piped up, tilting her head to one side.

"Indeed I have, but now it's not the time to share them," he replied. "We've had our share of tension today and I'd recommend listening to them whenever your head is a bit clearer."

"Let me guess: you're avoiding the subject?" inquired Jill, crossing her arms. "'never thought you would avoid something, since you always want everything done the sooner, the better."

"Careful with what you say, Miss Valentine, although I do have to agree with that last sentence. Even so, I also mentioned the word 'bargain' a few hours ago: care for another one?"

Silence reigned between them, a heavy yet comfortable silence -at least, it was for him. Not hearing her answer right away told him she was having a hard time -Oh, really now?- making her choice, despite there were not many options available. Agreeing or not agreeing, that was the question on which everything depended.

"It's the only way I'm getting the answers out of you, so I agree," Jill said at last, shrugging her shoulders and accepting the obviousness of the situation.

She's a bit more reckless than I remember her to be. Well, she's got Redfield's life as what she can bet and more, so I don't think she'd senselessly risk that. She's getting into serious trouble... and so am I.

"Let's make it like this," Wesker started, "so it's fair for both of us: it'll be an answer for a question, from me to you, from you to me; as simple as that."

"Looks like simplicity's the only card you're playing," she retorted, keeping a close eye on him.

"For now, it is. I don't wish to complicate things more than necessary; besides, the easiest things are, the less possibility of failure you have," he said, spreading his palms. "We have to play for keeps now, both you and me."

Jill sighed once again, rubbing her eyes tiredly. "I can't believe I'm bargaining with you..."

"You don't have a choice."

"Wrong, I still have it," Jill replied, the promptness surprising Wesker for a brief moment.

"What choice would that be? I'm waiting for the answer, and I hope it convinces me."

And here comes an inevitable speech from someone who detests losing. Comes in three, two, one...

"I still have a choice to make, although not one that can suit me. There's always a choice: I could tell you to go to hell and risk Chris' life in exchange for leaving my pride untarnished, but that wouldn't be the correct one, that wouldn't be the one that's... ethical, if we were to put it like that. It's always been because of personal interest, hasn't it?"

The speech never fails to come. Predictable...

"Ethical, you say?" Wesker echoed, smirking.

Jill scoffed. "I never thought you'd understand the concept, so I'm not surprised. Ethics and morals don't apply to you." Her response made Wesker widen his smirk.

"Which is why I have a much different vision of the world."

Jill rolled her eyes. "Sure you do: that vision is nothing far from a psycho's."

"Feisty, aren't you?" Wesker said with a chuckle. "How do you see the world: from a subjective or an objective point of view? Opinions, which are guided by emotions, always have some influence in our ways of thinking. Even so... I'm not in the mood to continue this conversation although it has been interesting. We should bring up the topic another time."

"Do you really think I'll keep a normal conversation with you?" Jill blurted out, her voice almost shaking with disbelief and rage. "You, out of all people?"

Wesker sighed, shaking his head. "Oh, I'm most certain you will." Jill's eyes were ablaze with loathing.

"You're insane."

To his own surprise -and most important, to Jill's- Wesker let out another chuckle that was close to a laugh.

"Haven't I heard that many times... Allow me to tell you this: insanity is the only sane reaction to an insane world, much to the sane's dislike."

xx

August 5th, 2009

Naples, Italy

David Janssen gave out a loud sigh, rubbing his left eye with tiredness as he crossed the doorway and entered a large quadrangular hall with expensive decorations and a floor of pristine, cream tiles. The hall, if his memory served him well, was decorated with 19th century Italianate style, with beautiful cream-coloured columns, bronze Corinthian and Dorian capitals and flower-themed patterns in the ceilings and in the architraves. A grand staircase climbed up the room before him, carpeted with a deep crimson rug. David smirked: Marco Gionne really had taste, something expected from such a high-ranking and prestigious person.

"You're early," said Greene's voice as she emerged from behind a column. David smiled at her.

"Trying to scare me, weren't you?" he teased, approaching his friend. As he did, he noticed her expression was weary and her bright brown eyes appeared troubled and uneasy. "Is there something wrong, Maria?"

She nodded, not making eye contact. "There is. I'm really, really nervous, David. I can't help it." David's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Oh, you mean because of what happened a couple of days ago in NYC?" he inquired and he received a nod from Maria as a response, which made him chuckle. "Daw, you shouldn't get so worked up!"

"But you know how Gionne's like!" Maria shot back in a furious hiss, giving him a light kick in the shin. "I-I should've been able to-"

David silenced his red-haired friend lying an amiable hand on her shoulder. "It'll be fine, you'll see. Besides, it's not like you knew they would be there; you were just doing your job, and you were doing it alright," he told her as gently as he could. "You know me: I would be even worse if I was in your position, but you have to realize that even though you might have been a bit careless, their presence in the room was the root of the problem. It'll get solved, don't worry."

David smirked, rubbing Maria's upper arm in a kind gesture. He and Maria had known each other since their early years at university, their friendship evolving into a strong bond within time. What had surprised David had been that none of them had attempted to give the step beyond friendship; right now, both of them were thirty-two and still nothing. David didn't want any kind of problems, especially not with a work like his was, but he somehow missed and sometimes needed to show more than amiable smiles to Maria.

After the deal in Naples, they had both made a change of plans and sought to work with Marco. The Gionne, being the busy and ambitious man he was, accepted their offer without hesitation. Loosing Ivanov, Mikhail and Arturo had dealt a blow to Tricell's business, so David and Maria filled in the vacant spots. In just two weeks they became Marco's most trusted co-workers, since they had carried out with success exchanges with Sherry Birkin's company Rho Biological. The exchanges had been mostly samples for money and vice versa. They both knew the time for retribution would come soon.

"You always knew how to comfort someone," Maria said at last, giving him a sheepish nudge with her shoulder. David shrugged, his smile vanishing.

"Oh well, that's me. Although I never expected to be of use to anyone, not work-related that is."

"David!"

"I'm serious, Maria," David insisted with a stern look. "You know how everything was back at university... and yeah, that still haunts my thoughts a bit. In any case, even though it's been more than fifteen years since that, it's not like it's going to disappear any time soon." He sighed, feeling again his self-esteem a bit lower than usual.

"Don't be like that; I hate it." Maria turned her gaze away from his, crossing her arms for a moment before shrugging. "Come on, let's see if-"

A soft sound coming from the door interrupted Maria, and they both turned to see who was making their entrance. Without a doubt, David expected a knot to form in his stomach and Maria to gasp. Both things happened: Marco Gionne had just stepped through the door.

Marco Gionne was twenty-two years old, three years his sister's junior. His skin was paler than usual, the tone making his light grey eyes to stand out from the rest of his fine chiselled features and giving them an intense, fierce gleam. He was also thin, maybe beyond normalcy, something that could be very well seen in the sharpness of his jawbone and the shadows at his cheekbones.

The colour of his hair ranged between very dark brown and black, and it was arranged in a neat fashion with only some locks falling in front of the right side of his forehead and almost reaching under his eyebrow. What gave him an air of mysteriousness was the thin, black-rimmed glasses he sported and his clothes, which were dark with the exception of a grey shirt that was visible from under his V-neck black sweater. David had expected to see him carrying a long, stylish trench coat but he was disappointed; Marco was carrying a plain corduroy jacket, also black.

"I wasn't expecting to see you here so soon," said Marco with a greeting smile. To David's surprise, Maria replied to his remark.

"We don't like making others wait. It's also good to have a small time margin." Her tone was still a bit hesitant but David could see Maria was starting to calm down. Marco answered with a nod, approaching the pair of dealers with lithe movements.

"That's something you don't see every day, this habit of yours," he then told them, firmly shaking hands. "Come, let's go somewhere a bit more comfortable." With that, Maria and David followed Marco up the stairs and travelled through a few halls. David's initial suspcions were confirmed: this was Italianate.

"If you don't mind me pointing this out, Mr. Gionne, I hope this isn't a public place. Your face isn't neither a common or a pretty sight lately, no offense meant," David posed, ginger. Whilst Maria shot him a reproaching look -to which David replied with a shrug-, Marco gave a light laugh.

"You do well in remarking that, Mr. Janssen, and don't worry; you're absolutely right about the sight of me. This isn't a public place, no; in fact, it's devoid of life... since it's closed." David rolled his eyes in surprise, knowing better than to keep going with the conversation. By some reason, he had the sensation Marco had dropped a hint and even if it had been like that or not, David wasn't risking it.

Eventually they crossed a sturdy oak door and went inside a lavish study room, full of shelves and cabinets that contained books and other knickknacks -not so much, though- like small porcelain vases and bookends. Right in front of them there was a large and antique oak desk with a few stacks of papers, a small desk lamp and miscellaneous objects David didn't pay much attention to.

"What's this matter you wanted to discuss with us?" Maria asked as she removed her coat. David didn't do as her, only remained looking at Marco whilst he made himself comfortable on his seat. He motioned at them to sit and they complied, watching as he reached inside a drawer, pulled a small vial out and placed it upon the table. It contained a solution of a blackish substance and a transparent liquid, somehow reminding David of how water and oil didn't mix. Also, David frowned when he recognized it.

"It's the Uroboros sample Sashko brought me through you, Mr. Janssen," said Marco, seriousness traceable in his light voice. "I've contacted Rho's CEO Sherry Bristow -or Birkin for friends- and told her about my 'plans'. Needless to say, she bought them."

"What did you tell her?" David inquired.

"That I was to look for a full-fledged specimen to experiment with, and since I know of Chris Redfield's recent infection, I decided to use that to my advantage," Marco replied, casual. "I have someone else I want to take care of now; he's not that important at the moment. Oh, Maria, I know why you look so uneasy: because of the assignment in NYC, correct?"

David glanced at Maria, whose breath had caught and had blushed. "Yes, sir." It was then when David noticed the bruise at her left temple; something had really gone wrong there.

To their surprise, Marco smiled. "There's no need to worry. If I tell you the truth, I wasn't aiming for you to succeed in retrieving Redfield. It was all because I wanted to distract Miss Birkin. I must say that it was a mere move; I apologize."

David was surprised: a Gionne, apologizing? That was sort of odd, knowing Excella had never pronounced those words. Well, Marco was different from Excella in many ways; he had to show that some time, didn't he?

"I... I lost Grant there and I received a blow which rendered me unconscious, and let's not forget the bullet to my leg. Are you sure it'll go unpunished?" she asked, ginger. Marco chuckled.

"Why would I punish you?" he pointed out. "I know that has been my responsibility and I accept it. The one who should pay for that is me and I know I will, eventually. Don't worry, Miss Greene, it's not your fault." This brought a faint smile to Maria's face and she nodded again, David watching with a smile of his own.

"You found someone there, didn't you?" Marco asked then.

"Who did she send, Maria?" David asked.

"Albert Wesker was there, along with Jill Valentine," she replied. "I recognized Valentine from hearing her name and her physical description. You know she was a topic of conversation after the whole outbreak in Kijuju."

"Valentine I can understand, but wasn't Wesker dead?" David exclaimed. "I mean, he was officially declared dead the 13th of March, don't you remember?"

"I was sent a report about that," Marco intervened, his eyes narrowed and his brow creased. "Are you sure it was him?" Maria seemed confused and insecure, and nodded hastily.

"I... I wouldn't lie to you, sir!" she replied, her nervousness getting the best of her. At this, Marco raised a hand.

"Please, Miss Greene, we're nervous enough as it is already; there's no need for more tension," he chastised, not unkindly. "Hm... Birkin must've had something to do with that; it's the only way to explain it."

"Well, sir," David piped up, "we've been working as dealers for a very long time, and many times I've heard about the rivalry between Wesker and Sherry's father, William Birkin. They were really close, so it's not far-fetched to assume she has brought Wesker back out of some personal reason."

Marco frowned, pensive. "I'd like to assume that we'll get information about that soon. I still have my personal vendetta with Wesker."

"It's all about revenge now, sir," Maria said, also frowning. "What do you recommend we do?"

"For now, I'll contact James," Marco replied. "I need to know more of Wesker's status if I want to kill him... and Redfield's too, although it's not the same with him. Who knows? They both might be useful in the future." He made a short pause, closing his eyes. "We still have to wait; it's too soon to make another move... even though patience has never been one of my best traits."

Marco stood up from his seat, so did Maria and David, and the Gionne exhaled sharply. "Let's get back to work again. Mr. Janssen, Miss Greene, I want you to listen with care: it's very possible that Birkin will request more samples from us, and it'll be more likely now that she knows we have Uroboros in our hands. You will be the usual intermediate, Mr. Janssen, so I want you to cancel every single request she makes. Once she bites back, it'll be my turn to intervene.

"In the meantime, I'll have James collect as much data as he can: notes, documents, everything he can find, about Wesker's and Redfield's status. I'll do my best to get back Wesker's notes on Uroboros; the research will start soon. With James around, they won't suspect us; at least, not a lot."

"Understood, sir," said Maria and David at the unison. Marco flashed a smile.

"Soon we'll see if this works out. I'll get my hands on them both, I swear it."

David frowned a bit, clenching his jaw. Serious cooperation with Marco wasn't in his agenda.

He had someone else whom he had to be working for.

xx

It rained, that night of the fifth of August.

Every night he could, Wesker always took his time to go up to the rooftop of the building that concealed the laboratory's position and stay there for countless hours before deciding to go back. It was tiring to spend the whole day hidden several metres underground without seeing the light of day not even once. Not that he needed to see it, but not doing so proved to be a bit claustrophobia-inducing... especially now that Chris was in the same building as him.

As strange and as almost senseless as it was, Wesker couldn't kill his nemesis now.

All matters concerning physical capabilities aside, Wesker knew that it all concerned the mental ones. Stupidly enough, he had come to think that if he indeed killed Chris, there would be nothing else for him to do... a thought that he'd erased as soon as it had come up. It was also because of his interests, since it was all an inevitable cycle: killing Chris would mean killing Jill and, even though he was quite confident of his own abilities, there was a downside to the whole matter.

That he was human again. And humans all had weaknesses; there was no exception.

When he had remembered how close he had been to victory, Wesker had to deal with the greatest surge of anger he'd ever felt. Because of the man known as Chris Redfield, he lost everything he had in his possession not only once and it was not what was material alone. The first time, his humanity -even though he'd found an upside to that-, his plans, his future; the second, what was most important of all: his divinity, his closeness to being a god.

But that didn't make any sense now. Possibly, Wesker could find some sense to his humanity, maybe with more correct terms, semi-humanity. It was all a matter of patience, persistence and strength, three qualities he had more than anyone else in the world.

"This has always been a nice place to be at night," Sherry said behind him. With no words to say, Wesker only hummed a response and gave an inaudible sigh, feeling Sherry sitting down beside him. Being in her company was the sole thing as of those weeks that made him be at ease.

"Tell me something," she then said, "Is that woman important to you in some way?"

What are you trying to find out, Miss Birkin?

"She's not," Wesker replied at once, "yet it's best if she stays here." He had felt tempted for a second to turn his head at her, but he soon decided against that.

"You look troubled. Is there something wrong?"

And there we go, Wesker thought, having a taste of my own medicine. If she can read me, I wonder who will escape her eyes.

"I'd rather not speak about her, that's all," he said, watching how Sherry lowered her head.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. Curiosity it's all but unnatural," he pointed out, dismissing her apology. "Although, if I can be honest with you, I'm somewhat uneasy... and it's hard to cope with it; this time it's different."

"You still don't get used, do you?" Sherry remarked with a smile. "I admit it's not easy, but it's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Maybe, maybe not."

"Aw, c'mon, not everything is disadvantages; you should know that," she posed. "Sure, emotions are difficult to understand, they might drive people to do something reckless -which many times happens- but, at the same time, it's what keeps them from doing so. Besides, I think you're not a psychopath, like others say and you yourself have admitted just to scare them."

Wesker smirked, this time looking at her. "William said something like that once."

"Really? How come?" Sherry asked, wrapping her arms around her legs and gazing at him with curiosity. Many had been the times when Wesker had told Sherry about her father; some of them she had accepted what Wesker had said, others she had completely refused to believe it. In spite of that, her eagerness to know better about her family had never faltered.

"He once managed to make me laugh; he had a good sense of humour... whenever he liked to show it, of course. Still, as you might understand, those weren't the best times to let your guard down."

In that moment, Wesker was a bit surprised to see how naturally he'd told Sherry about that and not because it was something he avoided to talk about, but because up until now he hadn't thought that memory would still exist. Eventually, he heard Sherry give a loud laugh in disbelief.

"You laughed? For real?" she inquired, leaning forward to catch a glimpse of his face. Wesker cocked an eyebrow.

"It's not unnatural, is it?"

This made Sherry laugh again, something he knew she hadn't done in a very long time. After calming her good-natured laughter, Sherry looked at him again. "My God, who are you and what have you done to Albert Wesker?"

"Nothing," Wesker replied with a shrug. "I'm still myself, remember?" Sherry's features mellowed, her lips curving into a warm smile. Wesker shook his head, tearing his gaze away from the typical 'Birkin soft smile' he'd many times seen plastered on his long-time friend's face.

"Even though you feel the change?" Wesker didn't reply at once, not with words at least. At last, he stood up and glanced down at Sherry, whom he found still smiling at him.

"Yes," he said, "even though I feel it."

A/N: Another brief glimpse at the relationship between Wesker and Sherry here at the end. So, Chris might make it out of this, Wesker and Jill obviously don't see eye to eye yet (yet! xD), Marco's up and running along with David and Maria (although David probably has some other plans in mind), and we also get another glimpse at the doubts that are going through Wesker's mind- well, maybe not doubts, but obvious uneasiness. And let me explain why (you see, I don't care about the length of the author's note if there's something important to explain).

As I specified in the previous chapter, everything has to have a price, and you also found out about this in the diary entry of Wesker's a few chapters back. Although he knows he's still himself, the price he's paid has been a rather odd change to his mentality, and this will affect him completely, even in the most strangest of quirks he has. Don't worry, he won't cease to be the cold-hearted and sometimes sadistic villain we all know him to be, but not as much as he was before. Oh, you're also in for a bit of a treat in the next chapter: Sherry will give us some explanations as to why and how he's been brought back, okay? Don't fret: everything in due time.

Reviews are appreciated!^^