AN: Is it just me, or are things getting more complicated? I looked back on the first three chapters and think, wow. It was a simpler time then…

Anywho, Chris and Wesker are back. Promise! They'll make up the later part of this chapter so enjoy! :)

*Shout out to mw! Thanks so much for your reviews, and I hope you read this since I couldn't PM you!

Disclaimer:(Sigh) I do NOT own Resident Evil. Or Wesker. Or Chris. Or Claire. I need a cup of coffee now…

Chapter Six:

A Strange Morning Part 1

"I'm sorry, wait. Who are you again?" Claire's present frown only grew as the hushed and very scared voice of a woman claiming to be Chris's friend repeated herself.

"My name is Jean Wirth. I work at the same hospital Chris Redfield does. Are you his sister, Claire?"

"Yeah, I am…but," Claire shook her head, bewildered. "My brother doesn't work in a hospital. He's not a doctor." The image of her big brother trying to treat a patient or perform surgery with hands more suited for guns and throwing punches was too ridiculous to keep imagining.

A shaky laugh seemed to concur with her thoughts.

"No. Chris works as a security guard." Jean said and Claire was tempted to smack her forehead.

Of course he'd take up a job that involved law enforcement. Claire shook her head, awed that her older brother really did follow through with what he said and was moving on with his life. Though it was strange that one of his friends was calling…

Oh god.

"Is Chris alright?" Claire asked, the confusion in her voice replaced with fear. "Is he hurt? Did he get sick?"

Her mind flashed back to the message left on her machine the day before.

"Hey Claire, it's me. I…uh…know it's been a while, but I just wanted to see if you were okay…Yeah, um…that's it. I'll call you later, alright? And if you see Jill around, tell her I said hi." Here, Chris had cleared his throat and Claire knew that he was trying to reign in any excess emotions.

"Love you, Claire." Then he hung up.

The call was out of the blue. Any other time, perhaps back then, Claire would have thought of the call as just that, a call from her older brother who missed her as much as she missed him. But the Chris of now only called if there was an emergency, and while he hadn't mentioned anything bad happening, she knew from the hesitant way he spoke that something was wrong.

Really wrong.

On the other side of the line, Jean shook her head sadly. This was just wrong. This, this couldn't be happening. It was already apparent to her that Chris didn't maintain much contact with his younger sister, and now that there was some contact, it was to tell his sibling bad news.

But it was the only way Jean could think of helping her friend. At the very least, his family and friends at home would know, and in a couple of hours, the authorities would know as well.

Claire's hand tightened around her coffee mug, the liquid inside cold from having been ignored since she had answered the phone. The silence on the other end was unnerving, disturbing, and part of Claire was terrified at what she might hear next.

Finally Jean spoke.

"Your brother and I were on our way to lunch," She began, her voice shaking on the last word. "When this white van came to a stop between us and these men dressed in black came out with guns…"

By the end, Claire was sitting down at her table and shaking her head in disbelief.

"I…I just can't believe this." The redhead murmured, finally releasing her hold on her coffee mug.

She really couldn't. How was it possible that anyone could find Chris when she had been searching for him for months? Why would anyone besides her do so in the first place? Umbrella was destroyed, and Wesker was dead and gone!

Why couldn't they just leave her brother alone?

"Neither can I, to be honest." Jean said, her voice calmer now that she had gotten her story out. "But it happened and I'm worried about what they may be doing to Chris right now. Those men were professional mercenaries, Claire."

"How do you know?" Claire asked, although she had guessed the same thing.

"They knew what they were doing, at least the men who had taken me." Jean said firmly. "Besides, I don't think random kidnappers use a logo on their bulletproof vests."

"Logo?" Claire straightened up in alarm. Please don't let it be…she mentally pleaded. "What logo?"

There was silence on the other end as Jean tried to remember. "It was really small. And blue." Claire heard the older woman snap her fingers in triumph. "A raindrop!"

"A raindrop." Claire repeated, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Thank god it's not them, she thought, relief temporarily overriding the confusion.

"Or teardrop. It's open to interpretation I guess," Jean said, shrugging on the other side.

Claire nodded in agreement before remembering that the other woman couldn't see her. "Right."

"I'm really sorry that I couldn't help your brother more, Claire." Jean said, her voice subdued. The guilt hadn't left her ever since she saw Chris willingly turn himself in to set Jean free. After wallowing in misery and guilt the whole night, Jean decided to put the guilt to good use and use the loophole her captor hadn't thought of when he gave her the warning. Not that telling Chris's sister was accomplishing much besides ruining the younger Redfield's morning. But it was a start and maybe Claire knew someone who could help.

"It's not your fault, Jean." Claire said with a wan smile. "Chris is the kind of person who would never hesitate to protect others. And he must trust you a lot to have given you my number in case something happened."

The brunette flushed and peered down at the memo pad next to Chris's house phone. The only reason she had even been able to enter his apartment in the first place was because his landlord had given her a spare key. And that was only because she had lied about Chris being too sick to answer the door.

"Yeah…" Was all Jean said in reply.

"And you were brave too. Instead of freaking out you found a way to get around the kidnapper's demands. And you're still trying to help Chris instead of running away and pretending it never happened." Claire continued.

Jean certainly didn't feel brave. "I don't know what else to do." She admitted, remembering lying to Chris's boss about his absence from work. After the incident, the hospital had been 'informed' that the presence of armed men was merely a military exercise. Everyone had bought the flimsy excuse and Jean was beginning to think that money had been involved. "After I inform the police later on, I won't be able to do much."

"But I will." Claire told her confidently. "And as soon as I arrive over there in—where do you live anyway?"

"California."

Claire's mouth dropped open. "Whoa." She muttered, but continued on in a louder voice. "Well, as soon as I arrive there with a friend, we can all work together to rescue Chris."

Despite the confidence in Claire's voice, Jean remained unconvinced. Part of her knew that the police wouldn't be able to save him, so what could three people do? But she had to remain positive, Jean reminded herself. She had to do everything in her power to help Chris.

"Right." Jean said, trying to inject confidence into her voice. "Do you want me to give you the address?" she asked.

"Please." Claire quickly jotted down the address and mentally began a list of what she would have to prepare for the trip besides informing Jill and asking about the merc's logo. For now, the BSAA couldn't find out since it wasn't twenty-four hours yet and she didn't want Jean to get killed. But as soon as that time was up…it was go time.

"Okay, thanks." She said, when she was done. "I'll call you as soon as I book a flight." She quickly said bye and hung up, letting the silence descend once more on the kitchen.

"Oh Chris." She sighed. Her hand curled up in a fist and she bit her lip. "It's not fair."

A lot of things in life aren't, sis. It's up to us to balance things out.

And they did, for a while. But Chris didn't get to enjoy the newfound peace and had left everyone behind in order to escape what had happened for the past several years. And now that things were out of balance, Chris was on his own and away from support. At least Wesker and Umbrella weren't involved this time around, and for that Claire was grateful.

"If we were able to survive and stop them, then we can do anything." Claire told herself firmly and reached for the phone again to call Jill.

"Ah, crap."

You could say that again. Adrian thought grimly. Should the younger Redfield decide to involve the BSAA too quickly, then they would very quickly run short on time for their real mission. And Generation would be quick to act too and would proceed to shut down their operation here, but not before eliminating the Redfields, their friends, and Wesker first.

I hope the sister is as honorable. Adrian thought. He really didn't want to kill any more than was necessary, not out of concern necessarily for people's lives but because it was so time consuming, killing, then hiding the bodies in a out of the way place where they could safely decompose for a week or two before being discovered. Not to mention that it would interfere with his job at the facility and his plans…

"Boss?" Trent asked, shaking the older man out of his thoughts. "You okay?"

"Yes, Trent." Adrian reassured him and sighed. "I want surveillance on Jean's apartment the moment Claire Redfield and her friend arrives. I will need a daily report and taps on all their phones if possible, as well as a tracker on their vehicles."

"Yes, sir." Trent and Ted said.

"I will also need more information about Claire Redfield and Jill Valentine and their current involvement with the BSAA." Adrian added. "We have some information as to their relationship with Chris Redfield, but I know we did not go into much detail."

"Yes sir."

Ted watched his superior carefully, concerned at the suddenly weary look on Adrian's usually indifferent face.

"Sir, you don't intend on eliminating them?" He asked, though it wasn't really said as a question.

"No." Adrian admitted. "It wouldn't help in securing Chris's trust, and there could be further use for them in the future. These are the people who took Umbrella down after all."

Trent gawked at the raven haired man. "Seriously?"

"Yes." Ted said impatiently. "You would've known that but you were too 'busy' taking a smoking break."

"Hey, I knew the older Redfield and Valentine was involved, alright?" Trent said defensively. "I just thought he would've made his little sis stay at home. God knows I would've done the same if I had one."

"Apparently she's as stubborn as her brother." Adrian told him and shrugged. "I assume the need to save others runs in the family."

"In any case," Adrian started the car and pulled out of the parking spot. "We will worry about that later, when contact between the two is made again. We'll know when Redfield's sister arrives with Valentine then."

And with that plan made, Adrian changed the subject to breakfast, something that dominated the trio until they agreed to go to Denny's and arrived there with only one mission: Coffee and food. It was a time when their jobs were rarely discussed and their personal lives became exactly that, personal, and unshadowed by Generation or any missions that were waiting to be completed.

There were no nightmares.

For the first time in what seemed like years, Chris had actually had a good night's sleep. He knew it when he gained consciousness and felt the relaxation in his usually tensed up muscles, and the way his heart beat slowly and steadily, breaking the silence in his room.

There was no fear, no emptiness or that crushing weight on his chest. There was only contentment and warmth.

There was no death and darkness, no rotting hands reaching for his screaming loved ones, or for him. There was only—

Wesker.

He had dreamt about Wesker. And that was why he felt so at peace…

Chris sat up straight in his bed and smacked himself on the metal underside of the bunk bed above him.

Wait. Bunk bed?

"What the—?" The brunette felt so spooked that for a moment he forgot about the pain and ended up rolling off the bed and landed on the floor with a loud thud. Rubbing his head and wincing at the bump that was sure to rise, Chris scanned the strange white room suspiciously and stiffened when he saw someone standing in the corner closest to a small square window, watching him…

… with his eyes hidden behind a pair of black sunglasses that only one person Chris knew would wear even indoors.

"Wesker." Chris's voice was a mixture of shock and fear as he looked upon his dream from the night before.

Only…Chris was no longer sure if it had all been a dream.

But he knew for sure that he was awake now. And for some reason, Chris couldn't stop the flood of emotions from overtaking him, suddenly making him desperate to prove this was real.

"Hello, dear heart." Wesker greeted him, with a faint smirk. He raised a pale eyebrow as the brunette slowly picked himself up and began to warily make his way towards him. At his words however, he saw Chris stiffen before continuing, determination glinting in sky blue eyes.

"I assume you are now aware you are awake?"

Chris ignored the question and when he was but a yard away from the man who was supposed to be dead, the younger man suddenly ran and swung at Wesker, right arm aiming straight towards the aristocratic looking face. Wesker ducked quickly however, and without pausing, rose up just as fast to deliver a powerful right hook to Chris's jaw, causing the brunette to stumble back a couple of paces.

For a moment, there was only the sound of heavy breathing as Chris rubbed his bruising jaw, shocked eyes trained on the still blonde who continued to watch him.

"Well?" Wesker asked, his smirk growing.

"Yeah," Chris nodded, still trying to control his breathing. Part of him was still fixated on the possibility that this was all an illusion, but the larger, more hopeful part of him had understood the truth the moment that pain had been delivered.

"I'm awake." Chris said and dropped his hand down from his aching jaw. His eyes widened as the knowledge sunk in and finally made its complete impact on the former marksman.

"Ow." He glared at Wesker, his hand returning to lightly touch his forming bruise. "Did you have to hit me that hard?"

"I was merely defending myself." Wesker told him and crossed his arms. "I highly doubt you intended on being gentle yourself, Christopher."

Chris snorted. "More gentle than you. You were always a jerk."

"And you were always a fool."

"Shut up." Chris yawned and rubbed his free hand across his face. The insults were lighter than they usually were, and part of Chris was relieved. There was no need to get into a full blown fight in an enclosed space right now, especially since Wesker seemed to be completely healthy and well rested and Chris…well, Chris was pretty sure he had a concussion.

So did Wesker. The blonde knew that this was the third blow to the younger man's head, the first he guessed was from when Chris fell off the bed in the beginning and ended up on the floor when they first met. A concussion was almost certain for the former Alpha marksmen, and the bleeding gash on his forehead needed treatment.

"Hold still." Wesker ordered and briskly crossed the couple of feet between them and changed it to inches as he came to a standstill in front of Chris. Chris tried to ignore the urge to back away but lost when Wesker's hands reached for his forehead and slender fingers pressed into tender skin.

"Wait, what are you doing?" Chris bit his lip as pain throbbed from the touch. He tried to step back but the sudden steel like grip on his shoulders kept him in place.

"I said, hold still." Wesker said sharply. "I want to see how bad your injury is."

"Am I bleeding?" Chris asked, trying to distract himself from how close they were standing. He managed to keep the wincing to a minimum, not wanting to allow Wesker to see any more weakness on his part…not if last night had actually happened.

Silence met his question and while it didn't necessarily mean that it was a bad thing, Chris had a difficult time imagining that it was a good thing either. Though at the moment, maybe it was. If anything, the quiet gave Chris a chance to fully digest the fact that Wesker was alive.

Alive.

The right thing to do was to back away and kill Wesker again, and make sure he'd stay dead this time around. But the night before kept on resurfacing, throwing Chris off, because that night, those short moments revealed Wesker's death for what it was…the worst thing that Chris had ever had to go through.

And Chris would have given anything for that night to happen again.

The same cool scent comforted him, the same warmth tempted him to lean forward and sink into the hard toned body that seemed impossible to destroy, even when submerged in burning lava. Perhaps it was because Albert Wesker was like lava himself, awesome in all of its fiery glory, but dangerous and deadly to anyone caught in its blazing depths.

"Don't fall asleep." Wesker's sharp order stirred Chris from volcanoes and memories best left forgotten. Funny, memories that seemed too painful to even think about now felt almost bearable again.

"I wasn't." Chris said, voice distant. "I was just…" Blue eyes were far away when the blonde man gazed into them. A faint frown lingered on Wesker's lips when he saw the distance, but it vanished when he heard the cell door buzz.

The warmth and light touches disappeared almost immediately. Chris's clouded eyes cleared in time to see Wesker lounge against his corner just as the door slid open. A cart similar to the ones used for hotel room service rolled in, oiled wheels running smoothly across the linoleum floor. Its driver was a red haired man wearing an all black uniform, with a teardrop emblem on the breast of his long sleeved shirt.

Silence hung thick in the air, as if no one was willing to break it. Both Wesker and the redhead seemed completely at ease, but Chris was feeling more uneasy with every passing second. Something about the man looked familiar, and dread struck him whenever Chris's eyes lingered for more than a second on the blue emblem.

Finally, after what seemed like minutes (but was actually thirty seconds), the redhead spoke.

"Good morning." He greeted cheerfully, with a nod towards Wesker and Chris.

"Good morning." Wesker said, voice devoid of emotion.

Chris nodded in return, and a thought that he never thought was possible hit him. Was Wesker a prisoner here, too?

What was this place?

The man turned to his cart and took two white trays out. He handed one tray to Wesker and the other to Chris, where he could see generous portions of hash browns, pancakes and eggs. The man bent down to a shelf underneath the top of the cart and came back up with two coffees in Styrofoam cups with a straw, sugar and cream in packets.

It wasn't exactly luxury or a Continental breakfast, but Chris took it gratefully. Somewhere during this whole mess, he had regained his appetite, and food was exactly what he needed. As he tucked in with the plastic utensils he found lying across the tray, Wesker raised a single pale eyebrow at the redhead.

"Adrian is still working on getting approval for the table and coffeemaker." The younger man told Wesker, almost apologetically. "But the chairman and head researcher are being difficult."

"That is fine." Wesker said with a nod, but glanced down with concealed disgust at the food nonetheless. "I appreciate that he is trying to make the stay here more…comfortable. Others would not be quite so lenient or helpful."

"He respects you." The redhead replied simply and that was when Chris recognized the name.

"Adrian."

"Yes, Trent?"

"The prisoner…um…He really doesn't know about Generation?"

"No, Trent, I do not believe so."

Another voice spoke up, one that was now familiar. "So he doesn't know about…"

Here, Chris imagined that the head merc had shaken his head.

"It is to stay this way, until he sees for himself. Otherwise, the meeting will be compromised."

"Sir," Chris now recognized the redhead's voice. "Christopher Redfield may already be compromised.".

"Explain." Adrian ordered and the redhead continued.

"The files you asked us to gather include recent hospital treatment at the hospital where he is employed." Ted told his boss. "Four months ago he came to the emergency room with massive blood loss due to multiple lacerations on his arms."

Silence followed and the redhead rushed to explain.

"It was done exactly one month after he came back from a mission in Africa, where our newest…acquisition was found."

"Ah." An unfamiliar voice said and whistled. "Shit. Does that mean that—"

"It means that it is up to our acquisition," Adrian said, placing emphasis on the last word. "To help our friend realize the extent of the situation. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir." The other two men chorused.

"Good." Adrian placed his hand lightly on Chris's neck and Chris knew that the merc would feel the racing pulse there. "Very good."

"Adrian. He was the one who brought me here, wasn't he?" Chris asked, the memory bringing everything flooding back…the chase, Jean, the message for Claire that he knew would make no sense to her—

And Adrian's words before he lost consciousness…an old friend, a new enemy.

Adrian had always known. And he had been trying to warn him.

Why?

And the redhead, he knew. He knew about the emergency visit to the hospital.

"You." Chris said, his eyes widening. "You were part of the team who brought me here."

The man nodded. "It's nice to officially meet you, Chris." He held out his hand, green blue eyes carefully watching the brunette. "I'm Ted McCallister."

They shook hands and when they let go, Ted frowned at the slowly pooling blood on Chris's forehead.

"Do you mind if I take a look at your…wound?" The redhead asked, concern growing in his usually neutral gaze.

"Okay." Chris said easily. It was better than having to deal with Wesker as a doctor, but the disappointment at no more contact with the blonde had the brunette scowling mentally at himself. He kept still as Ted moved closer and carefully checked out the gash on his head, frowning at its size.

"He injured his head on the bunkbed," Wesker said, noticing the frown. "And he has fallen twice off the bed."

"Chris." Ted chided gently. "You need to be careful." He shook his head like a mother hen and Chris felt thrown off by how…nice the merc was. It brought him back to Adrian, who while not hesitating to take Jean hostage and drug him, still seemed kind of decent for a merc.

Who the hell were these guys? Chris wondered. He stole a quick glance at Wesker and saw no hint of what the blonde thought of the mercenaries. Had he been thrown off by their decency, or had he assumed it was some form of psychological torture, the let's-treat-'em-nice-and-then-screw-them-over kind of deal? Wesker would know all about that kind of thing. The brunette mused, but decided that this was actually a welcome change from previous encounters with mercenaries and other bad guys, Wesker included. A really welcome change.

"Might as well enjoy it while it lasts." Chris mumbled, surprised by his optimism. Could it be called optimism? He thought offhandedly. Or just plain not giving a damn?

You do give a damn. Chris's mental voice told him quickly. 'Cause Wesker's here. That's already a step up from before.

Being kidnapped isn't. Chris reminded the mental voice.

It is if it brought you face to face with him again. The voice continued cheerfully. And we both know that no one can stop him for too long.

True.

Chris tried not to dwell to long on what talking to himself this much could mean and thought about what his voice, no he, just mentioned. If Wesker really was a prisoner here, then it was more than likely that the blonde would have several ideas on how to break out of here, depending on how long he'd been a prisoner. It couldn't have been too long since he'd been here, not since his 'death', could it? He'd have left a long time ago then.

Unless…Chris remembered looking into grey eyes the night before. The dream night. Grey eyes…grey eyes equaled no Uroboros. No Uroboros meant…

Shit. If he's been here all this time and hasn't left then it's because he really can't. Chris felt dread settle over him like a rain cloud ready to burst into torrents of ice cold hell.

Oblivious to the thoughtful brunette, Ted continued talking to Wesker about checking up on Chris every couple of hours so he could take some painkillers. The former Tyrant was more observant however, and watched the rapid change of emotions on the brunette's face. That was not a good sign, and somehow, perhaps from years of knowing Redfield, Wesker knew that he was in for a lengthy question and answer session with Chris as soon as Ted left. And knowing Chris, Wesker was certain that it would all be questions pertaining to subjects he had no desire to discuss. Maybe if he talked about how he arrived here Chris would stop bothering him for a while. He had always been easily entertained with a story…

Ted saw Chris frowning at nothing in particular and the concern grew. Yep, reading all those medical records had not done too many wonders for his already paranoid stance on patients.

"I'll bring some painkillers for you in a moment." The redhead said, returning his attention to Chris. "Do you have any other injuries that you need me to check out, perhaps in private?"

Chris shook his head, feeling weird about the question. It reminded him of the full length exam he had undergone that night at the hospital, after the obvious injuries were taken care of, of course. And even when no new ones had been discovered, he had still been put under observation for two more nights, as well as suicide watch…The stupid doctor hadn't believed him when he told him that no, he hadn't been taking a blade to his arms like some stupid addict. He was better than that. He had more control than that over himself.

And yet you almost died. His inner voice murmured.

Shut up.

But there was no way that Ted could know, not unless he had gone through his medical records…or taken a good look at his arms and noticed the very faint scars…

Fuck.

Wesker watched the uncomfortable look that bordered on panic on Chris's face and made a mental note to ask about it later.

"Well in any case, you'll have to go through a full length exam later," Ted said, and not a hint of whether he believed Chris showed up on his face. "Standard procedure."

"Then why the hell did you ask if I had something now?" Chris snapped. Don't look at Wesker. He thought desperately, willing his subconscious to obey too. Don't let him know that there's something to hide. "It's not like I was hurt recently or anything, just drugged no thanks to you."

Relief flashed across the medic's face. "I'm glad." Ted said, and actually sounded sincere enough to cause Chris to have a mini flash of guilt. "I hate giving anyone too many sedatives, but orders are orders." The worry didn't fade completely however. "And I only asked in case you fell or became hurt during the, ah, chase. You might feel dizzy from the sedatives or from the concussion, in which case I'd prefer if you lied down for a while."

Chris shook his head. "I'm fine."

Ted nodded. "Okay." Again, no hint of whether or not he believed Chris.

Wesker sure as hell didn't. He didn't believe either one of them and his curiosity was rising with every passing lie. It seemed as if he now had questions of his own for his cellmate. Last night had already told him that Chris wasn't exactly stable anymore.

"Was Adrian in charge of surveillance last night?" Wesker asked, deciding to get down to business, and received a nod from the redhead.

Adrian had told Ted to answer any questions that Albert Wesker asked and he had understood it was done as a sign of trust, on his boss's part. It was a gamble, but Adrian believed that it would make the blonde man more cooperative during his stay at the facility. Although…Ted wasn't sure why Wesker would care about who was in charge of surveillance. Though seeing as how Wesker now had a cellmate, it might now become relevant. How? Ted wasn't sure. But he knew that Albert Wesker did not ask useless questions. And he knew for sure that having to share a cell with someone he had a long history with would change things as well.

For the better or worse, now that was a good question.

"I'll be back," Ted promised Chris with a kind smile. "Try not to hurt your head again. Or anything else." Sea colored eyes landed on the darkening bruise on the brunette's jaw and narrowed in disapproval at the blonde man casually sipping his coffee.

Chris nodded, and as soon as Ted left the room he glared at Wesker. "Did you hear that?" he asked.

Wesker only smirked and took another sip of his coffee and Chris decided to address his need for food and quiet his complaining stomach by digging in. The food really was okay, or maybe it just seemed that way after hours of not eating. Besides, Chris knew he would need the energy for a long conversation he intended on having with one Albert Wesker who was no longer deceased.

"Hope you're up to it." Chris muttered and at the glance the blonde man gave him, he smirked and took another gulp of his coffee.

It was really good coffee.

Whew! Boy, was this chapter hard to write. I kinda get jittery when it gets to Wesker and Chris interaction, even though it's fun to write. Hope they weren't too OoC. Still getting used to the swing of things and I hope you'll all have the patience and see the small improvements. (glances worriedly into empty coffee cup) I am improving, right?

(Rolls eyes at low self-esteem) Anyway…THANK YOU ALL so much for your support! For reading, for reviewing, for putting this story in alerts and all that whatnot. It means so much to me and it's one of the reasons for why this story continues to breathe.

I may or may have not mentioned this before, but this story will be long, so I will take my sweet time unfolding the plot and whatnot. I will finish it, so have patience, and hopefully we'll all have fun on this insane road to who knows where! :)

Hm…well, glad I drank that coffee. Gets me through a helluva lot of writing blocks, and so does Deathnote music. Go Nightmare! Until next time (waves lighter to Nightmare's "The World") bye bye! :)