Chapter 7: Pain

That man's hitmen came a little closer to mark territory and impose their authority on us, although that was not very complicated because their weapons commanded a lot of respect, it seemed as if their leader was worried about something.

Minho just turned around and gave me a murderous look, trying to impress upon me how much he resented the situation presented. I limited myself to ignoring him because I did not develop a full feeling of guilt, only a feeling of rage and contempt for the people who had found us.

The tension was growing little by little and more when the clique was murmuring something with their leader. I couldn't guess what they were saying to each other, and I didn't even care what they were planning.

The sun was beginning to wane and the faint rays were filtering through the ins and outs of the battered wall. It was probably six or six thirty in the afternoon and there was a cooler atmosphere. The powerful gusts of suffocating heat were beginning to calm down, as if the batteries had to be recharged to scorch the world again the next day.

Several clarians were talking among themselves, using muffled hidden whispers to try to avoid the attention of our captors. There was fear in the eyes of some of them, although Minho, Thomas and Newt seemed unaffected. They talked among themselves, also in low voices. Minho continued looking at me from the corner of his eye, just as his distrust towards Aris increased, probably the result of his approach and, to a certain extent, his attachment to me.

-Do you have any plans? —Aris murmured, heading towards me, but fixing his eye contact on Minho.

"I have several ideas in my head," I said convincingly while looking at him sincerely with my hands in my pockets, "but none of them would have Minho's approval," I continued in a worried tone.

Thomas took advantage of the fact that the hitmen weren't looking at him and approached, with Minho following closely behind. They would have been listening and I think they were curious that I could enlighten them with some idea. Their faces were a poem, but they also reflected the same concern that hovered over my being, as if the options were disappearing like when a drop of water evaporates.

—Minho, Thomas, what's wrong? —I asked with concern, seeing their faces.

"I don't see any more light at the end of the tunnel," Minho sighed, "but that doesn't mean I still distrust your ways, Elián."

"Minho, I am me and my circumstances and I have to save them in order to progress, and that means saving my life in this situation," I replied.

"And I want to do everything possible to save mine and my companions," he addressed me in a haughty tone. So, if you have a plan, start putting it out there.

"That would mean putting the lives of some of my colleagues at risk," I snapped, staring at him, "and I don't think you want to have to go through that."

—Don't you think so? —He frowned as he fixed his gaze on me.

"I don't think so, I know," I responded, returning the duel.

The tension between the two was noticeable and escalated. The atmosphere was more tense than ever and all calm was about to disappear. The situation was as if the two alpha males of a pack were clashing to see who would impose their power. Our personalities, so opposite, but at the same time so similar, were the ones that were overwhelmed by the bustle of adrenaline and only reduced our survival options.

"Listen to me carefully, you damned shuck-face," Minho snapped at me, raising the index finger of his right hand at me with great impetus, but with contained anger, "this group of slintheads and I have been surviving for many years, and we have seen many people die." Rest assured that here we all know how to protect ourselves, because the lacerators lurked in both the Labyrinth of Aris and ours. There are eleven of us left alive, eleven! —he shouted—, of more than one hundred and twenty companions and friends, who gave their lives so that we could get here, and I do not intend to let those sacrifices fall on deaf ears or be in vain —he mentioned in an exalted way—. So yes, all of us are prepared to live in constant tension and, as a friend said long ago, "either we get out alive or we die trying." All of us present here are willing to risk our lives, and even give it, if in doing so we manage to live another day.

I could not help but remain speechless in the face of such statements. He noticed how the group's morale had risen after Minho's speech. Everyone seemed much more encouraged and willing to fight to get out of this crossroads. I looked back at the Asian and he snapped at me with incessant bravery:

"If you're really good at strategies, I hope, for your sake and ours, that you begin to show it to me," he concluded, patting me on the shoulder.

I scanned the group again. Newt had just joined the conversation, but he had heard Minho's words. The same thing happened with Fritanga. Thomas approached:

—You know, you don't have to distrust Minho, he's a good boy and he's going to help you a lot. I know that your personalities are opposite, but you should give it a chance," he said in a friendly tone and with a smile on his mouth, putting both hands on my shoulders.

"I can give it a chance," I stammered, trying to avoid eye contact with Thomas.

"Okay, now help us get out of here," Thomas finished.

—Well, their disposition is very rudimentary and their way of holding weapons is not very professional. They don't seem very disciplined, which leads me to deduce that they are nothing more than a handful of people sane enough to demand something in return from Umbrella for my capture," I uttered while casting a couple of glances over my shoulders.

-And what are you thinking about? —Thomas snapped, again.

—We should wait a little longer, not give clues about what we are going to do, plus we can try to gather information about the enemy —I nodded vigorously—. I say this because, if we get away from these people, we don't know what or who is on the other side of the wall, and the reprisals can be very harsh," my speech continued.

"So we just sit there and do nothing?" Newt asked disapprovingly.

"No," I shook my head. This is what we are going to do: I think it is convenient for Thomas and Minho to each carry a weapon and take care of these guards, or hitmen, when they are distracted," I explained with conviction and frowning.

-That's all? —Minho and Thomas asked, in unison and very upset.

"Of course not," I replied.

-And what do you want to do? —Newt huffed, worried.

—Don't you hear it? —I answered Newt.

Newt and Thomas put their hand to their ear, forming a 'c' with their fingers and palm, as if it were some kind of spoon, trying to hear something they didn't seem to be able to hear.

"I don't hear anything," Thomas stammered in frustration. What about you, Newt?

"Nothing at all, Tommy, I'm in the same situation as you," he responded willingly.

"It's an airship, it will be about ten minutes away from getting here and, most likely, they are reinforcements from Umbrella," I explained to clarify for both boys.

—Do you have powers or what? —Minho asked.

"That's okay, but I used to do a lot of training to sharpen my hearing," I said vigorously.

Newt and Aris seemed to be a little impatient and were glaring at Minho and me for not being focused.

"You'll clarify these things later, we have work," Newt said a little annoyed with his arms on his hips.

"True, there are more important things to talk about," Aris continued, in a tone similar to Newt's.

Every minute that passed, that aircraft was noticed. The people who supported us only seemed to downplay the presence of that unknown machine. After several more minutes, about two or three, it was close enough to shake, slightly, some tiny debris and dust.

"If they are going to bring reinforcements, it will be better to act as soon as possible," Fritanga proposed.

"Fritanga is right, they are a small group, we have a chance of getting rid of them if we make a good plan," Aris said euphorically.

"That's what I'm trying to explain," I replied reluctantly, glaring at Aris.

The boy noticed and looked down apologizing. Just before he could continue the explanation, a loud bang was heard coming from somewhere in the distance. It was the same sound emitted by the airship that brought me to this barren place.

The few windows left in the buildings, which refused to accept their tragic fate, began to shake. The ground also rumbled as the sound became louder and louder. The section was very close, causing astonishment among the entire crowd, both enemies and allies looked over their heads to try to glimpse the origin of that incessant roar of the vehicle's propellers.

A cloud of dust rose, as if it were an imposing tsunami ready to engulf everything. I looked at Minho, who didn't seem to believe what was happening. The vehicle passed over our heads while the enemies shouted all kinds of cheers, shouts of 'freedom' and various other insults, and fired shots into the air with joy and excitement, as if they were venerating and worshiping a god who had manifested himself.

—Minho, Thomas! —I shouted as I threw the weapons at them.

Minho and Thomas caught them on the fly and loaded them, removing the safety, ready to shoot. They didn't do it in a very orthodox way, but it would work just the same. We took advantage of the sound of the rotors to shoot three of the men who were furthest from their group. They fell into a pool of blood as I ran towards their leader's group.

Newt and Aris were tasked with taking out two other straggling hitmen, freeing the rest of the group and forming an enveloping position behind the leader.

I arrived behind that group, which was still celebrating the arrival of the aircraft and had not noticed the mutiny we had launched.

"It's not that you're as good at control as you are at threats," I said sarcastically as I shot the two men accompanying him.

"You're a box of surprises," the man replied, raising his hands and turning around. "But your adventure will be buried behind those walls," he stammered while making a quick movement and pointing his gun at his temple to, in the blink of an eye, commit suicide.

Almost as if that were a call to action, the gates of the wall opened, revealing the same desolate landscape and a great void in the streets. It's as if everything had vanished on the spot. There was no sign of the aircraft or of any guard or lookout in the narrow path that opened between the doors.

"This gives me a bad feeling," Aris said.

"Things definitely can't get worse," Fritanga said, worried.

I walked towards the door as the group followed behind me.

"I'm sure it's a trap, but we don't have much choice," Thomas said quietly.

"At this point, as Fritanga said, things can't get any worse," Minho said as he walked behind me.

"I'm concerned about how close we are to completing our goal, but at the same time how far away it seems," Newt said again.

Thomas stopped for a moment to take a drink from his water bag, a gesture that some of the Clarians copied, as if they had remembered that they had water on them.

"I'm worried that it's going to get dark and we'll have to spend the night in the city," Minho muttered.

"We have to hurry," Thomas shouted from behind, probably encouraging his companions.

I kept repeating the words that Minho had outlined before all the noise of the skirmish. Its echo resonated in my head, the mere fact that he was willing to give up his life so that one of his friends could live a little longer was something that I could not understand, perhaps because I had not been exposed to fear, at least not in the same way. habitually, since I had never stopped to worry about a situation becoming dangerous or how little chance it had of success. He hated that he couldn't understand many of the emotions that Minho, Thomas, and the others were experiencing.

The night continued to creep in and became dark within a few hours. We had found shelter in a building away from the main avenues, hidden enough so that no enemy could find it.

The group settled down so they could have dinner and rest a little, as Minho had declared that he intended to take advantage of the coolness of the night to walk as much as possible and sleep during the day. Fritanga began to prepare dinner with some of the preserves that the group brought with them. It smelled like vegetable stew. The same delight that overcame me seemed to cause rejection among the group, who did not seem to appreciate the chef's culinary skills. We sat in a circle on the floor, still warm from the heat retained during the day.

After half an hour of sobbing and criticizing Fritanga, the cook served us dinner which, to his surprise, everyone devoured within a few seconds. It must be that when you feel hungry you don't dislike anything, no matter how bad it tastes. I thought it was a very delicious dish.

As soon as he finished, Minho stood up and encouraged everyone to start walking again.

"We cannot afford any more delays, the two-week deadline is almost over and we are approaching the safe haven of the mountains," he cheered.

"But Elián told us that they didn't have the cure," Thomas said, reflecting a little.

—It is true that they have lied to us since we met the Rat Man, but we have to continue having faith that everything is going to turn out well, because if they wanted us dead they would have already killed us, a long time ago, and they would have saved themselves all the hassle. "that one about the Labyrinth and the tests and the Variables," he explained with his arms crossed.

"We'll take that risk," Newt said assertively.

After half an hour, after settling the food, drinking some water and regaining our strength, we set off again. It was as if Fritanga's food had had an impressive restorative effect, as the group was more animated and seemed to be on a much lighter pace.

"Thank goodness we have Fritanga, without him we wouldn't be able to carry out this march again," I complimented the chef, who seemed to blush at such a statement, but causing some boos from the other clarios.

"Don't go too far, Eli, that's because you haven't been eating their dishes for a year and a half," Newt joked.

"Leave Elián alone," Fritanga said, putting her arm around my neck as a sign of complicity, "he knows how to value effort and things well done," he concluded with a big smile.

Minho kept looking out of the corner of his eye, worrying about the stragglers and not hesitating to help his companions carry the bags and food. They alternated between him and Thomas to run things optimally. I also carried some supplies, doing my part to try to continue gaining trust with them, but I couldn't get the worries out of my head.

After an hour of walking, Thomas and Minho had delegated the bags to Newt and Fritanga. They were doing relays to save strength and liven up the march. The breath that the city gave off became more gloomy at night. The darkness had merged the sky with the surroundings, and only the presence of the flashes of the stars reflected some vividness and allowed us to perceive the black sky. It was clear that, if the Flash did not act, the path of loss of sanity was going to surround us little by little as we continued through this inert city.

I looked up, ahead, passing a thoughtful and crestfallen Thomas. He was worried, it was clear. Minho, who missed absolutely nothing, except me, noticed his hesitations and insecurities and decided to approach him to get interested. Quickly, he patted her on the back and put his left arm around her back, signaling the trust and friendship that both expressed. The Asian boy whispered, but not low enough that I couldn't hear them speak:

"Hey, Thomas," Minho said in a friendly manner.

Thomas was startled, due to the trance of concentration in which he found himself, since he did not seem to have noticed his presence until his friend's pat. He came to his senses and addressed Minho:

"Oh, hello Minho, I didn't see you arrive," he said with labored breathing. "I was thinking a little," he sighed.

—I couldn't help but approach when I noticed how worried you are. "You've been like this for a long half hour, if not an hour," he responded with more concern.

"The labyrinth, WICKED, the Variables, the Scorch, the Flare, and now, suddenly, this new boy appears who seems to bring us the shadow of some new calamity," he reflected out loud.

—You are very right, Thomas. Things—he paused briefly to take a breath and snort—things have gotten more and more difficult, and collective sanity was beginning to show signs of weakness. Furthermore, I try to look for the correlation between all these new events, something that links everything and can give us clues to the true project of the Creators," he commented while scratching the back of his neck with his left hand.

—I'm worried that things could get worse than they already are. What's more, I'm afraid that the people who are looking for Elián will end up finding us too," Thomas hesitated.

—We are still not sure what new threat awaits us behind these walls. "Just the fact that Elián is wanted puts us all in danger," he snapped with a flash of worry. I just hope this is all worth it, and I don't want any of us to pay the cost with our own lives again. I don't want to put anyone in danger again, but something tells me that that boy is still untrustworthy, and I'm worried about the long shadow that he drags, and that drags us with it, as if it were a great tide—Minho stammered. .

—What do you think will happen, Minho? —Thomas murmured worriedly.

—I have no idea, Thomas, but it is clear that, right now, our destiny is not in our hands.

"It wasn't the answer I was expecting at the moment," Thomas replied quietly.

"Not even what I wanted to give, Thomas, because I don't like this situation as much as you do," Minho responded bluntly to cut off any hint of rejection on Thomas' part.

After a long walk, almost two hours, we reached the peripheral regions of the city. Before us, and watered by the intense darkness, the arms of the desert began to open, which engulfed the remains of the wall, prefabricated of rusty materials, and devoured the low houses in impressive dunes that made their way into what had once been It seemed like a prosperous neighborhood full of life. It was as if nature was calling to our souls, as if it wanted to take back what belonged to it. The path of penance was about to lead to madness, as if the desert wanted to complete what the Flash could not finish. Everything was still dead. All. Or that's what we believed.

The previous calm vanished in an instant, as if everything dissolved like sugar in a coffee. We could not help but stop dead. They ambushed us. Powerful lights blinded our vision. My eyes were burning, still accustomed to the darkness of the open night. I covered my eyes with my hands, pained by the hot stabs that the enemy's spotlights had caused me. It seemed that they came from three areas, from the front and from the left and right.

The other kids complained about the intensity of the light from the spotlights. The intense heat caused by its suffocating lights stung. Minho could see several figures between the spotlights. Black shadowy figures that seemed to damage and flicker between the bursts of light.

"I think we have company," Minho shouted, raising his hands to put them between his eyes and the light.

-What are you saying? —Newt responded, still blinded by the light.

An incessant sound of footsteps, caused by many people, had taken over the atmosphere. A clatter of boots running to and fro. It lasted just a couple of minutes. Metallic sounds were also noted, like chains and other pieces of said materials. For me, I could distinguish the classic sound that occurs when you load and wield an assault rifle.

"What Minho means is that we have problems, and big ones," I said while squinting , still with my hands positioned in front of my face.

After several seconds of uncertainty, the lights faded and everything gave way to the dim lights and glow of the streetlights on the avenue where we were. We didn't have enough time to process the information, to understand what was happening. That light had stunned us, but we continued to tune our ears, momentarily, until our eyes did.

—Raise your hands, little by little, and don't let anyone move! —exclaimed a high-pitched but imposing voice, which seemed to be that of a teenager, coming from right in front of us.

The group did nothing but comply with the order that that person had indicated. We had all raised our hands, some more reluctantly than others, like Aris or Minho, who couldn't stop growling at that man.

—Are they soldiers of WICKED? —Fritanga explained between concern and nervousness.

"That means they're coming to finish us off," Newt replied sadly.

"It doesn't make sense," Thomas replied, looking at Newt with concern.

"Of course, they know that we have information and they want to silence us for not being able to meet the deadlines indicated to reach the safe haven," the blonde boy sobbed.

"No, it doesn't make sense," Thomas insisted again, forcefully, "because we all synchronize our watches well, and we still have two days left to meet deadlines."

An explosion of insecurity took over the entire group. The echo of the discussion, the uncertainty and the disbelief affected everyone, from Minho to Aris, passing through all the members with whom I had not had the opportunity to speak.

"He's not one of your captors," I said, taking a step forward.

"Explain," Minho responded, murdering me with his gaze.

The tension between the two had become insurmountable. After his previous statements, in the conversation with Thomas, I knew that it would be very complicated to redirect the situation between us, and even more so with what I was going to tell him.

"They come from the aircraft that we had seen outside the wall," I responded dryly and sharply, without showing any expression.

—What trouble have you gotten us into this time, Elián? —Minho said angrily and growling, still staring at me.

"Minho, I think you should calm down a little," Thomas intervened in a hesitant tone, as if he wasn't sure what to do at that moment.

—No, Thomas. No! -exclaimed the leader-. Everything that may happen from now on is detrimental to our interests. We don't even know if we can trust this boy, and right now, he is causing us a problem that has us facing a handful of armed men, pointing at us, without us being able to defend ourselves in this regard," the Asian concluded with impetus, anger and distrust of Thomas's reaction, which, apparently, he had not liked at all.

"They won't do anything to you..." I stated bluntly, looking at him from the corner of my eye, but leaving a wide silence in the air.

The wind took control of the situation. The soldiers seemed impassive about the situation, their serious faces exacerbated the feelings of insecurity that existed in our group. It was like robots, people without feelings or emotions, pointing at us without regard. They were probably waiting for the order that might come from some nearby high command. No more words were added, from him, since the first soldier warned us.

"Finally we meet again," said a hoarse voice, still hidden in the dim light reflected by the streetlights.

Several soldiers lowered their weapons, momentarily, to make way for a tall, light-skinned man, with black sunglasses, short brown hair, slicked back, with very well-defined stripes. The corners of his lips were not very pronounced, just as his facial features suggested an adult, with a small nose and no trace of wrinkles on his forehead. He was wearing a black, buttoned, long-sleeved sweatshirt, with gloves, also black, a belt and pants, also black; as well as the boots. The zipper detail was a dull bronze color, and there were two gun holsters in the places on the pants where, a priori, the pockets were.

Minho and Thomas did not seem very impressed by the entrance of this stranger, but Aris, Newt and Fritanga were not as calm as them. The confusion was widespread, but no one seemed to notice me:

"Wesker," I declared angrily.

Wesker approached to a safe distance with his arms hidden behind his back, an action that did not prevent the soldiers from lowering their guard. His figure became more imposing as he approached us.

—Do you know him? —Aris asked.

—Don't bother EL.9.1.14, I'll answer for you. Obviously I'm going to skip a good part of the story, but basically this guy is a renegade asset from our Sentinels plan. An ambitious plan that plans to bring a New Order to this chaotic world. A new world where humans with better technological capabilities are the owners and lords of everything," Wesker said.

"What are you taking about?" Minho replied.

—This guy was captured a long time ago, on a reconnaissance and infiltration mission, in one of the headquarters of our WICKED enemies, in Birmingham. We have monitored all aspects of their processors and drawn up an action plan based on that data," Wesker explained, directing his gaze, from the blackness of his glasses, towards Minho. "Unfortunately, we stopped receiving information a week later, but we were able to trace the weak signals from their transmitters to this desert area known as the Scorch," he continued the explanation as he began to walk a line to his left, passing in front of all the members of our group. cluster-. We only want to recover what is our best asset, in which, the Umbrella Corporation, has deposited enormous sums of money, resources and hopes for the development of the new human society," he finished just as he stopped in front of me.

I growled at him as soon as he looked at me. He could barely articulate any words. I felt a lot of anger. Mer's blood boiled as all the memories of the hard training sessions that Wesker led flashed through my mind. So many companions suffering, their muffled screams echoed inside me. I hated him. I hated him very much. And the fact that he fired those supremacist slurs about a new humanity only worsened my mood. He was about to explode if I didn't answer him:

—Keep dreaming, Wesker, people like me have grown tired of your tyranny. "We're tired of you using us as toys," I proclaimed angrily. We have decided to cut the strings that hung over our backs, those with which you manipulated us like simple puppets. We want to feel, explore and give our opinions, but, above all, we want to live freely, judging what is good and what is bad, and we do not intend to bow down to monsters like you. We will be the protagonists of our own story, and nothing and no one will be able to stop us," I uttered with all my soul. I was boiling with a feeling of unparalleled rebellion, and I felt like I had to expel all the shit I had had to endure during all the years in which they deprived us of being able to express ourselves with their stupid inhibitor chips.

"No doubt, subject EL.9.1.4, you forget that it was we who gave you the opportunity to live," he said bluntly. We welcomed you when you were on your deathbed, and we decided to give you a new life. "You are one of the cornerstones of the future of humanity, which has fallen into misfortune and has been a victim of its own vices, condemned to an eternal penance that will culminate in its extinction," he said angrily, turning towards me. "You are the dawn of a new humanity," the Umbrella leader shouted with more anger than before.

I didn't listen to him. I didn't want to listen to any of their insults. They were empty words. They wanted to play God. They hid many things that, since the events of 1998, they never deigned to explain. I didn't feel part of anything, ergo just a mere puppet of an immoral cause.

My eyes turned a deep orange, as well as the blue streaks in my hair and the mark on my left cheek also changed to a reddish tone. The impulse of emotions had taken a toll on my insides, I was not being rational and I couldn't even think calmly and clearly. The anguish of falling back into the control of those people bruised and destroyed me emotionally. It was something I didn't want to go through again.

"I'm not going to help your cause, Wesker," I said without hesitation, "I'll make my own chance."

—You don't realize that that's not something you can decide.

I looked at him again. I looked at him with anger and hatred. My insides burned like never before:

—I will enjoy every moment of your suffering, Albert Wesker. I swear that I will take your eyes out of their sockets with my own hands, prolonging your torment until you bleed to death," I uttered such a threat with great rage. It was as if my insides had taken over my feelings and made me lose all ability to reason.

—Listen to me, friends of WICKED! Wesker bellowed, addressing the group. As fully capable people, I give you the choice.

Minho raised his head, paying attention to Weser's calls. The rest of the Clarians also fell captive in the wake-up call that the enemy had launched. They had some interest, but seemed very confused even trying to understand the scope of the situation. I turned to address the Asian boy:

"He caused a genocide, Minho, there is nothing to negotiate with him," I explained to him with anger and determination.

Wesker returned to the fray:

—I promise you free transit through that city, with free passage and protection for one day, as well as the commitment to leave you alone in the rear, yes, and only if you hand over the renegade to me. The offer is on the table and it is up to you to evaluate and discern it to evaluate the future, both for your good and for the fruition of your mission. "That is said," concluded the man in black as he retired, leaving a signal for the soldiers to create a small corridor, with their weapons resting on their shoulders and with the barrel facing the sky, as a sign of confidence to put better conditions in the area. agreement.

The clarians murmured and looked towards me. They seemed bewildered. Fearful. Scared. A string of sensations, negative for my cause. Everyone was overflowing with distrust, except for Aris and Thomas. Newt seemed to be in an undecided position. Minho spoke up:

—My objective, since we left the Labyrinth, and that booth in the middle of nowhere, has always been to preserve the unity of the group, and everything we are going to decide will be done accordingly and taking into account all the opinions of the "group, as a Meeting, as we have always done," the leader blurted out with impetus, addressing no one in particular, but, at the same time, calling out to all his companions.

"Minho is right, but we must take into account our objective and everything that may affect our new friend," Newt added, with his arms crossed and thoughtful.

"Well, let's vote," Thomas cried. "Those who are in favor of helping Elian raise their hands," Thomas said as he, Aris, and another boy cast their votes.

"There are three votes out of eleven," the leader summarized.

"Well... this..." Thomas said nervously, seeming not very pleased with the situation that seemed to develop. Raise your hand if you are in favor of continuing along the path, leaving the way clear for Umbrella's plans.

A shocking silence gave way to the fateful result. Five hands raised, among them those of Minho and Fritanga and those of three other boys whose names he did not notice. I hung my head as anger and pain overwhelmed me. Intense. The pain of betrayal, the same one that I had felt a long time ago, still echoing inside me, despite the inhibition chips that prevented the management of emotions and thoughts. I could only turn around and turn my back on the companions who had so kindly welcomed me. Newt and Thomas seemed affected, although not as affected as Aris, who approached me:

"Partner, don't worry, everything will be fine," said the olive-skinned boy, trying to comfort and support me.

—That doesn't help me, Aris, but thanks for worrying.

Minho approached, slowly, interrupting my trance with Aris.

"Listen to me, Elián, I know well the emotions that you are going to experience soon, but your cause needs you, and you must prioritize it, above all, and you as a soldier should know that," the leader explained in a haughty tone.

—I only feel the pain of betrayal, Minho. Is that the feeling you have experienced? —I returned a rhetorical question in response, turning my back to him, avoiding eye contact and with an angry tone.

-No. "That's not what I'm referring to," he responded.

—Is that your magical contribution? —I rephrased the question while clenching my fists tightly. Aris, for his part, had moved to the side, grouping himself with the rest of the Clarians.

—I have experienced the loss firsthand. My world has collapsed just when I thought that the pillars that supported it were made of the best possible material. I have seen my friends die. I have seen my colleagues cry. I have lost my past. Everything has been taken from me, but I continue searching for the goal that will fulfill my cause. I have faced fear head on, and, in the personal development that you are seeking to create your humanity, you must know that fear makes us human and you must feel it and learn to master it," he said in a passionate speech.

—And that is going to alleviate the torture of these people?

—What I'm saying is that you must believe in your cause, because I can bear losing you for a few months because I know that we both seek the same common good, but in different ways. Your war is in Racoon City, not here. Finish what you have started and redeem yourself," Minho concluded.

I couldn't even look him in the eyes. Despite his words, he was furious and full of anger. I hated this situation. I wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come. No one was going to try to help me, and that absurd sermon was of no use to me at all. It was back to square one, with no options and nothing to fight for. Go back to a world where I was controlled by those people. I couldn't stand it.

"Wesker," Minho shouted. Your proposal has been accepted, now fulfill your part of the bargain.

A burst of tears overflowed my heart. Pain was the only thing that surged through my body. Only Minho's words echo in me. Be faithful to my purposes, crown my peaks and achieve my goals. The new Umbrella must be stopped, but I don't know if I'm willing to overcome the brutal obstacle that lies ahead.

Wesker approached and several soldiers, one of them with electrified handcuffs, approached me. I didn't look back. He didn't want to know anything about Minho. I was crying and I didn't want my 'friends' to see me cry. They grabbed my hands, put them together and put handcuffs on me. I suffered from the crackling of small discharges of bursts of bluish lightning. It was very annoying, uncomfortable and painful, but my pain threshold allowed me to endure it.