Ghost opens his eyes and grunts slightly as he stands up. He runs a hand through his mask. He sits down on the small net he had made and stretches.

He shakes his head slightly and takes his service cell phone out of his pocket. There was a message from Hunk asking him to get in touch when he could.

Ghost took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a few moments. Then he looked at the watch on his wrist. It was still 7am.

Although it wasn't much, the rest was good, and he soon jumped out of the net he had made in the corner of the room, just above the entrance door. Although he knew that no one there would be stupid or crazy enough to try to break into his room in the middle of the night for who knows what reason, he didn't trust the people in the place enough.

He turned and headed for the bathroom, quickly doing his morning hygiene.

As soon as he had finished, he walked over to his bed and picked up his backpack from the floor, taking the military rations from inside as well as some protein bars.

He turned and walked towards the door, leaving his room. The place he was in was a deserted area, it wasn't private or anything, but it was close to Chris's room, and not many people passed by.

He put one of his hands in his pants pocket as he walked down the deserted corridor. His right was open, giving him a full view of the large yard at the center of the headquarters. There were a few soldiers around, either on duty or just there to complete routine training.

He snorted slightly as he observed some of the men. They seemed so loyal to the cause, focused on the discipline to complete the mission, determined to sacrifice their lives to fight bio-terrorism.

Fuck no...

He focused his eyes on a man in a circle of friends. Gabriel Rodrigues... two years ago he was part of the Bravo team on a mission in the Mediterranean. The mission was rather simple, a hostage rescue. There was a small outbreak in a resort, many people died and others were trapped.

The team had to eliminate the hostiles and take the hostages to safety, simple enough. However, at one point, one of the members of the brave team was trapped while trying to save some people.

Gabriel saw, he could save him, help him, all he had to do was shoot the infected that was pressing the man against the wall and lead the people with him, but he raised his rifle and shot his own companion, causing the infected to focus on his body while the rest left the scene.

The case was covered up by the BSAA itself, nobody knew about it, only the superiors, and even then, not all of them.

Not far away was Bernard Lee, sitting on the bench while taking a few sips from his water bottle, fresh from his training.

A year and a half, different mission. They went after a man linked to the sale of the T-virus on the black market, found him hiding in a secluded house in South America, together with some friends.

His friends were locals, he met them in a bar and they had no involvement with bio-terrorism, they had no idea what kind of people they were dealing with. Nevertheless, he and some other members had a lot of fun torturing them and then murdering them.

The victims were Robert Garcia, Juan Rodrigues and Henrique Fernandes, two of whom had families and another was looking after his mother. Innocent people who suffered an unjust fate without even knowing why.

He knew everything, he recorded the faces, the names, the crimes... and they would pay. In time, they would pay... all of them.

Ghost quickly made his way to the canteen and quickly warmed up his military ration. He took his food and started walking towards the operations room.

When he arrived, he closed the door, put the food on the table and turned on his computer, watching the projection screen on the wall in front of him.

He sat down and began to eat his food while calling Hunk.

"Ghost." The man greeted him after picking up, and Ghost stared at the image of his friend on his computer screen. He was in a similar room to the one he was in at the moment, probably trying to monitor Wesker's movements.

"Reaper. How are things?" Ghost asked, adjusting the mask above his nose.

"The same. I've heard about Wesker. Something happened, William was forced to flee, and Albert is no longer where he should be."

Ghost sighed.

"Fucking hell..." He grunted angrily, and Hunk let out a nasal laugh.

"You can say that again. Apparently, he went north, back to Europe. Our suspicions were confirmed, he asked Umbrella for help." Ghost rolled his eyes, annoyed.

"The great Albert Wesker asking for help... fuck, why now?" He muttered angrily again. Well, so much for the plan.

"Because he's desperate. Anyway, he's with them, and wherever they are, we don't have access. My team and I will try to do our best to find out, but in the meantime, stand by." Hunk said, and Ghost shook his head.

"Well, what are the chances of him making some plan to finish us off for good?" Hunk laughed.

"I'd say pretty high. He probably knows we're with the BSAA. It's the choice that makes the most sense after our equipment was destroyed. Speaking of which, how are you at the BSAA?" Ghost snorted in mild disdain.

"So far, so good, except for the food, it reminds me of your mother's." Both men laughed lightly.

"If I ever see her again, I'll tell her you said that."

"Send her a kiss too." Hunk just wagged his middle finger at him before ending the call, and Ghost sighed once more, putting his empty plate to one side.

He snorted as he started to write a message to the others. Now they would have to come up with another plan, which would take time. What's worse, they'd have to wait for Hunk's team to get information, which would take even longer.

Not only that, but his agent side was worried, extremely worried. It had only been a day since his conversation with Sherry, and he had avoided her all that time.

More time waiting for information meant more time around her and Claire... and that made his Ghost persona a little uneasy.

One day... just one, and it was enough for that cop to return to the surface. Years of training and inhuman missions, and all it took was a few words from a girl to revive his other side.

He shook his head. The less he thought about it, the better. He then ate his last protein bar and turned his attention to the file Hunk had sent him some time ago.

Uroboros. Finally he had time to read more about that virus.

It seems Wesker had been working on it for some time, it wasn't something he'd discovered recently. Antibiotics were used from some unknown test subject resistant to the T-virus... how did Wesker get someone resistant? The chances of someone like that were extremely rare...

Or maybe not, since Ada worked for him... maybe she was helping him with that too. How wonderful.

She didn't seem like that kind of woman, though, so he couldn't rule out the possibility that Albert had found someone else.

Considering Wesker's research, he had come a long way in his composition. It wasn't long before the virus was ready, and that was worrying.

He spent the next few hours reading that file, analyzing that information, and before he knew it, it was past noon.

For lunch, some more military rations. Well, some coffee too, he couldn't resist.

He didn't really want to be around the other soldiers, many of whom didn't even know he was there. And most of those who did, had no idea why.

He spent the day in that room, reading and re-reading files, information... he also spent some time researching recent outbreaks which, to his surprise, there had been none.

Perhaps he shouldn't have been surprised. The sudden disappearance of people and institutions had most likely frightened others who were thinking of following in their footsteps. Black market clients had disappeared, small organizations had shut down their research and stupid ideas.

Part of Umbrella is gone too, not much, but enough for them to know they're making a difference.

Good... he wouldn't stop until they were all dead, and those sick people who were thinking of following suit or who agreed with those inhuman actions were trembling with fear. Horrified.

That the symbol on his mask would become the symbol of fear.

He switched off his computer and stood up. It was almost midnight, and now that there weren't many more soldiers around, he'd better start his training.

He left the room and cracked the bones in his neck as he walked through the empty corridors. He didn't like it there, nor did he dislike it; it could be pleasant at times.

He shook his head again, he never really had free time like he did now, and it terrified him. What the fuck would he do with all that time? Without killing bio-weapons, without worrying about a monster attacking him from behind or following some orders for some new mission.

It was... strange, uncomfortable and disconcerting.

As he walked, he ran his eyes over the yard. The place was poorly lit, but he clearly saw two familiar figures chatting amicably. Chris and O'Brian, the leader of the BSAA.

He wasn't around much, always on trips or in meetings. It was curious to see him there, but not so curious to see him with Chris.

He knew that the two were old friends, and Redfield would have to forgive him, but O'Brian helped to cover up some of the cases.

There weren't many, just the worst ones, with the excuse that if people knew, they would lose confidence in the institution. Maybe yes, maybe no, it doesn't matter, the punishment for the guilty was just a dismissal order and nothing more.

He would pay.

He continued on his way to the training area. His eyes ran around when he saw the lights on. Someone was there. Curious, he didn't know that anyone other than him liked to train at night.

Or, in his case, at the time that was most comfortable.

He walked over to the small training field, and crossed his arms as he watched Sherry attack the punching bag up ahead. She wore only a few bandages around her fists as she attacked viciously.

She had good footwork, was quick and her small body was agile. However, her blows didn't carry much force. Against a man, if she didn't finish the fight quickly, she was lost, and against biological weapons her speed would be a great advantage, but she had to know how and where to strike.

One blow, quick and precise, and that alone was enough to end a fight.

He approached, masterfully twirling his knife in his fingers.

His footsteps made the girl stop attacking the punching bag and turn towards him.

"Ah, Ghost... Are you all right? I haven't seen you all day." She said, watching him enter the training ground. She was sweaty, panting... she had been there for some time. She was wearing standard military training clothes.

"Things could be better. You read the message, I presume." He said as he approached, twirling the knife between his fingers. A light pastime.

"Yes, I read it... it makes me very uneasy to have to wait indefinitely before I can do anything. I don't even want to think about what Wesker might do in that time." She said with a sigh, punching the punching bag lightly while keeping her head down.

"There's no point in worrying about it, we've already got a team looking after it. And I may be meddling in something that's none of my business, but... you don't plan to be part of this mission, do you?" He asked, and Sherry sighed with slightly wide eyes.

"Well... I thought I could help in some way, you know? I don't know, maybe be part of the rescue team or the medical team, do something." Sherry replied, and Ghost continued to stare at her for a few moments.

"Sherry, this mission isn't for you." The girl put a hand on her waist at his serious tone.

"You're not my father, Ghost, I can make my own choices." Ghost held his knife in an inverted fist.

"Maybe, but neither I, nor Chris, are going to insert you into this operation." Sherry muttered indignantly. "This mission is extremely risky, you shouldn't be part of something like this, you should worry about more mundane things. Remember what I said yesterday?" Sherry gave him a sharp look.

"Yes, I do, what about you? Do you remember what I said?" This time it was his turn to sigh, looking away.

"You can't look me in the eye, can you? Why?" She challenged him once more, and Ghost clucked his tongue, feeling his two sides in great conflict.

"It's not that simple, I can't do it. I can't help." He said, shaking his head and putting his knife back in its sheath on his shoulder.

"Really? And why is that? Because it's a humane thing to do? Generous? What are you so afraid of, Ghost? Showing a little empathy?" She asked, scolding him, who grunted low in irritation.

Feelings... he was getting angry, and the worst thing was that it was over something as trivial as feelings, and it went directly against his training.

"I told you, I can't help..." He tried again, and Sherry laughed in disdain.

"Oh, but that's disappointing! You don't even look me in the eye, you act like a fucking robot, you keep repeating the same things! You... you're so different that it hurts! You just look like an empty, lifeless shell with the sole purpose of fighting!" She scolded again, and Ghost turned around suddenly.

"So what?!" He asked, changing his tone, the voice of his agent persona falling on deaf ears. "Feelings, human sensations only get in the way! They are weaknesses that can and will be used against you! People refuse to believe that and that's why they need people like me! They need someone cruel and brutal enough to do the dirty work! Since I came along, I've eliminated and killed countless terrorists! Those who are left are afraid! Wesker is desperate, Umbrella is scared, black market customers are gone and corrupt politicians are terrified! That's what I've done, every corrupt piece of shit, every miserable terrorist will remember the day their insignificant existence was threatened! I won't stop until every single bastard is trembling with fear! I'm cold, and that's what makes me better than I was before! I'm stronger, smarter, faster! Sure, that damn cop may have saved you two, but I. Saved. A lot. More!"

Sherry blinked a few times, her pained face staring into the agent's angry, frustrated eyes. She swallowed some saliva, recovering from the initial shock of seeing him lose his temper.

But Ghost wasn't so different from her. For the first time in a long time, since he had to kill that infected boy in front of his own mother because of that miserable Veltro member, he had become really angry.

Perhaps "angry" wasn't the right word, perhaps frustrated would be better. Either way, he let his emotions get the best of him, and while that was a relief for the small human part of him, it was a major violation for his agent side.

"Maybe you're right..." Sherry began. "You must have saved countless people, myself included... but there are situations in which you don't, can't, save anyone. And not because you're not strong or skilled enough, but because you don't let yourself feel enough to think about helping someone." The girl said, wiping away some of the sweat that ran down the side of her face, and walking towards Ghost, who just stared at her without saying anything.

"You're not wrong in what you said, but the point is, you're just trying to convince yourself that, deep down, you've always been like this, not that someone made you that way. I'd say you've convinced me, however, you did something that went against what you were told. You got angry, you probably said more than you've said in months combined, that means I was right." She bragged, standing a few centimeters away from Ghost, the debauchery increasing as she saw his surprised eyes. "Come on, agent, tell me I'm wrong."

They stared at each other for a while longer, and Sherry almost smiled at the silence. She then turned and started walking away, leaving Ghost stuck in his head, confronted by his own thoughts.


Claire felt her throat closing up, the pain spreading through her body, consuming her entire being. She tried to scream, but no sound came out of her mouth.

She raised her arms as she saw Neil shooting at both Pedro and Gabe, she tried to run to them, to stop him somehow, but her legs wouldn't move, and only then did she notice the wound on both legs, the blood leaving her body deeply, and she did all she could, crawling towards the bodies of both men.

Neil stared at her with cold eyes, waiting patiently for her to approach while Claire's face was stained with heavy tears.

He approached with slow, intimidating steps. He bent down and Claire grunted as she felt him pull her by the hair, forcing her to look deep into his eyes.

"You think I'm a monster..." His voice was distorted, the veins on his face began to darken, his body seemed to grow with every moment, and his eyes became animalistic, showing the transformations as the virus acted on his body.

"But the real monster here is you..." He said, and in the blink of an eye, he disappeared. The scene changed, their surroundings were dark, the bodies of Pedro and Gabe were gone.

However, others took their place, and Claire stared in terror at her bloodstained hands. The body of that innocent family lay right in front of her, their bodies covered in bullet holes, deformed from the atrocity she had committed.

She gasped, the tears flowing even harder, and she screamed with all her might.

The woman woke up to an enraged scream. Her desperate eyes ran around, her face wet with tears mixed with sweat.

She gasped for a few moments, placing her hand in front of her chest as she stared at her bed.

A nightmare... a goddamn nightmare. It had been years since the last one she'd had.

Confusion and fear were replaced by anger, and she grunted in irritation. It was still just over midnight. She hadn't slept a full three hours.

"Are you all right?" The voice next to her took her by surprise, and Claire turned her face to Jill, who was standing next to her bed looking at her with a worried expression.

Claire sighed... the woman kept her distance, she knew Redfield didn't like being treated like a doll.

"I'm fine... it was just a bad dream... a fucking bad dream." Claire said, throwing her blanket aside and getting up. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to bring your medicine. Chris made me make sure I didn't let you forget." She said, and Claire rolled her eyes as she approached and took the medicine.

"That's great... he thinks I'm a child now." She muttered softly, and Jill sighed as she put her hand on the back of her neck.

"He just wanted to make sure... I guess we can't blame him."

Claire grunted angrily as she felt the sting in her leg from stepping harder, and she rolled her eyes. It wasn't enough that she had slept while surrounded by a horde, but now she couldn't even walk properly. And worst of all, she woke up screaming in front of Jill because of a fucking nightmare.

A punch in the pride, for sure.

"Take it easy. The doctor says you'll recover in a few weeks, there's no point in getting upset." Jill said, trying to get the woman to wipe that irritated expression off her face.

"You say that because you can walk. God, it's humiliating to see your own brother have to walk with you to go to the bathroom." Jill rolled her eyes as a small smile appeared on her lips.

"Well, come on, you know your brother, tough on the outside but a teddy bear on the inside. He was just worried." Claire rolled her eyes this time.

"Of course he was... and that's what annoys me. I'm not a doll." Jill laughed as she shook her head.

"You say yourself that you'd like to give up the macho pose, but you won't allow yourself to do it." Jill said, crossing her arms and leaning her back against the wall.

"Yes, but... Chris isn't the type to listen. He... I don't know, it's not like I can vent to him, I already know what he's going to say. 'You need to be strong', 'Don't let it get to you'. Argh... that's not very helpful." Claire said, picking up the pistol she'd gotten as a gift from Chris.

"Well... it's just like him to say that. And I'm not very good at it either, especially when you don't want to talk to me." Jill said, and Claire looked at her with a sympathetic expression, tucking her pistol into her waistband.

"Sorry Jill, but you're just like Chris." She said, and Jill shrugged.

"If you say so... where are you going?" She said, arching an eyebrow at the woman.

"To train." Claire replied, and Jill grimaced a little.

"With that leg? Do you know what Chris would do if he knew? You'd be in bed for the next two weeks, and you and I know very well that he'd be able to do that." Claire rolled her eyes, smiling slightly as she internally agreed with her.

"At least train my aim, I don't want to keep my leg like that for longer than I have to."

"And why didn't you go and train with everyone else? They were on the firing range for hours." Jill asked, and Claire shrugged as she limped towards the door.

"Because they suck. The last thing I need is them staring at me every second." She replied, and could hear a nasal laugh from Jill before she closed the door.

It was a bit chilly that night, and Claire took a deep breath as she walked through the empty corridors. She liked the cold, it made her mornings more comfortable, more pleasant and it made her coffee taste better.

Books... she couldn't live without them anymore. They were a good way to distract the mind for hours without getting tired. She was used to losing people, apparently, friends, acquaintances, work colleagues... it happened in that world, even if she was part of a rescue organization rather than a combat force.

She wouldn't cry for Neil, she'd already cried too much, and he didn't deserve it. Not him, not Alex. She would remember Gabe and Pedro, she would pay her respects in their names at the memorial TerraSave would hold in a few days, and she wouldn't think about it again for the rest of her life.

She sighed a little, remembering the agent's words. Her tears were too important to be shed by scum, and she would take that with her.

Neil died a traitor, she didn't have to feel bad about that.

Shaking her head, she continued on her way to the firing range, and as she entered, she blinked a few times as she heard the sound of gunfire. It was night, no other soldiers should be there at the moment. Of course, none other than that agent.

She recognized the sound of the gun, the caliber a little heavier than normal.

She moved closer and watched him for a few moments. Almost all the targets were up and moving at great speed, from left to right, right to left, back to front, front to back. He shot and knocked them all down with great speed and precision, hardly missing a shot.

It was astonishing. He was literally trained to kill, to be a machine, a master of both hand-to-hand and armed combat. She didn't doubt that he was also trained to fight on water or in the air, since his base was vaguely reminiscent of the Navy Seals.

When the targets were finished, he straightened his posture and reloaded his pistol, which had a slightly extended clip, but which was soon replaced by a smaller one.

He was so mysterious... but at the same time, he gave off such a... familiar feeling.

"Good evening, Redfield." The thick, slightly muffled voice brought her back to reality, and she shook her head slightly at her own thoughts as she approached.

"Good evening, Ghost. I take it you don't enjoy the company of the other soldiers." She said, pressing the button on the table not far from where Ghost stood and watching briefly as the targets returned to their original locations.

"I prefer to be alone." He said, twirling his pistol on his finger. He seemed to be playing with it, which was curious.

"I can relate to that." She said, raising her pistol and firing at the targets. However, despite all her training, she was missing more than usual.

With each mistake, there was a grumble, a click of the tongue, a capsule falling to the ground. And it only got worse when she felt the analytical gaze of the agent next to her

"You're reckless." He said, and Claire only glanced at him for a few moments, before turning back to the targets, ignoring him. "It's not just your balance that's affected, your mind too... you'll never hit the targets like that."

She clicked her tongue, lowered the gun and stared at him.

"And what am I supposed to do?!" She asked somewhat angrily, and Ghost extended his gun in her direction. Claire blinked a few times in confusion and stared at the gun, reading the name "Silver Ghost" on the barrel.

"Face it." He replied, and she looked at him with suggestive eyes. "What's bothering you, Redfield? Your anger? You wish you had blown Alex's head off?" He asked, starting to circle her.

"Do you wish you'd sprayed her body with bullets?"

"Or maybe killed that man, Neil, before he killed your companions." He noticed her tighten her grip on the gun slightly, her body tensing.

"Or maybe it's regret? Guilt at having been kidnapped...? No... that doesn't seem to be the case."

"Maybe you weren't quick enough at something?" He squinted slightly as he saw her lower her head slightly.

"Shut up..." She said.

"Or maybe you didn't manage to save someone? Was it your companions?" He asked, ignoring her and looking at her analytically... she still kept her head down, but, no, there was still something there.

"Maybe other people... survivors?" She tensed her shoulders, gritting her teeth... he was getting close.

"They died in front of you...?"

"Not fast enough?"

"Or maybe... they died because of you." She turned suddenly, grabbing him by the military shirt.

Ghost ignored his surprise at the woman's thunderous strength. He was experienced enough to gauge his opponent's strength, and that grip, that pressure... a normal person couldn't do it.

So that was the consequence of the virus in her body...

The woman gritted her teeth and stared at him with boiling eyes, eyes that were stared at by professional neutrals.

"I'm right... you blame yourself for the deaths of civilians then." She lowered her head, trying not to squeeze his shirt too hard and tear the fabric, controlling her anger.

"They... I..." She tried to say, but the surprise of being confronted, the frustration of that memory, the anger at her actions, didn't let her finish her sentence.

"What? Are you going to say that you should have saved them? They may not have deserved to die, yes, but it wasn't your fault." She clucked her tongue, pushing him back, and Ghost once again ignored his surprise as he was almost thrown through the air. He managed to recover quickly, taking only two steps back.

"And how could you know?! You weren't there!" She snarled, running her hand over his head.

"No, but I recognize those eyes. Alex killed them, not you." He said again.

"Yes, it was me! They... it's my fault!" She growled again, talking more to herself than to him. Her hands were slightly shaking, and her mind was a mess.

"How could that possibly be true?" Ghost asked, and she turned around suddenly.

"Because I pulled the trigger!" She said it out loud, almost like a cry of revelation, and despite the surprise, the shock, Ghost continued with his face unchanged, looking at her professionally, but with a certain hidden sympathy. "Alex injected me with some virus, I-I wasn't me, I... she controlled me, forced me to pull the trigger on that family, I... I killed them."

His eyes darkened a little as he noticed tears forming in the corner of her eyes, and he resisted the urge to sigh in anger.

If there was a hell, he hoped Alex was suffering in the worst possible way. Perhaps he would be able to see that suffering, since he would be going there at the end of his life.

"You didn't kill them, Alex did." He said again, and Claire stared at him with slightly wide eyes, almost as if he were crazy.

"What?"

"You said it yourself, she controlled you. Think of it this way, I take my gun and point it at Jill's head, I pull the trigger... who killed her, me or the gun?" Claire shook her head.

"It's different-"

"Really? How? You and the gun were utensils for a murder, objects used by others." Claire clucked her tongue.

"The gun is a thing, I'm a person! Their blood is on my hand!"

"Their blood is on Alex's hand, just like the blood of many other people." He said, and Claire sighed. "Think, Redfield, if Alex didn't force you to kill them, do you really think they'd live for long?" She stared at him.

"I'm not saying that what you did was a good thing, but that they would probably die anyway, and believe me, in a much more brutal way. Alex would never let them live, she wasn't that kind of person." Claire put her head down and took a deep breath, fighting the urge to cry.

She'd already fucking cried too much!

"Still... I can still see... knowing she's dead doesn't help much to be honest, what I feel I doubt will ever go away... I feel dirty, cruel... a monster." Ghost grunted, making Claire raise her head again.

"A monster, huh? Do you know what a real monster is? Someone who kidnaps children, kills their parents in front of them and uses them as experimental subjects. Someone who ties a boy to a table and injects controlled doses of a virus in front of his mother. Someone who kills thousands, without shame, without caring about anything, who leaves children orphans, who leaves wives widows. Do you think you're the only one with innocent blood on your hands?" Ghost asked, taking a few steps closer to Claire, who just listened quietly.

"No, you're not. A cop is taken by surprise and gets into a shootout with a gang member, an innocent is wounded and killed by a bullet from the cop that was supposed to go to the lowlife he was fighting, does that make him a monster?" He asks, not exactly expecting an answer.

"You know those examples I gave? All those children? I'm the one who had to kill them." He said, approaching the woman, and Claire's eyes widened slightly, her anger forgotten for the moment, her eyes just staring at him tiredly.

"Boys, girls, ten, nine, seven years old, infected subjects who started killing each other the moment I took them out of that damn laboratory... I had to kill a boy in front of his own mother to put him out of his misery. I can tell you that I did what was necessary... that doesn't make you a monster, Claire." He said, for the first time calling her by name, and for the first time, Claire realized how close her name sounded, how intimate it felt in his mouth.

"And that doesn't make me a monster either... however, what I did after that does." He said, taking a step back and touching the woman's forearm, who felt her skin crawl at the touch. He made her raise her arms and point at the targets ahead.

"I beat the man who tied that boy up to the brink of death, broke all his bones and injected him with a dose of adrenaline so he wouldn't die, punctured his organs with his ribs and left him in agony." He said, leaving her arms perfectly aligned with the furthest target.

"I've killed so many... whether with bullets, knives, fire, acid, grenades or by letting them be devoured by the infected themselves... I assure you, Redfield, if there's anyone here who deserves the title of monster, it's me." He said, looking deep into Claire's eyes, who felt increasingly consumed by the intense blue of his gaze.

"As far as I'm concerned, you're just another victim of this shit. Put yourself in my shoes, every one of those targets is a scumbag, a damned terrorist whose existence is insignificant. That terrorist kidnapped innocent children and killed their parents, what do you do?" He asked, and Claire focused her eyes on the target she was pointing the gun at. She didn't think twice before pulling the trigger, ignoring the gun's strong kick and focusing only on the target she had hit.

"That other terrorist wiped out a town in the countryside as an experiment, watching all those victims without caring about those lives." He said again, and Claire fired once more, hitting another target.

Ghost pressed the button on the table and the targets began to move at great speed, just as they had earlier when he himself was training.

"All these terrorists have come together, all of them hiding behind their bio-weapons and their mercenaries, you know what to know." He said, and Claire began firing at the targets, taking down each one with great precision.

Her mind was clouded, her eyes focused only on her front, temporarily forgetting the rest and worrying only about taking down those targets. Each target a terrorist on the ground, each target thousands of lives saved just behind.

Until almost all the targets were down, and the pistol had run out of bullets.

"You're angry, I understand, and you have reason to be. But this..." He pointed at the targets. "It's not for you. They're garbage, the worst kind of people on earth, if they were even considered people. You're not a soldier, you help people, you're good... it's all their fault, they deserve to suffer for spilled blood, not you. Don't forget that, none of these bastards, none of these worms deserve what's inside you. Don't let them corrupt you, Claire, let people like me deal with them." He said, watching her slowly lower the gun.

The woman considered his words, remembering what Parker had told her the day before. A monster who killed monsters... she certainly couldn't do what he did, not because of a lack of skill, but because she wasn't like him. She wasn't cold enough to put up with that kind of thing every day.

"I-I'm-" He just held up his hand, shaking his head slightly.

"You can't tell me what you are, Redfield. I can see right through you." He said, reloading his pistol and putting it back in its holster. "Live your life, Redfield. Try to find comfort in the fact that I won't stop until all these scumbags are dead." Claire swallowed some saliva. Live her life? That simple?

"... Do you really think you can? How can you be so sure?" She asked, and her eyes watched intently as he pulled out a small compartment hidden in the handle of his knife and tossed a small USB drive in her direction.

"This will show you. The password is my nickname." He simply said, turning and walking out of the shooting range, leaving her alone with her thoughts.


The woman sat on her bed after another shower. She put on some lighter clothes and felt a little better than she had a few hours ago. It was still 2 a.m., and she didn't feel like she could sleep anymore that night.

A sigh escaped her lips as she placed her laptop on her lap after lying down. If she couldn't sleep, she could at least get it over with.

Ghost's words still echoed in her mind. He was so... different. She had never met anyone like him, at the same time so mysterious, with eyes so intense that they seemed to look deep into her soul, but also so familiar that they gave her a feeling that took her back in time.

She just didn't know exactly where.

Shaking her head, the woman plugged the USB into her laptop and a black screen appeared. After entering the password, she was faced with a bunch of names in a list.

Deep-Abyss (01)

Deep-Abyss (02)

Mission-T (0.5)

T-Pandemic

Among many others. Confused and slightly curious, she clicked on the first name on the list, and was presented with a text with some photos of people she had never seen before.

Reading the text, she realized that it was the report of a mission completed by Ghost years ago in Terragrigia.

She had heard about the attack on the city, so she knew that the BSAA, together with some members of the F.B.C., had managed to repel the attack.

The report detailed the way in which he infiltrated the city, posing as just any tourist. He managed to follow some members involved with the T-Abyss, right at the beginning of the Veltro catastrophe.

His mission was to eliminate Dominik, one of the masterminds behind the organization. She read the file with attentive eyes, looking for minutes at the photos of the bodies, or the satellite images they had obtained.

It was... surreal what a single man could do. To infiltrate a single bio-terrorist group's headquarters and complete his mission.

She grimaced a little as she read the details of how Ghost had eliminated his target. In a dark control room, next to a boy tied to a stretcher with a deformed body next to a woman who was also tied up.

He broke his bones, one by one... then beat him violently, until his crushed bones pierced his organs, and he left him in agony. In the end, Dominik suffered before he died, although it didn't help much.

In the end, the results of his mission were written. Not only had he obtained crucial information from Veltro, he had also eliminated an important figure in the organization, as well as preventing a major disaster from occurring in the city. With this, they would also be able to locate other small groups scattered around Europe, which they were quick to eliminate.

Another mission, another result. Ghost stopped an outbreak in a village in Africa before things got completely out of hand, the rescue team arrived and vaccinated everyone, provided medical treatment, food, and left before TerraSave arrived on the scene or even the BSAA got wind of the outbreak. As a result, they saved countless lives, and eliminated yet another organization before it could grow to dangerous levels.

They were all successful missions...

Whether it was the elimination of a laboratory in an asylum...

Whether it was the assassination of a terrorist leader who planned to use the virus to gain power over an entire country in South America.

Whether it was the assassination of a corrupt politician in Mexico, causing the government, the factions and the cartels to be terrified.

These were the results of Ghost's appearance, the results of all his coldness, all his murders. Politicians began to fear and leave their positions of power, seeking the disappearance rather than their deaths. Well-known black market clients abandoned their contacts and destroyed their evidence, their plans, for fear of being next.

Organizations and groups still in development abandoned their plans, broke or got rid of their virus samples, fearful that they would disappear overnight.

No wonder the world had become more peaceful recently... he really was making a difference.

And maybe he really could put an end to that nightmare.

For the first time in a long time, she felt a spark of hope in her chest.


(And with that, we finally reached the final arc. It took a few months, but we got there. I estimate that the story will end between chapters 40 and 45, probably. I hope you're enjoying it, thank you very much to everyone who's followed from the beginning, until the next chapter).

(This chapter was difficult to write, I'm not good with dialog, my area is fistfights, stabbings, death, destruction, explosions, goddammit!)