With a large cheeseburger in both hands, Reagan hungrily gobbled down the greasy food in a couple of mouthfuls. Mayonnaise dribbled down the corners of his lips as he stuffed in a few fries into his continuous chewing mouth, all the while Agent Dante sat across from him; watching the asset make an absolute mess of himself with a mix of disgust and amusement.

They were in a remote, vacant fast-food diner, sitting by the window as rain poured down outside.

"Christ, if I didn't know any better I would think nobody ever fed you." Dante remarked.

Reagan glanced at him briefly before focusing back on his meal. "Oh they fed me, alright. But nothing enjoyable I'd say. Just disgusting, slimy fish with a bunch of little bones." He answered whilst still chewing. His face wrinkled with disgust at the thought of fish and he forced himself from gagging. "Oh meat and bacon, how I missed you!"

"Don't speak with your mouth full." Dante admonished.

Reagan rolled his eyes but obliged.

Much too soon for his liking, he finished the cheeseburger and fries, and he sucked on each of his fingers to get a lingering taste of the grease and salt to savor his meal for just a little bit longer.

"Christ, were you raised in a barn or something?"

Reagan perked up. "For the first seven years of my life, yes, actually!" He said. "Though I fail to see how this has anything to do with your business."

"I still can't believe I am actually going through with this." Dante spoke as though he said nothing just now. "First you attack some random pedestrian and strip 'em of their clothes for you to wear-"

"Hey, I needed a disguise, buddy. I wasn't about to go around town in bright suspicious orange attire with the whole Red Army looking for me!" Reagan pointed out, sipping his soda. Such a shame this little fast-food joint didn't serve alcohol.

No longer he wore the test subject attire he'd been forced in for the last five years labeled with a serial number. Instead, Reagan now adorned a white long sleeved shirt with a dark gray coat, jeans, and tennis shoes. However; the chain around his neck remained in place, and his hair was still cascading past his shoulders. Scars marred his face and body.

"Then you have us stuffed inside this god awful smelling bathroom in a gas station so I can help remove the tracking chip implanted between your shoulder blades-"

"I would've done it by myself if I had eyes in the back of my own head, bud. But I don't, and I wasn't about to be tracked down for the rest of my life either."

The memory of the tiny device painfully embedded into Reagan's spine made Dante sick. The wound around the chip had been angry and swollen with the telltale signs of what once had been a pretty badly treated infection.

"And now I am treating you for dinner." Dante went on, exasperated. "What's my life coming to these days?"

Reagan shrugged and pulled away from the straw. "Honestly, it ain't that bad compared to what most people these days are going through. What with all the war going on." He said. "Speaking of which, how's that going for you reds? Being the army's team mascot I am afraid limits my knowledge of the current war fares. So… are we winning at least?"

Dante shifted. "I guess?" He glanced away. "Out on the frontlines the Red Army is making quick work of conquering Nations left and right, but just because we captured the land doesn't mean we automatically get the people's support. There are riots going on. Some minor renegade resistance groups keep on challenging us, and that is severely slowing down our efforts to help the people." He shifted awkwardly. "But as an agent for the U.B.P.D. I don't get to do much in that regard. I am mostly busy with spy training until I was assigned this particular case. Most from what I hear are from the official morning debriefings and word of mouth around the hallways."

Reagan lifted one eyebrow. "Impressive." He grinned. "And you… you must be feeling pretty damn excited to be assigned this case."

And pretty naive to boot. He added silently to himself. This puny agent has absolutely no idea who he was up against here. He might not even have ever heard of Reagan if he joined the ranks in the years he spent cooped up in the lab. There's no way he knows about his silver tongue and easy influence.

All he has to do is keep the kid talking until he slips up something vital for him to use and get away.

Dante frowned. "Not really. I just… worked hard to get to where I am, that's all."

"Oh come now, don't be so modest." Reagan cooed, leaning forward. "General Erica isn't the type of person to willingly give important jobs to rookies on the fly. You must've done something remotely impressive to get her attention to put you in this case."

His encouraging words and empty praise must've worked because Dante continued talking. "Well, I did get the best results during the private assessments amongst all my comrades, so I think that's what made me stick out." He confessed. "Finish your drink now. We better get going soon and return to the wreckage to look for clues before the rain washes everything away."

Reagan groaned and rolled his eyes.

"Don't give me that look. I went along with all your demands thus far. I think it's only fair we carry on with one of my demands for once, huh?"

"I hardly count treating me to dinner and getting me clothes as favors." Reagan remarked slyly.

Dante shook his head. "Of course not. Those are basic human needs! No one deserves to go on hungry or wear demeaning clothes. And that chip couldn't have been doing much good to you either."

Reagan blinked, abruptly pausing mid-sip of his soda as he regarded the agent with bewildered green eyes.

"Reagan, are you okay?" Dante asked, concerned by both his reaction and disturbing insinuation behind his words. In what world would anyone consider being fed and clothed a favor?

"I'm fine!" Reagan replied a little too quickly, clearing his throat. "Let's just… get on with our mission, aiight? The sooner we find the culprit behind these attacks, the sooner I can be done with you and free to go my own way."

They got to the car Reagan had managed to steal and hotwire it, and Dante drove them toward their destination. Reagan remained ducked for a good duration of the journey, afraid of catching the eyes of any passerby soldiers.

Dante glanced at him through the corner of his eye. "Alright, pal. If we're going to work together I am going to need some answers." He began. "Who are you exactly?"

Reagan snorted. "I thought we already went through introductions."

"I know your name, sure, but that's not much to go off of." Dante replied. "I mean… what are you? I know you're the army's secret weapon, but I have no idea what this means for you."

"I'm Irish! I thought that would be obvious."

Dante resisted the urge to facepalm. "That's great. But what do you do? Why are you the Red Army's asset, and why would anyone else be after you?"

Reagan tutted. "If you are desperate to find out what I am capable of, then you're going to have to wait and see."

"Why? Afraid to be made fun of?" Dante teased. "I am going to call your bluff and say maybe you're not that extraordinary."

"What?" Reagan's eyes widened.

"Yeah, I think in reality you are afraid to admit what your skills are because it's not that impressive." Dante said. "It's okay, I won't judge. I am gonna guess maybe you are a super powered individual with incredibly embarrassing powers."

"Guess again, hot shot! I am the most powerful man in the entire world." Reagan bragged.

"More so than Red Leader?" Dante raised one eyebrow.

Reagan leaned closer. "Do you think Red B#tch would go out of his way to keep me contained in a lab, pressed firmly under his thumb, if I was so ordinary? Anyone can hold a gun and shoot, but no one else in the world can do what I am capable of."

"And what are you capable of?"

Reagan's eyes gleamed. "Mass destruction."

"Again, your lack of a direct response just makes me believe you are bluffing." Dante shrugged. "What are you afraid of, anyway? I work for the organization that created you, so telling me shouldn't be anything new-"

"They DID NOT create me!" Reagan snapped. "I rightfully earned this power with my own cunning and sheer will. THEY are the ones who took advantage of me and imprisoned me for their own experiments."

"And how did that come about?" Dante pressed, taken aback by his companion's outburst.

"The big Red B#tch invented this powerful serum that can transform anyone who takes it into a monster." Reagan explained. "I found out. I snuck into the lab. I stole a vial of the serum and injected myself with it. And here we are."

"And you tried to kill Red Leader by using his own serum against him?" Dante questioned, his eyes never leaving the road as he drove.

"He had it coming."

"Was it worth it?"

"Considering the b#tch still lives and I got experimented on, I would say no." Reagan snickered. "On the other hand… I did get part of my vengeance completed all thanks to this power, so I also have to say yes."

Dante glanced at him. "You don't sound so sure…" He trailed off, thinking what else to ask. "Who were you before becoming the army's asset?"

"A regular soldier, just like you. But way prettier and more talented." Reagan replied, peering out the window and watching the scenery go by. "I was loyal like you once, you know? I devoted my life to the Red Army and proving myself to Red Leader, only for the bastard to backstab me for his own needs."

"How did he betray your trust?"

"It's a long story, but basically I went out of my way to fulfill a mission he personally designated me for, in record time by the way, only for him to demote me in the end!" Reagan went on. "The same will happen to you, too. Just watch! If you really think solving this case and finding the culprit behind these attacks is going to get you in Red's good graces, think again. I'm sure even with my help he is still going to find a way to twist the events and make you be at fault for something."

"Well truth be told I am not exactly doing myself any favors by letting you go free at the end of this." Dante pointed out wryly. "So if Red Leader decides to punish me when all of this is over, I can't say I don't deserve it."

Reagan regarded him with a strange look. "Of course you don't deserve it! At the end of the day you are only serving the Red Army the best way you can. He can't fault you for that. Besides, he will have no need for a secret weapon if you take out the army's biggest threat at the moment. He should be grateful you went out of your way to serve him, not punish you for a minor detail you weren't even in charge of!"

Dante appeared unconvinced. "Speaking of which; we should probably lay some ground rules while we're at it just so you don't get any funny ideas."

"I would never!" Reagan blinked innocently.

"Number one; do exactly as I say at all times, got it?"

"Whatever you say, Mr. Falls." Reagan winked and mock saluted.

Dante rolled his eyes and groaned. "Can you stop with the nicknames? I have a name and it's Dante."

"I am not particularly good with remembering names, so I stick to personally gifted nicknames instead. It's easier to keep a track of all the people I meet this way."

"I could always start referring to you as annoying prick number #1, what do you say?" Dante argued, receiving a harsh glare from Reagan in response. "Thought so. Rule number two; you must never leave my side."

"Awn, you got separation anxiety? That's adorable." Reagan grinned. "Still, it's going to be pretty awkward when it comes to bathroom breaks."

"With obvious exceptions, of course." Dante glared at him, flustered. "Rule number three; do your job in helping me and I will fulfill my end of the deal and set you free. Try anything funny and I am contacting the nearest Red Army station to escort both of us back to the base. I won't be played for a fool just to let you get away, do I make myself clear?"

"Yeah yeah, I heard you the first time." Reagan said restlessly, lifting his feet to rest on the car's dash. "Are we nearly there yet? I'm bored. Can we listen to music?"

"We'll get there when we get there. This isn't meant to be a fun road trip, Reagan, we are on a serious mission." Dante growled. "Get your feet off the dash, and quit fiddling with the radio."

It took another long and agonizing thirty minutes until they arrived in the remains of Stavanger's base of operations. The whole time Dante had the patience of a saint. He scolded Reagan from time to time to focus on their mission, and asked a few more questions to keep the Irishman busy, but Reagan had to give him credit. Even when he was actively trying to piss him off, the agent didn't blow up on him once. Very calm and collected indeed!

Reagan knew General Erica tended to favor those with critical thinking skills over athletes who shoot first and ask questions later, so maybe it wouldn't be far off to guess that Dante might've made an impact on the head of the U.B.P.D. with his sheer smarts and patience.

But it will take a lot more than that to keep Reagan subdued and obedient.

Arriving at the wreckage of the base, Dante parked the car a couple of miles away from the site. He and Reagan both got out of the car and wearily approached the scene. There were still some soldiers lurking around the area; scavenging the debris and putting out fires. Reagan hung back a few ways, not willing to risk being recognized as the asset on sight and merely regarded the wreckage with a disinterested look as Dante began to inspect and look for clues.

Keeping one eye on his deceptive companion at all times, Dante prowled around the debris, turning over every slab of metal and concrete, poking everything that stuck out and hoping one of these seemingly useless parts might give him a clue as to what exactly occurred here.

"Shouldn't you interview any witnesses for leads?" Reagan asked, lounging carelessly amidst the scrap and junk.

"We were both there, Reagan. There's no point." Dante glanced at him. "What do you remember?"

Reagan snorted. "I was inside a metal box – I didn't see sh#t, buddy."

"I was paying attention to the mission relay when I noticed something out of place…" Dante trailed off, his gaze scanning the wreckage as though searching for something. "I was standing in the hangar and looking out towards… the mountain range."

Reagan followed the agent's gaze and frowned. "So?"

"That's where I saw it. A tiny spark of green light coming from the East." Dante explained. "But how can that be? Any trespassers this far into Red Army territory should've been spotted long before crossing our perimeter. So how did they get so close?"

Reagan shrugged. "I don't know. You're the detective here, not me." He eyed a pipe sticking out of the rubble next to him with interest.

Dante opened his mouth for an annoyed retort when a glint of charred scrap metal half buried in the ground amidst the rest of the wreckage caught his eye.

As the agent bent down to tug insistently at the piece of debris, Reagan grinned and grabbed a hold of a pipe; stalking Dante from behind as he slowly lifted the pipe above his head to strike him down. He can't fulfill his end of the deal if the agent is DEAD!

"C'mon. Let GO!" Dante grunted as he heaved part of the burned scrap out, only for him to stagger back and smack Reagan straight in the face with the metal frame.

Reagan instantly released the pipe he'd been holding and rubbed his face with a grimace.

"Oh my god! I am so sorry. Are you hurt?" Dante fussed over him worriedly, looking incredibly apologetic. "What were you doing standing so close behind me?"

"You said we needed to stick together, first off." Reagan pointed out mildly, rubbing his sore cheek. "Secondly, I came by to see if you needed any help with that junk. What have you got there, by the way?"

Dante stared down at the charred metal plate in his hands, burned to a crisp. "I… have no idea." He admitted. "This stood out to me, and I figured it could be a clue. I guess not."

"How can you tell? All this junk looks the same to me." Reagan muttered.

"Okay. Let's spread out and look for more clues. There must be something else around here we might be missing." Dante decided.

"Good luck with that." Reagan crossed his arms over his chest.

Dante huffed. "You said you were going to help me solve this case."

"Look, man, I don't know what to tell you! Whoever was left in charge of the radars must've been goofing off or something…"

"The radars, that's it!" Dante's eyes brightened. "Reagan, you are a genius!"

Running off to where the control room would've been, Dante climbed down the wreckage and approached the leftover remains of what once was the computer lab. Most of the monitors were destroyed beyond salvation, but Dante decided he might as well try his luck with the few rare ones that look somewhat operable after the blast.

Pulling out his memory stick, Dante stuck it into one of the few computers that appeared functional and proceeded to download all the data from it to analyze for a later date. If there had been a mishap with the radars at the time of the blast, he will soon find out.

"Whatcha got there?" Reagan climbed down the heap of debris.

"A record of all the radar's readings." Dante replied. "Hopefully we will find some answers later when we look through the files."

Narrowing his eyes, Reagan debated what would be simpler at this point. Shifting and dealing with the agent right here right now, or find a sneakier way to go about this? If he transforms here, he might as well hand himself back over to the Red Army.

He can't risk it.

"Did you find anything else around here?" Dante prompted as soon as he was done downloading all the radar data onto his memory stick.

Reagan shrugged. "It's kinda hard to look for clues when we don't have much to go off of." He replied lamely.

Dante sighed. Despite his promise, Reagan was being incredibly unhelpful at the moment. "Alright. We'll keep on looking for more clues until the sun sets, then we can leave." He said. "Oh, but be careful, Reagan. This whole place seems to be on the verge of collapse."

Grinning, Reagan idly leaned his weight on a steel support beam that stood precariously over Dante. "Thanks for the tip, Falls."

With a deafening rumble and a resonating creak, a mass of stone and metal collapsed on top of Dante, who could only cry out as he was buried alive under all the debris. The dust settled, and nothing moved.

"Ops." Reagan snickered. "My bad. You alive there, Falls? No? Oh well, guess my job here is done then. Rest in peace, Falls. See yah on the flipside!" He gave a mock salute and cackled as he climbed out of the wreckage and left.

Whistling a happy little tune, Reagan made his way back towards the city – keeping a low profile so as to not attract any unwanted attention from the soldiers patrolling the area. He'll need to find a safe place to rest, cut his hair, and bide his time while he plans his next revenge scheme against the Red Leader. Now that mangy agent is out of his way, there is nothing stopping him from doing whatever the f#ck he wants.

Or so he thought, before Reagan was abruptly assaulted by an unexpected and painful current of electricity shooting up his spine; his body convulsing and jolting with every wave of static that knocked him to the ground, flailing.

"That's strike one, Reagan." Dante warned coolly from way behind him, approaching with a taser in hand. He was covered head to toe in dust and soot. His uniform torn and disheveled. "I will let this escape attempt slide this time with only a minor punishment, but I won't be so lenient next time if you decide to try again."

Towering over Reagan's body still splayed on the ground and gasping for air through gritted teeth, Dante kneeled down next to him with an apologetic glance.

"I'm giving you a second chance to prove yourself." He said. "Do you understand me?"

Reagan groaned and nodded, his head still reeling from the sudden shock he hadn't been expecting.

Dante nodded, satisfied with his answer. "Can you walk? How are you feeling?"

Wordlessly staggering to his feet, Reagan couldn't help but think how peculiar this agent was. Reagan just tried to bury him alive and leave him for dead, only for him to miraculously climb out and tase him, and then proceeded to ask him if he was alright after all that.

Truth be told, Reagan was feeling like sh#t and a little weirded out by Falls' behavior, but it's not like he would ever admit that out loud. If his only choice remains to cooperate with the agent to get his freedom back, so be it.

"I'm fine. Just… caught off guard, is all." Reagan panted.

"That makes two of us." Dante murmured, and then shook his head. "It's getting late. And without any other leads it would be pointless to keep on searching this wreckage if we don't know what exactly we're looking for." He decided. "Let's go. We need to find a safe place to lay low where I can look through the radar files. I'm sure you'll want to rest as well."

Reagan rolled his eyes but said nothing. Apparently he is cursed to never rest. Not until every #$$h#le who dared lay a finger on him is dead.


Reagan sighed as the warm water rained down on him in the shower stall, enveloping his bruised body all over in a comforting manner. It's been so long since he last had a proper shower! The only showers he had back at the lab were when Larry would hose his monster form down with freezing water.

For thirty minutes now, Reagan did nothing but stay under the water, unmoving; merely relishing in the warmth he hadn't felt in eons. Steam was fogging the mirror and the glass stall. He did not want to part with it. Even though his body ached all over, actually showering would mean he would have to get out and face the cruel world that wanted to cause him nothing but harm.

God, I need a drink. Reagan thought, his head aching.

After their investigation, Dante and Reagan have decided to retire for the night in a quaint little hotel in the edge of town. Surely there must be some form of alcohol in the mini bar?

The bad side of the warm shower, however, was that it brought forth unsolicited thoughts Reagan dared not address under normal circumstances.

He's done enough contemplation back in the lab. It was the only thing he could do to distract himself from the pain of getting his scalp cut open while he was still wide awake and conscious as he gets his brain prodded by a mad scientist who doesn't believe in anesthetics.

How many times had Reagan wished for death whenever they strapped him down for a new experiment?

Get your sh#t together, Foley. Reagan berated himself. Focus on helping Falls for now. The sooner I am rid of him, the sooner I can get to plan my revenge against Red and Bing.

But how is he supposed to kill Red without getting caught again? Red doesn't make public appearances. He is all cooped up and snug inside his fancy #$$ base, surrounded by brainless loyal soldiers. Getting close enough for the killing blow will be hard; getting away with it will be even harder. Reagan will have to think very carefully of a way to go about this; otherwise he might end up back to square one all over again.

Abruptly turning off the faucet, the shower stopped and Reagan stepped out and reached for the towel. His stomach churned. He needed a drink. Badly.

Maybe revenge this late in the game isn't worth it – not at the cost of his freedom again.

Reagan hates this! Hates feeling this helpless!

The serum is supposed to make him powerful enough to face up against anything, and yet he is terrified of the thought of getting captured again. If he were to end up being delivered back to Bing's hands again…

A terrible, bone chilling shudder wracked through his body, bile rising in his throat as Reagan stumbled forward. He barely made it in time before he emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl.

The voice cackled obnoxiously loud inside his head. "Surrender already. ~" It hissed. "Give yourself to me. I can take it from here. There's nothing more you can do here that won't lead to further agony. Surrender your control and I promise to avenge you like you always wanted. Unlike you I won't get caught, and even if we do we will tolerate the pain in your place. Now doesn't that sound like an offer worth considering? ~"

That would be the simplest option, wouldn't it?

Resign his control over to the entity that he willingly let share his body with him, and let it deal with the consequences of his actions. Reagan wouldn't have to worry about a thing ever again.

But to live a backseat life… one where he is cast in darkness with no way out and no hope of ever reaching for help again… would that be a life worth living?

He'd seen briefly what awaited him on the other side should he lose his constant struggle against the voice. When the experiments proved too much for him to handle and Bing had to resuscitate him, Reagan had momentarily let his control slip and the voice took over until he was back into the world of the living. He didn't believe there were fates worse than death, but after those instances… Reagan wanted nothing but death.

A knock on the bathroom door roused him from his disturbing thoughts. "Reagan? Are you okay in there?" Asked Dante, with a clear note of concern in his meek voice.

Reagan grunted. "Just peachy!"

Smacking his face a couple of times to get his sh#t together, Reagan washed his face with cold tap water to really snap him out of it. Then he changed into a new set of clothes Dante had so graciously left for him. One that apparently didn't require jumping a poor civilian in the streets and stripping them of everything worth of value.

Now where's the fun in that?

Reagan stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. Fresh air immediately rushed to meet him, and idly, Reagan found himself missing the shower again.

The whole floor was gray carpeted. The walls were mahogany wood, the only exception being the wall adjacent to the two beds with a nightstand and a squared lamp in between them; which contained a beautiful, if not dull, generic painting of birds near a river. To the right of the bathroom was a small area with white couches and a coffee table with a vase full of yellow flowers facing the window. On the opposite side of the beds was a drawer with a flat screen TV on top, and a wardrobe right next to it.

On the bed to the right, Dante was seated with his legs crossed and a laptop in front of him. The agent looked up at him as Reagan stepped out, lifting one eyebrow. "Is this strange to you?"

Reagan tipped his head. "What?"

"Being free again." Dante elaborated. "You must've missed this."

"But I am not free." Reagan snorted ruefully. "Not yet, anyways. Not until my end of our deal is fulfilled and you let me go, it seems."

He stalked past Dante and threw himself on the bed; lying on his back with his arms folded behind his head. Reagan grabbed the remote control and switched on the television.

Reagan was exhausted, but he didn't dare sleep. Not with an unfamiliar agent sitting next to him and Red Army soldiers patrolling the streets outside. He can't risk dying now. Or worse, getting caught and brought back to the lab again.

Although his eyelids were heavy, Reagan insisted on remaining focused on the television; watching news broadcasts reporting on the war. Feeling a stare burn through him Reagan turned his head to find Dante observing him with interest. When their eyes met, Dante ducked his head and quickly glanced away to focus back on his computer screen.

"Found anything with the radar data yet?" Reagan asked mildly, not really that interested in finding the cause for the blown up base.

Dante shook his head. "I've been looking through the radar log data, but found nothing out of place so far…"

"Keep looking. I'm sure you'll find something eventually." Reagan droned, flickering through the channels.

"Are you hungry? We can order some food if you want?" Dante offered suddenly. "Honestly I am getting a bit hungry myself."

Caught off guard by the genuine offer, Reagan slowly turned to look at him wide eyed.

"Oh!" Dante went on. "I will go down and get it for us when it is delivered, don't you worry. Wouldn't want you getting recognized and caught."

Reagan narrowed his eyes. What was this guy's deal? He is unwillingly working for him just to avoid going back to the lab, he tried to bury him alive just two hours ago, and yet he acts all kind and concerned for his wellbeing. If he thinks he can manipulate me into doing his bidding he has another thing coming!

"Sounds… good?"

Typing a few random commands into his laptop, Dante reached for the white phone on the nightstand next to the lamp.

"Anything in specific you want or just pepperoni pizza is fine with you?"

Reagan arched his eyebrow in amusement. "You are giving me a say in this?"

Dante shrugged. "We're working together now. But you're not my prisoner, Reagan – despite what you might think." He said. "I am not selfish to the point of disregarding your opinion at every given chance. You're human and you have the right to express yourself from time to time."

His words made zero sense to Reagan, who just stared at him in stunned silence for a few heartbeats. Well, if he insists on treating me like his equal then I might as well take advantage of the opportunity, eh?

"Well, if that's the case I'll have a bacon and egg pizza, please and thank you!"

He watched as Dante dialed the pizzeria and made their order, still watching the computer screen in front of him intently as he talked on the phone.

So you're trying to get me to warm up to you and then stab me in the back later down the line eh? He figured cynically. Two can play at this game!

When Dante finished the call and hung up the phone, Reagan sat up and turned toward him. "So what made you decide to join the Red Army, eh?" He asked mildly, as though he were making small talk. Reading people and adapting to their personalities to manipulate them is what he knows best.

"Huh?" Dante looked up at him. "Oh, I guess the same as everybody else in the army. Just down on my luck and then I got the opportunity to turn my life around."

It just occurred to Dante, in the middle of his investigation, that sharing a bedroom with a very shady and unhinged man may not be the best idea.

Between his previous attempts of getting rid of him, and the fact he is way too powerful for his own good, Dante suspected he ought to be more nervous than he actually is. But what was the alternative? Book two separate rooms and risk losing sight of Reagan for good? That was basically asking for him to run away under his watch.

Besides, if they are going to work together they must be able to confide in one another when times get rough. Might as well set a good example now and give his best foot forward.

"After our mission is over and you are free to go your own way, what will be the first thing you are going to do?" Dante asked.

His voice was soft, and quiet, if not a little… cozy? If Reagan didn't have his guard up at all times he most likely would've felt comforted by it. It was unlike anything he'd ever heard addressing him before. So vastly different from the voice tormenting his mind on a daily basis.

Reagan snorted. "Isn't it obvious? I am going after Red and make him pay for what he did to me! Hope you don't mind, rookie."

Dante frowned, studying him for a moment. "Really? You would risk getting captured again just to get revenge?"

"Is there another option?" Reagan said slowly, not meeting his eyes. "He hurt me! He deserves to be punished. If I don't do it, who will?"

"Well, I don't know what you have been through but I personally like to believe that the universe is more fair than we realize." Dante said, ducking his head as though embarrassed to admit his beliefs. "Say, a person did you dirty. Sooner or later they are going to get exactly the kind of comeuppance they deserve for all their misdeeds against you."

"Isn't that called karma?" Reagan pointed out dryly.

"Yes! But I believe it goes both ways too. If you only provide good things, even if you may suffer from time to time, you will always be rewarded in the end. If you are selfish and mean to others then you will get nothing but punishment as a result. Essentially, you reap what you sow."

Reagan shot him an unimpressed look. Distantly, Falls' way of thinking reminded him of Doll Face. Her naive hope that being good, kind, and always working hard was going to get her through tough times in the end. And look how she turned out. Dante here needs a serious reality check.

"I am not going to wait around for the universe to avenge me! I am going to get sh#t done my own way." He growled.

Dante gave him a startled expression and sighed. "I just think if you really stopped to think things through for once you would realize there is more to life than getting your way all the time, and that… maybe revenge isn't always worth it."

Reagan lifted his head in surprise and stared Dante down with a challenging glimmer in his emerald eyes. "And why would I do that?"

"Because… deep down inside I firmly believe you know what you will be throwing away if you risk going after Red Leader in the end."

"And that's... bad?"

"Well, yeah!" Dante's face wrinkled, amused. "I mean, not only would you be putting yourself in great danger again but you would also be doing something terrible. And honestly, I don't believe anyone can be that heartless."

Reagan narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why do you care so much for Red anyways? Did he personally save your life and you are indebted to him or something? Cause let me tell you, I highly doubt he would extend the same courtesy to you if you were to ever get into trouble."

Dante shook his head, exasperated. "What part of killing other people is bad did you not understand?"

"Uh, the part where it doesn't benefit me? Duh!" Reagan answered matter of factly. "Look around you! The whole world is at war right now thanks to your precious leader. People are killing each other on a daily basis, and you are seriously going to sit there and try to tell me it is immoral to do so? Give me a break!"

Dante visibly flinched, eyes screwed shut.

"I hate to break it to you, but "fair" is the last thing that the world is. So many people get killed and abused on a daily basis, and most of them don't even come remotely close to getting their justice served." Reagan went on fiercely. "No. The only way for anyone to be rightfully punished in this world is for the victim to do it themselves… because believe me when I tell you, the universe doesn't give two sh#ts about your petty existence."

He jumped out of bed and headed for the bathroom, fuming with rage at the audacity of this pesky agent. He grabbed a pair of scissors from the counter, hesitantly measuring his lengthy disheveled hair in the mirror with his fingers.

"You know, Reagan." Dante murmured from the bedroom behind him. Reagan glanced at him through the mirror. "If you keep this up it wouldn't surprise me if you wind up all alone at the end of your days. And then you would have no one to blame but yourself."

Reagan snickered. "Have you perhaps considered that being alone is what I am aiming for?"

"I can't imagine anyone ever truly desiring something like that."

"I have my reasons." Reagan shrugged.

Their conversation died there. Dante didn't have the heart to keep going and he sensed Reagan was too stubborn to ever change his ways with a simple conversation. Especially if he can't give him a reason to fully trust him to begin with.

Dante can't stand the thought of anyone being distrustful of or mean to him. If he could he would be everyone's friend until given no other choice in the matter. Reagan is no different. Even though he is dangerous, and Red Leader had good reasons to keep him imprisoned in his laboratory, Dante wanted nothing more than to earn his respect and trust. Be someone Reagan could confide in and look up to.

As if that could ever happen.

Dante smiled softly to himself. I guess I will just have to keep on trying harder to win him over.

In the bathroom, Reagan was having a hard time trying to cut his lengthy hair. He'd been independent for most of his life, but even he had to admit that hair grooming wasn't one of his strongest suits. In the past he would usually go to the Carnelian Wing to get a haircut from a couple of soldiers offering their services, but that is clearly not an option anymore. He was debating whether to cut and accept whatever stupid outcome may befall on him, or simply keep the long disheveled hair style for now.

Leaning sideways on the bed, Dante checked on Reagan and immediately sensed his reluctance. "Would you like me to cut it for you?" He offered.

Reagan scoffed. "No!" He glared at the agent through the mirror, eyes narrowed. "What would you know about male hair grooming techniques anyway?"

"Well, you'd be surprised actually." Dante spoke up sheepishly, pressing his hands together. "Cutting and stylizing my hair was one of the first tricks I picked up before my transition."

"Oh really?" Reagan arched an eyebrow. "And your family was okay with that?"

The deafening pause that followed spoke volumes. Dante's smile thinned, lips wobbling as he tried his best to keep a neutral face. "Not really." He chuckled weakly.

Their pizza arrived a few minutes later. True to his word, Dante went down to get it for them and once back in their room he let Reagan have the first slice. By this point, Reagan had long since given up cutting his hair and decided to keep the messy blond cascade of locks that adorned the top of his head.

They didn't talk much after their initial conversation. Reagan was busy watching television, absorbing every ounce of information about the war whilst munching on pizza and nursing on a bottle of beer, while Dante was still looking through the radar data for clues. The silence between them was more comforting than awkward. One glance in the Irishman's direction and he could see that Reagan was close to dozing off but persistently kept jolting up and staying awake. Dante wanted to assure the man he could sleep – that nothing bad was going to happen under his watch when he suddenly found an anomaly in the data.

"Whoa!"

Reagan turned to him, wide awake. "What is it?"

"Come look at this!"

Climbing off the bed, Reagan approached the agent and leaned toward the computer screen. "Aiight, what am I looking at here?"

"Okay, so 1:54PM is the exact time the base was blown up." Dante began explaining, rewinding the recording. "But right before that, and I mean five seconds at most or so, the radar detected something for a split second before vanishing again. Look!"

Dante pulled up the radar and showed Reagan the exact timestamp where an unknown flying object was detected within the Red Army perimeter at the time of the explosion.

Reagan stared at the screen pensively. "Have you checked the cameras yet? Did you download their data? They might have picked something up too." He advised. "You mentioned you saw a green speckle in the direction of the mountain range, which seems to match with the data on the radar. If you can get the viewpoint of the camera positioned closest to the mountain range we might see just what exactly caused the destruction."

"Good idea!"

Typing a few quick commands into his laptop, Dante pulled up all the security CCTV footage of the base. He immediately discarded all the angles within the base and focused only on the ones positioned outside the facility. By process of elimination, Dante got rid of the cameras positioned in all the wrong angles until there was only one remote option left.

The remaining camera angle wasn't directed at the mountain range per se, but it was the closest angle possible from all the available footage.

"There!" Dante assessed the footage. "A brief flash, like a lightning strike, happens at the precise moment of the blast from just above the mountains."

"Above the mountains?" Reagan echoed.

"Yeah. It's in the direction of the mountains but is just slightly above." Dante told him. "As if it came from the sky itself."

Gradually slowing down the footage, Dante stopped it at the precise frame the flash happened. He zoomed in and enhanced the picture. Reagan and Dante both leaned in closer, their eyes wide.

"What… the f#ck… is that?"

From within the flash, seemingly floating in midair was the blurry silhouette of a person.