Author's Note: Updates and I said in the last one, we're getting a glimpse of how Chris is going and what's Marco up to now. Oh, just a little something: if anyone of you finds the format screwed up, and I'm not kidding, just tell me. I don't know why but FF just suddenly decided to erase all the asterisks and all the dashes that were in my documents, and that was what I used to separate fragments; as such, I resorted to 'x's... to be honest, I don't even think the word count works correctly xD In any case, do tell me if this is happening to you too; I wouldn't like to be the only one... it might be me, but whatever.

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

XVII

Acceptance of Nature

'My brain, my brain,--I know, I know I am not mad but soon shall be.' Matthew Gregory Lewis

August 24th, 2009

Her voice sounded so distant, so faint, like a deafening cacophony. His vision was still spinning and blurry, his body felt like the heaviest rock in the world, and he felt as if his brain had been disconnected from his body. He had only regained awareness, he soon understood, but not mobility; he was still bound by numbness' shackles and there was no way he could break free of them.

Whose voice had he heard in some corner of his mind? It was so very familiar, a sweet and caring tone he hadn't heard in a very long time. Had it really been like that though? Had he really spent that long without hearing her, without hearing anything? When had been the last time since she had seen her, for that matter? He felt tempted to remember, to smile when remembering her image.

Something was wrong though.

"CHRIS!"

And Chris convulsed in agony.

I'll close my eyes and breathe in deep,

I'll open my eyes and I'll be free.

I'll stay awake, I won't fall asleep,

'Cause the Nameless Madness took over me.

XX

"NOO!"

And as he released a heart-rending exclamation, Chris Redfield came back to consciousness, adrenaline and fear still the only things that coursed through his system as he scanned the room where he was resting. It was all bizarre: he didn't understand what was happening, where he was, why he was there... All questions hit him like a hammer anxiously hitting an anvil to demand answers. Chris couldn't get them yet; maybe, if he found someone, they could answer them.

His mind, as he noticed, was working awesomely fast since it didn't take him more than thirty seconds to be completely functional, as if he had just woken up from a normal sleep. That sleep hadn't been normal at all though, as he soon understood. His vision adjusted in mere seconds, he felt all of his limbs still in place and ready to work; there was nothing wrong with him. He had a look at his hand, opened and closed it to check and confirm the veracity of his thoughts and assumptions.

I'd like to think of this as some kind of refreshing sleep, but I have the feeling it hasn't.

Out of curiosity and as something unexpected, Chris had a small glance at his arms and torso, coming to an also unexpected and strange conclusion.

Hey, I'm lean! Just like before! I don't like this, not a bit. Wait, where am I? Looks like... like a lab or some kind of... Damn, I'd better get up and check this out; I hope my legs are up for it.

After having another look around, Chris swung his legs over the side of the examination table and laid his bare feet on the cold floor; even the coldness of the tiles seemed to do some good. Like a toddler, he carefully allowed his weight to rest on his legs, which didn't fail to support him. Optimism made its way through the doubts in his mind and made him crack a faint smile, giving some balanced steps forward. Also, he moved his arms in circles, still wanting to make sure he was fine; his opinion didn't change.

As he looked at his hands, Chris noticed there was something missing: the scars he'd had over his right wrist and the back of that hand. He remembered him to be of a very light shade, contrasting a lot with his skin, and also that he'd gotten them as a child during an excursion to the country, where he had tripped over a branch and rolled down a slope. Memories like those were still scarce, even though his mind could think and reason. But the important thing was that they were gone, like nothing had happened.

Okay, this is getting weird. I need to find someone, if there is.

All of a sudden, an image struck his mind in a flash, making him stop in his tracks.

Now he knew, now he knew why it all seemed weird: for some reason, Chris had the feeling he had been in this place before, despite he didn't remember. Also, the reason why he was there: Ivanov, the mission in July, the betrayal; then pain, water, screams, coldness and death.

Good God, what happened to me? And how long has it been since that day? Am I still in... in treatment? Damn, I've just awakened and my head's aching already... I hear someone coming!

Indeed, he was hearing steps closing in. Not wanting to move from where he was, Chris stared at the door-less threshold and waited for that someone to show up. No, there wasn't only one someone, but two people coming.

Hold it a sec, how have I been able to discern it so quickly? And... and separately? All's vice versa: I shouldn't be hearing so well after-

And before he could finish the thought, Chris was facing the person who had always made his breath hitch and who had always made him smile. The memories, her name, it all came back in a painless flash and, as it always happened, Chris smiled in disbelief and shock as she also stared at him.

It's-It's Jill!

"Jill?" he uttered, the shock transforming into joy. How long had it been since he had last seen her? But she didn't seem too happy to see him; in fact, she started breathing like a fish out of the water and took one step back, as if he were someone dangerous. "Jill, what's-"

"Tell me this is really happening!"

His doubts didn't last for long. As soon as he'd started talking, Jill's features lightened up with a beaming smile and she took both hands to her mouth as she gasped. "Tell me you're conscious; come on!"

Although her reaction puzzled him a bit, Chris couldn't erase his smile. "I'm-I'm conscious; what's with that request?" He didn't receive an answer to his question but a strong and warm hug from her after she literally sprinted towards him and flung her arms around his neck with a mirthful laugh. Chris didn't hesitate to return the gesture, responding with a laugh of his own as he held her like he'd never had the chance to do so.

"God, you can't believe how much I've missed you!" she exclaimed as she tightened her grip around him. "Damn, you had us so worried!"

"Worried? What's happened to me? How long have I been out?" Chris asked in return as he withdrew to look at her. A flash of concern struck her features.

"A month."

"Say what?!" he exclaimed as a response. "A-A month? I mean, what happened to me that kept me unconscious so long? Well, that is... if it was actually a-" As soon as the realization hit him, Chris interrupted himself as it all came back like a morbid, bitter and ironic joke. That mission in Philadelphia, the betrayal, the pain, the...

"The injection!" he sighed out loud. "I-I was injected with something, right? Jill, is that what..." Jill nodded gravely, her brow creasing in sorrow as he shared his thoughts with her. Now many things made sense, some still didn't, but the important part was solved. Eager, Chris took Jill by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. "I need you to tell me. Please, I need to know what-"

Without warning, a wave of weariness made his legs fail to support him and he collapsed onto one knee as all the memories came back in an organized yet painful succession, as well as all the sensations he had felt back then. He felt Jill crouching down beside him and, for a moment, his ears felt clogged and didn't hear anything but silence. All subsided as fast as it had come, but Chris was left as an athlete after a marathon. When all returned to normal, Chris heard his companion gasp and stare at him in shock.

"Oh, God..." she whispered, taking his face in her hand and tilting his head to one side. Chris couldn't keep in silence: the shock in Jill's face was too intense to ignore.

"Jill, what is it?" he asked her. "What's wrong?"

He could see her hesitating to answer, her bright gaze still staring into his own, but then she said, "Your... your eyes are-"

Chris' brusque movement interrupted her, and he desperately looked around for something that would show his reflection.

It was all fitting: there was no virus that could affect the eyes without affecting the host in its entirety other than...

No, no, no, it can't be! Not like this!

Finally, he found a mirror... and he realized, as he let out a terrified yell, that reality had never been so horrible. His mind screamed continuously.

Feline, golden eyes stared back at him, so intensely that they seemed to be boring a hole right through his skull. Terror seized Chris in each one of the many, repeated attempts to accept who he was seeing, what he was seeing. His skin was of a dreadful greyish shade that blended with his normal colour, but that detail along with many others went unnoticed. Chris wanted to keep on screaming, to smash the mirror into pieces, to run away from reality with the hope that that would change something.

Nothing would.

"Look who's back from dead."

And then, fear, genuine fear that made him think his blood had literally frozen in his veins. Hesitant, as fearful as one who was about to face the Devil himself, Chris turned and then the cold hands of disbelief and horror clutched his heart as his eyes caught sight of the person in front of him. As he approached, Chris found the strength and the will to fully turn around and back away with a strangled gasp.

"You shouldn't have come," he heard Jill say. What the hell was happening?!

"Jill, what's... what's he doing here?!" he asked, looking at her for some kind of convincing answer. "Tell me this isn't- You're supposed to be DEAD!"

He's supposed to be dead! I killed him, I saw him die! I did it myself, that couldn't have been an illusion!

"Chris, I can explain," Jill said, taking his hands in an attempt to calm him down. But Chris wasn't listening and instead was staring at Wesker, the man whom Chris thought had killed. "Don't jump to any conclusions and let us tell you, okay?"

Come on, it's the only way this is going to make sense. I'd better listen, but I can't snap out of it... This has got to be a dream! Dreams never felt so real though.

"Watch me listen to you!" he exclaimed as he stepped past Jill, determined to lunge at Wesker. The mere sight of him gave him the creeps and at the same time made a killer instinct take over him, making him imagine all of the things he could do to him right there and then. But before he could keep thinking about that, Jill tightened her grip around his wrist to keep him from moving.

Even so, that wasn't enough.

The surge of adrenaline was one of the greatest Chris had ever felt and as he gave one step forward, the world seemed to go hundreds to thousands of frames faster, as if everything had been sped up. It was all for a short moment, then he was moving at real-time again... tripping over because of a sprained ankle and falling as the tension subsided and the adrenaline spiked once more.

This is what I call a fall!

He didn't move more than a millimetre before the reaction was immediate: with only one jerk to one side of the tip of the foot that still touched the floor, Chris found his balance and swung his other leg to the right side, jumping on his right foot as soon as he felt the floor under his skin. In mere seconds, he was standing again, trying to keep his balance again and wondering what the hell had happened. By the look on Jill's face, Chris assumed that it had been nothing good.

"What the heck just- GAH!"

He hadn't finished the sentence when Wesker, who was near him with only one stride, grabbed him by his hair and lifted his head with a strong yank, soon to be tossed aside like a simple rag doll. Chris hit the floor as he remembered the pain of the many blows he'd received from Wesker, and this one didn't fail to leave him stunned and to make his mind ask for all to stop.

As he lifted his head to stare at Wesker, his eyes wide, the reason behind the sudden wave of fear that overcame him revealed itself to be unfathomable; Chris couldn't understand what had gotten into him. He had never felt this fearful, this scared. He felt like a child staring into the eyes of his worst nightmare... if he wasn't living in one already. In front of his eyes, Wesker drew his arm backwards and then it clicked: Chris knew he was going to kill him.

He imagined himself scrambling to his feet and running away from the never-ending nightmare, but nothing happened; he didn't move, he didn't think, he didn't even breathe. What he considered clear enough is that he was about to die.

"Wesker, STOP!"

Chris -and as it came apparent, Wesker- snapped out of his reverie and watched Jill lower and keep a good hold of Wesker's arms with a fast and effective armlock, and then it was all silence. For a moment, it all seemed impossible to Chris and although he was relatively safe from Death itself, the fear didn't leave him.

"Let me go," Wesker ordered her in a dark, vibrant tone. Jill didn't do anything in spite of his command. "I won't do anything else, lest he keeps showing off."

"Showing off? There's-" Chris started, but fell silent when Wesker spoke instead of him.

"-absolutely no need for you to speak, Redfield," he hissed, impatient. Jill eased her grip on him and backed away, looking intently at Chris as she also kept silent. He then felt Wesker's eyes on him and repeated in his mind 'Stay still' like a sickening mantra: another mistake and he was as good as dead.

"Can we just take things easy?" Jill asked, exasperated. "No, I'm not trying to be the pacifist here but if we're going to keep this up, we might as well return to how everything was before: a good sedative could do the trick." Chris scowled at her, but she remained unfazed. "Yes, I'm talking to you precisely because you were the one who started it. I'm not going to hesitate when it comes to this: right now, what's going to work is sticking together, alright?"

"And who said we're going to stick together?" Chris intervened, ignoring Wesker. If he didn't, he would stay as mute as a dead person. "I don't think he's going to stay put," he said, glaring at Wesker, who scoffed.

"You underestimate my self-control, and greatly," he said with a mild chuckle. "What made you think I'd try to kill you the first moment I saw you? And I think you get my drift." Chris clenched his teeth to keep himself from retorting with a fitting remark, knowing he didn't have a choice but to listen to Jill.

"Even though this is a serious matter," she said with a smile, "I can't help but to laugh: would it be possible to leave you two alone and return to find no casualties?" She sighed. "As unbelievable as it might sound, we have to set our differences aside... no matter the cost."

In spite of the calmness etched across his features, Chris could feel the hatred Wesker exuded; he could even say that hatred's scent was familiar, as if he'd smelled it all his life. Without holding back, knowing Jill would see, Chris bared his teeth in a grimace, one that Wesker returned as he tensed even more.

Set our differences aside? I can't believe this...

"Since I already have concerning a certain person," Wesker intervened, calm, "I'll leave you two to talk. If there's anything you need to discuss with me, you know where to find me," he added with a small glance at Jill. With that, he left without a sound. Chris sighed, taking a hand to his head and wondering if it was the real world the one he was in.

"Jill?" he called, ginger.

"Yes?" she replied, much to his surprise. Chris suddenly found himself at a loss for words and felt himself blushing as she looked at him. Jill laughed. "I'm not really mad, Chris, but it kinda got to me what you did before. You should've listened to me, but I guess you're still the hard-headed Redfield I know."

Chris smiled, something she always made him do. "I'm sorry, but you have to understand I can't take this very well." And indeed he couldn't: he could still feel his hands shaking. He sighed once again.

"It's your life the one which is in danger now, Chris, and I can't allow you to act recklessly. I know it'll hurt your pride, but it's time we depend on him; no-one else can help you now!" she said, her gaze ablaze with conviction.

"Haven't we always depended on him?" Chris uttered, rhetorical, with a sigh. Then, he said, "Can you explain? I won't do anything rash this time." He took Jill's hand and forced himself to forget about Wesker.

"Alright," she said with a nod, also gripping his hand. "I think you know one of the components of the picture, right?" Chris closed his eyes and frowned, remembering the sped-up world he'd lived in before.

"Yeah, somehow... and it's still hard to take it."

"You and Wesker are complete opposites now. Not that you weren't before, but everything's vice versa: he's human and you're superhuman. I guess that's also going to get to him; eventually, he'll grow sick of this," she explained, guiding him out of the lab room.

"So I'm one of those super-humans he always ranted about?" Chris asked even though aware of the answer. Jill nodded. "How could it happen? Why would I have the 'superior DNA' he was looking for?"

"I really don't know; it also caught us by surprise. I still remember Wesker's demeanour when he found out that Uroboros didn't reject you. At first you appeared dead, since it was the virus' initial adaptation phase, but then you seemed normal. I... I even thought and convinced myself of that, that you were gone and never coming back. Then Wesker showed up and decided, for reasons unknown, to help me and, indirectly, you."

"Why is he still alive?" Chris didn't hold back his rage, letting it tinge his words.

"A question first: is Sherry Birkin familiar to you?" Jill asked in return.

"Y-Yeah... she was the girl Claire rescued from Raccoon City, and William Birkin's daughter," he replied as the memories came back.

"Well, she was the one who brought Wesker back. They found him outside the volcano and took him to the States. They carried out the '1960/013' project to grant him life again; it was started in March and it finished two days before we went to Philadelphia," Jill said, her tone a bit crestfallen. "It was all complex and a very lengthy process, but they managed to leave him as he is right now."

I can't believe it, Wesker being alive and human... It's like a fantasy, something impossible, but I noticed it: his eyes, I saw his eyes for a moment... He seemed even more different than he already is.

"Returning to the earlier topic, you were also a real handful. There came a time when the virus started to act in a berserk way and grew unstable; that's why you look so lean now. Sherry told us about it and believe me, you wouldn't like to know it." When she made a pause, Chris noticed she was hesitant. "Chris, do you remember being conscious at any time?"

"Now that you mention it..." he reasoned, "I do. It's been like three times, I guess, but all the images are bizarre. The first and the third time... I think I saw Wesker, although it all felt like a dream. The second time, the only thing I felt was pain; I don't remember anything else." Chris made another attempt to sort out his thoughts, but to no avail. "Why the question?"

"The first time you came to consciousness, we were getting you out of HQ in New York. I took you there after Philly and there you stayed for the next week. The second time was when the virus was unstable, and the third time was the worst," Jill said. "The third time, you were given a shot of P30 by another backstabber, James, who was Sherry's assistant and had 'accompanied' us here; he sneaked into the plane. Whilst I went to get him, Wesker stayed behind and fought you until the effects wore off."

"I see... Well, everything's a bit clearer now. And speaking of which, where exactly is 'here'?" he then inquired.

"We're back at Africa, and with a reason," she said. "The instability of the virus forced us to return here; you needed PG shots to keep the virus under control."

"The PG67?" Jill nodded and Chris sighed. "I guess everything Wesker used, I'll have to use it this time."

And how did she manage to be with him?

"How did you manage to be with him?" Chris said, voicing out his thoughts. "Didn't you have any flashbacks or... you know, difficulties to stay sane? I know it's complicated to keep your sanity when he's around."

Jill chuckled, her tone still sad. "I had my difficulties, yeah; like you, I have a killer instinct within me that led me to punch a mirror instead of his gut. Look." Jill lifted her left hand and wriggled her fingers so that the scars were visible. Chris frowned, sudden anguish tugging at his heart. "Hallucinations were persistent and... and then I understood the reason behind them."

"Which was that reason?" he inquired as he followed Jill down the hall and into a locker room. His gaze still upon her, Chris watched her approach a locker and open it, fetching nothing from it but remaining silent and sorrowful. "If it's something... you don't want to tell me, I'll understand."

"It's not that," she denied with a shake of her head. "The illusion that made me understand hit me when the paramedic told me and Graves you were dead. I started walking away from them when I couldn't keep going and, as I stopped, I felt Wesker clutching my wrist. I wanted to forget about him, banish his memory from my head but then..." Jill's voice faltered for a second and Chris approached her and left a hand on her shoulder.

"If it's complicated, you can keep it as a secret. I won't insist."

"But it's something you have to know about, Chris," she protested, raising her gaze at him. "I wanted to forget and I wondered why he didn't leave me alone. After asking this, he told me that it was me who didn't let go of him, and in more ways than one: when I turned around, I saw it was me clutching his wrist, not him doing that with mine. It was as if I didn't want to let go.

"After much thinking, I... I decided to come to terms with everything he was, and it actually worked. Whilst he still insisted in prying out thoughts I would've never liked to share, I felt a bit better but I also thought that sooner or later, I'd collapse."

"Why did you think that? You're a strong woman, Jill," Chris said with concern.

"You know Wesker's field of expertise is the human mind and everything that has to do with it," Jill continued. "Well, that's what he liked to do: play with my mind. I refused to let him see that he was getting to me, because I went through a really rough patch, and had you in mind as an example: a façade. Don't take me wrong, but I had to hide how I felt inside; if not, he would've manipulated me like he did before. It was terrifying, I hated not being able to be myself."

"There's something I don't understand about this: how could you do that? Didn't you have in mind what he did to us? To our friends?" Chris asked, still in disbelief.

"Don't think I forgot about that," Jill shot back, "but it's clinging to the past that you can't keep it from haunting you. I know he killed everyone, he betrayed us, but if you don't let go of it and keep going, it'll be impossible to have another kind of vision."

"Why do I have the feeling you have the same mindset as him now?" he inquired, suspicious. Jill, instead of showing herself to have been nagged by the question, shrugged in response.

"When you've been around him for as long as I have, you can't help but to see things another way. I still haven't lost my own mindset though, so the similarities are trivial," she replied, a bit blunt.

"I'm sorry, it's kinda strange. And I'm sorry you had to go through all this just because of me," he said, lowering his head. Jill clicked her tongue, nudging his chest in a playful way.

"C'mon, it's time someone else did something for you, don't you think? Besides, it was worth it: you're alive, you're safe and you're doing fine. I don't know what else to ask for." Chris smiled at her, knowing it was the only thing he could do right now.

"He didn't hurt you, did he?"

Jill shook her head. "Think me crazy, but it hasn't been as bad as I thought it'd be."

"As much as I want to know about that, you'll have to keep that for another moment," Chris said with a half-smile. "You mentioned Graves and Claire. What about them?"

"Graves is... he's dead," Jill replied, averting his gaze with a sad expression. "When we went to rescue you, since they wanted to take you away, he was shot. In his last moments, he helped us escape and he died."

Damn... Rest in piece, old friend.

A question suddenly appeared in his mind. "Wait, who's 'they'?" Chris asked, frowning.

"Grant and Greene. They're two black-market dealers who are working for Marco Gionne," Jill replied. "He got wind of your state through some source and decided to retrieve you. They failed to do so, and he hasn't tried anything since that. Though Greene is still alive, Grant was killed."

"So Tricell's after me now, huh?" Chris reasoned, crestfallen. "Great..."

Chris' mind was suddenly off.

What else could happen?! No, no, I can't take this! I want it to end, I want it to end! Why does everything happen to me? Why the worst?! Why is is always the fucking worst?!

He felt a huge knot in his gut; why were those thoughts crossing his mind? What was going on?!

"As for Claire," she posed, a small smile lightening up her features, "she's going to be shocked when she hears from you, as will the rest of the people. They... they also assumed you were dead. I told Claire personally."

"Damn, I hope they didn't arrange a funeral," Chris said with a playful smirk. "She must be so depressed... We Redfields are known for our mood swings, you know that. When I see her again, it's going to be like 'It's a ghost!', don't you think?" he said almost laughing, and Jill soon joined him with a good-natured laughter of her own.

"Like it happened with me," she agreed with a nod. "I hope we get to see everyone soon." Chris sighed, smiling.

"Yeah, I'd like to see them, too. You had courage when facing Claire; you know how she gets sometimes. Boy, I'm dying to talk to her again," he remarked so as to ease a bit more of tension. Jill took his hand again, somehow gingerly, and Chris remained silent.

"I needed..." She sighed and swallowed before speaking. "I needed you to be with me so much... I felt unable to go on, even though you say I'm strong. You being alive were the first good news in a very long while that actually made me hope again, though I didn't even know how to feel back then: shocked or happy. On one hand, you were alive; on the other, I didn't know when I'd get to see you conscious again. It was like an unbalanced scales, never to reach equilibrium."

"I'm here... but maybe not in the way you wanted me to be; sorry if I didn't meet those expectations," he said jokingly, although he meant it in a way. He had never been one to take things as they came, but he had no choice but to do so right now. He would understand if Jill rejected him because of his actual state, but that would also break his heart. To his surprise, no hearts were broken.

"The only expectation I wanted you to meet was that you woke up sooner than later," Jill replied, "and you've met it. Don't be so silly." Their gazes met for a moment that seemed like aeons to Chris. There were so many things he wanted to tell her, yet it wasn't the correct moment to do so. They all had a lot to take care of and whilst he considered it was time to tell her the truth about his feelings, he decided everything could be taken to a better scenario.

As such, he decided to wait.

"Alright, put this on and get decent," Jill teased as she handed him a black shirt. "I managed to fish it from some drawers from somewhere I don't remember, but at least it's in a decent state."

"Okay, my friend, I'll get decent," he said with a smirk as he took it. "Answer me just another question: can you really, and really, trust Wesker now? I wouldn't like to see you had made a mistake."

"I trust him now, in a way, but you still need to be wary," she replied, resolute. Chris weighed his options for a few seconds. Jill was right: he had to set his differences aside and agree to cooperate with Wesker, but how to cooperate with your nemesis? The man you hate with all your soul? Chris didn't know, but there had to be a way. If Jill had done so, he could do that too, no matter how much it took him.

"Then I guess I can do like you have, but I'd like you to be there to snap me out of my stupidity," he said as he finished straightening the collar of the shirt. "I can't guarantee I will ignore the taunts he surely will throw my way. One thing we can't let go of is our grudge, and we're going to keep it alive one way or another."

Jill didn't say anything else and laid a hand on his shoulder. "It's hard, believe me, but we have to do this. Right now... he's the only one with the answers; nobody else has them."

Chris nodded. "And we have to get them."

In that moment, Jill winked an eye at him and said, "Fancy telling about your return to our world?" she asked, good-natured. "I... I told Sheva you were-"

"Heh, no need to continue," Chris said with a smile. "It'll be nice to know how she's faring... here's to hoping she doesn't freak out a lot."

"You should know better than me!" his partner replied as they walked out of the locker room. "You knew her for quite some time, so you should know if she can keep a cool head or not."

"Well, she's still young, but she's got the experience," Chris replied, then pulling a small grimace. "Damn, this is gonna feel like a bucket of water."

Jill slapped his arm. "Stop being such a scaredy cat, you dupe," she joked, and then burst into laughs. Chris joined her with a chuckle of his own, but Jill was right in a way.

He was afraid, and there was no denying that.

xx

Vancouver, Canada

"Mr. Gionne! We know where they are!" exclaimed David with a grin of triumph. Marco lifted his gaze from the report he was typing down on his laptop and looked into David's emerald green eyes, his own grey gaze narrowing as curiosity took hold of him.

"You do? I knew you'd find out, Mr. Janssen," he complimented as he stood from his seat. "Where are they?"

"They're in Africa, in the Research Centre Tricell has there," David replied. "I just saw these faxes from James. Redfield is there with Wesker and Valentine, and it seems Redfield's almost awake. It wouldn't surprise me if he is already."

"And I myself know where Redfield's sister is."

It was then when Marco allowed himself the biggest grin he'd ever smiled, showing his teeth like a shark.

"We need to catch them off guard," he reasoned, contemplative, "and I have just the perfect way to do so. With authorisation of the executive board, we can shut down the facility and the alarm will go off. The lockdown will commence and the auxiliary exit will be opened; no doubt they'll take that one to get out."

"But wasn't the auxiliary exit at the end of the containment cell of-" David suddenly fell silent, realizing what Marco planned to do. "You're speaking about the sea. You plan on-"

"If it all goes well, they'll drown with no exit whatsoever. At the same time, I'll send a trusty friend there to keep them cornered like rats."

"But what about Redfield?"

Marco's eyes gleamed with wicked mirth. "I have no interest in him anymore; I have a better host and one I can easily get my hands on. If Redfield has the superior DNA that Uroboros will accept, then his lovely sister will do just fine. Whilst this friend of mine takes care of them in the Research Centre, you and Vithar will go and bring Claire to me. I'll take care of her myself later," Marco replied.

"Sorry, sir, but who's Vithar?"

As if ignoring David's question, Marco then called, "Vithar! Freya!"

That same instant, the door opened and two young people, a boy and a girl, stepped inside the office. As David frowned, Marco stood up and greeted them with a warm smile. David caught sight of Marco smiling, but the newcomers did nothing more than keep their impassive and cold expressions of obliviousness to everything. The only one who seemed to notice Marco's gestures a bit more was the boy, whom David assumed to be Vithar, out of what he knew from Norse mythology.

"Vithar, Freya, I have a favour I want to ask," said Marco, putting a hand on their shoulders. The girl lifted her onyx eyes to Marco, blinking lazily.

"Will I be with Vithar?" she asked, her voice soft and innocent for one so old. Marco shook his head.

"Not this time, I'm afraid, but I'm sure it won't take you long," he replied, tilting his head and looking at Vithar. "I'm sure you remember the time when I told you about Chris Redfield?"

It then seemed that Freya's interest was piqued. "We do, don't we, Vithar?"

"We sure do," replied Vithar, and David notice his speech was slightly slurred, as if he had trouble speaking. He seemed like fifteen, so why the difficulties? "He was the one who... who got infected, wasn't he?"

Marco nodded. "Yes, but it's not him we're after."

A chill ran down David's spine and he felt a bead of cold sweat going down his temple. Those two were unnerving, especially Freya. She seemed from another world: her pale skin, the fair shade of her hair, her light coloured eyes... David knew they had to be Slavic because of their accent, but it was strange to see Vithar was so different from Freya; if they were related, they seemed from families apart. Vithar's hair was black, lackluster, and it was cut irregularly: he had longer locks on the right side of his face that reached under his chin, shorter locks that almost covered his left eye. His gaze was of a deep blue color, almost of a sapphire hue.

He saw Vithar's eyes light up with something akin to joy. "Then who is it we're... we're after, Mr.-Mr. Gionne?"

Marco ran a hand through Vithar's hair and widened his smile. "It's his sister."

Freya gasped, excited. "He's got a sister?!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands, and Vithar smiled tiredly. "Then that's better! It's time we had some fun tearing families apart, isn't it?"

David was sure he felt bile rising on the back of his throat. Who... What are they?!

"It's time, yes, but you won't kill her yet. I want you to bring her to me, then you'll have your fun," Marco said, his voice sharp. Both Vithar and Freya nodded, grins spreading across their features. "Wait for me outside, if you will."

Once they were outside, Marco turned to David, a smirk upon his pale features.

"I'll say a single word: homelessness. You'll get to learn about them soon, Mr. Janssen. Trust them, they're skilled assassins," he explained as he neared David.

David was floored. "A-Assassins? Children like them, assassins?" He couldn't hold himself back and exclaimed, "What did you train them to be? Monsters?!"

It was a costly mistake: Marco didn't hesitate a single second to lash out at David, landing a strong punch on his nose, and then pinned him against the wall, his hand at his throat. David struggled to free himself from Marco's grasp, but the appearance of the man's hand was deceiving: although it had a mangy look to it, almost skin and bone, its strength was admirable. David attempted to breathe, but no oxygen reached his lungs. Instead, Marco pressed tighter, but at last he released him. Coughing and gasping for air, David remained leaning on his knees, calming his racing heart. When he looked up at Marco, his light-grey gaze was very different than the one he'd become used to see: it was one of despair.

"So what if I did, Mr. Janssen?" Marco asked, seething. "Have this in mind: we're all monsters, whether we show it or not."

I know, I know, it's all in my mind,
I should've known better than to think madness as kind.

A/N: Get a load of that! Chris is awake, Jill is trying to talk to him and now it turns out Marco is after Claire. What for? Will our heros take action? Find out in the next one! xDDD

Reviews are appreciated!^^